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theblekromantik · 4 years

Text

somewhere new

Erik Stevens x Black Reader

a/n: hello lovelies, i hope you’re well and i hope that you enjoy this! i’ve been experimenting with writing lately, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated!!!

summary: you and Erik go decide to go grocery shopping, but you switch things up a little

warnings: fluff-ish with some sexual tension and implied smut

word count: 3189

A booming,

“Yo, ma!”

Accompanied by a knock at the door rattles you, causing you to drop your eyelash into the sink. Your good, very expensive eyelash that requires much focus in order to be applied to your upper lash line.

Grunting and twinging your face in disgust of the sight before you, you fish it out of the sink, blowing on it to determine if the glue is still salvageable.

“Come on, E! Five minutes!” You respond with your mouth slightly parted, a strange requirement for impeccable eyelash placement.

“Princess, we gotta hurry up before the store closes,” Erik protests, pulling up his sleeve to check his diamond-encrusted AP watch. It’s almost seven o’clock, and Erik hated shopping minutes before a store closed. It made him feel like he was being rushed to gather his items and head to the register.

You and Erik frequently ran errands together, only this time you were grocery shopping. Staying in was nice and all – really quite enjoyable – but an end had to come to the endless Netflix bingeing and takeout from your favorite spots. You both, mainly Erik, decided that it was time for a nutritious, home-cooked meal, one that wouldn’t lead you down a road of clogged arteries and hypertension. But Erik was a phenomenal chef, so you could hardly complain that your ongoing DoorDash expenditure had been interrupted.

“Damn! One second!” You holler. “One second…there.”

You step back and look into the mirror, admiring yourself. Thirty minutes of hard work and determination had really paid off! You grab your phone from the sink’s surface and proceed to snap some photos of yourself.

SHUTTER! SHUTTER! SHUTTER! SHUTTER!

Beauty must always be captured, no matter what the time restraint.

“Princess! You taking pictures in there?” The dreaded man pounds on the door, harder this time. Banging, nearly shaking the hinges out of the door until you swing it open.

And there you are, dolled up and all, from the 26-inch deep wave hair to the Adidas tracksuit, the top zipped down nearly to the level of exposing the full extent of your breasts. Just the way you liked it.

Erik can hardly contain himself as he looks further down at you, ogling how your recently-manicured toes fit perfectly between each slot of your sandals. Man, he knew you were one for dressing up, but to the grocery store? Maybe he needs to step his game up.

“Well?” You jest. “You were so loud banging on the door, you got nothing to say now?”

Catching his lip underneath his teeth, he smugly looks you over once more, trying to gather words to say, for you’ve left him speechless.

He inches closer to you, “My babygirl likes to talk back, huh?”

“Yup, she do,” Boldness courses through you, nearly shattered as you maintain eye contact with your boyfriend.

His eyes were boulders, but you were just as unyielding. This game the two of you liked to play – this perpetual exchange of power – rarely ever ended with you emerging victorious. And you knew this, but you wanted to have your fun.

Finally, though smirkingly, you divert your gaze to your phone, shuffling through your gallery to decide which photos to keep, which photos to delete, and which photos to post.

“You look beautiful, Princess,” Erik chuckles after pressing a kiss onto your lips. “Now let’s go.”

While you knew you had lost the battle in the bathroom, you couldn’t wait to enjoy the war you and Erik would have in the bedroom later.

–

“Shotgun!” Erik shouted as you were fumbling in your purse for your keys, making a sprint for the car through your apartment complex’s parking lot.

The sun was setting beneath the horizon, and it illuminated the sky a burnt orange, a hue that began to embellish the surfaces of each object it touched – buildings, vehicles, windows, trees, the reflective skin of Erik’s custom-designed Air Max 97s as he raced further away from you.

After some time, your nimble fingers reach the item of your search, which results in a chime. You pull the keys out, contemplating whether to unlock the car doors for dreaded man in order to relieve him from the heat of the California sun, or let him suffer. Though it was setting, this sun still could extract a cup of sweat from one’s body. But hey, Erik was grown, he could wait.

You strut up to the car to see your boyfriend leaning on the door, panting, condensation forming on his forehead.

You release a sound of triumph, “I was gonna drive anyway.”

The car unlocks with a chirp, and you open the door and sit down. Dumbfounded, Erik was clutching the hood of the car still, trying to catch his breath.

“You getting in, or…”

He opens the car door and slumps down into the seat.

“You didn’t have to have a nigga looking dumb, baby.”

“I don’t think you need me for that, E.”

Erik snickers, “So it’s like that?”

“Yeah, it’s like that,” you tease, pressing the car to start and reversing out of the lot.

The two of you were buckling in for a long evening, and quite frankly, you couldn’t wait to see how it would progress.

–

As you drive on the road, the city and all its structures – both new and old – vanish behind you as a multitude of cool currents of air whip into the car through the windows, blowing your hair in all sorts of directions.

The vehicle vibrates as you blast a playlist full of new releases through your aux, and Erik grips your thigh as he sings to you, gold canines flashing and all.

You gently place your foot on the break, easing the car to a stop before the upcoming red light.

Erik, nearly louder than the music, starts to grind on the seat à la Magic Mike, and you couldn’t help but to laugh at the dreaded man and his silliness, a behaviour that is a pleasant break from his usual brooding nature.

But your laughter is cut short by a car honking behind you, indicating that the light had just turned green. You roll your eyes, because it had literally just turned green, and you press on the gas, revving your vehicle to the speed limit.

You pass another number of buildings a before making a sharp left turn.

“Shit!” You mumble to yourself.

You had almost missed the turn.

“Babygirl, that wasn’t the turn. Where we going?” Erik questions, for the route you’re taking was not your usual one.

“A little change of plans. I wanted to go somewhere else this time.”

“’Somewhere else’?” Erik probes. “What’s wrong with Ralph’s?!”

Now this took Erik by surprise. He’s genuinely concerned about your decision. To him, Ralph’s is King.

“Nothing, just wanna try something different.”

Your boyfriend clutches his heart, feigning a heart attack. You snort and turn into the parking lot. Both the wind and the car’s engine settle as you drive into a spot and press the vehicle off.

“Trader Joe’s?!” Erik cries. “What they got up in there?”

You exit the car, grabbing your purse from the backseat. “Stop complaining. Let’s go.”

–

If boredom could be personified, it’s spitting image would be Erik, for he rests his forearms on the bar of the shopping cart, eyes drooping as he observes the eccentric packaging of Trader Joe’s products.

Picking up a container of salsa he says, “Why all this shit organic?”

But you just suck your teeth and let him sulk behind the cart, ignoring him and all his grumbling.

“And this,” His gaze sets upon another display, “Who the fuck needs all these types of dried fruit? Probably taste like tumbleweed anyway.”

“Yo, stop moaning and groaning over there,” You shoot back at him, grabbing two packages of dried mangoes and placing them into the cart.

But Erik persists, dragging his feet across the smooth, concrete floor.

Minding the grocery list you and Erik had created earlier on your phone, you head deeper into the produce section, searching for some leafy greens and other ingredients that would contribute toward Erik’s signature salad. He walks off with the cart, gathering some tomatoes and bell peppers before making his way into another section of the store.

You, on the other hand, stand in front of the illuminated display with every type of green you could think of: arugula, kale, spinach, and lettuce, just to name a few. Reaching in, you squish some of the bags in order to determine their freshness. And you grab some kale and return to your shopping partner, who was waiting patiently for you, his previous protesting done with.

Looking down at the list on your phone, there wasn’t that much left for you all to grab, just some seasonings that were essential for the completion of any dish. There’re so many to choose from, and quite frankly, you’d just grab them all if you weren’t on a budget. So, you place a couple in the cart. And when you look up again, there Erik is, a pouty look on his face.

“Birthday cake popcorn?” Erik suggests, holding up the multicoloured item.

“Put it in the cart,” You giggle, maneuvering to a checkout line with the least amount of people.

The line becomes shorter and shorter, with customers paying and leaving with their large brown bags. And before you know it, the cashier shouts, “Next!” and moves to take your cart.

“Find everything okay?” The cashier asks, briefly glancing up at the two of you before moving to scan the items in your cart.

“Yes, thank you,” you respond, blankly staring as more items appeared on the customer screen and the worker transferred your groceries into the bags adjacent to the register.

Erik, standing beside you, wraps his right pinky finger against your left one, linking the two of you before you adjust to hold his entire hand. He grips your waist and pulls you in to kiss your lips and lingers there for a short while, eyes boring into yours while also relishing the traces of your chocolate-flavoured lip gloss that had found its way to onto his tongue.

You’re flustered, of course, but not because he hadn’t kissed you this intensely before, but because you were reminded that you were still at the grocery store, for the cashier cleared their throat awkwardly, repeating the total cost you had missed in your fleeting moment of passion.

Scratching your neck, hoping to relieve the embarrassment that that crept up your spine, you ask, “I’m sorry, how much is it?”

To which the cashier responds, “That’s $43.96.”

“I got it, bae,” Erik interjects, pulling out his wallet and handing a crisp yet folded fifty-dollar bill to the worker.

And while the cashier hands Erik the change, you grab the red cart and head toward the exit but not before thanking them. A few steps behind, Erik acknowledges another cashier – the only Black cashier – with a head nod and a knowing smile, to which the cashier nods, shrugs, and returns the grin: the shared feeling of being the only Black person in the room. The automatic doors open, reintroducing the cool evening air upon your face and hair, and the rubber wheels of the cart greet the smooth pavement.

When you reach the cart return, Erik grabs all of the bags while you fit the cart among the lines of carts already present. The two of you begin to walk to your parked vehicle but instead accidentally stumble upon on one with a similar make and model to your own but was not yours.

“I swore I parked right here,” you huff, standing on the balls of your feet, searching the sea of identical cars in the well-lit parking lot. And the fact that there were so many other last-minute shoppers did not help your plight either.

“Lemme see the keys,” Erik says, intrigue in his voice. “I wanna see something.”

You hand him the keys to the car, and he places them under his chin, pressing the unlock button repeatedly.

“That doesn’t actually work, does it?” You quiz, doubt heavy on your words.

“We have to see.”

Supposedly, this little trick should increase the bandwidth of the key’s signal, using one’s head as a sort of antenna. But after a couple clicks, you hear nothing besides traffic on the neighbouring streets.

Pointless, you think, just wanting to hurry up and head home.

But then, you hear a series of chirps in the distance and Erik yipping about the fact.

“Over there,” Erik says, nodding his head toward the source of the noise.

He picks up the bags, and you both head to the vehicle.

–

Shutting the door to your car, you release a sigh. Finally, the bags are all placed on the floor of your car, and you can finally head home.

With your foot on the break, you reach to push the car to start but then Erik yelps, “Wait! I wanna try those mango joints.”

“Oh, now you wanna try them,” You jest, “Because if I can remember, you were just–”

“–Man,” Erik interrupts, reaching to the backseat and rummaging through the bags. “Found it.”

He surveys the clear package titled “Soft & Juicy Mango” with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips curled, a slight repugnance that he couldn’t even help hide. But ripping the bag open, his expression softens as the aroma fills his nostrils, the sweet, tropical scent soothing him.

You watch, rolling your eyes, as Erik cautiously lowers his fingers into the package. One would think that the former Navy Seal wouldn’t be so dramatic over something like trying a new food, but Erik never ceases to amaze you.

Mango slice in hand, Erik purses his lips as he brings it to his mouth, slowly. Tortuously. And chews, his head cocked to the side.

“Wait,” he says as he swallows the last bit. “These bitches smack!”

You release a sound of disbelief, start the vehicle, and pull into the street, heading home. Of course the mangoes were delicious.

–

The sound of the car door closing can be heard as you and Erik finish grabbing all the groceries and head to the entrance of your apartment building. Your boyfriend opens the door for you, his veiny forearm braced on it and towering above you as you enter.

“Damn, ma! You getting thick!” He hollers as he watches the sway of your hips in your fitted bottoms.

You feel your cheeks warm up as you push some hair behind your air. You had been getting thick.

The lobby as you pass through is empty except for the security guard looking down at a glow coming from their lap and a couple of young people with white wires cascading down from their ears, bopping their heads to music that you can hear but not quite make out specific lyrics.

You and Erik find your way inside the elevator, the flickering fluorescents easing you back home, a stark difference from the glaringly bright ones at Trader Joe’s. Erik presses the round “4”, and the aluminum doors begin to close before you, you staring ahead while Erik sneaks a glance at you, smirking before redirecting his gaze toward the sliding metal.

Watching the line of numbers flash as the lift ascends from the ground floor, you turn to Erik, kissing him softly on the lips, closing your eyes and feeling a tingling sensation coursing into him through you. An electrical current that ceases to meet its end, ravishing you both entirely.

And with a ding, the elevator doors open and there you and Erik are, standing chest to chest in the moment, biting your lips like a couple of anxious teenagers on a first date. You pull away from him, keys in hand, heading for the apartment while Erik watches you.

God, how did he get so lucky? You were a treasure to him, and not only because you were so extraordinary but the little things: how you treated him so tenderly and with love yet wouldn’t hesitate to call him out when he was acting like a fool, and how you were so receptive to him as he was to you. These were all things that he scarcely experienced, if he ever experienced them at all. You helped him learn how to love and to receive love, which is an astonishing feat that many cannot confess that they’ve accomplished for themselves. And as you look back at him and smile while you unlock the door, he feels a bit weak in the knees, your electricity overwhelming him once more. You’ve got him hooked, and he loves it. He’s entirely entranced by you, and he doesn’t mind.

You open the door and are welcomed by your apartment, which is completely shrouded in darkness, save for the streetlights, the headlights of passing cars, and the last sliver of the orange evening sky before it is overcome by those distant stars in the night sky.

“Whew,” you exhale, flipping on the light switch and opening the door wider.

Erik sets the bags down on the countertops and approaches you.

“What are you–” you begin, but Erik is sliding his arms around your midsection and turning you to him. He presses his forehead against yours, twirling the ends of your hair and breathes you in and attaches his lips to yours, gently, truly wanting to savour this moment and you in this moment.

He pulls away, slowly, and confesses for the first time aloud, “I love you,” in a voice no louder than a whisper in a public library, to which you respond, “I love you, too.”

And the two of you remain like this for a few moments, staring into each other’s eyes, not even letting the ever-busy late-night traffic rattle you.

“So,” he starts, “About earlier in the bathroom…”

“Yeah, what about it?” You respond, seduction laced in your words.

“I’m thinking we need to address that.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Yup,” Erik answers, popping the “p”.

“And what about the groceries?”

“They’ll be a’ight.”

“Hm,” You sound, lacing your hand with his and walking the both of you to your shared bedroom.

Erik walks towards you, making you both fall on the bed. And the dreaded man begins pecking at your neck, travelling up to the bone of your jaw and landing once again on your plump lips. He swipes his finger down them, and repeats, “I love you.”

You stand up to close the door, while Erik sits up, waiting on you to return to him. You cradle his head in your hands while you kiss him, deeper, all that former tenderness left at the door. And stripping him of his shirt, his impatient fingers also dance to the zipper of your top, lowering it. He slides the jacket over your shoulders as you kneel on the bed to straddle him. But before you could grind down on his crotch, Erik grips your hips and flips you onto your back, the sudden movement bouncing your body on the bed after it meets the comforter.

“Not so fast, babygirl.”

#erik x reader #erik killmonger #erik stevens #black panther #black panther fandom #black panther fanfiction #black reader #erik x black reader #erik killmonger x black reader #black!reader #kris writes #n'jadaka #erik stevens x reader #fanfiction

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thespritepepsi · 3 years

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Chapter 1, divorce

Harvey thought he knew what heartbreak was, but he was wrong.

Harvey had given every ounce of himself to the farmer, he dropped all his walls down and had been vulnerable, and it had paid off, the famer had asked for his hand in marriage; they were blissfully happy together, but everytime he had asked about children, all she said was "not now, the farm takes up too much time and energy." Harvey understood, but he still asked twice more before letting the matter drop completely, he knew when the time was right, she would ask herself to start their family.

But the time never seemed to come; they were well off, all the community upgrades she had worked for had been completed, she even helped Robin build a house for Pam and Penny, but she never brought up the subject of having a child. Still Harvey was determined to be content in his new life with his wife.

Seasons passed much like they had when he was single, although he made sure to tell the farmer how much happier he was at her farm than his old apartment, she always smiled and kissed him when he did this, and their intimate life was as good as the very first time every time, he had no reason to be unhappy, and he assumed his wife was as happy as he was.

Until one night early into summer.

Harvey was awoken by a soft knock on the farmhouse door, he was startled, all manners of medical emergencies flashing through his mind as he hurriedly put on his robe and glasses and quietly, as not to disturb his sleeping wife, ran to the door.

"Hello?"

"Good morning Doctor Harvey."

It was Mayor Lewis, oh Yoba, what was wrong? Who was hurt? Who could possibly be out this late getting hurt?

"What's the matter, mayor? Is it a medical emergency? Harvey stepped out onto the porch and softly closed the door, "tell me it's not one of the children?"

"Oh no, no emergency Doctor, everyone is healthy as can be" Lewis slipped his thumbs into his suspenders and pulled a bit, " I was just out picking up the shipping items, and well... there's something here for you."

"For me? What could it be?"

Mayor Lewis pulled out a thick creamy envelope with the name 'Dr. Harvey Moore' stamped on it and held it out in front of himself a bit, the moonlight catching on the just-dried ink.

Harvey took the envelope, "what is this?" He inquired, holding the parcel like it was a rehabilitated bird about to fly out his palms; Mayor Lewis shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking everywhere but at him, "well, um, Doctor, I think it's best if you take that on inside and give it a read, that's all I can say."

Harvey looked puzzlingly at the mayor, he knew what was inside the envelope, but wouldn't tell him directly what it was, could he have used too many medical supplies, and the clinic was going into debt?

"Thank you Mayor, I'll read this right away, have a good day." He murmured, turning to go back inside, as he shut the door, he thought he heard the mayor sigh.

Harvey sat down at the kitchen table, the light from the stove bathing the room in a soft orange glow; he carefully opened the envelope with the letter opener and pulled out the thick papers.

There, in big official letters were the words "DECREE OF DIVORCE" Harvey gasped out loud, further down was the Mayors signature, and even further down was the Farmers; Harvey's heart skipped a beat, maybe even two as he traced the familiar handwriting, that was hers all right, it matched the writing on the little notes she would slip in his doctors jacket, or in his lunch; tears slipped down his face as the read the official words, the famer had applied for divorce yesterday, based on the date following her name.

Harvey didn't know what to do now, this was a total shock, he crept back into their room and pulled his duffel bag out of the closet; as quietly as he could, he stuffed all his clothes inside and zipped it shut, he looked at his small room connecting to the bedroom, all his model airplanes and his shortwave radio were set up there, he didn't know how he could get his things without waking up the farmer, and by Yoba, he couldn't bear the thought of her waking up right now. Harvey hastily scribbled a note asking her to box his things up and send them to the clinic, before hastily leaving the farmhouse and letting his tears spill in earnest.

The next two days passed and the divorce was finalized, he stayed exclusively at the clinic, going through the motions of physicals and paperwork; living off coffee, too few hours of sleep, barely eating and crying.

Then one day, as he was at the front desk, Maru had gone to lunch a few minutes before, when the bell above the door tinkled, he looked up and his heart sank, it was the farmer; arms loaded down with boxes and looking like she would rather battle a monster infested mine floor than be there.

The farmer carefully sat the boxes down on the counter, and came around through the doors to stand near him; Harvey moved slightly away and crossed his arms. "I brought your planes and your radio set up," the farmer said quietly, looking at him to meet his eyes "Harvey, I--" Harvey shook his head and held up a hand.

"I, I can't even look at you, please, spare me anymore pain."

The farmer nodded swallowed thickly, "Goodbye Harvey." She said before rushing out the door.

†****************†

The fall dragged on, Harvey kept to himself, settling back into his post-married life routine, although he would occasionally go to the saloon and have a beer, something he knew he shouldn't do, being the only physician in town, but the nights when he lie in bed, and the thoughts of his failed marriage threatened to keep him awake, he went to the saloon for a nightcap.

One rainy night though, he was laying in his bed, when the after hours clinic buzzed, he rushed downstairs to find the farmer holding up a barely conscious Shane, both of them were soaked through. "He needs help," she implored, "he's had so much to drink, I found him by the cliffs, I'm afraid for him."

Harvey rushed to Shane's other side and put his shoulder under his other arm, together they half walked, half dragged Shane into a clinic cot, fully in emergency mode, Harvey barked at the farmer, "You need to wait in the lobby." Before turning and bringing his full attention back to the semi conscious man in front of him.

Later, Harvey went out to the waiting room, to find his ex wife sitting in the chair closest to the door, legs bouncing nervously and her eyes downcast; "I pumped his stomach and gave him fluids, he's in rough shape, but he's going to make it," the farmer sighed and sagged into the chair, looking like a wet, disheveled harvest day balloon, "thank Yoba." She breathed, then she stood to face him, Harvey continued, "I'm more worried about his mental health right now though, it's good that you brought him in when you did, or we would have a far more serious problem on our hands. I'm going to refer him to a therapist friend of mine in the city."

The farmer nodded, " I'm sure that's what he needs, thank you Harvey."

" Can I see him?"

Harvey looked a little dubious, " alright, but just for five minutes, he's going to need to rest, it's late, and he needs to stay overnight to replenish the fluids he's lost"

The farmer walked back to the sectioned off part of the clinic and kneeled down next to the cot, Harvey couldn't help but overhear their quiet conversation.

"Hey there Chicken Boy"

"Hey Farm Girl"

How you feeling?

I've had better days

Harvey says he can get you help, if your willing to take it, that is

I may just take him up on that

You're an asshole

And you still keep me around

I plan too, for a long time

Harvey cleared his throat and stepped around the divider

"It's time to give him some rest now"

The farmer nodded and turned back to Shane, smoothing his hair and dropping a kiss on his forehead before rising to leave; the small tender moment was not lost on Harvey and his heart wrenched, remembering a time when she touched him so sweetly.

†*****************†

Summer gave way to fall, and Harvey was living his life pretty much how he had before his marriage to the farmer, still popping into the saloon every now and then, 'everything was fine' he'd tell himself , and even he started to believe that. Until one night in the saloon.

He had been there nursing a drink when the farmer came in, as he turned around to see who was arriving, the farmer was scanning the faces in the crowd, her face lit up in a grin to see Shane at his usual spot and drinking a sparkling water; she took a step inside before her gaze landed on him, and she blanched, her lovely smile gone, she even took a step back, half turning to leave before steeling her resolve.

Hey Gus, can I have a beer here please?

As he slid the frosty mug to her, she turned and offered it to Harvey.

"I don't want your gift" he said.

"You're going to need it" was all she said before going to Shane, who wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss on the mouth, the farmer giggled and kissed him back; Harvey's hand drifted toward the beer.

"Can I have everyone's attention please?" The farmer shouted over the talking voices and the playing jukebox, when all eyes were on her she looked at Shane and got down on one knee, producing a mermaids pendant from her pocket, Shane turned blushed a deep red, his surprise almost audible, before he said "I accept!"

The whole saloon burst into cheers and everyone converged on the couple, voices overlapping with cheers and congratulations, Harvey downed the beer in a few gulps, turns out she was right, he did need it.

#Harvey stardew valley #Shane stardew valley #Stardew Valley

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wrathofthewind · 3 years

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ix. Key

First, there were very few people who knew how to cast a mirage maze. Gala was especially known for her realistic fabrics and how well set each mirage was. She’d often play around and leave boxes with hints and clues about the next step. When done in jest, it could even be said to have a semblance of fun, or nostalgia, not all mirages were unwelcome. She probably had plenty of fun with Ithana in a mirage all the time. But some… some were brought up from the recesses of your memory, often a memory you had surpassed or couldn’t live down. No one knew what Tyssen had seen to make him break down that day. One of the strongest people Arnalt had ever known, but even Pallax was protective after that. Which, of course, Tyssen punched him for, at least as soon as he had his wits back.

Then again could it count as a day if Tyssen hadn’t punched or shoved or been aggressive in some way towards Pallax? Arnalt unconsciously shook his head. They clearly cared for each other, what was the point of such grief?

Of course Arnalt had never been in a situation where any relationship was ambiguous or complicated. He placed everyone into a neat little folder, filed them into their designated box, that was that. Tyssen and Pallax, his loyal guards. Ithana, his sister with a temper and a reputation to back it up. He admired her. They had a bit of a rivalry, he didn’t know why he just felt like they understood each other. So what if she could break his bones? Ithana was simple and to the point, her language was something he could understand; same as Bael, good food, good wine, good laughs. It was a whole different story with Ronan.

As if his thoughts had conjured the person, Arnalt the illusion melting into a familiar scene: he was walking through the corridors in Ronan’s palace, but this was an area slightly different to the one from his memories. There were several doors and because this wasn’t Arnalt’s first mirage, he randomly picked one and opened.

It was the oddest thing. The first door he opened clearly showed the kitchen back at his own palace. He closed it and tried the door next to it. The next sight was a courtyard in Ithana’s palace. Alright, alright… the person who created this illusion, and he already had his suspicions, was familiar with all these households. They were a servant, because while the residences were different, giving the illusion that this person traveled frequently, it was only the most humble areas. A private courtyard here, another kitchen there, the laundry rooms, a nondescript hallway in the lower floors… only one door led into a place he hadn’t expected: a luxurious and ample bedroom, fit for a King. Arnalt felt a chill.

He… he wasn’t ready for this one, but that was precisely why he went in first.

There wasn’t anything remarkable in the room, it’s just that Arnalt knew these tastes. For some reason, after that first encounter, he’d expected the illusion to show him Ronan’s chambers… but Ronan was of a marshal mind, his chambers decked to the nines with trophies from his wild hunts, animal pelts, or wooden shelves he’d carved himself. Ronan believed in a discipline of the body and the mind.

These chambers, with delicate fabrics, gilded doors, freshly cut flowers, and the juxtaposition of battle armor and axes… this room belonged to the 3rd Prince, Luka.

But how… why would this person know Luka?

A few paintings of Luka were hanging next to the mirror, positioned there as if to aid him when getting dressed, to remind him of his own visage when captured by the masters. Luka was truly… not someone Arnalt spoke with often.

He finally noticed a painting that was slightly askew. It depicted a glittering mountain of jewels, dripping from a heavenly ledge towards a mortal pagoda like a waterfall of riches. The strokes were vivid, delicate, and quite gentle, giving the painting an appearance of vaporous water, with muted tones that lit up as a single golden stroke lifted the yellow here, or a sudden deep vivid crimson touched the edge of the canvas here… as if jewels upon jewels could not all shine at the same time, but rather only a few stood out when chosen by the painter. It was exquisite, and slightly dull. There was nothing else to the painting but the technique and the subject. A waterfall of gems, wouldn’t that hurt? Who wants that? Rivers of yellow flowed around the pagoda, enshrining it with what was probably meant to be a river of gold, but all Arnalt saw was a syrupy bowl encircling a pagoda pancake. Or, if he was more honest and vulgar… a river of pee. He let slip a quiet “Pft!”, and a low chuckle rumbled in his throat when he noticed the signature on the piece. “Azuria, Luka”.

Wait.

He glanced at all the paintings by the mirror. No. He painted himself all these times? He really wanted to just break out in laughter. Luka was quite good looking but— never mind never mind, that’s not what he was here for. He subconsciously straightened the painting before him to correct its angle and a small “clack” noise drew his attention. The painting unhooked itself from the wall and moved to the side of its own accord. A door was revealed, covered in bright gems. It was such a magnificent door, why would it be hidden behind a painting? Was this Luka’s treasure chamber? Curious about the inside he jiggled the door but couldn’t get it to budge. It had a keyhole with a strange design.

Ah. There it was. The puzzle in the dream. The maze in the mirage.

Alright, well, he could end up spending weeks traveling up and down the hall of this illusion, opening random doors and peering through random memories to look for clues, or he could apply what he’d already learned from dealing with Gala so often.

The person who crafted the mirage might make a very intricate maze to keep you inside, the longer you were in, the more they could absorb your life force after all… but their subconscious wouldn’t be able to control itself and sometimes a mirage would be repeated, certain things would show up in the various chambers. A single spoon, always on a table, or a mirror with an eagle carved on top showing up in both a bedroom and a dining hall… those were the clues, and one could avoid a great deal of grief by finding those mimicked objects.

Arnalt went back into the hall and opened a few door, not bothering to step inside, knowing it would be a waste of his time, and he already needed all his energy properly circulating to heal his shoulder… he didn’t stop until he noticed exactly three things:

A ceramic bowl.

A horse-shaped kite.

Needles and thread.

The first one was the easiest, a ceramic bowl of that shape and size either belonged to a kitchen or a dining room. Out of all the rooms he’d opened, only one had been a kitchen, so he doubled back there and went in. This time the door shut and clicked, locking. Aha. Well done Arnalt!

Once again he found himself in his own palace, and this would be the second time an illusion occurred there, but he knew everyone on his staff, down to their celestial sign and birth town. He had never met that woman from the first illusion before. Had never seen the face of that figure that burst like paper.

As if on cue he heard Ronan’s voice once more: “Shut the gates then and don’t let them cross anymore.”

“Sire that might cause a revolt.”

“Good, let that idiot Luka sweat a little for once.”

The voices came from Ronan, and next to him, a monk of Aegeria, one of the caretakers of the Ancient Library.

“It’s not advisable to… to have something break out near the Old Libraries. Those records haven’t been properly copied yet, and we still have all that recovery work from the recent incidents—“

Ronan was never patient, hardly allowing him to finish before bellowing “Alright already! Open the gates but ensure every single one of them has a sealed pass, and Luka better get those in order that little shit!”

Arnalt could vaguely tell what this was about, it was fairly recent… the townspeople of Luka’s region were fleeing from a sudden Craigh, a crack in the Earth that became a sinkhole. No one knew when they showed up or why, and just as they came they would disappear. A sudden gap in the Earth and monsters would crawl out, devouring everything. A Craigh could last a few days, or a few months, properly annihilating an entire region before closing up and disappearing, as if it never happened. Not even its teeth marks on the ground remained. Of course, a few Craighs were seasonal, and because they were larger, and possible thicker with dark energy, they would always show up in the same place. One of these was the Craigh of the Crescent, located in the Glaes Winterlands. It was precisely near that time of the year too…

Arnalt ignored the rapid beating of his own heart, anxiety gnawing at him. The faster he got out of this damn mirage, the quicker he could deal with everything else and find a way to reach Marius before it was too late.

He lifted his gaze, the sounds of Ronan and the monk had long since been swallowed up by all the activity in the kitchen. He saw his own figure emerge from the door, a stoic expression on his face as he put away his bow, and behind him, the ever-obedient pup, Marius, his growing frame panting as he wiped sweat from his forehead and tugged at his collar slightly. This was barely a year ago.

“Marius again…” Why was Marius in every illusion?

There wasn’t much he could do but sit in a stool nearby and watch.

“Run laps tomorrow, it can’t be that you’re this young and still can’t keep up with the hunting foxes.”

“Y-yes, My Lord…” the quality of Marius’s voice was a lot lighter back then. To think it had only been a year. He was also so much taller already, sometimes he felt like Marius was a Nigella flower, seemingly blooming overnight. Was that how he’d been in his early adolescence too? He felt a bit fatherly. Look at his boy!

“Eat well tonight, we’re doing it all over again tomorrow, and this time I expect you to surpass your own record.” Arnalt in the illusion had come into the kitchen out of impetuousness, he couldn’t wait to be served and just reached straight into one of the trays the servants were preparing and grabbed a puff pastry. Of course, he wouldn’t actually eat it in front of anyone, that was not proper, so he had no patience, hunger clawing his insides, and simply packed a napkin with several of the confections and quickly left the room with a passing, “bright and early Marius! Tomorrow!”.

Arnalt half expected Marius to follow suit and just reach his paws into the tray as well, grabbing some of those flaky, buttery, delicious pastries, but of course, Marius wouldn’t do that, much less a Marius that had been properly educated by Arnalt this whole time.

He straightened his back and felt his chest puff with a bit of pride at the sight, as Marius merely put all the weapons away, neatly tidied up the kitchen island where Arnalt dropped everything, then cleaned the arrows one by one and placed everything where it should go. He grabbed a dirty rag that was near the washing area, meticulously washed it himself, and then, soaking it with some cold water, rubbed the damp fabric over his arms to cool his own skin. He was young, but those arms were already corded with barely contained power. In the present they were about the same height already, and Marius’s build wasn’t quite as fair as Arnalt’s, so he seemed like a puffed up rooster next to a graceful swan when they stood next to each other.

He paused. Yes, he’d just compared Marius to a fat cock. Why was this so funny to him. What the hell. His shoulders were shaking with laughter because he knew this was a side of his own sense of humor that he couldn't share with anyone, often laughing at his own vulgar and stupid jokes. Arnalt would never! He berated himself and even softly smacked his own hand. Bad Arnalt. Do not call the Kurian a fat cock.

He burst out laughing. It’s not like anyone would hear him anyway. But it’s just, he’d been a tiny chick when he found it and fed it corn diligently and look at how big he’d gotten!

He waited to see what else they’d fed this baby chick that had helped him grow so big and strong in the last year. He waited and waited, and found himself yawning as the night slipped.

Marius was ever so polite. He simply sat and let the kitchen staff do its work. Let them serve a meal for the Lords, let them serve a meal for the guards, for the monks, for the servants, for themselves. Waited and waited until the last counter was wiped clean, and not a speck of the glorious meal remained, and everyone had left the kitchen. They even blew out the last candle without bothering to address him. They closed the door.

The scene was enfolded in gloom and Arnalt felt his heart itch. Was he not hungry?

Only now Marius stood up and re-lit that candle. He went to the pantry but it was locked, then searched through the drawers and apparently found nothing. There was a single discarded onion, the bits of it that were still edible had already been carved away. He took that sad leftover piece of onion and pierced it with a stick, then held it over the candle fire.

What the fuck was this?

Arnalt stood up and walked near him. Was Marius insane? Was this some sort of strange habit he’d picked up in the jungles? Could he not let this uncivilized behavior go? Why didn’t he grab a bowl of rice or one of the many braised pork plates and stuffed potatoes that’d been prepared earlier. Was this little dummy so polite he forgot he had a right to eat?

Arnalt thought back and realized he’d always assumed Marius ate well, and of course he had to, hello! He’d just compared him to a fat rooster, how did he grow up so healthy if he wasn’t eating properly? It’s not like Arnalt was tasked with checking even that minutiae? Wasn’t it enough already that he sometimes requested a special menu to fatten him up when he’d found him? Did he also have to supervise his daily diet?

Marius was about to bite into the roasted onion when a shadow appeared and he quickly turned towards the door.

One of the cooks had come in, apparently forgotten something or other. They leveled Marius with a glare. “What are you doing?”

“None of your concern.” Marius leveled them back.

Arnalt had assumed he would answer back politely, maybe meekly, something like “not much? Eating an onion? Hungry?” Something stupid like that, because obviously this mutt had to be stupid to be eating an half-roasted bad onion, but he certainly hadn’t expected him to narrow his eyes with such violence at the cook.

“Well, I certainly won’t stop you from poisoning yourself.” The cook sneered.

“How kind.” Marius.

“Guards!” The cook called.

Marius immediately dropped the onion into the wastebasket. He hadn’t given it a single bite.

“On second thought…” the cook said, “we can’t have you stealing from the royal family and just let it slide right? That would be the same as being complicit?”

Wha—

A guard came over and grinned, locking eyes with Marius. “Again little dog? Which will it be? Rope or wood?”

Rope or wood? The hell was he talking about?

“I’d request wood but… you barely have anything to work with so.” Marius had glanced below the guard’s belt.

Arnalt’s face turned purple.

The guard came up and soundly slapped Marius across the face. He was a 15-year old boy, this was a 29-year old guard, a mountain against a tree. The slap should’ve broken his jaw.

“Two crimes and counting.”

But this was not possible. Nobody should dare to punish Marius in his own estate? Everyone knew he was under Arnalt’s protection? Why hadn’t Marius said anything? He remembered the next day, remembered Marius being more quiet, more attentive, and also more vicious as he hunted. He remembered Marius suggesting they roast them, asking Arnalt to teach him how it’s done. Arnalt had no idea how to roast anything. Marius had said “let’s try anyway.” He’d botched a few birds and finally cooked up a half-decent pheasant. Marius had eaten his half with such intensity and bad manners Arnalt had forced him to copy the entire book of rules and etiquette 50 times.

Now, in this gloomy kitchen, Marius shuddered and breathed a few words. “I won’t ask for mercy. I hope you kill me.”

“Good.” The guard cracked his knuckles. “But I won’t kill you. That would be a violation of the decree. I’m just following my own liege’s mandates, it’s just our lot in life. Yours to be a cursed creature, mine to obey my Prince.”

Before he slammed his fists on Marius’s back, a familiar female voice interrupted.

“Malak, His Highness requests your presence.” The woman bowed slightly, but Arnalt already knew the shape of her hair, the size of her frame.

She bowed to the cook as well. “A tray of cheeses and figs for the Lord.”

“Right away!” The cook was suddenly all meek and smiles.

Marius still remained on the ground breathing.

Once the chef had the tray ready, the young woman took it, she also asked to heat up a quick bowl of soup, and toast some bread. As the cook went about producing ingredients, he took out a small key from his pocket and opened the locked pantries. Meanwhile, she kept her back to Marius and let some pieces of cheese and errant figs slip to the floor.

Marius took them and ate them right away. Like a small beast, uncaring that they’d already touched the floor.

Arnalt wasn’t sure he could continue to watch. He forced himself to stay, eyes wide open. The guard had mentioned a prince, so, someone with a higher ranking issued an edict. Arnalt’s mercy extended to Marius’s life, but when it came to corporeal punishments or policies… he was outranked by nearly everyone in his family. He hadn’t really given it much thought, Marius always looked glowing, healthy, occasionally with a few scraps and bruises he attributed to being a young, wild thing.

And now, as he watched that hunched proud figure lap at a soup bowl from the ground, “quickly quickly!”, the young woman said, having sent the cook on some other foolish errand—she hid bread in his pockets—and Arnalt felt like he couldn’t breathe.

He kneeled next to Marius. “I’ve wronged you.” He whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He really couldn’t fathom a reason, and if he felt an urgency to head to the Glaes Winterlands before, now he tacked on a furious desire to ask him all about this, this and any other things that might’ve happened when he wasn’t looking.

Feeding corn to a chick, and then releasing it into a snake pit. Arnalt’s lashes trembled. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, that he was actually so weak, that his palace wasn’t his own, that Ronan came and went because he had the right, just how the council used his chambers, or the 2nd Prince, Finneas, came and went with his affairs, rumpling sheets in whatever chamber he felt like. Because this palace, as long as he was an Azurian, would forever be only an estate of the King, to house and protect a 19th prince… but not to be owned by said prince.

No, he didn’t want to go down that road. He wiped his mind. Took a breath. One thing at a time. Not his family, not those politics, not the memories of his mother… closed, shut off, done. He was water, he was a lake. And once he found Marius again, he wouldn’t let the boy go thirsty. He might not be as powerful as his brothers and sisters, but he could still provide. Maybe he should consider a chamber near him, and having him join him for dinner, maybe the Kurian should be his actual friend! A guest! Ha! What the fuck would they be able to do to him then? Not in Arnalt’s face! Would he have to keep him next to him 24/7? Well so be it!

…though, that was probably easier said than done.

His hand had unconsciously reached out to stroke Marius’s hair, the boy still hunched over and scarfing down whatever the young woman threw at him in between bouts, she, meanwhile, guarded the door, hastily retreated when someone else came, and Marius just kept his position on the floor, appearing for all matters and purposes as if he’d been leveled by the one slap and just couldn’t get up, which seemed to please everyone. Arnalt’s hand went through the strands, it was just an illusion. Just as well, he really didn’t know why he’d reached out to pet him just then.

Finally Arnalt remembered what he was here for, eyes sharply looking around for extra clues… Marius was key to this illusion, and key to this woman’s encounters and memories, but why? Why was she going out of her way to help him? Did they know each other? Was she someone from Marius’s past?

Just then the cook came back and placed the pantry key on the table as they busied themselves reaching for some ingredient or other.

The key was fine and ornate. It did not look like the key to a pantry.

Was that it?

The carvings and the shape matched the orange keyhole of that door in Luka’s room.

But it couldn’t possibly be that easy, could it?

A new figure entered the room, and Arnalt had half expected it to be Ronan once more. Instead, he found himself staring into a pool of jade eyes that were as muted as the paintings on his wall. His voice was soft and melodious, his outfit ornate and brilliant, which seemed ill-fitting against the paleness of his skin and the icy blankness of his face.

Luka.

And the words that came out of his mouth were just as icy, directed towards the young woman who Arnalt now noticed had gone completely pale and was unconsciously holding herself against a wall, trembling.

“As if I wouldn’t recognize you, Iris.”

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thesalemsaga · 4 years

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𝟲 — 𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗶𝗱 𝗯𝗮𝘆

— 𝙨𝙞𝙭𝙩𝙝 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙢 𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙖.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 : 6.4k words

𝙨 : they’ve left the walls, and now it seems like they’re unstoppable. however, having to make a short stop, they soon uncover the savagery that has taken hold of the world, putting their training to the test.

“ doesn’t your eye-sight hurt? ”.

alexander peered up once seren’s voice caught his ears.

she had been sitting at his side for a good hour, glancing over his shoulder whilst his index finger trailed beneath the lines consisting of runes and symbols that she had never dreamt of seeing before. for the first time she took knowledge over how his fingers were tainted with ink, red from hours of writing, pouring every last pint of energy he had into his studies.

seren had seen copious books thrown in front of her when exam season hit the calendar, but nothing could compare to what this boy probably had to sit through to be a qualified cleric. she took to admire alexander for how he persevered, it didn’t seem like it was labor for him, he must enjoy it to some degree. even now, when he could be talking to the others, growing closer to them, strengthening bonds, he continues reading as if to never give himself a break from the school they probably wouldn’t see for a while.

yet, the more she thought about it, the clearer it became. maybe it was for the very reason that they would not face their school for some months that he clung to the only thing that might bring a sense of normalcy. school is hell, albeit the only thing they’ve ever known within the walls. it kept them grounded, centered on something. even seren, an avid daydreamer, allowed herself to be consumed by her studies and let it became the center of her life.

now she realizes that she has to distance herself from the only life she’s ever known and replace it for one she could not control, where the laws didn’t bend at her will, because nature kneels to no one.

alexander was wise, though, to keep something to occupy his mind. who knows how long it’ll be before they start to lose their ways and begin to cave into the reality of the world outside?

“ m-my father got me these at the start of the year after . . . some glasses that made my eye-sight worse. these ones have steadily improved it, though ”, he replied after a moment, immediately drawing his attention once more to the book he grasped within his hands.

seren hummed, swinging her feet slightly. “ is your hair also always like that? ”, she questioned. she found herself in a very questioning mood that day, maybe it was an attempt to distract herself from the utter boredom she might face during this flight to egypt.

“ like what? ”.

“ that bowel-shape cut. ”

his face suddenly incredibly pink, red rising to the tip of his ears. seren’s eyes widened for a moment with slight realization, “ w-well, you get what i mean. always the same style, quite conservative. do you ever switch it up? ”.

“ how? i find it unnecessary. and a waste of time, if you ask me. ”

chuckling, the girl rested her back against her seat and ran her fingers through her own hair, “ not exactly. i find that boys switch up their hairstyles more than girls on some occasions. have you seen percy? one day he has a perm, the next he’s wearing a beret. ” it was super cute.

alexander appeared timid all of a sudden. “ well i’m not percy, seren. i find that i quite like my look. sure, the glasses can be fussy and the hair is hard to cope with in the morning, but it’s my signature look. like your hair bow ”.

seren defensively grasped her ointment, “ i have my bow but i still style my hair differently on occasions. i customize it, explore my way of dressing. it’s actually a great way to learn to appreciate your looks, looking at yourself in different ways. ”

alexander seemed unwilling to counter, attention on the book once more. taking a deep inhale, the girl smiled and reached over. he had a signature look himself, that face. his entire face was a signature because his features were so firm and bold and beautiful, it would still be him even if he chose to wear something different or styled his hair.

she found herself removing his glasses, ignoring the fuss he appeared ready to put on, and messed up his hair, bringing the locks hiding his forehead and pushing them back. thankfully, they fell right into place. capturing a glance at him, seren felt like she was looking at a different person, she smiled to herself, content with the transformation that had occurred under her doing.

“ w-what? ”.

seren shook her head slightly, “ you look good. you look even better, actually. people never realize how beautiful they are when others are looking at them. you still look like you, in case you’re wondering. but just without the glasses. stop squinting~ ”.

“ s-sorry ”, letting out a small laugh, alexander raked a hand through his locks and seren was barely able to contain her excitement, he seemed to be liking it! “ i just really can’t see without my glasses. contact lenses are hard to wear, as well, i tear up and people think i’m constantly upset. ”

seren peered at the frames in her hands and hummed, “ can’t you enchant yourself to fix your own eye sight? or are long-term conditions out of question? i hear only a witch doctor can do that. ”

“ percy could. he’s a mage. the magic i access is limited only to healing and enchanting things that might bring people at death’s door. a stab wound, i can deal with. a cancer or a chronic illness, i’m afraid i can’t deal with that. believe me, i’ve tried ”, he countered, flipping aimlessly through his pages. seren’s eyes suddenly frowned. “ i would ask percy but . . . it’s too much to ask. it would demand a crazy amount of mana. ”

seren held her breath.

she’d witnessed it herself, the moment percy went pale the night before and for just a split second, it felt like he went totally limp before managing to catch himself. mana was the fuel source for anyone dealing with magic, and if you drain it, it eats your energy away in chunks if you use your magic excessively and recklessly.

alexander pushed on, “ besides, he could end up panicking and blinding me for life. i know he feels slightly reluctant when dealing with his magic. he hesitates all the time in magical art lessons. it’s like he’s scared of what he’s capable of. ”

“ well isn’t everyone? having that much power should scare anyone ”, seren shook her head, staring at her feet. “ magic is serious business, that’s why i felt lucky to not have inherited it. because as a swordsman, i have control of who my target is. as a mage, i might end up burning a whole village to kill just one man. ”

the aircraft suddenly shifted, and the girl caught herself in case she went overboard. it wasn’t turbulence, it seemed like they were going to start to make a descent into the territory they’d dreamed of stepping into. she stood up, clinging to the security railings on the roof and walls. “ what’s happening? ”, she called.

perseus peeked his head out of the cabin door with his cheeky, boxy grin. “ we’re about to land! ”, he replied over the sound of the engine roaring, but as they neared their descent, all that she could hear was the whistle of the wind. beyond the windows, she saw red. well, red soil.

the landscape in which they’d landed resembled a savanna region which you wouldn’t have expected to find in egypt a long time ago. the dirt paths were overtaken by spreading grass, tall acacia trees scattered around but not close enough to resemble a full forest. no animals in sight, as expected. and if there were, they probably fled when they heard the aircraft landing.

landing in a desolate terrain that a human being has probably not stepped into yet was a thrilling idea, albeit terrifying. because if there weren’t humans roaming then there had to be something else, lurking, aware that something strange and out of their world had just touched down on their soil.

it felt forbidden, like they shouldn’t be here.

“ are we in the sinai peninsula? ”, seren quizzed.

at the shake of kailen’s head, she was growing confused. “ i made an emergency landing because i need to figure this compass out. if i try to do it on hair it’s just going to waste fuel. we might as well pause here until i get this thing working. ”

“ well, what do we do in the meantime? ”.

“ explore for a bit, i suppose. ”

romeo was the first one out once the hatchet opened. seren stepped out and landed on the grass with her two feet. the sensation was albeit the same but knowing that they were no longer caged within stone walls and now roamed the wild, it was no wonder her heart felt heavier, blood pumping with excitement.

what she did notice was how unbearably hot it was, the sun smiling down at them, toasting the girl beneath her dense military clothes. they only weighed her down, and if she was going to traverse through desserts and dry lands, there was no point wearing it.

after ripping her jacket off, she felt a massive improvement, loosening one button of her white shirt and slipping her gloves off. “ s-seren, what are you doing? ”, she heard perseus stammer behind her. she blinked at him cluelessly.

“ i’m burning hot. besides, these things are only going to slow us down. we’re not representing valhalla out here, we’re by ourselves. ”

pacing forward, she began to investigate her surroundings with a little more liberty. time was of the essence, but they were not expecting to reach salem within a week, that was very unlikely. so whilst tying her hair back with her ribbon, she took to admiring the trees, the landscape, the mountains in the distance.

“ from what i heard ”, alexander began suddenly, crouching down to take a sip of his water. “ the peninsula became densely populated with trees. it used to be more of a dessert, mountain range. now it’s practically a rain forest. most of the middle east is a rain forest. ”

which would mean that there would be less dessert to traverse, which the girl was thankful for. she’d heard rumors that during the apocalypse period, the world underwent a series of freezes that meant temperatures drastically cooled down and even countries that used to be in the line of the equator became sudden areas stained with trees and wildlife. egypt was one of them.

and with cooler temperatures, trees and humidity, the wildlife can be, well, wild. the girl realized that after spotting something on the dry dirt just after a patch of grass. something that seemed to resemble footprints, huge ones.

whoever they belonged to, the creature had hands resembling a human being if it wasn’t so thin and so lanky, and she was certain she had just come across claw marks embedded into one of the nearby acacias. crouching, the girl ran her fingertips over the prints and hummed.

“ you okay? ”, romeo asked.

she motioned him over and pointed to the foot prints, measuring at least at three metres in length. “ what kind of animal would you find in the middle of these plains who could have such a claw? ”, she questioned.

“ dragons, or some sort of lizard-resembling creature ”, the gunner replied, grazing his fingers over the marked dirt. “ these aren’t new footprints, though, they have most likely been here for at least three or four days. they’ve not faded yet because of the lack of wind. ”

seren frowned, looking off at the set of mountains in the distance. casting her memory back to when she met alexander in the library, she had pulled out a book on the creature at hand. it spoke of the domains dragons took to, and long mountain ranges were some of them.

hopefully we’ll be out of here before such dragon can spot us, she prayed.

“ hey, i think i found a lake or pond! ”.

they immediately stood and walked on over to where evangelos stood and pointed. there was certainly a body of water, a stream of some sort that most definitely belonged to a greater source, perhaps something verging off of the nile river. “ it’s pretty cool, i’d suggest maybe getting clean water or cooling down before we head back ”, perseus called.

seren did just that, crouching over the edge and taking the water in her hands, holding it to her nose. no funny odor, and based off of how evangelos was drinking, it had no funny taste either. and it wasn’t pristine, yet she could at least see the bottom of the pond.

she refilled her water bottle and set it to be cooled, and then splashed her face a couple of times and instantly felt better, headache simmering down with each passing second until it stopped. “ you’d never would have thought the world would be peaceful like this after stepping outside ”, romeo began, grinning to himself.

“ this won’t account for the rest of the world. for all we know, the rest could be filled with monsters of all sorts trying to kill us. but it’s nice that there’s a safe haven here, minus the dragon footprints ”, evangelos ran a hand through his now damp hair. “ i asked kailen. we’re apparently very close to cairo. we might even be able to see the pyramids if we fly low enough. ”

“ seriously? ”, seren gasped and beamed. “ that’d be so great! but . . . we’d be best off staying on higher ground to avoid being spotted or alarming anyone we don’t want knowing we’re here. ”

it was unknown just how for salem’s hand stretched. eastern europe was occupied completely by her henchmen and it was why they advanced so easily down into the balkan countries. the empire military was being forced back into greece as their defenses fell, their greatest fear being that salem would find crete soon enough, and the last set of human beings would be crushed under her wrath.

earth would have to start again, smaller, weaker, with no means of fixing what they had since it was going to be stripped from them anyway. seren’s blood boiled, it came to a point where she was done questioning the morale of a person like salem, of why people go to these lengths to pursue things for their own benefit. evil people just exist, they don’t need a reason.

she would be damned if she let the woman get close to her home. having been spotted in russia already probably had her hiding out in fear, but fear brings panic, and in the midst of panic, she might do something catastrophic and seren promised her father the woman would be dead before such thing could happen.

“ do you think . . . there are human beings outside of the walls? ”.

seren turned to perseus and rose a brow, “ separate populations? ”.

the boy nodded. “ yeah. people who weren’t given a chance of treading into the walls like everyone else, people who isolated themselves. people who saw the wild as their home and never thought to abandon it. different languages, a different culture. i think it’d be nice if we came across something like that ”, he suddenly chuckled. “ though, let’s hope they’re not aggressive. ”

“ for all we know, they could also believe they’re the last people on earth. we’d surely give them quite a scare, being armed to the brim ”, evangelos stated, tilting his head. “ human beings can be sympathetic despite their differences. i don’t think we’re going to get killed at the hands of people like that, though. that’d be a waste. ”

it was never said whether there were humans beyond the walls. seren knew the government worked hard to expand the walls at the same pace that the population grew, allowing people to situate their homes in zones they deemed ‘safe.’ never was it said that they made contact with other people, and if they did, they kept it as a very, very good secret.

they suddenly jumped at an echoing sound and threw their gazes over their shoulders to find kailen at the open hatchet, waving them over with a grin. “ i’ve fixed it! ”.

romeo grumbled, “ about time. ”

once inside the ship, seren found alexander tapping away at some control buttons on the board, the compass glowing green and seemingly working pretty well. kailen had pulled out a map of the old world, and he prayed that the land structure hadn’t changed exactly.

“ it seems like we’re going in a more north east direction. as soon as we get into sinai, we’ll start treading through the middle east, and even more east just to avoid the baltics. from what i heard, salem doesn’t have much control over china and mongolia. so we have to enter through there ”, kailen spoke whilst running a red pen, tracing through path and drawing what seemed to be a border around the baltics. it was a good tactic, avoiding where the enemy’s front line was. he looked back at seren who stood just behind him. “ what do you think? ”.

the girl shook her head, “ it’s perfect. what we have to be mindful of is not disturbing any of her minions in the area, but we can worry about that later. how much fuel are we on? ”.

kailen winced, lowering his head. “ three hours, at least. t-though, i hear there is a place where we might find some . . . ”.

time skip . . .

the flight wasn’t too long, but it was long enough for the girl to catch another nap. the seats were incredibly uncomfortable, the components of the seat belt digging into her torso and waking her up when the airship would shift at times. the feeling only relieved when she had an idea.

evangelos had been sitting beside her quietly, doing what appeared to be doodling on his phone. valhalla students were given school phones that aimed mostly at giving them a better experience in their classes, and they had longer lasting batteries, which is why evangelos seemingly whipped it out. some adjustments made by alexander meant that the school could not trace them.

the seat beside the male was free, and the seat belt component was lowered which meant that what she had in mind could work, it was just a matter of whether evangelos would be comfortable. seren bit her lip and sat down beside him regardless, he lifted his gaze and glanced at her. “ what’s up? ”.

she didn’t say a word, resting her head against his shoulder and finding herself feeling way more comfortable as opposed to before, smiling softly to herself. evangelos merely held his breath, but made no attempt at moving or pushing her away. you’d think she would be more cautious around him of all people.

in reality, she would have felt awful for avoiding him because of that dueling incident. her arms were still recovering, albeit slowly. and the burn marks became heavily obvious in the daylight, hence her attempts at hiding them as best as she could.

and she probably to avoid making evangelos feel bad.

“ comfortable? ”.

the girl nodded, crossing her arms over her chest and pursing her lips slightly. she was bothered by the marks she saw on the dirt road despite romeo’s reassurance. in all honesty, she was far more concerned with the idea of there being a dragon roaming the heavens than getting to salem.

kailen had stated there was a nearby bay area on the coast of northern sinai where human dealings had stained. some sort of power plant from a long time ago had exploded, leading to the area becoming unstable and too toxic to support human life. after many, many years, it looked as if the toxicity levels were low enough for the fuel to be deemed safe enough to power the airship’s engine.

what didn’t bide well with the girl was the lack of a hostile presence ever since their journey began. they had not encountered one enemy aside from clues pointing to a dragon terrorizing the nearby area, but to come face to face with an abnormal creature was still on their to-do list. it was silent, peaceful, nothing she was complaining about but it drained the thrill from the situation and made it feel as if they were sneaking out to a party rather than, you know, saving the world.

that would only mean that whatever they encountered soon was going to shake her to her core. hence why apprehension to easing down and resting too much, but she found evangelos’s shoulder to be comfortable. his presence radiated that of protection aside from intimidation. and he was warm.

seriously warm.

“ did it hurt? ”.

“ hm? ”.

his fingers grazed gently over the surface of her arms. his touch was delicate, not an ounce of mal intention with it. it was perhaps the most docile thing she had seen from evangelos from the moment she met him. her thoughts drifted once more to the duel, to the internal shock she experienced after that impact, the agony that came from the burns, the way her bones rattled in fear when she realized her weakness.

“ well, of course it hurt. but does it still hurt? ”, he sounded concerned, and a part of her ached on his behalf. to have everyone glance at you as if you’re some sort of monster when your anger builds and you act upon it must be something nobody wants to necessarily deal with. she hurt for him. and she didn’t see a reason for holding a grudge against an injury that will heal. sure, the marks will always be there. but they will never be a reminder that evangelos was a violent person. ever.

seren glanced at his hand and chuckled, patting it gently. “ it did. but what hurts me most is that you’re still hanging on. it’s healing, as most injuries do. i just want you not to worry about it when there are other things we have to heal ”, she said.

and that was not her attempt at shutting down the conversation, it was simply a way to reassure evangelos in case his thoughts were scrambled, in case he somehow considered himself as the monster people painted him as.

“ like . . . the wounds of people who might have been denied a home within the walls. the wounds of people who never got a chance to be saved. if they’re out there, then we have to help them heal. isn’t that what heroes are supposed to do? ”.

evangelos started, “ y-yeah, but . . . ”.

“ my wounds will heal. memories stay but it’s how you remember them that counts. i don’t remember it as an attack. i remember it as a mistake. and we all learn from them. ”

it was clear she wanted to say more to nurse the situation, to put his mind at rest but she was cut off when the engine began to roar a little louder. upon listening out, it became apparent it was not the engine. but rather, waves crashing against each other. an ocean. a beach.

when the ship landed and the hatchet opened once again, seren felt a chill crawl down her spine when the pristine blue sky she had seen previously turned bleak, grey. lifeless. something you’d expect to see on a cold island in northern europe, not in a tropical region blessed with greenery and life.

upon stepping out, it felt like entering another planet.

craters of sharp rocks and dips made the landscape, the waves thrashing roughly against the shores. it was violent, turbulent, as if a storm slowly crept above them. it was a phantom menace, one that would bare its fangs and strike the rocks with pummeling strength. it took her a couple of steps back suddenly to avoid getting hit by a wave. when her back hit kailen’s chest, she let out a minor squeak.

but he applied a firm hand to her shoulder and nodded to the others, “ alright, there has got to be an oil source nearby. the toxicity will not kill you since it’s harmless at this point. but still be careful. fill the tanks as best as you can. if there’s any sign of movement, don’t wait. just act. ”

the tanks he mentioned weren’t large but it was enough for each member to carry one individually. kailen had suggested that he stayed in the ship whilst they went off to get the oil before quickly returning.

but seren was apprehensive to leave him alone. “ are you sure you don’t want someone to stay behind? ”, she quizzed as they prepared to leave. “ you know we can’t exactly communicate without alerting the academy of where we are, what if something happens to you? ”.

kailen gave her his usual comforting smile, one which causes every suspicion or worry to practically vanish. but it didn’t work this time around on seren. “ i’ll be okay. you just hurry back. it’d be nice to get going before night fall. ”

there was no use convincing him, of course.

seren hurried just like everyone else. it was in their best interest to hurry in order to avoid enemies, but her worry remained grounded on kailen who had stayed in the ship. and although he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, he might not be able to resist a mob of enemies, in whatever form they manifest themselves in. dragons, goblins, maybe even the very henchmen from last night.

“ kailen can handle himself, seren ”, romeo briskly reminded her with a quick pat on the back before hurrying her along. “ he’s an archer, sure. but his semblance won’t fail him in an attack if he gets swarmed. trust me, he will be okay. ”

seren chuckled, “ it’s a habit of mine to worry. i was even concerned when he was with alex fixing the compass. i suppose i feel anxious when we’re not in a group, if you can understand that. ”

romeo hummed, and swung the tank in his arm in a childish fashion that incited a grin from the girl. even if they were escaping mortal danger and running towards the enemy, he still acted as if it was a walk in the park. “ i don’t. but i reckon it’s due to the fact that i know their skills. and i know how strong they are individually. don’t worry, you’ll only exhaust yourself if you keep panicking during the journey. ”

to a great extent, she agreed. but this was also a habit that she has had from a young age, like her habit of taking the blame when it wasn’t hers to claim. unhealthy habits, as one might call it. it was going to take her a lot more time to grow distant from that constant worry. it wasn’t as if she was doubting their skills, they were in higher ranks than her and had stellar combat performances. yet . . .

a whistle from alexander caused her attention to shift. it seemed as if he had found something worth checking, so they hurried over.

what they stumbled across was a bunch of iron barrels with some sort of symbol on them. not the danger symbol, not the flammability symbol, but something else, a mark of manufacture. it was long faded, something that belonged to the old world yet it still sent shivers down her spine. part of the past stood in front of them.

perhaps the most bizarre detail to the scene were the skulls.

skulls.

ribs, skulls, arms and feet. as if a graveyard had surfaced from the soil, the barrels might have been a metaphor for a gold mine but the apparent human remains was what stunned seren the most. and even as the boys moved to fill the tanks, she remained with her feet nailed to the ground, her concern growing tenfold.

there was no use asking for what they believed happened here when it was somewhat clear. it had been a previous power plant, as kailen stated, and after an accident, nobody ever came to look at what remained of the location. craters of oil remained, yet what appeared to be the bodies of the workers also stayed. it was a disturbing sight of which she thought she’d only see in movies.

her steps brought her beside perseus who was studying one of the skulls closely, gloves slipped on and eyes narrowing in thought. “ notice how there is what appears to be bite or scratch marks near the top. that wouldn’t happen if it was a power plant accident, except if they were making monsters instead of oil, which i doubt ”, he stated, looking up at her. “ what do you think? ”.

seren brought her eyes towards the ocean, angry, thrashing, crashing, battling for what seemed to be a victim to pull into its grasps and yank it back into unknown depths.

“ i believe . . . it could have been a monster of some sort. maybe some animals that moved to the area and thought it would be nice to feast on the remains but the toxicity should have killed them and there are no animal bones . . . ”, she spoke, looking around. “ my bet is that it’s a monster. ”

evangelos suddenly grunted as he filled up the tank and screwed the lid shut. “ if there were monsters, they might have showed up by now. those marks look new, if we had the equipment we might have been able to locate the origin. but if it’s monsters, i suggest we hurry up ”.

but what kind of monster would attempt to dig their fangs into a human skull and then leave it aside. it would be normal if the flesh of the bodies had rotted and joined the soil beneath their feet, yet seren was uneasy. it felt too good to be true that this bay, dark and grey, was radio silent aside from the waves crashing ahead of them.

it was a horrible sensation, ignoring that worry gnawing at the back of her mind and then proceeding to fill up her tank with as much fuel as it could carry. she strained to lift it from the ground after screwing the cap shut but she heaved it up and sighed, following romeo who offered the way back to the ship.

with fuel in hand, they will be able to travel a longer distance before sundown and probably find themselves within the rain forest quickly. it would mean that they will be exposed to new danger but it would keep them hidden from any eyes from above trying to track them down.

“ where’s the ship? ”.

huh?

surely enough, when seren glanced up from the ground, her hand suddenly trembled and the tank met the floor within seconds as the ship had vanished. gone, as if it had never been there to begin with.

her first reaction was to believe that kailen might have left them. but if it had been the case, they would have heard the airship taking off and would have come running back long before their current return.

when they heard kailen’s scream, though, they all acted.

romeo suddenly bolted towards the edge of the rocks where he soon spotted the airship being dragged down the rocks, constantly being engulfed by violent waves that they couldn’t stick too close to. what was dragging the ship into the ocean?

seren’s worst nightmare.

mermaids, in mythology, are often depicted as beautiful creatures. alluring, tropical, ethereal. with perfect teeth and hair and stunning voices that will drive a sailor mad, inviting you in with docile smiles and large, curious eyes.

the mermaids that were dragging the ship into the ocean were far from it.

they were scathing around like wild animals, screeching and screaming loudly. there were dozens of them, seren was driven dizzy by the waving tails and the blunt force they used to drag the ship, pushing and pulling and screaming repeatedly and it felt like her ears were going to start bleeding soon, yet she gasped and reached for iron thorn the moment romeo fired a shot from his weapon.

“ kailen’s there! don’t let them get away! ”.

the ship was probably long gone, half submerged under water with kailen in the hatchet, motionless. seren’s food rose to her stomach in heaps yet she managed to fire some essences of ice from her blade, and it reached at least five mermaids, enveloping their tails and pulling them down into the rocks, keeping them from grasping at kailen.

but that still left at least twenty of them that evangelos and perseus were trying their best to blow away with the shots they could fire. evangelos was re-loading consistently, looking fed up by the second and perseus struggled on remaining on his feet. “ kailen! kailen, come on, man! kailen! ”, alexander yelled over the edge, flinching back when a mermaid jumped from a wave and tried to claw at his face. it was only then when seren realized that their nails were razor sharp.

with each stroke of ice and fire, the mermaids seemed to scream their way into the waves but when they began to drag kailen, alexander finally jumped into action and motioned with his hands. when the faint glow swarmed kailen’s body, the mermaid pulling him down shrieked and clawed at him. when alexander began to lift kailen’s body, seren was hopeful he would make it all the way.

when a mermaid jumped and suddenly grasped his ankle, romeo ran to keep the male on the rocks but kailen’s body began to fall back into the waves and seren did the only thing she could. and threw her sword that then pinned the fabric of kailen’s cape against the rocks. and then bolted, running the curve and launching her body over the edge and grabbing him roughly.

and soon, with the little strength she had, heaved him up, caring not for her sword that was probably going to fall into the waves.

“ perseus! ”.

seren busied herself with removing the tight jacket kailen wore as well as the chest coat and yet he made no attempt in breathing or moving. her blood began to run cold and when she began to apply her weight onto his chest, compressing a dozen times, she didn’t notice the hot tears spilling down her cheeks.

she was crying.

“ kailen? kailen! come on, wake up, wake up! breathe for me, kailen, please, we can’t lose you now! ”.

she grunted and pressed harder at a steady pace, her compression only becoming sloppy when she began to realize it wasn’t working. he wasn’t breathing. he wasn’t breathing! choking back a sob, seren pressed harder and felt someone grasping her shoulder but yanked their hand away and brought herself closer to the unresponsive boy. “ kailen, for fucks’s sake, stay with us! please! ”, she cried.

it was only when seren moved over him, pinched his nose and covered his mouth with hers, followed by two steady inhales, that she felt the boy flinch beneath her and jumped back to see the life rushing back to him.

kailen looked pale, coughing up the sea water that had been trapped within his lungs for some minutes. he was drenched, in some sort of pain, groaning through every cough and when he came to a stop, he panted. looking at the concerned faces looking over him, bringing his attention to seren and then looking around, as if to look for the ship.

“ w-what happened? w-why did i black out? ”, he grunted, moving to sit up but being pushed back down by evangelos who removed his jacket and wrapped it over the other’s shoulders. “ where’s the ship? o-oh god, did i lose the ship? ”.

seren’s lip quivered whilst she wiped the tears from her eyes, grimacing at the thought of having lost a team mate in the midst of something like that. the mermaids came out of nowhere, and through the way they shone their teeth at her, they were not good mermaids, not the ones she wold read about in stories and fairy tales. they were monsters.

and they had almost killed kailen.

if they hadn’t arrived faster, kailen would have suffered the same fate as the remains of those people they had come across near the iron barrels. he would have been eaten.

“ they dragged the ship into the ocean. there’s no way we’re going to recover it now ”, romeo voiced with a sigh. seren glanced up when perseus gave her iron thorn. her heart sank once more. if she had lost kailen and her weapon . . . she gave the boy the best smile she could manage and nodded in gratitude, looming worriedly over the boy. “ looks like we’re gonna be walking. ”

kailen sighed and met eyes with seren, smiling timidly at her. “ sorry if i scared you. but thank you for acting so quickly ”, he managed through another cough.

“ y-yeah, it’s no worries ”, seren said and smiled back at him.

but they had a lot to worry about. the day had seemingly grown darker. they had faced possible carnivorous mermaids and they had also lost their ship.

night would fall soon.

they would get hungry.

they lost their direction.

they lost their means of travel.

they were lost. officially.

#chapter six #original writing #fantasy #magic #futuristic #dystopian

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nevrgoinoutastyle2876 · 4 years

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Hey so I don’t normally posy other fandom stuff on here but this is my most followed account and I need some advice on a fic. It’s destiel, please tell me if it’s any good and if you like it I’ll post the link to the rest of the story

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"Very well. Have it your way," Crowley turned to Azazel and Alistair, "boys, shall we?" I saw a smirk cross all their features, and before I knew it, Crowley and the others were shoving me and my friends into the water.

My name is Castiel Novak, and I'm a mess.

One big giant mess. Let me tell you about my day, how it went from good to bad, and how I ended up getting pushed into a lake.

Today, it was summer. Well... months into summer. School would be starting in just about six days. I woke up to quickly find out that it was one of the hottest days of the year. The sun was beating down like thick blanket and never left the clear sky. If I had to guess I'd say the kids in my neighborhood were all playing in sprinklers and having fun, trying to make the most out of what little they had left of summer. Since school was starting very soon, I thought that I should possibly do the same thing, and make the most of what I had left of the season.

I woke up early in the morning. I traveled down the stairs to see an all to familiar view. My Dad was no where in sight, probably in his room writing. My mom was sitting at the kitchen counter reading a magazine, completely ignoring the chaos in the living room.

To tell the truth, what was happening in the living room wasn't all that bad, but, still disturbing. Even though I've seen a lot worse go down in that room. The tv was on and Gabriel, my little brother was sitting on the floor in front of it, constantly changing channels. Anna, my sister, sat on the couch. She was pressed all the way to the end of the couch, trying to still sit there while being as far away from the other end of the couch as she could.

Why was she trying to stay away from the other end of the couch you might ask? Well... Luci, my oldest brother, was there, and so was his boyfriend, Michael. Michael and Luci have been dating for about a year or so. I was shocked they'd made it this long, seeing at they were polor opposites. Michael graduated highschool with a perfect GPA and taking a all advanced courses, while being a star football player as well. Now, he's going to college and spends his free time either with Luci or shadowing the doctors at the hospital so that it'll be easier for him to get a job there. Probably as a heart surgeon or something. Also he had a spotless criminal record.

Meanwhile, Luci had probably all E's in his classes before he dropped out. Never once touched a football and spent most of his time smoking weed with the other bleacher-creatures during the games. He was not attending any colleges and was job-less. His free time was spent either with Michael or at the police station, and it sure as hell wasn't for volunteering. I remember a couple times mom and dad refused to bail him out, so Michael had to go do it.

So yeah, I'm shocked they made it a year. But anyways, right now Michael was over and sitting on the couch with Luci. Well, it was more like Michael was sitting on the couch and Luci was sitting on top of him. They were making out. It was disgusting.

They were making weird moaning noises as Michael's hands practically groped Lucifers torso and chest. I wanted to gag.

I soon decided very quickly that I didn't want to be here, so slipped out the front door before anyone would stop me. Mom and Dad never cared if we went anywhere so I figured they'd be fine if I just left for a little while.

I opened the door and quickly went outside. I closed the door behind me and took a step out into the morning air. If I had to guess I'd say it was about 9:00am, the sun was blazing across the sky as I sat down. I let the warm air and occasional cool breeze wash over me. It was one of those, buy ice cream, go to the beach, summer days. I wasn't much of an outside person, but I enjoyed them none-the-less.

I stood up in my short sleeve, buttoned, baby blue shirt, and jeans before I began to walk down the street. My friend Charlie lived a few blocks down from me, and a few blocks down from there lived Dorothy. See, I had friends, but, there was only two of them. I have known Charlie forever, so we were always close. We met when we were probably five. I remember being at the park with Luci when I saw a small red-headed girl fall from the jungle gym. She looked hurt so I ran from Luci to see if she was alright. She was bleeding, but shockingly, not crying. I went to the bench where Mom was. I rummaged in her purse for the Band-Aids I always made her keep in there for reasons such as this.

I helped the girl bandage her arm to stop the small amount of blood. When I finished she turned to me with an incredibly bright grin and said, "are we best friends now?" And ever since then, we've never left each other's side.

Then Charlie met this girl named Dorothy when we first started middle School in sixth grade. She was pretty badass for a twelve year old and she shockingly decided to sit with us. So she became part of our group too. Now sixteen and we were all inseparable.

Charlie was the fun nerd in our group, she always had the best and craziest ideas out of all of us. Her bright and spunky personality made her instantly loveable. Dorothy was a bit more grounded but was always up for adventure, so when Charlie got an idea, Dorothy was the one to make it happen.

I was the downer of the group I assumed, mainly because I always tried to talk them out of their crazy ideas. But they were both stubborn and I bet if they had the chance to go to Oz they would take it in a heartbeat. They never listened to me, and of course, dragged me along with them every time they were up to some shenanigan. Like the day Charlie said we should go downtown and take edgy pictures of the train tracks, so we could be douchy hipster wannabes. The next day Dorothy grabbed her camera and yanked us downtown to the train tracks. That day we almost got hit by said train on the tracks.

See what I mean? Bad Ideas. But I will admit, there has been some good ones. Like two summers ago we were all sitting at Dorothy's house, bored with nothing to do, so Charlie randomly said we should go into town and take some weird class. We spent the whole afternoon learning pottery and making clay. That was fun.

So, in conclusion, I love my friends and their idiotic selves. That's why I was on my way down there now, to go do something interesting. I approached Charlie's house very quickly. Her house was small, probably the smallest out of all our houses. She was an only child and therefore really didn't need that much space. Her house was painted a red-ish orange color, it was like a burnt faded orange kind of. I don't know how to describe it, but it was pretty. Her grass was bright green lined with pink flowers around the house. Cute little white shutters to match with the windows.

The door was a plain brown and I smiled at it before I knocked. I always liked her house. I waited only mer seconds before the door burst open. Charlie looked like she had just been running. She grinned at me when she saw me standing in the doorway.

"I saw you coming from my room and came running." So I was right. She waited a bit before turning to stick her head into the house, "MOM IM GOING OUT WITH CAS!" She called, slamming the door shut immediately after.

I smiled at her again as she linked her arm with mine and started off down the porch steps. Today Charlie was wearing baggy jean shorts that went down to her knees, as well as a Star Wars t-shirt. Her head phones were wrapped around her neck and the cord trailed down her back into her pocket, where her phone probably was.

"Anyways, hi best friend!" She finally greeted once we made it to the sidewalk. I couldn't help but smile, even if it was faint.

"Hello Charlie." I greeted back, watching her long red hair bounce with each step.

"I was hoping you would come by today." She told me, seeming determined. I tilted my head a bit.

"Oh? Why's that?" I asked curiously, taking notice we were on our way to Dorothy's.

"Cant I just wannna see my friend!?... Alsooo when you were sick last week, me and Dorothy went out and discovered something really cool. We gotta show it to you." She sounded excited and picked up her walking pace subconsciously.

We made it to Dorothy's shortly after leaving Charlie's. Dorothy come out almost as fast as Charlie had, giving us her signature smirk before heading out. She was wearing skinny jeans and a brown shirt with her brown hair in a side bun. She was gorgeous I always thought, but not that I was into that kinda stuff.

We started walking down the road together, I started to sweat.

"Man it's hot out." Dorothy complained, sighing and wiping her forehead. Charlie smirked,

"Well duh, that's cuz I'm out here bitches," she grinned as Dorothy gave her a playful shove. I smiled shyly.

"Shut up," she told Charlie, still grinning, then laughing.

"So can anyone tell me where we are going." I asked curiously, changing the topic. I noticed Dorothy smirking.

"You'll have to wait." She told me, causing Charlie to suppress a smirk. I frowned.

"Guys, we are getting far away from town and-" I was quickly cut off by Charlie.

"Oh my gosh Cas, don't be such a stick in the mud. We'll be fineee." She urged, but I wasn't convinced.

"It's just that, you guys don't always have the best ideas..." I mumbled. Charlie looked fakely offended.

"How?!" She questioned while I just looked down sheepishly.

"Well, like... The train incident... that time you almost got us stuck on a flight to India, or when you and Dorothy got me to join your prank fight and we got covered in quick drying paint. Or when we went to the movies and that guy-"

"Okay, okay! You've made your point!" She informed quickly, a flustered blush forming on her face. I couldn't help my grin just a little bit.

After walking for what felt like forever, we were at what I thought was the edge if town. We lived in Michigan, smack dab in the center of the glove, in a town that, if you walked far enough, it turned into all wilderness. I think that's where we were now because on our very long walk we passed a bunch of trees and ponds. Now we were at the end of the dirt road, the very end before it faded into trees.

I would say I was scared, I would say being in the woods made me uncomfortable, I would say we should head back, but, I love nature. Nature is calming and beautiful, how could I say to turn back when we are in the best part of our town?

Charlie turned to me and grinned, Dorothy walked ahead of her. While Dorothy cleared the path, Charlie grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the opening Dorothy made by moving tree branches.

"Close your eyes." Charlie told me, and started guiding me through the forest.

"Please don't run me into anything." I pleaded, not fully trusting my red-headed friend. I could practically feel her eye roll.

"I won't," she grumbled, even thought she probably had been planning too before I stopped her.

"We're here!" Dorothy said, excitement filling her voice. Charlie smiled brightly and let go of my hand.

"Open!" She commanded cheerfully. I let my eyes flutter open and widen at the sight in front of me.

It was an absolutely beautiful lake. It seemed almost deserted. No one was here and it appeared to be a place where no one ever went. The sun was shining bright and created a sparkling reflection in the crystal water. Trees surrounded the entire lake, lillypads and cat tails laid where the water meets the grass. Flowers, exotic ones that were bright orange and neon pink were also by the trees. I was shocked.

I took a step forward and grinned wide. I turned my head back to my two friends who stood behind me.

"How did you-" I started to ask how they found it, but Dorothy was already answering.

"Find it? Easy. We were going for a walk in the woods when, poof! Here it was! No one was here, and we knew we had to show you." She told me, smirking proudly as her and Charlie came closer to stand next to me.

"Well... I love it..." I stutter, speechless. I heard Charlie laugh next to me but I couldn't drag my eyes away from the beautiful sight to look at her.

I wasn't sure how long we had been there. It was a while that's for sure. We sat on the edge of the grass, our feet hanging in the water. We were just chatting about school and such when we heard something. It was yelling and laughing in the distance. The noises we're coming closer and I tensed. I recognized the noises all to well.

It sounded like Crowley and his friends. Fergus Crowley MacLeoud was his full name, but he had everyone call him Crowley. He was basically the head jock at school, despite him not being particularly that athletic. He somehow still made the football team and managed to be the most popular boy in school. He hung out with Azazel, Alistair, Lilith, Abbadon, and a few other of the popular kids. He didn't even like Abbadon, hated her to be exact, but still hung out with her because she was popular and head cheerleader. Lilith was another cheerleader, and incredibly beautiful at that, but very rude, she also had a little sister four years younger in Gabriel's grade. Her name was Ruby. Azazel and Alistair were just super creepy and rude. I hated them both, they always wanted to pick on someone. That someone usually being me.

They all seemed to follow Crowley blindly, except Abbadon, but she cooperated. I could hear their annoying screams and laughs getting closer, so I decided to stand. Charlie saw and stood too. Dorothy looked up at us both.

"Guys, it's okay, nothing's is gonna-" I knew Dorothy was gonna say nothing was gonna happen, and that we'd be fine, but she couldn't. That was because guess who came through the trees.

Crowley and his friends. I'm not typically one for swearing, but I really wanted then to f-off. Dorothy saw them and finally stood as well, glaring a bit as she watched the tree branches move, revealing them all.

"Well, well, well..." Crowley announced in a British accent. Today he was wearing black jeans and a black v-neck t-shirt. Lilith wore a white sun dress and Abbadon wore a t-shirt saying, "the devil made me do it," and jeans. Everyone else wore very similar clothes to Crowley.

"Why are you here?" Dorothy asked bravely. Crowley grimaced.

"This is our spot so I'll have to ask you the same question." He growled, clearly very annoyed. Charlie jumped next to me.

"Anyone can come here, it's not just your spot." Dorothy spat, taking a step closer. No no Dorothy stop. Why do you have to be so brave?

"I suggest you leave before someone gets hurt." Abbadon threatened, pointing a pale, flawless, slender finger at Dorothy. Her nail was long and painted a bright shade of red that matched her lips perfectly.

But obviously, Dorothy wasn't going to back down. "Excuse you, but who the hell do you think you are. You don't own us." She snarled in return. Abbadon looked offended at her words, almost recoiling. A scowl formed on her sharp features. Then before I knew it, Crowley, Azazel, and Alistair were walking over.

I gulped, wishing that Dorothy just kept her mouth shut. Crowley stood right by us with his minions behind him.

"Leave." His one word filled the whole forest with venom and left a sting right in my throat because suddenly I couldn't speak. And even though Crowley was shorter then me, chubbier then me, and probably less strong, the way he carried himself made him so much more intimidating then I ever could be.

"We aren't leaving." Dorothy stated harshly. Crowleys stern facial features quickly changed and he back away from me and grinned.

"Very well. Have it your way," Crowley turned to Azazel and Alistair, "boys, shall we?" I saw a smirk cross all their faces, and before I knew it, Crowley and the others were shoving me and my friends into the water.

If someone reads this and likes it, please let me know and I'll post more chapters

#dean winchester #destiel #castiel #winchester #deancas #sam winchester #deanwinchester #castiel novak #castielnovak #fanfic

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pennys-th0ughts · 5 years

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Loser... 🥀

The Deadlights ✨ (Chapter 3)

Rains drops were slowly crashing against the glass one gray day of winter. Liz was looking outside the window whilst holding a small rag doll between her restless hands. She looked tired and disappointed and I was feeling worried and frustrated. It had been the third time we tried to get Liz pregnant and there was something getting in the way making it hard for her and extremely sad for me. We decided to take a break and visit some doctors in the meantime to find out what was going on with Liz.

After having the results Liz decided to quit to the idea of having a baby since the diagnosis wasn’t encouraging at all. Given her hormonal disorder since she was a teenager because of the hard training to be the best acrobat in the circus and the pressure her father put her under most of the time, Liz ended up developing a condition that made her ovaries less productive thus the signs of menopause, unfortunately, came early. It wasn’t a matter of life and death but that day I felt she left one part of her to die with those bad news. I could sense she was devastated and seeing her so down was killing me so I tried to find something to lift her spirits up and take her head off things, at least for a brief moment.

– Pack some stuff, Liz – I practically gave her an order–. Let’s go out for a couple of hours or days. We need to distract our minds for a little.

Liz looked at me puzzled but without objections. She understood me well and also knew my intentions were to taking her out of there before the burden of self-guilt grew bigger. She felt completely responsible and I wouldn’t let her carry that weight all alone. We had made a promise to be in good and bad moments, she needed me and I wanted to be there for her. We packed a few clothes and left without really knowing where to go, we just wanted to get as far as we could for a couple of days and clear our minds.

Winter was making its way to a new warm season again. The cold leftovers of the freezing season tasted better in the company of your loved ones and that was something I have just started to enjoy. Despite the ups and downs, Liz and I were happy and I had the job of keeping her that way so I thought that a little trip out of town will do us some good. We headed to the train station to take the first train to the neighboring town since we had heard that there was a particular food typical from it and also delicious.

The weak sunrays were barely heating and slowly hiding behind the trees. Night was an hour away and not so far the train was already announcing its arrival to the station with its loud whistle. The big iron machine stopped making a creaking noise on the rails and filling the air with its steaming engine and the heat coming from the coal boilers. People began gathering around us and pushing their way to each wagon’s door hurried to find a good place to sit. I surrounded Liz with my arm to protect her from inconsiderate men rushing to the gates. We showed our tickets to the guard standing next to the door, the man took a quick look at them and let us in. We walked through the narrow corridor until we found a nice place spot, I put our luggage up in the compartment meant for it and then I sat down next to Liz. She was sitting next to the window, and as soon as I put my hand on hers she instinctively grabbed it. Her grip was firm but gentle as the love she always liked to show me. I lend her my shoulder so she could rest her head; we still had a couple hours of travel ahead.

Without noticing I had fallen asleep in-between our talks. We were still holding hands but Liz was already awake when we got to Bridge Town. She stroked my cheek to wake me up.

– We are here, darling – she said with a wide smile.

We picked up our things and got out from the train. Night was falling and Liz proposed to spend the evening in the nearest motel, we would leave first thing in the morning. I walked to the reception desk and a young man addressed me quite politely. I asked him for the most comfortable room in the motel and put my signature on the sign-in sheet. The young man gave me the keys and explained me how to get to the room. I waved my hand to Liz to let her know that the paperwork has been done and we were good to go.

I unlocked the door, turned the lights on and put our luggage on the floor. The room was discretely decorated. There were a few mats geometrically scattered all over the wooden floor, a couple of candlesticks on the chiffonier and the nightstands and the bathroom was faultless. Liz got into it and then I heard her sigh in delight. I sat down on the bed and took my shoes off; the fire in the fireplace was shyly burning keeping the room warm. I took my suspenders off, pulled my shirt out, unbuttoned the shirt collar and lied down for a moment to rest my feet.

I was dozing carelessly when suddenly I felt something awkward yet quite pleasant at the height of my hips. I saw myself forced to wake up since the sensation was getting more and more intense. When I finally opened my eyes I found Liz on her knees giving me a delicious hand job. She had wrapped my length with her thin fingers and was pulling the skin all the way down what made me growl with pleasure. Liz successfully gave a boner in no time and when it got stiff as pole the pre cum began flowing out of the tip of my cock so shamelessly that Liz took it as a clear give away of my arousal. She then used her thumb to spread it and began licking and sucking in such a sloppy rhythm that pushed me almost to the edge. Skillfully and without leaving her place Liz finished taking my pants off, opened my legs wider and plunged her nails in my knees showing a complete determination in what she was doing. She played several minutes with her tongue giving me a hard time to control myself and avoid bursting like a volcano.

My will was getting weaker with each passing second and was slipping through my fingers like water, so I decided to act and fast. I thought that switching places would be nice so I threw my playful and naughty woman to bed; she landed on her belly and I took the chance to pull Liz’s nightdress up. She was already deliciously wet and that will definitely make things a lot easier for me. I tugged her black shimmering hair backwards and pressed my burning body against hers as she wrapped my hips with her legs granting me a deeper access. She made her grip tighter; I bit her earlobe and roughly squeezed her breasts with my hands shivering with passion. Her submissiveness was driving me insane and as her moans became louder my movements became faster until I finally released myself feeling tasty shivers running down my spine.

I lied down next to Liz all soaking wet and she began stroking my hair until I got completely relaxed. We remained in silence for a moment only hearing our breathing that was still erratic, she then got up and headed to the bathroom. I heard the water running and the splashing inside the bathtub. I fought so hard to not to fall asleep but I ended up dozing for some minutes again. After some minutes Liz woke me up with a soft kiss.

– Come join me – she said provocatively and disappeared behind the door.

An almost conscious naughty grin curled up my lips; I got up and followed her steps taking one piece of clothing at a time. Liz had already gotten into the bathtub and she was waiting for me whilst playing with her long charcoal hair. She made way for me to sit and once I got in front of her she came over me and sat down on my lap. Liz poured some water on my head and brushed my coper hair slowly with her fingers; her feline touch was gentle, smooth and intoxicating. Her index finger traced the slightly irregular line I had as a scar that crossed part of my forehead, my eye and ended up in the corner of my lips. Without seeing it coming she licked my mouth and bit my lips out of the blue which provoked an inevitable sexual reaction to it. I could tell Liz was feeling horny again and to be honest I wouldn’t ever deny myself to her basic instincts. My arousal grew even bigger when she started rubbing her pelvis against mine doing circular and sinuous movements. I could feel how the blood of my entire body was getting stuck in one particular spot making it hard.

– ¿Are you ready for your second act, my mischievous clown? – She grabbed my chin and fixed her eyes with mine.

Liz didn’t wait for me to answer a question that my body had already answered. She scratched my back and muffled my panting putting her breasts on my mouth; I hid my face between them feeling my woman’s heart beat increasing incredibly fast. After teasing me for some long minutes Liz finally grabbed my cock and sat down on it. She whispered so many dirty things in my ear that made me cum inside of her instantly. I was exhausted and hyperventilating as if my lungs had been ripped off of my chest. We stayed under the warm water catching our breath for a moment then we cleaned each other to finally go to bed.

Next day we left to have a long stroll around the unknown town without checking out yet. The day promised to be nice and sunny with some scattered clouds here and there. Liz was looking beautifully and she was irradiating happiness through every pore of her skin. Seeing her like that only made smile and feel calm. That was all I could ever want for her and her peacefulness meant so much to me that I intended to keep it that way.

We made a complete unguided tour and visited many stores. Liz was beyond excited and wanted to buy everything she saw but we limited ourselves to get some souvenirs and nothing more apart from the food we would take to the next trip. We had a long day ahead and we wanted to take advantage of every single minute. We rented a couple horses and began our way to a new adventure.

The public camping ground was almost half an hour away so the riding would be quite entertaining. We made it safely, handed over the horses to the man in charge of taking care of the animals and searched for a place to sit. There were many people visiting the place and lots of sellers offering their homemade products like jams, pies, cakes and drinks. Liz picked a wonderful spot next to a stream which sounds of the water constantly running made it really pleasant. I bought some fresh lemonade and joined Liz. We ate, drank and laughed mostly because of my silly jokes and anecdotes when I was just a boy. Not long after we finished our slices of cherry pie we lied down next to each other and stayed that way looking at the clouds in the sky. Liz held my hand and looked at me tenderly with that smile of hers that was impossible not to smile back.

It turned out to be a splendid day, full of really good things. We made our way back to the motel before it got dark, we would be taking the next train back to Derry that same day since we had some things to take care of at home and also because we considered that that day had been enough to change our vibes. We picked up our belongings and checked out. Our way to the train station wouldn’t be long since it wasn’t so far so we took our time. Once we arrived there I went to the buy the tickets and left Liz waiting in one of the benches outside, inside the station was getting crowded and uncomfortable. The thick glasses in the middle of his nose and his light blue eyes gave the old man behind the window selling the tickets a peaceful appearance yet he seemed to be annoyed and grumpy by the big amount of people gathered in the small lounge.

I cleared my way out of the buzzing place almost pushing people to a side. The train station clock showed nine o’clock and we should expect the train to arrive shortly. I sat down next to Liz who was fidgeting with a rag doll she had bought during the picnic. Soon the sound of the train approaching to the station got more and more close. “Just in time” I thought. I picked up our bags and pulled Liz closer to me but the second I let go of her it’s when I had that irksome feeling in the back of my head making my hairs stand on end. I discretely looked sideways, something was off. Was in that moment when someone standing behind me, with a dark voice, whispered in my ear:

– You took Elizabeth away from me, and if I can’t have her, – the voice became even darker– nobody will.

For a brief moment I was holding Liz’s hand and in the next she was falling into the train tracks. Everything happened so fast that I couldn’t get to move a muscle. The train couldn’t stop in time and when it did the screams filled the air. A blood drop reached out my right cheek and when I lowered my eyes I looked horrified that the tracks were all covered with it. My eyes went from one place to another trying to desperately find the person responsible but my heart skipped a beat making me collapse on my knees. A sharp pain crossed my chest and finally tears flooded my sockets until everything went blurry. The people around helped me stand up and get to the nearest bench; the old man who sold the tickets rushed to get me a glass of water and notified the police and also the guards in the station.

Back in Derry

Every corner of the house felt so empty. One day I had it all and then I was deserted and hollow. My world was falling apart with every passing minute and insanity was lurking in the shadows, waiting patiently. Light was long gone, dust was getting stuck in all the small ornaments Liz used to collect and the food was running out. I began drinking and stayed away from the sun thanks to the wood boards I nailed to the windows. Soon enough I cut myself off from the outside world and started to hate every sound coming from it. Everything was a constant reminder what my life with Liz used to be and not having her with me was already way too painful.

A week later without food, light and drowning in the lonely darkness, I decided to take my own life and end with all the suffering. I was exhausted and completely out of hope. I would have given anything just to say goodbye, to look at my wife’s eyes for one last time. Guilt, sorrow and emptiness were corroding me and it was more than I could possible handle. That night would be my last, I would finally meet Liz again and I was looking forward to doing so. A feeling of sweet relief was enveloping my heart whilst walking towards the well. The night sky was clear and the reflection of the moon down in the water was almost perfect. I looked down and let the tears flow while the rope around my neck got tighter. I sat down on the edge of the well, like Liz used to sit in those nights when she needed to meditate; I smiled bitterly and jumped into the void.

Whilst falling into the peach black hole of what seemed to be the guts of a beast from hell, I could see every moment I spent with my beloved wife, although we never got to get married, the feeling of being husband and wife was rightfully pure. I looked down one last time and then everything went black.

Silence…

The cold water filled my lungs quickly and the rope didn’t break my neck as I was counting on, it broke as soon as I hit the bottom of the well which left me slightly unconscious. There is when I saw them coming towards me. The three shiny dots began dancing around me blinding me with their light. The shinning became stronger and warm. I closed my eyes waiting for the inevitable while I kept on sinking, but death never came. The end of my mortal body became the beginning of something else…

#pennys thoughts #pennywise #short story

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bringyourownbabytaters · 6 years

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All The Stars in the Universe- Chapter 5.

"Hey, Andi!"

"Hey, guys!" Andi had just finished breakfast when there was a knock at the door. She opened it to find Buffy, Cyrus, and Jonah standing on the porch.

"Are you ready to walk to school yet?" Buffy asked. Her cheeks were rosy with cold.

"Almost," Andi said. "I just have to get my stuff together." She normally met her friends on the sidewalk, but she was running a little late that morning. "Do you guys want to come in?"

Her best friends and her boyfriend filed into the apartment, all bundled up in their winter wear. Andi went to the hall closet to get out her warmest jacket and hat.

"Hey, you guys," Bex said from the table, where she and Bowie were sitting, finishing their own breakfasts before her doctor's appointment. "I haven't see you much lately. How's eighth grade treating you?"

"Great!" Buffy and Jonah both chirped.

"Fair," Cyrus added.

Bex laughed, standing up to bring her cereal bowl to the sink.

"Aww, you look so cute, Bex!" Buffy grinned. "How far along are you now?"

"Eighteen weeks," Bex smiled, rubbing her stomach, as Andi came back in the room. She was feeling a lot better these days. The morning sickness had mostly subsided, and she had a lot more energy, even if her ankles were starting to swell. She'd taking that over throwing up any day.

"You're so lucky, Andi!" Buffy gushed. "I've always wanted a baby sister or brother."

"Is it a boy or a girl?" Jonah asked shyly, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"We don't know yet," Bex explained. "We're hoping to find out today."

"It's the big ultrasound," Bowie put in. "We're halfway there." He smiled proudly.

"I can tell you what it is now!" Cyrus announced. "I've successfully predicted the gender of all my cousins' babies. I'm kinda known as the baby whisperer."

"I've never heard anyone call you that," Andi said skeptically. "And I've been to your cousins' baby showers."

"Everyone step back," Cyrus said. "Give me some room." He walked up to Bex and placed the palms of both his hands on her round belly, just above her belly button, and closed his eyes.

Bex blushed, as Bowie snorted back a laugh. "Well, this morning took an interesting turn," she teased, a little uncomfortable with having a fourteen-year-old boy's hands pressed to her stomach. She gently pried his fingers away.

"It's a girl," Cyrus said knowingly. "The baby whisperer has spoken."

Andi felt her face go pale. "Are you sure? How can you possibly know?"

"I just know," he said, sure of himself. "You'll see."

Bex placed her hand on Cyrus' shoulder. "Well, if you're right, I'll treat you guys to baby taters and milkshakes."

"I'll hold you to it," he said.

"Guys, can we go now?" Andi asked impatiently, shifting her weight from one foot to another.

"We really better," Jonah said, looking at his phone. "It's getting late."

Andi kissed her mom and dad goodbye, then let Jonah take her by the hand. She walked side by side with him, trying not to look at Cyrus.

Finally, her friend caught up with her. "So, are you excited about getting a baby sister?"

Andi ignored him.

"Andi? Earth to Andi!" He waved his hand in front of her face. "Hey! What's wrong?"

Andi stopped walking. "I am not talking to you, Cyrus."

****

"I can't believe we're having another girl," Bex told Bowie, her joy bubbling over. "Another sweet, pink, adorable baby girl." They were just leaving the obstetrician's office, and her ultrasound had gone better than well. She and the baby were both thriving, and they could see their child's image on the monitor clearer than ever now; they'd even gotten to witness the fetus sucking it's thumb. But the icing on the cake was finding out that their baby was a girl. The news brought on tears of joy for both of them.

"I was hoping for a girl," Bowie smiled.

"Me too," she admitted. "Andi was so much fun. I would have been happy with a boy too, though, of course." She paused thoughtfully. "Hey! Do you think Cyrus really is a baby psychic, or whatever?"

Bowie laughed. "I don't know. He had a fifty-fifty chance at being right. But I guess you owe him those baby taters either way." He helped her into her jacket, and they left the doctor's office. It was a bitter day, and a few lone snowflakes drifted through the air, falling slowly, then melting as soon as they hit the ground. As soon as they stepped outside, they could see their breath frozen in front of them.

"Maybe the next one will be a boy?" he said casually as they walked down main Street.

Bex raised her eyebrow, but couldn't help smiling. "You want to have more kids?"

"I think three is a good number," he winked. "Two beautiful girls, and a boy to carry on the Quinn name."

"If you want three kids, we're gonna need a bigger apartment," she laughed. "We're already on top of each other as it is."

As they walked down the sidewalk, Bex moved closer to Bowie's side for warmth, trying to match pace with his longer legs. A snowflake stuck in his hair, perfectly formed, like the paper snowflakes she remembered making in elementary school art class. They passed the ice cream shop, which was closed up for the season, and her stomach growled. Suddenly, she had a strong craving for a scoop of the shop's homemade fudge chunk in a waffle cone. With sprinkles.

"Bowie," she sighed, stopping. "The baby wants ice cream."

"Ice cream? Bex, It's November," he said with a laugh. He watched a snowflake land on her nose.

"I know," she sighed. But the thought was already in her head, and it was all she could think about. "But the baby wants what the baby wants." She shrugged. "I have no control."

"No control. Sure," Bowie teased, tickling her side. He was a soft touch for Bex, though. It was those brown eyes of hers. They made him melt. He knew he would find whatever she wanted and give it to her, if it was humanly possible. "Let's go find some ice cream."

The shop was closed, of course, so they ended up going to The Spoon. The diner didn't normally serve ice cream in the Fall and Winter, but after Bowie explained that it was for his pregnant wife, they made an exception and served him two cones. He got chocolate for her, and strawberry for himself.

Walking hand in hand, they licked their cones in the frigid air. "That looks good," Bex said, gesturing to her husband's strawberry cone.

"It is," he nodded. "You want a taste?"

"No way!" She shook her head. "You'll smash it in my face!"

"I will not, " he promised, suppressing a mischievous smile.

"I know you," she said, laughing. "You pull the same trick on me every time."

"But that was before you were with child," he pointed out, playfully. "I'd never smash ice cream in the face of an expectant mother."

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't trust you."

He groaned. "Do you just want to trade?" he asked. "It's okay if you do. I don't even like strawberry that much, but our choices were limited."

"Well, if you're offering," she shrugged.

He passed her his cone and took hers, as they approached the bakery. Suddenly, he was struck with a great idea. "We should tell Andi the baby is a girl in a fun way!"

His wife looked at him, intrigued. "What do you have in mind?"

"We should do- what do they call those things? A gender reveal party?"

It was Bex's turn to groan. "Those seem so pretentious, though. And we can't afford to spend money on a big party."

"It doesn't have to be a big occasion," he said. "Super-intimate. It can just be us, Andi, and maybe your parents. And cupcakes," he added with a wink. He smiled his signature, dimpled smile.

She pondered his idea for a moment. "Okay... I like it."

***

"Can you guys tell us what the baby is already?" Cece pleaded. "We're dying to know!"

It was later that evening, and Bex, Bowie, and Andi had gone to Pops and Cece's for dinner and the big reveal. Bex cradled a small bakery box protectively in her arms. "Okay, okay," she said. She looked up at Bowie, and he gave her a small nod. "But we're not going to tell you what the baby is... Andi is," she added dramatically.

"Me?" Andi looked to her parents, confused. "I don't know what it is. You haven't told me yet. Which is torture, by the way!"

Bex and Bowie laughed. "You'll find out when you open this box," Bex explained. "If the cupcakes have blue frosting, it's a boy. And if they're pink, it's a girl." She set the box gently on the table. "Now, the moment of truth."

Andi looked down at the box nervously, then up at her family. Her mom and dad, and her grandparents, were gathered around her, waiting. Please, please be blue, she thought to herself.

Her hands shook and her heart sped up as she slowly lifted the lid. Bex and Bowie were watching her, smiling expectantly. Holding her breath, she looked down, into the box.

Five cupcakes sat inside, frosted in fluffy pastel pink peaks. "Oh," Andi said quietly, at a loss for words. Her heart ached with crushing disappointment. "It's a girl!" She smiled the best she could manage, though tears filled her eyes. "Congratulations, guys!" She hugged her parents tight. "I'm so happy for you! I really am."

"We're happy for you too," Bex said, squeezing her in her arms. "We love you so much, and we can't wait to see you be a big sister." She kissed Andi's forehead. "You're going to have so much fun!"

"Now that we know what the baby is, we can start planning a baby shower," Cece added. "You can decorate, Andi."

"Did you guys get a new sonogram picture?" Ham asked. "Let's see!"

"Sure do," said Bowie. He held out the print to show his mother and father-in-law. "Take a look at our little girl!"

"I'm your little girl," Andi said sadly, so quietly no one heard her. She tried to swallow the enormous lump that had formed in her throat. While everyone was busy looking at the sonogram print, she slipped out the back door to Andi Shack.

****

Once she was safely inside, she opened the trunk that held her unfinished baby blanket. By now, she was almost halfway done with it. Sitting down, she touched the soft blue knit as tears spilled down her cheeks. Taking a shaky, regretful breath, she slowly began unraveling the beautiful yarn she'd once loved so much. Soon there was a pile of it in her lap.

"Andi? It's Cece." Her grandmother poked her head in the doorway of the shed.

Andi quickly brushed her tears away. "I want to be alone right now."

Cece ducked under the door anyway, letting herself in. Her eyes widened. "Andi! why are you taking your blanket apart?" she asked. "You worked so hard on it!"

"It's all wrong now," she said, holding the tangled yarn in her hands. "I should have listened to you and got yellow or green. Or pink," she added, frowning.

Cece sat down next to her. "Girls can like blue, too. This yarn is lovely. I know pink is traditional, but Bex has never cared about what's traditional. She'll love this blanket, because she loves you, and you made this with your own two hands. It's a gift from your heart."

"I didn't want the baby to be a girl," Andi shakily admitted. "I wanted a boy. I asked the Universe for a boy."

"I know you did," Cece nodded.

"And you told me not to get my hopes up," Andi said. "And again, I didn't listen to you."

"Honey, I know you're disappointed," the older woman said gently, taking her granddaughter's cold hands between her own. "But you can't wish for a baby to be the gender you want it to be. You get what you get. And once the child comes, and you see it for the first time, you won't even care which sex it it, even if it's not the one you were hoping for. You'll already be in love with it. You'll see."

Andi's eyes filled with fresh tears. She dried them with the sleeve of her sweater.

"Is there something you want to talk about?" Cece asked. "Why was it so important to you that the baby be a boy?"

Andi shrugged. "I don't know."

Her grandmother frowned. "I know you well enough to know when you aren't telling me the truth."

She sighed deeply. "It isn't fair," she said softly.

"What isn't fair?" her grandmother asked, furrowing her brow.

She shrugged, struggling to come up with the words to express what she was feeling, while sparing Cece's feelings. "I love you and Pops," she began. "Don't ever think I don't. You guys were good parents to me, and I appreciate all you did. But sometimes I wish I got to grow up with Bex and Bowie. They're my mother and father, and there's like this whole history with them that's missing in my life. It's like there's a hole in my heart that nothing can ever fill up."

"This baby gets to be born into a happy family, with both of her parents, and I didn't," she continued. "So it's just kind of hard for me to see my mom and dad being so excited about having another baby. It wouldn't have been so hard if it were a boy, because I'd still be their only little girl. But now a littler girl is coming, and she'll never be missing anything. I don't know... it's hard to explain." She hugged herself, chilled by the cold.

"You wish it could have been you," Cece said knowingly. She looked down for a moment, then back to Andi. Her eyes were damp. "Honey, If I'd known how much my decisions would hurt you one day..." she said with a sigh. "I thought I was doing what was best for you back then. But I'm not sure of that anymore. I'm sorry."

"What should I do?" Andi asked her. "I don't want to feel this way. I don't like it." She knew it was wrong that her friends were more excited about her sibling than she was, and she hated the way she'd treated Cyrus earlier. Plus, she loved her mom and dad more than anything. She wanted to feel as close to them as always, but it was hard when doubt was always in the back of her mind.

Cece moved closer to her granddaughter, and wrapped her arm around Andi's shoulders. "I know it's hard to see your mom and dad love another child who's coming into the world in such different circumstances than you did," she said. "It's okay to feel a little jealous and sad. But I really think you should let them enjoy this, Andi. Your mom and dad are so happy. They really deserve to be this excited. Bex never got to do all the typical pregnancy stuff. She never had a baby shower, or any of that. And Bowie never got to experience your birth at all. So see, there's something that's been missing in their life, too. I think this experience is something they need, and it means everything to them that you get to share it with them. This is their second chance to be the parents they wanted to be for you."

"But," she added. "I promise you, it won't change how much they love you. It couldn't. And Maybe... just maybe... being involved with giving this baby girl the start in life you wish you had will help you heal, too?"

"I hope so," Andi said softly, though deep down, she was still unsure.

Cece stood up and reached for her granddaughter's hand. "Come on back inside, Andi. Celebrate with your parents. It's too cold to stay out here."

"Will you help me fix the blanket?" Andi asked, wiping away the last traces of her tears.

Cece nodded. "Of course I will." She placed her hand on Andi's shoulder, guiding her back to the house.

****

"Bex, I've been thinking," Bowie said that night, after they'd come home and Andi had gone to bed.

"Uh-oh." She looked up at him from the book she was reading. "Should I order pizza?"

He shook his head, his lips hinting at a smile. "It's nothing bad, don't worry. I was just thinking about what you said earlier. I know you were just joking about us needing a bigger apartment, but it makes sense. We do need more space."

Bex sat up straighter. "But this is our home!" she protested. "It's Andi's and my first home on our own." She didn't know why she suddenly felt so emotional about their stupid little apartment, but the thought of leaving it brought tears to her eyes. "We have so many memories here."

"Don't cry, baby," Bowie said. "I was just tossing the idea around. But we can always make new memories," he promised, wrapping her in a hug. "I know you like this apartment, but realistically you must know we can't live here forever. Andi's getting older, and the baby won't be a baby forever. "

"And lets face it," he added with a wink. "It's us. There will be a third baby, whether we plan on it or not. And right now, we don't have any privacy as a couple. It's a miracle that we were able to conceive a child at all. Don't you want a bedroom of our own, where we can go at the end of the day, and just unwind, and be together?"

"That does sound nice," she admitted. "Sleeping in a bed that we don't have to fold up every morning." She sighed. "But you know cost is an issue. We're barely making ends meet, and a bigger apartment will cost more." Their current apartment was the only one she could afford on her income, and only because the landlord had had mercy on a struggling single mom, and didn't charge her a security deposit. They had Bowie's income now too, but even that didn't stretch very far when groceries were bought and bills were paid.

"You let me worry about that," he said. "Where there's a will, there's a way. But if I do find us a a decent place we can afford, would you at least consider it?"

"Yeah," Bex said. "I guess I would. If it had a good vibe, like this apartment does."

"I'll see what I can do." He kissed her square in the middle of her forehead. "I love you, Bex."

"I love you too."

#andi mack #bex mack #bowie quinn #all the stars in the universe #fanfic

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alldolleduppink-blog · 6 years

Note

I really enjoy your writing and specifically your fluff. Would you be open to writing a little something with M and S having another baby? Like a total happy ending kind of thing? Sorry I have extreme baby fever right now...

Thank you so much, Anon! And I really appreciate the request

Here is a Season 8 AU and I hope you enjoy it. :D

Again

For two people who dedicated their lives searching for the truth among lurking shadows and lights in the sky, life couldn't be more different than it was now. Mulder’s return from being dead and the post-apocalyptic presence of alien super soldiers culminated in the two agents moving into Scully’s Georgetown apartment. These days, files filled with grainy images of UFOs and alien bodies, or what could pass off as such, did not adorn the coffee table or any of the other furniture. Instead, there were colorful blocks, books with farm and jungle animals on the covers, a bright red ride-on, and various other forms of entertainment including a toy doctor’s kit that Mulder could not resist buying. There were still things to uncover such as Cheerios and animal crackers strategically and haphazardly placed under bed pillows, couch cushions, and on the floors. The living quarters were getting cramped and the only ones who didn’t seem to mind were the fish.

At fourteen months, their son William happily climbed all over his parents while they enjoyed a simple family moment in their bedroom. On Saturdays they didn’t have anywhere to be so spending most of their day relaxing was a viable and highly welcomed option. The baby, with an adorable toothy grin, gave wholehearted attempts to blow raspberries on Scully's tummy while she rested in bed. It was a game he knew well as his parents and grandmother played it with him often. After depositing dribbles of drool on his mother’s shirt, he lost interest and headed for her hair. His blue eyes were wide and full of mischief. Scully laughed and braced herself for when his little hands would yank at her red tresses.

“Hey now,” Mulder warned as William commenced to grab Scully’s hair. “None of that. You be nice to your mom.”

Her hair was so much longer now. Whenever she voiced getting it cut short, Mulder persuaded her to keep it this length. In this case, there was no need for the use of scientific enticement to encourage her decision. Unless the physical reaction of having the person you love place his hands on your hips and kiss your neck counted.

The toddler flashed one of his signature all too charming smiles and aimlessly patted his mother on the forehead instead. This, in turn, incited another laugh from Scully before she executed a perfect raspberry on the boy’s exposed tummy.

“This is why I think I should get it cut,” she pointed out as William managed to tangle his little hand in her hair. She gave a slight wince as the baby’s fingers began to pull. She gently pried the strands from his grip.

Mulder’s eyes were sultry as he fixed them on her. His body leaned even closer to hers on the bed before he reached to tuck a loose strand behind her ear.

“If that’s what you want to do, Scully,” he murmured. His bottom lip was enticing, close enough to take it between her lips and bite. His hand moved to her neck and his caress elicited memories of what happened the last time she brought up the topic. He thoroughly presented and showed her the pros of keeping her hair long. There weren't any cons. William was due for a nap soon so perhaps they could discuss it further, again. “I don’t think that would dissuade him from playing with it either way.”

“No way!” William chimed in happily, making them laugh.

“I don’t know,” she sighed happily, glancing down at her stomach. “Soon there will be two pulling at my hair.”

Mulder tenderly caressed the very noticeable swell of her belly and splayed his fingers over it, amazed by how much it had grown. They spent so much time tracking the unexplainable that now extreme possibilities seemed to just find them. She was six months pregnant and miracles did happen again.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he told her in a lowered voice and planted a tender kiss on her lips.

She smiled and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Do you miss it?" she asked over their son's banter of 'da-diii' and 'cookie.' Her hand joined his over her belly.

"What?"

Mulder puffed out his cheeks and released the air loudly which caused the baby to topple onto Scully's shoulder in a fit of giggles.

"The X-Files."

He let out a sigh and looked over at her. "C'mon, Scully."

"I'm just wondering," she provided with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

Her hand began to expertly sooth circles onto their son's back who was taking a short break from laughing to snuggle on her chest.

"Look at this place," he gestured with his hand. They looked around the bedroom and took in the basket of laundry in one corner and the countless baby paraphernalia adorning the dresser, floor, and the foot of the bed. William slept in his own room but all his things still migrated to their space and the rest of the apartment. "What kind of crackpot would trade all this for a dusty and lonely basement office? Certainly not me."

He placed a kiss on her temple.

“I still have you and on a whole other capacity,” he told her with a waggle of his eyebrows. “I wouldn't change a day.”

“The setting is different but wrangling babies is a lot more fun and a little less scary than chasing swamp monsters or liver-eating mutants,” she added as Mulder distracted William with Joey, a stuffed fox, and Scully pried the bedside lamp electrical cord out of his agile little hands. “I think we’re right where we’re supposed to be.”

“Then we believe in the same thing,” he agreed.

They gazed at each other longingly before a smell filled the room and William started to whimper.

"It's your turn to solve that mystery," she quipped with a wrinkle of her nose.

"You touched him last," he retorted.

She swatted his hand playfully and he laughed.

"Mulder," she sing-songed. "My back hurts and besides... you're not six months pregnant."

"Sure. Fine. Whatever," he said smiling. He got up and grabbed their squirming son. "You can't use the pregnant card forever you know."

She flashed him a triumphant smile and his heart melted because he knew he would always do anything for her.

"I'll remember that," he provided mysteriously. "For the next one, I'll carry it and you'll do all the diaper duty."

"Next one- you'll carry it?" she asked shrilly and her eyebrows rose towards her hairline. "What do you mean by that?"

"Science is making all kinds of leaps. You of all people know that, Scully," he replied nonchalantly. Her mouth was open in astonishment and her arms were crossed under her breasts. It was a throwback to all the times his far-fetched theories shook her beliefs and with the addition of her pregnant belly and tousled hair, she appeared even cuter. "Who's to say men won't be able to get pregnant? After all, stranger things have happened right?"

William cooed as if agreeing with his father before letting out a disgruntled wail.

"Mulder."

"Okay, buddy let's go get you cleaned up," he soothed while bouncing the baby in his arms.

He walked out of the bedroom and headed to the nursery.

"Mulder-“ she called out to the hallway. “Mulder?”

"See, that's the trick," he shared with his son, placing him on the changing table. The boy stared back at him with rapt attention. "You’ve got to keep them guessing."

@today-in-fic @ficlibrary

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ccorneliast · 7 years

Text

i wanna know what love is - a mileven fanfiction

Rating: T Summary: In which the gang has a sleepover at Mike's and watching the empire strikes back makes Eleven wonder just what love is supposed to be. set after the events of season 2. Disclaimer: i do not own stranger things or its characters. A/N: this is for kay ( @prncsolorgana ), my stranger things buddy (amongst other things).

READ ON AO3, IT’S BETTER!

this is just a short and sweet lil one-shot full of innocence and mileven fluff. hope you enjoy and don’t forget to tell me your thoughts down bellow!!

Chief Hopper walks Eleven up the Wheeler’s driveway and rings the bell. Mike opens the door point two seconds after it rings:

“Hello, sir,” the boy greets, instantaneously straightening his posture.

“No funny business, kid,” Hopper warns. Then, he turns towards Eleven and says: “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at nine AM sharp.” She looks up and nods, impatient to hug Mike. “Have fun,” he finally smiles, ruffling her hair.

As soon as Hopper takes a step away from the kids, Eleven throws herself to Mike, dropping her sleeping bag on the ground with a loud clank. His arms envelop her in a warm hug, inhaling her scent.

“I missed you, El,” he breaths into her slightly longer curls as she grips him tight, tight, tighter. Then, behind them, Dustin calls:

“Come on, guys,” they keep hugging in the hallway through Dustin’s pleas. “Star Wars waits for nobody!”

“We should go,” Mike coaxes El to let go, promptly reaching for her hand as they go down the steps to the basement.

There, against the wall, the kids, with the much needed help of Jonathan and Nancy, put the tv. Directly in front of it is a small couch, their makeshift cocoon, complete with embroidered pillows and thick, warm blankets. Lucas and Max are already occupying most of it, consciously sitting not too far away, yet not too close either. Will is sitting on a long, plush pillow closer to the tv set, attempting to put on the tape.

“I’ll help,” Mike offers, letting go of El’s hand. A couple of months ago, or maybe even a few weeks, that simple gesture (or lack thereof) would’ve made her maniac, panicky and feeling unsafe. After 353 days of strictly no contact with Mike, her life boat, every moment or the smallest hint of an interaction made her feel a way she couldn’t quite compare to anything in her life before the boys and Max. Now, however, she was beginning to adjust. She knew he’d be holding her hand a few moments later anyway.

“Where’s the popcorn?” Dustin asks frantically, seeing as though the signature opening music was just starting to play. “For the love of God, who has the popcorn?!”

“Here, dude,” Lucas calls as Dustin plops on the couch beside him and Max. “Now shut up.” the boy leans forward as the opening crawl appears.

The bold yellow letters pop out at Eleven. The Empire Strikes Back, it reads. She tugs on Mike’s pajama sleeve and whispers: “What does strike mean?”

“It means to fight back,” he murmurs into her ear, her chestnut curls tickling his nose. “Like we did with the Demogorgon.” she smiles knowingly, settling on the ground, against the couch, comfortably sitting on a pillow. Mike cautiously drapes a big, blue blanket on top of them, so as to cover most of El’s body as possible. When he asks:

“You’re not cold, are you?” she shakes her head reassuringly. The way her head fits just so below his neck, her cheek resting on his chest, is uncanny.

The movie carries on smoothly: Dustin only screams a handful of times, Will has a lot of fun explaining random trivia to El (this being the first time she watches the movie and all) and Lucas almost puts his arm around Max (and she almost lets him).

Then, Han Solo is captured by Darth Vader on-screen and is forced into carbonite. The whole gang’s demeanor changes even though Eleven’s the only one who doesn’t know what’s about to happen. She feels Mike’s grip on her tighten, instinct, so she makes sure to pay extra attention (because, if she were being honest, she probably spent a fourth of the movie looking at Mike’s freckles).

“I love you,” the ever-courageous Princess Leia confesses in the climax of the film. Even Max can’t help but sigh. Eleven’s heard some people say it: love, especially on tv, though she’s never had the guts to ask anyone what it really meant. She could sort of guess: it was something along the lines of like, how she felt about Eggos! (or maybe even how she felt about Mike…). She knew you’re always supposed to say it back: I love you too, so, when the smuggler shoots back an emotional: I know, El is left to her own devices to figure that one out.

“Best fucking line of the movie, man,” Dustin says. The gang nods in agreement, much to Eleven’s dismay. Wasn’t he supposed to say it back?!

“Are we gonna watch Return of the Jedi now?” Will chimes in, leaning forward to lower the volume of the tv.

“Not to be a party pooper, but I’m almost falling asleep here,” Lucas says, yawning exaggeratedly, and Max nods in agreement.

Then, seeing Will’s expression of disappointment, Max promises: “We’ll watch it tomorrow.”

El lowers her eyes to the ground: I won’t watch it with them.

Mike nudges her arm softly: “We’ll watch it on Wednesday when I come and visit you.”

El’s eyes light up at his thoughtfulness. A small grin starts on his full lips and travels onto her own, thinner ones. “Thank you,” she shyly murmurs.

“You’re welcome.” He replies. They hover there for a second, not really knowing what to do next. Before either of their smiles has time to fade, the moment is lost:

“You guys gettin’ up or what?” Dustin shouts. “Don’t think we’re setting up your sleeping bags!” the boy’s voice is slightly muffled towards the end, thanks to the thick material of his sleeping bag.

Mike starts to get up, shoving a mouthful of the remainders of popcorn. El follows him to their fort, still intact after all the craziness of the previous year.

They lay side by side, not touching (maybe just barely). Max thankfully turns off the basement’s light, shadowing El’s blushed cheeks.

Mike lays very still on his back, eyes drilling a hole on the sheets covering the top of the fort. Eleven is faced sideways, towards him, waiting for him to speak or for slumber to come and take her away, whatever came first.

Why won’t he turn his face? Her entire being is screaming at him: look at me, look at me, look at me.

“Mike,” El gives in, finally.

“Yeah?” Mike still won’t turn his face towards her.

“Can you explain something to me?” she says the words carefully, one at a time.

“Sure.” his eyes flutter closed.

“Why didn’t the man say I love you back?” the word rolls off her tongue surprisingly easily. She liked how it felt to say it out loud instead of having go on a merry-go-round in her mind.

“Han Solo?” now Mike turns on his side.

“Aham,” El nods slowly.

“Well,” the boy starts, wrinkling his nose. “I think it he wanted to assure the princess that he would come back and, in case he didn’t, that he knew how she felt.”

“How she felt?” Mike feels Eleven’s breath on his face, warm and sweet.

“She loves him,” at the sound of the expression they both freeze.

“How does she…” She cuts herself off, tugging on her blanket so as to cover most of her body. “How does she know?”

Mike’s eyes widen: he was not expecting a question Mike himself didn’t even have an answer to. He tries though, because he would regret nothing more than to disappoint El.

“Maybe, when she’s alone at night, right before falling asleep, he’s the one she thinks about. When someone says something funny, the princess only thinks about telling Han.” Mike tries. “You know when you wait the whole year for that perfect summer day, when the sun is shining especially bright and mom lets me come home from the lake later than other days?”

Eleven nods, expectant.

“Well, maybe, the princess only wants to share that day with Han.”

“Like when I only share my Eggos with you?” El smiles.

“Yes, like that.” Mike smiles too, his unruly dark curls brushing on her forehead.

“Do I, hum, love you?” She hesitates.

“I don’t know.” her smile fades. “Do you feel it?”

“I,” she tries, but hesitates. “I’m not sure.”

“It’s okay if you don’t know yet.” Mike smiles tenderly, his fingers searching hers underneath the covers. Once he finds them, hot against his skin, he grips the reassuringly, almost whispering: I know .

#mileven #mike x eleven #eleven x mike #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #mileven fanfiction #mileven fic #mike and eleven #eleven and mike #mike & eleven #tita writes

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stunudo · 7 years

Text

Green Thumb

A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction

Featuring: Spencer Reid x Male Reader Setting: Season 10

A/N: Trying something new. Send me feedback as gently as possible. xoxo Stu

Your name: submit What is this?

There wasn’t much you wouldn’t do for your grandmother. So when she asked you to help clear the garden before the first frost set in, you promised you would. That was almost a month ago, now home from a long drawn out case with your team at the elite FBI branch, the BAU, you called Nana and confirmed you would be over this weekend to get the job done.

“Yes, Nana. I will bring gloves.” You smiled at her list of reminders.

“Are you going to bring that tall one with you?” Nana’s voice teasing over the blaring Price Is Right in the background.

“Nana, I’m sure Spencer has plans this weekend.” You mumbled into the phone, blushing.

“What was that, dear?”

“He’s probably busy, Nana.”

“That’s too bad. Maybe next time? I love watching you fall over yourself.”

“Nana, you stop it!” You laughed, the horror and amusement battling on your cheeks. “I love you, see you Saturday.”

“Bright and early, Y/N.”

“Yes, Nana.”

“That’s my boy. Bye now.”

You shook your head and tucked your phone back into your pocket. Your grandmother had a knack for picking up on emotions, especially those one tried to hide. Maybe that was genetic, maybe that helped you be such a great profiler. Either way you loved her and she loved to see you happy. Unfortunately, happy was fleeting, when your long time crush was also your co-worker. The renowned scholar, Dr. Spencer Reid.

The BAU team had become a second family to you since you were promoted from the Internal Affairs Branch. That had been an intense two years ago, time where you met and bonded with the families of your teammates. Early your first year when Spencer started secretly dating Maeve, you were the first one to notice the change in his mood. Only because you were always hyper-focused on him. That was a particularly rough time for you, not only was the object of your affections in love with someone else, but all too soon he was devastated by her death.

Watching your love grieve was torture, but you kept quiet, letting him work through the loss alone. You chalked up your feelings to typical gay guy falls for a straight friend, and you became determined to get over him. Then one day, it just happened. Casual conversation while on a case and suddenly you were given the impression that Spencer had had feelings for men in the past. That dangerous spark of hope had reignited.

“Mrs. Y/L/N? Hi sweetie!” Garcia’s chipper voice squealed into the phone. Spencer was surprised to hear Y/N’s grandmother calling Garcia and not Y/N directly.

“Help? Sure, doll, what do you need?” Garcia continued. “Are you sure? I’m pretty sure Morgan would be more than willing to help Y/N with any yard work.”

Garcia put her hand over the mouthpiece of her phone, “Hey Reid, are you busy this weekend? Little old Mrs. Y/L/N is having Y/N do some things around her yard and she was hoping you would come over and help him.”

“Me?” Spencer was speculative, picking at his lunch on the break room table. “Are you sure?”

“Yep, she asked for the tall, pretty one.” Garcia grinned through her giggles.

Now Spencer was really confused, “What time should I be there?” Garcia turned back to the call. “Oh, and should I bring anything along? Like tools.”

Garcia rolled her eyes, “I’m sure you just show up, Reid.”

You had a long day ahead of you, you tossed in your earbuds and got to hauling all the dead branches and vines from your Nana’s vegetable patch first. After about an hour, you realized that Nana had gone back inside. You shrugged it off, she needed more rest than your youthful body did. Then suddenly he appeared, you wiped the sweat from your forehead with your wrist and stood up.

“What are you doing here, Reid?” You asked, slightly out of breathe. He stood there, uncertainly shifting on the grass. His hands were in the pockets of a pair of jeans. Never had you seen him wear jeans, not even on a night out with the team. They hung low on his narrow hips, you forced your eyes back to his twisted lips.

Removing the earbuds, you could finally hear him clearly. “Your grandmother called Garcia and asked that I help out? I’m not really sure what to do, but she seemed pretty insistent that she wanted me to come. And not, you know, Morgan or somebody?”

You laughed at the implications. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry Reid. That’s my wacky Nana, she thinks she is funny. I’m good, man. If you have somewhere you need to be. I totally get it. This really isn’t your thing.”

He glanced around the yard for a bit before answering. “I’m here already, why don’t I just give you a hand?”

You were impressed, Spencer wasn’t one to get dirty. You took in now that he wore a long sleeved tee shirt, faded words along the front, something about “mathlete”. He was adorable in his nerdiness. You gave in, let your Nana win, for now.

“Alright, grab some gloves, these vines are brutal.” And so you began explaining what to pull, what to leave allowing the morning to pass quickly. Spencer was known for his awkwardness, but he seemed to be struggling more than usual. With the unseasonable weather, you removed your sweat drenched shirt before Nana came waddling out beckoning you both inside for lunch.

Spencer had not been so physically exhausted since Morgan tricked he and Garcia into training for physical assessments. No wonder Y/N’s arms were so defined, he spent nearly every free weekend helping his grandmother with one thing or another. Spencer’s long hair clung to his face, walking into the decorative kitchen he paused at the sink to clean up before lunch.

“Y/N, I’ve got some spare shirts in the guest room. Don’t come to my table naked, young man.”

Y/N’s signature grin flashed at the old woman, “Yes, Nana.” And he strolled into the recesses of the old farm house.

“He’s quite handsome, isn’t he?” Mrs. Y/L/N asked Spencer, lingering for an answer.

“Yes, I suppose so. His facial proportions are indicative of the golden ratio.” The older woman’s politely nodding head told Spencer she didn’t understand. He improvised. “How long have you been gardening, Mrs. Y/L/N?” Spencer tried to change the subject from Y/N’s appearance, especially since it had been running through his mind all morning.

“My whole life, I was a toddler snatching tomatoes from my parents’ farm nearly eighty years ago.” She smiled with the nostalgia. “Times change, I’m just lucky that I have been around long enough for people to feel safe being honest about who they are.” Her words were heavy, she eyed Spencer slyly. She sat down plates around the square Formica table.

“Ay, Nana, it smells amazing!” Y/N was back, with a dark flannel button down, it brought out the color of his eyes nicely, Spencer noticed. Mrs. Y/L/N caught the faint blush on the doctor’s defined cheeks. She didn’t hide the smug look throughout the rest of the meal.

“Do you mind giving me a ride home?” Spencer’s voice caught you off guard, he appeared suddenly beside you next to the burn pile. You jumped back, barely catching yourself on Spencer’s arm before falling. His large hand caught your back, breaking your fall entirely. The look of surprise on his face, mirrored on your own. Spencer Reid had caught you, then the moment was over and you both fell. Luckily it was away from the smoldering pile of mulch and branches.

You rolled over, unable to contain the laughter any longer. Spencer looked devastated, it muffled your guffaw instantly. “Hey, are you okay?”

“What? Yeah, I’m fine.” He sat up, resting his forearms on his peaked knees.

“Reid? Those were some pretty slick reflexes.” You tried to be sweet, sensing his insecurity.

“Yeah right, Y/L/N. You, we, still fell.”

You shrugged it off, standing once more. You held out your hand to the brooding genius. His dark eyes were relaxing, he took your offered help. When he stood, he didn’t let go, he looked you square in the eyes and blinked.

Spencer was flustered, the whole scene replaying in his mind as he locked onto Y/N’s bright, caring eyes. His palm was warm to the touch, both men still sweaty from effort. He didn’t know why he held Y/N to him until their lips were crashing together. Y/N’s arms encasing Spencer’s shoulders as he deepened the kiss. The cracking of the fire and the far off birds the only accompaniment to their gasps and heartbeats.

Spencer’s hands cupped Y/N’s face, while Y/N’s hand found Spencer’s long hair. The fingertips gently massaging through the tangles, it was so soothing. Y/N bit Spencer’s lip ever so slightly before pulling back from the kiss.

“I have thought about doing that for so long…” Y/N trailed off, shaking his head. Spencer brought Y/N’s chin up to look in his eyes once more.

“What stopped you?” Spencer asked, always curious.

“Would you like an itemized list?” Y/N grinned, slipping in little pecks between banter. Spencer enjoyed the feeling of Y/N’s forceful kisses, his hands roaming over Spencer’s lean frame.

“Wait, Y/N?” Spencer’s voice caught in his throat. Y/N pulled back, eyes hooded in concern. “How long? Um, how long have you felt this way?” His right thumb gently stroking Y/N’s jaw, while his left hand felt the thumping of his heart through his flannel-clad chest. Spencer was oddly comfortable being the submissive, yet taller kissee.

“Don’t freak out on me, Reid.” Y/N grinned, but his face relaxed into a confession. “Since the second case I worked with the team. Listening to you explain navigational programming fine print… I went to sleep dreaming of your voice.” His words just above a whisper, Spencer remembered the case well. He also remember thinking Y/N was a bit quiet. His face burned with the shame of the unknown, the time lost in his obliviousness.

“Hey now, did I say something wrong?” Y/N’s words were strained.

Spencer, for once didn’t answer, he just kissed Y/N again.

An hour later Spencer and you had arrived at his place, exhausted and filthy from the hours of labor and the slight roll around in the dirt. Nana had sent you home with a plateful of brownies and a know-it-all grin. That woman was amazing, annoying as a Yorkie, but amazing all the same. You had spent enough time with Spencer to know the lay out of his place.

You made yourself comfortable while Spencer showered and changed into his traditional absent-minded professor chic. This time he found a delicate purple button up to go with his navy sweater. His damp hair just starting to curl dry. His eyes sparkled when he saw you, your breath caught in your chest. You were in trouble.

The twenty minute drive to your place was filled with awkward silence, Spencer interjecting facts and then trailing off uncharacteristically mid-sentence. His soap filled the air along the ride, reminding you of his freshly cleaned body. The images burning through your mind as you shifted in your seat to accommodate the unasked for desire building within you.

Spencer carried in the tray of dessert while you fumbled with the keys in the rusted old lock of your loft. By the time you had both taken off your jackets and set Nana’s brownies on the counter, your lips had reattached to Spencer’s neck. He hummed in pleasure as his fingers scraped up your back. There was something serenely poetic about the moans that Spencer made as your searching hand found his growing arousal.

“Look whose packing,” You tease gently in his ear. “Dr. Spencer Reid, impressive in all arenas.” He kissed you fiercely, his pink lips leaving yours in the dust, trying to keep up with the assault. He nearly clawed off your borrowed shirt, the beading sweat reminding you of your unclean body.

“Spencer, I should, probably, , shower.” You tried convincing him and yourself. Somehow he was backing you into the bathroom, without so much as a flutter of those intoxicating eyelids. His hand held you between the shoulder blades as the other futzed with the bathroom doorknob. You felt yourself melting into him.

This wasn’t like him, Spencer didn’t know what possessed him to overtake the make out session. But the compliments fed his ego in a way he hadn’t felt outside of profiling or academia. Y/N’s bathroom was tiny, barely any standing space between the shower, the sink and the toilet. Reality settled in, Spencer pulled back, leaving Y/N and he heaving for breath.

“The Greeks were the first to utilize showers, though Roman baths are arguably more well known.” Spencer spit out, like usual a relevant, yet unnecessary fact.

“Are you asking to shower with me, Re-Spencer?” Y/N’s eyebrows perched in anticipation.

“Uh, no, unfortunately I don’t think I can manage about in the limited space, you have.” Spencer fumbled for words. “I mean, in the shower, as it is only a stall.” His face burned.

Y/N’s eyes danced in amusement, he leaned in and kissed Spencer gently. His rough palm, caressing the flush of Spencer’s cheek. “We’ll manage just fine.” Spencer’s mind running from the images of Y/N’s nakedness, attempting to stave his thoughts for the duration of the ritual. “Give me ten minutes, make yourself at home.” He grinned, stepping back to close the door in Spencer’s overwhelmed face.

613 seconds later…

Y/N sauntered out of the shower with a waist high towel cinched in his fist, Spencer gulped. In the time apart, he had dissected their entire professional and personal relationship. In the years working together Spencer had been distracted from the obvious affections of this generous man. The idea that Y/N and he were embarking on something much bigger than a weekend fling was apparent in Y/N’s gentle whispers as well as his adoring hands.

The give and take, the intense efforts after the day of labor, baring their devotion to each other. Spencer sighed as Y/N’s head fell on to his chest. The five o’clock shadow barely a tickle on his pale flesh. Spencer peeked down at the shining eyes of his lover and colleague, his face nearly comical with focus.

“Today was… amazing, Y/N.” Spencer confided.

“Yeah, well, Nana always had a way of spoiling me.” Y/N laughed, trailing kisses up to Spencer’s amused mouth.

@gubl-oser @starbucksreid @dontshootmespence @imagicana

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x male reader #spencer x reader #dr reid #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfictions #spencer is bi #we're all queer here #mlm #some fluff too #sneaky granny #pretty steamy #hinted at smut #i am a sucker for glib endings #always a punchline #i am such a tease #i'm sorry

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toosicktoocare · 7 years

Text

Shout out to my friend who spit out details for this when I asked what I should write.

College AU

The trip’s been planned for months. The plane tickets have been purchased, bags have been packed, and all that’s left is for Lance to drive to the airport, with only one nine-hour flight separating him from a week long visit with Keith.

Seems simple enough. Until it’s not.

The day Lance is due to drive to the airport, he wakes to a splitting headache that leaves him curled on his side and desperately massaging his temples with clenched teeth.

This can’t be happening, he thinks. His breath comes out in ragged gasps as panic bubbles and boils over, spreading across his chest in heated waves that wash over his pounding heart.

Sure, he had been feeling slightly off for the last few days, but he’s been pegging that on a subtle lack of sleep. His excitement level has been at an all-time high as the days until he gets to see Keith dwindled down, making sleep almost short of impossible.

So, being sick had been the last option on his mind, simply because he can’t be.

He sits up, blinking back the deep haze coating his vision. When his blanket pools around his waist, leaving his bare arms exposed, he starts to shiver, limbs fighting a losing battle against a deep set of tremors that are misplaced in the summer season.

Hesitantly, he reaches one hand toward his cheek, and before he even touches skin to skin, he can feel the fever heat rolling off his face in loud waves.

Maybe, he thinks despite the obvious answer. Maybe he can still go. But when he swings his legs over his bed and stands, prepared to ignore his symptoms, he falls back down onto the mattress in a dizzy haze as a gasping sob slips past his lips. The audible sound of discomfort sparks a fire in his throat, and next thing he knows, he’s doubled over in a coughing fit that leaves tears springing in his eyes.

The sudden loud blare of Keith’s ringtone echoes over the sounds of his coughing, and Lance has to answer. With one hand clamped over his mouth as body shaking coughs rip up his throat, he leans over and snatches up his phone, swiping a trembling finger across the screen to answer the call.

“Ke-” Lance tries in between coughs, but further words are lost against a burning throat that’s succumbing to the chesty coughs growing from deep in his lungs.

“Lance? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Lance shakes his head even though Keith can’t see. The concern bleeding from Keith’s tone has the tears in his welling eyes pouring over and down his face. “I can’t,” he gasps out, sobs and coughs wracking his slender frame.

“Wait, hang on. I’m going to FaceTime you, okay?“

"Kay,” Lance manages out, pulling his phone away when he hears the familiar chime indicating a dropped call.

It takes only seconds until a different tone starts emitting from his phone, and Lance accepts the FaceTime request before moving his phone up slightly just as Keith’s face appears across his screen. Despite the poor quality, Lance can make out the concern coloring Keith’s narrowed eyes.

“Lance? Jesus, you look terrible.”

A few weaker coughs slip between Lance’s lips, sound almost masked by the shaking sobs shooting up his throat. “Keith,” he rasps out, tears spilling freely from his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know if I can make it to the airport. I’m not sure if I can stand. Keith, I’m really sor-”

“Lance, easy. It’s okay.”

Lance rapidly shakes his head once more despite his pounding head. “No, it’s not!” The sudden shout grates against his throat, and he turns away to cough harshly into the crook of his arm, over and over until he’s finally able to suck in a decent amount of air without spitting up a lung. “We’ve had this planned, Keith! I need to see you!” He forgoes turning away, this time, and opts instead to cough into his cupped palm.

“Lance, stop. You need to breathe.”

The sheer command in Keith’s tone has Lance nodding and pushing his focus toward his lungs, forcing in measured breaths until he’s able to breathe without coughing.

“Okay?”

Lance nods weakly and sniffles lightly as he turns his attention back toward his boyfriend. “Keith,” he calls out, voice cracking as another round of tears sting at his eyes.

“You need to rest.”

“But, the trip-”

“You cannot travel like this, Lance. We both know this.”

“But, I miss you.” Lance whispers, and to anyone else, Keith’s expression would have appeared neutral. But, Lance didn’t miss the slight waver in his boyfriend’s dark eyes, nor did he miss the clench of Keith’s jaw, both clear signs that Lance’s words struck a strong chord with Keith.

“I miss you, too, but we can reschedule. Right now you just need to focus on resting.”

Lance is quick to find that not even his signature pout is going to get Keith to let up on his hold that he needs rest, so he reluctantly nods, and the two say their goodbyes, with Keith promising to call in a few hours right after spitting out a check list of things for Lance to do: drink water, take medicine, get a read on the fever, and rest.

When Lance closes out of FaceTime, he falls back against his pillow and clutches his phone to his chest, already missing Keith’s sharp, cold tone that always holds a strong hint of warmth when talking with Lance. And, Lance desperately reaches out to that warmth as he falls into a fitful sleep.

*****

Lance wakes four hours later to shivering limbs that ache fiercely. He glances toward his phone, noting with a heavy heart that the only sign of communication is a text from Hunk asking if he’s okay.

There’s not a single trace of Keith on this damn useless device, and Lance lets his phone slip through his fingers and clatter toward the floor before curling up onto his side under his blankets.

He yearns for warmth, but he’s finding he may never get that from Keith again. He feels a cold pain that always lingered around him before he met Keith, and the only source of current warmth are the hot tears silently sliding down his flushed cheeks.

*****

A loud pounding against his dorm door has Lance jerking up from sleep with a sharp gasp. His chest heaves up and down, and he coughs harshly over and over, as if his coughing is competing with the rapid knocking against his door.

Despite his best hopes, the knocking doesn’t let up. In fact, it seems to pick up in strength and intensity, leaving Lance forced to swing his legs over his bed and get to his feet.

For a moment, everything suddenly glows a blinding white that morphs into a searing pain within his head. He blinks through it until the bright light fades away into a dark, dirty dorm room. It’s only then that Lance braves the short walk toward the door, feeling as if he’s creeping across a rickety rope-bridge placed over a large canyon.

He just makes it and wraps a trembling hand around the doorknob before turning it and pulling the door open slowly, for his body will not permit fast movements of any kind.

When his door is wide open, Lance staggers back and almost trips up slightly on the small carpet he’s got placed on the middle of his dorm floor. With a shine of fear in his eyes, he presses a hand to his forehead, wondering just how high his fever could be to warrant hallucinations of Keith standing and panting before him while looking as if he’s just run a thousand miles to get here.

“Lance...”

The relief that dances off Keith’s breathy tone has Lance stumbling forward until he’s collapsing against Keith’s chest. He presses his ear over the general location of Keith’s heart and listens to the rapid thumping against his ear.

“It’s really you?” He questions, afraid that when he pulls back, he’s going to be met with Hunk or his RA.

“It’s me.”

The deep voice rumbling against his ear leaves Lance pulling away with wide, welling eyes. “I don’t... How?”

Instead of a verbal response, Keith only pulls Lance back to his chest, wrapping strong arms around the brunet’s shaking shoulders. He rubs steady hands up and down Lance’s back as a brief yet evident spike of worry shoots through his veins when he feels the heated face pressed against his neck.

“I managed to get a same day flight thanks to Shiro. Hunk came and got me from the airport.”

Lance can only nod as tears spill from his eyes. His entire body is trembling, but Keith’s warmth is doing well in chasing away his fever chills. “I missed you,” he whispers, arms tightening around Keith’s waist as if he has plans to never let the boy go.

“I know, and I missed you more than words could ever express.”

#voltron #vld #sickfic #prompt #my writing #my voltron writing #klance #langst #klangst #lol i wrote this on the way back from day 1 of the con bc i felt weird not having written anything today #i have no chill #lance mcclain #keith kogane

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dontshootmespence · 7 years

Text

We’re Even

A/N: An anon request for a fic based of Angels and Demons from season 9. Instead of Spencer getting shot, it’s the reader, who’s his wifey. Switching perspectives between breaks. @coveofmemories @sexualemobitch @jamiemelyn

----

It was a case like any other case. Right?

Wrong.

It started as a case like any other case. A couple of prostitutes and a john had been found down south and a local officer had asked Section Chief Matt Cruz for a consult. After a short flight, the team had arrived to a very enthusiastic group of officers and an even more enthusiastic preacher. Preachers like that always put you on edge. That should’ve been your first clue. They were overly friendly - like robots - like they were covering up something. And boy were they.

You, Spencer and Morgan had gathered intel at the bar. Hiding something.

JJ and Hotch talked to the preacher. Hiding something.

Blake and Rossi went to the coroner’s office. Elected official - just plain dumb.

The signature cuts left on the bodies were grouped to look almost like a spider’s web, the cuts getting deeper and deeper with each victim. For a while, you weren’t sure what the point of the cuts were, but eventually, you came upon the reason - a set-up. To frame the preacher, who of course, spoke of sinners bringing down God’s wrath when he had quite a few of his own. Despite being one hell of a bastard, the preacher it was not. He was just a lowlife pimp.

Your perpetrators? You didn’t know just yet. The preacher was involved, he just wasn’t the unsub. But you needed to speak to him and figure out what he knew. He was at a local diner, so that’s where you were all gathering now. “Keep trying him, babe,” you said to Spencer. “We have to let him know that we know he didn’t do this.”

The group of you got out of the car, with you, Spencer and Blake conferring with the chief.

Bang!

A shot had been fired, striking the chief of the department in the chest. He was alive, but struggling. “I’ve got you!” Spencer said, speeding out from the behind the squad car and pulling on the officer’s shoulders. It was too much. There were too many bullets flying.

“Spencer!” you screamed, as a gun was aimed right at him. All of a sudden, there was a sharp tear in your neck, warm liquid pouring down your shoulder.

“Y/N!”

----

He’d gone out to help the officer. And in doing so, he’d gotten his wife shot. “Y/N!” he screamed.

Morgan helped him pull her back, propping her up against the car as JJ and Blake attempted to help the officer. But someone took him out. “No! No! No! Baby stay with me,” he begged, his wife’s eyes fluttering open and closed with each breath.

A sleepy smile crossed her face. “It’s okay, honey. You know I love you, right?” It was between breaths, but he heard it - and he didn’t want it.

“No! You’re not going anywhere. You’re gonna be fine. Stay with me.” With every ounce of strength he had, the strength that was draining by the second, he pushed down on her neck. But there was so much blood. It was seeping through his fingers, seemingly with no signs of stopping. Another smile crept across her tired features.

“I...love...you...” she whispered.

“We need a medic!” He screamed and screamed until his vocal chords were sore. “Hurry! We’re losing her!”

After what seemed like ages, the medic arrived and loaded her onto the stretcher, with Spencer refusing to leave her side. “It sounded like a tea kettle. Did you hear it?” she asked, as the pitch of the monitor drowned out her voice.

“Baby! Stay with me! I’m right here.”

As they got the hospital, and he watched them take her away, he couldn’t help but follow.

----

While Y/N was on the table, Spencer waited in an empty hospital room as his teammates filed in behind him. “How is she?”

“What happened?”

“Is she in surgery?”

A round of questions came from all different directions, but Spencer didn’t know how to handle them all. With everything coming at him, he felt overwhelmed, and buried his head in his hands as he cried. “It should’ve been me.”

“Or me,” JJ said. “Or any of us.”

“No!” Spencer snapped, the tears falling from his eyes as his head shot up. “I went to help Chief Coleman and she pushed me out of the way! It should have been me! My wife is gonna die because of-”

Blake sat down next to him, placing her hand on his knee. “She’s gonna make it. She’s strong. You both are. You’ll be okay.”

For a few moments, they let Reid cry, but they still had a killer out there, and whether Spencer was with them or not, they all had work to do. “The preacher’s car was clean, and the three victims inside were already dead when the shooting started.”

“So he was being framed,” Chief Cruz stated. He and Penelope had just flown in after hearing what had happened to Y/N. “But by who?”

“I don’t think he shot first,” Spencer said, lifting his head up. “Y/N kept saying in the ambulance that it sounded like a tea kettle. And did I hear it. Someone else shot officer Coleman to get things going. Our unsub was there.”

Pulling out pictures, the team scoured them for indications as to who their unsub could be, but all they could come up with so far was that Coleman had been shot by a fellow officer - and it wasn’t friendly fire.

----

She was out of surgery. “Thank god,” he breathed. Everyone else had headed out to catch the bastard while he waited for his wife to wake up. “We have so much to do.” He whispered to her, praying she could hear. “Stay strong, baby.”

It seemed like hours, sitting in that small room with only the steady sound of her breathing and the beeping of the machines to comfort him. And then his phone rang. “Cover up?” he asked.

“It’s not just one,” Hotch said. “It’s multiple. Keep your eyes out.”

“Okay, Hotch.” He hung up his phone and grabbed his wife’s hand as he pulled his gun from his pocket. If someone were to come after her again, he’d be there; they’d have to kill him first.

----

“Hey baby,” she breathed.

Spencer shot up out of his seat and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thank god.” He paused a moment, not wanting to overwhelm her, but she had to know. “It’s a cover-up.”

She nodded her head just slightly. “I know. I saw someone looking at me when I was in and out.” A ping caught his attention and he picked up his phone, the picture of an Officer Owen McGregor staring back at him.

“Was this him?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I need you to sit in this chair,” he said, picking her up and placing her gently in the wheelchair. “We think they are trying to clean up loose ends and-”

“And I’m one of them,” his wife said. “I know.”

“I will not let anyone touch you.” He kissed her on the forehead just as a call from Morgan came in. “I got the picture.” As Morgan told him what was happening, he glanced out the window. “He’s here.”

“Get her outside,” Morgan commanded.

“I’m on it.” For most, in these moments, they’d panic, lose their cool, but Spencer couldn’t, not when his wife’s life was on the line. Now, it was time for action.

----

Spencer had pulled the fire alarm in the hospital, providing a distraction as he wheeled his wife outside, but they couldn’t stay clear of him forever, and if it came down to it, he would without a doubt pull the trigger to protect the woman he loved.

Just seconds after they got back in her hospital room, a nurse came in to her room. “She can’t have that,” Spencer said, looking at the name of the medication on the bottle. “She’s allergic.”

“Doesn’t say that on her chart,” the man said, as Y/N hurriedly tried to remove the IV from her arm. That’s when he saw it - the gun at his back.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled his gun from his holster. Aimed. And fired.

----

“You okay, baby?” Y/N said, looking up at her husband as the tears streamed down both their faces. “I guess we’re even now.”

Spencer choked out a half-sob, half-laugh as Morgan came in and arrested the nurse while he was bleeding out on the floor. “I guess we are.”

“You didn’t really think I was going to die, did you? We still have too much to do. I still have to piss you off for the rest of my life. Like when I leave my socks lying around the house.”

“I’ll gladly deal with all your socks,” he laughed softly. “It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. All that matters is that we’re okay.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #dontshootmespence #we're even

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renaroo · 7 years

Text

Day 23 Eyes: Green With Envy

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: Canon-typical Language Pairings: CarolinaxGrey Rating: T Synopsis: It’s when they spend time together, just the two of them, that Emily Grey can focus all her attention on Carolina for the first time. There’s no distractions, no projects, only the woman ini front of her. And there are fascinating things about Carolina, beautiful things. And she can’t believe she’s never noticed them before. CarolinaxGrey. Sapphic September: Eyes.

A/N: This is a few months after the ending of Season 13 and obviously there’s a lot of aftermath to Epsilon’s sacrifice I’m glossing over here but I definitely think of my girl Carolina when a prompt like “Eyes” comes up so here we go, CarolinaxGrey for the win

“Come on in!” Doctor Grey sang out, anxious for her next appointment. Even though she fully knew who it was and had a decent idea of how it would go, there was a bit of pep in her step whenever Agent Carolina was around.

After all, the Freelancer and her had bonded quite a bit traveling against time and all obstacles on their road trip with Caboose and Tucker. At the very least it would be nice to see her and catch up. If nothing more.

And in the days after the final defeat of Charon Industries and the fleet of pirates that had been waged against them, they had not had nearly enough time to see each other again and rekindle the friendship which Doctor Grey appreciated oh so very much.

Agent Carolina opened the door, as to be expected when someone was told to come on in, a very normal response. Nothing to read into. But she was still in her full armor and dressed like even with her new repairs and additional cosmetic touch ups, she was ready for another battle at any moment. That, even by the perpetually at war Chorusian standards, was a touch of the abnormal, and earned a subtly raised eyebrow in Carolina’s position.

“It is is usually not a good sign for my patients’ mental evaluations that they hide their faces behind a mask from me, Carolina,” Grey informed her.

“I would think that your time with those of us from Project Freelancer would have taught you that there’s nothing usual about any of us, Doctor,” Carolina reminded her, walking further into the room and taking a seat as the door closed behind her. “What do I have to do to get a pass for this?”

“Normally, to pass psychological evaluation, it would involve you being psychologically sound,” Doctor Grey answered coyly. She smiled softly at her friend. “And, please, Carolina, I’ve told you before you could call me Emily.”

“You’re really going to make me jump through all these hoops?” Carolina sighed, collapsing into the chair more in defeat than in relief. “I’ve been coming to you since the beginning. I never missed an appointment.”

“Punctuality is not necessarily a sign of mental fortitude,” Doctor Grey reminded her. “And I agreed to do this session with you precisely because I know that you are very much in need of grief counseling. Let us not forget who came to who here.”

Carolina let out a long sigh, looking away from the doctor. “You want me to take my helmet off?”

“Do you want to take your helmet off?” Doctor Grey asked curiously.

“What answer is a sign of mental fortitude?” Carolina asked back, rolling her helmeted head back to looking directly in Doctor Grey’s direction.

“What do you believe is the answer to that?” Doctor Grey asked.

With a long sigh, Carolina reached up, unclasped her helmet just beneath the lines of her jaw, then slowly removed her signature helmet in order to give Doctor Grey a full look at the helmet head beneath. But also the paleness, the ashen look to her cheeks, the deep rings that circled her eyes and the unkempt way her face was framed by lengthening bangs. A picture of health and mental fortitude she was not.

“Oh, dear,” Doctor Grey sighed, getting up from her chair and walking around her desk in order to take the seat beside Carolina.

“The right answer was to leave it on then?” Carolina attempted at humor.

“The right answer is to be honest with me about why you felt you needed these private sessions with me after a few months of avoiding going to the general grief counseling sessions I have been having for all the Reds and Blues,” Doctor Grey lightly scolded.

“Do I look like a Red or Blue?” Carolina demanded, looking at Grey with that same haunted, exhausted expression of grief she had already seen on the others so very often.

“Absolutely,” Grey responded without hesitation.

Carolina kept a level glare in Grey’s direction for a moment before cracking a smile and running her fingers through her hair, shaking her head. “Yeah. Heh. I… I am. I’m one of them and I didn’t even spend that much time trying to…” She stopped herself, eyes closing tightly as her chapped lips pressed to a thin, straight line. “I never expected to have a family. I never had one long enough to know what to expect. So every time I would get close to a bunch of people, every time I’d take the lead of some clueless morons ready to serve a purpose even if it was only for themselves… I would think — hey, this is it. This is what people are supposed to do together. This is how it’s supposed to feel.” Her eyes then shifted to Grey, darkened. “And it was always just at that point that we’d watch it all go to hell. Because that’s just how it happens, right? That’s just what you get when you let your guard down and think you’re finally relating to other people.”

Grey frowned, crossing her hands on her lap. “I wouldn’t say that in my experience that’s the case. No. But it seems that your experiences have helped you to believe that. Do you think you could explain why you believe that now? Why you think that about the Reds and Blues, even though you and Agent Washington all came together and saved an entire planet full of people?”

For a moment, Carolina just looked surprised by the question, then annoyed. “They’re all in grief counseling together,” she said, disgusted, like it was supposed to mean something.”All of them. Over Epsilon.”

Burying her own surprise at the declaration, Grey tilted her head and looked at Carolina seriously. “And you were invited to these sessions too, I believe. You declined.”

“Of course I declined,” Carolina answered, throwing her hands in the air.

“But wouldn’t you say that’s odd? That it’s abnormal for you, of all of them, to not want help grieving over Epsilon. Especially since the two of you spent so much time together and proved to be incredibly close?” Grey pressed.

“That’s why I declined,” Carolina argued, looking Grey’s way. “They… Their grief is not my grief. They loved him and they miss him. But I… Emily, he was my brother. What he left me was… Was the last opportunity I had to feel like the family that I lost and the family I gained could be one and the same after all. None of them have to know what that feels like.” Her green eyes then sharply turned back to Doctor Grey. They shined with a carefully controlled emotion. “I lost Epsilon. I lost a brother. And I lost the very last chance I had to make a dent in the fucked up way I had to bury and make amends to my childhood. That’s too much. That’s… too unrelatable. Even for Red and Blues. I wish… I wish it wasn’t. I wish I could just. Be with them and tell them that, hey, I hurt, too. It’s the same. But that’s a lie. It’s not the same. And I’m sick of lying.”

Biting her lip, Grey let the silence hang between them for just a moment longer, knowing better than to interfere with the genuine expression that was being shown. But once Carolina’s breathing evened out and the opportunity for being reached out to was clear again, Grey reached forward and gently laid a hand on Carolina’s shoulder.

Those green eyes snapped back up at her.

“You’re right. No one can know fully what you’re going through or how you feel after all of this heartache,” Grey agreed, scooting closer and taking her hands from Carolina’s shoulders in order to place them instead on the Freelancer’s hands. “And maybe you know yourself well enough to know that a group therapy with the others wasn’t going to work. But… seeing you like this. Seeing you so hurt, Carolina, it’s breaking my heart too. In a very unprofessional way. So, even if it’s not a psychologist’s approach, I want to ask you… do you need someone to hold you now? Someone to remind you that just because others had a relationship with your… with Epsilon, that it doesn’t make your grief or your feelings any less? Because I want to be that person for you if you need it.”

“I need,” Carolina said almost without hesitation. “I do, Emily. I need it.”

And like that, they both sank to the floor, Doctor Grey holding Carolina in her arms and pressing soft kisses on her clammy forehead, running hands through her messy hair, while Carolina silently buried her face against Emily and heaved quietly.

“I’m so damn selfish,” she coughed against Doctor Grey.

“Grief makes us lots of things, makes us covet what could have been and what wasn’t,” Emily assured her softly. “But you’re not selfish, Carolina. You’re not.”

When Carolina managed to look up to Doctor Grey again, there was a new shine to her green eyes, more life, more possibility. And that enough was worth it all.

#SaphSep2017 #writing #rvb fic #Emily Grey #Agent Carolina

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mypoorfaves · 7 years

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Breathing is Easier With You

Summary: Victor comes down with the flu and is a fevered and miserable mess. Yuuri takes care of him until he gets better.

Set post-season 1. There will be no emeto because that squicks me tf out, even in fiction, but there is complaints of mild stomach issues and a bit of anxiety around that. It all turns out okay though, I promise! There will also be fevered dreams, all centred around Victor’s pov.

Choosing flu over cold because I've heard people say it comes on more quickly. Plus, cold is more prominent in fanfic (from what I've seen) so I thought this might be more refreshing.

5600~ words ＼(^o^)／

～～～

Victor turns over in bed with another frustrated huff for what must have been the 10th time in 15 minutes. He has been tossing and turning non-stop for what feels like the past 3 hours, although he's fairly certain it hasn't actually been that long. Regardless of the time, the entire duration of it has been undeniable suffering.

He had woken up in the middle of the night (however long ago it was) with the sheets sticking to his sweaty skin. He originally thought it had just been from the nightmare that had him gasping for breath but even after the illusion had faded and his mind had calmed down, there was still an immeasurable amount of discomfort that plagued Victor and wouldn't leave. His body was radiating too much heat and no matter which way he turned, he couldn't get comfortable. And if he did manage to get comfortable, he would have to move again mere minutes later because his body heat warmed up the space.

So that brings him to now.

Victor briefly wonders if there's something wrong with him and if he should be concerned for his health but figures it's likely nothing. It's certainly not worth waking up the sleeping beauty next to him, his breaths deep and even, his sleep soundless and restful.

Victor bites his lip as he watches Yuuri sleep. Normally, watching his fiance's serene expression would have brought him peace but now it brings about a small surge of jealousy at his ability to so easily embrace unconscious like Victor desperately wishes he could.

He abruptly turns on his side away from Yuuri to both distract himself from his predicament and also to try and solve it as he attempts futilely once again to get comfortable. If he stays perfectly still and closes his eyes, maybe he'll be able to fall asleep, he reasons. Staying still, though, means lying under the blankets that are too warm and on top of the sheets that are still clinging to his skin. Regardless, determined to try, he lays there and doesn't move.

He lasts for a solid 120 seconds before he gives another frustrated groan and peels the covers off his body, sits up and heads to the bathroom for a glass of water. He gets up too fast and has to pause for a moment as the dizziness passes and even after the lightheadedness fades, there is still a lingering headache.

His body moves on autopilot and he soon finds himself in the bathroom with a glass of cold water at his lips. He drinks and gives a sigh of relief as it quenches his thirst and thankfully does seem to help his overheated state.

“Victor?” comes a sleepy voice and Victor turns to see a groggy Yuuri standing in the doorway. “What’re you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Victor says.

“You weren't in bed, so I went looking for you,” comes Yuuri's answer.

“Ah, sorry. I couldn't sleep, so I went to get some water,” Victor apologizes. He watches Yuuri yawn and adorably scrub at his eyes.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” Yuuri’s soft and tired brown eyes hold care and concern as he leans against the doorframe.

“Couldn't get comfortable. Too hot,” is all he says, not bothering to mention the nightmare. He fights a shiver as the memory crosses his mind again.

At Victor’s explanation, Yuuri's expression changes just slightly. His eyes still hold concern but now there's a small spark of intensity with it that has replaced any previous signs of fatigue.

“Do you think you might have a fever or something?”

“No, I'm pretty sure it's nothing,” Victor dismisses with a lazy wave of his hand. He finishes the rest of the water before he sets the cup back down near the sink. As he looks up, he catches sight of his reflection in the mirror.

The first thing he notices is the heavy bags under his eyesーwhich is to be expected given the battle for sleep he had been fighting (and losing). Then he notices his silver hair is a mess and his bangs are sticking to his sweaty forehead. What stands out lastly, though, is the tinge of red high on his cheekbones.

“Oh,” Victor thinks. Maybe there is something wrong with him.

He catches Yuuri's reflection moving towards him, all the while staring at him in the mirror, though it's unlikely he can see the tell-tale signs of illness on his features without his glasses. Victor turns to meet him and without warning there's a hand on his now-exposed forehead. The touch catches him by surprise, as does the small sigh of relief that escapes him at the feel of Yuuri's cool fingers on his heated skin.

“Come. Sit,” Yuuri orders, but in a tone without harshness as he guides Victor to the toilet. He closes the lid and sits Victor down, then rummages through some drawers for a thermometer.

Victor is practically falling asleep on the cool porcelainーwhich is a bit of a relief, since he hasn't been able to sleep for so longーbut is awakened with the tip of the thermometer prodding at his lips. Victor complies and opens his mouth, holding the device under his tongue.

As they wait for the numbers, Yuuri doesn't speak but his eyes hold a tender sympathy as he gently caresses Victor's face and runs his fingers through his dampened bangs. It's almost enough to cause Victor to drift off again but the sound of sharp and rapid beeping brings him back.

Yuuri withdraws the thermometer and frowns at it, then at his current mess of a finance. “You have a fever of 38.6. No wonder you couldn't sleep,” Yuuri says. “Why didn't you try and wake me up if you were so uncomfortable?” he adds with poorly masked hurt.

“I didn't think it was a big deal. I don't usually get sick,” Victor shrugs. He struggles to remember the last time he actually was sick but his sluggish brain can't be bothered to come up with the answer. He deems it unnecessary in the end and gives up the search.

“Come back to bed. I'll take care of you,” Yuuri offers while taking his heated hand. “And don't even think about refusing saying ‘it's not a big deal,’” Yuuri pointedly adds, then his tone softens. “You're my fiance, soon to be husband. ‘In sickness and in health;' that's the deal.”

“That is how it goes, isn't it?” Victor complies as he stands slowly with Yuuri's support.

“Even if it wasn't, I’d still take care of you,” Yuuri says without hesitation, and Victor knows he means it. “I love you. Now let's get you back to bed, and I'll get you some cold water and a face cloth, okay?”

Victor just nods and lets himself get lead along to their room. Yuuri helps him onto the bed where he collapses on top of the covers. He's too exhausted to try and get underneath, although Victor figures the heat would be too sweltering anyway. Yuuri leaves to grab the needed supplies and Victor falls asleep moments later.

～

“Next on the ice is Victor Nikiforov who has made a comeback to skating despite rumours of retirement after he put his career on hold and flew to Japan to coach his now-fiance, skater Yuuri Katsuki,” the announcer's voice resonates throughout the venue as Victor skates a lap around the rink. “Victor’s aim has always been to surprise the audience, so we are all anticipating what he has in store for us with his routine today.”

He takes his starting position and waits for the music, feeling every eye on him, but none matters more than Yuuri’s.

The music begins, a light and gentle melody, and he glides. He thinks of Yuuri, the man who has shown him the love and passion he was missing in his life and so much more. The instrumentals pick up and Victor smiles, preparing for the first jump. He builds up speed, braces his body and takes off, flying high and free and landing with a grin.

Despite his cleanーflawless, evenーlanding, the audience is silent; no reaction whatsoever. It's strange, and it's eerie. It's not like Victor simply cannot hear, because the music is still ringing clearly. Nobody is cheering, nobody is clapping. There is no emotion on anybody's face.

They're not surprised.

The thought nearly causes Victor to trip as cold dread courses through his bones. He doesn't show it, he can't show it. So he skates. He grits his teeth, forces a smile and he skates.

Another jump, another silent arena. Not even the announcers are saying a word.

Spin combination, jump combination; still nothing. Not a sound, save for blades scraping the ice and his own ragged breaths.

Victor's mind is reeling. No matter what he does, nothing is invoking any kind of reaction.

He needs to hear it. He needs to know all of the blood, sweat and tears put into perfecting this routine wasn't in vain. He needs to know that he is still Victor Nikiforov and he is still at the top of the skating world and he can still surprise people and make them feel something.

He changes his last jump to a combination in a spur-of-the-moment decision; a quad axelーnever seen before, previously deemed impossible. He had been practicing it in secret. It’s followed by his signature move, the quad flip, the jump that Yuuri makes look many times more beautiful than Victor could ever hope to make it.

Victor falls hard on the flip and nobody makes a sound. No gasps from the crowd, no laughing at his failure, not even pointing at his disgraceful form and pitiful expression as he collapses and doesn't bother to get up.

There is nothing. The music has stopped. Victor doesn't know if he missed his ending pose or if the music got shut off before then. It doesn't matter if he finishes his routine. What's the point if nobody is entertained? Nobody loves him anymore.

Except for Yuuri.

Victor abruptly lifts his head, clambers to his feet and turns to the exit where Yuuri would surely be waiting for him.

Yuuri is there but his face is blank. No expression, no emotion. No sign of the beautiful smile that lights up Victor's life time and time again and makes him feel lighter rather than weighed down by the world he carried on his shoulders for so long.

“Yuuri,” Victor tries to call out, but it doesn't reach. He has no voice

Yuuri stares through him with hollow eyes, his lack of expression making his emotions unreadable.

“Yuuri!” he calls more desperately, yet still nothing comes out.

Yuuri turns and walks away. The only sound heard in the dead-silent arena is his echoing footsteps as his back disappears from Victor’s view, disappears forever.

Victor tries to skate towards him but his skates are submerged in water. The rink is melting, and then it's an ocean swallowing him up. He gets dragged down underneath the waves. He can't see and he can't breathe, but he calls out for Yuuri one last time with everything he has.

～

Victor jolts from his nightmare with a gasp and rapid breaths feeling worse than he did when he first managed to drift off. He's on his back, eyes wide open in fear and wet with overflowing tears. His breath comes in pants as he struggles to regain his bearings.

He hears Yuuri's voice and focuses on it, clinging to it like a lifeline. He's gently shushing him and whispering that it will be okay and that he's right here. Victor's heart rate calms down a bit and he closes his eyes and takes a shaky deep breath. Yuuri runs a soothing hand through his damp hair and wipes at his face with a cool cloth and Victor's next few breaths come easier.

“Bad dream?” Yuuri asks.

Victor gives a sad nod in response, focuses on breathing and keeping any further tears at bay and gestures for Yuuri to bring himself closer despite the overwhelming heat he's feeling.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Victor shakes his head. “No, it's just a dream. It's gone now. I'll be okay.” His voice is unsteady and he doesn't fully believe his own words. Yuuri doesn't seem to either since he pulls Victor into a hug with a sound of sorry sympathy. (Though now that Victor thinks about it, it could just be sympathy at his high fever.) He becomes hyper-aware of the sweltering heat again but bears it for a moment longer, relishing in Yuuri's arms around him. When the heat gets to be too much, he pulls away and Yuuri does too.

Victor looks away from Yuuri in shame and wipes at his tears with the back of his hand. “I used to get really bad fevered dreams, when I lived on my own,” he starts slowly after a moment of silence. “I would wake up sweat-soaked and shivering under the blankets. If I was lucky, I couldn't remember the dream but even then it wasn't much of a comfort. More often than not, I would already be crying when I woke up.”

“What can I do to help?” Yuuri asks with such sincerity it almost hurts. When Victor meets his eyes, he really does feel an affectionate tightness blossom in his chest at the evident concern.

“I don't know if you can,” he admits sadly. “I tried a bunch of methods, but nothing seemed to work. Sleep aids like night time teas or melatonin made it worse since I just ended up sleeping for longer, and any background noises I put on would work their way into my dreams.”

“Oh, Vitya. I'm so sorry,” Yuuri says. Victor can tell he doesn't know what else to say since he fidgets for a moment before changing the subject. “How about you eat something? I can make you some soup with crackers. Are you feeling up to eating?”

“Honestly, not really,” he sighs, “but I know I need the nutrients.”

Yuuri nods. “Are you gonna be alright alone? I don't want to leave in case you have another bad dream…”

“I’m not going back to sleep for a while,” he says. It's both a statement and a decision; he doesn't want to sleep but he probably wouldn't even be able to from how hot he's still feeling. Not to mention that nightmare...

“I'll hurry back, okay?” Yuuri grabs the now-warm face cloth, gives a weak smile that Victor returns, then he leaves the room.

Victor pushes himself to a sitting position and grabs his phone. The first thing he does when he unlocks it is open up Instagram to take a selfie, because why the hell not? If he's going to be suffering, he wants the world to sympathise with him. The photo he takes makes him look miserable. His hair is still disheveled, made even worse now with the added layer of sweat from his nightmare, and the red tinting his cheeks is much more prominent than before, as are the bags under his eyes. He uses a filter to cover up the worst of it, throws on a caption and some hashtags then posts it. His notifications start blowing up immediately after but he closes the app, planning on saving the comments for later.

In the meantime, he opens up YouTube and picks through his “watch later” playlist which mainly consists of skating videos to get inspiration for new routines (since he has already seen every single video of Yuuri's skating the site has to offer). Once he has gone through most of it, about 20 minutes have past. Instagram should be exploding by now. He opens the app and sure enough:

13,927 likes, view all 463 comments

Numerous skaters and die-hard fans alike are wishing him well and hoping for a speedy recover. He smiles at the handful of comments talking about how lucky he is to have Yuuri as his caretaker. Victor couldn't agree more. Even from the bedroom, he can smell the aroma of soup wafting from the kitchen and can hear the light bustle of Yuuri moving around. Victor continues to scroll through and read the comments, hoping Yuuri can finish soon and keep him company.

The next comment catches his eye, and not in a good way: “Being sick is no fun. I hope it's not the flu! Throwing up is the worst. >.< ”

He's certain they meant well but Victor can't help the twinge of anxiety that works its way into his stomach at the thought of something leaving his stomach.

He quickly scrolls past the comment and it disappears. The anxiety still remains and Victor is once again reminded of the sweltering heat his body is radiating and how sweaty and gross he feels.

He closes Instagram, desperate for another distraction. All he really wants is Yuuri. How much longer is it going to take for him to finish cooking? Victor is not even all that hungry anyway. All he wants is Yuuri. Yuuri will hold him and love him and tell him everything will be okay, and Yuuri will make everything okay. Because it's Yuuri, and his voice is soft and his skin is even softer and his fingertips feel like heaven when they weave through Victor’s hair. And Yuuri will mention how pretty and soft it is, even though it feels far from those things right now since it's greasy and gross, just like how Victor looks and how he feels, with an extra helping of miserable thrown on top.

There's moisture on Victor’s face and he realizes he's crying. He doesn't really know why but he doesn't know how to stop it, so he doesn't try to. He's too hot and he's shivering and he's lonely and a mess and it's all too much, so he hangs his head and cries because he doesn't know what else to do.

“Okay, food is reー! Victor? What's wrong?”

Victor looks up and through teary eyes can see Yuuri hastily putting down the prepared meals he brought into the room and moving to comfort Victor. Still an emotional wreck and just wanting Yuuri, Victor holds his arms out and Yuuri rushes to embrace him.

“Shh, shh. It's okay. I'm here. I'm right here,” Yuuri soothes, and Victor lets his walls come down as he sobs onto his shoulder. Victor’s breathing is ragged and Yuuri rubs his back and urges him to breathe, which he does, albeit shakily. “Whatever it is, whatever's hurting you, I'll make it go away. I promise,” Yuuri whispers.

Oh, how Victor needed this, to just be held in Yuuri's arms. To know he's not alone and he is loved. Yuuri's voice is soft and calming as he tells him those two thingsーand many more reassuranceーover and over. It helps, as does the demonstrated inhales and exhales that Victor learns to follow until he is breathing normally again and the tears have finally stopped.

“Did you have another bad dream?” Yuuri asks softly after Victor has calmed down.

“N-no, I,” he sniffles. “I just really don't feel well.”

“Let's get some food in you. And some medicine, okay? That should help,” Yuuri offers. He pulls away with a reluctance that Victor echos, then gets the two soups he placed on the bedside table. “Would you like me to feed you?” he asks. There’s not a single hint of teasing in his voice.

“No, that's okay,” Victor says quickly as he fights a blush. “I want to eat with you.”

Yuuri hands him a bowl with a comforting smile, then moves to sit next to Victor on the bed. He digs into his meal with a quiet “itadakimasu” while Victor just stares at his own.

It smells lovely, it really does, and it looks amazing too. And yet all Victor can do is poke at it with his spoon, stirring small circles into the broth as his stomach protests the thought of food. Yuuri is obviously enjoying the meal though, so it has to be good. He doesn't have to eat all of it, Victor tells himself, and he forces himself to take a bite despite his apprehension.

It is good. Yuuri is a splendid cook (as Victor has had the pleasure of learning on multiple occasions). He takes another few cautious spoonfuls, knowing he will need the nutrients while at the same time trying to enjoy the taste as it washes over his tongue. By the time Yuuri has finished his soup, Victor has gone back to stirring slow circles with his spoon.

“You don't have to eat all of it,” Yuuri tells him.

“I'm sorry. It is good, I promise, I justー” Victor hesitates. Even saying the words makes him anxious. “I just don't feel well,” he settles on.

Yuuri thankfully seems to catch on. “Does your stomach hurt?”

“A little… But I don't feel super nauseous or anything. In fact I'm probably just overthinking it and making myself anxious. I just hate being sick.” His mind suddenly travels back to the similarly-worded comment he read on Instagram. Even now, it still irks him. “Distract me, Yuuri. Distract me from how miserable I feel.”

“How does a tummy rub sound? I can put a movie on?” Yuuri suggests.

Victor nods with a small smile. “I’d like that.”

“Medicine first though. I’ll be right back.” Yuuri takes the two bowls (one empty, the other barely touched) as well as some other dishes and delivers them all to the kitchen.

He returns with both a cup and a bowl of fresh cold water, a new face cloth and an assortment of pills all carried on a tray which he sets down on the bedside table.

He hands the medicine and water to Victor who swallows them without complaint, then he hands Victor some other, more different tablets.

“They're Tums, for your stomach,” Yuuri tells him. “You chew them. There's also ginger ale in the fridge, if you want some.”

“Aww, Yuuri!” Victor says, genuinely touched by the thoughtfulness. “I'm feeling better already!” He flashes a bright smile, the first genuine display of happiness since waking up with his illness. “I still want that tummy rub, though,” he makes sure to add.

“Of course, Vitya,” Yuuri says with a fond chuckle.

Victor consumes the tablets and lays down on the bed with a sigh, closing his eyes. He definitely is feeling better, even if only marginally. He's very certain Yuuri's presence has something to do with it.

He flinches when what feels like ice is draped across his forehead but soon relaxes and embraces the feeling with another deep sigh. His shirt is then lifted up a tad and Victor cracks his eyes open in curiosity to see Yuuri placing his hands over his partially bare and finely-sculpted abdomen.

Yuuri meets his eyes and Victor catches the light embarrassed flush on his round cheeks. “I thought you would prefer it like this, since you're running a fever. Ah! That reminds me!” he suddenly exclaims and reaches for the thermometer. Victor's mouth is open without Yuuri even having to ask and he again holds the device under his tongue. In the meantime, Yuuri's hands return to Victor’s heated skin, lightly tracing the muscles under the shirt as the two once again wait for the beep.

It happens more quickly this time and somehow sounds more alarming, even though it's the exact same sound as the previous time. He sees Yuuri's eyebrows scrunch adorably as he registers the numbers. Although Yuuri's troubled face is cute, Victor figures whatever his temperature is, it's not good. It's likely gone up.

Sure enough, Yuuri tells him his fever has worsened. “You just took some reducers, though, so I'm not too worried, but we should still try and keep you cool,” he remarks. He lifts up the shirt again and tugs it higher to try and get it over Victor’s arms. “Sit up for me? Just a bit?” Yuuri requests.

Victor obliges and Yuuri removes the article of clothing. It does feel nice having his upper body exposed rather than smothered in heat from the shirt. It feels even better when Yuuri's cool fingertips are on him again, gently pushing him back down.

“Relax, and maybe try and get some sleep. I'll be here, okay?” Yuuri says as he begins lightly rubbing Victor’s stomach.

“Mmm. You're so wonderful, Yuuri,” Victor praises with a moan of satisfaction. The combined pressure plus the coolness of the cloth on his forehead and Yuuri's diligent fingers all work like magic, taking Victor’s mind far away from his fevered agony.

Yuuri makes a noise somewhere between an amused laugh and a hum. “Do you still want me to put a movie on?”

“No. Don't need a movie, just need Yuuri.” Exhaustion is creeping into his voice as Yuuri's hands continue to massage him.

“You sound pretty tired,” Yuuri notes. “Do you want to sleep?”

“Scared to sleep. Nightmares,” he mewls. He's struggling to keep his eyes open.

“I'll stay here with you. Would that help?”

“Yuuri always helps,” he mumbles with a tired smile.

“Get some rest,” Yuuri whispers. One of his hands moves to Victor's head where he runs his fingers through his hair. Victor shivers in delight at the feeling and exhales in content, then falls asleep soon after.

～

He's back underwater. From the depths, he sees the lights of the area and can make out the faceless audience in the stands. It's all drifting further and further away as Victor sinks deeper and deeper. He tries to kick his legs and swim up but he's weighed down by his skates.

“Yuuri!” He reaches a hand out upwards towards the diminishing light. Darkness surrounds him as he's pulled down and down.

“Yuuri!” He struggles to swim. Air is scarce. Though he's underwater, he's sure he's crying.

“Yuuri…” His eyes drift closed and his outstretched hand begins to fall.

A hand grasps around his own.

Victor opens his eyes to see Yuuri face to face with him underwater. Victor lets out a gasp, which shouldn't even be possible since he's drowning, but still he does.

Yuuri is there with him and his eyes are so full of love and his face is so full of care and concern and his voice is angelic as it speaks to him: “I'm right here, Vitya.”

Victor is definitely crying now but he doesn't care; the tears aren't from pain this time. He chokes down a sob, still amazed at the fact he can breathe underwater. Then again, breathing has always been easier with Yuuri around.

He jumps onto Yuuri and hugs him with no intention of letting go and Yuuri doesn't seem to mind in the slightest. All the while, Yuuri's voice is whispering softly in his ears, reassuring him and filling his dream with love.

When Victor eventually pulls apart from the embrace, they're no longer underwater. It's just the two of them standing in a grassy field underneath a large, beautiful tree. The sun is shining through the leaves that provide a relaxing canopy of shade.

Yuuri wipes at Victor’s tears with the pad of his thumb and invites them to sit. Victor does and they lie next to each other on their backs on the grass and intertwine their hands.

“Did I ever tell you about my dog?” Yuuri asks out of the blue, and Victor shakes his head. “I named him after you: Victor-chan, or Vicchan for short. That's why my parents called you that.” Yuuri lets out an embarrassed laugh, but it sounds more fond than self-conscious. “I begged my parents to buy me a poodle after seeing an article about you and Makkachin in a magazine. I wasーstill amーkind of obsessed with you.”

This time, Victor is the one who laughs. Yuuri smiles warmly at him and carries on with his story as Victor closes his eyes. Yuuri's words slowly begin to fade, but the melodic sound of his voice remains as Victor takes a deep breath and savours the tranquil air of the space he and Yuuri share.

～

When Victor awakens hours later, it's not with a startle. His eyes flutter open as he slowly comes to consciousness and becomes aware of his surroundings. The room is quiet, the curtains drawn so Victor could rest. Through a crack left open, a sliver of light is let in from outside where the sun is still shining. It’s bright enough to barely illuminate the room.

Victor sits up slowly and stretches, feeling refreshed from the sleep that was for once restful. Upon sitting up, he becomes aware of a weight in his lap. A glance down reveals a mop of thick black hair and he realizes with a surge of fondness that Yuuri has fallen asleep on him. Upon the discovery, Victor carefully settles back down to a horizontal position, moving slowly so as not to wake Yuuri. He stirs a bit as Victor shifts, but remains asleep.

Now that Victor is laying down, he has a better view of Yuuri's face, and since Victor is no longer fighting for sleep, he can fully enjoy Yuuri's expression as he indulges in unconsciousness. His face is serene but far from graceful; there's a bit of drool trailing from one of the corners of his mouth. Victor can't help but stare, so in love. There is no sign of stress on his angelic features. His skin is flawless and so soft that Victor can't help but trace a finger along his face, wiping away at the small trail of drool as he does so. At the touch, Yuuri's brows furrow slightly and Victor freezes, waiting to see if he'll wake.

Tired brown irises emerge and Victor lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Yuuri slowly blinks once, twice, then lets his eyes slip shut again as he mumbles something in quiet Japanese that Victor doesn't quite catch. Just when Victor thinks he's fallen back asleep, Yuuri shoots up to a sitting position so fast Victor is surprised the young skater didn't get whiplash.

“Victor! You're awake! Are you okay? How are you feeling?” Yuuri asks in one rushed breath.

Victor can't help but feel a bit amused at the panic. “I'm feeling much better, Yuuri. I had a wonderful sleep,” he reassures him with a smile.

“Really? No nightmares?” Yuuri asks sounding relieved. His eyes hold exhaustion but it's currently overridden by curiosity.

“Yeah, now that you mention it.” Victor ponders. “I mean, I did have one at first butー” he pauses as he recalls the dream. He remembers the crushing fear he felt and how it all dissipated at the sound of Yuuri's voice. Victor feels a warmth flood his chest and it's likely rushing to his cheeks too. “You made it better. You talked to me. You told me about your dog.” He states the last part almost like a question, unsure if it was all a dream or not.

As Yuuri too blushes, Victor knows it was real. “It's like you said,” Yuuri confirms. “You were having another nightmare and I didn't know what to do. You were calling out for me and even crying, so I just started talking to you. It seemed to help, so I kept on talking until you calmed down. And...even after that, too...” Yuuri trails off, looking away in sheepishness.

It all makes sense to Victor now. Everything Yuuri did in that dreamーholding his hand, wiping away his tears, speaking to himーhe really did it all for Victor in real life, right up until the moment he eventually fell asleep on top of him. How long must Yuuri have stayed up watching over Victor, protecting him from nightmares?

He feels tears of happiness once again prick at the edge of his eyes as he glomps Yuuri with a hug. “Thank you, Yuuri,” he breathes against his neck.

Yuuri tenses at the unexpected action but soon relaxes. “You're welcome, Vitya.” He brings his arms around Victor and returns the embrace. “So you're feeling better then?”

Victor nods. “Much.”

“You still do feel warm, though. Let's take your temperature again,” Yuuri says. He pulls away just enough to press his lips to Victor’s forehead for a moment. “Feels better than before, but we should get a number on it.”

He moves to retrieve the thermometer as Victor fondly traces the spot Yuuri's lips just were.

After a moment of waiting with the thermometer under Victor’s tongue, Yuuri pulls out the device and shows it to Victor with a satisfied expression.

“It seems the fever reducers have worked,” Yuuri notes.

“Mmhm, it was all the fever reducers that made me better,” Victor comments with a playful tone. “Nothing else.”

“Oh, stop,” Yuuri blushes with a bashful smile. “You would have done the same for me.”

“I would have, and I will,” Victor says. “Although hopefully not anytime too soon. As much as I'd love to look after you, Yuuri, I would feel terrible knowing it was me who got you sick in the first place.”

“As long as I have you looking after me, I wouldn't mind,” Yuuri teases with earnest. “But before that, we should get you back to normal. Your fever has gone down some, but it hasn’t broke yet. You should get some more rest. I'll stay with you.”

“You should take a nap with me!” Victor suggest spontaneously. “I mean, you did stay up with me, so I'm sure you're tired. Plus, cuddling with you will help me fall asleep faster!”

“You're ridiculous, you know that?” Yuuri laughs but lies down with Victor nonetheless. He rests his head on Victor’s arm and snuggles in close, placing a hand on his still-bare chest. It's warm, but not uncomfortably so.

“Thank you, Yuuri,” Victor says again. He whispers it softly, staring into Yuuri's deep brown eyes. Despite the rest he had before, Victor can already begin to feel the tendrils of exhaustion dragging him back towards unconsciousness. His eyes slip shut and he soon falls into a peaceful sleep with Yuuri at his side.

～～～

(End)

Translation note: “itadakimasu” is a Japanese phrase said before eating a meal

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