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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

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Queen of the Night

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Loki takes you to the rooftop greenhouse to show you his favorite flower, the queen of the night. Your evening ends with a confession of love. Warnings: the tiniest bit of angst but also excessively fluffy A/N: The reader is gender neutral; queen in the title refers only to the flower. Enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord

Disclaimer! Gif not mine

You looked up from your game of solitaire as Loki flopped down on the sofa next to you. He looked exhausted, even more so than he usually did after a training session with Thor. Loki sighed, and you set your cards aside, turning your body to give him your full attention.

“Are you ok?” you asked as he shook his head no. You hugged his head to your chest and scratched his back lightly. He was practically purring at your gentle touch. “Want to talk about it?”

“Yes, darling, I do,” he began. “Thor uses brute strength, and not to mention Mjolnir, when we train. Yet I am unable to use my magic, for it is against the rules that he set for our sessions. Just like back home. He doesn’t even seem to have a strategy; just punch. It is so unfair!”

“Extremely so,” you agreed. “Have you tried talking to him? Or not training with him anymore.”

“I have, but he just makes those pathetic puppy-dog eyes. Says it reminds him of Asgard. I, on the other hand, was hoping this would be one of the things I could escape by moving to Midgard, these wretched training sessions.” He sighed again. “It makes me think I preferred my cell.”

“You don’t mean that!” you said in a panic. It broke your heart to hear him say such a thing.

“You are right, I do not,” he calmed you. He pulled back from your embrace a little so he could cup your cheeks. “It is just very frustrating.”

“Well, if you ever need to rant, I’m here.”

“I know, darling. Thank you.”

He leaned in as if he was going to kiss you. You tried not to get your hopes up. Heaven knows how many times you’d been in this same situation, one of you leaning in towards the other before thinking better of it. Everyone else in the Tower seemed to be over the unspoken thing between you and Loki. Quite frankly, you were pretty exasperated with it, too. Still, that voice in your mind kept wondering if maybe you were wrong, if there was no unspoken thing. Then you’d look like an absolute fool, and maybe even lose your best friend. Or, at very least, make things uncomfortable between you for a while. Regardless, the pattern continued, and he broke away.

“Darling?” he said after a minute of silence spent sitting in such a close proximity without actually doing anything, that it was bordering more on awkward than adorable. “I was wondering if you would like to join me tonight in the greenhouse on the roof? There is something I wish to show you.”

“I would love to, Loki,” you replied with a shy smile.

“Well then,” he grinned, placing a small kiss to your knuckles, “I shall see you there, 8 pm sharp.”

As he left you on the couch, smiling and giggling to yourself, a simultaneously thrilling and terrifying idea suddenly raced through your mind. Wait, you thought. Did he just ask me out on a date? You supposed there was nothing left to do but wait and see.

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

You found yourself wishing you’d worn a heavier coat as you stepped out onto the roof in the cold night air, shivering in your lightweight clothes. You chose to wear your favorite top, which just so happened to be the same shade of green that Loki had claimed as his own over a millennium ago. It was purely coincidental, you told yourself; it definitely hadn’t become your favorite top when you noticed the way he looked at you when you wore it. That was preposterous, of course.

As you stepped into the greenhouse, you found that your choice of clothes wasn’t so terrible, after all. The glass room was temperature controlled and dimly lit. It was so warm, in fact, you wondered if you might have to take your hoodie off. You wouldn’t mind, of course. You’d be able to show off your shirt even more. You quickly shook your head before you got started on that train of thought again. It’s not like he specifically said it was a date, so you shouldn’t get too far ahead of yourself. Though, if anything was going to convince you this was one, it would be the romantic atmosphere, and the way Loki was sitting on a blanket with a picnic basket, pillows and fallen petals surrounding him.

“Darling,” he said upon spotting you. “There you are. Right on time.”

“Yup. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. But, uh, what exactly is this?”

“The Epiphyllum oxypetalum.”

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked, looking at him like he had six heads. You had been hoping his answer would be more along the lines of ‘this is a date’ or ‘we’re just hanging out’. But nope, he’s speaking Latin or something.

“Epiphyllum oxypetalum. More commonly known as the queen of the night,” he explained, patting the spot next to him on the blanket. “It is my favorite flower.”

You hesitated a second before going to sit beside him. “May I ask why?”

“You may, indeed,” he replied, eyes lighting up. “See, when I was younger—one hundred, maybe two hundred years old—my mother grew this flower in her garden, but I could never see it bloom. I would watch it all day, but then when I went to sleep and came back in the morning, I just found out more had wilted without ever having bloomed! It was infuriating. Well, I went to my mother about it, and she explained that it only bloomed once. At night. So, we stayed up all night to watch them. It was, in a word, magical. Something about the way they will only bare themselves to those patient enough to wait, to look carefully. I can not explain it, but it is wonderful.”

“I think I can explain it.” You looked at him with a soft gaze and took his hand, swiping your thumb over his knuckles. “The flower and you are kind of one and the same, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps.”

“Like the way you let yourself be true to who you are around me,” you continued. “It’s like the blooming thing. I think it’s sweet.”

“Well, of course you would. Somehow you seem to think I have never done any wrong,” he said, a nearly imperceptible tear rolling down his cheek. Nearly. You leaned in and kissed the wet drop away. He looked startled as you pulled back, and he held you an arms length away. “Darling.”

“Sorry,” you said, silently cursing yourself. “I hope that was alright. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. I can go, if you want.”

“No, please do not mistake this as me wanting you to leave,” he quickly pleaded. “I want you closer, even. It is just that you compare me to this flower, though it is beautiful. But me? I am a monster.”

“Hey, it’s ok. You’re not. Look at me? Please?” you asked, cupping his cheek as he stared at the ground. “You are not, I repeat, are not a monster. Loki, you are good, kind. Those who have hurt you do not dictate who you are. I love you, Loki, and I don’t think I could love a monster.”

His face said nothing, but a million thoughts flashed behind his eyes. You? Love him? By all accounts, it made no sense. Could he be dreaming? He must be.

“You should not love me. I do not deserve it. What if I hurt you?”

“Well, I’m surprisingly resilient,” you joked, trying to cheer him up. “But that doesn’t matter because you’re not going to hurt me. So whether I should or should not—and really, who’s to say?—I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you a thousand times, to the moon and back. With all my heart, every fiber of my being. I love you.”

Loki didn’t even think, he just kissed you. He kissed you so deeply, so passionately, you forgot everything else you ever knew. It was just him now, in this moment. His scent, his touch, his lips. Him. Perfect and loving and gentle and tender. Neither of you moved, besides to wrap your arms around each other, to hold each other even closer, to deepen the kiss even more. Other than that, you just sat there, lips locked, affirming everything your words said and didn’t say. Nothing else mattered. Just him, king of the night. King of your heart.

“I love you, too, darling,” he said. He had pulled away just enough to speak what was on his mind, and his lips brushed yours as he spoke. “I am still dangerous. I still fear I will hurt you, ruin you. But I cannot go on without you. If I am to allow myself one thing, it must be this. Oh darling, I love you as I never have anything or anyone before. No throne could compare, no crown could better. All the gold and riches in the Nine Realms could not even dream of competing with your kiss, your embrace. I love you so wholly and completely, I do not know how I ever lived without you.”

“Loki,” you whispered. He was looking in your eyes so intently it made goosebumps erupt on your skin. “You’re more beautiful than every flower, more precious than their delicate petals. I don’t think words will ever be enough to tell you how I feel.”

“I agree, words will never suffice.”

He kissed you again, trying to express everything he didn’t know how to say, everything he didn’t understand about how this could be real. And you responded, reassuring him that it was real, that he did deserve it. That what you felt for him in this moment would never go away. It would only get more intense, more powerful. Loki wasn’t sure what magic you were working exactly, but he started to believe. He supposed that was just the power of love.

Eventually, you broke apart and laid down next to each other. You chatted a little, but fell into periods where you just held each other. The picnic basket he’d brought was filled with your favorite foods, and you snacked on them a bit, holding small bites to the other’s lips. You watched the flowers, too. A few of them bloomed as you looked on, and it brought a smile to your lips. The smile that bloomed on Loki’s face was even more breathtaking than the opening petals, in your opinion.

“Loki,” you said, and he turned to look at you, gently caressing your cheek. “Thank you so much for sharing this with me.”

“Of course, darling. It is like I said,” he replied, a light, happy sound in the tone of his voice. “I love you. I am glad you like it.”

“And like I said, I love you, too. I really do like it. It’s beautiful, just like you.”

Again, the two of you met in a kiss. Whether or not he had intended for this to be a date, it had sure turned into one. And something more, too. A new beginning, a perfect start to something that would last long beyond just one night. You’d planted the flower of your love, and you knew its petals wouldn’t wilt in the light of day; they’d last forever.

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dontcallmecarrie · 2 years

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Ah! I'm sorry, I was thinking about NHHD. I didn't realise you'd already written about Justin being dusted. But also, I was kinda wondering how Justin would react?

To the snap if he wasn't dusted himself?

I believe it comes up in this hypothetical thought exercise, if not very in-depth.

Long story short: assuming things ever even get that far— because in NHDD, the Avengers are a functional team that actually gets along, and even if they weren't, Cabal would step up to the plate [though there's a certain sort of irony in the League-of-Supposed-to-be-Evil-but-Mostly-Just-Vibing saving the day]— at the end of the day, the only thing Justin Hammer's just some guy, really.

This is a universe with a whole lot of geniuses and rich people running around, superhumans and aliens and magic and who knows what else— the only thing Justin Hammer's got going for them is their emotional intelligence.

...well, that's what he thinks, anyway.

In reality, NHDD!Justin is a character who's unintentionally weaponized their charisma stat, and has made a lot of very interesting friends over the years.

After all, their MO is to aggressively support the people they care about. Nobody in-universe would be able to pinpoint just how much of an influence they've had on the timeline, but if anyone from another universe were to stop by, it'd look like the Twilight Zone.

If we're talking about the "this could only be a hypothetical because circumstances in this AU mean nobody'd ever let things get this far" thought exercises, you've probably noticed that Justin is the heart of his friend group. I don't know how else to say it, but...well, he [unintentionally] founded Cabal.

A group of people who, individually, are terrifyingly capable— and are in essence the darker counterpart of the idea of "power of friendship" which, to paraphrase a post I saw a while back but is now vanished into the ether that is Tumblr's tag system, sounds like something ripped straight from a children's cartoon but in practice means that these people have common goals, know how to work together and Get Shit Done™.

Justin's the one who founded Cabal, he's their leader, and if he sees a crisis like the Snap, would absolutely go "you know, this is a problem. Let's do something about it."

No matter what, things are getting fixed.

it's just that with Justin alive, things don't feel quite as bleak in the meantime. It's— I'm not sure how to articulate it, but.

Look, sometimes, people have bad days. Days so exhausting it's a wonder you managed to pull through; maybe you worked long hours, maybe traffic was a shitshow. Maybe your boss yelled at you for something that wasn't your fault, or you failed that one test.

But you have something to look forward to, even during the darkest of times, right?

Maybe it's that chocolate stash, or that game you're playing, or a book you're partway through. A movie you're been meaning to check out, your pet waiting for you at home, a scented candle, something.

Something that gets you through the day, adds just that little bit of motivation to get out of bed in the morning.

This is probably a terrible analogy, but the emotional support Justin provides fits in that same category.

No matter what, things are getting fixed.

It's just that it'd probably go even faster, this way.

#I got an ask!#Naught replies #replies #No Hero [Downward Descending]#3 am musings

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chosenkeepersworld · 3 years

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The Curses We Inherit: Chapter 3

Original Work

Date Posted: May 12, 2021 (Tumblr)

Word count: 1, 439 words

A/N: Unbeta-ed work but I hope whoever reads this will like it and let me know what you think. Critique is greatly appreciated. Thanks!

MASTERLIST / PART 2

"Are you sure you're alright, Mo stoirín?" Aunt Aileen gently rubbed the back of her niece's slumped form at the kitchen island. They young woman had arrived just a few moments ago, practically dragging herself into the kitchen and plopping down on the seat.

Due to jet lag and a rough night's sleep Danika had difficulty coming fully into wakefulness.

The young O'Brien's lips lifted into a quick smile at the endearment, she lifted her head from her hands, stil bleary eyed and turned to her aunt "I am" she said "I just need coffee and some food" the young blonde had slept through her alarm and apparently breakfast. She had initially panicked and rushed to get ready for the day and for whatever tasks her brother needed done. Part way through putting her clothes on, it had finally registered that she wasn't at home. The panic slowly drained out of her and all it left was exhaustion but still Danika dragged herself downstairs.

Aileen set a cup in front of the young woman who gently lifted it to her nose and gingerly sniffed at the contents. It was tea, still hot with a splash of milk, its slightly spicy scent woke her senses and a sip warmed her body. Danika sighed in pleasure

The young blonde sat up straighter and finally noticed the cloches on the island. She lifted one and her mouth watered at the plate of sausages and bacon, her stomach rumbled in response. Danika uncovered the rest of the domes and reached for the cutlery in the holder.

"Mo stoirín'' Aileen called her niece's attention, who happily stuffed her face with Iriish breakfast food "We'll be leaving for town after you eat." Danika, with her mouth full, could only nod.

Her Aunt's home resided a few miles outside of Eden Greene, the town was fairly large many of the houses were similar in size and style with a few brightly colored ones standing out. Different shops had people coming in and out, many were families with very young children. Every so often someone would greet the young blonde, smiling and actually looking happy and while technically her aunt doesn't live in town, the townsfolk still greeted the older woman with bright smiling faces as they walked down the street.

Aileen had linked their arms together once they arrived in town, she would point out a place and tell her niece about it or if she knew someone on the street she would stop and chat. Danika would give a quiet greeting then move slightly away suddenly becoming engrossed at a shop display, when her aunt and the stranger were finished the two continued on to whatever destination the blonde's aunt had in mind.

When they finally stopped, it was in front of an odd yellow house with a black door decorated with gold swirls. Danika's eyes roamed over the house, vines hung from the iron window railing, the windows were held in a dark colored frame but from Danika's current angle it was difficult to see further into the house.

She had been so busy staring that she did not notice that she had backed into anyone. Danika had snapped out of her staring at the sudden feel of someone's body, she turned to apologize but froze. Later she would remember this stranger wearing dark colors and an odd large hat but what had really taken her in was the stranger's eyes. Their color was such a deep amber that they were almost gold but it wasn't the color that unsettled her, it was the loathing; the intense, unflinching loathing in those eyes.

The stranger moved now facing the young O'Brien, eyes stayed on her still intense on her. The movement caused her to flinch back, Danika swallowed as she felt her stomach twist, she should move away, turn and find her aunt but she was frozen, held down by the darkness those eyes exuded.

She had stared at him for what felt like hours but she could hear something else besides the beating of her heart. Something then turned her and she was staring at her aunt's worried face, the older woman's hand was on her shoulder. Danika could see her lips moving but couldn't make out what she was saying.

Danika blink a few times before opening her mouth "Sorry, could you say that again?"

The worry lessened in her aunt's green eyes, she even cracked a smile but the concern was still there. "I asked if you were alright, Danika"

The young blonde briefly looked back to see the stranger but he was no longer there then she looked at her aunt's worried expression. Danika plastered a reassuring smile on her face "I'm fine I thought I saw something."

There was that odd itch again, it just wouldn't leave following the brief...interaction with the oddly dressed stranger. She felt the itching on her neck when she first arrived on the island and like the first time it took some time for it to stop.

The house they entered was surprisingly simplistic. Upon entering the house the first thing Danika saw was the stairway leading up to the second floor, past it was and open kitchen, to the right was a four seater dining table and to the left was a cozy living area, two soft yet worn looking sofa chairs were positioned on either side of the fireplace, facing each other while a love seat faced towards the fireplace.

Danika gravitated to the large shelf to the side of the room. Books filled the shelves, so many that there were books stacked up both sides of the shelf. Upon closer inspection many of the books were about sleep and dreams, some medical journals and an oddly large number of fairy tales.

"I apologize for the mess our niece was here doing some reading and didn't clean up before she left" a voice came from the way they came in. It belonged to a tall man with slicked back, black hair and pale complexion wearing a dark coat, slacks and dress shoes. His lips pulled into a small frown, his eyes slightly furrowed. The look on the older man's face was much too similar to one that her father wore and it made Danika uneasy.

Another man came up behind him, a total and complete opposite of the first. His bright, blonde hair stood in all directions, it was messy yet the style suited him, he wore a soft looking sweater and stretchy pants that fit well against his chubby belly. His smile was bright when he entered the room. He was the first to notice the youngest O'Brien's nervous posture. Deducing the cause the short, blonde man elbowed his taller companion and made a few gestures Danika vaguely recognized as sign language. The dark haired man composed his expression before turning to their guests.

"Aileen, it's always a pleasure to see you" the tall man greeted stiffly.

She gave if a grin in response "Good to see you well, Keiran"

"I'm sure you and Sandy have much to discuss"

"Yes we do" Aileen took a few steps into the room but stopped to snap her fingers "I forgot to get one of the books we need for this meeting"

"How important is it?" Keiran asked

"Very" Aileen deadpanned "I ordered a copy of it and was supposed to pick it up at The Quill"

"Well the meeting will just have to go on without it"

Aileen pouted "But what's written in there is important"

Keiran sighed "What do you want me to do Aileen? I have my own-"

"I can do it"

The two adults turned to Danika who spoke out in a soft voice, the younger blonde swallowed and repeated herself more firmly "I can do it"

Keiran and Aileen exchanged looks. "This is your problem" was the message of the look that the dark haired man conveyed then went inside the room, they could hear his voice just before he closed the door "No darling, Ailee forgot to get some book that you need...I could have helped but...well there's no need for that kind of language, Sandy"

Aunt and niece looked at each other for a moment. Danika looked hopeful while Aileen pursed her lips before holding out a folded piece of paper and a map.

Danika grinned.

********

Photo Sources:

Canva

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Tag list: @original-writing @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @dustylovelyrun @woodhousejay

#The Curses We Inherit #The Curses We Inherit Ch 3 #original story #original writing #creative writing #writing wip #unbeta'd

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givemequeen · 5 years

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pretty boy; george x reader ft paul

request: Imagine being friends with the Beatles and calling George pretty boy all the time. Paul gets jealous bc he thinks it his nickname but really its for George lol. George would get all smiley bc he likes you and thinks you’re pretty too. He would blush hard the first time you called him that. a/n: AWWWWW ALSO IM DOING A PRESENTATION ON WHILE MY GUITAR GENTLY WEEPS YAY pairing: george x reader word count: 1,300 (MCCC)

“Oi pretty boy!” you yelled out loud in the studio.

“Yes?” Paul asked without looking up from his bass.

“Not you, George!” you rolled your eyes at Paul and looked behind him where George was sitting with his own guitar hunched over it looking at the same papers Paul was looking at. Both Paul and George looked up from their papers to look at you, but both with very different looks.

Paul looked betrayed, shocked and jealous. His eyes were narrowed and his mouth was slightly hanging open. Next to an angry and jealous Paul was George, who you wanted to talk to, he was blushing like mad and with a sweet, small smile plastered on his face. His eyes (and he was too) were shinning like a child’s on Christmas eve.

“What?” asked Paul with disbelief.

“What do you mean what?” you answered him forgetting the fact that you were going to talk to George.

“You know what I mean.” he placed his hand over his chest as though he was taken back, which he was. “I am ‘pretty boy’ not George.”

“Oh my God Paul just get over it.” you shook your head and let out a laugh.

“Yeah Macca, just let the two lovebirds talk.” piped up John from beside you.

“Shut up.” you and George both snapped.

“Gee sorry,” John said laughing at your reactions.

“Anyway, George I was wondering if you finished that song you showed me?” you finally told him what you wanted to but Paul was still visibly upset.

“Oh no, I’m working on another one,” George said with a smile, you returned it before he went back to his papers.

The rest of the day went by smoothly, you helped out as much as you could. Mostly by getting snacks and mostly for George. For him, it was a strange mix. He wanted to ask for a lot of snacks just so he could talk to you and because he loved food. At the same time he didn’t want to ask a lot because a) he was scared of talking to you in case he fucked something up and b) because he didn’t want you to do a lot of stuff.

At around 23:00 you were all ready to leave. Only George took his guitar song and it was because he wanted to finish a song he couldn’t stop thinking about. You all put on your coats and left as the studio’s supervisor locked the door leaving the instruments, equipment and all the unfinished songs safely locked inside.

“I cannot believe this.” Paul started once more as lift’s door opened for you 5. You scrunched up your eyebrow and got on the lift with the rest of the boys, what was he talking about?

“Believe what Paul?” you asked while the doors of the lift closed.

“That you called George pretty boy! I am ‘pretty boy’!”

“Not this again.” groaned Ringo as his head fell back agaisnt the lift’s wall. You chuckled and glanced at George who was looking at you, a smile on his face. He was standing against the wall on the other side of the lift.

“Get over it Paul,” you said.

“I will not.” Paul huffed and pushed himself off the wall to walk over to you. “Is he prettier than me?” you felt your cheeks get red from the questions. You looked down to your feet, your hair falling in front of your face to hide it. Not only did this hide your face from George but it hid his face from you. So you didn’t see the look on his face after Paul asked you that.

“I- I don’t know!” you stuttered still looking down.

“Ugh just kiss already,” John faked puked. You finally looked up, catching for a second the look on Geo’s face, and hit his side. John held onto his shoulder and laughed. After a ‘ding’ the doors slid open the five of you got out. John held the door open as you stepped out in the cold night air.

“Anyone up for a drink?” John asked once the door was closed.

“I’m exhausted.” you groaned looking at the direction that your flat was.

“Me too,” George added.

“I’m up for it,” Ringo said.

“Me too.” Paul joined in.

“Okay then, George and yn, we’ll see you tomorrow.” John wiggled his eyebrows at the two of you earning a dirty look from you. “Please use protection,” he added once you two started walking away.

“SHUT UP!”

The walk back to your place was silent, you all live in the same building. At first, you all lived in the same flat but after John got married and Ringo met Mo you all decided to get your own place. You enjoyed it, independence and silence. Plus you didn’t have to talk a different girl each morning after she had shagged one of the guys.

George opened the building’s door holding it open as you slipped inside, flashing him an awkward smile. He pressed the lift’s button and the doors slid open. George extended his arm gesturing for you to go first. “Floor?” George joked as he pressed your floor’s button. You gently laughed as his joke and looked down at your feet.

The lift seemed tiny right now, your side was touching with George’s and you couldn’t seem to breathe normally. You glanced over at him, he was taller than you. His cheekbones were hypnotizing and you wouldn’t mind staring at his beautiful face all day but the door’s sliding open pulled you away from that thought.

“We’re here.” George forced a smile and stepped out after you did.

“Do you want to come in for tea?” you offered as you took out your keys from your coat’s pocket. “And biscuits.”

“Only for the biscuits.” he laughed and followed you inside.

You took off your coat and hanged it on the coat hanger before walking over to the kitchen. George mirrored your movements and watched you as you boiled water, took out plates and cups and his biscuits. You took out a couple of biscuits and gave George his biscuits on a plate. While you waited for the water to boil you leaned against the counter and it was your turn to watch George.

“Thanks, yn, these are my favourite.” George smiled after eating a couple. You nodded politely, jumped and sat on the counter with your hands under your thighs. George set down the plate and cleared his throat. You looked up to him and saw that he was making his way to you.

“George?” you whispered when he stood in front of you, one hand to your left and the other to your right. His line of sight shifted from one of your eyes to the other. Slowly, his hand went up to cup your face. “Geo?” you repeated even lower this time.

“Can I?” he asked glancing at your lips. You gulped and nodded. George grinned and closed his eyes getting closer and closer to you. You closed your eyes as well and closed the space between you two.

The kiss was affectionate and gentle, his lips were even more delicate and more soothing. His hips moved forward and you pulled your hands from under your thighs. They went up to his hair, tugging slightly and pulling him closer to you. Your legs went around his hips drawing his body even closer to yours.

A loud noise went off in the background, the kettle. You jumped away from George and hit your head against the cabinet making you both laugh. George quickly turned off the kettle and placed his hand where you hurt yourself rubbing it slightly to soothe the pain.

“Alright?” he asked.

“Never been better pretty boy.” you winked.

tag list;

@thebeatleswritings @beatlevmania @i-love-queen-3000 @brians-metaphor26 @honimello @maccafied @julessworldd @lovemybrowneyedboy @storiesfrommirkwood @beatles-babee @geostarr @rockstarsandfilmstars @thiccjelly17 @crab-king-69

#george harrison #george harrison x reader #george harrison imagine #george harrison one shot #george harrison fanfic #george harrison fluff #the beatles #the beatles x reader #the beatles imagine #the beatles one shot #the beatles fanfic #the beatles fluff

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satonthelotuspier · 4 years

Text

How Shall We Stop Dreams - Part 7

Chapter 6 of the serialised Dreams AU. Follow the Tags below for the previous parts if you missed them, or check it all out on AO3 if that’s your preferred poison.

Hope you enjoy :)

Wei Wuxian made his way back to their house, hoping he might be able to calm Jiang Cheng down and maybe pull back, or clarify, some of the things he’d said in the heat of his temper. He was so protective of Jiang Cheng, who to all intents had purposes, was his little brother even though they weren’t related by blood, that he hadn’t really thought what he’d said through. And he had hurt Jiang Cheng.

He’d hurt Lan Xichen too, but that he didn’t care about, his brother was his only concern.

Jiang Cheng was already in bed and had his back turned so he faced the wall when Wei Wuxian arrived.

He moved across the room knelt down next to the bed.

“Jiang Cheng”

The other ignored him, but Wei Wuxian could tell he wasn’t asleep as he was too tense.

“Jiang Cheng” he said again; “I know you aren’t sleeping, don’t ignore me”

“Leave me alone, Wei Wuxian” he could hear the upset in Jiang Cheng’s voice and he felt even worse.

“Come Jiang Cheng, lets talk, please. I said some silly things that probably stand further explanation. I was protecting you a little too zealously and I interfered in something that I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry”

“Sometimes it feels like you want to keep me in your shadow forever. That you don’t want me to grow up, that you don’t want me to ever have something before you”

The tearful litany made Wei Wuxian pause, that had never been his intention, but had it seemed to the other like that? Maybe, because of Jiang Cheng’s own insecurities.

“I would never do that to you, A-Cheng” he reached out to stroke a hand over Jiang Cheng’s hair soothingly.

The other sat up, slapping his hand away, “Leave me alone”

“Don’t be like that, didi” Wei Wuxian moved to sit on the edge of his bed and put his hands on Jiang Cheng’s shoulders, “I know I was very wrong to have interfered. You’re right, you are an adult, and able to make your own decisions, whether they worry me or not is my problem to deal with and not yours. You should have that talk with Lan Xichen, I don’t understand the whole Spiritmatch thing and I jumped in with very little information. You should let him tell you himself. I am sorry I attacked you both like that, and that you feel like I’m trying to keep you in my shadow, it’s the last thing I want” he realised the other was crying and he couldn’t bear it, “A-Cheng, don’t do that, its not so bad, honestly it will work out, you’ll see” he folded the other into a soothing hug; Jiang Cheng had unusually met him half way which was probably an indication of how hurt the other was, normally he’d rather punch Wei Wuxian in the shoulder than accept it to cry on.

“Just once it would be nice if someone chose me because it was me, not because I was anyone’s brother or son or fated one, just because I was the choice they wanted to make” Wei Wuxian stroked his back and continued to make soothing noises.

***

The next morning Wei Wuxian was up and away before Jiang Cheng woke up; something Jiang Cheng was thankful for, too embarrassed to face him this morning after his emotional meltdown. He wouldn’t be entirely surprised if Wei Wuxian had arranged it for that very reason, to save Jiang Cheng some face.

He decided to take a quick breakfast in the house and spend the day out in the woods, walking, perhaps practising his sword forms, and generally clearing his head.

Along with the tray of food that was delivered by one of the Wen’s servants was a note from Wen Qing, asking him to make himself available tomorrow for an examination.

He sent a positive response back, finished his meal in peace and disappeared for the day after leaving a brief note for Wei Wuxian explaining he’d be back later in case the other returned before him.

***

Wei Wuxian was on his way back to the house to check on Jiang Cheng when he ran into Mo Xuanyu and Wen Ning. Wei Wuxian was of course now accompanied by his permanent shadow, Lan er-gongzi.

“Hello you two, what are you up to?” Wei Wuxian greeted them.

He’d given some careful consideration overnight, given that they suspected Wen Ning was a half demon, to how he would react on meeting the other. He had decided to treat him as he would anyway, or at least as closely as he could; Wen Ning had risked himself to save Mo Xuanyu yesterday, and that was all he needed to know about the other until something happened to change his mind. Even if he was half demon that wasn’t enough to hold against him because he genuinely seemed like a shy, kind young man.

“Wen Ning is a crack shot archer, he was going to show me some tips at the training range”

“Ah, sounds good, perhaps you could give me some tips too one day soon, Wen Ning” Wei Wuxian offered, which made Wen Ning blush.

“I’m sure Wei-gongzi is too skilled to need my guidance” he looked up as Wei Wuxian patted his shoulder.

“Nonsense, I’m always eager to learn something new. How are you feeling after your injuries yesterday?”

“I’m fine, Jiejie tended to them in the evening and they’re almost healed now”

“You’re very lucky, Wen Qing is a very accomplished healer I understand” Wen Ning nodded, obviously proud of his elder sister.

“She is greatly favoured by Wen-zongzhu, is she not? A great honour” it was the first time Lan Wangji had spoken to the pair and Wen Ning looked a little uncomfortable. Which seemed to be the effect Lan Wangji had on most people as they didn’t know how to deal with his dispassionate nature. Neither did Wei Wuxian really, but he was the type of person who would learn as they went along, it wasn’t something that worried him.

Wen Ning nodded again at Lan Wangji’s statement.

Mo Xuanyu piped up then, as if coming to rescue Wen Ning from his discomfort, “Will you come with us to the range?”

“I may join you later, I want to see what Jiang Cheng is up to first, he hasn’t shown himself yet this morning. Don’t wait for me!” he waved as they moved on towards the accommodations.

They were almost there when Lan Wangji murmured his name softly.

“Wei Ying...”

“No” he turned, to the other and gave him a determined look. “I won’t treat him any differently until it’s proved he doesn’t deserve my trust”

“Ironically better than you treated my brother” he could see the moment Lan Wangji’s soul left his body as he realised he’d put his foot in his mouth again. And although Wei Wuxian accepted the comment was accurate and he didn’t take offence he couldn't pass up the opportunity to tease the other.

“It’s like you’re trying to remain a virgin for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan” Wei Wuxian told him.

“Wei Ying” Lan Wangji exclaimed, scandalised at his comment. Wei Wuxian noted the fact that although the other’s perfect, jade-like face didn’t flush with his embarrassment, his neck and his earlobes did. It was actually quite adorable and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to scratch at Lan Wangji’s chin. Lan Wangji seemed react to the caress like a cat, and Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have been entirely surprised to hear a purr come from the other’s throat.

***

He found the note from Jiang Cheng on his return so they decided to return to the Lan’s house instead and see how Lan Xichen fared with his research.

“Xiongzhang” Lan Wangji greeted his brother as they entered, Lan Xichen didn’t look up.

“Wangji, Wei-gongzi” he acknowledged shortly.

It seemed Wei Wuxian still hadn’t been forgiven for his transgression last night.

Not that he had expected to be yet.

“Have you discovered anything?”

“I’m still looking, something that would go much more smoothly if I was left undisturbed” an annoyed Lan Xichen was almost alien to Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian could tell he didn’t know how to handle his elder brother at the moment.

Wei Wuxian had been the cause, and although he couldn’t magically fix it he could certainly try and help give them the opportunity to fix it themselves.

He moved towards the table and sank to his knees next to it, edging into Lan Xichen’s eyeline. He saw the other redouble his efforts to ignore Wei Wuxian and focus on the text in front of him; but he edged closer and waved the paper, “Zewu-jun, a peace offering”

Lan Xichen finally looked up from the book and fixed him with a look, “There is no need, please do not interfere more than you already have, Wei-gongzi. I can certainly do without your version of assistance”

“Xiongzhang...” Wei Wuxian held his hand up to halt Lan Wangji from coming to his defence; he unfolded the paper and placed it in front of Lan Xichen.

The other looked at it, had almost risen to his feet before he even realised it, then sank back down, pushing the paper away.

“I should finish here” he said finally, and waved a dismissing hand at them both.

“Xiongzhang, you have been here all morning, taking a break for a while will not hurt” Lan Wangji argued.

And Wei Wuxian was able to watch the war in his eyes, eventually his need to talk to Jiang Cheng won out and he closed the book, rose, picked up Shuoyue, and left.

Wei Wuxian was about to open one of the books when there was a knock at the door. He picked them up and shoved them under the bedclothes on one of the beds while Lan Wangji moved to the door; he opened it when he was sure Wei Wuxian had hidden them from sight well enough.

“Luo-guniang” he greeted and stood back to allow her entry.

“Lan er-gongzi, Wei-gongzi” she cupped her hands and bowed, and they returned the salute.

“I have important news. Have you heard yet? One of the disciples from Wu Sect was sent home this morning, she took ill yesterday evening. After a consultation with Wen Qing”

“Took ill?”

“Jin-gongzi saw her leave, he said she looked confused, and drained, like she was completely exhausted. How could it be possible to become so sick in just a few hours and not have the best healer in the land notice anything wrong with you before you did?”

While he had concerns over what she said, Wei Wuxian was also curious to know why she had come to report it to them.

“Why are you telling us?” he asked, his arms folded.

“Wei-gongzi, I didn’t come in off the farm yesterday. It’s obvious more than meets the eye is going on here, we all suspected it from the very night of the feast, and your suddenly becoming bosom friends with Lan er-gongzi and keeping quiet about what you saw yesterday makes it very obvious you’re getting involved in something right up to your knees”

He marvelled at her deductive reasoning; she was a formidable woman, keeping quiet, taking everything in around her, absorbing the available information like a sponge, then acting when she saw it as time.

“I’m neither confirming nor denying any such involvement”

“If you’re not involved you won’t want the rest of the information I have then...” she shrugged and made to walk away, but Wei Wuxian dashed forward and took hold of her arms gently.

“Now, Luo-guniang, don’t be like that. Perhaps you could tell us for completeness” Wei Wuxian suggested, raising his eyebrows in question.

“I will tell you, but when you investigate this, I want to be involved”

“Absolutely not” Lan Wangji said as Wei Wuxian agreed.

Wei Wuxian looked at Lan Wangji, “Lan Zhan, Luo-guniang is a very strong cultivator, and obviously a very clever one, she won’t hold us up”

“There will be no us, if there is danger the only people involved will be Xiongzhang or I, this is our task, not yours, nor Luo-guniang's”

“Am I having these nightmares? Is Luo Qingyang? It’s very much our business too. You don’t get to decide whether we sit and watch or not Lan Zhan, you may say we can’t go with you, but that certainly doesn’t mean I’ll sit and wait for you to come back, I’ll go myself if I have to”

“You won’t, I’ll be with you too” Luo Qingyang confirmed and again the look of frustration crossed Lan Wangji’s face but he must surely know enough about Wei Wuxian’s personality to know the other wouldn’t sit gamely by in a situation like this.

Lan Wangji gave the briefest of nods eventually, his mouth tight.

“A member of the Jin clan has been invited to an examination tonight, I think we should follow them and try to find out what we can about what happens when Wen Qing runs an examination, and see if there’s any link to the state the Wu sect disciple was in when she left for home this morning” Luo Qingyang informed them.

***

Wen Ruohan listened to Wen Qing’s report and the failure of the second test subject. They had a third planned for that evening, but she had doubts about viability of this one too.

“This is all very disappointing” he drummed the fingers of his right hand on the arm of his throne-like chair, and Wen Qing bowed her head.

“I’m sorry, Wen-zongzhu. The failure is mine”

Although he was very disappointed with their lack of progress he was fully aware this was likely to take time, eventually the cultivators here would start to suspect something but he didn’t think that it should be yet, and really what they were looking for was trial and error, like any experiment. If they knew the perfect solution they wouldn’t even need to undertake this part of the plan.

“Nonsense, these things take time, we understood that, I’m merely frustrated and wish to be making progress. It will come though. Perhaps we start testing the cultivators who had the strongest reactions to the dreams”

“I have already arranged for one to be tested tomorrow, Wen-zongzhu, I hope you won’t be disappointed for too much longer” she bowed again; there was a lot of tension in her shoulders, he hoped she wasn’t having second thoughts about her involvement with their work here, it would have some rather dire consequences for everyone involved if she did.

Wen Ruohan resolved to keep a close watch on his star healer.

#How Shall We Stop Dreams AU #Xicheng #Wangxian #serialised #lan xichen #lan wangji #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #luo qingyang #Shay's stuff #mdzs #mdzs fanfic #mdzs fic

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colorofmymindposts · 5 years

Text

The Deviance of Two English Gentlemen Chapter Four

Chapter Title: One Confession of Dr. John H. Watson

Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (Ritchie films)/Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Mary Morstan/John Watson Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mary Morstan Rating: Teen and Up Status: Incomplete, chapters are posted weekly Word Count: 1892 for this chapter, 6189 for the entire work thus far Summary: Set post Game of Shadows. When Sherlock Holmes is given a case by none other than Mrs. Watson, he has no idea that he cannot fix the unsolvable for the couple. Intimate truths are exposed in the process, leaving all three irrevocably changed. Tags: Case Fic, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Secrets, Bickering Notes: The entire work can be read here on ao3. You can also read chapter one here and chapter two here and chapter three here. Sorry this is a day late!

Story:

The wet starchiness on his forehead was the first thing he registered, though his mind felt hazy still. Only from his neck up was he exposed from a cocoon of sheets and soft, wool blankets. Although the curtains were drawn and the darkness in the room seemed to envelop him and all his senses, something of the surroundings told him he was at Baker Street.

Placing the rag on the nightstand next to the bed, Watson pulled the sheets off of himself and shuffled to a sitting position. It was then he felt his feet bare against the wood floor, and he was wearing only his trousers and shirtsleeves; someone must have divested him of his jacket and vest in his sleep.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, however. In fact, he could have sworn he was in Hyde Park with Holmes...and so he had been, he could recall clearer now as his mind caught up with him. Before he had panicked, thoughts racing, and all color and movement blurred before his eyes. He’d been so out of sorts these past weeks; he wasn’t sure what to expect of himself anymore.

But Holmes didn’t need to know the reason for his fainting spell, couldn’t really. The man would never let him live it down if he ever found out.

He would claim he was right all along about everything, how Watson’s union to Mary was always ill-fated and that leaving Baker Street was the worst mistake he’d ever made in his life. Watson would call Holmes a bastard, argue he still loved Mary when he wasn’t even certain if he truly could anymore, and perhaps lose not only his wife but his greatest friend again, by his own choice. No, Watson couldn’t allow that. He would have to sneak out while Holmes slept, explain at some later point that what happened in the park was a symptom of overwork and exhaustion, and they could all carry on as ever.

Just as he made for the door, it was opened by none other than the man he wanted so desperately to avoid in that moment. Poised in the doorway, Holmes was dressed just the same as when Watson had last seen him, the only change being that he was adorning his tattered, hideous dressing robe.

“I heard your footfall from below,” Holmes offered as a clever explanation, meaning to impress as ever.

Watson rolled his eyes as he deadpanned, “You’ve been outside my door waiting for me to wake up.”

His friend’s twisted in a peculiar expression that looked as though it was crossed between irritation and pride, and he had to blink several times to assume his intelligent facade once more. “A matter of semantics. May I come in?”

There was not a second that passed before Holmes marched through the doorway, grasping Watson’s arm along the way, pulling him back towards the bed. The man had the tact enough to release him before seating himself cross-legged on the mattress.

“Why don’t you sit?”

“I should be going, Holmes.”

“No, I don’t think you should,” muttered Holmes darkly. His eyes snapped to Watson’s face with deliberate and accusing focus. “You’ve been running from me ever since this began, and you must admit that nothing of your situation has improved from it.”

His breath caught in his chest. “How much do you know of it?”

“Practically nothing. I am a genius, but you know my methods, Watson. As such, you’ve given me precious little data,” the detective admitted with a curious smirk. “Much as it pains me, I understand your hesitance to come to me about this...problem. You fear the weight of my judgment.”

“I fear nothing from you,” Watson snapped back, though there was not as much bite in it as he intended.

Holmes spoke with renewed insistence. “Then tell me everything, and I shall help you in whatever way I can.”

Something about the man was hypnotic. There was an irresistible draw to him, an appeal after all these years Watson could not precisely define except that it was dangerous just as it was powerful. His figure, draped in that infernal faded red robe, resembled Mephistopheles offering Faustus the key to his happiness and ultimate destruction. He was damnable. He was wonderful too. Watson had a choice, even though he well knew which he would choose.

As he seated himself next to Holmes, it was as if a stone plunged in his stomach with the weight of this decision.

“You’re going to regret you ever asked,” he intoned, casting out a final attempt to extract himself from this conversation.

“Watson, you know a warning like that only serves to intrigue me more.”

He took a deep breath and began to tell his story.

“Everything was fine between Mary and me before all this happened,” he started as a disclaimer, expecting Holmes to huff indignantly or debate that point. To his surprise, his friend was silent and listening. He took that as a sign to continue.

“One day, Mary was telling me about her friend from church, Elizabeth. She and her husband had just had a boy. I didn’t think much of it at the time. I told her to pass along our congratulations to the family since she prefers to do that. The week after, she...asked me how I felt about family. Our family.”

Next to him, Holmes made a sort of tutting noise. “I see.”

“Yes, well...that’s it then. You know everything,” Watson sighed, whether out of relief or anxiety he wasn’t sure.

Perhaps telling Holmes was the right option.

“I’m afraid we’ve barely yet begun to probe this case.”

Or his instincts not to tell his friend were, of course, absolutely founded.

“It’s not a case! This is my life!” He practically shouted, flustered and peeved all at once.

“Why can’t this be a case about your life?!”

His anger slightly simmered solely in spite of Holmes’ own, and he walked over to the dresser where his vest, jacket and overcoat were hung.

“I knew I couldn’t expect you to understand,” he muttered bitterly as he thoughtlessly shrugged into his jacket.

And then Holmes was there, faster than an antelope, standing behind the ajar dresser door.

“How am I supposed to understand when you refuse to let me examine this?”

“I don’t want you to examine this,” he said, enunciating his words with the firm slam of the dresser door. He turned to face Holmes. “I don’t need a detective. I need a friend.”

“What does a friend do that’s so different from a detective?”

“A friend listens. He gives advice. He cares,” Watson listed off the top of his head.

His friend blinked for several seconds, processing this. “That’s exactly what I do on any case. However,” he continued even as Watson scoffed, “I can see we will simply have to disagree on that particular detail. If you seek my counsel as a friend, I shall give it.”

Any man would see this as a pitiable attempt, but, knowing Holmes as long as he had, he knew that the man was genuinely trying his best to appease.

“I’m just not sure what to do,” he confessed. It was probably the most honest he’d been about the situation.

“Neither am I,” Holmes replied. “I don’t say this very often, old boy, but I don’t think I fully understand your predicament.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, let’s start with the facts. You love your wife.”

“Yes.”

“And she desires children.”

“I think I’ve made that much obvious.”

“Yes, you have, but your feelings on the matter have yet to be illuminated to me. What makes you so scared of your wife’s wishes for a family?”

The question, so direct, threw Watson. Ever since Mary brought up the idea of having children, an uneasiness had stewed uncomfortably in his gut; it was almost indefinable, so he had chosen not to interpret it. He didn’t like the idea, and that was that. What more was to be gained for finding the reason why? If the way Holmes was staring at him and the unpleasant tension that had brewed in his marriage suggested anything, it meant that he’d only been sparing his pride by avoiding this.

“I just...never imagined that for myself. I’ve always thought of children in regards to other people. I knew when I was in Afghanistan that many of the men there had children waiting for them back home, and I was doing my best to send them in one piece to their loved ones. In those mo—,” his voice became choked and he didn’t sound like himself.

He coughed to clear his throat and push the well of emotions that had risen up down back where they belonged. “Excuse me. In those moments I thought I was about to die, I didn’t think of how I would possibly never have to chance to raise children of my own. I only mourned the fact I was so young and hadn’t found love.

I considered myself so lucky when I survived and eventually found Mary. She was so kind and was everything I could love in a woman. She never mentioned wanting children when I courted her, so I never thought of it. I know the rules I have to abide by as a man, what’s expected, and I have no real reason not to do this or want this, for her, to make her happy. But will we still be...happy, after it’s all said and done? A child requires so much. I’ve heard and seen so many die in others’ practices; there’s no telling what could happen to our own child. With how much that can go wrong, how can anyone want it? Why can’t any two people just love each other and live off of that for the rest of their days?”

At the end of his ramble, Watson gazed at Holmes who reciprocated with a bright, burning look. It was almost as if he seemed to understand what Watson had just said, even though Watson could barely make any sense of it himself.

“Why indeed?” his friend mused quietly, almost as if he hadn’t noticed he spoken aloud. With a tilt of his head and a cheshire grin, the transparency once bled into his features was gone, replaced with a mask. “You look like you could use something strong. Come join me downstairs for some brandy.”

He left the room without time for a reply, and Watson stood there, still dumbstruck about what had just transpired. Watson just articulated everything, all the intrusive thoughts that had gnawed at him over the weeks in the backs of carriages, on sofas, occasionally while lying on his back wide awake next to a sleeping Mary. In previous conversations, mostly with his wife, he’d only been able to discuss Mary’s desires openly. How rational were his own? Did he really expect them to be able to live in perpetual honeymoon bliss? Family was the next natural step for any English couple. While there was no law requiring it, the backlash he and Mary would receive from the community should they not bear any children would be enormous.

There was no point deliberating it right now. Holmes was downstairs, and he’d given little away during Watson’s tirade. He had to know what he thought.

#holmes x watson #consulting husbands #john watson #sherlock holmes #rdj holmes #sherlock holmes movies #my writing #fanfiction

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ridiculousn3sswrites · 5 years

Text

Bonjour

*Lafayette x Reader

*Summary: A random hello during orientation week leads to interesting developments.

*Warnings: Swearing, alcohol

*A/N: I just survived midterm season, I have like two weeks until finals, and I’m suffering.

College orientation was exhausting. Your school had the freshmen groups out running around the city, doing things from 8 am to midnight, if you were including the late-night activities, or 8 pm if you weren’t. As you were walking down the hall to your dorm, planning on napping for the two hour break your orientation leaders decided to give your group, the last thing you expected to hear was a ‘Bonjour!’ from inside of one of the rooms. Especially since it was a guy and you were in the all girls dorm.

“What the fuck?” You said without thinking as you stopped dead in your tracks. You heard laughter from the room you just passed, so you walked backwards a few steps and looked at the name tags on the door. Eliza and Maria. You saw two girls in the room with a group of guys, but you didn’t know who any of them were. You’d only been here for a few days and pretty much the only person you knew was your roommate and a few people from your orientation group. “Uhm, hey?”

“Sorry, that was Laf. He’s an idiot,” one of the girls said through giggles as she motioned over at one of the guys.

“Mon ami, you hurt me so,” the guy, Laf, said with a bright smile. “Sorry if I scared you.”

“Nah, you’re fine. I just wasn’t expecting dudes in the all girls dorm,” you explained.

“I’m Eliza, by the way,” the giggling girl told you. “Frenchie over there is Lafayette, the dude that looks like he’s about to pass out is Alexander, guy in the beanie is Hercules, freckles is John, and that’s my roommate Maria.”

“Nice to meet you all,” you said, waving. “I’m (y/n), and I’m actually gonna go take a nap. I’m in room 123 if you guys wanna talk or something later on, though.” The last part was mainly for Eliza and Maria, who quickly voiced their agreements about taking you up on your offer. After all, it was only orientation and everyone was still trying to make friends so they’d have at least a few people to talk to during the year. Each person called out goodbyes to you as you left the room and continued to make your way to your room. Well, that definitely wasn’t the way you expected walking to your room would go, and when you checked your phone to see how much time you had left, you were down by about half an hour. Great.

As orientation was drawing to a close, you actually found yourself talking to Eliza and Maria a lot more. You passed by their room every time you were going to your own, so you figured you might as well talk to them and make friends. The thing was, with how much you were talking to Eliza and Maria, you ended up hanging out with their little group a lot too. You learned that Alexander was a mess and constantly on the verge of sleep because he went to orientation and was already trying to get ahead in classes that hadn’t even started yet, John was a bit of an art nerd but he was always ready to fight, Hercules looked intimidating but in reality he was a teddy bear, and Lafayette… Well, you couldn’t quite place what you thought of Lafayette just yet. He was definitely more laid back than the others, but he was still a bit of a mystery to you.

“Tonight we’re going to a comedy show with our orientation group, are you down?” Maria asked as you were hanging out in her and Eliza’s room. You and Maria were sitting on the floor, your head in Maria’s lap as you relaxed.

“I’m so tired, I’m actually dead,” you whined slightly. “But who’s going?”

“You should get some sleep before you turn into Alexander,” Eliza commented, looking over at you from the spot on her bed. “But the normal group and my older sister are going.”

“Angelica, right?” You asked.

“Yeah, she’s one of the other orientation leaders and her group doesn’t want to go so she’s just tagging along with us,” Eliza explained. You nodded, not really knowing how to feel about it. You heard from a few people that you knew that Angelica Schuyler was pretty intimidating, especially considering the fact she was only a sophomore. Still, you wanted to meet her.

“Alright, I dunno though,” you said, somewhat hesitant. A full night of sleep sounded really tempting, and you knew you definitely weren’t getting that on a nightly basis.

“Laf’s going,” Maria interjected. You paused for a second, debating if that full night of sleep was really worth it. You found Lafayette very attractive, and late night activities were definitely ways to get to know other people better. Plus, it wasn’t like you were in their orientation group normally, so this was just added time you had with Lafayette and the rest. After all, there was always coffee in the morning that you could rely on. You really were turning into Alexander here.

“Alright, I’ll go,” you sighed, trying to make it seem like you were giving in and you weren’t too excited.

“Told you that’d work.” Maria looked up at Eliza with a bit of a smirk before turning back to you. “Now, are you gonna wanna get pretty for Laf or are you just going to go like normal?”

“Shut up,” you told her, laughing as you felt your face heat up. You were definitely going to change out of the oversized hoodie you’d already managed to talk out of Hercules, but Maria didn’t need to know that. After a few more minutes of talking with the girls, you got up so you could go to your room and get ready.

“Aw, she is gonna go get pretty for Laf,” Maria teased as you walked out of the room. You just flipped her off as you kept walking, their laughs following you as you continued down the hall. So what? It wasn’t a crime to try to look good for the late night activities.

You met with Maria and Eliza in the lobby of the building, somewhat dressed up in black jeans and a (f/c) tank top with a fresh face of makeup. Maria did a little wolf-whistle when she saw you, and Eliza just grinned widely. They both knew what was up, but you’d never admit it to them. You muttered for them to shut up, but of course they didn’t until the three of you got to the meeting point for the group.

The guys were already there, talking with a few people you didn’t recognize but knew were the orientation leaders by their shirts. “Angelica!” Eliza called out as soon as she saw the orientation leaders. One of the girls turned, a wide smile on her face when she saw Eliza.

“Eliza! Hey, Maria,” Angelica said, greeting her sister with a hug and waving at Maria.

“This is our friend, (y/n),” Eliza introduced you. You waved at Angelica with a soft smile and she smiled at you in return.

“Mes amis!” Lafayette called out the second he realized you all were there. He hugged each of you, but when he hugged you, he pressed a kiss to your cheek. You felt your face growing hot, but Lafayette was already next to the others before you could truly register what happened. Maria gave you a slight grin, and you glared at her in return. If Maria even breathed a word to Laf that you were attracted to him, you would probably die and take her with you.

“Alright, everyone, our plan for tonight is to go to the comedy show and after that you guys are free to do whatever,” one of the orientation leaders said. Almost as soon as the orientation leader opened his mouth, John rolled his eyes. “Laurens, is there an issue?”

“Not at all, Charles,” John replied through gritted teeth. You looked at Laf in confusion, but the slight touch to your shoulder that he responded with let you know that he’d tell you later. With that tense exchange finished, Charles, the other orientation leader, and Angelica began leading your group to the auditorium. You and Laf trailed a bit behind, walking close enough that you bumped into each other every now and then.

“So, what’s up with John and Charles?” You asked, low enough that the rest of the group wouldn’t hear you.

“John and Charles did not get off on… uhm… the right foot?” Lafayette asked, searching for the right phrase. You nodded, letting him know that he got it right. Laf smiled brightly. “Yes, well, they don’t like each other and if Charles was not an orientation leader, John would have fought him by now.”

“Sounds like John,” you said with a small nod. John and Alexander were definitely always ready to fight, so Lafayette’s explanation didn’t sound like too much of a long shot to you. You didn’t realize just how much the two of you were trailing behind the group until you looked up, seeing Alexander and Eliza waiting for you while the rest of the group followed the leaders. Lafayette took your hand, leading you slightly as you caught up with the group. When you guys joined the rest, though, he still didn’t let go of your hand, making your heart flutter somewhat.

The rest of the walk to the auditorium was relatively uneventful, except for the fact that Lafayette was still holding your hand. Even when you all took your seats, your hand remained in Lafayette’s and he made no attempt to release your hand. Before the show started, Lafayette leaned in close, the two of you talking and getting into your own little world once again. You spied Eliza whispering to Maria from the corner of your eye, but you didn’t say anything. You didn’t want to break the little bubble that you and Lafayette were in.

“We should go frat hopping,” Maria said as soon as your group walked out of the comedy show. Lafayette had finally let go of your hand, but he was still by your side.

“Do you know anyone that has bids?” John asked her.

“Nope, but school hasn’t technically started yet so it shouldn’t be too hard to get in,” Maria said with a shrug.

“You do know that most freshmen are out here trying to get into the frat parties, right?” Hercules jumped in.

“Yeah, but not everyone knows someone with bids so they’re more chill,” Maria continued.

“I know someone,” Lafayette spoke up from beside you. Everyone turned to him, confused that he not only knew someone in a frat, but apparently was also hanging out with more people than just your little group. “My friend Thomas is in a frat, he could probably get us in.”

“I don’t know this Thomas guy, but if he can get us into a party with plenty of free booze then he’s probably okay,” Alexander chimed in.

“Do you ever drink like, I dunno, water?” Eliza asked, looking at Alexander with a slight frown. As far as you knew, Alexander ran on energy drinks, coffee, and booze. Alexander paused for a moment, trying to remember the last time he had water. After a few seconds, he just shook his head and Eliza let out an exasperated sigh.

“So, we’re going to a frat?” You asked, trying to figure out the plan for the night. If there was nothing solid, then you just wanted to go back to your dorm and pass out. You’d already spent time with Lafayette, not even mentioning the hand holding, so you weren’t really going to miss out on much if the group was just going to wander around the town. You looked over at Lafayette, who was now typing away on his phone, presumably texting this Thomas person. A few seconds later, he looked up with a bright smile.

“Yes, we’re going to a frat party, mes amis,” Lafayette said. There was a slight cheer from the group, and then the group pushed Lafayette to the front so he could lead the group to the frat. You followed the group, talking idly to Hercules. You weren’t much of a party person, and you really didn’t like the idea of frat parties, but you didn’t want to be the one person to leave and have to walk to the dorms at nearly midnight on your own. So you did what anyone trying to avoid being alone would: you went with your friends to the frat party.

After about an hour, you were over it. The music was so loud you could feel it shaking the floor, the smell of alcohol was heavy in the air, and the mass of bodies inside of the house made it feel like you were simultaneously suffocating and walking in the middle of the desert. You’d gotten somewhat separated from the group soon after you’d arrived at the party, but you could still pick them out in the crowd. Sure, the when you’d gotten to the party it was fun, but the novelty of the entire situation quickly wore out.

You had to shove your way out of the frat house to the backyard, taking the opportunity to get some (relatively) fresh air and think about your next move as you took sips from your water bottle. You could just make your way over to your dorm building - which honestly wasn’t too far of a walk away from Frat Row - and text the group chat when you got back, or you could order an Uber just to make sure you got back fine. Just as you were about to open the app on your phone, someone put their hand on your shoulder. You jumped, already defensive, but calmed down when you turned and saw Lafayette standing next to you.

“(Y/n)! Why are you out here? The party’s inside,” Lafayette said with a smile, slightly flushed. You couldn’t tell if it was from alcohol or just the fact that the house was incredibly hot (you really couldn’t stress how hot it was inside of the frat house).

“I was actually just about to head back. It’s fun and all, but I’m just kinda exhausted,” you told him. It wasn’t technically a lie, you were exhausted, but you also just weren’t having fun at the party. If Laf was drunk, he immediately sobered up at the thought of you walking back to the dorms in the middle of the night.

“I’ll walk with you, then,” Lafayette said. “The rest of the group should be fine, they only needed me here to get them in.”

“No, you don’t have to do that,” you immediately argued. “It seems like you’re having fun, I don’t want you to leave just because of me. I can order an Uber, so it’s all good.” Lafayette immediately brushed you off.

“It’s no problem, I can always get into another frat party. Do you want to leave now or stay for a little while longer?” Lafayette asked, taking your hand in his once again. You had to stop yourself from short circuiting and forced yourself to answer.

“I mean, the sooner the better,” you said. Lafayette nodded, leading you to the exit. The two of you walked back to the building, talking idly about things that happened during the day in your respective orientation groups, watching drunk freshmen walking back from the different frat houses, and ultimately just enjoying each other’s company. As Laf walked you up to the door of the building, you found yourself wishing the walk had been longer. “You know, you really didn’t have to walk me back.”

“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to make sure that you got back safe,” Lafayette told you, finally dropping your hand. You didn’t really know what to say, after all, how do you respond to that? You looked back at the building.

“Well, I guess I should go in then. Thanks for walking me,” you said, turning back to Laf.

“It was no problem,” Laf replied. There was a brief pause, both of you just standing there, unsure of what to do now. Before you could make a decision, Lafayette made his. He stepped forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You could feel your face heating up. “Have a good night, (y/n).”

With that, Lafayette turned to make his way to his own dorm building, leaving you watching as he left. Once he got to the end of your building’s walkway, he turned and waved at you. You raised your hand slightly in a small wave of your own, a smile quickly growing on your face as you realized what just happened. You made your way into the building, trying to contain your excitement. You couldn’t wait until the next morning when Eliza and Maria were back and somewhat rested so you could tell them the newest development. For now, you just had to focus on not waking your roommate.

#lafayette x reader #lafayette imagine #hamilton imagine

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vcg73 · 7 years

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Witch!Kurt Chapter 25: Family Night

This is one of those sort of rambling ones that I couldn’t seem to corral. Sorry for the mild cliff-hanger at the end. I didn’t want to get too far into that bit in this chapter. :)

~*~*~*~*~*~

Burt reached the top of the stairs and listened intently for a moment. It had been quite a while since he had heard the shower turn off, but he was reluctant to disturb his son and Adam if they were still talking or … well, he did not want to interrupt them either way.

Hearing no obvious sounds from behind Kurt’s closed door, he decided it was probably safe to knock. He waited a few moments afterward, surprised to receive no response. Had they left? Off the top of his head, he could not remember whether Adam had that transportation power or not.

Hoping he was not about to walk in on something he shouldn’t, Burt ventured to open the door and peek inside. What he saw made him relax. The young couple was lying on top of Kurt’s freshly made bed, fully dressed and snuggled in each other’s arms as they napped peacefully together.

Poor kids. Between the adrenaline rush of Adam’s adventure, their shared panic attack, Kurt’s magical morning workout, and the mutual stress-relief he was certain they had been enjoying up here earlier, he supposed they must be exhausted.

Burt debated with himself, then decided they probably needed food just as much as they did sleep. Kurt had told him over Christmas that magic sapped a lot of resources, and that he was usually starving after he’d been using it for any length of time.

With years of experience in the best way to wake Kurt without startling him, Burt stepped forward to gently shake his son’s shoulder, whispering, “Kurt? Hey, buddy. It’s time to wake up.”

Bleary blue eyes opened with reluctant slowness. “Dad?”

He reached down to ruffle the thick brush of still-damp brown hair fondly. “Yeah. Sorry to disturb you, but Carole says dinner will be ready in just a few minutes. Do you two want to come down for it, or should I ask her to save you both a plate?”

Kurt grunted and sat up, hitching himself forward a little and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, careful not to disturb Adam. He rubbed at his stomach when it let out an audible gurgle, expressing its own opinion on what he should do. Kurt laughed a bit. “Dinner sounds great. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Adam zonked out and I figured I’d just keep him company for a minute.” He yawned and made a token effort to fix his hair. “How long have we been up here?”

“A couple of hours,” Burt said, patting his shoulder when his eyes went wide and he opened his mouth to apologize. “It’s fine. Guess you both needed a chance to relax.”

Kurt winced at the slight emphasis on the word, clearly realizing that some of their recent activity must have been audible downstairs. “I thought we were being quiet.”

Burt raised an eyebrow. “You were. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” he said faintly.

“Oh Kuht, you are a God!” Burt mocked with a half-hearted try at duplicating Adam’s British accent.

Kurt raised both hands to his burning cheeks, but was unable to keep from smiling. “Oh wow, you heard that? Sorry Dad. Um … are you okay?”

“I’ll live, though I am rethinking those new tiles I put up in that bathroom last summer,” he said wryly. Then his lips twitched into a smirk. “But hell, I actually think I’m kinda proud.”

“You ought to be,” Adam interrupted, opening his eyes and smiling sleepily at them both. He looked quite smug as he sat up, yawning and dipping forward to kiss Kurt’s t-shirt clad shoulder. “And I second the vote for dinner. Starvation is closing in as we speak.”

Burt snorted. “Guess you worked up an appetite, huh?” he said, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Between combat class and wandering all over Lima, that is. We’ve got beef stew, salad, and fresh bread waiting downstairs.”

“Food and a nap. The answers to everything,” Adam said, eyes brightening.

Kurt let go a little huff, his tense posture relaxing as he realized that his dad had decided to let the two of them off the hook. “All hail the wisdom of Lord Tubbington.”

Adam sniffed the savory scent that had followed Burt through the open door. “It smells delicious. Just give me half a mo to freshen up, and I’ll be right down.”

Kurt gave him a kiss and then stood up. “Take your time. I’ll go see if Carole needs help setting the table.”

Reaching out quickly, Burt stopped him. “Wait. Before you go down, I need to talk to you both for a minute. Do you remember over Christmas when you guys looked at Carole with your witch goggles and said that she could be one of you?”

“We said that she had unmanifested Potential,” Adam corrected. “Meaning that she carries the genetic component to be a witch, but her power never developed.”

Burt nodded eagerly. “Right, but see that’s what I’m saying. Something weird has been going on with her over the last few weeks. She didn’t want me to bother you, knowing how much stuff of your own you’ve both been dealing with, but we agreed to quit trying to protect each other from the truth, and I figured you’d want to know.” Kurt indicated his agreement, his expression serious. “Carole dismisses it all as being tired or imagining things, but I’m not convinced. See, ever since we saw Blaine after New Year’s, she’s been having these symptoms.”

“Whoa, wait a second,” Kurt said, waving a hand to stop his father’s words. “You saw Blaine? Are you both okay? Why didn’t you tell me?”

He harrumphed. “We’re fine, and I’m telling you now. It was the day we got back from New York. Blaine was waiting for us when we landed, all ready to give us a ride home from the airport. It was no secret to anyone that we were visiting you over the holidays, but how he found out when we’d be getting back, I have no idea. For all I know, he grilled the mailman. Anyhow, Adam’s magical cologne helped us keep our heads when he started pouring on the charm, though it kind of made me feel itchy all over, like a bug was crawling up my skin. I guessed it was his persuasive influence rippling against your force-field, like in those sci-fi shows Carole likes to watch.”

“Very likely,” Adam agreed. He scooted off the bed and moved to lean against the nearest wall, crossing his arms over his chest in a habitual thinking pose. “In fact, I suppose it’s possible that being around so much magic lately, including frequently wearing Burt’s pendant and my perfume, just might have sparked Carole’s dormant power. We know she already had at least a modicum of active magic, just by her ability to sense the memories the girls infused into her necklace. If her magic was entirely inert she’d have received no more than a warm feeling of affection. Not clear, if somewhat oddly blended, memories. Burt, what else has been happening?”

“Well, I’m not sure given that she’s been a little closed-mouth about the whole thing, but I know she got a real bad migraine after we ran into Blaine. And she snapped at him for the first time I can remember. Said he had no business acting all friendly to us after what he did, and she didn’t want him dropping by anymore. He got a real weird look on his face when she said that. That boy isn’t used to hearing the word “no”.”

“Or at least not paying attention to it,” Kurt grumbled. “Sorry, go on.”

“Well, I thought that’d be the last of it, but then Carole started getting these moody moments. Like she’ll get really angry, or suddenly start to cry, or burst out laughing, and then a minute later she’s fine and sort of confused about whatever made her do it. I’m really getting worried about her. I mean, I guess it could just be something biological. Menopause, or some kind of delayed stress syndrome that our grief therapist missed when we were going to all those sessions after your brother passed, but I don’t want to take any chances if it’s something more in your line.”

Kurt’s eyebrows had furrowed. “Wow. I’m glad you told us. We need to help her. Adam, what do you think?”

“It does sound as if she’s had a late manifestation of her power. I’d rather not turn my Sight on her again without her knowledge. I felt a bit weird about doing that before. I suggest for now we just go downstairs and have a pleasant dinner. We’ve all been pretty worked up today and if she is developing a Talent for empathy, it wouldn’t be a good idea to bombard the poor woman with our collective anxiety.”

“Try to keep the magical shop-talk to a minimum until everyone is nice and relaxed,” Kurt agreed. “I was thinking the same thing. When a good opportunity shows up, we can ask for permission to See her aura again. I don’t think she’ll actually object to the idea of being a witch, but I’d rather not spring it on her out of the blue.”

Burt nodded. “Thanks, son. I really appreciate this. What do you say we go set the table and act like an everyday, average, non magical family for a while?”

“I’ll be down in a few moments,” Adam promised. “Kurt, would you mind if I borrowed your mobile?”

He reached into his pocket and handed it over. “Sure.” He smiled when his empty stomach suddenly lodged another complaint. Giving it a pat, he warned his fiance. “Just don’t take too long or I won’t leave you any dinner.“

Adam laughed and gave him a quick kiss. “Duly noted.”

~*~*~*~*~

“I ran over to the store earlier and grabbed a bottle of that merlot you and Carole both like, a pack of light beer for me, and a few of those orange sodas I saw back at your place for Adam,” Burt said in the kitchen a few minutes later.

“Thanks, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

“No problem. It’s not like when you, Finn, and Sam all lived here and half the glee club was usually tagging along behind you. It wasn’t easy to keep up when I had an endless parade of teenagers roaming through my refrigerator twelve hours a day.”

Kurt laughed, pulling out four sets of cutlery to go with a set of bowls and plates he took down from the dish cupboard. “I understand your pain. I have a coven of nine people going in and out of my apartment all the time and we’re always hungry. If you want, we can ask Brittany to use her magic and restock the fridge for you before we go home tomorrow.”

Burt chuckled. “Maybe I will. Speaking of large gatherings, how’s the wedding planning going? You guys still set on a Valentine’s wedding?”

As if conjured by the mention of his impending nuptials, Carole was suddenly by Kurt’s side. “Oh, yes. I want to hear the details!”

For a few minutes, Kurt happily told them all about his and Adam’s plans. A ceremony with his coven in the morning, followed by a civil service at the courthouse with just their families and Kurt’s best man (Adam was planning to give his little brother the honor.) in attendance, then on to the large reception hall where the rest of the coven would have everything set up for a grand party.

“We only have the hall for three hours that afternoon, but that’s enough time for everyone to have hors d'oeuvres and wedding cake, and get some songs and dances and toasting in before we take off on our honeymoon.”

“Where have you decided to go?” Carole asked eagerly. “With transportation magic you can go anywhere in the world!”

He nodded. “True, and Elliott already offered a lift. Unfortunately, we can only afford to do a long weekend since I’ll still be busy with school, but we’re hoping to take a couple of weeks in the summer and see some of Europe. I’ve always dreamed of going there, and that will give us a few months for this business with Blaine to be wrapped up, and for Adam to have hopefully recovered enough that he can show me around. His dad used to have business trips that took him all over, and he would just pack up his kids and Transport them along with him. I felt a little like I might be cheating Adam out of something he’s always wanted to do when I found that out, but he’s really excited to see his old haunts again, to show me his favorite spots and introduce me to some of his old friends.”

Carole sighed rapturously. “That sounds just lovely, and there’s nothing wrong with delaying things until you’re settled. A European honeymoon would be romantic, no matter when you end up taking it.”

Burt gave her a fond squeeze around the waist. “Is that a hint?”

“Hey, that’s right! Thanks to Dalton, you never did get your own honeymoon,” Kurt remembered. “Maybe you should go this year. Adam and I are going to ask Henry for transportation when we go, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind doing the same for you guys. Adam says he’s not restricted by familiarity with the location the way Santana and Elliott both are.”

“We may take you up on that one of these days,” Burt said with a smile. “Or we may do it the old fashioned way. We’ve got a little extra put away now and might be nice to see what a first-class flight is like.”

Carole gave him a kiss on his round cheek, and then clapped her hands. “I’ll get some travel brochures on Monday and we can start making plans! But for right now, let’s get this food on the table before everything gets cold.”

As the three of them moved into the dining area, Burt said, “Oh by the way, kid, I picked you up some winter s’mores for dessert.”

Kurt licked his lips. “Really? That’s awesome!”

“What’s a winter s’more?” Adam asked, walking in to join them. He had combed his hair neatly and straightened out his nap rumpled clothing. Giving Kurt a kiss and handing his phone back, he relieved Carole of the large salad bowl she had just taken out of the refrigerator, helpfully putting a serving on each salad plate as Kurt set the dishes in place.

Carole told him, “They’re one of Kurt’s favorites. Graham crackers, chocolate frosting, and a spray of Reddi-Whip. He introduced Finn and me to them the winter after Burt and I got married, and the first night I think my son polished off an entire box of crackers and a can of frosting all by himself.”

Adam laughed. “Well then, I’m definitely looking forward to being the next convert.”

The family took their places around the table, Burt putting a ladle-full of fragrant beef stew in each of their bowls. The four of them spontaneously clinked their assorted cans and glasses in a cheerful toast before they began to eat.

“Wonderful as always,” Kurt said, after a hearty bite of his stew. “Nobody makes this like you do, Carole.”

“Thank you, sweetie. Adam, would you like some bread?”

He put his spoon down and held out his hand to accept the small plate she was offering. “Please. I agree with Kurt. I feel I could eat the entire pot of stew single handed.”

Burt smiled around a bite. “Help yourself. Just save some room for dessert.”

“Tell me more about these s’mores. How exactly did you come about discovering your fondness for them?” Adam asked, taking a bit more salad as well and dribbling a light serving of dressing on top. “Were you a scout of some sort?”

Kurt laughed. “No way. This may surprise you, but I actually love camping. Every summer, from the time I was about three, Dad would take me to a place just a little northwest of here called Cody Lake. My mom wasn’t an outdoors person, so she’d take the opportunity of a few child-free days to visit with friends or get some things done, while Dad and I went out and played manly men of the woods together.”

Burt joined in, “I admit with a lot of hind-sight embarrassment that my original motive for those weekends was stupid. I had just got my first inkling that Kurt was gay when he was coming up on his third birthday, so I got it in my head that if I introduced him to stuff like fishing and camping, that I could head his sexuality off at the pass.” He and Kurt exchanged a rueful look. Seeing Adam’s surprised face, Burt shrugged. “Let’s just say I had my head a lot farther up my ass when I was your age. Anyhow, much to my surprise, Kurt took to the great outdoors like a duck to water. He thought sleeping in a tent and cooking around the campfire were terrific fun.”

“There were lots of bird and animals, trail songs, lying out on the sleeping bags looking up at millions of stars overhead,” Kurt said, eyes shining like he could still see those twinkling lights. “We took hikes through woods filled with flowers and streams; went swimming in the lake; and of course there was plenty of fishing, which for some reason I found absolutely hilarious. Whenever a fish would grab one of dad’s worms and start tugging at his line, I would just roll over laughing. Then at night there were ghost stories and s’mores around the campfire.”

Adam looked surprised but absolutely charmed. “You enjoyed ghost stories? Even though you were barely out of nappies?”

Kurt gave him a teasing smile. “Even as a wee baby camper, I was fearless.”

“He really was,” Burt agreed. “Though to be fair, they were pretty mild stories. Except for that one about the vampires who lived in the caverns at the south end of the campgrounds. That was a mistake that I lived to regret!”

“I think I was five when he told me that story,” Kurt said, shivering dramatically at the memory. “He got a little carried away with the details and I started crying. I was sure a bunch of blood-thirsty monsters were going to pop up out of the ground and eat us. He eventually got me calmed down enough to go to sleep but then I woke up from some kind of noise in the middle of the night and wormed my way into Dad’s bag for protection.”

Burt snorted. “Yeah, he went back to sleep and then proceeded to wet the bed. And me! I spent the rest of the night standing guard against vampires. After that, you can bet I stuck with stories about nice friendly baby animals frolicking in the forest.”

Adam managed to make a convincing ‘aww’ face, even though he was laughing too hard to continue eating. “You poor little thing. Serves you right, Burt. I suppose that story is what planted the seed for Kurt’s continued aversion to those nasty blighters.”

“If they aren’t sparkling and angst-ridden, I don’t wanna deal with ‘em,” Kurt said vehemently, making the others laugh.

“Can’t say I was too fond of vampires myself after that night,” Burt said with a wry shake of his head. “Other than that one incident, though, we always had a real good time. I think the only thing about camping that Kurt didn’t like was the dirt and lack of regular bathrooms, but I guess he figured it was a good trade-off.”

Kurt smiled. “Which brings us back to the s’mores. They’re how he calmed me down after the story. Dad had discovered the first time he made them that I would agree to just about anything for graham crackers, chocolate and marshmallows.” His expression went a little melancholy. “I was eight the last summer we went camping.”

“The winter after, his mom died,” Burt clarified, shooting Kurt an apologetic look. “I should’ve kept it up, but I just didn’t have much heart for stuff like that for a long time. The winter s’mores happened the year he was ten and Kurt got sick. He picked up a really awful cold with a lot of chest congestion, and it turned into bronchitis. He had to stay in bed a while and he was miserable. My sister offered to come out and stay with us so I could work part time, and it helped, but I felt guilty every time I had to leave him alone.”

Kurt reached out and squeezed his hand. “I got scared that maybe I was sicker than I thought because he brought me so many stuffed animals and games that week. Basically, all I had to do was ask for something and Dad was jumping to get it.”

“Then one night, I asked him to tell me if there was anything special he wanted to eat. His appetite wasn’t the greatest at the best of times, but being sick had pretty much killed it off, so when he asked if there was any way we could have s’mores, I would’ve moved heaven and earth to get him some.”

“Unfortunately,” Kurt cut in, “it was the middle of winter and everything was frozen solid. We couldn’t use the barbecue and we didn’t have a fireplace in our house. But we did have a box of graham crackers, and we used to live just down the street from a little market, so Dad got all bundled up and mushed out into the storm. Aunt Mildred thought he was crazy.”

“When I got to the store, they’d been cleaned out of marshmallows by people wanting hot chocolate, but I found a big can of whipped cream in the cold case, and a can of Betty Crocker chocolate frosting on the shelf. I managed to get ‘em home and put everything together the best I could. They weren’t exactly real s’mores, but they seemed to make him happy.”

“I thought they were the best thing ever,” Kurt laughed. “After that, I started requesting them every winter. I didn’t want them any other time, but when the weather got cold I always requested what we started calling winter s’mores. Even when I got really calorie-conscious in high school, I could never resist having at least one.”

“I noticed you’re eating better since you moved to New York,” Burt commented. “Healthy stuff, sure, but also good stuff like cake and ice cream. Figured you might be up for your old favorite.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you thought of it. Besides, ever since I started using magic it seems like it doesn’t matter how much I stuff my face, I stay thin anyway.”

“Makes me wish you’d inherited the witchy powers from me,” Burt said, ruefully patting the rounded surface of his belly. He had taken up regular exercise since his heart attack , but middle age had still managed to settle comfortably around his waist.

Adam laughed, spooning up the last bite of his dinner and regretfully waving away Carole’s inquiring gesture with the serving bowl. “Well, I for one am looking forward to trying these dessert masterpieces. However, I think you owe your gorgeous figure more to youth and an active lifestyle than to witchcraft, darling,” he said, copying Burt’s gesture and patting his own flat stomach. Adam was still noticeably on the thin side after his ordeal with the Void, but he said, “You’ve met my dad. He’s a very powerful witch, but … well, I should warn you that you’re likely seeing a vision of your future husband there. I always have taken after him in looks.”

Kurt just smiled at him. “I promise to always keep you on a healthy diet and regular exercise routine, if you’ll do the same for me. To be honest, though, as long as you’re healthy and happy I won’t care if you end up looking like a blond Sumo wrestler. There’ll just be more of you to cuddle with.”

Adam’s eyes were fond and full of love, knowing that while he was only teasing, Kurt really would love him just as much, no matter what sort of physical appearance he had. After all, had he not already proved that? “Ditto, darling. Though if you should feel like modeling the mawashi a bit early, I wouldn’t object.”

“The what?” Burt said with a frown.

“The costume Sumo wresters wear,” Adam told him, eyes twinkling.

He considered that. “The thong diaper?” He grimaced, but then shrugged philosophically. “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing my kid has ever put on. Trust me.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Kurt said dryly while Adam and Carole both chortled. He stood and said, “Why don’t I just go grab the dessert and some hot chocolate for all of us.”

Adam jumped up. “I’ll help. That’s a bit of a load for one person. We’ll just whisk these dishes out of the way and be back in a flash.”

He and Kurt shooed Carole out when she tried to insist on helping with the dishes, pointing out that she had cooked, so someone else should clean. Burt, more used to his son’s bossy domesticity and amused to see that Adam apparently shared in it, just knocked back the last swallow of his beer and escorted his wife out to the living room.

Kurt moved about the Hummel kitchen with the practice of long familiarity. He had not lived here in quite some time, but Carole had not moved things around too much. He got out the frosting and crackers, instructing Adam just how much to put on each so they would not be too messy after he added a spray of whipped cream to another cracker and sandwiched the two together. While he constructed their dessert, Kurt whipped up a batch of his deliciously rich hot cocoa.

“I really love watching you and your dad together,” Adam said after a moment. “You’re so wonderfully in tune. At first glance, you don’t seem very much alike, but once you start sharing memories with one another I can absolutely see it.”

“You and Henry are close,” Kurt said, borrowing the whipped cream to add a bit to each steaming cup.

Adam nodded. “We are, but it’s different for us. I had Gran to take the place of my mum after she passed. Not that I didn’t miss her, but the hole in my life wasn’t quite as big as it otherwise might have been and Dad didn’t have to try and fill it all alone. Plus I had Beth and Celie and little Donnie to share the loss with, and Dad had all of us. That made it a bit easier for my family to pick up the pieces. You and Burt didn’t have that. You had only each other, and anyone can see that even with a few years where you had trouble speaking with one another, you still managed to get each other through brilliantly.”

Kurt smiled. “Yeah. I guess we did.” He lowered his voice and asked, “Do you think Carole is relaxed enough to tell her what we talked about upstairs?”

He nodded. “Let’s go find out. I think we should just slide magic back into the conversation gradually and see if your dad picks up the cue.”

They put the finished offering on two trays and each carried one out to the waiting parents.

Burt and Carole had curled up together on one end of the sofa, leaving the soft red loveseat for the younger couple. Adam tried a winter s’more and declared it excellent, liking it even better after following Carole’s example and giving the treat a dunk in his hot cocoa. “You Hummels are clever chaps,” he said, dispatching another.

“Well, you know what they say about necessity being the mother of invention,” Burt said with a smile, nibbling a graham cracker with far less zeal than his son, who was already happily munching his third. “And when it’s your kid and you just want to put a smile on his face, you learn to get creative. You’ll see one day, maybe.”

Kurt and Adam looked at one another, surprise in their eyes.

“Actually, we haven’t really talked about that,” Kurt admitted. “I suppose we should, though, before we get married. Between how much your three younger siblings adore you, and the way you are with both the Apples and the coven, I’ve sort of just assumed you’d want to be a dad one day.”

Adam shifted, inviting Kurt to curl against him as he settled more comfortably in the big leather chair. “I would like to be, but I’m in no great rush. I seem to collect strays everywhere I go, so it’s not vitally important to me that I have someone to share DNA with. I’d be just as pleased to adopt one day, though I rather fancy the thought of a little baby with your beautiful eyes and amazing talents. However, I don’t even know if parenthood is something you’ve wished for.”

Kurt scooted down a bit so that he could rest his head against Adam’s shoulder while his fiance’s arms came around to cuddle him securely. “I don’t know if I have, to be perfectly honest. When I was young, I just assumed I would never have kids because I was gay.” He laughed a little. “But then attitudes and tech both advanced and it became a possibility. I’m still not sure, though. I like kids, but I’m not super comfortable with them. When I was with Blaine, he was always very insistent that someday we would have both a boy and a girl, and that we had to have names picked out for them. It was a fun fantasy and I didn’t mind going along with it, but he pretty much had their hypothetical lives completely mapped out for them years before they were even conceived.”

“Selfish twat,” Adam grumbled. “That’s no way to raise a child. They’re people, not dolls. They also require a good bit of self sacrifice, which I can’t imagine from that one. As you and Burt so capably proved, it isn’t up to the parents to dictate how their children will be. It’s their job to simply accept those children and take good care of them; to guide them toward being honorable and responsible adults with independent minds and good decision-making abilities.”

“Thanks,” Burt said with a nod, “and I agree with my son. You will make a terrific father one day if you already know all that. I also think I may have underestimated Henry, because it took me a lot of years to figure all that stuff out. I’m just lucky that Kurt was such a great kid while I was stumbling through raising him.”

Kurt smiled at him. “Thanks, but you were a great dad and I won’t hear any argument about it. Anyway, I do think I’ll want to be a parent at some point. But I’d prefer to put it off for a few years, until our lives are more stable and we’ve had some time to just be us first. Mister and Mister last name to be determined, the epitome of domestic bliss and crazy coven leadership.”

Adam chuckled and kissed his hair. “That sounds entirely reasonable, love. And I vote for keeping our own surnames, perhaps hyphenate at some future point, for ease of identification if we do decide to have children. The Crawford clan has a rather distinguished lineage among witches that I don’t want to abandon, and I know you feel equally proud of the Hummel legacy. Besides, I’m looking forward to seeing Kurt Hummel in lights one day and boasting to anyone who will listen that he’s my husband. We want to be certain your name fits properly on a theater marquis.”

Kurt lifted his head to give Adam a kiss. “Agreed. And thank you. It’s nice to know I’m with someone who doesn’t just assume I’ll take his name.”

With a sigh, Adam held him tighter. “You make me wish I’d had the presence of mind to shoot a good strong itching spell at that nasty blighter when I saw him today.”

“Can you do that?” Kurt asked curiously.

“Mmm. I’ll teach it to you when we get home,” Adam promised, seeming to take distinct pleasure in the thought of unleashing it on their enemy. “Or perhaps the one meant to loosen or tighten the ravel on woven materials. I’m told the spell was created by some clever weaver back in pre-industrial days, but it’s also quite handy for pranking a victim so that his trousers are constantly slipping down, or tearing out at the seat when he bends. With your particular power combination you should be able to handle it with no problem at all.”

Kurt elbowed him, unable to keep from laughing. “Adam, that’s terrible! I never would have pictured you as a practical joker.”

He grinned mischievously. “Oh, there’s a reason Santana picked me for a spying partner. She must have sensed my wicked school-boy past. My two closest chums and I got up to all sorts of larks. Spent half our lives in the Headmaster’s office. I’d grown out of those impulses by the time I graduated, but I’m suddenly discovering the urge again. Another prank we might unleash on your ex is a potion that acts as a sort of reverse Viagra. It will temporarily shrivel his willy to the size of a peanut if we can figure out how to make him ingest it.”

Kurt deadpanned, “I don’t know if that’s a good choice. I’m assuming you want a spell that will be noticed.”

For a moment, the room was dead quiet. Then Kurt smirked and the others all burst into whoops of mirth.

Wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve, Burt chuckled, “I think it’s a real lucky thing for your classmates that you didn’t have magic when you lived here, kid. I’d have been getting called in to your principal’s office every other day.”

“If they ever found out it was me,” he said slyly. Then he shrugged. “Actually, Johnny said that too. The day I accidentally slagged Blaine’s old warbler figurine, he said it was a good thing I couldn’t do things like that during high school. Maybe that’s part of the reason I didn’t manifest until I was away from Ohio. My subconscious may have held me back as much as Rachel and Blaine did.”

“Speaking of Blaine,” Burt said in an all too casual manner. “I was telling the boys about him trying to give us a ride home from the airport.”

Carole seemed to realize immediately that that was not all he had told them. She sat up, giving him an exasperated look. “Oh, Burt, you know I didn’t want to worry Kurt and Adam. It’s nothing!”

“I don’t think it is. Why don’t you tell ‘em, honey. Maybe they can help.”

Kurt got up and sat down next to his step-mother, taking her hand and encouraging her with a nod.

She considered it for a moment, then sighed. “Well, all right. I’m sure it was just a coincidence, or some side effect of the protection potion Adam made for us, but the moment we spoke with Blaine, I started to develop a terrible headache. The longer we talked, the worse it got. When he started using that old coaxing tone on us, trying to get us to tell him all about our visit with you, I also got a sudden stronger sensation of anxiety and fear. I felt almost as if my body had been taken over by someone else. I suddenly got so angry that I could have happily taken the bouquet of flowers he brought for me and beat him unconscious with it. I’ve never felt that way before.”

“It was pretty great,” Burt added. “Carole yanked her hand out of Blaine’s and told him that it was none of his business how you were doing and that he wasn’t welcome at our house anymore. I told him that went double for any more drop ins at the garage, and if I ever caught him trying to put his slimy mitts on you again, I’d introduce him to my flame-thrower and find out if his hair is a greasy as it always looks. He scurried out of that place like his ass was already on fire.”

Kurt laughed. “That might not have been the wisest move, but I appreciate it. You know, Dad, one of these days I need to buy you a real flame-thrower,” he said. “You’ve been threatening people with that imaginary one since I was six.”

“I already got a real one. I got you,” Burt shot back. He snapped his fingers and pretended to shoot magical flames with his hands, making Kurt and Adam both smile.

“He has a point there,” Adam said fondly. “So, Carole, did the headaches and such fade once you were away from Blaine? I sincerely apologize for the severity of your symptoms, by the way. I hadn’t anticipated my potion having any adverse affect upon you two physically.”

She nodded. Brushing the tips of her fingers through her reddish blonde bangs, she bit her lip. “The headache faded almost immediately when we left the airport, but ever since then …”

“Tell us,” Kurt encouraged her gently.

“I keep getting … I don’t know how to describe it. Flashes, I suppose. Impressions of other people’s thoughts and feelings. It’s the strangest thing! It doesn’t happen all of the time, or even most of the time, but every now and then, I’ll be walking through the grocery store or dealing with someone at the clinic, and I’m suddenly flooded with happiness, or sadness, or in one rather embarrassing instance, visions of a coworker’s sex life!”

Burt squeezed her knee. “On Monday, I stubbed my toe real hard at work and I was hopping around and swearing, and the phone rings and it’s Carole, all worried and asking me if I’m okay. Weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ve been trying to tell myself that I was just stressed or overtired, but it’s starting to happen more frequently and I don’t know why. Do you think that Blaine could have done something to me?” Carole asked anxiously. “I was considering asking you about it the next time I called, but it seemed so silly.”

“It’s not silly,” Kurt assured her. “Believe me, I know how weird it can be to suddenly have magic pushing in on you from every direction. Carole, I want to do something. Do you remember when Adam and I explained Sight? If you don’t object, I’d like to use mine on you. Is that okay?”

Looking a little apprehensive, she nodded.

Kurt blinked his eyes firmly, activating the power. Sure enough, the murky grayish fog he had perceived around Carole when he had looked at her this way over the holidays had changed, as though the sun had come out and burned away the fog, leaving a ray of sunlight directly overhead. His dad was right. Carole’s long-dormant magic had unexpectedly activated.

“Is it empathy?” he asked, turning to Adam, who also narrowed his eyes and took a look.

He nodded. “Almost certainly. Mixed with more than a trace of telepathy, I would say, given what she described about receiving impressions of specific events. ”

Carole looked back and forth between the two of them, her mouth falling open a little. “Are you telling me that I’ve developed magic? But how is that possible? I thought you said a witch’s powers manifest during puberty.”

“Mostly,” Adam agreed with a reassuring smile. “But it has been known to happen at other times. It’s extremely rare for anyone to manifest in their middle years, but not entirely unheard of either.”

Kurt gave her an apologetic look. “I didn’t want you to feel disappointed after how excited you got about my magic, but Adam and I both noticed last month that you had a strong aura of inactive Potential. That means there was power in your blood that never developed. A lot of people have that, like a dormant gene. Apparently for most people, if it doesn’t activate by the time you’ve hit your twenties it never comes at all. We think Finn had it too, and that he was beginning to manifest. It may have been having a magic damper around him delayed his powers, just like it did mine.”

She swallowed, blinking sudden tears from her eyes. “So you’re really saying that I’m a witch? That I’m developing magic at nearly 50 years old.” They nodded, smiling a little at the half fearful, half excited tone in her voice. She laughed and wiped her eyes, then she suddenly gasped. “Oh! Oh my God. If I passed my Potential on to Finn, does that mean …? The medical examiner told us he had a sudden, unexplainable cardiac arrest. Was it the shock of discovering that he had some form of power that he couldn’t control? Was I …?”

“It was not your fault,” Adam said firmly, catching on quicker than the others. He moved to sit on the coffee table and capture her nervously fluttering hands in his. “Magic takes on many forms, and comes in a wide assortment of strengths and capabilities. I’ve a cousin whose only active power is making flowers bloom, and another who has been known to audibly shout for her rapscallion offspring at a distance of five kilometers. Neither Talent came on without warning. You may have passed on the gene for magic, or perhaps Finn inherited it from both sides of his family, but if he truly needed help then he would have attracted a mentor of some sort. New witches, even the irregular sort like Blaine and Rachel, invariably attract the attention of a more experienced fellow witch. It might be a friend or relative, a Familiar such as Elliott and Tubbington, a school like NYADA, or perhaps a coven of their own if they’re powerful enough. Your son would have been no different.”

“Thank goodness.” She momentarily closed her eyes as the panic reaction left her. She opened them again and looked at Adam, a slight smile lifting her lips. “I … I can feel how much you mean that. Empathy means to share in someone else’s emotions, doesn’t it? So when Blaine tried to coerce me at the airport I felt it as … I don’t quite know. Insincerity? Danger? Is that why I reacted so strongly?”

“Maybe,” Kurt said. “You did tell me before that you didn’t like Blaine, that you always felt like there was something fake about him. Maybe your power had already started blossoming a little. Brittany says that my Potential was really noticeable to her long before it became fully active. The coven has told me it’s not unusual to have some false starts.”

She shook her head. “But if all that’s true, shouldn’t I have attracted a mentor? Is it because I’m already close to you boys and your friends?”

“That’s a very good question,” Adam said with a smile. “And fortunately, one that I thought to call in an expert for. I gave Lord Tubbington a ring when Burt spoke to us earlier, via Brittany. I’ve never dealt with a new witch at your stage; having abundant experience with life but none whatsoever in witchcraft, and I needed a spot of advice. Apparently L.T. took one look at you when he was here this afternoon and sent out some sort of message. Don’t ask me what, or to whom. Familiars don’t quite operate by the same rules as the rest of us, but from what I gather they have some form of internal communications, which explains how they always seem to know exactly where they need to go, like Elliott sensing Kurt’s burgeoning Potential all the way from Paramus.

Kurt nodded. “Interesting, and thanks for doing that, honey. I wouldn’t have thought of asking Tubbington. I was wondering if we should invite Carole to join our coven, but that wouldn’t be practical. I can’t stay in Lima, and she can’t just pack up her life and move to New York.” He looked seriously at his parents. “I hope you’re ready for another housemate, because I suspect you’re about to get a Familiar of your very own. Someone who can give you the one on one training you’ll need. And trust me, there’s a lot to learn!”

Burt rolled his eyes. “Great. We may need you to give up your room here, son. Because cat or no cat, this new helper is not going to start sleeping in our bed with us. At least we know none of us is allergic.”

Kurt just smiled at the grouching, knowing it was just a cover for how worried he felt for Carole. He also knew that his dad liked to keep Kurt’s old space free for him “just in case”.

“Well, whoever Tubbington sends our way, I trust that they’ll be a good fit for me. And maybe they can help us figure out how to help poor Sam if he agrees to move back in with us. Then Kurt and Adam can spend less time worrying about us, and more time concentrating on their own lives,” Carole said, taking a deep breath and nodding to herself as she resolved to put the matter out of her mind for now. “Why don’t you boys tell us more about your day’s adventure? That combat magic class sounds very exciting.”

Adam and Kurt exchanged a glance, both recognizing that Carole did not wish to think any more about it for now, and was requesting a distraction from her worries. So they obliged, filling the rest of the evening with detailed accounts of Kurt’s ‘battle’ against the rubber ball blitz, and Adam’s meeting with Coach Sylvester and subsequent walk through town. Then Adam recreated his job interview with the head of Henderson Productions, followed by Kurt’s lively description of the headaches he had been experiencing with his play and how nervous he was about putting it on for an audience that would include a panel of NYADA instructors that would be judging his play-writing, directing, and acting progress.

They deliberately kept the story-telling going until everyone was relaxed again and ready to head to bed for the night

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, while the family was enjoying breakfast, the doorbell rang.

“I wonder why they’re ringing the bell instead of just coming in?” Kurt said, wiping his lips and hurrying to answer the door.

Before opening it, he sent out a magical feeler just as he had been trained to do in New York, in case there happened to be an unwelcome visitor on the other side. It was a worthwhile precaution because while Blaine had no reason to show up here, being unwelcome had never stopped him before.

The signature on the other side was not his ex, and it also did not belong to his coven mates as he had been expecting. In fact, the person on the other side was someone he recognized but had never expected to see here.

All but yanking the door open, Kurt blinked in surprise at finding no one on the other side. Then he heard a sound and looked down. A large brown long-haired cat was sitting calmly on the doormat waiting to be acknowledged. Kurt glowered at it. Even in the form of a cat, he recognized those wicked green eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Lord Tubbington told me it was time.” With no more explanation than that, the newcomer suddenly took on human form and pushed past the astonished Kurt like he owned the place. He looked around with an air of curiosity mixed with haughty judgment. “Hmm, very ‘Leave it to Beaver’ but I suppose it will have to do. Where is she?”

“You … she … you can’t be Carole’s new Familiar,” Kurt sputtered.

A lazy smirk tilted Sebastian Smythe’s lips and his narrow green eyes gleamed with amusement. “And yet, here I am.”

THE END

#witch!kurt #kadam fanfic #hudmel family fic #not sure if this is a good idea but it's where my muse took me #sort of a witch!kurt incidental fic

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mypoorfaves · 7 years

Text

Mo More Running

Summary: Set in a post-apocalyptic AU. Victor and Yuuri have been on the run, surviving together. But things take a turn for the worse when Victor is injured.

Rated T: Contains depictions of violence and suffering, and bad language. See tags at the end for full warnings

So I was inspired by this sinfully delicious post and managed to milk a whole 3000 word fanfic out of it. This is the whumpiest whump I have ever written, and also my first ever AU. Heads up: the ending isn’t happy. Though if you’re really creative, I’m sure you could imagine a scenario where everything works out.

～～～

“It’s just a gunshot wound. It’s likely infected, but we’ll get you some help. Then you’ll be fine,” Yuuri rambles as he walks while supporting a limping Victor. He’s panicking and talking more to reassure himself than the fevered man draped heavily over his shoulder. He doesn’t respond, but Yuuri sees him grimace and nod out of the corner of his eye.

The world has gone crazy and wants Victor and Yuuri dead. Well, anyone like Victor and Yuuri, who just so happen to have the wrong set of coding in their DNA. (Or the right set of coding, they would argue.) Their genomes could unlock cures to previously incurable diseases and conditions. They’re being hunted because they could hold the key to saving the world, because not saving the world keeps the economy from collapsing.

They had been labeled “impures”, and only those with such a name are told about the reality of the cruel world they live in and why they have to be eradicated before they meet their end. Why bother telling them, nobody knows. Maybe some figured they would accept their fate more willingly if they knew it was for a “good cause”. Well, good cause be damned, Victor and Yuuri had fought their fated demise and escaped. The two never knew each other back in regular society, but have since bonded through many years of struggle and survival together in a life on the run.

They’ve been walking for more than half of the day now and they’re both more than a little worse for wear. The autumn wind is cold and biting, and food and supplies are running low, as is morale. Yuuri is breathing heavily with the effort of supporting Victor as they walk, and the latter is stumbling from the hole in his leg courtesy of a recent ambush.

Yuuri hauls Victor further up his shoulder, keeping him upright. He can still remember the fight vividly; the sights and sounds refuse to leave his memory, and likely won’t for a while. He hears Victor yelling then promptly collapsing as he takes a bad hit, the group of survivors that they had been tagging along with shouting for them to flee, telling them of a base of allies some distance away. That’s where the two are headed now. Yuuri briefly wonders if the others are still alive, but decides it’s best not to dwell on it. Victor and Yuuri are alive for now, and that’s all that matters.

Yuuri spies a shelter in the distance, though he’s unsure if it’s their destination. As they get closer, he sees it’s a decent-sized shed. It’s abandoned and looks worn down, but with the sun setting soon and Victor leaning heavily on Yuuri as he fights to stay conscious, it will have to suffice for tonight. Yuuri readjusts Victor’s weight with a grunt and leads them inside. They collapse onto the ground panting and Victor groans as the impact jars his leg. “Yuuri…” he grits.

“It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be fine,” he repeats.

“Yuuri,” Victor says more firmly and Yuuri looks at him attentively. His back and head are supported by the wall behind them, and his normally stunning blue eyes seem more dull than usual, clouded with pain and fevered exhaustion. His face is smeared with dirt in places (as is Yuuri’s), and a bead of sweat trickles down by his temple. “I’ve had infected wounds before, but this feels too different,” Victor tells him gravely. “It’s like I can feel each of my cells dividing and combusting in my leg, and it’s slowly spreading. And it hurts. I’ve felt like this since the very moment the bullet entered my leg. I think this is some type of poison.”

“Poison or infection, it doesn’t matter. You’re gonna be fine,” Yuuri asserts again. “You have to be. We’ll find an antidote. We’ll find medicine. Something, anything! I’m not giving up on you!”

He takes off his knapsack, rummages in it and pulls out a bottle of rubbing alcohol. There’s not much of it left, but it will have to do. They still have some bandages too. Yuuri hopes it will be enough.

Victor is sitting with his eyes closed but he’s evidently still awake if the occasional furrow of his brows and quiet winces are anything to go on. His legs are outstretched in front of him, and his left calf has a dark red stain on it that has soaked through his jeans. Yuuri removes his knife from the holster on his thigh and uses it to cut the pant leg and expose the wound. It takes a while as the blade has dulled from use and the material is thick. The last of it is caked to the wound, and Victor gives a sharp hiss and his head thumps against the wall behind him as it’s peeled away.

Yuuri swallows hard as he finally gets a good look at the wound. Yuuri has experienced his fair share of gunshots, but this one is bad. It’s a nasty gash, swollen and oozing blood and some other fluid. The skin around the wound is tinted a dark purple colour, and Yuuri can clearly see the blood vessels underneath the surrounding skin. Okay, not normal. Definitely poison. Poison bullets. Well, that’s certainly new.

They would have to find an antidote somehow. But in order to find an antidote, they would need to know the type of poison they’re dealing with, which they don’t. Or at least know the symptoms, which they also don’t. All he has at this point is a fever and the odd skin colouration, as well as the sensation Victor mentioned earlier. If they wait too long for other symptoms to show, it might be too late.

Yuuri takes a deep breath, getting his mind back on track. They would deal with that later. For now, he opens the antiseptic and the sharp smells fills the room. Victor opens his eyes as it reaches his nose, his expression one of visible apprehension. This next part would not be pleasant.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri already apologizes, lips tight. Victor’s are as well.

“It’s okay. You have to do this,” he says grimly.

“It’s gonna hurt. A lot.”

“Don’t remind me,” Victor says dryly.

Yuuri averts his eyes. They fall onto the ripped fabric he had cut off earlier. Parts of it are still relatively clean. He uses his knife to salvage most of it before bunching it and handing it to Victor.

“Bite down on this. It should help.” He nods and does as told, laying himself flat on the ground.

Yuuri moves by Victor’s leg. He props his right leg on Victor’s left above the wound while one of his hands holds below it to keep him in place.

“Okay, here we go,” he exhales, and pours.The reaction is immediate. Victor’s body arches sharply underneath Yuuri and he has to fight to keep him in place as he cries out around the cloth. His eyes screwed tightly shut already have tears glistening at the edges. “I’m sorry,” Yuuri says at Victor’s evident agony. He tightens his hold, applies more antiseptic and feels tears of his own gather as Victor continues to writhe. Yuuri puts the bottle down and trades it for some wet bandages as Victor takes a short moment away from the pain to breathe. Yuuri wastes no time and wipes at the trail of dried blood on Victor’s leg, then adds more solution to the cloth and dabs it to the wound.

Victor yells around the fabric and kicks his leg and it slips out of Yuuri’s grasp. Victor has tears streaming down his face now, and his forehead is gleaming with sweat leaving his silver bangs plastered to the skin. His chest is heaving with heavy breaths, and Yuuri wonders if it’s more the fever or the pain that has him like this.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri says again. “Just a bit more, I promise, okay?” He doesn’t wait for a response and he secures Victor’s leg underneath him again. He cleans the wound more carefully this time, and Victor thrashes less, even if only slightly. Yuuri then moves to dress the injury. He has to hold the leg up off the ground while wrapping the bandage around it, so it’s harder to keep Victor from moving. Luckily it’s not much of an issue. Victor is no longer having acid poured onto his open wound, though the pressure on it still causes him to turn his head and moan. Yuuri finds himself apologizing at each one.

The bleeding had stopped some time ago, but a steady but slow flow has started again at the agitation, already staining the white cloth. It shouldn’t bleed through too badly, though. Yuuri wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and exhales one last time. He’s no doctor, but it should do for now. He seals the cleaning solution and puts it in his knapsack, then withdraws a water bottle and pours a generous amount of the liquid onto some clean bandages held in his hand before putting the rest of the supplies back.

He kneels by Victor’s head. His eyes are still squeezed shut, tear tracks clearly visible from each eye, his silver brows furrowed. His jaw is set tightly around the material in his mouth, and his nostrils flare with each pained breath. Yuuri takes the wet bandage and drags it across Victor’s sweat-soaked face.

His eyes flutter open and the sensation and he moans contently this time. “It’s all over now,” Yuuri soothes. “You did so well, Victor.” He drags the wet bandage down to his neck, eliciting a soft hum in response as Victor’s eyes begin to close again. “Rest for now,” Yuuri says gently and kisses his forehead.

He removes the bunched material from Victor’s mouth who gives a shaky sigh of relief. Yuuri runs a hand through his damp hair and guides Victor’s head to rest in his lap before he quickly falls asleep, exhausted. Yuuri remains awake, keeping an ear out for any signs of danger while watching over Victor, finding comfort in the steady rise and fall of his chest. It isn’t long before he too starts to nod off.

～

Yuuri is awake and alert at the sound of footsteps outside. They aren’t thunderous, but light and trained, and there are many of them. He recognizes what it means immediately.

“Shit,” Yuuri curses under his breath. He doesn’t dare move, just strains his ears and listens.

“Yuuri?” Victor’s tired voice whispers, and any further questions are cut off by a sharp ‘shh’ and a finger on his lips.

“Shit,” Yuuri hisses again, heart pounding so loud in his chest he’s sure whoever is out there can hear it. Victor certainly can, since he traces a finger over his cheek. The touch is feather-light, but calming.

A voice booms from outside. “We know you’re in there. There’s no point in trying to escape. We have you surrounded. Come out with your hands up.”

Yuuri’s heart continues to pound, eyes panicked and glued on the door. It’s the only one in the shed, no other way out. Victor lifts his head from Yuuri’s lap and sits up, turning Yuuri’s face towards his and bringing their foreheads together. Their breaths are both shallow, Yuuri’s from fear and Victor’s more likely from the temperature his forehead is radiating against Yuuri’s own.

“What do we do?” Victor asks.

“I don’t know,” Yuuri sighs after a long pause. He pulls away.

“We can’t hand ourselves over to them,” Victor says.

“We can’t fight.”

“We can run,” Victor suggests. “We always do.”

“There’s no way. They have us surrounded. And you’re injured,” Yuuri points out.

“What other choice do we have?”

“Victor…” He bites his lip in frustration and anxiety, wishing Victor would listen to him and think more logically about the situation.

“Yuuri, these people have been hunting us for years over something we can’t even control! Something that could save people! I’m not just going to give up,” Victor argues.

Yuuri thinks about it, then stands.

“Then neither am I.”

Victor attempts to stand with him, but the fire in his leg coupled with Yuuri’s hand gently but firmly pushing down on his shoulder forces him back to the ground.

“Yuuri?” Victor questions.

“You’re staying here.”

“What? I thought we were running?” Confusion and irritation mingle in Victor’s voice.

“I told you, we can’t. I’m done with running. But I’m not going down without a fight.” Yuuri draws his pistol from his bag.

The voice from outside booms again, loud and impatient. “I don’t have all day!” The two turn anxiously towards the sound.

“Yuuri, you can’t,” Victor desperately begs and clutches Yuuri’s wrist.

He says nothing and stares at the door while biting his bottom lip, his back to Victor.

“They’ll kill you,” Victor whispers.

“They’ll kill us both instantly if we try and run.” He turns and kneels down to Victor with tears in his eyes and he cups his face. Victor returns the gesture and the the two connect their lips for a sweet but brief moment. Victor has tears streaming his face again. The sight reminds Yuuri of the night before, Victor in such excruciating agony. The sights and sounds are engraved in his mind. He won’t let himself forget it, and he sure as hell won’t let it happen again.

“No more running,” Yuuri resolves. He stands slowly and begins to walk away, Victor’s hand held lovingly in his own until the very last moment when they grow too far apart and the contact is lost. Heart aching, but determined, Yuuri steps outside.

He’s greeted by a line of black-clad men and women, all with stern faces and raised guns. Their leader is standing in the middle, a tall and stocky male with a buzz cut, a long scar cutting through his right eyebrow and a less-gruesome one on the left side of his face. His muscles are big and defined, visible even underneath his uniform. Its design is the same as those around him, but with many more stars and medals pinned to it. Yuuri wonders how many people this man had to kill to earn them all.

Yuuri has his gun in his hand at his side. He walks forward slowly and stops when ordered. His brown eyes survey around him, sharp and calculating. He takes in the scenery of the forest around them, dimly lit by the barely-risen sun. The air is crisp with the smell of dew and silent except for the chirp of the birds and other wildlife. It would have been peaceful to Yuuri if he wasn’t completely surrounded and held at gunpoint. He counts the number of opponents and draws up possible battle plans and escape routes, none of which would actually work without taking several bullets. Yuuri knows a lost battle when he sees one; this one is lost before it’s even begun.

He tosses the pistol aside and it clatters to the ground some distance away.

“We’ll go with you. But please save him.” His voice betrays him and wavers, the request coming out as more of a beg than a condition to their surrender.

Their leader smiles menacingly and stalks towards Yuuri, kicking the gun further out of reach without so much as a second glance. His own gun, a much larger weapon, hangs from a thick strap around his neck. He circles Yuuri as the latter stands rooted in place, like predator and prey. Everyone else still has their guns aimed and ready to fire at will. The only thing Yuuri dares move are his eyes. Even the rise and fall of his chest is carefully controlled.

The leader is behind Yuuri now and it’s paining him not to turn around. He instead forces his gaze straight ahead, on no-one and nothing and focuses on stilling his racing mind and heart. This is the only option, Yuuri tells himself. Running is out of the question. Fighting this many, with so little ammo, all while defending Victor would be suicide, and Yuuri dying would be a fate worse than death for Victor, worse than whatever these people are planning to do to them. Or so Yuuri can only hope.

The man behind him gives a sadistic huff of amusement, and the next thing Yuuri knows he’s on his knees. There’s an intense pain in the back of his head and his vision is a flash of blinding white light.

“You should have run while you had the chance,” the boss sneers. Yuuri’s being held upright by his hair, the scarred face focusing in front of him. “It’s always more fun when they try and run,” he comments almost wistfully, then throws Yuuri to the ground face-first. The man turns to his followers and bellows an order, and they move to the shed. Yuuri remains on the ground, a foot on his back keeping him in place. Even if it wasn’t there, he wouldn’t try to get up.

“Sir! He’s gone!” an underling reports a moment later. Yuuri’s eyes widen in shock.

With a tut of disapproval, the foot moves from Yuuri’s back to press down on his head. “Where is he?” the leader demands. Yuuri lets out a pained gasp, but nothing more; he won’t give him what he wants. The foot twists and presses down further and Yuuri grits his teeth as the question is repeated.

“Go to hell,” Yuuri spits with all the venom he can muster. The man above him growls and the foot is gone from his head and kicked harshly into his side. This time Yuuri does cry out in pain. The foot rolls him onto his back and presses hard and sharp into the very spot he was just assaulted, and Yuuri cries out again. His ribs are surely bruised, if not broken.

“Search the area. He can’t have made it far.”

Tears escape Yuuri’s eyes, and he’s not sure if it’s from the physical pain or the dread of what is to come. If he and Victor had only gone willingly, they might have still had a chance. Nobody actually knows what happens before “impures” die, just that they do. They would likely undergo scientific experiments before then, but they would need to be alive for that, right? Once Victor had been cured and healed, they could have planned an escape and made a run for it then. But now? Victor won’t survive on his own. Not to mention he’ll likely be shot on sight if he’s found. And as for Yuuri…There’s no hope for either of them now. Not that there was ever much hope from the start.

Yuuri allows more tears to fall. They roll down his cheeks and leave drops on the ground. He cries them silently; sobbing would aggravate the immense pain in his ribs. Another blow lands, and another and another. He loses track of where and how many; the only thing that registers is the pain. When they finally relent, Yuuri is left bloody, bruised and barely breathing. Some underlings sneer at him, hurl insults then take his body and drag it along the ground as they head back. He has no idea where they are going. The rough terrain creates new wounds.

This time, Yuuri does sob. His breath hitches painfully in his chest as he wonders how the world ever could have ended up like this, and hopes with all of his being that Victor will be alright.

～～～

(End)

*rubs hands together evilly and gleefully*

Thanks once again for 50 followers, and a special thanks to all of my wonderful friends who always message me and talk to me! And a super special thanks to my beta readers! You know who you are ;) This fic would not be what it is now if not for you!

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