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valenhell · 3 years

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From the studio that brought you “I can’t find good Byler fics in the ao3 tag”, comes:

"The Definitive Byler fic rec list"

Literally no one asked for this but because I spent the majority of last year (...and 2019, and 2018...) reading byler fics and coping with life, I thought I’d make a list of some of my absolute favorites.

The other day I was basically starving for some byler fics and the angel @magicalfairy provided me with some of her faves so I thought I’d do the same, because I love reading, and I love all of these fics and I appreciate their writers💗 And fic writers in general, come on!

- This is a mix of long works and one-shots/short stories. - Everything is mostly fluff with a tad of angst and a lot of internalized homophobia conflict. - Every fic is completed, except for the ones I mention that they are not. - I try my best to lay out the stories in a way that I won’t spoil you the plot but also warning you of some stuff you might don’t like. Either way, all of these fics are correctly tagged by their respective authors/owners, so read at your own risk. For better understanding, in between brackets I denote Rating, Words and quantity of Chapters. - I feel like I should clarify, none of these are narrated in the singular first person. None of that “And I told him...”, no.

Long fics

a dream always the same (T, 99k, 35 chapters) What happened in those few weeks between the Battle of Starcourt and the Byers leaving Hawkins. Literally a satisfying and very needed fill in of season three, with a good dose of Mike’s thoughts and conflict. Mike’s characterization is specially amazing in this one. The writing style is amazing and I know the author put everything into making it historically accurate, and it was really sweet. You probably read it, it’s by the amazing sevensided here on Tumblr🧡

Spring Break (T, 120k, 14/15 chapters) The slowburn of my dreams. Lots of internalized conflict and conflict with each other. Conflict within the Party (uhh kind of), conflict with Mike and Will. Byers family has moved and the kids are visiting! Chaos. Characterization is on point. Yeah, I know it’s unfinished, but the fourteenth chapter actually serves as a pretty nice ending.

This is where it starts (M, 148.8k, 24 chapters) Aged up characters. The Party is in college and Will disappears again, but now it’s different. Mike knows he didn’t vanish from thin air, and the discovery he and the Party end up making is pretty insane. Mystery solving/fantasy/third dimension, throw in a bit of D&D and Mike realizing some shit, and you get this marvelous fic. It’s a breath of fresh air. The world building is definitely one of the elements that stands out the most, because it’s very nicely described, it sounds like a dream and it’s completely immersive. Absolute gem of a fic.

there’s a Starman waiting in the sky (M, 30.6k, 8 chapters) Do I need to say anything? Will is out there living his best life and Mike realizes that wow, umm, maybe his best friend looks a bit too nice with that costume... and wait, is he getting horny? It’s actually really fun and sexy.

The Evening Speaks (T, 23k, 7 chapters) In where Mike is a late-night college radio host and Will is the art student that stays up till late to catch up with Wheeler on the Mic. They flirt through songs y’all, this one is really sweet.

heads or tails? (E, 24k, 3 chapters) Aged up characters. I know most people don’t enjoy sex in fics and with specific characters but this one is insanely well written. It’s a slowburn that commits to the tension and with every word you are grasping and anticipating their next move. I think you can find the author here on Tumblr as yousaidyes🧡

The Man of Average (M, 56.7k, 5/? chapters) Aged up characters. No but you don’t understand, the writing here is absolute gourmet. The story is exciting as well, it’s super interesting. Weirdly enough, for being very aged up characters, they are well characterized but they don’t feel like teenagers. They are naturally Mike and Will. The author really captured Mike and Will’s essence. I know, it’s unfinished and it’s updated very rarely, but this is the typical fic you can’t believe someone just posted on the internet for free. I will say though, I think it’s definitely not for everyone. Read at your own risk.

Heartstrings (E, 82.8k, 24/? chapters) Aged up characters. By the same author of The Man of Average. A collection of memories, the road to Mike and Will’s happy ever after. And fucking hell!!!!! You’ll cry and get angry, you’ll cheer for them, then you’ll want to crash their faces together because god dammit you love each other!!! But yeah, same thing here. The writing and the way the story is laid out as a nonlinear narrative is brilliant. And I also think this is one of the best Will versions I’ve read. The author might as well be the og creator of this two characters tbh. You can find the author here as mylesimeblr🧡

Sinners behind the walls (T, 1.5k, 1/1) And because I can’t stop recommending this author, a little thing of Mike tormenting himself but also being too deeply committed to Will.

The Red Envelope series (T/E, 167K, two completed works) Something happens that Will thought was impossible and from there, pure drama and romance. Anything by this author has the potential to become your absolute favorite fic, but this series in particular is amazing. I doubt that any of you haven’t read this, but it doesn’t hurt to put it in this list. I’m pretty sure the author is serendipitous-magic on Tumblr🧡

A New Fight series (T, 91k, two completed works, one WIP) And finally the Star Wars AU that we all needed. But this isn’t your typical “Mike is Han”, “Will is Leia” and “El is Luke”, it’s way more interesting than that, and the author has appropriated the Star Wars world like no other. I’ll admit I’m not a 100% fluent in SW lore but this is amazing to me either way. This author is also on Tumblr, tea-for-one-please🧡

- Yes, most of these are (if not all), in a way, canon compliant/canonverse/canon continuation into fanon. (In a way)

One-shots and short stories

Sundae for Two, Please (G, 4.8k) Steve being the supportive friend and older brother these kids collectively need. (not Jonathan erasure, we love him). Steve is very sweet himself, and this little cute thing through his POV is gorgeous. Yes, it’s byler.

Backstage (T, 10k, 2/2) Jonathan, you forgot to mention to Will how hot your new band’s guitarist is, dude. Now he’s hyperventilating and weirdly flirting with him in the corner. Background Stonathan because why not.

102 Peach Street (G, 3.8k) Established relationship, but not only that, they are married :’’))) PURE fluff. Extreme fluffiness. Diabetes.

sweatshirts and bottled up feelings (T, 3.2k) Or, Mike thinks that the sweatshirt Will wears looks insanely good on him. And kitchens are for lovers.

kiss it better (T, 16.3k) Basically one of the best character studies of a few precise moments of Mike and Will’s relationship and feelings.

will wonders ever cease (T, 11.3k) #i ship will and happiness. Omfg what a beautiful piece of fanfic. Will centric, this kid really deserves all the good in the world.

The Calm After the Storm (T, 1.6k) Tooth rotting fluff, boyfriends in love. Boyfriends being lazy, cuddling, love words, kisses. Boys loving each other’s company... Basically, Mike and Will in their element. What more can you ask for?

neither of us ready to let go (T, 4.8k) That scene from season three, but a bit of a fix it.

Still in love (G, 1k) Domestic, married life au fluff. Y’all, I’m a sucker for established Byler, even if I can’t find many fics with it. But this is very sweet. It takes place in 2020, but I don’t think there are any mentions of the COVID-19 crisis that I remember.

I Nver Find Out ‘Til I’m Head Over Heels (G, 12.5K) Classic 5+1 fic. If you haven’t read it, where have you been? This is your moment. In where Mike keeps inviting Will to the school dances and Will thinks it’s just a joke until he realizes it’s not.

Before You’re Gone (T, 5.9k) Will is leaving Hawkins and Mike thinks this is a great moment for a confession. This one I discovered last friday, thank you friend @magicalfairy 💗

You’re weird Wheeler (M, 4.5k) Mike unintentionally starts a tradition of going to each other to talk about their sexual encounters just after they finish. Will keeps getting more explicit with the details he shares, and he makes his best friend interested. This one is really fun y’all.

Out-Of-Town Friends (N/R, 4.6K) It’s not rated. I haven’t re- read it but I’d say it would probably fall in a T rating. So cute!! Will has new friends and sneaks off every friday and the Party doesn’t know where he is going, so Mike decides to follow him and is surprised.

Snowed Under (G, 1.3k) By the same author of The New Fight series. Mike is spending christmas by himself in college because a snowstorm hits Chicago and Nancy can’t drive to see him, but then he has a surprise visitor. Ahhh just a lil sweet holiday fic. Super cute.

you love me anyway series (T, 7.1k, three completed works) Literally just the cutest thing ever. Established Byler. Will loves to take pictures and he loves taking pictures of Mike. It’s adorable.

you wanna be friends forever (i can think of something better) (T, 9k) This one is so amazing. So. Amazing. From Will’s POV, my kid deserves the world and he gets it.

okay not to be okay (T, 4.9k) Mike is a bit sad but then everything is okay.

can’t hold out forever (G, 18.4k) Y’all!!!!! 5+1 sweetness. Mike has been falling in love since kindergarten. And it’s long af, you’ll enjoy it.

even if it takes forever (G, 1.3k) College short AU, they miss each other, they love each other, they promise all to each other. It is sappy y’all.

clear as day (N/R, 18.4K, 4 chapters) It’s not rated, but I’d say it falls in the T category. Strangers to friends to lovers. And also, everyone is pretty gay; we have our dynamic trio Mike, Max and El as disaster lesbians (and gay). Will works at the library and he is also gay. Lucas and Dustin and Will are the best friends we needed. It’s very sweet and the Party is kind of formed here!

I went overboard with the one-shots, so you must have realized how much I love long one-shots and I favor them over long works lmao but they are all amazing!!! If it’s on this list, I probably read it at 2 am, sobbing in my bed. So. Hope you enjoy it☺️🧡

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aerialflight · 3 years

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Fic Recs (cause it's always nice to give a shout out and get people into things I'm into rn)

[The Magnus Archives] (I recently finished the podcast and I fell into a hole for a while so here you go)

Sing a Song of Sixpence by Kaiel

Ship: Jon/Martin

In which Jonathan Sims is a Siren, and he fails to notice any new abilities granted to him by the position of Archivist. Or really anything about the Entities at all.

Takes place in season 1 featuring Jonah Magnus’s slow decent into madness

(The new mythology interwoven with tma's worldbuilding is so freaking good and I love how all the characters change and develop because of these changes. Also, f you Elias)

Along Came a Spider by Dribbledscribbles

Ship: implied Jon/Martin

Sasha James is the Archivist, as expected. Martin Blackwood is menaced by Jane Prentiss, as expected. Elias Bouchard weaves his web, as expected.

All goes as it should.

At least until something calling itself Jonathan Sims steps in.

(Web!Jon in this makes me want to weep, it's so freaking good. A pretty long, very excellent oneshot on what could've happened if Jon got taken by the web when he was a kid. And Sasha as the Archivist is ALWAYS so cool, we love her in this house.)

A Break in the Clouds by Ash_Rabbit

“I’m eight.” the kid sniffs as if eight was any different from four, maybe not an unspeakable horror then, just a regular horror. “And I heard that the Magnus Institute deals with-” his little nose scrunches, cute. “-spooky things.”

“Do you have a-” he cracks a grin, and then rethinks it as small hands tighten against their burden.”-spooky thing to deliver?” gods he hopes not, it’s bad enough when adults walk in and lay out all of their baggage, but for a child-

“There’s a spider in this book.” the kid says solemnly, raising his textbook sized parcel. “It ate Evan Pritchard.” a bloody fucking Leitner. Of course an eight year old would find a murder spider book. “This seemed like the best place to bring it.”

(I never thought about what the Original Elias could've been like AND NOW I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT BECAUSE OF THIS FIC. I LOVE HIM, HE'S COMPLEX AND HE CARES AND JON CARES AND THEY BOTH CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER. THIS IS THE CONTENT I WANT, OMG. Also, Jon being even smaller than usual is adorable, so cute. No wonder Elias wants to hug him, a LOT.)

See the Line where the Sky meets the Sea by The_Floating_World

Ship: Jon/Martin, Jon/Oliver Banks

When Jon is a child he looks into the infinite abyss of space. The Vast looks back into him.

(One of my all time fave fics in this fandom, no questions asked. I have reread this three times and am open to doing it again, god. Vast!Jon, such a concept. It's written so beautifully and the relationships Jon develops, so good. ugh. My heart. Please please read.)

Sweet As Roses by Prim_the_Amazing

Ship: Jon/Martin

“Come in, Martin,” he says, not looking up from his notes.

“Hi, Jon,” he says, and Jon stops writing at the sound of his voice. “We’re out of the green tea, but we’ve got lemon?”

Jon looks at him. Martin smiles at him in his usual tentative way as he sets the mug of tea down on Jon’s desk. Heat spikes so sharply in his gut that he twitches with it.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says, mouth dry, and he stands up.

“Oh,” he says, sounding almost surprised. He smiles again. “No-- no problem-- um, what are you--”

Jon takes Martin by the shoulders, leans up on the tips of his toes, and kisses him.

(You have no idea how much I howled through this fic, my god. *buries face in hands* The number of times I wanted to cry from sheer hilarity and horror reading this good lord.)

Things Could Always Be Worse by theOestofOCs

Ship: Jon/Martin, Georgie/Melanie

Sometimes, the most horrifying thing of all is what might have been.

Somewhere, Jon could swear he heard a crowd laughing.

Or: in which Jonathan Sims is forced to swap places with his alternate self—a tall, chivalrous hero extraordinaire, who knows neither fear nor nuance—and is sent to the aggressively straight alternate universe the Magnus Archives was never meant to be.

“Whatever place this is,” Jon announced, “I just want to be sure it knows I hate it.”

(I will say this once, THIS IS THE MOST CURSED THING IVE EVER READ EVER. Like holy hell. I can't believe this thing exists. please read it oh please please please)

[Supernatural]

heard from your mother (she don't recognize you) by Schmuzz

Ship: Dean/Cas, Jessica/Sam

A man named Cas wakes up in 2003 with no memories, but he's able to piece together a few things:

1. Supernatural creatures exist, and most of them will hurt innocent civilians if he doesn't stop them; 2. He has abilities that no human hunter should have, but he knows enough about human hunters to keep that to himself, and finally; 3. He keeps running into another hunter named Dean Winchester, who seems to be about as lonely as he is if he's willing to put up with those former facts long enough to help Cas unravel the mystery of who (or what) he really is.

For his part, Dean's still (not) dealing with Sam's departure to Stanford, and figures distracting himself with a bit of mystery and intrigue is as harmless as it gets, right? Right.

(THE fic I'm most into right now, been following this from the very start and it's AMAZING. Cas has agency and is making friends and S1 Dean is growing out of John's influence and is becoming a Person and the both of them first being friends then more. The slow burn as their relationship develops, SO GOOD. SO SO DAMN GOOD. *screams* Seriously one of the best spn fics I've read in a long, long time.)

anamnesis by cenotaphy

Ships: Castiel/Dean, Sam/Eileen

Chuck is depowered, Jack is the new god, and the world is free. Dean and Sam get into the Impala and chase down the miles on an endless highway, and their story is finally, finally their own to follow. At least, that's what Dean tells himself. But the diners and motels and painted interstate lines are blurring together and the smallest details keep catching at his brain like tiny fishhooks and he can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is exactly as it should be.

* Fix-it/alternate series finale. Canon-compliant through the end of 15.19.

(THIS IS THE FIC THAT GOT ME THROUGH THE FINALE OKAY. WHY COULDN'T THIS HAVE BEEN CANON. It's Disturbing and honestly plot-wise this makes more sense. Why couldn't we have had this. *screams*)

[Avatar: The Last Airbender]

where the stars do not take sides by WitchofEndor

Ship: Sokka/Zuko

When Azula is nine, she becomes an only child. She hears the Fire Lord call for Zuko's life, and in the morning, her mother and brother are gone. Azula may be young, but she isn't naive. She knows what happened to them.

Which makes it all the more surprising when Azula tracks the Avatar down and fights his group of peasant friends, only to find herself staring into an eerily familiar face.

(The fact one of the tags in this fic is, "Sibling Dynamic: Fucked Up But Wholesome" should give you an idea what this fic is like. Chaotic as HELL and I just love Azula here, she loves Zuko so much in her messed up way and Zuko loves her back in the exact same way lol. It's batshit and I am Here For This.)

[Naruto]

Eclipse by AislingRoisin (JayBird345) for HybrisAnaideia

Ship: Nara Shikaku/OFC

"In life, it's easier to remain stagnant and wallow in your troubles. But life isn't merely about continued existence, nor is it meant to be gone through alone."

(This is a fic that's slept on and I NEED people to read this. A self-insert fic that I find really interesting in its approach and the worldbuilding for the post-third war shinobi world is fantastic. I feel like there's a certain pattern with self-insert fics, not that is a detriment in any way to how much I enjoy them, so this fic feels fresh to me in a way I haven't read in a while. I am waiting eagerly for this to get updated! Please read!)

On Freedom and Other Formalities by iaso

Ship: Kakashi/Genma/OFC

When push comes to shove, Hiwa Inuzuka doesn't go down easy. Reborn into a new, dangerous world? She puts her past life as a spy to work. Thrown into a war? Hiwa does her duty, for Konoha. And when she's forced into an arranged marriage? All there is to do is beat them to the punch and get married first. Thankfully, Genma Shiranui is willing to lend a hand. Literally. SI/OC

(Listen, LISTEN, it's about the slow burn, the longing, the communication (it both has and hasn't and isn't THAT great??), the messy way you fit three very different people together, it's so freaking good! Also, Kakashi is so Chaotic here this is my fave characterization of him, you can't change my mind. And Genma is a Good Boi who is Doing His Best, along with the Self-insert character who I LOVE SO MUCH, SHE'S FANTASTIC FNEIWOPAF. Sped past this fic in the speed of light, I could not stop reading!)(Honestly, read all of the author's fics, they're all really REALLY good!)

Building a Castle by WhisperingDarkness

Without needing anyone to tell her, Sakura knew that talking to someone no-one else could see or hear would make her weird. It would draw the bad kind of attention to her, something people could make fun of her for.

She didn’t like being weird, but she did like the voice. Her inner voice was helpful and it was a part of her that had always been there. The idea of it not being there would have been so much weirder than anything else.

It was during her first year at the Academy that Sakura realised the voice was not in her head at all, but that it came from a cloudy shape floating next to her.

(Basically a short-ish retelling of Hikaru no Go. Only with more Shogi and Nara and Ninja's)

(Sakura can see ghosts (I'm noticing this is a popular trope for her) and it's really cute haha! Her relationship with Tobirama is sweet and I just enjoyed reading this so much.)

[The Magicians]

So Long (And Thanks For All The Books) by IncompleteSentanc (Erava)

Ships: Quentin/Eliot, James/Julia, Quentin/Margo/Eliot

When Quentin is told Julia wasn't admitted to Brakebills, he realizes he has a drastic decision in front of him. If he tells Julia about magic, he'll have his mind wiped as well as hers. But he can't just leave her behind, either. He can't lose his best friend, and he can't let her life a life with her magical potential stolen away from her.

So he makes a third choice.

(Really, and I mean REALLY well-done canon divergent fic, this is the Quentin & Julia friendship fic I have been looking for forever. It explores so much of what could've happened and I just love Quentin here, I really really do. Characterization done so right. I also recommend the author's other works too. Been a follower of them for a long time, they're great.)

[Game of Thrones]

The Road to Victory by writing_as_tracey

Too late in preparing for the Night King and the Long Night, the last stand at Winterfell is close to falling. Bran takes desperate measures to ensure victory, and Jon, Sansa, and Arya pay the price for it in a time unfamiliar to them, on the cusp of another war. [GoT, time-travel fix it]

(I swear, this fic made me laugh so many times, all the Stark are BAMF and fantastic, and Rhaegar gets Wrecked lol. It's crack btw, and the plot goes in directions you'll never guess and it's amazing hahaha!)

[Haikyuu!!] (I am very very late to the fandom but here I am)

Ballare (To Dance) by MidnightSparks

Ship: Iwaizumi Hajime/Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, and platonic Kageyama & Kentarou (really love their friendship)

Kageyama’s first love is volleyball. His second, however, is ballet.

In one world, Kageyama Tobio is left behind by his parents. In this world, the existence of soulbonds keeps Kageyama’s parents in Miyagi and leaves Kageyama in the care of his grandma and grandpa.

(In which soulmates exist and that changes everything and nothing at the same time.)

(*buries face in hands* I have fallen for this ship so hard and I can't get out fudge me. I understand now. Their DYNAMICS FIEWONPAF)

Kings of Tomorrow by bokubroya (liarielle)

Ship: Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru

On the eve of Tobio’s 16th birthday, he counts down the seconds to midnight, and emerges with Oikawa Tooru’s name on his wrist.

It’s been two years since then, and Tobio thought they had an understanding. A silent, never spoken about understanding that this thing between them is nothing, and they’re going to pretend it doesn’t exist.

Of course, it’s just like Oikawa to change the game and leave Tobio wondering what comes next.

(I am WEAK for soulmate fics between these two, I don't even really like soulmate fics half the times what is WRONG WITH ME-)(Please suffer with me, I'm begging you. Its a good fic, thumbs up.)

[Crossover]

Honey and Magic by JustARatherVerySillyWriter, White_Squirrel for Super Carlin Brothers

Fandoms: Matilda (yeah you read that right), Harry Potter

Everyone knew Matilda was a rather extraordinary child, but even she didn't know she was a witch. Matilda Honey receives her Hogwarts letter in the year of the Triwizard Tournament, and soon, she will leave her unique mark on the magical world.

(Do I even need to explain how amazing it is to have Matilda in the wizarding world? And Matilda is a HUFFLEPUFF AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL THIS FIC IS GREAT PLEASE READ!!!)

An Eye for an Eye by DpsMercy

Fandoms: The Magnus Archives, Welcome to Night Vale

In which Jonathan Sims is not from the UK but instead, if you took his origins and turned them sideways twice then flipped them over, he technically would be from the US, the town of Night Vale specifically. Elias can’t do shit about it and gets a headache and slowly creeping madness instead.

(Look, I know probably everyone has read this because if they haven't, what have you been DOING with your lives??? Jon interning at Night Vale is Incredible, nothing phases this man, it's Delightful. I laughed so many times reading this, I'm not even kidding right now. Read or perish.)

The Favour by R_Cookie

Fandoms: Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Ship: Original Percival Graves/Harry Potter

Percival is ten years old when his grandfather tries to tell him that he's ensured the greatness of the Graves legacy for him, that he ought to be eternally grateful - but the explanation is hijacked by a stranger who manages to intimidate Chester Graves with an ease never seen before.

or: Hadrian (Harry) Potter is the Master of Death, who grants Graves a boon. Nobody could have known that the Deathly Hallows didn't turn you so much into the 'Master of Death' as into the anthropomorphic personification of Death. And so, Death becomes Percival's guardian angel, and Percival does not spit out his cereal.

(Look, I don't know how I stumbled back into the FBAWTFT fandom either, it just happened and I'm grateful for that. Otherwise, I wouldn't have found this amazing fic. Their relationship is slow and strange and I just love how Percival is characterized here. Also, one of the tag promises that it deviates from canon so I am really, really excited for that! XD)

baby that's what i do by natanije

Fandoms: Naruto, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!

"Are you telling me," Hidan exclaims, incredulous, "that you collect money all this time to give to orphans?!"

Kakuzu pauses. He blinks a few times.

"Huh. I guess I do."

(Tsuna reincarnates as Kakuzu and it's HILARIOUS. HE'S SUCH A MOM HAHAHA)

#Fanfiction #AO3 #Fic Rec #Fic Rec List #Podcasts #The Magnus Archives #Supernatural #Avatar The Last Airbender #Naruto #The Magicians #Game of Thrones #Haikyuu!!#Crossover #Matilda #Welcome to Night Vale #Harry Potter #Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them #Katekyou Hitman Reborn

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archonanqi · 3 years

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fragile as dust / 9 - the moments of peace

🔖 [first] [prev] [next]

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a/n - hi! I've gotten some requests to start a tag list for this series. If you’d like to be tagged with updates, please send me an ask / message / reply! Thank you. :)

—

ch 9 | the moments of peace

“To the left, to the left!”

With an embarrassing screech, you lunged forward, desperately searching for any movement in the dry grass. You came up empty. Adrenaline still hot in your veins, you jumped violently when Xiangling pat you on the shoulder.

“ Your left,” Xiangling corrected, pointing in the opposite direction of which you threw yourself.

You both stared wordlessly for a moment as the squirrel scurried away and out of sight.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, cheeks hot against the morning air. This was the third expedition you’d embarked on so far, and you’d still yet to catch anything that could move faster than a sweet flower.

“That’s okay! Just means that I’ll need to come up with some dishes to make with the ingredients we have so far!” You could almost hear the gears grinding in her brain as she rummaged through the basket of plants that you had gathered, murmuring to herself. “Is this everything we gathered today?”

You hesitated before rifling through your pockets and producing the brown, lumpy object you’d found at the start of your expedition. You weren’t sure it was even edible (it certainly didn’t smell like it), but you wondered if it might suffice to salvage the botched trip, even a little.

“OH!” Xiangling’s eyes lit up soon as she saw what was in your hand. “Where did you find this?”

You peered at her cautiously, not sure if this was a good reaction or not. Also, her voice seemed to have hit a new high and you were worried it would begin to attract monsters.

“Uh, back there, in those ruins. There was a bunch,” you offered, pointing in the direction. “Is it usable?”

Xiangling seemed to have begun visibly vibrating. “Usable? This is Matsutake! It’s a rare mushroom, and it’s so versatile that it can be used in place of any— Oh, I’ll explain later, let’s go get them all before a boar finds them first!”

The sun was well above the horizon by the time you gathered enough Matsutake to fill the two baskets you’d brought. Xiangling had already started a fire with some Dendro slime concentrate — the way she’d taught you to do — when you returned from washing the mushrooms in a nearby stream.

“Could you chop the Jueyun Chilis for me, please?” Xiangling said, barely looking up from the wok. No matter how bubbly she had been, the moment she stood in front of a blazing fire and a vast array of ingredients, Xiangling always adopted a demeanor of complete calm. It was almost unnerving to watch, sometimes, how focused she could get. You hurried to obey.

“How many?”

She peered up then, the licking flames painting her grin a bright orange. “Hansi, have I taught you nothing over the past week?” She thumped her chest twice with a flour-covered hand, “in Mondstadt, they might use measurements like cups and tablespoons— but that’s not how I do things! In Liyue, we listen to our hearts. Just let Rex Lapis guide your hand!”

You stared at the chilis. If you’re just giving out guidance nowadays , you directed your silent thoughts towards the earth beneath your feet, I’d love to know what your deal with the Vision is.

In the end, you emptied just half a chili into the wok, because even just chopping it was beginning to make your eyes water. It instantly stained the hot oil a bright red. For the rest of the morning, you watched as Xiangling bustled around your little campsite, tasting this and that, asking you for various small and bewildering favors — you certainly hope that she didn’t really use the lizard tail that she had you go hunt down.

While at first you paid careful attention to Xiangling, the sight of a piece of Cor Lapis gleaming under the morning light dragged your thoughts elsewhere — towards what ( who ) was waiting for you when you returned home.

“Okay!” Xiangling finally said, making you jump. “Sorry that took so long! I’ve never had so much Matsutake to experiment with at once.” She held out two neatly packaged lunch boxes. “Take these, one for you, one for Mr Zhongli! It’s Matsutake Stirfry with Potatoes and Carrots! … I’ll come up with a better name later.”

You accepted the boxes with gracious thanks, just the smell wafting from them making your mouth water.

“I really want to see the look on your face when you taste it, but we’ve been out here for a little over five hours now,” Xiangling mused. Had it really already been five? Time seemed to fly when you were with Xiangling. “You should probably hurry home or Mr. Zhongli will get worried.”

You absently thanked her again, all the while wondering at the truth of that. Zhongli had certainly seemed a little worried after the incident with Tartaglia, briefly, though he quickly returned to his usual, unreadable demeanor. The idea that someone was waiting for you, would get worried if you never came home — it was bafflingly foreign, but also… so very warm.

As you turned to go, you could hear the grin in Xiangling’s voice when she called after you, “and here you were worried that you wouldn’t be able to help. This dish was only possible because of you, Hansi!”

Briefly and painfully, you yearned to understand how Xiangling managed to make a good thing of any situation. It seemed that there was far more than just cooking that Xiangling could teach you.

—-------------------

“Wonderfully seasoned,” Zhongli praised that afternoon, and you prayed that he didn’t notice your cheeks blushing as red as the chili oil. “A perfect balance of spice. Did you help make this?”

You bit back a smile as you nodded, and sent Rex Lapis your silent thanks for his... guidance.

—-------------------

Easing into Zhongli’s life was easier than you would ever have imagined.

After your disastrous breakfast incident, you had made a habit of waking early and accompanying him on his walks in the morning — at first to make up for setting his house on fire, then later, out of enjoyment. You found yourself looking forward to your long walks, breathing in the fresh air and seeing Liyue Harbor bathed in the dawnlight.

Before you knew it, you had memorized a few things about the mornings of Liyue: which routes to Yujing Terrace let you catch the early sunrise; what time Wanmin restaurant’s fresh shao’bing buns come out of the oven; and when little old Madame Ping, whom Zhongli always greeted respectfully, hobbled up the hill to water the glaze lilies.

It was only when Zhongli mentioned black perch stew and you lamented that Mr. Sun from the fish market wouldn’t get new stock until Monday, that you realized just how deeply entrenched in domestic life you had become.

There were other things you noticed too; the street corner where you used to play, sleep and beg. The sink behind the souvenir shop that you snuck to at night just to get a drink of clean water. Children who’d had the misfortune of being born like you, into families who couldn’t imagine feeding another mouth.

These things struck you with increasing guilt — of every child of Liyue who grew up without a home, what made you deserving of salvation? — but mostly, with fear. If Zhongli got tired of you, if you once again found yourself in that life...

Well.

You swept those thoughts deep deep deeper into your head, and forged on.

—-------------------

“Another umbrella, Mr. Zhongli?” You raised a brow. When had you begun to point out his eccentric purchases? You weren’t sure. “We’ve bought four today.”

“Ah,” Zhongli smiled, already reaching for the fifth. “Yes, so we have. Do you like white rabbit candy? Let’s get two bags.”

Resigned, you followed along, your exasperation quickly fizzling out as soon as you turned a corner and came face to face with the wide-eyed, dirt-smeared faces of a group of orphans. Dressed in lovely clean clothes and with so much color in your cheeks — you couldn’t imagine how you looked to them. You saw so much of yourself in their hungry gazes that you had to look away.

You watched as Zhongli bent down so that he met them at eye level. “Please, accept these,” he held out the umbrellas, and suddenly you began finding it hard to breathe, “it looks like there’s a storm coming. And also, won’t you all also take some sweets—?”

—-------------------

You, of course, kept your contract with Zhongli, as religiously as you would one with an Adeptus, or Rex Lapis himself. Each book that you enjoyed, you meticulously brought to him as though an offering, and each time, he seemed to have something to offer of his own. A book about the Five Yaksha, tales of the Dragon King, the legend of how Guyun Stone Forest was formed, memoirs from Guili Assembly — Zhongli always had some twist of his own to add to the stories.

“Did you know that before they came to serve Rex Lapis, the Yaksha were bound to a cruel, tyrannical God? Yet when they were freed, they chose to honor a contract to protect the humans of Liyue. How admirable.”

“Precious few stories speak of it, but the Dragon King was not sealed by Rex Lapis due to a disagreement, but rather, because he broke a contract. What contract exactly? Well, I can’t be ruining too many books for you now, can I, Hansi?”

“These illustrations of the spears that originally comprise Guyun Stone Forest are… certainly interesting. Why did they deem that stone spears formed from the essence of Geo themselves would possess tassels and a ribbon? I doubt that during the Archon War, Rex Lapis had time to consider the appearance of his weapons.”

“My my, these books certainly are taking their liberties with their descriptions of the Goddess of Dust. Kind, yes, gentle, perhaps, but weak? Why, is the Guizhong Ballista not one of the most powerful mechanisms in all of Liyue, even thousands of years after it was built? I would truly like to see what these authors consider strength.”

Each time you marveled at his vast pools of knowledge, Zhongli would, without fail, exhale deeply and smile his small smile. “I have a good memory,” was always his explanation. You couldn’t help but wonder just how many books the man had read in his lifetime — and where he found the time to do anything else.

While you were frequently more than impressed by his reserve of stories, the sentiment did not seem to extend to others in Liyue. More than one time had you and Zhongli been escorted, forcibly, from the Third-Round Knockout after your companion stood up to correct the storyteller on the stage.

The first time, you were mortified, though by the sixth you had learned to laugh it off as breezily as Zhongli did.

—-------------------

Sometimes, you recalled your earliest days at Zhongli’s house; how he had told you that your first order of business was to recover your health.

You had recovered, and so, what was next to come?

The house was always spotless despite the increasing number of items that Zhongli seemed to bring home each day from his walks. More than once, you reflected on his claims that he needed household help, and realized that he may not have been entirely truthful.

On particularly bad days, when the haze of doubt threatened to overtake every logical thought in your mind, you waited for his gaze to turn cruel, for his fingers to grip you painfully and for him to take whatever he wanted.

Yet — never did he so much as touch you.

—-------------------

The Vision sat as heavily in your conscience as it did in your bedside table.

You opened the drawer frequently to stare at the thing, more of a plague on you than a blessing, at this point. If you could not use it, then it was just an ornament — an ornament that put your amicable acquaintanceship with Zhongli at risk.

If he were to find out on his own, it would be so much worse than if you’d told him. The very notion of hurt, betrayal and fury in those amber eyes was almost too much for you to hear.

And so, one day, you decided that it would simply be best if you told him.

—-------------------

You rehearsed a script for hours on end, trying to guess each and every one of Zhongli’s potential reactions. Certainly, he would be upset, perhaps disappointed. You were almost sure that he would not hurt you over the discovery. And even if he did, perhaps it wouldn’t be anything you didn’t deserve, for lying for so long.

When you were finally ready, your knock on his door was answered by a deep, rich, “yes?”

You had never seen the inside of Zhongli’s room before, and so as you pushed the door open, you couldn’t help the way your heart leapt at the idea of seeing more of the man, learning more about him.

Your gaze first laid upon his face, edged silver in the moonlight. Then, immediately, it trailed downwards, to his shoulders, then—

Zhongli wasn’t wearing even a scrap of clothing.

“Oh,” he said, slightly raised brows betraying nothing but mild surprise, “I was changing.”

Wordlessly, you slammed the door shut and returned to your room.

—-------------------

When Zhongli came knocking ten minutes later, you were still a little dazed.

“Come in,” you called, and as he entered you were somewhat relieved to see that he was clad in his usual four layers of clothing. “Do you see how I said come in, Mr Zhongli? Because I wasn’t changing?”

“I believe what I said was ‘yes’.” It was never easy to tell what Zhongli was thinking, with his carefully neutral expression, but was there a small smile in his voice there?

“You can’t—“ you realized with a certain degree of shock at how casually you had begun to address Zhongli. (You searched yourself for fear, and found none.) “—You can��t just say ‘yes’ when what you mean is ‘hang on, I’m completely nude!’”

“I do apologize. I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” Zhongli said, and there was absolutely, definitely a small smile in his voice there. “What is it you wanted to tell me, Hansi?”

You opened your mouth, but paused.

In the darkness of his room, you had barely been able to make out what seemed to be odd lines down his arms and chest — tattoos? You hadn’t expected a nobleman like him to be so covered in them. But more importantly, in the few seconds you had beheld Zhongli’s well-toned form, you had seen what you knew all too well — scars, raked across his torso, stomach, legs, the raised tissue gleaming under the moonlight.

He had mentioned he had been fighting all his life, that he had been a soldier— but it was difficult to imagine even the Millelith facing foes so formidable that it could have left such injuries, and so many. What could have hurt him so badly?

What was he hiding from you?

The way he was looking at you expectantly suddenly felt strangely alien; the same Zhongli you had come to know and trust, but— not quite.

And so, you swallowed your question about the Vision. “Xiangling wanted me to get a backpack,” you said instead, “for when we gather herbs. Do you think it would be okay if we got one next time, Mr. Zhongli? I promise to pay you back for it when I earn enough Mora.”

“Hansi,” he said, after his usual few seconds of careful studying, and he sounded so concerned that it was almost comical. “Whatever gave you the impression that you would be forced to pay for anything of the sort while living under my roof?”

—-------------------

Perhaps in a valiant attempt to dissuade you of your sudden preoccupation with paying for things, Zhongli began to shower you with them. The first of the gifts was a beautiful bookmark, a thin piece of metal shaped to look like the Xiao lanterns of the Lantern Rite. It seemed to glow iridescent under lamplight, and you loved it so much that you carried it everywhere you went, the same way you never took off your glaze lily necklace.

Once Zhongli had ascertained that you did not mind gifts, and in fact enjoyed them, the floodgates swung open. Over the next few weeks, he would bring you various small items each time he returned from work or a walk: a Noctilucuous Jade hairpin, a painting of Luhua Pool, a golden gemstone that he called “Prithiva Topaz”, a small and surprisingly heavy pillar-shaped charm which he claimed came from a formidable monster from Guyun Stone Forest—

And on the most barren days, when the bustling markets of Liyue offered nothing that could meet Zhongli’s most particular standards, he would bring home various steamed buns, fresh fruit, and beverages, noting with keen amber eyes which ones were your favorites. Today, he had brought back a pitcher of “the finest gui’hua tea Liyue has to offer”.

Sitting in a room full of memorabilia that Zhongli had picked out for you, and sipping hot tea that warmed you to your core, you began to understand the feeling of home.

—-

The men were furious. You could feel their blunt rage in the air, tense enough to cut with a blade. If your wrists weren’t tied up, you might have been able to make a run for it.

“Welcome back. Do you know how much you cost us?” They snarled, one, two, three, four pairs of eyes staring you down. In the back, you could see the man with the scar on his eyebrow, the one who had escorted you to Zhongli. “Are you ready to pay us back?”

“Where is Mr. Zhongli?” You managed to whisper.

“Don’t you remember? He got tired of you,” they sneered in unison. “Surely you didn’t think someone like you would be enough to satisfy his appetite?”

Desperately, you shook your head. “He wouldn’t have. What did you do to him?”

One of them stepped forward and slapped you so hard that you briefly see white. “How stupid can you get?” His jaw cracked open into an unnatural, teeth grin, and the others followed suit all at once. “To start to trust, to start to dream ?”

You tried to back away, but your knees would not move. They were close enough to touch now, and together, like one grotesque entity, they reached out. “You should know better by now. You should know your place .”

Before their melting, festering fingers could touch your skin, you opened your mouth and screamed for Zhongli.

—-------------------

Across the house, Zhongli’s eyes snapped open, casting the room in a golden glow.

It wouldn’t be the last, but that had been the first time you had called him simply by his name.

—-------------------

You woke up to Zhongli calling yours, and couldn’t help the violent flinch that shook your shoulders when you saw him looming over you. The relief you felt at recognizing Zhongli’s silhouette was unimaginable.

“I heard you calling my name,” Zhongli said, raising both palms in a placating gesture. “Are you alright? Were you having a nightmare?”

Was that all it was; a dream? Your throat was hoarse — the screaming certainly wasn’t dreamed — and your chest raw from the fear and desperation. It felt like your skull was stuffed with cotton. Blindly, you reached out, relief washing away the last vestiges of the social norms instilled within you.

“You didn’t send me back?” You whispered, clutching at any patch of silk and skin you could find. “You didn’t leave?”

“No,” Zhongli met your fingers with his, holding your hand in a firm, gentle grip. He wasn’t wearing gloves, you realized absently. “Never.”

You stayed there for a few long seconds— or was it minutes? “Don’t go,” you begged when he began to pull away. Your eyelids were growing heavy, but the lingering haze of fear had you terrified of going to sleep again. “Please, don’t go.”

You heard the sound of a chair being dragged across the floor. “I’m here, Hansi,” Zhongli said, as you watched him sit down next to your bed. He was still holding your hand. “Get some rest. I will be with you.”

Zhongli’s rich, clear voice resonated through every inch of your body. You trusted him, you realized, letting your eyes shut. You would trust him with every breath of your being.

—-------------------

When you dreamed again, you found yourself in an endless land of clouds.

Zhongli sat in the midst of it all, eyes closed, unmoving. The soft glow of stars formed a nimbus of gold and dust around his temples. His chest rose and fell gently, and you were certain that you would see no better embodiment of peace for the rest of your life, not even if you lived for a thousand years.

You wanted to call out to him, but to break the tranquility of the moment seemed unforgivable.

And so for the rest of the night, you watched him breathe; and you were content.

#zhongli #zhongli fanfiction #genshin #zhongli x reader #zhongli fanfic #fragile as dust #my writing #anqi writes

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 3 years

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We've Got Tonight - Ch 5

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This story is set hazily around season 8. Just squint a little, and it’ll settle in somewhere. I wrote this story after certain big revelations in the show, but before other big ones; you’ll most likely be able to tell which. I play with time a bit in the story itself, so if things seem out of order, they are. Hopefully, by the end, all the pieces will fit together.

What the hell, let’s give it a shot.

Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

This chapter in particular is dedicated to @foxyjwls007 . If I'm going to torture you with something, it's not going to be a cliffhanger. I'm going out of town for two weeks, so you get an update early since I won't be able to post while I'm away. Thank you for the encouragement.

In case you missed it: Chapter 4 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

...

We’ve Got Tonight

Chapter 5

“Miss? Miss? Hey, are you okay?”

A hand grips Andy’s arm, firm but polite, and she jerks to, almost losing her footing. It’s been a long day already, and she still has two hours before she can go home, shower, and put her feet up for a little while before karaoke at the Brass Monkey starts up.

Maybe I can even fit in a nap, she thinks excitedly. But first, gotta wake up and make it through the rest of my shift.

Of course, if she hadn’t been tossing and turning all night from a crazy dream, she wouldn’t be as tired as she is now, but that’s neither here nor there. And it doesn’t help that she can’t even remember the stupid dream. It was really long, though, and there was blood and books and…someone...

“Can I get a refill over here?”

One hour, forty-seven minutes, and twenty-two seconds to go. She can do this.

The minutes crawl, though, and it’s all she can do to stay on her feet and focus. The lunch crowd has long since thinned, and she’s about to ask if she can maybe take off a little early when the door chimes, and she catches the tail end of the entering customers’ conversation.

“Could you at least consider putting something green on your plate? Like, ever? Broccoli won’t kill you.”

“I’ve already told you, I’m getting breakfast since you didn’t wake me up early enough to eat a decent one this morning. Pancakes, bacon, and coffee, which, I might add, grows on a tree, so it counts as a plant. That’s balanced enough for me. You like broccoli; knock yourself out, Jolly Green.”

“Sam isn’t green, Dean. Is your vision faulty? Perhaps we should get your eyes examined. Or you could try carrots along with the broccoli. Carrots are supposed to improve vision.”

No. No, no, no, she thinks, her mind whirling frantically. It was a dream, they can’t be here. This is...this is how it started, and...

She turns, and there they are, Sam and Dean dolled up in their clean, pressed feds suits and Cas looking just as rumpled and bewildered as she suddenly remembers. They seat themselves at an empty table in her section, but any thoughts of leaving early evaporated the second she heard their voices.

Every moment of the dream, every minute of those four weeks comes screaming back, cramming each terror-laden, tension-ridden second into her mind so fast she actually does stumble and has to grab the back of a nearby booth to keep from hitting the worn-out linoleum.

“It...hasn’t happened yet.”

“I’m sorry, did you say something? Hey, hey, hold on there. Are you okay?”

Then Sam’s hand is supporting her elbow, helping her straighten up, and she looks up into his concerned eyes, unable to express how glad she is just to see him breathing. Behind him, Dean and Cas are arguing about something trivial, wonderfully animated and alive and completely unaware of her.

“I’m sorry, hun, it’s just been a long shift. Gimme a minute to grab some waters and menus, and I’ll be right over.” Sam accepts her flimsy excuse at face value, and why wouldn’t he? He hasn’t lived with her for the better part of a month, hasn’t saved her life once, hasn’t tried to save the world with her. He doesn’t know her at all.

Why should he question a strange waitress in a strange diner who says she’s had a long day? He’s met hundreds of women just like her, maybe thousands, and he’s got no reason to question a completely legitimate statement.

She rushes into the back to find the coldest water possible to splash on her face. Her reflection gapes back at her from the staff bathroom mirror as the enormity of her situation begins to dawn on her.

Why? Why is this happening? Either she actually lived through those weeks and is somehow getting a do-over, or she dreamed the whole thing and is getting a shot to fix things from this end. But why? And how?

How in the hell?

Think, Andrea, think. It was real. It will be real. It hasn’t happened yet. You haven’t screwed everything up yet. You have to fix this. But how? How can I fix it when I screwed everything up so very badly last time?

Just...think. Think. Start small. Try to stop it before it happens. But...the cult. Crowley said they were real. They found me before, they’ll find me again. I could talk to Sam and Dean and Cas about what's going to happen. They’ve been through enough insanity in their lives that I actually have a pretty good shot at convincing them.

She stares into the mirror, racking her brain for every helpful detail she learned during her time with the Winchesters.

They're already investigating all the break-ins hereabouts; those were the cultists looking for me in the first place. Then they find me, take me, bleed me, and start the apocalypse. The boys could stop the ritual before it even happens.

Her reflection in the mirror frowns, unconvinced the solution could possibly be that easy.

But the literature, the books, it’s all still out there. Someone else could find it, could come after me. My blood is the problem. I’m the key. As long as I’m around, someone could still use me to end everything. Crowley can still use me to get to them. Think. You’ve got to actually stop everything and save them this time.

Her eyes widen as realization dawns. The world can’t make it without the Winchesters. There’s only one way out of this.

Fifteen minutes later, she sets a fresh green salad in front of Sam before dropping a towering stack of steaming pancakes in front of Dean.

“Fresh pot of coffee coming off in two, be right back with your refills. Need any more butter or syrup, hun? How ‘bout a couple of extra pieces of bacon on the house?”

“Don’t encourage him, please,” Sam groans. Dean slaps his brother on the back of the head, sending Sam’s coiffed hair into a tizzy of disarray. Sam swipes back at his brother, who waves off Sam’s attempts at retaliation like he’s swatting a fly.

“You shut your pie hole. She said free bacon. That makes her a queen.” He turns his most charming smile on her, glancing down at her name tag then back up to meet her gaze squarely. The crinkles around his eyes deepen with his grin. “Andrea, is it?”

“Andy,” she corrects automatically, and she can’t help her answering smile. He throws her a wink that clearly says he knows he’s cheesy but it's all part of his irresistible charm.

She doesn’t disagree.

“You are a goddess, Andy. I love you, and you need to know that.”

“You don’t,” she says, only just managing to keep her voice and smile level, “but you could.” His answering laugh sends a twinge through her chest, and if she clenches her jaw a little around her smile, she figures she’s entitled.

When the men finally finish eating, she offers a slip of paper to Dean, while Sam pretends he isn’t rolling his eyes.

“There’s a karaoke competition at the Brass Monkey tonight. Winner gets tab on the house for a week. Interested in maybe meeting up there around ten or so? We could have a drink, sing a song, and see where the rest of the night takes us.”

He grins and takes the slip from her with sure fingers. She’s certain he has her number memorized before the paper even retains his prints, but he makes a special show of tucking it safely into his pocket.

“Dean, do you think it wise to allow yourself to be so distracted when we’re in the middle of an investigation?”

And without even realizing it, Cas gives her the perfect opening.

“Oh, you boys investigating all the break-ins hereabouts? Were they too much for our local boys to handle? Listen, hun, my friend was one of the ladies whose house got broken into. If you want to stick around for a few minutes, I can fill you in on what I know and send you her way. Would that help?”

Castiel’s eyebrows lift in surprise, and he is clearly pleased with his first-rate investigating skills. “That would help immensely, Miss Andrea. Thank you.”

She can’t believe her luck at such a perfect lead-in, and she runs with it.

“Now that I think about it, the shop next door mentioned something about their alarm getting tripped a few nights in a row. Maybe I could talk to your friend while you two check it out? And I’ll see you tonight, Dean? Ten o’clock?”

Dean’s grin softens, and she can see the faintest tinge of red along his cheeks. She didn’t notice it the first time around, and now she wishes she’d paid more attention. Then the brothers leave, and she’s alone with the angel. ...

Chapter 6

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escxpedes · 4 years

Text

loopholes (cont.)

I literally can’t even begin to tell you how much everyone’s support meant to me on the last chapter. All your comments and tags were so sweet, it was seriously the highlight of my day. I’m sorry for the delay, I meant to get this out a couple of days ago, but I’ve come down with a bad cold. This part, while fun, was so hard to get right. Angus Macgyver is a genius, his mind goes a mile a minute, and I wanted to do my best to replicate that. This part is a little slow in getting to the Macriley stuff, but I wanted to show how much he really thinks about things. He’s such a complex character, that if I didn’t do him justice, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself. Also, there’s dialogue in this one! Sadly, Jack isn’t mentioned in this chapter, but he’s there in spirit. Clearly, we all love and miss him. I hope you guys enjoy, the last part will be out soon! x

loop·hole

noun | A loophole is an ambiguity or inadequacy in a system, such as a law or security, which can be used to circumvent or otherwise avoid the purpose, implied or explicitly stated, of the system

Riley finally moves into her new apartment, but struggles to adjust after the events of Codex and the realization of her feelings for Mac. When Mac finds her passed out over her keyboard after a late night of coding at Phoenix, he decides a talk is long overdue. Just some slightly angsty soft!macriley to help you cope with this season 5 hiatus.

of lips that i am yet to kiss (and eyes not met my own.)

It's highly unlikely that you'll find Mac walking down the halls of the Phoenix Foundation so late at night. Without the bustling energy of his coworkers fetching important documents or discussing the best way to break down one of the many mysteries the foundation deals with, the darkened hallways and quiet atmosphere can be unnerving.

Sure, he spends nearly every waking hour employed there, but he'd rather be outside the office in different countries, doing hands-on work and saving lives. When you work in his profession, It can be difficult to separate business and pleasure, but that only makes it more important—if only to conserve what mental health he has left.

However, in the haste of putting together last-minute preparations for yet another meeting with the Department of Justice and trying to make it back to his house in time for something Desi whipped up, he managed to forget his cellphone.

It's funny, mainly because of how little the small device truly matters to Mac.

It only goes to show how insignificant material objects, or even human beings in general, are. The idea that something so meaningless can affect someone's life so much when, if they just looked past that obsession and considered its part in the profound scope of the universe, another perspective would take shape.

It's fascinating stuff, really.

There's a concept essential to understanding Japanese aesthetics, otherwise known as an ancient set of ideals important to Japanese society, called Yūgen. When applied in the right context, Yūgen underlines this deep awareness of the universe and the experiences we have within it. It's often the feeling interpreted when you gaze at the stars late at night or watch the sunset dip behind a hill.

Mac wouldn't think twice before breaking his phone, or rather, breaking the phone of his nearest friend, open for an obscure part that might make one of his many homemade devices come together. However, when he's the only person able to communicate the scientific specifications of an unheard-of-until-recently base plan for saving the planet, he's practically on call 24/7.

He remembers having it in the labs earlier that day when he stopped by before his meeting to remind Bozer to come by his house on Friday for the team's new weekly attempt in group-bonding.

After the betrayals that surfaced during the climax of taking down Codex, the team collectively decided to spend more time as a group in hopes of eliminating any lingering doubts.

They used to hang out all the time before the government dismantled the Phoenix Foundation.

Mac still can't believe that, after everything they had been through, he allowed his friendships to dissipate over the year they had been separate.

Bozer is his childhood best friend, and Riley had become a solid foundation in his life. He didn't have anyone outside his team at Phoenix, and while he deeply cared for Desi, their first relationship was proof that too much time—and too little communication—with each other can do severe damage to one's sanity.

If Russ hadn't brought them back together, would they have tried to reconnect at some point?

Mac wants to say they would have but wouldn't blame them if they didn't; they all lost something they cared about, and each served as a constant reminder of it.

It would've been hard, but part of him feels like living without them is a lot harder.

When he manages to access the lab, flipping his shiny new I.D. card over his fingers and into its place in his wallet, his eyes scan the room. It's empty, which isn't unusual at this time, but years of military training have rewired his brain to notify him of threats, even if there aren't any.

Just like he thought it would be, the device sits untouched a few tables behind Bozer's workspace where Mac had been sitting.

Quickly, because he left the house in a hurry and forgot to leave a note, he scoops up his phone and makes his way towards the exit. There's a couple of missed calls, but it doesn't seem like he missed anything too important.

Not that they would let him.

At any rate, they would probably show up on his doorstep if they couldn't get a hold of him. With days off so few and far between, that's the kind of interaction he's hoping to avoid. Hence, why he came to pick up his phone when he realized it was missing instead of waiting until the next day.

He's nearly made it to the end of the hall when a light flashes in his peripheral vision, coming from the I.T. department.

His body is tense with apprehension; his mind races with several different kinds of possibilities and outcomes. He slows his pace, his movements fluid, silent, and controlled from years of stealth practice.

The light is soft, he notices, as if only one or two monitors are in use.

When he gets to the doorway and nudges open the door, hands at the ready, his entire body sags in relief to see the dark wavy hair he's come to associate with one of his closest friends.

"Riles?"

The nickname falls from his mouth before he can stop it, and even though the light from the monitor creates a halo above her head, shadowing her features, it's unmistakably her.

She doesn't move.

It becomes abundantly clear why as Mac moves towards her and notices the monitor's screen filling up with a sequence of letters that look nothing like coding despite his lack of knowledge in programming languages.

Her elbow balances precariously on the edge of the table, her arms creating a makeshift pillow for her head. The weight of her forearm bears down on the keyboard, causing the side of her hand to press down multiple keys at once.

He shakes his head a little, amused by the situation unfolding.

Her cheek rests comfortably on her hand, a serene expression masking the signs of exhaustion that showed on her face.

Mac's lips curved into a soft smile, seeing Riley in any state that wasn't cloaked in layers of worry or anxious determination always washed away any doubts he might have about working in such a stressful field.

The scars that covered his body, the secrets he has to keep, and the pain he has to endure are so unbelievably worth it as long as she out of harm's way and able to sleep peacefully.

Of course, he couldn't imagine anyone else by his side on a mission, knowing they share the same love and passion for kicking ass and saving lives.

However, he also knows that more lies underneath the surface.

He wouldn't wish the hardships of this job on anyone. Seeing it affect someone he cares about, watching it break them down slowly pulls at his heartstrings and fills him with a knowing sadness.

When a piece of hair falls into her face, his fingers don't hesitate to gently brush it behind her ear, lightly tracing her cheekbone and caressing her cheek.

Kneeling, his hand drops to her shoulder in an attempt to gently wake her.

After a couple of shakes, the expressive brown eyes he's come to look forward to seeing begin to flutter open and nearly render him speechless.

She blinks a couple of times, inhaling slowly, "Macgyver."

Her voice is full of sleep and breaks from misuse, but the way she says his name—like there's nobody else she'd expect to see when she wakes up —has him grinning from ear to ear.

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

Rising from her position on the table, she scans the room before meeting his eyes and scoffing, "It's hardly the morning."

He laughs softly, holding back the urge to mention that technically it is morning considering its past twelve. Instead, he focuses on the matter at hand, or more likely, the question at hand.

"What are you doing here so late?"

She's more alert now, sitting back in her chair and lifting her arms to stretch out the muscles that stiffened while she slept, glancing at her work on the monitor.

Her face drops into a grimace when she notices her mistake, "Matty and I were talking about updating the foundation's firewall and spyware," she yawns, "I must have been more tired than I realized."

Mac's eyebrows scrunch in thought, remembering something Bozer said earlier about Riley spending quite a few nights this week working late.

Between going over his mother's scientific data, trying to patch up whatever relationship he had left with Desi, and making sure he didn't go off the rails with grief, his effort to check in on everyone decreased significantly.

"Yeah, you've been doing that a lot lately," his hand returned to her shoulder to emphasize his point, "Everything okay?"

She waves him off, "There's too much work that needs to be done around here before we can get things running the way they used to."

Riley doesn't lie to him—if you overlook the whole situation with her ex, Aubrey, that is, but the movements she's making indicate otherwise.

Her eyes refuse to meet his, flickering down and to the right. When she talks, her head shakes lightly, and she purses her lips in an attempt to give off a careless impression. Maybe someone who doesn't know her or didn't train to pick up on it would believe her, but he knew better.

She was definitely hiding something from him.

Part of him understands that if she wanted to talk about it, she would. However, his instincts urge him to press harder, locate the problem, and bring back her contagious smile that always seems to fill him with warmth.

As much as he doesn't want to admit it, you can't patch some things together by sheer will and sellotape, so instead, he stands up and drops his hand from her shoulder.

"Let's get you home."

#macgyver #macriley #angus macgyver #riley davis #i really hope you like this

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carryonmywaywardwriters · 4 years

Text

One Day At A Time - Jensen x Reader

A/N: And there’s part nine! I did some changes, since I didn’t like the original flow. Made it a bit longer. If you’d like to be tagged, please send an ask or message. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Widower!Jensen. Grief. Minor Character death. Character pregnancy. Mentions of sex.

Word Count: Roughly 2,500

“Spending all my nights alone, waiting for you to call me. You're the only one I want by my side when I fall asleep. Tell me what I'm waiting for,” You sang along to the Brockhampton song as you drove. Taking the long way home as the kids grumbled in the back over who the favorite was. As if such a thing really existed.

It was easier to stay away as the temperatures spiked. Taking the kids out to parks. Out swimming. Anything that'd keep your mind off of the flashes plaguing your mind. Brushing it away as a dream would've been easier if you didn't have to see the way Jensen glanced your way every time you entered a room. Regret shining in the emerald.

A heavy sigh left you you glanced down towards your midsection. Stress. It's just stress.

Your eyes moved back over to the wore out doodle in your passenger seat. He let out a huff for the ages, making your lip twitch upwards. At least there was one creature holding up.

The music paused, drawing your eyes to the screen. Silencing the children more effectively than any scolding could've. Jensen's name dancing tauntingly across it.

“Y/N!” You didn't even get to say a word before his voice crashed over. Frantic rambling followed. So fast you couldn't quite make it out through the worried kids in the back.

Without missing a beat, the phone was pressed to your ears. Taking control of the situation as best as you could, “Jay...I need you to say that, again. But, a little slower, 'kay? What the hell's going on?”

“I came home for lunch. And Icarus...he isn't doing so good. I've got him at the vet...but they...” He couldn't finish the thought. But, you were able to piece it together. The cockapoo wasn't going to pull through.

“What's the address?” You pulled over. Plugging it into the navigation system while Justice Jay took the reins. Trying to quiet the younger two so she could snoop. “I'm ten minutes out, okay? Is anyone there?”

“Ye...yeah, Jared's here.” The way he choked back the words tugged onto your heart strings as you threw the vehicle back in drive. “But...I think...the kids...”

“I get it,” They hadn't gotten to say goodbye to their mother. He wanted to ensure they got to with her dog. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes.

A low whimper came across the speaker, “Shhhh...” The heartbreak in the actor's voice was audible. “It's okay, buddy.” Another crack followed, “Y/N...Thank you.”

It was impossible to explain to the kids where you were going without a tear running down your cheek. The little dog was so much more than just a pet. He was another family member leaving. Another piece of Danneel.

All of the excitable energy drained from the vehicle. By the time you arrived, all beings were somber. Jared walked out the door, catching you as you stepped out. “I've got them...he wants to talk to you.”

Unable to muster more than a nod, you blinked away the moisture in your eyes. Stuffing your hands into your pockets, you made your way inside. As soon as the door creaked open, the sweet, dewy scent of roses mixed with the impossible to hide disinfectant.

Your mind drifted back to the hospital. Just after the call had come through. The fear from every member of the family. How Justice's hand had trembled in yours as she asked where her mom was, desperately. As though she'd known before Jensen had pulled himself together enough to update you.

“Can I help you?” A gentle voice shoved away the haunting memory. Your eyes landed on the candle on the desk. Lit by a sign saying a family was loosing a member. Asking for quiet. The receptionist followed your gaze. “Are you with Icarus?” Another, pained nod was all you could manage. “Can I have your name, please?”

“Y/N L/N.” Swallowing tightly, you steeled your back when she nodded for you to go through the door. Directing you to the room numbered. Walking back pushed the pressure deeper on your chest. As soon as the door opened, you were looking at his tear stained cheeks. “Hey-” Your words of comfort were cut short as you were crushed tightly in his arms. It hurt to breathe, but at least you could. A glance towards where Jensen had been sitting let you know that you were too late. “I...I'm sor...sorry.” Tears slid down your cheeks as you clung to him.

His head buried into your neck. Trying to hide away from the world. It was impossible to know how long you two stood there. Allowing the newest wave of grief crash over you. Comforting and taking consolation all at once. Gentle pats and desperate clutching alternating. But, eventually, he pulled back.

You felt him shift. Without thinking you brought your hand to the back of his neck as if to hold him there. But, that didn't prevent him from falling back. You dropped your grip and backed off as common sense returned.

“I, uh...” A shuttering breath left him as he tried to find his bearings. “I knew it was comin'...”

“But, it still hurts.” You finished for him. Turning your eyes away as you wiped your own face clean. “I know.” The tears left your nose plugged. Distorting your voice. A ragged laugh left the both of you at the sound of it.

A knock against the door frame reminded you that you hadn't even had time to close the door. “Sorry to interrupt,” The vet was a kind faced old man. Deep wrinkles around his eyes told a story of a man who'd laughed his way through life. And yet, he was somber as he walked in. Knowing the mood in the room. It was only confirmed when your hand was caught in Jensen's. Needing something to ground him. “I just wanted to check on you...see what you wanted to do.”

“Thank you,” In a moment, Dean Winchester stood in front of you. Stoic when his actor couldn't be. Face pulling up in that tight, pained smile that lined screens across the world. “We, uh...we'd like to bring him home. He's family.” You squeezed tightly in agreement.

“Danneel would've liked that.” It was nothing more than a whisper his way. At the name, your hand was dropped as if he'd been burned. “I, uh...The kids-”

“Shit...yeah.” Jared and them had been temporarily forgotten in the midst of pain. His gaze darted between the dog and you. Trying to go over everything that needed done. “I don't...don't want them to see him...not be him.” He wanted them to have the chance before he was gone. Not completely traumatize them. “You can-”

“They're gonna want you.” Clearing your throat, you stepped back. Giving yourself more space. “I'll...I'll deal with any paper work that needs done. Call Cliff and Mish if you need me to. Let them know what's going on.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, go ahead and take my car.” You shooed him out. Getting your bearings back together before following the vet out. Unable to look back into the room.

It didn't take much. A signature to confirm you were paying for the cremation and covering the exam that deemed him immediately terminal. Pain killers to keep him comfortable. Euthanizing hadn't been necessary. A simple swipe of your credit card ended everything.

Dusk was settling in as you approached Jared, “You didn't have to stay.”

“Yeah...I did.” Jensen's keys dangled from his finger. “Hop in.” With that, he opened the driver's door. You followed suit. Letting him take the lead. Too drained to fight for control of the car. “You okay?”

“Not really,” But, you'd have to be. For the kids. For Jensen. It sounded downright exhausting. “What happened to filming?”

“They knew we weren't coming back tonight.” His brow furrowed as he took in your skin. “You look kinda green.”

“Just the stress.” Your answer for everything. Leaning back against the leather, you closed your eyes. Trying to get a hold on yourself.

The answering grunt let you know that you weren't believed, “You need a night to tap out?”

“Nannies don't get a night to tap out.” But, you wanted it. The space to breathe. All at once, the urge to run was back.

Jared wasn't accepting that answer, “Yeah...they do. I have one, too. Remember?” You didn't respond. A deep, exaggerated sigh left him. “Listen...it's not my place...I know that. But, I worry about you.” Tension seeped into your body at those words. What does he know? “You need a place to crash and take a break? My trailer and apartment are open.” As if he could read your mind, he kept on going. “It's hard to parent full time.” Slowly, you peeped his way. His lips were drawn down in a worried frown.

“Do...do you think I'd be a horrible person if I took that offer, tonight?” It was a coward's move. Yet, the temptation was too great.

“No...No, I don't.” Jared answered. Settling deeper into his seat. “Couch or trailer?”

“Trailer.” Before you got there, you had a moment of clarity. The bright red sign against the darkening sky read like a bad omen. “Wait...Stop here. I need to grab something.”

“At CVS?”

–

“So, what's going on with you?” Gen plopped down onto the couch with in the Ackles home. Visiting Vancouver for her own cameo in the show. After all, what was a final season without Ruby? Fan service at its finest. Not that you minded.

Your fingers trailed over the light rips on the arm rest. The memories flashed again. His grunts above you. Fingers digging into your skin as yours tore at the fabric. Blinking them away, you zeroed back in at the exposed thread. Plucking your nails against it, you answered honestly. “I'm pregnant.”

The kids were in bed. Jensen was filming late. And Jared had their herd. There'd be no better time to spill the beans. At least, that's what you told yourself over the roar in your ears. Your chest ached at the heavy, fast beat of your heart.

“You're...” The actress couldn't even finish her statement. Staring at you in disbelief. Mirroring your reaction as you'd stared at the digital screen.

“That's what the home test said.” The loose thread snapped beneath your nail. Voice deadpan. As if you were talking about the weather rather than a clump of cells that'd turn human if you'd let it. “I have to figure something out. Fast.”

Genevieve was rarely at loss for words. And yet, she couldn't seem to find them. “Are you...how...”

“Sex, I suppose.” Drunken, stupid sex. You shook away the memories that threatened to take over, again. “I can't stay here, Gen.” Couldn't stay in Austin. You'd have to run far away. Voice breaking at the thought, you kept on. “I just...don't want anyone to know.”

It was starting to sink in. The way she sucked in her next breath said as much. “Who's the dad?”

“Doesn't matter.” You weren't going to say it. However, you couldn't stop your lip from quivering. “He...he wouldn't want a baby.” Truth be told you didn't know if you even did. The silent statement lingered between you.

“Y/N...” You hadn't realize your eyes watered. Couldn't felt the lip quiver. Not until she tugged you to her chest. “It's gonna be okay.”

“It was just once.” The bubbly sob wasn't enough to stop the words. Her hands soothed over your back. Attempting to chase away your demons. “I...I thought...I thought it was a dream.” A self-depricating laugh mixed with the pained gasp. “And then I kept seeing...seeing the evidence.” Jensen's scratches. The barbie that'd jammed against your leg. But, nothing had compared to the moment you'd found the strength to peek at the test. “And he...he doesn't even look at me.”

That hadn't been quite true. There'd been looks. Even more since images of you two at the vet had leaked from a nosy vet tech. Somehow worse than ignoring you completely. Ruefulness. Scorn. Dismissal. There was little doubt you were compared to his deceased wife. And found lacking in every manner. The thought of living with that for eighteen years? You'd promised yourself you'd never land in that shadow.

“You're sure?”

“I've never been more sure of anything...I've gotta go.” And yet, you couldn't help but to cling to her. To the life you'd fallen into.

–

“Dad!” Jensen pinched his eyes shut tight. Not quite in the right mindset to see his son. Dean's pain and frustration lingered beneath his surface. Too close to his own for him to quite shake.

Icarus had stirred up everything. When Dee had passed? He could always count on the quiet tap of toe nails to follow him to his room. Huff at his feet until he lifted him into the bed. The dog would curl into his chest. Nuzzling gently. Refusing to let him stay alone. Holding him through his grief. Even as he grew more senile. Weak. It never failed. Instead, all he had left was Oscar's deep sigh from the couch and an overly tired youngster staring up at him.

“Aren't you supposed to be in bed?” The way his son flinched back at the tone cut deep. Hurt lining a face too similar to his own. Full, overly red lips pulled down into a quiver. On the verge of tears. “Sorry, bud.” Rubbing his hand over his hair, he dropped down. “Daddy had...a rough day.”

“You, too?” Big, worried eyes bore into his. Too grown for his own good. Then, his tiny arms wrapped around Jensen's neck. The soft fabric from his t-rex dotted pajamas brushing against him. “I don't like it when Y/N cries. Please don't cry, too.”

“I'm not gonna cry, Zep.”

His son curled his face into his throat. Humming happily at the thought. Jensen ran his hand over the darkened locks. Comforting the boy with ease. Despite the fact he did want to cry. Desperately.

“I don't want Y/N to leave.” The actor froze at those words. His brows snapping back together. “A baby doesn't mean she has to leave, right, daddy?” The young boy had no idea that his father's blood had run cold. “We can keep them both! I'll share my room.”

Every possibility ran through Jensen's mind at the innocent question. Trying to come up with a viable explanation. “Aunt Gen is having the baby, bud-”

“Y/N said it!” He pushed back. Desperate to stand his ground. To make his dad understand just as he had. “I went to go potty, and she said the daddy wouldn't want the baby. So she had to go. But, you could be the daddy! So, she can stay... Right?”

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @screechingartisancashbailiff @woodworthti666 @coldmuffinbanditshoe

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger @lilulo-12 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @michaelneedssomemilk @lemondropirwin @fanfictionismydeath @neii3n @surmya1907 @deanwanddamons

ODAAT: @winchester-ofthe-lord @smoothdogsgirl @ima-be-a-mongoose @briagallen @my-proof-is-you @sucker-for-dean @blacktithe7 @thevelvetseries @deanwinchestersmydaddy @sociopathtime @deans-baby-momma @aomi-nabi @brandinicole911 @demonqueen47 @c-ly-g @bakabozza @socalgem1124 @hillface89 @winchester-fantasies @redwineloves @monkeymcpoopoo @mcshloemer

#supernatural #spn #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #jensen #jensen ackles #jensen fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen reader insert #jensen ackles reader insert #jensen x reader #Jensen x You #jensen x y/n #Jensen x Danneel #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x y/n

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littlemeowmeowschimmy · 5 years

Text

Sugar Daddy [Hoseok x Reader] 9

credit: littlemeowmeowschimmy

Requests opened // prev - m.list - next

Genre: Romance // Angst // Smut

Summary: A sudden request to be one of the most powerful man’s sugar baby comes apart of your life, it’s hard to turn it down. However, through the process of this relationship, you slowly start to feel for him..but then again, you become extremely wary of the position you’re in. Will this end well…?

WC: 2.3k

A/N: Ah sorry for whomever asked to be tagged. I wrote it down somewhere and then lost it D: Just send me a message (dm or through ask) and I’ll put you on the next chapter for the tag list! Anyways, here’s the next update, sorry loves it’s been awhile.

»»————-　★　————-««

You kept distancing yourself from Hoseok as the seasons started to change. Or so it felt like you were distancing yourself from him. Hoseok continued to get busier by the second, meaning that he didn’t have a lot of time for you. Which made you feel like you weren’t good enough in the first place. Although, despite not giving him what he wanted, Hoseok stayed good to his word. He continued to pay for your college tuition, and sending you gifts whenever he could.

Although those gifts were few and they weren’t big either. You were getting a little pessimistic as the air grew more relaxed, and your feelings for him grew distant. Everything seemed to be going well at work, despite your boss knowing what happened between you and Hoseok. That would forever be in the back of your mind as you sat there, trying to figure out what your next move would be. Of course, your career could be ruined even before you started it.

Small thoughts like such ran throughout your every being. You couldn’t help yourself, though, considering that you joined because of your best friend. Speaking of whom, Ayeong had her hands full with sophomore. For some reason, she found him to be attractive, humorous, and everything that was not someone her age. Although you couldn’t deny that his looks weren’t there, you had to step back just a little because of the age difference.

Yeah, it was only two years apart, but something about younger men didn’t appeal to you. However, you shouldn’t be speaking as Hoseok was and is only two years older than you are so you weren’t utterly unsatisfied with her decision. Ayeong often showed pictures of him whenever she decided to gush. Park Jimin was known for his excellent dance skills and innocent mind.

However, as Ayeong pointed out, he wasn’t so innocent in bed. Plus, what he was hiding under his clothes was something to look forward to as she often put it. Since your positions had flipped, you were on the receiving end of things. Listening to Ayeong speaks about how amazing Jimin was in bed, amongst other things. You were happy for your friend, but it certainly felt like you were missing apart from yourself.

Without Hoseok, everything just kind of went back to normal. The world wasn’t as “colorful,” as one would say. It felt like a rush with him, and since you weren’t getting it anymore...

The loud bang of your forehead hitting your desk took you from your thoughts. It was another sleepless night as you had purposefully pushed your final project to the side. Since the end of the semester was coming, you assumed that you would be able to fly by with perfect colors. Not have to worry about your final project as it was due months away. Now, since the deadline was only a couple of weeks instead of a couple of months, you were scrambling to get everything done.

The project was based around your dreams and aspirations. Your professor wanted you to get out of the box and think about things that weren’t so reality driven. The more creative, the better he’d often say. Now with your mind somewhere else, the innovative “juices” weren’t flowing. You sounded like a lovesick fool with how often you thought about Hoseok.

Hell, you even told yourself that you were beginning to become someone that you hated. Maybe you should have listened better during sex education when they talked about the hormones. Perhaps that’s what brought you closer to Hoseok, or perhaps it was because you were genuinely attracted to his personality. Hell, you had only known the man personally for what seemed like half the year.

Now that he was beginning to become distant, again, it just didn’t feel right. When you heard your phone go off, you groaned. Assuming that it was Ayeong calling, you didn’t bother to look at the ID.

“Ayeong, if you’re going to brag about Jimin’s dick, I don’t want to hear it.” You mumbled pressing your cheek against the wooden desk. What brought you to your senses was hearing a familiar chuckle from the other end. You immediately sat up straighter, a light flush escaping your cheeks.

“Whomever this Jimin person is,” Hoseok started in a honey tone. “I’m sure he has a lot to show if Ayeong is cooing over him.”

“I - um - Hoseok -“ You paused fumbling over your words and scrambling to get up. it was almost as if you were seeing him at the front door with how quickly your body reacted to him. “I mean Mr.Jung, I’m sorry about that.” You mentioned pushing your desk chair in and then fixing the cardigan on your shoulders. Hoseok just clicks his tongue in response, later shifting from wherever he sat.

You could picture him in his bedroom, leaning against the doorway out to the patio. Seoul’s lights were flickering from below and his face lightened by the moon. It was almost too stereotypical to picture him holding a glass of whiskey or wine, but you could’ve seen him without one. He seemed to drink a lot whenever you were around, but it was in moderation.

Although, you remembered him telling you about the drinking problem in his family. Why he only had a couple of glasses a night, or sometimes not any at all. Pushing that aside, you too moved towards your small patio. Opening the door just a crack to feel the cool breeze outside. But with how the smog was lately, you couldn’t have it open for far too long...

“It’s good to hear your voice Y/n,” he spoke, bringing the glass up to his lips, then gently set it down. Your heart was beating a thousand times in your chest as it felt like you were on the phone with the love of your life. Or some silly little school crush.

“Right back at ya,” you nervously laughed pushing your doors shut then moving around back towards your bed. You shifted towards the middle, bringing your back to the wall and your knees up to your chest. There, you drummed your fingers along your knees, eyes scanning everywhere so you wouldn’t focus on one thing.

The silence was starting to get to you both, as it seemed like it would eat you two alive. No one said anything for a while, both of you thinking about different things. Hoseok was thinking about how to invite you over to something, and you were thinking about how and why he was calling you. The second you decided to open your mouth, so did Hoseok and it certainly felt like you two were in a cheesy movie together.

Hoseok chuckled once again, the sound sending your heart into your throat and your cheeks to brighten. When he offered that you go first, the silence took back over. How were you going to tell him that you were upset with him not making any contact? Maybe if you were, to be honest with him, that solve your problems, but then again, you were afraid of confrontation.

“Y/n,” Hoseok starts picking the glass of wine up again. “Is something the matter?” he questions pursing his lips.

“Yeah..actually there is.” You slowly started after his question. Since his silence was an answer to your own, you decided to tell him everything. Pieces that you thought would at least spark a conversation. You explained to him how you didn’t particularly enjoy being distant from him.

Although, you continued to stress that you understood why he was distant. Being a CEO wasn’t precisely a laid back kind of job. So you just rambled on for what seemed like an hour and a half but was only twenty minutes. Hoseok patiently waiting and listening as you spilled your guts out to him. Now you certainly felt like you were in a cheesy rom-com with him.

Especially when the line went silent again and the only thing you could hear was the ticking from your clock. When Hoseok didn’t answer, you called out to him. Only to get a grunt and then a sigh on the other end. You could hear him call out to someone, but you couldn’t quite hear their name.

When whomever he called out to got closer, Hoseok mentioned that he needed his car out front. That’s when you put two and two together and abruptly tried to stop him.

“Wait - I don’t think coming over is a good -“

“No, I need to explain myself in person. Plus I haven’t seen you. Be there in twenty.” then he hung up.

»»————-　★　————-««

“This feels way too much like a romcom,” You mentioned when Hoseok broke down your door. He glanced in between you and what was left of your crummy apartment’s door. Since his key wasn’t working, he decided to use his muscles and break the door.

Or what was around your door so he could get in. Meaning you would have to explain to your landlady why there was a gigantic hole in your front door. This also meant that someone could easily take your things during the night if you didn’t lock your place upright. Hoseok inspected the door once again, tilting his head to the side and puffing his cheeks out.

The way he did so reminded you of a little child when they were in trouble. You couldn’t help but giggle at the small gesture, but then quickly back peddle when he glances at you. Hoseok determined that everything was okay and there was nothing to fret about. However, everything wasn’t okay as you had a gigantic hole in your door, but that was beside the point.

“Just hear me out.”

��I kind of have to now.” You mentioned stuffing your hands into your pajama pants. Hoseok gave a devilish smirk before slowly creeping his way forwards.

“You are right,” he starts biting his lower lip. How it empathized with his front teeth and made him look like he was a pouty baby. You stood there, heart still beating a thousand times in your chest. “My schedule did get crazy, and I should have warned you,” he mentions rubbing the back of his neck.

“But, I was also advised to stay away from you,” he mentions now taking a step back as he could see the color start to drain from your face. Who would advise him to stay away? Hoseok was his person, and he should be able to make decisions on his own. Once again, you noted that he was apart of a family company. One in which his father built from the ground and then he took over, at such a young age you might add.

“So you are continuing to pay for my tuition,” you mentioned trying to put the pieces together. “But you aren’t talking to me. Yeah, that kind of adds up if you think about it.” You mumbled noting once again that Hoseok heard you. Hoseok brings a few fingers up to the bridge of his nose and then shakes his head. He then goes on to explain what your boss had told about the cameras.

Then, going on to explain what you feared the most. Your career would when you hadn’t even started it. From the outside, it seemed like Hoseok was doing the right thing. He was protecting you and caring for you from far away, even though he didn’t have to. He was your Sugar Daddy. He was supposed to get sexual favors from you, and you were supposed to get things in return.

This wasn’t a relationship, nor should it have ever been. Hoseok did mention tha the had never done something like this before, so he wasn’t sure how it was supposed to turn out. However, falling in love with someone else wasn’t mainly in the plan. Or was he falling in love with the idea of you? These were questions he was asking himself while also trying to keep his distance. It was the real reason he didn’t contact you for such a long time.

Not the bullshit that he was telling you right now. However, from his point of view, it seemed like you were taking it well and weren’t asking many questions. Although, you did give him a snarky remark and he wasn’t completely okay with that. But, he wasn’t going to let his emotions take over the situation as he didn’t want to lose someone valuable in his life.

When he finished explaining the entirety of your fear, the last piece clicked into its rightful place. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, your eyes leaving him and trying to look somewhere else. This isn’t what you were expecting from tonight, but then again beggars cannot be choosers.

“So what I’m getting from you,” is what your mouth started to say as your brain was still processing all of this. “Is that you don’t want to continue this..”

“Not,” Hoseok mentioned crossing his arms. “But I’m telling you what the risks are and the fears. I’m also explaining to you why I stayed away for such a long time.” There was still uncertainty; however you could understand where he was coming from.

You weren’t at all sure where that left you and him. Which is why when he slowly started to bring up inviting you out to an event, you narrowed your eyes in his direction. You were unsure of where all of this was coming from, yet you didn’t know how to feel about him asking you to go out with him. After everything he just said, he too seemed uncertain about a lot of things. Now he was starting to play it off like everything was okay?

“I’m going to have to think about it Hoseok.” You mentioned bringing a hand up to your hair, ruffling it just a little and then setting it back on your chest. Hoseok nods his head, then stands there awkwardly.

“One more thing...” he mentions his face contorting into somewhat of an innocent expression.

“If you don’t mind..I need a place to crash. My back tire is completely flat.” and it was at this moment, you wanted to hural your kitchen table at him.

#littlemeowmeowschimmy #bangtanarmynet #bts #bangtan #bts series #bangtan series #bts au #bangtan au #bts sugar daddy #bangtan sugar daddy #jung hoseok #jung hoseok x reader #hoseok x reader #bts hoseok #bts jhope #reader insert #bts x reader #bts reader insert

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bittysvalentines · 5 years

Text

Three Times Jack Zimmermann Saw Eric Bittle Without Meeting Him (Plus One Time Jack Didn't See Him but They Met Anyway)

From: @missweber

To: @n3rdyl4cy

Pairing: Eric Bittle/Jack Zimmermann

Tags: eventual meet cute, slow burn before ever meeting, implied homophobia, references to unsupportive parents, coming out, cameo appearance by Zdeno Chara, AU because real life NCAA rules apply, Jack didn't go to college, Bitty gets scouted by the Falconers

Summary: Jack saw Eric Bittle for the first time over a year before they actually met, but it was still as if someone had set a match to a fuse that would burn slowly but inevitably until it reached its end.

The first time Jack saw Eric Bittle was the February of his third year with the Falconers. It wasn't in person, but it was enough for Jack to have a flash of he's cute that was harder to shove back down than it should have been, especially since the photo Tater texted him was kind of hilarious.

Tater was at the Beanpot tournament with Thirdy and some pals from the Bruins and kept texting Jack updates and photos of the game.

Jack could have asked him to stop, but that would involve explaining why thinking about college hockey inevitably set him off balance and got him lost in a world of what ifs.

But then a photo came through that triggered three reactions in swift succession:

What the hell?

Ha ha, that's pretty funny.

Huh. He's cute.

The picture was of two people. One was a Samwell player, flushed and grinning even though his team had just lost the championship round to Boston College in overtime. The other was Zdeno Chara.

The Samwell player barely came up to Chara's shoulder even though he was on skates and Chara wasn't. According to Tater, the player (#15, Eric Bittle, Junior) was only five foot six to Chara's six foot nine and was 'quick like bunny!'

Jack tried to focus on what kind of speed a player like that would have to have play Division I hockey and not end as a smear against the boards, but he kept getting drawn to the sunny smile and the dark eyes that were unusually striking paired with honey blond hair.

Cute. And he kind of looked like Kenny.

But Kenny had never smiled like that.

An ex-girlfriend used to send him borderline explicit selfies when he was on the road. Those pictures had made him smile, but Jack had never found himself staring at them like this.

Jack put the phone down and forced himself to count breaths until he stopped shaking.

Once he could trust himself, he responded to Tater with a haha.

Then he deleted the photo and the entire text thread along with it.

* * *

The second time Jack saw Eric Bittle was a little over half a year later, right in the middle of training camp. Like before, it was a photograph. This time, though, it came via his news feed.

Samwell University Selects First Openly Gay NCAA Division I Team Captain

The photo was obviously a headshot from the team's site, but the brilliant smile and warm brown eyes were as lively as if it had been a candid shot.

Jack didn't get to the article itself for ten minutes.

When he did, it wasn't what he was expecting. It was as bland and banal and calculated as any item that came from a team's PR shop. Generic sounding quotes, no sign of anything resembling a controversial opinion (other than the fact that a gay player merely existing was controversial in and of itself), no personality, no depth.

There were only two startling revelations in the article, neither of which was more than a mention with no further explanation.

One was that Bittle came from Georgia. That was definitely unusual, and Jack wondered how someone who was not only short and gay but Southern ever managed to get into hockey in the first place.

The other was that Bittle's team knew he was gay before they had voted him captain and had voted him in unanimously - which was the only time that had ever happened in the history of the team.

Jack figured the article was only the opening salvo. There would be follow-up interviews, no doubt. You Can Play would be all over it, and so would Sports Illustrated and ESPN.

All that happened though, as training camp ended and pre-season began, was that several opinion pieces came out and Jack added more names to his list of which reporters could and could not be trusted.

(The one article that went viral did so for the wrong reasons: it was a passionate, pompous, and self-important screed about gay rights in international sports that might have had more impact and less unintentional hilarity if the author had not been operating under the assumption that Bittle was from Georgia-the-country and not Georgia-the-state.)

Also, Kent texted Jack.

did u see the news?

Jack didn't reply and didn't read the other texts that followed. But he did tell George he needed to talk with her. Alone.

"I'm still not planning on coming out," he informed her right out of the gate.

"This is about the Samwell thing, isn't it?"

He nodded. He wished she hadn't put it quite that way. If NCAA hockey had been an option for him, Samwell would have been his top choice.

In retrospect, going to the Q had been a mistake in more ways than one. Thank God the Falconers had been willing to take a chance on him after rehab.

"Jack, I'm glad you trusted me all those years ago, but it honestly doesn't matter to me one way or the other if you come out now, or later, or never."

"I just..." He kept his eyes focused on the corner of her desk. "There are" - he circled his hand - "rumors."

Rumors. Gossip. A few photos he wished he could wipe from existence. Fanfic.

"You know I don't care about that, Jack."

He nodded, eyes still cut down and away. By never denying the rumors about him and Kent, he'd confirmed them for her, and he didn't know what to do about that. At least she was willing to maintain the polite fiction that she had no idea who Jack had dated back in the Q.

"Just... If You Can Play comes around and wants me to do another clip..." He blinked away the stinging in his eyes and why was this rattling him so much? "I don't feel like I can say no."

But what would he say if he said 'yes?' He couldn't offer other queer athletes any kind of advice that wasn't about hockey. But just existing would say so much in and of itself...

"I'm not ready but I should be ready, shouldn't I? Especially now."

"Jack. There's no should about it."

"But somehow this kid can be brave enough to come out, while I - "

George held up a hand to cut him off. She shook her head sadly. "I don't think he had a choice. This," she said, pointing to a copy of the article on her monitor, "is a pre-emptive strike. From what Martin Hall tells me, Bittle was out to his classmates and before he was on anyone's radar as a top prospect. And apparently, his online presence wasn't at all discreet and he has a sizable following. Hall said Bittle decided it was better to get the story out on his own terms before someone put two and two together and made a call to Deadspin or worse."

Jack understood. It would only take one picture from 2009, one recollection from a team-mate, to get the story out of his hands or Kent's. He should think about getting ahead of things, but...

... he wasn't ready. He wasn't sure he ever would be.

* * *

The only reason Jack didn't see Bittle again until March was because he had his own hockey to focus on. Then finally, the annual nightmare of the trade deadline finally passed and speculation started churning about what might happen after the playoffs.

Free agent frenzy technically didn't start until July, but there was a lot of early buzz about the young men who would be coming out of the NCAA and where in the NHL they might go.

One of these young men was Eric Bittle. There was more talk about whether Bittle was too small for the NHL than whether he was too gay for the NHL, but Jack still avoided watching the video clips Tater kept trying to show him.

(He couldn't explain why he avoided watching them any more than he could explain why he only sometimes responded to Kent's texts, but he suspected it came from the same dark place in his mind.)

And then Samwell made it to the Frozen Four. Jack didn't watch, but he felt a thrill of vindication when he heard that the Wellies (and Bittle) won.

Maybe Bittle would sign with an NHL team or maybe he wouldn't, but the short, gay, Southern kid had scored the game-winning goal in the NCAA championships, and it felt like something in the world had shifted and wasn't going to shift back.

Jack was still mulling it over when he arrived at the practice facility that morning, and George had to shout at him twice to get his attention.

"Jack, can you come in here a moment?"

The request brought the usual spike of anxiety even though he knew nothing awful was likely to happen. He followed George into her office.

"I thought you would want to hear this from me before you heard it from anyone else."

Jack's breath froze halfway up his throat. He had no idea what his face must have looked like, but George patted the air in front of her as if the soothing motion would reach him. "It's okay, it's okay, it's nothing bad, but I didn't want you caught unprepared. Did you watch the NCAA finals yesterday?"

Jack shook his head. George didn't seem surprised, and he wondered what she'd put together about him when he started looking into online degrees.

"I want you to take a look at this." She turned her monitor so he could see it. A video clip played. In it, a small player with the number 15 on his back zipped between opposing players like a destroyer through a fleet of battleships.

The third time Jack saw Eric Bittle was the first time he actually saw him play hockey.

"Play it again," he rasped once the clip was done. This time, he watched while knowing what to watch for. The way Bittle read the ice. The way he sent the puck unerringly not to where his liney was but to where his liney would be. The way he was obviously reluctant to take a hit, but had turned that avoidance into a weapon, with one feint in particular sending one Denver player crashing into the boards and his teammate plowing into him a half-second later.

The soft hands. Eyes that were as full of determination as they were of fear.

"He might need a year in the AHL first - trust me, you'll plotz when you hear how much hockey he didn't play before college - but can you imagine having that on your line?"

He could. Very much so. "And you're telling me first because..."

She sighed. "Because you're my friend as much as you are one of my players, and I keep thinking about that first conversation we had about Bittle, and about what it would mean to come out. When or if you decide to be out is one hundred percent up to you. I know you're out to a few people on the team, but I wanted to make damned sure you know that if we sign Bittle, it does not mean I'm expecting anything from you except to play damned good hockey and live the best life you know how to live. Got it?"

Jack nodded, swallowing hard and blinking the brightness from his eyes.

"Good. And if we sign Bittle and that brings any attention back to you that you don't want, we'll deal with it, okay?"

"Okay." His attention went back to the monitor, which was frozen on the moment when Bittle was hoisted into the air by two D-men who were each half again as big as he was. His expression was caught somewhere between joy, indignation, surprise, and... sadness?

He looked more closely. There were lots of other people on the ice. Parents, siblings. The goalie was openly sobbing on an older woman's shoulder. One of the two D-men holding Bittle had a woman in a hijab smiling up at him. The other had a gaggle of redheads crowding in around him.

It took him a moment, but he finally registered what he wasn't seeing. He thought about the 'pre-emptive strike' article, and how there had been so little press and no interviews or profile pieces that he could recall.

Jack may have had any number of issues with his own parents over the years, but they had always, always, always been there for him.

And in many ways, they had been there for Kent as well, even during the dark times when he and Kent hadn't been talking at all.

"George?"

"Hm?"

"There's something I want to do, when you go meet with Bittle."

* * *

The first time Jack actually met Eric Bittle was at Samwell.

Maman and Papa would meet him at dinner, after Jack and George had finished talking business. Meanwhile, they were taking a nostalgia tour of campus.

"We're meeting Bittle at the hockey team's house," George explained. "I'm also hoping to talk to a couple of his teammates." She must have studied a map before they arrived because she set off like she knew exactly where she was going.

They crossed a quad that was bordered on one side by a pond. Jack wondered if it ever froze over hard enough to skate on. Knots of students were scattered on the grass, some studying, some napping. A lively pickup game of soccer ended abruptly when someone kicked the ball into the pond.

Jack could imagine himself in a place like this, but the imagining didn't hurt as much he expected.

Maybe it was because he had figured out somewhere along the line that not being able to play college hockey didn't mean he couldn't go to college one day.

Or maybe it was because something about this place, even though he had never been here before, felt like home.

George turned right just past the quad, but Jack missed it because he was watching the soccer players trying to retrieve their ball without getting in the pond.

And, of course, he plowed right into someone.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

A slender (but still solid - Jack felt like he'd been checked) young man had landed on his ass. He had a phone in one hand, and a miraculously unspilled latte in the other.

The man tucked his phone into the back of some (very short) red shorts and reached out to take the hand Jack offered.

"I'm sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going - I've got this meeting I've got to get to and then I got a text so I thought..."

The honey-smooth drawl trailed off as the young man looked up to see who had knocked him over.

"Jack Zimmermann??"

Jack could feel the flush rise to his cheeks and was glad he couldn't see how red he must have been turning.

"Haha. Yeah. And you're Eric Bittle, eh?"

He was even cuter in person.

"Um..." Bittle seemed reluctant to let go of his hand. Jack could sympathize.

"Hello, Eric. I'm Georgia Martin - it's nice to finally meet you in person." George must have realized that Jack wasn't right behind her. "I hope you don't mind I brought company along. Did you still want to meet back at your house?"

"Oh! Yes!" Bittle reclaimed his hand, and headed off the same direction George had been going. "I made a pie for you - there should be enough for us all, even if Chowder - that's our goalie - comes home early."

George nodded in approval. If Chowder was Chris Chow, Jack knew she was hoping to speak with him, too.

"Pie, huh?" Jack asked.

Bittle nodded emphatically. "Yes, sir! I hope y'all like pecan pie," he said, pronouncing 'pecan' completely incorrectly.

Jack couldn't help teasing. "Bittle. You need to eat more protein if you're going to be in the NHL."

Bittle gasped in exaggerated shock. "You did not just say that to my face!"

"I said it to all of you," Jack deadpanned. "Not that there's a lot to say it to, eh?"

Bittle's eyes narrowed, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "Why do I get the idea that you're going to be a whole lot of trouble, Mr. Zimmermann?"

"If you want trouble, wait until you meet my parents. They're joining us for dinner tonight."

It wasn't often that he started this kind of back-and-forth with someone so quickly. But something about it didn't feel quick.

It felt like a long, slow burning fuse that was first lit back when Tater sent that ridiculous picture had finally reached its end.

Meanwhile, Bittle started rambling on about how he really should make a second pie if he was going to meet someone's parents.

Jack fought back a smile. Tater was going to be so pissed he wasn't invited along.

"Sorry I'm babbling on like this, but this is one of the most exciting things that has ever happened to me!"

"I know what you mean, um, I mean, I remember what it was like when George came and talked to me."

George was a few feet ahead of them, but he could hear her roll her eyes.

"I don't know if you ever heard the story of how I joined the Falconers, but... well, I was in a rough spot. And I knew I would be safe with them. That I would feel safe with them."

"I'd love to hear that story sometime," Bittle said gently, reaching out to touch Jack's arm, then jerking his hand away quickly.

"I'd love to tell it to you." He didn't quite reach out to Bittle, but it was easy enough to let the back of his hand knock against Bittle's as they walked along.

It would have been nice to do more, to promise more, or just say more, but he wasn't ready for that.

"I wasn't expecting to meet you today, but I'm sure glad I did." Bittle smiled let his hand brush tentatively against Jack's in return.

Some other time, Jack might have said out loud what he was thinking, that it felt like he knew Bittle, like he knew this place, knew what it was like to walk side by side with him. Like part of him already knew what it was like not to walk hand in hand, but half embracing as they walked back to Bittle's house.

No, he wasn't ready for anything like that, not yet, but for the first time it was easy to imagine a time when he would be.

#bittyjack #fanfiction #bittysvalentines #bv2019 #omgcp

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msjr0119 · 5 years

Text

Why me?

Part 5- Surprise!

Riley is forced out of Cordonia unknowingly to her friends, and moves back to New York.

She is later faced with her past from Cordonia and is hiding a few new secrets. With the help from her New York friends and friends from Cordonia will she escape her current situation and find her happy ever after?

Tags- @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @choiceslover-24-7 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @kennaxval @larryssunflower @insideamirage @carabeth @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld

Some Quotes belong to Pixelberry from TRR*

********

Riley woke up late the next morning, the sun was blinding through the window. Her head was spinning. She rolled over to see him, but he wasn’t there. How could she be so stupid? Feeling like she used him herself, the guilt filled her head, it was just to get over her feelings for another man.

After showering, Riley decided to style her hair and do her make up. As she went over to her dresser she saw a note...

Morning beautiful.

Thank you for last night, I had a good time. I needed to leave for work and didn’t want to wake sleeping beauty up. I have to go to Boston tonight for a meeting tomorrow. When I come back, I’d like to take you out on a date if you want?

Just let me know.

Nate x

*******

Everyone in the palace, did their usual routine since the attack. They all had breakfast together waiting for any updates about the attack. This morning was different though, as King Liam was leaving to go to Dubai for a week, the itinerary full of meetings.

“Does anyone know where Bertrand and Maxwell are this morning? I wanted to speak to Bertrand regarding the council meeting tomorrow that I will unfortunately be missing.”

Liam looked at everyone- no one was speaking, just before Olivia responded.

“As I arrived at the palace. They were leaving. Said they had a meeting regarding their house and money issues. They seemed pretty upbeat though to say they should drowning in sorrow.”

“Okay. I’ll try and get a hold of Bertrand. Olivia, could you please update me on the council meeting. Then on my return, myself, Drake and Bastien will go to New York to try and speak to Lady Riley... if we can find her.”

*********

Of course the Beaumont brothers had admitted during the social season that Riley was a chance of restoring their houses reputation and with her leaving abruptly the story made sense- making nobody doubt it.

The Beaumont brothers arrived at Cordonia International airport, and awaited their flight.

“Bertrand, thank you for agreeing to this. She reached out to me of all people. I know Liam is going to go mental, and Drake will probably bury me alive if they knew.”

“Maxwell, she is like a sister to me, and I assume to you too. But no one must know where we are heading...”

“Wahooo... team Beaumont! The secrets safe with me......”

*******

Riley wasn’t due at work until later that night, and didn’t know what to do with herself. Nate had gone away overnight, Daniel and Lola we’re both at work. Desperately, she tried to keep busy, attempting to stop thinking about all her friends she had left, giving up on them because of one person having an vendetta against her.

She decided to go out for a bit. She pulled her hair into a ponytail, wiped the make up off and got dressed in a sports top and leggings, heading towards the subway to go to Central Park. For hours she jogged around, feeling unfit compared to what she used to be like, until finally collapsing on a bench. Her phone began to ring.

“Hey, where are you doll?”

“Lola, I think I’m dying in Central Park. I can’t run as good as I used to. I’m sweating, I’m so red, I need more oxygen! It’s never affected me before. I feel exhausted all the time. What you up to?”

“Well...... work has offered me a two day trip to California. So I thought you, me and Daniel could go clubbing tonight before I leave? And the Knight in shining armour can join if he wants?”

“Well, my knight is in Boston. But yeah sounds good. I’ll meet you after work at Kismet?”

Slowly getting up, feeling cramp run through her body, Riley decided to head back to the appartment doing a de tour via the Dive Bar.

*****

Riley stumbled through the door of the Dive Bar, and dragged herself up to the bar.

“Daniel! I need something strong! This damn cramp!”

“You better get well for tonight! Lola intends on it to get messy!”

“Uhh, I’ve got to get through a shift first.”

They both chatted, already dreading the hangovers they were going to have tomorrow. Lola was the kind of friend who would hold your hair when your head lingered over the toilet whilst projectile vomiting after too much alcohol consumption. But it was her fault you would get in that vulnerable state as she was the kind of friend who never excepted the answer “no” when it came to a night out on the town. Riley had had a few too many drinks and needed to sober up before work.

She said goodbye to Daniel and was about to leave when she thought she was hallucinating...

“Waitress steaks for the table.”

She turned around, and saw him- almost believing this was a dream.

“The closest thing we have to filet mignon is the deluxe burger”

Riley responded, remembering what she said to them that night, the pure disappointment on Tariq’s face.

“We’ll be fine with a bottle of whiskey .... and four deluxe burgers.”

They both said in unison, before both giggling and hugging each other.

“Little blossom!”

“Max! What are you doing here? Oo god. Who are you here with?”

“Ri, don’t worry it’s just me and Bertrand. He’s at the hotel checking up on emails and the boring noble things. I had to come and see you. You hung up on me!”

“Technically I hung up on Drake. Just hearing his voice gave me the closure I needed from Cordonia.”

“Closure? What do you mean? We want you to come back! We all miss you. Even Olivia, and that’s really saying something!”

When Maxwell said this, Riley’s heart slowly broke into tiny pieces. He deserves the truth she thought.

“Oo Max. I’m really sorry I never said goodbye. I’m due at work in two hours. Come along with me if your free and we can catch up?”

*****

Riley took Maxwell to the apartment in Inwood.

“Welcome to Daniel’s crib, it’s not much. The rent is so expensive everywhere in New York. Make yourself at home. I won’t be long.”

Riley went to get dressed into her uniform. The uniform consisted of a cropped top and shorts. At times she was grateful for this as it got too warm behind the bar.

Maxwell looked around admiring the apartment. It was small, but had a large open-spaced lounge area. He was eager to speak to Riley, to ask why she left abruptly but didn’t want to force it. In the back of his mind, the thought of her mentioning Constantine was still lingering. They didn’t have a close relationship due to him being the reason for why all the drama occurred, so why would he be mentioned by Riley? He could see the panic on her face when she asked who he had come all this way with.

“So....” Maxwell said nervously rubbing his the back of his head. Riley interrupted before he could continue.

“Max, I should have never come to Cordonia. This is home. This is who I am. I’ve broken too many hearts, and my heart is breaking every time I think about you all and Cordonia..... if it wasn’t for that night.... I wouldn’t have been blamed. I wouldn’t have left you all. King Father... he... he... hurt me, blackmailed me. I was scared. I was scared for you all. The truth is Max, I left to save Drake’s life. And for the safety of you all. I will always treasure the memories with each and everyone of you. But parts of the last few months were the biggest mistake of my life- I hurt you all. I am trying to move on and rebuild my life again.”

“Ri, we don’t blame you. Everyone misses you. Besides who is going to smash the champagne open in the most unique ways with me at the Beaumont Bashes? We bossed it! You and I - the A team!”

“Max I’m so sorry. It doesn’t matter what everyone thinks! King Father hurt me and exiled me, demanding for me to never return! That is it. I left with my heart shattered. And as long as that man is still alive I can’t return even if I wanted to...”

#theroyalromance #rileybrooks #kingliam #drakewalker #maxwell beaumont #trr bastien

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an-abundance-of-castiels · 5 years

Text

Best Left Forgotten

Part 18: Waiting

Series Summary: You wake up in the bunker with a serious head injury and no memory of the last year or the Winchesters and find that Dean is avoiding you. You are determined to find out the truth about what happened but maybe the truth is best left forgotten.

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam, Cas

Warnings: language, Season 10 Spoilers

Word Count: 1594

General Disclaimer: I do not own the gif or any of the Supernatural properties or characters. This is a fan piece and is intended to be enjoyed only as such.

A/N: Oh wow guys! One year later and my first fic is finished… Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has read and shared and followed the story. An ENORMOUS thank you to @weirdochick56 for rough beta-ing and helping through an amazing year of this story. You are the best ;)

...I hope you like it.

Best Left Forgotten Masterlist

Missed Part 17?

**********

You blink your eyes open slowly and the first thing that registers is a horrible pain in your head. Your vision is blurry around the edges. You suddenly remember why you are here and you push through. You manage to make it to your feet in time to watch Sam lay down the photos and say something to Dean. You can tell immediately that your hearing isn’t right. All you hear is the high pitched ringing of complete silence. You hear Sam’s statement as a mumble passing through a tunnel. You are so dizzy but you have to save Dean. You remember it all now. The blood, the pain, the terror. That thing hurt you because you were a threat to it. None of it matters now because that was not Dean. But this man, standing in front of you, this still is. You can feel it deep in your very being. And you have to save his soul, because… It’s part of you. If he is lost, so are you.

You stumble down to the bar where those two boys, who you love more than anything, are about to make a horrible decision. You have to stop them, even if it kills you.

“Dean!” You call out as he raises the scythe up to… oh my god… Kill Sam.

Dean looks up at you suddenly and his eyes shift from a blank stare to recognition. He lowers the scythe as you stumble forward. You clutch your head as you fall over your own feet. Your vision blacks out and suddenly you have been scooped up, just before you hit the floor. After a moment, your vision comes back and you see Dean staring down at you.

“I knew you’d catch me.” You smile up at him through the pounding in your head.

“I thought you were gone, I thought I killed you… again, after all this time.” Dean closes his eyes, “This is why I have to go, why I have to let you and Sam go. I’m a monster.”

Every word pierces your chest a little bit more. “Dean, a monster would’ve let me fall and killed Sam. Killing Sam, me, the pieces of yourself that remind you who you are, your family? That will turn you into a monster. Don’t give up on yourself.” You know how important this part is. It takes all of your strength, but you reach up and kiss his cheek. “I forgive you. I love you.”

Dean’s face crumples at your words and he lets out a choked sob. You see pain, shame, and relief flood his face through the tears. He kisses your forehead and lets out a shaky breath.

The old man walks forward, past Sam. “Dean, if you can’t do it, I’ll do it for you.” Suddenly the scythe blade bursts out of his chest. The man looks down, stunned, and disintegrates into a pile of sand. He is gone within seconds and behind him stands a very surprised Sam holding the scythe. He seems almost frozen in place, mouth open, eyes wide.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks Sam, worriedly.

“Yeah. I think I just killed death.” Sam mutters back, “What about you?”

Dean looks back at you, terror in his eyes. You smile back at him through the pounding in your head. You feel the left side of your face go numb.

“Y/N?” Dean panics and lowers you to the floor. Sam runs over and cradles your head. He’s already dialing Cas, but you know that it is too late.

“Cas!? Help! It’s Y/N!” Sam begs. You pull the phone from his hand weekly and he lets you.

“I love you Cas. Thank you for everything,” You hang up the phone just as Cas tries to protest the resignation in your voice. “Sam, you’ll always be my best friend.” You stop for a moment to clutch Dean’s hand as a spasm of pain radiates from your head down your spine. It won’t be long now. You feel yourself relaxing into the pain as it turns to numbness. “Make sure Dean lives a long life, I can wait.” You turn to look at Dean for a long moment. You look into his eyes and see your Dean. Your protector. You smile and feel warmth and peace spread from your chest as you realize the truth in your next words, “I love you and I forgive you. You are not that monster. You are a hero. My hero. Every minute of my life that I spent with you was heaven on Earth. That’s all there is to say. This isn’t goodbye forever, it’s goodbye for now.”

Dean seems stunned with tears streaming down his face. He seems confused for a moment, unable to accept the finality of your words. He gazes down at you with eyes full of love and a plea. A plea for you to stay. A plea you wish so badly you had the power to give in to. “Y/N, there’s nothing but pain waiting for me. Monsters don’t go to heaven.” Dean looks down in shame. His face is twisted with sob.

With all of your remaining strength, you cup his head and lift his eyes to look into yours. “Dean, I k-”

You start to choke on blood and your words won’t come. Every breath burns as you breathe blood, unable to find air. Dean sits you up, desperately trying to help you breathe. The edges of your vision start to go black as you convulse in his arms, struggling to breathe.

And the world fades to black.

The last sounds you register are Dean screaming and Sam sobbing.

————————————

You open your eyes in the bunker, on the couch. You wait for the pain, the headache, the hole in your stomach… and they don’t come. Cas must’ve healed you. Relief is the first real thing you feel. You hop up and start looking for the boys. There’s something very important you need to tell Dean. He needs to understand that you aren’t going anywhere. They’re nowhere to be found and Dean’s door is locked. Odd. You reach into your pocket for your phone… It’s not there. Worry begins to creep in when Castiel walks through the door.

“Cas!” You run and hug him, “Where are the boys? Did Dean get the mark off?” You smile at Cas.

“Y/N,” Cas looks at you carefully. “You’re in heaven. I came to make sure you were okay.”

You’re quiet for a moment as you remember the last few moments of your life. You made this choice. The choking and the blood. You steady yourself and take a deep breath. “I’m fine. Is Dean… I mean… the mark? And Sam?”

“Sam and Dean are fine. The mark is gone but it released the darkness.” Cas sighs, “We have to deal with that next, I suppose.”

“Good,” you smile, knowing that Sam and Dean are right where they should be: on another quest to save the world, “Tell the boys I love them and I believe in them. And tell Dean I will wait patiently.”

“They love you, Y/N. We all do. We miss you. We gave you a hunter’s funeral.” Cas looks down.

You pull his face up to look you in the eye, “Thank you for everything Cas. You gave me more time than I ever would have had before I met you. This is not your fault. I love you.” You feel warm and safe here. This is perfect.

Cas, feeling your happiness, smiles. “Goodbye for now, Y/N.”

You watch him leave and your smile drops the tiniest amount as you feel the familiar ache in the center of your chest. Almost perfect.

————————————

30 years later

You sit patiently in the living room watching one of Dean’s favorite Kung Fu movies for the 100,000th time. Your chest aches every moment you spend watching them, but they remind you that he is coming back. The door to the bunker, which has remained closed for almost 25 years, creeps open. You hop off of the couch and tense up with your angel blade, preparing for a fight or for another angel coming to ruin your happiness to get back at the boys. You aren’t afraid, only determined to kick ass. You tense up, preparing for a fight as the door creaks open and a shadowy figure steps into the shadows.

An elderly man with familiar green eyes steps into the light.

You drop your blade and feel your chest light on fire. A burning yearning for his touch. You can’t help the joy that spreads across your entire being.

He is an old man with grey streaks in his hair and deep wrinkles under his eyes. His face lights up when he sees you. You watch as he races down the stairs and by the time he reaches the bottom, he is the Dean you remember with dark hair and emerald green eyes. He holds his arms out and you run to him and jump into his arms. The moment you touch, You take his face in both of your hands and kiss him deeply. He carries you over to the couch and falls onto his back. You both lay there and you bury your face into the crook of his arm, stretching out on top of him. You smell the familiar scent of musky pine, flannel, and whiskey. You breathe it in, inhaling it like you will never smell it again.

You feel whole.

It’s finally perfect.

“I’ve been waiting,” you murmur.

The End

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#best left forgotten #Demon Dean #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #castiel #spn.spn fic #dean x reader #angst #fluff

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emmaberrysworld · 5 years

Text

Time of Our Lives

A/N

This is a preference that takes place after 3.22 of MacGyver. That season finale hurt me, and I am still sobbing. So I wrote this. I’ll attach the video link, but unless you really want to be hurt by me being hurt whilst listening to it as I wrote it, don’t listen to it.

There are spoilers in this piece, so please, if you haven’t seen it yet, don’t read this.

It also isn’t proofread, so I apologise for tense changes and some obvious mistakes.

But I hope this is okay.

-Emmaberry-

youtube

If the video doesn’t load, it’s called Time of Our Lives, and it’s by Tyrone Wells.

Tags: @toomanyfandomsshreya @writtenbyblair

Warnings: Spoilers, Grief.

Angus MacGyver is many things: loyal, kind, intelligent, brave. But he was reluctant to lean on you after Charlie’s sacrifice. None of you knew what had happened between him and his Dad, only that James wasn’t coming back.

The first night was the hardest. After Riley, Matty and Desi had gone home, Mac shut himself off. You and Bozer tried to support him, but when he walked away, you knew it was a lost cause. That was when you mentioned you saw Mac’s Dad leaving.

‘You don’t think he’s disappearing again, do you?’ Bozer asked.

‘No,’ you murmur. ‘He looked pained.’

‘You think it’s something to do with Mac’s mood?’

‘Probably.’

‘Do we ask him?’

‘No.’ You were adamant. ‘He’ll come to us when he’s ready.’

‘You know Mac, when will that be?’

‘I don’t know.’

You remember sleeping on the sofa, having distracted yourself with cleaning. Bozer had eventually left to update Leanna on the situation, and you hadn’t wanted to force Mac to talk. You’d placed a coffee and some soup on his desk, then left. He didn’t even react.

You hadn’t seen him so lost. Anyone could see how important Charlie was to Mac. You used to say he was competing with Jack, but as you left, you definitely believed it. Knowing tonight would be different from your usual night time routine with Mac, you left him alone.

The first full day without Charlie might as well have been the longest day you had had, and with working at the Phoenix Foundation, you’d had a few rough ones. Mac was a shell of his former self, and autopilot did not suit him. You didn’t know how to talk to him, this was different than Jack leaving, or Jill’s death. Matty had text you something about Charlie’s funeral, but you didn’t want to ask Mac if he’d had the same thing. Instead, you set about making meals for the next few days. You saw the empty coffee cup and soup on the counter, and forced a small smile to your face. Even when he was in a world of hurt, Mac still put you first. You would have worried if he hadn’t eaten, but you also knew he was under no obligation to.

You knew about the promise, Mac had told everyone. But you had been close enough to the elevator to hear it come from Charlie’s mouth. You had been unable to turn away, yet you made no move to hold Mac. You figured it was your fight or flight mode, but as you thought on it, you knew it was because Mac didn’t need someone holding him as Charlie… you shuddered. Glancing outside, you saw Mac was standing there, hair dishevelled, wearing yesterday’s shirt, but alive. The mid-morning sun over the horizon usually cheered the two of you up, but today it did nothing. Filling up a mug with coffee, you took it out to Mac. He turned, blue eyes void of emotion. He was holding it in, you could see it. The way he took the mug, clenched it tightly, then put it down without drinking anything.

‘He was a good man,’ you heard Mac whisper.

‘I know,’ you murmur, trying not to break the amicable peace between the two of you. ‘And I’m ready when you want to talk.’

He raised an eyebrow.

‘I know you’re trying to force it because we don’t want you to hold it in.’ You placed a supportive hand on his arm. ‘But you don’t have to do it immediately.’

You walked back inside. That was the last time you spoke to Mac that day.

Days started to blur together. You kept yourself busy around the house, always finding something to reorganise. You sat surrounded by the fiction books in your room when the first tears fell. Mac’s unhealthy coping mechanism may be bad, but yours was just as bad: keep yourself busy until you crash. Tossing the book aside, you bring your knees to your chest, biting on your bottom lip in an attempt to stop the crying. Your chest tightens, yet you can’t pull the breathing exercises to the forefront of your mind. All you see is Charlie. That day. The elevator. Oh gosh. Bile raises in your throat. He should be here! He should be here! He should be here! Blinking, you see a mug come into your field of vision. In it is [a] y/f/h/d. Someone is beside you, but you mechanically reach for the mug. Just holding it. Letting the warmth burn your hands back to reality. By that time, they have left. The book you threw is next to you, with a paper clip on top of it. You can feel a smile rise, he was trying as hard as you to make sure you were coping.

Neither of you spoke about the times you broke down, or how the other had become a clutch for grief. To Bozer, you were managing, but not coping with grief. To everyone else, you were coping. To each other, you knew differently. Both numb. Both wanting to keep Mac’s promise.

You didn’t want to remember how many days had passed when you both had a 3am grief session. Charlie’s funeral had been and gone, and it threw you both back into unhealthy coping mechanisms central, as you dubbed it in your head. You wandered the house, your pyjamas a little too small, only to come across Mac on the balcony looking over the skyline. There were two mugs already out there, so you joined him.

‘I miss him,’ you let slip, hand already starting to shake. It seemed all you were capable of was crying and succumbing to more anxiety attacks than you wanted to admit. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-’

‘No, we should probably try and talk about him. He was important to you too.’

‘Nowhere near as he was to you,’ you say, looking at the scenery. The lights made LA look so pretty and you knew each one symbolised a different life, different stories, different emotions. There were few lights on, but you couldn’t help but wonder what the people with theirs still on were doing.

For a while you say nothing, but then the tears falls. Mac’s first, then yours. Hesitantly, you hug him. His arms wrap around you. Neither of you care about the wetness from the tears. Locked together by grief, you hear him whisper, ‘his memory will never die. Promise me you won’t let him memory die with him.’

It was the easiest promise you ever made.

You broke apart a while later to finish your drinks, but didn’t make a move to go to bed.

‘Will we ever be able to talk about him without the...’ you trailed off, knowing you had broken the silence.

‘Some day. Just not today,’ he replies, taking his hand in yours. ‘We’ll be together when we do. Have the time of our lives, for Charlie’s sake.’

As dawn breaks over the hills, you look at your intertwined hands on the wood. Your silent agreement brings about the start of a new chapter in your individual and shared grieving processes.

A/N

I am sorry for hurting you. I literally had a thought of don’t think about Charlie and Mac to this song and it hurt me.

This wasn’t what I expected to write after submitting my coursework, but this is what happened.

Hopefully I’ll post soon.

#MacGyver #Angus MacGyver #reader #reader insert #macgyver x reader #mac #3.22 #season finale #preference #grief #spoilers #charlie #emotions #song #season 3

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chasingthecosmos · 4 years

Text

Call Me But Love

Fandom: Doctor Who Rating: T Pairing: The Doctor/Rose Tyler, Twelfth Doctor/Rose Tyler (The Doctor/Clara Oswald, Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswald) Chapters: 17/40 Read on AO3 here.

“‘Oh, dear. Looks like we might have picked up an extra passenger,’ the Doctor grumbled to himself. His gaze raised to Rose’s once more and she was struck by the sheer intensity of it and the way that he managed to look at once so familiar, and yet so different from what she was used to. ‘Best find something to hold on to,’ he warned her ominously.”

A Season 8 & 9 AU centering around Rose Tyler and her newly-regenerated Doctor as they both struggle to maintain their relationship in the face of some unknown force that seems to be drawing them together. Will they be able to solve the mystery of who is pulling the strings before it’s too late?

This is a direct sequel to “By Any Other Name” and might be a bit confusing if you haven’t read that first. Tags will be updated as I go.

It didn't take the Doctor long to pinpoint Danny's location, and the TARDIS behaved herself enough to get them to a place where they could easily cross paths with him. The difficult part didn't come until Rose was standing directly before the young man all on her own and awkwardly attempting to explain herself.

"First, let me say again that I'm really, really sorry," she muttered earnestly. "I never meant to bring you into all of this, Danny. I think you're a really nice guy ..."

"Yeah, just not as 'nice' as your precious Doctor, though," he interrupted, flashing her a hurt look out of the corner of his eye as the two of them walked side-by-side through a sunny, picturesque garden. Rose knew that to any other passerby, the two of them would have appeared to be a young, attractive couple, out on a walk to enjoy the gorgeous day together - no one would ever have been able to guess that she was old enough to be his grandmother.

"Look, I'm sorry if I wasn't clear enough before, but ..."

"No," Danny interrupted her, heaving a short, weary sigh as he shook his head and looked away from her once more. "No, I'm sorry. You were very clear. I just didn't want to listen." Rose watched as his brow furrowed in thought as he added quietly, "I just wasn't expecting you to be with someone like ..."

"The Doctor and I have been together for a long time," Rose interrupted him, wanting to cut off his sentence before he could say something that she knew would just make her angry. She knew that she needed to get through this conversation - to clear the air and set things straight once and for all. It wouldn't do for the two of them to simply fall into another argument again. "Plus," she added with a teasing grin and a small, conspiratorial wink, "I'm older than I look."

"So how does that work, then?" Danny continued curiously. "Are you an alien, too? Or is it just him?"

"Who said he was an alien?" Rose asked defensively, her habit of having to conceal the Doctor's true identity making her cagey as she struggled to decide just how much information to reveal to Danny. She had put him through so much, she knew that he deserved answers - but there were just certain truths that weren't hers to tell ...

"I'm not as stupid as I look, you know," Danny assured her wryly. "I managed to put the pieces together. So? How did you two meet? And what were you doing at Coal Hill School?"

"That's a ... long story," Rose admitted hesitantly. Leave it to Danny to ask the questions that she herself didn't even really know the answers to. "Basically, someone ... called us. We still don't really know why ..."

"Is it an alien thing?" Danny asked nervously. "Is there an alien thing going on at the school? Are the kids safe?"

"Yes, of course! Everyone's safe," Rose assured him, hoping desperately that she was telling the truth and not simply filling him with a sense of false hope. Until she figured out who the stranger drawing her to the Doctor was or what they wanted, there really wasn't any way to assure anyone's safety - not even her own.

"So you were with him the whole time, then, yeah?" Danny continued curiously, seeming content with Rose's somewhat-over-confident reassurances. "All that time when you were missing, you were off running around with him?"

"Traveling - like I said," Rose agreed with a small, easy shrug. "That's what we do - we travel."

"But what about teaching?" Danny insisted. "How are you going to hold down a full-time job when you're constantly disappearing for weeks at a time?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Rose muttered dismissively. "I don't think I'm really cut out for the job - probably never was. I already told Mr. Armitage not to expect me again any time soon. He'll find another English teacher. Honestly, I think he was glad to be rid of me after I pulled that vanishing act on him."

"So you're ... leaving for good, then?" Danny asked quietly, his soft brown eyes reminding Rose sharply of the young Rupert Pink who she and the Doctor had met a few decades prior. She wondered if Danny suspected her and the Doctor's influence on his timeline, or if his memories of them really were locked away as securely as the Doctor had said that they were.

"No, not for good," Rose assured him quietly. "Never for good. The Doctor and I, we always come back." It wasn't exactly the full truth, but Rose felt encouraged to make it true, and that gave her the confidence to continue. "I'm sure you and I will cross paths again."

Danny began to fidget nervously at her side as the two of them came to a halt at the edge of a street corner and he turned to face her, though his gaze couldn't quite seem to meet hers directly. "Would that ... be okay?" he asked cautiously. "I mean ... could we still be friends?"

"Of course we can!" Rose agreed brightly. "I'd like that."

"Really?" Danny asked skeptically.

"Yes, Danny," Rose replied, flashing him a small, sincere smile. "Maybe someday I'll bring the Doctor around, too, and we could all do something together. I'm sure I could warm him to the idea one way or another ..."

Danny chuckled quietly as he slowly shook his head and finally met her gaze fully once more. "Sure. I won't hold my breath," he muttered wryly.

Rose smiled and offered him her hand, which he eventually took after just a moment's hesitation and shook in silent agreement of their newfound friendship. When they finally parted ways once more, Rose heaved a heavy, satisfied sigh as she watched Danny's back slowly retreating into the distance as he crossed the street before her and headed off back into his normal, human life. She really wished him all the best, and she hoped that she would be able to run into him again sometime soon.

However, all of her quiet daydreams about domesticity and a simple life were quickly set aside as the familiar whirring sound of TARDIS engines suddenly whispered to life behind her. Rose turned on her heel and beamed in the direction where she could feel her bondmate quickly approaching, but before she could begin her search for a familiar blue box, her attention was forced back to the street by the sudden sound of screeching tires and loud, piercing screams.

When she whipped back around again, there was already a small crowd gathering around the front end of the car, which was parked at an unnatural angle in the middle of the street near where Danny had just been crossing a few moments ago.

Everything suddenly seemed to move into slow-motion, then, as Rose felt her heart sink into her stomach and a thick lump formed in her throat.

No ...

Rose! Her bondmate's call didn't attract her attention the way that it usually did as she walked hesitantly closer towards the crowd milling about in the middle of the street. She could already hear sirens blaring somewhere - someone must have already called for an ambulance.

It's too late ...

Suddenly, Rose was right back in 1987 all over again, watching her father die right before her eyes and knowing that there was nothing at all that she could do to stop it. He was dead and she was too slow, too selfish, too late ....

Rose was still moving slowly towards the car and the still, crumpled body that she could see splayed out before it, but before she could manage to make out any sort of detail, there was suddenly someone standing right before her, blocking her way.

Rose, the Doctor tried again, but she remained completely unresponsive as she stubbornly attempted to glance past his shoulder and get a better look at the devastation that she knew was sitting just behind him.

Rose, the Doctor insisted a third time, stepping sideways to firmly block her line of view as he grasped her shoulders in his hands and shook her slightly in an attempt to get her to focus.

As soon as Rose's gaze reluctantly settled back on his intense blue eyes, she could feel the world speeding back up to normal speed once more as time resumed its regular flow and the Doctor stared down at her intently.

It happened again, her thoughts cried out in desperate agony. I was too late, and it happened again. I couldn't save him. I wasn't there ... She could feel tears overflowing from her eyes and streaming down her cheeks, but they felt oddly disconnected from her current state of distress. They were nothing compared to the sharp, intense hurt that she could feel deep within herself - the burning, searing pain that demanded all of her attention.

Danny had been so young, so full of life, he had been right there. And then, suddenly, he wasn't. And just like with her father and her mother and with everyone else that she could never save, Rose was forced to sit back and watch as another life was ripped away from her while she simply continued to move on.

Don't worry, love, the Doctor reassured her vehemently, his grip on her shoulders tightening as he stared down hard at her devastated expression and felt his own hearts twist in sympathetic agony, time can be rewritten.

--------------------

They tracked down Danny the same way that they had when the Doctor had been chasing after the invisible monsters hiding under the bed. However, Rose hadn't actually expected it to

work

- so she was surprised when the time ship suddenly landed and the Doctor muttered quietly, "Well, the TARDIS thinks he's somewhere ..."

However, where the TARDIS seemed to think that Danny Pink was, was in fact a large, futuristic mausoleum with glass tanks that were filled with what looked like water and housed a series of old, stiff skeletons.

"Why?" Rose demanded quietly as she stepped forward and took a closer look at the nearest glass wall. The human-shaped skeleton within was sitting on a chair, the dark, empty eye sockets of the skull staring out at her blindly.

"I don't know," the Doctor admitted.

"Doctor, if this is where Danny is ..." Rose murmured hesitantly, "does that mean that ... he's going to look like this?" She eyed the glass tanks as they continued walking further into the mausoleum and couldn't suppress her grimace of distaste. It seemed like a strange thing to do to the dead, and she couldn't imagine ever wanting to see a family member or loved one suspended forever in an underwater prison like that.

However, she only received more questions than answers as the Doctor quickly uncovered a hologram projection that explained the purpose of the institute that they had stumbled into and the group's mission statement - which was, apparently, to look after a person even after they were dead.

"Is it difficult?" the Doctor asked curiously.

"Is what difficult?" Rose replied in confusion.

"Reading all those words back to front," he explained pointedly. When Rose turned to shoot him a curious look, she could see that he was staring hard at something just beyond the hologram projection, his eyes narrowed in a dangerous expression.

Before Rose could investigate further, a woman dressed in a floor-length Victorian gown suddenly stepped through the light screen and placed herself directly in front of the Doctor, leaving barely a breath of space between them.

"Hello," she greeted him eagerly. "I hope you're well. How may I assist you with your death?"

"Well, there is, er ... no immediate hurry," the Doctor replied nervously as he anxiously shifted his weight between his feet and struggled to meet the woman's intent gaze.

"We were just browsing," Rose added helpfully, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as the woman barely cast her a sideways glance in response. For whatever reason, the stranger seemed to only have eyes for the Doctor, and she didn't seem to be content unless she was standing as close to him as possible.

"Please take all the time you need," she assured them pleasantly, her sharp gaze tracking the Doctor's movements carefully as he began to nervously pace around the room and struggled to find something to do to keep himself busy and distracted.

"Why don't you start by telling us what this place is?" the Doctor suggested. "Exactly what is 3W?"

"Apologies," the woman stated flatly. "Clearly you have not received the official 3W greetings package."

"Well, you know," the Doctor replied blithely, "it's just an unexpected ..."

But the rest of his off-handed remark about their sudden appearance was abruptly cut off as the woman in the long purple dress stepped forward and pressed the Doctor roughly up against the glass wall behind him. Rose was about to attempt to intercede when the stranger suddenly placed a long, firm kiss to the Doctor's lips and Rose suddenly found herself warring between the desire to step forward and rip them forcefully apart or to sit back and commit the Doctor's shocked, terrified face to memory for whenever she needed a laugh.

Before Rose could decide how she wanted to react to the situation, the strange woman finally stepped away from the Doctor once more and flashed them both a wide, crazed smile. "Welcome to the 3W Institute!" she announced eagerly.

The Doctor still had his eyes glued to the woman as though he were afraid that she might pounce on him again at any moment. There was something niggling at the back of his thoughts that he couldn't quite seem to shake - something about this strange woman that set him on edge. There was something wrong about this whole situation, he just couldn't quite manage to put his finger one it.

Rose silently reminded him through their bond that he was probably just overreacting to the unprecedented kiss and to stop gaping like a lunatic.

"Clara ..." he breathed quietly once he finally managed to recover his scattered thoughts once more, "is it over now?"

"I think it's over, yeah," Rose replied dryly, raising her brow at him in a sardonic look. Why don't I ever get greeted like that? she asked him pointedly over their bond. It's only ever you.

The woman in the purple dress seemed to read Rose's mind as she stated robotically, "You also have not received the official welcome package ..."

However, as soon as she turned on Rose and attempted to make her advance, Rose stepped out of her line of fire and assured her hurriedly, "Oh, I'm good, thanks. No worries."

"Who are you?" the Doctor demanded breathlessly, still attempting to recover himself as he leaned heavily against the wall behind him and eyed the stranger warily.

"I am MISI," the woman replied in a flat, even monotone. "Mobile Intelligent Systems Interface. I am a multi-function, interactive welcome-droid. Helping you to help me to help you."

"You're very, er ... realistic," the Doctor muttered awkwardly, casting Rose a nervous, sidelong glance out of the corner of his eye.

Rose met his expression with a stern glare as she demanded silently, Please do not elaborate. And stand up, Doctor - you look like you just came face-to-face with a dalek fleet. She's a woman, not a crazed alien trying to kill you.

Easy for you to say, the Doctor grumbled irritably as he finally stood back to his full height once more and stiffly brushed off the front of his jacket. You weren't just snogged within an inch of your life.

#doctor who #dw #fanfiction #fanfic #dw fanfic #dw fanfiction #doctor who fanfic #doctor who fanfiction #rose tyler #the doctor #twelfth doctor #twelve/rose #twelvexrose #the doctor/rose #the doctorxrose

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lovesickjily · 5 years

Text

present: me

Summary: When Lily Evans is assigned to be a stranger's Secret Santa, she has no idea that by the end of the night, she was the gift that James Potter had wanted the entire time.

give me some love on ao3 or ffn

okay hi merry christmas!!! sorry this fic may sound a bit rushed, but i really wanted to finish this by christmas and i did it? i hope you all enjoy xxx

There were, as Lily speculated, many feelings that people felt when it came to the topic of Christmastime, a time in which everyone showed their love towards friends and family through the gifting and receiving of presents that consequently caused them to end up with so little money that would bring Santa to tears.

Feelings of mirth and joy were expected on the holiday that foresaw snow, but frustration? She didn’t expect any of that days before Christmas.

It wasn’t that Lily hated watching her bank account come to a horrible decline during this season, because the one thing that she absolutely loved more than receiving gifts was buying them. She revelled in watching the eyes of such gift recipients, especially when they lit up like a Christmas tree, and it made her money deficit well worth it.

With Mary, who was known for her embodiment of the concept ‘the more the merrier,’ it was easy to find a gift for her, whether it was one based on sentimentality or one where the price tag had been taken off of it, Mary accepted anything and everything, so long as it wasn’t unattractive in design and form. With Petunia, who was one for the traditional gifts, it wasn’t difficult to find an expensive vase from online that appealed to those who prided themselves in outdoing every single one of their neighbours. She bought an expensive watch for Petunia’s husband, because it seemed like a good gift simply because of the price. Whether he decided to sell it or keep it was honestly up to him, though she hoped very well that it wouldn’t end up rotting in one of his sock drawers.

Now, shopping for a stranger was something entirely on its own.

She’d no idea what Remus had been thinking to invite her to a party where she knew only one person and was even more confused when everyone was assigned a person at random to bring a gift to. From the conversations in the group chat that she had been added to, she could tell that everyone else knew one another well enough, if one could conclude from the jabs that ‘Prongs’ and ‘Padfoot’ continuously sent towards one another.

Eventually, that chat was put on mute, and she’d told Remus— as well as Sirius Black, who was apparently the host of the party— to inform her of any updates about the party. Asking the latter, it seemed, had turned out to be a poor decision on her part, because it seemed as if his sole intent on living was to pester her to the point that she often found her finger hovering over the ‘block contact’ button, only to stop since he unfortunately was the host. There was also the fact that clicking such a simple button was probably exactly what he wanted, and she was definitely not going to let this stranger win.

The last thing that she wanted was to show up in front of his house and be greeted with an infuriatingly cocky on his face.

On the other hand, the first thing that she wanted now at this very moment was to know what exactly to get whoever this ‘James Potter’ person wanted for a gift, but asking Constellation Boy only resulted in responses such as “He wants you for Christmas” with an absurd amount of winking faces.

If she was to browse the Internet in search of gifts to give to strangers, what if there was the chance that he was also her Secret Santa and was on that very same website?

No, she was going to put her utmost creativity into this gift, whatever it may be.

The only question was how she was going to do that.

She couldn’t exactly throw some sentimental value into it, not when there was no sentimental value to be thrown in the first place, but she didn’t want to at all give him something cheaply overdone, like an expensive bottle of perfume or wine. There were rules about gifts, and there was unanimous agreement that one should never get a person such items for Christmas— that is, unless their name was Vernon Dursley.

It was in these moments that she’d taken advantage of the annoying group chat— currently named “Jingle My Balls,” and she could bet all the toys in the world on who had decided to name it that— to scour for any valuable information that could give her an idea of what James Potter had an interest in.

Deer, it seemed.

Lots and lots and lots of deer.

She couldn’t understand his obvious fixation for deer and its venison counterparts, but she sincerely hoped that Remus wasn’t acquainted with someone who prided himself in the slaughtering of deer just for the fun of it. It could help to explain his ridiculous nickname, and she’d almost roped herself into believing that Remus Lupin was the only sane one in their friend group, only to learn that he had been named for a reason that could only be related to the act of mooning.

If she were to get James some sort of food for Christmas, it surely was not going to be of the venison sort.

Perhaps she’d bake cookies for him and call it a day, but they didn’t last forever, not unless he decided to preserve it for reasons unbeknownst to her, and she wanted to create a lasting first impression on him.

James Potter, what in the world could you want?

Could he be interested in pottery, if one could go by his last name?

Obviously, she wasn’t going to put minimal effort into his gift, and he obviously was far from a Petunia, so a ceramic vase— no matter how expensive it was— was just not going to make do. There was nothing wrong with homemade items, and she’d actually greatly prefer homemade objects over the store-bought pieces.

Perhaps…?

Hopefully, he’d love what she had planned for him.

The final obstacle remaining was that she’d never in her life taken a pottery class.

+++

There was a difference between going all out and doing exactly what it was that this household had seemed to do when it came for Christmas decorations.

Lily liked to think that she fell in the former category, having decorated nearly every inch of her flat with pretty fairy lights and a giant Christmas tree in the corner of every room, and even the bathroom contained a small Christmas tree resting atop the counter. Tinsel lined the tops of the mock fireplace in their living room, and in every part of the flat, there was some Christmas decoration of some sort.

But this house— mansion?

It was on a completely different spectrum of its own.

The front lawn seemed as if it had taken everything that could be seen in the Christmas outdoor section featured at every store, and in places where snow hadn’t fallen, fake snow was used to create the illusion that the place was a magical castle in a kingdom where winter was eternal. There were, of course, a line of deer made entirely out of lights lining up the pathway, and at the very end stood a dog made of lights and a pair of antlers atop the animal.

If she had any doubts about whether or not she’d come to the right place, then these doubts were put at ease.

“This is the place,” she said to Mary, though it came out more as a question rather than anything else.

“The one and only.”

“Are you sure we aren’t— I don’t know— planning a heist? Following the plot of the Bling Ring?”

“Maybe next time,” Mary said nonchalantly, “But I don’t see why you should when you’re being offered free food here. Remember, stay safe, and please bring me a plate of whatever food they have there.”

With one last look, Mary gave her a reassuring beam as she bent down to begin her search party, as her phone had fallen off of the dashboard and slid off to who knows where. It ultimately meant that she was going to dawdle in the car for an unreasonable amount of time because she didn’t want to step out into the cold so quickly, as it was just characteristic of Mary to do stay in her comfort zone for as long as she deemed possible. It was for that reason that Lily decided to knock at the door before the frosty air could hold her captive as well.

The door thankfully opened quickly, and amidst the sweet smell of cookies and all the positivity that embodied Christmas, she caught sight of, well, reindeer. It wasn’t off-putting that it was reindeer. It was off-putting that it was reindeer. Atop each other.

She wasn’t being subjected to real-live reindeer, of course, as they were graphics that appeared on the sweater of some bloke bold enough to wear it to the party. If the sweater hadn’t had the reindeer engaged in such an illicit act, it probably could have been a lovely sweater.

They could have matched, actually, because she was wearing a sweater similar to his, the only main difference being the fact that her deer were nowhere near one another, and hers was mainly black while his was mainly blue.

She felt her eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the sight, and she blinked twice. “You must be James.”

She’d finally managed to tear her eyes away from the deer to look up at him, and she’d nearly fallen onto her knees at the fact that he was so attractive to the point that he absolutely had to know how attractive he was. It didn’t help that there was a pair of antlers atop his head, and they only served to draw attention to his messy hair, hair wild enough to make her thoughts wander off into territory that they shouldn’t have stumbled upon in the first place.

And then her gaze flickered right back to his sweater, where the reindeer seemed to be mocking her.

It was only then that he’d been able to somewhat redeem himself when he opened his mouth, and how how how could a voice be equally as attractive as his physique?

“Yeah? What gave it away?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve got reindeer fucking on your sweater.”

He let out an embarrassed laugh, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his cheeks pinked at her observation. He let out a soft sigh. “I can’t believe the prettiest person I’ve ever seen in my life knows me as the bloke who wears sweaters with graphics of reindeer procreation. I swear I’m being forced to wear this right now.”

Her shoulders sagged in relief. “I was beginning to feel concern for you, a stranger. I still do feel concern, actually. I assume it was Sirius who put you up for that?”

He nodded grimly. “We made a bet. Signed a contract to wear it if I lose and everything.”

“I’m so sorry that he’s disgraced deer like that. No one should ever involuntarily wear clothing that display any form of animal procreation.”

Her words seemed to have some sort of a strong effect on him, and he began smiling so wide that she could make out a dimple growing on the left side of his face. He opened his mouth to respond, when a piercing voice rang through the air, as if the evil form of Father Christmas had awaken to fill all of their stockings with coal.

“Close the fucking door, you fucking—” There was, of course, only one person whose voice that could have belonged to, and her eyes met grey, comprehension growing in his eyes as he realised who she was. “Fuck. Close the door. I’ll be right back.”

“Sirius,” she said simply.

“Unfortunately,” he replied, and he looked out towards the car, “Is your friend coming in?”

Lily regarded his question with little interest and shook her head. “She’s just dropping me off.”

He nodded in acknowledgement. “You’re Lily, right?”

“Unless you were expecting the actual flower, that would be me.”

“I’d say you came to please, then. You’re just as pretty as one.”

She didn’t know what to say in response, because it wasn’t as if she was unconfident in her looks, but it was the mere fact that he’d managed to flirt with her twice in the span of a few minutes. “You can definitely do much bet—”

She was cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps once again, and Sirius returned with something green in his hand. She already knew what it was without even having to get a close look of it, if the deep sighs coming from James were of any indication.

“Padfoot, I swear if you bloody hang that over our heads—”

“That’s quite presumptuous of you to think that I’m trying to incite non-consensual kissing between strangers.”

“Then explain why you’ve got mistletoe in your hand.”

Sirius hung it over his own head. “I’m doing everyone a favour by giving all of you permission to kiss me, the one and only Sirius Black. This is a one-time offer, so I’d say you should take advantage of this opportunity.”

Lily concealed any feeling of disgust that he’d stirred up from his horrible offer, because she came to this party with absolutely no intention of kissing anybody, let alone Sirius, who she honestly thought couldn’t possibly be a horrible person and that his way of texting merely gave off strange vibes. Perhaps he wasn’t a terrible person in the sense that he was decent enough for Remus to befriend, but, as she’d already known long before, looks gave no clue of how a person was on the inside.

“Right, so where do I place this down?” she asked instead, holding up her present that she’d wrapped carefully.

“Don’t know about the box, but you could place yourself down on James’s—”

“Beneath the Christmas tree should be fine,” James had cut in, and he placed tentative fingers on her shoulders, to which she felt warmth spreading throughout her body, “Here, I’ll show you where it is.”

“It’s right there—” she began, but upon realising that he was helping to whisk her away from Sirius, who looked as if the being who he’d successfully been able to bag was Death itself— what with his pale skin and body covered head-to-toe in all black, save the small bit of his red shirt peeking out from beneath his leather jacket— she stopped herself. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.”

It was a problem, actually, because she thought she’d resolved every single one of her worries when she’d finally finished making his gift for him, but she’d been far too busy dwelling on making it so that he would enjoy his present that she hadn’t even stopped for a moment to consider that he might actually fall under the category of men that seemed to make her heart do backflips. And when Sirius was unsubtly running around with mistletoe in his hands, it was obvious that both her and James were to be subjected to uncomfortability, similar to the way people wanted celebrities to date one another on the basis that they were both attractive people.

She didn’t speak her thoughts, instead choosing to plaster a smile on her face, which in all honestly wasn’t at all difficult to do, not when the interior of the place was just as festive as it was outside. The tree stood taller than any tree that she could have ever put up at her flat, and it must have taken a painstaken amount of time to decorate all of it. At closer inspection, she noticed the tree had a good number of ornaments containing images of who she assumed were either James or Sirius at different stages of life making funny faces at the camera.

“Don’t judge,” he said from behind her.

“Oh, I can assure you that I’ve expected no form of normality in this household since you’ve opened the door.”

He grinned at her. “Yeah? Have my expectations been up to par, then?”

“Somewhere up there,” she allowed, “Though, I don’t think there’s too much pride you can have in how stranger perceives you, especially when it’s on the low end of the metre.”

“I take immense pride in that, for your information. I’m taking it as a good sign, since you’ve yet to pelt an ornament at me.”

“I’d say you’re going to only have good signs, then. I, contrary to popular belief, do not pelt ornaments at people.”

“I’d pelt an ornament at any idiot who would believe you more than willing to do such a thing.”

She couldn’t help the laughter bubbling from her lips at his words, and it seemed that he took great pride in getting a laugh from her, because her actions had spurred him on to smile just as widely. Somehow, he’d managed to find a way to be such a dork while still simultaneously coming off as charming.

The ring at the doorbell snapped them out of it, and he flashed her an apologetic smile. “Duty calls— rings? Dunno which word is more fitting, but I’ll have to go greet the other guests. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“I’ll remember to not pelt any ornaments during the wait,” she smiled, and it only served to make his dimple greet her once again as he grinned.

“I knew you’d understand.”

With that, he left her to her own devices. Someone— most likely Sirius— had begun blaring Mariah Carey, the spirit of all things concerning Christmas, and if that didn’t add to the strangeness of it all, she didn’t know what did.

She placed the gift down carefully beside a red gift bag decorated with white snowflakes, and it was quite possibly the most normal sight she’d seen in the house so far— perhaps the only normal sight she’d be seeing for the night.

It was, most definitely, going to be a long night.

+++

For a place that could have possibly housed an entire army, there weren’t as many people as Lily had thought would show up.

There were so much more than she could have expected.

She’d thought that they’d only invited their inner circle of friends if she were to judge from the small number of people in the group chat, and so it would be a complete understatement if Lily said that she thought that she’d feel completely out of place in a room where inside-jokes populated the conversations. It seemed that James, who was the owner of this house— or at least one of the owners, seeing as his parents had been away on a business trip and wouldn’t return until the week of Christmas— was just as surprised as she was by the amount of people showing up.

It seemed that somebody had decided to pass on the message that anybody who learned about the details of the party was invited, and at one point, James literally had to lock the door so as to keep people out, but when Sirius had brought up the point that people could easily climb in through the windows and over the fences, his efforts were rendered futile.

It would be an absolute miracle if the neighbours didn’t call the cops on them.

Sirius, once one got over his many bouts of inappropriate behaviour, was actually a somewhat hilarious person who, in a way, seemed to understand her. It wasn’t her fault that her eyes kept wandering over to James, who’d taken to putting a pillow right over his chest so that he could cover up the cursed image of the reindeer, because she still couldn’t fully fathom how a person could be so attractive without doing anything even remotely interesting, and it definitely wasn’t her fault that Sirius was ribbing her for it.

Sure, Sirius was the conventional type of attractive, but when someone like James was there, Sirius was merely a rock and James a diamond.

It didn’t help that everyone— save for James— was painfully aware of her staring. She felt shame welling up inside of her, because she knew all too well that there was so much more in a person than their appearance, and she herself hated when people merely saw her as nothing more than how she looked. Now, though, she was doing the exact same thing she was entirely against, only, it was with James.

She didn’t even know him that well, and as much as she’d like to say that she’d spent the majority of her time conversing with him, she knew that would be an absolute lie, as she had barely talked to him since she’d greeted him at the door. She’d caught glimpses of his personality through the texts that he sent to the group chat, and she’d be an absolute liar if she wasn’t at all intrigued by his mannerism and himself as a whole.

She wanted to learn more about him, learn about his strange fixation with deer, learn everything there was to know about him, like if he was really the type of man her parents would have liked to see her walking down the aisle with: the type of man who made her completely and utterly happy.

Sirius leaned over to her, because of course she would be the one to end up sitting beside him, even if for just a short period of time. Of course he would, yet again, pick up on her stares. “You can’t fuck if you don’t talk to each other first.”

“I’d say in some extreme cases, that would be a complete lie.”

“I’m prone to agree, but since that idiot has only had unsuccessful dates this entire year, I’m obligated to step up. You’d make his entire bloody new year.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t exist for the sole purpose of making one single person happy.”

“Of course not, but we all know how you’ve been fucking James with your eyes, so spare yourself of wasted time and sit on his lap. He wouldn’t protest.”

“I’d protest,” she replied scathingly, “And he’s talking to his line of admirers.”

‘Talking’ was a word being used loosely here, because he seemed to be the only person speaking, having gone on about a story about himself from when he was younger. It seemed that he’d been engaged in a conversation with Remus earlier, but after the first three women came from nowhere, Remus had left him alone with them, and so he’d been forced to conversate with them, unless he fancied being found in a ditch the following day. She could already sense his discomfort from just the way his smile seemed permanently glued on to his face.

“To cut the conversation short,” Sirius began, feeling no sense of empathy for his mate, “You’re holding back.”

“I didn’t come here for you to play matchmaker.”

“But little do you know,” Sirius sighed.

“Pardon?”

“What?” Sirius asked, “You’re forgiven.”

“I’ve absolutely no reason to apologise—”

“There’s always a reason to apologise. For one thing, you’re stealing me away from the other guests. Everyone needs an equal share of Sirius Black—”

She blanched. “Right, well, that’s already enough incentive to walk away from you right about now.”

“That’s the spirit,” he replied, “Repulsion is the first step to a blossoming friendship. Let me be best man, if that isn’t too much to ask.”

“You didn’t even ask.”

“You didn’t offer. I’ve got to take matters into my own hands.”

She scoffed lightly at him. “It was nice meeting you formally, Sirius.”

“Not sure if that’s sarcasm or if you’re being genuine, but either way, I’ll take it as a compliment.”

She had to hand it to him; she wasn’t sure just exactly what he was capable of, but if Sirius Black was ever handed the opportunity to take over the world, he’d turn down that chance just to find his own means of world domination.

She watched as he walked over to the group with James, said a few magical words, and the next thing that she knew, Sirius had taken the women off of James’s hands as if they were moths and he was a flame.

What she hadn’t expected, however, was to see Sirius pushing James directly towards her, and it seemed as if he was a reindeer soaring through the sky, but the metaphor suddenly seemed unsuiting when she found him crashing right into her.

Or, nearly crashing, and she could already feel how awkward it would have been if he’d fallen atop of her, what with their bodies right up against one another and his face merely centimetres away from hers.

In reality, though, Sirius’s pushing was merely a light shove, because his arms just weren’t strong enough to move somebody across the room and acted only as encouragement more than anything else.

“Hello, hi,” James said, and he sent a glare towards Sirius, “We meet again. Your reindeer are still living in solitude, I see.”

She couldn’t help the smile growing on her face. “I see yours are still going at it. Do they ever stop?”

“Right? It’s quite rude to all the guests around here. They need to find their own time and place to make love.”

She nodded. “They are domestic animals. I expected much more from them. Do you want to go somewhere more quiet? Mariah’s gotten a bit annoying after the first five rounds of All I Want For Christmas Is You.”

“Sure, as long as it’s not for the purposes of love-making. I’d like to at least take you out on a date first.”

“Then, to your room?”

“If you insist,” he joked, and she felt her lips curling upwards once again.

+++

“Why the fixation with deer?” was the very first thing that she’d asked once they’d entered his room. She’d noticed that his devotion to Christmas only seemed to continue on behind the privacy of his door, as even the bedsheets had been changed to mimic Christmas. There was, of course, a Christmas tree in the corner of his room, and rather than the small ones that some people put, the tree was of average size. Beneath the tree were the gifts that were brought for the Secret Santa ceremony, which James had relocated in case any of the uninvited guests had decided that it would be a good idea to snatch them.

She made herself comfortable on his bed, patting the space beside her to motion for him to sit down, that she wouldn’t falsely made accusations at him if he got too close to her. He chuckled at her question. “Its antlers look like a crown, and we both know that I am the most majesty being in the world.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes at him, because though she hadn’t known him for that long, seemed like such a him thing to say. “A real answer, please.”

“You’d laugh.”

“Only if it’s funny.”

She watched his lips rise at the corners. “I took a quiz about what my spirit animal would be, and I got a stag. That’s what made my interest stagnant, I’d say.”

She unceremoniously let out a huff of air. “You made that pun on purpose.”

“Ah, don’t tell me you don’t have an appreciation for puns.”

“I have an appreciation for the funny ones.”

“I’m actually so offended right now. I’m not funny?”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that you’re funny. Your puns are the ones that need some work.”

“It was hilarious.”

“For you perhaps, but since you base your pride on the beliefs of strangers, your opinions don’t seem to matter in this scenario.”

“Oi, my puns are the greatest, thank you very much. I think your opinion is skewed because you’ve been too distracted by the reindeer fornicating on my sweater.”

She laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re laughing, which means that I am completely and utterly hilarious.”

“If you say so,” she sang, “Will you pelt an ornament at me so as to convince me otherwise?”

“Violence is never the answer. I’ve other alternatives, like begging and pleading you to please fuel my ego as it so desires.”

“I’m sure looking in the mirror gives you enough fuel to last the entire week. Month, maybe.”

“Are you calling me handsome?”

“I’m certainly not calling your puns funny.”

“I don’t know whether I should be turned on by the fact that you think I’m attractive or off because you think I’m unfunny.”

There was something in his tone that made her think that he was edging near the former option rather than the latter, and the manner in which his breaths were coming out more slowly was even more of a signal that he wanted something to happen between them just as much as she did.

“Maybe,” she started, and her fingers began moving up his thigh, inching upwards until she was cupping his chin, feeling the light stubble on his face, “We could reach a com—”

She was cut off by the sound of the door bursting open.

It was, of course, Sirius, who looked unsurprised at the sight of them on the bed together. “I’m going to assume that I interrupted you lot, but I’d say that you deserved it, because both of you were too slow to jump the other first thing when you laid eyes on each other.”

“What do you want, Padfoot?” James grumbled, and he removed a hand from her arm, which she hadn’t even noticed had been on her person.

“A lot of things, actually.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. Perhaps the eggnog that they’d served had gotten to his brain, if the alcohol that he’d dunked into the Christmas drink hadn’t done so already. “Anyway, we need to open presents. Oi, you lot. We’re opening presents, and no, that doesn’t include me.”

Sirius clapped ostentatiously to attract everyone’s attention, as if his random outburst hadn’t been heard by perhaps the entire neighbourhood. “We do not need a hearing aid for a present this Christmas,” Remus said as he walked in, and he regarded his mug of eggnog with disdain, as if it was Sirius in the form of a liquid.

It seemed that Sirius had already gathered all of the people who were involved in the ceremony, as a few other people walked in afterwards, and only Peter seemed sympathetic enough to flash them a look of apology for intruding on them.

“Never said anything about a hearing aid,” Sirius replied, “Maybe you need the hearing aid.”

“After your outbursts, I reckon we’ll all need hearing aids. Calm your arse, yeah?” James put in, and Lily felt that had the opportunity arisen, she most definitely would have paid to hear more of his lovely voice.

“He’s excited for presents,” Peter Pettigrew added, “I’m excited.”

“Don’t tell anyone, but I made sure that no one got Pete for Secret Santa,” Sirius drawled, and Lily whacked him lightly with a nearby pillow.

“That’s completely unsuitable for the occasion.”

“It’s fine, Lily,” Peter started, “He says things like that all the time. I’ve built an immunity to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to tolerate it.”

“If this helps,” James began, “I was your Secret Santa. Your present is the one with the gold wrapper, because I use only the finest materials.”

Peter scrambled up to grab the present as described, and this was more or less how it had went on, with everyone having an unspoken agreement on who could throw the most jabs at each other. Sirius was, unsurprisingly, Lily’s Secret Santa, and he’d thought it hilarious to include a gag gift in with the real gift— a pink scarf and an insanely giant framed picture of himself. It went on to show that the size of a present truly didn’t make it a good gift, and she’d have to find some open space in her closet to hang the portrait up on. It would have been quite rude of her to not put up the portrait.

Annoyingly enough, Sirius was completely and deliberately delaying her from giving her gift to James, and when the time finally came for her to give James the concrete embodiment of her hard work and effort, Sirius again was unsubtle in hiding his motives. She took her previous thoughts back. He could definitely not conquer the world, no matter how hard he tried.

“I’ve going to take a sh—”

“If you finish that last thought, I will throw you out the window,” Remus threatened.

“Remus and I will be going— actually, no, let’s all go together.”

“I am not going anywhere near the bathroom with you,” Remus interjected, looking aghast at the prospect.

“You’ve no choice—”

“I always have a choice,” Remus replied, and Lily had been looking on with such amusement that she’d been a bit surprised when he turned towards her, “I am so sorry for his behaviour.”

“I am so sorry that you’ve had to endure him for, what was it, the entirety of your life?”

“That’d be about right,” Peter cut in with a nod.

“I can’t believe you’re all ganging up on me.”

“You can’t honestly expect to intrude upon James and I for open gifts, only to unsubtly leave us alone when it’s time for James to open his present, can you?” she asked Sirius.

“That only makes it even more fun for him,” James said beside her, “And I’d rather they leave now than never.”

“You love us.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get out, and I’ll see about that.”

James, at that point, had taken to escorting them out of the room, and with one swift motion, he closed the door shut and clicked the lock in place. He walked towards the tree, picking up the very last gift that remained before seating himself right back beside her.

“You couldn’t have possibly found a way to clone yourself, have you?”

She found her cheeks growing red, and she shook her head. “Not unless I also found some way to shrink myself.”

He smiled softly at her response. “It’s only that I think that the best present I’ve gotten so far is meeting you.”

“Honestly, if you don’t think that this will be the best present you’ve ever seen in your life, I’m afraid I’ll have to cut off all contact with you. I worked too hard on this gift for it to only be second to myself.”

She watched his smile blossom into something nearly as radiant as a flower at her words, and he shook his head, looking a bit bashful. “Nothing could ever beat you.”

His hands drifted down to the bow that she’d tied on top of the box, slowly pulling it off, and she was glad to see that he was not one of those monsters that destroyed the wrapping paper in order to get to the gift faster. He did the action with some speed, though he was being awfully considerate in not tearing it either, and when he did accidentally make a small rip, he let out a small apology to the paper, as if he was hurting it.

Her heart only moved quicker at that action.

When he opened the box, pulling out the mug that she’d been putting all of her painstaking effort into creating, he let out a nearly inaudible gasp at the sight. He scrutinised every inch of it, and his face didn’t even once diverge from amazement, even when there was so clearly a mistake in the way she’d made it.

“You made this?” he said inconceivably, and she nodded, “How could anyone make something so bloody nice? Fucking— you’re so talented.”

She knew that his words were making her face turn so red that she had to be the living embodiment of the colours of Christmas now, because it was one thing for him to compliment her appearance, but it was something completely difficult when he was praising her work.

She’d made him a ceramic mug, having used so much of the patience that was a gift she could never have gotten from anyone other than her parents and the universe.

She’d done all of it herself, even going the length of digging out and cleaning her own clay in the back of her yard because it would take far too long to ship clay to her home, and on the side of the mug, she’d painted, of course, a reindeer.

He placed the mug down onto his bedside table and took her face tentatively in his. “Can I—”

“Please.”

He smiled widely at her, and with that, he pressed his lips to her, the taste of the eggnog he’d prepared filling her senses. There were so many things that she’d imagined to happen when he’d gotten his gift, which included— but was not limited to— him simply thanking her, or, had he turned out to be a malicious person, would have slammed all of her effort onto the ground, effectively splitting the mug into a million pieces.

She didn’t realise that she’d end up kissing him. She didn’t realise that she’d love kissing him.

There was something so tantalisingly sweet about the way he was holding on to her chin and something so utterly desirable about the manner in which he was kissing her. It wasn’t too slow or too fast, and it wasn’t even helping that her heart had taken to soaring throughout her body as if it was a shooting star, sending wonder towards every single one of its witnesses.

She’d found it too much of a coincidence that he’d end up being the person who she had to get a gift for, found it too much of a coincidence that she’d wind up being added to a group chat in which everyone but her was close with one another, and—

“Oh my goodness,” she said against his lips, and she pulled away, her eyes opening so that green could meet gold.

It was not a coincidence.

“Are you all right?” he asked her, and the way in which his glasses were skewed only added to his confusion.

She nodded. “It’s just— aren’t you peeved?”

“Peeved?” He looked more perplex. “About what?”

“We’ve so obviously been set up, and it took me this long to realise it.”

“We’ve been…” he repeated, and he blinked once, then once again. “What?”

“It’s so obvious now that Sirius set all of this up so that we could meet. Don’t you—” Her eyes widened slightly when his cheeks flared up, signifying that he knew something. He knew something. “James.”

“Right, yeah, I didn’t realise that this was a set up until after you were added to the chat, but I swear— I just thought that you were a cool person because you’re on the phone with Remus a lot. I didn’t think Sirius would take the initiative to do all of that. I— are you mad?”

Was she mad?

No, she didn’t think she was, or, at least she wasn’t mad at him.

“No,” she answered honestly, finding his rambling to be cute, “I’m not mad at all. I got to meet you, didn’t I? I think that’s enough compensation.”

“But we both agree that Sirius isn’t getting away with this.”

Her lips curled upwards. “After a few more rounds of kissing. And the sweater goes off.”

“I thought you were starting to warm up to it.”

“I could honestly never,” she laughed, but he complied anyway, pulling the cursed top off of himself. Her fingers lightly roamed over the exposed skin, and she found him kissing her once again.

There were many feelings that people felt when it came to the topic of Christmastime, but right now, all Lily could feel was joy.

There was also that small bit of wrath felt towards Sirius, but when joy was the dominant feeling, who cared what else she felt?

All she focused on was joy. Joy and joy and joy.

#omg i really wrote 6.5k in two days #what a los3r #jily #jily fic #jily au #jily fanfic #jily fanfiction #james and lily #james potter #lily evans #james x lily #lsj writes

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cooperjones2020 · 5 years

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Second City, chp. 12

Summary: Sometimes she worries she’s settling — for a smaller job, a smaller city, a smaller life than she’d promised herself — but that was before she found out Jughead Jones lives in Chicago. That was before she found out the final secret of Jason Blossom’s murder.

A/N: Alright, so. It's been seventeen months since I updated and my life has been turned upside down several times since then. I never intended to abandon this fic, or writing in general, and I still don't intend to but it's probably best to consider it on hiatus until further notice, as I can't promise it won't be another seventeen months before I update again. I actually had this chapter mostly written and was just sitting on it, but all further chapters are in much rougher shape so who knows. Same goes for NNK - nothing is anywhere near publishable for that one, sorry.

I do want to say how much I appreciate all of you who kept reading and commenting and checking in with me here. It does mean so much to me and I think about you a lot, even if I don't show up and do anything about it.

Also, hopefully it goes without saying but, this fic is canon compliant through season 1 only, so Hal is not the Black Hood--none of that happened.

ao3–>https://archiveofourown.org/works/11409360/chapters/40956119

All previous chapters of Second City and Nobodies Nobody Knows under the tag #second+city and on the Who Sings Heartache to Sleep series page on Ao3

12. In which Nancy Drew discovers modern technology

Jughead doesn’t approve of her plan, but he doesn’t have any better ideas to offer her so they go with it. Neither of them really has any experience investigating cold cases, and it’s not like she has the kind of technology available to her that she had at her old job — or that any evidence exists that such technology would catch.

After he’d surprised her last night, they’d gone to Pop’s. Of course. He’d come straight to her mom’s house from the airport, barely stopping at his own to drop off his bag, so by the time he got her out her front door, he was practically foaming at the mouth.

“Jug, why didn’t you eat before your flight?”

The look he gives her is so incredulous she barely restrains her smile.

“Betty, why on earth would I eat the soggy grey hockey pucks that try to pass for burgers elsewhere when I know I’m within, like, five hours of Riverdale.”

She realizes that his detour to her basement likely added an extra hour or so onto that ETA, that Jughead Jones willingly remained hungry longer than necessary to find her, but she pushes that thought firmly out of her mind.

Now, she’s in the Blue and Gold office of both past and present, pulling old editions of the paper they wrote out of an ancient filing cabinet — thankful at the miracle that they’re still there in the time warp that continues to be Riverdale. A freckle-faced kid who insisted he was a junior but looked alarmingly young had logged into the computer for them, so Jughead is behind her, looking for digitized copies. The kid didn’t know where the records from 2017 were, so they are left attempting to cover all bases.

The office hasn’t seen many updates since she’d last been here. They’ve replaced the computers, but even these models are several years out of date. They did get rid of the microfiche reader, though. So that’s something.

Betty Cooper, who spent her freshman year pining after the wrong boy, her sophomore year solving a murder, her junior year in a fog of depression, and her senior year learning how to be a person again, never intended to come back here. But somehow, here she is. Wherever you go, there you are. Like all adages, that one is also annoyingly true.

After an hour or so of fruitless searching, Jughead sighs and comes to stand behind her.

“What are we looking for, Betts?”

“The articles we wrote.”

“I know that, but why? What will they tell us that we don’t already know?”

“Something we don’t remember. I don’t know. It was a decade ago — there could be some detail that seemed insignificant at the time but now might help point us at my father, at what he might have been up to.”

She doesn’t know what kind of records there’d be anyway, but she’s determined to look.

“Betty, we know what we wrote. And even if there’s something that was insignificant then, I’ve read reread these editions until my eyes crossed in the course of book research. I’m pretty sure I have them all memorized at this point. Hell, there’s copies back in Chicago. I could have Mike or Mary overnight them to us if you wanted.”

“I just want to be able to check the facts. I want to make sure we have all the information we possibly can.” She tries to keep the petulance out of her voice. Her success is questionable at best.

Because, truthfully, she knows Jughead’s right. There’s nothing to find here. If anywhere, whatever there is to be found must be in the remains of her father’s office, in the crypt that is her childhood home, the crypt where he mother continues to cling to the memory of the Coopers pre-Jason Blossom, pre-Jughead Jones, and pre-Betty’s “rebellious streak rearing its ugly head.” Alice would never admit to it, fond as she is of her grandchildren, but Betty would bet that that last summer before the first time their lives all turned upside down was the last summer in which her mother was truly happy and her life was something under her control.

It’s becoming increasingly clear to Betty that this can only end in a showdown between her and her mother. That Alice Cooper may be the gatekeeper of the truth — a potentiality she both dreads and wishes for as, if not, she’ll have to confront that thought that maybe there is no truth to be had.

Hal Cooper is dead. All of this might turn out to be in vain. And she can’t — she won’t — accept that.

Jughead sighs again behind her, pulling her back out of her head.

“Okay, then let’s take a break before we go see Keller. Your brilliant mind won’t do us any good if you’re totally burned out when we get there.”

Last night, with the shock beginning to wear off and the pungent grease that seems to float in the air around the diner receding behind them, Betty tried not to watch Jughead walking beside her out of the corner of her eye. At least, she tried not to whenever his head was turned toward her. The sound of cicadas slowly overcame the buzz of neon as the trees lining Elm St. enfolded them in a hazy almost-darkness. Just as she was about to give up scanning his face for signs she’d told herself she’d forgotten how to interpret, as dusk stole the details of the moles on his cheek and threads of his expressions, she heard a rustle of foil down near his hands and he popped a square of gum in his mouth.

She narrowed her eyes at him and extended her hand. “What, you don’t think I should get to escape the fate of onion breath?”

He raised one eyebrow as held the package up for her to see — “Nicorette” just visible in the fading light.

Oh.

Huh.

“I…didn’t realize you’d quit.”

“Yeah, a few weeks ago.” He scraped his hand over the back of his neck and then forward to ruffle the waves of his dark hair. “So you’re welcome to a piece if you want, but you might not like how it makes you feel.”

She shook her head and they kept walking a block or two. Then her mouth opened of its own accord, “Freshman year of college, after some insipid party at which I stayed sober — I don’t remember why. Antibiotics, maybe? — the guy walking me home persuaded me to try one of his cigarettes when I told him I’d never smoked. After nearly hacking a lung out, I got the hang of it well enough to not totally embarrass myself. But when I got home, I puked for an hour. Ugh. It was worse than the 2023 Spring Break tequila incident.”

For a moment it was silent beside her and she felt herself begin to blush — what had motivated her to share that utterly useless memory? — Then Jughead burst out laughing, doubling up and gripping his stomach and guffawing so hard she thought he’d choke on the stupid gum.

But it was catching, because soon she was laughing too, careening into the hiccups that had always signalled the fraying of the tether of her sanity.

“He — he must have thought..” Jughead dissolved into giggles again. Jughead Jones. Giggles.

“Oh Betty.” She managed to swallow a hiccup and looked up to find soft eyes on her and all of her mirth suddenly evaporated. It was a look she just wanted to sink into and wrap herself up in, to push away the reality of what they were doing here.

She shoved his shoulder then, telling herself it was because he’d laughed at her. But the flat of her palm against the soft, gray jersey of his t-shirt ignited another sizzle in her abdomen she resolved to ignore.

They try not to talk about it, this giant thing sitting in between them, preventing them from reaching each other. Or, at least, Betty does. She’s not sure if it’s a conscious effort on Jughead’s part or if they’re just totally out of sync again.

But, still, it slipped in. At dinner, he’d made an offhand about Southside High and she said, “I get it, Jug, I do. You didn’t have any chips to play. And while I wish you would have told me, so we could have figured out something together, even if that something was our breaking up, my dad held all the power. The threat to FP— to your family — was bigger than our high school relationship.” She realized she meant it. Maybe she could forgive him after all. Maybe she already had. Maybe their friendship is still intact.

He kept glancing at her and then away again while they searched, as if he expected her to break down, but by that point in the night, she had no room for anything else but undirected anger. She’d let it carry her back to the basement after dinner, where she resumed digging through boxes and poking through excel files looking for passwords or safe combinations or financial records or something.

Anything.

Many hours later, when Betty went upstairs for a glass of water and was surprised to see the house cloaked in darkness, her eyes drifted to a handful of photos stuck in cork board illuminated by the under cabinet lights. A photo of the twins in the Blossom maple grove last winter shot an arrow straight through Betty’s brain.

Glass of water forgotten, she raced back down the stairs and barely caught herself from having to hurdle over Jughead’s head.

She did it. Jughead heard the click and looked up.

“It was—it was the date that Grandpappy Blossom killed Grandpappy Cooper.” He nodded but didn’t say anything as he pushed himself up and crossed behind the desk, to join her in her corner of the floor.

Beneath passports and birth certificates, manila folders containing the deeds to the house and the Register office and bills of sale for the Whyte Wyrm and other properties her parents had acquired and discarded over the years, Betty found a handful of newspaper issues her parents had saved. She handed them, one by one, to Jughead, who scanned headlines before stacking them neatly in piles beside his left hip.

When she picked up the next issue from the stack she’d pulled into her lap, her breath caught and she felt Jughead’s eyes land on her. The cover story was a copy of her Jubilee speech from that year. She remembered her parents justifying their decision to print it in the Register, not buying her arguments about special treatment because she’s their daughter — her dad had insisted.

Rereading it, she finally felt the anger and her energy begin to ebb away, leaving behind hurt and confusion and love for her father. She couldn’t help wondering what he saved this paper for — it it was a message and if so, for whom?

Eventually, she was forced to admit that the safe, too, seemed like a dead end. She sighed and set the newspaper and manila folder for the Whyte Wyrm transactions aside before locking the safe back up. Jughead returned to his side of the office, across the DMZ of the desk and beyond any arm-span that would have allowed her to reach him.

Sheriff Keller’s secretary had headed her off earlier in the week, but today she and Jughead get in to see him, down the long hallway lined in dark wood and seafoam green tile she’s seen so often, in real life and in the dreams that still sometimes creep in. Jughead remains in the doorway, but Betty hovers while Keller makes himself a cup of coffee. When he finally sits down, sighing as his bones settle, and she takes the rickety folding chair across from him, Jughead comes to sit beside her, folding his own long legs around the legs of his chair.

“I don’t have any new information, Betty. This case has been closed for years. We examined all the footage, from both cameras. Your dad never left the bar. Clifford entered and exited through the back door. There’s no evidence your dad even knew he was there.” It’s not unexpected, but still it sets her teeth on edge.

“But why would he just go into the Whyte Wyrm for fifteen minutes at 2:30 in the morning on a night it was closed. He wasn’t doing business stuff, he never even went into the office. And how could he not have heard the shot?”

“He said he didn’t. We had no reason to doubt him. Betty, your father was a good man.” It’s obfuscation wrapped up in a pretty bow of trying to make her feel better. What Sheriff Keller is saying is that Hal was one of the right kind of people. He owned his own home and his own business, had a picture-perfect family. What Keller is saying is that he didn’t do his job.

Betty feels herself begin to vibrate with anger again and a dozen years of repressed emotions and she can feel Jughead’s eyes on her, wondering if she’s alright. “And you just bought that? That he was in the bar but couldn’t hear the shot? You didn’t ever think to test it?”

The set of his jaw tells her Keller is getting annoyed with her now. That answering questions on done-and-dusted murder investigations was not how he’d planned to spend his Wednesday afternoon. “We have Clifford Blossom on tape, we didn’t need your father for the case against him.”

As usual, Sheriff Keller totally misses her point.

Jughead speaks before she can. “But you never thought that that might be too much of a coincidence? That a man who never frequented the Whyte Wyrm, except to check up on the accounts and always during the daytime, just so happened to be in the bar at the exact moment a kid was shot. A kid he was so upset about dating his teenage daughter that he literally sent her away. You never thought they could have been together before entering the bar and then split up so you couldn’t prove it?”

Keller stares at him, bushy eyebrows drawn down over his eyes. “Then why would he let himself be caught on camera at all?”

“I don’t know, maybe he was drunk and forgot all about the cameras. Hell, maybe, in the best case scenario, he and Clifford were together when Clifford got the call from Mustang and Hal didn’t know Clifford planned to kill his own son. Maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But you truly believe he didn’t know that gun went off? He didn’t spend months trying to hush it up only to swoop in as the white knight for my dad as soon as I found the proof he was there?”

The sheriff’s chair squeaks as he leans to one side and then the other, scans his eyes up to the ceiling and back down to a spot on the table where the decades have left a rusty mug-shaped ring.

“Jones, what’s the point of all this? Your dad’s out and Hal Cooper’s been dead for years — sorry, Betty.”

She doesn’t understand, has never understood, how her sweet and morally uncompromising best friend can have such a troglodyte for a father.

“The point is apparently Riverdale is just as corrupt and morally bankrupt as it always was. My God, how the hell do you keep getting elected? Let’s go, Betty.”

She lets him lead her out of the police station. Her mind still whirring with the sheriff’s incompetence as yet another roadblock, yet another of the same roadblocks as they’d encountered so many years before. So she gives Jughead the keys and lets him drive her back to her house.

It’s almost alarming how quickly they slip back into old habits, old ways of being comfortable with each other she thought they’d long since forgotten. They’re in the basement again, Betty going through more boxes and Jughead trying to crack the encryption on her father’s old external hard drive when it comes to her. “Juggie, we can test it!”

“What?”

“We need to know if my father heard the gunshot. We may not be able to prove whether he knew what Clifford was up to or if they were together beforehand, but we can prove he knew the gun went off and didn’t do anything about it. We can test it.”

“You want to set off a gun in the basement of the Whyte Wyrm?”

“Why not? Your dad runs it now, right? We can do it before they open for the night so no one will freak out. I know my mom still has as gun around the house somewhere. It might not be the same caliber though. Do different gun sizes discharge at different volumes?” Betty is absorbed in her own monologue, mind jumping ahead to all the variabilities of ballistics she can remember from a lifetime of watching too many crime procedurals.

“Betty, stop. We can’t just shoot a gun in the middle of a building. What would we even shoot it at? That’s gotta be against the law and after today, I don’t think Keller’s gonna be too willing to give us the benefit of the doubt. And he definitely won’t give FP the benefit of the doubt.”

She’d begun quickly re-boxing all the papers from her parents’ refinancing in 2011 but at Jughead’s words she freezes and feels herself deflate. “I guess you’re right. Never mind. I just — I thought it might be something after all of this nothing.”

“Wait. I have an idea. You’re a genius.” He kisses her forehead and runs out before she can ask him what he means.

#bughead fanfiction #riverdale fanfiction #bughead #betty x jughead #betty cooper #jughead jones #riverdale #mine #second city

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marshmallow-fireside-keith · 6 years

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Pregnant Keith Fic Catalogue

(Mobile Edition)

About this list:

This list is meant to be an exhaustive, one-stop-shop for those looking for pregnant Keith (in the Sheith pairing, for now. I am open to other pairings if people would like this) fics. This is NOT a recc list. This is a catalogue. The works on this list are not sorted by taste, nor user, nor bias. Like a library catalogue, every fic (that I have been made aware of/ found) that contains the premise ‘pregnant Keith’ in some fashion is included. This list took hours sorting through multiple tags, so that you, the reader do not have to. If a fic is missing, please let me know, as this is meant to be an updated post. The ONLY reason it would be missing would be me not finding it, messing up, or not knowing about it. Any and all fics are welcome here, as long as they meet the basic content requirement of pregnant Keith.

If you see your fic on here and want it taken down, or edited, please also let me know!

Thank you all! Let me know if you’d like an Omega Keith version of this. That will take considerably longer, but if y’all want it, I’m happy to put it together.

Current as of: July 9, 2018

Omega-Zero by PackThePack @packthepack

It’s not easy, feeling like a stranger on your own body. It is confusing and throat-tying. It makes you want to crawl out of your skin, while wanting to crawl inside as much as possible. Small enough so you would almost disappear. It is hazy and cold, and it is shallow. The feeling of being left alone with yourself without a way to escape was no tender company. But right now it was the only company Keith had.

The Moon Hangs Low by newtype @?

While traveling with the Blade of Marmora recovering Zarkon's former territory, Keith reaches the cusp of Galran maturity as soon-to-be fertile omega. Concerned for his well-being, Ulaz sends Shiro with Keith to an isolated sanctuary bathhouse to observe his heats. Accepting the offer, the two finally find themselves with the privacy they've been long waiting for.

Skip the Pleasentries by FullmetalReborn @omggiogiothings

Staring at the cow on the other end of the pregnancy test, giving him a creepy smile with white luscious hair, (Pidge had some damn weird tastes but the saint actually went to purchase them for him so he couldn't complain) makes him want to strangle past him. Pidge sat down by his starfished body and looked at the stick (‘I peed on it. Please don't put it so close to your face.’) “Looks like you have a little gremlin.”

Within These Final Hours by orphan_account

Okay so, I've been writing this for the past three weeks and now that it's done I can finally start posting and writing my OTHER Voltron fic. As someone who has watched the old Voltron series, I was both excited and slightly unnerved when I heard the show was being remade. Remakes tend to be pretty awful... But thankfully, this one is pretty damn awesome. The second season is making me nervous though...Swear if anything happens to Shiro, I'm gonna lose it.

Anyway, I'll post chapters twice a week, on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Pretty standard Omega!Verse fic, as well as some Galra!Kieth stuff... But yeah, I can't promise any specific time, probably going to be around noon usually - Chicago time zone -, but I just finished proofreading chapter one - with some slight revision - and I decided to post it now. But here, take this sin, there will be smut in later chapters. This entire fic will be completely posted by the 20th.

I should have the next one finished and I can start posting a new fic. I hope you guys enjoy, constructive criticism is welcomed but please be kind with your words. I tend to react badly to cruel words.

I am also in dire need of a beta! If anyone is interested, please contact me at [email protected]

Thanks everyone, I'm excited to finally start sharing my works. Remember, I am but a smol 16 year old, so my writing style is sill in development. I am by no means a professional and I do not intend on chasing a profession in this field. This is for fun and I would like to keep it that way.

Bearing by Jibbly @jibblyuniverse

Maybe the pressure of being leader of Voltron is getting to him.

All of these thoughts are in the back of his mind, when Kolivan calls for help.

His resources are thinning out, and he asks for a lion. Keith offers himself instead. Much to the surprise of the team. Shiro standing in the center of the control deck with a look of disappointment in his eyes.

Kolivan hesitates, before agreeing to letting Keith come to train at the Blade of Mamora.

Day Eleven: Peridot by bandgeek1stbassclarinet

Peridots are traditionally given to celebrate 16 years of marriage.

He can't bake, but he'd be a hell of a dad. by Golden_Asp @?

Keith and Shiro have been trying for a baby since returning to Earth. Maybe this heat will be the one that it finally happens.

ABO AU, post saving the universe.

Lonely Star by keithyourpal @keithyourpal

Takashi's death brings Ryou and Keith together, and in the following year they help each other make peace and rebuild their lives--until Keith goes missing.

Two Plus Twins by NoNotThat

Prequel to Twins Plus One!

Shiro and Keith are going to be parents and Shiro has to deal with mood swings first hand.

Akira by Tay (erentitanjaeger) @?

Shiro returns home to his mate and one-day old child.

Cursed by Al_D_Baran @?

Keith investigates to find the Beast that terrorises his husband's lordship.

Miracles and Blessings by Gootbuttheichou@?

My Sheithlentines gift for Pinfuyu/XuanPinku!

If the Silence Takes You by keithyourpal@keithyourpal

Sven recovers after helping Team Voltron secure the trans-reality comet. Desperate to get back into the line of duty, his recklessness leads to his capture by the Alteans.

You Fight with a Galra Soldier by laterie @babe-in-red

Keith is not able to fight, but Shiro certainly is.

The Reasons I Scream at Night by ThirteenSocks @safeautistickeith

Shiro is a veteran returning from a year in captivity and trying to piece his life back together. Keith is an immigrant from the stars. They meet at the café Keith works at. But no sooner have they fallen in love does Shiro accidentally get Keith pregnant.

Between Shiro dealing with his PTSD and Keith with his adjusting to the new culture, the two find they must lean on each other to navigate having a baby on the way.

But life is never so simple, as their pasts come back to haunt them, and the war everyone thought was over was only just beginning.

Arc: Sine: Chapter 1-29 Complete

Arc: Cosine: Chapter 31-?

Reasons .5 by ThirteenSocks @safeautistickeith

Shiro curved his left palm around the jut of a hip. His thumb nearly reaches halfway across the small back, the rest of his fingers getting brushed a heavy cock that bounces with his thrusts. He took another risk that ”mentally present” him would soon enough chastise himself for. He threaded metals fingers through the base of Keith’s thick, silky braid, and jerked back. Keith cried out again. Using the new leverage, Shiro drew him back like a bow; hauling his hips upwards as far as they would go, and creating the dip in his back by the grip on his hair.

Strip Me of Shame by laterie @babe-in-red

"Don't do this to me."

Keith’s anger launched a disaster. His need to find the answers is rising to the point, where Shiro is losing his control over the Red Paladin and their lives. A whole new universe is opening for Keith. Will he find his real home?

Aurulent by drrkrbbt @?

An "accident" in the middle of the night turns a lot more interesting than Keith had expected.

The Long Way Back by fio @?

As a gladiator, and now Champion, Shiro has given up hope of ever returning to Earth. But when his captors deliver his 'prize'—an omega, a descendant of both Galran and Altean blood used by the Galra to breed with the strongest aliens they capture—he's offered a chance to escape.

There's just one catch: Shiro has to get him pregnant to do it.

Happy Accidents by ShirosRedKnight (SweetFanfics) @shirosredknight

Keith’s never understood the term ‘happy accident’. It’s too much of an oxymoron because how can an accident be happy? It just didn’t seem possible.

But that was before now.

Weekend at Pidge’s by chocolatemoosey @chocolatemoosey

Keith took Shiro gently by the jaw and pulled him into a kiss, “She’s fine. Hunk and Lance are there with her – between the three of them, I think things are gonna be okay.”

Meanwhile, at the other paladins' house: “THINGS ARE DEFINITELY NOT OKAY."

Pidge, Lance, and Hunk have offered to watch Keith and Shiro's toddler for a night while the couple celebrates their anniversary. Add a hostage situation to the mix and things go about as well as expected.

Inherit the Stars by Masrrkan @souais

It's time that Keith moved on with life, one that was full of happiness, his husband, and his son.

(Fic was originally posted before s5. So no Lotor or Matt. This is canon divergent past s4 and doesn't fully mesh with the current story in the show.)

A Single Step by bouquetofwhoopsiedaisies @bouquetofwhoopsiedaises

After the war with the Galra Empire finished, Keith and Shiro settled down on a nice planet together and started a small, happy family. Then, their daughter was kidnapped, and they spent years searching for her. When they find her, she is scared and volatile, a feral creature that needs to be taught how to trust again. Luckily, her dads are ready to help her every step of the way, even if those steps are slow to come. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

Gredelin by AccordionOwl @accordionowl

A story about how Shiro and Keith deepening their relationship and Keith realizing something about his galra heritage as things starts to happen to his body.

The Beast That Eats Its Tail by kittypox @kittypox

Retiring from the coalition is easier said than done, even in Keith's condition. Even with his mighty alpha mate protecting him, he somehow still manages to get caught in the midst of the coalition's war with the rebel group, The Hand of Krell. Time is not on the coalition's side as they struggle to squash the power vacuum and discover how the paladins are linked to the mysterious beast the rebels worship. Keith does not know what this 'Beast That eats It Tail' is and why the rebels are so keen on feeding him to it, but he does not intend on finding out.

Leaving It All Behind bykittypox @kittypox

There are reasons to turn from war. Settled in his stomach, Keith finds his one reason to not only turn from the war effort, but to abandon Voltron and his mate.

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