#we’ll see if i break down and do more than weekly updates since that would take me THREE YEARS

[novastories]

That Way

Title and chapter loosely inspired the song “that way” by Tate McRae. 

Summary: Tensions are high while the aviators prepare for the mission, and Aurora focuses on her work. 

Warnings: Language, anxiety attack and fluff

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: I’ve been away for a bit! It's been a rough/weird last few weeks. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I do! I’m hoping to start updating weekly rather than every 2 weeks, but we’ll see! 💛

Shoutout to my editor and beta reader @reginleight as always!

As always, likes are great and all, but comments, reblogs, and feedback are highly appreciated and loved! 🤭

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Aurora had started work at NCIS San Diego and as much as she hated being behind the desk, she found it comforting since she was able to come home at a decent time.

She would spend her evening dinners with Bradley and Peyton, cooking for all of them since they rarely got home cooked meals. Since living in the same house now, they all had fallen into their own routines together.

A few days later, tensions were still high across the team about the upcoming mission. Bradley really tried his best to keep his emotions in check, but it was hard when his instructor was someone he despised, and one of his teammates was becoming increasingly more irritating. 

Today, they were working on part of the mission maneuvers, but no one had gone through the simulation successfully and on time.

Although Rooster’s team did make it, they were behind on time. Maverick kept asking why Bradley’s team was dead and tensions were rising fast. Bradley was pissed off at him, and they got into a bit of a spat in front of the other aviators, Bradley determined to prove his worth.

Jake was being his cocky self inserting himself into the conversation because Bradley just wasn’t getting the situation.

“It’s no time to be thinking about the past,” Hangman soon speaks up, catching his attention.

Bradley looks at him incredulously as if daring him to say the next line, itching for a fight. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Rooster,” Maverick warns his godson not to get into a fight.

“I can’t be the only one that knows that Maverick flew with his old man,” Hangman continues on.

Bradley suddenly realized what he was saying while Maverick, seeing the man’s anger rising, tried to get Jake to stop.

“Lieutenant, that’s enough,” Maverick warns.

“Or that Maverick was flying when his old man–”

“Lieutenant, that’s-”

That was Bradley’s tipping point for launching at Jake.

All the other aviators got up to break up the fight before it started. He tries to grab at him, while Bob and Phoenix try to hold him back, Payback in the middle trying to get in between. On the other side was Fanboy and Coyote holding Jake back.

“That’s enough!” Maverick shouts at them, trying to contain the situation.

“You son of a bitch!” Bradley shouts at Jake. 

Jake laughs, and brushes off Mickey and Coyote. He didn’t feel the urge to try and come at Bradley, having already riled the other man up.

“I’m cool, I’m cool,” Jake smiles at Bradley who was still visibly simmering.

“He’s not cut out for this mission. You know it,” Jake starts.

“That’s enough,” Maverick repeats with authority.

“And let’s face it, Rooster, I’m not the only one who knows it. I bet Artemis knows it too. You just aren’t cut out for anything, are you?” Jake taunts.

The mention of Aurora had Bradley ready to fight again, trying to launch at him again.

“Don’t you dare say her name like you know her!” 

“Funny, as close as you two are, I bet she hasn’t told you everything now, has she?”

“What the hell do you mean?!”

“Lieutenant!” Maverick becomes furious at Jake for now talking about Aurora.

“You know I’m right,” Jake directs his statement to Maverick before walking off. There was heavy breathing in the room as he left, the atmosphere tense. Maverick was still shocked in disbelief while Bradley was just plain furious, trying to bring down his temper.

“You’re all dismissed,” Maverick orders all the aviators. After a few seconds of silence, everyone shuffles out, with Bradley first to leave the room, after Jake.

Maverick lets out a heavy sigh sitting on one of the chairs, before reaching into his pocket and sending a text to Iceman and Aurora.

—

Peyton, in his mechanic overalls, was standing next to a plane he was fixing up until Bradley came in search for his best friend to tell him what went down. Bradley stood there, while Peyton took in the information.

“What do you think he meant by, ‘She hasn’t told you everything now has she?’” Bradley worriedly asks. 

“I don’t know. Maybe he just meant that to rile you up.”

“Or what if there’s truth to his words?”

Both men look at each other before realizing that talking about ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ weren’t going to change anything.

“I’m going to look for him. Go home to Aurora. I’ll be back later,” Peyton puts down his tool, packing up for the day.

Bradley agrees with his statement. “As much as I hate him, it’s probably best if you talk to him anyways.”

“Oh, trust me. I’m going to give him a piece of mind.”

—

“It’s you.”

“Yeah it’s me, asshole. We’ve gotta talk.” Peyton storms into Hangman and Coyote’s apartment, not waiting for an invite.

“C’mon in,” Jake grumbles, as Peyton stands in the living room waiting for Jake to close the door.

“If you want to talk about me and the chicken’s fight, trust me, Coyote already slapped some sense into me. He left a while ago for the Hard Deck.”

“Well, now you’re going to hear it from me!” Peyton huffs out.

Jake held out his arm in a “lay it on me” motion.

“Seriously, what the hell was that about? Riling up Bradley and Maverick? Bringing up the accident where we almost lost Uncle Goose?! Then bringing my sister’s name into it?!”

“Look, I get it-”

“Do you?!” Peyton exclaims. “That’s my family you just threw into the fight, two people who weren’t even in the room, and you used it against Bradley, the person who cares for both of them. And my dad who has still yet to recover from almost losing Goose?!”

“I’m so-”

“No! You’re going to shut up while I talk! Got it?”

Jake stares at him, while Peyton waits for an answer.

“Well?”

“You told me to shut up while you talk, I didn’t know you were-”

“Damnit Jake! Seriously?!” Peyton throws up his arms in disbelief.

Jake winces.

“Look, I get that you’re trying to be the best. You worked hard being in the Navy. But you involved my family, that was a low blow and you know it!”

“I-”

Peyton glares at him, as Jake shuts his mouth.

“Aurora’s name shouldn’t have been brought up, you knew that would piss him off! You know how much he loves her! I get that she probably went to you for something in the past, but shoving that in Bradley’s face, knowing how much he and Aurora trust each other, that was so low even for you, Jake.”

Peyton huffs, out of breath from his rant. Jake stands there letting Peyton take his break.

“You done?”

“Yeah.” Peyton replies, walking to the door, ready to leave.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jake blocks the exit wanting to talk to Peyton before leaving.

“Can I, can I say my peace before you leave?”

Peyton sighs and nods.

“Look, I get what I did was messed up. I’m sorry. I just-”

“Just what Jake?”

“How do you do it?”

Peyton looks at him confused.

“Do what?”

“Support your family, even though you know they don't do everything right? Like Mav pulling Bradley’s papers, or Aurora not telling you everything? How can you just sit aside and support them when you know they’re wrong?”

Peyton laughs softly. “Because that’s what you do for your family. You love them through their own faults, even though they fucked up, you support them because you know they’ll always love you and have your back. No matter what.”

“Why? Just because they’re family?”

“Because I love them, and they love me.” 

Jake and Peyton hit a lull in conversation, just thinking about what was said in the last few minutes.

“I really am sorry,” Jake sighs, after a few seconds had passed.

“I know, Jake. I get it. And I’m sorry for coming and yelling, it was uncalled for.”

“No, I deserved it.”

Peyton lightly chuckles. “Take the apology, will you?”

Jake and Peyton laugh before Jake gazes into Peyton’s eyes.

“Why did you come? Besides to yell at me?”

“Honestly…I wanted to make sure you were okay too. As much as I hate to admit it, I care for you a lot Jake,” Peyton confesses.

Jake looks at him and finally sees Peyton as he is. The guy who loves his family, and will fight for them no matter what. He was selfless that way. Jake never understood what it was like to be loved. So seeing Peyton defending his family, it made Jake feel something.

Taken with so much emotion, Jake leans in and kisses Peyton, cupping his face.

Peyton was shocked, but kissed him back, wrapping his arm around his neck. He knew in his mind he was supposed to move on from him, but his body didn’t react that way.

They stood there kissing for a few more seconds until Jake started grabbing Peyton’s waist. That was enough to make Peyton come to his senses and push Jake away.

“No, no I can’t do this again,” Peyton reminds himself.

“Pey-”

“No. You can’t do this to me again. I can’t-”

“Peyton.”

“I’m trying to get over you, Jake! You didn’t want a relationship, and it can’t be ‘just sex’ for me. I can’t do this if you’re not willing to be with me. I won’t go through it again, Jake. I can’t,” Peyton pleads.

Jake looks at Peyton, full of regret and pain.

Peyton, hurt that Jake didn’t even say anything else, brushes by him, and walks out the door. Jake starts to tear up, and leans his head back in disbelief at what he had just done.

“Shit.”

—

“Princess?” Bradley steps into the house, looking for Aurora. Her car was in the driveway, so he knew she was home. He spots takeout on the table, knowing Aurora probably decided to buy dinner instead of cook today.

He could hear music coming from the backyard, so naturally he decided to follow it.

The house that they were currently staying at had a gorgeous backyard, looking out towards the ocean and had a gate for beach access. The backyard had a porch with a lot of grass that CJ was currently playing on.

Aurora was sitting on a couch where a table was out in front of her with her laptop and a few NCIS files scattered around it. The porch lights emitted not too bright of a light, but just bright enough for her to read the files she was going over.

She was consumed in her work, not even noticing Bradley leaning against the doorframe watching her. Music was coming from a wireless speaker she had brought outside as she did her work.

Bradley stood admiring her from the doorframe, all the worries and stress just fading away. Aurora soon looks up and sees him watching her.

“How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to know that you should not have brought work from home. I can feel the stress coming off of you from here.”

Aurora groans as she puts a file down, Bradley coming to sit next to her on the couch.

“Transitioning from fieldwork to desk work is just a lot right now.”

“I believe in you. It’s different, but I know you always put your best in whatever you do.”

Aurora chuckles at the encouragement. 

“Thanks, B. It means a lot.”

They sit in quiet as Aurora shuffles the files to make an organized pile, while Bradley throws a ball for CJ to play with in the yard.

“Your parents are coming home tomorrow, right?”

“Yep, we’re picking them up at the airport and then having dinner at Uncle Ice’s house.”

“I’m so excited to see them! I can’t wait to hear the stories your mom has and see the photos your dad has taken. How long has it been since you saw them?”

“Since my last deployment.”

Aurora hums in response, then remembers the text her dad had sent her. “So, you wanna talk about today?”

Bradley stiffens and remembers what had transpired that afternoon.

“Not really.”

“Bradley.”

“Aurora.”

“C’mon, we have to talk about it,” Aurora groans.

“I really don’t.”

“You promised me you wouldn’t get mad.”

“It was just a rough day today,” Bradley concedes without giving any information.

“I know, but what happened specifically? Because dad didn’t give me a lot of details.”

“Your dad and I got into a fight, and Hangman decided to put himself in between us,” Bradley grumbles.

“So how did that end up with you and Jake almost fighting?” 

“He said something.”

“Hangman says stupid things all the time, what made this time any diff-”

“What did Hangman mean?” Bradley blurts out. Aurora looks at him confused, as she turns to face him.

“About?”

“About, not telling me everything. He said something along the lines of you not telling me everything.”

Aurora sighs. She was mad at Jake, he knew how much she didn’t want Bradley and Peyton to worry about her, especially with everything that had gone down the last 3 years when she was at NCIS.

“He just…when Jake and I met, he helped me through a rough patch. It was something between him and I. He shouldn’t have even told you.”

“Something you haven’t even told me? I thought we agreed we shouldn’t be keeping secrets,” Bradley’s voice starts rising.

“It’s not a secret when I’m trying to protect you!” Aurora defends, her voice cracking. She was trying hard not to break down.

“Oh, so HE gets to know, and I don’t?! What happened to trusting each other with everything?”

“Bradley, don’t you get it?! It’s not a black and white thing where I can just say it in a casual conversation,” Aurora pleads with him. She felt her throat closing up. No, please not now.

“Why?! What’s so special that he gets to know and I don’t?! Do you really think I can’t handle it? That I won’t get it?”

“So many things have happened these past 3 years that I just can’t…I won’t,” Aurora soon starts hyperventilating.

Aurora didn’t want to tell Bradley, not now. She wasn’t ready to put him through that, to relive her own trauma just so he could understand.

Bradley’s expression soon turns to worry. He wasn’t used to Aurora having a breakdown. Her breathing became more erratic and he became increasingly more concerned. He didn’t know what to do.

“Ro? What do you need? What can I do?” Bradley fretted.

“CJ,” Aurora says between breaths. Bradley calls CJ and the little pup comes running, jumping into Aurora’s lap. She instantly clung to him, breathing into his fur.

“Breathe, Ro breathe. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere,” Bradley softly says. the pup’s breath starts to slowly even out as CJ lets Aurora cling to him. With her face still buried into CJ’s fur, she uses her right hand to feel for her bracelet. The thing that helped ground her.

Bradley soon grabs her water bottle off the table as Aurora lifts her face from CJ’s fur. He gives her the water and she takes a few sips from it. She puts it back on the table, wiping away the stray tears from her face.

Bradley gives a silent gesture, asking if he was able to put his arms around her. She nods, and he holds her, while Aurora buries herself into his side, CJ in between them. 

They both sit in silence, listening to the music still playing in the background and the faint noise of waves crashing in the background. 

“Hangman knew about my anxiety attacks. I don’t like talking about it,” Aurora soon whispers out after some time has passed. 

“How long has it been happening?”

“Hard to say. It got worse after a bad case.”

“I’m so sorry, Ro.”

“Don’t. Don’t be. I’m getting better. It’s just…it’s been one of those days and I don’t like arguing with you, B.”

“No, princess. Don’t be sorry about having one. I’m sorry you went through that alone, and for making it worse right now,” Bradley clarifies.

Aurora looks up at him, bewildered. “I thought you were mad I didn’t tell you.”

“Darling, when it comes to shit like that, I’d rather you tell me. But only when you are ready. You’ll tell me when you’re ready about the case or about the other stuff. I trust you always that you will tell me eventually on your time.”

Aurora’s eyes start to water. The fact that Bradley didn’t push any further and understood made her feel better. She buries her face into his neck as he holds her tighter. 

“I’m here for you always, princess. If you ever have another attack, will you let me know?”

Aurora nods and Bradley was satisfied with that answer. 

They sat there for a bit. CJ runs back to the grass, as Aurora shifts her position, finding her comfort in Bradley. She followed his breathing, feeling better and calmed down a bit quicker than usual since she had him by her side. 

Another song came on, and Bradley stood up. Aurora almost whined at the loss of warmth, until he held out his hand.

“Care to dance?”

Aurora was thrown into a flashback from a few years ago when he had asked the same question during her graduation party. She chuckles and takes his hand, lifting her up from the couch.

“What took you so long, Rooster?”

He smiles at her, leading her to the open space in the yard, grabbing hold of her waist with his left hand and his right holding her left arm. She giggles and settles into the sway of the dance.

It may have been a different song they were dancing too, but any song they danced to was Aurora’s favorite because they all reminded her of Bradley.

At that moment, everything felt perfect. The setting sun, the cool summer breeze, the fairy lights coming from the porch. Aurora buried her face into Bradley’s chest.

He smelled like jet fuel and the warm ocean breeze. She could smell the musky body wash he uses. To her, Bradley was her home, the person she felt comfortable with whenever she was in his arms. 

Bradley looks down at Aurora, seeing her pressed closely to his chest. Bradley could smell her coconut shampoo and vanilla perfume, the one she always wore and the one he loves, remembering the simpler times of their childhood.

She looks up and smiles, giving Bradley the glowing smile she usually saved just for him. The one that held so much love and appreciation for him. She gazes at her best friend, the scars on his face shining ever so slightly in the light. 

Bradley glances at her lips and looks back into her eyes. He starts to lean in, as Aurora starts to meet him halfway, her heart beating so fast she was sure Bradley could hear it. Just as their lips were about to touch, they heard the front door slam shut to their house.

“Rory? Bradley? Where are you at?”

With that moment being interrupted, Bradley groans and Aurora pulls out from his arms.

“We should, uh, probably head in.”

“Yeah,” Bradley sighs, clearly disappointed that they were interrupted. Aurora turns to the house, with CJ following her.

She pauses, and walks back up to Bradley to give him a kiss on the cheek, but because of her height, it was close to his lips.

Bradley stills at the action, as Aurora pulls back with a grin.

“C’mon, the food’s gonna get cold.”

Aurora, Bradley, and CJ go inside, just as Peyton was putting away his shoes.

“I’m going to put my stuff in my room, takeouts on the counter,” Aurora says, as she walks towards her room.

“Oh and B,” she turns. Bradley looks at her.

“Thank you, for understanding.”

Bradley was taken aback, not understanding why she was thanking him. Aurora smiles, turns and walks into her room.

“Dude, what was that about?” Peyton asks, walking up to him. Peyton was still upset about what had happened at Hangman’s place, but could feel the tension in the house between Aurora and Bradley.

Bradley sighs and grabs Peyton by the arm to drag him into the kitchen.

“Let me talk to you about cockblocking.”

- - -

If you would like to be on the taglist or removed, please let me know! 

Taglist:  

@purplevortexx

@sqrlgrl22

@luckyladycreator2 

@my-obsession-spn

@oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo

@shanimallina87

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@fandom-princess-forevermore

@a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby

—

Disclaimer: This story is fictitious. All works are written by me and only posted here. Please do not copy, repost, or plagiarize on any other platform without my permission!

#top gun #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfic #ncis x top gun #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun au #ncis #oc ncis agent #jake seresin x male oc #nova stories #nova writes stories #grateful nova #I'll Be Waiting Story #Spotify

[characterclassificationsystem]

Updates and Introductions

Hey guys! We’ve posted our final class to the blog and are now moving onto bigger and brighter things. We’re going to utilize all the information we’ve posted to upload analyses classifying characters in media, and why we believe they fit the criteria of a certain class!

When we post these, feel absolutely free to disagree with us on our verdicts! Just be prepared to provide your reasoning, we’ll be sure to ask. If after mutual consultation and review we agree with your claims, we will add an addendum to the post clarifying our new view. Contrarily, if you’d like to provide further evidence / participate in the discussion for why the classification fits, once again, feel free! Also be sure to recommend some characters you would like us to analyze! We’re always looking for fun and interesting characters to break down and theorize about.

Our post schedule will be changing, too. It would be a near-impossible feat to get an analysis up every single day, so while our team remains this size we will bring down the posts to twice a week (Mondays and Fridays at 12pm EST)! Our first analysis will go up on the following Monday.

Now finally, for a little insight to the people behind this system! Currently, we are a team of two, but we’re always looking to expand our partnership to make a brighter future for CCS. Here are mini-profiles of how we would classify ourselves to shed some light on our personalities.

Apollo (he/him 🏳️‍⚧️)

Yellow-Dominant Courier

Adaptable. I’d say I’m a solid 5/10 in terms of adaptability. There’s a fifty-fifty chance when I go into a situation that I’ll be able to really thrive or straight up book it out of there. No in between. 

Eccentric. My colleague says this should be higher but I disagree, I’m going with a 6/10 since I certainly have my moments but I’d die if I had to be “on” all the time. 

Encouraging. While I like being the one who pushes someone to be their best self, I also don’t like the idea of asking others to perform above realistic capabilities so… 6/10.

Idealistic. This is definitely one of my higher ones. I live for the light at the end of the tunnel, the reason to keep moving forward. Easy 8/10.

Passionate. At my best I am quite a passionate individual, but like eccentricity it cannot be my every waking minute. I’d rank this slightly higher though, so I’ll settle on a 7/10.

Philosophical. Let’s philosophize right here, right now, I am so ready! Let’s get into the weeds, asking the big questions about whether God or anything for that matter is even real. I love understanding the underlying reasons and motivations behind why people do the things that they do, and more than anything I want to nail down what we’re really here to do. Self proclaimed but well deserved 10/10.

Related Characteristics:

Ambitious (from Captain).

Creative (from Artist).

Inquisitive (from Inventor).

Introspective (from Merchant). 

Ash (he/him)

Green-Dominant Athlete

Bold. Perfect 10/10. If you wanna challenge it, come and face me. However, on a more realistic note, I like to take a lot of risks and jump into scenarios where other people may hesitate. It’s an ideal trait I’ve seen in many forms of media, and I aspire to use said boldness to help others to the best of my ability.

Capable. My ability to manage the situation and take control is something that has been forged into my very body from when I was young. I am the blade that will not quit in a fight. 8/10.

Disciplined. Apparently my colleague thinks I should rate this higher than I think I deserve. I'm lazy but I do follow a weekly routine and like to make a schedule. 6/10

Dynamic. While I love to be in motion and using my hands to do whatever, I do also love being lazy and in bed when I have nothing else to do. Action is my passion, but not being on the run is a lot of fun. 5/10.

Formidable. I’m only a 3/10. If you saw me in the streets, you would see the rats mugging me.

Keen. If this was One Piece, I’d specialize in Observational Haki. 9/10

Related Characteristics:

Attentive (from Inventor).

Dependable (from Warden).

Playful (from Bard).

Strategic (from Tactician).

#characterclassificationsystem #ccs #update

[skittidyne]

hey guys look i’m posting a totally new story for you all to enjoy!

actually i’m going to be crossposting old ff.net projects to ao3 for archiving purposes. but it means you can enjoy weekly updates of pedestal again if you so choose!

#pedestal #pokemon #dark knight will be going up too eventually #we’ll see if i break down and do more than weekly updates since that would take me THREE YEARS #actually i’m already gonna go add another

[mrpenguinpants-alter-ego]

Genshin: Holding Hands HCs [V1]

Why yes, I am aware I have requests and a possible part 2 to write. But tumblr tags is like playing Russian roulette so I need to figure out this tagging system. Gonna post two short ones today to see if they show up in tags or not. I got 3ish weeks of school left so weekly updates. When the break hits I’ll be writing more. 

Genshin: Holding Hands V2: [TBA] 

I kinda want to do all the genshin character’s but we’ll see. I have requests to finish and a paper to write aha. 

btw I have a taglist. If you want to be added see pinned post for details.

---

Venti

While his hands are relatively soft to hold, his fingertips are a bit rough due to plucking his lyre strings for hundreds of years. It’s not a bad feeling but his fingertips are a bit more sensitive compared to the palm of his hand. If you want to hear this bard shriek just cover your hand in some slime condensate and hold your hands together and never let go. No matter how windy it gets. 

Venti has no issues with linking hands together even when you’re both friends. If it’s to drag you off somewhere and away from whatever important task you have to do that day domain farming he’ll do it. He think’s it’s really sweet when you hold his hand a bit tighter whenever he has to use his elemental skill to give you a small boost to grab that last violet grass. 

He has a habit of swinging your hands together if you’re both walking side by side. His other hand will gesture as he rambles on about a new song or story he heard of and he might even gesture with both hands. He refuses to let go of your hand though so your arm is on a ride whenever he get’s to a really intense part. 

For Venti, holding hands is a sign of stability rather than affection. He may be the archon of anemo with a strong sense of freedom but he is quite lonely. He was asleep for a long time so the people he used to know have long since passed. While the wind flows and rushes past everything, being able to hold your hand stables him onto the ground. 

Diluc

Despite being a pyro vision user, Diluc’s body temperature is on the cooler side. It might be because of elemental reactions on the body or that’s just how Diluc is. Either way, his hands are relatively cool to the touch that it always surprises you. You always give a small reflexive flinch expecting warmth from the red-haired man’s hand, but you’ll slowly relax and connect your fingers together. 

Diluc has an aloof personality and enjoys his personal space but he is a kind person deep down. A tiny bit touched starved but he’s never going to say that out loud. So he doesn’t mind if you want to hold hands but if you’re going to initiate it, you’re committing to it. If you want to give him something akin to a handshake, just shake his hand instead. But if you hold his hand and let go, he’s snatching your hand back. 

He tends to rub small shapes into your hand unconsciously. There’s something relaxing in the act and you don’t seem to mind. Though sometimes he needs to adjust his glove but then he’s right back to holding your hand. Diluc isn’t necessarily embarrassed with public affection, he’s just busy and he’s never been in a relationship before or one where he’d consider friendly interaction. 

As weird as it seems to others, Diluc prefers to have his palm rest against your wrist. His hand is bigger than yours so that he can still wrap your fingers together, but feeling your pulse against his palm gives me peace of mind. It means you’re alive and you’re right beside him. 

Zhongli

There’s never a specific moment where you and Zhongli hold hands. Even when the both of you are walking together, your hands stay to your own sides. You never ask to hold hands and he never initiates but that’s alright. You both have different way so of communicating your affections. Zhongli is naturally blunt and straightforward with his affection but it’s usually in unprompted moments. You both could be working on paperwork and he’ll mention out of the blue how he enjoys your presence in his life, offer you a small genuine smile, and hold your hand in his. You’re not too sure what the appeal of doing paperwork is but to each their own.? 

His hands are a bit stiff and weighty but it’s a comfortable feeling. While Zhongli is a bit naïve and awkward when it comes to handling mora he’s quite smooth in slipping his hand in yours so naturally. Whether it be because your hands looked cold or he just wanted to, both end up flustering you. It’s kind of cute when he has to write something down but can’t because he refuses to let go of your hand. He ends up writing with his left and the penmanship is actually legible that it makes you kinda proud at how randomly talented Zhongli can be sometimes. 

Zhongli doesn’t have any habits when it comes to holding hands but he usually prefers to hold hands firmly together rather than a loose hold. He say’s some spiritual take on the matter, that rock’s should be sturdy to support the one’s above and likewise so should the joining of two hands, but it really just kills the mood.  

He’s secretly a bit of a tease so he enjoys seeing you turn pink whenever he holds your hand. Zhongli enjoys peace and quiet so whenever it’s just the two of you together working on mundane things, it allows him to take a small step back and just bask in your features and your presence. You’ll soon note his staring and ask if there’s something wrong but there isn’t. Not now at least. So he’ll smile calmly and remark how he wishes this moment would last. 

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin zhongli #zhongli #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact zhongli x reader #zhongli headcanons #genshin diluc #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #venti x reader #genshin impact venti #genshin impact diluc #diluc headcanons #genshin diluc x reader #genshin venti x reader #genshin zhongli x reader

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Going Back Home

Summary: Claire never thought she would be back in the town she grew up in. But after her fiancé broke off their engagement, leaving her 5 months pregnant and alone she found herself calling Frankie Morales in the middle of the night, one of her childhood friends who insisted that she booked the next flight out. Trying to fix her life with a little help from her friends she would find out soon that going back would be the best decision she ever made.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Claire Beck

wordcount: 3.1k

Warnings: more or less unplanned pregnancy, break up, mentions of sexual encounters

A/N: I am a weak weak person so here it is, a chaptered fic. I will try to update this weekly, but no promises. Rating will go up later. I'm attempting slow burn. Let's see how slow lol Let me know what you think. Reblogs are, as always, appreciated 💙

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Taglist in reblog

Even Though most of her happiest memories were connected with this town, the town she spent most of her life in, Claire never thought she actually would be back here. And certainly not pregnant and all by herself.

It wasn’t that she had been unhappy here. Claire just always wanted something… bigger. Something more. Something exciting. After her parents died and most of her friends moved away, there was nothing holding her back. Well, that wasn’t true. Frankie and Santiago were there. But only when they weren’t overseas or god knows where, which left her with her dream of being a journalist in a small town where she had no chance to ever make it.

She still remembered Santi’s face when she announced that it was her turn to leave just before they were about to be gone for months again. She had gotten a job in New York and thought for days about what to do until she took the job. That was eight years ago and they hadn’t seen each other in person since then.

Yet when she called Frankie three days ago in tears, it was like no time had passed. She wanted to call Santiago first, but she knew him. If she had told him what happened to her he would have gotten into his car and gotten to her, no matter if it took 3 straight days. No, she had called Frankie. He had listened to her for hours until he made her promise to book the next flight out.

When the fuck did her life become such a shit show?

Only a week ago, she had the dream job, was engaged and 5 months pregnant.

Claire was happy. Until her fiance came back from a work trip and suddenly announced that he wanted nothing to do with the child and moved out within days, leaving her on her own. Not even his phone number was working and she wasn’t gonna show up at his work. She wasn’t that desperate. She should have seen it coming. John never planned to have kids. But when Clarie found out that she was pregnant he had already asked her to marry him and maybe he was too proud to end the engagement back then. Thinking back maybe this was the reason he stayed. Because a part of him wanted to spend his life with her. They didn’t fight. He just moved out, told her that he would take care financially of her and the child, but that he didn’t want to be a father.

The first days she was just numb. Trying to wrap her mind around the fact that the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with, left her while she was pregnant with a child they didn’t plan but that she loved without a doubt. That was what kept her going. Her little bean. Claire would do anything to protect her little girl.

The guys to this day called her bean. She found herself thinking more of them since John left. Even without seeing them in the last years, they still stayed in contact. Not a week went by where she didn’t receive a letter. They had a group chat that was only used when they were at home and the bachelor was on. Cause fuck did they all hate that show but they watched it anyways.

Claire was okay with the whole suddenly being on her own thing, until she felt her baby move for the first time and turned in her bed to wake her fiance, finding the side empty and cold. For one tiny moment, she had forgotten that she was alone in a city where she had only a couple of friends who were his friends rather than hers. She had always had a hard time finding friends. That probably wouldn’t change.

Sucking her bottom lip in, she rested one hand on her belly as she waited for her luggage to arrive. She slept almost through the entire flight. Claire had gotten rid of the last eight years of her life in the last 48 hours. She wanted to start fresh. She needed a fresh start. Even if she had no idea how to deal with all of this on her own.

A woman next to her helped her get her suitcases on the cart, noticing that Claire was on her own. Pushing the cart through security she saw Frankie as soon as the door opened and next to him Ben, Will and Santiago who all smiled at her, while she felt the first tears escaping her eyes.

She had met Ben and Will only a couple times, they were living an hour away, but they became part of the group immediately. Once upon a time her childhood best friend, Leah, was in that group too. Claire hadn’t thought of Leah in a long time. She had died in a car accident almost 12 years ago.

Arms pulled her in a warm embrace and even after years of not seeing each other for such a long time, she still noticed Frankie’s scent.

“We got you,” he whispered, kissing her hair. She sobbed once before she was pulled into Santi’s arms.

“Look at you,” he smiled before he looked down at her belly.

“And look at you?” he smiled and leaned down.

“Hello, this is your favorite Uncle speaking,” he winked, bending down to speak directly to her belly, making her chuckle.

“Oh please, we all know I’m gonna be the favorite, hey bean,” Will hugged her.

“Don’t listen to them baby girl, we know they're all gonna spoil you rotten,” she grinned, letting Ben kiss her cheek.

“So you’re staying?” Frankie asked and you nodded.

“I already called some realtors. I wanna get this over as quickly as possible. Already sold everything back in New York,” Claire said, looking at the two men who formed most of her teenage years.

“Okay. Let’s get you out of this airport first. You okay to stay with Frankie? He has the biggest house,” Santiago asked, pushing the cart as you slowly walked towards the exit with Ben’s arm around her shoulder.

“Uh… I don’t wanna impose. I could just take a room…”

“Fuck no. Stay at my place. It’s my Pa’s old ranch. I’m renovating it.”

“What? No way!” she said surprised but Frankie only nodded.

“Yeah after Liz and South America I needed something to keep me busy. Also needed more space for Elena,” he explained. A small smile sneaked to Claire’s face.

“I still can’t believe you’re a dad Frankie.”

“Can’t believe you gonna be a mom. Fuck we’re really adults now, huh?” he winked and Claire sighed.

“Certainly didn’t plan it that way. Or planned it at all,” she said sadly before she shook her head as if to get rid of the sad thoughts clouding her mind.

“I meant it, Claire. We got you. We are bored most times anyways.”

“Hey speak for yourself, Fish. I got a business,” Santi said.

“Yeah. Yeah. Me too. But after work you’re either drunk or after some pussy so?” Ben grinned, making her chuckle.

“So still no ladies in your life, boys?” Claire asked as they reached what definitely was Frankie’s truck. It had his company name on it. “Morales gardening”

“Nope. But now that you’re here we could finally….” Will started only for Claire to look away in disgust, making them all laugh.

“You ready to become a Daddy, Will?” she asked, her hands both on her belly.

“Uhm… of course?” he answered and she chuckled.

“That’s what I thought,” she patted his cheek.

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted,” Frankie said and opened the door for her.

“We’ll see you tomorrow for the BBQ,” they all waved. She waved back, letting Frankie help her inside before he closed the door behind her and hopped into the driver’s seat.

“BBQ?” she asked.

“Can’t blame the folks from wanting to welcome you, bean,” he winked.

“What folks?”

“Ya know. Folks. You gonna see,” he looked at Claire. He felt better now that she was here. Frankie had missed her these last years, the couple of calls throughout hadn’t nearly been enough. And when she called two days ago in tears… He would have gotten the chopper and flown over but he couldn’t risk it. He had to be on good behaviour to be able to keep seeing his daughter.

“I missed you, Francisco,” she whispered.

“Missed you too, Bean.”

The sun was already setting when Frankie drove down a familiar path. Claire had spent countless days on this ranch when she was younger.

“How is your Dad doing?” she asked softly and Frankie sighed as he killed the engine in front of the house.

“I fucking hate that I can’t take care of him on my own, but he’s hanging in there.”

“I’d like to visit him if you’re okay with that,” she reached over squeezing his hand and he looked at her with a small smile.

“I bet he would love that.”

“And I’m sure he would have wanted it this way, Francisco. You know your dad. He wouldn’t have wanted you to drop everything for him. Don’t be too hard on yourself,” she said quietly.

“Damn I really missed you Bean,” he shook his head.

“Missed you too,” she let her head fall against his shoulder.

Claire didn’t really have eyes for the house, all she wanted was to go to sleep.

“I finished the guest room this morning for you,” Frankie said, setting one of her suitcases down as he opened the door.

“Please tell me you didn’t work overnight to finish this,” she sighed looking at him. He was rubbing the back of his head, pulling the cap he was always wearing down and avoiding her eyes.

Knowingly she shook her head, but couldn’t help the smile sneaking to her face.

“I won’t say it. But please don’t touch the walls, they might still be wet,” he said and she chuckled.

“Okay. Bathroom is over there. The shower isn’t working yet but you’re welcome to use mine. Will is coming over to take a look and make this one work. Other than that if you need anything just ask. Until you found a place this is your home.”

“You really didn’t have to do this, Frankie,” she said quietly, feeling overwhelmed by all of this. So many things had changed in such a short amount of time for her and she only now seemed to realize that she was indeed about to be a single mom.

“I wanted to. You’re… You don’t deserve to be treated like this. So let us help you, okay?” he said softly and she nodded but avoided his eyes.

“Okay. Go to sleep. My room is down the hallway if you need anything,” he stepped closer, kissing her forehead and for one tiny moment, she felt like the 15 year old teenager again who was crushing on Frankie Morales.

“Good night, Francisco,” she smiled.

“Good night, bean,” he whispered before he turned around and closed the door behind him.

Claire looked around, in awe of the room, the bed looking so inviting to her. Sighing she walked over to the window, knowing she would be able to see the whole property during the day. Crossing her arms in front of her she closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of nature that she had no idea she had missed living in the city for all these years. She felt a fluttering in her belly, her hand wandering down to feel a kick.

“We’ll be happy here, I promise,” she vowed, rubbing over her belly.

She didn’t want to disturb Frankie, even though she could hear the TV running so she just washed herself at the sink before she put her Pajamas on and sat down on the bed. She would unpack tomorrow. For now she had to sleep.

The sun wasn’t even up when Claire woke up. She turned in bed, propping herself up so she could look out the window and watch the sunrise. She had to make a plan. A plan that included finding a house, a doctor and help. Though help would be her smallest problem. She already looked at houses in the area and it didn’t look good. If she had more time she would buy the house just down this road, but there was no way the house would be ready before her due date. She would ask Santi for help. He had a lot of connections through his business. Though Frankie too. Claire knew that he had a little gardening company since he lost his pilot’s license. He never really talked about it, but then again, they didn’t talk that much. She knew that he had some problems with drugs in the past, but that he has been clean for almost two years and was doing better. She also knew that there was a lot more to this story then he had told her. Maybe they would have time to talk. To really talk. Groaning to herself, her quiet and peaceful morning was interrupted by her bladder. Time to start the day.

For a minute she wondered if she could risk sneaking into Frankie’s room to take a shower when she heard music playing. Grabbing her bathrobe and toiletries she opened the door and walked down. Now being really awake she had time to take in the house. It seemed like there still was a lot to do. The walls were still unpainted, the floors still old, though she could see he already started with the floor the closer she got to the kitchen.

Frankie was sitting at the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in front of him as the radio quietly played in the background. He had a serious case of bed hair and she smiled to herself. He hadn’t noticed her yet and she found herself thinking back to all the times she had thought that maybe there was something more in between them than friendship. And maybe there was at one point a long time ago. But that was before he joined the military. She might be selfish for it, but she couldn’t be in a relationship where her partner was gone all the time. She needed someone to be there. Even Though there had been times in the past she had found herself asking if maybe she should have risked it.

Instead she had slept with Santiago.

Yeah, that was a big fuck up. Well it was also a pretty good fuck but it was just once and they definitely were better off as friends. She still didn’t know if Frankie knew. Not that she had to explain herself. Frankie always knew what effect he had on the women around him, and he sure as hell took advantage of it. And now she felt nothing more than love for him. As a friend, nothing more.

“Good Morning,” she said quietly and Frankie turned his head, yawning at her.

Chuckling she walked over taking in the kitchen, setting her toiletries down.

“You weren’t kidding when you say you were still renovating,” she sat down next to him. He got up from his seat walking over to fix her a mug of tea.

“Still hooked on Strawberry tea, I hope?” he asked and she nodded, surprised that he remembered.

“Yeah. Though the kitchen and living room are supposed to be finished by the end of next week. So sorry for the noise in the next couple days,” he walked over and set down the mug of tea in front of her.

“Hey it’s your house. I’m just thankful you let me stay.”

“Of course. Couldn’t let you stay in the dumpster motel in this town,” he winked. She took a sip of the tea and it was perfect.

“So what are you planning for today?” he asked.

“I probably should start looking into houses. I’m kind of on a timetable here,” she rested one hand on her belly and Frankie followed her movement.

“Yeah. I think Pope already called someone for some houses. It’s not looking good.”

“Yeah I thought so. Everything I found on the internet was in really bad shape,” she sighed.

“It’s gonna work out. And if you don’t find something, you’re welcome to stay. The place is big enough,” he shrugged and Claire laughed quietly.

“Yeah I bet you can’t wait to live with a hormonal pregnant woman and then with a newborn,” she joked.

“I lived with Pope. Nothing can be worse and…”

“And?” she asked.

“I already lived with a hormonal pregnant woman. It’s not that bad,” he shrugged with a small smile. She looked at him with a small smile on her face.

“You say that now. Wait till I’m craving your mug cake at 3am now that I’m living with you,” she joked. Frankie laughed.

“Wow I haven’t had one of those in at least 10 years.”

“Well then it’s about time.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, looking at Claire. She looked more relaxed today, like she had a good night’s sleep and he was thankful he put in an overnight to finish the guest room for her. She deserved to relax. When she told him that she not only was pregnant but dumped by her fiance Frankie was furious, yet at the same time he already decided that he would take care of her and help her with everything she needed. It was the least he could do.

Even though they grew apart in the last years, she still was one of his best friends.

“Okay. I’m gonna go take a shower. I got to drive out to check on a project. You gonna be okay here for a while?” Frankie asked. Claire nodded, grabbing her mug of tea.

“Just tell me when you’re going out so I can take a shower,” she said.

“Thank you, Frankie,” she whispered when she stopped next to him and softly kissed his cheek, before she walked down the hallway. Frankie looked after her with a soft smile before he got up to get ready to head out.

Next chapter

#my writing #going back home #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie morales x ofc #pedro pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic #frankie morales fanfiction

[spine-buster]

peaceful easy feeling ft. b.boeser | four

A/N: This one is an emotional one.  Please be prepared.  Content warnings are below.

CONTENT WARNING: parents with disease/sickness (Parkinson’s); parent death; swearing; sex; alcohol use; lots of emotions.

                                                                *     *     *     *     *

Brock was wiping Grace’s tears as he stood in between her legs as she sat on the counter.  She had come over to his house crying after an appointment at the hospital with her dad’s neurologist.  There was no good update.  There was no bad update.  There was just an update.  “Things are progressing at the rate they’ve always been progressing,” the doctor had told her.  “We’ll see how long the pureed foods last.  He’s been doing well with that, but as you know it will have to switch as some point to tube feedings.”

“I just want so much more time with him,” Grace cried into Brock’s shoulder, clinging to his body with every limb she had.  Brock pulled her away slightly so he could look her in the eye and wipe the tears that were streaming down her face himself.  “There was still so much he wanted to do.  So much I wanted to do with him.  He—he’s accepted his fate, but it also breaks his heart.”

Brock’s heart was heavy.  He wrapped his arms around her again and held her close against his body, placing small reassuring kisses on her neck and whispering to her over and over again that everything would be okay.  In reality, the both of them knew it wouldn’t be.  Hamish was dying.  He was dying a slow death.  But both of them also knew it was exactly what Grace needed right now – to be held, to have her tears wiped away, to be told everything was going to be alright.  It was one of the things she loved most about Brock, that he always knew what to do and what to say to her.  

“I love you,” he whispered into her ear tenderly.

“I love you too, Brock,” Grace whispered back.  “I love you so much.”

As Brock stood in the kitchen with Grace’s limbs wrapped around him, he thought about his dad.  He thought about Duke holding his hand as they watched football together.  He thought about Duke sipping on water from a straw, angry that he couldn’t have a beer like his buddies around him (his buddies would eventually stop drinking beer in front of him).  He thought about helping his dad get dressed, making his bed, helping him in and out of chairs or sofas.  He thought about his dad with Coolie and Milo and how much he loved them.  

Brock started crying too.

***

“You alright dad?” Grace asked as she gripped her father’s hand, watching him as he sat down on his bed in his brand new pajamas she bought him.  He nodded his head before sitting.  “Okay, let me help you with your legs.”

She bent down in front of him, seeing that he had already lifted them off the ground before she grabbed them gently and brought them on top of the bed.  He shifted his own body further into the mattress, and she made sure to fluff up his pillows before he really set his head on them.  “There you go,” she said, grabbing at the blanket bunched up at his feet.  She brought it up and draped it over his body, making sure he was snug in his bed.  She looked down at him once more.  “Sleep tight, dad.”

He said nothing.  Instead, he grabbed her hand.  Grace looked down at him.  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Why’re you so scared, sweetheart?”

Grace almost burst into tears right then and there.  But she knew she had to stay strong for her dad, because he hated seeing her cry.  He probably wouldn’t sleep for the night if she did.  “I’m just scared for the day I’m going to wake up and you won’t be here anymore,” Grace admitted to him.  Even though the doctor’s appointment didn’t necessarily bring her any good or bad news, these thoughts had been rampant in her mind ever since.  She only ever expressed them to Brock.  Sometimes to Svea.  “I know the day has been coming since I was fourteen and I’m still not prepared for it.”

“You’re…a smart girl, Gracie,” he said.  “Even with me gone…you will…still be able to do…everything that you want to.  Dance.  Have a family.  Be a mom.”

Grace nodded her head.  “I know I will.  I just don’t know if it will be as special if you’re not here to see me do all that.  Especially become a mom.  Because you know how much I want to be a mom but it’s—you’d be the best grandpa.”

“I’ll be there.  I’ll be watching.”

That’s what got her.  Right then and there, Grace let out a sob, heavy and desperate and loud, like a hurricane had just swept through her body and had taken everything with it.  She tried to stop but it was no use.  And while she sat there on the edge of his bed sobbing, he pulled her down so her head was to his chest.  “You need to…stop worrying, Gracie,” Hamish said.  She could feel and hear his heart beating.  “I’m still here…and still breathing.  Don’t you worry.”

***

“D’you miss your parents?” Grace asked Svea one night when they were hanging out together at Elias’s apartment.  They were alone in the den while Brock and Elias played video games, and Grace was looking at all the photos Svea had of her with her older sister and parents.  There were a few of her and Elias too – that was a given – in Vancouver or when they were awkward looking teenagers.  She got a kick out of those.  

“Of course.  Every day,” Svea nodded her head.  “Do you miss your parents being together?”

Grace shrugged her shoulders.  “They separated when I was so young – I barely remember them together.  I remember the fighting more.”

Svea hated to hear that sort of thing.  She knew Grace’s story, and Grace had talked to her about it before, but every time they did speak about it, Grace revealed just a little bit more about it.  “That must have been hard for you – to see your parents fighting.”

“Not just see – I was involved in it half the time,” Grace revealed.  “They would use me to get back at the other.  They were young and stupid and had too much money, and it made things unnecessarily complicated.  I think that’s why I want to become a mom so bad, you know?  Because even though I know my parents loved me, I just want to give them a better childhood experience than what I had between my parents.”

“You want them to know mom and dad love each other,” Svea nodded.

“Exactly,” Grace stressed.  “And I want, like, a big family.  I want my kids to be able to have each other, you know?  That whole time I was so alone.  I had my friends at school but I never had a sibling.  Nobody really understood.”

Svea could only imagine.  It was at that moment she realized how lucky she was that she knew her parents loved each other.  Love was complicated, yes, but they loved each other.  Her mother moved from Vancouver to a tiny town in Sweden to be with her father – that was love.  “I think you’ve found what you need in Brock, you know,” Svea said matter-of-factly.

“I know I have,” Grace nodded her head, smiling slightly.  “I’m a very lucky girl.”

“He’s a very lucky guy,” Svea quipped.

Grace couldn’t help but giggle.  “So is Elias,” she retorted, causing Svea to blush.  “When the hell are you going to marry him, Svea?  That boy is head over heels in love with you.”

Svea shook her head.  “He’s my best friend, Grace.”

***

“I love you so much,” Grace whispered as Brock bent down to kiss her, his travel-day suit already on, and a beanie on his head covering the hair Grace loved so much.  She loved running her fingers through it, especially while in bed, and the best part was that Brock loved her doing it too, so she did it all the time.  

“I love you too,” Brock replied after the kiss.  “What are you gonna get up to for these two weeks I’m not here?”

“A lot of masturbating while I think about you.”

Brock groaned, burying his head into the crook of her neck as she giggled.  He bit down at the skin of her neck and she yelped.  “You better fucking call me when you do,” he growled in her ear.

“I will.”

Brock gave her one last kiss before standing up straight again.  “Say hello to your dad,” he said, even though he just saw him yesterday for their weekly Sunday Night Football watching.  “Tell him I’m sorry about Sunday, but I’ll make it up to him when I win our Superbowl bet.”

Grace smiled.  “He’ll be crushed if he loses that bet.”

“He better start preparing.”

***

“When are you gonna just kiss her?!” Brock was exasperated.

“Shut up,” Elias mumbled, still concentrating on his phone as he typed a message to Svea.  

“Petey, no other girls exist in, like, your world besides Svea.  Can you just get it fucking done already?”

“Brock, shut up.”

“Uuuuuuuuaaaaarrrrggghhhhh!” Brock groaned loudly as he and Elias walked through the front doors of their hotel.  “I’m gonna kill you.”

“Go right ahead.”

Brock rolled his eyes.  Before he could say anything else, his phone began ringing from his pocket.  It was after the game, and judging by their routine now, he knew it was Grace.  He actually wondered if she was with Svea watching.  “There you are.  I was wondering when I’d get a call from you,” he said cheerily, not bothering with formalities.

He was met with silence on the other end.  Then, a sniffle.  She didn’t respond.  He could hear her breathing and sniffling on the other end, but she wasn’t saying anything.  “Grace?”

“Brock…he’s gone.”

Brock’s heart fell into the pit of his stomach.  He stopped walking and stood in the middle of the foyer, the world standing still around him.  He barely registered Elias stopping when he realized Brock wasn’t walking beside him anymore, and barely registered Elias looking over his shoulder with furrowed brows.  “Grace—”

“We were at the hospital.  He—he caught pneumonia somehow and it just—it just—”

“I’m on my way home right now,” Brock said quickly.  

“Brock—”

“I’m gonna get on the first flight out to Vancouver, I promise you.  I’m just at the hotel and I’m gonna pack and leave,” he explained.

“Please hurry,” her voice was desperate, full of sadness and grief.  

“I’m on my way.  I love you,” he said.

“I love you too, Brock.  Please hurry.”

When Brock hung up the phone, he finally noticed Elias staring at him.  There were so, so many thoughts running through Brock’s mind – how he was going to tell Travis he wasn’t going to take the team charter flight home, how he was going to get to the airport, how he was going to get to Grace’s dad’s house or the hospital or wherever she was – but he was only able to verbalize one.   “I need you to call Svea and tell her to get in touch with Grace.”

“What happened?” Elias asked.

“Her dad just died.”

Elias’s eyes bulged out of their sockets.  But he immediately brought his phone up and swiped until he got Svea’s number.  “Go,” he urged, bringing his phone up to his ear.  “I’ll pack your things.  I’ll bring your bag.  Just grab your passport and go.”

***

Hamish’s viewing was busy.  He was a well-known figure in Vancouver, and so Grace had to host two days’ worth of viewings, with timeslots in the afternoon and evening.  Grace stood first, her two uncles (Hamish’s brothers and partners in the investment firm) Robbie and Owen Gillespie and their families after her.  Eliza, James, Jasper, and Theo sat alone in the third row – obviously not part of the “line”, but there to support Grace.  Hamish was Eliza’s ex-husband, after all, regardless of how nasty and bitter it got.  And he was her daughter’s father.  Brock sat alone in the second row, directly behind Grace.  Elias and Svea, when they were there – which was most of the time – were beside him, attending to Grace’s every need.  

The people wouldn’t stop coming.  There was constantly a line to pay respects and then greet Grace, Robbie, and Owen.  Brock could tell it was making Grace tired, greeting people she barely knew and shaking their hand and thanking them for their condolences.  It didn’t help that it was in the newspaper and on the night-time news, too – however brief the mention of it was, it still made more people aware, and Brock was sure they showed up even though they probably hadn’t seen Grace or Hamish in years.

The funeral was even worse.  Grace couldn’t stop crying.  She said her eulogy, and it was beautiful, and Owen said one too, but after that it was just constant tears.  After the church service, she clung to Brock, pulling him into the procession.  At the entombment, her cries were loud and continual.  Elias and Svea were crying at the final prayer before his casket was sealed.  

Brock tried to be strong – for Grace, of course – but he cried, too.

***

It was a few days – almost a week, really – until Brock saw Grace again.  There had to be meetings with lawyers and her uncles that Brock had no reason attending.  The money was already hers – everything was basically just a formality, as he understood it, like an official transfer over – but Brock knew she didn’t care about the money.  Grace wanted her dad.

Brock had barely sat down on the couch before she climbed onto his lap.  Her lips immediately found his and her tongue immediately slipped into his throat.  It was urgent.  It was hasty.  It was visceral, at least for Grace.

It was also wrong.

“Grace…” Brock mumbled, pulling away.

“Brock, c’mon,” she urged, continuing to kiss his strong jawline even though he turned away.  “I need you.  Touch me.”

“Grace—”

“Touch me,” she begged, grabbing his hands and leading them up her shirt.  

“Grace, no,” he said sternly, pulling his hands away now too.

She furrowed her brows at him, an obvious look of anger on her face at his denial.  Despite him knowing it was the right thing to do, Grace didn’t think so.  “You don’t want me?” she asked in a harsh tone.

“You know I want you.  I want you all the God damn time.  But I’m not gonna do it when you’re…emotionally compromised,” he tried to reason with her, even though he knew it would be a futile attempt.  “You don’t want this.”

“Yes I do.”

“No you don’t.  You just want to feel something right now.”

She looked at him indignantly.  “Fuck you, Brock Boeser,” she growled as she lifted herself off of his lap, grabbing her purse and slamming his front door without saying another word.  

***

There was a light knock at his door.  Brock knew it could only be one person.

When he opened it, he knew Grace would be standing on the other side.  What he wasn’t expecting was how she looked.  Hair that looked that it hadn’t been washed since the last time she was over.  Wearing clothes she’d obviously been wearing for days.  Dark circles under her eyes, which were puffy and red like they hadn’t stopped crying.  She looked defeat, frail, and crushed into a million different pieces Brock just wanted to pick up and piece together again.

“I’m sorry,” were the first words out of her mouth – practically squeaked out.  He wondered if she had a voice left.  Within seconds, he could see tears well in her eyes and spill down her cheeks like a flood.  “I just…I miss his more than my heart knows how to handle.”

Brock engulfed her in a hug, and she cried and cried and cried.

***

“I was in the hospital with him…and he was weak, but he could still speak a bit, and move too.  And I was holding his hand the entire time.  And I just wanted to be in bed with him like when I was a kid and had a nightmare.  And when I got in, I—well, when I was a kid, he’d hold me against his chest and I always remember how I could feel his heart beating, so I did that.  And he held my hand and before he fell asleep, he said ‘I love you Gracie.  I’ll be there.  I’ll be watching.’  And then that was it.”

Brock felt a tear escape his eye.  He let it fall as he began to shift his and Grace’s body’s so that he was lying on top of him, her head on his chest.  He felt her hand clutch at his bare skin briefly, and a wetness on his chest he knew were tears.  “Can you feel it?” he asked, referring to his heartbeat.

Grace nodded her head.  “Stay like this, please.”

Brock didn’t move an inch the entire night.

#brock boeser #brock boeser imagine #brock boeser fic #brock boeser fan fic #vancouver canucks #vancouver canucks imagine #vancouver canucks fic #vancouver canucks fan fic #brock boeser blurb #vancouver canucks blurb #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fan fic #nhl blurb #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey fic #hockey fan fic #hockey blurb #peaceful easy feeling series

[moldisgoodforyou]

so you lied

warnings: angst :///// but with a resolution

wordcount: 2.5k

______

After two Princess Diaries movies and three bottles of wine into the night, Rafe, Julia and Allie were sufficiently tipsy - Rafe a little more so. He had insisted on ordering pasta to the girls’ house and Julia kept Sophie updated with several Snapchats, captioning the first with ‘your sugar daddy is my favorite person tonight.’ (Sophie just sent back ‘you’re the worst.’) 

“You guys are fun. I miss Sophie though.” Rafe lamented as the movie ended, taking another sip of wine. He hadn’t paced himself as well as the girls did and was amusingly drunk - Julia’s encouragement and constant refills didn’t help. 

“You’ve told us that three times now, buddy.” Allie grinned. 

“Yeah.” He mumbled. “She’s not gonna be happy with me.” 

Julia sat up, eyebrows raised. “Why? What’d you do?” 

“I did nothing.” Rafe paused. “Well. Maybe I did something by doing nothing.” 

Allie frowned and reached over, kicking at his foot. “Spill.” 

“I spilled?” He looked down at his glass and patted his shirt. Julia laughed, shaking her head. “No, Rafe. Tell us what you did. Or...didn’t do.” 

“Oh.” He took another long drink of wine. “Colin told me not to.” 

“I will take your wine away if you don’t tell us.” Julia threatened, reaching for his glass, and he held it back out of her reach. “No! No, I’ll tell. I’m working with Brooklyn.” 

“Like...your ex, Brooklyn?” Allie clarified. 

“Yeah. She’s at my internship and she sucks. I didn’t tell Sophie she’s there.” He groaned, letting his head flop back against the couch. “Soph’s gonna kill me.” 

Both the girls sat there, processing what he had just shared. 

“I messed up, didn’t I?” 

Julia nodded. “Big time.” 

“You have to tell her, Rafe. Soon as you can.” Allie told him, but grabbed his phone out of his hand when he pulled it out of his pocket. “Not now though. You’re drunk and she’ll think something’s wrong.” 

“Ughhhh.” He grumbled. “Colin said I shouldn’t tell her because I shouldn’t make her stress.” 

“Yeah, Colin’s single for a reason.” Julia quipped, rolling her eyes. “Look, I don’t even know this girl, but I know she’s trouble. She made Sophie cry after that gala you guys went to.” 

He frowned, sitting upright. “She cried?” 

“When she told us the next day, yeah. She was pretty upset.” Julia took his glass and refilled it, ignoring Allie’s elbow to her side. “What happened with her?” 

“Sophie?” 

“No, your ex.” 

“Jules.” Allie chastised, sending Rafe a sympathetic look, but he shook his head. “S’alright. Our dads kinda set us up, and she was easy to be with, at first. Then she got kinda, uh.” He paused, trying to think of the right word. “Controlling? I dunno. One time I told her I had to go meet with some girls for a group project, and she accused me of cheating and told me I was a horrible person, then didn’t talk to me for days until I apologized. Which is kind of messed up.” 

“Shit.” Julia mumbled. “You deserve better than that.” 

“I have better, with Sophie.” He pointed out, then sighed. “She’s really gonna hate me.” 

“She’s not going to hate you, Rafe.” Allie handed him a water bottle, tugging a little to take the wine glass away. 

“It’s easy to hate me.” He told them matter-of-factly, and they both frowned, unsure on how to deal with him in his drunken state. “It’s not, bud, we like you.” Julia countered, then stood and offered her hand. “I think it’s time to go home, don’t you?” 

“No, fuck, I can’t go to Colin’s. I’m sober. Wait. No, I’m not sober.” He accepted her hand and let her tug him up, throwing his arm over her shoulders for support. 

“Jesus. Okay. You can stay in what’s gonna be Sophie’s room, but if you throw up, I’m telling her. Five glasses of wine, Rafe, this is weak.” Julia rolled her eyes and he patted her head affectionately. “You guys are the bestest.” 

Allie followed behind them up the stairs, hands out to catch him if he tripped and fell. Once they got up, Rafe stood in the doorway, swaying a little. “We should call Sophie.” 

“It’s, like, 5am there buddy, she needs to sleep.” Julia insisted, steering him toward the bed that Sophie bought before leaving and had thrown a couple blankets on top. 

“Oh, you’re right. She needs her sleep.” He sighed, curling up on the bed and wrapping a spare blanket around himself. “I miss sleeping with her.” 

“Gross.” Allie muttered, nose wrinkled. 

Rafe shook his head, insistent. “No! No, not like that. But also like that. Both.” 

“Okay. We don’t need to hear it.” Julia laughed and tugged his shoes off for him. Allie set a water bottle on the nightstand. “No calling Sophie, okay?” 

“No calling Sophie.” He repeated, nodding. “Angel needs sleep.” 

Julia pretended to gag. “You two are so cute, it’s disgusting.” 

He yawned, pulling the blanket tighter. “I’ll set you up with James again if you want. Sophie said no but she’s not here to decide so we’re allowed to do whatever we want to do.” 

She laughed, subtly taking a photo of him to send to Sophie. “That’s okay. Sleep tight, Cameron.” 

He merely nodded, closing his eyes. The girls left the room, quietly shutting the door behind them. “We have to tell her, don’t we?” Allie asked, frowning. 

Julia shook her head. “No. He’ll tell her, we’ll just remind him in the morning.” She paused, thinking. “He’s good for her.” 

Allie nodded in agreement. “He is.” 

_____

The next morning, a very hungover Rafe was sent on his way out the house with a bacon, egg and cheese bagel and a lecture from both the girls. His head was spinning and he felt nauseous, though he wasn’t sure if that was from the wine or anticipation of having to tell his girlfriend he lied. 

“Omitted the truth,” he had tried arguing with Julia, who promptly socked his arm. “No. You lied. Nice try.”

Once he was home in Colin’s parents house, tucked away in his room, he had to give in. Sophie picked up the phone on the third ring like always, a little sweaty and breathless. “Hey, Rafe, can I call you back?” 

“I - uh, can you talk now?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. She frowned, picking up on his stress and flushed cheeks. “Um, yeah, just let me find a spot to sit. Are you okay?” 

He nodded, not wanting to tell her much more. “Are you running?” 

“No, working out in the park.” She flipped the screen to show a gorgeous grassy green park view looking out over the ocean, with clear blue skies. “I was almost done, anyways, you’re saving me from crunches,” she flipped the screen back, grinning. “What’s up?” 

Out with it, Rafe. He told himself in his head, feeling sicker by the second. “So, uh, you know my internship?” He cursed himself internally the second he spoke. Of course she knew about his internship. 

“Yes…?” 

“Right, yeah. So we have this group of interns, and we’re required to do this weekly events, you know. So, yeah, that’s pretty cool, I guess.” 

Sophie frowned. “Rafe, what is up with you? You look like you’re about to throw up, did you really drink that much last night with the girls?” 

He scowled, trying not to think about the alcohol. “No, just. Thought I just probably share that Brooklyn is one of the interns too. My ex,” he added for unnecessary clarification. 

“Oh.” 

That was it? He thought, pleasantly surprised. “Yeah. That’s all, you can finish your workout. Sorry to bug you.” 

“She’s been working with you? Is this new?” Her tone was scarily even, her face showing zero emotion. 

Oh. So maybe he wouldn’t be getting out of it that easy. Rafe swallowed, knowing he was in trouble. “Um, no. She’s been there since week one like me.” 

“So you lied.” 

“No!” He scrambled to come up with an explanation. “I thought - Colin thought - we figured it might be better to not have you worry -”

Her voice turned incredulous, on the verge of breaking. “You thought it would be better to lie and not tell me, rather than openly communicating? Isn’t that exactly what she did to you?” 

Suddenly it all made sense why she’d heard about three things total about the internship he’d been working for nearly a month. 

He felt his stomach drop and a wave of regret wash over him. “I fucked up, Sophie, I’m sorry. I should have told you.” 

She shook her head quickly, not wanting him to see her cry. “I have bad signal. I have to go.” It was a shitty excuse - the picture was crystal clear - but she hung up right away anyways. Never mind him wanting to say a million more words to apologize, him trying to find the words to explain. He tried calling her back immediately, but she rejected the call - twice - and he figured he should just give her space. 

_______

She called him back at around midnight her time, when he had just gotten home from the store. “Hey, Soph.” He answered with a gentle tone, a little wary. 

“Hey.” She murmured back, equally quiet. “Can we talk?” 

“Should I be worried?” He joked. 

“Rafe.” 

“Sorry.” He immediately apologized. “Not funny. Give me a second to get my things inside and I’ll facetime you?” 

“Yes, please.” 

“Okay. Just a couple minutes, angel, I won’t make you wait long.” He hung up and practically scrambled to get in the house, offering a quick greeting to Colin and his family before locking himself in his room and shoving a towel under the door to soundproof as much as he could, then called her back. “Hi, told you I wouldn’t make you wait.” 

“True to your word.” She mumbled. Her eyes were a little red and puffy, and he could immediately tell she was anxious from the way she chewed on her lip. “Can you just be honest with me, please?” 

“Yeah, anything. What do you want to know?” He frowned, hating seeing her so upset and knowing he was the reason for it. 

“I know you would never do anything, I’m not questioning that. But why did you lie? That hurts, Rafe.” She took a deep breath, willing herself not to cry again. 

He sighed, rubbing his temple. “I thought I would be able to avoid her, and I didn’t want to stress you out when you couldn’t do anything from so far away. I’m sorry. I was wrong.” 

“Yeah.” She agreed. “Are you working closely with her? More than you thought?” 

He grimaced. “Yeah. Not just her, it’s all the interns, but we have a dinner or we go to the bar almost every week. And she kinda, um, goes out of her way to hang around.” 

“Oh.” She murmured. “Has she tried anything?” 

“Meaning…?” 

“I don’t know.” She paused. “I don’t know if I want to know that much, actually. You’re right, I can’t really do anything. She knows we’re still dating though, right?” 

He nodded quickly. “I have a picture of us pinned up on my desk, it’s hard to miss. And I’ve made it clear.” 

“Hm.” She scowled, clearly wrestling with how to deal with the situation. “You promise you’ll tell me if she, like, asks you out or something though, right? 

“Yeah, of course. We’re always at work or work events anyways, so. She’s fairly, uh, limited. I think.” He shrugged. “I won’t let anything happen, okay?” 

“I know,” she nodded. “I just don’t like her being around when I’m not. She hardly held back when I was there at the gala, I don’t even want to know what she’d be like without me there. Are you doing alright, though?” 

“Uh, yeah. It’s fine.” He hedged, not wanting to worry her further. 

“You’ve hardly told me anything about her.” She pointed out. “What happened?” 

Rafe winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do we have to talk about it?” 

“No, I’m not going to make you, but. I would like to know.” She raised her eyebrows. “I can tell you about my exes if you want?” 

“Soph -” he started, but she rambled on. 

“Or the guy I lost my virginity to? I think he came in like, half a minute, it was sophomore year -”

“Sophie! No, stop, I don’t want to hear it.” He gave her an exasperated smile and she brightened a little, glad she was able to somewhat turn the mood. “Another time, okay? I don’t really want to talk about her anymore. I miss you.” 

She softened, nodding. “I miss you too. I wish you were here already, I feel like everything reminds me of you.” 

“Yeah? Like what?” He settled back against the bed, content. 

“The mangoes at the market, because you always get that mango smoothie in the library when you’re studying with me. And when this guy Mateo, at work, he has the best handwriting and he writes in that same cursive-print hybrid that you do. Oh! And I got you a shirt yesterday but I can’t show you, it’s a surprise.” She reached across her bed to her nightstand, pushing a brown bag out of view. 

He laughed, shaking his head. “Tell me about this Mateo kid. He’s the one that called you Sofia, right?” 

She raised her eyebrows, grinning at his complete lack of effort on an accent. “Sofía.” She corrected. 

“So-fee-a.” He repeated slower. “How do I say, this is my girlfriend?” 

“Um…este es mi novia. Wait, no. Esta? I’m not sure.” She hid a yawn behind her hand. 

“Tell me more?” 

“In Spanish, yeah. I like listening.” He smiled at her yawn. 

“Alright, let’s see. Um…” She trailed off, going into a slightly stilted description of what she did that day, then gave him a proud smile once she finished. “Not bad, right?” 

“Not bad at all! I mean, I have no idea what you said,” he grinned, “But you sound great. Practically a local.” 

“Shut up.” She yawned again and rolled over, pulling her pillow to her chest. “Tell me about your day. Even the boring stuff.” 

“Alright.” Rafe started telling her, keeping his voice low and soothing, and it wasn’t long before he could tell she was half-asleep. “Sophie, baby?” 

“Mm?” She mumbled, squinting one eye open. 

“Go to sleep. I love you.” 

“Love you too.” She murmured, nodding. “You’re my favorite, no matter what.” 

“No matter what.” He echoed, nearly whispering by now. “Miss you.” 

She was already asleep, her ring resting on its chain around her neck and on top of her pillow. He had half a mind to say something and tell her to take it off, but just watched her for a few more moments before hanging up. 

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @sunshineitsfine44 @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks fanfic #obx fanfic #college rafe #frat rafe #mine #rafe x sophie

[petri808]

Fan Fic Bingo for @einerein​ || B5 + Inukag amnesia. I’m breaking this up into chapters, approx 10-12 maybe, and will try to update weekly or biweekly. we’ll see depending on if school load allows lol :)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Chapter 1

“You need to stop being friends with her!”

“I don’t see what the problem is! She’s just my ex! And you know there’s nothing between us anymore! It’s like you don’t trust me!”

“I do trust you! This has nothing to do with trust! My problem is you always take her side!” Kagome’s arms flailed wildly to accentuate her frustration. “I’ve tried telling you over and over how she treats me when your back is turned, yet you ALWAYS DEFEND HER! I’m your girlfriend, you should be defending me! Not her, ME! The fact you’re unwilling to let her go tells me she’s more important to you then I am!”

“That’s ridiculous,” Inuyasha scoffed and crossed his arms. “I do defend you! I tell her to stop, and she does. What more do you want me to do? She’s still my friend!”

That was it, Kagome couldn’t take it anymore. Her screams let loose along with the flood of stifled tears. “Are you serious?! For all your heightened senses you’re as blind and deaf as a bat! She doesn’t stop, that’s what I’m trying to tell you! But you never listen to me...” She loved him so much, and yet the sense of betrayal was just too much to bear. She started backing away from Inuyasha and her arms crossed over her chest to comfort the skin-crawling sensation tingling along the surface. Kagome was tired of all the fighting and the tears.

Realizing he’d gone too far, Inuyasha reached out to her. “Kagome, I—.”

Kagome quickly recoiled further away. Her emotions were all over the place, but one thing was clear through her clouded eyes, this man was not fully listening to her, and she’d be damned to let him pull her back again. “Don’t touch me!” She gritted out. “Five years I’ve spent dealing with this alone and— Inuyasha... I hate you for putting me through this! I’m done!”

Without another word, Kagome grabbed her car keys and purse, and raced out into the storming night as Inuyasha called out to stop her. She jumped into her car and sped away uncaring of the hazardous conditions. All she knew, is she couldn’t stay there another second. “Ugh!! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” Kagome screamed and bawled, her hands tightly gripped to the  steering wheel and foot stomped to the floor. She was loosing it, her mind too distressed to process anything correctly, feeling everything and nothing at the same time.

If she could just get to her family’s home, she could regroup. But the slick asphalt was unforgiving as the thunder and lighting cracked above. It was hard to see through the sheets of rain pummeling her windshield, and the glare of the thunder cracks produced seconds of total loss of visibility. Suddenly, an inordinately large flash blinded her, followed with a boom so close it rang in her ears. It was like her eardrums exploded and all Kagome could hear was a white, static noise. She screamed as the sensation of drifting sent a chill up her spine, and her last thought as the car careened into the pole... “Inuyasha...”

“Fuck!” Inuyasha growled as he ran both hands down his face. He still didn’t understand why Kagome had snapped and was torn about what to do next. Should he go after her? Because it was certain to just spark another fight. He paced in his living room, going back and forth like the thoughts in his head. If he loved her, he should go after her. But she’d said she hated him... a statement which sent a dagger straight through his heart because Kagome Is more important to him then his ex. He just couldn’t understand why it was such a big deal to stay friends with an ex-girlfriend, since in the end it was Kagome that he wanted. Though... she was right, if he already made such a decision, instead of fighting her on it, he should have just given in.

He’d spent too many precious minutes debating with himself such a stupid thing. What mattered was he loved Kagome, and it was time to do the right thing no matter the consequences. Inuyasha grabbed his own car keys and took off after her. There was only two places Kagome would run to, her family, or Sango. He’d start at the family’s home and get his girl back! But as he drove, even with his supernatural vision, the blinding rain and cracks of lighting made the journey difficult. Inuyasha drove as quickly as he safely could, rounding a bend in the road and having to slow to a crawl as flashing emergency lights littered the area in front of him. Just great! An accident shouldn’t be surprising in these wet conditions, but it slowed him down!

A police officer with a flasher was guiding the crawling cars past the one-car wreck. Inuyasha like many others looked over to see the car wrapped around a light pole. Oh, it was a pretty bad...

“Kagome!” Inuyasha stomped on his breaks the second he recognized the vehicle. It was his girlfriend’s car! He instantly swerved to the side and jumped out running towards the officer. “That’s my girlfriend’s car! Where is she? Is she okay?!” He spied an ambulance and made a move to rush towards it. But the officer stopped him. “Kagome!!!” Inuyasha screamed. “Kagome?!!”

“Sir! Sir!” The officer held him back. “The woman is being transported to the hospital...”

Inuyasha grabbed the officer by his vest, forgetting the trouble it could gain him. “Is that Kagome?!” He demanded! “Tell me damn it! Is she gonna be, okay?!”

Luckily for him, the officer recognized the man’s distress and rather than escalate his odds against a hanyo, did his best to calm Inuyasha. He kept his voice even and soft. “Sir, all I can tell you is she wasn’t conscious when we arrived. Do you know her emergency contacts?”

“T-That’s me.”

“Okay, the hospital will need to verify who you are. But just follow the ambulance. Okay? Don’t drive reckless, just follow. Understood?”

“Y-yeah...”

“Good, now get back in your vehicle and once the ambulance starts to leave just do as I told you.”

“Alright, alright, fuck!” Inuyasha slicked the dripping water off his face and got back in his car. He watched as the officer let the EMTs know someone would be following them and all he could think was they needed to hurry up! From what he could see, the wreck was a bad one. Kagome’s car was crinkled, wrapped partially around the base of the pole. It must have slid because it was the side of the vehicle that impacted the pole, and hard enough to crack it. She must have been speeding around the bend and lost control.

Within a few minutes, the ambulance left, and he followed close behind. “Fuck! This is all my fault! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” All he could do was pray it wasn’t as bad as it looked. The vehicle had airbags, so hopefully it lessened the impact on Kagomes body. Yet the nagging dread still ate away at Inuyasha. If only he had stopped her from leaving... if only he’d just told her what she wanted to hear... but no, like an idiot, he just had to win the argument since he didn’t understand the gravity of her pain. And now look what happened.

Kagome was immediately rushed into surgery leaving Inuyasha behind in a waiting room for information. In the meantime, he called her mom, and their best friends, Miroku and Sango, dreading how was he going to explain this all to them. When they arrived, he told them about the fight.

“And that’s how I came upon the accident,” his ears pinned and drooping. “It’s my fault.”

“Oh, hun,” Mrs. Higurashi hugged Inuyasha tight. “This is not your fault.”

“It kinda is...” Miroku mumbled gaining a hard slap by Sango.

“Yes, it is.” The hanyo agreed. “I could have stopped her, but I didn’t.”

“Inuyasha,” the older woman leaned back and placed her hands against his face. “It was an accident, these things happen. What’s important is that you are here because you love her.”

At the word love, the burly hanyo lost all control, and the tears he’d held back flowed free. That’s right! He loved Kagome more than anything in the world. It should have been enough to make him choose the right thing in their fight, but he didn’t and that tore him up. If he loved her, then why didn’t he?! Inuyasha was going to beat himself up over it no matter how many people tried to tell him otherwise. Accident or not, the woman he loved was currently fighting for her life on an operating table and if she died… He’d never forgive himself.  

#inukag #inukag au #inuyasha #kagome higurashi #angst #inukag fan fiction #inukag fan fic #missing memories #amnesia

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

Fic: move on

i’ve been meaning to write this for a while and finished it during a much needed spurt of inspiration - yay!

summary: missing scene from titans 3.08. dick returns from the hospital to the manor, battered physically and mentally. gar finds him.

warnings: big honking SPOILERS for titans 3.08. deals heavily with dick’s canonical mental health issues, including hallucinations.

move on

The manor is quiet when Dick comes back from the hospital; he’s not sure where the others are gone, but he thinks that Gar is still in the batcave. He’s noticed that Gar spends almost all of his time down there these days, from having his meals there to taking catnaps in between obsessively researching on the batcomputer. Dick knows that it’s not a terribly healthy situation, but he’s not sure how Gar would react to that opinion coming from him. It occurs to him that he can’t be a leader and a Bat at the same time, but that level of self-awareness is too much for him to process right now, so he lets the thought go.

For now, he relishes this rare moment of peace. Late afternoon sunlight slants in through the floor-to-ceiling windows and the silence is like a blanket over the sharp edges of the near-constant state of crisis that Dick and his team have been in the last week or two. Dick doesn’t have any immediate lead to follow as far as Jason or the Scarecrow is concerned, and… it’s okay. He’ll get back on that after a minute.

Just… a minute.

He’s got a headache to worry about, for starters: the doctor who discharged him told him it was a ‘mild concussion’ but that seems to be underselling the way his head throbs insistently like there’s someone in there jabbing his brain with a pickaxe, or the way his vision blurs without warning, or how the mere thought of food is enough to make his gorge rise. His chest twinges with every inhale and exhale, both from cracked ribs and the just-starting-to-heal bullet wound. Exhaustion seeps into every pore of his body in the wake of too much adrenaline and too much stress in too short a time, and it makes his joints ache and his skin burn.

And, oh. He’s hallucinating. Again. He thinks about the script for antipsychotics he has tucked somewhere in his bathroom cabinet, but choosing between taking them or just powering through with no treatment is a bit like a choice between the devil and the deep blue sea: not being completely in touch with reality could turn out to be a liability on the field, but he knows from experience that meds take a long time to get used to, and he can’t afford to be drowsy or stiff while jumping off buildings and leading a team of superheroes. 

So… the hallucinations are just there, and he manages. He thinks about talking about them with Leslie, but again… too much to process. He’s not sure he has the vocabulary to talk about them or the feelings they engender. Alexithymia, Leslie might say. Who knows.

He’s sunk enough into the plush leather sofa in the living room that he feels enveloped by it, warm for the first time since scarfing down a burger last night while talking to Barbara and Kory. He even imagines that he can smell Bruce’s cologne, and the thought creates a pang in his chest. He misses Bruce. Even when he ran away, even when he thought he hated and resented Bruce with every fibre of his being, there was something reassuring about searching for Gotham news on his phone and seeing amateur clips of Batman foiling some nefarious thing or the other scattered across his social media feed. Hell, he’d even settle for hallucinating Bruce now, as caustic and knife-tongued as he can be. The complete radio silence is unnerving.

(The prospect of him never leaving Gotham again is much worse.)

“Dick?”

Gar’s voice startles Dick, and he snaps his eyes open (when did he close them/?). A fresh bolt of pain ricochets in his chest at the sudden motion, and Dick leans forward and hisses. 

“Sorry!” Gar says quickly. He’s standing in front of Dick, a little closer than before, his hands up like he wanted to touch Dick but stopped himself from doing so at the last minute. “You okay?”

Dick nods. If the movement makes his vision wobble for a second, well, it’s not like he or Gar can do anything about it right now, can they? “I took a bit of a spill but I’m okay.”

“Yeah, Commissioner Gordon called,” Gar says, “and she said you nearly died.”

Dick spreads his arms. “A little banged up but in one piece and ready to go. The accident wasn’t as bad as it looked.”

He watches Gar chew his lip and look at him sceptically. Dick misses when Gar would act like Dick hung the moon, hanging onto his every word and following him without question. He’s done so much to shatter that trust and innocence that he’s lucky that Gar’s sticking with him at all; it’s so similar to what he thought Bruce did to him that--

No. No. Still can’t process thoughts like that. His brain is fried until this crisis is done and dusted.

(that’s when you usually throw yourself into the next crisis)

Gar sighs. “You know, Dick, we’ve got all hands on deck here. It’s ok to take a break to give yourself time to heal.”

He looks tired, Dick thinks. He doesn’t remember the last time his team had to unwind, to relax and be themselves without racing against the clock to prevent some catastrophe or the other. He’d tried to schedule weekly movie nights back in San Francisco and tried to take Gar and Conner out as much as he could, but he was always… aware of this barrier between them, the way he couldn’t get their wires to align enough to connect, no matter how hard he tried. He loves them, and knows that they love him too, but no matter how hard he works to deserve that love, he’s afraid that he’ll never succeed, and so terribly, terribly afraid that they’ll realise this and leave him for good.

(The only barrier is that stick up your ass, Hank would say to all of this, and the thought, unbidden, is so much more painful than his cracked ribs or his concussed brain that Dick takes the thought and the ocean of grief it’s floating on and crams it into its dedicated box inside his head before he can break down.)

Dick sets his jaw and gets up from the (warm, warm) couch and shrugs his jacket on. “I’m healing,” he says, “and we’ll all have time to sleep once we can stop whatever Crane’s doing and get a hold of Jason.” He turns to get his phone just as he’s putting his arm in the jacket sleeve, and it’s a mistake: the pain is like a vise around his ribcage, stealing his breath, and he stumbles. Gar is quick to catch him, and they both stand like that for a long moment while Dick catches his breath.

“Dick,” Gar says, and Dick can hardly stand the softness in that word, the familiarity, the sorrow. It’s too much. He can’t deal with this right now. He needs to focus.

He gently shrugs off Gar’s hold. Behind Gar, Dick-as-a-little-boy cocks his head at him, wide eyes blinking like an owl.

“You got any updates on Jason?”

Gar steps back, takes a deep breath. He looks resigned for a moment, then determined. “As a matter of fact,” he says, “I do.”

#titans #my fic #dick grayson #garfield logan #a byronic cupcake #manic pixie pop tart

[guardianofrivendell]

Guarding Your Heart - Chapter 2 {TEASER}

Summary: Lucy is a smart, independent woman who’s getting dragged into her father’s past against her will. Fíli, who is working for the family’s security agency, receives his next assignment: guarding Lucy. On one side someone who doesn’t want to be a ‘babysitter’ and on the other side someone who will do anything to get rid of her ‘bodyguard’, you know this will turn into chaos. Interesting chaos, but still chaos. Until things start to get serious and they have to work together to stay alive.

Chapter 2 moodboard by @laurfilijames

Chapter 2 will be there this Friday, 5 pm CET! 

We’ll try to work towards weekly updates but since we’re both adults with our own families and jobs, don’t shoot us if we can’t keep up with that schedule.

Thank you to everyone who commented and reblogged on chapter 1, we’re excited to take you all with us on Lucy and Fíli’s adventure! 

Every chapter will be preceded by a teaser posted on Wednesdays.

If you missed chapter 1, you can read it here.

If you don’t want to miss any updates, you can ask to be added to the series taglist!

GUARDING YOUR HEART MASTERLIST

Teaser below the ‘read more’ cut

Warnings: mentions of drinking and abduction. Trigger warning for abduction! Please do not read if this is in any way triggering for you!

Jars clinked together in the refrigerator door as she whipped it open, reaching for a perfectly chilled bottle of champagne.

Lucy stood on her tiptoes to reach a flute, and slammed the glass down on the counter a little harder than she intended, but it thankfully didn’t break.

With a ‘pop’ the cork was freed from the bottle, leaving whispers of fizzy smoke trailing in the air. Her hands trembled again as she poured it carefully into the glass, not wanting to give away her nerves to Fíli who was now leaning on the doorframe and watching her like a hawk. 

“I don’t know if this is an appropriate time for bubbles,” he said, his voice full of judgement. “It’s not even noon yet.”

Lucy spun to face him and placed the rim of the glass to her lips, staring him down fiercely as she emptied its contents in one go, not stopping despite the burning sensation it created down her throat. 

All she could think about was how much she wanted him gone.

“Maybe I’m mourning the death of what used to be my life!” 

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” Fili smirked, biting the side of his bottom lip. “People are simply trying to keep you alive and the only thing you can worry about is your running schedule.”

Lucy slammed her glass on the counter again and braced both arms against the edge to fake some courage. 

“It’s not just my running schedule! It’s everything! My studies, my future career, my boyfriend! All turned upside down and tossed to the side because of my father, who I haven’t seen or heard of for the past seven years by the way. So forgive me for being a little bitter.” 

She refilled her glass, the first one was not enough to take the edge off the terrible way she was feeling. Lucy could see Fili shaking his head from side to side in her periphery and she nearly lost it when she heard him chuckle. 

“You’re getting a kick out of this aren’t you? You’re watching my life crumble apart before me and I bet you find it incredibly entertaining!” 

“Oh don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. I’m equally as offended and inconvenienced by this whole thing as you are.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the ceiling, not liking where this conversation was headed. 

“You can leave at any time!” she snapped, pointing her finger at him. “I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself!”

“Would you like to try?” he challenged her, raising his eyebrow in question. 

“Try what?”

“Looking after yourself. Should we see what happens?” 

“This entire thing is being blown out of proportion! Nothing is going to happen! Nothing ever happens!” 

He took a few steps towards Lucy until his face was only inches away from hers. If he wanted her to cooperate, he needed to be brutally honest with her. She’d probably hate him after this, but she could use the wake up call.

He took the champagne glass out of her hand and placed it back on the counter, not breaking eye contact.

“Really? So the chances of someone breaking into your house in the middle of the night is, what? One in a million?” he started. “Someone gagging you and tying you up, then tossing you in the back of a vehicle and driving you somewhere, anywhere, where no one is able to find you, not even me? Them doing  unspeakable things to your mind, your body, ...You really think that could never happen in your privileged little life? Think again, sweetheart. Your dad messed around with some nasty people and they will not hesitate to use you to get what they want.” 

He watched as fear spread across her features, and he knew he’d done his job in scaring her. The furrow of her brows relaxed slightly with every description he made of what would most likely happen to her if he wasn’t there to protect her. 

“God, you’re a prick!” her voice shook slightly and she bumped his shoulder harshly when she stormed out of the kitchen to the living room. 

- Full Chapter 2 will be there this Friday, 5 pm CET! - 

Guarding Your Heart taglist: @cassiabaggins @enchantzz @the-poldarkian​ @linasofia​ @magravenwrites​ @classyhorseeclipseduck​ @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse​ @fizzyxcustard​ @elvish-sky​ @anjhope1​ @justfollowtheroad​

#Fili x OC #Fili x Lucy Turner #Fili x reader #Fili #Fili Durin #The Hobbit #The Hobbit fanfiction #The Hobbit imagine #The Hobbit Modern AU #The Hobbit multichapter #Modern!Fili #Teaser #Guarding Your Heart

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Aizawa x Reader, eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: This chapter is Gen, no smut at all. 

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter.

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 3/16 (all chapters)

“Good evening, Listeners! It’s 7PM on this fine Wednesday night and I hope you all are doing a-o-kay!”

Hizashi leaned back from his mic and pressed the cheer button on his soundboard.

“Tonight it is my absolute pleasure to announce a brand new segment to our show! I have a guest in my studio tonight. Please raise your hands, paws, flippers and/or wings for (Name), my lovely colleague from UA!”

He waved to you and you leaned forwards towards your own microphone.

“Pleased to meet you everyone,” you said, Hizashi clapping boisterously in the background. “It’s a pleasure to be here.”

“Cute, so cute!”

His excitement was contagious and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“(Name) is a very special guest,” he said, pushing the ‘ooooo’ button on his soundboard. “She’s the guidance counsellor at UA. (Name), why don’t you tell the listeners a little about what you do?”

“Well, the welfare and wellbeing of our students is of course our top priority at UA,” you said, “and so my role is to ensure these needs are being met. If they’re feeling pressured or struggling to find agency opportunities or simply unsure of their futures…”

“Of course,” said Hizashi. “Now, Listeners, (Name) has kindly offered up her time for this new weekly segment, which I’m going to call ‘Support Mic’. If you, my wonderful listeners, or anyone you know have a problem and require a sympathetic ear, please send them anonymously through my website or texting service and (Name) and I will advise to the best of our ability. Sound good, (Name)?”

“Yes!”

“Alright then, we’re going to take a short break and after that we’ll go through your submissions,” said Hizashi, bringing up the next song on his playlist. “If you can’t join us, please enjoy your evening, PLUS ULTRA!”

“PLUS ULTRA!” you echoed and Hizashi laughed out loud.

“So CUTE,” he cried out, before muting your microphones and playing music. He pulled off his earphones and you did the same, reaching for a glass of water.

You were now two months into your job at UA and the time had flown by. You had transformed your office into a space that felt more like your own and familiarised yourself with the names and faces of just about every student at the school. The previous guidance counsellor had been a woman in her eighties, retiring as opposed to taking on a new role and as a consequence your resources and day to day activities needed updating to reflect the modern climate.

None of it would have been possible without the help of your colleagues. Even Shouta, who had said at most half a dozen words to you since leaving your house, had sent the rather more vulnerable students in your direction.

The agony aunt segment was your idea and Hizashi only too happy to include it in his regular radio show, with the caveat that you bought him a beer the next time you went to the izakaya.

Truthfully, you didn’t expect very many requests to come in, so it came as a complete shock when you refreshed the website and found thirty had already arrived in the first two minutes.

“P...Plus Ultra,” you murmured.

━

Support Mic was only a half hour segment, but you could easily have gone on for so much longer. Hizashi had done nothing but coo over you since you left the studio.

“Waaah, (Name), you were a natural!”

You had been so very nervous before the broadcast. You’d expected to stumble over your words or get no questions at all. In the end you answered so many questions and talked so much that it felt like you had swallowed a bucketful of gravel.

“Thank you,” you said, packing up your purse, “for having me, I mean. That was a lot of fun.”

“Did you want me to drive you home? It’s getting late.”

“No, it’s fine, I don’t live far.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” said Hizashi, “see you to-morr-ow, sweet listener!”

You waved goodbye and continued up the street, reaching into your purse for your train pass, only for your blood to run cold when you realised it wasn’t there.

Shit

You rummaged through packs of tissues, chewing gum, pepper spray and more to no avail.

“Where is it,” you mumbled, grabbing your miniature torch and shining it on the contents.

You thought back to the last time you had seen it, when you arrived at work that morning. You had dropped your purse down on your desk when you saw Hizashi arriving and hurried after him to verify your studio appointment. It must have fallen out then and you sighed, turning the other way to go back to UA.

━

As a kid you had always been afraid of the dark. You were the one who squealed at ghost stories during sleepovers and had to hide your face during scary movies.

You liked to think that you had gotten braver as you got older, but that was far from true. You still didn’t like taking late night trains or watching horror movies with your friends. You definitely didn’t enjoy walking the empty corridors of UA.

Pull yourself together, (Name)...

It’s just the school. No one’s here. No one can-

Somewhere in the distance, you heard a door slam.

“Ofuckofuckofuckofuck,” you stammered, picking up your pace and rushing off in the direction of your office. Your shoes clattered against the hard floor and you were sure you heard a second set in pursuit.

You threw yourself into your office and closed the door behind you, immediately rushing to crouch under your desk. Someone, or something, hovered outside. You could practically see the newspaper headlines: Guidance Counsellor Found Dead in Violent Attack .

Every cloud had a silver lining, you supposed. You could see your train pass on the cabinet.

Whoever was outside your office rattled the handle and then stepped inside and you clapped your hands over your mouth to stifle any sound.

What could you do? None of the teachers were around and your quirk wasn’t suitable for fighting. Suddenly, you wished you had agreed to Hizashi walking you home. You took a deep breath, willing yourself to do something. You weren’t a teacher or even a pro hero, but you couldn’t sit by and do nothing.

But what could you do?

The intruder’s footsteps grew closer and you reached for your purse, frantically digging through it for pepper spray. Even if you couldn’t fight off this assailant, you could disable them just enough to get away and raise the alarm.

You tightened your grip on the can and released the cap with your thumbnail.

It was now or never.

You bolted out from underneath the desk with a screech and sprayed the intruder with a faceful of pepper spray, causing them to cry out in pain. You covered your face and ran for the door, only to fall flat on your face, arms and legs bound. You struggled against the bindings, rolling over onto your back to get a good look at your attacker.

H..hUH?

You didn’t know what you had expected, but you definitely couldn’t have predicted the sight before you. It wasn’t an intruder...it was Shouta and he was desperately rubbing his eyes and cursing. The material binding you was his scarf.

“Sh...Shouta?”

He paused, lifting an arm from his face and squinting down at you. He took in the sight of you, frozen on the floor with your arms and legs bound in place and sighed, returning it to its regular state.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, getting back to your feet, “I thought-”

“What the hell did you think you were doing?” he snarled.

“I thought you were a villain!”

“That’s really not the problem here,” he said. “What are you even doing here?”

“I...I forgot my train pass,” you said, wringing your hands. “I’m sorry. I should have just bought a new one.”

Shouta continued to rub his eyes with a groan and you reached out for his arm.

“Come with me,” you said, “that’ll just make it worse.”

You weren’t a hero, but there was something you could do.

━

You guided him to the empty staff room and murmured yet more apologies as you turned on the lights. Shouta curled up on the couch, rubbing his eyes and cursing under his breath.

You stole glances as you ran a cloth under the tap, chewing your bottom lip and feeling more than a little bit guilty.

“Here,” you said, squeezing excess water from the cloth and walking back to the couch. “This should help.”

You knelt down beside him and dabbed the cloth over his eyes as gently as humanly possible, wincing at the sight of how red and puffy they had become. You’d never used pepper spray before and almost certainly used far too much.

Shouta groaned in discomfort the moment the cloth touched him, but remained perfectly still.

This was the first time you had been alone since the reset and you found yourself tongue-tied.

You had slept together twice now, yet you still found it difficult to read him. He was the human embodiment of still waters and you had no doubts that his innermost thoughts were as much of a tangled mess as your own. He was just better at hiding them.

The morning of the reset, you had given up on sleeping. You were unable to stop thinking about the man in your bed; the man you thought you would never see again but would have to see almost every day.

You hadn’t been able to sleep after that, instead putting in a load of laundry and getting an incredibly early start on breakfast. When Shouta rolled out of bed at 6am, you had washed and dried his discarded clothes and folded them on your bedside table, as well as putting together an enormous breakfast and fresh pot of coffee.

“So,” you had said as he rubbed his eyes. “The reset.”

“Yes,” he said, dragging on his shirt and giving it a confused sniff. “Tomorrow is day one.”

That was the last he said on the matter and the longest conversation you had had in months.

Until now, of course.

“Does it still hurt?”

You sat back on your heels and lowered the cloth onto your lap, watching as Shouta squeezed his eyes shut and then, very slowly, attempted to open them. He immediately seemed to regret it, for he flinched and began to squint.

“I’ll get more water, just a-”

You moved to stand up, only for him to take hold of your arm.

“Why would you try and confront a villain without help? You could have gotten yourself killed.”

“I wasn’t going to fight,” you said. “I was going to raise the alarm.”

“Oh, and then what? You’ve exposed yourself to the villain without knowing what their quirk is. They could have set you on fire or gassed you or something.”

“I…”

You weren’t a student, he wasn’t your teacher, yet somehow it felt like being in detention.

“I don’t know,” you said.

“You need to be more rational in these things,” said Shouta, closing his eyes again. “Running head on into danger gets people killed.”

You were quite glad he’d closed his eyes. You couldn’t stifle the smile breaking out across your face.

He wasn’t angry at you at all. Stern, yes, though only out of concern for your safety.

“Good job I had a big, strong Eraserhead around to protect me,” you said, booping his nose with the cloth before getting to your feet. You expected him to protest, but he stayed silent, barely moving even as you ran the cloth under the cold tap.

“You’re not a pro hero,” he said.

“No, I’m not.”

“Then why are you here...in a school for pro heroes?”

You switched off the tap and squeezed excess water from the cloth.

“Are you questioning my credentials, Professor Aizawa?”

“Not particularly,” he said. “It’s important to know the strengths and weaknesses of your team.”

“You could have looked at my file, you know.”

“Too much hassle. I wanted to ask you in person.”

You returned to the couch, cloth in hand. You got the impression that this was a test. Perhaps he already had looked at your file and was suspicious of you as a result. You wouldn’t blame him in his position, given the nature of your quirk and role in the school. He cared about the students far more than he would ever let on.

“Well,” you said, dabbing his eyes. “It’s true I’m not a pro, but I do have a quirk. It’s not… a particularly conventional one, though.”

Shouta stayed silent, waiting for you to continue.

“My quirk is a lie detector,” you said. “I can force people to tell the truth.”

“How do you activate it?”

“I say a little phrase.”

“Show me.”

He squinted at you, watching your body language. You were familiar with this dance; people learning what your quirk was and immediately wondering if you had used it on them without them realising. You got the feeling it ran deeper with Shouta. He wasn’t as interested in seeing your quirk as how comfortable you were using it on other people. Were you the type to proudly abuse your power? Did you take it lightly?

In truth, you weren’t comfortable using your quirk. Not at all.

“Tell me,” you said, goosebumps breaking out across your skin at the activation. “What’s your happiest memory?”

“There was a roof,” he said, without a moment’s hesitation. “My friends were there-”

You chose that question as you had believed it would be harmless. The horror in his eyes as he realised what he was saying, though, made you wonder if you had made a terrible mistake.

He clamped his mouth shut, eyes shining red.

You realised your skin no longer tingled. He’d erased your quirk.

“I…I’m so sorry,” you said, immediately overwhelmed by guilt. “I didn’t-”

“It’s fine,” he said, closing his eyes. “I’ve given it back now.”

It wasn’t fine, though. You had seen enough to know that. You clenched your hands in your lap, all too aware of the water soaking your skirt.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, unable to think of anything more coherent.

“Answer my question,” he said, far more gently than the first time. “Why did you come to a school for pro heroes?”

You thought about the scars on his body; the flash of horror at what should have been his happiest memory.

“Because,” you said, “heroes are more likely to get lost.”

Shouta glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and you blushed, worried you had said something embarrassing. He reached down into your lap for the cloth and placed it on his face.

“It’s getting late,” he said. “You should go home.”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he said, “I still have some stuff to do.”

“Can I at least make you some coffee?”

“Nah.”

You reached for your purse, albeit reluctantly, making sure to check and double check that you had your train pass. You couldn’t believe how much chaos it had caused.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything? I can get you some candy from the vending machine.”

Shouta had rolled over onto his side with his back to you and waved you away.

“Don’t think too much about it, just go.”

The school corridors didn’t seem so scary on your way out. The shadows didn’t seem quite so dark, nor your footsteps so loud. You were too distracted to truly pay attention, racking your brains for some way to make it up to Shouta. Perhaps you’d bring him lunch one day or make him his favourite snacks. Hizashi would know the kinds of things he liked to eat. You decided to ask him in the morning.

The lights were still on in the 1-A homeroom and you peered inside as you passed. From the looks of things, Shouta had been in the middle of marking. That wasn’t what drew your attention, though.

In his haste to leave the room and investigate the commotion, he hadn’t bothered to switch off the radio on his desk, instead leaving it to play to itself. Hizashi’s voice was more than a little distinctive and you knew within seconds that it was his show.

“ Now then, listeners, it’s time for our nightly poll! Tonight is a really difficult one, submitted by user rokstar88. When reborn into your next life, would you rather have no hair on your body at all or be completely hairy, like a yeti? Results are in after this short break.”

#aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #boku no hero academia #habanero

[naferty]

Tony wakes up groggy, disoriented and with no recollection of where he is. At first, he thinks his room, but his room isn’t as white or spotless or has a strong sterilizing smell. It hurts his head just smelling it. Or maybe that’s just his head hurting in general from waking up somewhere unknown with no recollection of it. 

He finds Rhodey sitting next to him, holding his hand and looking at his phone with his other. When Tony squeezes it Rhodey looks up and is relieved to see him awake. 

“Tones,” he moves to sit on the bed. “How are you feeling?” 

Tony frowns in thought. His head hurts and there’s a bit of throbbing pain in his left leg, but other than that it’s not too bad to warrant Rhodey’s concern. 

“My leg hurts,” he admits, voice cracking. Rhodey quickly grabs the cup of water and a straw. Tony inhales the liquid in like a scorched animal in a desert. 

“What happened?” he tries again, grateful his voice didn’t nearly send him into a coughing fit. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Rhodey moves strands of hair away from his eyes. 

“I don’t - I don’t know.”

“That’s okay, that’s okay. Take your time. No hurry.” 

Tony works his brain to remember something. Anything. The last thing he recalls is welcoming a new student to the academy. Hellcat if he remembered the name correctly. Something about hell and a cat is somehow involved. Sounded about right. After that, nothing. He had been with Pepper welcoming her, returned back to his tower and then he woke up in this bed with a headache and Rhodey next to him. 

That had been in… August? Or sometime around there. 

“We were welcoming new people. Hellcat? Daredevil?” 

Rhodey frowns. Not a good look and not a good sign. “That’s what you remember?” 

“Yeah, why? Did something happen?” Tony gives the room a quick scan. “Why am I here and why does my leg hurt?” 

Rhodey squeezes his hand. “You got hurt, Tones. Got taken down while flying. Your suit took a lot of the damage but your leg still got nicked. Stress fracture. Not too bad considering everything. You’ll be getting a cast for it, though. Hope you’re ready.” 

“Only if you carry me.” 

“No carrying on my end. Someone else has that covered now.” 

“Aww, Honey Bear, I don’t want anyone else carrying me but you. You know that.” 

Rhodey shook his head. “Not these days, Tones. The honor of carrying around your ass goes to someone else now. Someone, I might add, that you absolutely love being carried by.” 

“What are you talking about?” Tony lifts himself up to sit upright. Hurt like hell but now he’s able to get a better view of Rhodey. He notices his best friend has more of his War Machine suit on than usual. Where before he had been getting used to it. Now he’s wearing it with the same confidence as Tony does his own. 

Not only that, but he can also almost swear that Rhodey looks a bit older now. He can’t put a finger on it, but somehow Rhodey looks as if a fair amount of time had gone by. A bit bulkier. Strong posture. 

Where the hell as his Platypus been training recently for him to gain those muscles so fast?

“Well, uh,” Rhodey scratches his head. A nervous habit. A very telling tell. “There’s no easy way to say this.”

“Say what?” Oh shit, did something really bad happen besides him breaking his leg and not remember? Did whoever he had been fighting with do something to him? Run off with his spleen or kidney? Stolen his fridge of cheese? Hacked into his systems and stolen everything? 

“Tones, what year is it?” 

Tony blinked. Oh… crap. Usually, people only ask that question when memory loss is involved. Did his head get injured in the fall? How many years has he lost? It can’t be too many since Rhodey still looks more or less the same and it seems like they’re still in the Academy.

“It’s twenty-sixteen,” he says, fear slowly growing as his mind ran through scenarios after scenarios of what he could be missing from memory. 

“Crap,” Rhodey rubs his forehead. Not a good sign. Never a good sign. “It’s okay, it’s okay, not too bad. Memory loss happens. Nothing we can’t handle together.” 

“Honey Bear, what year is it?” His heart rate starts going faster. He’s terrified of the possibility of so much time going by and not remembering any of it. 

“Tones, calm down. It’s not too bad. It’s twenty-nineteen. Only three years. We can handle this.” 

“Three?” Tony repeats. Sure three doesn’t sound like a large number but it’s years! So much could happen in one year let alone three. 

Rhodey hugs him. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll handle this together. I mean it. Not much has changed. We’re still in the Academy. It just has more students than before. You’ll run into a lot of new faces but it’ll be okay. You’ve made a lot of improvements on your armor and mine. You’ll get used to it again. I’ll help every step of the way.” 

Tony takes deep breaths. It’s all easy to say, but it’s still a lot of time taken away. People change. Is he still friends with Pepper? What about Jan? Loki? Do people who used to tolerate him hate him now? Is he still helping around in the Academy or has Nick kicked him out of board meetings? 

As if knowing exactly what he’s thinking, Rhodey tells him, “Pepper was here earlier, but she got called away. I’m sure she’ll be back soon. Jan couldn’t skip another class. It’s Thursday. She’s already skipped all day yesterday. Couldn’t do another.”

Rhodey pulls away. “You know Loki wouldn’t be caught dead caring for someone where everyone can see. He’s getting updates from Jan, but he does occasionally skulk around here.” 

“Oh,” that answers some. What about the others? “Anything big happened?” 

“A bit,” Rhodey admits. “Besides the Academy’s weekly attacks, some big events have happened. Nothing that’s changed your life too much, though.” 

Tony exhales. Doesn’t sound too bad.  

“Jarvis has a body now.” 

He blinks. “...what?” 

“Jarvis has a body now,” Rhodey repeats slower. Hands out and at the ready to catch him should he fall at the news. “Walking, talking body with working arms and everything. It’s really cool. You’re really proud of it.” 

“He… he has a body?!” That’s… that’s incredible! Jarvis has always behaved like a person, even with his digital coding, and Tony has always considered him as an individual all his own. Sassy, sarcastic, but still loyal and humble. Jarvis getting a body? That’s got to be the greatest thing that’s happened to him, and Tony can’t even remember it! 

It absolute sucks. 

“Where is he? The body, I mean.” Jarvis is always with him, but physically? Where is that? 

“In the tower preparing everything for you. Make it cast friendly,” Rhodey gives his left leg a pointed stare. 

“Okay, is that everything?” 

His eyes go back to Tony. For a millisecond Tony can see them land somewhere on his shoulder before they go to his face. It’s enough for Tony to shakily raise his left hand to touch it. His shirt is thin enough to feel everything underneath. Nothing out of the ordinary on his shoulder but when he runs it over his neck he stops. The skin under his fingers isn’t as smooth as his shoulders. Marks are present. Barely noticeable really. Faded but still there. Located where one would place a bite to mark a mate. 

Rhodey knows the moment he realizes what it means. He gives rapid nods in confirmation. “Yeah, it’s exactly what you think.” 

“I got mated?” Tony nearly screams in hysterics because - holy shit! 

“Not fully mated,” Rhodey is quick to correct. “You haven’t signed marriage licenses or had any kind of wedding. You marked each other to keep people off you. You’ll get officially hitched once you’re both ready. At least that’s what you’ve told me.” 

“Off me?” That’s a very odd reason for it. Who would even be on him anyway? Tony has no suitors, no interests in him. Did he somehow offend someone and they’re sicking people on him? Is the mark meant to do damage control for it? “Did I screw up and pissed off someone?” 

Rhodey’s mouth falls open. “What - no! What? - how did you come to - no, of course not! Shit, Tones, how can you come to the worst conclusions?” 

“Doesn’t the worst usually happen?” He doesn’t mean to sound pitiful. It just sort of happens.

Story of his life.

“Not recently, no.” Rhodey puts a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, you get the short end of the stick sometimes - actually, you get it a hell of a lot more times than I’d like, but it’s not every day and certainly not for this. This mark,” he points to it, “you have this because you and your mate just happen to have the hots for each other.” 

“Just the hots? That’s not encouraging,” Tony looks down. “So it’s a temporary thing.” Once this quick hot honeymoon phase is over they’ll separate no doubt. 

“You both call it love but I’m not about to feed that disgusting fire you have going. You both need to cool it with the affection. It’s traumatizing some of us.” 

“Who am I even mated to?” The million-dollar question. Who ended up getting stuck with him? Who did he manage to convince to give him a try? From what he remembers, no one he knows has really caught his eye. In and outside of the Academy. No one, except for a certain Captain that he may or may not have had a crush on since his childhood. Odds are pretty low, the bottom of the barrel low, that Steve is his mysterious mate. 

Oh, but how strong he could hope. 

When Rhodey doesn’t answer right away Tony asks again. “Who’s - who’s my mate, Platypus? A new face? Someone outside the Academy? Who’s the unlucky person?” 

“I don’t think he considers himself unlucky mating you, and don’t talk about my best friend like that.” Rhodey gives him a playful hit. “He’s a good guy. Don’t disrespect.” 

“I love you, too.” 

“Careful he doesn’t hear you say that. He’s a possessive asshole.” 

“So a guy,” that doesn’t narrow down the list much but it is surprising. Tony really thought he’d get a girlfriend, but turns out he went and got a boyfriend instead.

Howard would be so proud of him for proving that right. ‘Why have a broad when you’ll probably be the broad?’ 

He didn’t know how to feel if he ended up mating to a male alpha. With the posturing and the aura of dominance he couldn’t create just waiting to be smacked across his face everyday, taunting him. Howard did always say he was a sorry excuse of an alpha. Better suited to be another alpha’s... well, you know. 

At least he and this guy love each other, right? 

“Who’s this guy?”

“Well, it’s -” 

“I’m here! I’m here! Tony?” A voice interrupts. From outside the door, in came the one and only Steve Rogers. He’s breathing heavy and looks like he ran a marathon getting here but he’s smiling. Large and shining. “You’re awake.” 

“Hi, Steve,” Tony says. It’s all he can think of saying. He honestly didn’t expect Steve to be here. They’re not exactly close from what he remembers.

Steve’s about to say more but Rhodey quickly stops him, dragging him back out the room and the two proceed to have a very hushed conversation. So hushed that Tony can’t guess what they’re talking about, but he does hear a very clear but very hurt, “oh” at the end. Then the two don’t realize their voices have gotten louder.

“Yeah.” 

“So he doesn’t remember.” 

“No. Sorry, Steve.” 

“Now what?” 

“We help him. Any way we can.” 

“Would I be of any help, though? I’ll just cause problems.” 

“Will you be able to keep away?” 

“...no, I won’t.”

“He may not remember, but he still cares for you. Always has. Just gotta help him fall in love with you all over again.” 

Hold on. One. Second. 

Fall in love?

All over again?

Him?

With Steve??

When?

How?

Tony stops breathing.

The two return. Their hushed conversation over. Tony must be bug-eyed as he stares at them.

Steve stops in front of his bed. “Hey, Tony. I -” 

“I mated you?!” 

His shouting surprises the two. “Oh, you heard that?” Steve says. 

Tony is speechless. It’s not a denial. Meaning, it could be very much true. He’s mated to Steve? 

“Yeah, I’m you’re mate. Two years now. Could’ve been near three but you’re very stubborn,” the famous omega says so freely. As if being mated to Tony isn’t the worst thing in the world for him. “Rhodey told me you don’t remember anything in the last three years. So you don’t remember our time together?” 

No, I - no.” 

“Okay,” Steve looks down. Hurt. “I understand if you want me away while you heal -” 

“No,” Tony says rather quickly. “I mean - help me understand. How did we end up together? How did I win you? No - shit, that came out wrong. You’re not a prize. You’re a hero and an icon. I just don’t get how I got this lucky.” 

Steve has a smile. It’s small, but it’s there. “I don’t know about you being lucky. I think I’m the luckier one here. If you have to know, it took a lot of work on my part. It also took a lot of help from your friends. You’re really determined to ignore the signs right in front of you, Love.” 

Tony makes a choking noise. Steve just called him Love. Steve Rogers just called him love! He couldn’t believe it. This is all a dream. It has to be. He’s never this lucky. 

“Tony?” Steve frowns and moves around the table. Closer to him. He reaches a hand out. Rubs a thumb under his eye. “Honey, you’re crying.”

Is he? Steve pulls his thumb away. Glistening from a tear. Oh, looks like he is. 

“I’m just overwhelmed,” he inhales, “and in pain.” 

“Your leg?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’ll go get the nurse.” Steve turns to do just that but Tony grabs his arm before he can take the first step. 

“Wait. Stay. Please?” 

“I’ll get her,” Rhodey offers and walks out the room, leaving them alone. 

Steve sits on the bed. He grabs hold of his hand. “Okay, I’ll stay. I won’t go anywhere.” 

“Thank you.” With his shirt, Tony wipes away the tears. “Could you - could you tell me how it happened? How did we -?” 

“Get together?” The omega pipes in.

“Yeah. I just don’t believe it. Feels like a dream.” 

“You better believe it, Mister. This is no dream and I worked really hard to get you. I’m not letting go.” 

Tony laughs. It’s so surreal to hear Steve say that. For him of all people!

“Okay, while we wait for Jim let me tell you about the first time I tried asking you out. A lot of people got upset about it and trust me, it wasn’t because I was trying to get off the market.” 

#text post #long text post #naferty writes #stony #stevetony #tony & rhodey #he's my alpha au #a/b/o dynamics #alpha tony stark #omega steve rogers #another attempt at waking up and forgetting who your mate is #but a happier outcome! #avac #avac stony

[hale-13]

Syncope

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 18 Prompt - Collapse

Peter Parker was weirdly magnetic. He was also an absolute dumpster fire of a person much to Tony’s chagrin.

Words: 1552, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner

TW: Fainting

Read on AO3 of below the line break.

Tony would be the first to say that Howard Stark was a pretty shit parent. He would also be the first to say that, when he met Peter Parker and drug him off to Germany to fight the Avengers that he could be considered to be a pretty shit mentor. He was determined not to repeat the sins of his father if it was the last thing he did which is why, after Peter turned down his spot on the team, Tony groveled to May Parker and, finally, offered the kid a real, bonafide Stark Industries internship.

Tony tried to remain professional – just some tinkering with the Spidey suit, the chance to play with some cool tech – but Peter Parker was oddly magnetic and, well, could you really blame Tony for quasi-adopting the kid? Once their weekly meetings evolved to twice a week and then into movie nights May Parker set up what she coined ‘co-parenting lunches’ and gave Tony a very firm talking to on what his behavior better look like going forward.

He resolved to never introduce her to Pepper after that conversation – he’d never survive.

That was months ago, though, and things were going pretty swimmingly if Tony said so himself. Peter was over increasingly often and had his own room in the penthouse, May had started to warm up to him more due to their bi-weekly lunch dates and Ross was – for once – off his ass.

Yeah everything was coming up Tony.

“Hey kid,” he called as the music in his workshop cut down and the doors slid open to admit Peter. “Be with you in a sec!” He was so close to finishing this segment of his repulser – it had been a right pain in the ass the whole day and he was ready to just be through with it. Peter didn’t respond but he sometimes didn’t when he could tell that Tony was super busy so he just carried on, finishing about ten minutes later with Dum-E’s… assistance… and he dropped his precision tools with a sigh and a pop of his back.

“Sorry about that buddy,” Tony called as he turned around. “You wouldn’t believe how long that’s been – what’s wrong with you?”

Peter ducked his head quickly but not fast enough to keep Tony from seeing his bright red cheeks, pale features and gigantic eye bags. He was wearing the MIT hoodie Tony had given him (definitely a comfort item whether Peter wanted to admit it or not) but also subtly trembling. Peter let out a suppressed and hoarse cough and muttered a unconvincing ‘Nothing,” that had Tony rolling his eyes.

“Yeah sure,” Tony agreed, standing from his stool and coming to stand in front of Peter, reaching out with the back of one hand to feel the kid’s sweaty and clammy forehead – Peter failing spectacularly at dodging and nearly falling off his stool in the process – and grimacing at the clear fever he could feel. “Your brains melting a little there kiddo.”

“I’m fine,” Peter insisted, his voice cracking and nasally doing nothing to assuage Tony’s concern. “Seriously I am,” Peter said after shirking under Tony’s raised eyebrow. He followed this up by sneezing violently three times and then having the gall to try and paste an innocent look on his face.

Teenagers. Gremlins the lot of them.

“You’re really doing great work making me believe you,” Tony told him pointedly. “I mean look at me – totally convinced.”

Peter deflated a little and pouted, full on sulking now. “You don’t have to rub it in,” he groused and Tony chuckled at him.

“Want to actually tell me what’s going on? Or do you plan to just suffer? That’s a Gen-Z thing right? Suffering?” Peter ignored his jabs and coughed Welty into his elbow before wiping his nose on the sleeve of his sweatshirt making Tony crinkle his nose in disgust.

“Just a cold,” Peter tried, not even trying to meet Tony’s eyes. Guilty. Oh so guilty.

“Uh huh. A cold,” Tony nodded. “And how long have you had this cold that comes with a… uh fever check FRI?” He called out to his AI, making Peter whine in protest and drop his forehead down to rest on the lab table where he was seated.

“103.1 Boss,” FRIDAY called out in her soothing lilt and Tony winced a little in sympathy.

“Thanks dear. A 103.1 degree fever apparently. Jeez kid please tell me you didn’t go to school like this,” the set in Peter’s shoulders, however, told Tony all he needed to know and he let out a put upon sigh. “So you went to school like this. Great. You’re in luck – Bruce happens to be around today to take a look at you. Come on – up!”

“Noooo,” Peter griped, not picking his head up from the table or making any effort to stand at all. “I said I’m fine! I don’t need to go to the MedBay!”

“You’re resting temperature is usually around 96.5 so, yes, your fever alone qualifies you for an all expense paid visit. Don’t make me drag you – neither one of us wants that.” Tony said firmly, poking the side of Peter’s head insistently. Peter groaned again and clumsily batted Tony’s hand away before going to stand up. Halfway to his feet Peter’s eyes rolled back into his head and he dropped like a lead weight, Tony only barely able to catch him before he knocked his head on the side of the table.

“Should have expected this,” Tony grouched, lowering Peter carefully to the floor to rest with his head on Tony’s thigh. It wasn’t the first time the kid had fainted on him and Tony was regretful to say that he was old hat at it now. Tony cared about the kid but, Lordy, if Peter wasn’t an absolute magnet for danger and problems. “FRI?”

“Dr. Banner has been notified. He says to bring Peter up when he regains consciousness,” FRIDAY relayed and Tony nodded, expecting as much.

“Alrighty then. Time to wake up Pete, this isn’t a good look. You don’t want me to have to call May at work do you?” Tony threatened without heat, he would be texting May an update later but there was no need to pull her from work, rubbing the ridges of his fist against Peter’s sternum to stimulate a response.

“Ugh,” Peter groaned, pinching his eyes shut further and flinching away from Tony’s hand. “Stop,” he grunted, turning his face into Tony’s stomach to block out the light.

“No can do kid,” Tony told him, tapping the side of Peter’s face with a couple fingers to keep him awake and alert. “You just took a lovely little nose dive so no sleeping until Brucie looks at you comprende?”

“I passed out?” Peter asked, confused but cracking his eyes open to slits and looking more irritated than anything.

“Oh magnificently,” Tony confirmed, slipping an arm under Peter’s shoulders and lifting him up to sit, leaning, against the leg of the desk. “You feel dizzy or anything? Gonna faint again if you stand?”

“I’m good,” Peter said, swaying for a moment before listing into Tony’s side. It didn’t inspire much confidence.

“Sure you can,” Tony sarcastically mumbled with an eye roll before slipping one arm under Peter’s knees and the other under his back, lifting him into his arms with a grunt. Peter groaned out his displeasure but made no effort to try to escape, solidifying Tony’s decision to just carry him upstairs.

Bruce, to his credit, didn’t seem too surprised by this turn of events and was well aware that Peter was a little human disaster with no self-preservation instincts at all and was quick to get Peter situated on the exam bed much to the kid’s obvious displeasure. “How long have you felt sick and what are your symptoms?” Bruce asked brusquely, rolling a stool over to sit next to the bed, StarkPad perched precariously on his crossed legs.

“It’s just a cold,” Peter told him prompting yet another eye roll from Tony and a put upon sigh from Bruce. Peter rolled his shoulders inward and crossed his arms over his chest in submission. “Since yesterday,” he admitted.

“Symptoms?” Bruce prompted, typing something onto the screen of the tablet.

“Coughing and sneezing for sure and I’m assuming a headache as well. Obviously the fever and the fainting. Am I missing anything Pete?” Tony asked, answering for the kid when it was clear Peter wasn’t going to himself without them literally pulling teeth.

“That about covers it,” Peter said, staring into the corner with his arms still crossed over his chest.

Bruce nodded like it was all to be expected. “Probably some sort of virus then,” he said. “Not a cold but we’ll do the normal battery of bloodwork and cultures to be sure. I’ll send a nurse in to get everything in a few minutes.”

And with that the man bustled out of the room, leaving Tony to perch on the abandoned stool next to Peter’s bed. “Can we just agree to have you tell me the next time you’re sick instead of passing out on me?”

Peter just groaned and tried to smother himself with one of the pillows while Tony laughed – at least he wasn’t stabbed again.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump18 #Prompt: Collapse #irondad #spider man

[sparrow-flies-south]

I Can’t Decide (Whether You Should Live Or Die)

Title: I Can’t Decide (Whether You Should Live Or Die) Pairings: Romantic Thomceit Warnings: Attempted murder, Attempted murder, a couple of references to implied child abuse, a character deliberately attempting to trigger someones allergy (as a murder attempt), reference to torture. Summary: Deceit is one of the best assassins in the business. So assassinating Thomas Sanders should not be difficult - except Thomas seems to have the amazing ability to happen to escape from death.And the longer it takes Deceit to kill Thomas, the less sure he is that he even wants to.

Notes: Happy Birthday Janus!! This fic is complete as a first draft, I plan to update weekly as I edit chapters.

My Masterpost   Read on AO3

Thomas Sanders is going to die.

There is a folder on the table with his name on it. Deceit picks it up and flips through it – Thomas’ address, family history, information about his housemate, a man named Virgil Storm, and details of Thomas’ career on Vine and YouTube. He’ll do his own research later, and find out everything there is to know about the man. For now, he just needs to understand the job itself.

“The deadline is ten days,” says his handler, a woman that is all sharp angles. Her hair is tied back into a tight bun, and she dresses like she’s on her way to a board meeting.

To her face, everyone calls her ma’am, but most of the Agency also call her The Dragon. She encourages this nickname by never killing someone over it.

“Whatever will I do with the other nine days,” Deceit muses.

The Dragon doesn’t respond, which is probably better than what anyone else would face. Then again, she always has been fond of Deceit, ever since he was a kid.

“I’ll take it,” Deceit says, though that is a given.

The Dragon nods and leaves the room. Deceit flips back through the file – Thomas Sanders is a former Vine star turned YouTuber, he lives with a reclusive man named Virgil Storm, and he will be easy to kill.

It will be a subtle death, because if she wants something loud, the Dragon goes to the Duke. An accident, most likely, something very tragic. However he’ll end up doing it, Thomas Sanders’ fate is sealed.

*

Deceit looks Thomas up on the flight over, and watches some of his videos. He finds them funny enough. Thomas seems wholesome enough on them, but someone wants him dead.

He doesn’t have a safehouse in Thomas’ town, but he does know a hotel where people don’t ask too many questions, so he checks in there. He stays only long enough to put away his luggage – a single, carry on suitcase – and then goes to find Thomas’ house.

It’s a nice enough house on a nice enough street – the lawns are well kept, and he sees some of the neighbours talking to each other. There is only one car parked in Thomas’ drive, and from the file Deceit knows it’s Thomas’. There’s no visible alarm on the outside, and a number of windows that might make for easy access. He slips into the neighbour’s yard, and spots a backdoor to Thomas’ house.

There’s a house being renovated down the street from Thomas – for now, it looks empty. When Deceit breaks in, he finds a balcony that has a good view of Thomas’ house.

He spends the next day learning more about Thomas – he stakes out his house, and is able to follow Thomas to the nearest Starbucks around noon. From talking to people, he learns that this is the only real routine Thomas seems to have. He doesn’t see Storm at all that day, and from what he finds out, that isn’t unusual.

Thomas, they say, seems nice enough – if someone says hello to him, he’ll say hello back, even though none of his neighbours are exactly friends with him. Storm, on the other hand, they rarely see. And when they do see him, he usually keeps to himself, and is always wearing a pair of headphones.

The next day, Deceit shows up for his shift at Starbucks armed with a baggie of ground up peanuts, and the knowledge of Thomas’ medical history – including his serious peanut allergy. He’s there to fill in for a barrister that has come down with a terrible case of food poisoning. Really, she should have known better than to eat shrimp that he’s tampered with.

When Thomas arrives, the café is packed. Deceit gets handed a cup with Thomas’ name on it, and sets about making his venti iced vanilla Americano. It’s not the first time Deceit has works at a Starbucks as part of a mission; he has become very good at making drinks quickly, and even better at slipping crumbled peanuts into them when no one is looking.

Thomas is idling near the counter, today dressed in a leather jacket and sunglasses that he is still wearing indoors. Deceit catches his eye and holds out the drink.

“Thanks gurl,” Thomas says as he is given the drink, a far cry from how he speaks in his videos. He takes a swing and pulls a face. “Hey, uh, I think you got my order wrong?”

Deceit fixes a smile on his face. Based on the hospital report from the last time Thomas had a reaction, it won’t take much to kill him. A single swig might be enough.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he says.

Thomas turns the drink around and squints at the cup. “Yeah, this isn’t mine,” he says, pointing at where Thomas is written in loose handwriting. “My name is Remy?”

What.

Thomas – another Thomas comes up to the counter. “Oh, hey, I think that was mine?” he says.

“Right,” Deceit says. “My apologies. Let me remake that for you.”

“I’ll do it,” Kate, another barrister working with him, says. “I need you to get more cups from the back.”

Kate could easily do that, but Ethan Gold, Starbuck barrister, wouldn’t argue. So he just says, “Of course,” and walks away from the counter, while Thomas’ drink is made correctly.

By the time he gets out, Thomas is leaving, talking on the phone as he goes.

“So we’ll meet at your place at noon? Cool, I’ll see you there. Bye, Lee.”

*

Lee and his wife, Mary Lee lives a ten minutes’ drive away from Thomas. Seeing then seems to be so important to Thomas, that Deceit will do what he can to make sure Thomas gets to it as fast as possible.

So, when it’s late enough that the lights in Thomas’ house has gone off, and he’s certain the neighbours view of Thomas’ drive will be blocked by the fence, he crawls under Thomas’ car and cuts the breaks.

The house renovation makes a very good place to watch Thomas drive off from, so the next day that’s where he is. He perches beside a pile of bricks, close enough to the glass balcony door to see out of it, but where he’s not likely to be spotted. Usually, he would stay at the hotel and wait for the news, but Deceit isn’t willing to take any chances with Thomas Sanders.

Except the minutes tick by, and Thomas’ car doesn’t move. Thomas had said around noon, but it is half twelve now, and the car is still there. He wonders if Thomas decided to walk, or if he caught the bus instead, when he sees someone leave Thomas’ house.

Deceit goes to the balcony that overlooks the street to get a better look, and sure enough, it is Thomas, not Virgil Storm. Deceit watches him walk towards the car – he’ll only watch long enough for Thomas to drive off, there’s no way of telling when an accident will happen, after all – and right passed it, and onto the street.

Oh, you have to be kidding him. Thomas seems completely unconcerned as he walks closer to Deceit’s hiding place, and part of him wants to go down there and demand to know what Thomas is doing.

With a snarl of frustration, Deceit grabs one of the bricks and hurls it at the pavement where Thomas is – or rather, at the pavement a few inches to the left of where Thomas is. Thomas jumps where the brick hits the asphalt, and Deceit ducks back inside the house so he won’t be seen.

That was an extremely stupid move – Deceit had thought he’d grown past fits of rage, but apparently not. Still, when he peers out again Thomas is gone, so perhaps he’ll chalk it to another accident.

Deceit, however, is done with accidents.

*

Breaking into Thomas’ house is easy – all Deceit needs to do is pick the locks on his door and disable the burglar alarms. Honestly – anyone could just walk in. Maybe he’ll leave Virgil recommendations for some decent security.

Deceit barely spares a glance to Thomas’ kitchen and living room before making his way up the stairs. It’s late – almost three am, and the whole house is in darkness.

Upstairs, there are three doors opening off the corridor. The one in the middle is slightly ajar, and Deceit can see that it’s a bathroom. Another door leads to a room at the front of the house – from being able to see through the windows, he knows this is Thomas’. The third door must lead to Virgil’s room – through the crack at the bottom, he can see the glow of lights on inside.

Deceit opens Thomas’ door slowly, taking care not to make any noise, and when it is open just wide enough for Deceit to fit, he slips in, and shuts the door behind him.

Thomas is sat on his bed, his headphones on and his laptop in front of him. The glow of the screen lights up the moment Thomas looks up and sees him, the way Thomas’ eyes widen in shock and fear.

Deceit is already moving before Thomas begins to open his mouth to scream, and so he is able to tackle Thomas onto the bed and cover his mouth with a hand before any sound can come out. Damn it, Thomas is supposed to be asleep. Who the hell is up at three am?

Thomas struggles, hands clawing at Deceit’s own, and legs kicking wildly. He manages to catch his laptop and send it flying off the bed. It hits the floor with a loud thud. Deceit pushes himself onto the bed, and uses his knees to pin Thomas’ legs in place.

He’d been planning to use a pillow to smother him, but fortunately he also has a knife with him. Thomas is still scratching at Deceits hand, so he can use the other one to pull out the knife. Behind him, something pounds across the floor, and there’s the sound of a door hitting a wall when it’s thrown open.

Deceit is able to turn his head just in time to see the vase coming towards him.

The impact sends him falling pack against the bed, dazed.

“What the fuck!?” Virgil shouts, at the same time as Thomas cries, “You killed him!”

Deceit tries to get his hands under him, tries to push himself up, when Storm says, “Oh, fuck that,” and something collides with his head again, this time sending him careening into darkness.

*

The ropes are the first thing he notices.

He keeps his eyes closed, keeps his breathing slow and even, and listens to the footsteps pacing around the room. This isn’t the first time he’s been caught during a mission – it’s happened twice before. The first time had been easy enough to escape and finish the job, but the second had taken him days. When he finally had escaped, he’d almost bled out before he reached the safe house.

This time will almost certainly end up like the first.

“Shouldn’t he be awake by now?” someone asks. “Shit, I think I gave him brain damage.”

“He’s probably fine,” says a second voice. “I’m sure he’ll wake up soon.”

“Great!” hisses the first voice. “That means he’s going to wake up and kill us!”

…Definitely like the first.

It would, admittedly, be easiest to pretend to be asleep until one or both of them left the room. That would give him a chance to get out of the chair, kill Thomas, and then decide if he wants to kill Virgil, too.

But no one has ever caused him this much trouble before, not even the people who were expecting him. He’s curious.

So he makes a show of groaning and raising his head, of waking up slowly. He tugs against his restraints, more for show than everything, though it does give him a chance to make not of the amount of give in them. Rope is woven around his chest and arms, and then more has been used to secure his wrists.

Virgil is at the edge of the room, arms crossed and glowering. Thomas stands between Virgil and Deceit, eyes wide, looking as if he hadn’t actually expected Deceit to wake up.

“Uh, hi,” Thomas says. “Sorry about the tying you to a chair thing, but in our defence, you did try to kill us.”

Deceit doesn’t reply. He’s able to twist his hands to loosen the rope slightly.

Thomas falters. “How’s your head?”

“Fine.”

“Are you sure?” Thomas asks. “Virgil hit you pretty hard. We could get you some ice for it?”

Deceit isn’t sure why Thomas is asking that, but he still nods. He’s curious about what Thomas is going to do now that he thinks Deceit is at his mercy.

“Right! Yeah, I can get that,” Thomas says. He turns to Virgil, who’s scowl somehow grows even darker.

“Fuck no,” Virgil snaps. “I’m not taking my eyes off him.”

“Fine,” Thomas says. “I’ll get it. Just- stay here?”

And then Thomas leaves the room. He must be either stupider than Deceit realised, or far more cunning than Deceit was prepared for.

If Deceit is going to be hurt, this is where it will happen, while it’s just him and Virgil. Then Thomas can deny knowing about it, can build up Deceit’s trust in him.

Virgil stays where he is, watching Deceit so intently he doesn’t seem to blink.

“Have you called the police?” Deceit asks.

Virgil jumps at Deceit’s voice; unsurprising, considering how tightly wound he is. “Of course we did,” he snaps. “We’re just waiting for them to get here.”

Meaning there’s a time limit on how long he has to escape.

“What the fuck were you doing, anyway?” Virgil asks.

“I thought that was obvious,” Deceit says. “I’m trying to kill Thomas.”

“Why would you want to kill Thomas?”

Virgil sounds like the idea honestly makes no sense to him. Deceit just shrugs.

Virgil mutters something under his breath but doesn’t speak again, apparently content to just watch in silence. Or not content, considering the look on his face. It isn’t long before Deceit can hear Thomas’ footsteps up the stairs, and then Thomas appears, carrying an ice pack in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

“Jesus Christ,” Virgil mutters, eyeing the water.

Thomas shrugs sheepishly. “I thought he might be thirsty?”

“He just tried to kill you!” Virgil snaps. “You don’t worry about whether the person who tried to kill you is thirsty!”

If someone speaks like that at the Agency, it’s usually a good sign that violence is on the way, and you should start apologising before it’s too late. Thomas doesn’t seem bothered, though.

“Do you want it?” he asks.

Deceit shakes his head. He’s not stupid, there’s no way he’s going to accept anything from someone he’s just tried to murder. He might as well eat arsenic – it would cut out the middle man.

“Okay,” Thomas says. He steps closer. “Uh, I’m not sure how the ice pack will work. Maybe we can put it between your head and your shoulder?”

Deceit nods, and lets Thomas come closer, closer still. He places the water on the ground, and then reaches with the ice pack, and Deceit launches himself off the chair.

He keeps hold of the ropes as he tackles Thomas to the floor. He stands up quickly, and then turns to Virgil. As he suspected, Virgil is already lunging for Deceit’s knife, now placed on the night stand. He’s able to get there first, and he hits Virgil in the face. Virgil staggers back, and Deceit uses the distraction to throw him to the floor.

Virgil snarls and tries to stand up, but Deceit pins him and loops the rope around his hands. He drags Virgil across the room and ties the rest of the rope to the leg of the desk.

“Stop,” Thomas shouts, and suddenly he’s there, right next to Deceit, the guy who’s trying to kill him. “Don’t hurt him, please.”

Deceit turns, and Thomas backs away a few paces until his back hits the wall. His eyes are shiny with fear.

“We won’t tell anyone who you are, I swear,” Thomas babbles.

Deceit takes a step closer to Thomas. Behind him, Virgil spits, “Don’t you fucking dare.” Deceit can hear him struggling against the rope.

Thomas is here, in front of him, and alone. There’s nothing stopping Deceit, no lucky escapes this time. All Deceit has to do is grab the knife and stab him, or strangle him, or bludgeon him with something.

But he doesn’t want to.

A hundred kills and this one makes him hesitate, because – what? Because of an ice pack and a glass of water that is probably drugged? Because he’s seen some of Thomas’ vines and they made him laugh?

Deceit doesn’t hesitate. The training he’s had since he was a child has seen to that.

Something is wrong. He needs to regroup, figure out what’s happened and how to change it.

“Stay here,” Deceit orders, and Thomas nods. He doesn’t look relieved, not yet. “If you try to follow me, I’ll kill you. And then I’ll come back and kill him, too.”

Thomas’ breath hitches and he nods again. Behind him, Virgil goes silent. Neither speak as Deceit leaves the room.

When he’s halfway across the living room he hears movement upstairs, and stills, but then there’s nothing except for hushed voices from above, speaking too quiet for Deceit to hear.

He doesn’t look back as he leaves the house. He’ll kill Thomas tomorrow.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #thomceit #janus sanders #tss janus #character thomas #my fic #I cant decide

[tsarisfanfiction]

Long Way From Home: Chapter 2

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

Well, the first chapter certainly got some reactions, so I’m back again to either answer the questions from last chapter or make things more confusing.  Or both, because why not?  I’m planning weekly updates, but we’ll see what actually happens.  Thanks, uni.

<<<Chapter 1

Logic screamed that he was actually facing the Hood, the twisted man adopting his own appearance for some scheme or other that Scott really didn’t want to know about.  His gut told logic to go take a hike – there was no way the Hood would be standing there, barely two feet from his uniform, and not raiding any and all technology he could get his grubby little paws on. Nor would the Hood leave him unrestrained when he’d had plenty of opportunity to secure him during the gap in his memory.

Besides, the Hood was a perfectionist.  His disguises were flawless, a product of technology Brains rolled his eyes at but acknowledged was an engineering masterpiece, if sadly in the wrong hands. This Scott in front of him was not a carbon copy.

For starters, much to Scott’s chagrin, the man’s hair was a healthy brown all over.  No grey traitors wormed their way along his roots, signs of stress he desperately tried to ignore even as his brothers taunted him for their existence and pulled stunts that felt designed to increase their number. The brown was also slightly lighter than his own, although that could just have been a product of more washes and less gel.  Despite the lack of grey hairs, he also got the impression that this man was actually older than him, if only by a year or so.

“How did you get here?” His voice was different, too.  The pitch wasn’t the same, nor was the tone quite right.  Virgil could give a better summary of the nuances, he was sure.

The words, though. Those were all Scott, right down to the sharp delivery and clear expectation of a prompt answer.  Skipping pleasantries, and heading straight for the heart of the matter because they didn’t have time to dance around the issue.

“I might have a better idea if I knew where ‘here’ was,” he challenged.  “What is this place?  Where am I?” Where were his brothers?

The Other-Scott (Fake Scott? Hood-Masquerading-As-Scott?) locked gazes with him.  What he was looking for, Scott didn’t know, but he refused to cower away from his doppelgänger and met his steely, searching look with one of his own. Logic still insisted that the Hood, or at least the Hood’s technology, had to be responsible, but he’d learnt to trust his gut long before he’d even heard of his father’s dream of International Rescue and that was adamant that Kayo’s miserable excuse for a family member had nothing to do with the man in front of him.

What it couldn’t tell him was who the man was, aside from an imperfect clone of himself.  The unusual technology surrounding them – alien, Alan might call it for lack of a more rational explanation – was another piece to the puzzle that wasn’t slotting together.

Puzzles were more of John’s thing, not his.  There were many times his ginger brother had rescued the poor pieces from his hands as he tried to force them into the wrong places.

Why had John not made contact yet?

“Who are you?” he demanded when it became clear that the other man wasn’t intending on answering his other questions.  “Why am I here?  Where are my brothers?”

“Brothers?” Other-Scott repeated, frowning deeply.  “We found you alone.”

“Found me?” Scott spat.  “Where? Last place I remember was the securest part of my own home!  There’s no way you got near me without passing my brothers!”  His brothers, sleeping soundly in the belief that they were safe in their own home.  Even John had gone to sleep, secure on Five, but if they’d reached Thunderbird One’s hangar they’d have reached the space elevator docking system.  “So where.  Are. My.  Brothers?”

“You were in our home,” Other-Scott bit back, hands briefly balling into fists before being forced to relax again.  “Alone. Wherever your brothers are, it’s not here.”  Scott didn’t like the emphasis on brothers.

“Don’t lie to me!” he roared, temper fraying.  His brothers had to be with him, otherwise John would have made contact asking where he’d gone.  Otherwise this man – and others beside him – had invaded their home and taken him whilst leaving his brothers but that made no sense.  Why take only one member of International Rescue when you could have all five?  Why take only one Tracy – even if it was the eldest, the one with the most access to all their assets – when you could take more for additional insurance?

They hadn’t tied him down, and the wires hooking him up to the bizarre machines had long since lost their hold on him from his earlier movement.  A rookie mistake.  With years of Air Force training behind him, Scott launched himself at the other man.

Blue eyes widened just before a fist made contact with his cheek, and Other-Scott staggered backwards before catching his balance, his hand tenderly brushing over the injured area. The movement had put him to one side, no longer between Scott and the door, and Scott took full advantage of that. If this man wasn’t going to admit where his brothers were, he’d find them himself.

It was his turn to receive a punch as he jumped towards the door, putting him off-course and allowing Other-Scott to block his way again.  This time, his curiously wary look had changed to an angry one, and as they met in a flurry of blows Scott couldn’t tell which of them moved first.

“Let. Me. At. My. Brothers,” he spat between blows, gasping as an elbow caught him in the solar plexus just as Other-Scott doubled over from a fist to the gut.

“They’re not, argh, here!” Other-Scott insisted, hooking their ankles together and bringing them tumbling to the floor, where they pushed and shoved at each other, trying to get the upper hand.  Something fell off a table as Scott’s back slammed into it, shattering into many glass fragments and dousing him with a cool liquid.  Another bottle hit Other-Scott’s shoulder on the way down, before smashing on the floor and adding to the mess.

They were equally matched, neither able to get the upper hand as they rolled around on the floor, fists flying, heads clashing, and elbows jabbing whatever fleshy body parts they could reach in all the chaos.  Broken glass dug mercilessly into bare skin wherever it was visible, the liquid contents of the former bottles oozing through their clothes. Other-Scott’s head slammed against the bed, but he barely paused before Scott found his own head colliding with a metal table, darkening his vision for a split second.

“What’s going on here?” an unfamiliar voice demanded.  Scott ignored it, and Other-Scott met his latest attacks with equal fervour. “Scott, stop!”

Scott had no intention of stopping.  He didn’t recognise the voice, but Other-Scott had flinched so he did, which meant they were working together.

Strong arms grabbed him, hauling him away from Other-Scott with a grunt, and he kicked out at the warm body restraining him.  Other-Scott had been captured too, a shorter brown-haired man built like a tank firmly hooking him under the shoulders and frowning furiously as he fought to keep hold of Scott’s doppelgänger, who was as determined to get free as Scott himself.

“BOYS!” the voice thundered right in his ear, no doubt belonging to the owner of the arms restraining him.  “What is this nonsense all a- oof?”  Scott threw his head back, clashing with what felt like a nose, from the way it gave.

“Where are my brothers?” His demand came out almost as a scream, all his frustration at the situation pouring out of him as at least two more hostiles made themselves apparent.  Other-Scott was stopping short of causing any damage to his own captor in his bids for freedom, suggesting that while the man was breaking up the fight, he was still on Other-Scott’s side.

“I told you!” Other-Scott shouted back at him.  “They’re not here!  We only found you!”

“They must be here!” Scott insisted.  “Don’t lie to me!”

“E-nuff!” the man behind him joined in, the imperious tone ruined by the clear sounds of a broken nose. “Shedate im!”

Scott fought harder as a ginger man entered the room, looking at him with wide brown eyes before surveying the mess in front of him with trepidation.  He picked his way across glass-strewn floor carefully, but Scott was more interested in Other-Scott, whose attempts to get free had reduced to a token effort as his attention was briefly stolen by the ginger man. He recognised that look of concern too well, far too used to seeing it in the mirror.

“Oh my!” a frail woman’s voice sounded from the doorway.  “Oh, what a mess.  Jefferson, what are you doing to that poor young man?”

Jefferson.  The name was so familiar it hurt, but at least he had a name for Other-Scott – or so he thought until the man holding him responded.

“He’s quith ou o conthrol, muffer.”

Unable to help himself, Scott tore his gaze away from Other-Scott, who had now stopped resisting capture entirely in favour of looking in the direction of the doorway almost sheepishly, to catch a glimpse of the man holding him.  Silver-grey hair and a receding hairline weren’t immediately familiar, however, and the hold he was in preventing him from seeing much more. He could, however, see the elderly lady who had interrupted the fight.  Rosy cheeks, a slightly bent back and a quiver in her hands all pointed towards a particularly advanced age.

“Where are my brothers?” he asked again, reigning his voice in to an almost-level, if still intense, level.

“I told you-” Other-Scott started forwards again, only to be brought up short by the man still holding him tightly.

“Your brothers, dearie?” the old woman interrupted.  “Oh, I’m afraid I don’t know.  Jefferson, why don’t you help the young man find his brothers?”

“They’re not here, Grandma,” Other-Scott said, and Scott flared up again.

“Well then, dearie, it seems to me that instead of all this fighting, you should be looking to find out where they are,” Other-Scott’s grandmother pointed out.  “I’m sure their absence is terribly distressing him.  I know you’d be terribly distressed if your brothers were missing.”  She pottered towards him, the ginger-haired man sweeping back to her side and nudging broken glass out of the way with a foot before she could tread on any. “Jefferson, let him go.  Are you hungry, dearie?  I’ve got an apple pie that’s just finished baking.”

“Muffer!” the man holding him protested, but the woman was no longer paying her son any attention, bespectacled eyes homing in on Scott.  He looked around the room; Other-Scott was still held by the brown-haired man, and the ginger was hovering awkwardly by the elderly lady but shooting him assessing looks.  The grip on his arms was slackening, and it became clear that no-one wanted to fight with her in the midst, Scott himself included.

“Well, dearie?” the woman prompted, and he slid out of the other man’s grasp.  The instant he did so, a hand, just as frail and delicate as the rest of her, came to rest on his forearm.  “If apple pie doesn’t meet your fancy, I have an orange tart, or some banana bread.  Oh, if none of those tickle you, I’m sure I can find something,” she wittered as he found himself being coaxed from the room.

“Uh, apple pie would be… fine,” he said haltingly.  Behind him, he heard a noise of protest.  “Thank you, er, Mrs..?”

“Oh dear, I didn’t introduce myself.”  She sounded mortified at the omission.  “I’m so sorry, dear.  It’s Mrs Tracy.”

It shouldn’t have bothered him.  Tracy wasn’t an uncommon name, for all that there was only one family famous for it. The elderly lady looked nothing like his grandmother – either of them, even if his recollections of his mother’s mother were faded – but her grandson still looked like him, to the point he still didn’t trust the other man, or indeed anyone in the house.  In light of that, having his own surname thrown around startled him.

“Is there something wrong?” Mrs Tracy asked him.  “Oh, you don’t look well at all, dear.  Let’s sit you down.”  He found himself ushered into a seat as they reached what was clearly the kitchen.  A young woman was already there, pulling the promised apple pie out of a bizarre contraption that vaguely resembled an old oven. “Tin-Tin, would you be a dear and fetch your father?” the elderly lady asked her.  “This young man doesn’t seem very well.”

“But of course, Mrs Tracy.” Tin-Tin had a slight lilting accent to her voice, somewhere south-east Asian if Scott had to guess.  “I’ll find him now.”  She placed the apple pie, which smelled absolutely heavenly to Scott, compared to his own grandmother’s regular offerings, on the table and left the room.

“Eat up, dearie,” Mrs Tracy insisted, placing a plate in front of him.  “Help yourself to as much as you want.”

The apple pie smelled good, and despite his misgivings at the entire situation, a homemade apple pie was far too tempting and he found himself tucking in to a healthy slice.

“What would you like to drink, dear?” she asked.  “Tea, coffee? Oh, I have some juice somewhere, now where did I put it..?”

“Water is fine,” he answered between mouthfuls.

“Oh, are you sure?” she queried.  “It’s no trouble at all.”

“Perfectly,” he replied, only to blink as a steaming cup of tea appeared in front of him.

“You called, Mrs Tracy?” An older man had entered the kitchen while he wasn’t looking, an impressive and concerning feat considering Scott was still on edge about the entire situation.  His accent was the same as Tin-Tin’s, implying that this was her father.

“Oh, Kyrano,” the woman greeted.  “This young man, oh, silly me, I never asked for your name, dearie…  Dearie?”

Scott barely heard her, the cup of tea he’d started to lift falling from startled fingers to smash onto the table, spilling the liquid everywhere.

Kyrano. Another familiar name, if not a familiar face.  First, Other-Scott, who could have been his identical twin.  Then, Mrs Tracy, a name he knew all too well even if she didn’t look like his own grandmother.  Now, Kyrano, another name albeit one whose owner he hadn’t seen in too long, with a different face but the same intensity about him.

“Dearie?” Mrs Tracy asked again.  “Oh, what a mess.  He’s as white as a sheet, Kyrano.”

Something reminiscent of smelling salts wafted under his nose and he spluttered.

“You’re bleeding, sir,” the man said matter-of-factly.  “Allow me.”

Scott had forgotten about the broken bottles he’d been wrestling amongst with Other-Scott, but now the man had mentioned it, he could feel the sting of glass embedded in his arms. No permission was sought before a gentle yet firm hand wrapped around a glass-free section of his arm, holding it in place as a pair of tweezers were produced.  He was no stranger to medical attention, and while he didn’t know the man – Other-Kyrano, apparently, for all that he clearly wasn’t English, and probably couldn’t trump Scott in a fight – he did at least know the procedure for removing foreign bodies from open wounds and watched like a hawk as the man more or less followed the methods he would have expected.

“Please, drink your tea,” Other-Kyrano asked once a nasty, stinging liquid – disinfectant was horrible stuff and Scott would never like it – had been applied and bandages carefully wrapped around the worst of the wounds.  “You might find it helpful.”  A second cup of tea replaced the smashed remains of the old one, as Other-Kyrano efficiently cleaned up the mess.

How was tea supposed to help?  Lady Penelope might insist as such sometimes, but Scott would much rather a strong coffee chock full of caffeine.  Still, Mrs Tracy was looking at him with a worried look on his face, and Grandma would murder him for defying or otherwise offending an elderly lady who had done him no harm.  He cautiously pulled the cup closer to him, and was startled to discover it wasn’t an ‘Assam Blend’, or whatever other fancy teas Lady Penelope liked to serve up. It was herbal, and surprisingly delicious, he discovered after his first tentative sip.

“Kyrano serves wonderful tea,” Mrs Tracy told him, sitting down across the table from him.  She had her own cup of steaming liquid in front of her, and sipped at it delicately.  “Now, dear, I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name?”  Scott paused, taking another tentative sip of the tea to buy himself another moment to think.  Should he give them his name?  He didn’t know what they already knew.  Was it worth a lie?  No, he’d never be able to keep it up.

“Scott,” he admitted.

“Oh my,” Mrs Tracy said. “What a coincidence.  That’s the name of my eldest grandson.”  Scott’s gut churned unpleasantly, and he put the cup down before he dropped that one, too.  “Oh, you even look the same.  Isn’t that strange?”

Strange was one word to describe what was going on.  Suspicious was another.

“You’re the fella that punched Scott?”  A young man barged into the room.  He had pale blond hair and light blue eyes that should have made him attractive, except he seemed to have a permanent frown etched into his face.  “What gave you the right?”  Scott matched his glare with one of his own as the young man – barely an adult at all, if he had to guess an age – stormed up to him.

“Alan!”  Tin-Tin was there, resting a hand on his arm.  “Please, calm yourself.”

Another familiar name, and now that he’d heard it Scott found himself instantly drawing parallels between the man and his youngest brother.  There must have been at least five years between them, but Scott could see Alan looking like that man in a few years, although hopefully without the frown.

“But, Tin-Tin!” Other-Alan protested.  “Scott’s face is bruised.  I can’t just let that go!”  He even had the same personality, a rigid sense of right and wrong with little ability to see the other person’s side, and a reluctance to acknowledge that black and white was joined by a large span of grey.

“Your brother can fight his own battles, Alan,” Tin-Tin soothed.  “I’m sure it was all just a misunderstanding.”

“What about Dad’s nose?” Other-Alan demanded.  “You can’t expect me to…”

Scott tuned out the argument at that.  Dad. He tried not to be a petty person, but there were times when he couldn’t quite prevent envy bubbling up when he heard other people taking about their Dads, taking them for granted as though they’d always be there.  Over the years he’d got better at smothering it, but this was a man named Alan, with a brother named Scott, and a grandmother called Mrs Tracy, and they had their Dad.

He’d broken their Dad’s nose when he’d tried to stop him attacking one of his sons.  If that had happened to his Dad – if Dad was still around to break up fights on their behalf, no matter how unwelcome the gesture would have been in the moment – he’d be fuming, too.  He wasn’t going to apologise though.  Not now, when he didn’t know where he was, who he was with, or where his brothers were.  He didn’t even know what these people planned to do with him, regardless of whether or not his presence in their home was intentional on their behalf.

“Leave it, Alan.”  The blond man’s tirade was cut off by none other than Other-Scott – now confirmed to actually be a Scott himself – as he walked into the room.  “Is there any apple pie left, Grandma?”

“Oh, yes, dear,” Mrs Tracy assured him.  “Take a seat and I’ll bring some over.”

“Thanks,” Other-Scott said, pulling up a chair a couple away from Scott.  His face was bruised, as Other-Alan had said, a beautiful darkening along his cheekbone and narrowly missing his eye.  Other-Kyrano set a cup of tea in front of him, which he accepted gratefully and drank without hesitation.

“But, Scott!” Other-Alan complained, and his brother sighed.

“That’s enough, Alan,” he said, tearing into the plate of apple pie his grandmother placed in front of him.  “Leave it.”

Other-Alan caved, albeit with obvious bad grace, and stalked out from the room.  Scott watched him go.  Part of him was glad that the younger man was being openly hostile – at least he knew where, exactly, he stood with him.  Other-Scott was less clear, patched up from their scuffle and now sat at the same table, devouring his grandmother’s apple pie.  Suspicious glances remained, but there was no open hostility.

The door opened again, and Other-Alan re-entered followed by the two young men from the infirmary, and-

A second teacup smashed onto the table.

“Oh dear!” Mrs Tracy cried, hurrying over to him.  Other-Kyrano quickly swept up the remains as she took hold of his hand.  “Scott, dear, are you alright?”

“Scott?” one of the men asked.  He thought it might have been Other-Scott.

“Oh, Jeff, are you sure there’s nothing wrong with him?” Mrs Tracy was asking.  “This is the second turn he’s had in as many minutes!  Oh, look at him, he’s gone as white as a sheet again, Kyrano.”

Scott barely heard them. The man who had just entered the room had the obvious signs of a broken nose, identifying him as Other-Alan’s Dad. He also had salt and pepper hair, more salt than pepper, and a receding hairline.  Steel eyes fixed on him sharply, hard and unforgiving, and a five o’clock shadow did nothing to hide the dimples in his cheeks.  This was the same man that had restrained him, and while a glimpse in his periphery hadn’t been enough to cause recognition, now that Scott could see him properly he looked like Dad – an older version of Dad, but then he hadn’t seen Dad since he was nineteen.  No doubt, if Dad was still with them, he’d look very similar to the man in front of him.

This had gone beyond simple words like weird and suspicious.  Impossible sounded more like it.

“His medical results all came back clear, Grandma,” the brown-haired man from the infirmary assured her, squatting down in front of him and shining a penlight into his eyes.  He recoiled from the bright light, tearing his gaze away from Not-Dad – it couldn’t be Dad, Dad was gone – to frown at him.

“Did you call him Scott?” the ginger man asked, walking over to the table and slotting himself in a chair between him and Other-Scott.

“That is my name,” he said before anyone else could speak up.  A hush fell over the room, broken by Other-Kyrano setting a third cup of tea in front of him.

“Drink,” the man said. “It will help.”

“Your name is Scott?” Other-Alan demanded.  “But-”

“That’s enough, Alan,” Not-Dad interrupted.  The blond frowned, but obeyed.  “Scott, is it?”

“That’s what I said,” Scott retorted, taking a sip of the fresh drink.  As Other-Kyrano said, it did help.  Somehow.

“Scott..?”  Not-Dad trailed off expectantly.  Surrounded by too many familiar names, Scott decided against answering.  He took a longer drink, ignoring the patriarch of the family in favour of assessing the rest of the room.  Other-Alan and Other-Scott he already had some measure of, the former more so than the latter.  Mrs Tracy was a kind enough lady, and Tin-Tin seemed of a similar temperament. Other-Kyrano was difficult to read, but his focus was the two men whose names he had yet to hear.

The ginger noticed his scrutiny, returning it in kind.  There was something familiar about him, but Scott batted away the notion.  He was simply off-balance at the number of familiar names and faces already – that was no reason to start looking for more connections where there were none.  No matter now much the warm brown eyes of the two as-yet unnamed men reminded him of two of his brothers.

Not-Dad bristled when it became apparent that he wouldn’t give his name.

“I’d like to know, who, exactly, is trespassing in my home,” he said.  Clearly the man was used to being obeyed.

“I’d like to know how, exactly, I got here, and where my family are,” he retorted.

“You don’t know how you got here?” the brown-haired man asked, surprised.

“Virgil,” Not-Dad warned. The third teacup was spared the fate of the previous two purely by being on the table when Scott’s grip slacked.

“No,” he said firmly, powering through the unpleasant sensation dousing him again before Mrs Tracy commented on another ‘turn’.  “I don’t. I don’t know where ‘here’ is, either.”

“But how could you get here without knowing?” the newly dubbed Other-Virgil asked.  “None of us brought you here.”

Scott didn’t bother responding, draining the cup of tea before any more unpleasant surprises could befall it and standing up.

“Thanks for the tea,” he said to Other-Kyrano, “and the apple pie,” he continued to Mrs Tracy, ignoring Not-Dad as he pushed the chair under the table.

“Dear, are you sure you’re alright?” Mrs Tracy fussed.  He wasn’t, but he didn’t tell her that.  Instead he gave a short nod before choosing a door at random and walking through it, ignoring a protest from Not-Dad.

A corridor greeted him, with a neat row of doors on one side and a branch off to the left leading to who knew what.

“Now look here.”  A hand clapped down on his shoulder, and he was halfway to removing it forcibly before placing the voice.  Having already broken Not-Dad’s nose, thereby earning the wrath of at least one member of the family, it was probably not a good idea to injure the man further.  It didn’t stop him shrugging him off, however.  “I don’t want you walking around our home unsupervised, young man.”

“Then supervise me,” he retorted.

“I intend to.”  A hand returned to his shoulder – lightly, this time, Not-Dad clearly learning his lesson – and steered him towards what now looked a lot like an elevator from those old, vintage films Grandma occasionally put on even though they were from before her time, or so she claimed. Neither he nor any of his brothers were brave enough to dispute it.  “Gordon, I want everyone in the lounge.  Let’s start from the beginning.”

“Yes, Father,” the ginger man said – Scott hadn’t even noticed him behind Not-Dad – and tried very hard not to react to the name, even though the situation had flown past anything anyone could classify as a coincidence at this point.  Scott, Virgil, Gordon, Alan… all they were missing was a John.

Not-Dad gestured for him to enter the elevator, ignoring what seemed to be a perfectly serviceable flight of stairs, and he did so with trepidation, watching metal shutters slide across sharply before a jerk beneath their feet had them rising.

“Jeff Tracy,” Not-Dad said suddenly.  Scott glanced at him as the elevator stopped moving and the metal shutters opened with a clatter.  “Call me Mr Tracy.”  His cool, unpersonable approach was nothing like how Scott remembered Dad, and that helped, a little.  He didn’t intend on calling him anything, though.  Not until he knew why there was a clone of his father, and of himself, in this strange house.

Chapter 3>>>

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #jeff tracy #grandma tracy #tin-tin kyrano #kyrano #alan tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #long way from home