and need something to do with all this nervous energy

anonymous asked:

Drabble request, memento mori as if Mulder is sitting through chemo with Scully, not Penny Northern

anchor

part of my series i’m writing as i rewatch txf

He doesn’t go straight to DC. He stops by the hospital to check on Scully first. The nurse directs him to Oncology and he finds Scully’s mother slumped in a chair in the waiting room. “Fox,” she greets him with some surprise.

“Hi, Mrs. Scully.” He should probably sit but he’s too tempered with energy, rocking back and forth on his heels. He needs to see her. “How is she?”

“Sleeping, the last time I saw her.” Maggie rubs her eyes. “She’s begun the treatment. I think another patient is in there with her now. An old friend, she said.” She sounds extremely weary, fraying. Like she’s starting to fall apart, or has been for a very long time.

Mulder chews his lower lip nervously. Penny Northern, he guesses. “What room?” 

Maggie relays it to him and he thanks her quickly before heading down the hall to find her. He’s going to make a deal that will hopefully save her life, he’s going to find out what happened to her. But first he needs to make sure she’s okay. 

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Maybe it’s just me, but. When I’m reading something and am just flat-out enjoying it, like filled to the brim with glee at the author’s wording or characterization or imagination or ingenuity or pacing, I stop reading. I am so full of excitement and love that I have to stop wherever I am and pace around or do something because Words Are So Damn Cool I need to expend some energy or I’ll explode.

Too Right To Be Wrong [Chapter 10]

Mood board: the beautiful @memoiresofaneternaldreamer   :)

Chapter 10 of Too Right To Be Wrong

Prologue  Prologue 2  Prologue 3  Prologue 4  Ch1  Ch2  Ch3  Ch4  Ch5  Ch6  Ch7  Ch8  Ch9

Series Genre: Smut/Angst/Fluff


You reached your hand out and grabbed his.

A sigh of relief escaped Mark’s lips as his fingers intertwined with yours.

“I want to be with him…” you whispered

“But baby…” Jaebum whimpered. His eyes instantly filled with tears.

“Please, Jae. Not here. Let’s go talk… all of us”.

“Why the fuck would I want to talk to him?

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Steter1 Something is Seriously Wrong with Stiles Stilinski

That’s what people say when they think he can’t hear them. ‘Seriously Wrong’ with a capital S and a capital W. Possibly italics if they’re really feeling it. He can’t really blame them. Something is Seriously Wrong with him. He knows it. His dad knows it. Scott knows it. He knows they know, even if they never say anything.

He doesn’t really think there’s anything wrong. This is just how it is. He knows Scott worries. Dad too. But this is just… how he is.

Stiles walks around life in perpetual apathy. Nothing matters. Everything is muted colors and unimportant noises. Scott and Dad and Melissa hover just above the line. He actually cares about them. He can hear them. He can focus on them and care and it really hurts.

So he doesn’t do it a lot.

He’s been like this since just after his mother died. Dad thinks that’s why he closed off. But Stiles remembers at least a year of hurt and pain and crying and Dad drinking and Stiles feeling. Why wouldn’t he have turned it off then? Why didn’t he turn it off when his father was passing out in the living room with a bottle under one arm and tears still running down his face? When he couldn’t even look at Stiles because he reminded him too much of Mom?

Why’d he wait until the worst of it had passed?

It doesn’t really matter.

He kind of floats through his day and just… exists. His mind goes a thousand miles a minute. He doesn’t really pay attention to his teachers but he does his homework and aces all his tests. They all try to call on him early in the year but after a month or two they stop. They give up. He’s very smart, they say, but he needs to work on participation.

Why should he?

The only reason he has good grades, goes to school, wakes up in the morning at all is because he has Dad and Scott. Melissa too he supposes. But only by extension. It would upset Scott if something upset Melissa. The only reason he hasn’t killed himself is because he has them to take care of. Dad wouldn’t survive another loss.

He thinks that he used to care about Lydia Martin, at some point. She’s just a little brighter than everyone else, a little less muffled than the other pedestrians. She’s closer to Scott and Dad and Melissa’s level of his awareness than everyone else but not enough for him to add her to the list. It’s more like she’s a nuisance. A flickering light in a half-lit room.

He catches her staring at him sometimes with a confused almost panicked look on her face. Stiles will feel her eyes on him, like air pressure. He’ll turn to stare back. When their eyes meet sometimes he thinks they go lighter – flash white. But then she looks away and he loses interest.

Of course, their staring matches are noticed by Jackson who starts his campaign against Stiles with a vengeance.

There were a lot of doctors at first – that he remembers. Lots of words like “flat affect” and “dead Flame,” “depression,” and “schizophrenia.” But dad never checked him into the hospital. Stiles doesn’t think he could bear seeing another family member hooked up to machines and drugged to the gills. It’d be just as bad as Stiles dying

He feels angry sometimes. Distantly. Like he’s feeling someone else’s anger flow through his limbs and give him strength. When that happens he can feel and it doesn’t hurt. He can hear people talking to him (even if it only makes him angrier) and he listens in class and actually raises his hand. It almost shocks Harris into a heart attack. It makes him smirk. But that fades quickly.

Tonight is one of those times.

He feels it rushing through his veins and tingling in his gums and nailbeds. Rage and sorrow and guilt and he can’t take it. He scratches at his chest and screams and howls and fights his dad when he comes in to hold him down.

“Stiles!” Dad’s screaming too, too loud, too close, “Stiles! You have to stop! Stop it, Stiles!”

He does stop eventually and he’s left shaking with the echoes of emotions that he knows weren’t his. It leaves him twitchy all day. He stays inside because hearing everyone so clearly, noticing them, is too painful.

That night though, his skin itches and he can’t sit still. There’s a pull toward the preserve. He ends up following his father out to the woods, leading Scott who’s looking more and more worried.

Stiles is caught by his Dad but manages to save Scott from grounding. Of course that means he has to leave him out there. All those feelings that tore at him last night (or that morning) are simmering just below the surface and he can’t stop moving. Dad notices. But he doesn’t say anything. Stiles has moments like this. It’s normal.

But he’s never had one for so long.

He’s still aware two days later when he and Scott go back to the preserve to find his inhaler. Scott keeps shooting him looks, like he’s not sure whether to ask if Stiles is okay or not. Stiles doesn’t act like this. He doesn’t get involved like this. He doesn’t twitch and talk and laugh (even if it is hysterically). Stiles is supposed to be blank faced. He’s supposed to be eerily focused on Scott or his dad. He doesn’t do this.

What does it say about his life that people are worried when he starts acting normal?

And then the distant anger spikes. Stiles’ skin tries to flee his body when the dark figure steps out from behind a tree.

“This is private property.”

Stiles flicks his gaze over the black leather jacket, the Henley, the dark jeans. He glances at the stubbled jaw and cheek and locks onto the eyes. He twitches in recognition. Something about the eyes.

And, wait, private property.

He gets them out of there. They can’t get in any more trouble this week. On the way home Stiles babbles about the Hales. Derek Hale. Wasn’t there a Laura Hale too? Talia Hale had been a lawyer. They’d all burned in a fire. Scott looks interested but Stiles can tell he’s still worried.

Stiles never babbles.

Before Scott gets out he catches Stiles’ arm. Stiles jumps and wonders at the feel of skin on his. It’s weird. He’s not sure he likes it. He stares at Scotts hand. Scott just squeezes, “Are you okay man?”

Stiles jerks his eyes up to Scott’s, he gets uncomfortable when Stiles doesn’t meet his eyes when he talks, “Yeah. Yes. Good. I’m good. A-okay.” Scott just screws his face up into a worried confused look. How did Stiles never see the puppy dog in his best friend?

Famous last words.

The week goes by and suddenly his best friend is a werewolf.

Of course, Scott’s too distracted by Allison Argent to actually listen to him.

“A whole pack of wolves?” Scott has that whole confused puppy face going for him. Worry is in there too but that particular flavor of emotion has been on Scott’s face for the past week. He’s never seen Stiles this worked up. Stiles has never seen Stiles this worked up.

“No, werewolves.”

Scott’s face relaxes and he rolls his eyes, “Are you seriously wasting my time with this? You know I’m picking up Allison in an hour.”

Stiles caught him by the shoulders as he got up. Scott freezes and Stiles knows why. This whole touching thing is new to him too, “I saw you on the field today, Scott. Okay? What you did wasn’t just amazing, alright. It was impossible.”

“Yeah, so I made a good shot.” Scott doesn’t move to dislodge his hold on him but Stiles feels something uncomfortable rise up in his gut and he takes a step back.

“No, you made an incredible shot, I mean… the way you moved, your speed, your reflexes. People can’t just suddenly do that overnight. And there’s the vision and the senses, and don’t even think I don’t notice you don’t need your inhaler anymore.” He’s talking faster and faster as he goes through all the papers he’s printed and books he’s borrowed from the library.

“Okay! Dude, I can’t think about this now! We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Stiles whips around and jumps up again, nervous energy tingling through his limbs, “Tomorrow!? What? No! The full mon’s tonight! Don’t you get it?” He waves his hands around Scott’s general person.

“What are you trying to do?” Stiles deflates when Scott raises his voice. Scott must see it because he brings it back down again. “I just made first line. I got a date with a girl who I can’t believe wants to go out with me, and everything in my life is somehow perfect. Why are you trying to ruin it?” Stiles flinches. He sits back down in his chair and rifles through more papers.

Where the hell is that empty feeling when you need it? He’d love to just not care right now. But it’s Scott so that won’t help either.

“I’m trying to help.” He says, “You’re cursed, Scott. You know, and it’s not just the moon will cause you to physically change. It also just so happens to be when your bloodlust will be at its peak.”

“Bloodlust?”

“Yeah, your urge to kill.” Stiles faces him again holding the book he was looking for.

“I’m already starting to feel an urge to kill, Stiles.”

Stiles ignores him, “You gotta hear this. Your change can be caused by ‘anger or anything that raises the pulse.’ Alright? I haven’t seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does. You gotta cancel this date.” He gets up and goes for Scott’s back. That energy back again but it’s different. Less nervous and more wild. “I’m gonna call her right now.” He starts rummaging for Scott’s phone.

“What are you doing?” Scott sounds like he’s sighing.

“I’m cancelling the date.” Doesn’t he get it? He whips out the phone.

Suddenly there’s a near roar, “No!” Stiles is jerked back by the collar and shoved against the wall. The breath whooshes out of him, “Give it to me!” Scott’s fist goes up and Stile shuts down.

Why did he think he missed this? Now Scott is dull. Stiles can barely discern him from the room.

“I’m sorry. I – I gotta go get ready for that party”

He can barely hear him too. He’s even less than what Lydia was. Stiles stands with his back to the wall, eyes staring at the bed listlessly. He thought there was something important about the papers all across it. His room as never been messy before. It’s not important anymore. He should clean it up.

“I’m sorry.”

He registers the door shutting.

Later that blind rage-filled presence pulls him out of cleaning. He stops breathing for a moment. He doesn’t know what he hates more. Feeling that hate and anger or feeling nothing at all. He knows which one is easier.

There’s a howl in the distance and he stands so fast he gets dizzy.

Scott.

He ends up picking up Scott on the side of the road near the preserve just as the sun is turning dawn to day.

Scott is worried then relieved when he sees that Stiles is not zombie Stiles. Stiles shoots him a look before driving toward home, “I’m not going to say I told you so but I know you know that I did.” The guilty puppy face is back and Stiles ignores it. He’s not even sure why he’s here. Scott isn’t even bright anymore when his world goes gray. Even his subconscious or whatever doesn’t like him anymore.

Despite Scott leaving Allison stranded they’re kissing the next weekend. Stiles knows because he gets a text at midnight.

One of the bus drivers dies and Scott is a little freaked out because he kind of remembers it. And then Allison’s aunt comes to town and Derek is shot and nearly dying and asking Stiles to cut off his arm. Thank God Scott comes back from his date in time to save Stiles from doing something that might send him reeling back into apathy. Derek and Scott go on a ‘werewolves only’ fieldtrip. Stiles finds out over the weekend (because of Jackson of all people) that another person is dead. Scott fills him in later about the fact there’s a big scary Alpha werewolf. Because of course there is.

Scott is looking less and less worried when Stiles isn’t zombie Stiles. He’s starting to enjoy it, Stiles thinks. Stiles wrote a paper on male circumcision the other day. Between all the crazy werewolf stuff. He doesn’t think he was normal yet – whatever normal is supposed to be. He still feels detached somehow. Like that other person’s strength is giving him power and life. Like they’re rage and hurt and determination are keeping him upright on stilts and strings. He’s angry all the time. Manic. Frustrated. Stiles tries not to show it but it gets harder and harder as the month goes on. He’s restless and nearly mad with sensations.

Scott and Allison go missing from school one day and Stiles is a little lost. He makes eye contact with Lydia a few times. A blonde girl too. It’s a weird day. Even for him.

And suddenly Scott says he has to stay away from Allison. At least, until he can get himself under control. Stiles might take the tiniest bit of revenge for Scott’s wall-shoving incident by pelting him with tennis balls. Later they team up with Derek again to call the Alpha to the school – because that’s such a good idea.

Stiles isn’t sure if it’s the adrenaline or something else that has him more aware than usual – even more so than he has been for the past month. The rage is even closer to the surface. Stiles blames that for the urge to run at the Alpha instead of running away when the thing stabs Derek in the back with unreal claws.

They get it trapped and Stiles says he’s going to get a look at it. He can’t not lean into the window. The rage is tugging at him, heart tripping in his chest that tells him to move in, get closer, look.

“I’m not afraid of you.” he says. It’s true. For a weird second there’s a sound almost like purring.

That’s when the thing goes through the ceiling.

The rest of the night gets hazier, Stiles focus goes in and out. They find a body. His dad finds them. The only good thing to come out of that night is school is cancelled until Monday.

It turns out Scott can’t get drunk. Stiles’ zombie-ness is starting to creep back in again. The anger is fading until it simmers in his head.

The full moon is on Monday and the rage turns into restlessness again. He gets put on first line and can’t quite feel excited. There’s only that boiling heat. He uses it to fuel himself during Derek’s rescue. Jackson finds out about everything apparently. Stiles just gets more frustrated.

Derek shows up in his room unannounced. Stiles has the urge to chase him out. Territorial. That’s a new one. Dad knocks on the door to tell him he’s proud about the whole lacrosse thing. Stiles smiles but can tell when his Dad sees the falseness of it.

“Son, I wish you’d talk to me.” His dad sighs, “You’ve been doing so much better this past month.”

“Yeah… I am. I just – I just need a little bit. Before we do the whole heart to heart thing. I need – I need time. Okay?” He hates himself for putting that look on his father’s face. But that’s not new either. He’s always been able to do that.

It’s the second time in a month he’s slammed into the wall of his own bedroom. The blankness doesn’t come back, but the rage spikes. Derek’s eyes flash blue. Derek backs off before he can finish his own threat. They stare at each other for a moment – Derek looking painfully confused. “Why do you smell like anger and pain?”

Stiles distracts him with tracing Allison’s text, Danny, and then the drive to the hospital to find out why Mellissa’s computer was sending Allison texts. Derek slams his head into the steering wheel after their touching moment of Stiles ‘giving up his dream’ of being first line. He never cared enough to tell Scott he didn’t want to play. It makes him wonder if he hadn’t been lost in that blankness if he’d have always been first line. He doesn’t tell Derek either because something inside him takes a vindictive pleasure in making the man feel guilty.

He goes into the hospital by himself, talking to Derek as he searches for Mellissa and then whoever the hell Nurse Jenny is. And then he’s looking for Uncle Peter.

“Yeah, well, he’s not here either.”

“What.”

Frustration bubbles up, “He’s not here, Derek.”

Derek would have burst his eardrums if he’d been in the same room with him, “It’s him! He’s the Alpha! Get out!” Stiles doesn’t even think about it, his body just turns. It turns away from the exit towards the pull that he only just now registers.

A man is standing not five feet from him. Stiles eyes flick from the chin length straggly hair, to the burns on one side of a handsome face, to the eyes.

His heart stops. For a second his whole body stops. He’s not breathing, not blinking, not living. He simply exists. He wallows in that second because that’s familiar and safe. That’s how he’s supposed to be.

But then his heart beats and he feels again.

He remembers the empty hopelessness of the year after his mom died. He remembers feeling so destroyed, so lost and terrified. He remembers laughing with Scott too though. And rolling his eyes at Jackson’s antics. He remembers jealousy and rage and pain and happiness and relief and everything.

The man – Peter – smiles. Stiles heart thrums hard and loud. His chest surges. He likes that smile.

He just hasn’t felt anything like this in six years.

And now that he does?

“You must be Stiles.” Peter says, voice smooth and low and Stiles shudders.

He can’t take it.


Stiles wakes up in a bed. He’s not in the hospital anymore. He can feel tears on his face. He wipes them away and opens his eyes. Panic starts bubbling in his chest. Where is he? He panics more because he doesn’t panic. What’s wrong with him?

“Dad?” his voice is breathless and it breaks and it just scares him more, “Scott?”

“Your father and Scott are not here.” Stiles sits up in a rush, scrambling back and hitting the back of his skull on the headboard. He curses, “Peter.” He looks around but doesn’t see him. A light is coming from one of the two doorways, “Where am I?” Why am I so awake? What did you do to me?

“You had a panic attack.” Peter steps out of the door, a glass of water in his hand. Stiles almost says ‘I don’t have panic attacks’ but Peter keeps talking, “I believe that is my fault.” He’s wearing a ridiculously low V-neck t-shirt and tight dark jeans. His hair is still long but the scars are gone. He’s handsome. In a dark, scary, slightly insane Alpha way.

“Your fault…?” Stiles trails off at the sound of his voice, whispered and confused. He sounds scared and angry and curious. It sounds weird. He doesn’t sound like that. His voice is smooth. It’s toneless and soft. It’s comfortable. Or angry. This past month, his voice has been low and rough and angry. This one sounds stressed. That can’t be his voice.

He doesn’t like it.

He might kill Peter.

Stiles blinks and focuses again, “Why is this your fault?”

Peter holds out the glass of water, expression blank. “I know you’re smarter than that Stiles.”

Stiles takes the glass but he doesn’t drink, “You’re my Flame.”

Peter sits gracefully on the end of the bed, “You are mine.” Stiles tries and fails to contain the full body shiver. He stares at Stiles for a moment. Stiles takes a tentative sip of the water, then nearly downs it when he realizes how thirsty he is. “I’m sorry, Stiles.”

Stiles stops drinking and stares at him, lowering the cup when it’s obvious Peter isn’t going “You’re the reason I’ve been a zombie for six years.” It’s not like its news. He remembers driving down to that doctor in San Francisco because the doctor in San Diego had referred him to a Flammus Specialist.

“He’s the best in his field.” He said, “I’m sure he’d be very interested in your case.”

When they’d gotten there the doctor might’ve exploded with glee. “Your son,” He told Dad while Stiles stared a little to the left of the doctor’s shoulder. He couldn’t remember his name. He didn’t particularly care. “Has something I’ve only observed twice in my career and never in someone so young. I call it extinguetur flamma.

“Extinguished Flame.” Stiles muttered. He was taking Latin. It was a high school class but he was doing better than most of the older kids. They didn’t like him very much.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he had the sudden thought that he should feel something. His Flame was dead. His twin soul. Soul mate. His other half. The better half (because it wasn’t very hard to be better than Stiles). Shouldn’t he feel something for them?

“Exactly, Stiles. Now, you know that when you meet the eyes of your Flame both of your hearts stop and start in sync with each other. I believe that the physical – as well as psychological – connection doesn’t stop there.” He was getting excited now, leaning forward, “I believe that two people who are each other’s Flames are always connected and that when one suffers a physical trauma – or physiological for that matter – the other reflects it. I call it the gemina flamma effect.”

Twin flame, Stiles thought.

“I thought you said he had the other one… the extinguished flame.”

The doctor put out his hands to calm Stiles’ father. “Extinguetur flamma is a subset of gemina. Extinguetur occurs when… well, I’m afraid when a person’s Flame has passed away.” Dad’s breath hitched. The doctor rushed on, “It could be that Stiles’ Flame is still alive but in a state near death, such as a coma.”

They’d left soon after that. Dad in a state of shock and worry and Stiles… he stared out the window.

All this meant was there was one more person he didn’t have to feel for.

But now he is feeling. He’s feeling too much all at once in a strange bed. Even when the flashes of anger had come and gone he didn’t become aware like this. Those had just been reflections.

Reflections of Peter.

Logically, he’s always known that someone was making him this way but he never really had the urge to blame someone. Now, here was Peter. Apologizing for wasting six years of Stiles life. Stiles wants to be angry. For a third of his life he’s been nothing but blank or angry. But that anger is diminished. It’s not gone because Stiles can still sense it on the edge of his mind – no longer filling that empty space, he realizes. He hasn’t been waking up this past month, Peter has.

He’s awake now.

So, since Stiles’ awake. Is he angry? Peter is. Peter’s always angry. Maybe Stiles could fix that – but not right now. Stiles doesn’t think he’s angry. He’s probably a pretty mellow person. He remembers being pretty chill when he was younger.

It occurs to Stiles that he’s been staring at Peter while he thought through his feelings. (It takes him longer than he likes but, hey, he’s out of practice).

It also occurs to Stiles that he wants things. He’s used to hunger and thirst but he actually wants to move closer to Peter. He thinks about Scott’s hand on his arm. Will it feel just as odd to have Peter’s hand on him?

Stiles moves away from the headboard. He crawls down the mess of sheets. Peter has no comforter. Maybe he runs hot. Stiles always wakes up in the middle of the night shivering because he fell asleep on top of his covers. Peter is still staring at him. Stiles likes his eyes. They’re a weird pale green but as he watches they flash burning red. The color reminds Stiles of the raging anger in his head. He wants to get closer. He sits back on his knees and scoots across the space between them.

He might have an impulse control problem.

His knees are brushing Peter’s thigh now and Peter’s just sitting there, staring at him. Stiles notices want clouding the anger at the edges of his brain. His smiles in twitches – he’s out of practice. Stiles lifts a hand hesitates over Peter’s where it rests on his thigh.

He touches skin. His brain simply lights up.

Peter does run hot. Peter’s hand is smooth from not working in six years and it’s big. Stiles picks it up to run his fingers up the sinew and bone. He places it on his own thigh and follows Peter’s muscles over his arm and onto his chest. He traces that stupid V.

“Stiles,” Peter leaned in at some point and their faces are breaths apart.

Stiles finds he really wants to taste Peter.

Does he even have impulse control?

He’s never even thought of kissing someone let alone another guy. Even during his manic episodes, he wasn’t very focused. If he’s being honest with himself, he was basically a psychopath.

Did that mean Peter was a psychopath?

Apparently he doesn’t care because he leans the rest of the way in and touches Peter’s lips with his own. Peter doesn’t move and Stiles puts some space between them. He closed his eyes when he wasn’t paying attention but he doesn’t open them. Stiles licks his lips and tastes something that’s not his own flesh. A trace of Peter. He moves in again because he wants. He gives Peter a closed mouth kiss again. Licks his own lips. Presses his lips against Peter’s and runs his tongue over the seam of his mouth.

He hears a growl.

Stiles hadn’t liked the moments when the rage – Peter’s rage – made him aware. He preferred them to the blankness, usually, but he didn’t like them. He likes this. He brings his hands up from where they’re still splayed over Peter’s shoulders and chest to Peter’s jaw because he wants to know how it feels.

Peter’s jaw is locked.

Stiles comes back to himself in a wash of hot shame and embarrassment (he doesn’t like that feeling). Peter obviously doesn’t want to kiss a sixteen-year-old kid. It’s not like anyone has before. Although, he hadn’t really been paying attention had he?

He lurches away from where Peter is still frozen on the bed except for the quick breaths he’s taking through his nose. Before he can move away more a hand circles his wrist and tightens. The growling revs like an engine. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Stiles.” Stiles looks up from staring at the sheets and fuming in his own humiliation. Peter’s eyes are bright flames.

Stiles’ arousal must hit them both because Peter lunges almost as soon as Stiles registers it himself.

If Stiles thought the first kiss was good this one was extraordinary. Dangerous. Peter ravaged his mouth, nipping at his lips with his teeth and finally catching the bottom one and pulling. Pulling a sound out of Stiles that he didn’t mean to let go, damn it.

It takes him a moment of kissing to realize he’s hard and rubbing up against Peter, his hands clutching and fingers digging into his sides. Peter’s body covers his on the messy bed. He’s so big and hot – pun not intended. His own hands are trailing rough routes from the top of Stiles’ thighs over to where his hair disappears into his pants and then north to ruck Stiles’ shirt up and slip his questing fingers under the fabric. He delves back into Stiles’ mouth like he owns the place. Stiles has the crazy thought that he totally wouldn’t mind that being true. Peter shifts, a pleased hum escaping Stiles when he drags his teeth away from his lips and along his jaw. Stiles can feel Peter against his thigh now, and it amazes him how much he wants it. How much he’s scared of it. How much he wants it because he’s scared of it. Peter places his canines delicately over Stiles jugular, making him stay in this weird place between stillness and straining to rise up from the mattress and just be closer. His big hands somehow catch Stiles’ and pin them by his head.

The growling tumbles from Peter’s throat again as he slowly but carefully closes the distance between skin and teeth. Stiles bucks up into Peter even as he tries not to move in the larger man’s hold. Peter increases the pressure enough that Stiles is sure he’s about be turned. Despite the worry this thought causes – he doesn’t want to be a werewolf – his throat releases an unintentional mewl. He can feel Peter’s lips turning up against his skin.

How could he have wondered if this would feel good? Scott touching his arm was a fly landing on a whale compared to this. All this sensation in one moment.

And then Peter’s unlocking his jaw from Stiles’ throat, moving back up the path he traced earlier to leave blazing, wet, open mouthed kisses along his jaw until their lips meet again. Peter groans into Stiles mouth, an answering whine coming from Stiles. He releases Stiles’ hands to cup the back of his neck and knead the base of his spine.

Stiles’ newly discovered missing impulse control makes itself known again when he immediately reaches for the front of Peter’s pants (which, by the way, are a simple snap button and zipper, this really is the man for him). The only reasons he stops is because Peter does.

“I’d rather not be arrested for statutory rape,” His breathe ghosts over Stiles sweaty skin and his voice Is low and amused. Fucker. He shivers, making Peter’s hands tighten on his neck and ass (when did that get there?). A growl of warning comes when Stiles arousal only spikes in response. “Stiles,” Peter growls his name and, really, what made him think that was going to bring down his erection? Stupid wolf.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Peter,” Stiles says, listening to his own voice carefully. He likes the way Peter’s name sounds in his voice. This new voice. But Peter is right. They can’t. Not right now. Because Stiles would regret it. There’s also the problem of Peter being a serial killer. And his father’s age. And – “Did you kidnap me?” Peter gets up on his hands to look Stiles in the eye, the rest of his body just laying, hot and heavy, over Stiles’. He raises an eyebrow. “Oh my god, you dick! What about my dad!”

“He’s still at work.”

Stiles brings a head up to his face to rub at his temples, frustration wasn’t new. His own frustration didn’t feel that much different from Peter’s. “What about Derek?”

“He’s waiting for me outside.”

Stiles stops rubbing at his forehead and levels a glare at Peter, “You did this knowing your nephew was outside and could probably hear everything?”

“Derek grew up in a mostly werewolf household, Stiles,” Peter says way too logically, “He’s learned not to listen in at bedroom doors, purely for self-preservation.”

“Because what he’ll hear will scar him or because you’ll kill him?” Stiles narrows his eyes.

Peter’s eyes go blank. That rage that easily overtook Stiles for the past month rises up at the edges of his brain. It’s easy to ignore it. “I only those who have wronged my family. Those who killed them.” He knew that already – had connected the dots days ago but,

“An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind.” Stiles quotes, but he doesn’t really believe it.

Peter rolls his eyes and climbs out of the bed. “Are you telling me if a group conspired to kill your father you wouldn’t hunt every last one of them down?” He walks into the bathroom as he talks. Stiles drinks the water from before their impromptu make out session in lieu of answering. “This is why we are Flames Stiles. We are very much the same.”

“What about Scott?” Peter appears again to lean against the doorway, drying his hands on a fluffy looking hand towel. “You turned him against his will. He didn’t have anything to do with the fire.”

For the first time Peter looks away. He doesn’t look guilty. Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever felt that. “I have been trapped inside my body for six years.” He meets Stiles accusing gaze again, “Not like you Stiles, able to walk and talk but not feel. I was the opposite. I could feel every millimeter of burned flesh healing itself ever so slowly for half a decade. My body shut down while it healed myself and I was trapped inside. Unable to move. Unable to speak. Unable to change. For six years. The only family I had left disappeared. I was abandoned by pack. You don’t understand yet but pack is vital to a wolf. Especially one so old and large as my pack was. By the time I could move again I was quite insane. Jennifer – my nurse – nurtured that particular insanity. Encouraged it. I was not myself the night I bit Scott. I really haven’t been until I met your eyes.” Stiles hasn’t managed to hold on to his grudge even for the entirety of Peter’s monologue. “I am sorry.”

They stare at each other for a minute before Stiles looks at his lap. He takes another few minutes to think. He clears his throat and glances back up at Peter. He’s surprised to see he hasn’t moved while Stiles mulled it over. “You’re going to help Scott control his wolfiness,” It isn’t so much a question as a demand but Peter nods anyway, looking a bit bemused at Stiles’ choice of words. “You’ve got more people to take care of,” Another nod. “And then what?”

“Rebuild.”

“That’s it?” Stiles side eyes him, “No crazy world domination plan?” Peter tilts his head forward and raises one brow again as if to say ‘Really, Stiles, I’m not that dramatic.’ Except Stiles has the feeling he totally is. “You’re sane now?”

Peter considers him, “Think of it as a reboot for both of our systems. You regained your emotional capacity and I regained my mental strength.” He splays his hands out in a way that is entirely to ‘come hither’ for Stiles control. “As a result I was able to finish healing myself as well.”

After a too long look at Peter’s very nice face and body he nods, “Okay,” Stiles gets out of bed, pausing for a minute to let the head rush pass, and starts looking around. “Where are my shoes?”

“Why?” Stiles doesn’t turn to find out what expression goes with that curious tone.

He locates them under the dresser by the door that doesn’t lead to the bathroom, “Never mind, I found them,” As he’s straightening up from shoving his feet into them he feels breathe on the back of his neck. Goosebumps spread from the point of contact.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Stiles wonders if it’s normal to be turned on by your Flame’s vaguely threatening growl while his very dangerous teeth are probably an inch from your very delicate throat. It’s obviously normal for Stiles. That’s probably all that matters. “I’m going to go back to my house so I can make dinner for my dad and come up with an excuse for why people probably saw me being carted away from the hospital by two strangers. I’m assuming my Jeep is here?”

Peter hums, “No one saw you being ‘carted away’.” Stiles hears him breathe in slowly.

“Are you sniffing me?”

“Your Jeep is outside,” Peter says, amusement obvious in his voice.

Stiles turns around to face him, marveling at the fact that they’re the same height. “I still need to go make sure Dad doesn’t realize I’ve been taken. You and sourwolf out there should get you back to the hospital so that you can miraculously wake up from your slumber.”

Peter’s head is cocked to the side in obvious puzzlement and the smile playing on his lips matches the humor Stiles heard in his voice, “Should we?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, licking his lips, thinking days ahead, “Actually, you should take care of whoever else you need to first. A coma is a good alibi. Make sure Derek doesn’t look too suspicious from now on. Dad’s still got an eye on him.”

“Anything else?” There’s something nearing contempt in his smirk as he keeps staring at Stiles.

Stiles narrows his eyes, “Yeah, one more thing.” He grabs Peter’s head and pulls him in for one last long filthy kiss. It’s a little sloppy, but Stiles is happy with it. “Finish up soon so we can fake meet in the market or something.”

The contempt is gone from Peter’s face, Stiles notes smugly. Peter’s too smart to not have caught up at this point though, “How are you going to explain your own miraculous recovery.”

Gemina flamma. You woke up from your coma, that’s why I’ve been so weird this past month. You’ve been waking up. It’ll be mostly true.” He pauses, hands still on Peter’s shoulders, Peter’s on his waist. “I want to tell my dad eventually. The whole truth. Except for the murder part.”

Peter nods, “He’s going to be pack too.”

Stiles blinks, “Really?”

“Anyone who is pack to you will be pack to me.” Peter nearly rolls his eyes again, Stiles can tell.

He kisses him again just because he wants to.

A few minutes later Stiles is stepping out into a Spartan but nice living room and spotting Derek leaning against the wall nearest the front door. “Wow, I never noticed how hot you are.” Stiles blinks at Derek. Peter growls and Stiles elbows him. “Chill, he’s not nearly as pretty as you, dude.”

“Do not call me dude unless you’d like me to call you by your first name.”

Stiles gives him a horrified look, “There’s no way you know my name, much less how to pronounce it.” There’s an offended scoff that makes Stiles want to grin. So he does.

Isn’t that cool?

4

#victuuriweek

title:  in these moments, i give myself (my heart) to you

prompt:  day eight: valentine’s day, life & love

rating: not applicable (aka general audiences)

warnings: not applicable (aka not any)

summary: it’s victor and yuuri’s first valentine’s day, and for once in his life, victor doesn’t go completely over the top.

link to ao3: link

homemade chocolate is not as easy to make as victor had thought it would be.

he screws it up more than he expected he would, and it takes him forever to get it just right, but the end results, three half-palm sized pieces, one heart-shaped, one shaped like makkachin’s head and one that vaguely looks like an ice skate, look satisfying and, going by the leftovers, are also pretty tasty.

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Fic: Wednesday’s Child (1/?)

Title: Wednesday’s Child
Summary: The next time Emma Swan wanted magical help, she was on her own. Because now they were stuck with a pint-sized savior who clearly had an attitude problem and a terrified but pretending not to be pre-pirate.
Spoilers: If you’re current, we’re good.
Rating/Warning: PG-13, mostly for safety. Family angst/fluff, as per usual.
Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time and its characters were created by Eddy Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. I’m just borrowing them but I’ll put them back when I’m finished!
Author’s Note: I know, I know, this trope has been done a million and one times but it’s always fun, yes? I’m already having a boatload of fun with this idea, so hopefully you will, too! Even though it may not seem like it at first blush, there will be plenty of Charming Family interaction in this piece. Feedback is a writer’s ice cream sundae! Enjoy. :)

—–

At ff.net and below.

—–

“Maybe this was a dumb idea.”

A mildly exasperated Regina Mills gave a slight roll of her eyes. Similar statements had fallen from Emma Swan’s lips a few times during the course of the morning, which was both vaguely frustrating and somewhat concerning.

Emma wasn’t usually so indecisive. On the other hand, she’d never before set her sights on accomplishing something so magically ambitious. A little uncertainty was to be expected in this case, Regina supposed.

A lesson Regina had learned throughout the morning was that if she didn’t quell Emma’s doubts quickly, she would have a cranky sheriff on her hands. And she did not want a cranky sheriff on her hands because a cranky sheriff would just as quickly lead to a cranky queen. “It’s not a dumb idea,” she assured Emma somewhat offhandedly. Her own attention was focused on rummaging through the trunk in her vault in an effort to find something – anything – that would help them. “Challenging, yes. A bit too sentimental, probably, but not dumb.”

Emma shot her head up from the book she’d been paging through, her eyes wide in concern. “You think it’s too sentimental?”

From his position next to his wife, Killian Jones shot Regina a warning glare. Her eye-roll reflex on overdrive, Regina huffed, “Well, of course I think it’s too sentimental but the gift isn’t for me, is it? It’s for your parents, who should own stock in Hallmark if they don’t already. Sentimental is basically your mother’s middle name. They’re going to adore it.”

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So what if once Rosie and John move back in Sherlock is doing all he can to keep off the cigarettes. Cause he knows the risks of secondhand smoke and while he was sure John would be just fine, he’s taking NO chances with baby Watson. So he buys the patches. But some days he needs to do something, the nervous energy is too much. So he gets the gum and the chewing helps but he finds that just occupying his mouth isn’t enough. So he starts buying lollies in bulk to give something to do with his hands. And the lollies, in conjunction with the patches, help considerably. And then he notices how John stares whenever he’s got a lolly in his mouth. He licks his lips more often, his eyes dart away guiltily whenever Sherlock catches him staring, and he clenches his fists in a way that Sherlock’s come to know as his “I want to touch the thing but I can’t touch the thing” clench. 

So he starts playing it up purposely. Pursing his lips around the lollies as he pulls it out every so often, letting his lips get shiny with sugar and saliva. He Lets the candy push his cheeks out obscenely as he holds them in his mouth. He twirls the stick in his fingers, 

Finally, John snaps. “That’s obscene, you know,” he tells him, clearly frustrated.

“What’s that John,” Sherlock will ask, tapping the lolly against his lips, staring off into space, knowing exactly what John’s talking about.

“What you’re doing to that candy. You know, people charge by the hour for that kind of thing.”

“Then you should be happy, you’re getting it at a discount,” Sherlock replies with a smirk. 

“Oh, for the love of,” John grumbles, walking away. 

Sherlock’s voice stops him, “John.”

John turns back to him, hands on his hips. “What?”

Sherlock smiles, shoving the lolly back in his mouth. Sucking it in. Then, around the candy he asks, “want a taste?”

It takes three blinks for John to walk over to him, hold Sherlock’s face in his hands and say, “oh God, yes,” before pulling the lolly from Sherlock’s mouth to kiss him. 

Tonight’s fic brought to you by an urge to listen to Celine Dion. A continuation of these three bits: 1, 2, 3.

It doesn’t start with a date. It doesn’t start with a nice dinner or a night out or anything “special.” It’s just another night where Lucy brings the beer and Alex has the usual delivery order on the way. It’s just the two of them on the couch talking about who Vasquez stared down this time, what level of protocol Winn broke helping Kara, and the new betting pools on both bases. Except, this time, they’re sitting next to each other instead of on opposite sides of the couch. This time, Lucy has an arm over the back of the cushion behind Alex. This time, it’s just the fireplace illuminating the room.

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I hate when people tell me to stop bouncing my legs/tapping my fingers/pacing back and forth when I’m going through an anxiety episode. I LITERALLY CANNOT HELP WHAT I AM DOING. Whatever annoying, repetitive behavior I’m doing… It’s the only thing I believe I have control over and it’s something I need to do in order to feel better and feel calm. Please stop being so annoyed with me, I really cannot help it.

The moon signs

Aries: Your quick temper and feistiness are a way of coping of with your hidden insecurities. You’re an all around positive person, and you often live for the moment. When you want something, you go for it without a second thought.

Taurus: Change is your biggest enemy and you do everything in your power to keep things the same. You yearn for security in all things and rarely change your mind. You make everyone around you feel comfortable, but hate or are uncomfortable with emotional outbursts.

Gemini: You’re quick-witted, fleeting, and intelligent. You approach everything with a more mental approach, and this can cause you to come across as “heartless” to others. When in a situation, you’re always the one to take a step back and analyze everything. You have this air of restlessness and nervous energy and you find yourself always needing to be doing something.

Cancer: The moon rules cancer, making this an extremely influential part of your chart. You’re moody, intuitive, sensitive, and empathic. You feel everything so deeply and have the tendency to withdraw because of this. You hold on to things so tightly and never want to let go.

Leo: With your moon in Leo, this makes your sun sign a whole lot friendlier. You radiate warmth and charm, and people find you very generous. Although your pride can be hurt easily, you’re usually very confident and bubbly. When feeling hurt or insecure, your emotions can be overwhelming, and this can cause you to lash out.

Virgo: You’re timid, and rarely want to show emotion, however this doesn’t mean you’re unemotional; you’d just rather take a practical approach to things. You can be your own harshest critic and are even extremely critical towards others. You also tend to worry a lot, but only want things to go as planned.

Libra: A true hopeless romantic. You want peace and elegance in all things, and you will do anything to maintain balance. You yearn to be in a relationship, and want to be able to express yourself in a calm and collected way. Emotionally, you’re guarded and poised.

Scorpio: Everything runs deep with you. The quote “still waters run deep” applies to you perfectly. You’re intense, passionate, and observant. You’re also very emotional, but you don’t want anyone else knowing that. You tend to want to control things that can effect you emotionally, and this can make you manipulative, whether you mean it or not.

Sagittarius: Optimistic is an understatement. Some may even call you unrealistic. Risk-taking is a big part of who you are, and you make no apologies for that. Independence is also so so important to you, emotionally and intellectually. Some may call you blunt or insensitive, but your honesty can be oddly comforting.

Capricorn: Everything with you is reserved. You loathe showing emotion and vulnerability, so you suppress it all. You tend to be more mature and serious than most, even at a young age. Much like Aries, when you want something, you do everything you can to get it, but you realize your limitations.

Aquarius: You’re friendly and sympathetic, but you shy away from intimacy. It’s uncomfortable and below you. As soon as someone gets close, you pull away. Many can find you with the different and unique, and you follow no one’s path but your own. Independence is important to you in all things.                               

Pisces: Moon in Pisces means you’re sympathetic, emotional, empathic, and very sensitive. A lot like Cancer, you feel things deeply, and seem to relate to everything. Because you’re so sensitive, you’re easily wounded and are often really shy. Some may call you psychic. You’re very aware of everything, including your vulnerabilities.

I Love You, Man (Part 6/?) (Avengers/MCU cast x reader)

Part 5

“Sure, I don’t use that hand all that much anyway,” Sebastian whined, trying to pull from your grip, only to make you squeeze tighter with each wave of contraction.  “Fuck, (Y/N), are you a super soldier too?”

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Halloween 2016 #14: Time Capsule

Length: Medium

“I’m not sure this is such a good idea,” Marcus said, as he and his friends Tommy and Lenny walked through the cemetery. He stared up at the full, haunting moon and remembered why he hated Halloween so much. He had always liked Christmas due to all the gifts and Thanksgiving due to all the delicious food.

But Halloween? Sure, there was always plenty of candy and he and his friends had made trick-or-treating a tradition since they had all become friends 7 years ago. Now they were all 14, and when Lenny suggested they do something more grown-up than dressing in costumes and walking from door to door, Marcus was fine with it, at first.

He tried not to let his nervous energy show. No need to look like a major wimp in front of his friends.

“Why do we have to bury a time capsule out here? Why couldn’t we just use someone’s backyard or something?”

Tommy laughed. “Because it’s Halloween, dude, and your idea isn’t scary.”

“You wanna be a little panty-waist nerd all your life, Marcus?” Lenny asked.

He thought about it. “Absolutely not!”

“Good. Then grab a shovel.”

The boys dug into the night, making a hole deep enough to fit the child-size coffin they had stolen a few nights before. Marcus was opposed to the idea at first, but Lenny assured him they wouldn’t get caught.

Each boy threw something of value inside the coffin. Tommy threw in his baseball card collection. Lenny threw in his collection of hotrod magazines and a hat he had worn since the sixth grade. Marcus gripped his favorite basketball jersey and tossed it in with reluctance.

“Well, I guess that’s it,” he said.

“Not quite,” Lenny said, and before Marcus knew what was happening, his two friends had hit him in the back of the head and shoved him into the coffin. Then they slammed the lid on top.

Marcus pounded the top of the lid from the inside, screaming to be let out, but they ignored him. He knew someone was sitting on top of the coffin but wasn’t sure who it was.

Then he heard the hammering.

“This isn’t funny! Let me out!”

Laughter from the outside.

Marcus knew his fate with each new nail hammered in. Tears filled his eyes and he nearly lost his voice from screaming and shouting.

The boys he thought were his friends ignored him.

“I want out! This isn’t funny anymore! Don’t leave me here guys! Let me out… PLEASE!”

Shoveling continued.

Dirt hit the top of the coffin, and Marcus realized he was running out of air. He gasped quick breaths as he heard the most frightening words he’d ever heard in his life.

“I can’t wait until we can come back next year and dig this back up!”

“Yeah, me too!”

Tennis shoes pounded the ground as Lenny and Tommy ran away.

Credits to: cardinalgrad03

Stiles loves cooking, okay? He does. His mom used to cook all the time. She was just as restless as he was and she’d just bring him into the kitchen with her and cook all day long for fun. (So much of the food would have gone to waste, but luckily her friend Talia had many children who were always hungry. Talia herself liked to come over for coffee and gossip and Claudia’s famous chocolate and peanut butter chip cookies. Talia made sure to help out with the cost by bringing by fresh food from the farmers market every couple days too, because she felt bad about the Stilinskis giving them so much food) And after Claudia died, Stiles stopped cooking for a while. It hurt too much to remember.

But then his dad’s doctor said a lot of things about blood pressure and heart attacks and diet changes and this was something he could do. This was something he could help with. So he started cooking again and experimented with all kinds of recipes. But a lot of it goes to waste because it doesn’t always turn out right and he figures out what fits well together and what doesn’t. And things get better. He has an outlet for his nervous energy and he gives some of the meals to Scott’s mom because she needs to eat too, okay and Scott is a terrible cool and Stiles wants to help her out too.

And then Scott gets bit and he stops cooking again because he’s suddenly running around trying to stop people from dying. But then things calm down a little and he can breathe again. Except now there’s a little too much air (too much space, nothing to do, and he can’t stop shaking) so he starts cooking without even thinking about it. And okay, he’s a little out of practice and he’s home alone and he accidentally burns the food. (It’s mac n cheese, his go to comfort food) and suddenly Derek is there and holding the fire extinguisher that his dad keeps under the sink. But Stiles jumps in front of the food and takes the fire extinguisher and reassures him that it’s all good. After Derek finally decides that there’s no more danger, he calms down, and they eat the mac n cheese together. (Stiles is a little surprised, but says nothing. He really feels a little safer with Derek here because his dad is working all night) And Stiles pulls out the cookies, his mom’s recipe because it’s his favorite, and gives some to Derek with a joke about being a knight in shining leather. And Derek knows these cookies, okay? He remembers them and a woman with a big smile and warm eyes. But he doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t want to upset Stiles with memories.

And then it’s like a floodgate is opened, Stiles can’t stop cooking. But now he figures that he might as well put the food to good use instead of throwing it away, and he gives it to the pack instead. (Because no one is dead and I love thinking about a big happy whole pack) and then the wolves just start coming for dinner every night, and he’s happy to cook for them and to teach them how to cook and they all chip in and bring over groceries because they know how much they all eat okay? And he learns all of Derek’s foods and makes them whenever he sees Derek getting sad because he thinks Derek has been sad for long enough.

@hoechlbutt @mad-madam-m

Olicity - “Not Sure What To Do With My Hands Since I Can’t Touch You” post :)

Oh Boy, they are a bit twitchy. lol 

Nervous energy?

Look at her hands.

Look at his. 

I think they would rather be doing something else with those hands. They were so used to this while the two of them worked together in the Bunker/Lair.

It was just the natural thing to do. It must be tough to go from that to this

Oliver has got to keep those hands in my pockets while she works 

and Felicity has to keep from reaching out to him. 

Same Felicity. Same. 

You're the Only Present I Need

I really hope you enjoy this @valeriemperez because I wrote it with you mind. Merry Christmas Doll. I hope you like how E2 Westallen met and did Christmas through the years J

You’re the Only Present I Need by @cbsnforeverandalways for Tatiana ( @valeriemperez )

Summary: E2 Barry and Iris meet outside of Jitterbugs on Christmas Day and every Christmas marks a momentum moment in their lives after. I combined your prompt with my prompt for the holidays. I hope you enjoy!

Christmas Night, Circa 2009.

Shit, Iris was running late. Her dad was set to perform in about five minutes. Tonight he’d be singing at Jitterbugs for the Christmas party they held every year in celebration. At least people weren’t bustling about, she thought, especially with the snow falling.

For a short person her legs ate up a good portion of ground quickly. Shit, shit, shit. She’d explain it to her dad, her excuse was valid. Both Diana and Eddie had held her up at their apartment. She’d promised both of them that she’d show up for an hour but then it had started snowing and an hour turned into two.

The bottom of her boots crunched the mixture of dirt and snow beneath each step she made. When she turned onto Fifth Street she heard music and sent up a silent thanks because she was that much closer to Jitters. She would make it on time, even if she was a few seconds late, she would make it.

Iris bent her head back and took in the night sky with all its stormy clouds. Snow fell around her and a shiver raced down her spine at the cold in the air. However, that didn’t take away its beauty. She loved winter but most of all she loved when it snowed.  There was something magical about the white sheets that seemed to shield everything in its path.

When she realized someone was walking towards her it was already too late. A man, twice her size, crashed right into her. A hard breath heaved out of her chest in surprise and before she could balance herself she was back first on the wet concrete with this stranger half on top of her. Pain shot through her butt and she screwed up her face in agony. Thankfully the pain was momentary, disappearing into a dull ache. 

“Oh my God! I am so sorry!” he blurted out scrambling to his feet. “I wasn’t – I didn’t- Oh God!” His words were jumbled together with his glasses lopsided on his face. He reached a hand down to help her up not wasting much time or caring about the state of said glasses.

“I wasn’t watching where I was going…and I’m- and I’m sorry,” He murmured as he pulled her to feet. She dusted the ice from her backside, not a single response coming to her. He seemed to be beating himself up over something that wasn’t entirely his fault.

“Hey!” She reprimanded, her voice a bit playful. If there was one thing Iris did not do it was take herself too seriously and from the looks of this guy he needed to lighten up. She watched as he fixed his askew glasses, his eyes roaming everywhere all at once. “It’s okay, things happen.” He finally looked down at her, his fingers running through his hair causing each strand to stand on end. Nervous energy pulsed off his being.

“No, I’m just awkward.” One of Iris’s eyebrow’s lifted, he was really beating himself up. Sure her ass was soaking wet and there was probably snow all over her back but things happened. She mustered up her best smile. She wasn’t upset or anything.

“Well I don’t know if that’s true but I do know we’re both okay,” She pushed her hair out of her face and took him all in. He was about six two with these piercing green eyes. Suddenly she found it kind of hard to breathe. One of her hands floated upward and she clutched at the scarf circled around her throat. She had no idea who this dorky stranger was or why she found him so attractive.

“I guess you’re right.” He shrugged in nonchalance, a gesture she barely spotted in the dark. There was something about him, something she found adorable. She watched him tuck his hands into his pockets, and had the urge to bombard him with random questions. If she didn’t know any better she’d think he was flustered. He didn’t let another second pass before he waved a hand goodbye.

“See you then.” He said as he walked around her, making sure to keep a fair distance between them. Iris’s eyes never strayed from his retreating form and she pivoted on the heel of her boots to not lose eye contact either. She nibbled on her bottom lip trying to decide whether or not she wanted to stop him. Yep, she wanted to. With her heart moving rapidly to her throat, she took a few steps in the direction he was heading.

“Hey! I’m Iris West! What’s your name?!” She yelled, glancing around in hopes of no one minding her loudness. She sighed in relief when he paused and turned back to look at her. From where she stood she could just about make out the small tilt of his lips.

“Barry!” He called back. “Barry Allen!”

-

Christmas Night, Circa 2010.

“I got you something,” The smile she wore as she uttered her surprise warmed him to the core. It was huge, welcoming and it instantly soothed his mind. Barry was about thirty seconds away from meeting her father for the first time and nerves gripped his chest. He was trying to play it cool, trying to keep a positive attitude but nothing he told himself helped his erratic heartbeat. Maybe they’d get along and he was overthinking for no reason.

“I thought we-“ Iris cut him off with a shake of her head.

“I know but I wanted to get you something. It’s not extravagant, I promise.” She gave him another reassuring smile, one of her hands finding his in the darkness. They were standing on the porch of her childhood home, a Christmas dinner well underway right behind the front door.

“I didn’t-“ She placed a finger over his still moving mouth.

“It’s okay, this is the last time. I just saw it and I thought of you…” She trailed off, her gaze pleading with him to accept her gift.

Today marked their one-year anniversary but Iris had made Barry promise not to buy her a present and she’d done the same. Or so he’d thought. She dug a small box out of her jacket pocket and placed it in his palm. It wasn’t wrapped in gift paper; it was a red rectangular box, simple and elegant. He examined the gift suspiciously. Shit, he should’ve worked overtime and gotten her the funky vintage bracelet he’d seen at Deco’s.

“Barry,” Iris said shuffling on her feet in an excited fashion. “Open it.” Sighing in defeat he took the lid off the box. It was a bow tie (his favorite accessory) with purple and gray stripes. He fingered the clothing item, a grin spreading on his face. Leave it to Iris to surprise him with something so basic, yet so significant.

“So?” She prompted, impatience edging her tone. He shook his head wearing a goofy grin before he leaned down and pressed a heated kiss to her lips. Iris gasped against his mouth in awe, her fingers sinking into the lapel of his overcoat to drag him closer. He thanked the universe repeatedly for the moment he’d tipped her over in front of Jitterbugs.

“Thank you,” He murmured, brushing a sweet kiss to the crease of her lips before burying his nose into the side of her neck. He inhaled the soothing scent of her, and basked in her warmth. Suddenly meeting her father didn’t seem all that scary. After all he was responsible for the woman in his arms right now.

“You’re welcome,”

“I love you Iris West,” He whispered into her shoulder bone hotly. Barry’s arms tightened around her wishing he could breathe her in. She screamed and giggled in shock as he picked her off the ground. This past year she’d been the happiest she’d ever been and it was because of Barry. Always because of Barry.

“You better!” She rained soft kisses all over his face making him chuckle, and causing a flush to appear. Before she could kiss his perfect lips someone cleared their throat, loudly. Light from inside the house spilled out over them. She didn’t miss the way Barry’s expression fell or the way he quickly placed her to the ground as if they’d been doing something wrong. He dropped the small She stared at him narrowly wondering why he was being weird. Eying him for a second longer she pivoted and saw her dad standing there.

“Hey daddy,” She greeted, her eyes twinkling at the sight of her father. He filled the doorway but that was normal. Joe West held a heavy presence. He knew everyone and everyone knew him. They all loved him too. Their favorite Jazz singer.

“Hey princess,” Joe replied staring hard at Barry. His eyes only venturing from his daughter’s boyfriend for a split second to acknowledge her. She bounced up and pecked his cheek, hoping to nullify the tension. No father wanted to see their daughter macking on some guy, least of all Joe. Surprisingly he conveyed as much with his eyes as he glared Barry down. The freezing temperatures didn’t stop the sweat that broke out on Barry’s forehead either. Honestly Barry wanted to run for his life. Joe was intimidating as hell.  

“Daddy,” Iris started excited for their official introduction. This was a big deal. Iris had never taken home any of her boyfriends but Barry was different; he’d been specially crafted for her. Around him she was a pile of goo, all bright eyes and racing heart. Barry stood back on his heels, his stance fearful. The nerves from earlier attacked him full force and he swore his anxiety was two seconds away from acting up. Iris grabbed Barry’s fingers in reassurance, squeezing his hand to tell him it was okay. Joe wasn’t going to bite his head off, not yet anyway.  

“This is Barry,” She introduced enthusiastically, the complete opposite of everything Barry felt. “Barry, this is my dad, Joe.” Crickets must’ve started chirping because it took Barry a lingering moment to answer.

“Pleasure to meet you sir,” He finally got out. His palm shook as he wiped sweat on the outside of his overcoat and reached his hand out for Joe to shake. Joe accepted the handshake after a pause, a pause that caused Barry’s cheeks to turn a bright red in semi embarrassment.

“Iris has told me a lot about you,” It was then Barry realized Joe was yanking his chains. A heavy breath pushed out of his chest in relief, his body automatically relaxing. Joe grinned at him and laughed as he released Barry’s hand, proud of himself for putting on the tough dad act.

“I will say the same of you sir,” Joe nodded in acceptance before stepping back to welcome them in.

“You can call me Joe, son.” Iris beamed at the two of them, happiness filling her chest so completely. Everything was going to be okay. Just peachy.

-

Christmas Night, Circa 2011.

Merry Christmas.

Iris must’ve typed those two words a million times before hitting send. What did one text their ex-boyfriend/ex-lover/best-friend on their anniversary…after a break-up? She didn’t have a clue but sending at least a holiday greeting seemed safe enough. Especially after a few days of no communication.

Her lips turned downwards at the argument that had ended their relationship. She wanted to join the police academy, he didn’t want her to, bad idea. That whole discussion had sparked their nastiest fight yet. And Iris’s chest had ached every second since. It was hard going from spending all your available time with someone to not seeing them at all. Barry was her life support and had become everything to her in the past two years. Never in a million years had it occurred to her that they would end things.

She paced back and forth for a few minutes longer. This was their first Christmas apart, actually their first holiday apart since they’d met and it felt increasingly weird. She missed him, more than she admitted to Diana the day before. He was her other half, the best half and she wished she hadn’t brought up joining the stupid police academy. Truth of the matter was she’d considered joining long before Barry had told her he couldn’t afford to complete his PH.D.

Saving people was something she’d always wanted to do, and being a cop was the initial step in accomplishing that. Barry should’ve been the first person to understand and support her dream. It was fine if her dad was against the idea. She was his only child after all, but Barry should’ve been different. She was supposed to be his best half too. That was probably what hurt the most. The fact that he would rather walk away from her than support her decision (even in his disagreement).

It was hard loving someone so much because even though you wanted to give them the universe, chances were sometimes they didn’t want to do the same. Iris felt the wetness on her cheeks before she realized she was crying again. Tearing up randomly had become such an innate part of her nowadays. She wasn’t upset anymore, just sad. She exhaled a deep breath, and wiped the water from beneath her eyes. All of their friends thought she was the strong one but sometimes strength was in tears.

Stalking over to the window on the far side of the living room, she peered out over the darkened city. She was on the top floor of her building, and the view had been one of the main reasons why she’d considered the loft in the first place but watching the first flakes of snow fall without Barry’s arms around her dulled everything that once made her happy. She wrapped her arms around herself defensively, her phone still clutched in her palm. He hadn’t replied, and that seemed to make this break-up all the more real.

The knock came a few moments later, echoing around the still room. Her heart thundered in her chest in surprise. Iris wasn’t expecting anyone, not her father and definitely not Barry. Dropping her arms to her sides she crossed the room to the front door. Maybe it was Eddie. For the past week or so he’d checked on her almost religiously. Gripping the steel knob, she pulled the heavy wood back. Her heart tripled in speed at the sight in front of her. It was Barry.

“I’m sorry,” Was the first thing out of his mouth. He wasn’t wearing his glasses and he had ten o’clock shadow which wasn’t like Barry. The look in his eyes was what caught her attention though. They were hallow, and similar to the anguish she was undergoing herself. “I shouldn’t have gotten upset with you for wanting to follow your dreams and support mine.”

Iris’s lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze taking all of him in. There was so much going on inside of her at the sight of him. Warmth spread throughout her being along with longing, need and a brilliant amount of admiration and love. This was the man she’d been in love with from the first moment she’d laid eyes on him. Tough as nails Iris West had found her soulmate, the man of her dreams, her everything. Suddenly their stupid fight over her joining the police force seemed insignificant. Everything seemed insignificant compared to Barry. She would be the biggest liar if she told him she was still pissed.

She opened her mouth to respond but her body moved of its own accord. Iris was in his arms with her lips pressed against his within seconds. A groan vibrated from the back of her throat at the way he deepened the kiss. Her feet dangled off the ground as he picked her up to bring her closer. This was all she had left to say. She didn’t want to argue with him about joining the force anymore. All she wanted was the love of her life back. Her mouth worked his hungrily. There wasn’t a single time when she kissed him that it wasn’t like the first. Any of her neighbors passing by would be in for a scene but Iris didn’t care because Barry was here in her arms and no matter what kind of disagreement transpired he would always be a part of her.

Barry walked them both back into her apartment, their mouths never disconnecting. Oxygen be damned. The slam of the door registered somewhere in the back of her mind but she paid it no attention. He nipped her lower lip inhaling her scent. Cinnamon with just a hint of sugar. No amount of confessing would suffice to how much he’d missed her. His large hands moved downwards to curl around the curve of her bottom and drag her closer. When they were like this Barry could never get close enough to her.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and held herself to him. The phone in her hand forgotten as it fell somewhere at their feet with a thud. Iris’s heartbeat rocketed against her ribcage. She always wondered if he knew exactly how much he affected her, how much she craved his touch.

She gave a small yelp as they both fell onto the sofa; a move she hadn’t anticipated. The length of her hair masked both of their faces as she moved to gaze down at him, her knees helping to hold her body up. Even though she knew her small frame wouldn’t squash him.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” He asked, hope splattered both in his tone and facial expression. How could she stay mad at that face? She couldn’t stop the way her features softened, or the way her eyes roamed over his. Of course she forgave him. Iris had forgiven him the moment he’d stormed out after their argument.

“Nope, I think I’m going to need a bit more persuading. I mean you haven’t called or texted me in a few days and that’s bound to hurt a girls’ ego,” Barry released a sigh of relief before a grin appeared. Iris was toying with him, the playfulness evident in the way her eyes crinkled with glee. God he’d missed her.  Not only her but the taste, feel and smell of her.

The last few days had been hell. Each time he’d picked up his phone he’d almost texted or called her but feared she wouldn’t pick up. She’d given him an ultimatum. Either stand by her decision or leave. The thing was Barry feared he would lose her in the line of duty. All the worst things had occurred in those few seconds in his mind and Iris was the one thing Barry couldn’t survive without. His finger pushed through her hair and shaped the back of her head, holding her above him.

“I was being an idiot,” he stated seriously, his green eyes searching hers. “And I shouldn’t have left the way I did. It’s…it’s just that I can’t lose you Iris. You’re everything to me and you’ll always be,”

“And you won’t.” Determination steeled her voice. Barry would never lose her, he had to know that much. She leaned her forehead against his, vulnerability shining bright in her eyes. 

“You promise?”

“I promise.” They both knew there was no evading death and being a cop heightened the possibility greatly but Barry took her promise and ran with it. He trusted her, more than he trusted anyone else. Lifting his head his mouth found hers in a tender press of lips. There was a sweetness in the way his lips moved under hers. There was no Barry Allen without Iris West. And one day he was going to marry her. That much he knew.

“By the way,” he whispered in between each breath of air they stole between kisses. “I wanted to call you every single second we were apart.”

“Oh yeah?” Iris broke away from him and straddled his body properly. His hands settled on her thighs and he squeezed as she pushed her hair out of her face. The length of him becoming apparent under her with each move she made.

“Yeah,” Barry’s eyes never strayed away from her. She never failed to take his breath away, each and every single time. She was by far the most beautiful person he’d ever encountered. The sweater dress she wore rode up her thighs with the nudge of his thumbs, a silent promise being exchanged between their heated gazes.

“Lucky for you, you can make it up to me,” A sly grin appeared on her swollen lips and he needed no more encouragement than that. He sat up, his hands slipping completely under the dress to frame her hips. She wasn’t wearing underwear. One of his thick eyebrow shot up at the discovery. Barry yearned to taste every inch of her over and over again. Iris moaned at the hunger shining bright in his eyes.

“Happy anniversary.” He whispered watching her. Iris beamed and crashed her lips against his, ravishing his mouth completely. Forget finesse, she wanted this man, all of him. Heat pooled between her thighs at the mere thought of having him inside of her. God help her.

-

Christmas Morning, Circa 2013.

They were trapped in a blizzard and it reminded Barry of the first day they’d met at Jitterbugs. Wind squealed outside slapping the glass of the windows as droplets of snow sheathed any sign of mankind in the distance. He wondered how Iris could sleep through this. For one he was freezing his ass off, and two, the whistle of breeze had jostled him out of his sleep.

According to the article he’d pulled up seconds before this year’s blizzard was the worst Central City had seen since the 60’s. A statement he doubted was true since they claimed that astounding fact every year. Turning his phone downwards on the night table he moved closer into her embrace. One of her arms curled around his lower abdomen holding him tight. They slept like this all the time, arms and limbs tangled ungracefully but it was comfortable for both of them. The hard edges of the box he clutched pierced his palm reminding him of its presence. Excitement with a small mixture of fear swirled heavy in his gut. This was the right moment, he reminded himself. This was it.

Barry had exhausted option after option of how he wanted to propose, of how he thought she wanted to be proposed to. Women wanted spectacular when it came to all facets of their relationships but Barry knew Iris better than anyone else and he knew her spectacular didn’t equate to grander. Her spectacular composed of all their most intimate moments. Last night he’d decided he wanted her spectacular too. Reserving a table at a fancy restaurant or getting down on one knee in front of their friends and family didn’t classify as intimate. No, he wanted this moment to be more than perfect amongst all the others.

The curls in her hair splayed loosely over her pillow and his, her breathing even and light. He knew she was completely naked underneath, the warmth of her body chasing away the chill at his back. There was something special about seeing her like this. Her face was void of all emotions except peace. This was when she was the most gorgeous. At the precinct she had an edge, a sort of respectable air about her but when they were together Iris simply glowed. He reached a hand out and brushed a few tendrils of curls away from her face, his green eyes darkening slightly. Barry’s feelings for Iris eclipsed definition, no amount of prolonged confessions adequate. It was insanity really. An insanity he was willing to spend the rest of his life dealing with.

The thing was Joe or Joseph (as he liked to be called now) didn’t want Barry marrying his daughter. He hated Barry’s guts. It had all started with strong dislike and progressed into full-fledged hatred once Joe realized she was helping him pay his tuition. Now Barry didn’t necessarily care if Joe accepted their relationship or not. That wasn’t going to change how he felt about Iris. Nothing could ever alter that. Iris was the very air in his lungs, the strength he needed to carry on with his days.

Brushing a kiss on the tip of her nose, his fingers found hers at his back and he slowly lifted her arm in attempt to not wake her. He wanted to see the shock on her face when she realized what he’d done, what he was asking.

Once her arm was dislodged from his back he pressed a peck to the center of her palm. Iris was a deep sleeper which worked a lot of the time in his favor. Resting her hand on top of his shoulder he popped the lid of the ring box open. He made a face, stilling, as she cuddled more into his side. She buried her face into his neck, her body flushed against his. This would be the most challenging part.

Seconds ticked by until he was certain she was still fast asleep before taking the ring out. The oval shaped diamond shined bright in the dullness of the darkened room. He’d saved for her ring, he recalled going into her favorite jewelry store and seeing it. The ring catching his eye the way Iris had all those years ago. The diamond was centered on a thin silver band with hearts on either side. It was the perfect match. He’d even gotten her a necklace to wear it on if she ever needed to take it off at work.

His fingers found hers again, this time he moved her arm to get better access to her ring finger. The ring fit perfectly as he gently slid it over the ridges of her knuckle and firmly in place. On her finger it was almost as beautiful as she was. Almost.

“Wha-“ Her sleep laden voice made him jump out of his skin, dropping the box somewhere on the bed. Iris’s head raised and she stared at him drowsily, one of her perfect eyebrows shooting up. He’d been caught.

“Barry?” She asked as she sat up, not caring about her state of undress and the freezing temperature of their bedroom. She’d seen the ring, and felt the box under her side. Her eyes were bright as she looked between him and her finger.

“I was trying to sur-“ But he didn’t get to finish his statement because she jumped on him, her lips fusing with his in the next instant.

“Yes, yes, a million times yes!” She exclaimed into his mouth, sleep completely forgotten. “No questions about it.” Barry rolled her onto her back, the blanket caught between their intertwined bodies. She didn’t give him a chance to respond as she deepened the kiss.

-

Christmas Night, Circa 2014.

“Detective West?” Someone inquired from behind her. A smile lit her features because she knew who that someone was.

“Yes?” She asked moving in her seat to get a better look at the intruder. Iris was having a rather lengthy discussion with Diana about meta-humans and the ramifications of their presence in Central City.  A topic that seemed endless in retrospect.

“May I have this dance?” Iris’s smile somehow grew larger. She looked behind her at Diana and mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ in which Diana waved her off.

“We’ll talk later,” She told Iris delightedly. “I have to go find Bruce anyway,” Bruce and Diana were inseparable these days which made Iris happy. After Diana and Eddie broke up, Iris had seriously thought her long-time friend had given up on love until Diana had met Bruce at a charity gala.

“Take care of my girl Barry,” Diana added standing to her feet. She waved two fingers in front of her eyes. “Because I’m watching you.” After opening and shutting his mouth a few times, Barry decided a quick nod would suffice causing both Diana and Iris to laugh.

“What about it Mrs. Allen?” Barry asked, fondness capturing every inch of his features. Iris would never get tired of hearing him say that. Today was probably the best day of her life. She’d given herself wholly and truthfully to Bartholomew Allen, forever. Barry reached a hand out and without hesitation she took it. He helped her to her feet, his eyes raking over her flawless face and down to her wedding gown. She was the most gorgeous woman in the whole, entire world. He pressed a kiss to the center of her palm before intertwining their fingers and directing her to the dance floor.  

“I don’t know, my husband might get jealous,” Iris bathed in the grin he shot at her, and once they got onto the dance floor wasted no time in curling her arms around his neck. The tempo of the song was upbeat but Iris didn’t care. All she wanted was to be wrapped in Barry’s arms. She felt the brush of his lips against her earlobe and sighed in content. She finally had everything she wanted. Laying her head over his chest, she listened to the hammer of his heartbeat knowing Barry Allen was and would always be forever hers.

I Am The Blank Page Before You

Submitted by: lydvia

Description: If it were up to her, she would skip orientation completely. She’s done with trying to climb the social ladder. College is a completely different game to high school. No, the agenda for the next few years mostly consists of taking the most challenging courses she can, graduating as early as possible and going straight on to earn her PhD in theoretical mathematics before eventually winning the Fields Medal for her accomplishments. That’s the plan.

Lydia likes the plan. 

Rating: T

Genre: Romance, College!AU

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It Always Finds a Way - Part 2

It Always finds a way part 2 of ? (also on Ao3)

Rated- T (minimal language)

Rushing his way to school after not hearing his alarm clock the first time it went off. He didn’t even remember when had actually fallen to sleep, but he did  know it hadn’t been long. Sipping the coffee he had grabbed on the way hoping it would wake him up more. He was relieved when he saw he still had made it to school with twenty minutes to spare. He never realized how bright the school was before. He was way more tired then he thought as he blinked a few times to adjust. Keeping his pace up he heard something coming from the undisclosed area they had been sent to on the first day of school. The muffled whisper yelling sounded very familiar so with his curiosity peeked he got closer trying to voices better.

“You just don’t get to come back after falling off the face of the earth for over a week, and pretend as if it’s no big deal.” He now knew one of the voices was Riley, and he stayed where he was waiting for the second one even though he pretty much knew the answer.

“You were the one trying to force me to do secret Santa, and I was busy with family Riley. It’s not as if I meant to ignore you.” In shock of hearing Lucas say something of that degree made Farkle move in a little bit more. Waiting too see what Riley would say back to that knowing she could handle it.

“No one else really wanted to do secret Santa either, but guess what Lucas they all still showed up. No one else ran off to Texas. You..you meanie head..” Trying to contain his laugh Farkle shook his head with a smile. Only Riley would sound so cute while fighting with her boyfriend.

“Ohhh I’m a meanie face now? Just, because I didn’t do the thing you wanted.” He didn’t completely get why Lucas felt that way. Half the time Farkle didn’t understand the things Riley wanted to do, but he always did them anyway. If he thought about it was something he had actively done since the 1st grade . He just wanted Riley happy no matter what weird thing she was up to next.

“ I’m supposed to be your girlfriend Lucas. You could of at least told me you were leaving. I had to hear it from Zay, and come to find out everyone else knew too. Maybe you were right on our first day of high school maybe I am too much for you. I’m not going to just accept a kiss from you as an apology for running away from me. You treat me like I’m a child who can’t handle the truth. This is how I feel, and I’m not just going to let it be okay this time.”

The rest of what Riley has said was spoken on dead ears for some reason he had gotten hung up on the kiss. Of course they kiss they are dating. So why was he all of sudden bothered by this. The thought of them kissing made his stomach churn a bit which in turn frustrated him. He had no reason to feel that way, and he hated that he couldn’t fight it. The feeling just stayed his hand on his stomach as he tried to resist the urge to slide down the pole next to him.

“You can feel however you want to feel Riley, but so can I. So you know what I feel like? I feel like leaving so that’s what I’m going to do. We can talk later after you have calmed down.” Farkle heard Lucas stomping  away from Riley, and up the stairs. Before even realizing it he was moving towards the top of the stairs. His only thought to stop Lucas from leaving knowing how hurt Riley would be if he did. He made it there just before Lucas did , and stood his ground. Why did he even come over here? He should of just kept walking.  When Lucas made it up to the top step Farkle’s heart started to race, but he still felt that is where he needed to be.

“Hey Farkle! How you doing man?” Farkle had to keep himself from rolling his eyes at the fact Lucas was already smiling. Taking a step closer to him while he used one hand to point down to where Riley was while keeping a serious expression. “I’m okay, but you need to go down there to finish talking to Riley. We promised we wouldn’t walk away again.” He watched as Riley edged in where he could see her. Being caught of guard she seemed more irritated then sad, but she still wasn’t happy.

‘“She doesn’t really want talk. It’s her side or no side at all when shes acts that way.” This fire started to build up in his chest. Farkle took a breath in trying to quench the fire. Trying to hold his tongue knowing the words were dying to come out. His eyes wandered to Riley for a moment who was now crying after hearing what Lucas had  just said. That was it, and Farkle felt the words start to spill out like volcano.

“When she gets like what?” He couldn’t even keep his voice down. “Upset that her so called boyfriend didn’t care enough about her to tell her he was leaving. That you left her on what you know is one of her favorite holidays. She waited two years almost for you to decide that you wanted her. So maybe start acting as if you actually do. Riley is one of the most amazing, and loving people I know she deserves way more then some half ass boyfriend who has this notion in his head he is the face that can do no wrong.”

“I don’t know what has gotten in to you, but what goes on between Riley, and I is none of your business.” Moving closer to where he was almost chest to chest with Lucas. Being almost the same height as him now Farkle had grown far away from mop top version of himself.

Still not fully gripping why he was so angry the words kept falling out his glare locked on Lucas. “Riley is my best friend, and if someone hurts her it becomes my business. Even if it’s by my other really good friend. Either treat her how she deserves, or let her go so she can find someone who will.” With that last statement Farkle felt a hand go in his . It didn’t register at first it was Riley his frustration still set on Lucas.

“Let’s go Farkle it’s almost time for class, and Lucas whenever you are ready to actually talk we can.” Hearing Riley’s voice he started to calm again it finally hitting him that Riley’s hand was in his. His attention immediately falling to his hand that he had apparently clasped tightly around hers without really thinking. Before he could say anything Riley was dragging him down the hallway a questionable silence falling between him. As they got to the class room Riley let his hand go giving him one last glance he couldn’t read before making her way in to the class staying silent. Farkle followed suit his attention still on Riley wanting to know what she was thinking. Right after Farkle came in Lucas his irritation clear on his face. Making his way to his desk he dropped his bag loudly on the ground then sat in his seat crossing his arms.

Smackle, Zay, and Maya were already in class the three of them sharing a glance at each other. All three of them picking up on the tension of the room. Then they all started watching the others trying to figure out what was going on.

Cory came in last as he picked up on the energy of the room. He watching them all with one eyebrow up in the air studying quietly. Wondering how long it would take for someone to acknowledge him. Riley raised her hand first the face she had on making Cory quite nervous as to what she was going to say. “Yes Riley?”

“Daddy What do you do when you realize something you wanted may not have been what you needed?” After she said that her attention turned to Farkle making him shift in his seat that damn lump in his throat growing again, but he tried to resist the urge to gulp knowing every one was watching.

“Well Riley the thing is when you discover what you need sometimes it’s the thing you wanted the whole time. You were just too distracted by the one thing to realize there may have been another way” With that answer Riley went quiet once more her eyes now wandering too Lucas, Then Farkle who was already staring back at her, and lastly back at her dad as she put her head in the palm of her hands.

Next was Farkle his hand raised in the air letting Cory know he wasn’t going to get much taught today. “Yes Farkle?” Quietly his voice full of conflicting emotions he cleared his throat. “What if you always thought there was a certain way your life had to go. Then one night that all changes, and makes you see that life is infinite. That there is an array of possibility no matter who you are, and you don’t have to just follow one path.” He licked his lip before his eyes fell back on Riley’s . He really want to go over, and comfort her he hated seeing her hurting. Right now he felt like it was partly his fault though, and that made it feel even worse.  

“I think you answered your own question already Farkle.” Just when Cory went to go talk again he was once again interrupted.

“Lucas we never talk to each other. I think we both think that we do, but we just don’t. I think there is a few things we tend to ignore that we shouldn’t…” Cory moved to the door of the classroom pointing to the hallway. “You two out since you seem to more interested each other then my lesson, and I’m not mad it’s just I want to teach something today. So you two go figure out what it is you need too, and rejoin us when your done. Keep in mind this means you are both meeting me at lunch to learn what you missed.”

They both listened to him leaving the classroom without even asking any questions. Farkle attempted to get up, but Cory pointed at him. “Not you. Just those two.” He sat back down letting out a disgruntled sigh his instincts just wanting to make sure Riley was okay.  Then Maya came over sitting on his desk letting him know she wasn’t going to let him go either. Zippering his hoodie up he gave in knowing he wasn’t going to win, and tried to keep his mind on the lesson.

anonymous asked:

Tbh; Phil seems like the guy who would drive back his friends home safely after a party if they got too tipsy. In general, he'd be that guy friend who'd protect his friends and make sure nothing happens to them. That is how nice Phil appears to me. I bet there have been occurrences that he had to watch Dan bc we all know dan loves to drink and Phil is that considerate sober friend who's like "Protects the bear at all costs, no one touch.". Idk this is what i think about.

Phil is DEFINITELY the kind of person who asks you to message him to make sure you got home ok. He’s totally the kind of friend you can tell secret to and he won’t ever tell anyone and I bet he’s very good at comforting people and just being with them, you know? He has that chill air about him, like you can just sit with him and exist for a while and maybe you’ll both blog in separate computers and giggle at stuff for no reason and he’ll just be happy because you’re happy. 

I also feel like he’s that more silent friend in the friend group and it seems like people don’t give him attention, but deep down literally everyone loves him to death, always stop to listen to what he has to say and would be willing to protect him at all costs. 

And I’m not even talking about Dan, because let’s be real here: Dan is all nervous energy, always tapping and doing and saying things to fill in the silence. But he’s a 100% comfortable with Phil and he doesn’t need to worry about doing, only being. And I think that’s one of the reasons he loves Phil so much: they complement each other quite nicely! But I’m off-track…

I also think he definitely is very protective of Dan, but in more subtle ways. He takes care of him not to let him drink too much or do something he’ll regret later, but not in a way that other people would notice too much. And I bet you he doesn’t even need to raise his voice at Dan like ever. They just get each other, just a look is probably enough. I bet he’s always looking out for his best friend in the smallest of ways, so small that not even Dan himself realizes most of the time.

Phil’s also DEFINITELY the kind of person who doesn’t need to say ‘I love you’ or ‘I care about you’. You just know! It’s there in every ‘Be safe’, ‘Don’t forget your coat’, and ‘I’ll wait till you get home so we can watch it together’. It’s always there and you just know.

I LOVE what you think about, anon! Plz, always feel free to send me cute headcanons <3