slowly clearing out my drafts and making you guys deal with them instead

This prompt is going to be my demise. I’ve deleted the old one and reposted from scratch. This is the third time I rewrite this bloody headcanon (that’s how much i love it.)

I want a fic where Jack gets a wish, does he find a genie? Does he save a faerie? Don’t care, fic magic, he gets one wish and he wishes to fix what he considers the biggest mistake of his life.

Jack wakes up in a penthouse in Las Vegas. He’s in a timeline where he got picked first in the draft and went to play with the Aces. He still has the memories of both lives, so at first he’s excited. He’s playing with a great team, he’s one of the best players in the league, he has won the Stanley Cup not once, but twice, etc.

Then slowly he realizes his life is pretty empty outside of hockey. All his teammates are just that, teammates. His friends from Samwell don’t know him. The relationship with his family is sort of meh, like he talks occasionally with his parents and sees them on holidays, but without the wakeup call his parents never bothered to go past his everything is fine exterior, nor do they encourage him to open up, so he feels he is talking to strangers.

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step sister au draft excerpt #1 (autistic!lexa)

//

Clarke’s smile is mischievous without being malicious, but Lexa has lived long enough with her to be wary. Fond. But wary.

“Hey,” she says cautiously, putting the bags on the counter.

“Hey,” Clarke replies. “I thought Sunday was grocery day.” Her smile falls just slightly when she looks at the bags apprehensively, and Lexa is even more confused.

“We eat more food now,” she simply replies. It’s only a second later that it occurs to her that the wording could have been better. But Clarke doesn’t take offense. Instead, she nods, in understanding.

It sends a confusing spark through Lexa’s chest.

Clarke is still watching her when she goes to open the fridge, and she looks positively giddy. That only increases Lexa’s worry. She’s half afraid something will pop out of the fridge when she opens the door. But surely Clarke isn’t this childish, is she? They are on relatively good terms now. No sex, no hard feelings. Only the confusing ones that neither has time for.

Lexa’s mind is whirling trying to figure Clarke out. She’s not usually this on edge. But today has been an off day. She was late for school. Her practice was cut short. Grocery shop on a Friday is still something she’s getting used to. And now, Clarke is here, dressed in sweatpants instead of her usual robe, and the way she’s behaving is unsettling.

Something is itching at the back of her brain, and it’s – it isn’t fun. It’s putting her on edge.
She takes a deep breath and opens the door with more confidence that she’s actually feeling.

And stops short, widening her eyes.

There are three packs of her favorite yogurt. Three packs means twelve cups. Which means two times more than she usually gets. Her hand trembles, and she curls it in a fist.

“I drove to a farmers’ market,” Clarke states behind her, and there is no trace of earlier smile in her voice. “I, um – I saw it and remembered you always get them somewhere, but I’ve never seen it in stores and the guy said he knows you. And, um… You look like you always want more when you finish a cup, and I decided to get more, and… You hate it,” she finishes in a small voice.

“No,” Lexa reacts immediately, even though her fist tightens. “I don’t hate it. Thank you, Clarke,” she says automatically.

And she doesn’t hate it, not really. She never really hates anything, truth be told. It was very sweet of Clarke. Very sweet. But the longer Lexa looks in the fridge, the more unbearable the itching becomes.

In order for the yogurts to fit in, Clarke had to rearrange other items. Some of Lexa’s food is now on shelves reserved for temporary step siblings. She put Lexa’s sweet peas next to ham and stacked plastic boxes against each other with complete disregard to their size.

She shouldn’t care. It’s not a big deal. It was very sweet of her. It was a nice gesture.
But today is an off day. A straw breaks the metaphorical horse’s back and everything.

She doesn’t realize her other hand is trembling, too, until Clarke curls her fingers around it, gently prying it away from the door. She makes no move, and Clarke carefully turns her to face her, still displaying that cautious gentleness.

“I’m sorry, Lexa,” she says, quietly. Her confusion is clear, but she isn’t asking what’s wrong. Her next question makes Lexa blink. “Tell me how to fix this.”

“You did nothing wrong,” Lexa finds herself saying. It’s true. Clarke didn’t do anything wrong. No one has ever done anything wrong. It’s Lexa’s problem. They didn’t know better.

But Clarke’s lips twitch in adoring amusement and her hand squeezes Lexa’s tighter. “Tell me,” she repeats, and Lexa isn’t sure if she’s only talking about the yogurt. Her thumb smoothes over the back of her shaking hand. Blue eyes are wide and hopeful, and Lexa can’t help it. She speaks.

“You moved the food,” she says. Her tone isn’t accusatory or degrading. She simply states the fact. Clarke is silent, but her eyes are urging Lexa to go on, and she does. “The peas don’t go there.”

Clarke doesn’t ask for her reasoning. She simply nods and slowly lets go of her hand. Lexa expects her to back away and leave and never speak to her again. Instead, she opens the fridge door wider and looks over the contents critically. “Where are they supposed to go?” she asks, then, turning to look at Lexa, and her expression is void of irritation.

She swallows. “Top shelf,” she says.

“Oh.” Clarke grabs the jar and puts it on the top shelf, taking the yogurt down. “Where do I put this?” she looks over the fridge contents again. “Middle shelf? I think someone once told me dairy goes on middle shelf. Oh, man, the containers don’t look right either, do they?” she rambles. “I was in a hurry and I just stacked them… Well, the way I stacked them,” she grins at Lexa, but Lexa’s too astonished to grin back.

Clarke looks back to the yogurt, frowning as realization crosses her face. “I got too many, didn’t I? You won’t go through it as fast and it’ll go bad. Shit. I didn’t think this through.”

Lexa watches as Clarke places the packs on the counter and rearranges the plastic containers, all the while shooting her easy smiles. It doesn’t itch as much anymore.

“It’s okay,” she finds herself saying. Clarke takes the pack and looks at the other two with furrowed brows, and Lexa suddenly wants nothing more than to see them smooth over. “I was thinking of increasing my intake.” Oh, God, who talks like that? But Clarke’s smile lights her whole face up and Lexa doesn’t care. She places the pack on the middle shelf and looks at Lexa. She’s smiling, but her eyes are still nervous, just like the way she’s biting her lower lip. But she did nothing wrong. Why is she nervous?

Lexa takes the remaining two packs and carefully stacks them on top of the first one. She then pushes it to the right side. Milk goes in the center. “You can always help me with it, if you want,” she suggests, turning her head so she can look at Clarke, and, oh. She didn’t realize they’d be standing so close to each other. Her nose almost grazes the other girl’s. Neither recoil. “With… With the yogurt, I mean,” Lexa clarifies quietly, watching as Clarke’s lashes flutter.

“Right,” Clarke says, just as quiet. “I’m pretty sure my body will reject it, tho.” She does have a point, but all that registers in Lexa’s brain are the words ‘my body’ and her gaze automatically lowers to take Clarke in. When she reaches her face again, the girl is breathing just a tad faster than before. Lovely blush and heaving chest.

Lexa doesn’t understand how it happens, but next thing she knows, Clarke is impossibly close and they are kissing and it feels like all the corny things she hates to read about. Clarke’s hands fly up to find purchase against her shoulders, clutching her shirt like countless times before, with practiced familiarity. Her hands find Clarke’s waist, pulling her flush against her chest, and Clarke moans at the sensation. She smells different, Lexa notes. Honey and lemons. But there’s still a hint of something uniquely her, and she takes a deep breath, eager to savor the scent. It leads her to Clarke’s neck, and she breaks the kiss, only to nuzzle at the place where her neck meets her shoulder, making the other girl whimper.