#i do have a whole summer...so chances are this gets its own full fic eventually...

[dykekarkat]

@liaisun behold. (toxic) andreil fae au be upon ye. hope you enjoy i will probably write more for this at a later time <3

“You want this. You want to give your name to me,” Andrew speaks with a certainty born of time and the knowledge he holds of the man before him. 

“You lie,” Neil snaps. It is a flimsy argument, Andrew is fae, both of them know he speaks only in truth. 

“I see it in your eyes, in the dreams that haunt your sleep, why do you deprive yourself so?” He reaches up, brushing a hand lightly against his yellowing jaw. 

Neil clutches at Andrew’s hand as if to push it away, only to press his cheek into his palm as if in fear of Andrew leaving. He practically sinks into the touch, like a wilted flower desperate for water. 

Andrew watches with half-lidded eyes. He takes in the flutter of Neil’s eyelids, the heaving of his chest, the white knuckle grip, strong for a human, but not for a fae. 

He can taste it on his tongue. Victory. It sounds like the only name Neil still keeps hidden. 

When their eyes meet, alien gold to vibrant blue, he can see it. Neil’s sweet surrender lives behind those haunted irises; Andrew’s mouth waters from just the thought. 

“Neil,” he croons. 

He watches as it sends a shudder racing down Neil’s spine. Neil bends, like the entire weight of the world lies across his shoulders and Andrew is the only one capable of holding him up. He looks to Andrew like a sunflower looks to the sun, and yet Andrew is the one who feels blinded. 

Andrew brings his other hand up to his face, cradling Neil’s imperfect features between two calloused palms. He thumbs at the dimples he’s only seen twice, when Neil forgot to rip the smile from his face. 

“Tell me. Let me take this burden from you,” Let me. Let me. It is the only refrain within his mind, as close to begging as Andrew will allow. 

He rubs slow soothing circles into Neil’s cheeks. He folds even further, hands grabbing at Andrew’s forearms as if his knees are failing him. That too is fine, Andrew would do anything to take Neil’s weight from him, to hold him up eternally. 

There is pain there, too much pain for a man who has barely lived, and yet Andrew watches as Neil clings to it, just as he clings to Andrew’s arms. 

When Neil pulls back, it is with words as familiar as they are changed, “I cannot.” 

Cannot, after months of hearing the way will not rolls off his tongue. To hear Neil admit to his desire; it is the only reason Andrew lets him go. He watches as Neil leaves the forest, looking back no less than two times, before his silhouette disappears. 

Andrew has won, finally, even if Neil hasn’t realized. It’s more likely that he has, Neil is no idiot, despite the way he pretends to be at times. He simply needs one last push, one Andrew is happy to give.

[sylvie-writes]

Dr. Husband

word count: 5278

pairing: doctor steve rogers x wife reader

warnings: talks about heat exhaustion? there’s nothing graphic, but if the hospital theme bothers you, then this isn’t the fic to read!

prompts (from @/fluffyomlette): “Your pulse is a little high. Is it because I’m holding your hand?” and “You’re not supposed to pick favourites, doc.” “Trust me, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.”

a/n: this just popped in my head about a month ago and i had to write it for no explainable reason. i really couldn’t think of a title oops. if you all have a better idea please tell me so i can change it lol.

please excuse any mistakes!

Summer was finally in full force, blazing sun rays beamed down on the dry ground and once gorgeous flowers drooped in dire need of water. Sounds of children playing outside, pool water splashing as a result of cannonballs, while lawnmowers whirled to life and laughter from the watching wives resounded this afternoon. In your neighborhood, it was tradition that the women would get together every other Saturday and have drinks in the cul-de-sac while their husbands had unsaid competitions of manicuring their yards. Unfortunately for you, your husband was a doctor and that meant little time for him to do the yard, and you didn’t have children at the moment that could go play with the others. The women who were your neighbors were a bit too picky choosy for your taste. They only seemed to bond over their children and sitting around home, two of which you didn’t have or do, so you weren’t ever truly invited to their day-drinking. It was actually fine with you as these people were so hot n’cold and you were just tired of trying to fit in with faux friends. You had plenty of true friends and then your husband who was a child of his own.

For three weekends so far, Steve had told you he’d cut the lawn and as much as you wanted to believe him, you knew that he was so exhausted from work and being on call a majority of the time, that he would never find the hours to do so. That was okay with you because what he did was important and you weren’t gonna be on his ass like the feds about the yard when you could easily do it yourself. It wasn’t like he was just sitting around, no, he was working so you just decided to cut the lawn yourself, something you’d done plenty of times before. 

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Unfortunately the day you chose to do so, the sun was out blazing and a simple walk out the door was a trip to an off-brand hell. Instead of making a wise decision and waiting to cut the grass in the evening, you chose the latter and decided to cut the grass at noon, the very time the sun was in full shine. 

Dressed in attire for yard work and having already eaten a sandwich for lunch, you headed out the garage door to tackle the mess there in hopes of finding the push mower within. Steve’s father, Joseph, had given you both a lot of his lawn equipment, but the riding mower was broken at the moment and you (again) stupidly decided to push mow the almost two acre lawn. It took a good half hour to get the darned thing out on the driveway and while doing so, you noticed that your neighbors, the wives to be exact, had decided to come out for one of their occasional and somehow spontaneous get-togethers which consisted of unattended kids drawing with chalk as their mothers sat a few feet away dipping their feet in the small splash pool. You often found the idea both inventive and funny. 

For only a second more did you let your attention linger on the group before returning back to fill the lawn mower with gasoline. After doing so, you tossed on a pair of sunglasses and went full steam ahead with cutting the grass, disregarding the rising, and very unsafe, temperature. 

About an hour in, the temp had already risen to be above 100 and something no one should have spent any longer than half an hour in. Steve had always said you were stubborn at all the wrong times and boy was he right. You had just finished up half of the front yard and quarter of the back yard. It was mad that you were actually thinking about pushing mowing two acres, especially in this unruly weather. 

You were so determined and when your mind was set on something, you let all other matters slip away, including regards for your own health. The unusual amount of sweat on your skin seemed to go unnoticed by you as well did the growing headache. 

Finally, about half an hour later, more of the backyard was finished and your inner saboteur continued to influence your goals. 

“Just finish this half and you will be close enough to the end,” translated into “Just finish the whole yard, you might as well since you are this close.” 

This was the worst mindset to have, especially with the given circumstances as you had been out here for at least two hours, no drinks of any sort, no real breaks aside from fueling the lawn mower, and no cares to the worsening symptoms that now included noticeable dizziness. 

The lawn mower eventually ran out of gas and you went to refill it once more. Making your way through the front yard, your unknown adrenaline rush came to an end along with the machine’s power. It wasn’t until your vision started to star and blur that you finally noticed your decline in health, but by then it was too late and you were on the plush and groomed grass of the front yard. Ironically, you noticed the fruits of your labor since you were currently laying on it.

Five minutes had passed since your drop to the ground and one of the ladies out in the court, Genevieve, noticed your figure, quite the contrast to the viridescent grass. Despite that she thought you were “demented” for cutting the grass yourself, she knew you weren’t unhinged, so to say, that you would just lay on the grass as it would serve no purpose to do so. She didn’t take you for a nature lover either so this was not normal. 

Genevieve squatted down in the lawn, her sparkly sandals reflecting in the sea of green. Unknowing of what to do, the woman in a panic threw the back of her hand to your forehead and you burned hotter than a metal kettle. By time she stood, the other ladies had gathered around and were now circling in mass hysteria as if they were staring at a dead body and not your unconscious, yet breathing frame. Many long seconds later, Priscilla, who was Genevieve’s closest friend and who despised you as much as you did her, decided to call 911. The other moms then left to go usher their children away from what they described as a “traumatic experience” and back to their large homes for some sort of last minute luncheon. 

Eventually, an ambulance arrived in your usually quiet neighborhood, something that was clearly displayed as almost every neighbor popped their heads out of their houses in sheer curiosity. Their nosey nature often bothered you but was normally put behind some sort of service act such as a baked cake or bottle of wine just to be invited into your house. You didn’t miss the way your neighbors would study your house when they were finally welcomed in. Steve was much better at hiding his cross nature and would return some compassion of his own while you struggled to bottle your annoyance and sealed it with a forced smile. As luck would have it though, you were knocked out and couldn’t give them a piece of your mind for staring because heavens know this would’ve been the last straw and no one could have stopped your rant. 

It was when you were in the red wagon and being attended over by paramedics that you noticed you were on the way to somewhere that wasn’t home. 

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

 At the hospital, the doctor and nurses hydrated you back to reality and suddenly you appeared in a bed, a doctor standing at the side with a clipboard in hand allowing your mind to draw up a million conclusions before you remembered what you had done last. 

The doctor spoke a fast introduction and he then moved on to fill you in on what had happened as confusion still painted your face although when he told you Genevieve’s account of what led up to your ultimate passing out, you visibly cringed at such carelessness that ended up bringing you here. Hundreds of falls, burns, and bruises thanks to your clumsy nature, but this had to be the one thing to send you to the hospital. Some sort of twisted joke it sure was. 

Moving to roll a stool to your bedside, the doctor passed you a cold bottle of water before bringing his eyes to give your IV a quick check as a nurse had put it in not too long before you awoke. 

“Luckily, Mrs. Rogers, your neighbors found you in time and you only experienced severe heat exhaustion. Had you prolonged your exposure anymore you could have experienced a heat stroke. For now, I ask that you rest and I’ll come back to release you.” The doctor expressed his reassurance with a kind grin before walking out of the plain and boxy room that could make one go insane with its lack of liveliness. 

Staring out the open doorway and into the empty hallway, you knew that Steve worked on this very floor, but honestly what were the chances that he’d see you? At one point he’d eventually find out about today’s mishaps, but that was a problem for later when you were more conscious and caring. Letting your worries temporarily go (something that was only happening thanks to your fatigued mind), you slightly shifted into a somewhat “comfortable” position on the stiff bed and rough cotton sheets. Albeit that there was an IV uncomfortably stuck in your arm, you fell into a much needed slumber. 

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Lunch break at last. 

That was all that had been on Steve's mind for the past three hours which had been extremely hectic. Granted, he was used to this fast-paced workplace having worked here for almost a decade, but today was absolutely out of control with injured patients coming in left and right. It wasn’t some sort of bad omen, rather just an unlucky day for many Steve had assumed. He had just finished up with a pediatric case and was now on his way to enjoy the leftover baked chicken salsa that you had made just for him last night and packed for his lunch this morning. You knew how busy his week had been and you took the liberty to make his favorite dinner dish to compensate for the work that had left such a toll on him. A smile immediately overtook his face when he walked in the house last night and that’s when you decided that you would gladly cook anything he’d like over and over again just to see that look of adoration. As Steve held you in his arms at that moment, he kept thinking how he really didn’t deserve you and little did he know, the same thought ran in your own mind. Yet, in reality, you both went together like a puzzle piece to a puzzle. Without the piece, the picture would never be completed and without the other, you and Steve would have never enjoyed life to the fullest. 

Strutting down the never ending hall, Steve passed many doors, some he had been in just a mere hour or two ago. As he walked past an open door and did a double take as he saw a patient asleep, but no sign of anyone else in the room. If he were that patient, he’d want the door shut for some privacy, something which the man highly valued, so he crossed the short distance and closed the door. He didn’t mean to look at the patient for so long as they weren’t in his care and that would be awfully creepy, but Steve could help but do a double take and noticed that the familiar face was, in fact, you. From first glance it didn’t even look like you and that was coming from the man who had studied your face just to commit it to his memory. In a loving way, of course. 

He slowly walked in your room, taking in the image before him of you lying in a hospital bed. His mind had assumed that the worst thing had happened to you and for a moment, Steve’s breathing ceased and his legs were glued to the ground. As his eyes scanned over your body again, his fears were calmed when there were no visible wounds and you just seemed to be resting. Although as a doctor, he unfortunately knew anything could be possible. 

Hunching over the top half of the bed, Steve smoothed your stray hairs away from your forehead and placed an awakening kiss there. You were a light sleeper a majority of the time and your spouse knew that this small action would wake, but not startle you. Every night he’d come home from work and do the same thing except then he knew you were safe and sound. Now, he was just filled with uncertainty. 

“What happened?” Those were the only words he was able to get out and you gave him an answer, just not one that he was looking for. You were already getting defensive and he could sense it.

“Genevieve saw me pass out in the yard and overreacted, Steven. You know they all don’t exactly have good track records with medicine.” You rolled your eyes at the last statement remembering how your neighbors have often nonchalantly tried to get Steve to diagnose them when it came to something as simple as a scrape. Then again, all of your neighbors were in the business industry so that explained their lack of medical knowledge or at least that is the excuse you drew up for them. 

“Nice try, (y/n), but you do have a medical chart and it’s over there,” Steve pointed over his shoulder and towards the doorway where a plastic chart holder sat mounted on the cream wall. “You didn’t just pass out, and the neighbors did not overreact. They did the right thing despite how much I know you hate that. Now, either you tell me the truth or I go read that file.” His tone was serious, but not condescending. Hidden in his eyes was a tad sprinkle of mischief.

Stubborn as ever, you didn’t respond and folded your arms over your chest in a form of defiance. 

Against what is probably legal, Steve picked up your medical chart to read what had happened as you wouldn’t disclose the information to him. Your husband was a worry-wart sometimes and while you appreciated how he doctored you when you were sick, he could be a bit overbearing. A great example would be the time when you were cooking dinner and burned your forearm when taking the casserole out of the oven. 

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“Babe, dinner is ready!” 

The timer on the oven was currently beeping and you walked towards it. Turning off both the oven and the timer, you grabbed a short oven mitt and reached in to grab the casserole dish off the top rack. As you did so, you lifted your arm a bit too high and hit the side of your forearm on the interior roof of the oven. The temperature was ridiculously hot and the pain was immensely strong that you immediately pulled your arm back, the casserole long forgotten. 

Steve came running in at your string of curses and came in to see you holding your arm and hissing a bit as if that would relieve the pain. He walked closer to you as you leaned up against the island. Your husband delicately took your arm in his hand, raking his eyes over the burn that was soon to blister. 

After a short inspection, Steve placed his other hand on the small over your back and led you to the sink, flipping on the cold water and running it over your burn. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve could see you squeezing your own eyes shut in pain. 

“I know, sweetheart, it hurts, I’m sorry.” He continued to rinse your scalded skin, but turned his head to sweetly kiss your temple. 

A few minutes passed and Steve was content with the rinse job as you had finally opened your eyes, even engaging in some of your jokes that were always said at the wrong time. From the kitchen, the man guided you down the hallway, through your bedroom and into your joined bathroom. He sat you on the edge of the bathroom tub while rummaging through your unorganized medicine cabinet. It was barely ever touched and when it was, it was often in a state of panic hence the messiness of it. Fortunately, Steve found a tube of bacitracin and some cotton dressings from God knows how long ago. At this point he could care less and would rather have you cared for. 

You curiously watched him as he dug through the cabinet and a loving smile grew on your face. How lucky were you to have this man. You were really appreciative of him in times like these especially. 

Said man returned and crouched before you, distracting you from your thoughts as he softly grabbed your hand once more. 

The doctor worked his magic and in no time was your arm wrapped up and lathered in ointment.

“Wow Doc, you did a great job.” Steve was still holding your hand as you quietly giggled in content. He placed a kiss on top of your knuckles and peered up at you with those gorgeous (and borderline seductive) sapphire eyes. Chuckling, Steve murmured against your skin, “Only for my favorite patient.” 

As always, you decided to play along with Steve’s playful banter. “You’re not supposed to pick favorites, doc.” 

Your husband knew your clumsy nature and seemed to have the perfect response, “Trust me, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.”

With your non-injured hand you went to hit his shoulder and he grabbed it in faux hurt. 

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

“You know, Dr. Rogers, that is a violation and I can actually report you for it.” You lifted your line of sight to see Steve who looked back at you with his lips pressed in a fine line. He shook his head disapprovingly after reaching the end of the report and now looked like he was going to sit back in the seat beside your bed. 

“Hey, what are you doing? They already examined me and I am about to get released.” The man ignored you and instead leaned over the flimsy bed railing. Steve rubbed his hands together in a warming manner before placing two fingers on your next in an attempt to find your pulse. He unfortunately carried that common trait among doctors of having hands that were colder than that of a penguin’s ass. You knew very well this pulse check was useless as you were in conditional health and that he was probably doing this to annoy you. 

“Well I like to do a check of my own. It never hurts to get a second opinion, darling.” Blue eyes squinted at you and you returned the patronizing gesture. 

The free hand that was not on your neck had found its way to hold your own hand and when your husband pulled back, he wore a smug smirk on his lips. 

“Your pulse is a little high. Is it because I’m holding your hand?” 

“You know, your shoulders must hurt from carrying such a big head all the time.” Steve had the nerve to laugh at your elementary grade insult and even though you weren’t really mad, your face would have said otherwise to anyone else. 

“So I’ll take that as a yes then, wifey.” He then quickly dropped to press a chaste kiss to your lips before releasing your hand and sitting down in the chair. 

Looking to the clock on the wall, you focused your vision on the distant numbers to read that it was most likely Steve’s lunch break.

“Are you spending your lunch break with me?” Your tone was now sweet and soft as it usually was towards Steve and his heart leaped at the progress being made. 

“It seems that I am. ‘Was really looking forward to that chicken salsa, though.” A heap of blonde hair rested on your hand that Steve had now laid his head against, still holding tight with both of his own hands. You giggled at his dramatics and ruffled a free hand through his greasy hair. 

“I haven’t eaten anything, you think you could spend your lunch break with me?” His head popped up at this and his face held the eagerness of an energetic puppy. 

“Of course, sweetheart. We can head to the cafeteria. Hopefully they have something good for my girl.” It was now your turn for your heart to swell at his words. Not even a second later though, the sentimental moment was replaced with Steve’s usual sarcastic humor. 

“See, I love you so much that I am willing to sacrifice my precious chicken salsa just to have lunch with you. You should be grateful to have me as your husband.” Steve’s pearly whites beamed at you in a cheesy smile and you gave a dismissive wave of your hand. 

The two of you talked and enjoyed the rare time together for the next ten minutes until Steve noticed you shifting to sit up against the pillows. He thought nothing of it until suddenly you were throwing your legs over the side of the bed and making to get out of the so called cotton prison. 

Waving a finger, Steve tutted you and hurriedly scooped your legs back onto the bed. You looked absolutely peeved and Steve knew it was from the way that he was treating you like a child or better yet, a patient. His wife, the fighter and he, the doctor. Two unlikely personalities but ones that worked best together nonetheless. This made Steve laugh whenever he thought about it.

“You can get up the minute you get released by the doc, okay?” Caring eyes now gave you a pleading look and you felt a small tinge of guilt crawling up your chest at how mean you had been to your husband when he has only been trying to help. 

A knock on the wooden door signaled a visit from the one person you had been waiting on for what seemed to be ages. 

“Speak of the devil.” Muttering the phrase so only Steve could hear you gave him an “I told you so” kind of look. 

The Doctor looked up from the same clipboard as earlier to greet you once he made it in through the doorway, but he was surely surprised by the figure sitting in the chair beside you. 

“Oh Dr. Rogers, what a surprise! So this is your wife I presume? I guess I should have put two and two together,” Your doctor of the moment laughed with Steve who added in a chuckle or two of his own. 

“Yep, this is Mrs. Rogers!” Steve didn’t look at you, but lovingly squeezed your hand that was resting against his, “We are quite the handful so I am surprised you couldn’t tell that she was my other half.” A snicker ended his words and you couldn’t help but do the same. 

Once the short introductions were over, the doctor walked over to do a speedy final exam on what was necessary as Steve watched from the sidelines still getting used to the idea of not being the one doing the examination. He hadn’t been in any other position in the hospital for such a long time that it took some time to get used to the fact that he wasn’t the one diagnosing and rather waiting for the diagnosis. 

The doctor pulled away from hovering over you and now sat back on his rolling leather stool, scooting his way over to the computer and desk. 

“Well I must say, (y/n), that you definitely live up to some of the stories your husband tells.” The other man in the white coat finished up his typing before turning back around to face you and his colleague. 

“Ah, I hope he’s giving me some good street cred,” You teased and from the side you saw Steve shaking his head and chuckling under his breath. 

“I assure you that they were all good things.” With that, the doctor formally released you, walking out of the room to give you some time to redress and such.

You went to get out of the bed for the nth time, but finally succeeded. Your legs felt a bit wobbly upon the first step, and Steve noticed this. He came up to stand beside you and placed a hand on your lower back with the other out in front in case you did fall. Placing your own hand on his scrub clad chest to steady yourself, you silently thanked him with a tender pat. 

With Steve’s guidance, you went to change out of the wretched paper gown and into your shorts and shirt from working outside. It wasn’t exactly the most flattering outfit but at this moment you could care less for the only thing on your mind was getting out of this room.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The ride in the elevator seemed to move slower than a snail and almost stopped on every floor. You were so crammed by the time you were only on the fifth floor that you used this as an excuse to lean up against Steve. He rubbed your arm and enveloped you in a side hug and planted a kiss on your head. The two of you never cared for PDA but neither of you had realized the onlooking eyes. 

You found it mildly comedic when some of your fellow passengers seemed disgusted that a doctor was handling a patient in such a way. It was definitely gonna be a joke for later on. 

Eventually you made it to the first floor and begrudgingly pushed yourself out of Steve’s warm embrace when the smell of garlic bread hit your nose. 

“Huh, they never cook spaghetti around here. They must know we have a special guest today.” Steve pressed his lips against your ear to jokingly whisper to you as he ushered you out the elevator doors. 

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Standing in line with a plastic tray at the cafeteria made you have flashbacks to middle school lunch and you shuddered at the thought. The memories played back in your mind like a movie and were interrupted (much to your relief) when Steve tapped your shoulder.

“You want this?” Steve held one of the plastic salad containers in hand, the white sleeve of his lab coat draped on top of the other stacked bowls in the open air freezer. 

You nodded and he placed it on your tray, slightly bumping your hips as he walked past to grab a drink.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

For a good twenty minutes, you and Steve sat in comfortable silence in one of the booths until clicking clogs came closer and closer. So close that a shadow loomed over your table conveying that someone was here to speak. 

“Dr. Rogers, I don’t think it’s entirely wise of you to have lunch with your patient. Actually, it’s quite inappropriate.” The older woman in burgundy scrubs pointed her gaze to the hospital band on your wrist and both you and Steve started laughing upon noticing. So that explained all the weird looks.

“Oh no, Dr. Williams! This is my wife (y/n),” You politely beamed up at the woman and set out your hand for a handshake. At this, her unenthusiastic expression changed to one of apologetic and she shook your hand with much grief as Steve continued on with his introductions. 

“(y/n), this is Dr. Williams. She is the medical director for my department.” 

“Wow! I’ve heard many wonderful things about you, Dr. Williams.” She went to return the praise before a beeping in her coat pocket signaled the time for her departure. 

“Duty calls, but I’ll have you know this one here never shuts up about you. It was nice to finally put a face to a name, (y/n),” You glanced at Steve and noticed he was sheepishly grinning and turning redder by the second. So much so that he was hiding his face in his palms.

““I hope you have a quick recovery as well, hon!” The standing woman gave you a nod of her head and then turned to your husband whose face had finally regained its color. “As for you Steven, I will see you later. You have another resident to deal with today.” Dr. Williams sighed at the thought, waving you both goodbye and soon enough she was out the double doors of the lunch room. 

“Ooh babe you’ll have to tell me how all of that goes.” Spooning some spaghetti into your mouth, you goofily raised your eyebrows at Steve. 

“Trust me, it is not fun at all. When I was a resident, I would have never acted like some of the people I’ve trained!” 

You snorted, “Uh huh. Sureee.” 

“No really,” Steve’s eyes widened and he leaned over the table like he was sharing some sort of secret with you, “The audacity of some of these people.” 

“I think you are just an old man now, Stevie, and can’t keep up with the times.” The blond screwed up his eyes and stuck his tongue out at you. 

“Oh hush and finish your food, Miss. ‘I am soooo young’.” A napkin flew at Steve’s chest and the two of you laughed at the childish antics that had just ensued. 

Just as both of your styrofoam containers became empty, an unpleasant ringer sounded in Steve’s pocket, just like the one of Dr. Williams’s departure. Once he gave the screen a swift peek, he looked back up at you with a long face. 

“You gotta go?” Golden strands bobbed up and down as Steve nodded and you grabbed his hand. 

“It’s alright! Thank you for spending the time with me today, though. I really appreciate it. Thanks for putting up with me, you know how I am sometimes.”  

The larger hand encompassing yours gave a sympathetic squeeze. 

“Oh darling, anytime, you know that. If you need anything, call me okay? I will try my best to answer.” 

The temporary silence that filled the room was now replaced by annoying buzzing from the device that Steve had silenced for the moment. He irritability took it out and shoved it back in his pocket. Normally this didn’t bother Steve because this was his job, but since you were here, having just been sick, he wanted nothing more than to drop everything and focus on you. Knowing that was impossible, he tried his best to juggle both yet it seemed that the world wasn’t gonna wait on him. 

“Do you want me to call Ma to come get you? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Her and Dad love your company.” For the moment, Steve appeared to look like he was ignoring the constant beeping, but you knew internally he was already out of the cafeteria and sprinting down the halls.

“No no, I’m fine, honey,” The doctor stared at you as if he didn’t believe you. “I mean it, Steve. I am fine. Now shoo.” 

Dr. Rogers shared another laugh with you before pecking your lips and running out the room shouting, “I’ll see you later!” 

He really was too good for this world. 

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

a/n: i really enjoyed writing for doctor!steve, so if anyone has any ideas that involves him and that you’d like me to write, send it in! <3

taglist (is open!): @memissbee @tricereads @buckybarnesthehotshot @bval-1 @tonystankschild @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @turtoix @kelbabyblue @jakiki94 @aubreeskailynn @calirindo @lady-elena-adeline @siriuslyslyslytherin @sushiinmidnight @patzammit @iwik3it

[thebigoblin]

Sterek Fic Recs Part 3

[You can find the first two lists here: Fluffy Sterek Recs & Sterek Fic Recs. Also here's a special fic, check it out]

First off, thank you all for a 100 followers!! As of September 7, 2021 you've made me feel really, really good about my obsession with two oblivious idiots (with sprinkles of the hale pack and other fandoms), and this is my way of thanking you ♥️

If you're on PC, you can see that there is a page dedicated solely to fic recs, which caters to other ships & fandoms too. So don't feel left out if you're looking for something other than Sterek!

Without further ado, let's get to it then!

an awful curse

Isaac is asleep in a chair. The angle of his neck makes Derek wince in sympathy.

"Isaac," Derek says.

Isaac snaps awake immediately.

"You're-"

"Where's Stiles?"

"Stiles?" Isaac asks.

Jesus. It's not like they know more than one.

AU - Canon Divergence | 6.3k | By blinkiesays

Throw Away The Key

Stiles knew it was stupid to go to the hunters’ headquarters all by himself, so when he finds himself caught, he can really only blame himself.

It shouldn't surprise Stiles when the situation quickly goes from bad to worse as the hunters throw him to a feral werewolf waiting to tear him apart.

Sucks that it's Derek, though.

AU - Canon Divergence | 5.9k | By mommymuffin

Whatever Happened Last Night, Why Did Glitter Have to Be Involved?

Derek rolled out of bed in search of his phone - quickly finding it in the pair of jeans that had evidently been tossed aside haphazardly on the way to the bed. Seeing the pants sparked flashes of memories - wolfsbane-laced alcohol, loud music, multicolored lights.

Peter’s new supernatural-friendly club - the pack had gone to the opening night party.

He unlocked his phone and opened the pack group chat, which Erica had affectionately named ‘Moon Sluts’.

>>Derek: What the fuck happened last night

[or: Derek wakes up with three things on his mind: he feels like he was punched by a troll, his mate is missing, and there's glitter covering his bed. Oh, and the pack group chat is mildly helpful]

**

Prompt #159 - “Also, my bed has glitter in it for reasons I do not recall.”

Crack Vibes | 1.2k | By ash_mcj

Good to Eat

So if Stiles married Derek Hale, he could become Jewish too? Perfect. It was settled. Stiles gleefully shoveled a forkful of cheesy shells into his mouth.

"Uh oh. I know that look.” Claudia shook her head.

"Don’t worry, Mom, ” Stiles said, reaching for his plastic Batman cup.

"I’ve got a plan.”

"Good luck, Derek Hale,” his mother muttered.

Rude.

AU - Childhood Friends | 1.7k | By Jmeelee

Murder Brows and Avoidance Tactics

Derek gets the wrong end of the stick.

Written for prompt: "You're jealous, aren't you?"

AU - Everybody Lives | 2k | By Dragonink13

Double Vision (only registered users can read this one)

"So what caused my hearing and sense of smell to dull?"

Deaton's brow furrowed, all amusement vanishing from his face. "What do you mean?"

Derek snapped, letting loose all of his anger and fear at the man before him. "I mean I can't hear your heartbeat or the cars down below or the birds in the attic! I can't smell the flowers in Mrs. Everett's apartment, I can't smell the rotting burger in the fridge that Isaac left in there a month ago, I can't smell or hear anything like I normally can!" Deaton mouth was pressed into a thin line. "Can you explain that?!"

 Tumblr Prompt: Derek jealous of himself.

AU - Everyone Lives | 6.1k | By Novkat21

Kiss?

Derek likes kissing Stiles, honestly he does. Until he doesn't.

Fluff | 3.6k | By clotpolesonly

Oblivious Misadventures, and Other Such Tales

Going to college was exciting and new, a chance for new friends and a fresh start, and the best part was, there was a supernatural fraternity on campus, meaning Scott finally had the freedom to be himself.

Then he met the resident human who came with a stalker alpha. What was the point of a supernatural fraternity if he still had to pretend to be human. And seriously, did Stiles ever fall asleep somewhere normal?

--

(aka - Five TImes Scott Found Derek and Stiles Sleeping, and the One Time He Didn't)

AU, Supernatural is real but not known by everyone, Alive Hale Family | 11.2k | By Little Spoon

Call Me (Cliché)

When the sheriff's sister ends up in a wheelchair for the duration of summer, Stiles' dreams of three months full of pack bonding, late-night video games and bro-time with Scott come crashing down. He's temporarily relocated to Redford, a three hour drive away, and he can already tell he won't be getting many visitors.

Sure the pack will forget about him while he's gone, Stiles is determined to make the most of his summer of isolation, training his body and mind - and his magic - so he can come back with a bang, and maybe catch a certain Sourwolf's eye.

Then Derek shows up at his window one night with a flimsy excuse about needing research done. Suddenly, his summer away is looking a whole lot more interesting.

AU - Canon Divergence | 84.6k | By Orphan_Account aka the author has dissociated themselves from the fic

Shiver

Stiles has really, really cold hands. Luckily, Derek knows just what to do about that.

Established Relationship | 1.7k | By canistakahari

Derek Hale's Possible Heart

An anon sent me a sterek prompt for Laura teasing Derek and Stiles joining in, then somehow sharing their feelings for each other in the mess of things.

AU - Canon Divergence | 4.3k | By loserchildhotpants

What's a Secret Identity?

Stiles sipped at a mug of coffee, absently watching the news play in the break room. Because of course a news station couldn't play anything other than its own content, even in the one part of the office that was supposed to be a safe space from work. His interview with Superman was making a rerun and Stiles glanced at Derek before commenting absently, “I’d totally let Superman fuck me.”

Derek, who had been in the middle of a swig of coffee, choked violently, “That’s not something I needed to know at nine in the morning, Stiles.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “What time would you prefer I tell you about all of the things I would let Superman do to my body?”

AU, Derek is Superman | 7k | By Chrystie, imabignerd and kate882

i see that you've come so far [just like them old stars]

But her big brother’s unwillingness to touch anyone, like he thinks he doesn’t deserve it isn’t the only thing she notices. She also notices how Stiles doesn’t touch him.

Everyone reaches for Derek in some form or another, but Stiles- Stiles is something different altogether because he reaches for Derek but he never makes contact.

He’ll be trying to shimmy past Derek and instead of putting a hand on his arm like most of them do, he’ll reach out with a hand and stop it scant centimeters away from Derek’s skin.

Or they’ll be walking alongside each other and Stiles will hover a hand on Derek’s lower back.

It’s both fascinating and tragic to watch, like NASA lost control of one of their robots and instead of it landing on the moon it’s fated to gravitate around it.

AU - Canon Divergence | 2.3k | By crossroadswrite

Déjà Vu

There’s a shop in Beacon Hills that no one knows anything about except that the mysterious proprietor, a witch in whispered circles, knows what you need before you do and that the things given are always just what you need.

Derek, lost after a breakup, heads into the shop to see if he can find something to help him forget his ex. The witch gives him a potion to drink, and when Derek wakes up, he finds he’s sixteen again and there’s a new student at his school, Stiles Stilinski.

Everything is familiar and yet not, and Derek finds he’s strangely drawn to Stiles in a way that is entirely supernatural.

AU, Supernatural is Real | 8.8k | By gremlins-came-and-got-me and StaciNadia

Start Small, Like Oak Trees

The months following Allison's death have passed Stiles by in a haze of monotony. He sleepwalks through days that seem to lose their color, an unwilling passenger in a body he no longer trusts. Eventually, he thinks, he'll just fade away. He isn't sure anyone would notice. Then, during a spur of the moment grocery run, he stumbles upon Derek Hale attempting to console a lost child, and for the first time in recent memory the world doesn't seem so awful.

He's not sure what he'd been expecting when he eventually convinces Derek to move into the Stilinski's spare bedroom, but a newfound passion for weeding and topsoil certainly isn't it.

AU - Canon Divergence | 24.2k | By SmallBirds

Undercover K9

As it usually goes, Derek acts before he thinks. This time he has a good reason, though-it's all Stiles' fault. Mostly.

Or, that time when Derek volunteered to spend all his spare time as a wolf with the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Office K9 Unit, just to protect Stiles' dumb ass.

Future Fic | 17.9k | By Cobrilee

Rose Colored Glasses

“Obviou—um, what? Derek?” Stiles managed. “What? You’re not colorblind. You’re colorblind?”

“Yes.” Derek said gruffly. “And?”

“And? What do you mean and? You can’t see colors?” Stiles demanded, thrown. “Does it—what kind is it? Red-green? Blue-yellow? Why doesn’t—oh my god, is this why your entire freaking wardrobe was completely black until like two years ago? Oh my god!”

“There’s nothing wrong with having a favorite color, Stiles.”

Established Relationship | 2.2k | By SassyStarboard

1,460 Days (gotta clean my slate)

Two years after Scott becomes Alpha and Derek gives it up for Cora, Stiles gets hurt during a fight and ends up in a coma for two weeks. According to the nurse, a guy has been visiting him every day and, as much as he wishes it were Derek, it sounds a lot like Scott. Except he and Scott aren't even friends anymore.

AU - Canon Divergence | 10k | By army_of_angels

This is it for now. Happy reading y'all! ♥️

[jenivi7]

First Lines Tagging Meme

I'M SO HAPPY TO BE TAGGED IN THIS TWICE!  Thank you @ink-flavored and @clyde-side !! (I almost just did this on my own too because I love babbling about my own fics...)

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line.

Now pinned and under a cut because it became a really long, really good introduction to me and my stories! 

Hello!

Unnecessary and overly wordy introduction/personal musings: I love opening lines so much. When I worked at a bookstore, I used to open books and hardcore judge them on their first lines. I had barely any free time to read at that point so if it didn’t grab me in the first line or two, I put it back. The first Harry Potter book is actually in my pile of really good openers. “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.” (Subtle alliteration, HELLO??) So I'm super excited to see if my own first lines come even close to the standards that I apply to other people lol. MY OWN MONEY IS ON NO. I have the feeling that I'm so frantic trying to get the story down on paper before the good words disappear from my head that I'm not actually paying attention to the first line. BUT LET'S SEE, SHALL WE.

So just straight up going backwards, I've written and posted TWO BRAND NEW THINGS after being away from fandom almost entirely for 10+ years! They're drabble length but they're shiny and new! <3 (All available fics are linked!)

1. Tango:

She teaches them to dance so that they can dance with her but when Atem gets that mischievous smirk on his face and pulls Yugi into his arms, their bodies spark and the dance floor smolders at their heels.

(The fic is so short that this is a full 1/5 of it but actually, I think I crammed all the good stuff right into that first line. This already might be my favorite. Like it says there in the line itself, Puzzleshipping.)

2. No Betting:

Anzu sat at the kitchen table writing carefully calculated answers onto sticky notes before attaching them to a fourth-grade math worksheet.

(Peachshipping! This one doesn't pop off until about line five so here's the rest of that bit:)

She had the same arrangement with her spouse as most parents had. When the kids were good they were hers. When they were bad, they were his. And when they were winning at games because they picked up rules with uncanny speed and read their opponents with more insight than ought to be available to a child, they were definitely, definitely his.

3. If you wanted honesty that's all you had to say (working title):

When he realized that the figure sitting under the game shop display window and smoking wasn’t Ryou, the physical body response was as though it had discovered a coiled snake not two feet away.

(This one! It's a NEW half finished(?) WIP. I actually started this one before the drabbles but wanted to finish before posting it. Then it got out of hand, then work got out of hand, then I started a couple more projects and well. I keep putting words on it though and eventually there will be a Kleptoshipper that turns into Puzzle and Tender for your reading enjoyment. Also, fair warning - don't use song lyrics as a working title. Every time I look at the document I get the song stuck in my head.)

Now we have polished up reposts of old stories for their move to AO3, where I'll basically keep my master archive. Not full re-writes but I fixed a bunch of typos and awkward sentences and they're much stronger for it. Most of these are from a pairings contest way back when so LOTS of different pairings and lots of AUs!

4. Human:

It was like a bad noir, the thought crossed both of their minds.

(Scifi AU, Rivalshipping. That one's not bad for a first line. Actually no link at the time of writing cause the re-edit is going up in like, a half hour? an hour? a half day? It's my next project after finishing this, finishing up the edit and posting it on AO3. Now with link!)

5. Blood:

Fingers through midnight black hair, whispers in his ear, touches that sizzled along the skin, awakening nerves and senses. 

(Dungeonshipping, Pegasus x Otogi, vampires AU. Oh that’s a nice first line! <3)

6. Crazy for You:

The keys are too large and too heavy for the doctor more used to more modern facilities but she doesn't say anything, just follows the orderly as he pulls the large door open.

(Manipulashipping, Anzu x Marik, Psychward AU. Still one of my favorites from that era. Big bold warning though, THIS ONE CONTAINS NON-CON)

7. Finality:

“What are you doing here?”

“Saying goodbye.” Bakura’s translucent arms swept across the graveyard. “Is this not an appropriate place for it?”

(First two or so bits of dialogue as the first first is a generic question. You can tell this is one of the really old ones just by that but it's a sweet, sad little Tendershipper that still has a special place in my heart.)

8. Pieces of You:

Glitter caught the light, leaving shimmering trails in the air as it got everywhere.

(Glittershipping, Anzu x Kisara. Another one that's special to me. Kisara is my girl and my first writing muse. <3)

9. Cambodia:

“It was summer of fifty three...”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, it can't have been fifty three. You might be that ancient but I'm not. It must have been sixty three.”

(Jiishipping. Yes. Sugoroku x Arthur. HEY, IT CAME UP IN THE RANDOM DRAW FOR THE SHIPPING CONTEST OK. And my writer's brain hasn't backed down from a challenge yet... Another one that takes 4 lines to pop off but it's a good start. Actually, here's the rest of the bit just because I cannot get enough of these two bickering:)

“What do you mean it must have been sixty three? You don't even know what story I'm trying to tell.”

“Am I in it?”

“What?”

“So you're deaf now as well as daft? AM I IN IT?”

“Of course you're in it, y'old coot. Don't know why I'd tell a story without you in it when both grandkids are sitting here.”

10. Coffee and Cigarettes:

"Cigarettes and coffee? That's not a very healthy lunch." 

Mana crossed her legs and took a refined sip of her own coffee even as her company was not. 

(Mischiefshipping, Mana x Thief King Bakura. Oh this one I'm actually sad that it doesn't immediately sparkle in the first line cause it's one of my absolute favorites of everything I've written. And I think it's the only time I've ever written Mana but I LOVED IT AND HER. Oh no! I lied, I've written her at least one other time though I don't think that one quite captures her sheer chaos energy like this one does.)

11. A Million Missed Chances:

Somewhere along the line, someone made a choice.

(This one. THIS ONE. I think this is by far the most epic idea I've tackled. I still don't know if the sheer scale of the thing came across in the actual fic but in my head it was massive and I remember pounding away at my teeny tiny laptop late at night because the whole thing hit me maybe a day or so before the story was due for the pairings contest. We only had a week to write each fic and my really good ideas never came to me before the very last minute. T.T Conquestshipping, Mai x Valon.)

12. A Fear of Falling:

She drove.

Like she always did when something bothered her.

(Oh the first chapter on this is also one of the really ancient ones. Like one of the very first things I wrote. That first chapter really shows its age and is a little shaky but the others are better and the last one is what fits into the chorological order here. Polarshipping, Jou x Mai. One of my very first ships. Probably THE first actually <3)

13. What Our Creators Make Us:

"Well, well." The match flared, scattering dark shadows until it was blown out and the only light that remained was the red glow from the cigarette end. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

(Psychoshipping, Marik x Spirit of the Ring Bakura. With a bit of Bronze, Angst and Tender in the follow up. Old but I'm ridiculously proud of it, hence it's place in the master archive. Ahaha you can tell how old it is though by how clever I think I am. I thought it was funny to make my audience figure out who was talking and not reveal the characters for a good fourth to third of the fic. Ahhhhhhh. Sorry about past me.)

14. A Revolution of the Spirit:

It wasn't fair.  It just wasn't.

That they were close was understandable (you don't get much closer than sharing headspace) but that even now, after deals were made with gods, endless arguments, compromises and the ultimate guilt trip that he had only been a teenager when he willingly sacrificed himself for all of humanity, things she had only half seen and only partly understood even though they had all been there to witness, that even now Atem continued to invade Yugi's personal space as though he belonged there got on her nerves.

(Woah Nelly! That third sentence should probably be three, four and five. Even if I just split it in half we'd continue the pattern of things popping off in the fourth line. I think that's one pattern that's emerging! A really good bit takes me about four lines to set up and deliver! Oh, the challenge was Revolutionshipping, Anzu x Atem, but the fic is actually Spiritshipping, Anzu x Yugi x Atem.)

So confession time, I haven't been out of fandom completely, I just hadn't written my own standalone stories in a very long time. There are a few (ok ok more than a few) long-running rps that @miss-moberg and I have been adding to on and off over the years. I can't resist throwing in a couple of these.

15. Cafe!

The door shut behind them with the soft click of the latch and the exhale of a breath long held.

(This opening line was from December of 2020 when we rebooted a very old Prideshipper and that is a damn good opening line if I do say so myself. I can definitely see the difference now between the newer works and the older ones. I've gotten better, she's matched me pace for pace and eventually something will be finished, I'll work up the courage to ask permission to post it and the whole internet will get to see how brilliant the two of us are together.)

16. Treasure Hunt!

"Ryou, I think you're going to regret letting me tag along on your adventuring this time."  Yugi didn't bother turning away from the airplane's tiny window to see if his seatmate was paying attention.  He was more thinking out loud with his friend playing the role of a convenient sounding board.  "Because I think this trip is the only thing I'm going to talk about ever again."

(One more from RP because it's got that fun, four line punch that we've discovered is a pattern for me! Opening entry is from 2017.)

Also, in truth, my count is a little off when I say I'd been out of fandom 10+ years. I've been away from YGO for that long but I did spend a brief stint in Homestuck where I read a ton of fanfic, flirted with a couple group RPs and even wrote a tiny bit. 9 years without writing a new fic isn't as impressive as saying ‘over a decade’ but it is a little more accurate.

17. What You Will:

In the land of fair Illyria, along a small, sandy stretch of its rocky shore, a ship has come to ruin and one lone woman lies still as death among broken wood.

(The beginning of a Homestuck/Twelfth Night crossover that I'm still determined to work more on someday. It's only got a single chapter but it's magic though now I'm concerned about not being able to recapture that. Not a bad first line though. The style is so different it took me reading it a couple times before going, oh yeeeeeah, that's pretty good!)

18. Relentless:

You pull him to the deck and then across it by the remains of his shirt. Let him say one last goodbye. His ship pillaged, his crew murdered, his hands bound behind his back and at your mercy.

Funny word, that. Mercy.

(The first line is pretty decent but there's that four line combo again! Five but I could basically fix that with a comma. Featuring the troll ancestors Mindfang and Dualscar because every time Hussey introduced new characters they were instantly my favorite.) 

19. Black:

There is dark and there is dark and there is dark and then there is black. She is black. Licorice and coal. She is hate and resentment and everything that tastes bitter, the kind of black that coats the tongue like oil, drips down the back of the throat and keeps going.

(Oh wow. Am I allowed to say that about my own work? A Terezi/Vriska drabble that I'm putting as much here as I think I can get away with because it's so good that it fucks me up a little going back and reading it.)

And here it gets tricky because I think the more recent of the old, old fics are in the Drabbles and Shorts collection on ff.net and I can't see a post date. So I'll just pick a good one to end on.

20. Two Princes:

It was inevitable as the rising of Ra's chariot after a long night, as the flooding of the river banks every spring, and Atem always knew that Yugi's kiss would be as warm and gentle as the evening breeze in the summer that brought relief from the scorching day. It was.

(How about the final honor going to more Puzzle/Blind? This probably has the strongest first line of its era. Actually I'm not sure when it was written. It was just hanging out in my writing folder and, thinking about it, I probably wrote it when I was fading from fandom the first time around but still trying to hang in there. No wait! That’s too sad, we can’t end on that! Lets add one more to the list for the sake of personal narrative!)

21. Linger:

The world doesn't need him anymore. It doesn't need his sword and it doesn't need his pen.

(A tiny Princess Tutu afterward that I wrote for myself. Nice one-two punch in the opener. Also it rounds out the personal story that accidentally developed here with a line later in the fic, "Words, however, never stray far from a good writer..." Like, wait, stop. Past me, how did you know T.T)

Did that take a sudden emotional turn for anyone else or was that just me. Can I offset that a little with an honorable mention? Let’s do that while I collect myself. Here’s one more.

Honorable mention: Ryou and the Thief

There was a storm gathering and too much magic in the air. Much more than occurred naturally and magic at this level was never a good thing.

(I can’t have a list of things I’ve written without having Ryou and the Thief on it. If you click on this one though, BEWARE, it’s old, it’s silly and it has a ton of explicit gay sex that… would be written very differently if we were handling it today I’m sure! This is the first RP @miss-moberg and I ever did together and our excuse to Gemship and Puzzleship turned into us running the boys through a whole adventure based on the Osiris myth. It’s the longest thing I’ve ever completed and I’d still consider it kind of my legacy.)

And that’s the last 21(+1!) stories that I’ve written! 

The clear winner of best first line for me is 15. Cafe! It’s short, elegant and manages to contain a whole mood even without the context of what’s going on and who’s involved. (Spoilers: It’s Seto and Mokuba making an AU escape from Gozoboro.) Close second is Tango, the most recent story. It’s neat to see just how much better I’ve gotten and also really cool to see that even if the first line itself doesn’t contain a punch, it’s usually because there’s a nice, strong idea being set up and delivered in the first four lines (or so). What a pleasant surprise!

AND WOW, this whole tag thing didn't need to be so long! Or personal! Seriously, if you get this tag from me the challenge is only to list the first lines to 20 stories and maybe try to draw one or two conclusions from them. You all thought I was joking when I said I loved talking about my own writing! But actually, I guess it’s fine like this as I ended up using it as a way to re-introduce myself. Like, "Hey, I used to live here a long time ago and oh my god I love what you've done with the place!" Rather than being someone who's just popped up out of nowhere a few weeks ago to creepily bother all your best of the best creators so....

^///^ Hello!

Thanks for letting me ramble!

Tags! I think I've seen most of the authors I follow do this already but on the off chance you haven't been tagged yet: @elexica (checked your blog to see if you'd already done the tag and saw that you're another person returning to writing fanfiction after 10+ years. Same! Hello!!), @danieco, @draconicmaw, @nedjemetsenen (has someone tagged you already?) and two shots in the dark, @miss-moberg and @edmondia (I'm so sorry you two. T.T Please feel free to block me forever.) And please, anyone else who wants to babble about their own writing! Do this, it was so much fun. <3

[cracklingbooks]

hi so i have a fic request, but honestly i just want soldezangelo content so its fine if u dont feel like writing that haha

prompt: after nico wakes up from a terrifying nightmare, will and leo goes to comfort him and let him know how much they love him. :)

idk im just in a mood for fluff haha, but this also works for solangelo <3 thank you again!

Thank you very much for trusting me with your prompt, I hope you'll like how it turned out! I’ll be honest, I didn’t know that soldezangelo was a thing till today, so I wasn’t sure whether it was like a proper ship or a bromance or whatever... I’m sorry! So basically I made a solangelo + Leo thing! :)

I truly hope you like it, since it’s my first ever prompt! Ugh

I posted it on ao3 too 

He had no idea how he had arrived there, all he could remember were bits and pieces of the journey; long gaunt hands, dead trees with broken branches, darkness all around him. And oh, the feeling of complete solitude. It was encompassing.

Nico was the only one in that lonely land and he felt completely lost.

And then he saw it, like a beacon in the night: the faintest light in the distance and it was calling his name, like a sweet lullaby. It looked like the sun, but it was overshadowed by that thick foggy darkness; it looked impossibly far, but it was calling his name! It had to mean something, Nico was sure.

He started running, running, running, till his heart was about to explode and his lungs were imploding. The light didn’t look closer at all, but the voice kept shouting his name, always louder, till Nico thought it was going to break its voice.

That’s when he recognized it. Will. That was Will’s voice and he sounded incredibly pained.

Nico stumbled and while he was falling to his knees, he cried out Will’s name, holding his gaze fixed on the light like it was the only thing able to keep him together. He was falling and his pieces were crushing to the ground in a loud noise of clattering. He seemed to keep falling for centuries, because his body didn’t hit the soil right away.

His voice was scratched, broken like he was, “Will!”

He kept falling and falling, till the darkness swallowed him whole. That’s just what happened to lost boys.

He didn’t know how much time passed, but at some point, he was laying on the ground. It didn’t happen with a loud crush; he knew he was laying down because he felt the cold grass tickle his neck. His body was shivering impossibly and he felt nauseous, but above him there was the brightest starry sky he’d ever seen. He was back at Camp Half Blood.

He breathed deeply, trying to take everything in, but his lungs were hurting, so he started coughing convulsively.

“What…?” He heard a voice, but it was barely more than a whisper over the thundering blood in his ears. “Nico!”

Then there were two faces over him, hands running over his arms, looking for injuries.

You won’t find any scar, Nico wanted to say, I’m a broken boy, but there is no proof of that on my skin.

He tried to back away from those preoccupied touches, but his limbs were to heavy to be moved, much less controlled. He was trembling and colliding, he didn’t know how to stop. He just wanted everything to stop spinning so fast.

A light appeared from somewhere above him and was pointed at his face; he couldn’t see anything anymore over that terrible brightness, but the voice spoke again, sounding a little panicked, “He doesn’t seem hurt, but I don’t know if we can move him.”

There was a shy answer, but Nico couldn’t make the words out, because the newly appeared light brought back to his mind the light he’d seen earlier and he just needed to know that Will was okay. It took him a couple of tries, but in the end, he managed to croak out, “Will… please.”

There was a hand in his hair, pulling it back from his eyes. “You’re right, Nico.” The voice said, “Go call Will, and tell him to come here as fast as he can. Tell him Nico needs help, he’ll be here in no time. Go!”

The light disappeared immediately. A gentle hand helped him to sit up and suddenly he was staring right at Leo, his cheeks almost completely covered in grease, and his eyes were big and worried. He felt immediately relieved at the sight, because it was so familiar that he almost felt like he wasn’t completely lost. Just a little.

He swallowed the dump in his throat and Leo’s gaze never left his face.

“What happened?” Nico asked, squeezing his eyelids for a second, trying to make his eyes focus. He was seeing a blurry world.

“You should tell me, mate.” Leo replied, kindly. “We were going back to our cabin when we heard you shout and cough. Did someone hurt you?”

Nico shook his head.

Leo whispered the next question, like he wanted to give Nico the chance to pretend he didn’t hear his words, “Why are you crying, then?”

Nico hadn’t realized he was crying, but now that he knew he was doing it, he couldn’t stop. He tried to hide his face, letting his hair fall in front of his face. “I don’t know.” He said, honestly. “I’m just defective, I guess.”

Leo wasn’t having any of that. He shook his head and cupped Nico’s cheeks, tilting his head back to make him meet his gaze, “You aren’t, Nico. Not even a bit.”

Nico sighed and wrapped his arms around his own body, trying to stop the tremors. “You are a mechanic, Leo. You can fix anything.” He squeezed his eyes, trying to breathe, but it wasn’t working. “Fix me, please. Just fix me. I don’t want to be like this anymore.”

He sounded desperate and pathetic, he knew that, but the world was spinning and blurry and he just wanted it to fucking stop.

Without notice, Leo pulled him in his arms, clenching him in a bone-wrecking hug. Nico buried his face in the crook of his neck and let himself be rocked gently; Leo smelled like grease and steel and fire. Nico tried to let that scent warm him up.

Leo said, “You aren’t broken, Nico. Your heart may be a little chipped because of all the things you’ve been through, but each time you filled the cracks with gold. It may be heavy now, but it’s strong and beautiful and beating. You are alive, Nico, and if there is air in your lungs, it means you aren’t broken. So I need you to focus; breathe, please.”

And he did. He took in a deep breath and another and another, till eventually his lungs remembered how to work on their own.

There were loud footsteps and branches breaking and then Will was there, running toward them at full speed. He crushed by Nico’s side on his knees and Leo let him go, sitting back on his heels.

Nico’s relief rolled off of his body in hot waves at the sight of that messy blonde hair and those damn freckles of his, because Will was there and he was okay. He was okay okay okay. That was the most important thing.

Nico could deal with being broken, but he could’ve never been able to see Will being hurt or lost. Never. He could bear his own pain as long as he knew Will’s heart was happy and pumping blood in his body.

Will’s hands were everywhere. On Nico’s cheeks, his arms, his hair, his chest, his thighs, his neck. In that moment, Will wasn’t wearing his boyfriend face, no. He was full-on doctor. “Are you hurt? Do you have wounds? Did you hit your head?”

Nico shook his head three times, one for each question. Since Will didn’t even flinch, he added, “I’m okay.”

Will took in a sharp breath and held Nico in his arms so tightly that it was like he was trying to hold all of his shattered pieces together. It was with that smell of home and that familiar warmth, that Nico’s body family stopped trembling. He rubbed his forehead against Will’s neck and he felt like coming back to life.

Ah, Gods. He wasn’t sure whether he was listening to his own heartbeat or to Will’s or to a mix of both, but he felt completely filled with love. The darkness dissipated slowly, one steady beat after the other.

After a time – three minutes or maybe three centuries – Will eventually pulled back to look at his face, but kept his hands securely on Nico’s arms, almost as if he was worried that he could disappear at any moment right in front of his eyes.

Nico saw the exact second when Will’s face went from doctor to boyfriend. “Oh, you scared me to death, Nico! I’ll lock you in your cabin for the rest of the summer and you’ll never ever be allowed to be out of my sight ever again. You are an absolute menace, I almost had a heart attack! If I’ll have white hair by my mid-twenties, it’ll be your fault, damn you!” He was mumbling quickly; too many words to say in so little time. Relief was now rolling off of Will too, even if it was mixed with a lot of other feelings.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know… I’m not sure how I got here.” Nico’s mind was a little blurred and he couldn’t remember much of that day.

“You shadow-travelled in your sleep, Nico. You were having a nightmare and I tried to shake you awake and call your name, but you didn’t wake up. And then you just disappeared. I looked for you everywhere, but couldn’t find you anywhere. Then Leo’s brother found me and told me where you were. Thank the Gods they were here.” He turned to look at Leo and hugged him too, “Thank you, Leo. Gods, thank you.”

Leo shrugged and offered a little smile, “Boys with chipped hearts have to stick together.” He says and even if Will couldn’t really understand, Nico did.

What Leo meant was that Nico wasn’t alone. Not alone at all.

Leo stood up and grinned at them, before running his fingers fondly on their hair, “It’s better if I go to sleep. You’re in good hands now, Nico. I’ll see you both at breakfast, try to get some sleep, huh?”

Nico barely had the time to thank him, before he disappeared with a yawn in the trees, where one of his brothers were watching us curiously.

Soon, Nico and Will were alone and even if it took them quite some time, they managed to get to Nico’s cabin. He was leaning almost completely against Will’s body, because he was so knackered that his legs weren’t bothering working more than he strict necessary, but Will didn’t seem to mind at all; if anything, he held Nico closer with every step.

Will helped him change his pyjama, that was stained with grass and mud, and then changed his own (because of course he kept some of his clothes at the Hades’ cabin).

They slid under the blankets, in those sheets that smelled both like light and darkness, like Will and Nico. It had been a while since they had smelled just like Nico, since for the whole summer Will had slept with him.

Will pulled him closer and Nico placed his head on that spot on his chest, where he could feel both Will’s heartbeat in one ear and feel his warm breath caressing his opposite cheek. That was Nico’s favourite place in the whole world. Screw that, in the whole universe.

“I could’ve accidentally taken you with me when I shadow-travelled, I’m sorry.” Nico whispered, feeling guilty.

“I don’t care.” Will replied, softly.

“But you could’ve been hurt.” He insisted. The thought was almost unbearable.

“I don’t care,” he said again, rubbing circles on Nico’s back with his hands, “Besides, if you’d taken me with you, I could’ve made sure that you were okay sooner. So, please, next time take me with you. I’d like it better if you didn’t go away at all, but if you do, take me with you.”

Nico couldn’t really find any word to tell Will just how much in love with him he was, so he kissed softly his chest and hoped it was enough.

“Are you okay, by the way? Do you want to tell me about your nightmare? It could help.” Will whispered, holding Nico closer.

Since he barely remembered his nightmare, Nico shook his head a little. The only memory embroided in his mind was the feeling of losing Will in the darkness, so he said, “Just… don’t ever leave me, okay?”

“How could I ever? You own my heart, Nico; you know that.” He whispered; then, “I don’t say it often enough, but I love you. I love you.”

Nico tilted his head back a stole a kiss from those soft lips, “I love you, too.”

Then, safe from that blinding darkness and that feeling of solitude, Nico managed to fall asleep in the arms of his boyfriend, who held him tightly. The last thing he heard before drifting off was Will’s low sleepy voice murmuring a lullaby in his ear, like he always did whenever Nico had a nightmare.

His dreams were filled with kisses and rays of sunshine and home home home.

[wormstacheangel]

Since your last post implied it I would love to know about your AU recommendations ❤ I am obsessed too!! Thanks in advance 🙏🏻

hello! I hope you don’t mind if I just make a basic list of some of the AU stories I have read or want to read. Not in any order I just went through my bookmarks on AO3 :) Also I need to read more...Under the cut because it got too long! 

Angel's Wild (not gonna lie this is my favorite fic. I have read this almost a dozen times now)

Summary: But that’s the whole reason he’s here, isn’t it? He’s not out here hunting Humans. He’s not even hunting deer, or bears, or anything else that featured in Bambi. He’s out here, freezing his nuts off every night, because he’s hunting Angels. 

Sometimes Dean wishes that Angels were like how they’re described in the Bible. How people from time too old for him to care much about thought Angels were messengers and warriors of God, protectors of Humans. He knows that how they’re really described in the Bible is actually pretty terrifying, but at least they were told by God that they’re supposed to love Humans, right? 

That’s a thousand times better than what Angels really turned out to be.

Checked Out

Summary:  Castiel Novak can think of many writers who would not be welcome under the roof of Heaven’s Gate library, where he is the librarian: Ayn Rand ranks highly (no explanation needed), as does Charles Dickens (he hasn’t forgiven Charles for the month he lost to The Pickwick Papers). And, of course, Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester, local author and obvious a-hole, who is entirely too handsome to be true and who is clearly totally lacking in profundity, intelligence, sincerity, and self-awareness. Unfortunately, though, Dean’s been invited to do a book signing at Heaven’s Gate - and Castiel’s about to be confronted by some unexpected feelings when he finally meets Dean for the first time.

A Ghost Story

Summary:  Castiel Novak has haunted his family's estate for 150 years, awaiting the return of his lost love. Upon their reunion, Dean Winchester learns of his past reincarnation. After the night of Castiel's resurrection, the two try to find out why they've been given a second chance. The answers may be hidden in the forgotten memories of Dean's former life - but sometimes the truth is better left buried.

Patient Love

Summary: Castiel Novak is 27 when he suddenly loses his twin brother Jimmy, and his whole world turns to ashes. How do you deal with losing half of yourself when your whole life always revolved around the two of you, like yin and yang and black and white? How do you deal with a broken soul and old demons looming over you with no one to hold you back anymore?

After 10 years as a Navy Special Warfare Operator and more than a dozen deployments in both Afghanistan and Iraq, a battlefield injury forces 28-year-old Chief Petty Officer Dean Winchester to chose between being stuck behind a desk for the rest of his career or going back to civil life. When he learns about his friend Jimmy’s death, Dean makes his way back to Kansas with his heart in his throat and broken pieces at his feet.

Things are already complicated and painful enough as it is, but when former lovers Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak meet again after 10 years of radio silence and a galaxy of wounds and scars solidly standing between them, it feels like both a curse and a blessing has been placed on them both. Is there any hope in putting back their broken pieces together after a decade, and how do you deal with grief and broken dreams?

The Unbroken

Summary: Dean’s life had been made of running. He ran from a curse that had desolated his life ever since he was a child — whenever he got hurt, he turned into a goddamn human-torch, killing everyone around him — and he ran from himself and his own self-loathing.

But managing all that at the end of a world full of Croats lurking around every corner was easier said than done.

Until a mysterious man with tousled dark hair paired with blue eyes as clear as the sky during a hot summer’s day stopped him from free falling, literally. In one fell swoop, the stranger had not only saved his life but also calmed the wildfire threatening to burn everything in its wake.

There was something about Castiel that made Dean want to stop running but also hid something darker — something Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on. And between soft, pillowy lips and feather-like fingerprints, Cas could very well shatter Dean’s world and maybe help save the whole world in return.

While You Were Sleeping

Summary:  A Destiel version of While You Were Sleeping! Castiel is alone and floundering. He has a crush on one of the passengers who passes through his subway station every morning. When the man gets pushed onto the tracks, Cas saves him. But when they get to the hospital there's a mix up and Cas finds himself engaged to a complete stranger. Enter, the rest of the family, including big brother Dean. How will Cas navigate the relationship with his supposed future in-laws? What will he do when Sam finally wakes up? And why can't he stop thinking about Dean?

Purgatory, director's cut

Summary: this doesn’t have a summary but it is dean and cas in purgatory and it’s soooo cool! I promise it’s amazing and worth the read!

Basic Lessons in First Aid, Magical or Otherwise

Summary: Most people probably wouldn’t take the naked, heavily wounded man they found in an alley home with them. Most people probably wouldn’t also offer that man a place to stay and become his best friend after realizing he’s suffering from an intense case of post-traumatic retrograde amnesia. Most people probably wouldn’t then risk almost everything they know to save said man, and maybe save the world in the process.

But then again, Dean Winchester, RN (with a specialty in supernatural care), has never been like most people. He may not have a magical bone in his body, unlike his brother Sam, but he’ll do whatever it takes to help. Even if Castiel has questionable opinions about Star Trek.

What Greater Gift

Summary: Story idea: The most wanted woman in town has announced that she’ll only marry the one who can open her front door with the key around her cat’s neck. Many men try to hunt the cat down, chase and trap it, but to no avail, the cat is simply too quick, smart and clever, and always finds a way to evade and avoid them. You are the first one to figure out the obvious: Do not chase the cat. The cat is befriendable. Get the cat to trust you, to genuinely enjoy your company, and you can hang out with the cat. You may eventually be allowed to touch the cat. The cat will freely let you take the key.

From a prompt found on Tumblr. Saw this and I couldn't resist a Destiel AU, and I've been wanting to write Witch!Cas for ages.

I know when you go down all your darkest roads

Summary: Dean and Castiel go undercover as a couple going through therapy, in order to catch a monster that specifically targets couples dealing with issues, feeding on their distress, anger, and pain.

They end up going through a lot more than a case, unfolding feelings left untold for so long, discovering parts of each other they never intended to uncover.

But will the feelings raging inside them be enough to bring their walls down?

A Fish Out of Water

Summary: To tie up the loose ends of a hunt, Dean is forced to go undercover and visit Brock Pleasure Ranch, a horrifying establishment that markets its inhabitants to people with ‘monstrous’ tastes.

It should have been a simple thing, to persuade a mer to give him a few scales for a spell. All part of the usual Winchester byline: saving people, hunting things.

But Castiel is far less of a ‘thing’ than Dean expected. He might not be human, but he’s definitely a person. And that means he needs saving, too.

The Way to a Man’s Heart is Through Chlamydia

Summary: Dean doesn't expect to see his one night stand again, but then again he also doesn't expect to find out he has an STD. Sometimes life is hilarious like that.

Just as lost as I

Summary: Dean's been in love with Castiel for centuries. He keeps it buried, never letting himself get too close, but when Castiel goes missing he doesn't hesitate. He's going to find him if it’s the last thing he ever does.

Love Bites

Summary: Cas Novak graduated with a 4.0 in Mathematics, but not even Naomi Novak’s money could help him at job interviews. Anxious and dissatisfied with life, at nearly thirty he’s still washing dishes in the back of his best friend Hannah’s café.Until one night when his cat drags an injured bat into his apartment.

Dean may be a vampire, but he’s not an asshole (well, not much.) He feels like he owes the awkward guy for rescuing him from the cat’s clutches, so he sets about changing Cas's life.

A silly story about families who aren’t quite what they seem, fake boyfriends, and falling in love with someone who’s never, technically, met you.

The Bad Cop, Worse Cop Adventures of Freckles and Feathers

Summary: Miami. A place with beaches, babes, palm trees, and a growing drug-fueled crime organization. To help combat the drugs littering the streets, Captain Singer puts together a Tactical Narcotics Team composed of Miami's two finest and fearless officers. Charming casanova Dean Winchester has fought tooth and nail, rising through the ranks for this position. Trench coat toting Castiel Novak knows more hand-to-hand combative techniques than he does people skills. Between Dean's big mouth and Castiel's take-no-shit attitude, their introductory meeting ends on a less than stellar note and a couple of hard to shake nicknames.

After six months of partnership, the nicknames have stuck and so has the sexual tension. When a murder in the middle of the night launches their biggest lead on a cleverly evasive drug lord, Dean is shocked to find Sam at the center of it. Sam comes clean with his involvement and Charlie, their witness, seeks revenge against the man responsible for killing her friend. As the stakes rise higher so do Dean’s feelings putting everything in jeopardy. Is a cop with everything to prove, a cop with everything to lose, one computer hacker witness, and a damn good ADA enough to save the day?

The Care and Feeding of Castiel

Summary: Dean’s quiet time in the bunker is interrupted by some stranger-than-usual behavior from his angel. Oh, and feathers...there are a lot of those, too.

First Gentleman Wanted

Summary:  President of the United States Castiel Novak is popular, charismatic, and knee-deep in campaigning for a second term. He’d be the ideal candidate if it weren’t for the fact that he hasn’t dated once while in political office. With his opponent’s relentless PR team calling him incapable of emotional commitment, Castiel’s staff decides to remedy the situation by finding their boss a fake, picture-perfect boyfriend. And when Dean Winchester enters the scene, he and Cas become America’s new favorite couple, except they’ve got a whole lot of history between them and complicated feelings to resolve.

The Graveyard Shift

Summary: Dean’s favourite coffee shop, The Graveyard Shift, is only open after the sun goes down. Which is perfect for him, because that’s exactly when he craves coffee the most while doing the overnight at the fire hall. The coffee shop’s owner is pretty perfect too, but it’s kind of a bummer that Dean never gets to see Cas during the day. In a world where the supernatural live more or less in peace with the rest of humanity, it’s a little impolite to ask Cas just what he really is - or what his dark past entails.

The Path of Fireflies

Summary: After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years.

The Five People You Meet in Heaven

Summary: Heaven is white.Well. Isn’t that fucking stereotypical.-Dean isn’t really sure how he got here. Or even why he’s here. And hell, for all the times the Winchesters have died, he thinks he ought to know the drill by now. But what he doesn’t know is when most folks go, they find something different.

There’s a system God put in place. That when you’re gone (for good), there are a couple things you gotta do first. There are five people waiting for you.

They are the five people you meet in heaven.

Doing this made me realize I need to read more longer fics. I usually just read the short ficlets on tumblr but I need to broaden my horizon and read more. But yes! These are the AU’s currently in my bookmarks. Hope you find one to enjoy :)

[asterekmess]

(I was gonna save this for tomorrow, but FUCK IT) Eyyy, still being salty over here. Pls block the tag ‘rant’ if you don’t wanna see anymore of these. Or maybe ‘anti-scott mccall’ though, tbh, I’m not sure how much fun it would be to follow me if you aren’t anti-scott mccall. I’m pretty vocal abt disliking him.

ANYWAY.

I wanna talk about the concept of Derek being a ‘creeper’ because of all his wandering around the lacrosse field, at lydia’s party, etc. And by talk about, I mean ramble about incoherently. By which I mean, please know that I’m not trying to insult or fight anybody who makes this joke or uses this concept in fic or whatever. I’m just ranting bc I love this boy and his trauma makes me sad.

ANYWAY. (This is insanely long, so I’m adding a “Read More”)

I just have a lot of feelings about people seeing Derek as a stalker/creeper because he keeps showing up at lacrosse practice and in Scott & Stiles’ rooms, etc. It gets mentioned in loads of fics (I see a lot of “Creeperwolf” which I think is supposed to be an endearment?) (And there’s lots of fics that talk about how ‘you used to be/are really creepy, following us around’ Again, not judging) (Dude it’s even a whole tag on AO3 ‘Creeper Derek Hale’) and it’s joked about a lot in fandom (the vine with the ‘every step you take’ song and the swans on the building comes to mind). I see it a lot, and dude, it hurts me.

Let’s look at Derek’s current mental state and what he’s been dealing with, going all the way back to Paige. (Or, tbh, his birth) Derek is a werewolf. He was born a werewolf, to a family of werewolves. He grew up within the supernatural world, in a whole different culture to humans (honestly, my fury at the lack of werewolf culture/history/worldbuilding is worthy of its own post. Let me know if by some ungodly chance, you actually wanna hear my thoughts on it.) and presumably the number one rule in all of werewolfdom is “Keep the Secret.” Now, Derek’s fuckin’ 14/15 (I put his birthday on Christmas, like most of fandom, and if his house burned down when he was 16, in the spring, and he was dating Kate for a while before, he would’ve dated her when he was 15, and we don’t know how long there was between paige and kate, but let’s give him a summer of mourning. So. 14ish with paige) and he starts dating this human. He’s kinda shit at keeping the secret, implying that either he’s only dated werewolves before, or she’s his first girlfriend ever (also implying that maybe some of the people on his basketball team are werewolves, bc they don’t seem to notice his weird way of talking [pack members maybe? fuck, my heart]) and he’s maybe not as careful as he should be. (More implications arise, and we begin to build our own history. If Derek was never taught not to say dumb shit like ‘i caught a scent’ then was he even in public school before freshman year? Were the Hales all homeschooled before high school to help keep the secret? How soon do wolfy abilites arise? Do they hit with puberty? Fuck, I digress.) He says some dumb shit, and Paige gets suspicious. Of course, he doesn’t know that, and he has some kind of meltdown about her eventually finding out his secret. We hear from Peter (who’s villainized, so we’re not supposed to necessarily believe what he says, but what we see in the flashback doesn’t make a huge amount of sense either so *shrug*) that he enlists Ennis to bite Paige, believing that if she is bitten she won’t spill the secret and she’ll be more inclined to accept that Derek is a werewolf. Now, she fucking dies. Paige dies in Derek’s arms because of this, and he finds out at the last second that she already knew the secret. He feels guilty enough abt getting her killed but now he’s got a whole new batch of guilt from finding out that apparently he’s so bad at keeping the secret of his ENTIRE SPECIES that she found out he was a werewolf. She could’ve exposed them all at any time. He had to be terrified. Next, he’s 15/16 and he meets a gorgeous older woman who presumably showers him in affection, and all the horrors that go with that whole situation (I don’t wanna go into detail, because obviously). But again, whether Derek tells her himself or she just knew or she finds out, whatever it is, Kate knows Derek and his family are werewolves. AND SHE KILLS THEM ALL. Derek has no clue what the fuck is going on. All he knows is he is the only link between Kate and his family, which must mean that it’s his fault she knows about them. Once again, he’s revealed the Big Secret and people Died. He and Laura bolt to NY for six years, where presumably they live in hiding thinking the Argents are coming after them to finish off the Hales. Then Laura gets sent a funky letter and goes back to Beacon Hills. Now, we have a lil more confusion (i’ve got a whole buttload of issues with the timeline, but let’s not get into that now) because he says he came looking for Laura, but later he mentions that he knew she was in Beacon Hills and was searching for...whoever burnt down their house...that whole plotline confuses the shit out of me (derek knew kate did it. he blamed All the argents, but he knew kate was involved. So why was Laura looking for the pendant. and if he didn’t tell her then why was he looking for the pendant?? And what did the pendant have to do with the deer and the spiral?? Halp.) but whatever. He shows up and finds his sister dead, the hunters arrive in town the next day, and suddenly there’s an angry alpha Attacking Humans.

We’re finally in the present. Derek has lost what little family he had left, except for a catatonic uncle. He already has two instances in his past where the worry of keeping werewolves a secret has caused deaths. And now there’s this teenager. No, actually, two teenagers. One who was bitten, and one who shouts out “You’re a werewolf!” in the middle of the preserve, instantly figuring out a centuries-old supernatural secret. Derek is fucking terrified, and things are only getting worse. This kid who got bitten? Derek follows him to see if he’s really a wolf, to find out if he knows what’s happening to him, if he believes the other teen. He finds the kid JUMPING OVER PEOPLE’S HEADS in broad daylight in front of everyone. Derek might’ve had a couple verbal giveaways but this is just ridiculous. Then, even better, the kid goes on a date on the FULL MOON with THE YOUNGEST ARGENT. There’s about a billion reasons to follow Scott to the party. It’s a FULL MOON, for one. HE’S WITH AN ARGENT for another. And of course he can’t just walk into the party. He’s fucking 22 for fuck’s sake. This is a high school party. He’d get arrested. And of course he doesn’t introduce himself to Scott beforehand. He has no way of knowing if this kid is on the Alpha’s side. He’s the Alpha’s Beta, it would make perfect sense for him to be obeying the Alpha. OR since he’s with the Argent, maybe he’s working with them. Maybe he’s a plant of some kind. a hunter pet. Laura was used as bait to catch Derek, why not Scott too? But he sees quickly that Allison has no clue what’s going on, at least with Scott, and he takes her home and steals her jacket to lure Scott into the Preserve where he can’t hurt anyone. Then, when he sees Scott get chased by the hunters, with no Alpha coming running to protect him, he decides “Alright, guess this kid’s my ally. Gotta protect him.” Yeah. He says some weird shit. But the evidence points to Derek not knowing much about bitten wolves. He tells Scott that he doesn’t know how to train a bitten wolf, but he does know how to help Scott recover memories (the memory loss appears to only happen in the early days of shifting, which lends more credibility to the possibility that born wolves don’t start shifting properly until later in life [puberty being the most likely milestone] and he therefore has experience with that, but not with the kind of control Scott needs, that he’s known his whole life). Born a werewolf, he’s never considered the bite anything other than a gift. He also just lost his entire family, so sue him for trying to find some kind of connection between them. (It honestly makes total sense for him to use the term ‘brothers’ bc he KNOWs Scott won’t understand the concept of ‘pack’ yet) So, now that’s decided to help Scott, to protect him, he goes back to the school. SURELY now that Scott knows what he is and how dangerous he is when stressed, he’ll reign himself in during lacrosse, or even just back out of it altogether. There are lives at stake here, be them human, or if Scott exposes the secret, werewolves. SURELY this kid wouldn’t put everyone in danger over a fucking game. But no. Not only does he keep flaunting his abilities, but he SHIFTS ON THE FIELD. If Stiles hadn’t Dragged Scott out of there, the entire supernatural world would be EXPOSED by this ONE KID. Derek passed Terrified about a hundred miles back. He’s gotta be fucking out of his mind with fear. I don’t blame him even a little for threatening Scott. If Scott’s not gonna do the right thing on his own, then threatening him is worth it if people don’t DIE. Then, bc Scott’s a pissy baby and goes to shout at him and be a fuckwad, and Stiles is nosey and neither of them have boundaries (I love Stiles, but fucking seriously, digging up a grave?) Derek gets ARRESTED. He pleads with this lanky teen who is brave enough to climb into the cruiser with a WEREWOLF. Who’s FRiends with a Werewolf. Who figured it out so quickly. He pleads with him to understand how dangerous this is, to stop his friend. And Stiles looks like he’s gonna, but Scott bolts bc of the wolfsbane (Which...listen if I’m being really salty, a deep bitter part of me genuinely wonders if he was that freaked out, or if he overheard Derek beg Stiles not to let Scott play, and Scott ran away from Stiles so he wouldn’t get told no, bc he wanted to play.) and by the time Stiles finds him he’s already dressed for the game. And DEREK WAS RIGHT. Scott DID lose control. He DID shift on the field. At LEAST one human saw him shift, and the coach for the other team knew something was up too. He DID expose them, and he did it further bc Jackson is suspicious now. Now, I’ve reblogged a gifset of it before, the moment when Derek shows up at the lacrosse field and finds Jackson standing in it after Scott’s run off, staring at a glove with a claw hole in it. He is watching his worst nightmare come true. Scott has exposed them and Jackson is going to figure out werewolves, just like Stiles did. He knows right that instant that people are going to die. I’ll reiterate what I said in the tags on that gifset. It’s extremely likely that Derek bit Jackson out of self-preservation. Jackson had been threatening to tell the hunters and the entire world if he didn’t get what he wanted. The safest thing to do was give Jackson the bite so that at least he would be putting himself in danger too if he exposed werewolves. He forced Jackson to have to keep the secret for himself because he knew Jackson wouldn’t do it for anyone else. (And he knew Jackson had some self-preservation, compared to Scott, and wouldn’t want to expose himself.)

Listen, I just. I just get so sad watching Derek sneaking into people’s rooms and standing on the edge of the field and showing up in the locker rooms. He’s trying to help. He’s trying to protect. He wants to be there in case Scott does something stupid (which he does, again and Again) to protect him, even after Scott REFUSED to help him stop a SERIAL KILLER because there wasn’t anything in it for him. Even after Scott fucking blackmails him by leaving him hanging on a grate with wires plugged into his side and his abuser on their way back to hurt him, he still helps him protect Allison (who watched him be tortured and did nothing. [He still has the capacity to acknowledge that it’s not her fault. That she couldn’t save him. He doesn’t blame her for it and he certainly doesn’t want her to die.]) He wants to keep his Betas safe. He stands in the parking lot waiting for them to test Lydia because he doesn’t want them to have to go through with killing her alone (and he only tries to kill her because she DOESN’T pass the test [although I admit it’s a dumb test] and because the kanima is KILLING people. More people have died and I don’t know how the fuck Derek manages to keep standing, let alone having such capacity for empathy and optimism and sarcasm after everything he’s dealt with. He’s constantly being hunted by hunters or humans, or fuck even Scott himself, since every time Scott gets upset he blames Derek for everything (I’m still fucking disgusted that he turned up at Derek’s place and accused him of murdering his own sister.) And STILL he shows up. No matter how many times he’s shoved away and ignored and yelled at. He shows up and he stands on the fringes and he waits for the chance to help.

And what’s creepy about that?

[lady-aescwyn]

Strange, Tender Things

Steve Harrington x fem!OC One Shot

Author’s note:  I was inspired by a prompt I found while perusing the Stanger Things fics tags.  This was originally intended to be a StevexReader fic, but I decided to give the protag a name.  It’s still pretty self-inserty and I encourage you to overwrite her name in your mind with your own if it pleases you.  My writing skills are rather rusty, but please enjoy.

Premise: Steve Harrington and his girlfriend are having a stupid fight, which is brought to an abrupt end.  Concern and gentleness ensues.

***

When it was over, neither of them would remember how it started in the first place.  It had started out as simple, easy conversation.  He hadn’t quite meant the words in the way they’d come out.  She’d had more venom in her tone than she’d intended. They were both little more than teenagers.  Though they were both whole in body, they were both traumatized by a series of recent events in Hawkins, Indiana.

Now, here they stood.  

In Joyce Byers’ small kitchen.  

Fighting.

The house was empty, save for the two of them; Joyce at work, the younger kids out under Jonathan and Nancy’s watchful eyes, reunited for the first time in months.  But here at the house, Steve Harrington’s hands were planted on the top of the kitchen table, his upper body bent forward as he traded barbs with Dawn.  For her part, Dawn was brandishing a dirty glass in one hand as if it were a weapon and giving as good as she got, her lips curled back in an almost feral snarl.  Her time as a street kid coming back full force, manifesting as a bitter, angry fight to make her point.

The small, cheap table creaked with the force of Steve’s anger, though his voice was low, “We can’t keep living in what happened back in Hawkins.  I’m not saying forget it, but we have to move forward.” His face was stony, eyebrows furrowed.

“It’s not over!  It will never be over, Steve!”  The empty glass swinging through the air between them like a saber.  Dawn’s voice was strained with manic desperation, “Hopper is alive.  El saw him! This can’t be over until we bring. Him.  Home.”  As if to punctuate her point, she brought the glass to a stop with a final thunk on the table.  

Unfortunately, that finality was too much for the old cup.

The glass shattered.

There was a beat of silence as they both took a moment to register the cracking sound of glass grinding against itself.

“Fuck!”  Dawn swore, fussing over the remains of the glass.  She began gathering the bits, heedless of the blood that was beginning to seep from between her fingers.

Steve was around the table like lightning, “Stop.  Hey-“

“I broke Joyce’s glass.”  Blood sprinkled the tabletop amidst the shards.

“It’s ok.  Just stop.” His voice was soft, a far cry from the intensity and clenched teeth of only moments ago.

“I need to clean this u-“

“We will clean it up.  After we clean you up.”

Dawn finally deflated, all of her fight burning off like fog on a summer morning.  

She let Steve take her arm and guide her to the kitchen sink. The air was still, humming with the sound of the refrigerator nearby and their breathing in unison as their anger ebbed away.  The quiet was punctuated only by the clink of bloody glass shards hitting the sink, each accompanied by a sharp intake of breath from Dawn as she winced.

As Steve turned on the water to clean the wound, Dawn stopped him, “Hold on, there’s still a piece in there.”  

She bent forward, trying to see in the dim light from the dingy bulb over the sink.  Her lip was clenched between her teeth as she dug into the wound with her other hand. Despite the surety of her voice and action, her breath was hitched with pain as she coaxed the glass from her hand. In his concern, Steve hadn’t realized that his hand had found its place on her lower back, steadying her.

Finally, that last piece of glass fell from her fingers and they both released the breath they’d been holding.  She gently flexed her hand and then nodded, sure that was the last of it.

He said, “Let me.”

And she did, her stance relaxing as she stood aside to let him wash the blood from her hands.

It was a deep wound, long and jagged across her palm and all the way to the bone at the base of her thumb.  If it had been anyone else, it would have necessitated a trip to the ER.

“I have a healing factor, you know.”  The words were without bite, her attempt at humor cutting the silence.  He knew very well her ability to knit her wounds together and if pushed, to channel that ability to heal others… at an exponentially greater cost to herself.  

She had used it to save his life only months ago.

“I know.”  His reply was simple, but one corner of his mouth hinted at a smile before his brows furrowed again.  “But I- I don’t like to see you hurt.”

The bleeding had stopped.  

No longer over the sink, he still held her injured hand cradled in both of his.  Dawn didn’t move, searching his face as he watched her flesh knit together.  The rumble of the furnace kicking on joined the sound of the refrigerator.  His warm thumb travelled down the skin of her wrist until it met the number 9 tattooed there.

Leaning closer to him, her voice shook, “I’m sorry-“

He shook his head.

She continued, “I know it’s not healthy to dwell so much-“

“I’m sorry too.  If there’s any chance Hopper’s alive, we have to find him.”  There wasn’t much to go on.  Just El’s dream of a ‘cold place.’  It could be grief, or El could be tapping in with her powers, none of them were sure.  They’d had no more success when they’d tried white noise or another makeshift sensory deprivation tank.

The last bit of tension, melted from Dawn’s body, “It doesn’t do him or us any good to fight.  I’m sorry.”  She reinforced her apology.

Steve’s eyes hadn’t left her wrist.

Moments passed in silence as motes of dust drifted lazily through the yellowed, old home.  Still, his fingers ran tenderly along the sides of her wrist.

The cut was nearly closed now; just a jagged, angry red line. Even the scar would soon fade. This was far from the worst injury she’d ever had and they both knew it.  In the buzzing still of the small kitchen, Steve seemed lost in the memory of before.  

With the fingers of her injured hand, Dawn brushed his forearm. “Hey.  Look at me.”

Steve took a deep breath, but his eyes and hands didn’t leave her arm.

After a moment, he spoke, “You told me once that Hawkins Lab created you.”  There was a pause.  When she didn’t interrupt, he continued, “You are so much more than that.  So much more than them.  You took what those assholes did to you and you did amazing things with it. And you’re gonna do even more.”  

The conviction in his voice was searing and Dawn wasn’t prepared for him to cut right to the core of her worries.  

When his eyes finally met hers, he didn’t expect her to look so stricken. Dawn’s eyes welled with tears as all of the emotion came to a head and spilled over. The uninjured hand went to her mouth, but once the tears had started, they couldn’t really be stifled and she stumbled forward into his arms.

“I’m sorry, I-“  Steve’s voice was mildly panicked; he hadn’t meant to make her cry.  As she fell forward, he held her, which was all she really needed.

These weren’t bad tears; they were a too long delayed emotional release and they would pass almost as quickly as they had come.  However, in that moment her shoulders shook with intense sobs as she clung to him.  And he held her as the waves crashed over them.  Damp fingers curled into the back of her shirt as his grip tightened and he buried his nose into the top of her head.  Steve’s own vision was blurred with tears.  This was the first time they had seen each other since Dawn moved away from Hawkins with El and the Byers’ and they’d almost ruined it with the stupidest fight.

Eventually, the sobs passed and once again the buzz of the kitchen appliances reigned in the soft atmosphere.  But the couple didn’t part.  They stood like that for a while, locked in each other’s arms, rocking gently side to side.  Finding comfort in each other again.

After a while, Dawn’s rough voice came from where her face was buried between his neck and shoulder, “M,sorry.”

“Don’t be.”  His voice returned from where he was still buried in her hair.

Dawn took a deep, cleansing breath and finally brought her head up, looking over his shoulder at the glass shards still on the table, “I have to clean up.”  But she made no move to leave his arms.

Steve didn’t move either, “I’ll help.”  

He was talking about more than the broken glass.

“Thank you.”  her ‘I love you’ wasn’t verbalized, but neither did it go unsaid as she began to pull away with a soft squeeze to his arm.

Before they fully parted, he caught her with a gentle hand at the back of the neck and pressed a kiss to her forehead.  Their breath mingled for a moment between them as they drew away.  It was his own silent, ‘I love you too.’

With that, they stepped apart. Steve turned to the sink and Dawn to the table and together they worked to clean up the mess.  Quick work was made of the blood and glass.  Words were unneeded as they worked around each other and in unison, the same as they had done before in Hawkins; though this was nothing like those battles with the beasts of the Upside Down.  It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last time they moved as one.

As the worn dish towel was at last hung back over the handle on the oven door, Steve caught her hand and began to pull her from the room. “I think everyone else has the right idea, let’s get out of here.”  His usual, charming smile dawning on his face like the rising sun.

That smile was infectious and Dawn couldn’t stop from meeting it with one of her own, “You know, I could show you our new mall up here.”

The response was swift and over dramatic, “Oh god no!  No more malls!”

Laughter followed the two of them through the home like light hitting a suncatcher and scattering flashes of rainbow across the yellowed wallpaper.  For now, all was well.

[queenofeden]

my contributions to @lovelikeyoursfest for the first prompt, “the start of something new”. these are technically both excerpts from longer in-progress fics featuring my apprentice, laurel, but they happened to fit the theme so well i thought at least part of them deserved to see the light of day. consider this a teaser for my future works if u find urself interested~

chronologically, nadia comes first, julian can be found under the cut

Nadia & Laurel

January, 5 years ago

The whole of Vesuvia thrums with the energy of the masquerade, like one large body set to motion at last after a long winter. The lights, the reeling crowds, they pulse and pump as they make their way along the arterial canals, upwards, always upwards, to the highest reach of the city -- to the beating heart of it all -- the palace. Laurel catches Asra’s hand in her own, dragging him along, or he her, or perhaps they simply get swept away together by the throng, laughter bubbling on her lips for what feels like the first time in months.

Try as one might, it is easy to get separated once the party truly takes hold of the palace. The hoi polloi of Vesuvia clamor towards the offered food and drink, while the elite swan about and entertain themselves with chatter and gossip. It is not with intent that she loses track of Asra somewhere past the room full of enchanted, talking statuary. One moment he is there, and the next he is not, the space he once occupied at her side now taken up by three bustling women in matching silver gowns and masks done up like swans, all vying for entry into the room. It matters little to Laurel. Asra will find her eventually, when he cares to be found himself. He always does, somehow, whether she cares for him to or not.

There is little intent to where she wanders, keen to let herself be drawn wherever the whims of the party may take her. She knows there is something surrounding her -- a pall of grief, though it seems too melodramatic a sentiment. It is a palpable, invisible thing about her nonetheless. People walk around her, unsure of why, rowdy drunkards don't dare to jostle or bump her. Her own personal never-mind-me spell, cast without intent simply by virtue of existing. Their disinterest rankles, but she shoves the ill-feeling down deep. It's not them she's here for, anyway. A tall glass of fizzing wine makes its way into her hand, plucked deftly from a passing servant’s platter, and she carries it along in her gloved hand, sipping occasionally, leaving a smear of bright red along the rim of the glass from her painted lips.

The heavy press of the party lessens as she finds herself on the veranda, the roar in her ears fading, carried away on the cool evening breeze. It chills her overheated skin, bare beneath only a few thin layers of chiffon and satin, and she relishes the prickle of gooseflesh it leaves in its wake like a kiss. She takes her glass and drains the last of the golden wine too quickly, and trades it for another -- something pink and dangerously sugared this time. This too she finishes in a few deep gulps, setting the empty glass back onto the bemused servant's tray and taking another before they have time to even move away. Alone, save for the alcohol that burns in her too empty stomach, she wanders the less crowded gardens, full of others who have little interest in being found. She hums along to a familiar tune as she passes through a faint cloud of sound, drifting over the tops of the immaculately trimmed hedge walls.

She feels sweet with wine and song, the lightest she has felt all year. Here, the sounds and smells, the anonymous, whirling multitude of bodies-- they keep out what Laurel would rather forget. Here there is no responsibility, no pitying glances from familiar patrons, none of Asra's well-intentioned saccharine condolences. No one knows her here, not behind the gilt painted mask. She is hardly herself, if she wants not to be, and oh how desperately she craves the chance to not be herself, if only for just a little while. That is the true magic of the Count’s masquerade, something far more powerful than what she could throw together in a mortar at home and call such. She is only the swell of the music. It lifts her slippered feet, carrying her in some semblance of dance as she walks the cobbled path, eyes closed in what would feel almost like joy, if she could remember the feeling.

There is no one on the path with her, no one to see her dizzy, stumbling attempt at a coranto, so when her body meets something else -- someone else, the slide of a silk gown against her bare arms -- her eyes snap open, and she stumbles backward with an embarrassed curse.

"Shit! Sorry, so sorry."

Laurel lifts her gaze, expecting to see the heated glare of whomever she'd been unlucky enough to plow into. What she does not expect is the countess -- The Countess -- blinking back at her with equal amounts of surprise. 

With a choked sort of squeak, Laurel drops immediately into her best, lowest curtsy, knees creaking and head bowed so low her mask threatens to slip straight off her nose.

"O-oh, My Lady Countess, forgive me! Please forgive me!"

Her heart hammers in her chest. The Countess! Of all people to drunkenly stumble into! The count would likely have her head for daring lay a hand, however accidental, on his beloved wife. Or perhaps the countess herself would ask him to cut off her wicked, clumsy feet instead as a mercy. 

Less likely was the countess's voice -- rich and deep and rolling over her like sweet molasses -- saying softly, "It’s quite alright. Please stand."

Laurel blinks, straightening her spine in fractions, giving ample time should the countess deign to change her mind and command her to sprawl, prostrate in the dirt, at her feet instead. She doesn't. Eventually, Laurel is able to lift her chin and look the -- only slightly -- taller woman in the eye for the first time.

She had known the countess was beautiful, much in the way that people knew the sky was blue, the grass grew green, and the south was a frigid waste, an immutable fact. People spoke often of her features in the market, lauding the beauty of her violet hair, her striking, crimson eyes, her high, royal brow. More so, she knew it to be true by the simple truth that vain Count Lucio would never settle for less. What few memories she has -- a parade, swirling streamers in the air; the profile of a distant woman, nestled like an idol on a float of white roses and purple hyacinth -- are clouded by time and distance. She had pieced her together that first year, vague impressions and gossip and distant glances in the town square where she deigned to appear. Vesuvia's very own princess had crossed her mind very little after that.

This close, close enough to smell her sweet jasmine of her perfume, to count the faint few freckles on her bare shoulders, Countess Nadia is more lovely than Laurel could have ever imagined.

Laurel's gaping leaves her uncharacteristically silent, but the countess seems to recover first. Likely she's used to filling stunned silence.

"How is that you found me here?" she asks, a faint tinge of pink across her nose, though whether it is from embarrassment or anger Laurel cannot gauge.

Laurel glances around, taking in the tall topiaries that surround them. “I-- where is here, exactly?”

Julian & Laurel

Late September, 5 years ago

1.

The first time she arrives at his clinic, Julian doesn’t yet know that he should turn the woman he would come to know as Laurel Lobban away. She comes to his clinic like most regular patients, in a hurried flurry of skirts, eyes bright — not red, thankfully, the sclera a clear, healthy white with irises of sky blue — sharp with an edge of desperation. Perhaps a family member was sick, a spouse, or sister. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had dragged him from his clinic in the misty, early hours of pre-dawn with their pleas.

He lets the woman in — his first mistake — and leads her to the small table in the corner where he offers her a perfunctory cup of poorly brewed coffee or tea, though she doesn’t look to be in any particular need of it. There is a tension to her body, ratcheted tight as a halyard line. If plucked she might sing, high and sweet like the E string of his vielle, but that could also be his third cup of coffee before sunrise talking. From over her nose and mouth, she pulls down her paisley patterned scarf to reveal full but drawn lips, chewed raw and near bleeding. She stretches and bunches the fabric in her hands, twisting it into knots.

“You’re the doctor, then, yes?” she asks, squinting up at him. “Doctor Devorak? The one everyone talks about?”

A grin, black and bitter as the lingering taste of coffee in his throat, spreads his lips thin at that. “Well, now, that depends. What do the people say?”

The woman watches him, eyes canny as a hawk, flitting between his features, sizing him up. “They say you help people, that you don’t overcharge like the hacks in the heart district do.” She sniffs with derision then, nose crinkling up, though whether at the thought of his colleagues uptown or the smell of something in the room, he cannot tell. Astringent probably, he had just cleaned his tools for the day. Often he forgets how strong the smell can be to those far less nose blind than he. She coughs delicately, like she’s trying to suppress a gag. “They say you’re a good man.”

Ah, well, hm. Julian can’t say he’s heard that one before. ‘Foul, beaked harbinger of misery’ yes, ‘heartless bastard’ sure, ‘utter fool’ sometimes, but good man? Compliments were not something many of his patients or their families had on their minds once he was around. Her words settle like a heavy stone in his near empty stomach. This close, with her looking at him just so, her eyes are less so the color of summer. Darker, near navy, paling into a grey to match his own with a flash of almost-barely-there yellow at the center, like a brewing sky at sea -- one set to storm and tear him to pieces any moment, the look of them setting his sailor’s intuition on edge. He ignores them, words and eyes both. 

“And are you in need of my help then?” he asks, stepping away to rifle through his curio cabinet, stuffed to bursting with jars of tinctures and salves. “You don’t look beplagued, perhaps some other malady? Allergies? A fungus?”

A loud, nearly surprised, scoff. “I don’t have a fungus,” she asserts with umbrage.

He feels his cheeks heat, grateful that his head is buried in the cabinet and not on view of her no doubt scrutinizing gaze. “Of course not, of course not, so sorry. I didn’t intend any offense miss-- ah, I don’t believe I got your name?”

“Laurel, Laurel Lobban.”

She’s right behind him again. He jumps, knocking the shelves with a wayward elbow as he turns. Her hand is held out to shake, and he takes it with mild surprise. Her grip is firm, no nonsense, but she squeezes a little too hard just before she lets go in a way that lets him know how intentional, how controlled those reads he took of her were. He would see nothing of her that she didn’t want him to, that much he could tell. 

“Laurel Lobban,” he repeats, rolling the matching consonants on his tongue. “Laurel, laurus nobilis, lauraceae, like the plant,” he rambles, finishing rather dumbly. She snorts.

“Yes... like the plant. Are you all right, doctor?”

Was he all right? Maybe that third coffee had been a bad idea. “Fine, fine. Though I would be more fine if I knew what I could help you with, Miss Lobban. Hard to diagnose if I don’t know what ails you.”

“I don’t — ” she sighs, frustration warring across her features. “I’m not sick. I’m not here for some tincture. I — I want to work with you.”

He laughs. It was the wrong thing to do, by the telling darkening of her expression, the subtle shift in her jaw as she clearly clenches her teeth. He can’t help it though. It trails off, nervously, his stance shifting from one leg to the other. Whatever you do next, proceed with caution, Ilya.

“Work? Work here?” Nailed it.

“Do you work elsewhere?”

“I — no. This is it,” he replies, gesturing weakly at the single, cramped room, with it’s tiny storage closet and its rickety loft where he keeps his private office which is little more than a second closet. Why would anyone want to work here? With him?

“Then yes, here. With you.”

That he didn’t like.

“And do you ah — do you have any medical expertise then?”

She frowns. There’s a knot of lines between her brows that would be cute, almost endearing, in any other situation than this. Her cheeks flush pink. “Well, no. I mean I’ve read a few books, but… I had hoped you would take me on as an apprentice.”

His mouth falls open, spluttering. He weaves around her so that he’s no longer pinned, like a bug to a board, between her expectant gaze and the cabinet. “Unfortunately Miss Lobban, I’m not equipped to take on apprentices at this time. You see, I’m — well, the fact of the matter is — ”

Stop it. Stop talking.

“There are plenty of other doctors who would take you on, I’m certain.” Who? It doesn’t matter. Doctors who aren’t me. Why would anyone want to learn from a failure who couldn’t even cure his patients, anyway? What could he possibly have to offer an apprentice?

“I don’t want those doctors. They say you’re the best in the city, I want to work with the best.”

The best. Julian bites back another fit of laughter. Grinning — baring his teeth really — instead. “Now now, flattery won’t change my mind.”

She’s followed him again, standing as close behind him as she dares while he flits about the room, restless with nervous energy.

“If I was flattering you, doctor, you would know.”

Had he been this insistent when he’d come to Nazali the first time? Almost certainly, if the stories he’d heard oft repeated are true. How had they put up with him, and not thrown him out on his ear? The simple answer is that they are a much better doctor, a better person, than he. Nazali had discovered the plague, had made the greatest strides in its classification, its treatment, yet. And what had he done with their teachings? Squandered it all. Sat by and watched as patient after patient came to him for help, had plied them with false comforts, and in the end had done nothing, save for ease them into their inevitable deaths. He should tell her that. Should count out his many failures for her like he does for himself every night in place of sheep. Certainly that would frighten her away.

What he says instead is this: “Have you ever watched someone die?”

Her mouth goes slack, obviously taken aback by his question. For a moment he sees the fear flash across her eyes, but quick as it came it's replaced by something else. Something harder. She licks her lips and smiles, lips wobbling at the edges. "Do you ask all the girls that, or am I just special?"

He keeps his gaze hard, until the slight upturn of her lips collapses into a frown.

“Surely that can’t be a prerequisite for the job.”

“On the contrary,” Julian replies, nerves solidifying. “Humor me.”

Laurel’s eyes slide sideways. “No,” she says carefully, chewing over her words. “Though death and I are no strangers.”

Julian takes a deep breath, a brief flare of pain in his chest for having been the cause of the dark shadows that crossed over her features at that admission. He rakes a hand through his curls, shoving them away from his face, where they stay for a moment, before flopping back into his eyes. 

“So you have lost someone?” he asks, though it is less question and more statement of fact.

Her gaze flicks back to him, sharp and pointed as the tip of a blade. “Hasn’t everyone in Vesuvia by now?” she asks him cooly. 

Julian at least has the grace to look chagrined, feeling the heat of one of his telltale flushes burning under his collar. “I suppose you have a point there.”

“I don’t relish the thought of death, Doctor Devorak, if that’s your concern.” Laurel grips the strap of her bag tightly, staring up at him, imploring. “And I’ve no agenda, I assure you. I simply want to find some way to help.”

It is that moment that the door of the clinic swings open, the sharp RANG-CLANG-CLANG of the bell startling the both of them. A barrel-chested man heaves in the doorway, face shining, slick with sweat as he gasps, hands on his knees.

“Doctor! Doctor please, my husband he — “

Immediately, something shifts in Julian. One moment he is himself, good old Ilya Devorak. The next he is simply Doctor, parts within himself shuttering closed as others open, the whole of him changing as instinct takes over, just as it had every instant before a battle when the quiet set in and he and Nazali knew the first wave of bodies would soon hit; the calm before the storm, captured entirely within himself like a model ship trapped in a bottle.

“On it!” he barks, grabbing his overcoat and mask from their hooks with practiced ease, already making long strides towards the door before Laurel’s voice cuts through the quiet roar of his thoughts.

“Doctor please!” she all but hisses, chasing after him with stubborn steps. “I need — let me do something, anything!”

With a sigh, Julian reaches out and fixes the scarf about her neck back over her nose and mouth before placing his own mask over his face. Safe behind red glass, he cannot see the piercing blue of her eyes anymore, no longer at risk of being swept away by the violent current of her.

He takes her by the arm, and gently but firmly leads her to the door, past the panicked man who dumbly, silently, follows them out onto the street at Julian’s other hand. The rosy tendrils of pre-dawn light are barely making their way across the sky, the cobbles beneath their feet still heavy with morning fog yet to be burned away by the heat of the day. With a deft flick of his wrist, Julian switches the crude sign on the door front from ‘IN’ to ‘OUT’. When he turns back, Laurel still lingers under the halo of lantern light, hem of her skirts dancing around her ankles as she shifts anxiously from foot to foot. 

“I — ” 

“Go home, Miss Lobban,” he says, voice half muffled, mouth filling with the cloying scents of camphor and dried roses. “Truly, the best you can do for anyone is to not find yourself here again.”

With that Julian turns and follows the snuffling man where he leads, leaving Laurel behind him, disappearing into the pre-dawn gloom.

[deepdisireslonging]

Last of the Season

Sam drags Team Free Will to a farmer’s market. The reader finds a way to keep Dean from complaining the whole day, teasing him until she gets rewarded for it.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings/Promises: smutty food puns, SMUT, oral (female receiving), another bad vegetable reference, implied further smut

Word Count: 1509

Note: I wrote a fall aesthetic fic earlier and felt like doing another… with a smutty twist. I hope you guys like it. Comments and reblogs super appreciated. Enjoy!

Dean was grumbling before he pulled into the parking lot. Not only had Sam made everyone come out for some fresh air (“We’re all going stir crazy, Dean! Come on.”) but Dean had to drive too. That was partially his fault. “Keep your grubby-organic hands off my steering wheel,” is what you’re pretty sure you heard.

You, on the other hand, were almost as excited as Sam. It was getting to be the best part of the year for autumn produce. Cute pumpkins, cider, blackberries, apples, and the last of the summer delights. As much as you wanted to keep stride with Sam, you hung back with Dean. An idea had been brewing in your mind on the way over. And there was no way in heaven, hell, or purgatory that Dean wasn’t going to enjoy it. Or eventually take it further.

“Why are we here again?” Dean asked for the dozenth time.

“Because you were grumpy and dragging us all down with you.” You linked your arm with his. “Not everything in the world has to be for you, ya know.” With a smile, you bumped your body against his.

The frown dispersed a little. Not by much, but a little.

Up ahead there was another vegetable stand. One of dozens. But the purple plant on the front table caught your eye.

Time to enact your plan.

Pacing ahead, you went straight for it. “How much are the eggplants?” As the woman told you the amount, you weighed the plant in your hand. It had a healthy heft. Nice natural curve. And with the way you eyed Dean, he knew you were up to something. “I’ll take this one. Thank you.”

He caught up within a few steps. “Y/N-“

“Hmm…”

“What are you doing?”

“Making the day interesting.” You stood on your tiptoes so you could whisper in his ear. “I’m pretty sure you’re grumpy because you’re horny. Why not put your patience to the test.” Before he could grab for you, you’d passed him the bag and were headed down the row.

Again you easily outpaced him. Between a stand of squashes and a rare berries-only set-up, you saw a delectable array of fruit. Several caught your eye. One, in particular, would work perfectly with your plan. You’d save it for last. To keep Dean from seeing them, you loaded up his arms with apples.

He held onto them. Confused, his eyes flitted between the fruit and your chest. “Am I supposed to be comparing them to… something?”

“Head out of the gutter, dear. No. I was considering making you a pie, but if you’re not interested-“

Several more apples joined your selection. He paid for them himself. Then he almost dropped the bag as you held two plums in the palm of your hand. They bobbled between your fingers. Something in his throat constricted. The movements he was seeing looked familiar. Like something he was used to feeling lower on his body- Dean shuffled. It was difficult to adjust with two hands full of fruit.

You gave them to the man to add to your sale. A small gasp passed your lips. “Those look good.”

The farmer looked over the booth and smiled. “Ah, yes. Just picked them yesterday. Kind of sad lookin’, this late in the season. But sweet as can be. You can have one if you’d like.”

Eagerly you picked the reddest cherry you could see. You closed your mouth over it, stem and all. How did that trick go again?

Dean nearly dropped the bags. The concentration on your face could only mean one trick. And he personally knew what your mouth could do once you’d set your mind to a goal. He puffed out a strangled breath as you triumphantly pulled out the stem. It had a perfect knot in the center.

“That was good. I’ll take whatever two dollars can get me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He started bagging the cherries, mumbling to himself. “Haven’t seen that in years.”

At the far end of the booth was one basket of bright fuzzy fruit. You brought a peach close to your nose and inhaled its sweet scent. Such a small selection could only mean they were the last of the season. And hard to find in this climate. There were only about a dozen or so left. Mentally you calculated how many you’d need for the team.

“How many of those, ma’am?”

“Just two,” Dean said, coming up behind you.

“But what about Sam-“

“Sam can get his own peaches,” he growled into the spot behind your ear.

Mission accomplished.

“Pay the man so I can take you home.”

“Yes, sir.”

***

Luckily Sam and Cas were done just as you’d made it back to the Impala, or they would have been walking home. They had to unpack the load themselves. Dean dragged you out of your seat before the there’d been a chance to beg otherwise.

He pinned you to the inside of his door, fumbling with the lock until it clicked, and then fumbling with your clothes until there wasn’t a stitch on your body.

“Do you know what you do to me, woman?” He nipped at the underside of your jaw, making you gasp. “That was quite the tease today. If I had any idea what you could suggest with a bunch of produce, I might have come along sooner.”

You giggled. “Just be glad they didn’t have pineapple. Then I’d have been too sweet to handle.” With a squeal, you fell on the bed as Dean spun you around.

“Never. You’re never too much for me. Now the other way around-“ Dean pulled you to the end of the bed and kneeled. You could only see the top half of his face over the top f your body. Those green eyes glowed with wild-like hunger. “Let me know if I become too much for you.”

As much as you wanted to poke “unlikely” at him, you were soon too busy fisting the sheets to sass back. You clamped your hand over your mouth. By now, Sam and Cas had to be done with the food. And there was a risk they could hear you. A sharp nip to the inside of your thigh changed your mind.

“Nah-ah, sweetheart. I don’t care if all of Kansas can hear you. You know what to do.” He groaned as you fisted your hand in his hair instead.

The obscene sounds that came from between your legs made you quake. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, Dean was ravenous for you every hour of the day. He made good on that lust by devouring your peach like it was the last time he’d ever taste it. Wrecked, you bucked towards his face. Dean let you, only pinning you down when he realized you were getting close.

Whimpers, soft cries, loud shouts of his name, you gave it all. Then he clamped one arm down over your stomach. And he added slow curling fingers to his feasting. Your body dripped for him. He lapped and sucked up every drop loudly.

“So good, Dean. Please… so close-“

“Love tasting you like this sweetheart,” he replied while you writhed. “I might do this all night. Keep going until you can’t stand tomorrow. Then fuck you hard on my cock.”

You moaned loudly. Weakly, you tried to fight against the arm across your body.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you? Drenching my face until you can’t see straight.” He sucked hard on your clit, almost making you cum right then. “Or would you like cumming on my cock more? How hard do you think you made me, baby, and the market today? Hmm? Cucumbers to eggplants, how much?”

“Dean!” You laughed. Nothing like a vegetable reference to kill the mood. You swatted at the back of his head as he chuckled into your heat. “Don’t do that. I was so close.”

He crawled up your body just long enough to give you a searing kiss. “Sorry, baby. Had to get my revenge for that cherry trick somehow. I think we’re even now.” He sucked your nipples between his teeth before settling back between your legs.

The edge hadn’t disappeared. It had been waiting. Waiting for Dean to add another finger to the working your slit. And for him to work his tongue faster over your clit. Your toes cramped and seized as you called out his name. It sounded hoarse in the air, but that only sent him further into turning your bones to jello. The wave hit. Desperately you clawed at the sheets and his hand and the back of his head. Dean kept going. He kept going until your whimpers had mangled into whispers and your eyes were crossed under your eyelids. The world was fuzzy around the edges.

Dean’s warm body slid alongside yours on the bed. He placed sticky, sloppy kisses over your collarbone. Up your neck. Over your breasts.

“Still with me?”

“Mhmm. Still hungry?”

“For you? Always. Want my cock now?”

“Yes, please.”

*****

Masterlist

Forever Tags: @blondekel77​ @chwehansol98​ @desstehhnee​  @hallemichelles @laochbaineann​ @ramblingsofabourbondrinker​ @savmontreal​ @shieldgirl18 @southsidebucky​ @tinyelfperson​

Supernatural Tags: @emoryhemsworth​ @quixoticcat​ @smandrews3​  @supernatural-jackles​ @tamtamlov​ @vvinch3st3r​

Dean Tags: @19mmallory​ @akshi8278​ @ashmonet​ @bits-n-bowz​  @bringmesomepie56​ @castielsbecky​ @cookie-dough-lova​ @dancingalone21​  @eve05glee  @gabbyrogers094​ @idontknow-canyou​ @its--killing--me​ @juanitadiann​  @justtryingtogosomewhere @kaemarie23​ @kittenofdoomage​  @lauriz67​  @mein1928 @millie67​ @mylostsoul28​  @mysteriouslyme81 @peaceloveandplumbots​  @sassy-losechester​ @sissysalvatore​ @supernatural-jackles-reads​ @theriumking​ @uzum4k1-uch1h4​  @vutdidyousay​ @windeango67​

[1358456]

Review Response, June 21-27, 2020

Well, I guess the DE update doesn’t exist. So I’ll see that story again in Valentine’s Day.

But a miracle has happened in this week, so... yay!

Destiny #017

1)  Hi! I know, long time no see. I’m incredibly sorry for not reviewing sooner, but I guess better late than never, huh? In any case I’m here to stay! Reading this chapter reminded me of how interesting this story really is and I can’t wait to read more. But seeing as it’s been some time I’m going to reread it in order to freshen my memory (I decided to review anyways since I can still review the quality of your fic, which is as I remember, very good). I admit when Peter first mentioned that Ruby was easy to control because of his lack of control over his emotions (and whatnot) unlike Sapphire, I was a bit confused. Wouldn’t it be the other way? I thought to myself, but then I remembered that Sapphire had done some growing up herself. She might’ve not had as much control previously but she certainly does now. As this was kinda proven later on when she was contemplating on what emotion she should be feeling at the moment. And this can be seen as indecision, but I rather thought that this was proving your previous statement correct and that this was her way of finding a little control of the situation. Speaking of what happened a bit later, I was pleasantly surprised of Blue sparing Sapphire’s sanity. I always had hope in Blue despite her obvious turning... but this really proves that Blue can (and most likely will) realize that despite Peter’s kindness she’ll have to betray him because what he’s doing simply isn’t right. I realize now that she probably also followed him because of him brainwashing her, but I can’t remember this particular detail... damn maybe I should’ve reread this before reviewing. Ah well, I’m this far into it anyways. In any case, although this chapter was short I fully enjoyed it. Especially Y’s inner monologue at the end. I do have a soft spot for light angst :’) (I’m sure you can call it that, right...?) so, thank you!

WELCOME BACK!! Yes, it’s always better late than never. After all, as I said before...

I’LL WAIT A THOUSAND SUMMERS!

For Ruby and Sapphire’s “control” issue, I was actually thinking about their little Hidden Power interaction. Sapphire has strong intuition and instincts, and is in full control of her senses. Or at least that was a part of it, anyways. This chapter was written years ago, so I don’t remember all the details. Hehe.

As for Blue... There’s a little character arc for her across all of my stories. If you read my stories in order of creation, you can kind of see it. First is when she’s neglected and is just rolling with it while feigning cheeriness (SE/SA/SR), but then it just piles up and she goes into depression (SA/SL/Destiny), then she kind of snaps and goes rampant (SL/Destiny), then she finds the one piece of true happiness in her life and starts to turn it around (Destiny), and eventually successfully attains happiness and stays that way (Destiny/Legacy). So you’re at the moment in Destiny where Blue has gone rampant but is trying to turn it around.

... I think I need to reread this story too. Hehe. I don’t really remember what happens in each chapter... except for a certain few, that is.

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Destiny #018

1)  That’s... awful... Poor Y, who was already suffering so much, both physically and mentally. She didn’t even get to hear X say what he wanted to say to her. And if they don’t meet again she’d live the rest of her life not truly knowing where she stood with X. Always filled with guilt. Such is the sadness of the situation, but I can still hope! Hope that Y will meet X again and he’ll be able to tell her his thoughts. Though come to think of it, poor X too. He’ll have to speak with his seniors and he’s obviously really uncomfortable with that and doesn’t even have Y around to help him. Welp, to go to another depressing topic there’s also Sapphire’s situation to discuss. It is at the point not that disobeying Peter *would* be interfering with his plans, since it’s crucial that Sapphire be broken. Will Blue be able to disobey? Impossible to know, you can only hope that she does. On another topic, after rereading the fic (oh god I’d forgotten how long this was, it’s truly amazing the dedication you’ve had for this fic) I kept thinking back to Peter’s “blank eyes” you mentioned in the earlier chapters. This is a vague and rather shoddy theory, but the only thing I could think that would be the cause of the blankness is him being brainwashed as well. This is rather obvious, but this leads to who might be brainwashing him. Clearly this would be someone (or something..?) that would benefit from the restoration of the legendary’s and this would bring us to suspect #1: Zygarde. Now, I haven’t actually read the XY arc nor played the game (ik ik but I can still have a fellow feeling for X and Y) so I don’t know what this dude is capable of, but I can assume that this is within the realm of possibilities. And it would make sense with the whole blinking lights thing that Blue noticed that was going on a couple chapters ago. ‘Cause I mean, why else would this random guy help the legendaries, it’s all just a bit too sketchy. I am no detective, so I think these are fairly obvious, but they’re all I have going for me right now. This was a lovely chapter (writing of course, I can hardly apply that to the atmosphere), and I can’t wait to read the next one.

Poor Y indeed. Really. Poor Y... hehehe...

Destiny’s not THAT long, is it? ... 220 000 words... well, it’s not longer than SA which has 225 000, but... that difference is practically negligible. ... I wonder how long Legacy would end up... Anyways.

I don’t know if it’s obvious or not. I have a hard time with that. Sometimes I put in obvious hints in my stories and no one catches on. Sometimes I put vague hints in my stories and no one catches on. So I can’t tell if it’s subtle or blatant. I think for the Mega Hunter, there were a lot of subtle and blatant ones.

Now for Zygarde... well, the Neural Para... er... mind control is not really in its arsenal. Destiny’s plans were written shortly after XY games were released. Zygarde was kind of worthless there, but given what happened with Kyurem, I suspected that it would get a cooler new form. But then in SM, it turned out that its cooler new form was just a massive health buff. And it still gets annihilated by Xerneas, so... pfft. But I think I used its signature moves pretty well. Especially, say... Core Enforcer. Hahaha.

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Destiny #019

1)  Ok, first of all, WHAT KINDA QUESTION IS THAT? How can I choose? Both options of your review survey thing are so sad... but after a moment’s thought, I think the second option is better. If Y were to continuously push herself then she’d just die. End of story. But with the second option, although incredibly risky and kinda pointless for X to go save her, the chances of them both staying alive are possibly higher, and Y would know Ax’s true feelings. This I think, would be what you referred to as the “happy ending”. Unless you actually said it outright that it’s the opposite and I just completely missed it. But anyways I’ve spent enough on Y’s situation lmao. I think I might switch over to Blue now, because something has been nagging me for a while. I feel like slapping this woman. I know she’s partially under the control of Peter (or assuming that my previous theory is correct, Zygarde’s), but, murder? Thankfully she admitted this chapter that she was, in fact, NOT wanting to murder anyone. But when she let anger blind her she was quite willing to do away with Green. And she has reason! Was Green did to her was beyond shitty, but killing him is just a little overtop. And she tried to justify it by saying, “Peter is the only one that has been kind to me” so it’s ok that I betray even my closest friends whom I’ve known for years even if I haven’t kept much in contact (besides Silver smh). She clearly knows what Peter is doing is wrong and while I don’t think that anyone is a saint and everyone makes mistakes, I’m still thinking “come on”. Plus, it’s not difficult to see how Peter’s kindness is really just a way to benefit him. Though I can let that one slide since it’s easy to fool yourself. Despite all that, later on in the chapter after feeling annoyance at Blur for seriously trying to blame Y for wanting to give X back *his* Mega Ring (plus why do they call it ring) just because it’d been a gift to her (and reminding myself that she also had reason to feel that way but whatever) it was very nice to see her being selfless. Which might be an awful thing to ask of her now, but it was the right thing to do. And that’s gratifying on its own, right? I feel as if these reviews have started to just be me ranting at this point. Can you still enjoy these..? But honestly there isn’t much to review at this point. I’ve touched a lot on your actual writing in past reviews, and since it’s the same fic the style hasn’t exactly change. Though I can still admire how seamlessly you seem to write, even while changing point of views. Quickly changing scenes from something a little peaceful, to a battle, which you are able to describe in detail and yet still be engaging. Ah, I got kind of sidetracked, didn’t I? In any case all I have yet to do is speculate what’s going to happen next, but alas, I have no idea. I assume there’s a somewhat happy ending, with a final battle with Peter and the legendaries, not to mention the plot twist. Guess I’ll just have to wait and see.

Huh? ... Oh right. The review survey. Hahaha. Second option, huh? I think I remember most people choosing that option. But... if you look at the choices, it seems pretty clear, right? And I just love to break expectations. Hehe...

Now, as for what’s happening with Blue, it’s explored a lot more in the upcoming chapters, with everything being explained in... 25? 26? And I do believe that all the issues you have will be resolved.

Hehe. Asking a girl, who after being neglected for years is finally trying to find some happiness for herself, to be selfless? How awful! Hahaha.

Of course I still enjoy these! Despite being called “reviews”, they’re more like “comments”, really. Just tell me what you liked about each chapter, what you didn’t like, what you hope to see in the future, what you don’t want to see, and/or just your thoughts/feelings while reading. So precisely what you’ve been doing already. It’s fine~! :)

I greatly look forward to seeing more!

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Mountain High - Ch 1

Title: Mountain High

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Destiel with eventual Sabriel

Rating: Lemon

Tags: kidnapping, smut, and I’ll add more as I go if I need to.

Summary:

    Suddenly taken from his own home and flown god knows where in the dark, Dean Winchester finds himself thrown into something he could never have imagined in his wildest dreams.

AO3 Link 

Masterlist

A/N: So this is a new fic I’ve been working on. Its a wing fic, and I’ve been super into those lately so when I got this idea I was super excited to write it and share it with you guys! And if any of you have any recommendations, even your own wing fics, PLEASE send them my way! <3

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

Chapter one

    Home. Dean loved his home, and he was super proud of it. When he first bought it he was twenty-two, out on his own for the first time after just having sent Sammy off to college. It was a small, run down old place, but as soon as he laid eyes on it he knew it was going to be his, and sure enough it was.

    He remembered the pure rush of excitement when he stood beside the for sale sign in the front yard, holding the sold sign in his hands while Sammy snapped a picture. Of course, when Sam saw the place he was none too happy that Dean had bought such an “absolute piece of crap” as he had said back then, but unlike Sam, Dean could see the bigger picture.

    After everything was finalized, papers signed, and Sam officially set up in his Stanford dorm room, Dean started his work. It took him nearly a year to complete the whole project, but by the time he was done the place looked brand new. He had practically ripped out the entire inside of the house and opened it up completely, rebuilt every room, gave himself the kitchen of his dreams, turned the basement into the ultimate Dean cave, did up the master bed room for himself and the spare room for Sammy, while also turning the old office into a guest room for visitors. He had also redone the entire outside of the house, replacing every piece of siding, planting a few nice gardens out front that would make the cover of any magazine in a heartbeat, and installed a beautiful deck equip with a gazebo out back.

    A full year of hard work, but it was well worth it in his eyes. He had turned what everyone had told him was a horrible investment into the best damn thing in his life, aside from Sammy and Baby of course. It was his own little paradise, one thing he had in his life that he worked incredibly hard for and no one could ever take away from him.

    And now that his work was finished, the house fully renovated and Sam flourishing in his school work, Dean had all the free time he could ever want. And all though his weekends had completely opened up, he didn’t spend his time out with friends, but instead his favourite weekend activity was to completely clean the house from top to bottom. Part of the reason for that being because he worked so hard to get it to this point that the last thing he wanted was to let it become a pig sty, but the main reason for this weekly routine was that Dean Winchester loved to sing.

    He would sing anything and everything. If it had a tune and words, he would sing it, and the only time he got to really belt it out was on the weekends when he was alone in his house. Dean would wake up early Saturday morning, and the first thing he would do after bacon and eggs, was open the windows, turn up the radio full blast and dance through his house as he sang his way through cleaning.

    He would vacuum the living room while belting Kansas, scrub the bathrooms to Led Zeppelin, and skid on socked feet across the kitchen to AC/DC. And today was no different.

    It was a Saturday, on a nice warm day in April. He followed his weekend routine and the house was now perfectly spotless. He finished off with the kitchen and was standing in front of the screen door looking out at the backyard and letting the nice cool breeze brush against his skin, thanking his lucky stars that he bought a house that backed on to a forest that always offered a breeze. Perfect, he thought, his life was perfect.

    His phone rang in his pocket, pulling him from his dazed state. The caller ID read “Rapunzel” and he laughed as he answered, “Hey, Sammy, what's going on?”

    “Not too much, Dean, what about you?”

    Dean sighed, “Same old, same old. Works keeping me busy, I just finished cleaning the house, just a typical Saturday night.”

    “Dean, you really should consider maybe going out once in a while.” He could practically hear the scowl on Sam's face, “When was the last time you even had a date?”

    Dean scoffed, “Really, Sammy, a date?”

    “Yeah. What about that girl who lives down the road, what was her name…”

    “Jo?” Dean offered.

    “Yeah, that’s the one,” Dean just shook his head turning towards the fridge for a beer, “the last time I came down for the weekend she seemed pretty into you. Why don’t you ask her out?”

    “Nah,” he popped open his beer and stepped out onto the back porch, taking a seat on the swing to watch the sun set behind the trees and the mountains, “she's not really my type, Sammy, and I guess I'm just not really into the dating thing right now.”

    “So go out with some friends then, go to a bar, get dinner. I don’t care what you do just… leave the house.”

    “I leave the house,” Dean didn’t have to see Sam's eye roll to know it happened.

    “Dean, leaving the house to go to work at Bobby’s where it’s just the two of you, doesn’t count. You need human interaction.”

    “I was pretty sure Bobby was human, last time I checked anyway.”

    “Come on,” Sam chuckled, “he barely counts. And look at him as an example. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love him and he's the best uncle in the world, but do you really wanna end up like him?”

    Dean scrunched his brows and adjusted the phone against his ear, “What do you mean? Bobby’s got a great life.”

    “Locked away in his house, all day every day, alone and surrounded by nothing but old broken down cars? Dean, I don’t want you to turn into a hermit.”

    “Sam,” he sighed over his beer bottle, “I'm not a hermit and I'm not going to turn into one. I'm just… I dunno, not really good at the whole making friends with your neighbours, back yard barbeques, apple pie kind of lifestyle. I don’t really know how to talk to people. I mean, I'm great once you get to know me, but it’s the part leading up to that, that I'm no good at.”

    “What if I came down for a bit? I know you’ve been living there for a while now, but it’s never too late to introduce yourself to your neighbours. I could come with you and help move the conversations along if you get stuck.”

    Dean couldn’t help but smile. Even miles away his little brother was still worried about him. “Sammy, I appreciate it but you’ve got school, and exams are coming up soon right?”

    “Yeah… but-”

    “But nothing,” Dean put on his mom voice, “you need to be studying and not worrying about me.”

    “But I do, you know, a lot.”

    “I know,” he smiled, “but you shouldn’t. And soon enough you'll be home for the summer right? We can work on breaking me out of my hermit shell then as long as you promise to focus on school until after you're finished with exams, deal?”

    “Deal!” Sam exclaimed, seeming satisfied with that compromise.

    “So,” Dean said, “why don’t you tell me about school instead. What's new? Any new friends, interesting developments, juicy gossip… girls?” he teased.

    Same laughed, “No girls, Dean.”

    “Why not? Its college, Sammy, is your campus not swimming with hot chicks?”

    “Well, yeah,” he began, “but I just… I dunno, I’m not attracted to any I guess.”

    “Fair enough,” Dean shrugged, “but when the right girl does comes along, you'll know. She’ll fly in and sweep you right off your feet, there won’t be a doubt in the world.”

    Sam nearly choked, “And you're an expert all of a sudden?”

    “Course I am, Sammy,” Dean laughed as he continued, “I'm the older brother and therefore I am an expert in everything. It’s the rules, you know this.”

    He couldn’t see it but he was sure that Sam was shaking his head at him.

    “Well, if there’s no girls then what about something else? There’s gotta be something new and exciting in your life.”

    “I'm going to be taking entrance exams for Harvard soon. Does that count?”

    Dean nearly jumped out of his seat and spilled his beer, “Of course that counts, Sammy! That’s great news!” Dean knew Sam wanted to go to law school, but Sam was always back and forth, never really sure if he wanted to jump into it so quickly, but obviously the kid had finally made up his mind. And though Dean was slightly disappointed that he wouldn’t have Sam home for a full year between Stanford and Harvard law school, he was proud of his little brother for following his dreams.

    “Its no big deal, really,” he could hear the blush in Sam's voice, “but if I get good enough scores on the entrance exams then I have a chance at a full ride next year.”

    Dean couldn’t hold back his excitement, “Sam, that’s amazing!”

    “I'm kind of nervous, what if I don’t get the scholarship?”

    “Don’t be nervous. I know you'll do great on your entrance exams, you’re a hell of a smart kid, Sammy,” he took another swing of his beer before continuing, “and if you don’t get the scholarship then we’ll figure something out, like we always do. If you wanna go to Harvard then I’ll make sure you go to Harvard. Simple as that.”

    “Dean… you can’t afford to send me to Harvard, not on a mechanic’s salary.”

    “Look, wait and see what happens after the entrance exams, okay? Then we’ll go from there once we know if you have the scholarship or not.”

    “Yeah, I guess you're right.”

    “Course I am,” he snorted a laugh, “and I'm also right when I say it’s late and you should probably be getting to bed, Sammy.”

    Sam let go a yawn on the other side of the phone, “Yeah, I'm tired, and I plan on studying all day tomorrow, so I should turn in. But I promise I’ll call again next week sometime, after exams are over and I can breathe again.”

    “You better call,” he smiled, “I want to know how all your exams go next week, and Sam?”

    “Yeah, Dean?”

    “I just want you to know that no matter what happens with your exams or the Harvard scholarship, that I'm proud of you, Sammy.”

    There was a long moment of silence between them before Sam answered in a choked voice, “Thanks, Dean, that means a lot. But I'm gunna turn in now, and don’t forget what I said, a night out here and there wouldn’t hurt.”

    “I said we’d work on it when you're home for the summer, which is very soon, I promise.”

    “And I'm gunna hold you to that,” Dean chuckled, “good night, Dean.”

    “Night, Sammy.”

    He hung up the phone and looked up at the sky. It was dark now, he and Sam had been talking for a long time and he hadn’t even noticed that the stars had made an appearance, but he would never get tired of looking at them. He still had about half his beer left and decided to stay out on the porch and finish it while thinking over Sam's words. Maybe he was right, maybe Dean did spend too much time alone in his house. He may not be ready to jump into the dating scene but there was the guy across the street, Benny he was pretty sure was his name. He seemed alright so far. They hadn’t exchanged much more then a few words in passing, but maybe he was a good place to start.

    After finishing his beer and deciding that tomorrow he would head across the street and see if Benny wanted to go for wings and beer tomorrow night, Dean peeled himself off the porch swing and turned to head back inside. He was only able to get the patio door open a crack before someone grabbed him from behind, wrapping unnaturally strong arms around his waist, and to Dean’s utter shock the ground was being torn away from his feet.

    Before he could register what was happening he was watching his small backyard getting further and further away and he was getting higher and higher. Panic swelled in his chest at the thought of being kidnapped from his own backyard, but also at being this far off the ground.

    When he was able to pull himself together just a little, he tried to fight back, tried to call out for help, but no one could hear him at that height. And the arms around him were not budging in the slightest, so the more Dean fought the worse the ride got. Whoever had taken him from his back yard was a terrible flyer and choppy as hell. And what originally started as a fight against his attacker very soon turned into a fight against his own stomach as he battled with all his strength to keep the contents of his stomach where they belonged.

    Dean wasn’t sure how much time had passed with him flying through the sky. He had long since closed his eyes as the fight with his stomach became more and more dire with each dip and lift in the flight. While at the same time he was trying to keep a clear enough head to try and figure out how he could get out of this… maybe call Sam for help. But reaching for his phone in his pocket proved only to piss him off further as he remembered hearing it hit the porch before he was lifted into the air. The shock of being attacked in his own backyard caused him to drop the phone and now he had no way of calling someone for help.

    Before he could dwell on it anymore, Dean felt a shift in their direction, suddenly finding himself being hurdled straight up. When the sudden climb was over he felt them heading straight once more, and before he had time to adjust he was being placed back on his feet. But after the unwanted and uninvited ride, he legs were definitely not ready for standing. So instead his shaking legs gave out and he was sent hurdling forwards and rolling across the floor.

    Eyes still closed, he remained on the ground for a few moments, groaning while trying to calm his still raging stomach. He could hear rustling behind him, then hurried footsteps, and the guy who had kidnapped him saying, “Get my father,” before the footsteps retreated back again.

    When Dean finally felt like he had regained control of his stomach he slowly rolled over to face his attacker, growling out, “Who the hell do you think you are-”

    Dean stared wide eyed at the man behind him, shocked out of words and rooted to the spot as they stared at each other.

    Doors opened somewhere behind him and the hurried footsteps returned, though Dean couldn’t find it in himself to tear his eyes away from the man before him.

    The footsteps stopped and the entire room was engulfed in silence before another voice spoke, “Oh son… what have you done.”

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

 A/N: So there is chapter one! Let me know what you guys think and if anyone wants to be tagged for future chapters please let me know <3

[ravenchaitea]

Hello out there! I don't know how many of you followed this blog just for the P5 content itself and how many followed it because of my fic writing. Either way, I'm flattered! For any of ya'll that are interested, I've started a new P5 Pegoryu fic and I'll be posting a preview of the first chapter here. Eventually it'll move to Archive.

Summaries are not my thing, but here goes nothin’: 

Ryuji's two years out of graduating from the Colony Defense Force program when he gets his first real assignment in deep space. It's not something in his field as a fighter pilot, he'll basically be acting as a glorified ambulance driver. If he can pull it off, in a year he can put in for a transfer. It might be his only chance. He's never been good at following the chain of command and he doesn't shine academically, but he knows ships. He knows how to fly them, build them, repair them. It's the only reason he was able to get into the program in the first place. It's the only thing he's good at.

He’s surprised when someone takes notice, especially when that someone is Commander Akira Kurusu. The man is the youngest war hero in Earth Colonies history. He was there during the fall of Shido, when the entire planet was wiped off the map. Now he’s a walking poster child for the Alliance of Emergency Medical Services, AMES. He leads a specialized team that travels from planet to planet, offering aid when needed. It’s the complete opposite of everything Ryuji was trained to do, but he’s finding it impossible to say no. Especially when he’s going to be serving under such an attractive commander. 

Act. 1.1

On the Earth colony planet of Kamoshida, the sun is going down, bathing everything in a honey-orange glow. Acres of tall yellow grass grow up from the ground. The stalks roll like waves, stirred up by a mild evening breeze. Ryuji Sakamoto sits on the hood of his silver hover car, hands folded neatly behind his head as the last light of day bakes heat into his skin. He strains to keep his eyes open, drifting in and out of a lazy afternoon nap. It's one of the few moments he's had to himself since spring ended.  

They say Kamoshida is the closet of the Earth colony planets to resemble Old-Earth. It's the only planet in the sector to have a true four season cycle, making it ideal for growing most Earth staples. The planet's major export is its crops, providing more than half of the colonies' food supply. The entire population of the Kamoshida colony is involved with the farming efforts, growing, selling, or packing. Ryuji's family happens to be fifth generation bean growers.  

He opens his eyes and lifts his hands up in front of his face, studying his oil-stained fingers. He's supposed to be working on his hovercar but he can't muster up the energy. Between school and chores, his free time has been limited. This is to say nothing of the spring sowing and all the extra chores that came with that. Their farm is one of the smallest in the area and he's always been expected to help wherever he can. His father won't tolerate laziness. Any time spent working on his car definitely falls into that category.    

He's been putting on the finishing touches for weeks, pushing himself towards the goal of being able to take it out. Although 'out' is a bit of an overstatement. He won't legally be allowed to take it anywhere besides ground streets for two more years. Air flight is restricted to the eighteen and up crowd. Despite that, he figures two years is nothing compared to the four it's taken him to get it all put together. It was little more than an empty chasse full of scraps when he brought it home from the junkyard. A fact his father continues to lord over him every chance he gets, even with all the progress he's made on it.  

He's poured all his monthly allowance into buying parts and making needed repairs. What he couldn't afford, well-... He figures it's all stuff that won't be missed. It needs fresh paint and to have the chrome touched up, but there's time for that later. Having a ground vehicle will at least get him away from the house on weekends. Plus there's a point of pride to be had in being the only one in his circle of friends with a car.  

His hazy mind is busy going over possible paint combinations when he catches himself dozing off for real. He allowed himself to be lulled into sleep by the darkening sky and the warm pre-summer air. He forces his eyes open and glances up, able to see the beginning of stars among the pale pink hues of atmosphere. His body is bone tired and for a few more minutes he lies still, fatigued from weeks of not getting enough sleep. He thinks it odd that someone of his age should feel so run down. There's no time to dwell on that though. His mother will be finishing up dinner and he's expected to be home to set the table.

He slides down off the hood and begins the short walk through the fields to get back to the house. When he emerges from the sea of tall grass he sees his father's truck in the driveway. It's an instant disappointment. Friday nights are usually the night his father stays in town after work to have a drink and 'catch up with the boys'. It's a rarity for him to forego bar time for family time. Ryuji crosses the yard at a slow pace, dragging his feet to stave off the inevitable. The thought of sitting down to eat with his drunkard father is more than he can stand.  

As he's approaching the house his wristwatch display lights up, receiving an incoming call. He pauses just off the porch to answer it, waiting for the video connection to buffer. The eager expression of his longtime friend and classmate Takeishi appears on the screen.  

"What's up?"  

"We still on for tonight?" Takeishi asks and the question throws Ryuji for a moment. Had they made plans? He thinks they might have made plans. "Y'know. Captain Kidd's ship. Parked at the shipyard."  

"Oh shit," Ryuji breathes as his chest lights up with excitement. "Man, I totally forgot about it."  

"How the hell did you forget?"  

"Spring sowin', remember? We've gotta get the fields resown before summer rolls around. I've been busy."  

Takeishi studies him for a moment, eyebrows furrowing in concern, "You good?"  

"I'm okay," Ryuji assures him. It's not exactly a lie, at the moment he's fine. He's tired. Worn down from weeks spent working in close quarters with his father. From trying to meet the man's impossible expectations. "We're meetin' at midnight in old man Iwai's cornfield, right?. Hope you and Nakaoka don't bail on me this time."  

"I wasn't the one who bailed."  

"I'm serious, man. If you guys don't show I'm goin' in alone."  

"We'll be there." Takeishi insists though it does nothing to diminish Ryuji's doubt. "See ya."  

"Yeah." Ryuji sighs, tapping the end call button. Inside he can hear his father's voice. It's more the tone than actual words and he already sounds riled up about something. He ascends the porch stairs and presses himself against the wall beside the front door. He's trying to give himself a moment of composure before he goes in.

He doesn't want to deal with this right now.  

"Hey," He calls out as he pushes the front door open. From his vantage point, he can see into the kitchen. His mother is standing with her back against the counter and her arms crossed over her chest. She widens her eyes at him, a silent warning for him to tread cautiously. He kicks his shoes off and nudges them into neat alignment by his father's work boots. He crosses the living room and turns the corner to his father seated at the dining table.  

"The hell you been?" The older man demands, swinging one of his worn hands towards the table. "I come home from bustin' my ass and your mother can't even get dinner on the table because you're off god knows where."  

"Yes sir," It's less of an agreement and more of a neutral answer. Ryuji knows he's already on thin ice and he's not about to make things worse by arguing.

"Welcome home," His mother offers, a subtle change in the conversation. He hates this. Friday night dinners are usually their thing. It's the one night of the week they don't have to tiptoe around his father.  

"Go ahead and sit down, Ma," Ryuji insists, guiding her towards the table. He washes his hands clean at the sink and gathers the plates from the cabinet. He has to reach around his parents to set the table. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see his father watching him. He's looking for a reason to yell at him again. Wordlessly Ryuji serves the food and grabs his father a bottle of beer from the fridge. On his way to his chair, he sets a light hand atop his mother's shoulder hoping to reassure her. She pats his fingers lightly in acknowledgment. The whole exchange is missed by the man at the head of the table as he pries the lid off his beer and takes a long drink of it.

Ryuji watches in silent disgust as some of the foamy liquid pools at the side his father's mouth and runs down his chin. His entire face looks like well-worn leather. It's creased and tanned by his many long days working in the fields. He runs equally aged fingers across his spotty stubble covered chin, wiping the beer away in an almost thoughtful gesture. He sets the bottle down and clears his throat before taking up his utensils to begin the meal. Neither Ryuji nor his mother dares to start eating before he does, lest they affront him.  

"Spring harvest was profitable this year," He announces, sounding almost on the verge of pride. There's no doubt in Ryuji's mind that his father spent most of his day in town stroking his own ego. Beans are not a big spring crop and their farm has been mostly dormant since winter. That doesn't stop Ryuji's father from acting as if the entire town's spring harvest is his own personal success story. 

"Ryuji,"  

"Yeah?" He's surprised by his father's calm use of his name. He sets his fork down beside his plate and lifts his eyes up to meet the older man's. They're the color of a stormy ocean and dark, cold, and dimly glazed over from the alcohol. Ryuji's always been thankful that he got his mother's brown eyes. He hopes that they somehow make him look more like her and less like his dad.    

"Y'worked real hard these past couple months. Don't think I didn't notice."  

"Uh, thank you," Ryuji replies, feeling his guard go up and his hands curl into fists on reflex. It's not often that the man offers him praise and it usually doesn't come without strings attached. His father rises to his feet, his body swaying under the effects of the alcohol. The half beer that sits on the table is a pallet cleanser for whatever hard stuff he drank before coming home. It's a wonder he was able to drive without causing an accident. Sometimes Ryuji wishes he would crash. It's not malicious but out of a desire to keep him off the road and away from other people. It's easy to picture his father drunkenly swerving in front of somebody else's family.  

His stomach lurches at the thought, the feeling intensified by the sudden approach. The man stands over him like a tree shadow, blocking out the kitchen lights. It casts darkness over him. He turns his head upwards to meet his father's eyes. He strains to keep a straight face as the scent of alcohol on his father's breath wafts down over him like a heavy fog. The older man smiles a grin of yellowing teeth and brings his hand down to clap over Ryuji's shoulder. He flinches away, a sharp jerk of his muscles that's more memory than anything else. The reaction doesn't go unnoticed.  

"The fuck, Ryuji?" His father breathes, training his callused fingers up the back of Ryuji's neck to grip a handful of his hair. Across the table, his mother sits up straighter in her chair. He body is tense with nerves as she prepares to intervene. Ryuji prays that she doesn't, wills her to sit still and stay quiet. "I'm not gonna hit you."  

He definitely would, and has.  

"I was gonna say," He continues, gripping his hair a bit tighter, bordering the point where it becomes painful. Ryuji takes measured breaths to force his body to relax and like a cue, it eases his father's hold on him. Almost affectionately he runs his weathered fingers up through the top of his hair to tussle it. "-that since you helped out so much, I'll give you a bigger allowance this month so you can get your car fixed up."  

"Really?" Ryuji forces enthusiasm into his voice because he needs to act accordingly. "Thank you. I appreciate that."  

"I've never been prouder. Makes me think you've got more than shit for brains after all. Might have someone worthy of passing the fields down to someday."  

Ryuji pointedly ignores the insult.  

His father turns unsteadily on his toes and almost falls over in an attempt to seat himself. He shakes it off and returns to his food. Ryuji and his mother follow suit and for the rest of the meal, he's forced to avoid his mother's concern filled eyes. His father continues to ramble, making small talk and bad mouthing his bar friends. It's a one-sided conversation. He's too drunk and too into his rant to notice that no one's paying attention to him.  

Ryuji continues to mindlessly force food into his mouth, though he can't taste it anymore. Twice he has to pause to keep it from coming back up, his stomach so tied into knots that it's making him nauseous. He doesn't have to suffer for very long, his father begins to doze in and out of consciousness at the table. His mother stands and coaxes her husband to his feet. She leads him down the hallway to their bedroom, guiding his wobbly footsteps the entire way. Ryuji turns his attention to clearing the table and putting the leftovers away.  

It's half past ten when his mother emerges from the bedroom, looking exhausted and frustrated. She enters the kitchen and makes a beeline for the fridge. She almost rips the handle off the freezer door as she yanks it open. Ryuji grabs two spoons from the silverware drawer and waits while she chooses a flavor of ice cream.  

"Feels like a mint chocolate chip sort of night," She mumbles, to herself more than anyone. The two of them sit side by side at the table, sliding the pint back and forth, eating in silence. Ryuji thinks it would be comical if it wasn't also so damn sad.  

"Hey," Ryuji begins, watching as she carves out a large spoonful of ice cream for herself. She glances up at him, prompting him to continue as she tries to find a way to fit the entire oversized scoop into her mouth. "I'm gonna go hang out with Nakaoka and Takeishi tonight."  

"Mmm," She muses, raising her eyebrows in a clear question of 'Oh yeah?'.  

"It's not a school night and I'm pretty sure that he," -the drunken idiot in the bedroom, "isn't going to wake up anytime soon."  

"It's getting pretty late."  

"You really gonna try and pull the curfew thing on me?"

Narrowing her eyes, she points her spoon threateningly in his direction, "It's my right as a mother."  

"I have to get out of here. At least for a little while," He presses, glancing over his shoulder towards their bedroom door. "If you let me go out, you can lay down in my room and get some decent sleep. We can swap beds when I come back." 

"Where are you going exactly?"  

"We're gonna troll around old man Iwai's corn field. Might go down to the lake or somethin'."  

"I hope you realize you're going to have to learn to lie better," She sighs. She takes her spoon and begins to scrape at the bottom of the ice cream carton, hoping to get one final bite out of it. "Fine, but you need to be back before sunrise. And I mean before sunrise."

"I will be," Ryuji swears, leaping to his feet with a sudden surge of new energy. He takes the stairs up to his room two at a time, though his footsteps are measured and quiet. He's not about to risk waking his father up, even though he knows that the man is out for the night. He gathers his backpack and throws his tools into it. Screwdrivers, wrenches, portable laser torch, he runs through a quick mental inventory to make sure he has everything.  

He grabs his ComTab off his bed and sends a quick text message off to his friends to remind them of the time and place. He tosses the tablet into his backpack and tiptoes rapidly back downstairs. His mother gives him an uneasy look as he brushes past her on the way out the door. Despite himself, he can't stand for her to be disappointed in him. As an act of good faith, he doubles back for a hug and promises once again to be back before sunrise.

He slips out the front door and sails over the porch steps and down the driveway. Old man Iwai's cornfield is a few miles down from his house. The night air is crisp and clear, it's temperature situated in the middle of warm and cool. It's the perfect atmosphere for a run. Sometimes Ryuji thinks he was born for it. He should have joined the track team with Nakaoka and Takeishi, but he knew it would be one more thing for his father to play against him. Still, it's a favorite past time to turn to when things get bad at home.  

It doesn't take him long to fall into a steady rhythm of feet on dirt road. The roads are from the early days of the colony, back when vehicles had actual wheels. Once hover crafts became the norm, the roads became more of a guideline for those who preferred to drive closer to the ground. Ryuji himself can't imagine wanting that. He's been dreaming of air flight since he was young. This is due in part to his admiration of Captain Kidd.  

Captain Kidd, like Ryuji, is from the colony of Kamoshida. Something of a local celebrity, he started his career as a well-known stunt pilot. Later he joined up with the Colony Defense Force and within a few years became captain of his own crew. They traverse the galaxy to fend off threats from hostile planets. Ryuji's been obsessed with him ever since the first broadcast of his trick flying. He's collected every holo-vid he could find and has spent hours watching them. The flips and spins are burned into his memory. Even as he jogs he can visualize it.  

It's the reason behind his meeting with Takeishi and Nakaoka. There's a rumor that Captain Kidd is in town visiting his family and that his famous stunt ship is with him. According to the rumor he's even parked it at the local shipyard. Ryuji isn't sure if he believes it, but he's not about to pass up an opportunity to find out. He's broken into the shipyard before to collect discarded parts or to look at the ships and cars. It's almost a joke that Captain Kidd would want to store his trick craft there.  

Their meeting place is on the far end of the Iwai cornfield, where the crops end abruptly and give way to an open flatland. He glances at the time on his watch, ten till midnight. He's the first to arrive, that is if his friends decide to show up. The last time they planned something like this the two boys bailed out, leaving Ryuji waiting for hours. Although, the mission to sneak into Ann Takemaki's sixteenth birthday party was a little less dire than their current plan.  

It's almost midnight on the dot when Takeishi and Nakaoka arrive, stepping free of the tall corn stalks. Takeishi is full of smug arrogance, hands tucked casually into his pockets, head held high. He's always been a bit full of himself, though it's a facade that always seems to crack when things become dicey. Nakaoka is reserved and somewhat nervous. He tries to be the voice of reason for the other two, but his words often fall on deaf ears. He frequently gets dragged into Ryuji and Takeishi's schemes. Although on this particular night, even he seems to be somewhat excited.  

"Told'ya we'd be here." Takeishi steps over to Ryuji and the two of them bump fists. Their knuckles crack together in a way that feels very manly.  

"I was about to go without you," Ryuji shoots back, hoisting his backpack further up onto his shoulders. "If I had any sense I would'a."  

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up and start walking, Sakamoto."  

Ryuji is all too happy to fall into the role of leader, moving with confidence over the large expanse of flat land. Kamoshida's twin moons gleam overhead. They light the way as he guides them along a well-memorized path.  

Before they can get to the local shipyard they have to pass Kamoshida Commercial Shipyard. It's a literal metal city where all the off-world space ships dock. It's one of the larger ones on the planet, a center of commerce for all imported and exported goods between the colonies. Twice a month huge ships dock there to load or unload, staying only a few brief days before departing again.  

As they near the yard, bright overhead beams of light come into view. Steel rafters rise up like metal giants, dotted with high rising staircases and elevators. Skyscraper buildings intermingle with the docks, full of places for ship crews to spend their shore-time. It all feels very exclusive, surrounded all on sides by thick metal walls. They're designed to keep foreigners inside and locals outside. A huge impenetrable fortress in the middle of miles and miles of farmland.  

It's not their destination, but every time Ryuji passes by it, he has to stop to take it all in.  

"Wouldn't it be badass to go off world?" He breathes, turning his head around to look at Takeishi and Nakaoka. The two of them look just as awestruck, maybe more-so, since this isn't a common sight for them.  

"Those ships are huge," Nakaoka says, stepping up next to Ryuji. "I mean, I knew they were huge. They have to be to carry so much stuff, but I guess I didn't have a scale for it before now."  

"My dad works down on dock 37. He says that they're even bigger up close. Bigger than the buildings in the capital." says Takeishi, then adds as an afterthought, "I think about leaving this shitty planet all the time, but let's get real here. The only way any of us are going to make it off is if we join the defense force or the medical brigade. We're all too stupid for that."  

"Maybe you're too stupid. I bet I could get in. Sakamoto could get in if he got real good at fixing ships."  

"Yeah, you're probably right. He'd get himself a job doing custodial work or something."  

"I would not!" Ryuji protests, although they might be right. The only way he'd ever get off Kamoshida is if he got a crappy job on a transport ship. Although the alternative as a bean farmer isn't exactly appealing either. "Maybe I need to become a trick pilot like Captain Kidd."  

"What? You'd never be able to pull that off." Takeishi laughs the words into his face and Ryuji feels his blood heat up under his skin.  

"Why not?"  

"Sakamoto, you got beans for brains? The only thing you've ever piloted is a wheel-tractor. You don't even have your car up and running. What makes you think you're going to be able to do flight tricks?"  

"Guys, let's just go." Nakaoka intervenes right as Ryuji opens his mouth to reply. "If you guys get into a fight we'll never make it to the shipyard to see the ship. So let's just go."  

"Fine," Ryuji concedes for the moment, knowing that Nakaoka's right. He ignores Takeishi for the rest of the trek.  

The local public shipyard is a much less impressive sight. It's a large flat patch of concrete surrounded on all sides by a well worn and rusted chain link fence and an unfathomable amount of weeds. It's mostly a glorified parking lot with a few hangars on the far end. There's even a small collection of Old-Earth style vehicles, camper trailers, and trucks. Most of them are covered in thick layers of dust and surrounded by grass that pushed up through cracks in the concrete.  

"Where do you think he parked it?" Takeishi steps up to peer through the fence, or rather over the fence. It's so old and weak that it halfway hangs off of its support poles. "Inside one of the hangars?"  

"If it's in a hangar, there's no way we'll be able to get in to see it," Nakaoka mumbles, giving into defeat before they've even made it inside. How very typical of him.

"I've broken into this place to collect parts for my car," Ryuji says, stepping up to the fence beside Takeishi. He shifts his backpack around to the front and digs through it until he finds his portable laser torch. "Security is an old guy who falls asleep watchin' the monitors and outdated patrol robots. I don't think the keypads on the hangars work and even if they do I'm sure I can disable them. They're simple coded panels."  

"Since when did you become a hacker?" Takeishi challenges, though there's a touch of admiration in his voice.  

"Not that kind of code, like a number combination. It's less hackin' and more... Cuttin' wires."  Ryuji grabs hold of one of the fence supports. He flicks the torch on and cuts through the small pieces of metal holding the fence up. The panel collapses the rest of the way down into the grass and the three boys clamber over it. Ryuji breathes a sigh of relief. They're finally in, all that's left is to find the ship. "Stay close to me and keep your voices down."

The three of them make slow but steady progress through the shipyard, avoiding motion sensors and cameras. Ryuji knows the layout of the complex like the back of his hand and he continues to lead his friends onward. They've almost reached the long line of hangars when Ryuji hears the unsteady approach of a security robot. He motions for the other two to get down and follow him up under one of the Old-Earth vehicles. They're packed together like sardines and every time Ryuji shifts he's poked by bramble weeds that grew up under the truck's front end.  

Nakaoka's nervous breathing stirs the hair on the back of Ryuji's neck. It's the only sound outside of the approaching patrol robot. The tread on its tires is almost non-existent and it bounces violently over every crack and dip in the concrete. It stops beside their hiding place and begins to run it's scanner down over the side of the vehicle. Blue light beams down into their eyes and Nakaoka stops breathing entirely. The robot lets out a soft crackle of static before turning to wheel away.  

"This is a bad idea. We should leave." Nakaoka insists as the three of them crawl free of the undercarriage of the truck.  

Ryuji resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead offering words of encouragement, "We're almost there. It'll be another half hour before the robots make it back over here."  

"We can't go back," Takeishi adds, though his words are anything but soothing. "You can't wuss out on us now. Not when we're this close. Grow a pair already!"  

"Come on," Ryuji is tempted to ditch them both, tired of their theatrics, but Takeishi is right for once. They've come too far and there's no going back. They begin scoping out the hangars, peering in small side windows to check the inside for the ship. They're almost to the last one when Ryuji finally spots it, an unmistakable outline. Grinning ear to ear, he waves to his friends and they join him at the window. "In here!"

"No way," Takeishi laughs, slapping Ryuji jovially on the back. "I didn't think we were gonna find it."  

"Kinda pissed that you two doubted me."  

"Let's get in there to get a closer look."  

"I'm on it." Ryuji slips around the side of the hangar to the entry door while Takeishi and Nakaoka keep watch. It doesn't take him long to pry the panel off so that he can access the wires. He snips through the alarm wires and then gets to work on the ones that control the lock. He shifts them from connection to connection until he hears the lock click open inside the door. "Guys, come on."  

"Sakamoto, you're such a badass." Takeishi raves as they enter and the compliment fills Ryuji's chest with pride. He's the first one who approaches the cruiser. He runs his fingers admiringly over its sleek navy blue paint. The chrome accents along the front and sides are gleaming, perfect mirrors that reflect Ryuji's wonder-filled eyes. The other boys join him and the three of them circle the cruiser like sharks, drooling over every last detail. "Alright, now that we've looked at it, let's start it up."  

"Whoa, what?" Ryuji glanced at Takeishi, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "What do you mean start it up?"  

"Well you're good at hot-wiring things, right? So get in there and start it up."  

"For real? I can hotwire the crappy hover cars parked in town, but this is a really high-class ship. It's got to have a whole computer devoted to an alarm and protection system," He says it as if he doesn't already know. He does know. He knows everything about it.  

"C'mon, Sakamoto. I know you lay in bed at night fapping to ship schematics."  

"The hell?!"  

"Jerkin' it to all those Captain Kidd posters you've got.”

"Takeishi, I swear-..."  

"Moaning his name when you cum."  

"I'll do it if you shut up," Ryuji growls. He swings his backpack down to the ground and kneels over it. He knows there's nothing in his bag that could possibly work on such an advanced ship. He's got to at least try for the sake of his dignity. It isn't enough for Takeishi that Ryuji brought them to the shipyard and broke into the hangar, no, he's always got to push things too far.  

"Ryuji, don't." Nakaoka implores him. "Guys, this is stupid. We should go. There's no way Ryuji could hotwire a craft like this."  

"Let him work." Takeishi snaps, beginning an argument between the two. Ryuji ignores them as he approaches the stunt ship, heart pounding with nervous anticipation. He never dreamed he would ever see it up close and in person and it's better than any photo he's ever seen. He lightly runs his hand over the lock panel, surprised when it opens up to reveal-... An Old-Earth style key lock? This isn't what Ryuji's expecting.  

Most high-class ships and cars are programmed with fancy identification software. Usually, that means voice recognition or palm and iris scanners. To see something so archaic on Captain Kidd's stunt ship is both amusing and fortuitous. Ryuji can pick old style car locks without even having to think about it. He pulls his tools from his bag and gets to it. He presses his head against the hull, listening for the pins inside the lock.  

"He's got this," Takeishi whispers, earning a sharp look from Ryuji.  

"Don't talk," He commands, straining his ears to move the final pin out of the way. The lock clicks and then turns and with a soft whoosh of air, the door to the ship begins to fold down. Ryuji's eyes bulge inside his head as he realizes what he's done. The lights inside the cruiser flick on, bright white LEDs that make the interior shine like the gates of heaven. Without even thinking about it, Ryuji steps forward to climb the stairs and enter the craft.

Takeishi and Nakaoka bumble up after him, but he hardly notices that they're there. His wonder and excitement have dimmed upon seeing the craft's interior. Although the outside of the ship for all the world resembles the trick craft, the inside is that of a basic hover car. It's even got cup holders and a console. It dawns on Ryuji that Captain Kidd's trick ship likely isn't street legal. The vehicle they're sitting in now is either his civilian car or a really really good fake that someone made.  

"It's not the right one," Ryuji explains lamely, turning to glance over his shoulders at his friends. Nakaoka is wearing a similar mask of disenchantment, but Takeishi on the other hand-... Anger flares to life inside of Ryuji's chest, he realizes he's been baited. "You knew."

"C'mon Sakamoto. You didn't actually think that Captain Kidd would drive his stunt ship into town, didya?" Takeishi gloats, his grin wide with amusement. Sometimes Ryuji wonders why they're friends. Why does he even bothers spending time with someone who acts the way Takeishi does? It's likely all close proximity, they certainly wouldn't have met by any other means. "My dad says Captain Kidd's got a regular hover car made up all nice like his stunt ship. I knew he'd probably park it out here."  

"You're such a friggen asshole."  

"I never said it was the actual ship, you just assumed that."  

"You brought us out here for this?!" Even Nakaoka's upset, a rarity for him. Normally he's immune to all the usual bullshit that Ryuji and Takeishi drag him through. It makes Ryuji feel even worse knowing that his own anger is justified in Nakaoka. "Come on, Ryuji. Let's go."  

"Yeah. Right behind you," Ryuji says, following Nakaoka down out of the ship, or rather, the hover car. He gathers his tools and throws them back into his bag with a satisfying use of force. They clink together as they hit the bottom of the bag and settle. "C'mon Takeishi. Get out of there. We're leaving."

"You're not gonna try to crank this thing up?" Takeishi asks, oblivious to the sour mood of the other two.  

"No! I'm not! Now get outta there!"  

Takeishi pouts as he climbs down the stairs. Ryuji ignores him. He seals the car door back up and starts for the hangar exit, eager to be out and on his way back home. Once they're outside again, he can breathe better. The cool night air calms his nerves a bit. Overhead the stars glimmer and the twin moons shine like the eyes of a cat. It's beautiful in a way Ryuji can't always describe and looking up at it takes the last bit of the edge off. He's still disappointed but it's less biting than it was inside the hangar. That is until Takeishi opens his mouth again.

"You're both being a couple of little bitches about all this," He goads. Ryuji bristles with newfound anger. He tosses his bag onto the ground and brings his hands up to slam against Takeishi's chest. It knocks him against the side of the hangar. The metal rattles and echos across the shipyard.  

"Find your own way home," Ryuji seethes, hissing the words through clenched teeth. Takeishi opens his mouth like he's going to say something else, but Ryuji doesn't allow it. He slams his fist against the hangar, knuckles making contact with the hard metal. It sends a shockwave of pain up his arm but he doesn't care. Takeishi flinches away from both the action and the sound, his eyes wide with disbelief. Ryuji shoves away from the wall and snatches his bag up. This time when they turn to leave, they're not immediately followed.

"Should'a hit me like your daddy hits you!" Takeishi taunts, but the two of them ignore him. The vein in the side of Ryuji's forehead is pulsing and he feels lightheaded. When they're out of sight of Takeishi he stops for a moment to catch his breath.  

"Sorry. You shouldn't'a had to see that," Ryuji apologizes, glancing sidelong. Nakaoka offers him a worn smile.  

"He deserves it," Nakaoka concludes, shrugging his shoulders. "For real though, let's go. I don't want to get caught in here. My mom'll kill me."  

"Mine too."

The two of them set off together in comfortable silence, following the same path they took to get in to get back out. They're almost to the fence line when they hear approaching footsteps. It's followed by the sound of tires bouncing over the cracked concrete. Ryuji throws his head over his shoulder to see Takeishi barreling after them. There's a security robot hot on his tail. Only once has Ryuji ever found himself in a similar situation. He knows from experience that the security bots can outrun a human. There's no way Takeishi is going to make it to the fence in time.  

He knows he's going to regret this, but-...  

"Take this and get outta here," Ryuji snaps, tossing his bag into Nakaoka's arms. He gives the other boy's shoulder a firm push. Nakaoka does what he does best and takes off. Ryuji spins around in the opposite direction to go back for Takeishi. He's doing a fair job of throwing the bot off, ducking between hover cars to cut off its straight forward path. Despite that, the machine is still closing the distance between them. Ryuji sticks his fingers in his mouth and whistles, catching both the bot and Takeishi's attention.  

"Go long!" Ryuji calls out, gesturing towards the far end of the shipyard.

"There's another downed fence that way!" Takeishi throws up a fist in acknowledgment and breaks out running. He's a few aisles down from Ryuji, zigzagging a path through the parked cars. It's a good method to prevent the bot from gaining distance on a straightaway. So far it's working, the bot only has ground capabilities and it can't keep up with Takeishi's random changes in direction. Ryuji for his part races ahead, keeping his eyes out for more security bots. They've almost reached the fence line again and the opening that waits there for them.  

Takeishi's been doing track since middle school and it shows in the way he runs, his stride long and practiced. He catches up to Ryuji and the two of them push on towards the fence. For a moment they catch each other's eye and share twin smiles of amusement. This is easily the craziest thing they've done to date. This Takeishi is the one Ryuji is friends with. He's briefly reminded of that as they come upon the end of their shared row. They dash around the side of the last hover car and almost crash into the fence.  

"No effin' way!" Ryuji curses, staring incredulously at the brand new panel of fencing. "This thing's been down for months! When did they replace it?!"

"Worry about that later! Where else can we get out at?!" cries Takeishi as he checks over his shoulder for the bot. "Shit, Ryuji we gotta go, man! There's two of them back there!"  

When Ryuji looks, sure enough, two security robots are coming down the aisles towards them. In the distance, Ryuji can make out a third. He turned to Takeishi, his stomach clenching nervously at what he's about to do.  

"Takeishi, climb! I'll help you over. Then I can go back down to where we came in," Without thinking he kneels down and offers himself as a foothold to his friend. Takeishi stares at him for a heartbeat, eyebrows furrowed with indecision. They both know its unlikely that Ryuji will be able to make it out. "Please man, just go."  

"I'm sorry," Takeishi apologizes as he steps onto Ryuji's back. He hoists himself up and over the fence, turning around in time to offer a mournful look. Ryuji doesn't have time to do more than wave him off, the bots are closing in around him. As a last-ditch effort, Ryuji takes off back towards the hangars, hoping he might be able to get inside of one to hide. He's almost there when his foot catches in a crack in the pavement. His body shoots forward and lands against the hard ground, skinning his palms and forearms in the process. For a moment he lays winded, trying to will himself to get back up.  

The security bots surround him, having picked up a fourth on the way. They began to run their scanners over him, bright blue beams of light that shock the back of his eyelids. He raises up a hand to cover his eyes against their glow. There's a soft crackle of static that passes between them like they're having a private conversation in robot. One of the bots scans him a second time for good measure and then it begins to speak.  

Ryuji Sakamoto, age 16. No prior offenses. Citizen, please remain where you are. An officer has been dispatched to this location and will arrive shortly. Please do not leave the scene, as this could be taken as a sign of an attempt to resist arrest. There are no charges currently being brought against you. However, I will begin the Mirandizing process should this incident be taken to court in the future. In accordance with local laws, you have the right to remain silent-...

Ryuji pushes himself up onto his knees, listening to the security robot's electronic voice. His pulse pounds at the side of his forehead and he thinks for a moment about how fucked he currently is. He's going to be arrested. The moment that gets back to his father- Ryuji isn't sure what will happen then, but it knows that it won't be good. He debates on trying to run again, but the bots have already logged his identification code. There's a slim chance that they haven't yet transmitted it, but it's a long shot even then.  

In the distance, he can hear sirens.  

[watolocke]

Watolock Figure Skating AU

So this all came to me at once and I wrote a lot of plot points and possible moments down. I’m not much of a fic writer so if you want to force yourself through this disconnected block of text, have fun! I sent this to the Miss Sherlock Discord but I’ll give it its moment in the Tumblr tag lmao.

Sherlock began as a rising star in the junior figure skating community when she was 15, holding an excellent track record of consecutive wins. She had excellent technical skills and creative flair. Her interaction with fans was minimal but she remained popular regardless. 

Unfortunately her teenage years appeared to be the peak of her career when her abilities began to crash after the death of her parents (and some other secret angsty backstory involving figure skating) soon after she turned 20. She began crashing in competitions and her renowned self-choreographed routines fell flat. Her heart and soul was no longer in it.

The only time she feels fully at ease on the ice in her early 20s is in private.

Wato is a hobbyist when it comes to skating. While she is fascinated by the sport she is by no means a religious competition follower and while she could probably list a handful of names she's read about, she wouldn't be quick to recognise. Admittedly she is a bit of nerd surrounding the physics of figure skating jumps.

She uncovered years old tape recordings of the Olympics in her parents' attic and pored over the figure skating footage in her free time while getting through high school. (I honestly just needed an excuse for her not to be a Figure Skating Fangirl who would know Sherlock immediately).

She continues to practise into her college years when she has short breaks between working for her medical degree. It's always in public rinks and it is never more than a hobby.

Kimie Hatano is the rink owner. Gentaro Reimon is Sherlock's coach. Tatsuya Shibata is a pairs skater.#

Their first encounter is at the end of Sherlock's private rink time. She begins to unlace at the back to avoid being rudely talked to or god forbid, asked a question.

Enter the public. Among the groups of friends and couples, a shorter frantic woman stumbles in. She's hefting an assortment of bags and dressed terribly in Sherlock's opinion. Sherlock watches her hastily tie her laces connected to her ratty old skates and push in earphones before she steps onto the ice amidst the rush. For some unknown reason she seems to stand out despite the lacklustre attire. Her expression is just so full of will and determination.

She is soon gliding effortlessly and stepping rhymically across the ice the best she can amidst the admittedly sparse public. There are stammers and blips occasionally and it would be a lie if Sherlock didn't admit one or two falls escaped the woman. It wasn't completely fluent but the beauty and luminescence of the her character easily erased the most minor of errors.

She begins to slide into more advanced step sequences before launching into a series of single jumps. Sherlock hadn't been aware, hadn't even considered the thought, that what she'd seen had simply been a warmup for this assumed amateur. She throws herself without almost any hesitation, catching herself when she underestimates a landing. She continues, never letting the proud glow leave her eyes.

There's a moment where she seems to *prepare* herself, remaining motionless on the ice and taking a breath before she sets off again. Moving with unexpected strength and a spark in her eye. Jump. Sherlock holds her own breath as she sees this woman take off with the clear ambition of a toe loop. One revolution. Two. Three. Landing. Slicing into the ice on the right back outside edge, she lands with only a slight wobble. An almost flawless triple toe. Sherlock is enraptured. Of course, she can do such moves in her sleep but, here she is... Awestruck.

Frozen in place, Sherlock doesn't appear to notice the glee and surprise on the woman's face as she pushes herself to the exit, breathing heavily and reaching for a discarded bottle of water by her bag.

Sherlock practically falls out of her seat in an attempt to catch the woman during her break. Sherlock knows how much she herself despises being interrupted. She fills with a strange emotion as she approaches slowly in the building afternoon crowds. Nerves? She has not been noticed. She could still turn away. No, not Sara Shelly Futaba! She's a figure skating prodigy... with nerves of steel! And really she should take note of potential competition that could jeopardize her consistent wins.

Sherlock: Who's your coach?

Wato, pulling out her earphones: Eh? Sorry?

Sherlock: Do you have a coach?

Wato, looking bemused.

Sherlock, taking in Wato's scuffed and worn skates and attire: No! Of course you don't. What am I thinking! 

Wato, quickly growing angry and scoffing in disbelief.

Sherlock, failing lamely: No no... No! Sorry I just... Uh, what's your name? 

Wato: Tachibana... [Sherlock is clearly waiting for her to elaborate] Wato.

Sherlock: [to herself] Tachibana Wato... Listen- [cut off by phone buzzing, glances away] Ugh..! Listen- [Wato has disappeared; initiate frustrated Sherlock stomps and hair mussing]

Sherlock rushes out instantly, knowing she has no time to hunt down this newly named mystery girl without incurring the wrath of her ballet instructor. She spends the whole lesson a little out of focus and enamoured by Wato. It certainly doesn't go unnoticed. She's endlessly teased by Shibata on the sidelines as her (usually flawless) form is corrected. Sherlock obviously gives him a murderous look and already has 4 possible scenarios in which she can end his career.

The next time she's at the rink, she casually attempts to ask around about a Wato Tachibana. Yet we all know that Sherlock lacks any semblance of discreetness and of course Kimie Hatano, rink owner and Sherlock's designated moral support, knows the "sweet girl who has been showing up for about a week now and oh! She is so lovely, she'd probably even like you, Sherlock! Whoops, I didn't mean that..! Anyway, since you like her so much I'll introduce you both!". Cue Sherlock indignantly denying any interest but not denying the offer.

Mrs Hatano is endlessly encouraging Sherlock to speak to Wato but let's face it... She's a hopeless lesbian. 

Wato has just returned from a gap year in Syria she took in pursuit of her dream as a doctor. She was doing training as a nurse and was further encouraged to chase a higher medical career. Now in the summer building up to her final year in university before she enters medical school she is taking her free time to pursue an outside hobby she enjoys to lessen the pressure of such a demanding course.

She becomes close friends with Mrs Hatano during her visits and praises Wato each time she sees her but Wato is much too humble and even unaware to admit she's any good. Mrs Hatano remarks on her days as an ice dancer and all the many incredible men and women she met (in more ways than one). Wato laughs along at her stories that would be unbelievable if they weren't coming from her lips. Sherlock is often seen moping in the sidelines lamenting her inability to approach Wato after their awkward first encounter.

After some long, hard talks with Mrs Hatano Wato decides that she can afford to fish out money for a few lessons, purely to occupy her summer *obviously*. Sherlock, who is usually opposed to assisting any beginner's lessons jumps at the chance when Mrs Hatano mentions Wato. 

However, the instructor insists she just show what she can do first lesson while Sherlock is lurking in the back of the rink seating. Wato gets off to a shaky start due to her nerves but is soon smoothly gliding across the ice and doing moves, slowly increasing in difficulty. Amid this she is periodically throwing out single and double jumps. Sherlock is convinced she needs to speak to this girl and maybe advise her on how to improve her technique. Sherlock can already see the magic if Wato were to improve her rotations and unstable landings. Although these things never come out quite as smoothly she skates...

So unfortunately the first time they speak sherlock unintentionally comes off as pretentious and the two get into some verbal combat despite being interested in each other.

Kento definitely approaches Sherlock later and she pouts and mopes about how badly she handled that situation but that Wato was *totally* in the wrong too..!

Sherlock thought she was being constructive when advising wato on her technique but she was just pointing out everything wrong. She didn't have time to get to the positives before Wato was offended and began the verbal warfare.

They also both make the mistake of going to Mrs Hatano, wondering how they could apologise. Mrs Hatano, of course, has a genius idea: Coffee. However, when both women arrive and suddenly there's four coffees between the two of them. There's a lot of uncomfortable fumbling and light blushes as they talk over each other attempting to defend themselves. Sherlock tries to act cold and unaffected but they're eventually both giggling. 

Conversation is still awkward as they both lace up before Wato's first proper lesson but Sherlock lightly nudges Wato before shoving a piece of chocolate in her hand. Before Wato can reply Sherlock has turned away, shoved on her skate guards and marched off. And lucky she did because she may have melted if she saw the soft smile Wato had on her face.

Next thing you know Sherlock is pretending nothing happened and patiently leading Wato in a beginner's class. Sherlock notoriously doesn't have the patience for *anyone*. Period. On the side we have a slightly stunned Mrs Hatano. Sherlock is so caught up in explaining successful landing technique in detail that she doesn't even notice them. Shibata films it as "blackmail material" but Sherlock steals his phone. Before deleting the video she sends it to herself... because Wato looks so cute in it but she'll never let anyone in on that.

As first professional lessons usually go, Wato falls over an unimaginable amount of times by over-rotating on her jumps and Sherlock rushes over each time to check that she's alright.

Wato, grinning: You know I'm getting a medical degree, right?

Sherlock, holding the sides of her face gazing very intently at Wato's pupils: You can't determine your own concussion!

They probably look in each other's eyes for a few moments too long before clearing their throats and getting back to practice.

Sherlock leads Wato through the appropriate motions by lightly placing her hands on Wato's hips and waist and demonstrating the leg and arm movements for better balance. It's all in the name of sport yet it ends up achingly intimate.

By the end they are both glowing and Wato is gazing up as Sherlock rambles about everything and nothing all at once and she can't take her eyes off her. They end up beside each other once again, yanking off their skates and mindlessly discussing breathtaking routines from *decades* ago because of course Sherlock has endless knowledge on all her interests. They end up sat there late into the afternoon as the public passes in front of them and Mrs Hatano brings them drinks and snacks. 

Wato talks about her school life and how exhausting it can be but how much she adores it. Sherlock laughs at her affably for not following modern skating competitions. Wato jokes that Sherlock isn't as popular as she claims she is. Conversation is cut short when Wato cheekily requests to see one of Sherlock's apparently *incredible* routines. Sherlock stalks off with a less than friendly farewell and Wato has to use all her energy not to chase after this woman she's barely known a day.

Sat speechless she confides in Mrs Hatano who halfheartedly mentions Sherlock's "moods", although it seemed like more than a mood to Wato.

They each spend that night pondering the fun they had and just how much they want to see and speak to each other again.

The next time that they meet Sherlock stomps up to Wato with a phone number and a proposition. The number is to organise additional practises with Sherlock who gets extra rink access because "it's practical, Wato! Don't be dense!" The proposition is an invitation to witness one of Sherlock's routines privately during one of the previously mentioned additional practises. Sherlock requests that she set the date for it but Wato quickly agrees.

It takes a week more of practises in the presence of Mrs Hatano and various instructors before Sherlock finally approaches Wato to make good on her offer that night.

When Wato enters the rink it is the quietest she's ever seen it. She doesn't even see Mrs Hatano shuffling about. Admittedly it is quite late in the evening on a Sunday. She calls out, spotlights flash and as she blinks Sherlock appears from the other side of the rink all booted up with a long, *extremely fashionable* coat draped around her. Wato laughs loudly at her dramatics and Sherlock badly covers a smile as she skates to the centre of the ice.

Wato shades her eyes from the lights as she tries to see who's in the tech booth although she's almost certain she already knows. She hears a  yell of "catch!" before feeling the impact of a coat on her face. Before she can protest Sherlock has assumed her opening position and she is... *dazzling*. Her outfit is delicately sequined and elegant.

The music sets off at a somber pace and Sherlock possesses all the majesty and grace of a prima ballerina. The pace picks up and though she feels slightly wobbly in front of this new audience she slices through the air, elevating herself half a metre off the ice and landing with perfect balance.

Sherlock does the most impossible choreography and Wato is *beyond* amazed. She is void of speech or even breath to fully convey the beauty of what she'd just seen.

Sherlock bows deeply after showcasing one of her early successful routines and twirls, waving timidly to the audience of one.

As Sherlock begins to exit the ice Wato rushes over and grabs her arm as she sings her praises. Sherlock goes to shake Wato's arm off in habit but is stuck halfway through putting on her skate guards by Wato's fascinated expression and sparkling eyes.

Since this is just a very long sneak peak of my ideas... I’ll stop here. Feel free to send me asks with your thoughts and questions about this AU though. I am very invested in it.

[kissmeaboutit]

Fic recs part 1

The Intern- https://archiveofourown.org/works/979988/chapters/1929352#main

Armin was convinced that it was the opportunity of a lifetime, but Eren just saw it as just another chance to fail. Nothing good could possibly come out of an internship in a stuffy office at Survey Corporation. Eren would have been content to sit and watch the remainder of his senior year pass him by. However, after one elevator trip, Eren finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew about life and himself.

Tentative Bliss- https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131646/chapters/2286009

In the D/s community, a contract is the agreement between the Dom and sub: It outlines the structure, expectation, rules, and limitations of the temporary relationship. After Eren nervously signs one with his new Dom, Levi, they both have a month to decide if they're right for each other and to see if Eren can fit in the household without clashing with the others. Although, Eren is a little surprised by Armin's kindness and Levi's actual objective...

1994- https://archiveofourown.org/works/875756/chapters/1683367

Before cell phones. Before the Kardashians. Before internet porn. The year is 1994. Eren, Mikasa, and Armin, poor kids from the wrong side of the tracks, have been transferred with the rest of their neighborhood to the posh, uptown Trost High (Home of the Titans). Mikasa and Armin seem to fit in well enough, but Eren isn't quite so lucky. Of course, most of this has to do with Eren's personality. When he accepts a bet to lose his virginity (and actually prove that someone likes him) by the end of the semester, it's hard for him to deny the improbability of winning. After all, the only one he seems to be talking to these days is the weirdly pretty (and just plain weird) goth working at the donut shop down the street...

Louder Than Words- https://archiveofourown.org/works/1810396/chapters/3885151

My boyfriend, Eren Jaeger, disappeared ten days before his seventeenth birthday.

Six months later, he was found again, completely intact save for his mental and emotional scars. Oh, and the fact that he would never be able to speak again.

And so, we all started to rebuild from the debris that had been left in the destruction of our lives.

Little Titan Cafe- https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032582/chapters/2057524#main

Just another cliche AU in which Eren works as a barista in his mother’s café, specializing in latte art. And then there’s Levi, who’s not exactly your typical patron, because, well, he’s blunt and rude (which Eren supposes isn’t that much different from regular customers) but mostly he just confuses Eren’s poor little homosexual heart.

Chasing Summer- https://archiveofourown.org/works/4059769/chapters/9136579

Two more weeks left before Levi Ackerman graduates from high school and leaves the small town of Shiganshina. He can't wait for the moment that he can finally put that dreadful town behind him. But when a Grisha Jaeger becomes the new family doctor, bringing along his ill son that breathes new life into the town he desperately wants to escape, will Levi find a reason to stay?

A Forged Wedding- https://archiveofourown.org/works/1557026/chapters/3301223

Modern AU, based off of the Japanese game: "I... Don't think I heard you right. What did you just ask me, Rivaille?" "I'm asking you to marry me for a month. How did you not hear me right?" (Rated M for later chapters, mentions of other pairings, more warnings inside)

Don’t Let Your guard down- https://archiveofourown.org/works/5440217/chapters/12572078

Eren and his adopted sister were raised in an extremely Christian household and as a result, are very ignorant to the world around them. And there's one big problem with that. Eren is gay and has been hiding it from everyone since he realized it, out of fear of his homophobic father and other people finding out. One day he feels tested religiously when he meets some eccentric people as a result of him drawing attention to himself by exhibiting his athletic abilities. Little does he know, he drew their attention because they are all apart of their school's color guard team and are desperate for a new member. He's hesitant to join, however, it may not be his choice to accept the offer after all.

Trost Landing- https://archiveofourown.org/works/1622420/chapters/3458933

After a fire devastated their apartment, Levi and Eren move into a new housing community on the outskirts of town. However, after a little while, things don't turn out as happily-ever-after as they had planned.

A voice from the rubble- https://archiveofourown.org/works/5014987/chapters/11525746

It all just took 30 seconds. Thirty seconds that kept replaying in my mind over and over again, the details so vivid. Thirty seconds that would change my life forever.

Thirty seconds earlier we had all been safely tucked up in bed. Shiganshina Lodge was my home, my family was visiting for the holidays; it had now become our tomb.

Shiganshina District had been a second home to all of us ever since I was born. I know this place. I know its beauty... I'm now learning its terror.

OR: Eren's trapped in a landslide and Levi's the paramedic that finds him.

Freedom of the press- https://archiveofourown.org/works/3261971/chapters/7113611

Eren is just an ordinary college student, wondering how long he can put off his art projects and if it's possible to live off of only ramen and mac 'n cheese. Oh, and if his medical alert bracelet is really necessary, because honestly, it shouldn't be. His part time jobs as a barista and a photographer for a major newspaper help pay the bills, but when he gets assigned the task of photographing the upcoming professional soccer match, he can't believe his luck. He has been given permission to legally stalk his idol, center forward for the Scouts, Levi Ackerman!

Levi Ackerman is a famous soccer player, and the object of millions of girls' and guys' wet dreams. For Levi, the life of a celebrity is nothing to complain about. He can walk into any bar and leave with his choice of men to take home. And with a sexual appetite that can rival that of a porn star, this is a benefit of stardom he takes full advantage of. The only problem is, it's hard to keep secrets when constantly under a spotlight. What the world doesn't know is that he's gay, and he's determined to keep it that way. Levi struggles to keep his deep, dark secret out of the public knowledge, but a certain green-eyed brat is making that exceptionally difficult.

Both sides of the same coin- https://archiveofourown.org/works/1966659/chapters/4255494

Eren is a werewolf, captured by humans for experiments, and wakes up in a cell that he soon realizes he's sharing with a vampire. The two work together to get out of their unpleasant prison but the price for their freedom may end up being too high. How will they cope with the consequences of the choices they have made?

Help Me Stand- https://archiveofourown.org/works/934319/chapters/1818776

Eren's best childhood friend and high school boyfriend, Armin, dies in a car accident in which Eren had been the one at the wheel. Unable to keep from blaming himself, life itself becomes agonizing for Eren and he turns to the more negative side of coping mechanisms. Eventually, he meets a college student named Levi who seems like he has it all figured out, just to discover that they have more in common than he thought. Modern!AU.

Also, Levi has a motorcycle because it was definitely necessary.

Make You Feel My Love- https://archiveofourown.org/works/4863482/chapters/11146277

Levi is Trost's strongest soldier, he's Captain of the Special Ops Squad and he's also the only chance Trost has to end their long war with Maria. Eren is Maria's Prince, he's beloved and respected by all of his people, he's also the only hope Maria has to survive their long struggle against Trost.

What neither of them expected was an arranged marriage to try and solve all their problems. Fun fact: it doesn't.

A World Of Our Own- https://archiveofourown.org/works/2632715/chapters/5875388

Eren wasn't happy knowing his whole life that he'd have to be forced into an arranged marriage, but finding out that his fiance is one of the richest, most famous heirs of the modern age wasn't exactly helping. All about the struggles of being forced into a modern day arranged marriage.

And Eren being a little shit in the process. Cause he's a brat.

The Music Room- https://archiveofourown.org/works/5043655/chapters/11596453

Levi Ackerman resides in a facility for the terminally ill, angry and bitter toward the world for being stripped of his life before he's even allowed to live it. He keeps to himself and in fact shuns any kind of social interaction with anyone. That is, until he stumbles upon the music room, inhabited only by a cancer-ridden teenager who's just as lonely as he is.

Leave your Lover- https://archiveofourown.org/works/2062431/chapters/4482963

Levi is a 30 year old divorced Chef who works at his best friend's restaurant.

An ex military Sergeant, Levi lives his life according to a strict routine. One day, his strict schedule is thrown off when a mysterious cat makes it's way into his apartment from the open Balcony. When Levi hears it's owner knocking on his door, he wasn't aware that his life would be turned upside down and all because of this boy standing in his doorway with the biggest, brightest green eyes he'd ever seen and his name is Eren Jaeger.

The story in which Levi doesn't know he's gay and is in denial about it until a certain bright eyed boy moves in next door and steals his heart. The only problem is... he's got a boyfriend.

Comment On... - https://archiveofourown.org/works/7897357

Levi has come a long way since he started writing fanfiction, but there's always been that one reader who's stuck by him since the beginning. A fanartist for his fanwriter who goes by the name of Jaegermeister. After months of talking back and forth in the comments of AO3 one of them finally becomes brave enough to send a message on Tumblr that takes their conversations to a whole new level.

Promises Travel-

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5524034/chapters/12751232

One promise could lead to more.  

And for Levi, he intended to keep every one of them no matter where Eren may be.

A Place for Hearts To Rest- https://archiveofourown.org/works/7189850/chapters/16318364

Levi is Eren's captain, and Eren assumed it would always be that way. Captain and subordinate, the way it was meant to be. But, when Eren's heat hits and the two can't resist each other, will the change be for the better, or the worse? Especially with the extraordinary circumstances that follow. There were orders they were meant to follow, rules that were not meant to be broken, and repercussions that would be dire, but no one can withstand the battering of wild instincts indefinitely and even taciturn captains sometimes have slip ups.

Only with the help of their friends are they able to come to terms with the sticky situation they'd managed to get themselves into. But, will it be enough to save them?

[starboystan]

friends

posting my fic, it might suck but pls be nice I’m nervous

summary: Stan has a secret, he wants to tell his best friend Richie...

words: 3308

here goes nothing

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

It was raining outside the Tuesday Stanley Uris decided it was time to tell his best friend his biggest secret. Seems pretty fitting actually, come to think of it. The rain flowed from the rooftops into the streets of Derry, just like they had 9 years before, on the day Stan Uris first met Richie Tozier.

Before school on the first day of second grade the rain began to fall and didn’t stop until four that same afternoon. A boy was sat at the kitchen table with his mother and father, his feet swinging gently as they were too short to reach the floor. His small tight curls peeked out under the hood of his raincoat as he walked from the front door to the car. It was becoming a Uris family tradition that both Donald and Andrea drove him to school on his first day after summer vacation. It was rare for it to be raining this early into Fall, but little Stan Uris had no complaints. He always quite liked the rain. The gentle patter of rain against his window was something that never failed to comfort Stan on a restless night. Stan got out of the car at school and thanked his parents for the ride. He was extremely formal for a seven year old, a well-mannered and well-behaved young boy. He tucked his satchel under his arm to protect it from the drizzle and headed into the school building. It was very easy for him to find his way to his assigned classroom. He was among the first to arrive, naturally, so he took out his pencils and notepad and sat patiently as his classmates poured in to the classroom.

Six minutes and twenty-seven seconds into homeroom, a dripping wet boy stumbled into the room, tripping over his own feet and apologising profusely. His dark black locks clung to his forehead, a thick pair of glasses hiding the majority of the features of his face. He was directed to the empty desk on Stan’s left. Stan did his best to not be distracted by the boy who continued to fidget and make small noises, obviously trying to get Stan’s attention. The teacher instructed the class to write down a sentence about themselves, Stan was quick to pick up one of his five perfectly sharpened, same sized pencils and jotted down and introductory sentence. The boy beside him sighed with a clear sign of frustration. From the second he walked into the room, Stan could tell that this messy looking boy was unorganised. After a three-minute long struggle, the boy began to ask around frantically for a pencil. No one even considered it, no one but Stanley. It was unusual for him, to say the least. He’d always kept to himself at school, never finding it particularly necessary to collect a variety of friends along the way. But something deep inside pushed him to hold out the third of his five pencils towards the boy sitting next to him “You can borrow mine” he said, the corners of his mouth creeping into a small but welcoming smile. The boy stared back, almost dumbfounded over the fact that someone was helping him. He mumbled out a “thank you” and scrawled down a sentence that was hardly legible to Stan. “Richie, my name’s Richie” the boy says as he hands back the pencil. Stan nodded and said...

“Hi Richie, can we talk?” The house phone was cold against his face. Sixteen years old now, Stan was still fairly quiet to strangers. A whole different story to his friends. Stan was smart and sensible but always had a way of being able to make his friends cry with laughter over a witty comeback or silly joke. “Stanley do you realise that it’s eight in the morning on a Saturday. What’s more important than my beauty sleep?” Richie groaned, his voice giving away that he’d just woken up. “Gonna take a lot more than a few hours to fix you up Richard” Stan rolled his eyes “Can you just come over? This is serious” he said, a little urgently. “Staaaann” Richie sighed “It’s raining, can’t we speak over the phone?” Richie sat up in bed, not yet making any moves to get out of it. “No. You know what? Forget it, I don’t need to talk anymore. It’s nothing” Stan was in a way relieved to say that, his mind racing to figure out a way to expose the secret he’d been keeping for two painfully long years. Richie recognised the tone of Stan’s voice and knew it was urgent “I’m coming”. Before Stan had the chance to protest, the line went dead. Richie made his way down Jackson Street…

towards Stanley’s house, where he spent every minute he could, out playing ball in the yard or trying (and failing) to sit still while Stan looked for new birds to make notes about in one of his special books. The years flashed by fast and the two of them began to expand their friendship. At first just onto two others, and eventually they had a group of seven in total - The Loser’s Club.

The Summer of 91 brought the first signs of hope since the trauma of the summer two years prior. As spring rolled into summer, the sun came back with a familiar face. Beverly Marsh, who had left seven hundred and twenty four days before, was back in Derry. With the group back to it’s full size of seven, the Losers fell back in love with their idle town. But that wasn’t the only instance of love that sparked over the summer. Losing Bev had been hard on everyone, but it didn’t hit anyone as hard as it hit Ben. He realised that he was deeply in love with the fiery haired girl, and he needed to let her know. That brought the beginnings of one of many relationships within the Losers Club.

It was a warm summer night when fourteen year old Stanley Uris came to a realisation. A game of Truth or Dare was spun on its head when Stan pushed himself out of his comfort zone and chose “Dare” for the first time. Six heads snapped up to look at him in shock. He regretted it immediately to say the least. “You have to kiss….” Bev said with grin that was verging on sadistic. Stan clenched his jaw, he’d never been secure within the norm of being straight, and he’d also never kissed anyone. “All of us” Richie chimed in, laughing at the expression on Stan’s face. All Eddie’s talk of germs was racing through his head as he moved around the circle. It wasn’t until he was face to face with Mike Hanlon that Stan became very nervous, fiddling with his sleeves and tapping his toes inside his shoes. It was a fast kiss, barley over a second, but it was enough for Stan to know. He wished he didn’t know. The excitement of his friends quickly died down when Stan left in a hurry, turning back for half a moment to look at Mike before he ducked out of the door and began the walk back to his house. How could he feel like that? Why a boy? What made it so different with him? The thoughts raced around his head the whole way home, and followed him well into the night, keeping him up all night long. He couldn’t understand anything, so he said…

“Nothing, Richard I told you it was nothing” he muttered to the soaked boy who was standing in his doorway in his pyjama bottoms and some ‘edgy’ band t-shirt “Why the hell didn’t you bring a jacket?”. Richie just shrugged and shook his head like a wet dog getting the water off of him “This sounded more important that a jacket Staniel. Can you at least let me in?” he pleaded with his eyes. A sigh left Stan as he held the door open for his best friend “Please just don’t step on the carpet. Dad’ll kill me if it gets wet.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll keep off it. Have a towel or something? It’s fucking freezing” Richie groaned and sat at the kitchen table, causing Stan to visibly cringe. Stan headed to the closet to get a towel for him and returned still frowning at Richie. He had no reason to be annoyed at him, the stress of the situation was getting to him and making him snappy and very irritable. He tossed the towel to Richie and sat down opposite, unsure of where to start. Richie noticed and did it for him “You’re being very…”

“Quiet, even for you. You can talk to me you know, Stan” Richie sounded almost scared. After that night playing truth or dare, Stan went through a lot inside his own head. He was just fifteen, now more closed off than ever before, when he tried to tell Richie the first time. It didn’t go to plan to say the least. The day ended with Stan meeting his lunch again and running home crying. The problem was he couldn’t admit it to himself. No matter what he tried to tell himself, Stan just couldn’t get it out in a way that he could accept. Instead he settled for the idea that he’d never tell anyone and stay miserable forever. But this wasn’t up to him apparently. The Losers we're growing older and to Stans surprise, people seemed to want them around. The parties became more frequent,and hiding became harder. He never drank, didn’t trust himself enough to keep quiet.

The weekend before he invited Richie to his house during the biggest rainstorm in Derry for a long time, The Losers went along to some party at some house out on the outskirts of their small town. “Casey Something-or-Other” Richie had said as Stan drove the Losers up past the Standpipe towards the small suburbs on the edge of town.

The night went as they usually did, Stan slipped off from his friends once they were all busy dancing or talking. He sat himself in an upstairs bedroom until a couple decided they’d prefer to be in there. He wandered down and sat in his car, not noticing the other boy sitting in the back. He turned on the radio and tucked his legs up underneath him, just sitting watching the party go on inside the house and humming along to whatever song that was playing. The sharp clearing of another’s throat nearly stopped Stan’s heart, meaning that the small noise from the boy in the back was met with a yell. The curls on his head bounced as he spun around in his seat to look for the source of the noise. Fear became confusion when his green eyes met the deep, warm brown of Mike Hanlon’s. “Oh, uhhh, sorry Stan, didn’t mean to scare you like that” Mike spoke very quietly, looking everywhere but Stan’s eyes. Something was clearly wrong but Stan didn’t feel right just asking what was up, not after avoiding one-on-one interactions with Mike for almost a year now. “What are you doing in here?” Stan asks nervously, nervous of what he might say and what he might do. “I could asked you the same question” Mike replied quickly, almost defensive. “This happens to be my car, I was just-“ he took a breath and stopped himself from finishing the sentence. How could he tell Mike that he’d been avoiding him without sounding rude. “Just what? Why’d you always disappear at parties Stan? Do you… do you have like a secret girlfriend or something?” Mike speaks slowly and calmly, which makes Stan jealous because he can’t seem to find a way to calm down, his heart is beating wildly and he can’t seem to keep still. “What? No I don’t have a secret girlfriend. I don’t have a girlfriend full stop. I don’t disappear, always stick with you guys. Why’d you want to know anyway?” Stan spoke in a slur, stumbling on his words “Have you been drinking?” Mike frowned, not expecting this from Stan at all.

Stan turned around and flipped the radio off in a swift movement as he shook his head and furrowed his eyebrows, Mike simultaneously shuffled forward in his seat without Stan noticing. “I want to know because you’re my friend Stan, I worry about you. You’ve been pretty distant recently, we’ve all noticed it. I’m in here because I saw you sit in the car the whole time last weekend. I guessed you’d do it at this one too so I wanted to keep you company” Mike said softly, putting his hand on Stan’s upper arm. Stan kept his eyes on the spot where Mike’s hand was touching him, his skin seemed to set on fire under where Mike touched him. “I….I’m fine, you shouldn’t worry about me. I’m okay. You can go in and have fun in there if you want” he doesn’t look up from the connection between them on his arm, a thousand thoughts swam around his head; why hasn’t Mike moved his hand yet? Was he feeling it too? Why does he care so much? These thoughts were interrupted when Mike asked a very quiet question “Can I ask you something?” Stan flashed his eyes up to Mike’s face for a split second “Sure?” Mike took a deep breath like the question held great importance to him “Do you not want to be my friend?” he chewed on the inside of his cheek as he waited for an answer. Stan was taken by surprise, he understood though, of course Mike would think that with the way Stan had been acting around him “Yes, I mean No, I mean….. Mike I want to be your friend. I really do…” a tear fell down his cheek and he was glad he wasn’t facing Mike, but Mike could see, he got ever further forward in the back seat, now very close to Stan “...there’s just so much going on in my head and I can hardly even think straight right now. Nothing makes sense, hasn’t for a long time since I realised I’m… I.. I don’t know, I want to be friends, I really do, I like you, I like you a lot, maybe more than I should and I’m sorry, I’m sorry Mike I’ve not been fair to you but the truth is I-“ he didn’t finish his sentence because a finger hooked under his chin and pulled it to face the boy sitting in the back, who drew Stan into a gentle kiss. The curly haired boy went along with the kiss for a moment before his brain caught up with what was happening. He shot back and spun his body completely to face Mike “What did you do that for!?” his voice was quiet and he was still crying slightly. Mike wiped Stan’s cheeks with his thumbs “I like you Stan. And not the way you’re supposed to like a friend. Like like. And I don’t understand either” The words made Stan feel fuzzy inside, almost like he wasn’t real and all of this was happening in some crazy dream that he’d wake up from any second - except he didn’t wake up. Instead, he leaned forward and wrapped his arm around Mike’s shoulders, hugging him tightly despite the uncomfortable angle due to the car seat. “Come sit here please?” Mike asked, with an unfamiliar look in his eyes. He was unsure, Stan had never seen Mike look unsure before, at least not like this. Stan complied and sat beside one of his six best friends in the back of his mom’s car, not moving or speaking until he felt a strong arm creep around his shoulder and pull him closer. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Stan took a breath and relaxed. He didn’t know what would come of this moment, whether this would seal the deal and give him all he’d wanted deep down or do the opposite, draw the two boys even further away. What he did know was that it felt right. How could something wrong - wrong by the standards of his parents, of his religion, of everyone at school - feel so right?

The two of them just sat there, in the back of Stan’s mother’s car, Stan sometimes crying, sometimes leaning into the taller boy’s chest, until the party was over.

There was no going back from there. He knew for sure and that meant he had to tell Richie, there was no getting around it. That’s why he invited him round on the Tuesday morning following the weekend of Casey Davidson’s. “I have something to tell you. And you have to promise you won’t laugh or get weird or make some stupid joke about it” a monotonous voice comes from the light haired boy facing Richie on the table. Richie raised his hands in surrender and shakes his head “When do I ever make stupid jokes?” he says with a grin. “Richie, please? Cross your heart” Stan narrowed his eyes, his leg shaking slightly under the table. Suddenly Richie became serious, as if the importance of the crossed heart was something as solid as a contract to him. In fact, between Stan and Richie, a crossed heart was one of the realest deals that could ever be made “Cross my heart” he said while forming an X over his chest with an index finger.

Stan’s lungs filled up with air and he slowly let it all out “It’s something I think I’ve known for a while, only I’ve not been able to come to terms with it… until now I guess” he took another breath and looked at the table, foucsing on the tiny detail of the wood grain that he had studied so many times before “I found someone that I like… That I like in a different way from the way I like you or Bev or Eddie. That maybe I even love” Richie smiled and leant forward to pat him on the shoulder “That’s great Stanthony! When do we-“ he was cut off abruptly “Please. Let me finish… I- I like boys. No, a boy. Richie, I’m gay” his eyes crept back up to meet Richie’s slowly, like he was scared of the reaction he might get.

“Stan…” Richie took one of Stan’s hands and nodded at him “It’s okay, it doesn’t change anything, you know that right? You’re still my best friend. Nothing can change that” he sounded calm, almost like he was doing one of his voices, except this one wasn’t to make Stan laugh or annoy him, it was to make him feel safe. Stan searched Richie’s eyes for any sign of falseness or satire but found nothing but warmth, with a small squeeze of his best friend’s hands and a tear rolling down his cheek he opened his mouth to speak again “I love you, you’re the brother my parents could never be bothered to have” With that he stood up and pulled Richie into a hug, not even caring that he was still damp. Richie patted him on the back “I love you too, man. Always been there to look out for me, gotta do my best to do the same for you…” a smirk formed on his lips when he released Stan from the hug “Who’s the lucky fella then? Do I know him?” he gave Stan a playful shove and waggled his eyebrows. Stan snapped back to his normal self and rolled his eyes, although he was still smiling. A huge weight was off his shoulders, and even know Richie was just one of the many people he still had to tell, it was a good place to start.