#anyway I got to complain about my past therapists and I think she's really on board and also I really do connect with adhd people. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marsbutterfly · 3 years

Note

Hey ! How are you ? Can I request an imagine for Hanji x f!reader where they both get reincarnated in modern time ? They both died side by side during the rubbling and when they get reincarnated they both have memories of their past life (they were already lovers). Reader thought she was never going to see her girlfriend again but one day she finds her by chance.

Take care and have a nice day !

Note: Thank you so much for requesting this. I had fun writing it and the prompt was *chefs kiss* so I really hope you like it.

In Another Life

Summary: Reincarnation is the doctrine or belief that the soul reappears after death in another and different bodily form.

Wattpad Version! | AO3 Version! |◁ II ▷|

Cold sweat drips down your face as you bolt awake, digging your nails into the bedsheets. The same nightmare has been waking you up in the middle of the night since you were a child.

In your dream, you are a soldier who battles to save humanity in the fight against titans. Somehow, you always manage to kill the gigantic beings and return safely to the world inside the walls.

Always by your side is a brown-haired woman with glasses, her left eye is missing in most of the dreams. In all honesty, you have never seen anyone so beautiful before and, somehow, you remember her name.

Hanji Zoe.

One day, you stood by her side as the world you’ve once known was being left behind, turned into dust. She held your face in her hands as tears streamed down her cheeks, the feeling of her lips against yours is vivid and you can even smell the apple she had earlier.

The scream of your comrades echoes through the plane and into your brain but all you can focus on is the image of Hanji’s body catching on fire as the same flames burn down your back.

She hits the ground seconds before you do and somehow you manage to land by her side, hand touching hand as her lifeless body begins to cool down. You don’t have much time to think before a titan’s massive foot squishes your bodies at the exact same time.

That’s usually when you wake up, when your lungs and heart explode inside your chest due to the pressure of the step. When every blood vessel in your body gives in to the pressure and bursts inside you.

You grab your phone, only to realize your alarm was about to go off anyway. So instead of trying to go back to sleep, you simply push the covers aside and begin to drag yourself to the bathroom in hopes of getting your day started.

Not every dream you have is a nightmare. Some of them are about a life you don’t remember living: The combination of joy and fear after joining the Survey Corps, the warmth of Hanji’s naked body against yours, the delicious smell of freshly made apple pie coming from the kitchen in the middle of the night.

At nights where you don’t dream about that life, you miss it. You miss being around your friends, being able to move around the trees as if you were flying, you miss her. Her deep, brown eyes are all you can think about and time slips away from you.

Once your morning routine is completed, you decide to go for a run in the park behind your house. Since the sun has been out for less than an hour, it shouldn’t be too busy and you’ll be able to enjoy some quiet time.

As the armband slides up your skin, a chilling sensation travels down your spine and nearly every particle of hair in your body rises, even though you can’t understand why. So you simply shake your head and push the feeling down.

Carefully, you select your favorite playlist and check to make sure your laces are tied but before you can actually look, your phone rings loudly in your ear nearly giving you a heart attack.

Without a second thought, you decline the call without even checking to see who it is and you make your way outside.

The cold breeze welcomes you and the sweet smell of the food cart in front of your house hits your nose. Usually after a run, you reward yourself with one of their delicious crepes and that is enough motivation for you to finish your jog.

At this time, the park is the most peaceful place in the city. No crying babies in their strollers or loud business men walking around on their phone, there is only you and maybe three more people.

Your favorite song comes on and you feel the energy pumping through your veins with every beat. It’s the perfect weather for a run and you silently enjoy the calm that washes over your body.

Your mind wanders back to your nightmares and you start to remember the better part of it. The times Hanji would take you to a secret picnic after she became commander or the makeout sessions in the janitors closet.

In some ways, you could even feel her warm skin against yours, her kiss-swollen lips attached to you by a string of saliva. It nearly feels as if you had lived throughout all of it, but it couldn’t be possible.

You’re so deep into your thoughts that you don’t notice the stick on the floor and, when you do, it’s too late and you’re already halfway towards the ground so all you can do is protect your face from the concrete.

The impact itself isn’t too painful but the humiliation is what stings the most. If only you hadn’t gotten that call before leaving your house, you would’ve remembered to tie your shoelaces and therefore they wouldn’t have gotten stuck on the stick on the floor.

This isn’t the first time the woman in your dreams has caused you trouble. In a few of your memories, she would make too much noise when you sneak out and the Commander would eventually catch you.

Ever since you were young and these dreams first started, you’ve been going to a therapist after the other in hopes of understanding what all of this means and why is it happening to you but all came to the same result: inconclusive.

No matter how many doctors you see, no one can understand why you have such vivid dreams about a war nobody has ever heard anything about or creatures that have never once been proven to exist.

With your ass on the ground, you notice you used the word “memories” instead of dreams and for a second you feel as if all air has been sucked out of your lungs by a massive vacuum.

You shake your head, pushing those feelings deep down inside of you and getting on your knee, preparing to tie your laces when a familiar perfume rushes by you.

It’s faint and quick, probably carried by the wind but enough for you to snap your head backwards. A comforting feeling settles in your chest, warm and fuzzy if you could describe it. That’s exactly how the woman from your dreams smelled like.

You notice a brunette in a bright yellow sports bra turning around a bush not too far away, but you can’t see if she’s wearing glasses or if she only has one eye, like Hanji did.

“Y/N don’t be ridiculous!” You say to yourself, standing up and brushing away the dirt from your clothes, “Hanji is not a real person, she’s like an imaginary friend.”

Forgetting all about your fall, you decide to resume your run. The pain in your foot forces you to go a bit slower than you are used to but nothing too serious.

Once you are done running your laps around the park and begin to make your way back home, a few drops of rain begin to fall on your skin, forcing you to rush home.

As you are eagerly awaiting for the crepe you’ve been dreaming about for hours, the owner of the small cart has a sad expression on his face.

“I’m fresh out of batter. My husband just went to grab some more, it should take a little longer than 45 minutes, I am so sorry Y/N.” He says and you sigh, a compassionate smile on your lips and you nod.

“You will save me the first one you make when he’s back right?” You ask and the man eagerly nods.

“Of course. With banana, strawberry and chocolate, right?”

And you laugh, knowing that the only reason why he knows your order so well is because his crepes have been your breakfast each morning since you first moved into this apartment.

Once you are done with the conversation, you rush up the stairs and immediately into the shower. With a washcloth you gently brush the dirt out of your bruised knee, quietly hissing as the burning sensation takes over.

Even though you know you aren’t supposed to do so, you pour hydrogen peroxide on top of the wound and a scream leaves your throat at every step of the way.

“Today really isn’t my day.” You say to yourself as you begin to wash your hair. A few specs of dirt fall to the ground and a prolonged sigh escapes your lips. Everything just seems to be going wrong: rain, no crepe, fell during a run, what’s next? Waiting in line at the coffee shop for over an hour?

As you stand in line, you realize you should have kept your mouth shut. Even though you ordered online, the amount of people surrounding the pick up area was beyond ridiculous and you were definitely getting late for work.

Once your turn finally comes, you thank silently in hopes that you will be able to actually make it in time. So with your chest out and happiness on your face, you loudly say over the many other voices, “Order for Y/N!”

The guy behind the counter looks confused as he checks every cup individually and you watch over him as he does so. He shoots you a sadden and a little annoyed look and you realize that the “Order” button never got pushed.

Your eyes fill with tears of frustration but you brush them away and take your phone out, repeating your online order to the barista on the register and they write it down perfectly.

Your eyes are glued to your phone’s screen while you wait for a message from your boss but the same comforting sensation you felt this morning is back again. Maybe it’s the smell of coffee that reminded you of the trips to Marley or the crowds of different people around, much like eldians and marleyans.

“I have to get this shit out of my brain.” You say, shaking your head and focusing on typing out a message to your friend, complaining and hoping that you won’t get fired today. You worked too hard to get this job and if they let you go over some 20 minute wait, you’ll raise hell on Earth.

“Order for Y/N?” A familiar voice says but you can’t identify from where.

So you walk to the counter, finally putting your phone away and counting the coffees. Your eyes land on the barista’s hand, who carries your regular order. You reach for it and in a split of a second, your hands touch.

The world around you seems to stop and so does your breathing. When you look at her, you realize she is the part of you that has been missing all along. She’s a real person and not a dream. You look at her nametag, just making sure you aren’t going insane and there it is. “Hanji Zoe”

In that minimal touch, you are bombarded by the emotions of a lifetime ago. The first day you met, the first titan experiment you had done together, the first kiss, the first time you’ve had to kill a titan because she would always get too damn close to being eaten alive.

But you are also reminded of the last meal you both ate, the last nose rub, the last time her lips touched yours, the last hand holding, the last breath you both took before you woke up where you are now.

And just like that, feelings you didn’t know were possible for you to have emerged from deep within your chest as if a box that has been sitting deep inside the closet has now just been opened. It even seems like the world has just gotten a bit more colorful.

Tears shine in your eyes as the coffee you just waited so long for hits the ground. With a smile on your face, you wrap your arms around her neck and pull her over the counter. It doesn’t take her more than a second to seal your lips together.

Her breath tastes like the hot chocolate she had earlier that day but it still manages to awaken butterflies that laid dormant in your stomach throughout your entire life. It’s not until your phone rings in your pocket that you are brought back to reality.

“I’m so late for work!” You smile at her and rush out of the store, the container with the other cups in your left hand.

“Wait!!” A voice screams from just outside the coffee shop and you immediately turn around to see Hanji, her hat in her hand as she comes closer to you. “I knew something was missing my entire life and….”

“And now I realize it was you.” You two say in perfect unison and she nods.

“Why don’t we start over? This time, without any titans around.” She asks and you smile.

“Hey, I’m Y/N.” You say, extending your hand.

“I’m Hanji Zoe and I would love to take you on a date sometime.” Hanji meets you in the middle, shaking your hand.

“I really have to go.” You say and a frown appears on her face, you have to fight the will to quit your job and start a nice, little life in the woods with her. Something you’ve always talked about but sadly never got to have.

“I’ll wait for you right here then.” She says, letting go of your hand slowly and you immediately touch the back of her head and bring her in for a long kiss while still managing to keep the cups in your hand still.

This time it was not a goodbye kiss. It was simply the second first kiss you’ve ever had with Hanji and hopefully, it will not be the last.

215 notes · View notes

why-this-kolaveri-machi · 3 years

Text

just because you’re afraid it doesn’t mean you’re broken.

Titans 3.05

once more into the cold dark void of the internet with my stream-of-consciousness take on a superhero tv show...

spoilers ahead.

1. i cannot believe that among the first things i get to hear in this episode with my own two ears is the line 'eluded our overdudes'. why must you give me such pain along with so much joy, show?

1.5. scarecrow stringing jason along on this path to red-hood-dom is not something i would’ve ever expected, but does kind of make sense.

1.55. i don’t know all the details of the original resurrection arc in the comics but i like that jason, weirdly, has a greater role to play in his own demise and rebirth? i think it makes it easier to draw a line between his past trauma, the demonstrably shitty and terrifying responsibility of being robin, the ways bruce and the titans wronged him, his responses to that, the reasons he turns to scarecrow, and his final evolution to red hood. it makes for a smoother character arc rather than a one that was interrupted for two decades before somebody went oh hey let’s resurrect that kid that the audience once voted to kill and make him an anti-hero!

1.75. what’s crane giving him? anti fear toxin? anyway, crane is a fucking creep and i’m not sure i want to see a whole lot of him on my screen.

2. oh, um, heads up: there’s a long sequence of unsteady cam + flickering lights right after the title card upto the 3:16 mark. it’s a bit headache-inducing so if you want to skip, you can go ahead and do that.

2.45. that’s... weird... why would he dream about... donna...

ok, who am i kidding. i’m going to jump right into my theory about Why Titans Makes Sense Actually because the show itself is apparently not interested in explaining itself:

a) it makes no sense for jason to be conjuring up donna--who famously did not care much for him!--in his dreams. (he wasn’t even there when she died.) or for her to be telling him don’t go or there’s still time.

b) this leads me to think that that’s actually donna, in some sort of limbo between life and death, the kind of place where jericho used to be

c) rachel has demonstrated that she has the power to link the minds of the titans across great distances--she called jason and hank/dawn for help in 2.01, she linked up everybody later in the season, projected dick’s hallucination of his father into their brains without even realising she was doing it, and in the finale, she managed to get dick into conner’s brain. she’s in themyscira now. is this how she gets donna back to life? but reaching out to her in that non-space between life and death?

d) the next obvious question is: why isn’t donna appearing in the dreams of the other titans? she probably is, but they have better reason to be dreaming about her since they were actually close to her, unlike jason.

e) but why would she warn jason in particular? does she foresee jason entering the afterlife--however briefly? does she have an idea of what jason plans to do and what he will become?

f) anyway, more trippy mindscapes and weird psychic powers, yay!

2.5. my heart clenched when bruce comforted jason post-nightmare: clearly i’ve been reading way too much batfam fic. this is a side of bruce we haven’t really been told to expect by all the characters on the show calling him a ‘psychopath’ (*cough*unreliablenarrators*cough*) and him getting jason to speak to a professional speaks volumes about the kind of self-reflection he’s done post dick’s departure, and maybe some of the regrets he has with regards to how he dealt with dick’s traumas.

i mean, just look at him when jason dismisses his concerns! BRUCE IS TRYING JASON

anyway, i have a whole lot more i want to say about this, but i’ll save it for later.

also: LESLIE THOMPKINS!!!!

3. i really like molly--and i love that she’s a friend from before jason got taken in by bruce, the implication that they meet up regularly and that she’s a grounding influence on him (tho clearly not grounding enough to not go along with his dumbass idea about confronting a child trafficker alone).

3.5. aw, jason. robin was his armour against everything in the world that would throw him down and chew him to bits, but san francisco proved that even robin wasn’t enough to protect him. it’s really interesting how ‘disillusionment with the idea of robin’ is so integral to the traumas of both dick and jason but in such different ways.

4. LESLIE!!!!!!! i even forgive her office being so goddamn blue because leslie!

4.5. it makes so much sense for titans!verse leslie to be a therapist, because this show is so inward looking anyway, and therapist sessions are a useful tool to showcase this character work in a story. besides, at least in fanfic, leslie often seems to double up as a counsellor anyway.

4.6. oh man. i’m not terribly convinced by walters’ red hood (tho i think that may be the point--argh. i’ll come back to this thought later. have to stop getting distracted!) but he plays the asshole kid that’s trying not to let any real emotion seep through really well.

“you’d like me to punch you, wouldn’t you”

5. not sure what to think of batman’s little trophy case other than the show winking unsubtly at us and going look look - catwoman! the riddler! two face! you excited yet?! it’s like the scene from the end of amazing spiderman 2 when they were trying to drum up excitement for a sinister six spinoff by having harry osborne walk by a bunch of display cases with stuff from iconic villains in them.

... but then again, bruce does like to display a lot of shit in his batcave, including his dead robin’s bloodstained costume, so.

5.5. bruce is so soft with jason it’s killing me. beyond just trying to learn from his mistakes with dick, it speaks to his own genuine desire to balance his dedication to gotham with doing the best by his sons, although he’s often not successful with that.

i love that titans is really playing the long game with bruce wayne, with each season and character-perspective sliding in fresh pieces of a bigger puzzle. titans’ bruce has always been a phantom of other peoples’ making, but now we’re getting the idea that he’s a whole lot more complicated than other people make it seem.

5.75. it really recontextualises some of his actions from previous seasons: the fact that he locked dick out of his security systems in 1.06 is likely his way of respecting dick’s independence and his desire not to be associated with batman/gotham anymore. jason knowing about bruce’s tracker while dick doesn’t is probably bruce trying to be more honest and upfront with his charges. bruce sending jason packing off to sanfran to spend time with the titans is probably not him passing on a big responsibility to dick (as i first uncharitably thought) but him trying to get jason out of the toxic influence of gotham for a while and a sign of his trust in dick as a leader and a mentor,

5.8. i mean, bruce is a prick, but he’s also human.

6. i think leslie is doing some good work with jason here, though she may have overstepped the line with her line about robin as a construct being projected by a man with BPD. her speculations about bruce’s diagnosis have no place in her session with jason, and if bruce confides in her, an egregious violation of patient-therapist confidentiality.

(about the diagnosis itself... i don’t know. i can’t really confirm or refute this without a whole lot more information, and i’m not sure if the writer of this episode means BPD in the same way an actual professional might.)

6.5. i think a huge thing that gets missed out in a lot of recent comics as well as movies/shows is that bruce didn’t create the robin persona out of whole cloth. dick did. he’s the starting point of that legacy and to call it entirely bruce’s creation is blatant erasure of that. in fact, i’m surprised that dick doesn’t feature more in the conversations they’re having about the pressures of being robin. after all, the guy had been robin--bruce’s partner--for such a long time before jason.

6.8. (and here’s the primal part of me that resonates the deepest with dick grayson--the Eldest Daughter part--that’s sort of resentful: that jason gets the therapy and softness and the learning from mistakes when it took years and years for bruce to reach out in any meaningful way to dick.)

7. oooh that was a great scene!

it’s fun to do these stream-of-consciousness live reactions, because the moment you step down from your soapbox, the episode goes right into tackling what you were just complaining about. bruce means well, he’s learning, but he goes about exactly the wrong way to help jason: taking away robin now can’t be read by jason as anything but a devastating judgment call from bruce. and iain glen really sells the moment that bruce realises this--too late--and his helplessness in trying to get jason to see that it isn’t jason’s fault that he’s trying to do this. he loves jason enough that jason is enough.

7.5. aaaah so jason brings up the elephant in the room at last. dick got everything makes sense from his perspective, where getting to put on a costume and fight crime means approval, means being something stronger and better than you are. dick got to be robin, then nightwing, and a leader of a whole team of other costume-clad heroes.

8. ... how did jason just walk into arkham????? this is ridiculous.

8.3. i mean, clearly jason’s not thinking straight, but betraying batman like this puts his possibilities of being robin again even further away.

8.5. watching that chemistry experiment montage was strangely funny. this guy is looking for an antidote to fear? well, constantly mixing up and inhaling gases concocted by a mad-scientist supervillain is something only the very fearless--reckless to the point of foolishness!--would do. what’s to say crane’s not given you a formula for a drug that will keep you tethered to his every will and whim? hmmmm?

8.7. so he sought out the joker to... test the formula???

9. wow the “loud and clear... boss” hits different after a whole episode of them referring to each other as father and son.

9.3. waitwaitwait HOLD UP. wait a DANG MINUTE. you’re telling me that scarecrow had enough resources that he could not only have folks on the outside steal jason away and dunk him in a lazarus pit (i TOLD you that this show would bring up and dismiss ra’s al ghul in a ten second aside! I TOLD YOU) but also have his own little chemistry lab in the basement, AND have enough resources for jason to build his red hood persona???????? all of this in barely twenty four hours?

well there goes my ‘jason orchestrated his death’ theory. it was nice while it lasted. *cups hands to the sky* fly away, my baby.

9.6. a part of me is gleeful at the rushed nature of such an iconic transformation though, especially when compared to all the character work that went before it. we’re so used to getting the opposite that it’s fucking delightful to have a show that’s more interested in exploring its characters’ minds rather than battle scenes or recreating transformations from the comics. that’s taken such bold and exciting steps to fully convey all the nuances of its most recognisable character, bruce wayne, from casting an older actor to play him to unflinchingly showing just how damaging the vigilante lifestyle has been to him and the people he loves. BRILLIANT

*sporfle*

10. again, heads up: a whole lot of flashing lights between 40:28 and 42:00.

10.3. i guess it’s the super-compressed timeline that’s really throwing me off. where did he have the time to get/develop the mind control thing from? or is it something that he got from the cabal of villains that he intimidated at the beginning of 3.02? very messy.

10.5. i love molly, i hope she shows up again this season.

11. aaaand that’s it! that was a solid episode as flashback episodes go, but now i can’t wait to return to the present.

#titans #titans spoilers #meta #jason todd #bruce wayne #leslie thompkins #a tragic jalebi #robin #red hood

40 notes · View notes

baepop · 4 years

Text

Muse

You meet a quiet painter that helps you manage your anger.

Word Count: 4.7k

Pairing: You x Taehyung

Genre: Slight fluff, slight angst, Smut

A/N: I couldn’t get this idea out of my head, so I had to sit down and write it out this afternoon. I hope you guys like it 🥺

What are you thinking?

The pinkish hue of your cheeks had long subsided now, though the heaving in your chest still remained albeit at a minimal level. The part in your lips prevailed as well, if only to huff the stray hairs falling over your face occasionally.

The rest of your hair was sprawled across the back of his couch like wild seaweed. Your favorite necklace rested in the crook of your collarbone as the dainty chain tickled your sensitive neck. Goosebumps broke out across your arms as they, too, were strewn across the couch. Your pose wasn’t ideal, but you knew it was exactly how he wanted you, so you wouldn’t get up to close the window letting in a cold draft.

His apartment was quaint, a studio on the upper west side that resided above a bodega and a taqueria. You’ve had many opportunities to take it all in, yet somehow there was always something new to discover whenever your eyes wandered.

You pondered if this was all a big metaphor with some grand artistic meaning about how it somehow represented his mental state. How he, such a quiet and minimal person could be happy in such a cluttered apartment on one of the busiest streets in the city was beyond you. You peered at the ostentatious wallpaper juxtaposed with the exposed brick behind him. Paintings lent up against the walls on the ground, stacked against each other, even in the kitchen. Only one word came to mind: loud.

Your eyes eventually came back to him, and when they did, the pink hue returned except this time it was in the form of a blush. He had been eyeing you carefully, waiting to make eye contact with you. When you did, he shot you that lopsided smirk you knew so well before he returned to his canvas. It was his way of telling you to stop moving your head so much.

You leaned your head against the back of the couch again and didn’t move until he finally put his brush down. He stood and backed away from his painting to gain some perspective, deciding if he was truly finished or not.

You’d once heard that paintings are truly never finished, it was just a matter of when the artist was willing to stop. Since then, you’d always wondered when Taehyung would deem it acceptable to put the brush down, when he’d feel that he had done everything he could to capture your essence. You knew there had to be something to it, since every time you’d gaze at the finished product it’d take your breath away.

He was always able to capture your inner feelings with eerie accuracy, which was something that endlessly amazed you.

So many afternoons spent in his apartment, you venting about the latest thing that got your blood to boil while he focused on his artwork. And each time, as you’d emptied your brain of all its toxic contents, he’d make magic happen on the paper.

You watched Taehyung shake his head then return to his seat and pick up the brush again. Some days it was harder for him to decide when to stop.

As you laid naked on the upholstery basking in the afternoon sun that was now filtering in through the window, you began to reminisce about the first time you had posed for him. Your face had been the color of a tomato from complaining about a rude bus driver and your hair was a matted mess after waking up late for work that morning. You didn’t understand how you could possibly be anyone’s muse, especially that day.

You had been in no mood to sit around for hours in a strange apartment, but you had given Taehyung your word after he kindly texted you asking for you to be his model earlier that week. You both happened to take a recreational art class downtown together a year ago when he had tapped you on the shoulder two hours into the lesson and extended his phone to you for your number. You had tagged along with a friend that day to see what their art class was like, and you were glad you did when you saw how cute the shy guy across the room was up close. You were flattered, to say the least, especially when he had later texted asking you to be his personal model. After all, the class had been about learning to paint the human anatomy, so the proposition hadn’t come from left field.

But when the day finally came, you just weren’t in the mood. You showed up and took your clothes off in a huff, taking a seat in front of him and attempting the breathing exercises your anger management counselor had taught you.

As the hours went by, you realized you probably weren’t making such a good model, and your annoyance turned into shame as he moved away from his painting. When you were just about done getting redressed, he turned the easel towards you and took your breath away just like that.

He was an amazing artist, but more than that he was exceptionally observant. What you expected to be a painting of you being petulant and looking anywhere but at him, was instead of a girl that looked very unsure of herself. He’d even used a cool toned palette exclusively to convey those feelings perfectly. You could only look at him in awe, feeling more vulnerable than you had been with your clothes off a minute ago.

After that, he texted you to come over on a weekly basis, and each time you came and did much of the same. You’d take your clothes off and pose anywhere in front of where his easel stood ready and waiting. And each time, he’d reveal a part of you on the paper that you never cared to show anyone.

You were ashamed to admit that you were always angry stepping into his apartment, but each time he turned the easel towards you, a different girl stared back at you. Sometimes she was scared, sometimes she was hopeful.

A few sessions later, you felt as though you could trust Taehyung, partly because he seemed to be in tune with parts of you that you hadn’t even known existed deep under the many levels of anger and hatred that bubbled noisily at your surface. He made you want to express yourself, which was something that was tough for you to do, even with your therapist. But it wasn’t like there was anything else to fill the silence with during those quiet hours anyway. So every week you’d come over expose yourself to him in more ways than one.

You couldn’t exactly call it talking, though.

You’d tell him about what happened that day to make you mad, and sometimes what made you feel particularly murderous. Few times, you’d express something that made you happy, because those really came few and far between. And whenever you did, you felt oddly childlike, as if expressing happiness was somehow attributed to being young while expressing grievances was adult-like. Or maybe it was the way Taehyung’s eyes brightened whenever you talked about something positive. It made you want to look for more things to be happy about, and that in itself, was childlike, you supposed.

But it was all one sided. After a long time of posing for him, you began to wonder if that was the deal: you’d express yourself for him while he’d express himself on paper. You figured it wasn’t a terrible trade, but as time went by you found it increasingly frustrating not to have any reciprocation on the same level. His artwork was always a reflection of you, and it left a huge mystery about who Taehyung really was inside.

Of course, you were never one to accept things as they were if you weren’t content with them, so you slowly learned how to better communicate with someone who was mute.

At first it annoyed you that he’d never answer your questions, no matter how simple or complex they were. Occasionally, if you asked him something that warranted an obvious “yes”, he’d look up from the canvas and smile with his eyes before returning to the task at hand. Those small notions were enough to hold you over until the next question arose. And it wasn’t as if you weren’t being heard, or seen, for that matter. His paintings of you proved quite the opposite.

Your painting sessions became like therapy, in a way. You always felt alleviated after posing for him, and over time, you came to depend on them. What started off as you warily stepping into his place with your bag clutched around your shoulder checking for hidden cameras and other red flags turned into you bursting in with two coffees in your hand already starting a story about your bitch of a boss. Taehyung found your workplace gossip hilarious, though you’d never know why. And overtime, his chuckle was also something you felt was like a small yet precious gift to you, another facet of the elusive painter who was still inspired by your body countless artworks later.

Taehyung and his cluttered studio.

They started off as something you didn’t want but definitely needed. You found it quite a drag to commute to his side of town regularly especially when you were in a foul mood most days. You often kicked yourself for agreeing to go.

Yet these days, it was quite the opposite. You had managed to make some serious headway with your anger management over the past few months, partly thanks to Taehyung for giving you a space to safely and comfortably talk through your turbulent thoughts and emotions. But now, you looked forward to paying him visits, not because you needed to vent, but because you wanted to see him. You wanted to find more peculiar things in his apartment, to notice something else about his personality that you hadn’t before, to be in his calming presence. Because just as he had plenty of time to stare at every inch of your body’s anatomy, you did so too. And boy, did you take advantage.

You had already been compiling a mental list of things about Taehyung you had noticed over time, intimate details that somehow set the cosmic scoreboard even for how intimately he was getting to know your naked body.

For example, he had a crinkle between his eyebrows when he focused on painting a particular part of you that was giving him trouble to grasp. When he was really focused, he’d jut his tongue out a bit and swipe his bottom lip. He often liked to run his fingers through his hair when leaning away from his portrait to gain some perspective. He always pursed his lips before smiling, as if showing amusement was somehow forbidden. And when he gave way to a smirk, it almost always bloomed into the widest boxiest smile you’d ever seen. His hair had more highlights in it than you cared to count, and he had a weird aversion to coasters. Dried rings on countertops all over his apartment served as unquestionable proof of.

You felt like you were finally starting to grasp what kind of person he was, though it still felt as if you were outside looking in. You wanted to know him like he knew you, but you weren’t sure it was possible to be let into someone’s heart that you’d never had a proper conversation with. It proved to be a very difficult thing. But when your efforts came to fruition, the recompence you felt was beyond words.

It was during a particularly shitty day, not because anything made you mad, but because the weather was god awful. Nonstop rain mixed in with cold weather and persistent winds made for a troublesome commute. And because of it, it took way longer to get to Taehyung’s place than normal. When he opened the door for you an hour after your agreed meetup time, his eyebrows shot up in surprise but nonetheless let you in. His hair was damp and his TV was on, two things you’d never seen before.

You had dropped your bag, coat and wet shoes at the door, hugging yourself and rubbing your arms as you walked further in. His heater was on, so you immediately went to go sit by it. You hadn’t realized your teeth were chattering until he brought you a steaming cup of coffee with a sympathetic look to boot. You took it from his hands gratefully and fixed your trembling fingers over the smooth ceramic, blowing the steam away before taking a tentative sip. Mmm, dark roast.

Taehyung looked over at his art supplies, his fingers twitching when his eyes landed on his recently cleaned brush, poised and ready on the lip of the easel. But when he looked back at you, he decided it was probably best not to have you take your clothes off right away. So he brought a blanket over to you and draped it over your shoulders before returning to his seat on the couch. He was watching a horror movie, which made you all the more curious about this strange boy that never talks. What kind of person watches horror movies alone?

The coffee, blanket and heater warmed you up rather quickly, and soon you had removed your socks and your sweater before settling in to watch the climax of the spooky film. You wanted to wait for him to suggest he still wanted to paint you, feeling perfectly content to just hang out like this. For the next half hour, you both took turns glancing at each other but missing eye contact as if this was a game of tag. You started smiling to yourself, wondering why today felt so different when you had already been meeting for months now.

You bit the inside of your cheek in contemplation before decidedly moving to sit next to him on the couch. He moved over to give you plenty of room before returning your smile politely, though there was an amused glint in his eyes that you hadn’t missed before he turned to give the television his undivided attention. You wondered if this sudden electricity between you both was all in your head. It’s not like you could ask him directly, or if you wanted to for that matter. It’d be embarrassing if he hadn’t developed a crush on you over these past few months as you had with him.

Yet as you sat on the same couch you had lounged in for months, you couldn’t help but wonder what if?

You swallowed thickly and your pulse quickened as you realized how close his hand was to you. It laid in between you both, flat against the cushion. You never noticed how pretty his hands were before now, taking in the light vans that ran up his arms stemming from his slender fingers, Your own fingers twitched before you slowly inched your hand forward nand placed it over his. Your eyes flitted towards him, regarding him warily. He had been watching the movie with his head leaning on his palm, and when your skin made contact, his eyes moved sideways, first taking in the intimate gesture then looking at you briefly before turning back to the television in what looked to be a bored expression.

Your bravery crumbled and you began moving your hand away, but he caught it in his before you could get away and then laced your fingers together. Your eyebrows shot up and you tried to hold back the huge smile on your face as you finished watching the movie with your hands joined in between you both. Taehyung couldn’t help but look over at you a few more times and grinning at the blush on your face, finding it cute how shy you were when it came to making a move.

When the movie had ended, you both sat quietly, playing with each other’s fingers, you giggling girlishly and him enjoying the sight of you being so flustered. Eventually the flashing of his phone screen from across the room caught his attention and he dropped your hand, much to your disappointment. You figured that was as much as you were going to get out of him today, so you began stripping as he busied himself typing away. When he returned to you, he was surprised to see you naked and posed, ready to be his muse again. You furrowed your brow and gestured toward the easel to which he shook his head slowly. Ah, I guess he doesn’t want to paint any more today.

“Sorry, I figured we were still doing that. Should I just go and come back next week?” Taehyung thought for a moment then shook his head again, coming to sit by you once more. “Then… what? You want to sit here and hold hands all day?” Taehyung quirked his brow at you, his lips pursing as he held back a smile. “You’re so frustrating sometimes you know.” This time he smiled and scratched the top of his head while looking at the floor, not offering any semblance of what his plans were.

It’d been a while before something miniscule got you worked up and angry like it used to, so you were surprised when the way his eyes seemed to roll away from you caused a switch inside of you to click. You were growing angrier by the second and you couldn’t seem to stop it.

You huffed as you yanked your top from the floor and pulled it on over your head. You reached for your underwear and kicked your legs through the holes as Taehyung sat and watched you with patient eyes.

“I mean, you could text me or something and let me know not to come over next time. I don’t live close by you know.” You huffed as you stood up to get your sweater that still laid serenely by the radiator. You weren’t looking forward to braving the wet and cold just after you had dried and warmed up.

But before you could march over to it, Taehyung firmly took hold of your wrist, causing you to spin on your heel.

“I’m sorry, don’t go.”

You ogled at him, looking at his lips for a while to see if they’d move again. You couldn’t believe he just talked aloud. When they didn’t, you looked up at his eyes in confusion. His expression was urgent, his pupils deep pools of sincerity that you could swim in forever. He was genuinely apologizing, though you felt there was no need. You already knew you were throwing a fit needlessly.

“…I…”

Taehyung slowly smiled, realizing it was your turn to be speechless. He tugged at your wrist, guiding you to sit on his lap. Your heart raced at the newfound proximity. You were now close enough to smell his bodywash which was enough to make your head swim if it wasn’t for the fact that Taehyung just spoke in the most rich and velvety voice you’d ever heard.

“I thought…you were mute.”

“Selective.” Taehyung held your gaze for a minute as his fingers brushed against the soft skin under your wrist, feeling your pulse thump furiously. You looked into his eyes with uneven breath as the realization hit. He was finally letting you in.

Suddenly you were leaning in, craving to experience the full extent of his emotions. And so he met you halfway, molding his soft lips around yours in a deep kiss that made your heart stop altogether.

His large hands took hold of your sides and held you tightly against him as he leaned in to savor your taste. His tongue swiped curiously against your lip so you parted your mouth, allowing him full access to it. You leaned back the more he leaned in, and eventually you were both laying down on the couch with him positioned on top of you, making out intensely. When he broke away panting, his lips were swollen and his eyes full of lusty haze. You didn’t get a chance to take his demeanor in fully, because his lips were back on you again except kissing at the skin of your neck instead, leaving marks along their journey to your collar bone. Each bruise was a paragraph of text written on your paper skin, each lick a compliment he longed to give you since the first time you took your clothes off for him.

It seemed as though for all that he lacked verbally, he more than compensated with touch and emotion.

His hands sneaked underneath your shirt and pulled it off of you before he gazed at your chest. You blushed, because although he’d seen your breasts countless times before, he’d never looked at them the way he was now. You felt like a clay statue he was breathing life into as his lips latched onto your buds, causing your back to lift off of the cushions. He was as good with his mouth as he was with his brush strokes.

You made quick work of his shirt, feeling all too eager to feel his burning skin on yours. His touch was setting you ablaze, and you found the dull ache in between your legs increasingly harder to ignore. You carded your fingers through his hair as he took his pants off impatiently. You’d have taken the opportunity to take your own underwear off, but something told you you’d enjoy it a lot more if he did it for you.

Taehyung leaned back on his heels, his eyes shooting downwards as you opened your legs tentatively. He furrowed his brow in concentration as he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your panties and slowly peeled them off of you as if he was opening a present. He licked his lips as he spread your legs wide before him, taking in your glistening sex from his vantage point. Suddenly he bit his lip and stood up, disappearing behind the couch momentarily. He returned with a condom and tore into the packet as you both looked at each other eagerly.

Finally, he sat in between your legs again, brushing his thumb against your reddened clit as he licked his lips. You didn’t want to wait for him anymore, so you sat up and took hold of his lips with yours again, guiding him down onto you and wrapping your legs around his waist. When he plunged inside of you, your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

He rocked his hips slowly at first and continued peppering your body with kisses and bites. Your nails dug into his back while he balanced himself on his elbows, his hands pushing away the hair from your face. When he kissed your lips again, your tongues swirled wildly, causing him to lose control and pick up the pace. You hissed and moaned, your hips coming up to meet him stroke for stroke.

And as his movements got increasingly rougher and more urgent, you lost yourself in them over and over again because now it was his turn to express himself.

Your sweaty bodies writhed against each other all afternoon, each moan of yours an appreciation of his affection towards you and each grown of his conveying a wordless confession.

Making love to Taehyung was like him having a conversation with your body. He knew all the right places to touch and when. He’d get so wrapped up and passionate during your afternoons spent together that he’d hardly seem like the same quiet man sitting across from you staring at a canvas for hours. He was rough yet gentle, persistent yet patient, truly in keeping with the enigma that he had always been to you.

And now, as you sat on the very same couch you both had made love on the first time and many times afterward, you found yourself eyeing him mischievously. It had been 20 minutes after he decided his painting wasn’t quite finished yet, and you were getting antsy.

He’d caught your look, and though a reaction didn’t register on his face, the growing bulge sitting pretty in between his legs was enough for you.

Your nipples were quickly hardening in the frigid air entering through the open window, though the reason for that wasn’t entirely attributed to the col temperature. Normally you were patient enough to wait until he was done, but today was stressful and you wanted so badly for him to help you relieve some of that stress.

So you didn’t bother holding back your joy when he finally stood up from his spot in the corner and sauntered over to you, giving you a disapproving look. You looked back at him apologetically, though you weren’t sure it translated well as you bit your lip lustfully at his approaching figure. He sighed, flicking one of your hardened nipples roughly. You let out a shaky breath to which he snickered as he pulled his shirt off over his head. This time it was his turn to bite his lips as you purposely spread your legs, giving him a full view of what he was capable of doing to you without so much as touching you.

He growled as he crawled onto the couch, groping your curves and dips as he contemplated how to punish you for being a fidgety model. You awaited eagerly with a shallow breath then squealed as he abruptly scooped you into his arms and off the couch. He brought you over to the windowsill and sat you down before kneeling in front of you and spreading your legs again. Your breath hitched in your throat at the first stroke of his tongue on your clit. Your hands gripped the edge of the windowsill as you scooted closer to the edge to give him better access to you. You made a mental note to interrupt his painting sessions more often.

“A-ah….Taehyung…” You moaned softly as he sucked lightly on your clit. His eyes watched you carefully as his tongue navigated your slick folds expertly. When you threw your head back as his tongue got closer to your entrance, he pushed the wet muscle inside and fucked you with his face, causing you to buck your hips onto him. Your head snapped back down, and your fingers latched onto his hair, guiding him in and out of you as you fucked his face. You were so close to cumming, but you needed a bit more. That’s when Taehyung replaced his tongue with two fingers, plunging them inside you and curling them upwards as he milked the orgasm from you. You hunched over, holding onto his head tightly as you came all over his mouth and fingers.

“Fuck…that was…” You panted and let go of him, allowing him to stand back up as he wiped the side of his mouth with his thumb. He smiled at you brightly, all semblance of disapproval gone from his angelic features. You brough him towards you and kissed him passionately, only then feeling the cold wind licking at your backside. You shivered, so he took your hand and led you off the windowsill.

He embraced you as you wrapped your arms around his midsection, holding you in silence for a few moments. Eventually, he tipped your chin up to stare into your eyes and gauge the rest of your sentence from what your eyes could give away. You looked back at him and smiled, feeling brave enough to ask him something that didn’t have a simple yes or no answer for once.

“What are you thinking?”

Taehyung looked down for a moment then took your hand in his. He brought you over to his easel and placed you in front of today’s painting, looking at your reaction carefully. You had expected to see yourself staring at the center of the page looking horny as ever.

But as you gazed at the painting, you saw a girl who was very much in love.

Your chest tightened and your eyes glistened. Turning towards Taehyung, you looked up at his wary eyes. He held his breath as his thumb stroked your knuckles, conveying more than you had ever expected him to be able to. And for once, you were glad there were no words.

398 notes · View notes

jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Sugar and Coffee [13]

Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14

➜ Words: 4.3k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

“I’m in love with you,” he asserts. “Gross.” Your answer is instinctive. But you’re not disgusted with him. Your features don’t twist. Your lips don’t become lopsided. Rather, the word is stated blankly. Impulsively. After all, you’ve conditioned yourself to respond like that — like anything in relation to romance is now awful. “Yeah.” Jungkook sighs, hair shagging over his forehead as he looks down. “I know. I’m pretty disgusted with myself too. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still in love with you. Fucking head over heels and all that crap.” You’re rendered speechless, about to ask him if he’s fucking with you, if this is some kind of sick joke. But then suddenly, Jungkook sighs loudly, startling you. His rigid body deflates, the tension in his muscles leaves and he knocks his head back, taking a deep breath. “God, it feels so good to be honest. With myself and with you.” The sun is setting over the horizon, the warmth soaking into his skin and softening his edges. The pair of you face each other in the middle of the empty sidewalk on an equally empty campus. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to take cover. You wonder how long he’s felt this way for. You’re conflicted, unsure what to tell him. “Love’s a strong word, Jungkook.” “I’m aware.” “H-How are you even sure?” The dark-haired man looks you in the eye, his own becoming half-lidded. His breathing turns shallow, heavy in his chest and out his parted lips. “I’m sure.” You know Jungkook well enough to recognize his earnest sincerity. There isn’t a shred of doubt in his gaze nor his expression. He doesn’t waver once in his bold conviction. There’s only truth. “Well…...shit.” The words sink into you. The claws and pointed ends of each syllable nick into your flesh. In an instant, your impassiveness is torn from you — your placid state taken — your stoic face uncovered. “Fuck. Fuck!” You scream up into the sky, turning around, hands in your hair. What he’s saying registers and you hate it. You hate that love has to mess up every single relationship that you have. Goddamn. You can’t keep that disease away from affecting the people you care about most. Jungkook watches you have the small meltdown with widened eyes, not sure what to do or say. But then you whirl around after a moment, determination set in your features. All of a sudden, you grab his hand, patting it with your other firmly as if you were a doctor coaxing and comforting a patient. “We can overcome this together.” “What?” “It’s okay. This happens. If you’re friends with someone from the gender you’re attracted to, it’s natural you end up having a crush on them. It’s expected actually, considering we spend so much time together and interact so much. People encounter this issue all the time, but we can overcome it, Jungkook. Together.” You put your hand on his shoulder, eyes sympathetic. “I’ll help you get over me.” Jungkook can feel his left eye twitching. Of all responses, he did not expect this one. You’re acting like his therapist and that he’s got some kind of illness. You even end up thanking him for telling you the truth. Jungkook might actually need to see a therapist after talking to you.

Infatuation only lasts so long. Personally, in your humble opinion, you aren’t hot shit anyway. You’re not that great. Jungkook will get over himself when he sees you for how you really are. If anyone’s ever liked you, they won’t for long — you have evidence of that. “Hey, buddy!” You give finger guns as a greeting, making sure to not get too close to him. “You don’t need to patronize me.” Your voice releases stiff laughter. “Alright, bro.” You put your fist out for a fist bump, but Jungkook completely ignores you. He walks right past you with his hands in the pockets of his open coat. “Are you coming or are you going to stand there like an idiot?” he asks, briefly glancing over his shoulder. You scoff. Ever since the whole traumatizing confession, nothing’s changed. But at the same time everything has. Jungkook doesn’t act any differently — he still glares at you, calls you stupid and a witch. But you also begin to notice how affectionate his physical gestures are, when he taps your arm, when takes your shoulder to guide you away from a crowd, when he pats your head. And your efforts of keeping things as platonic as possible inadvertently makes everything awkward. It’s even worse now that you’re literally spending so much time with Jungkook. Exclusively. It’s just him, and for the months to come, it will only be him. You’ve already decided within the first minute that you won’t ignore him or distance yourself. You can’t. Not with the upcoming internship, and not when you’ve had that happen to you. You won’t do such a cruel thing to someone else. Jungkook will always be your friend no matter what and you’ll make sure of that. You catch up with him. “You know, I haven’t showered in days. This is like three-day old hair. Greasy, right? I just get so lazy showering.” “Right.” He ignores you. It goes silent and you noisily clear your throat. “Man, I had the worst shit today. It was explosive, dude.” “You really think toilet humour is going to make me stop liking you?” Jungkook stops in his tracks and you halt in a delayed manner. He shifts towards you, glaring. “What do you take me for?” You pout. “At least I’m trying.” “Try harder.” He pauses. “For the sake of both of us.” You’re befuddled over his answer and when he starts walking again, you quicken your pace to match his. “What? You don’t want to like me?” “Not if you don’t want me to. I just wonder what’s more difficult,” he hums thoughtfully, “You trying to get me to stop liking you or me trying to make you like me.” “I already like you,” you mumble. “See?” Jungkook points out abruptly as the corner of his mouth quirks into a subtle smile. “That’s not going to help with my situation.” “Sorry.” Your cheeks puff in your pout. “Neither is that,” He says and when you quirk your head to the side, brows furrowing, he grins boyishly. “Stop worrying about it before you give yourself wrinkles. Save your energy for the internship. I’m the least of your concerns.” He’s wrong. Jeon Jungkook is the biggest thing on your mind lately.

Kim’s Wedding Cake Company sits in the middle of Imlings Avenue. It’s a bakery played in between two small boutiques. It has tan brick walls and the shop’s sign is slightly worn around the red letters, but still legible. The doorway is narrow and crowded by two large glass windows on either side that invites onlookers inside for a session of cake tasting. The bell chimes as Jungkook pushes the door open, keeping it wide until you’re able to step in. The cream walls and the floorboards create a cozy atmosphere like you’re home. But what sets it aside from an intimate abode is the paintings of wedding cakes on the walls and the rounded tables with chairs around them for customers to sit at. A counter is curved at the corner of the room, cutting off the main area from the back. The moment the bell stops ringing, a short woman comes frantically stumbling out from the doorway. “Welcome!” She grins and the wrinkles around her eyes crease. Her brunette hair is in a bun, strays falling to frame her face. The woman is maybe around her early forties. “Congratulations on your engagement!” She grabs her binder and starts flipping. “Do you have an appointment?” “Oh no! He and I…” You point at Jungkook and then back at yourself, flustered. “We’re not like that.” Jungkook is holding back laughter, watching you flounder about. You’ve suddenly become so anxious at the idea that the pair of you are engaged. He turns away to look at the woman. “What she means is that we’re your interns.” “Oh, thank god.” The woman sighs, stepping back. “For a second here, I thought I had completely forgotten about an appointment.” She turns on her feet, placing her hands on her hips and shouts, “Namjoon! Honey! We were supposed to get our interns today?!” From the other room, a man’s voice screams back. “What?!” She goes closer to the doorway, shrieking, “Our interns! Were they supposed to come today?!” “No! They’re coming in a week from now!” “Then why are they standing right here?!” “What?!” “Why are they standing here?!” You exchange a look with Jungkook, not sure what’s going on. At the same time, a stocky, tall man in the traditional chef's uniform emerges — white double-breasted jacket, black pants and an apron. “I heard you, I heard you.” “Did you mark it wrong in the calendar again?” “I swear I didn’t—” The older man’s eyes widen as they catch the two of you standing there awkwardly. You lift your hand in salutation and he laughs. “Well, what do you know! Here they are, today! Welcome to our home!” Namjoon opens the wooden separator, comes out and wipes his hands on his apron haphazardly to shake both of your hands. His wife sighs and follows closely to greet you. “You must be Y/N and Jungsook?” “Jungkook,” he corrects in dismay while you try to hide your giggles. “Right, right. My bad. My name is Namjoon and my wife here is Sejeong.” Sejeong smiles. “I’m glad you’re both on board. Do you have any experience doing wedding cakes?” “No, we haven’t.” “It’s alright,” she reassures, “We’ll teach you along the way.” “We need all the help we can get.” Namjoon sighs. “Ever since Soohyun went on maternity leave, we’ve been swamped up to our chins. Doesn’t help that it’s wedding season.” “Auntie.” A four foot eight girl comes out from the back, her long black hair tied into a ponytail at the crown of her head, and coral apron tied around her body. “The chocolate’s melted—” The girl freezes on her spot, big eyes pinpointing onto Jungkook. You glance at him, and he looks at you with a small shrug. “Has it?” Sejeong smiles and brushes past her. “I’ll go check.” The younger girl doesn’t move and Namjoon smiles. “Oh, this is my eighteen year old niece, Yuna. She’s working here part-time to help out, mostly on the weekends when she’s not at school.” “Nice to meet you.” She timidly approaches Jungkook, clearing her throat and batting her lashes at him. Jungkook blankly shakes her hand. “Hi.” You extend your own hand and it’s only then that she seems to notice you and reluctantly shakes it. “I’m Y/N and this is Jungkook.” “Jungkook,” she murmurs after you. “So you’re going to work here till August?” “Yes, they will.” Namjoon laughs heartily. “You should go help your aunt look at the chocolate, Yuna. You can only learn if you know what you did wrong or right.” “Fine.” She exhales and drags her feet away, throwing a fleeting look to Jungkook over her shoulder. Namjoon re-directs his attention to the two of you with a softened smile. “Let me show you around!” The back area is a short hall that splits into three. The door to the left is a room with a table and chairs, posters of wedding cakes on the walls and happily married couples on their wedding day. “This is our only private room we have. It’s just in case a couple has a large party with them or would like some privacy when we have our consultation.” You peek your head into the room across from it. “That is our staff room and our bathroom and where our offices are. You can always eat your lunch or take a break here.” Namjoon leads you the other way and it’s to the place you know best — silver countertops, stoves, ovens, and sinks galore. “And this is our kitchen. We have a fridge here where we keep our cakes, a small fridge, our pantry. You’ll get yourself familiar pretty soon, don’t worry.” You return from the tour back to the main area, asking questions along the way which Namjoon is happy to answer. The pair of you also offer more insight into what you know and he’s pleasantly surprised that his two interns are more experienced than expected. “It can get pretty hectic around here during the wedding season. Some days we just have appointments and cake tasting all day. Other times, we’re rushing to make a wedding cake for the following day or we might be at the wedding venue getting it all set up. We usually open up shop around eight in the morning and you guys are let off at four.” “Don’t worry, if we have to stay late to catch up on work or finish a cake up, you’ll get paid handsomely.” Namjoon grins. “We work five days a week. Sometimes you’ll have to come in on the Saturday if we have a wedding on Sunday, but it’s not often. Any questions? Comments?” “Um…” You exchange expressions with Jungkook. “No, not really. I think we got it.” Suddenly the older man bursts out laughing, startling you both. “You two don’t have to be so anxious! I was a student once too. Don’t they say wedding cake internships are one of the hardest ones you can take?” “Uh.” Jungkook gingerly smiles. “We’ve heard of that.” “Yep.” The older man bobs his head. “That’s what I thought. But don’t worry, it’ll be a lot of work, but it’ll be fun. Just don’t get on my wife’s bad side and you’ll be fine and dandy.” “Are you talking badly about me?” Sejeong comes from the back, glaring at her husband. “Oh, there she comes.” In spite of his playful warnings, Namjoon laughs, dimples marked on each side of his cheek. He leans over to plop a kiss at the top of her head and waltzes into the back, leaving her sighing. “That man. Hopeless, I swear. Anyhow...I hope you both are ready!” Sejeong claps her hands together. “No time like the present to start learning and diving into it! We have a couple arriving in an hour for a consultation and I want you guys to lead. Should be easy enough!” The two of you nod, preparing yourselves. // Both Namjoon and Sejeong give you a few moments to yourselves to breathe and not be overwhelmed. But you’re kind of excited. It’s a bit surreal that one moment you’re sitting in a lecture hall learning about theory and the next, you’re in the real world, about to apply all the knowledge you’ve gathered. For a while now, you’ve missed working and being more hands-on. You glance down to your coral apron they gave you. Jungkook is in the same one and while he grumbled about not wearing much pink before, he looks cute in it. You wanted to take a picture but he didn’t let you. Self-conscious Jungkook is one you’ve seldom seen and admittedly, endearing. “They seem really nice.” And in love. It’s pleasant to see. Even with how disgusting romance is. It just isn’t often that you can look at a couple and not think about their inevitable doom. “Yeah, they are. Thankfully. God knows how many strict head chefs are out there.” You wonder what it’s like to own a business with your husband and work together all the time — though you don’t voice your question aloud. You have an inkling Jungkook would flirtatiously answer ‘that could be us’ and you don’t need to be distracted by him right now. His presence is a distraction enough. “How about Yuna though?” You elbow him lightly in the ribs, giving a nudge while wiggling your brows. “I think she likes you.” Jungkook’s expression blanches. “She’s still in high school.” “I’m just kidding—” “And some other girl showing up is not going to stop me from liking you any less than I do,” Jungkook says nonchalantly, stating it like it’s a fact. He’s unaware of how your face heats. You quickly take a drink of water in an attempt to cool down. Goddammit — he’s being a distraction already without you having to set him up. “You still owe me that favour.” You clear your throat, changing the subject. “Remember? When you challenged me saying you could pipe better than I can temper chocolate.” “I thought we called it even.” Jungkook grins, cutely with the mole dotted underneath his mouth. “Nu-uh. That’s not fair and you know it.” You put your foot down. “We agreed the loser would have to cover for the winner when they go on break or make a mistake. And you lost, Jeon.” “Already planning on making mistakes?” You sulk. “No. I just want you to have my back.” “You already have that,” Jungkook says tenderly with a smile. “And a lot more.” Your mouth is filled with cotton. The corner of his mouth curls even more, relishing in your surprised expression. He doesn’t even bat a lash and merely looks away when the bell to the front entrance rings. “Welcome to Kim’s Wedding Catering Company.” You tear your eyes away from Jeon Jungkook’s profile. “Do you have an appointment?” “Yes, we do.” The woman smiles, dressed in a white beret and trench coat, her cheeks blushing. She’s accompanied by another woman in a leather jacket who’s holding her hand. “It should be under Lee.” “You must be Sungkyung and Victoria, congratulations on your engagement.” The both of them glance at each other, sharing giddy smiles. “Thank you.” “Right this way.” Jungkook leads them to one of the wooden tables, setting out a book as you grab the slices of cake on the plate from the back, all decorated and labeled. Sejeong who’s been watching at the counter gives an encouraging thumbs up. “So your wedding is being held during the beginning of September?” “Yes and we’re planning to cut the cake during the evening,” Sungkyung says as Jungkook jots it down on his sheet. “Will this be an outdoor or indoor wedding?” “We’re planning to have it outdoors in a garden.” “That’s nice.” Jungkook smiles. “Do you have any themes in your wedding? Any colour scheme?” “We have butterflies and we have green and purple as our colours.” “And how many guests do you have?” “About a hundred.” “Okay.” You come to the table with the long plate and two forks. Both of the women are excited, eyes lighting up as you place the cakes in front of them and take a seat beside Jungkook. “This one is vanilla cake with buttercream. It’s simple, but a classic. This one is coconut cake with coconut cream. Red velvet with cream cheese frosting, chocolate with ganache, lemon with custard filling and fondant, strawberry with salted caramel filling and fondant, and the last one here is carrot cake with butterscotch sauce filling and chocolate buttercream icing. Take your time.” “I really like this one,” Victoria whispers to her fiancée, fork points to carrot cake. “Or at least the icing part.” “I prefer this one.” Sungkyung indicates the strawberry cake and takes another bite. “We can always mix and match,” you tell them with a smile. “It’s possible to do strawberry cake with buttercream.” “Buttercream usually tastes better than fondant, but if it’s hot outside, it might melt.” Jungkook’s brows knit together and you look at him, humming for a second. “Well, we always put a layer of fondant over the buttercream so they also get that smooth look and we wouldn’t have to worry about melting.” The boy nods. “Yeah, that would work.” “That sounds really good.” The two women smile at each other. “How much would it cost?” “Ummm…” Jungkook flips through the binder, memory failing him. He finally finds the table of all the prices on the tenth page. “For us, it depends on what kind of cake you end up choosing and how many tiers it’ll be, but it should be around four hundred to five hundred. For a hundred people, I’d recommend…..uh…” “Three to four layers.” You finish his sentence and Jungkook looks at you gratefully. You leave the two of them to finish up the cakes and to discuss with one another. Sejeong who’s been waiting at the back has her compliments prepared. “Great job, you two. Couldn’t have done it better myself!” It’s stressful to remember the details, but luckily Sejeong is merciful and allows the two of you to shadow her as she goes out to explain the designs, possible flower arrangements on the cake and discuss how they want it to look. She also goes more into detail about prices, providing the women with a write-up of what it would look like. When the consultation is finished, there’s not a moment to breathe. You’re ushered into the kitchen where Namjoon is working on a wedding cake. “So I already baked these babies yesterday and let them cool down in the fridge. I’ve also made the buttercream just now. Today we crumb coat our cakes and colour fondant. Tomorrow, we’re going to cover the cakes with fondant, put dowels in and stack our tiers, and decorate, then it’s all ready for delivery! Easy, huh?” “Umm…” The older man laughs noisily from his chest. “I’m guessing you two know how to crumb coat cakes?” “Yes, we do.” “Great. Then this is all on you. Make sure not to mess up! It’s the bride and groom’s special day! People only have a wedding once...hopefully.” There’s not any pressure whatsoever. Namjoon leaves, coming in and out to help with his wife and niece cleaning the front and watching over your shoulder. But he has little to say to both you and Jungkook when he finds your techniques sufficient. The cakes are placed on a turntable, bench scrapers and offset icing spatulas in hand. You add a thin layer of frosting to trap cake crumbs and prevent them from popping up in your finished cake. And while you crumb coat two layers, Jungkook does one and goes to colour fondant. Namjoon teaches him, rolling the fondant into a ball and kneading until it’s soft and pliable. A small dot of pink is added and he kneads the colour until it’s blended. Once you’re done with the cakes, you help Jungkook with another ball of fondant, kneading until your arms are sore. Afterwards, the two of you assist Sejeong and Yuna, organizing the shelves of baking pans, various coloured ribbons, and bins of cookie and cake cutters. It’s tiresome, but you feel rejuvenated when they let you try some of the spare cake slices they offer. It’s delicious, melting on your palate and Namjoon jokingly quizzes both of you on what kind of icing works best with what cakes and what ingredients are in each of them. You’d like to say you won. They also teach you how to answer emails and phone calls, and both you and Jungkook arrange a few appointments for next week. The day is over before you’ve realized. “Good work, you two!” Sejeong praises. “You’re very fast learners.” “I heard you rank high at your school.” Namjoon smiles in spite of your modest protests. “I believe you know her as Miss. Kang. She speaks highly of you two and I’m not disappointed.” “Jungkook, I heard you wanted to be a Chocolatier?” Namjoon asks and the boy is like a deer in the headlights, doe eyes rounded. He nods slowly. “Yes, that’s my long-term goal.” “When we have a moment then, I’ll work on something with you,” he promises with another dimpled smile and Jungkook is visibly enthused. “Anyway, I hope nothing was too overwhelming. Get a good night’s rest and we’ll continue tomorrow!” They close up shop as the sun sets over the horizon and Yuna waves wildly, bidding Jungkook farewell. “Bye, Jungkook!” He makes a noise, a small ‘bye’ to her before the two of you turn away after waving to the married couple. You walk down the street together, towards the bus stop where it’ll guide you home. “That wasn’t bad.” “Yeah.” There’s a pause. Jungkook smiles at you. “It wasn’t.” Silence eventually falls in between the spaces. You can feel your eye bags deepening, your bones creaking with every movement. You’re exhausted from the long day, unable to utter a single word, but the quiet that settles is comfortable rather than awkward. Your feet are moving on their own against the pavement, the sounds of cars moving past shaping the white noise of the city. It’s a long way back home, but as you glance at Jungkook, walking alongside him with your footsteps synced together, you’re glad he’s here. The two of you have each other for support. You’re unknowing to how Jungkook shares the same sentiment. He takes a glimpse of you when you don’t notice, stealing glances like he’s stealing candy. The smile on his face softens. His own words echo back to him— “I just wonder what’s more difficult,” he had hummed thoughtfully, “You trying to get me to stop liking you or me trying to make you like me.” It occurs to Jungkook that he’s found his answer. He realizes he can’t ‘overcome’ his feelings. He can’t get over you like you think he can.

If you rejected him, his concern of making you uncomfortable would far outweigh these simmering emotions inside of him, but you didn’t. The fact of the matter is that Jungkook knows your aversion is towards love, not him. And with such uncertainty and possibilities, it’s impossible to get over you.

It won’t work. Not when you’re you.

So Jungkook chooses the other path — the other approach. He makes the decision right then and there. Instead of idly standing by and allowing you to sprout nonsense and drive him even more crazy, he’s going to act. He’s going to actually do something about his feelings— Jeon Jungkook is going to court you.

#bts fanfic #bts scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #sugar and coffee #btsboulangerie #jungkook reader insert #JUNGKOOK AS DUMB #AND OC AS DUMBER #IS JUNGOO BRAVE OR STUPID #does it even matter?? cause he's about to evolve Y'ALL #LEVELING UP

606 notes · View notes

cheeriecherry · 4 years

Text

Space Between [Aizawa Shouta x F!Reader x Yamada Hizashi] [2/9]

EraserMic x Reader

Part 2/8

Warnings: depictions of PTSD, one (1) mention of vomiting (nothing graphic), very brief mention of violence (also nothing graphic), your friends being concerned about you, hugs

You wake up the next morning with a very sore, very stiff neck. You appreciate your friends putting you up for a while, but between the two of them they had terrible taste in furniture. In fact, you’re pretty certain their couch is the same couch you three shared when you first got your own place together…

You sit up on the lumpy cushions, wincing when your spine crackles. When you move to stand you find that you can’t, held in place by previously unnoticed twin weights on your blanketed legs. Your heart rate speeds up for a moment, before you realize it’s just a pair of cats sleeping on you.

You carefully finagle your way out from under them, taking extra care not to rouse or wake them. One of them chirps and stretches, and you pause, but she quickly falls back to sleep, tucked up against her companion.

Once you’re free, you wander towards the kitchen to find something to eat. Hizashi had offered to order takeout last night, but you were nearly dead on your feet by the time you walked into the house. You’d gone straight to bed, and now you had to deal with the stomach cramps.

You search around in the pantry and fridge for a while, finding few things more than rice, bread, condiments, and a couple canned goods. It made sense, considering how busy your friends were, but it was also a little ridiculous.

“You’d think two grown men could handle some grocery shopping,” you mumble, and settle on some rice, eggs, and toast. Not your ideal breakfast, but it was better than nothing.

You prepare the rice and set a pan on the stove in a haze, still muddled with sleep. Once both are sufficiently rinsed and warming, you set the rice off to cook and plop down at the kitchen table, where you notice a folded paper sitting. With your name on it.

Curious, you flip it open, instantly recognizing Hizashi’s messy writing.

‘Sho and I had to head out early, but we didn’t want to wake you. You were tossing a lot in your sleep.’

You think briefly back to the dreams you’d had, if you’d even had any. You usually had nightmares, but oftentimes you didn’t remember them, only waking with a hollow and sinking feeling in your chest.

‘You’ve got free run of the place, so use and eat what you want. Be warned, there’s not a lot in the fridge…we don’t really eat at home much. If you need the internet, Sho’s laptop is in the office across from the bedroom. See you tonight around ten!

-H’

You smile at the note, the signature consisting of a single letter, with a poor rendition of a cockatiel and a cat beside it.

You’re glad they have each other, you decide, and glad they’ve gotten together. It shouldn’t have been so much of a surprise to you, Hizashi was always more interested in Shouta than he was you. Sure, he doted on you when you were kids, but when Shouta came into the picture his attention shifted. You admit you had been a little jealous in the beginning, but now…

Maybe you’d just supposed it would always be the three of you together. You’d never bothered with dating or relationships, aside from the feelings you harboured for your best friends. You never saw the point, always content and happy to be with the two of them, even if it wasn’t romantic. They had been your rocks, your safe place, in years past.

You hadn’t comprehended that your interests could be so drastically different.

“C’mon, shake it off, stupid. They’re happy together, don’t ruin it with your feelings.” You run your hands down your face, sighing deeply. The rice would be ready soon, so you might as well get started on the eggs.

You butter a piece of bread and cut a hole out of the center, dropping it in the frying pan and cracking an egg into it.

Egg In A Hole, one of the first things you’d ever learned to cook. You were seven when you’d first tried it, and Hizashi had been there as well. You’d been at your house after school and he’d claimed to be hungry, and you -ever wanting to impress him- had set a stool in front of the stove and made him the fanciest meal you could think of.

Looking back, you’re amazed you didn’t burn or undercook anything. He had claimed it was the most amazing thing he’d ever tasted, and for years it was a staple whenever you hung out… he’d hopped off that train by the time you were twelve, but every so often you’d still made him Eggs In A Hole.

Now it’s more of a comfort, more of you holding on to a time long passed. Things were different now, you were different, your friends were different-

“Shit!” you hiss, as the toast starts to burn in one corner, smoking up the kitchen. You turn the fan on and flip it over to cook the other side, sighing in relief when the egg doesn’t splatter everywhere.

You’re glad you weren’t sent undercover as a cook on your mission. Your skills in the kitchen are sub par at best, and where you’d been, nothing less than perfection was accepted. Anything burnt or under-seasoned would have been air for punishment; fingernails ripped off, palms cut up, thumbs broken. Anything that would further hinder work…and result in more punishment.

That was just the kind of person your target was. A rich american woman with a taste for torture, and a quirk that allowed her to feast on and destroy the hope in others. She had ‘hired’ you as a silent killer, despite the fact that she could easily kill people herself…or make them kill themselves.

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath, willing the thoughts away. You weren’t there anymore. You were here, with Hizashi, with Shouta. Safe. Safe.

You scoop the eggs and toast onto a plate, but your stomach has already turned. Memories didn’t pair well with breakfast, it seemed.

Once the rice is finished cooking, you wrap everything up and set it in the fridge for later, and continue going about your day.

—-

Ten PM rolls around before you know it, and your friends walk through the front door. You’ve stolen Shouta’s laptop from the office and moved it to the couch, where you now sit staring intensely at the screen.

The two of them watch you for a moment. If your stillness, posture, and bloodshot eyes are anything to go by, you’ve been like that for a while.

“You’re gonna hurt your back sitting like that,” Shouta says, kicking his boots off and wandering further into the house.

“In a second,” you reply, waving him off.

Hizashi sighs dramatically, crossing his arms. “She’s not even paying attention, Sho. We could be making out right now, and she wouldn’t even notice. Hey, watch this-”

“Hizashi,” you threaten, not looking away from the screen, “if you pull your pants down, I’ll shave your head while you sleep.”

“No fun.” But he removes his hands from his jeans anyways.

Shouta meanders up behind you, leaning over the back of the couch to see what you’re so intent on. “What’s got you so focused?” he asks, scanning the page you’re reading, “You were never like this in school.”

You remain stoic, missing the joke completely. “Conviction trials,” you explain, “I want to make sure every single one of those rich pricks I outed gets put behind bars. I’ve been scrounging news outlets since five.”

“And?”

“Nothing.” You sit up straighter, stretching your back and rubbing at your eyes. “I gave the commission enough information to put these people in prison for life! Why haven’t they been brought in yet!”

“You’ve only been out for a little while. These things take time.” His tone is gentle and concerned, but to your addled brain it feels more patronizing.

You fist your hair in your hands and tug. “I gave them hideouts, names, faces, addresses, bank numbers, concrete evidence against these people! A few days should be enough time to find them! They’re top priority criminals! They should be caught by now!”

A warm hand rests on your shoulder, jarring you violently out of your thoughts. You tense beneath the touch, electricity prickling down your arm, and you look up at him with wide eyes.

“Breathe,” he says.

You breathe.

He squeezes your shoulder slightly, comfortingly. “It’ll happen. Give the media time to catch up.”

You look away from him, finding a spot on the floor to stare at, and slump forward in defeat. “If it gets out that I was the snitch, too…”

The room is quiet for a couple beats as your words register, and the hand on your shoulder rubs soft circles into your skin. “Your partner…they were killed, weren’t they.” It’s not a question, merely an observation.

You nod.

“I can’t let them find me, Shouta. The way these people kill their targets-”

“You’re safe here, Y/N. Always. The chances of these criminals getting into the country undetected is between slim and none. Their faces will be plastered on every single no-fly list, every district wanted list.”

“They can do whatever they want, as long as they have the money.” You turn back to the laptop, continuing to scroll around various news outlets. “Even once they’re in prison, they’ll have outside connections. If they find out it was me who outed their whole operation, I’ll have a target on my back for the rest of my life.”

Shouta lets go of your shoulder, and walks around the couch to take a seat beside you, knees bumping against yours.

“There are…resources,” he begins, choosing his words carefully, “for heroes who’ve been undercover. To help them readjust to everyday life-”

“I don’t need a therapist,” you hiss, scowling. “I need…I need-”

A pair of hands scoops the laptop out of your grip, flipping it closed and setting it aside. But before you can complain, your now-warmed-up plate of food from that morning is set in your lap, and Hizashi takes a seat on your other side.

“If you don’t want a therapist, then at least take care of yourself, okay? Eat.”

Your scowl persists as you chew.

—-

You jolt awake on the couch at an unbeknownst hour of the morning, covered head to toe in a thin sheen of sweat. Your head is spinning and your ears are ringing, and you barely make it to the bathroom before you’re dry heaving into the sink. Nothing comes up, save for bitter bile, but you’re exhausted once the short wave of nausea passes.

You rinse your mouth and the sink out, and splash some water on your face. With any luck, you won’t have woken anyone, but when you exit the bathroom you nearly walk face first into Shouta, who’s leaning beside the door.

“It sounded like you were getting sick.” His tone isn’t accusing, but his posture puts your guard up.

“Nothing came out, so it’s fine.”

You wander back to the living room, hoping to leave the conversation, but he only follows.

“Why were you getting sick in the first place?”

“I dunno,” you grumble tensely, “adrenaline reaction maybe? Who’s to say why people puke.”

He’s quiet for several moments, observing you, your fidgeting, your agitation. You feel like you’re under a microscope, with the way he’s looking at you.

“What happened to you out there?” he asks.

“Stuff,” you mutter.

I got people killed.

“Stuff that gives you nightmares every time you sleep?”

“I don’t need a therapist.”

I don’t deserve to come back from this.

“Your sleep-yelling woke me up. You’re lucky Hizashi wears earplugs.”

You turn away from him and grab your water bottle off the coffee table, plopping grumpily onto the couch. Shouta hesitates for a moment before finding a seat beside you again. Warmth radiates off his body, which is pressed comfortingly against your side. You can feel the tension easing out of your shoulders in his presence.

“What’s so bad about therapists, anyways?” he asks, genuinely curious. “Lots of people need them. Hizashi and I have both seen a couple over the years.”

“I don’t need someone to tell me there’s something wrong with me.”

Shouta sighs. “That’s not what they do, and you know it. What’s the real reason?”

You silently curse his ability to read you like a book, to always somehow know when you’re lying. But…you’re not sure you could tell him the truth.

“I just…don’t like the idea, okay? Leave it at that.”

He watches you silently, searching in your averted gaze for any willingness to open up, but he finds only sadness…and shame. “I should head back to bed, then. Early morning, and whatnot. Try and get some more sleep.”

He rises off the couch, and without thinking you follow suit, and quickly envelope him in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, burying your face in his chest. He’s surprised for a moment, but is quick to wrap his arms around you, holding you tight while you tremble against him.

He pats small circles into you back, keeping you close until your breathing begins to even out. “Just…don’t let this go on for too long, okay?” It’s the closest you’ve ever heard him to begging, “I don’t know what happened to you out there, but you’re obviously suffering.”

You pull away slightly, tired and defeated, and nod. “I’ll look into it. Those resources you mentioned. Okay?”

You release each other fully, and he gives you one last pat to the head.

“Okay. Now, really, try and get some more sleep.”

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #yamada hizashi x reader #yamada x reader #erasermic x reader #reader insert #bnha x reader #mha x reader #Space Between #it will get happy soon i promise #eraserhead x reader #present mic x reader

229 notes · View notes

teenwolffanclub-me · 4 years

Text

Season 1, Episode 10: Co-Captain

Hey there beautiful reader! If you’re new here, this is a series I’m writing where each chapter is an episode from the first season of Teen Wolf. If you’ve been here before, hey! I missed you! Previous and future chapters are linked at the end of each part if you want to catch up.

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader (eventually)

Notes: I somehow forgot that Deaton existed until I wrote this. My bad guys, but he’s not really that relevant in the first season anyway so...

P.S. Kate needs a therapist, Sheriff Stilinski is kinda bad at his job, and so many people almost die. Seriously, it’s getting ridiculous at this point.

————————

Lydia huffed in annoyance, struggling to keep up behind me in her high heeled boots. The ground crunched with each quick step I took, the dirt barely visible through a thick layer of dried leaves. I pulled the sides of my jacket tighter around my sides, feeling a chill run up my spine as a gust of cold air blew against me.

“Allison. When you said you needed to run an errand before we went shopping, a five mile hike in the woods was not what I was expecting.” Lydia had been complaining nonstop since we got here, and didn’t seem likely to give up anytime soon.

We’d been walking through Beacon Hills Preserve for at least ten minutes by now, Allison leading us with a big bag slung over her shoulder. She seemed aggravated, practically running with a tense look on her face. I had no idea what the hell we were doing. She’d been acting weird all week, more angry and on edge than usual.

We were supposed to be shopping for winter formal dresses at the mall. Lydia had been begging us to go all week, since the dance is next Friday. I kept dodging her invitation because there were just so many other things going on right now.

Me and the guys had spent the week trying to figure out where Peter’s been hiding, while keeping Jackson from spilling the werewolf beans to the whole school every time he got pissy.

I wasn’t sure who either of them were taking to the dance, and I honestly didn’t care much. I wasn’t planning on going. No one had asked me, and stuff like that wasn’t really my thing anyway. I definitely wasn’t annoyed that a certain spastic boy hadn’t even mentioned it yet. Not at all.

“Before I forget, I wanted to ask if you’re okay with something.” Allison quipped, not even bothering to turn around and look at us. “Jackson asked me to winter formal.”

My eyes widened and swept toward Lydia quickly to see her reaction. I wasn’t expecting that, even though the two of them had been incredibly flirty lately. It was obvious that Allison still had feelings for Scott, and Lydia for Jackson, so the whole thing was just a big mess.

“Did he?” She tried to sound unaffected as she nearly stumbled over a rock. My arm instinctively stuck out to steady her, and she sent me a small, grateful smile.

“Just as friends, but I wanted to make sure you were okay with it first.”

Lydia pursed her glossed lips tightly and flicked a lock of hair away from her eyes. Her gloved hands tightened into fists at her sides. “Sure. As long as it’s just friends.”

Allison scoffed quietly, seemingly annoyed. I quirked a brow at her back in curiosity. Yeah, she and Lydia had a bit of a love hate relationship, but stealing her boyfriend was a little over the top. Something was clearly bothering her. I’d been trying to figure it out for days, but she never wanted to talk about it when I asked.

She stopped suddenly, and I nearly toppled over as I narrowly avoided running into her. Her bag dropped onto the leaf covered ground with a thud before she knelt down to unzip it. Lydia and I both watched in curious silence as she pulled out a huge bow and inspected it carefully.

It looked like something a professional would own. I’d nearly forgotten that she was into archery as a kid, but that thing was intense. Plus, why she felt the need to do this right now, on a Saturday afternoon while we were supposed to be shopping, I had no idea. She popped back to her feet quickly and screwed a big cylindrical arrowhead onto her arrow.

“What does that do?” Lydia shivered beside me and crossed her arms tightly as another gust of wind blew past us.

“We’re about to find out.” Allison muttered, more to herself than us, as she strung the bow.

She turned her back to us and raised her arms up beside her head. I watched closely as she narrowed her eyes and scanned the area for a good target. After a moment of wobbling, she let out a breath and squared her shoulders. Then, she let go.

The arrow whizzed through the air with a zip before landing in a tree a few yards away, immediately exploding with a bright waterfall of sparks.

I jumped back, not expecting that at all. “What the hell was that?”

That was not an ordinary arrow. I wondered for a moment how she even got it. It was most likely her dad’s, so she either stole it or knew way more about her family than she was letting on.

She dropped her arms with a jerk and whipped around to face us, her eyes glassy. Their hard edge had disappeared entirely, replaced now with something close to fear. “I need to tell you guys something. It’s going to sound really ridiculous and I-I don’t want you to laugh at me.”

Her sudden change in demeanor was a little jarring. It seemed like this was coming out of nowhere. I glanced at Lydia, who was doing a terrible job of hiding the fact that she thought she was completely crazy.

“We would never laugh at you.” I narrowed my eyes at Lydia, silently pleading with her to be nice. She just pouted and looked at Allison expectantly.

“It’s about my family.” Allison let out a heavy breath and wiped at her eyes. “Awhile ago, I caught them in a lie. A little one. But now, I’ve been overhearing some really strange conversations. I think...I think some of it has to do with Derek.”

“Derek?” I sputtered, my breath catching in my throat at his name. I’d learned earlier this week that he was, in fact, alive after our encounter with Peter. They’d both shown up at school a few days ago to intimidate Scott into joining their pack, which was honestly so much worse.

I let out a sigh and cleared my throat. “I mean, are you sure?”

She nodded, glancing around the trees as if he could be spying on us right now. “Yeah. I don’t think he is who he—”

She suddenly stopped, her whole body stiffening as something rustled in the leaves nearby. I watched her closely as she looked from side to side, wondering if something happened that she wasn’t telling me about. She was acting so jumpy and weird.

“Hold this.” She absentmindedly handed her bow to Lydia, who balanced it on her upturned palms as if one wrong move would set it off.

“What? Why?” Her emerald eyes widened in horror.

“Because I thought I heard something.” Allison whispered harshly, as if that would help the situation at all.

She turned her back to us and took a few timid steps forward.

“Allison,” I sighed, moving toward her. It was probably nothing. And if it wasn’t, she shouldn’t be the one going to investigate. “I’m sure it—”

She turned around just long enough to shush me before continuing on her way. I paused, my lips parting in surprise. Did she really just do that?

I stood in place, my eyes firmly planted on her back until she turned a corner, disappearing among the trees. I was ridiculously confused by her sudden personality change. Up until this week, she’d been terrified of anything even remotely out of the ordinary. Especially after we spent that night in the school.

“She’s being weird. Right?” Lydia breathed from beside me, still standing completely still and holding the bow gingerly.

I nodded, eyes narrowing in the direction she’d gone. I guess there was a chance the noise was something supernatural, but we were in the woods. It could’ve been anything and was most likely harmless. Still, part of me wanted to go after her and make sure she was okay.

“Very.” I moved to walk away, but stopped when Lydia’s panicked voice sounded from behind me.

“Um, absolutely not. You are not leaving me alone with this thing.” Her wide eyes glanced down at the bow apprehensively.

“Oh, for God’s sake...” I stepped toward her, quickly plucking it from her hands, and she visibly relaxed with a heavy sigh.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as I dropped it on top of Allison’s bag. She was always so dramatic. I motioned for her to follow me and continued forward. Allison couldn’t have gotten far yet, so I figured we’d find her pretty quickly.

I rounded a corner and immediately staggered to a stop as my eyes landed on Allison only a few feet away. She was crouched on the ground hugging Scott, who looked like he’d just fallen or something. His eyes found mine and immediately widened as he shook his head frantically with a wave of his hand.

I whirled around and nearly ran right into Lydia. Her eyes narrowed into a glare as I grabbed her biceps and jerked her the other way. I had no idea what he was even doing here, but I didn’t want to ruin their moment. He’d been trying to get back on her good side, and apparently it was working if what I just saw was any indication.

“Y/N, what the hell is wrong with you?” Lydia snapped, turning her head to try and see what I was taking us away from.

“Uh. It was a...wolf.” I cringed at my pathetic attempt at lying. I’d always been complete shit at it.

She gave up on tying to see what it was and let me continue pushing her forward, but still glanced at me as if I’d lost my mind. “There haven’t been wolves in Beacon Hills in—”

“Sixty years. I know.” I let out a huff as we made it back to Allison’s bag, and finally released her.

If only she knew how wrong she was.

—————————

I crossed my arms over my chest impatiently, watching as Stiles fumbled with his house key for several seconds before finally managing to push it into the doorknob. He was always such a spaz, no matter what he was doing.

We didn’t have much time, but in my experience, Stiles and rushing don’t mix well. We were only stopping here so that he could grab his laptop before we met up with Scott at his house. The three of us were trying our hardest to find a pattern in the people Peter was trying to turn, so that we could hopefully stop him before he kills anyone else.

“Why would Jackson want to be a werewolf?” I asked slowly, not fully believing what he'd just told me.

He turned around long enough to twitch his eyes at me incredulously before facing the door again. “Because it’s Jackson.”

I mean, fair enough.

I’d been delivering dinner for mom at the hospital when Scott texted us that he wanted to meet up. Stiles came to get me, since she would need the car to get home in the morning. On the way here, he’d filled me in on his and Scott’s afternoon.

The three of us had a new policy: no more secrets, and no more lies.

They decided to follow Jackson after school because they still don’t trust him and also, they’re nosy as hell. Apparently, he didn’t make it far before being cornered by Mr. Argent, so it was a good thing they have no concept of healthy boundaries. The fact that they saved his ass didn’t stop him from threatening to out Scott—again—if he doesn’t give him what he wants.

Stiles also casually mentioned that the Argents are actively trying to kill the alpha and his beta, who they think could be Scott, Jackson, or Derek.

Things were a shitshow, basically.

Stiles popped his front door open and I trailed in behind him. My eyes immediately landed on his dad, who was sitting at their dining room table surrounded by various documents. Stiles perked up at the sight and practically ran to his side.

“Whatcha doin’?” He sang, peering down at the mountain of papers.

“Work.” Mr. Stilinski muttered curtly, his brows furrowing as he scribbled something down onto a notepad.

“Anything I can help with?” Stiles’ voice rose eagerly as his eyes continued flickering around the table.

His dad let out a long sigh and rubbed a hand across his forehead. It looked like he hadn’t gotten a good nights sleep in days. “You know, if you poured me an ounce of whiskey, that’d be awful nice.”

Stiles jerked upright and nearly bolted to the kitchen. I just stood in place by the door, watching him curiously. It was like he’d completely forgotten that we were supposed to be doing something. He had a tendency to be forgetful, especially when stressed. I’d say he was pretty wired lately, since he could barely go a minute without worrying about Scott and all his werewolf issues.

He reappeared in the doorway a few seconds later, the bottle of alcohol and a shot glass in hand, and quickly pulled out a chair next to his dad. I decided to join them because I was honestly really curious about what he was working on. Plus, getting Stiles back on track usually took a lot more effort than I was willing to give right now.

“Any leads?” He put the stuff onto the table and picked up the closest paper to him.

“Hey.” Mr. Stilinski swatted his hand away before wagging a pencil disapprovingly. Stiles cried out dramatically and rubbed at his fingers. “You know I can’t discuss that with you.”

“What about with me?” I slid into a free chair on the other side of the table, my lips pulling up into a teasing smile. It instantly dropped at the unamused stare he gave me.

Okay. Do not joke with a tired Sheriff. Got it.

I cleared my throat and glanced at Stiles for help, only to find that he was already looking at me, an amused smile twitching at the edges of his lips. He was trying to be discreet about it, so his dad wouldn’t see, and it was ridiculously adorable.

He sagged back into his chair with a sigh. “Son, the last thing I need right now is you and your girlfriend shoving your noses into my classified investigation, so if you could just—”

My heart nearly stopped beating in my chest at his words. I looked at Stiles with wide eyes, but he was too busy sputtering silently toward his dad to notice. “Uh, we aren’t—”

We still hadn’t talked about that. Sure, we’ve kissed a few times, but we haven’t gone on a proper date or anything yet, and he didn’t even ask me to the dance. As far as I was concerned, we were...friends? That sometimes kiss?

“Yeah. No. We-we haven’t...” He rushed the words out as he finally remembered how to talk, his cheeks turning bright pink.

“Look. I don’t care.” His dad sighed before sliding his glasses off and massaging his temples. “Just please go do...anything else.”

“Alright. Fine.” Stiles started pouring a shot of the whiskey, his eyes widening after a moment as if an idea dawned on him. He kept going until the glass was almost full before sliding it across the table. “Bottoms up.”

He got up just as quickly as he’d sat down, striding around the table to take my hand in his. I nearly tripped over my own feet as he pulled me out of my chair and up the stairs quickly. He shoved his bedroom door open before practically throwing me inside and slamming it behind us.

I just stared at him with wide eyes as he leaned back against it with a sigh.

“I didn’t want him to notice what I did.” He glanced at me fleetingly before pushing himself off the door and walking briskly toward his desk.

I swear, he never slows down.

“Which is...?” I drawled, turning around to watch him dig through each of the wooden drawers.

He tongue swept across his bottom lip in concentration. My eyes followed the movement, my own lip rolling between my teeth. I was always surprised that he could manage to make even the smallest things attractive. “I’m gonna get him drunk. He talks a lot when he’s drunk.”

“So that’s how you know so much about police stuff.” I wandered over to his bed and plopped down, figuring I might as well get comfortable if we were going to be in here for awhile.

He stopped rummaging through his stuff to frown at me. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Manipulating a Sheriff into giving you classified information? That one’s not exactly north on the moral compass.” I dragged my toes along the hardwood floors and leaned back on my palms.

He rolled his eyes and turned back to the desk, searching for another few seconds before letting out a frustrated huff. He practically slammed the last drawer closed. One of his hands came up to scratch at the side of his head as he turned and let his eyes flicker around the room.

“Where the hell did I leave that thing?” He muttered, more to himself than me.

He suddenly perked up, as if remembering something, and took a few big steps toward the bed. He bent down in front of me and started moving his blankets around. I leaned to the side in an effort to give him more room, since it seemed like he somehow forgot I was sitting right here. My eyes flickered over his face, which was only a few inches away from mine.

The window beside his bed let in just enough light to perfectly illuminate his freckled skin. It reflected off of his eyes, making them look like molten amber. His nose was scrunched adorably in concentration as he weaved around me to look for the laptop. He suddenly stopped fidgeting and moved back slightly.

“Ah ha! Got ya, you little...” He trailed off as his eyes met mine. He froze, as if only just then realizing how close we were.

I stole a glance at his lips before deciding to close the distance between us. It was hard to think about anything else but kissing him when he was this close. My hands moved up to the sides of his face and I tugged him those last few inches closer. When my lips slanted over his, he stiffened against me, as if caught off guard. The contact only lasted a few seconds before he pulled back with with shaky breath.

I took one look at his stunned expression and erupted into a fit of giggles.

“What?” He frowned and moved away, his eyes searching mine.

“Why do you always kiss me like you think I’m going to punch you in the face right after?” I chuckled and let my hands drop back down to my lap.

It looked like he was about to argue as his mouth opened and closed a few times. He eventually just dragged his tongue against the inside of his cheek and sighed in defeat. “I just—uh. I want you to be comfortable, and I don’t want you to think that I want you to do something that you don’t want to do.”

My brows furrowed as I tried to figure out what the hell he just said.

“I’m gonna go check on my dad.” He jerked up to his full height and rubbed at the back of his neck before practically running out the door.

I watched it bounce off the wall from the force he’d used to open it, and shook my head in amusement. I wasn’t sure how he still managed to be such a spaz around me after all this time, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t endearing as hell. After a few seconds, I wandered out of his room and down the stairs to join him.

“You know, Derek Hale would be a hale—” My eyes landed on Mr. Stilinski, still sitting in the same position we’d left him in, as he stopped slurring for a moment to chuckle at his own slip up. “A hell of a lot easier to catch if we could get an actual picture of him.”

Stiles was sitting in the spot beside him again, already nose deep in some document. I padded over to the table and slid into the empty chair on the other side of the table. I finally processed his words and looked at him in question. They didn’t have a single picture of Derek? He’d been arrested at least two separate times now. How was that possible?

“How do you not have a picture of him?” Stiles’ eyebrows pinched as he voiced my thoughts perfectly.

His dad peeled a small piece of paper off the table and studied it as if it held a code he had yet to decipher. “It’s the weirdest thing. It’s like, every time I try to get a mugshot, there’s like two laser beams pointing at the camera...”

Stiles ripped the picture out of his hands and inspected it closely. I leaned over the table to get a look, my eyes widening at what I saw. It was definitely Derek, but only a fraction of his face was visible through the two bright circles that took up most of the shot.

“Nice.” I breathed before sitting back down, honestly impressed. That was a pretty cool trick and could probably come in handy later on.

“Oh my God.” Mr. Stilinski groaned and slid his glasses off before leaning back in his chair and rubbing his hands down his face. “That ounce hit me like a brick. I’ve said way too much, and if you repeat any of this...”

“Dad. It’s me. I’m not gonna say anything. Come on.” Stiles scoffed and put the picture down, as if his dad questioning him at all was offensive.

The Sheriff’s eyes swept toward me and I swallowed, feeling nervous under his intense gaze. It was like he couldn’t turn off the whole cop thing. Or maybe he just really didn’t like me. I looked away from him and picked up a nearby file to distract myself.

“And Y/N, she’s ya know, trustworthy...too.” A frown pulled at my lips. That stuttering mess made me sound anything but. How did he still manage to be awkward even in front of his own dad?

“See, the thing is, they’re all connected.” Mr. Stilinski started, that jumble of words apparently enough to convince him to continue. “The bus driver that was killed was the insurance investigator assigned to the Hale house fire.”

My eyes widened as I realized I was looking at that very man’s file. I flitted through the pages quickly, looking for anything relevant.

“Terminated under suspicion of fraud.” I read the words slowly, wondering if it had anything to do with the fire.

I glanced up toward Stiles, who fidgeted in his seat uncomfortably before moving his attention to his dad. “Alright. Who else?”

“The video store clerk who got his throat slashed? A convicted felon with a history of arson.”

“What about the other two guys? The ones in the woods?” My eyes swept back to Stiles quickly. I’d nearly forgotten about them. They were “mysteriously” killed the night Stiles took Scott into the preserve to get drunk after Allison broke up with him.

“Priors all over their records. Including—”

“Arson?” I quipped, putting the pieces together easily.

Every single murder was connected to the Hale house fire. But why?

He breathed out a heavy sigh and let the papers he was holding flutter back down to the table. “There’s just so many questions. I mean, if Derek wanted to kill everyone involved with the fire, why start with his sister? She didn’t have anything to do with it. You know, why make it look like some kind of animal did it?”

Stiles looked away from him, his jaw clenching. His eyes flickered to mine fleetingly before moving down to his fingers as he tapped them on the edge of the table, his brows furrowing.

“And, when that cougar showed up in the parking lot, I checked with animal control. Did you know that the incidents of wild animal reports are up seventy percent over the last few months? It’s like they’re just going crazy and running out of the woods.”

It was in that moment, as I saw him so confused and dejected, that a heavy wave of realization crashed down onto my shoulders. Allison wasn’t the only one being hurt by the secrets in Beacon Hills. Not even close. There were so many layers to the problems that all of this shit had created. I hadn’t even considered how it would effect people like Stiles’ dad.

But it made total sense. Of course, how would they solve any of these cases without the most important piece? He’d run himself into the ground trying to figure out the impossible. Until he knew about the supernatural aspect, he wasn’t going to make any progress. The thought made my heart twist uncomfortably in my chest.

I finally realized how much it was weighing on Stiles, too. It was clear that it pained him not to tell his dad everything. His jaw was tight as Mr. Stilinski rambled on about the unknown, his lips rolled into a thin line. He couldn’t sit still for more than a few seconds, and he kept fidgeting with his fingers.

It dawned on me then, too, that he wasn’t just complacent in all the lying like I thought this whole time. He was a caretaker. He quite literally couldn’t help but try to protect everyone around him all at once. I had a feeling that even if Scott said it was okay to tell his dad everything, he still wouldn’t.

“Or something’s scaring them out.” Stiles finally sighed, looking defeated.

Just then, both of our phones dinged with a notification. I pulled mine out of my pocket, brows furrowing at the somewhat incoherent text we’d gotten from Scott.

Mom. Date. PETER!

A second later, another message came through.

MY MOM IS ON A DATE WITH PETER. FREAKING OUT. HELP.

Holy shit. What? That is beyond bad. That’s so fucking terrible I can’t even put it into words.

My eyes jerked up when Stiles’ chair scraped against the hardwood floors loudly. He bolted to his feet and practically ran around the table, grabbing my arm in the process. He muttered something about us having to be somewhere over his shoulder, but his dad was too far gone to think twice about our quick departure anyway.

We scrambled out the door and into his Jeep, peeling out of the driveway as I recited the address and license plate Scott had sent over. Neither of us said a word as he sped to the other side of town.

After several tense minutes, I spotted the car up ahead. My eyes widened as I realized that it was parked on the side of the road. That couldn’t be good. I saw the silhouette of a man in the driver’s seat, but couldn’t find anyone else inside.

Oh, God. I hope we aren’t too late.

“There.” I said, pointing at the car. Stiles immediately veered off the road, but he wasn’t slowing down. I put my hands on the dash for support and looked over at him frantically. “Uh...Stiles?”

I lurched forward, my seatbelt digging into my shoulder as he slammed into the rear bumper of the car. My jaw dropped in shock as smoke started pouring out from under the Jeep’s hood, which was now bent.

The passenger door in front of us popped open, a very angry looking Ms. McCall tumbling out. “Oh, God! Stiles!”

Well, at least she was still alive.

“Ms. McCall?” He scrambled out of the Jeep, looking flustered despite doing that very much intentionally.

“Yes!” She threw her hands up in exasperation as she walked around to survey the damage.

“Wow. Well, this is just crazy. What a coincidence!” Stiles chuckled nervously as he met her between the cars.

I threw my door open and slid out, immediately shivering as the freezing night air wafted over my skin. My head tilted up to the sky as it started sprinkling. Great. That’s just what we need right now. I came to a stop beside Stiles, crossing my arms tightly over my chest to hold in of my warmth.

“I-I really don’t know what happened. You guys came out of nowhere.” He let out a huff and put his hands on his hips, eyes twitching as he raised his eyebrows, hoping she would buy the excuse.

“Came out of nowhere? We were parked on the side of the road, Stiles!” Yeah, she so wasn’t believing any of this for a second.

“How crazy is that?” His voice rose with panic as Peter came striding toward us, looking equally as unamused. “Man, we should probably call the cops. Do like an accident report or something?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” Peter drawled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. What was with the Hale’s and leather? Was it a fashion statement? A werewolf thing? Or did they just not own anything else?

Either way, being this close to him was making my skin crawl.

“Are you sure?” One of Stiles’ eyes squinted shut as he lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck with a forced grimace. “I think I’m feeling a little bit of whiplash.”

“Whiplash?” It looked like Ms. McCall was going to injure him herself as her voice became sharp with frustration. “You hit us!”

Peter suddenly turned his back to us and began muttering something under his breath. I peered around Ms. McCall’s shoulder and watched as he seemingly talked to himself. My brows furrowed in confusion and I pulled my phone out of my pocket. As I suspected, there was a new text from Scott saying that he was here a few minutes ago.

I looked around, but couldn’t find him anywhere. My eyes landed on Peter again as he continued taking slow steps away from us. He was clearly talking to Scott, who would be able to hear him from a good distance away. But where was he?

“You know what, I seriously can’t do this right now.” Ms. McCall threw her hands up and walked back to the car with a huff.

Without thinking too hard about it, I started walking toward Peter. I wanted to know what he was saying, and what the hell he thought he was doing by going after Scott’s mom. If I stopped for even a second I would’ve realized how epically stupid that was, but at the current moment I was too angry to care. For some reason, putting a human face to the alpha had made him just a little less scary.

I only made it a few steps before a firm hand on my wrist stopped me. I turned to see Stiles staring at me with wide eyes. “Are you out of your freakin’ mind?”

At the touch of his skin on mine, I suddenly felt like the earth shifted beneath my feet. I staggered back a step, a gasp escaping me as a vivid image of Scott flashed in my mind. The only thing I could see was his face, scrunched into a pained grimace.

Stiles ripped his hand away and I was dropped harshly back into the present. “Whoa. What? What?”

I stumbled to the side, feeling lightheaded, and met his wide eyes. He stared at me with parted lips, his eyebrows raised in shock. The vision had come and gone too fast for me to see what was going on, but I knew it couldn’t be good as my stomach tightened uncomfortably.

“Do that again.” I rushed the words out in one breath. “Touch me again.”

He stammered silently for a few seconds, his confused eyes searching mine. I jutted my arm out toward him expectantly and he rolled his lips into a thin line, looking uneasy. After a few moments of hesitation, he slowly wrapped his hand around my wrist again.

My eyes fluttered closed as the image of Scot instantly returned. I could no longer feel the rain on my face or the chill of the night air. I was just looking down at Scott, watching as he writhed around on the leaf covered ground, a wet stain on his shirt just below his heart slowly expanding.

A thick liquid stained his lips and chin. It looked like blood, but was almost black. He took in a hoarse breath, his chest heaving from the effort.

Suddenly, my eyes snapped open with a jolt. I nearly toppled over as my legs gave out under me. Stiles wrapped his hands around my biceps and studied with me a hard look. I blinked at him a few times, trying to get my eyes to refocus.

“I’m sorry, but I had to stop. It looked like you were in pain. What the hell was that?” His voice was tight with concern as his eyes flickered around my face.

I rubbed a hand against my chest in an effort to steady my breathing. My head pounded harshly as I looked around, trying to convince myself that I was actually back in the present.

“We need to go. Right now.” I made a move toward the Jeep, but Stiles stood firmly in place, stopping me easily.

He gave me a hard look and shook me slightly as he spoke. “Okay. You’re really starting to freak me out. What’s going on right now?”

“I’ll explain on the way. Just...please. Trust me.” His eyes twitched as he swallowed slowly. I tried my hardest to silently convey how serious this was. If we were going to make it to Scott before whatever the hell that was happened, we needed to go. Now.

He hesitated a moment, looking at me as if he wasn’t convinced of my sanity, but eventually nodded in agreement. I let out a breath of relief, casting a final quick glance at Ms. McCall and Peter as I climbed into the Jeep. I was nervous about leaving her with him, but right now Scott was the priority.

I just hoped we would get there in time.

—————————

I squinted through the darkness, using my phone’s flashlight to help illuminate our path as we walked through the woods. It was nearly midnight now, the sun long gone. I was starting to lose hope that we would find Scott. It looked like he was somewhere in the preserve during my vision, but we had yet to run into a single other living thing yet. With each passing minute, it seemed more and more likely that I was actually just crazy.

“So I’m your anchor? Me. Stiles.” He asked from beside me, for the third time in ten minutes.

I sighed, pulling his jacket tighter against me as a gust of wind brushed along the back of my neck. He’d given it to me without hesitation when we got out of the car, already assuming I’d be cold. Since we had nothing else to do while looking for Scott, I told him about what I saw by the cars and explained how Derek helped me with my visions last week.

He wasn’t happy, to put it mildly. He probably hated the guy more than any of us, and had since let me know how much he despised the idea of me being alone with him. Repeatedly.

“Don’t go getting a big head about it.” I quipped, mostly joking. “I’m sure I could pick a new one if I wanted to.”

He stopped walking and looked over at me, utterly offended. When he leaned forward to narrow his eyes, I noticed something over his shoulder. I took a big step toward him and shoved his head out of the way quickly.

“Hey! What the hell was—”

“Oh my God.” My heart instantly started hammering in my chest as I saw a crumpled figure a few feet ahead. “Scott!”

As I sprinted toward him, I heard a low, pained groan. Within seconds, I fell onto my knees beside him. His eyes were fluttering as he stared vacantly up into the sky and clutched his injured side. My hands twitched in the air above him, wanting to help but having no idea what to do. Thick smoke started pouring out between his fingers, and I reeled back in disgust.

Stiles scrambled to his other side a moment later, wide eyes flickering back and forth between Scott and I as if he couldn’t believe that I was right. Honestly, I couldn’t either.

“Allison...” Scott choked the word out, barely able to get a breath in.

“Seriously?” I shouted urgently as panic surged through me. “You’re literally dying and that’s all you can say? What the hell happened?”

“Derek...Jackson was...” He sputtered and coughed, thick blood oozing from his mouth.

I groaned in frustration. This whole gasping out one word at a time thing was not working for me. I looked up at Stiles desperately. “We have to do something.”

“Uh. Right. Okay...” I could practically see the gears turning in his head as his eyes flickered around spastically before finally coming back to mine. “The clinic. We have to take him to the clinic.”

“What?” I breathed, surprised by the suggestion.

“Just, come on. We don’t have much time.”

We both draped each of Scott’s arms over our shoulders and started dragging him back the way we came. I was obviously Incredibly freaked out because he was dying right in front of us, but I was angry, too. I was so mad at myself for not being able to see this sooner. If I had control over my visions, we could’ve been here before he even got hurt. I couldn’t help but feel partially to blame for the whole thing.

Within minutes we were barreling through the vet clinic’s doors. We came in using the garage, the same way Scott had told us to when Derek was in this same position. It was obvious that he’d been shot with a bullet covered in wolf’s bane, since he wasn’t healing at all. Stiles and I dropped him onto one of the metal operating tables the second we got in the room.

He was passed out cold at this point. I bent over to rest my hands on my knees, my chest heaving with labored breaths. He was heavy as shit, and Stiles and I aren’t exactly the peak of fitness. After I caught my breath, I stood up straight and immediately froze at the sight of Deaton in the doorway.

He was just standing there, observing us curiously. We were so screwed. He could charge us with breaking and entering, at the very least. Plus, Scott was laying on his table with a bullet hole in his chest. There was absolutely no way to explain this, and we didn’t have time anyway.

“Uh...” I stammered, not sure what to say.

“Remove his shirt.” Deaton said slowly, his eyes firmly planted on Scott as he walked across the room.

Stiles and I exchanged a quick glance, but did as he said. I grimaced and reared back as I saw the bullet wound properly for the first time. It was still discharging that weird smoke and was oozing a thick, nasty looking black liquid. Deaton returned to the table with a pair of long tweezers, gauze, and a small jar. He looked strangely calm as he peered down at Scott’s unconscious frame.

“I thought you were a vet.” My eyes trailed over him as he snapped on a pair of medical gloves. I appreciated the help from an adult right now, but he wasn’t exactly a doctor.

He glanced at me fleetingly before picking up the tweezers. “That’s correct. And ninety percent of the time I’m mostly treating cats and dogs.”

“Mostly?” Stiles muttered from beside me, his eyes glistening down at Scott with worry.

Deaton paused just before digging the tweezers into Scott’s side. He looked at the two of us, a small smile pulling at his lips as if he knew something we didn’t. “Mostly.”

Just then, my phone started ringing loudly. I winced at the high pitched tone and reached into my back pocket to fish it out, but stilled when I came up empty. My brows furrowed as I patted my hands against my jeans. I could’ve sworn I put it back in there once we found Scott.

“What are you doing?” Stiles eyed me curiously from the other end of the table.

“Have you seen my phone?” I muttered, walking around the room to look around the floor. The ringing kept getting progressively louder, to the point that it was almost painful. I rubbed at my ears as I continued searching.

“Y/N...” Something about his tone made my attention snap back to him. I glanced down at his hand as he held it out toward me. “You dropped it in the woods so I picked it up...”

My breath caught in my throat as I looked down at the screen. It was black. There was no one calling me, but I could still hear the ringing even now. It didn’t make any sense. I took it from him with a shaky hand, avoiding his concerned gaze. I nearly jumped out of my skin as it started actually going off the second my fingers touched it.

My eyes flickered up toward Stiles and Deaton, who were both watching me closely. I cleared my throat and turned my back to them before answering.

“Y/N!” Allison yelled harshly, panic clear in her voice. I immediately stiffened. What more could go wrong tonight? “You’re never going to fucking believe this.”

“What?” I breathed, my heart already beating erratically in my chest with anticipation.

“My aunt just showed me this creepy room we have in our basement—which I didn’t even know was a thing by the way—and you’ll never believe who she has chained up in there.”

I blinked a few times, taking a moment to process what she said. “Allison, just spit it out already.”

“Derek fucking Hale! And—and that’s not all. He was...he’s. Oh my God, I can’t even say it. He’s a...a...”

I pinched my eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable bomb to drop. How did he always manage to get himself in these ridiculous situations? Like, are you kidding me right now? As if dealing with Peter wasn’t enough, he goes and gets himself kidnapped by the Argents too. I turned back around to face Stiles and Deaton, my gaze shifting to the fresh bandage on Scott’s side. I took the relieved look in their eyes as a good sign that he was going to be okay. I held onto the small hope that Allison’s innocence had been preserved and she wasn’t about to say what I thought.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy, but he’s—she said that he’s a...werewolf.”

Yeah, I knew we weren’t that lucky.

Episode 9 Episode 11

120 notes · View notes

the-magic-lava-lamp · 3 years

Text

Harvest Moon

Summary: {A light sequel to: Unforgettable} They laughed, sort of sadly. The full night sky enriched them with gentle peace, strengthened by the soft light of the stars. The temperature dropped considerably since Sam had initially come out. But he didn’t mind the nice chill, it braced his skin and left him with tingling goosebumps. It reminded Sam how real the moment actually was. Paying less attention to the hearty sloshes of water, Sam picked up his radio.

Ships: SamBucky

Word Count: 5,285

The light from the orange sunset flushed Sam Wilson’s cheeks, encouraging the spread of an internally hot blush. Color blossomed under his soft complexion with all the grace of the water rings rippling under the rocks skipping on the lake. Though the sweat was just beginning to puddle in his palms and drip down his temple, Sam was only focused on the fevered senses of comfort which had been deep-rooted in his chest since arriving back home.

The babbling waters had called him out to the docks just the same as they did when he was small. And following that nostalgia, Sam felt the ghost of supper on the stove. Turns out his fucked up Avengers mind could still remind himself to be home before the porcelain plates hit the table. No longer his Mama--but Sarah who would be annoyed with him and that was perhaps more threatening. He thought as his tiny radio played on.

AJ and Cass had fallen asleep with the gentle nudge of a fuzzy re-run of ‘Whose Line is it Anyway?’ and the promise of a hot meal when they awoke. Sam’s absence would be noticed very soon.

‘Sittin' in the mornin' sun

I'll be sittin' when the evenin' comes

Watching the ships roll in

Then I watch 'em roll away again, yeah

I'm sittin' on the dock of the bay

Watchin' the tide roll away, ooh

I'm just sittin' on the dock of the bay

Wastin' time…’

He swiped salty sweat from his brow and found himself dwelling on the evening, wanting to change the direction of the souring sun. No matter what, Sam always began to mourn the day at around 5 p.m. Everyday could’ve been better. The threat of night’s permanent closure and the bearer of nightmares fermented him with anxiety. He was working on that issue with his therapist.

‘Now I'm just gon' sit, at the dock of the bay

Watchin' the tide roll away, ooh yeah

Sittin' on the dock of the bay

Wastin' time…’

Otis began the famed whistling as Sam leaned back on his hands, palms flat on the warm dock. He felt the movement just before a voice began whistling along behind him. It chirped delicately in Sam’s ear, until the song faded and with it--

Sam turned--Bucky Barnes sing-along.

Bucky grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Nice to see you so…” He craned his neck and squinted his eyes. “Lazy.” Even he looked a bit confused by the word choice.

“Thanks…” Sam chuckled.

“I just mean--” Buck paused, scratching down from his chin to his neck. Sam saw that he did that often enough to earn patches of grainy red skin under his facial hair.

Sam smirked, pulling his left thigh up and around from the edge. His eyes simmered Bucky’s blush.

“Have you ever had the time to laze around?” Bucky asked, amazed at his own wondering. “To sit and watch the sun on the water?” He gestured frantically outward. “You’ve been a busy guy...not that I helped you with that any…”

Sam shook his head. “Nah, man. Tracking your ass for Steve reaped some rewards.” He gestured for the man to rest his old bones down next to him and Bucky hesitantly took the offer. His knees cracked with sharp pops all the way down.

“No old man jokes, I swear-”

Sam held up his hands. “I wasn’t planning on it, Bucky.” He glanced at Steve’s old friend and for a moment, couldn’t believe the man of history books and horror stories was ‘sun-setting’ in Sam’s home-town. The orange light caressed his face in the same eerie way it’d done way back at Tony’s funeral.

“Thanks for letting me stay-” Bucky went to rub his chin again. “Not quite separate vacations but…” He chuckled, fading off. It was subconscious, the way Bucky led in with no follow through. He wanted Sam to be the one to initiate the conversation.

But Sam bit his tongue. He deserved to hear what Bucky had to say without having to pull it out himself.

Bucky turned with those doe eyes, tired but with enough energy left to admire his partner. “I hurt you....” He frowned, bitter with himself. “I know that and I’m damn sorry, Sam.” His voice was crisp and steady but his eyes wavered.

Sam sighed, eyes back on the water. “We were getting somewhere, man. And you just…” He flicked his hand out. “Disappeared on me.” He paused.

“I shouldn’t have left you...especially at such an ambiguous time for us.” Bucky stumbled slightly on his words.

Sam took a long blink, remembering the ‘unforgettable’ feeling of being held again. “I’m more hurt by the fact that I got nothing but radio silence from you-” He swallowed. “Past that-” He glanced at Bucky “Thing we had just started. I thought we’d reached a point where we could communicate.” He shrugged with muted emotion. “We were friends.” He added with a slight question in his voice. He watched Bucky’s eyes flicker with guilt.

“If you had given me a heads up, maybe. That’s all.” Sam patted his thigh. “I can understand needing space. I understand that even answering texts can be difficult as hell when your mind feels sick. I’ve been there, Buck. Shit’s hard.” He felt a dark twist in his stomach and tried not to dwell in his own memories. “I don’t hold this against you. I know you’re a good guy.” Sam made sure Bucky looked him in the eye for that particular sentiment. “But you should know how I felt about it. Whatever relationship we end up having; Friends, co-workers, partners-” He flicked his fingers. “I’d hope you’d think about how your decisions affect me.”

They held the next silence for a few minutes, Bucky seemingly taking in what he’d said. “For me, it was like I blinked and you were gone with the wind. I didn’t know how you were doing for months--if you were even okay. But then, out of the blue, you come back and you’re pissed about something that wasn’t about you.” Sam shrugged, feeling a bit lighter for every word he’d been simmering on for weeks.

Bucky grimaced, looking extremely pained. “I’m really sorry, Sam.” He repeated himself with genuine regret. The light around them bled darker. “I let a lot of my intrusive thoughts control me.” He hissed at his own words but quickly moved on. “Part of me let it happen because I’m not sure I could handle a competent hand on the wheel. I’ve lived as the...Winter Soldier longer than Bucky, you know-? And Holy shit that’s something I try not to perceive.” He turned, hoping he wasn’t over-sharing. “It’s terrifying to think it’s just in my nature...being destructive. I’m always nervous-” He paused again. “Not that I’m going to hurt someone--but the feeling that I need to will bleed back into me…” His voice faded off again as he picked at a loose string on his jeans.

“This is something you’re talking about in therapy, right?” Sam quirked his brow, needing the answer to be yes but the distant pain in his head reminded him that he dodged plenty of shit from his therapist.

Bucky nodded and before Sam could speak again, asked the question he’d been aching to for months. “I want to go back to you-”

“Of course you do.” Sam chuckled.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “How have you been, really?”

Sam thought for a minute. “Working myself to death, mostly.” He laughed, though it didn’t sound happy at all. “Been seeing Sarah and the boys as much as I can…”

The sky purpled, darkness bleeding into the orange hues. The stars would soon be visible and Bucky was almost positive Sam would now push the question off, neglecting the details. For as much as he complains that Bucky doesn’t talk about himself enough, Sam often avoids voicing his own feelings.

“Sarah was swamped and anxious, despite what she says-”

“And what were you feeling, Samuel?” Bucky playfully tapped his friend’s knee with a smug grin.

Sam rolled his eyes but grinned slightly at the familiar teasing. He wasn’t sure how to put his thoughts into words so he turned back to the water. “Thought a lot about the soul stone, actually.” The sentence rolled casually off his tongue but did nothing to relieve the stress it’d been causing him.

Bucky tried to remain stoic but a glint of concern shined over his eyes. The infinity stone felt somehow personal between them. Though nobody had memories of their time dusted, Sam and Bucky came out with a new sense of intimacy for each other. It was as if something happened in those 5 years, which felt like only a brief nap to them and in that blip, they’d connected. Falling together was comfortingly natural after that.

“My last thought before I...dusted, was ‘Maybe I’ll get to see Riley.’ ” Sam whizzed his palm in the air, voice breaking slightly and definitely against his will.

Bucky’s heart twitched. They’d gone dancing in the evening after Tony Stark’s funeral. It was the most blissful Bucky’d ever been and he’d spent the night in Sam’s hotel room doing the most talking he’d ever spoken. Nothing physical happened nor did either man think of it, they were too busy soaking up all the information they could get from the other before the night ended. They could truly get to know each other for the first time.

Bucky went on about his family, as much as he could remember anyway. Sam talked of his parents; Paul and Darlene and eventually trailed his way to Riley.

Sam halted his next thought for a few minutes because it was damn hard to illustrate. “I know we weren’t actually dead-” He rolled his lips together “Or maybe we were, still not clear on all that.” He sighed into another little laugh. “But I just want a few more minutes with him...you know?”

Bucky nodded, giving him a ‘go on’ expression.

“I guess our souls were floating around in the stone but--” He broke off, looking down at the water. “For five years, Both our names were on gravestones and in all that time, I couldn’t just see or feel him one time?” Fists now clenched into tight fists. His body language was horrifyingly angry, contrasting the deep despair that was the expression on his face. He was almost sure that none of his words made sense, they’d been jumbling around in him for months like a virus and to be regurgitated so suddenly felt...messy.

The radio, which Sam had long forgotten about, continued to roll-out soft volume static above glimpses of songs. “Fuck, Sam--” Bucky squinted towards the sky, taking in the brief glance into Sam’s head. “I know exactly what you mean…” He turned quickly, admiring Sam’s presence as his adoration for the man thumped like the heart-beat in his chest. “I always figured I’d never get that peace with my family...but I always assumed it’d be for some iteration of Hell.” He rubbed his palm against his neck and laughed.

Sam elbowed him lightly, forcing Bucky to find his words again.

“Knowing--through you and how I feel about you--” Bucky gestured between them. “That I had a mellow...impermanent afterlife(?) yet still didn’t get to see my family...well it feels like I was cheated.” He shrugged.

“I don’t think your soul’s going anywhere bad, Buck. Don’t know what happens after we’re gone for good but you’re not ditching me again.” He drifted off, feeling a sudden unbearable disappointment. “Nat’ll be there too.”

Bucky took in a breath, enjoying the tickling static of Sam’s hand. “Riley too, don’t worry about that, ok?” He tapped Sam’s hand. “I think, when we go back into the weeds and the dirt--”

“That’s a tender way of putting it, Bucky.” Sam blinked, trying not to put himself in an internal coffin because he was significantly chilled now.

Bucky smiled. “I think we get the peace of nothing. Just a return to nature with the souls of those we loved.” He rubbed his finger into the corner of his eye like a grandpa and sighed. “I’ve seen and experienced a lot of the Heaven/Hell folklore in my life and I’m not crazy about it, Sam” He wagged his finger and Sam pushed him slightly with a nice feeling of content.

“We can only comfort ourselves, nothing greater will do it for us. So we write ourselves a multitude of fiction that may, or may not, ease us into accepting death.” Sam bumped their elbows together and eyed a distant bird as it darted across and just above the water.

“I’m glad whatever it was that happened between us in that stone, happened.” Bucky added sheepishly. Turning to look at his partner under the increasingly vivid stars, Bucky hiccupped as a huge wave of affection hit him. “Cause I really like you, Sam.”

"But don't discredit yourself. It wasn't just the stone that magically brought us together--" Bucky lightly pushed Sam's bicep. "I-...I can't begin to explain how much it means to me that you made an effort to be my friend...even during the last few months of me ghosting you and not listening to you about the shield. You didn't have to do that."

Somewhere supper was threatening to get cold and Sarah was playing their meals with a concerned frown, Sam just knew that sister of his too well. He hoped to scrap together just a bit more time. "What can I say?" He smiled "I like you too. People need people, Buck. I wasn't gonna sit back and let you cut yourself off."

Bucky laid back on the dock, laying his palm flat to his chest. He repeated the phrase over and over in his head. 'People need people.' "Goes both ways, you know Sam?" He spoke with deep confidence but continued to laze on the dock, trying to find an angle where the sun was blocked and he could stare up at Sam. “Meaning, I hope you’ve been letting Sarah help you out...and seeing your therapist.”

Sam gently smacked his hand atop Bucky’s like a comforting beat of thunder. “Giving my best effort.” He nodded thoughtfully.

Bucky fluttered his eyes with the pace of his heart. “This is the first time I’ve seen you so...still, Wilson.”

Sam tossed his head back and laughed, knowing Bucky had hit the nail on the head with that one. The back of his neck cooled as he watched the slates of wood under them pale. The glimmers of tired orange light died and vapid pastel-white tones took their place, nestled in the cracks. Part of him wanted to disagree though he hadn’t the spirit. “I don’t like relaxing because it gives me too much time inside myself.”

Bucky nodded, encouraging Sam to go on. Fearing the man would never pick it up again if he suddenly decided to close himself off again.

“There’s too much to do...I feel like I don’t deserve it.” Sam shrugged, a clear illustration of his frustration. He’d definitely pulled this thread a few million times in his life.

“Don’t deserve it?” Bucky sat up just a little, resting on his forearms, he slanted his head as if the adoring smile was just too heavy. “C’mon Doll--” He cut himself off a bit too late.

“Slipping back into old habits, huh?” Sam rolled his eyes but waved a dismissive hand. “You’re cute.” He teased, shoving the guy gently.

Bucky played along, pretending Sam had used enough of that strength of his to knock him back onto the dock. “I think now is a great time for a few days off Sam.”

The man hummed, thinking about the public...what they expected of their new ‘Captain America’ and what the flicker of the new spot-light in his favor revealed about those who loved Steve for all the wrong reasons. Knowing, as a black man, he’d have to go above and beyond all those assumptions just to garner the same amount of respect they gave Steve. The anger he felt from that was righteous but god forbid he show any sense of hurt because then he’d just be labeled ‘ungrateful’ and ‘giving people grief’. He rubbed under his eye with a longing sigh. “I can’t really afford that right now, Buck.”

His body shivered as he tried to push away the intrusive images; Walker slamming into the man over and over without hesitation, thick puddles of blood covering his shield, carrying Karli’s lifeless body over an audience where half of the people celebrated her death...perceiving and exploiting her as another ‘super-villain’.

“Hey.” Bucky softly sat up and pulled Sam’s elbow until their eyes met. “I’ve been told I’m a great listener.” He didn’t pull away, instead hesitantly he curled his hand around Sam’s arm. His fingers pressed dimples into Sam’s skin. Bucky nestled there and his friend exhaled a little, unclenching his body.

“It’s daunting.” He nodded to himself before tipping his chin to face Bucky. “A bucket doesn’t hold a tidal wave but that’s all I got.” He shrugged, noticing Bucky’s quirked brow. “Something my dad used to say...meaning there’s too much to say so I gotta give you a shitty summary, you know?” He shook his head.

“I know I’m one to talk but try using more words...buzz-words if you have to.” Bucky looked momentarily proud of his modern vocabulary and squeezed Sam’s arm tighter.

Sam chuckled. “Let’s say...nerve-wrecking.” He added, bumping his elbow into Bucky’s side. “With all that’s happened...I’m worried--” He landed on a word he felt comfortable with. “Being Captain America...it’s heavy on my shoulders, man. I know I can do it, I trust myself when it comes down to the wire. I hold myself to my standards.” He trailed off again, listening to distant sounds of kids skipping rocks across the water. “I know where this job’s going to take me and I’m ok with that, glad to do it.” He looked back at Bucky with determined eyes.

“I’m not concerned with my fate.” Another deep breath racked his body, he wasn’t used to being so utterly serious with his current company. “I think about how it ended for Tony and I worry about the kid--”

Bucky nodded, He’d only briefly been aware of Stark’s ‘surrogate’ son and spoke a handful of words to him at the funeral, Sam and Wanda at his side.

Sam rubbed his neck with his free hand, feeling intense pressure all over his body. All his limbs tingled as if they were asleep. He’d not realized the true extent of how much this had been eating away at him. Speaking of eating, dinner was for sure cold by now…“Met his Aunt at the funeral.” She’d been proud of her boy but behind her eyes lived guttural fear, Sam knew that much. “I’m thinking about Rhodey because I sure as hell know the pain of losing your best friend.”

Bucky tightened his grip on Sam even further. He’d lost Steve so many times but the time had come for the permanent end and by then...well had they even felt like best friends anymore?

“I can’t even figure out what’s going on with Wanda.” Sam clicked his tongue with a bitter chuckle. “Girl’s doing her best to stay off the grid and I can’t imagine that’s good for her. I know Torres can handle himself but I wonder if I should be helping him more. Not to mention Bruce. What the hell is his mental state right now?” He added with a confused wave of his hand. “I’m even worrying about Scott!” Sam rubbed at his eyebrow and sighed. “This is all beside Sarah and the kids, who I’m constantly thinking about.” He laughed, voice strained and tired.

Bucky waited a few seconds, just to make sure Sam had finished. In that short moment, his heart swelled for him. “You’re a good person, Sam. But you’re only one man.” He shook him just a little bit. “Truthfully, You’ll always be concerned for them. It’s just in your nature. Don’t fight the intrusive thoughts...accept their presence and remember you’ve got a team.” Bucky trailed off, going over what he’d just said again in his head.

Sam’s shoulders sank with another deep sigh. “Thanks, Buck.” He swiped his hand down his face and noticed how much lighter he felt.

Bucky responded physically. He tugged Sam down with him as he laid back on the dock, shoulders bumping together harmoniously which sent chills through Bucky’s entire body. The good kind...maybe the amazing kind. Hell, they tingled under his skin just about every moment he spent with Sam. That deeply buried fear that he might spend the rest of his life making himself excruciatingly uncomfortable in his own body, trapped under his skin which was always crawling, faded from the realm of possibility each time Sam’s presence flushed Bucky with comfortable jitters.

“You’re getting good taste, by the way-”

Bucky only squinted at him, still half in deep thought. So Sam started Otis’s whistling again and watched his friend realize what he was talking about. His nose scrunched up while he nodded.

“How do you decide what to listen to?” Sam turned, they were nearly nose-to-nose. “I mean, how do you narrow it down when you’ve got decades to catch up on?” Sam’s mind flickered through artists like a jukebox--which was 1 thing he’d always wanted to buy, a real old school one.

Bucky shifted his jaw, making an eerie click, a precursor to his amused grin. “I made a list of artists I remember liking before…” He waved his hand, turning slightly to watch the dewey clouds cover the moon. “And the periods in-and-out of being frozen...I have a list of what I remember by decade-” He chuckled.

Sam sat up on his forearms. “I’d like to see these lists. The record set-up in Sarah’s living room is not a decoration, you know? It’s almost as great as mine back in D.C.” He grinned, thinking about the days, so far gone now. Mama and Sarah dancing around the kitchen.

“It really faded off during the 80’s.” Bucky pushed up to level himself next to Sam. “And not that I’ve had much time, mind you--” he laughed. “But from there, I just follow what I’m fond of like family trees and consider the few recommendations I’ve collected.” He trailed off, starting to do the Otis whistle again.

Sam let him follow through to the end, anticipating the tender connotations of the song to come after this day ended. “Out of all these decades...who are your favorite artists? Just curious.” Sam grinned. The answer to this question spoke loudly about a person, in his opinion.

Bucky looked thoughtfully content with the question, grin cocking a bit to the right as he held out his fist above him. “I’d have to say...Ella-” He flicked out a thumb, no last name necessary. Sam knew that woman like the back of his hand.

“Nat King Cole-” Bucky softened his eyes, searching again for that unforgettable memory in Sam, and smiling when the expression was reciprocated in his eyes which shimmered like sunlight through the trees. “Roy Orbison.” Two more metal fingers curled down. “John Denver and Billy Joel.” He let his hand fall back to his chest, satisfied for only a few seconds. “But I really love Judy Garland too.”

“So you like the mellow ballads--” He hummed. “Slow and kinda sad, huh?” Sam bumped his arm lightly. It made good sense to him. Bucky enjoyed the peace which came effortlessly from lone singer-songwriters. His five--or rather six--showed a natural progression.

“What about you?” Bucky asked, in a calm tone of voice though his eyes read eager.

“Marvin Gaye, Sam Cooke, The Drifters…” Sam paused, really thinking over his picks. “Earth Wind and Fire, Linda Ronstadt and since you got a bonus...Billie Holiday.” Sam rested his palm flat on his chest, content to feel the steady beating that let him know he was still alive. A rich sense of comfort rushed over him as if a fresh load of laundry had just been dropped on his still body. There’d been too many days in his life where that buried thumping was only a reminder of non-stop existence, like a neverending rollercoaster. Installing him with dread, guilt and panic. He was glad to find those days fewer and farther between.

“You make me feel like I’m livin’ in a Drifters song, Doll.” Bucky was only half teasing, for he was speaking a genuine thought but wasn’t sure how welcome it’d be.

“I like that one.” Sam hummed, turning his cheek once more toward the man beside him. “Tell me how you really feel.” He hiked himself up fully to return to his seated position, legs dangling over the side and casting faint shadows of foot-steps on the water.

Bucky paused with concern, not sure he understood the reply before he processed it fully. He wanted to smirk but the sentiment out-weighed the amusement. He sat up too, pulling one knee up to rest an arm over while the other dangled next to Sam’s. “I got it bad, Sam.” He made their wandering eyes meet.

“Me too.” Sam nodded with that dazzling grin. “You’re under my skin, what can I say?” He shook his head and tried to let his smile fade, finding he couldn’t.

“If they weren’t gone...I’d be buggin’ you to meet my family.” Bucky ignored the twist in his gut because Sam’s reactions were his comfort. “Though who’s to say how they’d feel about the….” He trailed off and Sam nodded. “You being a fella part of it--”

“A fella of color, too.” Sam added with a bit of a smirk.

“Fuck.” Bucky cursed quietly and playfully tugged Sam’s hand. They curled their fingers together in an exquisitely natural way. “They loved me…” His face stilled with longing. “I’d like to think--But maybe it’s best not to go down that road. I don’t believe I turned out how they’d wanted anyway.” He chuckled, pitfully.

Sam tightened their grip on each other for a minute. “I know what you mean.” He bumped their folded hands onto Bucky’s thigh. “I’m always wondering what my parents would think of all this…” He flicked his free hand. “My career?” He almost wanted to laugh with astonished pride. Never had he expected to grow up to be a superhero. “Riley too.” He felt there was more to say but his mouth fell shut.

“Just a way to hurt ourselves, I guess.” Bucky shrugged. “And we sure as Hell love to do that.”

They laughed, sort of sadly. The full night sky enriched them with gentle peace, strengthened by the soft light of the stars. The temperature dropped considerably since Sam had initially come out. But he didn’t mind the nice chill, it braced his skin and left him with tingling goosebumps. It reminded Sam how real the moment actually was. Paying less attention to the hearty sloshes of water, Sam picked up his radio.

‘Come a little bit closer

Hear what I have to say

Just like children sleepin'

We could dream this night away…’

He might have heard the song before, couldn’t be sure, and if he was alone he might have continued flipping stations just in case an older favorite was slipping through his fingers. But Bucky began to hum with the tune.

‘But there's a full moon risin'

Let's go dancin' in the light

We know where the music's playin'

Let's go out and feel the night…’

Sam gathered himself up from the creaky dock, stretching his body little by little and watching Bucky’s wandering eyes. He gently held out his hands which was enough of a sign for Bucky to happily grab them and pull himself up.

Sam shoved the radio in his pocket with a smile and though Bucky was more than just pleased to see him so jovial, he also felt a flicker of nervousness. “Man...for the first time in a while, I feel lucky as Hell.”

‘Because I'm still in love with you

I want to see you dance again

Because I'm still in love with you

On this harvest moon…’

Sam raised his brow and initiated the first few dance steps with his partner hardly noticing the movement at all. “How’s that?”

“I’m lucky to be in love with someone I like so much.” Bucky puffed out a relaxed sigh with his words and finally leaned into the dancing with real vigor. “Sam, I’ve never wanted to spend my life with someone as badly as I do with you.”

Wind whistled past their shoulders but Sam felt perfectly warm. He let Bucky take the lead and allowed himself to be spun. The cool light of the moon acted as a highlighter, beams of translucent white caressed the shape of Sam’s body. Following the curve of his hips and sliding down the length of his legs. “Growing old with you...becoming a cranky old man couple, that sounds like fun.” He spoke as if he hadn’t had true fun in years which was probably true.

A bush fondly bloomed under Bucky’s skin. Behind his fluttering eyelashes, Bucky indulged for once in his life. To drink in all that was this man in front of him.

However Sam’s eyes were now focused on a cupped hand, which had somehow slipped from Bucky’s, where a yellow toned light would flicker every few seconds. Whenever the yellow light skimmed his face, he would grin with pure joy.

“You never caught a firefly before, Sam?” Bucky asked in jest, with a huff of amused laughter.

Sam gently guided the bug into Bucky’s face.

“Oh, fuck! You asshole” Bucky scrunched up his nose and swatted dramatically at his nose. “I change my mind, cancel my idea. Gonna crawl back into the absolute hole that is my apartment--” He playfully backed away from his friend.

Before Bucky could slip the last inch of his skin from Sam’s hand, the man used the full strength of his extended arm to fiercely pull him back and into his chest. Like a damn professional dancer. “I’ve been seeing myself from grief’s eyes for too damn long. Think I’m ready to take control of my own life. I want to be with you.” He playfully grinned. “What about you?”

Bucky glowed in Sam’s arms. “For a long time, I lost my sense of self…” He scratched behind his ear. “But never my fuckin’ point of view.” His voice broke just a little. “I had to see and feel every horrendous thing the Winter Soldier did. “I’ll bear the consequences for the rest of my life and I accept that.” He shook his head. “But I’m ready to accept happiness too. I really want to be with you, Sam.”

Sam nodded, content as he’d ever been. “I think we should get our dinner before Sarah comes to drag us by our ears.”

Bucky pressed a sweet kiss, full of longing and fulfillment. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.” He laughed, taking Sam’s arm and pulling him down the dock with a spring in both their steps.

‘But now it's gettin' late

And the moon is climbin' high

I want to celebrate

See it shinin' in your eye’

‘Because I'm still in love with you

I want to see you dance again

Because I'm still in love with you

On this harvest moon’

#sambucky #is this good?#idk #i feel too awful to focus #sam wilson #Bucky Barnes #winterfalcon #the falcon and the winter soldier #sarah wilson #my fanfiction #tell me what you think #Marvel Comics #marvel #MCU #marvel fanfiction

11 notes · View notes

irrlicht-writes · 4 years

Text

the path we choose to walk on pt.4

So this is it. Part 4, everyone. The last part! We made it to the end! Wooo! (now I have to focus on my bang again) Thank you for being with me. I hope you enjoyed the ride. Tell me what you thought! Tell me what you liked! Tell me what you hated! (be nice though) @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @cass-said-i-love-you @professorerudite @insertdeeplyrics anyone else want on the tag list?

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Ao3

Part 4: let the good times roll

Sam and Eileen gift a painting set to Castiel one day. Dean isn’t sure why but they say it’s because he saved their baby. Later Cas admits to Dean that he barely remembers what happened.

As it turns out, Castiel sees the world vastly different than Dean. Dean’s no art critic, nor could he detect a masterpiece in the making but to him, Cas’ pieces feel alive. There is a certain aspect to them.

Castiel paints mostly with his fingers and the faces of the people are wonky at best but still, they stare right into Dean’s heart.

“They are dead,” Cas says, “but with this, they’re alive. There was a world people cannot understand today. You have changed so much in so little time and yet it remains – you will always look at the world with wonder in your eyes.”

Charlie helps them sell Cas’ art online. They sell somewhat well and Dean thinks that Cas is happy that he gets to help. Cas had said that he would’ve like to take a real job, but Dean shut him down very quickly.

Nobody would want to hire Cas – first, Cas didn’t even properly exist. And second; there would be too many days where Cas would have to stay at home. Any employer would only allow so many sick days and Dean is afraid of sending Cas to a therapist.

Even though he knows that they all probably need one, how would you even start explaining?

“Yeah, roughly 15 years ago I set off with my brother to find our dad and now our son turned into God. Oh and also we picked up this literal angel as our best friend and all of us – our son concluded who by the way was fathered by Lucifer – have died several times and then we just kind of went going.”

Yeah. No.

Not to mention all the additional bullshit Castiel would have to unpack. Dean’s been in a mental constitution once; he doesn’t really have to go there again. And he certainly doesn’t want Cas to go there – also, again.

The bees are still on Dean’s mind. He doesn’t need a repeat of that.

And anyway, the paintings are selling. And in time, they might even be able to ask for more money. Dean doesn’t really hold out hope but who knows?

Two years after Maria is born, Sam and Eileen get married. Dean knows that they’ve been discussing marriage for a long time and have never been able to decide whether it was for them or not. But then Eileen proposed and here they are.

“She asked me to accompany her with the ring shopping. I think she just wanted to use me for my fingers,” Cas says to Dean and Dean smirks.

“Do you think Jack’ll show up?”

“I don’t know. I’ve told him; and I’m sure he knows but whether or not he’ll actually show up... it would be good to see him again. But even if he can’t make it here, he’ll be watching over these two.”

They are about to begin the ceremony and Dean’s excited to be the Best Man. He’s never thought he’d get to be that for real so it feels like a dream. Maria’s supposed to be the Flower Girl but she hasn’t shown up yet.

“Cas,” Charlie rushes over to them. Cas blinks up at her, tilting his head.

“Maria doesn’t want to walk, she’s embarrassed. Do you think you can help her out?”

Maria has gotten overly attached to Cas in these past two years and Dean believes it’s just infatuation. After all, who could look into these big blue eyes and not fall for them? Dean, however, is a little bit upset over the fact that she likes Cas better than him. But he’ll just wait until Maria will appreciate cars. And that’s when Dean will win.

“Of course,” Cas replies, “come on, Miracle.”

Miracle has essentially become Castiel’s therapy dog. She follows him everywhere and makes sure he eats and drinks enough. She loves Cas to pieces and anyone who even looks at the angel wrong gets growled at.

Dean watches them walk away and gets his phone out. He knows that there is a photographer here that films things but he wants that piece for himself. And he has to go up there anyway, so he might just go now anyway.

It takes five more minutes before Cas was apparently able to convince Maria to come out – and even then, she’s getting carried. She’s holding the flower basket close to her chest and Cas encourages her to throw the petals down. Dean’s heart melts at the sight of them.

Cas stops next to the pew where Claire and Kaia are sitting and basically tells Maria to throw flowers on them. Claire laughs and playfully shoves Cas away from them. Jody and Donna are also getting petals thrown in their face. Everybody is smiling and Dean’s happy that he’s filming this.

Maria is giggling and throwing petals all over the place. “She was so stiff before,” Charlie whispers in his direction.

“She wasn’t even looking at me and now look at that. How is Cas’ gayness softer than mine?”

“You’re just intimidating.”

“Cas is an angel!”

Eileen is beautiful when she walks down the aisle. Sam next to him exhales and has the biggest smile on his stupid face.

“Mama so pretty!” Maria proclaims loudly while clapping her hands.

“Yes, she is,” Cas replies a little quieter. He has her sitting on his lap and he has a flower in his hair. Apparently Maria was supposed to give that to her mom but she had decided that it was for Cas, so now he was wearing the flower. It does fit him, Dean thinks.

The ceremony itself goes over without a hitch even though Sam almost breaks down crying twice. Dean was expecting more, if he’s honest. Maybe Sammy practised with Cas – apparently Cas is the solution to every problem.

Later, at the party, Dean holds an embarrassing speech about Sam and after, Sam dunks his head into a pie. This is fair, because Dean definitely deserves that. It’s all good, though. Cas laughs and wipes Dean’s face clean and Maria – still in Cas’ lap – giggles like it’s Christmas.

Dean dances with Eileen and Sam dances with Cas and Maria. Charlie’s taking pictures and Dean loves it. Cas can’t dance for very long and he leans heavily onto Sam but he tries his best for Sam and Maria both.

Dean loves him.

And someday, he’ll man up enough to actually say these words. He just needs a little bit longer. And Cas is here to stay. Dean’ll work up the courage he needs and then it’ll be alright.

Charlie is dancing with Maria and Eileen is sitting next to Cas. She’s taken her shoes off and is likely complaining to the angel that her feet hurt. Cas is holding the wedding bouquet now and Dean knows that Eileen will insist he keep it.

“I wish she would’ve thrown it,” Claire says and Dean wiggles his eyebrows.

“You were hoping to catch it, weren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

At the end, Jack didn’t show. The party had ended a while ago, but Dean and Castiel are still sitting on a bench outside. It’s a nice night, and Dean doesn’t want to drive home yet. There are no clouds in the sky and the stars are shining bright. Dean reckons that that’s Jack’s doing. He still wishes he would’ve shown his face.

“Don’t be mad at him,” Castiel says while leaning on Dean’s shoulder. “You know he doesn’t do that well with a lot of people.”

Yes. That is true but still – he hadn’t even come to congratulate Sam? He also still hadn’t come to meet Maria yet. Dean wonders what work a God has to do. Didn’t Jack say he wanted to be hands off?

“Don’t you miss him?” Dean asks.

“Every day,” Castiel replies.

Castiel raises a hand towards the sky and Dean sees a shooting star. But the star stops after it passes Cas’ hand.

Castiel retracts his hand and there’s a golden orb floating above his palm.

“What’s that?”

It glows brightly and it’s almost too much for Dean to look at. It compels him in the same way it tells him to stay away from it. Where did it come from? Why is it here? What’s it going to do?

“Divinity,” Castiel quietly replies and closes his hand, making the orb disappear.

“Dean, really?”

Dean sighs. He knew it was a mistake to talk to Sam about this. But he knows that Charlie would’ve squealed in his ear and honestly, Claire is still a bit too young for this to talk about it. And yeah sure, Eileen would’ve been an option but even after all this time, Dean still hasn’t improved on his signing skills.

“I know it’s stupid.”

“I didn’t say that. But have you even choked up an I love you?”

Dean is quiet.

“Oh my god, I knew it. Dean, you can’t just propose like that!”

“...shut up.”

He pockets the box inside his jacket. He doesn’t want to propose right now anyway. It’s more like a promise to himself, that one day he might be worthy of this. If – when he’ll find the words one day, he’ll be good enough for Cas. He can be.

He will be.

For Cas, the best thing that ever happened to him.

For Cas, who still thinks he’s barely tolerated.

For Cas, who sees the world as more than it is.

For Cas, who loves so much and has never been loved in return.

Their first kiss doesn’t quite happen as Dean would’ve imagined it – not that he had ever been imagining it in the first place.

Cas is watching Dancing With The Stars and he’s really fascinated. Apparently, he’s never danced before. Dean’s never told him about Garth and Bess dancing in front of the window. He wonders how they’re doing now. Maybe they’re dancing right at this moment, while Sam and Castiel are finally asleep?

“Dean, please?” Castiel’s blue eyes are pleading and Dean has a hard time saying no. Cas always asks for so little and Dean’s always liked dancing when he got a chance to do it – which sadly is not often. So he sighs and stands up from the couch, offering his hand up to Cas.

“Might I have this dance, milady?”

Cas blinks at him in question, and then looks at the outstretched hand. At last, there’s a smile stealing itself across Castiel’s face and he gently takes Dean’s hand and hauls himself up.

“Of course, my lord.”

Dean chuckles and pulls Cas flush against him. It’s been a while since they were this close together without one of them on literal death’s door. Cas is alive and warm under his hands and Dean starts swaying. He’s never danced a real dance, much less so with another man. But it’s not like Cas could dance at all, so it’s okay. And besides – it’s not about the skill, it’s about the experience. And Cas –

Cas is laughing. It’s a happy laugh and he enjoys himself. It’s truly a sight to see. It’s rare to see Cas so relaxed and Dean feels more than privileged to witness this much less be the cause of it. Dean swirls Cas on the spot and as the swirl ends, Cas stumbles forward against Dean’s chest. Dean holds him tight and it’s a good feeling.

Cas’ hair is brushing against Dean’s chin and he feels calm. He gently puts one hand on Castiel’s cheek and Cas nuzzles into it. Castiel’s hand is loosely laying on Dean’s chest and the volume of the TV playing in the background is already fading away.

Dean’s in love.

He’s in love with Castiel.

He gently directs Castiel’s face upwards and looks at the big, blue, blinking eyes.

He doesn’t understand how he got to be so lucky.

Dean bends down, just a little, and ever so gently presses his lips against Castiel’s mouth.

It’s a quiet kiss, one that doesn’t require anything.

“Dean,” is all that Cas says afterwards but Dean quietly hushes him.

“Shh,” he replies and kisses him again.

It’s easier than anything else he’s ever done.

He doesn’t remember why he was ever afraid of this.

This, right here, is where he’s meant to be.

With the TV running in the background, in his shitty apartment, in worn-out clothes, with a dog sleeping in her bed, kissing Castiel.

Sometimes things are just easy.

Dean holds Castiel tight and thankfully, Castiel doesn’t speak.

It’s the most comforting silence and Dean cherishes it.

He’s in love.

It’s a soft thing, after. Nothing changes and yet, so much is different.

He kisses Cas in the morning before he goes to work; in the afternoon when he returns; when they make dinner; when they watch TV.

It’s the easiest thing in the world.

And yet, Dean knows that Cas wonders.

I know you don’t love me.

But Dean does. He just can’t say it. If he did, then – then what would John say? Dad would judge him for this. Dad would call him a girl; and a fairy; and tell Dean that Dad hadn’t raised a gay son.

He’s still thinking about this in bed. Next to him, Cas is fast asleep, holding onto Dean’s arm. Miracle is snoring in her own doggy bed.

“I love Cas,” Dean says toneless into the dark room and is instantly overcome by anxiety. Somehow, even after all these years, he expects John to bust through the door and expose him and nail him to the cross or something.

He turns to his side and looks at Cas. The angel looks so relaxed in his sleep and Dean gently pats his hair. Cas mumbles a bit and burrows closer to Dean as if to seek warmth. Dean puts his free arm around him and pulls him as close as possible, tucking the angel under his chin.

He doesn’t know what to do. Cas deserves to be told. But whenever Dean thinks it might be the right time for it – then there’s John standing in the distance, observing and judging him. Dean knows he just has to do it, that he just has to push through. Dad is dead and nothing can happen anymore. But this fear is far too ingrained inside his brain. Maybe writing a letter would help? But somehow it doesn’t feel like enough.

Dean needs to say it.

He has to say it.

But he can’t.

He can’t.

For all his bravery, for all his courage – he can’t.

“A bird learns to fly when it falls.”

Cas is not in bed when Dean wakes up.

“Water will whittle away the mountain.”

Cas is nowhere to be found inside the apartment. Miracle is quiet.

“A flower will break through the concrete.”

Dean panics. In his panic, he runs outside.

“Long after its death, a star will remain in the sky.”

Outside it’s foggy.

But there is Cas.

Cas is standing outside, barefooted, and Dean is rooted to the spot.

There are golden orbs floating around Castiel.

Divinity, Cas had called them.

“Cas,” Dean breathes and the angel turns around.

“Hello, Dean.”

“What are those?”

“I’ve told you. Divinity.”

“Yes, I know, but what are they?”

“A burden shared is a burden lifted. Ever since I woke all the way back before time existed, a great many stars have died. And still, some remain in the sky. Did you never wonder where they go?

Their physical form shall burn from velocity, but what about the stars? What about them? Who catches them? Where do they go? Shall they forever be lost in space?

I was lost too, you know. I was lost ever since the start. Sometimes I think I remember. Sometimes I think I remember an all consuming light in the dark. Sometimes I think I remember the beginning before it ever began. Sometimes I think I remember the void, the naught.

And then, just as quickly, I lose it again.

Why did Father abandon us?

Why did He create so many of us, if none of us mattered?

Come with us, the stars whispered to me, we have no answers but mayhap we shall find them.

Why did the stars exist, if only to die? I didn’t want them to be lost and so I collected them. I found them in the void and I took them with me for I thought I might find a purpose within them. And in time, they started finding me. I became their haven, their destination.

But still, I was lost. Each time a star would find me, I think I can see the light in the void again, the end after the end. But soon these memories are gone, too, and I can only hold on to scraps. And I wonder.

What if I don’t remember at all? What if what I see are just fragments from the stars, showing me what they saw in their last moments?

Dean, you must know: time is not linear. What happens before will happen after. The end happens before the start and sometimes the beginning happens in the middle. This time, this life is just one stream amongst them all.

Some stars tell me of the end; and others tell me of the start. Maybe some tell me of the middle. And maybe some tell me of all, and all I get is the light in the void at the start.

I’ve wondered.

Why am I broken?

Why am I, of all the angels, the only one that’s cracked?

What went wrong?

Why was it only ever me? Why wasn’t perfect like the others? Why weren’t others cracked as I was?

Why was I the only one that’s ever looked to the stars and collected them?

What if Father never made me?

What if – what if I was created by something else?

And if so, what was it? And why? And why did Father allow me to continue existing? Did He perhaps just not notice? Did He perhaps just not care? Did He perhaps just think me merely another insignificant angel that He needn’t pay attention to?

What broke the connection?

Why am I the only angel to love you?

Was I whole before, perhaps, but if that was so – what shattered me? What put me back together? Where did the missing pieces go?

The light I remember in the naught – what is it? Where does it come from? Why does it matter at all, why do I care if it lights up the void or not?

Why do I cling to a light that does not matter?

I –

I’m lost, Dean.

Amidst the stars, I am lost.

From here on out, where do I go?”

Dean reaches out.

Castiel is standing there all alone, surrounded by what remains of the stars – surrounded by divinity.

He takes Castiel’s hand.

“Go with me,” he says.

“I love you,” he says.

Amidst the stars, Castiel smiles.

Dean thinks he can see the light that Castiel spoke about.

It’s a soft, shining light and it’s free.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a big thing, Cas, you know? What if I fail?”

“Then we’ll fail together.”

Dean buys a corner lot. It’s very expensive. But he has a dream. He doesn’t want to work construction forever. He deserves to be happy. And Cas is here. Cas is here, and Sam is here, and Eileen is here – and everyone is here.

He’s not alone and he can rely on all these people. They want to help him; they want him to be happy. He can do this. For the first time in his life, he can do something solely for himself.

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have to depend only on himself.

Sam hoists Maria out of the car seat. He wants to go and help Eileen out of the car but if he did, she’d kick him in the shin.

“Are there no balloons?” Maria wants to know. Sam looks up. True, there are no balloons outside.

“I’m sure Uncle Dean’s got some inside, sweetheart.”

Maria grins from ear to ear and hugs her monkey toy harder. Cas had given it to her just a few years ago. It hadn’t even been her birthday; he had just wanted to give something to his niece. Sam is glad that they get along so well. But sometimes he debates: should they tell her that Cas is an angel? It’s not a problem right now, but he and Dean and Eileen will start aging one day while Cas will not.

But, ah well, it might be best to cross that bridge when they’d get there.

“Hunter’s Rest is a nice name,” Eileen says when she finally steps next to Sam. Sam just nods. It’s true. Sam had kept suggesting Roadhouse, in Ellen’s and Ash’s and Jo’s legacy but Dean had always refused. Dean hadn’t wanted to be a copy-cat of what they’ve been.

Dean wants something that’s his own.

And Sam couldn’t be happier for him.

It was a long road, getting here, and even now he could scarcely believe it.

But the Hunter’s Rest is officially opening today.

He smiles at Eileen, takes both his girl’s hands and enters Dean’s bar.

“Uncle Dean!”

Maria yells as soon as she spots her uncle and throws herself at his middle from across the room. Dean laughs and catches her. He lifts her up and holds her on his hip.

“How’s my favourite tornado?”

She giggles and hugs him tight.

“Where’s Uncle Cas?”

“He’s still in the back, sweetheart. Be nice to him today, okay? It’s not a good day. But I know he’ll be happy to see you, so why don’t you go say hello?”

Maria nods with a solemn expression on her face. She knows about Uncle Cas’ bad days. She shouldn’t be too loud on these and she has to understand that he might not want to play as much with her. She loves Uncle Cas. She wouldn’t tell this to anyone because she knows Uncle Dean would be upset, but Uncle Cas is her favourite. There’s a glow about him that she can’t explain to anyone, but it draws her to him.

Uncle Dean puts her on the ground and she goes to find Uncle Cas. When she finds him, he smiles at her. He looks tired and sick, but he glows so brightly today.

“Hello, Maria,” he greets her.

She steps closer and climbs into his lap.

“I love you,” she says and Uncle Cas hugs her tight.

“Looks good, Dean,” Sam says to Dean in the meantime. Dean grins and pulls his brother close. He nods at Eileen who waves back.

“How are we coming along?” he asks her and she rubs her stomach.

“Good,” she replies, “the doctor says it’s two.”

“Two, huh? Man, Sammy, you dog!”

Sam laughs and Dean slaps him on the shoulder.

“Maria was really hoping for some balloons,” Sam says and Dean shrugs.

“I have some in the back, but I don’t know if I should hang them up. It’s gonna be a few hours still until official opening, you know?”

“Are Charlie and Stevie coming?”

“Yeah, Charlie’s gonna help me set up the music. The others are coming too, but Donna can’t make it. Some important thing came up but she’s gonna drop by in the coming days.”

Sam nods.

“There should be balloons,” Eileen pipes up and Dean sighs deeply.

“Fine,” he says then, “but y’all are helping me with that. I ain’t the only one blowing these things up.”

“I overheard,” Cas says as he’s rolling out of the back in his wheelchair. On his lap, there are Maria and a big load of balloons.

Dean sighs. “Why am I being set up?”

Castiel smiles at Dean. “Because balloons make everything better. We should’ve gotten glitter, too, you know? We’ll help, Dean.”

“Bad day, huh?” Sam asks him while they are placing the balloons. Dean nods.

“Last couple days actually. Yesterday was the worst; he wouldn’t even get out of bed. The day before that, he spent almost all day puking into the toilet. But he’s getting better now, I think. It’s just – I know that he’s sick. I know that these days happen and that they’ll happen again, it just – it just fucking scares me, y’know? Knowing that there’s nothing I can do, no spell to find to cure him or anything – it just makes me feel so helpless.”

Sam puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Dean, you’re doing great. What you’re going through – what you both are going through – is extremely stressful. I can’t even imagine. I can’t imagine all the hurdles you had to go through to get here. How scary it has to be to wake at night and see Cas being sick again. I’m proud of you, Dean. I really am. You’re holding it together so well and if – if you ever have to break, I’m here for you. We’re all here for you. You’re not alone. You’re never alone, Dean.”

Dean huffs out a laugh and turns to hug his brother.

It’s true.

Their lone journey is over.

They started with just the two of them.

But they’re never going to be alone again.

“I love you,” Dean whispers into dark hair.

“I don’t know when I fell in love. I don’t know when I realised. But I love you. I love all of you.

We’ve endured a great many things, you and I. We fell and rose together, we burned and crashed together. And in all this time, you weren’t even supposed to be there. But you were. You fought and clawed your way back to me every single time, and I’ve never even said thank you. I never once appreciated all the pain and misery you had to endure just to get back to me.

No matter what, you were there. You were there for me and Sam when nobody else was. You stayed by your side since the very beginning and you overturned everything you believed in because you started to believe in me. You had faith in me, the man without faith. And through you – you became my faith. I believed in nothing, I had faith in nothing – except you. I had faith in you. When you were gone, so was my faith gone. And when you returned, you brought it back with you.

When we met, you told me that good things do happen.

For so long, I didn’t believe you. But you were right. And know what? That good thing that would happen to me was right in front of me. And we didn’t know. Neither of us knew. Who could’ve imagined?

A man afraid of flying and an angel afraid of falling.

We really did meet in the middle, huh?

I’m sorry, Cas. I never did right by you. All your life you thought you were wrong because you weren’t like the others. You always believed that you needed to atone for your sins someway. And I – I didn’t help you. I made you think that you were expendable, that you weren’t worth anything. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, because I was wrong.

You’re worth everything. You matter so much, Cas – to me, to Sam, to the world. I’m sorry that all of us have fallen short. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make it up to you for all eternity, because I love you. If you’ll have me for whatever reason, then I’m yours. And I’m never going to let go. If I lose you, I will stop at nothing to find you again.

It’s you and me. Now and forever.”

“Look for the light,” Castiel whispers into the darkness.

“Look for the light and you’ll always find me there.”

At the end of a long, long life, Dean opens his eyes.

Above him, there’s nothing but endless stretches of blue sky.

Dean sits up and looks around.

He’s in an onion field and he stands up.

He turns to the side and sees him there.

There’s a trench-coat angel standing in the onion field, surrounded by the golden orbs of stars.

The wings behind him are magnificent and have the colour of a rainbow.

Dean starts approaching him.

Behind the angel, there is a massive tree.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

#supernatural #Destiel #castiel #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #eileen leahy #writing #spn fix it #spn 15x20 #fanfiction #hurt #hurt/comfort #dean x castiel #userpris

49 notes · View notes

btsslowburnfic · 4 years

Text

BTBY Chapter 13

Series Summary: For Namjoon, the moment he set his sights on being the #1 rapper, he pushed the symbol to the side and hated it. Love should be chosen, not forced on you. He didn’t believe in fate and this mark on his wrist was a big “fuck you” to all that.

Chapter Summary: Where the fuck is Ben?

Previous Chapter here

Namjoon wakes up with a start as he feels something kicking his foot. He looks up to see Xavier holding a tray of coffee. He rubs his face with his palm and shakes his head. “Hey.”

“Sorry, I tried just saying your name but it wasn’t working. Coffee?” He asks and holds out one of the cups.

“Yes, thanks.” He takes the cup and looks over to see you’re still sleeping.

“Any updates?” Xavier asks as he sits two coffee cups on the side table.

“No. They brought a doctor in to show her the skull xrays and then she passed out. Anything on your end?”

Xavier takes a deep breathe in, sitting on the window ledge. “Yeah, I went to their apartment. I have a key because you know, best friend,” he gestures to himself. He pauses and looks over at your sleeping form to make sure that you are really out of it before he proceeds. He lowers his volume slightly and looks over ta Namjoon. “And Ben is nowhere to be found. The shower was wet though so he definitely went home and showered. Their car is gone and he’s ghosting me, Gina, and Joe.”

“Wow. What a dick.”

“Yeah, well Ben and I aren’t on the best of terms anyway so yes, I agree with you a million percent. I just don’t know what I’m going to say to [y/n] when she wakes up asking about it.” He sips his coffee and then gets his phone out.

Namjoon takes out his phone to check any messages he may have gotten in his sleep. He has several from the other members and their manager.

[Tae]: ok. I’ll fly out tonight. Are you feeling better now that she’s awake?

[Manager Sejin]: That’s fine. We understand. Just lay low and we’ll sort it. I booked the hotel for the rest of the week. Lmk if you need longer.

[Jin]: Im gOiNg To GeT My SOulMarK rEmOvEd -_-

[JHOOOOOOPE]: Are you feeling better now? Tae says you are staying there for a while. BE NICE.

[JIMINISSI]: We miss you. Take care.

Namjoon sends replies to everyone except Jin. And then scrolls through social media.

“I’m ordering non-hospital food. Do you want anything?” Xavier asks, breaking the silence.

“No. I’m fine. Thanks. I think I’ll head over to the hotel and nap if you’re going to stay here?” He says getting up out of the chair.

“Yeah. I’ll be here until around 2 and then Rafael is going to stop by. Just wait a minute, I’m going to ask the nurse if [y/n] can eat food from out or not.” Xavier says not waiting for an answer as he exits the room.

Namjoon walks over to your bed and covers your foot that you’ve kicked out from under the sheet. The pressure cuffs are still on your legs, preventing blood clots. He feels guilty once again that he had been so selfish when you were lying here with so many tubes and devices stuck to you. He decided last night he will make it up to you. Somehow. As much as he can in the next few days.

He walks over to the hospital table and takes out the small memo pad and writes down his phone number with a note. “I’ll be back this afternoon. If you need something before then: xxxxxxxxxx” He puts it on your bedside table underneath the coffee cup.

Xavier walks back in. “Two breakfast burritos on their way. Yesss.” He says, satisfied with his breakfast order. “Did anyone say how long she might have to stay here?”

“No. I think she’s getting her legs evaluated today.” Namjoon responds as he packs up hs phone charger and puts his trash into the small bin.

“Thanks for coming RM. And more importantly for staying. I know you didn’t really want any of this,” Xavier gestures to the whole area.

“Call me Namjoon. And how long have you known about…” he pauses not sure how to word it. “Me and [y/n] being soulmates?”

Xavier laughs, “Uh since day one. Best friend, remember?” he says dryly. He looks towards the door, making sure the three of you are the only ones in the room. “I also know about your extracurricular activities.”

Namjoon feels his face grow a little red.

“Your secret is safe with me.” Xavier pauses for a moment. “So. When are you flying out?”

“I think I’ll stay for the rest of the week. I’m still not really up to performing yet, and also I want to stay and make sure she gets better.”

Xavier raises his eyebrows at this but doesn’t say anything. “Ok. Well then I guess I’ll see you around then?”

“Yeah, see you,” Namjoon responds as he leaves the room to go see Tae before the younger man flies out.

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

You wake up to sunlight streaming into your room. Fuck your head still hurt. But your arms feel much less stiff today, you noticed as you slowly started to wake up more. You blink the sleep out of your eyes and smelled coffee. YEsssss you thought. It had been forever. Well maybe a week. And you were unconscious for a lot of it, but you were still excited. You wiggle your body into a more seated position and use the bed remote to raise you. You saw the coffee cup next to your bed and reached for it, and also saw a note with a coffee ring. You pick it up and read it. Namjoon’s number? Wow, you think as you took out your phone and added the contact.

“Hey babe,” you hear Xavier’s voice and look over towards the doorway. He’s holding a bag of food and is once again your favorite person in the world.

“Hey. Sorry for yelling at you yesterday.” You say. You felt super embarrassed as you remember all the yelling and crying you did yesterday.

“No worries. You got hit by a car. I freak out when they get my coffee order wrong,” Xavier commiserates as he walks closer. “The nurse said you can have real food. Do you want some?”

“Yes. Absolutely.” you respond immediately, your stomach growling and aching. You had eaten a few crackers yesterday but didn’t want to push your luck. Today though, you were ravenous. Xavier walks closer and tosses a burrito onto your lap. HE is dreading the question he knows you are going to ask him so he stalls.

“I talked to Namjoon a bit this morning. He seems a lot nicer.”

You are chewing your burrito as you nod your head, “Yeah. I guess so. He was nicer to me yesterday too. Weird. And, he gave me his number.” You hold up the piece of paper.

“Honey that’s nothing, I’ve been texting him for days.” Xavier teases you as he bites his burrito.

You laugh, covering your mouth full of food. “Such a brat. Thanks for the food.”

“Of course,” he responds.

You check your phone to see if you have any messages from Ben. Nothing.

[Y/N]: Are you ok? I’m worried about you.

You send the message off. “Have you heard from Ben?” You ask Xavier. You can tell by his shift in body posture that he hasn’t.

“No.”

There’s more to it….”Did you go to the apartment?”

“I did. He had been there and showered, but he was gone by the time got there.”

You feel knots in your stomach. “What if he’s been in an accident or something?”

Xavier can’t help but feel annoyed. If Ben would just answer his fucking phone you two wouldn’t be here worrying about his stupid ass.

“He probably just needed to clear his head or something. If we haven’t heard from him in a while we can call jails and hospitals.” Xavier says nonchalantly.

You felt nauseous at the thought of your fiance being in either one of those places. You put your burrito down, suddenly unable to finish it.

“You gotta eat [y/n] even when your boyfriend sucks.” Xavier says flippantly.

You pout. “Fiance. And he could be in trouble Even if he’s busy sorting shit out in his head, it’s a lot to take in that your partner has a soulmate and didn't tell you.”

Xavier rolls his eyes, “ Yeah. Except he should be here with you, talking it through. And supporting you, you just got out of a fucking coma.”

You sigh. You and Ben’s relationship had become a point of contention between you and Xavier over the past few months. Ben had been distant while you were on your summer tour, rarely responding to your texts and almost never facetime-ing you. When you complained about it, he had called you clingy. Xavier sent you a million memes on gaslighting and toxic behavior until you got annoyed with him and told him to stop. You lowered your expectations of Ben. After all, you were the one who had decided to spend your summer traveling around the country. You were lucky to be with someone so understanding of your schedule. At least that’s what you tell yourself.

And then he didn’t pick you guys up at the airport. He forgot. Even though you reminded him several times and forwarded him the flight confirmation. The two of you waited at the airport for two hours just in case he remembered before Xavier angrily called Joe who arrived after 20 minutes.

“See [y/n]? This is what a good boyfriend looks like.” He snidely commented to you as he walked around and hugged and kissed Joe.

“You can’t control what anyone else does babe. You can only control your reaction to it. You eating that burrito or not isn’t going to make Ben appear, but it will help you feel better.”

“Yeah,” you say and pick it back up, taking small bites to make Xavier happy.

The rest of the morning passes quickly after that, with various doctors and nurses coming in and out, checking the screens, reading off blood counts, cognitive checks, and examining your legs. You tell Xavier to get his butt back to work, promising him that you will take care of yourself.

A cheerful woman pops in with a walker. “Hello! I’m Mandy and I’m one of the physical therapists here. We’re going to see how your legs are doing. Is that alright?”

You nod your head. “Yeah. I’ll be glad to get these things off,” you gesture to the cuffs.

“Yes, hopefully you’ll be able to bear weight and we can work on lessening the cuff time.” She walks over and gently removes the pressure cuffs off your legs. “Now it’s been a week since you’ve usd your legs so we’re going to take it nice and slow. We don’t want you falling.”

“Ok,” you say and swing your legs over the side of the bed and gently slide down, allowing your feet to touch the hospital floor. You can tell they don’t quite feel normal, like they belong to someone else.

“Let’s just start with this. You’re going to use this and stand. Ok?” She places the aluminum walker in front of you. You nod your head and grip both sides of the frame. Holy shit she wasn’t kidding. Just standing there your body feels so heavy and foreign to you.

“Good. Good. Just stand there for a few more seconds and then we’ll have you sit down and do that a few more times.” She makes a few notes on her tablet.

You stand there for a few more seconds and then you see Namjoon in the doorway. “Hey,” you greet him as you take a seat on the bed.

Mandy turns and casually looks over at the doorway. And then looks again, clearly missing how hot he was the first time. You notice her eyes widen a bit as she makes eye contact with her tablet. You get second hand embarrassment and blush as well.

“Can I come in or is this a bad time?” he asks.

Mandy clears her throat, “It’s fine with me, it’s up to you.” She says to you. “Stand up again please.”

“Sure, come in. But no making fun of me.” You say as you stand up again. You feel your joints starting to loosen up a bit this time.

“I don’t know if I can comply with those terms.” He says from the doorway. You admire how his solid frame takes up so much of the space there.

“Yeah, well just remember if I fall it hurts you, so encouragement is encouraged.”

He laughs, “Encouragement is encouraged? Wow. And English is your first language.”

You smirk. “Go sit down and read a book or something.”

You continue with your standing exercises for a few more minutes.

“Ok that’s all for right now, we don’t want to wear you out. Keep doing that a few times every hour and we can keep the cuffs off during the day.” She smiles at you reassuringly. “I’ll be back at 4 and we are going to do work with therabands. I’ll see you then.”

“Great, thank you.” you respond as she leaves the walker and exits the room. “Ughhh that was so tiring.” You complain as you swing your legs back into bed and place them under the covers.

“Hey, it’s way better than yesterday.” Namjoon says from his chair by the window.

“True. How are you feeling today?”

“A lot better. I grabbed a nap and shower at the hotel and talked to the team.”

“When do you fly out?”

“Trying to get rid of me so quickly?” He asks, feigning insult.

You roll your eyes, “I feel like you have a very important day job that you should get back to.”

Namjoon smiles, “I’ll leave in a week. I guess less if you kick me out.”

“No, I like having you here. You know other than the constant insults, your eye candy factor helps balance it out” You tease him and he laughs You hear a noise from the doorway. You recognize it instantly. It’s Ben clearing his throat.

“Sorry. Am I interrupting something?” NEXT CHAPTER

Tags: @calling-dips-on-j-hope @ghostkat23 @cuteipat @marianeamine @thisisval @almonte12 @themisunderstoodblackswan

#bts fanfic #bts rm fanfic #bts rm x you #bts au fanfic #bts fanfction #bts rm x reader #bts rm scenario #rm x y/n #rm x reader #namjoon x you #bts namjoon x reader

30 notes · View notes