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#anyways so like. yeah he's freaking out jumping to the worst case scenarios thinks something terrible's happened to cas and jack
angelsdean · 2 years
Text
i think dean is someone who really panics when he the people he cares about aren’t in his line of sight / presence. like watching people leave (not even in the dramatic sense, like. just leaving the house / where he can see them) freaks him out. he’s gotten used to masking it really well at this point so like. no one knows but it manifests in little controlling actions and anger which obvs is annoying to other people like dean NEEDS to know where sam is going when, when he expects to be back, he NEEDS cas to check in when he’s gone for longer than a few hours and it’s yes, deeply rooted in his abandonment issues but also. extremely rooted in his fear as a child that whenever john walked out the door might be the last....like he literally was a little kid waiting anxiously and scared shitless for his dad to come back from hunts, knowing that it was very very possible he might never come back. like kid dean has bobby and pastor jim’s numbers memorized and knows that if john’s not back / doesn’t check in after three weeks (long, long after the grocery money has run out) he’s supposed to call them. anyways. yeah...so dean seeing someone walk out the door. instantly flooded with anxiety and freeze response 
#which is partly why. 'i didn't stop you i just let you go' bc like. he was frozen he was angry he was panicking !!#thinking like. oh god he's leaving oh god what if i never see him again he's leaving for good he's not gonna call he's not gonna check in !!#but yeah so like. in general tho he's really really a control freak abt knowing where ppl are#when people don't check in he gets. SO mad and most of them don't get it bc of course dean WILL NOT explain it#he doesn't even really fully understand it himself bc obvs he's never sat down and analyzed the inner workings of his mind lol#but yeah like sam especially gets so annoyed and thinks its like. a controlling older brother thing#cas doesn't get it for a long long time bc he doesn't think anyone would ever worry abt him :(#but once they get together he always always checks in!#the one time he forgets bc he got caught up chit chatting with one of the vendors at the farmers market....is catastrophic#like dean's worried out of his mind blowing up cas's phone (which died bc he was taking so many videos of jack at the petting zoo)#dean would've come to the market but he wanted to work on restoring the barn#anyways so like. yeah he's freaking out jumping to the worst case scenarios thinks something terrible's happened to cas and jack#when they finally walk thru the door at like 6pm dean starts sobbing and wraps his arms around his family like. why why didnt u call?#he's both sad relieved and a lil pissed like. obvs logically he understand once cas explains but he's still like.#channeling some of that fear into anger bc it's a hardwired habit he's still struggling to break#so there's a bit of grumping and cold shoulders while he's making dinner but then once they all sit down together he's like. i love you#got carried away w these tags whooops#dean studies#vic.txt
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earliebirb · 3 years
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nosedive
steve/tony, fluff, (newly) established relationship, 3250 words
Tony stares absentmindedly out the airplane window as he puts his phone up to his ear, watching people run back and forth, performing last-minute engine checks. Some of the guys look sweaty and out of breath.
From the comfort of the air-conditioned Stark Industries private jet, he feels a slight twinge of sympathy for the people having to suffer in the humid summer heat.
He loosens his tie and sinks deeply into his seat, closing his eyes with a massive yawn as he listens to the ringing tone. He hadn’t been able to sleep very well throughout his five-day stay in Tokyo, too anxious about the contract to rest properly. 
The ringing tone goes on for a few more seconds before ending with a click, replaced by an achingly familiar voice greeting him in his ear. 
“Hello?” 
Tony’s eyes spring open. Outside, an aircraft marshaller walks by, speaking rapidly into his walkie-talkie.
“I had a blueberry muffin for lunch today. One single blueberry muffin.”
“...What?”
“It didn’t even taste that good. I couldn’t finish it. Too dry.”
“Tony, that’s not good. Is that all you had for lunch? You should really eat—”
“The meeting went well, by the way. Mr. Watanabe finally signed the contract, everything went as planned. My ride to the airport, however…”
“I told you things would go smoothly, you had nothing to worry about. You’re a brilliant negotiator—”
“The traffic? Fuck. I had to keep shifting in my seat to avoid pins and needles.”
“That sounds awful, are your legs okay—”
“Did you know that Tokyo is number nineteen on the list of cities with the worst traffic congestion in the world? I know that, because I looked it up on the way to the airport. But boy, did it feel like it deserved the number one spot. I think I lost feeling in my ass.”
“I did not know that. And, uh, is your ass okay—”
“Thank God for my private jet. These plush seats are the best things I’ve ever spent my money on.”
“That’s objectively not true, and you know it—”
“Then again, I think these seats in particular were Pepper’s choice? We remodeled the airplane’s interior like… two years ago. I couldn’t be bothered to meet with the airplane seat people and I just told her to pick whichever looked best. I had much more important things to tend to, like sewing up the holes in JARVIS’s Christmas stocking.”
“I am concerned about how you sort your list of priorities—”
“Hm, that’s right. I think it was around two, three weeks before Christmas and I didn’t want JARVIS to be upset about the whole stocking thing, you know?”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t have—”
“Also, you’re right, the single blueberry muffin was a bad idea because now my stomach won’t shut up. So I’ve ordered some pasta for my in-flight meal. Robbie’s making it, you’ve met Robbie—”
“I’ve met Robbie, yes, he’s—”
“Larry’s replacement after he resigned. Gotta say, I was sad to see Larry go. Guy worked for me for seven years. But then there was that thing with his grandma, and he had to leave, so… But! Robbie makes a mean carbonara, maybe even better than Larry, don’t tell Larry I said that—”
“I don’t even know Larry like that, how would I—”
“Mr. Stark, we’re ready to go.” The pilot—Paul—emerges from the cockpit, staring at him in anticipation.
Tony nods and makes a few rapid gestures with his free hand that he supposes Paul is only able to interpret perfectly after years and years of working for Tony. The gestures roughly translate to something like “Copy, I hear you, just let me wrap this up and then I’ll let you know when I’m done. Capiche?”
Paul—bless him—just gives him a curt nod and retreats back into the cockpit. 
“Anyway,” Tony takes a deep breath and puffs his cheeks out with the exertion of his exhale, “I called because… I got a feeling, Steve.”
“A… feeling?”
“Just— A gut feeling. A feeling in your gut. Inside of me. Like a hunch?”
“Okay,” Steve says patiently, his voice low and warm, “what are you feeling?”
“I… got a bad feeling. Today. A few hours ago. The feeling came to me when I was sitting in traffic, and I just— I feel like something bad’s gonna happen today, Steve. I can feel it in the air. In my heart. In my gut. In my joints.”
“Your joints? Like… the feeling old people get when it’s about to rain?”
“Okay, maybe not in my joints. Also, are you calling me old, grandpa?”
“I did not, you told me you felt something in your—”
“Anyway, so yeah. Where was I? Oh, right. Feeling. Bad feeling. Like, like, I don’t know, something bad’s gonna happen. Like an accident. Like a plane crash.”
“God, please don’t say that. You’re scaring me, Tony.”
“And I guess, I just called because I… I feel like I need to do this before the plane crashes and I die a violent and fiery death.”
“Nothing bad’s going to happen, Tony—”
“Like, if I didn’t do this today, maybe I’d never get to do it, you know? And, uh, okay, I’ve honestly been ranting to stall for time, but the longer I keep it in the more nauseous I feel, so maybe I’m just gonna do it now so I can die in peace—”
“Do what? And stop saying that—”
“Look, I’m trying to be brave and honest here and— Wait, actually? Maybe I’m being a coward because if the plane actually does go down, I won’t have to face the consequences of my actions, so I guess I’m just going to say fuck it, and say that I love you.”
“The plane is not going to— Wait, what?”
“I, uh. Love you. I’ve known it for a while now. And, uh, I know we’ve only been dating for like, a week, but—” Tony blinks. They’ve only been dating for a week. 
“...Fuck.” Tony can feel his own pulse starting to race. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“Tony?”
They’ve only been dating for a week. What is he doing? What the hell is wrong with him? Normal people don’t do this. 
“Fuck. Shit, I mean— Uh, I’m sorry. That was super weird, huh?” Tony laughs nervously. He closes his eyes, gritting his teeth and cursing his stupid brain. Of course it’s weird. He always gets too attached to people way too quickly. No wonder Pepper was his only long term relationship. She was the only person who could put up with him—everyone else just got weirded out. “Uh, see you tomorrow? Or not. Fuck, sorry, I’m just gonna hang up before this gets—”
“Tony, wait.”
“...Yeah?” Tony says, hyper-aware of how breathless he sounds. His heartbeat is ringing in his ears. Everything is going to be fine. Right? Right. The worst thing Steve could do is… break up with him.
Oh, God, that is the worst case scenario. He really should’ve just kept his stupid mouth shut. 
“Tony, are you freaking out? I feel like I can hear you freaking out from all the way over here.”
“No, I’m not, of course I’m not. Who says I’m freaking out? You have no proof. I am calm, I’m calm as a clam, is that the saying? Did I get it right? Or was it happy— Anyway, I am absolutely calm, I’m the calmest I could possibly be. Any calmer and I’d be asleep. I’m—”
“Tony. Breathe.”
Tony forces himself to drag in a slow breath as he grips the arm of his seat with his free hand, focusing on the soothing hum of the airplane’s engine.
“Look, Tony, I—”
“No, listen. I’m sorry I jumped the gun, I hope I haven’t weirded you out or anything. You really, really don’t have to say it back to me. I mean it.”
“Tony—”
“No, in fact— Please don’t say anything. It’s fine. Let’s just pretend this never happened, okay?”
“But—”
“Drop it, Steve. Please?” Tony pleads. Clearly, his brain hadn’t been firing on all cylinders. That is the only reason that could explain his temporary lapse of judgment. “Look, I feel like talking about it more right now is going to send me spiraling into a panic attack.”
“...Okay. Fine.”
“Thank you. Uh, I’ll see you when I get home. If I get home. If the plane doesn’t crash. Haha.”
“Would you please stop saying that? It’s not funny.”
Tony latches onto the change in topic like a lifeline. “It is objectively true, you know. In order for me to be able to see you tomorrow, the plane has to land safely, and unfortunately, some things are just beyond my control. Like, who’s to say the plane won’t explode mid-air and—”
“The plane is going to land safely and you’re going to come back home to me in one piece. This is non-negotiable, Tony. You hear me?” Steve demands, his voice all hard authority and no-nonsense, like there will be Consequences should Tony fail to comply. 
As if he could ensure Tony’s safety with the force of his willpower alone. 
Come back home to me. 
That sounds good. Really good. Tony closes his eyes and pictures Steve’s baby blues in his mind’s eye. Warmth flowers in his chest.
“I hear you.”
“Great.”
“Awesome. I, uh, I gotta go now.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow.”
“See you.”
Tony hangs up and lets Paul know that he is done with his phone call. The jittery feeling left over from his call with Steve refuses to leave him, however, so he pulls up the drawing application on his phone and begins sketching something just to give his brain something else to fixate on.
He tends to lose track of time when he is hyperfocused on a project, so he isn’t exactly surprised that the next time he becomes aware of his surroundings, the plane is already well up in the air, his sketch of what looks like a flying coffee pot is almost finished, and Robbie is placing a plate of spaghetti carbonara on the table in front of him. 
“Spaghetti carbonara. With extra cheese.”
Tony’s mouth waters as he eyes the mountain of grated Pecorino Romano sitting atop the pasta. He sighs dreamily and smiles up at Robbie.
“You’re a lifesaver.”
“Enjoy, Boss.” Robbie grins and slips back into the kitchen.
He only realizes just how truly famished he is after taking his first bite, and proceeds to finish the rest of his meal with gusto. Afterward, he spends the majority of the remaining flight time sleeping, the result of post-carbonara food coma and his sleep-deprivation finally catching up to him. 
It’s well past two in the morning when Tony finally makes it to his floor in the Tower, which is why he is surprised to see Steve sitting on his couch, one of Tony’s fantasy novels open in hand. 
“Steve, what are you doing here?”
Steve’s head snaps up at the sound of his voice. Tony frowns. “Actually, why are you awake at all?” He is usually an early sleeper, unless—
“Nightmare?” Tony gives him a sympathetic smile. It wouldn’t be the first time. In the early days of their friendship, Tony and Steve would sit together in the living room whenever they had trouble sleeping, talking to each other until the sun came up.
Steve shakes his head, closing the book with his eyes still trained on Tony. “No, I was just… waiting for you.” Tony blinks. 
“It’s…” Tony glances at his watch. “Half past two. In the morning.”
“I know, I just…” Steve stands up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. He ambles over before coming to a stop right in front of Tony. “I wanted to see you.”
Tony stares at him uncomprehendingly. “You’ll see me later anyway.”
“I couldn’t wait any longer. I didn’t want to go to sleep without seeing you first,” Steve says, low and earnest. His gaze wanders around Tony’s face, as if he were cataloguing each and every facial feature and trying to locate any changes he might’ve missed during his absence.
“Oh.”
Steve steps closer, arms snaking around Tony’s waist and pulling him close. His next words are whispered against Tony’s shoulder.
“I knew you’d make it home safely.”
“Uh, yeah.”
“You were wrong.”
“I was… wrong.” Tony swallows. “Uh, turns out the bad feeling completely disappeared after I woke up from my nap on the plane, so I suspect that perhaps the bad feeling I got was due to my severe hunger and sleep deprivation. I mean, I’ve heard about hallucinations caused by hunger or exhaustion, but this was—” 
Steve presses a soft kiss to the column of Tony’s neck, effectively cutting off Tony’s ramblings.
“Tony,” Steve whispers against his skin.
“Yeah?” Tony squeaks.
“Please don’t call me before a flight and say that you think the plane is going to crash, ever again.”
“Right. Noted. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” Steve says, pulling away slightly and loosening his hold around Tony.
Tony allows himself to relax, letting out a quiet sigh. This thing with Steve is so new and delicate that every single physical contact still sends his heart fluttering, butterflies going crazy in his stomach.
Which makes, in retrospect, his abrupt love confession—as truthful as it was—that much more insane. God, Stark. Never do that again.
Except, it turns out that Steve only pulled away to slide his hands down the back of Tony’s thighs, wrapping his hands around them, and then lifting him up without warning.
Tony yelps, and in his alarm, promptly locks his ankles around Steve’s waist. When Steve begins moving, Tony quickly wraps his arms around Steve, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder.
“Uh, Steve?”
“Hm?” Steve says, calm and nonchalant, as he begins walking away from the elevator. 
“Um— Wait— My suitcase—”
“Leave it. It’ll still be there in the morning.”
Tony blinks, staring dumbfoundedly at his lonely suitcase, abandoned by the elevator. It becomes smaller and smaller with every step Steve takes. 
“Where are we going?”
“Your bedroom.”
“Why are you carrying me there?”
“Because I want to.”
“You know it’ll be faster if you just let me walk, right?”
“Maybe. But you won’t be in my arms.”
“Um.”
“Bear with me, will you? I missed you.”
“I, uh, missed you too.”
Steve hums, satisfied. Tony lets himself settle more comfortably in Steve’s arms.
When Steve has successfully carried him to his bedroom, Tony fully expects Steve to deposit him on the bed. 
That is not, in fact, what happens. 
Instead, Steve turns around and begins walking backwards towards the bed before sitting down on it. Tony, still seated on his lap, swallows and pulls back slightly to look at Steve. 
“Look, Steve, as much as I’ve missed you, I’m kind of tired right now. I mean, don’t get me wrong. This whole carrying thing? Great. Very romantic. Ten out of ten. But I’m just not in the mood for sex, you know? Like, I’m not even sure I would be able to get it up if—”
“We’re not going to have sex.”
Tony blinks.
“We’re not?”
“We’re not. I’m just here to tuck you in.”
“Oh.”
Steve reaches up and begins undoing his tie. After setting it aside on the bed, he begins to unbutton Tony’s shirt. He takes his time, one button at a time.
“So…” Steve begins with a deep breath as he unbuttons the final button. “Did you mean, uh, what you said to me? On the phone?”
Tony closes his eyes, feels his own cheeks heating up. “Steve—”
“I’m sorry, Tony, I know you told me to drop it. But— I feel like if you did mean what you said, I owe it to you to… set the records straight.” When Tony opens his eyes again, Steve is looking up at him, blue eyes solemn.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean… We have only been together for a week. Well, eight days. In fact, we’ve only been on one date. And it was interrupted. By giant lizards.” Steve chuckles incredulously. 
Tony remembers that day very well. They were in the middle of dessert at Tony’s favorite Italian place when they received the call to assemble—something about giant lizards wreaking havoc in Central Park.
The lizards had green, gunky blood that got into the nooks and crannies of the suit. It had taken forever to clean.
“But Tony…” Steve gathers the material of Tony’s unbuttoned shirt in both of his fists, pulling him closer until their noses are only inches apart.
The second their eyes meet, Steve smiles the sweet, lopsided smile that never fails to make Tony’s stomach flip.
“I need you to know that… I didn’t have to date you to know that I loved you. I figured that a long time ago.”
Tony stills, breath frozen in his lungs.
“I guess, what I’m saying is… I love you too. I’ve loved you for a very long time, Tony. Even way before—” Steve breaks eye contact, looks down as he clears his throat. When he speaks again, his voice is tight. “Way before we got together. I’m talking… years before.”
Tony still finds it hard to breathe. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” Steve says, the word more breath than sound. He meets Tony’s dazed gaze. “So you don’t have to worry about… jumping the gun. Not with me. I’m in it for the long haul.”
“...Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Good.” Tony feels a lightness growing inside of him, spreading outwards to his extremities.
“Good.” Steve smiles, warm and impossibly fond.
“...Glad we’re on the same page.” Tony’s gaze drops down to Steve’s lips.
“We are.” Steve inches closer, nose brushing Tony’s. He then tilts his head ever so slightly and takes Tony’s lower lip between his, kissing him so tenderly Tony’s heart feels like it’s about to burst with it.
Steve’s warm hands slide up Tony’s naked back under his open shirt, sending goosebumps breaking across his skin. Tony buries his hands in Steve’s hair and relishes the feeling of the soft strands caught between his fingers. They stay caught up in each other for a few moments, capturing and releasing each other’s lips until the need for breath becomes too unbearable.
They break apart eventually, accompanied by soft chuckles. Steve smiles up at him, lips slick and cherry red, courtesy of Tony. He reaches up to caress Tony’s right eyebrow with the pad of his thumb, fleeting and affectionate.
“Get some rest, okay? You must be really tired. I should probably go to bed, too.”
Tony looks down at his lap, clearing his throat. “Uh, I know that we haven’t done this before, but…”
Steve waits patiently for Tony to gather his thoughts, hands stroking up and down Tony’s sides.
“Do you want to stay with me tonight?” Tony finds the courage to meet Steve’s eyes, holding his breath.
Steve’s blue eyes are gazing at him intently, looking at him like he’s the only person in the world worth his sole, undivided attention.
Tony swallows. “No sex. Just to sleep. If you—”
“Yes.”
“Yeah?”
“I would like that very much.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Good.” Tony feels his own lips slowly curve up into a smile, wide and unbridled. 
“Good.” Steve nods, lips twitching, his eyes never leaving Tony’s. 
Tony grins, feeling near giddy with delight. “Glad we’re on the same page.”
“We are, sweetheart.” Steve looks up at him, blue eyes fond and smile radiant. “We definitely are.”
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nevertheless-moving · 3 years
Text
Suicidal Misunderstanding XX
Part I - - - - - - - - - - Part XVII - - - - Part XVIII - - - - Part XIX
Star Wars Time Travel AU #27
“I want you to understand that what we’re going to ask of you is entirely beyond the scope of duty and therefore completely voluntary. You are more than free to refuse participation, at any point, with absolutely no consequences.”
Deep within the Healing Halls best-kept medical secret, Eights quelled beneath the full might of the GAR’s highest and most lauded Generals. Yeah I’m sure whatever they ask I’m going to want to say no. Honestly, what kind of soldiers have they been working with?
“What can I do to help, sir? Sirs?”
“I know this might be shocking, but we have reason to believe the GAR is...compromised.”
“Sir?”
Eights thought furiously. This wasn’t about the healers who were hiding them, or the Jedi his battalion never received, or the decommissioning he had escaped. This was bigger.
The General Windu spoke calmly, “We suspect that you may have been trained or conditioned at some point without your knowledge to unquestioningly follow orders, orders that would usually be beyond what you would typically obey. With your permission, we’d like to try and activate that order in a restrained environment in order to gain more information, with the hope of finding a way to help the troops resist.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand. You’re just going to give me an order and ask me...not to obey it?”
General Koon nodded (General Koon! General Koon and General Windu were talking to him at the same time!). “In a manner of speaking, yes. But it’s possible that the order will do more than that. The only way we believe this could possibly work” Koon glanced to the man at his side. “And we...do believe this threat is real, is if you suffer from some form of brainwashing. Activating it might cause irreparable brain damage. Activating it might damage or kill the parts of you that make you you. Even if it doesn’t- the ideal scenario is we find something- an intentionally designed tumor perhaps- and surgically remove it. And brain surgery also has its own risks.”
Eights swallowed around a lump in his throat. 
“And this is something that could be going on with...my entire batch?”
General Kenobi winced. “The entire GAR I’m afraid. Every clone.”
The General of the 212th! Commander Cody’s General was here! Talking to him! Telling him existentially terrifying ultra classified intel!
The trooper stared up from bed in disbelief. If anyone besides three of most respected generals in the entire GAR (not including Buir Ti) was telling him this he would accuse them of bantha crap fear-mongering, if not outright treason. Instead he was just...outraged.
“What would the order make me...us...do?”
Windu took a deep breath. “Attack us. Try and kill the Jedi.”
“I would never.” Eights straightened up even further. “We would never betray the Jedi- it’s- never. We were made for the Jedi and even if we weren’t- you’re the only ones who treat us with an ounce of respect.”
“No one is questioning your loyalty,” the kind Mon Cal healer (whose name he had never asked for fear of getting her in trouble if this ward was ever discovered) said, obviously trying to sooth him. She spoke with heart-breaking earnestness. “The fact that you would never choose to obey such a command just makes the possibility of something forcing you to do so that much more horrifying.”
“How would something like that even get in our heads? The longnecks designed us to serve the Jedi, why... I’m sorry Generals. I didn’t mean to get out of line.”
“No need to apologize. You have every right to be angry about this intrusion, as well as any number of things,” General Kenobi reassured him, smiling sadly. “We don’t know to what extent the Kaminoans are involved with this plot. Not precisely.”
Eights nodded, clenching his one remaining fist. “I’ll do it. Whatever you need from me. I can’t let my brothers have something this big looming over them without any intel.” I’m not exactly front-lines material anymore anyway.
“Are you sure?” Mace Windu’s eyes seemed to stare into his soul. Eights stared right back.
“I am. When do we start?”
It didn’t take long to shave the soldier and connect a number of glowing vital readers to his skull. He was ushered into a chambered observation room with what appeared to be a sfaraday cage hastily built around it. 
“Alright, whenever you’re ready.” Bant (Master Eerin apparently, but she told him to call her Bant) said.
“I’m ready, sir.”
“Let’s start off small, see if we can learn anything without fully activating the order.”
General Kenobi took in a deep breath. He looked calm, but Jedi always did. The General took in another breath. Kriff, two deep breaths. That’s Jedi for freaking out, isn’t it? Right?
Fuck.
“Does Order 66 mean anything to you?” General Kenobi braced himself, staring intently at the trooper in his seat. 
Eights wracked his brain furiously. Sixty-Six...that was...
“It’s...a little familiar? Sorry sir, I feel like I’ve heard it somewhere but...I can’t recall.”
“That’s perfectly alright trooper, not to worry.”
A Twilek healer he didn’t recognize spoke into a micomphone from the other side of a transparisteel window. “His frontal lobe might be lighting up a little, but it’s nothing abnormal, and not enough to triangulate for anything intrusive.”
After several variations on the same question as well as a number of scans of different ‘levels,’ the questioning escalated to orders, as well an extremely uncomfortable mock fight that he would probably tell his grandchildren about, provided he survived today, and also was allowed to have grandchildren.
Still, Eights couldn’t quite recall ever learning an Order 66 and was starting to relax, thinking the whole thing was some sort of horrible separatist lie.
They left him alone for an uncertain amount of time before returning with-
“Quickdraw?!” Eights jumped up at the sight of his commanding officer arriving via hoverchair, nervously saluting with his left hand.”I didn’t know you were here!”
“Just got out of bacta. My spine’s not quite what it used to be after the blast,” the lieutenant responded wryly. “At ease, Eights.”
“Our apologies again for waking you prematurely,” General Koon said softly.
Quickdraw waved the General off. “I’m honored you did. For something as serious this- well I’d hardly forgive myself if I just slept through it.”
Quickdraw locked eyes with Eights. “I’m supposed to try giving you ‘the order’ now- General Kenobi suspects that as your superior officer, I might be authorized to trigger whatever the hell the longnecks put in our heads.”
Eights swallowed hard. “The longnecks, sir?”
“Who else?” Quickdraw asked in a tone drier than Jakku. He spun in the chair to face General Koon. “How are we doing this?”
After a brief discussion, the troopers ended up on opposite sides of a sound-proof transparisteel divider, an comm channel open between them. Eights plugged his ears and gave the order first. And giving Quickdraw an order was almost but not quite as weird as giving an order that would apparently make him try and kill Jedi.
Nothing happened and they swapped, this time with Quickdraw using a waxy covering to block his hearing.
His lieutenant stared at him straight through the clear divider and ordered him to execute Order 66. This time he finally remembered his training, and realized he was woefully outgunned. Oh well, he was a good soldier.
Eights stood up. The only visible change in his expression was a widening of his pupils. There was no malicious intent palpable in the force- he didn’t even look angry- just determined.
He lunged at the Jedi next to him, only to hit an invisible wall. He threw himself at the barrier desperately while the traitor backed out of the room and escaped. The wall finally dropped, but it was too late, he was locked in.
Sighing, he picked up the chair with his one good arm, slamming it repeatedly at the door frame. Good soldiers follow orders.
On the other side of the observation window, Quickdraw stumbled back horrified, reaching for his ears before hesitating. General Koon softly tapped his shoulder and indicated they should leave. 
“I’ve got a location.” Master Che said quietly as the lieutenant was ushered into an antechamber and the activated trooper continued to beat at the door. “It’s a small but clear patch lit up like the festival of lights- I don’t know why it didn’t turn up in scans but...I’m as confident as I can be. Worst case- it’s a small enough area that removing the grey matter shouldn’t...well it won’t kill him. It’s enough to go on for microscapel surgery.” General Koon nodded, then tilted forward, weight falling heavily in his palms on the counter before him.
Vokara rested a hand gently on his back “...I was hoping it wasn’t true as well.”
Master Koon flinched away. “I am sorry and glad to say you do not understand my feelings on the matter. I think...my apologies but I need some time to meditate.”
“Of course.”
Koon rushed out. After a moment Master Windu stepped in, radiating similar distress as Master Koon. Master Kenobi followed, looking grim but also happy. 
‘Oh I’m glad Koon isn’t around him right now,’ Healer Che thought wryly.
Perhaps sensing the mood, Obi-Wan sobered. 
“I’m sorry it’s just- I didn’t actually see the order get activated. Of course I believed it wasn’t a choice- and I’m obviously not glad that anyone’s will could be taken so easily-”
“You don’t have to explain anymore,” Mace offered quietly. “I can understand why seeing this would be something of a relief, all things considered.”
The Head Healer nodded in agreement before taking charge. “Kenobi, go in with Eerin and help her sedate him. I’ll prepare for surgery.”
“Wait- shouldn’t we try other permutations first? It’s possible that once activated, a clone might be able to order a superior officer-”
“And it’s also possible that if a lieutenant is activated, the entire army will turn,” Mace snapped. Obi-Wan bent his head, chastised. 
“Right. Yes. I’ll go- find Bant.”
An extremely long hour later, Master Che returned from surgery. Masters Mundi, Koth, and Yoda had left to and fulfill the other thousand and one duties of a council member not unravelling a Sith conspiracy at the heart of the Republic, while Master Aerdo had been dispatched to talk with Quickdraw as well as some of the other troopers in the hidden Medical bay. 
“It’s a chip,” Vokara said grimly. “Native biological material, but clearly a chip. Like you would find in a droid. Far more complex than any slave chip I’ve ever seen, and no explosive component. It would only turn up on a level five brain scan. I didn’t even think to run it before- it’s overly invasive and typically useless.”
The reduced meeting crumpled at the sight of the infinitesimally small object of control, carefully encased in a stasis slide and placed delicately on the conference table.
Proof of Obi-Wan’s future, a future that the group thought they already believed.
“We should get Master Nu,” Adi Gallia said quickly, “We’ll want our top researchers analyzing it as soon as possible.”
Koon nodded sharply. “Agreed.”
The Tholothian Master stood, “I’ll go at once- we should probably keep any mention of this off comms.”
As Master Gallia swept out of the room, Plo Koon wrenched his gaze from the stasis slide to face the healer. “Master Che, what is Eight’s status?”
“Unconscious and restrained, but he should wake up soon enough. It...might not be a bad idea to have another Jedi nearby when he does.”
Koon and Che left the room, taking the chip with them and conferring quietly.
Obi-Wan leaned forward, elbows on the table and face in his hands.
Master Windu exchanged a glance with Anakin. 
Finally Obi-Wan spoke, tentatively addressing Bant, “Could it be possible for someone...besides a clone to be chipped? If Palpatine had access to them as a child...”
Bant drew back, gaze flickering to Anakin. “I- we would have to study it more-”
Anakin interrupted, shifting in his seat. ”Master- what did I do?”
“It- it wasn’t you. It wasn’t you anymore that the person who fired on me was Cody.”
Bant exchanged a glance with Mace, before clearing her throat with a soft gurgle. “Perhaps we should leave the two of you alone to talk this through.”
The Mon Cala Healer stood and exited rapidly. Windu exchanged a glance with Skywalker before he left. “Talk through everything, understood?” Anakin nodded.
The door shut, leaving Master and Padawan alone. “I feel like I’m missing more than two and a half days,” Obi-Wan muttered wryly. “I don’t remember you three having a non-verbal communication system consisting of eye-contact alone before.”
Anakin chuckled once then immediately grew somber, picking at a loose thread in the sleeve of his robe. A thousand thoughts were swirling in his head, and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“I- did I hurt you? Is that- is that why you stabbed me, you thought you were defending-”
“I did what?!” Obi-Wan paled, jumping up from his seat.
Anakin winced. “It’s nothing, that’s actually not important. I’m healed anyway so forget I mentioned it-”
Obi-Wan moaned, stumbling backwards over the fallen chair. “Of force- when you were trying to save me- I had a blade. I cut you down-” He tripped backwards, collapsing to the ground.
“Master!” Anakin lurched forwards, but the older Jedi scrambled back.
“I forgot my spray bottle in there,” Bant whispered outside the door. “Do you think it’s too late to go back for it?”
Mace peered subtly through the small window in the door. “Yes. They’re already on the ground. I think they’re both crying.”
“It’s been less than a minute!”
“Yes.”
“...We should go.”
“Yes.”
Unaware of their muffled audience, the two continued their conversation.
“Don’t- don’t touch me!” Obi-Wan gasped, back hitting a wall. “I don’t- I don’t deserve-”
The young knight reared back, falling from a crouch to his knees, “Is this...about the Tuskens again?
Obi-Wan blinked in confusion. “The Tuskens? What about Tuskens?”
“You don’t...remember?” The air grew cold and Anakin forced himself to continue, “What- what we talked about in the cave?”
“What we- I-” Obi-Wan thought furiously. “...Anakin. What did...what were you apologizing for in the cave? What- what did you think we were talking about?”
“Oh gods.” Anakin paled now, shuffling back.
“What are they doing now?” Bant asked the taller Master.
“They’re taking turns chasing each other back and forth on their hands and knees. They both look like they’re seconds away from passing out or throwing up.”
“I...is this a human thing?”
“No. What? Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know! Do you think this is how they usually talk to each other?”
“I think perhaps they don’t talk to each other, and that’s why they’re like this.”
“Right, right... I really want to hear what they’re saying.”
“Hm. I don’t.”
“Why are you also standing outside the door then?”
“I want to be ready to intervene if they start trying to kill each other.”
“FORCE”
“Quiet!”
“Sorry. Sorry. You think they fought then? In the...other timeline?”
“...It would explain Obi-Wan’s shatterpoint remnants better than anything else.”
“Not to mention the spice.”
“I thought we were politely ignoring the spice.”
“...and then I brought her back to the homestead for burial.” Anakin bowed his head, tears streaming against his will. “I thought...Master I know I can’t fix this but I’m sorry- I already stepped down from my position as General so I wouldn’t be in a position to kill anyone else- I need you to forgive me.”
“Oh Anakin.”
“What? What happened?” Bant asked urgently. 
The Master of the Order appeared unruffled in the force and human visible light, but the tips of his ears were heating up in infrared. She stood on her toes to see in.
“Oh- they’re hugging? Seriously? That’s what you’re embarrassed to see?”
“They’re clinging to each other like younglings. It’s undignified for a Jedi Master and Knight”
“Alright that’s it- we’re going. I really don’t think Anakin’s going to jump from crying and hugs to murder.”
Unaware of their newfound privacy, the two inside withdrew from their embrace, still sniffling slightly. 
“Thank you, Master,” Anakin said in a shaky tone. “I swear I won’t let you down, I’m going to do better.”
“I know, my padawan, I know. I’m going to be there to help you this time, I’m not going to leave you alone with- well I’m not going to leave you alone.”
Anakin smiled wetly at Obi-Wan’s careful avoidance of Chancellor Palpatine’s supposed Sith alter ego, refocusing on Obi-Wan and making intense eye contact.
“What did you think we were talking about?”
Obi-Wan looked down. “It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “It- it never happened.”
“Ori’vod, please. You- you mentioned younglings. I did something else unforgivable didn’t I?”
Obi-Wan smiled but didn’t look up. “And i forgave you anyway. Even when I thought your apology was just a fantasy. But it wasn’t, it was real, and- and the people actually are unmurdered so...it’s not worth talking about it.”
Anakin bit the inside of his cheek, gut roiling. “You...really think I might have a chip in me?”
Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped up. “I...don’t know. I didn’t even know that Cody had a chip in him.”
“You just...were suddenly betrayed by everyone.” 
“Not...everyone. Most who refused to fall in line were executed, of course, but there were a few senators who stood with the Jedi, secretly.” 
A new wave of cold terror passed over Anakin. “What happened with the other senators?”
“Like I said to the council earlier, from what I heard they cheered Palpatine on. Thunderous applause.”
“That’s not what I mean- Padme, Was Padme alright?”
Obi-Wan buried his face in his hands, shuddering.
“Anakin- I don’t know what to tell you,” he said in muffled voice. “I don’t want to deceive you but- things were dark. If I tell you everything now, I’m afraid of what you’ll do.”
Anakin winced. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I’m not...evil. I just...I messed up, and I want to make things better.”
Obi-Wan sighed, and pulled Anakin so they were seated next to each other in a mirror of the false peace a few days earlier. Anakin leaned into his Master’s side, feeling the cold retreat. “You’re not evil Anakin, but what you did to the Tusken village wasn’t exactly a small thing. I- look- Ad’ika-”
Obi-Wan hesitantly placed an arm around Anakin’s shoulder and the cold retreated a bit more.
“If the council accepts my plan, we’re going to have time together over the next few weeks, to talk more about...everything. We’re going to end the war- save everyone. I know the cave wasn’t what either of us thought it was, but it still meant the galaxy to me. I love you, no matter what...and that conversation, what you said. Well, it gave me the strength to go on, to do what I needed to.” Obi-Wan froze. “Not my, um, self-inflected injuries- that’s- obviously that wasn’t your fault-”
“You thought you were hallucinating. I know.” Anakin smiled, feeling honestly amused at the absurdity situation for the first time. “I’m going to mock you for that for the rest of our lives, you know that, right?”
“I look forward to it.” Obi-Wan smiled.
A vise that had been clenched around Anakin’s heart since he broke down the door to their apartment finally relaxed. “You really weren’t trying to kill yourself,” he sighed happily.
“I was attempting to stay alive. Honestly concerned about dehydration. I wanted to stay in the daydream, but I knew I couldn’t. And part of that was because you gave me the strength to keep going. Sorry I did such a bad job honoring that but, well. You know. Thank you, Anakin. For saving me twice over.” Obi-Wan’s voice was utterly earnest, though it was a touch more embarrassed than he was used to after the single day of utter unrestraint. 
Anakin’s eyes welled up. “I’ve been- I hated that you would just leave like that, give up-”
“Never Anakin,” Obi-Wan vowed. “I will never give up on you, or this galaxy.”
He twisted so he could throw both arms around his padawan.
“I swear by everything I am I will keep going. It’s... in my nature but gods is it easier with you besides me.”
“Even though i’m a child murderer twice over and once removed?” Anakin joked weakly, clinging desperately to Obi-Wan’s presence.
Obi-Wan shuddered. “Too soon, Anakin. Too soon.”
Part XXI
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thewincestgospel · 3 years
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Wincest and J2 High School Fics
2028 AD by inlustwithsammy 
It's in 2028. Sam and Dean got reincarnated and they have no idea who they were in their past lives. They live a normal life as high school students. They grew up as best friends who live close to each other. Dean is still a playboy. Sam is still a nerd. Some things never change.
a first time for everything by riyku  In which Jared announces that his family is moving, and Jensen suddenly becomes very concerned with time.
A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More "Touch Me" by gothpandaotaku
Sam Winchester, the jaded new kid at school. Dean Winchester, the school badass who rides a motorcycle to school every morning. When they collide, sparks fly- the wrong kind. It's hate at first sight. But over time they find they have a lot more in common than they thought...
All The Other Kids  by AureaMediocritas   Dean and Sam roll into another high school. The first weeks through five students' eyes.        
Baby Steps by cherie_morte    AU: Jared is nine years old when his mom marries Jensen's dad.
The Ballad of the Invisible Boy by dollylux   This is a story of adolescence. This is a love letter for the slow burn, for Led Zeppelin, for the 90s. This is the first of two sets of stories about how Sam and Dean didn’t fall in love. They never had to. It was always there, this desperation between them, like a real, breathing thing. When they came together, it was inevitable. As sure as continents colliding, as the phases of the moon and the life and death of stars. This isn’t a love story, but it’s a story of love.SeriesPart 1 of Invisible Boy.
Becoming What We Pretend To Be by locknkey  In a fit of pique Sam brags to his high school friends that he can get Dean as his boyfriend. Dean's never been able to say no to Sam. Pretense is a slippery-slope when you're romancing your brother and it's all too easy to for the lines between what's real and what's fake to become blurred.
Bend and Break by Winmance  If Jared had to describe his life, he would say that his life is lonely. Between the bullying and his parents lack of interest, the only true joy he has is Jensen, the baseball player with who he's having sex. But everybody has a limit and Jared is about to find out his own.
Best Birthday Ever by ballsdeepinwinchesters prompted for: w[ee]cestiel + bottom!Sam For Sam’s sixteenth birthday, he only asked for one thing. He didn’t want a car, or money, or even a dog (Dean hates dogs). All Sam wanted was to get f***** by Dean and his friend, Cas.
Bitchface No.5 by bookworm1805   There's a new kid in school and Sam is being a bitch, but Dean doesn't see how the two things are related.5 stars
The Craziest Thing by thefourofswords  Sam and Dean find themselves de-aged back to 18. The only solution anybody seems to have is to go back to high school.
Crown and Anchor Me (or let me sail away) by Sena Sam Winchester is fifteen years old, at yet another new high school in yet another state, he doesn't get along with his distant, distracted father, he's figuring out that he likes guys just as much as he likes girls, his clothes never fit and his limbs ache at the joint ever since his growth spurt started, he has to study for the PSAT and, oh yeah, he's a little bit in love with his brother, Dean, who's taken a break from hunting monsters to work at a local garage for minimum wage.
Flagstaff by  Linden  John tracked Sam down in Flagstaff, four days after he got home to find him gone.
Go, Dean... by orphan_account  Prompt: Teenage Dean joining the football team and Sammy cheering him in the stands, Dean calling him his little cheerleader and making him wear the outfit while he rides his big brother... How's that for enduring football?
“Thought you wanted to be my little cheerleader, Sammy,' Dean said, tossing the gathered supplies onto the bed and crawling back between Sam’s legs. His lips sealed themselves to Sam’s, and he kissed him breathlessly. 'Loved watching you bounce up and down out on the field, everyone watching you, wishing you were theirs.'”
Good as New  by  sixtysevenlmpala  When an asshole at Dean and Sam's high school breaks Dean's amulet, he doesn't react well. But as always, Sam's there to make it better.
Hope You Don't Mind by compo67  Jared has no problems being an introvert in a family of extroverted women. He enjoys his alone time as a freshman in high school... that is until signs for prom start showing up. With both his sisters going, he begins to wonder if maybe his time alone is a little lonely.
I'll Give You What You Like by soulmatecest Jared is, by all means, the worst cheerleader in the world.He absolutely fucking sucks; Jensen’s not even sure how he made it to the cheer squad and why would anyone take a look to his really bad dancing moves and still think ‘oh yeah, we definitely need to get some of that for the team.’Jared is honestly a disaster at this.And yet, Jensen has done pretty much nothing apart from staring at him most of the game as Jared dances terribly in a short skirt. Because even if Jared sucks, he’s also the most beautiful omega Jensen has ever seen.
The Jock and The Nerd by JuniperLemon  Unrelated Wincest High School AU. Sam and Dean go to the same school. Dean asks the school nerd, Sam, on a date. Little do they know that it'll lead to so much more. Is there more behind Sam than what meets the eye and how will John react to Dean's bisexuality?
Kiss Me by lotrspnfangirl  Worst case scenario: Jensen would be freaked out and spend the next three weeks until graduation, completely avoiding Jared and not speaking to him. And as much as that would hurt… It was only a dollar to get a kiss from Jensen at the kissing booth.
Little Pieces by compo67 Jensen the Bad Influence is better known as the town hellraiser. He stays out late, skips class, and takes bets on chess games after school. His partner in crime happens to be Jared, raised in a strict Catholic-Protestant household, and reigning chess champion. Together, they've skimmed five hundred dollars from their classmates with no end in sight.If they can survive high school, conquering the rest of the world must be a piece of cake.It just happens that the world has something else in store for them--something no one planned for in a million years.
Mr High School by  kinkylittlered This is for a bingo competition on livejournal. Each chapter has prompts. AU Sam is a popular boy in high school and Dean is an invisible boy who is coming to terms with his sexuality. Each chapter will have different warning, eventually leading to slash
Putting On A Show by BewareTheIdes15  Lightning fast Dean's grin slants into sly and Sam's stomach lurches hard enough that his lungs get jealous and jump in on the action. Without so much as a glance in Sam’s direction for approval, Dean lifts one shoulder and says, "I'll make out with Sam."
Say the Words by dollylux  A new boy rolls into town, and Jensen Notices. (And... his girlfriend notices him noticing.)
Touch and Go by versaillesatnight  Dean Winchester doesn’t date. He fucks around, sure, but the whole dating thing? He’s never seen the appeal. Enter Sam.
Verses Like Yours and Mine by rivers_bend Sam and Dean are regular brothers--no hunting, no demons--who fall in love anyway.
White Knight by echoes_of_another_life  Jensen is a senior and protects shy freshman Jared, who is being bullied.
Worth It by saltandbyrne Turns out the only thing more uncomfortable than sitting through class with a half-woody and a pair of panties wedged up your ass is doing it while your panties are soaking wet from your brother's mouth.(Sam is 14).
You Didn't Listen When You Went To School by Posse Magnet (rhink_is_my_kink)  The kids at school know the new Winchester brothers are different. Everything about them is strange. From the way Dean effortlessly completes any physical challenge that gym class can throw at him without even breaking a sweat. To the way Sam is the smartest kid in all his classes, even though he's a freshman, and all his classes are college-level and full of seniors. But the most peculiar thing about the Winchesters, the thing that everyone notices: the way they come tumbling out of empty classrooms, closets, bathroom stalls, untidy hair, messy clothes, cheeks flushed with a color that’s almost as intense as the color of their lips.
you're a real f*ing page-turner by  grace_fully Jared's days pretty much all run together, one big muddy mess of emotional turmoil and confusion and shitty friends and shittier classes. not to mention that his best friend is equal parts awesome and a complete jerk, his little sister is also kind of a jerk, and he thinks privately that someday his books are going to be the only thing to stand by him in the end. luckily, life has a way of turning things around on him.
Your Pretty Face Is Going to Hell by sonofabiscuit77 While the Winchesters are living in a small-town trailer park, sixteen year old Sam accidentally spies on his brother with an older man. The discovery triggers feelings in Sam that lead him and Dean down a path which will change their lives forever.
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sagamemes · 3 years
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the sheridan tapes  📼  part one.   here and under the cut, you can find a little under 120 lines of dialogue from the horror podcast the sheridan tapes, specifically from episodes one to three, edited for roleplay purposes.  tw: police, murder, supernatural elements, mentions of apocalyptic scenarios, near death experiences, injuries, vehicular crash, recreational drug and alcohol use.
❝  jesus, [name]. you’re not making this easy, are you?  ❞
❝  makes you wonder... do these things follow me because i chase them, or were they always following me?  ❞
❝  darkness and complete disorientation does a number on the human brain.  ❞
❝  i don't think he was a werewolf.  ❞
❝  i’d call it the customer service smile. you know, the one that says  ‘ thank you for shopping with us, please die now ’.  ❞
❝  i’ve found the more showy the text, the less impressive the actual phenomena.  ❞
❝  my job here is kind of… shaky at the moment.  ❞
❝  [name] was also engaged in the study of the impossible in his free time.  ❞
❝  so it’s just me who drives you up the wall then?  ❞
❝  well, you’ll be happy to hear i haven’t been having any fun. no weed, no ghosts.  ❞
❝  there hasn’t been a new lead on her case in more than half a year.  ❞
❝  so here i am, wrapped up in a blanket, staring at my little fireplace, so bored i actually decided to call my sister for once.  ❞
❝  it’s a little town near bandon. very little. nice little mini-market, and that’s about it.  ❞
❝  i doubt i’ll sleep much tonight. that’s okay. i just feel like looking at the stars for a while.  ❞
❝  it's probably for the best. i am simultaneously exhausted from the drive and absolutely wired from the coffee.  ❞
❝  i wonder if there will still be ghosts out there when that happens?  when the earth is gone?  ❞
❝  glad to hear you’re enjoying yourself, then.  ❞
❝  knowing doesn’t make things any easier, but it does make them a little less frightening.  ❞
❝  that’s all just a lazy way of saying that the real explanation is too difficult—or too horrible—for them to accept.  ❞
❝  it almost killed me, but in the end it settled for putting me in pt for a year while i figured out how to use my hands again.  ❞
❝  he muttered something about my time being up. or maybe he said it wasn’t up.  ❞
❝  i don’t really care that i didn’t get any writing done today.  ❞
❝  nothing. not a single idea worth writing down, no itch i needed to scratch or question i needed to answer.  ❞
❝  guess there really is no such thing as bad press.  ❞
❝  i have no idea what a writer’s  ‘ process ’  usually looks like, but i’m pretty sure it’s not this.  ❞
❝  see what i have to deal with?  god… siblings, am i right?  ❞
❝  what can i say?  i have a soft spot for gothic architecture.  ❞
❝  computers have never been very good at reconciling paradoxes.  ❞
❝  they’re pretty much over funding my little expeditions.  ❞
❝  that kind of smile doesn’t normally show that many teeth.  ❞
❝  you know, that’s only scary the first few times you do it.  ❞
❝  one day, it will be dead. one day all the stars will burn out, go dark and silent. one day, everything will be so dark and so cold that no new stars can ever be born. the old ones will blink out one by one, like candles going out, and then… nothing. silence. darkness. void.  ❞
❝  the simplest explanation is almost always the right one.  ❞
❝  i don’t remember getting in my van, putting the key in the ignition, or speeding away from that house, but i must have.  ❞
❝  no, no, i’m fine, i’m fine, just go bother someone else.  ❞
❝  i haven’t eaten, moved, or written anything all day.  ❞
❝  but maybe that's just the fact that it is two in the morning and my brain is running mostly on caffeine.  ❞
❝  given how good a [job] he is, i know it’s not the first time he’s done it.  ❞
❝  i escaped, but i knew that whatever was in that house has just marked me as prey.  ❞
❝  calm down. think. you’re just going to confuse yourself.  ❞
❝  just wanted to tell you a couple of us are headed out to marvin’s for drinks if you want to come.  ❞
❝  one of the most disappointing things about living in america is the lack of genuinely haunted houses. out of all the supposed haunts i’ve visited, maybe one in ten seems like the real deal.  ❞
❝  sounds… peaceful. not many distractions, then?  ❞
❝  something tells me this tape wasn’t played in court.  ❞
❝  one of the neighbours must have called 911.  ❞
❝  my infamous accident. it almost killed me.  ❞
❝  i just woke up to footsteps in the kitchen. i don’t know who, or what, but there’s someone in here with me!  ❞
❝  could you shut the door on your way out, please?  ❞
❝  uh, wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.  ❞
❝  the fire that i said went out?  yeah, it just started burning again.  ❞
❝  so i asked him to lie.  ❞
❝  it'd really be just a few of us. maybe me and [name] and one or two other tagalongs…  ❞
❝  apparently, the press had a lot of questions too.  ❞
❝  i’ve driven more than 8 hours and drunk enough bad coffee to give an elephant heart palpitations. i’m sure as hell going to get my money’s worth.  ❞
❝  oh sorry, am i bothering you now? what happened to  ‘ call anytime you want, [name] ’ or,  ‘ you’re always welcome here, [name] ’ ?  ❞
❝  i’ve forgotten to charge my phone. again.  ❞
❝  i… think i’m going to turn around now.  ❞
❝  well sorry if i wanted to have a nice talk with my sister for a change.  ❞
❝  will it just be left there forever? our legacy? look upon our works, ye mighty, and despair?  ❞
❝  no matter how far away from home you are, no matter how different the constellations might look from where you’re standing, you can always look up on a clear, dark night and feel like you’re about to fall right into it—the terrifying, endless expanse of nothingness.  ❞
❝  i know authors can do some crazy things to get out of writer’s block, but i’ve never heard of one resorting to arson.  ❞
❝  why do you always think there’s something wrong?  ❞
❝  ours is not to question why, ours is but to digitize and stay the hell out of trouble.  ❞
❝  so let’s try walking backwards. just keep an eye on it.  ❞
❝  i got lucky. or maybe i was just fast enough to escape.  ❞
❝  maybe there are secret passages behind the walls and corridors.  ❞
❝  no matter how far i walked, i couldn’t find the way i came in.  ❞
❝  well, i /know/ i’ve had worst nights. i just can’t think of any right now.  ❞
❝  i do want you to have fun, [name], i just don’t want you to get yourself killed doing it.  ❞
❝  i mean, obviously, i do care, that’s the whole reason i made this trip. to get away from the noise and focus.  ❞
❝  i might have… forgotten to tell anyone where i was going.  ❞
❝  before i get started, there’s just one thing i need to say. i have absolutely no patience for the unexplained, or the things people call  ‘ unexplainable ’,  ‘ supernatural ’, or  ‘ paranormal ’.  ❞
❝  i told [name] that i needed to get out, to get inspired.  ❞
❝  okay, if someone is messing with me, they’re going to be very sorry, very quickly.  ❞
❝  [name] lied his ass off to save yours.  ❞
❝  a crash like that does funny things to your head.  ❞
❝  i still don’t know how he got there without me noticing.  ❞
❝  any plans i had to travel abroad went up in smoke.  ❞
❝  i thought of pulling out the bad cop routine.  ❞
❝  strange how something so dead can be so beautiful.  ❞
❝  it hated me:  hated what i do, and more than that, hated who i am.  ❞
❝  lots of tall tales. and more than a few ghost stories.  ❞
❝  oh good, you’re still here!  ❞
❝  reviewers absolutely grilled it:  said it was a nonsensical rip off of the dark tower, whatever that means.  ❞
❝  i jumped out the window. cut my hands on the glass, but thankfully not bad enough to need stitches  ❞
❝  i told her, tonight.  ❞
❝  for a minute, i wondered if that would really be so bad. it was a fitting way to go, given my… well, everything.  ❞
❝  i suppose that’s a universal constant—maybe the only one.  ❞
❝  i never let myself get this turned around. especially not at night.  ❞
❝  i don’t know if it’s actually haunted. but if not, then it was sure as hell convincing.  ❞
❝  i’m not one of those people who thinks she’s the spawn of satan or something ridiculous like that.  ❞
❝  unless i’m prepared to accept that she was murdered by something that crawled out of a funhouse mirror, this isn’t much help with the case, either.  ❞
❝  i have to try and work some actual cases the rest of the time. you know, cases that might have some answers i can find.  ❞
❝  it's cold, damp, and dark as night. i'm in my element, at least.  ❞
❝  your place is waiting for you.  ❞
❝  yeah, i’m all good. great… hanging in there, you know?  one day at a time.  ❞
❝  oh, i see you. you think i’m still scared of [thing], huh?  think you can freak me out?  ❞
❝  trust me, i’ve had a hell of a day, and you do not want to mess with a pissed off…  ❞
❝  and tell my sister i'm sorry.  ❞
❝  oh god, it's cold.  ❞
❝  the night sky really is beautiful out here.  ❞
❝  tell him he shouldn’t have been such a good liar.  ❞
❝  i’ve been listening to this for the last two weeks now.  ❞
❝  it’s not even that i’m having bad ideas. i’m not having any at all.  ❞
❝  can’t get away from the work, no matter what i do.  ❞
❝  i made sure i switched off my phone before i came up here, just in case.  ❞
❝  god, these things smell of weed.  ❞
❝  yeah, well… just wanted to make sure you’re okay, you know?  ❞
❝  [name] is dead. that's all there is to it.  ❞
❝  no, i need to get out of here. it’s been a long day.  ❞
❝  a lot of the art i found was just paintings of a night sky full of stars.  ❞
❝  my job is to look the facts dead in the face and find an explanation. one that will hold up in a court of law.  ❞
❝  personal and career choices, i guess you’d call them.  ❞
❝  damn. i could’ve sworn i felt something strange about this place when i hiked through this morning… or maybe it was a different part. hard to tell this late at night, anyway.  ❞
❝  well, let’s just say a middle-aged man-child running out panicked and tearing at his eyes would hardly be a marketable image.  ❞
❝  i didn’t mind that i’d be alone—i always expected that to be how i went.  ❞
❝  i’m sure that’s on my personnel file by now, as if it could get any more problematic.  ❞
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hybridfanfiction · 4 years
Text
Owner Training - 8
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- YOONGI POV -
He knows exactly how long he’d lived on the streets. Seven hundred and fifteen days. Almost two years. Not long compared to many of the other hybrids that had roamed the area, but long enough for him. It had been cold and miserable, and he’d always had to fight for a spot under the park bridge when it rained. He’d been hungry and constantly sick, but it was still better than it had been living in any of his other previous homes.
He’d been smart when he left the last one, taking along his keyboard that a social worker had given him. Playing on that had allowed him to make enough money to keep himself fed, thanks to the guy that ran the convenience store and didn’t mind hybrids buying things for themselves. There was also the little old lady that ran a hostel nearby that let him pay for a shower and a nap, slipping him soup and sandwiches sometimes.
And then there’d been her.
The first couple of times he saw her hadn’t been some sort of love at first sight story. She’d simply been another face in the crowd that would stop by when he played, clapping and throwing some change in his bucket. It wasn’t until she’d asked if he could play Il Lamento by Liszt that he’d bothered to take a good look at her. Then once he’d looked, he couldn’t stop. Suddenly he noticed how pretty she was, how she always smelled sweet and clean with a hint of the same lemon and ginger tea every single day. How she never talked down to him. 
Before long, he’d begun to look forward to her visits. Sometimes she’d bring him breakfast and chat for a while ( meaning he’d let her ramble on while he set up his spot for the day) before she left for work. Sometimes she’d stop by after a hard day at work and simply sit on a bench with her eyes closed, listening to him play. He always made sure to play something soothing on those days. 
Occasionally she’d throw him way too much money which made him feel really awkward, so he’d offer to do something more to earn it. Usually, she just had him carry groceries or something else equally small just to humor him. 
It was every time that she was too busy to show up that he realized he was growing alarmingly attached to this human. That was not a clever thing to do, and he’d always prided himself on being a smart and realistic guy. Humans weren’t to be trusted. They would pretend to be loving and caring, then the moment no one was watching they’d turn their hybrids into slaves and sex toys. 
But then there was her, Ginger. That wasn’t her real name, of course, just what he’d taken to calling her in his head. She always smelled like the lemon and ginger tea she obviously drank often. He got so used to smelling it as soon as she arrived that he’d begun to equate that scent with...comfort? Home? He didn’t know. It’s not like she was his owner or anything, but his hind-brain was certainly attached to her. 
The point was that he trusted this woman for some reason that he couldn’t quite figure out. She seemed genuine and caring, but so had others in his past. She seemed a little ditsy sometimes, but that wasn’t a bad thing exactly. It was kinda cute, to be honest. 
So yeah, there were a few times he’d daydreamed about what life would be like if someone like her was his owner. Sure, he’d like to be able to not have to have an owner at all, but that wasn’t the reality of his life. Somehow, however, he thought if it was Ginger maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. She was nice, really pretty, and seemed to like him just as much. 
So maybe when the most horrible storm of the year had happened and he’d been shit out of luck getting a spot under the bridge, he decided to take a shot. Worst case scenario, she called Hybrid Control. Best, she’d let him stay for the night. So he’d run towards the familiar apartment building only to find that she was still at work. All the lights were off and the door was locked. He could have slept on the porch, and he’d had every intention of doing so until he’d seen the wide-open window. 
He’d sighed in exasperation at her forgetfulness. Really, anyone could just jump inside the first-floor apartment and steal her shit. He’d been racked by shivers, the cold rain firming his resolve. Better to ask for forgiveness than die of pneumonia. 
He’d climbed into the bedroom window, cringing at the muddy prints he made on the floor. He’d clean it up before she got home. He sniffed, nearly moaning in happiness. It smelled so great in her apartment. He could smell her everywhere. There were occasional scents here and there that weren’t hers, but they were so faint that they obviously belonged to visitors. 
He’d been terrified, honestly, but he’d been so desperate and lonely and just emotionally drained that he’d decided fuck it. If she freaked out and kicked him out on his ass, well, better to get it over with now before he got even more attached. 
So he’d turned on the heat, showered, and grabbed some sweat pants from her dresser. At first, he hadn’t meant to fall asleep in her bed. He’d planned on just sitting there and waiting for his doom, but then the heat was so nice and the covers looked so soft and smelled so much like her that he figured just for a minute. He’d just try it out for a minute because it had been so long since he’d slept in such a nice bed. 
When she’d woken him up after she came home, he’d been terrified. Of course, he’d long mastered the art of seeming nonchalant even while his heart was pounding so hard he was afraid it would burst. So he’d bluffed his way through, hoping that she was really as much of a bleeding heart as she’d always seemed. 
Thank fuck she was, because she simply allowed him to stay with minimal fuss. In fact, he’d even gotten her to go along with him living there instead of just for the night. Of course, she’d obviously been too confused by what was happening to protest anything, but once again her ditziness was part of her charm. 
That first night in her bed would live in his memory forever. It wasn’t like much had happened, but it was something to him. He’d felt...safe. Probably the last time he’d genuinely felt that way had been when he was a kitten and didn’t know any better. But laying next to her wrapped in warmth and her scent, their legs tangled together and his tail pulling her close...he’d been safe. 
The days that had followed were like a dream. Every time he thought it was time for her to show her true colors, she’d surprise him instead by showing that her heart was bigger than her brain. Despite the way he forced himself into her life, she made every attempt to make him feel like he belonged there. She took him shopping, tried to cook for him despite being horrible at it, bought him a cell phone so that she could text him while she was at work. She went out of her way to find his favorite foods and shows and anything else she could spoil him with. She took care of him when he was sick and always let him sleep in the bed with her. 
After a while, he began to forget that there was a time before her. There were still times where he’d call himself a fool for trusting a human, but she just had to smile at him like he was her whole world for him to think that she was the exception. She was the real deal and he wanted to be good enough for her. 
When he realized that his feelings were veering into the forbidden territory of maybe actually loving this dumb human, he’d been terrified once again. Would it be better to keep it to himself and learn to live with it when she eventually got into a relationship someday, or tell her and risk losing her completely? Because, while she’d never treated him like a pet he was still a hybrid. Hybrid and human relationships were still viewed as “kinky,” something he didn’t think she was...well, not without a bit of training in the future anyway. 
Learning that her own brother was in an actual committed relationship with his hybrid had been an eyeopener. She’d never expressed a single bit of disgust or disdain towards the relationship at all. They simply were a regular couple in her mind. Despite the small bump with the way she introduced him to people, he thought maybe that meant she would be okay starting something with him. Honestly, he sometimes got the feeling that she did have feelings for him already and just didn’t realize what that meant yet. He’d learned that Ginger needed to have things pointed out to her plainly in order to understand, so maybe even this was that sort of situation. 
So, when his heat suddenly snuck up on him after years of being completely irregular, he’d figured what could be plainer than waving your dick around? 
Truthfully, he’d been a little worried that she’d freak out, but at the same time when you’re overcome with loving someone and extreme horniness you don’t make the best decisions. Thankfully, what had followed had been the best sex of his life. And even more amazing, she’d admitted that she loved him back. Him! She actually loved him even though he was a grumpy asshole most of the time and he knew it. But luckily for her, she always brought out his softer side and he’d do anything for her. 
He wanted to stay with her forever. To love her, mate her, see her belly swell with their children. To wipe her tears when she’s sad or comfort her when she’s worried. He wants to be there when she’s old and grey to remind her every day that she’s still beautiful. 
He still had a long way to go to be worthy of her, but he’d spend his whole life trying. 
****
It's a little short, I apologize. I've been working like crazy, but I am working on many more chapters for this as well as my other stuff. Lots of things in store for these kids. I just felt like we needed a peek into Yoongi's brain real quick.
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spicycreativity · 3 years
Text
Howl - Chapter 1
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Rating: Teen
Fic Content Warnings: Blood, injury, suggestive content, alcohol use
Characters: All
Pairing: Analogical, background Moceit because apparently I can't help myself
Add'l Notes: dw if you don't know what a loup-garou is or how the lore works; all is explained in the story / Have I ever been to Louisiana? No 💕Did I write an entire story set in rural-ish Cajun Louisiana anyway because I hate myself? Yes 💕 / If you're from Louisiana and noticed any screw-ups, pls correct me so I can fix it
It also comes with a playlist! For ambience, not necessarily for the lyrics
Summary:
Two things happen to Virgil Landry on Halloween:
1) Logan Doucet, his longtime friend and slightly-less-longtime crush, asks him out
2) He becomes cursed to spend his nights as a half-man, half-wolf monster: a loup-garou
Despite his new affliction, Virgil strives for normalcy all the way up until he can't anymore and everything falls apart.
The floorboards creaked in their familiar pattern as Virgil paced over them, his feet sliding around awkwardly in his over-the-knee boots. He was supposed to meet Logan alone in an hour, an hour! His heart thumped painfully under his ribs. What did Logan want?
Virgil yanked his phone out of his pocket to re-read the message for the 85th time, ignoring a few new messages in his assorted group chats:
Logan: If it's not inconvenient, could you meet me early at the Plaza tonight? Maybe 6:30?
Virgil: yeah sure 
Virgil: everything OK?
Logan: Yes :-)
What did it mean? Was everything okay? Or was Logan just lying to make him feel better? Because if so, it wasn't working. Virgil ran his hands through his hair, careful not to smudge his makeup. It had taken him an hour and a half to perfect his vampire makeup in the mirror and he didn't want to risk messing it up.
With a sigh that turned into a groan, Virgil threw himself down on his couch. It made the walls rattle, nearly displacing a few trinkets on his crappy, rickety shelves. He heard a tell-tale scrape above his head and knew that his favorite painting had gone crooked again. God, this place was a wreck-- Just like Virgil. He made a mental note to ask Patton for help patching up the leaky roof. It was as good a time as any, as they were well out of rainy season, but it did seem a little rude. What was he even supposed to say? Hey, Patton, I know carpentry is literally what you do for a living, but could you help me for free since I'm broke and sad? Thanks, bud. Yeah, right. He sighed again and tugged at his medallion, a rusted old thing with a glass gem in the center. He had picked it up from a thrift store months earlier in anticipation of Halloween, but maybe he should have made some effort to restore it. It smelled strongly of rust and decay and felt terrible between his fingers, all oily and sticky.
So far, the only saving grace of the day was that it wasn't raining now. Virgil had spent his workday in silent anxiety, eyeing the storm clouds through the shop window and rubbing a small piece of sunstone between his thumb and forefinger. It seemed to have worked, as the clouds had dispersed a little and allowed the watery light of the autumn sun to peek through.
Virgil's phone lit up with a few more messages in his group chats: Roman having hysterics over some detail of his costume, Janus and Remus discussing how to avoid the small army of toddlers that always ran rampant at the Halloween parade. Virgil ignored them all. He was in no mood to be friendly, would probably snap at them. Logan hadn't said anything since his message to Virgil, which he had presumably sent on his lunch break. The question haunted Virgil, that great unknown lurking behind him and instilling a fear that no ghost ever could: What did Logan want?
Virgil set his phone down and leaned forward, heaving a sigh that turned into a yawn. Great. Whatever. That meant he was on the verge of hyperventilating, his breathing already irregular. Damn it, Logan knew better than to leave him hanging like this! They'd known each other for so long and he'd always been more perceptive to Virgil's needs than the others.
Especially lately… They'd been spending more time alone, and Virgil couldn't deny the sweet, warm giddiness that enveloped him every time they were alone together. First meetings were always his favorite, seeing Logan's face light up with a smile. He hadn't dared to think that Logan might feel the same way, but it was getting harder and harder to keep his fantasies on a leash. Worst-case scenarios and best-case scenarios dueled in his head: Logan kissing him, Logan telling him they couldn't be friends anymore, Logan confessing, Logan announcing that he had some incurable disease.
Virgil grabbed his phone and jumped to his feet. He couldn't do this anymore, couldn't sit here and torture himself. He would just leave now. He would rather arrive freakishly early than face another minute of this self-inflicted torment 
He double and triple checked he had his wallet and his plastic fangs, which he
was planning on putting on later. The medallion bounced against his exposed chest as he walked and he wondered briefly if it might be more trouble than it was worth. He could always swap it out for one of his pendants, maybe amethyst to calm his nerves. But it looked so good against his skin, falling perfectly in the deep V of his flowy white poet shirt. Unlike his other necklaces, it screamed vampire. And Janus would tease him if he caught Virgil wearing a subpar costume, and then Roman would join in, and Remus, and it would turn into a whole thing . He could wear the stupid medallion for one night.
 -
Virgil regretted this decision as soon as he got his moped going. Even at its 30 mph crawl, the heavy necklace bounced against his chest in a maddening rhythm. At least it was distracting. Every time he started to worry about Logan, the erratic tap-tap-tap of cold metal on his chest brought him back to Earth.
It was a long ride into town down a windy country road. He hugged the shoulder as best as he could despite the lack of traffic; Virgil's neighbors were few, but they all liked to take corners at frighteningly high speeds. The one person who did drive by honked at him and flashed their lights. Virgil's heart dropped and he nearly flipped them off before he realized that they liked his costume. It occurred to him then that he must look pretty absurd: A vampire riding a purple moped, cape fluttering on the wind.
Upon reaching the Plaza, Virgil did a few laps around downtown, smiling at the spiderwebs decorating Vaillant City Hall. Another lap revealed that empty parking spots were already becoming scarce, so Virgil pulled into one and checked his phone. Nothing from Logan. Just more hysterics from Roman, and Patton's best attempts at comfort. Virgil rolled his eyes. Maybe Roman did need some tough love. He scanned through the messages to orient himself, to make sure he didn't look dumb, and then typed out his reply.
Virgil: look, Prince Charming. 2 rolls of body glitter is more than enough. Stop freaking out
Roman: That's DOCTOR Prince Charming to you
Virgil: :*
He put his phone away, tucked his keys in his pocket, and forced himself to walk slowly toward the Plaza. He was still excruciatingly early, but maybe he could pop into a bar or grab a coffee or even swing by his work-- Oh.
There, standing by the reflecting pool with his hands in his pockets, was Logan. Virgil smiled despite his nerves and sped up. Leave it to Logan to somehow be earlier than early.
"Hey, Data," Virgil said once he was in earshot.
Logan's face lit up, and even the yellow contacts he was wearing couldn't mask the fondness in his face. "Evening, Virge," he said. His smile dropped too quickly and he kept his hands shoved in his pockets. Virgil surveyed all this with dread. Was he reading too much into it? Most definitely. Could he stop? No way.
"Everything okay?" Virgil asked, tugging at his medallion and turning his nervous gaze upon the placid waters of the reflecting pool. Great. Now he had two awesome reasons to be nervous. It was an old Vaillant legend that anyone who disturbed the waters of the pool would be cursed, and Virgil did not mess with curses. He usually took pains to avoid the Plaza, even if it meant he had to take the long way to work.
"Yes, Virgil," Logan said in a voice that was far too breathy. He cleared his throat. "As you know, we have been friends for a long time. I…" He paused, blinked. "I forgot what I was going to say."
"Jeeze, Lo," Virgil tried to tease. "You're making me nervous."
"But I--" Logan ran a hand through his hair. "Virgil. I had prepared something far more eloquent than what I am about to say, but I can't seem to remember it at the moment. Forgive me if this comes across as confusing."
"All good," Virgil said, making only a minimal effort to hide his confusion. The medallion was cold and oily under his fingertips, but he couldn't stop messing with it, tugging at it, rattling the chain. He needed some outlet for all this nervous energy.
"We've been spending more time alone together and I
thought-- I wanted--" Logan touched his face and Virgil realized a second later he had tried to push up his glasses, which he wasn't wearing. Oh, how cute. "Virgil, I would like to go steady with you."
A rush of vertigo smacked into Virgil with such force that he had to take a step back just to keep his balance. "Go steady?" he heard himself say. "Like-- Like, boyfriends?"
"If you are amenable to that," Logan said, furiously running his fingers over the piping on his uniform. "If not, I-- We can pretend this never--"
"Yes," Virgil interrupted. "Yes, yes, yes. Logan, I do want that."
"Oh," said Logan, his face breaking into a smile. "Good."
Virgil clenched his fist around the medallion wondering if it was too soon to ask for a kiss. He took a breath and felt something give with a quiet snap. The broken chain snaked along his neck, dragged down by the weight of the pendant. Virgil watched in silent agony as the necklace landed in the water of the reflecting pool with a quiet splash. "Shit."
"Allow me," said Logan, already in motion.
"No!" Virgil caught his hand and held it. "The curse." He realized what he had done and let go of Logan's hand.
"I don't believe in such things, Virgil, but if it's important to you, then I'll leave it."
"Thank you." Virgil stared down at the water and sighed through his nose. He'd already disturbed the water. Would it be better to leave the necklace or take it out? Littering seemed more disrespectful, he supposed. So he bent and grabbed the necklace before he could change his mind. "I'll, uh, de-curse-ify myself later."
Logan nodded, looking preoccupied. "Let me know if I can help. I might be able to repair the chain."
"Actually," said Virgil, stuffing the wet necklace into his pocket, "I was wondering if maybe, um…"
"Yes?"
"Can I kiss you?"
"Please do."
Virgil closed his eyes so he wouldn't get weirded out by Logan's contacts. He had been expecting a short kiss, sweet and chaste, but Logan's hand tightened in the loose fabric of Virgil's poet shirt and his teeth grazed Virgil's bottom lip. Fuck propriety, then; the Plaza was still fairly empty. Virgil raised a hand to grab a fistful of Logan's hair and ran his tongue along the edge of Logan's lip.
They were interrupted by a wolf whistle and golf claps. "I'll be damned." Crap. Why did it have to be Janus? He was never going to let Virgil live this down.
Virgil pulled away so fast it made pain shoot through his neck. He exhaled sharply and covered the area with his hand for all the good it would do, turning to face Janus with a blush blooming on his cheeks. "What are you supposed to be?" he asked, looking Janus up and down. Janus had always been unnecessarily private about things that really didn't matter. He had evaded all of Virgil's attempts to guess his costume, and now presented wearing an old-fashioned suit including top hat, gloves, and cane.
"Don't change the subject," said Janus, dismissing Virgil with a wave.
In true vampire fashion, Virgil snarled and bared his teeth, then remembered something. "Oh, shit, my fangs!" He dug in his pocket for them, leaving Janus to do… whatever he was going to do.
"Logan, I presume?" Janus asked. Virgil stopped in the process of sticking on one tooth, heart hammering again. Janus and Logan had never met, and they could both be… a bit much in their own ways.
Logan nodded. "Logan Doucet." He held out his hand for a shake.
Janus took it. "Thank God you didn't bother to paint your face, else Virgil would have more than smudged lipstick to contend with. You've got some on your mouth, by the way."
"Thank you," Logan said stiffly. He withdrew his hand and used it to wipe away the lipstick stain on his face. "Nice to meet you, Professor Moriarty."
Virgil's eyes darted back to Janus, who smiled. "When I'm not acting as the Napoleon of Crime, you can call me Janus. Janus Bellefontaine."
"Where's Remus?" Virgil interjected, looking around. "Didn't he ride with you?"
"He got waylaid by some angry mothers because his costume made their kids cry," Janus said, nonchalantly running a
fingertip over the brim of his hat. "He'll be along." To Logan, he said, "Virgil tells me you're an accountant."
"Yes," said Logan. 
"And you haven't killed yourself yet, so I assume you must like it."
Virgil busied himself sticking his fangs onto his canines so he wouldn't worry about the conversation at hand. A sideways glance at Logan revealed that he seemed to find the comment amusing, thank God . "I've always been good with numbers. People, less so."
"Never would have guessed," Janus said, and Virgil didn't have to look at him to know he was smiling that crooked, tight-lipped smile that might have been genuine or might have been mocking. Asshole. "Well, if you have any rich clients, send them my way, won't you? I sell nice suits to dumb men with low self-esteem and too much money and I'm always on the lookout for another rube to swindle."
"If the suits are any good, I'd be happy to," Logan said.
Satisfied that his fangs were in properly, Virgil's attention shifted suddenly to the cold, wet medallion in his pocket. Right. He was cursed. Despite his interest in the occult and the supernatural, Virgil didn't have much experience with curses. His friends weren't really the type to play around with magic (well, maybe Janus, maybe- maybe Roman) and he wasn't the kind of guy who made enemies. No one had ever cursed him before. How soon would this one take effect? Should he go home and come back? Should he hop into the bayou, makeup be damned? Did bayous even count as running water?
He was so caught up in his panic spiral that the sudden sensation of hands on his shoulders made him jump. "Fuck!"
To his surprise it was Roman, not Remus, who laughed from somewhere behind him. "What, are Logan and Janus boring you?"
Virgil looked up and flinched again. While Roman looked relatively normal in his glittery Doctor Frank-n-Furter costume, Remus, who was lurking just behind his brother, was a horrorshow of fur and face paint and fake blood. "Um…" He shook himself and noticed Patton standing a ways off, peering at Remus. Distracted, he went to introduce Patton to Remus and Janus only to learn that he and Roman had run into Remus on their way over and rescued him from a brigade of shouty young mothers.
"He's Macavity," Patton said in a tone like he was pronouncing the death of the family goldfish.
"The other Napoleon of Crime," Janus agreed. "And you are?"
"Patton Haydel!"
A pause. "I gathered that. " Janus gestured at Patton's costume, which he had also kept a secret. Virgil had been staring at it as well, trying to figure it out. Patton was wearing what appeared to be a headless bear costume, round glasses, and what might have been a cowboy hat, though Virgil wasn't 100% sure. "What are you?"
"You have to guess!" Patton said, extending his arms and backing up so everyone could get a good look at him.
Virgil stared at him, running his tongue over the edges of his plastic fangs. "I got nothin'."
Logan took a sideways step and tapped Virgil's hand. Virgil nodded, and Logan interlaced their fingers as casually as he might clock in for work. "He's Teddy Bear Roosevelt."
They all groaned. "Good work, Pat," Virgil said begrudgingly.
"You have a big wet spot on your crotch," Remus pronounced, pointing at Virgil.
Janus raised his eyebrows, turning to Virgil with undisguised schadenfreude, but Logan stepped in before anyone could say anything. "It's water. He dropped his necklace in the reflecting pool."
"Well," said Patton, "that's not good."
"You dropped something in the reflecting pool and didn't immediately run for the nearest source of running water?" Janus asked. He looked from Virgil to Logan, then to their intertwined fingers and grinned. "Ah. More pressing matters at hand?"
"Maybe it's not too late," Roman said, drumming his acrylic nails against his thigh. "We can still dump him in the bayou."
"There's alligators in there!" Virgil said. "Fuck that. You know my house is plastered with wards. I'm sure I can make it through one evening."
"Your funeral," said Remus, leering. "Let me know if your dick falls
off.
 -
Despite his friends' concern, Virgil had a wonderful evening. Logan stuck close the whole night through, and they even snuck a few kisses here and there like infatuated teenagers. Each one sent a lightning thrill down Virgil's spine and made him want a dozen more. His friends noticed in turns and either teased or cooed, but each reaction was encouraging.
Logan kissed him goodbye at the end of the night and he practically floated back to his moped. He was so caught up in his daydreams that he only remembered the curse when he caught sight of the nazar hanging on his kitchen wall. Cursing under his breath, Virgil went to his bookshelf and began to compile a few methods of curse-breaking. Did a shower count as running water? God help him, he was not getting in the bayou. Maybe he could combine methods.
A few moments later, Virgil had everything set up in the bathroom. He lit the last candle, tightened the herb sachet around his neck, and stepped into the shower. Okay, time to focus. He was washing himself free of the curse and wouldn't it be nice if Logan were here? Logan didn't believe in magic and his clear-headed confidence would undoubtedly make Virgil feel better, too-- Focus! Wash away the curse. Logan would probably help him if he asked, helping Virgil set up the crystals and making sure his candles stayed lit-- Virgil! The curse! Wash away the curse.
The bathroom smelled of candles, incense, and herbs. Almost like Virgil's workplace, except that Virgil was using lavender and his boss preferred nag champa.
He stepped out of the shower and inhaled deeply, letting the mixture of scents relax him and draw him toward sleep.
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madsthewordclown · 3 years
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Pancakes | Sokka x Reader Modern AU
warnings: minor language
summary: you’re tired coming home from a trip over break and also freaking out about your feelings for a certain friend of yours. ft. best friend sleepover.
This fic was somewhat inspired by Pancakes for Dinner by Lizzy McAlpine and the rest of my pining playlist. Hope you guys like it! Also I’m sorry the title is not very relevant but I was tired after spending three days trying to pull this together :/ whoops
“Don’t worry, I’m almost home.” You talked just a bit too loudly to make sure your phone picked up the noise.
“Are you on the phone while driving, Y/N?” Sokka asked. He could probably hear the sound of your car on the highway—there were too many bumps on this road.
“It’s on speaker,” you clarified, being careful to keep your eyes on the road. You had been hoping to get home before dark, but the sun setting to your left was not a great indicator. You glanced down at your dashboard clock—only 5:30. You cursed daylight savings time. “I think I might have an hour left?”
“Know your way from there?” Sokka’s voiced cracked in your phone speaker. He sounded like he was chewing something.
“Yeah, I think so. I was just checking in to let you know.” You had been calling and checking in with either Sokka, Zuko or Katara every hour of your drive. Driving for so long made you especially nervous, and you never said anything so not to worry them, but you wanted one of your friends to have a general idea of where you were if anything were to happen. You knew that you were just being paranoid, but the dimming evening light only served to heighten your nerves.
“Drive safe,” Sokka told you. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”
“I will,” you replied, gulping. You thought of the millions of things you wanted to say to him, but kept your mouth shut. You glanced down to see your phone screen go dark, indicating that Sokka had hung up.
You didn’t tell him how you wished he would stay on the phone to keep you company. You didn’t ask him to see about getting you food for when you finally got home. You most definitely didn’t tell him about the very unhelpful thought that was streaming through your head; I like you, I like you, I like you.
You didn’t know when things had changed between you and Sokka. Your feelings for him had grown into something more than purely platonic, that you couldn’t deny. But you were pretty good at keeping those feelings hidden—in most cases your infatuations would come and go quickly, and you didn’t like to embarrass yourself by acting on an impulse. Even so, you felt like Sokka had been distant lately.
You supposed he had offered to let you stay at his and Zuko’s apartment while you were temporarily kicked out of your dorm for what your college said was a “routine maintenance procedure,” but that might have been more Zuko’s doing. Besides, they had offered the same service to Toph. Toph said that “routine maintenance” was probably code for “getting rid of roaches”.
At least the temporary displacement was over fall break, when lots of students went home. The university did offer other temporary accommodations, but Katara had insisted that the stay at Sokka and Zuko’s would be “the ultimate best-friend sleepover,” and that they’d all spend the night when you got back. As much as you loved your friends, you were happy that you had spent the first half of your break with your parents. You felt like you needed to give Sokka some space, and maybe take some time to let your feelings pass. Unfortunately, they hadn’t, but maybe Sokka would stop acting so distant.
You kept your speed at 5 under the limit as you drove. You felt ridiculous, but somehow your brain could never stop imagining worst-case scenarios; a deer jumping out in front of you, a police chase coming to a violent end over the top of the next hill. It was like a mini-existential crisis every time you were behind the wheel for too long.
You breathed a sigh of relief as you reached the city, the streets once again becoming familiar, illuminated by the streetlamps. The tight feeling in your chest loosened its grip, and you let your hands relax against the wheel.
You hardly believed your luck when you saw the empty space in front of Sokka and Zuko’s building. You quickly parked. Spaces were usually impossible to find. You unbuckled your seatbelt and leaned back with a sigh, relieved to finally be done driving. You had made it, the full 8 hours finally over.
You got out of the car and stretched your legs. Cars weren’t built for tall people, you lamented to yourself as you grabbed your bags out of your backseat, feeling the stiffness in your back as you leaned to grab your things.
Going up the stairs to the third floor was awful, and by the end of it, you wanted nothing more than to lie down. You knocked on the door—they had temporarily offered your spare key to Toph while you were gone—and leaned on the frame while you waited for someone to answer.
“Y/N!” Sokka cried as he opened the door for you. The instant you saw his smile you felt butterflies in your stomach, and the overwhelming urge to just say it—I like you, I like you, I like you—repeated like a mantra in your head.
“Hey, Sokka!” You leaned in to give him a half-hug; it was the best you could do with all of your bags.
“You should’ve called,” Sokka eyed your bags with a frown, “I would’ve helped you bring your stuff in.”
“It’s okay,” you brushed him off, pushing through the door.
“Y/N!” Katara cheered. You could see her sitting on the floor with Aang, leaning back up against the sofa where Zuko and Toph were sprawled out as much as possible. Somehow, Toph managed to take up more space regardless of the height difference. Zuko, Aang, and Toph echoed Katara’s cheer, although Toph did so half-mockingly.
You dropped your bags off by the kitchen table—you’d sort those out later. You just wanted to rest, and you knew you’d have to answer questions about your trip. Suddenly, a smell hit you. “Is something burning?”
“Shit!” Sokka exclaimed suddenly, rushing over to the stove.
“What’s that?” You asked, going to look over his shoulder. It was a bit difficult, as he and Zuko somehow managed to be taller than you. It drove you crazy, as you had been used to being the resident tall-person before you’d met. They loved holding it over your head, both literally and figuratively. (But you most definitely did not have a Napoleon complex. No way.)
“Pancakes,” Sokka answered, carefully flipping two off of the pan. “I figured you’d be hungry.”
“And we wanted pancakes!” Toph yelled from her spot on the couch.
“Make your own damn pancakes!” Sokka yelled back, “I’m giving up.” He turned to where you were standing behind him.
“Here, I’ll take the ones that I burnt, and you can have these other ones.” He held out a plate to you. “I hope four is enough.”
“You really didn’t have to make me food.” But you were so, so happy he did. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were, but now your stomach was being very demanding. You took the plate from him. “Thanks, Sokka.” I like you, I like you, I like you.
“Well, we know Sokka has a favorite,” Toph deadpanned.
“You never make me pancakes, Sokka,” Zuko pouted, sticking out his tongue.
“Shut up,” Sokka replied simply, following you over to claim a spot on the floor next to Katara and Aang, a bottle of syrup in hand.
You and Sokka ate pancakes while your friends asked you about your trip, with a random Mythbusters episode acting as background noise. Yes, your parents were doing great, yes, your hometown was as interesting as ever. The pancakes were delicious, and you felt even more grateful for Sokka’s gesture.
Despite the joy you felt to be reunited with your friends, you couldn’t deny that you were tired. You felt yourself wanting to doze off as you leaned on the couch. You yawned, stretching your arms up. Sokka noticed immediately.
“Hey, you can take my room if you want,” he offered, accurately sensing your exhaustion. You tried in vain to keep your cheeks from reddening—you didn’t think Sokka had noticed, but you were sure Katara did by the look she gave you.
“No, it’s okay,” you reassured him, “all of my bags are in here anyway, and they’re a mess.”
“Here, I’ll move them and get things cleaned up. You need to sleep,” Sokka insisted, proving his insistence by immediately getting up to gather your things. The second he disappeared into his room, Katara turned to you.
“Y/N, I give you my permission to date my brother.”
“Katara!” You blushed. “It’s not like that.”
“Y/N, you’re my best friend and Sokka’s my roommate,” Zuko said, “and I of all people would know that you two have been dancing in circles around each other for months.”
“It’s disgusting,” Toph added, unhelpfully.
“Sokka doesn’t like me like that. He’s been acting weird and avoiding me for weeks,” you reasoned, not bothering to deny your own feelings. It’s not like it mattered.
“He’s not avoiding you today,” Aang mentioned as he leaned on Katara’s shoulder. You supposed you couldn’t deny it, but before you had the chance to respond, Sokka was back.
“I’m sorry if things are still a bit messy, but you can head in and go to bed if you’re tired. I can take the couch.”
“Hey, Snoozles, Zuko and I called dibs,” Toph snapped. “Take the floor.”
“Zuko has a bed here, you know.” Sokka put a hand on his hip.
“Yeah,” Zuko looked up at him from his position on the couch, “but now I’m here, and I’m not moving.” Toph nodded in agreement.
“Then I’ll take Zuko’s room,” Sokka amended.
“Okay, then,” Zuko conceded.
“What?!?” Katara cried indignantly, sitting up straight like a bolt. “You told me I couldn’t!”
“Yeah, because he doesn’t want you and Twinkle-Toes canoodling,” Toph cackled. Katara scoffed.
“We do not canoodle!”
Sokka turned to you as you yawned again. “Get some sleep,” he said. As much as you wanted to refuse, you couldn’t resist the opportunity to finally get some rest. You slowly stood up and walked yourself towards Sokka’s room, and he took your spot on the floor. “Goodnight.”
You took a deep breath when you entered Sokka’s room and switched on the light. You had been in his room once before, when you offered him a ride to a lecture, and he wasn’t awake on time—you had come in and smacked him with one of your notebooks. It was small—Sokka felt bad that Zuko paid most of their rent with his rich-person money and had actually convinced him to go for a cheaper apartment when they had decided to move in together.
You got the vague sense that you needed to shower, but you were too tired to worry about it, and you didn’t want to fish your toiletries out of your stuffed overnight bag. You checked your phone once, and saw you had a text from Katara.
Sokka was paying more attention to you than Mythbusters, Y/N. The MYTHBUSTERS!!!
You rolled your eyes and shot back a quick, “whatever.” And for once, your overwhelming exhaustion drowned out the fluttering feeling in your gut as you climbed into Sokka’s bed. You were asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.
You could tell when you woke up that it was way too early. You could also tell that you weren’t in your own bed, and then you remembered. Right. Sokka gave you his room. You sat up, pushing the comforter off of you. You had a shaky feeling in your chest, and you knew you’d woken up from a bad dream, but you couldn’t quite remember what it was. You felt like you did when you were driving the night before—jittery, a million thoughts going through your mind all at once.
You decided it might be a good course of action to get a glass of water to help you calm down and relieve the dryness in your throat that further prevented you from going back to sleep. You quietly tip-toed out of Sokka’s bedroom. You noticed multiple papers with sketches and diagrams from his engineering classes scattered about the room, and it gave you a little bit of comfort.
You tried to be as quiet as possible so as not to disturb the others, who were all fast asleep in the living room. You quickly got your glass of water and downed it, not wanting to bring it into Sokka’s room and risk spilling on any of his stuff. You made your way back to his room and crawled back under the covers. No sooner had you pulled the blanket up over yourself did you hear the door open once again.
“Oh.” Sokka’s frame stood in the doorway. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just coming in to get something.”
“It’s okay, I wasn’t asleep,” you said, sitting up.
“Oh.” A beat. “Are you okay?”
The tone of his voice made you pause. It was how he’d been talking to you for weeks, save for last night.
“Yeah.” You put a hand to your head, trying to clear your thinking. “I think I’m just a bit stressed after all of the driving and stuff. I hate it.” You gave a dry laugh, and you could see Sokka approach you in the dark.
“I thought you said the drive went fine,” Sokka pressed, now standing next to you.
“It did!” You assured him. “I just don’t like driving, especially at night. It makes me nervous. Why did you think I was calling so much?”
“Oh,” Sokka said dumbly. He was close enough now that you could make out his features. He frowned at you. “Can I sit?” He asked after a long pause. You nodded and awkwardly scooched over to make space for him.
“You know, if you wanted someone to drive with you, I could’ve gone.”
“Sokka,” you laughed, “it’s 8 hours. What could you possibly do to stay entertained up there for three days?”
Sokka shrugged and smiled at you. “I have friends over that direction.”
“Of course you do,” you rolled your eyes. Sokka somehow knew everybody and was friends with almost everyone he knew.
“Plus,” Sokka bumped his shoulder against yours, “I think your parents would love me.” You elbowed him in response, trying to quell the fluttering of your heart and the words that threatened to bubble up from your throat.
“Seriously,” Sokka told you finally, turning to look at you. Even in the dark, his eyes were startlingly blue. “I could’ve at least stayed on the phone with you for a bit.
“I don’t want to ask that of you. You have more important things to do.”
“No, I really don’t,” Sokka said, looking you in the eye. You gulped in the silence, and suddenly everything felt like too much. You could feel his leg up against yours, and his eyes were so blue, and his hair was hanging out of his ponytail, and he said it like he meant it, and you were surrounded by his drawings and his smell and I like you I like you I like you and—
“I like you.”
For a moment you thought you had spoken your thoughts aloud, but that wasn’t your voice, and Sokka was still looking at you and there was something about his expression, and—oh. You sat there with your mouth hanging open.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I shouldn’t have said that, and…” He trailed off when you put your hand on his chest to stop him.
“Are you joking?” You asked plainly, looking up at him. Sokka stared back.
“…no.”
With just that one little word you felt the thoughts you’d been holding back for the past months flood up, as if a dam had been broken, and there were so many things that you wanted to say all at once, but your mouth wasn’t working.
“Me, too,” you replied dumbly, and Sokka cocked his head at you.
“What?”
“I like you, too,” you mumbled, leaning forward to bury your face in his chest. You were sure that he’d be able to see your horrible blushing, even in the dim light. You felt Sokka chuckle a little bit.
“What was that?”
You felt your blush deepen as he gently pushed you away from him. “I like you, too,” you repeated, finally looking him in the eye. Sokka gently laid a hand on your cheek, and your eyes fluttered shut as he leaned in.
Kissing Sokka was somehow softer than you had expected. He wasn’t exactly a subtle person—loud, passionate, outgoing, and too smart for his own good—but his kiss was gentle and loving and ended way too soon.
“Do you wanna go out some time?”
“Um, obviously,” you giggled, leaning in as he wrapped you up in a hug, pulling you close.
“Just thought I’d check,” Sokka hums, hand circling your back gently as you yawn into his shoulder. “Now you need to get some sleep.”
“ZUKO, Y/N AND SOKKA ARE CANOODLING!” You and Sokka jumped, awoken by Katara’s yelling. You blinked your eyes open to see all four of your friends standing in Sokka’s bedroom doorway.
“We were not canoodling!” Sokka shouted indignantly.
“This isn’t my room, Katara. It’s not under my jurisdiction,” Zuko shrugged.
“Why couldn’t Aang and I take your room?” Katara demanded. You wiped the sleep from your eyes and felt yourself blushing.
“My room is a canoodle-free zone, Katara.”
Zuko and Katara bickered for a while, while Toph laughed and Aang stood by awkwardly, although you didn’t miss him shooting Sokka a thumbs-up. When it seemed like they’d forgotten you were there completely, Sokka cleared his throat.  
“Excuse me, guys.” Katara and Zuko stopped bickering to look at him. “If you don’t mind, I want to go make Y/N and I some pancakes.” With that, Sokka stood and took your hand to pull you along with him. You blushed.
“Only if you make us some,” Toph crossed her arms and blocked your way.
“Fine, Toph,” Sokka relented, but smiled as he pulled you closer and wrapped an arm around your waist. “Good morning, by the way. Want some more pancakes?”
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Multi-Dimensional pt. 1
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The Company x Reader
I would love more parts of this tbh. But I would also love a scenario just like this but involving The Company??? Maybe? If you feel up to it. __In reference to the fellowship one I recently posted.
Living on a farm kinda far from other people was a very conscious decision. 
It’s not like you just up and left and decided to do it on a whim or anything, this was calculated carefully and planned accordingly. 
There are two very important reasons why you chose to live a bit further from the neighborhoods, semi-rural if you will, and these two reasons include; A. your desire to have as many animals as you want, and B. not wanting to deal with BS constantly in a crowded neighborhood or apartment complex. 
It’s not that you dislike people or anything like that (though you do like animals more), but being surrounded by them 24/7 isn’t something you much like. 
Now one may wonder; how do you manage to afford an updated country house with multiple animals as well as yummy home-cooked meals and other leisure’s? 
Well, the answer to that is quite simple. 
Not all of the animals are actually yours. 
You’re an animal sitter/trainer. And not just any animal sitter, but one with a degree and huge amounts of land and access to numerous pet care supplies. You have a friend, a very good friend, who owns a share of a large scale farm and pet care grocery chain, so you literally get everything for either half the price or literally free. And your rates as a pet sitter with a degree and previous experience are freaking massive. 
Like, up to $25/hour maximum, massive. For multiple days, and sometimes a week. 
Saying you’re loaded is an overstatement, but  very  well off suffices. 
Anyways, you live pretty simply. You take care of your animals, go out around the city and have someone watch the house, eat some good dinner, and just… relax. 
It’s never lonely when you’ve got so many excellent animals to keep you company, or at least, not really. Sometimes you do wish you had someone else to share your life with, someone to talk about things with (who will actually respond) and to hold you and tell you everything’s okay when things are going bad…
Damn you want a boyfriend, one that’s the complete opposite of your last one.
“Maybe he was the best I could do…” You grumble, then slap the sides of your face, “No… no, don’t think that. If I’m meant to be in a relationship, my future love will simply teleport into my living room *I stole this from a funny tweet* . Otherwise, I will remain single. Like my dogs, kinda…” You grumbled to yourself last night before you went to bed. 
Maybe you shouldn’t have said that, because when you wake up that next morning in your pile of fur (2 dogs and 3 cats) and head downstairs to begin your morning feeding ritual, you’re met with the sight of 14 dudes sprawled about in your immaculate living room, getting mud on your carpet and… are those weapons?
Be careful what you wish for, I guess.
If this was meant to be a robbery attempt, then they butchered it horribly. 
You turn and go into your kitchen and put multiple kettles on the stove, intending to just make… all of the tea in your cupboard. 
When your two puppies came trotting down the stairs after you, you walk about out of the kitchen and watch them, and the moment they catch wind of the pile of men in your house they are on alert. You attempt to stop them from running over, but they are already sniffing around them and pawing at their faces curiously before you can so much as call their names. 
“Good God, why can’t I just have a normal day?” You mumble to yourself, inching over slowly when your fluffy brown and white floofer Yeti, literally, sits on a very small blond man. And then you realize, they’re all kinda small. Or short, thicc👌if you may, since they are more buff and not fat (not all of them at least). 
Your other dog, Copper, continues to sniff around (ever the paranoid pup, good boy) but eventually goes back to you instead of trying to suffocate that blond dude. 
When you’re sure they’re still out-cold, you return to the kitchen and scrounge up 14 mugs and glass cups and get the tea steeping, sighing as you search your cupboard for something to put out. Damn it if they were planning on robbing you at… ax-point, then you’re going to be so freaking hospitable and generous that they’ll regret even thinking of it (realistically you’re not worried because Yeti and Copper can definitely eat them whole).
Eventually, you find some platters leftover from a party you were invited to a few days ago (you got to keep the leftovers), so you bring them out to the coffee table near where they’re hanging out and just set it out, then return to the kitchen in shifts and bring the mugs out two or three at a time (three if you’re feeling especially daring). Pretty soon everything is out, so you then decide to take the weapons you have immediate access to and hide them.
Of course, your definition of ‘hiding them’ is putting them all on your love seat and covering it with a blanket. 
You assume they probably have more hidden in various places on their bodies and under their clothes, but you’re not gonna even consider taking those. 
Once you’re 100% done with your anti-robbery check-list, you lay down on your couch with your feet facing them and begin to read the book you left on your coffee table the night before. 
Right when you begin to wonder if any of them are even alive, some begin to groan and move around sluggishly. 
You hear a couple worried 'Bilbo?’s’ and someone say either 'kill’ or 'Kili’, so you get up and retreat to your kitchen in case they get violent. 
Someone screams muffled-ly and you assume the blond guy has awakened. 
As soon as the guy screams most of them jump to their feet and begin to look around wildly, and you duck beneath the counter and peek out from the side nervously. 
“Where is my ax!?” Someone yells with an accent. 
“What in Mahal is sitting on Bilbo?!” Another yells. 
“Master Baggins!" 
"Is that food?" 
Everything goes quiet when someone yells about the food, and then there’s some shuffling and rustling of plastic and Yeti comes trotting into the kitchen. A triumphant smirk settles on your face, and you slowly stand and see that they’re all standing and looking down at the coffee table.
"Is this for us?” The small blond man who Yeti seemed to like, asks. 
You decide now is the time for your dramatic entrance. “Yes, it’s for you.”
At the sound of your voice, they all whirl around and look at you with wide eyes, pushing the same small blond behind them as they reach for the hidden weapons you knew they had. 
You don’t say anything.
“You didn’t even search us properly!” One of the taller brown-haired ones exclaims, oh he’s kinda cute, with a smug smirk on his face. 
Okay, wow that’s insulting. He’s definitely insinuating that you’re dumb, definitely. “Excuse me, I know very well that you had stuff in your clothes, but I didn’t much like the idea of invading your personal space." 
Now you get confused looks and no response. 
"Besides, I took all your big weapons and I know that they must’ve meant something to you. I’ll hold them hostage if you try to rob me." 
More confused looks, then a raven-haired guy, the one who pushed the blond behind them, speaks up, "Where are our weapons?" 
You resist the urge to look over at the horribly hidden pile of swords, daggers, single bow, and axes under the blanket on your love seat and state, "I’ve hidden them somewhere you’ll never find them!” You yell, “You can tear this house apart brick by brick and you’ll still never find them! I’ve put them somewhere so-”
“It’s under that blanket, isn’t it?” A blond guy with a braided mustache asks. 
You take a pause and look over to exactly where he’s talking about. 
It’s completely silent for about 30 seconds until you realize you should probably deny it.
“…No."  
Yeah, there’s literally the hilt of a blade and the bow sticking out from under it. 
Some of them seem more amused than alert now, and you realize you’ve succeeded in making them see you as not a threat. 
You clear your throat awkwardly, and look away from the blanket, "L-Lets not read too much into that. What’s really important here is that you are literally the worst robbers I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.” You glare at the lot of them before a big smile suddenly spreads across your face, “Oh! I got you snacks by the way, and my name is Y/N.”
A couple of them exchange weird looks, probably because you’re totally psyching them out, and you can tell they’re beginning to question your sanity. And that’s where they go wrong, because once they know your name and grow attached, then there’s no way they’ll be able to hurt or rob you. 
The raven-haired dude, he seems to be the leader of this operation, steps forward, “We are no robbers.” Is all he says as if that clears everything up. 
“Um, then why are you in the middle of my house? Seems pretty robber-y from where I’m standing." 
He purses his lips and looks at you intensely as if he’s trying to stare you into submission, but you will not be intimidated.
"No excuse, then?” You ask.
He sighs quietly when he realizes, ultimately, that you’ve got a point. “Truthfully, I have no memory of how we got to be here.” The half-man pauses to collect his thoughts, then continues, “I don’t know where we are, nor do any of us. This place is foreign and everything is odd… and new." 
You tap your foot a couple of times and cross your arms over your chest, not really believing it but also not-not believing it since they are rather peculiar. 
"If you’re not robbers then tell me something only a not robber would say!” Getting them to underestimate you is key. 
You get more weird looks and some of them actually laugh, bingo, before the same guy speaks again, “We… we’re not going to rob you?" 
For a few moments, you pretend to deliberate over what he said, then nod, "Well damn, why didn’t you say so before?” Some tense shoulders relax, then you continue, “Anywaaayyys, I made tea and that blond fellow in the back looks kinda skinny so help yourselves to the platters I’ve set out. Oh, yes, also I hope none of you are afraid of dogs, cats, snakes, turtles, or small rodents because they’re literally everywhere." 
"Are you not being too hasty in accepting us into your home?” The black-haired dude asks slowly, looking around at the rest of the people around him. 
Yes, he has a point you know, but there’s something that tugs at your heartstrings when you look at this disheveled group of short men. Their eyes are sunken and tired with bags big enough to cost you extra on a flight, they are dirty and some of them a bit bloody, they look so hungry, and there’s just a horrible exhausted and negative haze settled over the lot of them. They just look so damn pathetic and sad, and god that small blond and the brown-haired pretty guy look like sad little puppies- 
It then occurs to you that they are, essentially, strays, and that thought softens your hard outer-shell. 
You have to help them.
You let a smaller smile upturn the corners of your lips as you say a bit quieter and more serious, “Maybe I am. I don’t know who you are or if you’re telling me the truth, but even I can see that something isn’t right here. You all look tired and hungry, a-and if I turn you away knowing something’s wrong, what kind of person does that make me?”
You’ve done it plenty of times with dogs and feral cats before, and they can be just as dangerous. 
It seems that they’re all listening to what you have to say, so you go on, “I have the means to help and Yeti has taken to your blond man-child,” you gesture to your fluffy boy who is pawing at said guy in search of head pats, “And… something in my heart is telling me that I shouldn’t send you away.” You tap your fingers against your elbow a couple times, then say softly, “Please don’t make me regret it…" 
There are a few moments of silence before the person you were talking to responds again, "We will try to cause no trouble for you." 
You nod your head and turn to go back into the kitchen, whistling for Yeti and Copper to come follow you. "I’m going to be out for 10 minutes, don’t cause trouble.” Leaving them by themselves is the ultimate test of how trustworthy they are, and you’ll only be just outside feeding the animals so you can hear everything. 
“We won’t." 
You’ll have to see. 
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ificanthaveu · 4 years
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One Thing Left To Do || Shawn Mendes
Description: It’s Christmas Eve, and you have a million things to think about. But Shawn’s only thinking of one: the ring in his pocket.
Description per my notes (aka a jumbled mess): a Christmas engagement yeet, Christmas eve with your family?
A/N: DAY 3!! This is like my Christmas Eve, and this is my dream come true so please enjoy my loves
Word Count: 3.2k
12 Days of Ficmas
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Your flight got in two hours later than planned. Of course, this is what you get for thinking you could fly into your hometown on Christmas Eve. You and every other person in the world trying to get home in time for Christmas. 
You were supposed to be at your grandma’s at 5:00 for your traditional Christmas Eve. It was your favorite day of the year, filled with family, food and the same traditions you’d been doing your whole life, and the fact that you might be late made you more anxious than ever.
But Shawn comforted you through it all. Working with the airline and even switching your flights around to make sure the two of you arrived home on time. You had wanted to stop at your parents’ house and get ready, but the plane would be arriving at 4:00 and your grandma’s house was a 45-minute drive from the airport.
So here you and Shawn were, walking into your grandma’s house, wearing sweatpants, sweatshirts, and beanies. You were so frazzled that there were a lot of things you weren’t noticing.
You were so nervous, you couldn’t even tell how nervous Shawn was. The constant shifting and squirming. Clutching his backpack tighter than usual. Not wanting you to go in his bag. Making sure the side pocket was always zipped tight with a rubber band wrapped around the zippers to make it extra secure.
But it didn’t matter. Because it was 5:00. You were with Shawn. And you were home. 
You walked into your grandma’s small house, you and Shawn both lugging your suitcases in with you to freshen up before dinner. There was a chorus of hellos as you walked into the kitchen, kicking your boots off to the side and enveloping your grandma in a hug.
You didn’t notice the look your dad gave Shawn.
You didn’t notice the wink Shawn gave your aunt when he noticed her good camera sitting on the kitchen table. 
You simply shuffled off to the bathroom, Shawn on your tail.
You shut the door and sighed as you sat down on the edge of the bathtub for a second, running your hands over your face.
“You can breathe now,” Shawn reminded you, also trying to remind himself, as he kneeled down next to you and rubbed your knee lightly. 
“I know. This is the last time we try to travel on Christmas Eve,” you said. Shawn nodded his head in agreement, standing back up, stripping off his sweatshirt and replacing it with his sweater, changing his sweatpants into his black jeans. 
You threw on your sweater dress and threw your hair up in as cute of a messy ponytail as you could manage. You swiped on some mascara and threw the rest of your things back in your suitcase. Shawn leaned against the door, admiring how effortlessly beautiful you always looked.
You stood back up and looked at him with a small smile. 
“Ok, I’m done stressing,” you said before taking a deep breath and letting it out shakily. “Ok, maybe not. But I’ll be there eventually. I just need some mashed potatoes.”
Shawn shook his head at you slightly as he opened the bathroom door, grabbing both of your suitcases.
“I can bring them up,” he said when you tried to grab yours. 
“Second room on the left,” you whispered before pecking his cheek. 
Shawn turned the opposite way of you and walked up the stairs with his backpack and the suitcases.
You didn’t notice your cousin and aunt slip behind you and follow Shawn upstairs. 
Your cousin Kimmy closed the door softly behind your aunt Beth as Shawn sat on the edge of the bed. 
“You brought the ring?” Beth said. 
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I bring the freaking ring?” Shawn said, his voice shaking. He grabbed his backpack, unwinding the rubber band and unzipping it, pulling out the little velvet box. He opened it to show Beth and Kimmy, and they both gasped.
“She’s going to love it,” Kimmy said quietly, willing herself not to cry just yet, knowing she would completely lose it when she’d see the look on her face. 
“Do you have the wrapping paper?” He asked frantically.
Beth nodded her head and grabbed the paper she had tucked away in the corner. She held her hand out for the box, and Shawn didn’t move. 
“You’ll be careful?” Shawn said in that one voice he’d get when he was nervous. 
Beth smiled softly at him, sitting down in front of the paper. 
“Of course, it won’t leave my sight. It’ll be the only gift wrapped in this blue wrapping paper,” she said, peeling it up so Shawn could see the obvious wrapping. 
He nodded his head and handed her the box. She quickly wrapped it up in the bright blue wrapping paper and stuck a tag on it.
Kimmy handed her the marker, and she wrote down the last number.
“So, how does this work again?” Shawn asked, wanting to go over the plan for the millionth time, somehow acting like he hadn’t called Beth 30 times this past week.
“It’s storytime Yankee swap. Like we’ve done before. Kimmy and I have tested and retested the story a million times. So as long as there are two people to the right of me and between [Y/N], and I start with the ring, she’ll end up with it at the end of the story. It’s the last number, which means she’s the last to open her gift. Every time the story says left, the gifts move to the left. Every time the story says right, they move to the right. And I didn’t bring a gift, to make up for the extra being the ring,” Beth explained. 
“And everyone is here who is supposed to be, and there’s no one extra that’s doing the game that will screw this up,” Kimmy chimed in. 
A soft knock on the door made all three of them jump. Beth threw the box at Shawn, and he tucked it behind a pillow.
“Shawn?” You said as you slowly opened the door. Beth quickly sat on the chair in the corner, throwing the paper behind it, and Kimmy leaned casually against the window sill.
Your eyebrows furrowed, seeing all three of them sitting in there. 
“What’s taking so long?” You asked.
It was hard to hide the panic on Shawn’s face, not that you would notice anyway. He looked at Kimmy desperately as she stood up and walked towards you.
“You didn’t tell us that you hadn’t filled him in on what was going on with Dave’s new girlfriend? We had to tell him up here so Dave didn’t overhear,” she said.
You sighed and shook your head, “I completely forgot.” You looked over at Shawn. “She’s the worst. Thank God she's not here.”
“Yeah, thank God,” Shawn said, willing his voice to stay steady. 
“And Mom spilled coffee on her sweater and had her bag in here, so she had to change and throw the other one back up here. You know how she is,” Kimmy said as she gave you that look. 
You nodded your head, returning the look to her. You didn’t notice the shocked look Shawn gave Beth at how well your cousin just crafted the perfect lie. 
“Well, everyone’s here, and Grandma said the food is ready,” you said with a big smile before turning away and walking out. 
The three of them collectively let out the breath they were holding as Shawn plopped back onto the bed. 
Beth grabbed the box from behind his head and grabbed the gifts you and Shawn had brought. She tucked the ring in between two other small gifts, knowing you wouldn’t notice when she slipped it in with the other Yankee swap gifts. 
The three of them walked downstairs a minute after you. The nerves were written all over Shawn and Beth’s faces as Kimmy stayed as cool as ever. She rested a hand on Shawn’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. 
“She’s going to know something’s up if you don’t stop being so tense,” she whispered harshly. 
Shawn shot her a look before nodding his head, taking a deep breath and going to find you. 
“Hey, Aunt Beth?” You yelled from your seat on the couch, your plate piled high with all of your grandma’s specials. 
“Yeah?” She said as she sat across from you.
“Did you number the Yankee swap gifts yet? Because if not, Shawn and I can go do it once we’re done eating,” you offered.
You didn’t notice him tense up next to you.
Beth smiled softly and shook her head, “No, Kimmy and I got it already.”
“Man, I move away for barely a year, and you’re already handing off my jobs to other people. It’s like tradition means nothing to you,” you said sarcastically as Beth shook her head at you.
“Change is good every now and then,” she said with a wink.
Shawn simply nodded his head as he took a bite of his food, barely wanting to eat since his nerves took up most of his stomach. He stealthily slid some of his food onto Kimmy’s plate when she sat next to him. He glared at her before she could say anything, and she simply nodded her head once it clicked. You didn’t notice.
Everyone finished eating dinner and moved on to dessert. You grabbed a piece of chocolate cake and sat on the floor with your cousin’s baby girl Alison who had just turned one a few weeks before. She climbed her way into your lap, and you went between feeding her a bite and feeding yourself a bite. 
Shawn stayed off to the side, watching you as he leaned against the wall. Your dad came up behind him, clearing his throat. Shawn looked over at him, and your dad simply motioned for Shawn to follow him with a nod of his head. Shawn looked at you once more to make sure you were distracted before he followed your dad outside. 
He shut the door quietly behind him, crossing his arms across his chest as he stood with your dad. 
“Who all knows?” He asked, glancing at the door to make sure no one followed them. 
“Just you, Mrs. [Y/L/N], Beth and Kimmy,” he said, his voice shaking from the cold, but mostly the anxiety. 
“Are you nervous?” Your dad asked carefully. 
Shawn nodded his head a little too quickly. “This idea is perfect, but one tiny thing goes wrong, and suddenly Grandma has the ring.”
Your dad nodded along as Shawn thought of every possible worst-case scenario. 
“Beth has this figured out perfectly. She literally had a drawing of everyone and tapped out the story at least a hundred times,” your dad reminded him.
Shawn nodded his head, letting out a breath. 
“She’s going to say yes,” your dad reminded him. 
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Shawn said quickly. “I hope. Still freaks me out,” he said quieter. “I just can’t believe she’d want to spend forever with me.”
“Yeah, me neither,” your dad said with a chuckle. Shawn forced a laugh out, knowing he was joking before they turned around to go back inside. 
You never even noticed he was gone.
Shawn took a seat next to you on the ground, making faces at Alison as she laughed at him uncontrollably. You looked between Shawn and Alison, feeling your heart grow three sizes. 
“Ready for gifts?” Your grandma said as she practically skipped into the living room. 
Your family gathered around the small living room, first doing the gifts to individual people. Shawn glanced to the right, making sure there were two people between Beth and you. Thankfully, Kimmy and your grandma were there. Kimmy smiled at Shawn and subtly gave him a thumbs up. He glanced behind Beth, seeing her camera and the blue box sitting on the ground behind her to ensure she started with it and no one else grabbed it first. 
Your grandpa situated his Santa hat on his head and handed out gifts one by one. You had gotten a scarf, a new sweater and a blanket from your aunt and your grandparents. Shawn got a new travel mug and sweatpants that you told your grandparents to buy him. The two of you had also gotten a new doormat for your house. 
“Yankee swap time!” Your mom said excitedly as Beth pulled out the story and the instructions.
“Ok, we’ve all done this, but someone always screws it up so here are the rules again,” Beth said as she stood up. Everyone grumbled in defense, but they all knew it was true. 
“When I read the story, if I say right, the gifts go right. If I say left, the gifts go left. All the presents are numbered. Once the story is done, the number one opens theirs. Number two can steal that one or open their gift, and so on and so forth,” Beth read off the sheet. “Everyone grab a gift,” she finally said. 
You were closest to the table, so you turned to it and started handing down gifts. Once you were turned, Beth grabbed the blue wrapped box and set it on her lap. 
You didn’t notice. 
Everyone had their gift, and the story began. 
“It was Christmas Eve night, and everything felt right,” Beth said, exaggerating “right,” and everyone moved the gifts right. Your younger cousin being the only one who screwed up, as he still didn’t really know his directions. 
“Everyone was gathered at the blue house on the left of Sycamore Street,” she said as everyone passed the gifts to the left. 
Beth continued with the story, emphasizing every time she said “right” or “left.” Shawn’s eyes followed the blue box around the circle as he could feel his heartbeat out of his chest. 
The ring was two people away from you, being in your mom’s hands. 
“But as I said, everything felt right. The tree was just right, but the family. The family was, of course, just right,” she said as Shawn held the ring in his hand, slightly panicking when he thought it was the end of the story. 
“There was only one thing left to do,” Beth said as she folded up the papers and everyone passed their gifts once more, the ring ending in your hands. 
The double meaning of the last line was lost to everyone but a few as they started figuring out who had the first gift. Your grandma opened up a pack of presidential Pez dispensers as everyone laughed. Your cousin was next, followed by your brother and so on. 
Shawn was somewhere in the middle as he opened up a set of picture frames. 
“Perfect for that space in the living room I’ve been meaning to fill,” you said with excitement in your voice. Shawn smiled at you before setting it down next to him. 
The numbers dwindled down, and soon enough you were the last one. 
You scanned the room, looking to see if there was any gift you wanted to steal. At this point, Shawn just had to pray you’d open the gift like you always did when it came to this game. He saw your aunt start to take pictures out of the corner of his eye and noticed your dad start to record on his phone on the other side of the room.
You didn’t notice.
“I don’t know…I really like that robe,” you said, looking at the robe in Kimmy’s hands. 
“Come on, [Y/N]. This is two sizes too big for you,” she said. 
“Yeah, you’re right,” you said softly, looking down at the small gift in your hand. 
Shawn’s heart was beating out of his chest. 
“I’ll open this one,” you said as you started to peel away at the wrapping. You didn’t even flinch when there was a velvet box underneath. 
You didn’t notice Shawn shift to kneeling on one knee next to you. A few of your family members gasped, realizing what was about to happen. Kimmy finally let her tears fall. 
“What is this?” You said with a smile, about to open the box. 
You opened the box and were met with the most beautiful diamond ring. Shawn slowly reached out and took the box from your hands as you gasped and your hands flew to your mouth and tears welled up in the corner of your eyes. 
“Oh my God,” you whispered. 
Shawn blushed as he held the box carefully in his hands, you turned to face him completely. 
“From the moment I met you, I knew this was it. I could’ve proposed right then and there. You’re my forever. [Y/N] [Y/M/N] [Y/L/N], will you marry me?” He asked quietly. 
You nodded your head frantically as a sob escaped your mouth. Shawn’s hands shook as he took the ring out and slid it onto your ring finger. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss as the whole room cheered. Not a single eye was dry. 
“Yes, yes, yes,” you mumbled in between kisses. Finally pulling away to look him in the eyes, feeling like you were the only two people in the room as you pushed his hair back from his forehead. “I love you,” you said with every ounce of life in you. 
“I love you,” he replied, pulling you into his arms, holding your head tightly to his chest. 
Kimmy and Beth high fived as they both wiped away tears. 
You pulled away and looked at your family around you, all staring at you with love. 
“We’re getting married,” you yelled as the whole room cheered again, and Shawn laughed his first real laugh for the past week. 
Everyone gathered around you, admiring the ring and congratulating you. Everyone settled down, and the room fell silent as you finally had a minute to process everything. 
You turned to face Shawn. “How the hell did you pull that off?” You said a little too loudly. 
“I had help,” Shawn confessed as he played with the ring on your finger, still not believing this was real. 
Your eyes flicked up to meet Beth’s as she shrugged her shoulders. 
“You were in on it?” You said as she nodded her head. 
“Hey, me too,” Kimmy chimed in. 
“You have no idea how many times I’ve read this story to make sure this was perfect,” Beth said as she relaxed back into her chair. “Thank God that’s done.”
You laughed along with her as you leaned into Shawn’s side. Your family continued talking around you, but you were speechless as you curled up with your fiancé. 
“This is perfect,” you whispered so just he could hear. 
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. 
“Anything for you, my love,” he said. You could hear the love in his voice. “The future Mrs. Mendes. Wow.”
“Damn, you’re going to be my husband,” you whispered, not being able to help the smile that spread across your face. “I’m going to be a wife.” You reached up and pressed one more kiss to his lips. 
Shawn raised his glass of wine as you did the same. 
“To the last Christmas of you being a [Y/L/N].”
taglist: @fallinallincurls​ @shawnblrficawards​ @sunrise-shawn​ @itrocksmysocks​ @mendesficsxbombay​ @particularnervous​ @greedydevil​ 
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oldsoldierr · 4 years
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The Carnation ~ Part 3
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summary: the media always told you that the famous art critic bucky barnes is an arrogant, rude playboy and you agree, but something still draws you to him. is there a deeper reason to why he acts the way he does or is he the class A jackass you first met?
art critic!bucky x artist!reader
word count: about 2.1k
series masterlist ~ part 1~ part 2 ~
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“Ms. y/l/n, this is NYU Langone Health, you need to come to the hospital as soon as possible. James Buchanan Barnes has been in an accident.”
You didn’t bother listening to the rest of the voicemail. You were exhausted but adrenaline shot through your veins. You jerked up standing wide awake. You ran out of your apartment with desperation. 
Your insults to him could not be the last words you told him, they just couldn’t. Cause though part of you hated him, part of you knew Bucky had become part of your life far more than he knew. 
You sprinted down the stairs back down, the way you had just a couple of minutes prior, but with new determination. You jumped over the last couple set steps with a boom you knew would echo through the halls and would leave a couple of complaints but you didn’t care. You didn’t even care to think about why the hospital had called you instead of a family member or even Steve. You threw yourself in your car and just started pulling out. Your car was already on the road when it occurred to you you didn’t know where the hospital was. 
“Shit.” You didn’t have your phone with you cause you forgot it on your couch in your haste. Your brain really wasn’t helping you out today. 
The rest of the drive was a blur as you got lost in your thoughts. Everything was cloudy in your head. Somehow, muscle memory must’ve kicked in cause you made it to the hospital. You didn’t have time to be confused though, as you run in, the doors slamming open. 
You quickly scanned the room looking for the front desk. You must’ve looked like a lunatic. You were breathing hard and your hair was a complete mess from running. 
You still managed to reach the front desk asking, “I want to see James Barnes, he--” You gasped for breath. “--he was just in an accident, came in a couple minutes ago.”
The receptionist looked at you with a concerned look on her face but just clicked her keys on the keyboard. 
“Miss, could you tell me the patient’s name?”
“James Barnes,” you told her. She typed some more.
“Are you a relative?” she asked annoyingly calm for your stressful day.
“Uh, no, I’m a--” What were you? You tentatively continued, “a friend, I’m a friend.” She looked you over.
“And your name?”
“Y/n y/l/n.” More keyboard clicking.
“Ah, yes. You’re set as one of his emergency contacts.” 
What? You thought. The receptionist continued.
“James Barnes is in room 206, go right into that hallway, take two lefts.” You let out a sigh of relief. 
“Thank you,” you said breathy.
“Oh, and--” She stopped you before you started speed walking again. “You better make it quick, he’s going to have surgery in a couple of minutes.” You nodded in acknowledgment. 
You walked down the hall, two lefts counting the rooms.
“...194, 196, 198, 200, 202, 204, 206-- aha!” You were about to burst in when you realized it probably wasn’t the brightest idea, so you settled for a gentle knock. The reply came immediately.
“Who is it?” It was the same voice you had fought with on the phone a mere hour earlier, but it sounded much more gravely and in pain. You cleared your throat.
“It’s um-- it’s y/n.” The pause between his answer felt like hours even though it couldn’t have been more than a minute. You bit your lip anxiously. You heard him shift in his bed before saying, “Come in,” as if he was too weak to retort with a nasty reply.
You warily pushed the door open. There he was, looking as good as ever, on an off white hospital bed. The only change you noticed in his appearance was windblown hair, and more importantly, some blue, shockingly large shards of glass inserted in his left shoulder, bandaged with some white newly scarlet dyed medical tape. You subconsciously moved closer to him.
“...what happened to you?” you uttered under your breath without meaning to. Your arm reached out to skim his wound. He winced, his face contorting in pain. Realizing what you did you stepped back. 
“Oh-- sorry, um--” You didn’t know what to say. Bucky hissed from the pain.
“It’s alright, I can handle it.” his response wasn’t full of venom, just strained. It reminded you of his voice after you had yelled at him in the car and all the guilt from before flooded back into you. You looked down at your feet.
“Hey, uh, I’m really sorry about earlier. I,” You took a shaky breath, “I didn’t mean any of it. I was just riled up. I-I understand if you if can’t forgive me, but I just needed you to know, you’re not any of those things I said.” You don’t know what you were expecting when you said that but you weren’t expecting Bucky to chuckle sadly.
“No, no, you were right. I’m arrogant and selfish. I’ve known for a while but you’re just the one who said it out loud to me first. Guess I just didn’t want to confront the truth.” He tilted his head toward you with a smirk before avoiding eye contact again. “I’m really sorry for being such a jackass to you.”
Did--did he just apologize to me?
“It’s okay,” you replied sheepishly. You gave him a smile. 
“To be honest, you aren’t that bad anyway.” He made a faux shocked look.
“Did you just give me a compliment? I am truly baffled,” he teased. You almost slapped him but realized it would probably actually hurt due to his injury.
“Damn it, he’s back,” you said cheekily. Your face faltered a bit though when you looked back at his arm.
“What happened?” you wondered out loud. Bucky twiddled his thumbs nervously at the question.
“It was nothing,” he brushed off.
“A vase on a shelf just fell off onto me. A freak accident.” 
“Oh,” you replied, but you were dubious of his answer.
“Where’d it happen?” You pried more. You swear for a moment his eyes widened nervously. He scratched his face.
“It was just in my office,” he skipped over. You sensed an awkward silence coming. Luckily the nurses ushered you out before that happened for Bucky’s surgery. You briefly mumbled good luck and walked back past the waiting room, out the exit, and into the parking lot. You knew it was going to be a long night of waiting and worrying. Despite that, you still couldn’t get a question out of your mind. 
Why did Bucky lie about how he got his injury? You pondered as you walked. You shook your head to clear your mind because it wasn’t any of your business...right? You clicked your car keys and unlocked the door. 
You switched on the light and felt around your car for a minute. You found what you were looking for with an “Aha!”. It was the drawing of the carnation. 
You found some more art supplies and closed the door. You swiftly walked back to the waiting room, scanned the room for a chair with no one near it, and sat yourself down. 
The one thing that had always gotten you through your hard times was art, and it was going to get you through this one. 
For 8 painful hours, you waited. Your brain drifted to the thought of Bucky dying many times, but every time it did, you just forced yourself to work on the drawing. Even when the piece looked done, you just kept adding. It was the only way you were keeping sane. Multiple times you had almost fallen asleep before jolting awake. It was hell. 
But finally, when you felt like you were about to pass out, you felt something tap your shoulder. That surprised you so much you jumped in your seat. It was a doctor.
“Miss-” she looked down at her clipboard. “y/n, I’m Doctor Reed. I have an update on James.” That got your attention. You nodded for her to continue. She cleared her throat.
“I have some good news and some bad news. Do you have a preference on which you’d like to hear first?” You shook your head, your anxiety was growing and you really just wanted to get this over with. 
“James is okay. The surgery went very well and he should be free to leave in around two to three weeks, though we’ll keep you posted.” She took a deep breath before resuming. “The unfortunate part is that...we’ve...we’ve had to amputate his arm.”
Your hands moved to cover your mouth as water flooded your eyes.
“We did everything that we could, but his cuts were infected before he arrived. If we chose to keep his arm, best-case scenario, he would’ve had a dead limb.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.
“...And worst-case scenario?” you asked knowing you’d regret it. Dr. Reed hesitated.
“He could have died.” She kept talking but you couldn’t listen. It was all a blur.
 He’s alive, he’s alive, you reminded yourself. You took an uneven breath.
“Can I see him?” The doctor nodded. 
“You can, he may still be a bit woozy from the pain killers.” You muttered a thank you and collected your things, and allowed the doctor to escort you to his room. Your felt half dead but you kept walking.  Remembering the path from earlier you found room 206 easily. 
Without bothering to knock you pushed the door halfway open. His eyes were glassy and drooped. At the sight of you, he tried to scramble up to a sitting position but failed. He helplessly fell back onto his bed. 
That’s when you opened the door completely to see a cavity where his left arm was supposed to be. You held in a gasp. You dropped your art things in a chair and rushed to his side.
“Are you alright?” you asked.
“Mmmm, were you worried?” His voice sounded sloppy and uncontrolled. Like he’d just woken from a year’s nap.
“Yeah, a little,” you replied with endearment, the ends of your mouth twitching upwards. Bucky proceeded to GIGGLE. To say that was amusing would’ve been an understatement. That was until he grabbed you by your shirt and pulled you closer to him.
He whispered loudly, “Can I tell you a secret?” You smiled and answered expecting a stupid, drugged joke.
“Sure Buck.” He somehow pulled you even closer. You could feel his breath. His lips parted.
“It wasn’t a freak accident.” You pulled back, alarmed.
“What?” He shushed you.
“My marketing agent and I have been arguing for a while. Tonight he got super mad at mee,” he said with childlike movements, elongating each syllable. You were frozen in place as you listened.
“Cause the tabloids heard me talking to youuu. They think you’re my girlfriend, but that would ruin my brand as a playboy. Or that’s what he says,” he continued.
“My agent found out and we started to argue. When I wasn’t looking he,” He looked around jerkily. 
“You promise not to tell?” He questioned. At this point, you were very freaked out.
“Uh, yeah, of course. What-what’d he do?” He looked at you, obviously not understanding the weight of what he was saying. He opened his mouth to speak.
“My marketing agent broke the vase on me.” 
Oh shit.
You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.
“Shouldn’t you tell the police? Like right now?” you said, starting to panic.
“He’ll be long gone by now anyway.” He began to drift off. 
“No, wait--” It was no use. He nuzzled into his shoulder and proceeded to fall unconscious again. You were hyperventilating.
What were you supposed to do now?
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sorry this chapter took so long! my internet went down for a couple days :( anyways, feedback is always welcome! thanks for reading!
series masterlist ~ part 1~ part 2 ~
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jcmorrigan · 4 years
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A while ago, I promised a Tales of Berseria headcanon dump, and this is all incredibly specific and based on my own reading, and I know no one else is going to agree with these exact interps or even the ships that built their foundation, but hey, here I go anyway
SEXUALITY/ROMANTIC ORIENTATION
Velvet Crowe: Lesbian. I first got an inkling she liked women in the prologue, when she was teasing around with Niko about “If you were a boy, I’d be in love.” True, she said it was a good thing neither was a boy at the time, but given how much the citizens of Aball drill ideas about marriage into Velvet’s head, it seems like a very heteronormative society and not that progressive. It’s a rural village in the middle of nowhere; what do you expect? Later on, Velvet would grieve heavily for Niko, in a way that I feel is reminiscent of a lover, and when it comes to Eleanor, she participates in “Women are mysterious creatures” rhetoric about her - the kind men usually say about women. Also has a fair share of soul-bonding moments with Magilou. I personally find more ship chemistry for her with any number of the women in ToB than any of the men.
Magilou: Bisexual. Seems to have an interest in Velvet. One particular victory screen has her joking with Phi about how if you can’t touch Velvet’s sword, everything else on her is fair game to touch. That’s wlw at least. However, her relationship with Bienfu of all things is where I get the impression she’s attracted to men - her talk of “punishing” him physically during nights at the inn read a little like innuendo to me. (Yeah, I just implied she has a sexual past with the Normin.) She also welcomes attention from all genders in general as to how amazing she is.
Eleanor Hume: WLW asexual. I don’t really have definitive subtext to point me toward ace, but I recall my own experience thinking I was morally upstanding because I wasn’t sexually active when my teenage peers were, and Eleanor, given her devotion to the Abbey and her pride in meeting its standards, just seems like she could have the same story: thinking she’s morally upstanding because she doesn’t act on any sexual urges, only to realize that’s because she doesn’t have them the way her teammates do. I already mentioned the subtext tension between Eleanor and Velvet - Velvet is the only person I can really pick out potential romantic chemistry for Eleanor with. Because of that, I’m not certain if she could also be attracted to men or not, as I don’t have any good samples.
Rokurou Rangetsu: MLM. I went back and forth between gay and bisexual for a while. For one, Rokurou has that scene when he talks about how women can break your heart worse than any danger in the field (and Eizen agrees), implying he’s had a past dating women. He also at least feigns interest in knowing about Velvet in the hot-spring bath. But this is underscored by a punchline of just wanting to make Phi sweat. Rokurou’s archetype of the heavy-drinking, optimistic idiot often comes paired with “womanizer,” but that wasn’t present here. And there was also the scene where he commented on how Velvet’s ragged outfit must be cold in Figahl only for her to scold him on ogling her - which I suppose can be read as him discreetly ogling her, but I see it more as him looking at Velvet in skimpy clothing and having the go-to reaction of how practical it must be in the weather. His chemistry with Eizen drips romantic to me, given how they share drinks and argue for fun.
Eizen: MLM. Same case as Rokurou - mentioned having his heart broken by women, and joined in on the Velvet-in-the-hot-spring discussion, but also expresses lots of affection toward Rokurou that was likely written to be platonic but comes across as very close. I’ve also seen the popularity of the Eizen/Zaveid ship, and given that Eizen told Zaveid his true name, which “can be seen as a confession of love,” there’s definitely subtext for that as well. So, again, whether gay or bi (or pan), I am not certain yet.
Laphicet: Bisexual. Obviously is attracted to the illusion of Edna and, to an extent, Velvet in the inn scene in Meirchio, but bonds with Videl intensely and devotes a major part of his life to making Videl’s dreams come true.
GENDER IDENTITY
Magilou: Transgender, identifies as very female. This was actually something I got an inkling on very early when some of her victory screens had her making jokes about her weapon in the way that some might view as phallic (I’m thinking especially of the one where Eleanor and Rokurou are talking about the benefits of short weapons, and Magilou says “Mine can be as long as I want!”). So I was of the mind that Magilou perhaps did possess a dick, and that actually got weirdly reinforced when she lifted her book-skirt to fluster Phi and he said “I wasn’t expecting that” - the joke is he was more interested in the books, but in the subtext, I’m reading that despite him definitely knowing what a cis woman’s nether regions would look like (Eleanor is his vessel), he didn’t expect something about Magilou’s lower half. So I was thinking either pre-op transgender or intersex (I’m not certain what types of gender reassignment surgery or artes would be available in Desolation). When all of a sudden, her backstory was revealed that as Legate Magillanica, she had a whole identity and a name that she erased (going so far as to say “Magillanica” is dead), as well as a background growing up in a conservative/religious household with Melchior, and, before that, being passed around to guardians who didn’t love her, leading to her feeling emotionally repressed. And all of a sudden it all fell into place: her story really parallels transitioning. So now I love to just complete the analogy. We know she was going by she/her pronouns at a young age in her traveling show, but we also know that she was exhibited at a “freak show” due to her high resonance. It’s possible she was also advertised as (insert a horrible slur about androgyny here). If she was already well-known going by she/her, Melchior would probably have wanted to keep that intact so as not to cause a stink in the Abbey. But, Melchior being the horrible person he is, he probably also thought Magilou was fit to stand as a legate where no other woman was because she was “male” to him. Anyway, by now, at least the other women on her team have seen her naked and have nothing negative to say on the subject - the party knows and they love her.
Laphicet: I actually see him as a little genderfluid based on a couple of throwaway things. For one, when the party discovers the “unicorn horn” (narwhal tusk), there’s a big discussion about how only a “maiden” pure of heart should be able to pick it up. Velvet offhandedly says Phi should pick it up anyway because it’s his quest. In the end, the myth was dismissed, but I rather like the thought that Phi sometimes identifies more female and therefore could fill the bill of being a maiden pure of heart. His/her personality also influences Innominat, whose outfit of choice is androgynous as far as gender-specific fashion conventions go (and also really spiffy). Most days, Phi is male, but some days, not as much. With his status at game’s end, it also feels a little more fitting to say that such a guardian of the world should be less adhered to one side of the binary.
NEURODIVERGENCE
Eleanor Hume: OCD and anxiety. It’s outright mentioned how she takes responsibility and guilt for everything, even things that have nothing to do with her and aren’t her fault - a telltale marker of OCD. She’s also introduced as being emotional and teased for being a “crybaby,” showing that ordinary situations can easily push her over the edge. I’m only talking main party, else Kamoana would be her own entry, but Kamoana canonically has panic attacks that manifest as fevers according to Mahina’s note, and can be “cured” with placebos. Eleanor’s arc is linked to Kamoana throughout, and the moment where this is revealed is one in which Eleanor is outlining her similarities to Kamoana and how that should mean Kamoana would resent her. I feel like this draws a pretty blatant parallel between Kamoana’s rampant anxiety and Eleanor’s, and how Eleanor jumped to the worst-case scenario only to be shown that the child she worries about has something very big in common with her that might actually be a bridge between them rather than a wall.
Eizen: Autistic. Infodumping is a major character trait of his, and there’s an entire skit dedicated to talking about how “picky” he is about his routine, needing to wear his clothing in specific ways and dock at the same place every time in Port Zekson.
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whelvenwings · 4 years
Text
Fallout
4.4k, destiel, AU: no supernatural, skydiving, mutual pining
Dean might have slightly underplayed how much he hates planes, and that might just have come back to bite him in the ass. He's just been asked to fly up to a height of thousands of feet, for moral support in the plane before Castiel does a skydive for charity. It's the nightmare scenario - but it might just give Dean the push he needs to finally tell his friend Castiel something he's been meaning to tell him for a very, very long time.
read it here on AO3 if you prefer!
————————————————–
This was actually happening.
Dean was really, truly, and in actual fact inside a plane. A plane that was not on the ground. A plane that was very much in the air. Engine roaring. Pilot in control. Clouds moving serenely past the window.
He couldn’t breathe, obviously. But he was doing his best to keep that to himself. He was here for a reason, a specific and good reason - obviously. Nothing less that the best and most specific of reasons could have got him on board. He had to focus on that reason. 
On that person, actually. Who was sitting opposite him.
Castiel looked nervous. In all their four years of friendship, Dean had never seen his jaw clenched so tight. Even still, the giveaway was a small one, and Dean thought that to anyone who’d never met him, Castiel would probably have looked entirely cool with the fact that in less than a minute, he was going to be jumping out of this plane.
Dean was not remotely cool. Dean had gone through the five stages of grief on the ascent, and was now hovering somewhere in the zone of numb acceptance. He leaned forwards, towards Castiel.
“Remind me why you’re doing this again,” Dean said to him, speaking loudly so that he could be heard over the sound of the plane’s engines. Castiel smiled.
“To raise a lot of money for a good cause,” he said.
“And remind me why I’m here?”
“You said if I was going to throw away my life on something this stupid, you were at least going to wave me goodbye before I did it,” Castiel said.
That was right. Dean clearly remembered thinking that if he was going to lose Castiel to a parachuting accident, Dean was going to be with him until the last possible moment. And maybe, at that last possible moment, he’d have the guts to say to Castiel… well. To say goodbye to him, anyway.
“Also,” Castiel said, “I asked if you’d come.”
And there it was. Dean could’ve let go of the other stuff - maybe - but Castiel had asked him. The thing was, Dean might have decided to undersell how much he hated planes, over the course of the time they’d known each other - there was no need to make Cas think he was a baby - but it had really come back to bite him in the ass. Castiel would never have asked if he’d known that for Dean, being on a plane was like swallowing a pill labelled panic and feel like you’re dying. But Castiel hadn’t known, and he had asked. And now here Dean was.
On a goddamn plane.
“You’re fine,” Castiel said, apparently catching the expression on Dean’s face. “You’re wearing a parachute. Nothing’s going to go wrong.”
“I’m not jumping,” Dean said hastily. The part of him that wasn’t freaking out rolled its eyes. Obviously he wasn’t jumping, and Castiel knew that - but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Some primal part of him apparently needed it to be entirely clear that he was absolutely not going to be dropping out of this plane.
“I know. It just makes me feel better than you’re wearing one, just in case,” Castiel said. “And you know how to use it, right? Because I can show you again…”
“You showed me three times already. Worry about yourself,” Dean grunted. Normally, he’d have teased Castiel about fussing over him, but worry was shaving away his sense of humour.
“I’ve done this lots of times,” Castiel said. “Before we met, I used to do it monthly. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m just worried about making rent if you, you know, go splat,” Dean said. “You don’t have life insurance and a will made out to me, do you?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Any rich family members I could sponge off?”
“Lots. But you never liked my aunts and uncles.”
“Some of them are okay,” Dean said. “Naomi creeps me out.”
“She’s fine,” Castiel said.
“She’s dead behind the eyes,” Dean said. It was helping to talk. Things felt normal when they talked. He could forget where he was, and what was about to happen.
“Concussed, at most,” Castiel said, his mouth twitching.
At the front of the plane, the pilot turned around. He called something that Dean couldn’t hear, but apparently made sense to Castiel, who began to pull on straps and tug at his jumpsuit and tap on the pair of goggles on the top of his head to make sure they were still there.
Dean was struck by a sudden sense of urgency.
“Cas?” he said. 
Castiel didn’t hear him.
“Cas?”
This time, Castiel turned to look, eyes expectant.
“You know how we’ve been friends for, you know, four years now…”
“I’m going to be fine, Dean.”
“I know, I know.” Dean chewed his lip as Castiel went back to his straps. “Just… don’t… I mean, we’ve really…”
He stumbled to a stop.
Castiel watched him, still adjusting one of the straps on his jumpsuit. The expression on his face was slightly impatient.
Dean’s mouth tried to form words, and failed. He couldn’t say it. Couldn’t say any of it. 
Couldn’t say what it had meant to him to meet Castiel during the worst year of his life, when he’d just lost both his parents. 
Couldn’t say how much their friendship had kept him going, through the worst of times. 
Couldn’t say how much he looked forward to their quiet movie nights. Their weird, intense, deep discussions. Castiel was the first person Dean had met in adulthood who actually thought a dumbass mechanic might have something interesting to say, and talked to him about real shit, important shit. And then there were the times they both lost it completely over something only they would find funny, Dean laughing out loud and Castiel’s shoulders shaking as he covered his eyes with his hand. 
Dean couldn’t say how much he thought about Castiel, how often he noticed things, how much he felt. It was so much. It was so goddamn much, and he’d never breathed a word. Obviously. Never told a single soul. He wouldn’t know how to begin to twist even a single sentence together.
He still couldn’t. Even now, when he could be about to lose Castiel forever - yeah, sure, Castiel would roll his eyes at that, but the fact remained that Castiel was about to jump out of a very high plane and head downward at high speed towards some very hard ground - even now, he couldn’t force the words out. What if Castiel didn’t want to hear them? What if he was horrified? What if the last memory Dean had of Castiel was of being rejected, with Castiel hating him for keeping his feelings a secret for so long, their trust broken?
And even if that wasn’t his last memory - what if Castiel landed completely okay, and then Dean had to explain? 
Either way, he was going to be dealing with some fallout.
Dean couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. 
He was going to sit quietly and support his friend on his stupid ridiculous charity jump, and then he was going to go home with Castiel afterwards and things were going to go back to how they’d been for years, now. Just the normal things: cooking together, watching TV together, hiding his smile when he watched Castiel concentrating or talking about something he was passionate about, trying not to ever look too long or feel too much and failing, doing laundry together, taking out the trash. Just the usual.
One day, Castiel was going to meet someone he actually liked, and he was going to tell that person that he liked them, and they were obviously going to like him back because who wouldn’t, and when he heard about it for the first time Dean was going to have to politely excuse himself so that he could go into the woods somewhere and yell and yell and maybe never come back. Maybe just become that guy who lives in the woods and yells a lot. It was going to hurt like - like nothing Dean had ever felt before. He knew it in the same way he knew, by looking at a knife, that the pointy end shouldn’t go in him. The fun part was, he wasn’t the one holding the knife. That was Castiel.
And Castiel would find someone. Dean knew that Castiel hoped he’d be in a relationship with someone he loved one day. They’d talked about it. And when Castiel found what he wanted, he wouldn’t be too afraid to take it, and hold it, when he’d found it. Because Castiel wasn’t afraid, not like Dean. Castiel jumped out of planes.
“Stop,” Castiel said, jerking Dean back to the present. “I can tell you’re thinking about how I’m about to - how did you so colourfully put it? ‘Go splat’?”
Dean had been more focused on the way he himself was going to go splat, emotionally speaking, one day. But he held up his hands and said,
“Guilty as charged. Like I said. I just don’t want to lose your half of the rent money, dude.”
“I’m sure you’d find another roommate.”
There was something in the way Castiel said it that made Dean frown.
“Nah,” he said.
Castiel looked up at him.
“What?” he asked.
“If you - you know - I wouldn’t find a new roommate. I’d move out.”
“Leave our place?” Castiel looked taken aback. “But… you spent so long decorating it. You’d lose your accent walls. And your faucets. You love your faucets.”
Dean took a moment to curse the fact that Castiel knew how much he cared about the taps in his home, but not the person he shared it with. How had this happened. Who was he.
“I’d sell it,” Dean said solidly.
“It’s so perfectly placed for your work…”
“I’d sell it, Cas! It doesn’t even matter, anyway. Nothing bad is gonna happen.”
Castiel heard the note of finality in Dean’s tone and let it go. Even still, Dean could see thoughts whirring in Castiel’s mind, in just the way Dean usually tried to prevent. If Castiel was going to find out that Dean had feelings for him, Dean wanted it to be on purpose, not by accident: not because Dean said slightly too much and Castiel figured it out, but because Dean finally had the guts to say something. Anything else felt like a cop-out.
The plane was starting to rattle and jerk a little. Dean closed his eyes, whole body tensing up. The cabin was a sparse one, with this plane being used mostly just to ferry people up a few thousand feet so that they could throw themselves out of it, so far as Dean knew. Room to stand up and walk a little way, seats along the sides, handles on the ceiling to grip onto. There were no in-flight snacks or home comforts to make up for the fact that he was trapped in a prison at lethal altitude.
When he opened his eyes again, Castiel was standing up and talking to the pilot. Dean saw him nod, and then he went over to the door, which was on one side of the cabin, the side opposite where Dean was sitting. Dean swallowed hard. If he was going to do it, it had to be now.
He opened his mouth, and then closed it.
Castiel had his hand on the door.
Dean opened his mouth again, and said,
“Cas -”
He said it just as Castiel opened the door, and the sudden rush of air stole the sound. Castiel didn’t turn around. Dean watched him framed there in the doorway of the plane, hair buffeted by the wind.
Fuck.
Castiel looked ready to jump. He was bracing his hands on either side of the door. He had his goggles pulled down. It seemed like he was about to go. Was he even going to look back at Dean? With the clumsiness of panic, Dean fumbled with the straps that held him in his seat. He had to get over to Castiel, had to tell him - something, at least. Just something. He unclipped himself.
Dean stood up. He felt more steady on his feet than he’d expected. He just had to focus on Castiel, and not think about the door of the plane being wide open, or the fact that he was thousands of feet above the ground, or how easily he could just slip and fall out -
Dean saw Castiel shift, turning his head to look back over his shoulder towards Dean - and then Castiel saw Dean standing up, and his expression melted into concern faster than Dean had ever seen.
“What are you doing?” he called, over the roar of the plane.
“I’m coming to - to say -”
“Sit down! It’s not safe!”
“Cas, I’ve gotta tell you -”
“Sit down!”
From up front, Dean thought he could hear the pilot yelling something. Dean gritted his teeth.
“Cas,” he said, and Castiel turned away from the door. He grabbed onto one of the handles hanging from the plane cabin’s ceiling, and looked at Dean. Sharply, he pulled up his goggles, so they rested on top of his head again.
“What?” he demanded. 
Dean reached for words that weren’t there. 
Castiel reached for Dean’s hand, and Dean’s heart leapt for a second - but then Castiel just grabbed him by the wrist and lifted his hand to hook into another one of the ceiling handles. Dean hung onto it.
And Castiel looked at Dean, eyes searching his face, trying to understand. At first, he looked as though a part of him was finding this slightly funny, even though his worry - but then he seemed to pick up on Dean’s indecision, his urgency, and the little smile around his eyes faded.
It was time to say something. Now was the moment. There had been at least three now was the moment moments, and he’d missed all of them so far, so this really had to be the moment. But Dean didn’t know what to do, what to say. He could only look at Castiel, and look at him, and look at him.
He saw Castiel. His friend. His closest friend. His closest, bravest, most stubborn asshole friend. About to make a jump. He saw him, and he didn’t know what to say to him.
Dean’s gaze traced over Castiel’s face.
The plane shuddered, and Dean felt a wave of panic flood him. With his free hand, he grabbed onto Castiel’s shoulder to steady himself. The two of them swayed closer together.
Dean breathed in sharply. 
He couldn’t stop looking into Castiel’s eyes. Couldn’t figure out what to say. They were closer than they’d ever been, closer than Dean ever let them be around their home. He always kept such careful distances and saved touch for his imagination. But now here they were, Dean’s hand already on Castiel’s shoulder, in each other’s space.
Just where Dean wanted to be. And couldn’t be. He couldn’t be here, couldn’t do this. He was going to lose Castiel. He was going to lose him, actually lose him, like this. It wasn’t a game, it wasn’t fake or pretend - it was real life, and in real life, you lost people unless you did everything right. The right thing to do was to move his hand and go back and sit down. He should move his hand. 
He should move his hand.
He should move his hand.
He wasn’t moving his hand.
Castiel’s expression was changing, his eyes on Dean’s more intense. There was a question there, an understanding that something was happening and a tilt to his head that asked what Dean was going to do about it, what he wanted. Dean didn’t know how to answer. Didn’t know how to move, even. He was locked in place - one hand on Castiel’s shoulder, not taking it away, not giving anything more. Just enough to be close but not as close as he wanted, needed.
The moment see-sawed. Dean knew he could pull back, let go, step away, go sit down. 
Or, Dean knew, he could lean forward. Not quickly, but enough - enough that Castiel would know what Dean wanted, and then he could choose whether to give it or not. And obviously he would choose not to. Because if someone as brave as Castiel had wanted to be with Dean, Dean would already know about it. So doing that would be ridiculous, stupid, stupid, as stupid as jumping out of a plane.
Dean didn’t make jumps. He didn’t do heights. He didn’t do danger. He did the right thing, the silent thing, the not-really-doing-or-saying-anything thing. And he was careful, he was careful, he was always so careful never to show any of it, not a word of it, not a whisper, not a glance.
Even still, though, their plane was up high. The air currents swirled. The pilot was yelling something again, not paying enough attention to the plane itself. Castiel, with his own mind and choices and story, was opposite him. Dean could do everything completely perfectly, be completely silent and do nothing to give Castiel a reason to leave - and even still, there were a hundred ways, a thousand ways that he could lose Castiel just in this exact moment.
Maybe that was scary. Maybe that was terrible. But there was no way off the plane, they were here. This was it. This was what they had. 
Dean wanted to hide. He wanted go on with it as he had been. He could go on and on being tired, and tired, and right, and silent.
But somewhere deeper inside him, there was a pull. More than a want, a need. A need to let go. Let go of right. Try something else. Try being something else. Honest? Open? 
Real?
Real - real would be wrong sometimes. Stupid. Urgent. Honest. Real would be letting himself want something, letting himself… show that he wanted it.
He wanted Castiel to know. In his bones, he felt it. Hot and electric, the push, the need. Dean wanted Castiel to know.
In the cabin of the plane, high above the ground, mind freefalling and breath lost, Dean made his jump.
 Deliberately, he lifted his chin a little, and leaned in towards Castiel, and glanced down at his lips and then back up to his eyes.
Castiel’s eyes widened.
“Dean…” he said.
Dean swallowed.
He tightened his grip on Castiel’s shoulder. All he could see as the plane moved under him was Castiel’s face, the steadiness of his eyes. And then, he felt the lightest of touches on his cheek. 
Castiel’s hand, the backs of his fingers, brushed Dean’s skin. It was so fragile, so tentative. Dean closed his eyes into it, just for a half-second, before he could stop himself. When he looked back to Castiel, he saw a question in his expression. More than that. He saw a hope.
“There was something I wanted to tell you,” Castiel called to him. The wind through the plane’s cabin was so loud that he had to raise his voice even though they were so close. “Before I jumped.”
“There was?”
“Dean, I…”
They stared at each other. Just looked, and looked. Dean saw Castiel’s mouth struggling for words, half-shaping things and then abandoning them.
“Cas?” he said.
“Dean… I wanted to tell you…”
Dean raised his chin just a fraction higher.
Castiel stopped reaching for words. His eyes dropped to Dean’s lips.
“This,” he said, and then he leaned forwards, and kissed Dean.
If he’d meant the kiss to be gentle, he hadn’t reckoned on Dean meeting him in the middle, surging forwards to catch his lips. They kissed hard, not breathing and not moving and not caring, just doing this - finally, finally doing this, after so long around each other not knowing if they should or if they could. The wind raced around the cabin, tugging at them, but they paid it no attention. It was Dean, and it was Castiel, at a height of thousands of feet, wrapped into each other.
Castiel pulled back.
“That,” he said.
And then he turned, pulled down his goggles - he took a few quick steps, and he jumped.
Dean stood utterly still. Wind-ruffled, kiss-shaken, mouth ever so slightly open, dazed.
“Uh-huh,” he said, to no one. “Right.”
---
Dean marched across the field at a pace that was militaristic. The long grass where Castiel had landed reached up to Dean’s hips, but he wasn’t waiting for Castiel to make his own way out of it; he was coming to meet him. Somewhere behind him, he knew there were people following, ready to help with the parachute. Dean paid them no attention.
He could still feel the kiss burning on his lips.
Last-minute rush of adrenaline? A pity-kiss, because he’d known what Dean had wanted, and had decided to give it to him?
Or… something real?
Dean couldn’t even think it. All he could do was walk. He could stride across this field with its swaying tall green grass, single-minded. In the distance, he could see a figure walking towards him out of the sun. The shape of a person he knew. Dean headed towards him, squinting against the light.
The trees at the edge of the field rustled. Somewhere in the grass, there was the chirping of crickets. Dean breathed. The air was warm and smelled fresh - a little sharp with sap, a little sweet with the yellow ripening of a few stray ears of crop.
Dean walked. The figure ahead of him drew nearer. Not a silhouette, now, not a vague shadow. A person, a face. Blue eyes. Solemn expression.
Castiel.
They kept going until they were close to each other. It was Castiel who came to a halt first, with a few feet between them.
Dean would have been happy to walk into another kiss, another touch, but he stopped. Let Castiel take the lead. It might not have been real, he reminded himself. It might not have been real.
They stood quietly for a few seconds. Dean took a breath and let it go. Castiel wasn’t looking at him. He was twisting a piece of grass around his finger.
“Cas -”
“I’m sorry,” Castiel said.
Dean paused.
“Huh?”
“I’m sorry. I - I wanted to tell you - before I jumped - but I didn’t know how, and then…” Castiel swallowed visibly. “We can act as though it never happened. But I understand, if you don’t want to be around me right now. I can go.”
“What?”
Castiel kept twisting and twisting that grass.
“I can go,” he said.
“You want to?”
Now, Castiel looked at him.
“Don’t you want me to?”
“I… I want…”
Dean felt his shoulders tensing. He wanted to be back in the goddamn plane, turbulence pushing them close, wind too loud to really talk. Down here, in the quiet, there was nothing to make them closer than they showed they wanted to be.
The grass wavered and moved around them.
Dean closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was the one to look down, at the swaying fronds.
“I want you to be here,” he said. Low, deep. Rough. Trying, as always, to hide how careful it all felt inside, how delicate.
“Here… in this field?”
Dean wanted to just fall into the grass, face-first. Give up. But he gritted his teeth.
“Here, where… I… am,” he managed.
Castiel was quiet. Dean chanced a glance up at his face.
“You want to be…” Castiel began, and then broke off.
“Together,” Dean finished, his tone almost - almost - making it a question. But not quite. Because there was no question, not really. That was what he wanted. What he’d wanted for so, so long.
“Even though I…” Castiel gestured loosely upward, to the sky.
“It wasn’t - I didn’t - it was - fine,” Dean said.
Fine? Seriously? He was going to call the first kiss he’d ever shared with Castiel, fine? Something in him rebelled.
“No,” he said, “it was - it was - good. It was what I - god. It was what I wanted, Cas.”
When he looked at Castiel now, he couldn’t tell which was brighter. The look on Castiel’s face, or the sun behind him.
“You wanted…”
“Yeah. But you… you too?”
“Yes, Dean. Of course.” Castiel looked as though a touch of puzzlement was trying to show, but it was being utterly eclipsed by his happiness. “You didn’t know? I thought you’d known for years…”
“Wait. You’ve wanted this for years?” Dean said, and it came out a croak. “You too?”
“Dean,” Castiel said. “It’s always been you.”
Dean and Castiel stared at each other.
“We need to learn how to talk,” Dean said.
Castiel pressed his lips together, holding back laughter.
“Jesus. We really… jesus, Cas.”
Now, Castiel stepped closer to him. Now, they moved into each other’s space again, came closer. Dean had always imagined that if this ever happened - if he ever actually got the chance to step closer to Castiel, knowing that he wanted this, knowing they both wanted the same thing - he’d always imagined that he’d feel dizzy, heady, mind floating over his own body, disbelieving.
It wasn’t like that. As he moved, he felt it all. The grass against his fingertips, the way the breeze caught at his clothes. He felt clear-eyed, awake. He felt his breath in his lungs, his heartbeat - thudding hard, desperately hard, but steady.
And when Castiel touched the tips of his fingers to Dean’s cheek, he felt it shake him. Felt his legs want to go from under him. He was big and clumsy under the gentleness of the touch. But when he met Castiel’s eyes, he hoped Castiel saw in them what he felt inside: something delicate and intricate. Strong, but so carefully felt, over so many years.
Dean leaned forward, and pressed his forehead to Castiel’s. They moved slowly, now. They had time. There was no sound around them but the hushing grass. If the people who’d followed Dean for the parachute were nearby, they were leaving the pair of them well alone.
Achingly slowly, Dean moved. 
Eyes closed, going by feel, chasing the warmth of Castiel’s breath, Dean kissed him.
There was no thought. He was all feeling. He was the lips on Castiel’s lips, he was the hand on Castiel’s shoulder and the hand on his back, he was feet planted on the ground. He was hot under the sun’s light and under the care in Castiel’s touch. He was awake, he was real.
It was better than he could have possibly imagined.
146 notes · View notes
bittysvalentines · 4 years
Text
I Promise You, Everything Will Be Just Fine
From: @iboughtaplant
To: @sophiegaladheon Rating: It's rated G or T so nothing to worry about rating wise. 
I hope you enjoy this fic!! It was a lot of fun to write and a challenge for me to write something under 3k (and this fic is like 2999 words so I succeeded, but not by much, lol)!  
Kent arrived home after working at the rink. He had a smile on his face as he unlocked the door, excited to just sit and watch a movie with Eric. Their schedules hadn’t lined up the last few days and they kept only seeing each other as they got ready for bed. 
Today was also the first day in a long time that Kent’s knee wasn’t acting up. It hurt from time to time, sometimes more than others. Some private ice time when his knee was feeling good last week was fun, but in hindsight, he realized it probably wasn’t worth it if his knee gave out on him a few days later. 
For Kent, thinking about his knee and how he injured it was annoying at best and traumatic at worst. But it was also good in a twisted way. If he hadn't injured his knee, he wouldn’t be coaching. And he wouldn’t have met Eric.  
An injury at the end of his rookie year (at least he got a Cup out of his short-lived career, if he could call it that) took him out of the NHL for good. Retirement the way no one wanted to retire. He didn’t even reach his prime. From number one draft pick to the rookie who busted his knee so bad he couldn’t play in the big league anymore. 
Which was how Kent ended up in a different city assistant coaching a women’s hockey team. It was also how he met Eric. 
Eric was a men’s singles figure skater who trained at the same ice rink complex as the women’s hockey team. They met by pure chance almost colliding in the doorway of the men’s locker room one day when Kent was running early and Eric was running late, which somehow made their schedules overlap. 
It was by no means love at first sight, but there was some lust. Kent couldn’t help but stare at the attractive skater in his tight fitting workout gear, a slight flush already on his face from changing so quickly. 
“I’m sorry, hun. I wasn’t watchin’ where I was going. I’m just running late and Katya’s gonna kill me.” He patted Kent’s shoulder as he walked past. “Sorry again, I gotta get to practice.” He said as he turned to walk down the corridor, skate guards clomping on the floor as he went. 
Kent shook himself out of his silence, “It’s okay…” only to trail off since the guy was already halfway down the corridor. 
Kent would spend the rest of the day—and subsequent week—thinking about the blond figure skater with the sweet Southern accent. Until, as fate would have it, they ran into each other again. And this time neither of them were running late and there were no near collisions. And most importantly Kent now knew the blond skater’s name. Eric.  
-------------------
After running into each other the second time, it became a thing. Kent’s schedule hadn’t changed, so he figured maybe Eric’s had. This time they saw each other in the locker room when they were both heading out. Kent had just finished changing his clothes as Eric walked by, skate bag in hand. 
Before Kent realized he made a decision, he called out before Eric left the locker room. “Hey, Eric! Wait up?” 
Eric stopped in his tracks. He looked hesitant, but curious as he turned to face Kent. Kent who was shoving his feet into his shoes and nearly tripped over the bench as he made his way over to Eric, who was trying to stifle a laugh behind his hand. Kent didn’t remember being this clumsy, but at least someone found it amusing.
“Ha ha, laugh at the guy who almost brained himself on his locker.” 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bitty said with a giggle. 
Kent just scoffed before putting on his charming smile. “I guess I can put up with my newfound clumsiness if it means I get to see you laugh.” 
“Well, Mr. Parson, that was not smooth, but I appreciate the confidence.” 
“In that case, I’m going to confidently ask you to get coffee with me?” 
“Really?” 
“Yup. So what do you say? You, me, coffee? You can laugh at me if I walk into a door.” 
“Sounds like a plan.”
-------------------
Years of training away from home made Eric appreciate the people in his life, his found family. And while his parents supported him, they never fully understood him. Sure he and his mama were close as was possible with him training in a different state halfway across the country, but that didn’t mean his parents really knew about his life. They knew he was gay and still supported him and wanted him to succeed, but they didn’t understand why he couldn’t stay in Georgia to do it.
But moving away from Georgia to continue skating was one of the best things Eric did. He had his coach Katya, Larissa and the girls who Katya also coached, Ransom and Holster who lived nearby and befriended him when they all met while skating at a public rink, Jack and Tater who played NHL hockey, and Kent. He had Kent. 
Kent who Eric met two years ago at the rink. Kent who became Eric’s best friend—don’t let Larissa hear him say that—and then something more. 
------------------
Kent was having a good day. Practice was going great, the team really had a shot at winning their next game in a couple days, and he was having a great lunch with some of the women on the team he was friends with (he was technically one of their coaches, but he was also in the same age range as a majority of them). 
Which of course was when he felt his phone buzz with a text, followed by what seemed like a couple more. He smiled as he slipped his phone out of his pocket, figuring Eric was sneaking texts during practice. He was affectionately chirped to oblivion for the sappy smile on his face as he unlocked his phone.    
The laughing and chirping stopped on a dime as the smile fell off of his face, a furrowed brow and concerned frown taking its place. 
“Dude, what’s going on?” March asked.  
“Um, it’s Eric, I mean not actually him, Larissa sent me a text from his phone, and Katya texted me too. I have to go.” He stood up so quickly that his chair tipped over. 
“Kent, go, we’ve got it,” said Caitlin as she stood up to pick up Kent’s chair, “I hope Eric’s okay. Let us know what’s going on and give us an update when you can.” 
“Let us know if you need anything, okay?” 
“Yeah, thanks. I’m gonna…” he pointed to the door. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and grabbed his bag. 
He ordered a Lyft and leaned against the window of the cafe while he waited. It said it should be there in three minutes, but by the time it arrived it felt like it had been thirty. 
Once the car arrived he opened the door, maybe a little more aggressively than was necessary, “Sorry,” he apologized to the driver, “just in a bit of a hurry.” 
“No worries,” the driver assured him. 
“Thanks,” Kent replied slightly short of breath. Once they were on the road, Kent finally read through all the texts more carefully. Eric got injured in practice. It was serious enough to warrant a trip to the hospital. He hit his head on the ice when he fell on the landing of his triple loop. That’s what the text from Larissa said. She wasn’t sure what caused Eric to flub the jump. 
The text from Katya, who usually hated texting, was more informative. Apparently Eric’s ankle had been bothering him a bit, but it was just sore not sprained or anything. So he was only supposed to work on his jumps a few times so he could take it easy for the rest of the day. But he must have put too much strain on it. 
Kent could feel his breathing getting more and more labored. He was pretty sure he was on the verge of a panic attack. He didn’t get them often, and he was more used to being on the other side of them—when someone else was having one—but he could feel his mind spiraling a bit. 
He didn’t want Eric to go through what he did, to have a major injury that cut his career short. Rationally, Kent knew that Eric probably didn’t experience a career-ending injury, but his brain kept showing him worst case scenarios. 
Kent anxiously tapped his fingers on his knee as he tried to slow his breathing. He was mostly worried because Eric got hurt, but also freaking out because the situation kept making him cycle back to thinking about his own injury and how he didn’t get to live out his dream. He didn’t want that for Eric.
Kent pulled himself out of his anxiety spiral enough to fumble his phone in his hands and send a quick text to Jack. It was a moment where Kent was immensely grateful that he and Jack were friends despite a bit of a falling out after Jack’s overdose several years ago that meant being anything more than close friends again was out of the question. Kent was okay with that though, he and Jack worked much better as friends than boyfriends anyway. 
He expected a text back, but his phone rang only a few seconds later. He heard Jack’s voice coming through the phone. “Hey, Kenny. How are you doing?” 
“Uh, I’m okay,” he paused, “No, that’s a lie. I’m not, not okay. My figure skater boyfriend is in the hospital and I’m having a panic attack in the back of a Lyft,” He laughed, self-deprecatingly. 
“Take a deep breath, Kenny. You’re on the way to the hospital, you’ll see him soon. Just listen to my voice, I’ll stay on the phone until you get there.”
Kent tried to get his breathing under control as he listened to Jack’s soft voice. He sighed as his mind stopped racing and he was on the verge of breathing normally again.
“Thanks, Jack.” 
“Anytime, Kenny. I hope Eric feels better soon.” 
--------------
Eric couldn’t believe he fell, and on his triple loop. It should have been fine. His ankle had only been a little sore, the trainer at the rink said it would be fine for him to do a few practice runs of his jumps and take it easy. Katya agreed. Now he was sitting in a hospital bed with a fractured ankle and a pretty bad concussion. 
Katya went out into the hall to call Eric’s parents so they would know what was going on. Eric was glad he didn’t have to do that himself, but he would make sure to call his Mama later so she wouldn’t worry too much.  
Aside from that, all Eric could think was ‘Where’s Kent?’ He knew Katya and Larissa texted him, not that he was allowed to look at his phone anyway to know for sure. And even unsupervised he couldn’t check since his phone was currently in the pocket of Katya’s coat because she knew him too well. 
Just as Eric sagged back against the pillows, eyes closing as he sighed, the door was pushed open and Kent walked in. He looked a little frazzled and his hair was an absolute riot, but he smiled when Eric caught his eye. 
“Hey,” Kent said, voice rough, waving as he walked closer to Eric, throwing his bag vaguely in the direction of the chair near the bed. He stepped closer and grabbed Eric’s hand. 
“Hi, sweetheart, I was hoping someone called you.” 
“Of course they did. I’m here now. How are you? I mean I’m sure you’re feeling pretty shitty. But… you’re okay?” 
Eric managed to smile up at him even though his head was feeling a little fuzzy, “I’m okay, ‘specially now that you’re here.” 
Kent huffed out a half-laugh and then sat on the edge of Eric’s bed, putting an arm around his shoulders. Eric leaned into the embrace and instantly burst into tears. His emotions finally catching up to him now that he felt safe in Kent’s arms.  
He thought about how hard he had been training and how excited he was for this year’s short-program after tweaking it a bit, only to be disappointed he wouldn’t get to perform it in competition again. He had such a shot at placing at Nationals and then Worlds, and now thanks to one bad landing he was out. 
He was out for the year. His ankle wasn’t the worry, but the concussion was. There was no way he would be healed in time to skate at Nationals, dang head injury. And no Nationals meant no Worlds, he’d have to wait until next year. At least he would have another chance next year. It was a sobering thought, and while he wasn’t done being sad about the missed opportunity, he was lucky that he would get another shot. 
His full-fledged crying lasted a few minutes more until it devolved to sniffling into Kent’s neck and Eric was able to catch his breath. “I’m sorry for crying on you, honey.” 
“Hey, no, it’s okay. Cry as much as you need. I know how much it helps.” 
“Guess there’s always next year,” Eric responded with a half-smile, his eyes still watery as he gripped Kent tighter. Kent lightly kissed him on the forehead and hugged him back just as tightly. 
It wasn’t much, but it had Eric finally feeling a little better after his disaster of a day. 
--------------
When they got to their apartment, Kent opened the door so that he could help Eric inside since crutches weren’t the best idea while he also had a concussion throwing off his balance. 
Half of the hockey team (March, Caitlin, April and co.) stopped by in the following days. Most of them were friends, not only with Kent, but Eric too. 
It had been a week since Eric got injured, and Kent was taking care of him while he recovered. He made them dinner and even assisted Eric in the kitchen so he could make a pie. Kent tried to do all of the chores so he didn’t have to worry about Eric getting dizzy or needing to hobble around with his still healing ankle. But Eric insisted that he could still do things and he really didn’t want to sit on the couch 24/7 until he healed. 
Eric made sure to wrestle the laundry basket out of Kent’s arms so that he wouldn’t just start folding the clothes after he washed them. Their deal was one washes and the other folds. 
Eric also kept up with some yoga. “Honey, I still need to stay in shape. And yoga means I can do the poses that don’t involve putting weight on my left leg. Plus I’m already close to the ground, so quit worrying about me falling.”  
“Sorry, sorry. I should have known I was smothering you.” 
“Mothering maybe, but not smothering. I love how much you care ‘bout me.” 
“Yeah?” Kent asked with hope in his eyes. 
“Mmhmm, of course. Thank you for taking care of me. But shouldn’t you be at the rink? The team needs you. I know that they have a game coming up.” 
“I’m just an assistant coach, they can make do without me.” 
“Kent Parson, stop undervaluing yourself. You are an asset to that team, and we all know it.” 
Kent blushed in response to Eric’s forceful reassurance of his worth. 
“I guess. But yeah, I probably should be at the rink. I got enough angry texts that I’m choosing to ignore.” 
“Kenny, please go to the rink. We can make dinner and listen to some podcasts when you get back later.” 
“Well you didn’t suggest watching something, so at least you remember you’re still on limited screen time.” 
“As if you’d let me forget,” Eric grumbled, his arms crossed in front of his chest. 
-------------------
One Year Later 
As the music faded out, Eric glided across the ice towards the edge of the rink, stopping with a flourish before leaning his arms atop the boards. “How was that!?” He excitedly asked Kent who was standing on the other side.
“Amazing! You hardly wobbled on your quad and the landing on your triple axel was perfect.”  
“Thanks for staying late to watch me run through this, honey,” Eric said and leaned further over the boards to wrap his arms around Kent.  
Kent laughed, bracing himself as he wrapped his arms around Eric as well. “Of course, I love watching you skate. And with just the two of us here, it feels like you’re skating just for me,” Kent said, his breath tickling Eric’s ear. 
“Mr. Parson, you really know how to charm a boy.” 
“It’s a gift,” Kent smirked. 
“Sure,” Eric said with a smirk of his own. “I’m just so excited for Nationals next week. I can’t wait to skate this routine.” 
“You’re gonna be great, babe.” 
“Thanks, honey. Now what do you say we stop and pick up take-out on our way home?” 
“I think it’s the least you can do since you kept us at the rink for hours,” Kent replied jokingly, shaking Eric who was still in his arms, despite the awkwardness of the boards between them. 
“Ha ha,” Eric said deadpan. 
“Whatever, I’ll grab our stuff, you change out of your skates,” Kent said as he let go of Eric and they met at the rink door.  
“Meet at the door near the side parking lot?” Eric questioned. 
“Yup, five minutes.” 
“I bet I’ll beat you there.” 
“Oh, it’s a race now?” Kent asked, eyebrows raised. 
“When isn’t it a race?” Eric asked, smile on his face, a hand on his cocked hip.   
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rogue-barnes-16 · 4 years
Text
THE MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF NATASHA ROMANOFF (part III/?)
Summary: after the too convenient disappearance of Natasha Romanoff, the Avengers —a local biker gang— search for help in the most unexpected place in order to get their friend back. Will it help, or will the situation just get more twisted and dangerous?
Pairing: biker!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Genre: angst-ish (biker gang au)
Tags:
The mysterious disappearance of Natasha Romanoff:
@shirukitsune @retrxbarnes
Permanent taglist:
@notexactlythatgirl @thisismysecrethappyplace @sofreakinmanyfandoms @pizzarollpatrol @bubblycypress87 @1a-girl-has-no-name1 @loislp @lovenaturefirst @dyanna-corona @2ptonpt @goodnightmode @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mannls @cutie1365 @catch22inareddress @mybooradley @sebastianisasnack @butifulsoul125 @unlikelygalaxygiver
Warnings: language, kinda angsty but not too much
A/N: third part of these because I think I'll go crazy if I stay in this kind of semi-hiatus any longer. Hope you enjoy my darlings <3.
The mysterious disappearance of Natasha Romanoff masterlist
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BUCKY’S P. O. V.
Her hands were on the sides of my ribcage to provide her some balance while I was riding to the nearest diner.
It was an odd, though familiar feeling. The way her grip on my leather jacket briefly tightened when I took a turn, or the contact her the front of her legs made with the back of mines.
And I really really didn't want to stop driving, because I had missed that feeling, even if I wouldn't admit it out loud, even if I wanted to think I had moved on.
But I started to slow down the moment we reached the nearest diner's parking lot, and her hands left my jacket to hold herself steady using to the back of the bike.
As soon as the bike was parked, my feet reached the ground, still straddling the vehicle for us to be safe while taking off the helmet.
Once I had accomplished that task, I looked over my, slightly turning my torso to see if Y/n had done the same.
"Wow! okay" I chuckled while that magnetic girl I had just met in the bar —thanks to Carol— combed her recently messed hair with her fingers. "that was... Wild." her eyes were still widely open, but a half smile was now tugging the corner of her lip. "such a ride."
"first time riding a bike?"
"first time in bike with you" she replied, climbing off in a very surprisingly smooth way . "you really gotta slow down, I didn't even have helmet, boy."
I mimicked her movements and grabbed my things before approaching her. "well, I can fix that." we walked side by side to the bar. "I'll get you one."
"you seem pretty confident about me riding with you ever again."
"got a feeling you'll end up liking it" I replied with a smug smirk, opening the door of the establishment for her.
She shook her head no, peeking at me with a half smile tugging the corner of her lips. "Keep dreaming, Bucky."
"with you?" I questioned, following right behind her back into the bar, where both the gang and Carol waited for us. "Always."
"Cheesy."
READER'S P. O. V.
I let the helmet rest on my seat between my things while I combed my hair with my fingers. No matter how short or covered it was, with or without helmet, it always ended up tangled.
I had forgotten that minor inconvenience of riding a bike, specifically with the man I rode with.
"Ready?" he asked, holding the handlebars firmly. I gave him a lazy nod in response and proceeded to hop off the bike. "Let's go then." he walked side by side with me to the diner and when we reached the door, he opened it for me.
As soon as we sat down on the booth that was the furthest from the patrons of the place, the waiter came to take our order, which were just two black coffees, one of them iced.
Bucky waited until we had our coffees to speak, in order to avoid nosy ears, I figured. "It was two days ago." he started, swallowing the first sip of his coffee. "Nat had been keeping an eye on a guy for a while." I motioned for him to continue.
"Why would she do that?" I questioned with a frown. "Thought you were that type of gang, now were you?" I added with sarcasm.
"Wait a fucking second, will ya?" I motioned him to keep going with my hand. "the dude was following this girl." I tilted my head with confusion. "Stalking her."
"I got it the first time, James, I'm not that dumb." he muttered something under his breath, taking another sip of coffee. In reply, I just scoffed. "Why help that girl in particular?"
"We owed his brother a favor. Big one" he added, not quite focused on what he was saying. "Tasha's gonna scare him y'know? But turns out this guy wasn't a creep." he nursed his cup. "He's a rival gang member."
I opened my eyes widely, letting myself fall against the backrest of the booth. "Holy fuck." I always had assumed the Avengers were the only gang. Never in my time with them had I heard about a rival gang, I only knew that was dangerous shit.
Bucky’s blue eyes flickered to me, realizing too late that this was completely new information to me. "Yeah... I told Natasha to quit, we could protect this girl in other ways." he shook his head no. "she said she'll stay, just in case what was happening involved us."
"And then she dissappears." I sighed, massaging my temples, wondering what the fuck I was thinking when I decided I would help. "Bucky, I really don't see why I'm the only option."
"I-- listen." he lifted his gaze subtly to check no one was observing us. "I'm not supposed to be tellin' ya this."
"But you're gonna do it anyway."
He straight up ignored my comment as he mirrored my posture. "we have an inside problem."
"a something or a someone?" I was now definitely regretting the decision of going to my ex's house to lend a hand to his gang. "fuck, James, you better tell me it's a something and not a someone."
His sorry eyes and pursed lips killed my lame hope. "you want me to lie?"
"Yeah, for once I actually want you to lie." he clenched his jaw and diverted his eyes from me. "I went to your place and you have a fucking mole." Bucky’s gaze returned to me intently, shushing me. "don't fucking shush me" I retorted, internally freaking out. "I just put myself in danger 'cause I was stupid enough to decide to help."
"You're not in danger." he replied in low voice.
"okay now, you don't fucking know that."
"Whoever the problem is, they ain't there."
"Yeah sure." thousands of different scenarios that ended up with my corpse in a ditch went through my panicking mind as I stood up to walk away. "this was the worst fucking idea I've ever had." I mumbled under my breath, stepping out of the diner.
The fact that I didn't hear Bucky’s heavy combat boots after me in order to try and change my mind was surprising enough.
What was also surprising was finding another bike approaching the parking lot of the diner, and Clint almost jumping off it.
He took off his helmet way too fast for it to be safe before close to shouting my name. "Y/n!" For some reason, I stopped walking to wait for him to get to me. "Listen--"
"I'm out, Clint. I'm sorry." my apologies were genuine, because I knew how much Natasha meant to the dirty blonde man.
"No! Fuck- hold on for a second please." he begged, raising his hands in front of me to stop me. "I don't know what Barnes told you but--"
"Said that you got a mole inside."
"Fuckin'... Okay, I know you feel like your life is in danger if you help us but listen," his eyes spoke how desperate he was to get to his bestfriend on time. "Nat... You know I can't lose her and I swear if you help us, I'll protect you with my life okay? But please, Y/n... I'm sorry you got mixed into this but we- I really need you to help us."
I clenched my jaw, trying to meditate coolly about my reply to his beg.
I had put my feelings aside in order to think clearer, and that was one hell of a headache, given the people who were involved.
"Y/n please. Please, I swear on my fucking life I won't let anything bad happen to you." Clint assured me in a whisper. "please."
BUCKY'S P. O. V.
I stayed sat in the booth for a brief moment after Y/n had left.
I really didn't know what else I could do to convince her to help us. I didn't know how to make her believe me, to assure her that she wouldn't get hurt on my watch.
I didn't know how to get her to trust me if I promised to keep her safe at all costs, because once you break someone's trust —specially someone's like Y/n's— there was no going back 99% of the times.
"Fuck."
I rushed to the door, attempting to reach Y/n, because I had to convince her. I owed it to Natasha, to Clint, to Sam, to Steve; I owed it to myself, because I kept losing my grasp on Y/n, and in this situation, letting her leave wasn't an option anymore.
When I got out, both helmets in my hands, I saw Clint in front of Y/n, practically begging for her aid.
"Clint... I'm sorry. I really am..." she spoke. "I can't."
"Yeah, you can." she spun around at the same time as Clint's eyes laid on my form over the girl's shoulder. "you can, and you have to."
She was suddenly fuming. "what the hell did you just say?"
"Bucky shut the fuck up and stop making it worse." Clint warned me while Y/n took a couple of steps towards me.
"You have to." I repeated as confident as I could whilst my heart pounded in my chest. "You have to, that's why you came all the way from your fancy ass apartment in Manhattan." it was the fourth sort of conversation I had with the girl I hadn't talked in a year, and I had decided to push her buttons. "'cause no matter how you fucking hate me, y'know you won't be able to sleep at night—"
"Shut the fuck up, Bucky." Clint repeated, almost hysterical as I went on, my eyes locked with Y/n's in an attempt to make her know I meant every word.
"—if something happened to Natasha when, knowing you could've, you refused to help." Y/n pursed her lips, refusing to retort anything. "whether you like it or not, I know you Y/n, and I know you're not gonna leave."
It was the riskiest stunt I had pulled in a while, but after a dreadful instant of silence, I realized it had worked.
"You're so goddamn confident about it, aren't you?"
"I also know you're probably considering leaving, just to fucking prove me wrong."
Silence again, her eyes dug into mines as she closed the distance between the two of us to grab her helmet. "You're so full of yourself."
"I'm right, though." I couldn't help but retort with the lightest tinge of amusement in my tone.
"I'm riding with Clint."
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My Boy Keeps Me Strong
Pairing: Byeler/Byler
Words: 4k (a little more but close enough)
Summary: Will and Mike have been through more than they ever should've together, but nothing feels as scary as coming out to their best friends does. Then, when it all goes south, they're left to pick up the pieces of each other again. But all their years of friendship can't just really be over like that, can it?
Warning: Uh, slurs, homophobia, and cussing.. The homophobia is sorta resolved though?
Author’s Note: This just came together through my venting, basically. So, I hope you enjoy! I just love them so much. (Btw, in a perfect world, none of the party members would be homophobic and I usually like to headcanon them as such, but I'm very gay and I was just feeling some type of way, sorry..) Happy ending though, I swear! You can find it on my AO3 here.
“Hey guys, guys! Um, so We had something we wanted to tell you.” The party were currently all splayed out around the Basement in the Wheeler residence, as per usual. Mike’s comment had drawn their attention though, so everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to face the taller teen and Will, whom they assumed he must also be talking about, since he was standing beside him.
“Okay, Mike! It looks like you boys have the floor!” Dustin yelled, earning some light jeering and laughs from the teens.
Will could feel his palms growing sweaty. He was more nervous to do this than he’d ever been to do anything probably. Mike looked over at him, knocking into his arm and smiling to reassure him, although his own nerves were no better.
El, seeming to sense the emotions from the two boys, brought silence to the room so that they could continue, and so, continue they did.
“Uh, yeah so anyway, gonna try to keep this kinda short, I guess.” Mike’s voice wavered and there were a few laughs around the room, but nothing else, so he continued. “So, where to start?” He looked at Will, and the boy gave an encouraging smile, so Mike took a breath and just went for it. “We’re gay and we’re dating!” It came out in a rush, and for a second, he wasn’t even sure if he had said it at all, but then after a couple of beats of silence, silence he would come to wish he could have back, all hell suddenly broke loose.
“What!” Lucas jumped up from his chair and Max was off of the floor beside him, not a second later, grabbing his arm, as if she thought he might hit one of them. Honestly, Mike was kind of thinking the same thing.
“Wait, since when?!” Dustin looked more than a little freaked that two of his best friends suddenly happened to be homos.
“I don’t understand. Is this bad?” This one little question from El gave them a brief glimmer of hope amongst all of the shit that was starting to pile onto them right now.
“I-I” Will couldn’t even seem to form any words, but it didn’t matter to the group because apparently, Lucas had plenty to say, or more specifically, just one thing to say.
“No, I-I just can’t, okay? Jesus, I can’t even look at you!” And that was that from them because then they were storming out and dragging El away as she looked back with confusion in her eyes.
Well, they were kind of confused too, to tell the truth. Their best friends since childhood had just had one of the worst possible reactions imaginable to their coming out, and the worst thing of all? Neither of them had even imagined this scenario taking place at all. They were so sure, so confident in their friends’ love, loyalty, and bond that they hadn’t even questioned it. Well, that had royally screwed them this time, hadn’t it?
“I-I just stood there. I can’t believe I just stood there.” Mike was looking at the floor, his face in complete shock.
“I was no better, Mike. I couldn’t even make a case for us.” He registered the words as he said them. He shouldn’t have to make any case, right? What were they doing, feeling guilty? Will looked down at his hands and realized that he was shaking. He eyes then landed on Mike to see that he, on the other hand, looked almost numb from the experience they had just gone through. Will placed his hands around him and delicately wrapped his arms around him, waiting for Mike to lean into it. Mike’s head immediately curled into Will’s neck and his cheek landed on his shoulder. Even though he was a tall guy, Mike loved his comfort positions and Will secretly loved him all the more for it. It hurt to see him like this though. Will just wanted everything to be okay. He wanted their friends back, and he almost wished they could take back their most well-guarded secret. But looking at Mike, he thought, almost, but not quite, with a warm feeling in his heart.
“Those fucking bastards! I mean, honestly, screw those guys! Ya know, baby? who needs ‘em anyway, huh?” Mike huffed out a ragged breath and looked behind him as if the party members would still be standing there. “Bunch of lousy “so called” friends.” As he said it, he put in air quotes and the disgust was clear, then his shoulders slumped and he wrapped his arms around the shorter boy in front of him and pressed his forehead into Will’s own, closing his eyes tightly. This conversation had been going on for awhile now. Maybe around three hours already. But Mike was fired up and Will was exhausted, and they were both feeling extremely let down about the whole thing, not to mention just hurt and betrayed by the rest of the Party.
“Hey, hey now. You don’t mean that.” The voice in which Will used was gentle, trying to soothe the aching pain his boyfriend was feeling, even as his own heart still smarted from the rejection of their friends. Were they still friends? They’d been through something akin to hell and back together. Was this really the driving force that was going to rip them apart?
“Will, I really, really fucking do. Those assholes! I’m through with the whole lot of ‘em! They think they can just go around and say anything and it won’t matter? Well, it f-fucking matters to me, damnit!” Mike’s entire body was shaking, even his hands were trembling, and he was breathing heavily from his outburst. After catching his breath and seeming to compose himself a bit, he spoke up again. “Doesn’t it mean anything to you?” His voice was much quieter now, almost a whisper even.
“Of course, it does! Of course.”
“Yeah, yeah. Alright.” His boyfriend started nodding and then grabbed him by the hips, pulling him closer. Will held his hands that were gripping him and linked their fingers together, giving him a smile. This must be a good sign. Everything was going to be okay. Then Mike began to speak again. “L-let’s just go somewhere together. Somewhere far, far away from here.”
Will’s look turned to one of confusion. “What? Where?”
“I don’t know! As fucking, far away as we can stand! Let’s just go, please, please, Will.” The anger and hurt were clear in both his voice and face, but more than that, there was that deep-rooted fear they both shared. He was scared, probably more than he had been when they’d faced the demogorgan, or the mind flayer, or the flayed. Any of the upside down’s tricks, but homophobia had that beat by a thousand miles or more. Will could understand, now knowing why Mike was acting the way he was. It made sense. But even though he got it, Mike was what made Will strong, so even though, yeah Will was scared, he’d face just about anything if he had Mike by his side, whether that be interdimensional, portal hopping demon or your everyday, old-fashioned homophobia.
“Mike, sweetie.” The tone he used carried a slight pleading tone to it. “I know you’re hurt, and I get it. Like I actually do, more than I did earlier. I know it’s scary when you’re like… us, but I’m not scared. Do you know why?”
Mike’s head was facing downward, his shoulders shaking slightly. Will could see a teardrop fall from the corner of his nose and he brushed it away. Mike shook his head, a sign for Will to continue talking. “Because I’m never scared when I’m with you. Not really. You give me the strength to be brave, and if you really wanna leave all this? If you just want to pack up and go, leave everyone behind? Our families, friends, everything we’ve ever known… I’ll go.” Mike’s head lifted when Will said this, the shock in his face clear. His tear stained face was blotchy and red, and Will couldn’t help but smile softly at his boyfriend, reaching his hand up and cupping his face. “I won’t lie, I might be scared. But I’ll go, and I know we’ll be okay because, at least we’ll be together.”
A breath left Mike’s chest in a whoosh when he heard Will’s heartfelt confession. It might as well have been a love poem and a dozen roses for the way it made his heart feel. “You stupid, I love you so much!” Mike dragged him into a hug, and if it weren’t for the loud sobs wracking his body, Will wouldn’t know he was crying at all.
“I love you too, you big baby.”
_____
Will was a little drunk and more than a lot pissed when he found out the party members were hanging out down by the quarry without Mike and him, so maybe he decided to do something a little bit stupid and a whole lot brave about it. He was going to go out there and confront those dicks and tell them just exactly how much it pissed him off.
But, safety first! A drunk person should never operate an automated vehicle. Or, something like that. No, Will forgoes his brother’s hand-me-down car and grabs up his bike that’s a couple sizes too small by now and hops on, pedaling down to the quarry as fast and as steady as his drunk legs will carry him. The bike’s still in pretty good condition since he uses it sometimes to go riding with Mike or the rest of the party. Well, they used to. The memory stings, urging Will on faster and he ignores his aching legs in favor of pedaling harder.
When he finally reaches the quarry’s edge, he sees them all out there, laughing and having a good ‘ol time. It makes him so angry that he throws down his bike as he gracelessly gets off. He might’ve regretted that if he were sober, but as it stands, he couldn’t care less. Will stumbles down to where the party are sitting, and they look up as they hear someone approaching.
“Will?” El is the first to say anything. She sounds surprised but pleased to see him. Will doesn’t even care anymore. He’s through giving chances, playing at Mr. nice guy.
“What are you doing here? Where’s Mike?” It’s Dustin this time. He doesn’t sound too off put, but not too thrilled either. Yeah, Will’s not surprised with the show he put on the last time they saw each other at Mike’s.
Will scoffs. “Do you really care? Let me guess. You wanna make sure he’s not in the bushes, with like b-binoculars or something, creeping on you? Huh? Is that i-it?” He lets out a noise that is supposed to be a sound of disbelief, but really just sounds like a poorly done fart sound.
“Uh, are you drunk?” Max looks worried, after all the time is only around four or five in the afternoon, so her worry isn’t for nothing. However, Will doesn’t even register her, too lost in his own emotions and drunkenness to even hear the sound of her voice.
“You know what, fuck you guys! Okay, Mike was right. You don’t even deserve to have us as friends. W-we put so much trust in you that we actually, stupidly thought you might- I don’t know, not care who we love, or who we sleep with!!” Will’s voice cracked over the last bit and he could feel the sting of hot tears in his eyes, but he tried his best to hold them in. He couldn’t, wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him break down. “You bastards think it’s easy?! I’m a walking fucking poster for the Aids epidemic! Damnit, you have no idea, none, what mike and I go through every day. Even if I wasn’t gay, I run the risk of being killed or beaten in an alley because I “look too fucking queer”, and that’s something someone told me once before he punched me in the face, so take your sorry excuses or non-excuses for why you can’t be friends with the two fags and shove it.” If he wasn’t crying before then he definitely was now. Great, heaving sobs suddenly filled his chest and he collapsed in on himself. He wanted Mike. They didn’t get it, no one did, only Mike. Mike was the only one that ever did. Will was genuinely weeping, huge gasps leaving his body and an onslaught of new sobs taking over. It felt as if he were mourning some great loss and, in some way, he was.
He looked up at the sudden feeling of arms surrounding him, and for a moment he thought that maybe he’d imagined the whole thing and he was actually with Mike right now or just dreaming. But when he looked up, it wasn’t into the smiling face of Mike, it was into the concerned faces of El and Max, with Dustin sitting in front of him, looking equally as concerned. Lucas was a bit further away, but still near and all of them wore matching expressions of shame and guilt of varying degrees.
Dustin’s voice startled Will out of his thoughts. “I-I’m sorry, Will. We shouldn’t have treated you like that. I mean, I don’t really get it, I guess, but that’s no reason for me to treat you differently. Besides, you’ve always fought so hard for me, for all of us, and I know you always will. So, I’ll do the same for you. I love you, buddy.”
“But, even though we’re gay?” Will’s not sure what the question is, but the others seem to understand well enough and rush ahead to reassure him.
“Hell yeah, I mean it. I’m like, all in now!” Dustin smiles a big, goofy grin, that almost makes Will want to smile himself.
“Yeah, dude! Besides, I’m from California. I mean, this kind of thing is nothing new around there, so I’ve seen it plenty.” Max places a comforting hand on his back and this time, Will does smile.
“Really?” Dustin actually sounds a little interested, but Will can’t tell if it’s real or for his benefit. Either way, it’s appreciated.
“Wow, so you’ve seen people like Mike and me lots?” Will can’t help himself. He’s never been able to share this side of himself or ask questions with anyone else but Mike, so this is a pretty nice feeling.
“Oh sure! Tons! They’re just normal people after all, but some you can just- tell. It’s really cool though, actually. There’s a lot in, like San Francisco, I heard my dad say once, and even New York has a lot. I guess because it’s such a big city and nobody cares what anybody else is doing, I don’t know.”
Will’s cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling. “Woah, you actually know a surprising amount.”
“Yeah, you pick up some things living in the big city.” Max just grins back at him and pats his back.
“Will?” El speaks for the first time since he first arrived at the quarry. He nods to let her know that he’s listening. “I’m happy that you’re happy again, but I don’t understand why you and Mike were sad? Is gay good or is gay bad? I don’t know.”
Will lets out a small sigh. He really doesn’t know how he feels about having this conversation with El in front of everyone. Or at all. Everyone said they were okay with it now, well, everyone except Lucas, who hasn’t even spoken yet. He might as well get it over with, though. It’s what he came out here for, after all.
“Well, it depends on who you talk to, really. Some people hate it, hate everything about it. But there are some people that just think it shouldn’t matter if you’re a boy and love a boy or a girl and love a girl or even whatever else there might be out there. They say that love is just love and that’s that. Well, that’s what I think. Mike, too. Um, so yeah.” He looked down after finishing, feeling suddenly bashful. Maybe the alcohol was wearing off.
“El, it doesn’t matter who you choose to love. It’s just love, and that’s a beautiful thing. You know that, right?” Everyone looked over to the one that had spoken. There, staring back was Lucas. It was the first time he had spoken since Will had arrived at the quarry and everyone was more than a little shocked by the words coming out of his mouth. The other party members, excluding Mike and Will, had personally heard Lucas go on more than one rant about having queers in the group for so long and not even knowing about it. Now he was speaking again though. “I mean, isn’t that true, El?” Her nod was enough of an answer for Lucas to continue.
“I’m sorry, Will. Everything you said today just made me think and… I was a real asshole. I love you no matter what.”
Will looked at him for a long moment, as if considering, then shook his head wryly. “I-I love you too, but you guys should really be apologizing to Mike.”
Lucas nodded firmly in agreement, his aura radiating determination. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
_____
The soft melodic voices of the band, Chicago were playing in the background, softly droning on. Just say you’ll love me for the rest of your life. I gotta lot of love and I don’t want to let go. Huh. It was just Mike’s luck that the radio would be playing something that only made him think more about his problems, instead of taking his mind off of them. That’s how it usually went, wasn’t it? He was still so scared and hurt by how everything had happened with the party the other day, but more than that, he was worried he’d overstepped things with Will. Maybe he’d gone too far, said too much, and now he’d ruined everything. As the next song popped on, one he didn’t recognize, he heard feet coming down the stairs.
A lot of feet come to think of it, and he hadn’t actually heard that sound in over a week. Mike turned his head towards the sound, where one by one his boyfriend and each of his friends, or ex friends, he wasn’t exactly sure, came around the corner and stopped a few feet away from him.
He blinked a couple of times and then looked at Will, as if to say, um what’s going on here, and then that’s precisely what he did say. “Will, what’s going on? What are they doing here?” He couldn’t keep the bitter edge out of his voice, even as it was clouded by confusion.
“Uh, well they wanted to talk to you.” He could see that Mike was about to interject, and it didn’t look like he had anything nice to say so Will quickly continued before he could put in any words of his own. “Hold on, before you say anything. I already talked to them, okay? And I know this doesn’t fix everything-”
“You’re damn right, it doesn’t!” Mike was on his feet now, looking almost ready for a fight. “I don’t care what you guys think, okay-”
“Sweetie, don’t-”
“No, Will! Are you forgetting what those assholes said to us?! How they treated us?” At this, Will looked down at the floor. He hadn’t forgotten, of course. And sure, it still hurt. But he knew that they meant it when they said they were sorry. “Cause I-I haven’t forgotten.”
“You’re right.” Everyone turned their heads to Will in surprise. “What they said hurt and I can’t just forget that kind of pain, but Mike, look at me.” He walked over to his boyfriend and tipped his chin so it was facing his own face. “They apologized to me, and they meant it. I know they did. So, just give them the chance to do the same to you before you make your choice. Please?” A small smile painted his lips when he saw Mike nod his assent.
The taller teen turned his attention to the rest of the party, who had been looking on in fascination and awe as they watched Will coax Mike into talking with them. Now they seemed to straighten up at having his attention on them.
“Well, talk then.” Mike growled out, clearly impatient and in no mood to be doing this at all.
It struck Max that he was only doing it for Will in the first place, and what a wonderful thing their relationship must actually be. To show that much restraint, clearly uncomfortable and looking ready to crawl out of his own skin. But he stayed, for Will. He didn’t turn them away, for Will. She caught Mike’s eyes and noticed the way his gaze shifted quickly away from hers. Max shook herself out of all of her other thoughts. All she really wanted to do was let him know that she didn’t see him any differently.
“I’m sorry, Mike. I should’ve said something when you guys told us, but I was scared and I thou- well, yeah. I guess, I was just too scared.” Mike kept quiet and looked off to the side. It might seem to ruse to someone else, but Max saw it for what it was. The boy was afraid. She noticed he was clutching Will’s hand, tightly, so she just continued speaking, her tone earnest and soft. “I want you to know that I don’t think of you guys differently, at all.” Mike’s head jerked up to hers at this. “It’s like I told Will, growing up in California, you see gay people all the time. I’m used to all kinds of different people there- I mean, n-not that you guys are different! It’s just not something that everybody l-likes, I guess. I mean- sorry.” She trailed off in a whisper, sighing. Somehow, she had the feeling like she had made things worse, but when she looked at Mike’s face it didn’t look like she had. He had that same wide-eyed look on his face that Will had when she had told him about California and New York.
El patted Max’s arm like she was trying to make her feel better, before she looked at Will and Mike. “Will told me about gay and what it means, so now I know. I’m sorry I didn’t before, Mike. I don’t understand why we dated if you don’t like girls, but you can tell me when you’re ready, okay?”
Mike’s face paled and the group could see Will squeeze his palm. Then Mike said, in a barely there voice, “O-okay.”
El nodded and smiled. “Okay. I’m always here for both of you. Promise.” Everyone felt themselves relax a little when Mike gave her a small grin.
Surprisingly, Lucas was the next to speak up. “Mike. I’ll just get right to it. I know I said some shit things.” Mike let out a snort, but otherwise kept silent, allowing the other teen to continue. “I was a total ass, okay?! And, and I’m just so sorry, man!” Mike was shocked, not by the words, but because Lucas was crying. It’s not that he’d never seen him cry, but it must’ve been a few years at least.
“W-wait, you’re serious right now? This isn’t a joke, right?” Mike was wary, but hopeful. He stepped up to his friend, who suddenly rushed him, pulling him into a massive hug which nobody expected.
“You should love whoever you love, I know that! That’s your right. And you and Will are two of my best friends! Fuck, why would I ever try to stop you from being together? What kind of dick am I?!” Mike didn’t know what to say, so he just did his best to comfort Lucas, rubbing his back and telling him it was alright, everything was fine, but Lucas insisted that everything was not fine, he was actually a giant tool that shouldn’t even be forgiven.
That actually got Mike a laugh out of Mike and it was like the dams breaking open. Then Dustin was running over to them with tears in his eyes, pulling Will in and creating a group hug between the four boys, which Lucas complained about, still grinning ear to ear with his own tear stained face.
“This is Mine and Mike’s moment, Dustin!” Lucas tried shoving the curly haired boy off, playfully.
Dustin just pushed back, ignoring him completely. “But I’m sorry, too! God, can we all just agree that everyone here are assholes except for Will and Mike? And maybe Jane, because there’s a lot she still doesn’t know?”
“Oh, okay actually, yes. I can totally get with that.” Lucas chances a look at his two friends, grinning when he sees that they’re both actually smiling.
“Hey, you two get in here!” And then Mike’s pulling Max into the Hug, and Max is grabbing onto El to drag her into the lovefest and they’re all just hugging. They’ll deny the tears until years later.
_____
Later, when everyone else has gone home and it’s just Mike and Will, they will listen to much happier songs on the radio and talk and Will will mention to Mike that one day, when they do decide to move away, because they will, they should maybe think about New York or California. He hears San Francisco is nice. Mike will whole-heartedly agree. Besides, as long as he’s got his boy by his side, they’ll be alright.
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