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kickingitwithkirk · 8 months

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Snow Globes and Forgiveness

Summary: Even though Chucks no longer creating the narrative, it’s not a Winchester Christmas till something goes wrong.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 3194

Warnings: wincest, cursing, m/m kissing, frottage, my attempt at flangst

For: @thepromiscuousduck @spnfanficpond Secret Santa exchange 2023

A/N: set after 15.19 & in this AU 15.20 doesn’t happen

A/N II: Apologies to all other participants for taking so long. Between a last minute switch, couldn’t rewrite until after new year & had a rebound of a bad respiratory virus that’s keep me mostly offline last few weeks.

A/N III: once again, brevity doesn’t exist in my vocabulary

*no beta-all mistakes are mine

*divider by @firefly-graphics

*gif credit to creator

Sam Winchester has never been big on the holidays.

Let’s start with a specific Halloween party and his disastrous bobbing for apples incident involving a girl he liked. Then there was that one Thanksgiving he’d been invited to by another girl who turned out to have hands like an octopus and spent the whole dinner, as his brother so eloquently put it, playing footsie with brace-face, not three feet from her dad.

Not to mention, others celebrated, or not, Winchester style; his dad either missed it entirely or showed up with a bucket of extra crispy from the colonel and passed out on a couch. The best was that one Christmas before Dean went to hell a few months later.

But this year was going to be different.

They’d been adjusting to normality reasonably well. Okay, so Dean is the one adjusting better in some respects and said since it’s the brothers' first non-Chuck Christmas, they had to make it extra special. Sam knows this was Dean’s way of trying to make up for all the shitty holidays during their childhood. And knowing his brother, he’s envisioning emulating Mrs. Butters, the wood nymph they accidentally released in the bunker, Jam Packed holiday extravaganza she’d done those few weeks before leaving.

While Dean was getting the tree (Sam would’ve bet more likely grabbing the first one he saw before hitting the liquor store), he sent Sam to pick out ornaments. Sam was trying to make an effort and found himself standing in the middle of a smaller retail chain store's Christmas section, overwhelmed by the sheer number of choices and feeling like a freak for not knowing what to get outside lights and colorful balls.

“First Christmas together?”

Sam’s head swiveled around, “Umm, I’m sorry?” The person who spoke said, “You’ve got that whole I’ve got no freaking idea what I’m doing look, so I took a guess it’s your first Christmas with your girlfriend…wife?”

“Uh, no, no girlfriend or wife.”

“Ahh, boyfriend.” Sam was about to correct their assumption when they continued, “That can be trickery,” and gave him the once over. “I’m guessing he’s not into frills and bows. You should head to the Christmas Market two blocks south of here. There are always booths selling unique or vintage items for the Holiday. Probably find something more appealing than this mass-produced crap.”

After one more glance, Sam thanked them and texted Dean where to meet up with him later, then headed out of the storefront and strolled down the street. He soon hears jolly holiday music and smells enticing scents wafting before entering the colorfully illuminated European style Market and is hit with the sense he’d been here before.

Sam shook his head, feeling ridiculous. Of course, he’d never been here before, but something about this place kept nagging at his memories of familiarity when the irresistible scent of hot, minty chocolate beckoned. After indulging in a creamy, decadent drink decorated with a soft peppermint stick, he walked around, taking in the wares for sale.

At one booth, he found strands of original bubble lights and instantly knew they’d appeal to Dean and his oft-denied inner child; another yielded hand-strung garlands and got popcorn and cranberry ones with instructions on storing them for future use. Sometime later, Sam is laden with so many packages and bags that even his long arms are having trouble juggling them when he sees an elderly woman seated by a table with a simple stand of lights.

The hunter in him was always looking for anything unusual which fit the bill. Smiling politely at the woman when approaching, Sam studied the few antique-looking items and decided they seemed innocuous and relaxed. He spotted an old snow globe, picked it up, and sardonically smiled at how it looked diminutive in his large hand and began examining it.

Sam took time to appreciate its craftsmanship. Its base was silver with hand-worked engravings and an inscription in a language he didn’t recognize. Giving it a shake, Sam watched the artificial snow gently drift over a scene of a log cabin snugly ensconced among evergreens and bare-limbed trees. He got that feeling again. Impulsively, he asked how much he was surprised not to have to haggle over the price.

Carefully taking the globe in her gnarled hands, the woman told Sam that it was crafted in the country of her birth but didn’t specify where. She carefully inserted it into an equally old wooden box, telling him it was explicitly constructed to house the globe to keep it safe during its travels. Sam hears rumbling and glances around, spotting an old pickup parking not far off, and turns back to find the woman has disappeared.

Frowning, he placed the box in a bag, gathered up the rest of his purchases, walked to the waiting vehicle, deposited the items in the crowded truck bed, and then climbed in noticed Dean peering through the cab's back window, “Couldn’t find any more stuff, Sam?” “Couldn’t find a bigger tree, Dean?” His brother says nothing while backing the truck up, “Good thing I got all that to decorate it with then.”

Dean grunted as he set his end into the tree stand and, catching his breath, huffed out, “This would’ve been the time to use some of those witchy tricks, Sam.”

“Or maybe a good time to start working out more and cut back on the burgers and pie?” Sam shot back. “Wadda you talking about?” Dean snapped defensively, “I’m in great shape!” Sam gives him bitchface and says, “Keep telling yourself that Dean.“

Squatting down to affix the supports to the tree, Sam continues. ”You got winded just carrying this down the stairs. We have to face it: neither of us is getting any younger. We had this conversation not long after dealing with Chuck. Yes, we’ll enjoy the everyday things we couldn’t before. But if we’re doing something or on a hunt and get seriously injured, Cas isn’t here to help. And you know Jack is hands-off, so we’ve ….”

“Whatever, Sam.” Dean interrupted, unsuccessfully tamping down his that hurt but not gonna acknowledge it look. “I’m going to take my out-of-shape self and get the rest of the stuff from the car. Unless you’re worried I might, I don’t know, fall and break a hip.”

“Dean, that’s not what I,” but his brother just left, and Sam sighed, knowing he’d put his foot in it again, trying not to express his true feelings. Since they got their freedom from the manipulations of heaven, hell, and all the other things that went bump in the night, the feelings he’d buried and thought were over had come back.

Before he said yes to Lucifer, Dean acknowledged Sam was an adult, and he needed to stop being overprotective. But there is a part, deep down, in both Winchesters that is psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent. That part in Sam is one hundred percent positive that if Dean found out, he’d be so disgusted by what a perverted freak he indeed was forcing Dean would cut him out of his life forever.

The bunker's door banged shut, and at the bottom of the stairs, Sam paused on the last tread, watching the scene playing out before him in the war room.

“Oh, come on,” Dean grumbles at an ornament, refusing to stay on a branch of the mostly decorated tree. He lets it go, and it begins coming off again. “That’s it, I’m getting my gun.”

Sam couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice. “Maybe I should’ve gotten some floaters and air fresheners instead?” He can see Dean mulling over that memory, “They were great.” Peering over at his brother, he asks, “Where did you disappear to? Thought you were going to help.”

Sam held up a grocery bag, “A peace offering? I know you aren’t going to change your habits, but I'm hoping we can compromise, at least when we’re not hunting. It’s 90% lean beef, and the pie,” Dean's whole face lit up, “Is made with almond flour and natural sourced sugar.”

Trading the wayward ornament for the bag, Dean states, “You deal with this,” Sam shakes his head when he hears, “Meatman coming to town” and sets about finishing the tree.

After cleaning up, the brothers sit in the library, drinking beer and watching an old Christmas movie playing on a laptop, when Dean casually inquires, “So what’s with the box?” Sam frowned before realizing he meant and remembered leaving the item sitting by the displayed swords. “It’s ahh, well,” Sam stammers as he retrieves the box, sets it on the table, and lifts the wooden lid. Dean raised an eyebrow at the contents, “Something you need to tell me, Samantha?” he snarks, removing the snow globe.

“I’m not sure why, but I'm drawn to it.” Dean frowned at his brothers' words and took a closer look. “What’s the saying?” He asked, pointing to an inscription on the base. “Not sure. I think it's a form of an older Germanic dialect. I was going to translate it later.”

Since nothing is screaming cursed object, Dean shakes it, making the snow swirl before setting it on the table, picking up his beer, and resuming watching the movie. He could feel Sam suspiciously eyeballing him asks, “What, Sam?” But Sam simply sighed, knowing his brother wouldn’t let it go. And sure enough…

“Did Santa ask if you were a good boy this year?”

Sam glances around trying to figure out where he’s at since a moment ago he was in the laundry and now starting at his decades younger self reclining against a headboard reading he hears his, their, name and watches himself huff in displeasure and getting up proceeds to trip over his own feet.

Following himself down a wood-paneled hallway, they enter a shabbily furnished living room, and spots his brother watching his younger self standing by a wood-burning kitchen stove. “Dean?” Turning, green eyes boggle, seeing Sam standing next to his own younger visage.

“What the hell you’d do, Sam?” Dean’s gravelly voice snapped and got Sam’s back up. “What makes you think I had anything to do with this?!” Dean looks at their younger doppelgängers arguing about something when young Sam stomps to a rickety kitchen table, plopping down on an equally rickety chair, crossing his arms, and glaring at its sacred top.

“Man, I forgot how bad your emoing could get,” Dean offhandedly commented, returning his attention to his brother, eyes hooded. “You were working in the library, so it's not hard to deduce you deciphered some curse cause now,” chucking his thumb toward the window, “We’re in the damn snow globe!”

Sam shot off bitchface #37, “It’s not a curse! I determined the words are an idiom. Слова не воробьи, как только они улетели, их уже не поймать.”

“Can you put that in English for those who don’t speak geek?”

“Words are not sparrows; once they have flown they cannot be recaptured.”

Dean got his running it over in my brain expression, “Yeah, I got nothing.” Sam concurred, “It didn’t make sense to me at first. But then I found a maker's mark hidden in the engravings. The records said they were a tradesman and spiritual alchemist.”

“What do idiot words have to do with Nicolas Flamel?” Sam's lips pursed, “Idiom Dean. And you know who Nicholas Flamel was?”

“Yeah, college boy, he created the philosopher's stone, turning metal into gold and some immortality elixir.” Sam waited. “He was in that Harry Potter movie, alright? What does that have to do with why we were here?”

“Okay, hear me out. Spiritual alchemy believers follow various paths to achieve the same goal, believing that, like metal, one’s soul can be transformed through stages of purification.” Sam began explaining the stages, and by the third, Dean heard enough.

“You're saying all the crap we’ve dealt with from heaven to hell has done some kinda colonic on our souls.” Sam began to speak, “Shut up, I’m on a role here. And if we take that idiom literally, one or both of us said something wrong and the idiom-alchy-snow globe Ghost of Christmas Past us to complete this whatever stage with an apology?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Great! Let’s figure out where here is, get to apologizing and the hell outta this glass ball.” Spying a discarded newspaper Dean tries picking up found he isn’t corporal. “Seriously?” Tipping his head sideways, he says, “Okay, December 22, 1999. We’re in Michigan..or Wisconsin?”

“Dean, what if it's something so bad there’s no way we can ask for forgiveness?”

That response made Dean's eyes narrow. “Sam, you need to tell me something?” His brother shook his head, but every warning signal in Dean was blaring like the bunker klaxon. He’d bet his entire collection of Busty Asian Beauties that Sam knew why that damn snow globe sent them here, but he was keeping it to himself for reasons.

Dean decided to hold his cards and play ignorant for a while longer. “Dude, what haven’t we done and forgiven each other for?”

Turning his attention to their younger selves made Dean feel a sense of nostalgia, missing how less complicated their lives seemed, even with the daily dose of Sam Winchester teen angst, which he always made up for.

Like now, offering to buy hot chocolate and giant pretzels triggered a memory, and the next moment, Dean was among a crowd wandering through the lighted tunnel entrance, following the loop by the salute to the armed forces towards the live reindeer exhibit.

“I remember this!” Dean exclaimed, “Dad left us in Somerset, Wisconsin, and were you all pissy ‘cause I kept giving you crap about this place’s name- Sam’s Christmas Village.”

“What else do you remember, Dean?”

They make a pit stop at the concessions, and while Sam is paying, Dean pulls out his flask, adding a double dollop to Sam’s. The kid needed to loosen up, then exchanged the cup for a pretzel with a smirk.

“This was the first time we got drunk together. Man, you were hilarious! Kept bugging me to go sledding,” Deans said, “And you fell off halfway down and laid there trying to catch snowflakes on your tongue.” Surrounded by softly falling snow tinted in hues of blues, greens, and reds, the brothers experience a memory trace of what happened that night.

Laughter fills the air as Dean staggers over, flopping on his back next to Sam, smiling at him when Sam’s expression changes and Sam leans over, his eyes' kaleidoscope colors disappearing into thin rings around dilated dark pupils as his fingertips caress the smooth, cinnamon-freckled skin and plush lips he was aching for when Dean pulled him tightly against him, noticing an unmistakable hard bulge pressing into his upper thigh as Sam instinctively started rocking his hips, seeking friction for his growing hard-on.

Dean feels his cock straining inside his jeans, slides one arm around Sam’s waist, another reaching behind him to cradle the back of his skull, angles his mouth up so he can drive his tongue into Sam’s mouth, feeling him suck on it with a sharp pull that shoots straight to his cock when wolf whistles from sledders passing by startled them caused Dean to bolt upright and dump Sam onto his butt.

Abruptly getting up, Dean grabbed the ropes of both sleds and dragged them downhill, leaving his brother perplexed. Scrambling to his feet, Sam rushes after, inquiring what happened, but Dean only responds that they need to head out before the roads ice over too much. The silent intensity of the drive back is broken only by music playing through the Impala’s speakers. Sam initially thinks Dean is concentrating on the road due to his intoxication. But Dean’s chewing his bottom lip signals he’s upset, and the knot in Sam’s stomach tells him to stay quiet.

Shutting the cabin door, Sam opens his mouth to speak, but Dean beats him to it, saying he overstepped boundaries that shouldn’t have been and won’t let it happen again. In a panic, Sam blurts out how his strange feelings for years were crystal clear.

“I love you, Dean, and want us to be together…like together together.” Dean shakes his head, “It’s the whiskey making you talk nonsense.” Sam’s stubborn streak surfaces, infuriating Dean, who shoves him back against the door and shouts in his face.

“Stop acting like a freak and go sleep it off!”

Sam feels like an ice pick is entering the base of his skull, and his stomach twists, knowing he’s the reason the person he cares most about in the entire world; he cares about more than himself is reacting like this, watching Dean disappear down the hallway, slamming his bedroom door shut. He fucked up royally, and suddenly his life was a mess when it seemed all was about to align an hour ago, making Sam wants to scream, to throw up.

Moving on autopilot, Sam shuts his room door, grabs his duffel, and haphazardly throws his belongings into it. Then, opening the window, he slips out and trudges back to town, heading for the bus station. By the time he arrives, his feet are so numb he shuffles across the linoleum flooring to the counter, setting most of his hoarded money down asked for the furthest distinction it’ll take him.

A short time later, the bus pulls out onto the main highway heading west as Sam leans against his window, wondering how everything outside seems so normal when his world has imploded. Dean turns his attention from the younger visage before him to the mature man beside him.

“This is why you ran away to Flagstaff.”

“You were right about me being a freak all along.”

Dean shakes his head, “No, Sam, it was my fault. I tried so hard to keep what I felt hidden, but that night..,” Sam's burst of laughter made Dean bark, “You think that’s funny?”

Eyes that never settled their color, hardened by the decades of horrors they’d lived through, were now gazing at him with unworldliness a thirteen-year-old Dean, after confirming everything in their dad’s journal was true, helplessly watched flame out like dying embers.

“No, Dean. The snow globe brought us back for the dissolution stage, dissolving false beliefs. We’ve been at cross purposes all these years for the same reason, each of us thinking we are the problem and the only way out is to no longer deny our feelings.”

Lifting his hand, Sam hesitated to let his fingertips explore the older, but still, so much loved, freckled skin again when Dean shifted, reaching his still-strong hand to cradle the back of his brother’s skull, angling his mouth up and breathed out against his lips.

“Sammy, we’re good.”

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @akshi8278 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

#spnfanficpond #secret santa exchange #2023 #dean winchester x sam winchester #wincest #spn au #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #jensen ackles #jared padalecki

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kinktae · 5 years

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bitchin’ || pt. 9 (M)

↳ PART OF MY REWIND SERIES

The 80s were a time of choices. Which perm was right for you? What color neon would you wear next? None of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with Jeon Jungkook.

pairing: fratboy!jungkook x reader

word count: 4.7k

genre: 1980s au, eventual smut, e2l

warnings: fanservice. that's it. that’s the tweet.

A/N: This fic was inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before. Thank you to @junqkook for letting me use her likeness!

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

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PART NINE

"Okay, just sign your name here, and she'll come to get you when she's ready." The cheery girl at the front desk told you.

You offered her a polite smile, walking over to the sit in the waiting room.

You always disliked these chairs. We were willing to bet money that these chairs have sat in this very room since your university first opened, worn out, uncomfortable, and outdated. Sure, maybe you had been in a bit of a sour mood lately – what with your fake ex-boyfriend dirty dicking you and all – but as you sat there, metal rod poking your spin, you couldn't help but frown.

As you sat there contemplating your school's renovation budget, you hardly noticed the sound of another student walking in and over to the front desk, your stomach churning as you put a face to those loose curls.

"Hey, stranger! What are you doing here?" Kiri's white teeth blinded you, walking over to you once her business with the receptionist was done.

You could feel one of your eyebrows twitch in irritation, swallowing down your scoff as she sat next to you.

"Trying to schedule my class next semester." You responded uninterestedly, contemplating whether or not the suspension from decking Kiri in the face would be worth it.

"Oh, just picking up a termination form. One of our newbies wants to pull out of Kappa Alpha Tau."

Shocker...

"Hey, so sorry to hear things with Jungkook and you didn't work out, by the way." Kiri flashed you a sympathetic look.

An audible breath left your lips, disbelief no doubt visible on your every feature. Did Kiri seriously think you didn't know it was her who home wrecked? Or was she just that much of a raging bitch?

"If you ever need someone to, like, talk to, just know that I'm here. I totally know what you're going through."

Your hands found themselves curling into tight balls in an attempt to keep your hands from shaking. Kiri looked as cool as a cucumber in front of you, perfectly composed, not a single hair out of place.

Then it hit you.

Of course. It all made perfect sense now.

From the moment she came up to you at your event offering her condolences, she had been trying to drive you off from Jungkook. She was planting seeds of doubt about their break up and his character. Manipulation and intimidation were her cards, and she played them well.

Fine. If the rules were being bent, you might as well disregard them altogether. You relaxed your hands.

"Oh, no worries. It's all good, I mean, it's not like we were actually dating." You shrugged.

Rule #2: No one can know the truth.

"What?" Kiri blinked, her smile faltering for just a moment.

You edged closer to her, cocking your head in mock surprise.

"Oh... did you not know that? That our entire relationship was contractual?"

"What are you talking about?" Her full brows furrowing.

You let out a sigh, "Yeah, so, basically, Jungkook would get his frat to fund my event if I helped make you jealous so that you'd come crawling back to him."

The polite mask that Kiri had plastered on finally cracked, her next words clipped and curt.

"What the hell is your damage, Y/N? Do you think I'm some sort of idiot how'd fall for that?"

"Good grief, did Jungkook not tell you? Weird, I feel like that's something he'd need to tell his girlfriend." You puffed out your bottom lip in mock sympathy.

Whatever resolve Kiri had built up crumbled at the way you held her stare, a note of honesty in your voice that she couldn't shake.

"I'm..." She cleared her throat, turning her nose up. "We're not actually back together yet."

"No? Really? Hmm..."

The call of your name crossed the room, and the two of you turned to look at the receptionist, ushering you over with the news that your counselor was ready for you.

You turned to Kiri with a smile, "Guess he didn't want you back as so much as he just wanted back in your pants."

Kiri looked utterly stunned, eyes wide as you stood from your seat, for once, without a clue as to what to say.

"See ya around, Kiri. Let's do lunch sometime. Oh and, happy holidays!" You fluttered your fingers at her, slipping away from her with a smugness you couldn't be assed to hide.

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"Wait... he called you?!" Taehyung laughed, eyes wide.

Yara nodded, scouring through the shelves, a specific book in mind. Belinda Carlisle was playing softly overhead and Yara found herself humming along.

As the holidays rolled around and everyone found themselves back in their hometowns, Yara was surprised to find Jungkook's frat brother browsing through the jam aisle in her local supermarket. As luck would have it, Jungkook's genetically blessed frat brother was from her hometown, the two somehow never crossing paths until now.

What started as a polite catchup over coffee, quickly turned into an everyday thing, the two of them realizing they had more in common than friend drama.

"He did!" Yara enthused. "He left a voicemail apologizing and rambled about how he wanted Y/N's address so he could go apologize, blah, blah, blah."

"That idiot." Taehyung rolled his eyes. He watched as she let out a noise of excitement, looking over her shoulder to announce that she had found the book she was in search of. He grinned in response.

"Anyway, I didn't call back. Because that's exactly how she wants to spend Christmas morning, with that jockstrap knocking at her door, right?"

Taehyung snorted, bringing the straw of his drink to his mouth.

"Miriam is gonna have your head on a stick Lord of the Flies style if she catches you with that drink in her library." Yara warned, to which Taehyung dismissed with a wave of a hand.

Yara was a funny girl; he was pleasantly surprised to bump into her during winter break. He could tell something was off when they first ran into each other, so he invited her out to grab some coffee. It was over a warm cup of coffee – with the most absurd amount of sugar he had ever seen – that she finally shared with him all that had been weighing on her mind lately.

Sure there was the Jungkook and Y/N stuff. Yara was beyond homicidal. Taehyung was grateful for winter break as he was positive she would have rung out Jungkook's neck had she seen him after what had happened. Taehyung himself was astounded to find out what exactly was true nature of the two's relationship, curtesy of Yara, of course. Even if it was fake, however, he knew Jungkook enough to know that the happiness he gave off once Y/N entered his life wasn't.

But more than that, the petite girl was worried about a boy, an irritating one who Taehyung happened to be frat brothers with. Eunwoo had approached her immediately after Kiri left him, spewing some excuse about only dating Kiri because he couldn't get Yara out of his mind.

It was bullshit if you asked Taehyung. But he hadn't the heart to tell Yara that, especially with the way she looked so torn up about it – unsure of how to respond to Eunwoo. He wasn't entirely sure what their relationship was like, but he figured it must have meant enough to her to have her feeling this conflicted.

So he did his best to cheer her up, inviting her for lunch and driving her to their local library, which he had come to find out was her favorite place growing up. They spent many afternoons sprawled out on the couches in the now abandoned children's section of the library... or at least until the crabby librarian yelled at them to leave.

If Taehyung was honest, he didn't care much for literature – he was a math guy – but the way Yara would shove a book into his chest with wide eyes and an 'if you don't read this and tell me your thoughts on it, I'll literally die,' seemed reason enough to keep showing up day after day.

"Have you talked to her about Eunwoo, yet?"

Yara flinched at the blond man's words.

"Why don't we ever talk about normal people stuff? Like the weather, or what sports team played last night."

"Yara..."

"Oooh!" She exclaimed suddenly, "I know, let's talk about President Reagan. Did you hear his speech about tearing down the wall in Germany? Crazy stuff–"

"Dude, why are you so scared to tell her about Eunwoo? You told me." Taehyung interrupted, quirking up a brow. Yara held his eyes for a moment before sighing.

"I just don't want to bring it up to Y/N, you know? She has enough going on..."

"So? She's your best friend. She'll want to help."

"Exactly! She's going to want to comfort me and make me feel better – which will just make me feel worse." Yara groaned, leaning back against the bookshelf.

"I'm... not following." The frat boy admitted.

Surely girls aren't usually this hard to understand.

"Look, I know you'd only known me for a little while, but let me pencil you in. I have a reputation, okay? Yara doesn't get hung up on some dumb boy." Yara wagged her finger at him.

"Does Yara usually talk about herself in the third person?" Taehyung chuckled.

"Yara," she continued, paying the boy no mind, "is an independent woman who likes one night stands and sex without strings. She doesn't like clingy boys getting into her head and confusing her."

Taehyung nodded, "So basically, Yara is scared of catching feelings."

"Shh! Don't tell Yara about what Yara doesn't want to hear." She turned her nose up at him, pushing herself back off the stand to march away from him. Taehyung reached for her arm without hesitation, stopping her departure with a sigh.

"Look, I don't mean to be on your ass about this, but clearly, you feel something for this kid. Otherwise, you wouldn't be spending all your time pining over him."

Taehyung immediately wished he could take back those words as an offended look fell across the petite girl's face, her hands falling onto her hips, clearly displeased.

"Pining? You think I'm pining over Eunwoo?"

Taehyung shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to navigate this situation. As much as he liked Yara, she did spark a healthy dose of fear into him.

"Well... I mean... you're spending your whole break with me just because I can give you a ride to the library so you can read sad romance novels and cry."

"First of all," Yara began, "I happen to enjoy your company. You're a good listener and, frankly, very nice to look at."

Surprise fell over Taehyung, "Nice to look at?"

"Oh, don't act like you don't know." She waved him off, "Secondly, I've never cried. I've let out a sniffle at most."

"Fine, so you're not pining over him. Just get back together with him." He responded.

"I can't."

Taehyung frowned, "Then turn him down."

"I can't do that either." She frowned right back.

"Dude."

"I'm scared, okay!" She whined, thumping a foot against the library's carpeted floor.

"Of what? What's holding you back from going back to Eunwoo?"

"...He told me he loves me."

"And?"

"And I don't even know what that means!" Yara threw her hands up in exasperation, the sleeve of her swear falling down her forearms. "I don't know how to love him back or be a good girlfriend – which I know is what he wants from me."

"Yara, I hope you don't feel like you don't owe Eunwoo anything. Because you don't." Taehyung grew serious, which only caused the torn girl to pout.

"I know, I just... I mean, I don't hate him. But it's scary. Whenever I'm dating someone, I get all up in my head like... Am I supposed to be this someone's person? Possibly forever? What the fuck!"

"No, I get it. It's a lot of pressure." He shrugged powerlessly.

"Exactly! I don't want to have to try and love someone. I want to do it. Like... not to sound like a sappy idiot but sometimes I think about all those stories I read," she gestured towards the books beside her, "about feeling a spark when you kiss your person and just... I dunno. Would be fucking nice, instead of this complicated bullshit."

Yara was far from a hopeless romantic. As much as she loved to read about romance, she had an innate urge to flee the moment the word love came around. Still, she could appreciate the idea of it.

"So then forget about that stuff. Forget about labels and expectations. Just be with whoever you want to be with. Have fun, worry about the heavy shit later."

Taehyung had a very soothing effect whenever he spoke. His tone was low and lovely, and despite the way Yara's head was still running a mile a minute, she appreciated the boy's docile nature. Certainly made her feel a whole lot less anxious.

"I want to. That's how this whole thing with Eunwoo started, ya know?" She admitted, crossing her arms over her chest. "But all men are the same. They say they're fine with keeping it casual, but they always end up falling for me, which, duh, understandable..."

The blond boy let out an airy snicker, a direct challenge to Yara's words.

"Something funny, Tae?" She pressed.

"C'mon, that's not true." He rolled his eyes breezily.

"Oh, yeah? Tell that to my four ex-partners who are all still in love with me."

"Maybe you just haven't met the one. You know... your knight-in-no-strings-attached-armor."

"I'm telling you, no such guy exists." Yara emphasized with a poke into Taehyung chest.

He grabbed the jabby finger reflexively, his long fingers wrapping around the small digit, setting his drink on the nearest shelf.

"Yara."

"Seriously, I've done my research! You're looking at a hot commodity, buddy. I may be a raging homebody, but I am very efficient—"

Suddenly, the petite was trapped against the bookshelf with Taehyung hovering over her, a large hand on either side of her head.

"Please stop talking."

Yara's cheeks flushed in surprise as she met the handsome boy's warm eyes, growing even hotter as he leaned over and pressed his mouth against hers.

He smelled distinctly of vanilla, and it sent her stomach fluttering, reeling in the way he gripped her waist, pulling him into her. She would've lost herself in the feeling of his soft lips moving against hers if it weren't for a cough ringing out from somewhere in the library.

Yara broke the kiss short, ears red as she brought her hands to wrap around her torso defensively, trying her hardest to ignore the way her heart was pounding against her chest as if trying to escape.

"You kissed me!" She scoffed, trying her hardest to seem unaffected. Taehyung shrugged.

"You kissed me back."

Oh god, this was bad. She felt all light and giddy tucked away in this corner of the library, the gorgeous tall man still close in proximity, looking at her through a smirk.

"Yes, well... I'm a very go with the flow kind of gal." She defended, brows furrowed adorably.

"Relax, Yara."

"Well, what the hell was that precisely?! Do you just make out with all your library buddies? Is there some sort of library buddy étiquette I'm not aware of?"

"I kissed you because I wanted to. Kissing is fun." He shrugged. "Some guys just want that, you know."

Son of a bitch.

"You got balls, Goldilocks. Understood. Message received, loud and clear." Yara acknowledged through narrowed eyes.

"Happy I could help, bookworm."

A corner of her mouth turned upwards, admittedly amused.

"Just so we're on the same page... you're not in love with me? You just smooched me for fun?" She looked at him skeptically.

"Sorry you had to find out this way." Taehyung joked, earning him an eye roll.

"And you don't have some ex-lover you need to make jealous?"

At those words, the frat boy laughed heartily, head shaking a firm no.

"Wicked."

Yara hopped onto the balls of her feet, hoping to catch the blond's kiss once more when her mouth met the hardcover of a book instead. She sank back down with an annoyed huff; Taehyung had pulled a book from the nearest self in reach, holding it up between them to pause the eager girl's ministrations.

Poking his head out from behind the book cheekily, he flashed her a lopsided grin.

"Easy there, tiger. What about Eunwoo?"

Yara held his eyes for a moment, wondering how she hadn't noticed what a pretty brown they were until now. She let out an appreciative hum.

"What about him?" She raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk on her lips that had Taehyung leaning back over to meet it with one of his own.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Thanks for agreeing to meet with me." You greeted him with a cautious smile as he slipped into the chair across from you.

You were nervous, to say the least, watching the tall man shift in his seat, trying to grow comfortable despite the uncomfortable circumstances.

"This place is disorienting." Erik scanned the mall cafeteria before flashing you a charming smile. "Thought you'd get tired of waiting and head back home. I apologize for my tardiness."

"No worries. I still don't know my way around at the mall, and I've been home for weeks." You grinned back.

A pleasant beat of silence passed between the two ex-lovers, each taking a moment to consider the other. Erik looked a lot older than he did in high school; he had on a brand new pair of glasses that suited him far better than the ones you remembered did. His hair was combed and styled smartly so that they would stay out of his eyes. A stark contrast from the long-haired boy you had come to know these past few months.

Dammit. Your eyes fell onto the red table between you two, cheeks growing warm as you realized your thoughts had drifted back to Jungkook, even with your ex-fiance sitting across from you.

Erik's voice rang out, "I'll be honest. I wasn't expecting you to call me."

"I wasn't expecting me to either." You confessed, your hands intertwining on the tabletop.

Really, you didn't have much reason to be nervous. I mean, it was Erik. Despite the end of your relationship, there was no bad blood between you two. It wasn't the first time seeing him since the breakup either... maybe it was why you had called him that had you so on edge.

You weren't sure exactly what you wanted from Erik. Company? A distraction? Maybe what you were asking of him was unfair, but as he placed a hand over yours reassuringly, you found the wall you had set up crumbling down.

"I can help you, but you need to talk to me, Y/N. If I could read minds, I would be a much richer man." His brown eyes rolled dramatically.

You chuckled. Same dry wit you remembered.

"I met someone."

"Is that what you wanted to tell me? Y/N, you're allowed to date other people. I understand your hesitation, but really, it is time you moved on–"

You let out a scoff, yanking your hand away from the now laughing man. You flashed him a feigned look of irritation, silently grateful for the change of pace in conversation, finding it much easier to talk when things weren't so tense.

"God, you are still just as full of yourself as I remembered." You teased.

Erik shrugged, "Not to sound like a cocky asshole, but is it not warranted?"

You let that question run through your mind. You suppose if anyone had reason to have a big head, it would be Erik. Intelligent, handsome, hard-working– everything a mother would want their daughter to have.

"It is. You've always been perfect..." You mused, a hint of sadness in your tone that Erik picked up quickly.

And all at once, his entire demeanor changed, a serious expression settling behind those frames of his.

"Tell me about him." He instructed calmly.

And so you did— the beginning, the end, and all the beautiful bits in between. You told him about a boy that challenged you in ways you never imagined– a boy who made you feel like the sun. You spoke of every stupid conversation you once thought of as meaningless but now weighed heavily on your heart and mind.

You were mad at him, of course. There was a reason you had been ignoring his calls and ordered Yara to keep him in the dark of your whereabouts, after all. But the more you talked about him, the more you lit up. Erik noticed it too. How could he not? It was that very way you spoke with an uncontainable passion that made him fall in love with you in the first place.

He watched with utmost concentration for the vocal inflections of your words, the slight movement of your brows that always seemed to speak your mind before you did.

It was clear to him that this boy wasn't just a boy. He could hear in the choice of words you used, words that were static and void of variables. But there were certain words you seemed to dance around he realized as you came to the end of the story... words that were evident to all but you.

"So... Analysis?" You breathed out, chest deflating as you took in Erik's frown.

"Above all... did you find out if he used protection? I don't want to presume anything about... was her name Kiri?" Erik paused, continuing once you nodded back at him, "but your health should be your number one concern."

"I had a friend of his ask him on my behalf. He says he used protection... I went ahead and got tested anyway, though, and I'm all good thankfully." You told him.

Whether or not Jungkook had passed along some sort of STI was heavy on your mind the next morning after you kicked him out. Thankfully, Taehyung was more than happy to get the answer you need but were still too damn pissed off to seek out yourself.

"Good." Erik sunk back into his seat, a hand coming up to run through his hair as he considered his next words. You suppose you were grateful to be able to talk to Erik like this still. Sure, he was blunt and sometimes stared at you like you were some case-study, but he didn't bat an eye of judgment at the news of the contract, for which you were grateful. He had known you for too long to find it peculiar that you'd pretend to be someone's girlfriend in exchange for furthering and fulfilling your passion project.

If anything, that was precisely in line with your character. He liked to think he instilled some of those traits into you.

"Well, frankly, I am sorry to hear this happened to you. You're a great girl; you deserve better than that."

Your neck warmed at Erik's words, slightly taken aback.

"Oh, um... thanks, that means a lot coming from you." You expressed your gratitude shyly.

Erik nodded back at you, "Seriously. It was very shitty of him to string you along for so long and for sleeping with Kiri despite knowing how you felt."

"Oh."

"Oh?" He frowned, not expecting your response.

You shifted in your seat uncomfortably, pausing to watch a woman with a stroller walk past your table.

"Well..." you cleared your throat, "I'm not actually sure that he knows that I, um, like him... like that."

God, this was mortifying. The first time you had admitted you liked Jungkook and it was to your ex-fiancé? Sometimes you swear you were the protagonist in a mediocre rom-com film and no one was telling you.

Erik paused, "I see. And does he know now?"

"...No."

"I see." He sat up, fingers tapping against the table in interest. He quirked up a brow at you. "Perhaps it wasn't just him who was dishonest."

You scrunched your nose at him, not liking what you were hearing. It wasn't anything that hadn't already kept you up, tossing and turning in bed at 2 AM, of course. You had a feeling this was where this conversation would lead to. Erik, as genius as he was, was fairly predictable in this sense. Rational, dependable... nothing like the spontaneous boy you had fallen for.

"So? Even if he knew, what would that change? He slept with her..." You grumbled stubbornly.

"And maybe he wouldn't have if he had known."

You crossed your arms, "You don't know that."

"You're right. I don't. I don't even know the guy. But you do." He continued, offering you a suggestive look.

Huh. Did you think that would have stopped Jungkook? And even so, would that fact alone be enough to get you to forgive him?

"I... I don't know." Was your conclusion, pulling a hum from Erik.

"Guess the only way to know would be to discuss it with the meathead himself."

"I just... I don't want to get my heart broken again. I, quite literally, didn't sign up for this." You placed your face into your hands, hating how rational Erik had to be.

"My guess? He didn't either. It seems as if you both got more than you bargained for." He shrugged.

"He's definitely not at all what I was expecting..." You trailed off glumly.

When you first met Jungkook, he was obnoxious, cocksure, and grotesquely unbothered. You swore you had never hated anyone more on the first meet. But as you came to know him, you found in him a lot of what you wished you found in yourself. Approachable, flexible, spontaneous...

You just wished it all didn't have to hurt so bad.

"You and I are a lot alike, you know." Erik spoke up once he noticed you fall silent. " And I only realized this recently, but I think that was our downfall. When I asked you to marry me, what I was asking of you... Well, it was unfair. Because I know I would never accept that if I were in your shoes."

Your head shot up at his words, hands quick to wave at him dismissively. Asking him to meet you here was not to discuss what had gone wrong in your relationship, and you didn't want him to think that it was.

"Erik, that's okay you don't have to—"

"No, no, what I mean is... we made perfect sense together and it didn't work out in the end. This meathead of yours is nothing like you and maybe it's for the better. You said it yourself that he makes you feel important and formidable." He pressed on.

"Are you trying to imply the notion of opposites attract? Because I personally believe that's a myth and that we're drawn to those similar to us—"

"Puzzle pieces."

"Wha— Huh?" You blinked, blind-sighted by the calm man's sudden words.

Suddenly, Erik readjusted in his seat, leaning in close as he nodded his head.

"Think of life as one big puzzle, and everyone you meet is shaped differently, right? Yet somehow... they fit. We find those that complete us. And they're not necessarily opposites but—"

"But different pieces in the puzzle." You sighed, understanding the metaphor.

You raised a brow at the intellectual man, "That was uncharacteristically poetic of you. I thought you were a man of science... since when do you rely on literary devices to get your point across?"

Erik let out a dramatic sigh, fingertips pressed to the rip of his glasses, leaning back into his seat as if showing his greatness.

"I'm a growing man, Y/N. Science helps you understand the mind and the body, but as far as the heart goes... there's only so much it can tell us." He tutted wisely with a wag of his pointer finger.

"Wow. I dig this character development. I quite like this new you."

"Wanna get married now?" He deadpanned suddenly, a laugh ripping out of you at his unexpected words.

Erik grinned at the familiar sound, also finding the humor within his joke. He was pleased to see that if anything, he could at least momentarily take your mind off of your heart's turmoil.

"Ask me again in another three years." You rolled your eyes, grinning wide, to which Erik threatened that if Jungkook didn't by then, then he just might.

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jojoboisimagines · 3 years

Text

Snippets Ch.4 : Johnny and Josuke (4) with the Same Crush (3)

Previous Chapter

A set of multiple drabbles/oneshots combining characters (i.e Jojos) from multiple parts and AUs.

.::.

"That guy...do you think--" Josuke started.

"That's their boyfriend? No idea." Johnny quickly answered, trying to play it off as if he didn't care.

It was quite the opposite. He may have cared too much.

To say Johnny was jealous was an understatement. But it seemed like Josuke was feeling some of the heat too, seeing you hanging out with some guy and proceeding to talk about him with Josuke when the two of you went to lunch the other day.

Josuke was still in the dark about Johnny’s own crush on you, which was a relief for the jockey, but it was hell for him, having to be afraid of either guy winning you over first.

He just needed to muster up the courage to talk to you again, but it was a lot more difficult than he thought it’d be. You two always seemed to be busy when the other wasn’t. Of course he still had Gyro (and occasionally Josuke and Hot Pants) to keep him company, but he missed you.

The little spat the cousins had was forgotten for a while. They didn’t exactly apologize to each other, but just starting to talk normally again was enough sign there was no hard feelings. The younger teen was still very confused about Johnny’s intentions that day.

‘ Was he trying to be a good role model or was he just mad I was leaving him at home?’ he thought. It didn’t really matter to him anymore, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t concerned about what Johnny must’ve been thinking, and if he still did feel that way.

They sat at a small table on the far side of the kitchen. Josuke, looking rather bored, held his head on his palm, while Johnny was playing on their shared Switch. Or at least, was pretending to be after Josuke brought up the subject.

“Hey, can I ask you an honest question?” The Japanese teen breaks the icy silence once again.

Johnny merely raises an eyebrow with a low ‘hm’ that was barely audible. His heart silently raced thinking of what the boy sitting across from him had on his mind to ask.

“(y/n)...how long have you known them?”

A simple enough question to start off with, Josuke thought. Yet Johnny’s lips still pursed.

“Uh...about half a year now. We got really close in that time I’d say.” That last part wasn’t even to get a rise out of Josuke, he just genuinely thought so. He really cared about you, romantically or not.

Meanwhile, Josuke had only known you for the duration of the summer, which was about to end in a couple of weeks. Perhaps if he’d beg Johnny to let him stay he’d have more time to bond with you, but there was also the issue of him feeling homesick from time to time.

God, if he could take you back to Morioh with him..it’d be like a dream come true.

They both had quickly forgotten about whatever guy Josuke was referring to earlier, mixed up in their own thoughts about their relationship with you. Besides, he had only ever seen the guy once, there was no way you’d switch up on him that quickly.

He had no dates or anything planned with you like he usually does, though. Not that he didn’t want to spend time with you, he just felt as if he was coming off as a little...clingy.

Higashikata had been trying to drop hints that he liked you, such as buying you things, having heart-to-heart conversations as he’d walk you home, calling you pet names, and ending his goodnight texts with a little heart emoji. He considered himself a romantic, but when it came to your reactions, you kinda brushed them off platonically. Perhaps you’d never been flirted with before?

His texts were still frequent, making sure you were having a good day and all, but he figured maybe he should start being a little more risky..

“What do you like about (y/n) anyways?” Johnny asked.

There was a pause for a couple of seconds, before Josuke scooted back in his chair and got up from the table, intending to retreat to his room for a couple of hours.

“The same things you do, probably.”

.::.

“Ow! Gyro, what the hell was that for?!”

“Because, idiota, you need to confess already.” He hovers over Johnny like a judgmental parent.

Josuke had left the house to get some groceries, and in that time, the jockey called Gyro over. Not for advice specifically, but that's what it had eventually turned into. Sitting on the floor of Johnny’s room (where it was painfully easy to find porn magazines, Gyro won’t let that go as long as the two of them live).

“Like seriously, this is getting embarrassing to watch, just do it already.” The Italian pointed a finger at his friend. “Sooner or later you’re gonna do the thing where you get the girl drunk and then sleep with her regardless of feelings.”

“Ugh, I’m not like that anymore Gyro!” Johnny folds his arms with a pout his friend knows all too well at this point. “I’ve never committed to anyone before, so of course this is a little more awkward for me than it is for anyone else, you know this!”

Indeed he did know. It was somehow one of the things they always ended up talking about.

“Listen, I know how this is gonna end. Its gonna end with you in this same room, bunched up in several blankets, listening to Fleetwood Mac on repeat with 3 pizza boxes to make yourself feel better.”

The American scoffs.

Gyro sits upright on his bed. “I’m right. Look, this gal means a lot to you, I know. I’ve seen it. You’ve never stared at someone with such a…not hateful look in your eye.” It was half a joke, half truth. “And I don't wanna see you sad, so you’re just gonna have to pull yourself up, grow some steel balls, and ask them out. For real. For both of our sakes at this point.”

Johnny rolls his eyes. “Wow, Gyro wants me to be with a girl? Pigs must be flying.”

“You are so not funny.” The Italian’s teeth flashes for a moment as he scowls.

“Alright, since you’re such a casanova, why don’t you tell me what to say to them?” At this rate, there was really no other choice for Joestar to take. He could ask Hot Pants, but knew she would give him similar advice.

“Nyo-ho! I’ll show ya! All you gotta do is gimme your phone.”

As soon as the word ‘gimme’ was uttered, the jockey clutched his phone as if it was a baby. The last few times he lended his friend his phone, it didn’t go so well.

Gyro would’ve snorted if he wasn’t serious about this.

“Come onnn! It--”

“Won’t go like the last three times, right? Fat chance.”

“Just hurry and hand it over before I tackle you!”

The larger man did that far too much already, much to Johnny’s dismay. Once Gyro had him in a headlock, there was no getting out of it. He defeatedly raised his phone up to the man for him to take.

“If you ruin anything, I’m doing the same thing to you, AND taking your damn horse.” The Italian waved him off as if he was merely an angry toddler. As he typed, Johnny tried to peer over and see, but his friend was too adamant on turning side to side so he couldn’t. The expressions Gyro was making wasn’t a good sign either. First confused, then mischievous, then looking a little too proud of himself. The jockey’s hands could start sweating at any moment from the sheer anxiety this was giving him.

“Aaaaaand done! There we go, all set!”

Johnny reached for his phone as soon as the words left his mouth, unapologetically in a snatching manner to immediately read the text sent.

::‘Hey This is Johnny darling. Hope your day has been as beautiful as your smile. I was wondering if you’re free tomorrow by 12pm. I have something very important to tell you. See you soon xoxo.’::

Alright, so it wasn’t as bad as he thought itd be (not nearly as bad as the time Gyro dared him to send a ‘send nudes’ text to you) but god, it would look suspiciously out of character for you to see. He can’t even remember the last time he typed ‘darling’ instead of ‘darlin’ and actually bothered to punctuate his texts. And who even used ‘xoxo’ anymore?

His friend looked at him with a big grin, waiting for his reaction. A slightly more pure smile than if he were waiting for Johnny to get a joke.

“Soooo what do you think? You gotta pick some nice clothes out for your date.”

The shorter man sighs.

“Its...passable.”

.::.

Josuke got home a little later than he expected. He was surprised to see there was still Prince CDs in stock at the store. Thats one of the perks of coming to America, he guessed. He was more than ready to put them into one of Johnny’s old CD players he had found. It was already hard for him to listen to pretty much anything without thinking of you. At least if it was Prince specifically, it would help him feel better and he could jam out to it.

Finally finding the track he wanted, he grinned, letting the music play out loud and hopping on his bed. It was a good few minutes before he had started getting that feeling in his gut again.

..Crap, this wasn’t helping either.

The teen felt that he couldn’t endure this much longer. Love was something he took very seriously and to be so unsure about your relationship just made him feel funny. He had to at least know for sure if the both of you were on the same page. Josuke was sick of being so anxious about it.

Josuke laid down flat on his back, pulling his phone out.

“You know what? I’m gonna ask them out.”

#jojo #jjba #jjba x reader #Josuke Higashikata #josuke x reader #josuke higashikata x reader #Johnny Joestar #johnny joestar x reader #jojo x reader

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liam-cadmus · 3 years

Text

college au feat. sasushikahina

If you walk in Konoha University, you’ll immediately know the campus sweethearts, Shikamaru Nara and his girlfriend, Hinata Hyuuga. Hinata is the Student Council President, often seen with Shikamaru, the male carrying her books for her. Deep inside, the two knows they’re missing one, the third to their duo, the one who’ll complete their triad. Hinata would rest her head on Shikamaru’s shoulder, the Nara wrapping an arm around her. “Are you missing him again?” he questions, guiding their bodies through the crowd. “How can I not? They said the new student is a Uchiha.” she murmurs, remembering onyx eyes and black hair, a bright smile and chubby cheeks. “Troublesome, I swear, if this isn’t Sasuke..” Shikamaru trails off, his arm hugging her closer. Fugaku and Mikoto Uchiha thought of bringing Sasuke along to their trip across the planet, wanting to settle in America with Sasuke’s older brother, Itachi. The boy was crying that day, hugging the two of them as tight as he can being a 7-year old child. Their picture is still on their nightstands, small purple and green bracelets beside it, the accessory too big for their wrists. “Come on, Hina, stand straighter, we’re close to the campus entrance.”

Itachi looks at the mirror, seeing his younger brother staring out the window, his charcoal eyes curious, glinting in the morning. He made sure that Sasuke knew the country they were from, the younger Uchiha still fluent in Japanese. He glances at Shisui who’s driving, his right hand clasping Itachi’s left on the gearstick. “He’ll be fine, ‘Tachi.” Shisui murmurs, offering a grin. Itachi sighs in worry, “You know that he doesn’t remember any of his friends right?” The plane Sasuke and his parents were boarding crashed, their parents sacrificing themselves to protect Sasuke, the boy coming out alive— but he was diagnosed with amnesia.Thankfully his brother remembers them, but they’re not sure if he will remember his childhood friends. “He’ll be fine, he’s been healing. I think Obito’s plan to make us live here again is a good thing,” Shisui assured, a smile forming on his lips. Itachi bites his lip, before nodding— it wouldn’t do anyone good if he’s pessimistic, Sasuke can take care of himself. Sasuke pulls his backpack, slinging it to one shoulder. He opens the car door, stepping out, before turning his head to his brother. “I’m gonna go in now, nii-san, be safe.” he says, closing the door gently. “You’ll be fine, twerp.” He nods to Shisui before waving, the dark blue convertible driving off the road. He exhales softly, before putting his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket, turning around. The squeals of girls flood his ears, making him frown in distaste— the action only increasing the volume. He knows he’s good-looking, but the supposedly good attribute turns sour when girls swarm him, his dislike on physical contact increasing. He breathes heavily, willing himself not to make a scene, walking swiftly past the girls crowding him. He walks into the campus, looking around to see the students that were supposed to show him around, a girl his age waving at him shyly. He sidles up to them, nodding. “Are you the ones that are supposed to uh..tour me?” he asks, smiling softly. The brunette man stares at him before talking, “Quite the impression you made there.” Oh, he was talking about the fan girls, “Tell me about it,” he snorts, “I think it’s in the blood.” “In the blood alright, come on, let’s get you out of here.” Shikamaru starts walking, Hinata walking beside him. The students part to give them way, it seems like these two are the popular kids in this university, he thinks, watching as girl wraps her hand on the brunette’s arm. The said brunette turns to him, a hand outstretched, “I’m Shikamaru Nara by the way,” Sasuke clasps his hand, shaking it, “Nice to meet you, I’m Sasuke Uchiha.” His two companions stop in their tracks, making him raise an eyebrow. Shikamaru gulps, nudging Hinata. “H-hi Sasuke-kun, I’m H-hinata Hyuuga.” she greets, making him return a smile. He walks along, the two of them catching up to his side, the three of them walking to the office. Shikamaru opens the door, Sasuke walking inside, the door shutting close behind him. A man lifts his head, a scar across his nose, his hair pulled on a neat ponytail. “Nice to meet you, is that you Sasuke-kun?” the man asks, making Sasuke nod hesitantly. “It’s been a long time since I saw you here, you’ve grown up to a tall man.” Sasuke blushes slightly, “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t remember you.” he admits, seeing the man’s smile slip, before masking it again— making him really guilty. “It’s fine, here’s your schedule, locker and dorm key, and these two will show you the classes and dorms.” The schedule and keys are placed on the desk, making Sasuke get the keys and attach them to his keychain, holding the schedule in his hand. He nods, “Thank you..,” he glances at the nametag, “Iruka-san.” the man chuckles at him, waving the honorific away. “Iruka is just fine.” He murmurs a thanks again, before closing the door behind him, seeing Hinata and Shikamaru leaning on the wall, patiently waiting for him. He smiles, before giving his schedule, Hinata’s light lavender eyes gazing through, Shikamaru nodding over her shoulder. Shikamaru whistles, “BS in Engineering? Hello engineer, I’m architect, and she’s BS in Interior Design.” “We have Physics and Algebra together, and it looks like you have History with Hinata, then we all have Design together twice a week.” he notes, Hinata nodding along. “D-do you have a club on your m-mind?” Hinata stammers, fiddling her fingers together. “Uh, I’m not sure if I’ll join one.” he brushes his hair out of his face as the couple nod, the two of them starting to walk, Sasuke following. Suddenly, there’s a arm thrown over his shoulder, making him flinch. “Woah, chill man, I’m not gonna hurt ya,” a tan-skinned male with short brown hair grins at him, two upside down red triangles on his cheeks. A blond girl with turquoise eyes jump on his back, squealing on his ear. Thank god he has fast reflexes — he adjusts his grip to not let her fall. “This is great and all, but can you please explain what’s happening?” he asks, confused out of his mind, staring helplessly at his tour guides. “Do you not remember me, Teme?!” A loud booming voice exclaims, wide blue eyes and blond hair obscuring his vision. “I’m quite sure I don’t recognize nor seen you before.” The blond deflates, the group around him slipping into hurt expressions, frowns marring their faces. “I’m really sorry, I’m apologize for not knowing you, I have amnesia so I genuinely don’t remember you.” he explains, scowl in place. It’s annoying when people gets upset he can’t remember them, it’s not like he wanted to. “It’s fine, ‘Suke.” a taller pale teen with long brown hair approaches, white eyes staring at him. “We understand.” Shikamaru and Hinata stare at him sadly, before pulling his arm, the group slipping into position behind him. He listens absent-mindedly as Shikamaru and Hinata gestures to the different classes, the information going to his brain while he thinks about the nickname. ‘Suke? Where have I heard that before?’ he scowls internally, silently looking around the campus. They finish the tour, stopping by the outdoor garden, several students seating together as a group, he follows absently as Shikamaru and Hinata’s friends sit in a circle, making him sit on a bench a few feet away. He drops his backpack beside him, reminding himself to drop it in the lockers. He opens his phone, reading Itachi’s message, ‘Your bags are in your dorm already, if you have time, visit Kakashi-sensei, his class is in 3A.’

He sends a ‘Thank you, nii-san.’ in return, pocketing his phone once more. He watches as a girl with green eyes and pink hair seat beside the blond girl earlier. A black-haired male with a bowl-cut that surprisingly fits him sits down energetically, a girl with buns and two more males arriving.

He glances away from the group, rummaging through his bag for his earphones, a tap on his shoulder making him look up. “Gaara?”

The red-haired man smirks, plopping beside him. “What took you so long?” Gaara asks, watching amusedly as Sasuke’s earphones slip from his hand, the black-haired man glaring at him. “I had trouble with the embassy, with the plane crash and other stuff.” he huffs, jamming the an earphone in his ear, leaning on the bench.

“Temari and Kankuro is with me, we moved here three weeks earlier than you.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes, “I know that, you kept sending me selfies of you three together.”

“Sorry to disturb your conversation, but do you wanna have lunch with us?” The boy with bowl-cut interjects their conversation, politely smiling at them — specifically Gaara. Sasuke gives a quiet ‘ah’ in understanding, before pushing Gaara forwards. “He’d love to.” he smiles sweetly, snickering at the flushed glare Gaara sends him, the boy seating down beside the male.

The pale teen from earlier sits gently beside him, the one who called him by a nickname. “Hello, ‘Suke.” he says, making Sasuke knit his eyebrows — half in annoyance, and because the nickname is familiar. Suke, Suke, Suke, Suke... he thinks repeatedly, wracking his brain for when he heard that nickname from.

“Suke?”

He gasps, a memory floating to his brain.

A pale boy smirking at him, a blurry girl beside him. “I think it’s time for *Hinata* to use that swing,‘Suke.” he mocks, hands on his hips. The older boy approaches him, making him squeal and hop down, glaring. “That’s unfair, I’m using it, Neji.” “You’ve been on that for an hour now, let others use it.” Sasuke playfully pouts before hopping down, letting the girl sit on the swing instead, walking to the bark of the tree to lean on.

The Hyuuga is worriedly waving a hand in front of his face, white irises pinched in distress. “Neji?” he whispers, before clutching his head, closing his eyes at the memories re-surfing. “You remember?” Neji asks, surprise in his features.

“No, I just blurted out a random name to someone who was never introduced to me.” he sarcastically retorts, wincing at the harsh tone his voice dropped to.

“Slow down, Sharingan, you just got a lot of memories.” Neji admonishes, hands steady on his shoulders to avoid him moving too much.

“You still have that nickname?” Sasuke croaks in amusement, a glint in his onyx eyes in memory. “You’re Byakugan.” he teases, watching the older boy huff in mock annoyance, fond eyes rolling at him. ‘Who’s the girl you were with?’ he wanted to ask, but kept his mouth shut, a blurry figure in his mind. “So, I’m guessing I’ll be helping you to regain memories.” Neji gives a half-smile, before pulling him to the group. “Hey guys, mind if you introduce yourselves?” Neji asks them while he seats himself beside the male, focusing on his hands. “I’m Tenten, this is Lee,” she gestures to the boy beside her, the bowl-cut. “I’m Ino, this is Sakura.” the blond girl continues, “she’s my girlfriend by the way.” He nods along, looking at the blond who called him ‘Teme.’ “And what’s your name, Dobe?” he asks, the insult rolling out of his mouth. The name? pet name? insult? gets the blond’s attention, blinking repeatedly. “So?” he urges the man to talk, an awkward silence covering the group. “Naruto Uzumaki, dattebayo!” the blond beams, then clapping the man beside him on the back. “This is Shino, and that is Chouji.” he points to a male beside Shikamaru. “I’m Kiba,” the one with triangles on his cheeks introduces, Sasuke memorizing their names. “I’m Sasuke Uchiha.” The others separate from him, walking around quietly, up the stairs into the third floor. He searches for room 3A, wanting to meet his cousin’s boyfriend, Kakashi. He knocks on the door, before peeking in, seeing a silver-haired man reading a orange book. Upon closer inspection, he sees the title, Icha Icha Paradise, making him gape in disbelief — what professor reads porn in public?

He clears his throat, the masked professor looking up at him lazily, it seems like the man already knew he was here.

“You’re Obito’s little cousin, Sasuke-chan?” he drawls, closing the book in his hands and resting it on the table. “Hn.” he agrees, pulling a seat out in front of Kakashi.

“You wanted to have a mentor in Engineering right?” Kakashi hums, flicking through stacks of paper.

Sasuke nods, watching as Kakashi separates a folder from the pile, adding it two more. “I have this club you see, I don’t know if you’ve heard it, but it’s groups with three students and a professor, and we do activities around the school.” the man explains, opening two other folders. “These are my current students,” he points to Naruto and Sakura’s folders, pulling the new one closer, “And I’m thinking if you want, to join our group.” Sasuke purses his lips, considering the idea. “I was originally not gonna join one, but sure.” Kakashi smiles at him behind the mask, “You’ll enjoy it, we’ll meet twice a week. I met Obito because of this, we were groupmates.” Sasuke ‘tch’ed, looking away. “You have Orochimaru as your mentor for Engineering, he’s actually a professor from Team 7, you’re like, their descendants.” He notices the TEAM 7 stamp on the folders, confirming Kakashi’s statement. Ah, the Head Professors, the trio known for graduating with doctorate degrees. “So I’m guessing Naruto is taking Journalism and Sakura is taking Medicine?” Kakashi nods at him, their group really matching the head professors. “Sure, I’ll join, Hatake-sensei.” he signs his signature in the corner, listening amusedly at Kakashi. “Maa, maa, I have three cute little students, that are small versions of the head profs..Kakashi is fine, Sasuke.” “Okay Kakashi, is that all?” he asks, again, “Meet us in the courtyard by 4 pm every Tuesdays and Fridays.” he nods, before bowing. “Thank you.” Kakashi pushes him out the room, making him glare, “Bye bye, see you tomorrow!” He stumbles out the room, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. Someone trips to him, making him reach out to steady them? him? her? He glances to the person, seeing Hinata, letting go when she’s standing steady. “I-I’m sorry for stumbling to you.” She says, fixing the stack of books on her arm. “It’s fine, I was about to search for you anyways. I don’t know where the dorms are.” he shoves his hands on his pockets, walking beside Hinata. “Ah, If you’d follow me.” she whispers, her hair tied in a high ponytail, pressing her glasses up her nose. “So, you visited Kakashi-sensei, did you join their club?” she asks, starting small talk. He hums, thinking his words over before speaking, “I needed a mentor, but yeah, I’m with Sakura and Naruto.” She smiles, “It helps you improve actually, I’m in Team 8, Kiba and Shino with Kurenai-sensei as our professor.” Sasuke ‘ah’s, letting the information roll in his brain. They walk the hallways quietly, enjoying the comfortable silence between them. Sasuke pulls out a the dorm key, seeing the embedded 223 on the metal. They went up two flights of stairs, stopping at the dark brown door. “You’re roommates with Shikamaru.” she says, pulling her own key of the dorm to open it. They enter the threshold, removing their shoes and placing it in the shoe rack. Hinata nods at him before seating on the couch, resting her socked feet on the low coffee table. He wanders around, peeking to the kitchen, and walking to the hallway, seeing an empty bedroom. “Is this mine?” he questions, pointing to the room with a thumb. Hinata leans forwards to see the room before nodding. “Yeah, that’s yours, Shikamaru’s is the one on the end.” His confused face makes Hinata giggle, the sound coming out as tinkling bells. “Your bags are here.” she points to the bags stacked by the couch, making him pout and retrieve it. “I’ll just...pack my clothes to my room.” he says, walking away, closing the door behind him. Shikamaru opens the door surprised, he sees his girlfriend typing away from her laptop, Sasuke on the kitchen counter mixing various berries in cream. He slides off his shoes silently, before leaning on the doorframe and crossing his arms. “Well aren’t you comfortable.” Sasuke jumps in surprise, before scowling at him, irritated. “Close the door,” the man chides him, before plucking a muffin by the stove. “You baked muffins?” he asks, walking to the counter, leaning his arms on the top. “Hn.” a muffin is pushed to his hand, before Sasuke walks to Hinata, placing a muffin by the table. “Thank you.” she says, a very light blush on her cheeks. He nods, before plopping on the other side of the couch, munching on the muffin with one hand, his other hand flipping through the pages of the book he’s reading. Shikamaru takes the muffin before sitting in between the two, leaning on the back of the couch when he finishes it. Sasuke looks up to Shikamaru leaning on his shoulder, and Hinata cleaning up papers. “Do you mind if you get him to bed, Sasuke-kun?” she asks, making him surprised — he thought he would be uncomfortable by now, but the action seemed oddly familiar. “Ah,” he starts, before gently resting Shikamaru on the couch, draping a loose blanket on him. “I’ll walk you to your dorm, it’s late after all, if you don’t mind?” She shakes her head, making Sasuke pout. “Come on, Shikamaru will get upset with me if I let you out on your own this late,” he reasons, knowing he’s being stubborn, but he just can’t shake the feeling of how right it is. Hinata stifles a laugh, knowing that Shikamaru can’t get mad for not walking her back — especially Sasuke. She stares at him, seeing the same from her childhood, their memories making her smile in nostalgia. Sasuke snorts at her, “Yeah, I’ll need to walk you back, you’re just staring to space. Walking alone is out of discussion.” he threatens softly, locking the door. Sasuke drops Hinata off in her dorm, ignoring the whispers of the other students, glaring at the boys who try to pull her away. “Thank you S-sasuke-kun.” she waves, making him return the gesture. He hurriedly walks to the elevator, ignoring at the peering eyes of the others. His keys jingle as he finds the correct key, jamming the key in and turning the knob, almost slamming the door — remembering Shikamaru’s still asleep. Shikamaru wakes to his body being jostled, sleepily batting the hand away. A dry chuckle was heard, “Shikamaru, it’s late, just go to your bed.” Shikamaru blinks at him, before grumpily bunching the blanket around his shoulders, complaining. “Bothersome, I just wanted to,” he gets cut off by a yawn, “sleep.” Sasuke hums amusedly, watching the Nara sleepily finding his way to his room in the dark hallway. “Sweet dreams, Shikamaru.” he grunts, before closing the kitchen lights, hearing a faint mumble. Sasuke fixes his button up, wearing a woolen sweater on top. He closes the door to his room, walking up to Shikamaru’s door and knocking. “Wake up you lazy ass!” he bangs on the wall, finding satisfaction when he hears a tired groan, and a pillow thrown to the wall. “Such a drag.” the complaint is heard through the door, followed by silence. Sasuke, learned after a few weeks of living with Shikamaru, despite his high intellect and smart responses, is very lazy. “Come on, I’ll buy you coffee today, my treat.” he bribes, scowling when he hears no movement. “I’m not going to be late today, Nara.” A few seconds tick by, before he hears sheets shuffle, and a begrudgingly brunette opening his door. “Fine, I’ll be out in 10 minutes.” He waits by the couch, twirling his keys around his finger, oblivious to Shikamaru looking at the band that holds it all together, a blue bracelet, making him force a smile. “Come on.”

A difference between Sasuke on and off campus is very different, to much of other people’s surprise. The jet black male is withdrawn, quiet, and polite outside, his expression often indifferent or ignorant to the people around him, making him look like an ass. His friends know better, learning his other side, the witty, sarcastic Uchiha who often teases, the stubborn, polite Sasuke they once knew. He’s remembered some of them, mostly ones who he doesn’t spend much time back then. Sasuke often can be seen close to the campus’ couple, Hinata and Shikamaru worming their way to his heart. He knows that their bond is more than friendship, he feels it in his bones and bloodstream, not that he would admit it out loud. He just stays in the sidelines, watching the two share affection in his presence, but he doesn’t have the mind to disrupt them.

Sasuke really, really dislikes the girls who hounds his space, his face often displeased when they show up — especially those who already has significant others, it earns him glares. He sometimes curses his good genetics, knowing that pale skin and dark hair are attributes girls often find attractive.

“Thank god,” he breathes, walking in between Kiba and Neji, the two glaring at the girls to back off. “Sasuke-kun.” Kiba mimics the high pitched tone, wrapping himself on Sasuke’s arm. “Ha, ha, terribly funny.” he grits out, pushing Kiba away. “You’ve been here for months, they still haven’t stopped.” Shino commented, gazing out of his tinted glasses. Sasuke huffs, remembering the girls flirting at him, shuddering at the memory of flowery perfume and long nails. The boys around him chuckle at his reaction, knowing how many times they had to rescue the boy from crowds of women. “Sasuke Uchiha, please come to the office.” the intercom announces, speakers loud in the bustling hallway. “What did you do?” Chouji asks, pausing a moment to talk, before munching on his chips again. He shrugs his shoulders, before separating, pretending to not see the students avoiding him. He opens the door to the office, stopping in his tracks to greet Iruka, only to see Itachi and Shisui, Kakashi and Obito on one side. “Is there something wrong?” His eyebrows knit in worry, seeing the scar going across Kakashi’s left eye, and the scars on the left of Obito’s face. His gut churns at the image his mind provides, before turning to Itachi, who’s leaning on Shisui, the other male kissing his aniki’s temple. “Uchiha clan was massacred in America.” Sasuke can feel his jaw dropping, his eyes widening in shock. Their clan was massacred? Does that mean the four of them are the only ones left? “Yes, we are the only ones left, we just got recently attacked.” Obito gestures to their faces, grimacing. “You’re here to tell me that there might be someone coming after me?” he asks weakly, shoulders slumping. “Just a precaution, just...make sure someone is always with you, okay?” Itachi murmurs, patting his head. “I’ll make sure to have company, aniki.” The bell rings, snapping him out of his thoughts. He hugs them, reassuring that he’ll call them if something was to happen. He slumps beside Naruto, tiredly rubbing his eyes, rummaging in his small bag only to groan, noticing his lack of packed lunch. Shikamaru leans forward on his other side, commenting dryly. “Nice lunch you got there.” Sasuke peers at him with dark charcoal eyes, tiredly rubbing his arms. “Where’s yours then?” he asks, a dark eyebrow raised in return. Shikamaru opens his mouth to say he’s usually taking a share of Sasuke’s lunch when two bento boxes fall into each of their laps, making them look up in surprise. Hinata blushes at the sudden attention directed to her, making her scrunch her nose up. “I prepared extra lunches, I n-noticed you two leaving e-earlier than normal.” she stammers, hand curling gentle fists. Shikamaru sighs at her, tugging at her hand and intertwining it, “It’s fine, thank you babe.” he whispers, kissing her cheek softly, pulling his purple-haired girlfriend beside him. Sasuke turns away from the couple, keeping his head bowed while eating with the chopsticks.

Truthfully, Sasuke already recovered some of his memories with Hinata and Shikamaru, remembering the times they played around the Hyuuga estate when they were kids. He distinctly remembers his mom’s chatter, talking with Hiashi-san and Yoshino-san. “Oh, remember when we were graduates? Our group was the three of us, now look at out kids.” Mikoto whispers, delight in her expression. “Mikoto, Hiashi was the only boy in ours, look at our children, his daughter is the only girl now.” Shikamaru’s mother giggles, Hiashi pinching his nose in worry.

“I’ll marry you both when we grow up.”

The day where he laid down beside Shikamaru on a hill, both of them content in watching the cloud pass.

The day where Neji introduced Hinata to him, making him push the purple-haired softly on the swing he sat on.

He remembers Hinata teaching him and Shikamaru to make flower crowns, the three of them making one for each other.

He remembers when he left, leaving the purple and green bracelets around their wrists.

Even if he remembers it, he kept his mouth shut even if all he wanted to do was hug them and twirl them in circles.

He cracks his knuckles, leaving his room in a sleeveless hoodie and joggers, his hair tied to a half-bun, his running shoes on. “Want me to bring coffee back? Vanilla Latte and Black Coffee?” he asks, wrinkling his nose at Shikamaru’s order.

The two nods at him gratefully, smiling. He closes the door behind him, placing both his earphones in, and jogging to the field, wanting to meet up with Suigetsu and the rest of Team Taka.

Team Taka is the sport news writers, Sasuke joining the small group when he remembers he used to play baseball and soccer. “Ah, Suigetsu.” he greets, sitting down beside him on the bleachers. “Isn’t that the bad player from Kumo?” he blurts out, before slapping a hand over his mouth, Suigetsu barking out a laugh. “Ah him? Yes, he is.” Suigetsu smirks smugly at him, before glancing at the opposite bleachers, Sasuke stiffening when it’s filled with Kumo students. “You’re lucky you didn’t say that louder.” Karin comments, before writing notes. Ah, it was Kiba and Naruto’s practice, the two of them sweaty and panting.

They stay there until 6pm, Team Taka leaving him on the bleachers. He walks to the stairs on the side wanting to meet up with Kiba, when Naruto crowds him from below the steps, blue eyes glinting in the dark night. “Hi, Sasuke.” the blond speaks in a monotonous voice, making him stiffen where he’s standing. “Why are you crowding me?” he asks, suspicion in his eyes. “I just wanted to tell you that if you break their hearts, you’re dead to me.” Naruto threatens, Sasuke knowing that ‘their’ is Shikamaru and Hinata. “And why is that, usuratonkachi?” he quips, dreading the next part. “‘Cause I know you like them, you’ve been like this ever since childhood.” He exhales shakily, knowing that out of everyone, Naruto is his best friend despite being separated for 13 years. “Sasuke stop lying to yourself, please.” Naruto pleads, his hand pulling at Sasuke’s collar. “What if I do?” he snarks, pushing Naruto back. Naruto looks at him with gazed blue eyes, frowning. “I’m trying to help you, because I don’t want to see them hurt again.” The blond snaps, “I don’t want you to be hurt staying in the sidelines.” he walks away, unaware of the group of Oto students hiding by the shadowed tree, Sasuke stumbling back blinking. He regrets snapping like that, knowing that keeping this to himself would harm him in the long run. Sasuke watches as Naruto’s from disappear in the distance, leaving him sitting with his arms pillowing his head. Sasuke’s cries of help is unintelligible in the dark night sky, a group of Oto students successful in beating him up. Kiba runs towards Naruto, panting from running across the Academy, duffle bag in hand. He just came from the lockers, leaving Naruto on the field with Sasuke. Speaking of — “Naruto, where’s Sasuke?” he asks worriedly, looking at the agitated expression his lover has. Naruto’s lips are set in a firm line, “I left him about 10 minutes ago.” Kiba grips him on the shoulders, shaking him, “Where?” his voice must have been so distressed that the blond notices it. “Naruto, where?” he repeats, uneasily, getting impatient. “The back of the stands.” Naruto finally mumbles, the alarm in Kiba’s tone bothering him. “Shit,” Kiba runs a hand through his hand before running off, Naruto following. Kiba sprints, ignoring his protesting lungs, willing himself to keep going. “Kiba, what’s wrong?” Naruto shouts, only increasing his speed. God knows how long the Uchiha has been alone, the other teen telling him and Neji that he needs someone beside him at all times. Kiba pants, before walking silently around the stands, snarling at the laughing group of Oto students leaving to the back gate of the campus, before turning to Sasuke who’s laying down on the grass. He winces, before slowly approaching Sasuke, sitting the boy up against the wooden poles. “Sasuke, are you awake?” Sasuke groans, before coughing, clutching his stomach. “Did you break anything?” Kiba asks worriedly, rubbing his back to help him with the coughing fit. “Bruises and cuts.” Sasuke groans, slumping on the pole, wincing at the bruises on his arms. He inhales shallowly, his breath coming out in stutters. “Let’s get you to Sakura.” Sasuke lets Kiba support him, Naruto hesitantly going to his other side. “It’s not your fault, it’s fine.” he reassures the man before they walk in the dark, avoiding bumps. Sasuke walks along with the couple, knocking on Sakura’s door, the pinkette scoffing when she sees him. “And what did you do that got you beat up?” Sasuke sighs at her before shrugging, the girl narrowing her eyes at him. “You better be grateful that you have a bestfriend that’s a medic.” she clicks her tongue before pulling her first aid kit, kneeling in front of Sasuke to tend to his wounds. “Thank you Sakura.” he turns fond eyes to her, the girl rolling her eyes at him in exasperation. He looks down at his arms marred with bandages, the girl putting ointment on his bruises, his cuts cleaned and covered. He walks to Sakura, hugging her tight. “Thank you.” he mutters to her ear, inhaling the calming scent of light sakura leaves. Sakura snorts, patting his back. “We need to talk about it some time, but you should go home first, it’s late.” He waves before going out the door, Naruto walking with Kiba on his back, asleep. Sasuke drops them at the second floor, “Thank you for coming to rescue me, and don’t blame yourself, Naruto.” he emphasizes the last part, knowing the blond will feel guilty for leaving him alone. Naruto opens his mouth to disagree, when Sasuke adds, “I should have told the group I needed a person with me at all times, but I only told Kiba and Neji.” Naruto snaps his mouth shut, blinking. “I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow, just get your boyfriend on the bed,” he looks at the watch on his wrist, wincing at the late hour, “it’s close to midnight, just rest.” Naruto squints his eyes before nodding, Sasuke silently walking to the elevator to the third floor. He winces at the fabric rubbing his shoulder, the action making the bruise sting. He needs to wear a softer, oversized hoodie tomorrow, to not aggravate his skin.

He turns the door open, seeing the asleep couple on the couch, making him arrange them to lie down better, making sure that Shikamaru has an arm around Hinata to not let her fall. He walks to his room to get his dark blue blanket from his closet — the one from his childhood, the one they used when they’re sleeping over.

Sasuke pushes Shikamaru’s hair out his face, the brown locks falling on his shoulders, eyes closed in contentment. He moves Hinata’s ponytail from where it’s stuck beneath her head, letting it fall behind her.

He tucks the blanket securely around their shoulders before kissing their temples — wanting to smack himself after doing the action. He stands with tense shoulders, walking away to close the door behind him softly. Sasuke rummages in his closet, looking for his oversized hoodie, only to remember he used it a few days ago, the hoodie in his hamper. He scowls before knocking on Shikamaru’s door, the man taking a shower. “Shika, can I borrow a hoodie?” he shouts through the door, listening to the water running. “Just come in, it’s folded in the second drawer.” a voice calls back before Sasuke opens the door, hastily opening the drawer to get the hoodie, retreating back to his room immediately, not wanting the Nara to see his bruises. He wears the hoodie, inhaling the woodsy cinnamon scent. He knows the Nara’s oversized hoodies are huge on him, but he doesn’t care. He huffs a quiet laugh, seeing the sleeves enveloping his wrists, the dark green color surprisingly looking good on him. He coughs, before walking out the room, looking at Shikamaru who’s ruffling his damp hair. “Why’re you wearing a mask?” Sasuke shrugs, before coughing, Shikamaru raising an eyebrow. The Nara doesn’t comment on how the Uchiha went home late nor the fact the two of them woke up tucked in the blanket. He narrowed his eyes at him, Sasuke wasn’t one to arrive late, if so, he would’ve messaged him or Hinata. Sasuke shifts his feet, frowning behind the mask, his furrowed brows hidden behind his bangs, the hood a secure feeling around his head. Sasuke stares at Shikamaru who’s staring at him, probably thinking why he arrived late, after all, he did say he was gonna buy coffee for them. Sasuke lets the Nara get lost in his thoughts, fixing the rips on his jeans before wearing his sneakers, tapping his foot from where he’s standing by the doorway. “Shika, we’re gonna be late.” Sasuke brings him out of his musings, the Nara shuffling silently to wear his own shoes, walking behind Sasuke thinking.

Sasuke leans on the bench, Kiba and Neji seated on the wooden seat. Hinata is seated next to him, their knees bumping to each other. On Hinata’s other side, Shikamaru leans on her, their hands laced together, not that Sasuke is looking at him.

They read the notes in between them, Shikamaru and Hinata alternating in asking him questions for the review for the short test in Algebra later. Shikamaru, the smug lazy ass, would undoubtedly pass the test in flying colors without reviewing.

His mask is by his chin, his bowed head hiding the small scars on his cheek. Shikamaru quips some facts while he reviews, nodding along to the added lessons, the information going straight to his brain. Hinata whispers to him, much to Sasuke’s amusement.

“Mmmm..you’re warm.” Shikamaru sleepily drawls to Hinata, his tall form bending to cuddle to her side, on the grass. Kiba snickers at him, Naruto laughing from where he’s resting his head on Kiba’s shoulder, bent down.

Sasuke turns to give them an amused smile, reaching over Hinata to play with Shikamaru’s hair, the Nara slumping in drowsiness. Hinata giggles at him, whispering, “Sleep, babe, I’ll wake you when it’s time to go.” He turns a pout in Hinata’s direction, his head on her shoulder, lips expecting a kiss, Hinata rolling her eyes and kissing his lips softly. He hums before turning his eyes to Sasuke, staring back at dark charcoal eyes who’s watching him, lips giving a half-smile. Sasuke turns his eyes to his lips before turning to the other direction, the hood falling down his head. Neji leans down, whispering in Sasuke’s ear. “I can see your blush, you look like a tomatoe.” Sasuke scowls, glaring at Neji. “Says the one who avoids Suigetsu like a plague.” the Hyuuga splutters, gawking at him, the Uchiha promised him not to mention his crush. “Wolf peach is blushing.” Neji says to Kiba, the Inuzuka clutching his stomach in laughter. Sasuke turns outraged to the two, his cheeks red in embarrassment, “Kiba already made me like dogs because he knew I wouldn’t remember I hate them, and now you’re calling me wolf peach?” Neji dissolves in snickers, smacking his thigh. Naruto jumps up, “Love apple.” he declares it so proudly, that even Sasuke chokes on his laughter, Hinata looking at them confused. “Why are you laughing?” she asks shyly, seeing the carefree smiling of Sasuke, the man wheezing, “That is the most obnoxious nickname you could think for tomatoe?” wiping the tears off his eyes.

Sasuke breathes deeply, trying not to laugh. He turns to Hinata with a wide smile, the girl looking breathless when she actually saw the dark green garment Sasuke is wearing. He looks...right — he looks like he’s theirs. She looks at him, noticing the light red scar peeking out of his bangs. “What’s that?” she asks worriedly, before Sasuke lifts a hand to his cheek, unconsciously showing reddened knuckles, the Uchiha looking at Kiba for help. She then sees a dark purple-blue bruise on Sasuke’s collar, before he lifts the hood up again. “What happened.” she says, stern and firm, pulling Sasuke’s hand away from where he’s pulling the strings of the hoodie. She lets her thumb graze over his knuckles, providing comfort. Shikamaru moves beside her, looking at them half-asleep, brow knitted in the confusing scene in front of him. Sasuke turns to the others, Sakura and the rest of Konoha 12 — their group name. He knows he’s being petty by not letting the two know, but it’s not that important.

Shikamaru pulls the hood off his face, his hands cupping both his cheeks, making him internally pray that his cheeks aren’t red. Kiba smiling cheekily behind his hand, the three of them watching his face flush in amusement. Shikamaru tilts his head up, showing the bruises on his neck, the color slightly faded. “So this is why you borrowed my hoodie.” he murmurs, his thumb following the bruises, Sasuke shuddering.

Shikamaru lets go after a few minutes, his sleep long gone when he noticed the weary expression of Sasuke. “You wanna talk about it?” Sasuke opens his mouth before closing it again, at a complete loss of words. He bites his lip before telling the news he got when he was called to the office, of how he needed to have someone with him at all times, how he visited their practice — leaving his conversation with Naruto unmentioned. He says how Kiba came back and brought him to Sakura, and when he covered them with the blanket.

Shikamaru stares at him before smacking him upside the head, disappointedly glaring at him. Sasuke turns to him gaping incredulously, rubbing the part he hit. “What was that for?” he asks, Shikamaru crossing his arms and letting out a ‘tch’. “For a genius, you sure are dumb for not telling me this.” He blinks before shrugging, looking away. Shikamaru sighs before wrapping an arm on Hinata, the girl whispering, “He’s just worried like I am.”

Sasuke exhales, wanting to keep calm despite how nervous he is. He wears a light brown sweater with a black coat, his tousled hair contained under a beanie. He opens the door to the dorm, silently walking behind Shikamaru and wrapping a blindfold around his eyes. The Nara jumps in surprise before leaning against him lazily, blushing. “What’s this for?” he asks perplexed, hands going in his pocket, curiosity killing him. Sasuke told him and Hinata to wear something nice, that they’ll go somewhere. The two of them plan to include him to their relationship, hoping that what they see between them is mutual. He lets Sasuke guide him to his convertible, the man asking him. “Passenger or Back seat?” Shikamaru responds dryly, “Passenger please.” He sat down on the seat, snorting. “You really plan to blindfold us while going there?” Sasuke lets out a nervous yet excited ‘Hn.’, making him chuckle. “If you say so.” he leans back on the seat, listening to Sasuke running to the direction of the girl dorms.

His brows quirk up, a smile twitching on his lips when he hears Hinata talking to Sasuke, her tone light. Sasuke opens the door behind him, Hinata shuffling to seat in the middle. Sasuke sat down on the driver’s seat, before pulling the seatbelt around Hinata’s waist, then extending to pull Shikamaru’s seatbelt around him securely, leaning a bit close. “There.” he says, before the car rumbles, the engine lighting. Sasuke removes his beanie, securing it on Hinata’s head before driving. “Why’d you put your beanie on me?” she asks, pulling the beanie tighter to her head. “I don’t want it to fly away.” he murmurs, the radio playing a song. Sasuke hums along, his deep voice mingling nicely with Shikamaru’s quiet singing, Hinata singing along.

The wind blows against their faces, sometimes breaking out in fits of laughter because of how ridiculous they might be looking. They sense, they know Sasuke is pouting whenever they laugh, the Uchiha grumbling on how the surprise would be ruined if they were able to see it.

Sasuke stops the car, removing the seatbelts around them. He opens both their doors, before dragging them out, the two holding on to his arm. He exhales before lowering Hinata on the swing, the girl gasping when she feels it wobble only to realize what it is.

Shikamaru lets Sasuke guide him blindly, laying down on a patch of grass. Sasuke smiles with dimples, before reaching out to tug their hands. “You can remove the blindfolds now.” They remove it, seeing the meadow, their clan compounds on the village in the distance. Shikamaru leans up on his elbows before huffing, “This is what you meant by we’ll know if we weren’t blindfolded.” Hinata turns to Sasuke, the Uchiha leaning on the tree. “So you remember everything?” she asks, watching as Sasuke’s hand fiddling in his pocket. “Everything.” he confirms, before slipping a purple bracelet on her wrist, one that fits her. He turns to Shikamaru, placing a green bracelet softly. “I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine.” he confesses, placing a blue bracelet in Shikamaru’s palm, curling a hand over it. He leans away, mumbling, “It’s okay if you don’t though, I’m fine being friends with you.” Hinata share a ludicrous look with Shikamaru before giggling. “Idiot, why would we not have you?” she murmurs into his temple, blushing prettily. She places a flower crown on his head, getting two more from her bag to place on Shikamaru and her own.

Shikamaru brushes his hands with Sasuke, before intertwining them, his other hand placing the blue bracelet with flushed cheeks. They peer at Sasuke’s face, seeing red cheeks and a shy smile. Sasuke stands up with both their hands in his own, the three of them forming a circle. The corner of his lips curl to a smirk, asking, “Can I have kisses now?” They stare at him expectantly before he moves towards Hinata, resting his hands on her hips, drawing her closer. He leans down, letting their lips meet, sighing out in happiness. Hinata throws her arms around his neck, stepping up to her tiptoes. Shikamaru tugs on the cuff of his shirt, Hinata pushing him off towards Shikamaru. “Geez, you’ll get kisse-” he gets cut off by warm lips pressing against his, kissing Shikamaru back. His hands slip to his half tied hair, fingers holding his face close. Shikamaru smiles into the kiss, his tan hands caressing his cheeks.

They pull away, Shikamaru and Hinata sharing a small, quick kiss, before Sasuke pulls them into his arms, kissing their temples. “I think, I love you both.” Shikamaru snorts, “That’s a bit early, but I love you two too.” he wrinkles his nose at the repetitive phrase, Hinata nudging all their noses together. “I love you boys too.” Sasuke smiles as he drives, his hand clasping over Shikamaru and Hinata’s on the middle, squeezing it in comfort, Hinata leaning her head on his shoulder. Shikamaru glances at them from where he’s watching the clouds, “What’re you two smiling for?” he asks, half-asleep.

“Ah, nothing.” Shikamaru squeezes his hand, his head sleepily resting on his other palm. Sasuke tries to hide his smile, only to chuckle softly, not believing he has two lovers now, a girlfriend and a boyfriend — which he admits, was delayed.

“Come on Sas’, it’s dark and I can see you blushing.” Hinata just giggles at him.

Kiba and Neji pat him on the back, congratulating him for finally confessing. Sasuke chuckles, leaning beside the two, Sasuke looking lovestruck at his lovers, Hinata deciding to wear his hoodie. Shikamaru looks at him over his shoulder, cracking a smile in his direction. “Whipped. Like buttercream, or maybe meringue.” Kiba teases, genuinely happy for him. “Now let’s help Neji got his boyfriend.” he answers, smiling when he sees Suigetsu smirk at him. “Oh look, me and Kiba need to go to the others real quick, we need to water Akamaru.” he rushes to say, pulling Kiba, the two of them snickering at the bad excuse and Neji, who’s red while talking to Suigetsu. He drops beside Hinata, the girl leaning on him once he was seated, routine at this point. Shikamaru lays his head on Sasuke’s thigh, mumbling. “You’re my pillow now.” Sasuke just smiles fondly at him, his hands running through his brown strands. “I love you.” he whispers quietly, only audible by the two beside him, Shikamaru peeking at him with one eye. “We love you too, Uchiha.”

Note :

Danzo was arrested, along with his minions, ensuring the safety of the Uchihas. Madara, an Uchiha moved back with them, along with his boyfriend Hashirama. (”I tried my best, it’s a busy week for me, so I apologize for the grammar mistakes.I know that they’re a bit ooc, and some details aren’t added, like some Team 7 bonding or Orochimaru being a mentor. I wrote this really quickly, so I can’t make sure it’s good, but I hope you enjoy.” - lian <3)

#shikasasu #sasushika #sasuhina #shikahina #sasushikahina #shikasasuhina #shikahinasasu #sasuhinashika

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delimeful · 5 years

Text

WIBAR Intermission: Cultural Differences

a commission for @secretlypansexualmango !! thank you so much for your patience with me during this difficult time, I hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing it! :)

if you’re new to this AU, you can find the first story on tumblr here and the ao3 collection here!

warnings: anxiety, tense discussion, mention of nonconsensual drug use, medical experimentation, mention of child abuse, dehumanizing language, flashbacks, PTSD

Logan paced back and forth along his floor, hands strumming the air but not noting any particular information, just… moving. A nervous tic that he’d recently been struggling to repress around Virgil.

Speaking of.

“Patton, you are certain that Virgil will not wonder where you are and come to investigate?” he asked, turning on the balls of his feet to face the little Ampen.

“Yep, I showed him how to use the tech in the washroom and he said something about staying in there all day. Turns out Humans need water to clean, not dirt!” Patton tapped his fingers together consideringly. “Now I feel kind of bad about trying to get him to dust more often, no wonder he’s all grimy.”

Logan forced his hands to still so he wouldn’t record the information. That was the whole reason they were here, after all.

“Why are you so worried about the Human finding us huddling in your bedspace like a bunch of giggling adolescents?” Roman asked, adjusting his armor plates slightly so they didn’t pinch. He perked up for a moment. “Are we finally kicking him out?”

Patton frowned in disapproval at him, and he averted his eyes. “Joking! Just joking, Pat.”

Logan hummed lightly to recall their attention. “I am seeking advice in regards to the Human— or, Virgil, rather, but I don’t want to offend him or give him the wrong idea by openly excluding him from a conversation. Hence, covert gathering.”

Patton brightened— literally, his feathers aglow with excitement. “Oh, why didn’t you say so, Lo!”

Roman sunk further down, a grumble forming in his chest. “Yeah, why didn’t you say so. I don’t think I’ve got much to contribute about him compared to Patton.”

Logan inclined his head slightly in a Crav’n gesture to hold on for a little longer. “While I will admit that you have very different opinions on Virgil, I value both your perspectives equally and as such, would like to hear your honest thoughts on my query.”

Roman didn’t shift, but the grumble eased slightly, placated by Logan’s words. “Alright, what is it?”

Patton nodded encouragingly.“I’m all ears, kiddo! Feathears, that is!”

Logan didn’t dignify the atrocious pun with a response beyond his face pinching slightly. “I’m sure you all remember the incident we had recently, with the... yawning.”

At the reminder, Patton winced and Roman glowered.

Virgil had joined them for breakfast again the prior light cycle, a rare occurrence, and had nearly startled Logan out of his seat when he had stretched his jaw unnaturally wide with a crack, apropos of nothing. Patton had hurried to reassure them it was normal, and very much harmless, but it hadn’t prevented Roman from looking visibly on edge for the rest of the morning. Virgil had fled to his room early as a result.

“I believe that it would be beneficial for all of us to learn more about Human culture, and while I have scoured many texts for information, most of it has proven to be inaccurate or downright offensive. As a result, I’ve decided that I should attempt to ask Virgil directly to share,” Logan nervously fluttered his hands. “Ideally through a Vidi.”

Patton, who had gotten all fluffed up during his explanation, now paused slightly. “I think it’s a great idea for you to bond with Virgil, Lo! I’m not sure he’d be too keen on sharing minds, though. The idea seemed to make him nervous.”

Roman snorted.

“Yes, I predicted as much.” Logan gestured between the two of them. “Hence why I have gathered you to receive insight on how best to go about gaining his permission.”

His two closest friends shared a look, Patton having to crane his neck up considerably to do so. The Ampen piped up first.

“I say you should just ask him! What’s the worst that could happen?”

Beside him, Roman made a gesture to ward off bad luck, muttering about inviting chaos. Logan held a hand to his face to ward off any headaches.

“He could say no,” he emphasized, pointing out the obvious flaw.

“That is not the worst that could happen. And anyways, if he says no, it’s not the end of the universe. You can still make a valiant effort to convince him after the fact. Write a 20 page dissertation on all the reasons he should give it a shot, or bargain with jam, or any other nerd stuff. But if you try to go behind his back--”

“He’ll never trust you again,” Patton completed, antennae lowering at the thought. “Virgil is slow to trust, and for good reason. I know you of all people can understand that, Logan.”

“Actually, I was going to finish that with ‘you might never get a second chance to Vidi with anyone, because you’ll be dead.’ Humans don’t take lightly to intrusion,” Roman clenched his hands, gaze dark.

Patton drooped more, like he was attempting to become a puddle of sad Ampen. “I know you two aren’t as familiar with Virgil as I am, but… I’m telling you, he doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He’s probably even more scared of you than you are of him.”

“I am not scared of a Human,” Roman insisted, scales rattling in offense. “And anyhow, we aren’t talking about a little fuzzy pollinator from a flora planet, we’re talking about a Human. A deathworlder. I know he was merciful to you, Pat, and I’m glad, but that doesn’t mean we can trust him to go against his nature. The way he acts, the look in his eye… I’ve seen it before. So you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t believe for a second that he’s harmless.”

“Roman--!” Patton stopped short as the Crav’on rose to his feet and stormed out in a huff, dramatic as always. The small alien let out a frustrated trill, tugging on his antennae for a second before turning back to Logan.

“I never said that he was harmless,” he announced pointedly. “None of us are harmless, not even me. But just because he’s got the… the potential to be dangerous doesn’t mean we shouldn’t give him a chance. Try asking him about the Vidi, Lo, and if that doesn’t work out I’ll help you think of more options, okay?”

Frankly, Logan had been hoping for something more along the lines of a guide he could follow while striking a deal with Virgil, but he nodded anyhow. Sometimes researchers simply had to work with what little they had.

He spent the next few light cycles calculating the encounter, from his words to all the possible outcomes. He had plenty of time to consider such things, seeing as Virgil was particularly adept at avoiding him.

Though the Human was subtle about it, it was hard to miss the way he found an excuse to leave any room Logan was in more often than not. Even when he couldn’t make a hasty escape-- most often because Patton was sleeping on his person-- he was always following Logan’s movements from the corner of his vision. Tracking him. It was… nerve-wracking.

Logan was much more than a creature of instinct, though, and so he persisted despite the occasional shiver sent down his spine.

When he finally managed to get the Human alone, however, it happened completely unintentionally. He was fixing a middark snack before sleep, and had just put the jam back in the coolant box when a vague emotional pulse nearby made his skin prickle.

He paused. Neither of his shipmates would be so quiet while nearby, so… He squinted into the dim hallways, searching for movement. “Virgil?”

“Uh,” said the Human, from on top of the cabinets how had he even gotten up there— “Hey.”

Logan was suddenly thankful for his dulled physical response, since it prevented him from doing something embarrassing like jumping out of his carapace. “Hello. Might I inquire— May I ask why you are all the way up there?”

The vague shadow that was Virgil shifted slightly, before dropping to the floor with a muted thump that shook the ground. Logan hoped that he hadn’t left any imprints in the floor paneling; Roman would have a fit.

“Just, uh. Just felt like it,” he answered, avoiding Logan’s gaze. “I’ll get out of your way.”

“Wait, please,” Logan blurted, and to his surprise Virgil paused mid step. He quickly pulled himself onto a nearby stool, both so he could meet the Human’s eyes better and leave an exit available, seeing as a cornered Human was not one he wanted to deal with. “I had something I wanted to discuss with you, if that’s alright. Nothing bad, simply a request.”

Despite his attempt to be soothing, Virgil’s shoulders only seemed to rise further, a defensive gesture according to Patton. Logan attempted to look as non-threatening as possible.

“And what if it’s not alright?” Virgil challenged, voice low and rough as he glanced towards the hall entryway.

Logan folded his lower hands in his lap carefully, his words measured. “Then I shall ask again another time. It is late, after all. I don’t want to keep you from sleeping.”

Virgil made a half-exhale of amusement, or maybe resignation. Logan suspected it was because tonight was one of the nights Patton slept with him and Roman, nights that Logan suspected the Human often got little to no sleep. It was a concern to bring up at another time.

“Okay, fine, discuss away. But I reserve the right to leave any time.”

Logan blinked a few times, almost surprised that Virgil had actually agreed. He tapped his fingers together nervously— now came the difficult part. “My request is in regards to the incident at morning meal yesterday. Specifically, the misunderstanding about your ‘yawn’.”

Virgil visibly hid a wince. “I already apologized for that.”

“Unnecessarily, I believe,” Logan said, causing Virgil to dart a glance at him in surprise. “You know as little about us as we know about you. It’s unreasonable to expect you not to make a few mistakes.”

After a beat of stunned silence, Virgil shook his head slightly. “Try telling that to Roman,” he muttered.

“I did, actually,” Logan said, frowning slightly at the recollection. “Surprising nobody, he didn’t want to listen.”

“Wait, what?” Virgil asked, voice coming out a bit louder than before. “I thought you guys were like… cool. Uh, good. Friends.”

Logan forced himself not to interrogate the Human on the slang, noting his embarrassment at fumbling. “We are, now. When I first came aboard the Mindscape, however, Roman and I fought constantly.”

“No. Really?”

“Yes. We were-- and still are-- very opinionated individuals. Stubborn,” he clarified, seeing Virgil struggle with the unfamiliar word. “Patton had to intervene in our bickering more often than not.”

“Huh,” Virgil uttered, curious. Logan was pleased to note that he’d relaxed slightly, and pressed on.

“But that is a story for another time. My request is actually an attempt to help prevent such misunderstandings in the future. I would like to ask you about Human culture, in order to clear up common misconceptions and help me and the others recognize unfamiliar gestures or actions,” Logan ran the words through his mind, trying to see if he’d forgotten anything. “You’re free to say no, of course, I simply assumed that it would be easier for us all, but--”

“Logan.” Virgil waited for him to glance up before continuing. “This is a lot. I’ll… I’ll think it over, alright?”

Logan nodded, enthusiastic to not be rejected outright. “Of course. In that case, I am going to head to my quarters to rest. Don’t hesitate to seek me out if you would like elaboration on anything.”

The Human nodded, seeming deep in thought as Logan ducked his head in farewell and left. He could only hope that Virgil would be open to trying.

The next light cycle, Virgil appeared quite suddenly at the entry to his lab, never crossing the threshold.

“What are you going to do if I say no?” he asked, features clearer but also somehow harsher in the light. “Maybe I don’t want you to know anything about Humans, or me. What then?”

Logan hurriedly set aside the samples he’d been comparing, pushing his thick inspection lenses up so he could see the Human properly. He took a moment to think over the question. “Roman suggested that I write a dissertation-- that is, a sort of argument to convince you-- if you refused outright, but seeing as you’ve had time to consider your options already… I will take your refusal at face value and not pester you about it any longer.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes in a gesture that was most likely not an Ampen smile. “Just like that? Seriously?”

“I am always serious,” Logan told him, very seriously. “Though I do encourage you to speak with Patton on other potential solutions not involving me--”

“I’ll do it.”

“Pardon?” Logan asked, his ears twitching. Virgil raised his chin slightly, meeting Logan’s eyes solidly in challenge.

“I’ll do it,” he repeated, and Logan noticed the way his hands shook slightly at his sides. He slowly placed his lenses onto the countertop, turning to face Virgil fully.

“Would it be preferable to talk in the common area?” he asked, spreading his hands to accentuate the question. “We are simply exchanging information, there’s no need to do it here.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him, and then shoved his hands in his pockets, feigning nonchalance. “Sure, whatever.”

A short trek later, they were seated in the lounging area, Virgil a careful seat away. Logan had received permission to ‘take notes’ as the Human called it, and started off with questions that seemed simple enough.

Naturally, they immediately encountered problems.

“So, you do actually keep canids in your home for defense purposes?” Logan asked, hands stalling. “Is that not dangerous? Do you train them to not recognize the home’s residents as threats? I was under the impression all of Earth’s fauna was relatively vicious in order to survive.”

Virgil dragged a hand over his face. “I guess some people keep guard dogs, but most people just get them as like… companions. We take care of them and they live with us. We… ugh, I don’t know the word for it. We trained them to not be… angry? Wild? Way long ago.”

“Domestication,” Logan suggested, and then resisted a sigh when Virgil looked at him without comprehension. “Virgil, I would like to try something, if it’s alright with you. My species has the ability to link minds and share memories, referred to as a Vidi. It would allow us to bypass the language barrier and you could show me what life on Earth is like with far more clarity.”

Virgil was already shaking his head. “I don’t want you poking around in my head. I don’t know how it works on your planet, but thoughts are personal on Earth.”

“Nor on mine. I am not a mind reader,” Logan corrected wryly. “The Vidi is more like a form of shared thinking, and if you would like, I will take no part in paddling-- guiding where our thoughts take us. You will then have control over what you share and what you ask from me. Both Patton and Roman have linked with me in the past, and suffered no ill effects, if you are worried about cross-species Vidi.”

“Well, I am now,” Virgil muttered, and hunched his shoulders. “... Can I stop it?”

“Yes. It may take a few moments, since the flow of thought is unpredictable, but I have never gotten stuck in a link,” Logan tilted his head slightly, offering a hand. “Do you want to try something simple to test it?”

Virgil chewed on his lip for a click longer before reaching out and placing his own hand atop Logan’s.

Immediately, he was seeing from a different angle, different time, different eyes. The hall was dark, but he could see uncannily well in it, noting the outline of stairs in front of him. At the base of the stairs, a light illuminated a dog staring up at him pleadingly. An Australian Shepard, though he had no idea what that was.

“Zero, it’s three in the morning,” a familiar voice grumbled, Logan feeling echoes of the sound in his throat. The words were foreign, but he could understand the meaning. He observed the dog as the memory proceeded to stumble around the house and open a door to the night, releasing Zero into the yard.

‘This is bizarrely immersive,’ Virgil commented as the memory’s gaze turned up to the stars. ‘Like a dream. But… not as weird as I thought it might be.’ The memory flickered to a cartoon alien for a moment before stabilizing again, and Logan graciously ignored the lapse.

‘Just from this alone, I have a much better concept of dogs,’ he responded, his mental voice quite enthusiastic. ‘Can you show me the devices you mentioned earlier? The ones Humans ride for entertainment?’

‘Oh, yeah, roller coasters. That’s a good one.’

The world around them flickered, and then it was bright daylight streaming around them. The memory stepped forwards, leaving behind a line that had taken ages and climbing into a seat. Another human-- slightly older than Virgil, probably too old to be working this job-- stepped over and pushed the safety bar over the memory’s lap, locking them in securely.

The ride started, and Logan’s stress levels increased along with the memory’s sense of anticipation, peaking as they hit the top of the tracks and began to topple. The memory of Virgil’s stomach dropping was well-preserved, and fear-excitement-glee surged through the memory as the scenery blurred by too fast to process. After a period of time that was both too-long and too-short, the ride came to a stop.

Virgil’s smug amusement was tangible as Logan struggled to form words. ‘Humans do that for fun, you said?’

‘Yep.’

‘... I get the feeling this is going to be a truly interesting mindshare.’

Several alarming concepts later, including coffee, sleep deprivation, gender roles, and babies’ soft skulls, Logan was itching to take some time to journal all his thoughts out and also have a brief respite from horrifying implications.

Virgil snorted, which he had learned was a Human gesture of amusement rather than a Crav’n one of disdain. He visualized an image of Logan writing with all four hands in a book, and Logan responded with showing him the art form practiced back home, which involved exactly that. Drawing a full image at multiple points simultaneously was a honed skill for some Ulgorii.

‘This has been quite illuminating, however I am hoping to end it here,’ Logan requested, pulling them back on track.

Virgil hesitated for a moment, and then: ‘I want to check something. Really quick. I need to know.’

Logan had barely agreed when the scene shifted again, this memory tinged with haze around the edges. Physical sensation was dulled somewhat, but the cold metal underneath their back was a clear enough feeling. White walls above them, and aliens in thick bodysuits leaned over them. The memory was too fuzzy to recall what was being taken, but there was a sense of relief that it didn’t hurt. Not adrenaline, then.

Above them, a couple of the harvesters spoke. Logan recognized Virgil’s intent too late to do anything to prevent it. He couldn’t simply stop understanding Common, after all.

“Drain duty is so boring. You think it’d be entertaining with a Human, but no, all it does is lie here with those freaky dead eyes,” one complained. “Are they sure they didn’t accidentally grab a braindead one?”

“You wouldn’t say that if you’d been here for the Dren drain,” the other responded, voice morbidly fascinated. “Thing’s practically feral, the way it lashes out. I don’t envy the escorts who have to drag it back to its cage afterwards, even with the drugs.”

“If it’s so beastly, why not just treat it like one? Put two together till they breed and train the baby to be less of a monster, same as we do with the troublesome creatures,” the harvester suggested, jabbing a claw at Virgil’s form. Logan felt sickened. ‘Virgil--’

“And risk them tearing each other apart? Humans are rare as is, there’s no way the Uppers would authorize something that might end with both dead.” The harvester took a few paces to the side, meeting the memory’s gaze with complete apathy. “Those scientists that have dibs on the body want it intact for dissection, or else we’re getting fuckall for the payment.”

The memory flickered, unstable, to an alien that only visited when they were doing the painful tests, wearing what Logan recognized as scholarly gear instead of the customary bodysuit. Virgil remembered they had snapped out words with one of the smugglers, numbers, prices, bargaining for his corpse--

Back to the little white room where they drained him, bit by bit.

“It’s pretty sedate, considering,” A smuggler prodded him, to no response beyond a brief flicker of eyelids.

“Of course it is, we picked it up off the planet fresh. Stupid thing can’t understand a thing we’re saying, so what’s there to panic about?”

The memory fractured, splitting into a thousand different fragments that flashed by with increasing speed-- panic attacks in his cell, unable to count the days he’d been locked in the too-small space, the ring, being hosed down like a rabid animal.

‘Logan,’ Virgil managed weakly, his grip on the Vidi loosening, ‘change it.’

In his alarm at Virgil’s condition, he practically yanked the share back to his own memories. He was too concerned to focus on what or where exactly he was remembering, until it had already snapped into clarity around them. He should have known better.

The memory was a mirror of Virgil’s, summoned by Logan’s automatic recall. His younger self sat on a sterile white counter, kicking his feet as around him, four machines worked to draw blood from each of his arms. He moved to shift the share again, but Virgil nudged him, distracted by the surprise.

‘What… what is this?’ he asked, despite the fact that he was surely receiving information from the memory’s perspective as they spoke.

Logan sighed, watching as a pleased doctor removed the equipment and shuffled him off to be escorted back to his room. ‘As I told you before, you are certainly not the only one to deal with trauma or flashbacks on this ship.’

“You promised me a new book,” the memory said with the voice of a child who had grown up too fast. “I sat quietly, so I get a new book, right?”

“Of course, of course,” the doctor waved him off, already moving to bottle and package the blood to be sold. Ulgorian blood, which would make a fair amount of coin at market for its use as a paralyzing toxin. “Continue being such an obedient, quiet child and you will have any book you desire, Aconite.”

Logan finally broke the Vidi off, opening his eyes as Virgil jolted sharply across from him. He studied the Human’s complexion for a moment, and then reached into the table drawer for a water jug. “Drink something. I believe you have experienced the beginnings of a panic attack during our share.”

He held the water out patiently until Virgil took it, pulling back to give him space. “Though I had my suspicions, I now see why you reacted the way you did to my designation as a self-identified scientist.”

Virgil laughed hoarsely, sipping at the water. “Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t know--” He cut himself off sharply. “You won’t do anything to me. Patton told me, and I think I knew it too, really. I was just... nervous. That you’d ask for more than I could give--”

“--or change the parameters before you could ever reach them,” Logan finished, lacing his fingers together in a wry Crav’n gesture. “There’s no need to apologize. I understand, as you now know.”

“Sorry about that,” Virgil repeated. “I didn’t mean to peek at your trauma.”

“Again, no need. It’s nothing I haven’t already come to terms with,” Logan said, and then offered him a few thumbs ups. “We are cool, as I believe the term is used.”

Virgil gave him a small grin, and Logan finally understood what Patton meant when he called Virgil’s teeth-bearing friendly.

After a discussion on how PTSD affected the mind share, they settled for focusing on simply communicating through Common. It would be better for Virgil’s language growth, and reduce the amount of traumatic flashbacks they were both exposed to. If either of them got frustrated, they simply left off to discuss the matter another cycle.

This was how, a rotation later, Logan found himself enthusiastically quizzing a Human on his dietary habits.

“I know that there are Humans who raise livestock, presumably for meat. Do Humans prefer raw meats or cooked ones? Or are there other ways to prepare animal flesh? Is it determined by individual preference?”

Virgil waited patiently, ducking under one of Logan’s flapping hands as he moved to sit down. “We eat all kinds of stuff, Specs.”

“Ah. Should we stock up on blood at our next port, then?”

A startled laugh, though Logan was only half-joking. “Okay, all kinds of stuff like plants and some minerals.”

Logan made a note to correct his notes, again. “Another incorrect assumption... I was under the impression that human omnivorous tendencies were only for survival scenarios, similar to your ability to endure blood loss. Most texts say that humans are primarily carnivores.”

“No, we’re pretty omnivorous.” Virgil shrugged. “Some people are vegetarian-- or, herbivores, I guess, but that’s a personal choice dependent on all sorts of things. We evolved to be omnivorous, we’ve got the flat teeth and the pointy ones, see?” He pulled a lip down to show his teeth, which were in fact thick and rounded in the back.

Logan half-lunged forwards, inspecting the inside of his mouth carefully. “You’re absolutely right! While you have the canines for biting and tearing meat off the bone, you also have molars for masticating tough plant matter! Oh, of course Humans don’t actually drink blood, there are evolutionary signifiers for such things and Human blood likely has little to none of the nutritional value that your body needs. Fascinating! Are these made of bone?”

It was at this moment that Roman walked in. There was a pause in which Logan realized that at some point he had moved to stick most of his hand in Virgil’s mouth to better examine his dental structure.

“Logan,” Roman started, deceivingly composed, “if you lose a finger by being a huge nerd, I am going to freak it.”

Logan executed a ‘wink’ to Virgil before responding. “Not to worry, Human teeth are dull enough that they are only dangerous if significant jaw strength is applied. I do not believe Virgil will bite me. Correct?”

“Uhn,” Virgil grunted in affirmation, spit starting to spill out of his mouth. Despite his reassurance, he looked vaguely uncomfortable with the situation. Logan hurriedly withdrew.

“Oh sure, you totally know he’s not going to bite you when he is literally drooling!” Roman howled, before turning on his heel and walking right back out of the commons. “I am too tired for this. Call me when you’re done being an insane scientist in our living room.”

Virgil wiped his mouth off on his sleeve, voice sardonic. “Doesn’t he know by now that mad scientist is your permanent state of being?”

“I have no idea why you would say such a thing. I am a perfectly calm and composed scientist,” Logan responded in a monotone, turning his nose up when Virgil started laughing. “How dare you imply otherwise. The indignity of it all. Woe is me.”

“That’s what you get for inviting a malicious human onboard,” Virgil snarked back, leaning back. “Too bad, you’ll regret it to the end of your days.”

“No,” Logan answered with a wry twist of his lips, “I don’t think I will.”

#sanders sides #ts virgil #ts logan #ts patton #ts roman #wibar #watch it burn and rust #commissioned works #space au #analogical boys share some trauma: the fic!#ive been so excited to write this one you guys have no idea #writing #my writing #please forgive me if some editing is off i am v tired

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

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Hi! So I’m rewatching TAB atm and it’s giving me feeeels. Do you have recs for after the get off the plane where John deals with Sherlock and specifically his overdose? I wish we’d had a part 2 where the show went into it, but I’m hoping you can give me some amazing fanfic instead! And Johnlock as friends is good as well as slash!

HI NONNY!!!

AHHHH I love TAB SO MUCH. It’s my favourite Sherlock Ep, and I wish I had more fics related to it :( I don’t have anything new since then, but all these fics are from my S3 / TAB / S4 [FIX IT] Fics list from last March, but because I love y’all, I’ll separate it on its own because it’s pretty far down and hidden, and I know other people would like to read some separate, so here you are!

And friends, if y’all have any TABlock, PLEASE give them to me!! I need more!!

THE ABOMINABLE BRIDE (TABlock) (APR. 2020)

See also:

S3 / TAB / S4 [FIX IT] Fics (March 2019)

Victorianlock

ACD Canon

The Two of Us Against the World by slashscribe (T, 1,617 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TAB, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Anxious Sherlock, Angsty Fluff) – John is there to take care of Sherlock as he comes down from his overdose in The Abominable Bride. Set immediately after the tarmac, back in 221B.

Loudly Unspoken by Mount_Seleya (M, 1,871 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TAB, Love Confessions, Vulnerable Sherlock, Frottage) – John confronts Sherlock about the words he left unsaid on the tarmac. Set immediately after TAB.

Stay by sussexbound (M, 2,067 w., 1 Ch. || Post TAB, Suicidal Ideation Mention, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Kissing, Love Confessions, Frottage, Coming in Pants) – “Why? Why did you do it? Hmm…?” He takes a deep breath, waits, lets it out again. “Look at me.” There’s no denying him when he takes this tone. “Why did you kill him? Hmm…? For her? After…” A muscle twitches in the corner of John’s eye, and he clamps his jaw down tightly, swallows and sniffs a little before continuing. “For her? After everything she’s done?” “For you.” Before he can even stop himself. Just like that.

Journal of Truths by Goddess_of_the_Night (T, 2,317 w., 1 Ch. || Post-HLV / TAB, Pining, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Love Letters, Declarations of Love) – When John escorts Sherlock back to Baker Street from the tarmac, he discovers a journal that Sherlock has kept secret...that he has kept secrets in.

Green Carnation by glenien (T, 2,616 w., 1 Ch. || Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Meta-Fic, Angst and Fluff, Communication, Post-TAB) – John takes Sherlock home. Part 1 of It’s No Longer Eighteen Ninety-Five

The Trial of Sherlock Holmes by jenna221b (G, 3,015 w. across 3 works || TAB!lock, Metafic / TJLC, Victorian AU / 1895, Christmas, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Oscar Wilde) – Scripts based on speculation that Sherlock will be put on trial in The Abominable Bride to parallel the Oscar Wilde Trials of 1895.

I Love You (Is All That You Can't Say) by theSeventhStranger (T, 3,147 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TAB, Post-Tarmac Scene, Fix-It, Dev. Rel., Retrospective, Angst and Fluff) – “Sherlock. On the tarmac. I got the feeling that you were going to, um. To say something else.”

five times sherlock holmes lied to john watson (and one time he finally told the truth) by miss_frankenstein (G, 5,948 w., 1 Ch. || TAB Compliant || Homophobia, Pining Sherlock, Oscar Wilde Trials, Happy Ending) – Set in "The Abominable Bride" universe, this piece adopts a familiar format to chronicle Sherlock's quiet suffering in the wake of the 1895 Oscar Wilde trials and the particular way they affect his relationship with (and feelings for) John.

Drawstring by May_Shepard (E, 7,412 w., 1 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, UST/RST, Fluff and Smut, Post-TAB, John POV) – John is bothered by Sherlock’s slowly-falling jim-jams… as in hot and bothered and he is trying to deal with a sexy dishevelled Sherlock while also keeping his pining in check.

Never Been This Swept Away by estalita11 (T, 8,531 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TAB, Mary is Not Nice, Drug Use, First Kiss, Love Confessions) – Set immediately after TAB, Sherlock visits his brother to definitely not apologize about earlier and ends up finally learning a few things that would have been nice knowing about months ago. Mycroft never wants to deal with lovestruck idiots ever again.

Out of the Darkness by Irrevocably_Sherlocked (M, 12,165+ w., 2 Ch. || WIP || Death, Overdose, Heavy Angst, Whump, Mary is Not Nice, Post S3/TAB Compliant) – John Watson has long assumed Sherlock Holmes is immune to sentiment, “doesn’t feel things that way.” Sherlock, however, would do anything for the person he loves most in the world, including putting himself in danger while keeping John in the dark in hopes of keeping him safe. Tired of being left behind, John is running a strategy of his own. Unfortunately things do not go as planned for either of them. And as John lays bleeding, Sherlock finally allows himself to say the things he’s always meant to… This is the story of love, forgiveness and finally making right all the wrongs in these two men’s lives.

Wars We Fought, Things We're Not by blueink3 (M, 55,204 w., 10 Ch. || Post S3 / Post TAB, Parentlock, Fluff & Angst, Kidnapping, Whump, Post-TAB, UST/URT, 3G, Mild Peril, Slow Burn, Couple for a Case, Protective Mycroft, Infant Death Pre-Story, Friends to Lovers) – Five months after John's world has fallen apart, Mycroft sends the consulting detective and his doctor on a case that neither is prepared for.

The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.

MARKED FOR LATER

Stay for Me by Itsallfine (M, 17,310 w., 7 Ch. || Post-TAB, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss/Time, Bed Sharing, Mental Health Issues, Not-Nice Mary, Divorce, Angst with Happy Ending, Parentlock) – 221B was packed into boxes and bins, and that was when John knew, really knew—Sherlock had planned to be gone forever.

Crimson Hymns by brilliantlyburning (E, 48,982 w., 9 Ch. || Post-S3/TAB, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Drug Addiction, Unhealthy Coping Methods, Demisexual Sherlock, Boxing, Pining, Sensory Processing Issues, Drug Use, First Kiss / Time, BDSM, Mary is Not Good, Parentlock, Proposal, Happy Ending, Beekeeping, Violence, References to Addiction, Poetry) – He laid his head over John’s heart, eyes level with his silver-rough scar, and listened to the crimson hymns beating beneath the surface. He imagined flowers blooming in his own chest: veins weaving intricate patterns on petals of thin muscle engorged with blood, sinew for stems and tendons for roots—the flowers would be poppies, maybe (addictive) or foxglove (deadly yet useful)—twining gleaming blood-red around the porcelain bone of his ribs. In his mind’s eye the gruesome bouquet all tied together on the left side of his chest, the stems bound together in heartstrings and the flowers fed by the rhythmic contraction of ventricles. It’s yours, he imagined saying to John—from the vena cava to the mitral valve to the arteries it is yours.— Or, the Love Song of W. Sherlock S. Holmes.

NO! by Tildathings (M, 50,043 w., 36 Ch. || Homophobia, Bed Sharing, Military Uniforms, Past Abuse, Jealous John, Stalking, Violence, First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Pillow Talk, Coming Out, Sherlock’s Past, Shower, Cuddling, Grief and Sorrow, Hugs, Character Death) – Sherlock has been in a coma in over 8 months after he overdosed on the plane at TAB, during which time Mary and Rosie were killed by Vivian Norbury. This story starts 3 weeks after Sherlock has woken up. John is asking to move back to Baker Street.

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Sussex, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

#steph replies #the abominable bride #tablock #tab fics #my fic recs #Anonymous #fic rec wednesday

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recurring-polynya · 4 years

Text

Fanfic Weekly Roundup 9/14/2020:

Okay, it’s been, like, 2 months since I did one of these, and I apologize for that, but also, August was like... really dry at the old fanfic well? And I’ve been working my ass off for the last three week (at... what, exactly, Polynya? It is hard to say) Anyway, here’s some fanfics that I liked. Hopefully, it won’t take another 2 months before we have another.

I think I missed this one when it first came out (otherwise, it would have made the last roundup... I write these by going back through my AO3 history), but The Bet, by @lethanwolf was really cute! It was by an author who doesn’t usually go for RenRuki, but wrote it for a friend, and I really respect stretching like that, and they did a great job!

I was here first by tasteoftheforbidden is a Byakuya/Soi Fon story and I cannot imagine why I clicked on it in the first place, but it was really cute??? Like, at first they are really grumpy, and then they are like, “ah, I respect what a grump you are” and then they eat snacks. It worked. I was delighted by it, perhaps you will be as well.

Here We Meet Again by @marlasinger93-blog is just getting started, but the first chapter is really, really cute! It’s a Rukia and Renji awkwardly reconnecting after the Soul Society Arc, which I will openly admit I have an endless appetite for. I helped translate it, and I hope there will be more eventually!

I feel like I mentioned Captivate, by before @kissedbynightshade, but I couldn’t find it, so I will mention it now! It’s a little bit high concept-- it’s a modern AU where Izuru has the power to jump back in time-- usually a few minutes-- to prevent tragedy from occurring. However, after Rangiku is killed, he jumps all the way back to his teenhood, where he has the possibility to prevent deaths of Renji, Momo, and Shuuhei. It’s not actually very hard to follow, and it is an amazing mood piece. Just really chewy, poetic, melancholy Izuru (who is trans in this story; it is just sort of slid in there very naturally and it works), with a heavy dose of mystery. It is, as they say, my jam.

Is it time for the @kazeshini-s section of the roundup? We have two this time!:

Personal Questions features Orihime digging into those burning questions about how shinigami function that we all want the answer to.

Cut a Deal (We’re All Gonna Die Anyway) is Advance Team Arc fic about Orihime going to Soul Society to train with Rukia and I admit I requested it and I don’t care it was SO GOOD. Features both Orihime & Renji bonding AND Orihime & Rukia bonding, what more could you ask for???

These two are not on AO3, but do not sleep on this one where Chad Makes Renji a Burrito or this Karakura Kids Cuddle Puddle.

time in a bottle by atlntyda is a fairly short, Orihime introspection piece, but I really liked it!

Somebody to Someone by @jkrobertson Excuse me, did someone say lieutenant friendship fic? This is my love language.

Squad 4's Pregnancy Guide for the Unwed Shinigami by manonlechat is a very silly fic where Gin is a gremlin and Matsumoto is like “well, this might as well happen.” I got a good laugh out of it.

In Between Days by @spyder-m Renji birthday fic! Renji birthday fic! Renji reflects on 40 years worth of birthdays, with and without Rukia.

the one to someone by @shamelessllamapeanutthing After the Soul Society Arc, Rukia chews over who she wants to be and who she wants to be with. Ugh, I loved this one. Great character work on Rukia, and very good and sexy banter with Renji. I am extremely bad at writing sexual tension, and I am jealous of the chemistry here. (I am very good at two-halves-of-one-idiot, and I am thankful for that, but every once in a while, it would be nice...sigh)

Icy Summits by Chaotic Dreamer was a very cute story about Renji and Rukia going on a mission as lieutenants together, shortly after they start dating. What I liked about this, is that the tension of the story is based on them both trying to do what they think is best, and they talk it out in a really healthy way, and that shit clears my pores and whitens my teeth.

Anchor and Vulnerable by squeaker_deaker. Renruki family drabbles. Real, actual-100-words drabbles. I could never. How.

We all know how I feel about ByaRen fic-- I don’t care for the pairing very extremely specific reasons, but I like both characters so much that I will occasionally read one if I think the characterization is gonna be real good (shippers be doin’ characterization, I said it). Anyway, I saw the tags “scenery porn” and “samurai do samurai things” on Heart Tangled by Grizmelder (there is a grizmelder on Tumblr who I think might be the same person, but I am afraid to tag them in case they aren’t although I just followed them because as I was scrolling thru their blog, I found both Brendan Frasier content and the LOTR Volvo meme, so obvs they are cool and I really hope they don’t click on my blog and say “who is this anime weirdo?”). Anyway, look, if you are a Period Drama Slut like me, you gotta read this. Friends, I shipped it. It’s an AU, of course, and it somehow manages to circumvent all my canon ByaRen hangups and I don’t know who I am any more. It’s just... costumes and hair and archery and poetry and longing and sexiness. The latest chapter was epistolary. Oh, right, there is actual porn in it also, you have been warned. (also period-accurate homophobia and suicide refs, it’s a pretty serious and heart-wrenching story)

I know I am always on here, shilling The Thin Red Line. The last few chapters were absolute fire, and it was absolutely the high point of my week when a new one went up. The author, who is A_Fine_Piece on AO3 and Crimson Bttrfly on ff.net, recently announced she is discontinuing it after she got some harsh comments, and also deleted her Tumblr. I am absolutely devastated by this. She wasn’t someone I knew super-well, but we responded to each other’s comments and I really liked her. This was actually the second time this week I heard about someone getting negative fanfic comments, and all I’ll say about that is, if you’re reading a fanfic and you hate everything about it, why don’t you give yourself the gift of closing the tab and not saying anything at all? I can’t even imagine what someone could criticize about this fic, it is so well-crafted and beautifully written. I am so, so mad about this. Please leave a kind comment for an author you love this week, if you can. Writing fanfic is pretty thankless compared to the amount of effort that goes into it, we gotta protect and cherish our authors (and artists, too, for that matter!). My poor, weak heart cannot take any more of my faves quitting.

#bleach fanfic #polynya weekly fanfic roundup #phew this was exhausting #i... should be more on top of things #but that is true generally #thank you to all these fanfic heroes #i cannot imagine what i would do without you

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fixxofvixx · 4 years

Text

BLOODRIGHT - VAMPIRE JAEHWAN AU - CHAPTER 7

Yay! I actually finished a chapter lol. I inadvertently went down the manga/manhwa rabbit hole and just now dug myself out haha. I regret nothing~ But I have some cutie/fierce vampire jaehwan for you!

I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️

"Have you really killed people before?" You asked him quietly, not confident of the outcome. He looked at you, conflicted emotions written on his face. After a while, he answered softly.

"Yes."

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

Your heart thumped hard in your chest. You knew the answer already but to hear him directly admit to you that he'd killed before somehow felt different.

"Y/N," you looked up at him to see a guilty look on his face, "I need you to understand that I don't just roam the streets killing people."

Gathering your courage, you asked another question.

"May I ask what happened?"

"Would you think less of me if I tell you that I'm afraid to say?"

"Afraid? You?" You never thought that fear was any part of Jaehwan's vocabulary.

"You've begun to lose that look of fear when you're around me. It's not completely gone but it's slowly disappearing. But I'm afraid that if I explain, we'll end up back at the beginning."

"I think a part of me knew already. I mean, you've lived for several decades. I would be a fool not to think that something like that happened. But I.....I would l-like to know more. If t-that's okay?"

"I told you before I'm an open book for you. But, you're right, I have lived for a long time. When I was barely 100, there was a war between two royal families. Another family sought to take over our territories and people. I fought along the soldiers we employed. We even had some humans who were allied with us fighting as well. And, of course, the other family had vampires and humans. I will spare you the details of the specifics of war but I admit I have the blood of others on my hands. I'm ashamed to say that I don't even know how many."

You had kept your eyes on his face as he explained and you could see the regret and sorrow there. Without thinking you placed your hand on top of his head, gently running your fingers over his hair. Jaehwan smiled slightly and then you realized what you'd done. You gasped and removed your hand, ready to profusely apologize.

Before you could, though, Jaehwan took your wrist and guided your hand back to his head.

"Don't stop on my account."

"B-But....."

"I like it." You blushed at his words but continued what you were doing. He closed his eyes with a look of contentment. It was easier with his eyes closed now.

"Did I scare you......down there?"

"With Mr. Timms?"

"Mmhmm..." For a vampire who didn't sleep, he sounded awfully sleepy.

"Not really. I was thankful more than anything."

"That's good." You removed your hand from his head and a look of sorrow flashed over his face for a split second.

"What room is this?"

"My room." He stood and stepped back so you could see the entirety of the room.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"I.....I have no idea." He smiled and laughed slightly. You couldn't help but think that he had a nice smile. It seemed to be contagious since you ended up smiling in return. It felt strange to smile so easily.

"Your smile is pretty. You should do that more often." A heavy blush darkened your cheeks and you lowered your head in embarrassment. "But it angers me that it's tarnished by this bruise."

His fingers lightly grazed over the still-throbbing bruise on your cheek. It hadn't been the first time you'd received a blow from that detestable cane but you hoped it would be the last.

"It will fade."

"Yes, well, I would still like to apologize for not being there sooner."

"But.....you still came." You gave him a tiny smile and he nodded, accepting your final word on his apology.

ONE WEEK LATER

"A party?"

You were in the kitchen with Penny. One of the kitchen staff had offered to teach you how to make some desserts when she came to find you.

"Well, not technically a party.....it's more of a gathering of elder vampires. They typically get together every few years to see who can brag more about their so-called accomplishments."

"Oh, will they be staying here?"

"Most of them will. They might stay two or three days, especially the ones that travel a longer distance. The location is different each time they meet and now it's Jaehwan's turn. He tried to refuse but they insisted."

"Why did he want to refuse?"

"Jaehwan is very......protective of his people. He doesn't like people on his turf, in his castle. He doesn't trust a lot of them. And....if I were to guess correctly...he wants to protect you."

"Me? Why?"

"The vampires who attend these sort of things are....shall we say...snobbish bastards with no sense of decency."

"Penny!" You'd never heard Penny use that type of language before and you didn't know how to react other than shock.

"Well, it's true! Those old goats think they're royalty and have to answer to no one. They like to throw their weight around and pretend that they are above everyone else. Jaehwan doesn't pander to their games. They try to push him but they know they can't match the strength of a royal vampire."

"Are they.....mean to him?"

"That would be the understatement of the century. Ever since Jaehwan was born, they have tried to bully him around. But, as you well know, Jaehwan isn't a fool. And they hate him for it."

You mind raced with the thoughts of a young Jaehwan being bullied by the older vampires. The thought sent a pang of hurt through your heart, not to mention anger. Penny must have noticed and patted your shoulder gently.

"Don't let it concern you, dear. Jaehwan is very tough and stubborn. He wouldn't want you to be sad for him."

You smiled and nodded. You were grateful for Penny. In the few days that you had been here, Penny felt more like a mother than the one you grew up with.

"Enough of that! You need to finish your desserts! I expect one when your done!"

"You can eat them?"

"Of course, sweetie! We don't need food but we still enjoy it." Penny winked at you and then bustled off into one of the other rooms. You looked back at your desserts and smiled.

A few hours later, you held a tray containing various desserts that you were fairly confident of. You carefully trudged up the steps towards Jaehwan's room. One of the staff members said he was there.

Although it was about midnight, you knew he was awake. He was always awake. Ever since Penny mentioned that vampires could still eat food, you wanted to gift Jaehwan with the desserts you were making. You made sure to save Penny some, though.

Walking down the hall, you heard odd sounds coming from Jaehwan's room. But it didn't sound like Jaehwan. It almost sounded like someone was in pain. Approaching his room slowly, you saw that his door was partially open. Peeking around the door you found a frightening scene.

Jaehwan was facing you but another person was standing in front of him. A woman, with long black hair and elegant dress. Her head was thrown back in pain. Her eyes were shut and she looked as if she was holding back the screams that should be coming from her. Jaehwan had one arm around her waist and another around her wrist. His fangs were embedded in her arm. He was feeding. The realization of what he was doing sent chills throughout your body. You dropped the tray and ran. You heard Jaehwan call your name but it only caused you to run faster. You headed up the stairs towards your room and spotted Penny.

"What is it, dear? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

Not in any state to carry on a conversation, you bolted past her. Sprinting up the steps, you made it to your room and locked the door. You slid down to the floor, your legs unable to withstand your weight. You brought your knees up to your chest and cried. You screamed when you heard a knock on your door.

"Y/N?" Your heart seized when you heard Jaehwan's voice. "Y/N, can you let me in? Please?"

You couldn't speak. Your throat contained nothing but sobs. He knocked once more but then it was silent.

••••••••

Jaehwan placed his head on the wall beside your door. He could hear you crying. It tore his heart in two. He knew he shouldn't have asked for a blood donation but he hadn't fed in two weeks and he needed something. He heard movement beside him and looked up to see Penny. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she looked pissed. She crooked her finger in a gesture to follow him and he obeyed. Maybe Penny would have an idea of what to do....if she let him live, that is.

Once they reached the end of the hall, Penny turned and leveled him with a glare.

"What did you do?"

"I....I asked for a blood donation. She.....she saw..."

"Dammit, Jaehwan! Have you completely lost all sense of reason?! She was doing so good! She was smiling so much! What were you thinking?! Why ask for a blood donation? She signed the contract, didn't she?"

"Penny....I...can't....she's so....fragile. What if it hurts her too much and she doesn't want to be my donor anymore? Or what if she starts to hate me?"

"Well, you've already succeeded in scaring her. You should have just asked her first. You need to talk to her."

"She isn't going to open the door."

"Then you'll kneel in front of her door until she does!!" Penny huffed and walked down the hall. She was right, of course. He should have asked you.

Sighing, he walked slowly back to your room. He silently prayed that you would open the door. He could easily break the lock but that would make matters worse. When he reached your room he listened but couldn't hear you crying anymore. He only heard the occasional sniffle. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and knocked. He heard your startled gasp and he internally kicked himself again.

"Y/N, could you please open the door? I would like to talk to you. I promise I won't come in." He heard you shuffle and hope soared that you might open the door. The door handle jiggled and the door opened but only a sliver. He saw you on the floor, head down, huddled in the corner next to the door jam. He moved slowly and lowered himself to the floor. He sat next to the door but didn't try to open it. He would let you do that.

"Y/N, please don't cry."

••••••••

You looked at Jaehwan, sitting on the floor, very unlike a typical image of a prince. He wore a look of guilt and you were confused. He wasn't mad at you for interrupting?

"I'm......sorry....f-for interrupting...."

"No, y/n, it's me who should be sorry. I have no excuses. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Is she your girlfriend?"

"No, she's one of the members of a blood donation group for vampires."

"Blood donation group? B-But.....I thought...." Did he not want yours? Maybe it didn't suit his tastes?

"I know. You are my donor. I should have come to you but I hadn't fed in almost two weeks and I didn't want to burden you since you had just arrived."

"But I signed the contract."

"I know and I am eternally grateful, I just....."

"Is...does my blood....not suit you? I heard vampires can smell blood. Maybe mine doesn't smell good?"

"Oh, you have that completely wrong. Well, partially. Vampires can smell blood but, believe me, yours smells like the most exquisite banquet you can imagine. I just wanted you to be comfortable here first. I don't want to speak ill of them, but the blood donation group members can't compare to yours."

"Oh....um, she....looked like she was in pain."

"Ah...well, that is part of it. I can't control that."

"Does it hurt a lot?" A sudden new fear grasped your heart. You had obviously considered that someone biting into your skin wouldn't feel good.

"It wouldn't for you. Maybe like a needle prick at first and then I can control what you feel."

"Control what I feel?"

"Yes, whether it be happiness, sadness, or anger. I can control what emotion you feel." You nodded at his explanation. Your heart easing a little at his calm manner.

"Thank you for explaining." You wiped the last traces of your tears from your face and took a deep breath.

"Do you want to try?"

#vixx #jaehwan #vixx fic #vixx au #jaehwan au #vampire jaehwan #vampire ken #vampire vixx #ken au

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crimsonbluemoon · 5 years

Note

8, 4, 21 minicar (holy SHIT there’s so many good dialogue options I wanted to pick like eight)

And yes I realize I mistyped minicat SHUSH I just woke up and autocorrect hates me

Okay, so just so everyone knows, I don’t know shit about airdropping or w/e so I just did what I wanted. >.> Im not gonna apologize.

Also slight warning; a little risky, but like nothing more than some mentioned drunk sexting. No actual sexual stuff.

AU: CollegeTrope: Meet messyPrompt: “for the last time, please stop trying to airdrop me.”Pairing: Minicat

Tyler was going to kill someone.

He wanted to say who, specifically, but he had no fucking idea who ‘Miniladd’ was, or why he continued to try and send him things. His tablet hadn’t stopped going off for two hours. If Tyler hadn’t needed his tablet for his art project (due the next day), he probably wouldn’t have been as annoyed as he currently was. But since he did need his tablet and he kept getting notifications about if he wanted to ‘accept’ whatever this idiot was trying to send him, Tyler was close to ripping his hair out.

“Oh my god.” Tyler’s fingers slammed into the screen hard enough that he was sure he was going to shatter the glass, even with the protector on. “For the last time, please stop trying to airdrop me.”

A second of silence passed before the familiar ‘ping’ of an airdrop notification made Tyler scream.

“Fuck!”

“What’s up, buddy?” Nogla popped his head into the apartment they shared, waddling through the living room with bags of groceries.

“Some prick named Miniladd won’t stop trying to send me shit to my tablet. I don’t even know how he got my ipad’s information,” Tyler snarked out, rejecting another message. How much stuff did this weirdo have to send?

“Oh, Craig?” Nogla’s casual reply made Tyler’s attention snap away from the screen, hands nearly dropping the ipad from shock.

“You know this kid?”

“Uh, he’s our new neighbor? He lives right across the hall. You met him last weekend at Marcel’s party. You know, the one you and Panda took all them shots during beer- hey, where are ye going?” Tyler ignored Nogla’s shout when he pushed off the couch, storming out of the apartment. His hand was heavy when he slammed it three times against his neighbor’s door, the other still holding the ipad that pinged with another notification. So distracted by the frustrating noise, Tyler’s mouth snapped into motion the second he’d heard the door open.

“What the hell-” The words quickly died in his throat when taking in the appearance of the neighbor. He was shorter, but not by much, and his dyed hair almost distracted from the attractiveness of the face below. An eyebrow peeked up over stylish glasses, which framed a cute nose and bright eyes. Sweatpants weren’t normally Tyler’s first choice to wear when trying to emphasize his better physical traits. But the smooth way the cotton clung to the thighs and hips of the neighbor was working for him in a way that made Tyler’s blood warm. He glanced back up to the man’s face, scowling at the smirk curling his lips.

“Hey, Tyler. What brings you around? You ready to make good on your promise?” The causal way he said Tyler’s name brought him back to his senses. Though he wanted to ask what the hell the guy was implying, Tyler glared and waved his ipad next to his head.

“You ready to stop being a pain in my ass and spamming my tablet?”

“What?” The cockiness from before vanished quickly, though Tyler rolled his eyes at the feigned innocence.

“You’re Miniladd, right? Cause you’ve been airdropping me pointless shit for two hours.”

“I haven’t even been on my ipad. I let my nephew use it for-” Then Craig stopped, his cheeks turning pink when something clicked in his head. Tyler tried not to notice how the flushed coloring looked good on the other’s face when Craig turned his head back into the apartment. “LUI! Are you fucking with my files again?!”

“He won’t accept my memes!” The squeaky voice that came from somewhere in the apartment sounded young, far too young to be in a college dorm. Maybe Tyler’s face showed his thought process, as Craig gave a sheepish smile and a shrug.

“I watch him once a week for my brother. He probably got your info from our conversation thread last week and just thought we were friends.”

“Wait, we talked?” Tyler scowled when Craig nodded, scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah, we did. Alot. But you were drunk, so I didn’t really expect you to remember-and now you’re looking at the messages in front of me. Fantastic.” Tyler ignored Craig’s nervous laughter when he yanked his phone out of his pocket. He didn’t remember said night, because most people wouldn’t be able to retain information after downing six shots in an hour (he was proving a point damnit, and it was worth it to see Brian eat his words the next morning). He’d given Craig his number? And what kind of conversation did they-

Oh. Oh.

“Fuck.” Letting out a slow groan, Tyler tried to ignore his own hot cheeks and jammed the phone back into his pocket. He refused to avoid eye contact when looking back up at Craig, who looked like he was the one that’d texted that he was going to to ‘fuck him against every wall’ in Craig’s apartment. There were other comments sent, too, but they all revolved around the same concept. Craig never seemed against the ideas Tyler had offered, but he also made it clear he wouldn’t engage in said acts until Tyler spoke to him sober. Which Tyler hadn’t, because he’d been drunk and forgot all about the convo.

Until right now, that is.

Tyler searched for something to say over his embarrassment, but his brain was blank. “Fuck me.”

“You know, you keep teasing me with a good time and I’m going to change your name in my phone to ‘Blue balls’.” Craig’s casual reply while he leaned against the doorway and grinned made Tyler scoff.

“Tell your brat to stop messaging me so I can finish my project,” Tyler snarked out and turned around, making it into his own doorway before he huffed and looked back to Craig. “And text me when he’s gone. I probably should buy you a beer or something for…that.”

“You owe me a lot more than a beer. Good thing my apartment has lots of walls.” The wink was stupid, and Tyler wanted to ram Craig’s face into the door to get rid of his stupid grin.

But when he was reminded how good sweatpants fit Craig while he turned back into his apartment, Tyler realized he wasn’t opposed to the offer either.

#personfullofplotholes #Minicat #Fire and Ice boys #Miniladd #I Am Wildcat #<3 #Crimson drabblez

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wincestbigbang · 5 years

Text

2019 Master Post

Title: Invisible Touch Author: ellerkay Artist: blindswandive Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Sibling incest, first time, mind control, mind control aftermath and recovery, mind rape, blow jobs, anal sex, kissing, making out, hand jobs, telepathy, guilt, shame, emotional hurt/comfort, barebacking Summary: A witch with mind control powers makes Sam and Dean have sex with each other for the first time, forcing them to confront their desire for one other. Afterwards, they find their way back to intimacy and to healing. Art: Live Journal Story: Live Journal | Ao3 Title: Undertow Author: laughablelament Artist: Nisaki (a.k.a. swan_song21) Rating: NC-17 Warning/Spoilers: non-graphic suicide attempt Summary: A not-so-brotherly riff on The Little Mermaid. “And the Broken Hearts, men without country, without family, are transfixed and transformed by the Song. But all is not lost. For the Love of a Mortal can melt the Mer Heart, and thus restore the Human Form.” -the lore Art: Live Journal | Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: Suits Author: twoboys2love Artist: leaf_zelindor Rating: PG-13 Warnings/Spoilers: important spoilers from season 1 to season 10 (If you haven't watched) Summary: Suits the boys have worn over the years... and the feelings they inspired. Art: Live Journal Story: Live Journal | Ao3 Title: Kale or Nada Author: smalltrolven Artist: tx_devilorangel Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for episode 14.13. Summary: A coda to episode 14.13 “Lebanon” set in the AU from the epic 300th episode. Sam is an ultra-rich internet-famous tech corporate lawyer that sends the best criminal defense lawyer in the country to get Dean out of his jam with the FBI. Within a few days of being released from FBI custody (with an apology!), Dean is sitting in the living room of Sam’s Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Live Journal | Ao3 Title: Slipping Through the Minutes Author: sci_fis Artist: emmatheslayer Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: N/A Summary: Omega Sam (16) and Alpha Dean have been in a relationship for a couple of years, but Dean refuses to mate with Sam until he turns 18, insisting that Sam should be old enough to give informed consent first. But when young unmated omegas start going missing, things may change. Art: Live Journal Story: Ao3 Title: Playtime Author: jdl71 Artist: cherie_morte Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Dark Fiction, Blood, Sibling Incest, Murder, Violence, Kidnapping, Torture, Bottom Sam, Top Dean. Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester have embraced their dark desires for each other and for killing not just the supernatural. They travel, looking for a new toy for Sam to play with and something for Dean to hunt. They enjoy hearing the screams of those they hunt; Sam loves to see their blood drip from his knife while Dean enjoys the thrill of the hunt. Art: Live Journal Story: Ao3 Title: After the End of Everything Author: amypond45 Artist: amberdreams Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: None Summary: Michael won. He took the world down, then opened a portal to another universe and moved on, leaving Sam and Dean to pick up the pieces. After his possession, Dean is a burned-out shell with no conscious memory of anything that happened during his time as Michael’s vessel. Sam takes his broken brother on the road, and together they make their way home, hoping to find others who made it through the End of Days, hoping to find a way back to each other. Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Live Journal | Ao3 Title: All My Loves Author: ncdover/ncdover1285 Artist: sandy79 Other Pairing(if applicable): Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen, Dean/Lisa, Sam/Jess (mostly mentioned) Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Major Character Death, Underage Summary: They say that we fall in love with three people over our lifetime, each one for a specific reason. Each person that we fall in love with is something that we are seeking at that particular time in our lives. Dean has been falling for Sammy in many different ways over the years, for as long as he can remember. How could he possibly have three loves? So he sits down to think it through and decides that while he may have had three loves in his life, he has never stopped loving his Sammy, and never will. Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: Love, Lies, & Lap Dances Author: wicked-wincest-writer / cleighwrites Artist: bluefire986 Other Pairing (if applicable): Sam/Jess, Dean & clients (mentioned/background) Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Angst, hypothermia, mentions of prostitution, frottage, anal sex, incest (duh!), slowest of burns Summary: Sam was a freshman at Stanford who had no idea how his big brother was paying for him to live off-campus. Dean was a part-time escort and a full-time liar. How will Sam react when he finds out exactly how Dean has been paying for everything since they left their dad behind? Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Tumblr | Ao3 Title: Dead Hearts Author: raving_liberal Artist: kuwlshadow Rating: R Warnings/Spoilers: Body/Medical Horror, Blood and Gore, Blood Kind (Kinda), Canon-Typical Violence, spoilers for Season 02 Summary: A gory vision sends Sam and Dean to New York to investigate a series of bizarre murder-suicides among organ transplant recipients. They soon find themselves racing the clock to save a kidnapped girl before she becomes the next victim. Nightmares and the memory of Dean’s heartsblood on his lips haunt Sam through an investigation that puts the brothers on the trail of an ancient Norse legend. Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: Catch the Wind Author: sarasaurusrex Artist: bluefire986 Other Pairing(if applicable): Castiel/Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Mostly Wincest, Wincestiel at the end, teencest, Flashbacks, Time Travel, Action/Adventure, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Young Sam Winchester, Young Dean Winchester, John Winchester Being an Asshole, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Butterfly Effect, Choices, Changing the past, OC Villains, Guilt, Castiel Does What Castiel Wants (Supernatural), Threesome - M/M/M, wound care, Making Out, Don't Wake Dad, Healing Sex Summary: When a rogue angel Castiel once spared begins murdering angels on the West Coast, Sam and Dean help Castiel hunt the angel down once and for all. Along the way they find themselves in a place they stayed in as teenagers. It brings back memories of Sam’s 16th birthday, when he was being hunted by a delusional friend of John's who was determined to stop the next King of Hell. Unbeknownst to Sam, Dean, or Castiel, the past and present are inexplicably intertwined, and sparing the angel in the past has unfathomable consequences for Sam and Dean's future. Fate, chance, and redemption must all be confronted for the trio to move on. Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: There Goes the Neighborhood Author: amusawale Artist: tx_devilorangel Other Pairing(if applicable): Sam/Jessica Rating: PG-13 Warnings/Spoilers: Slow burn, canon compliant wincest, pre-series AU Summary: Dean didn't get to collect Sam from Stanford. They never took to the road together. Sam went on to be a lawyer and Dean did his hunting thing. But now Sam wants to run for mayor and he needs to scrub his record of this annoying brother who is a stain on his impeccable record. He meets with Dean, and asks him to "kill himself" so that Sam can be free of him. Dean agrees. Sam is dissatisfied now. Why does his brother find it so easy to let him go? (which, really, hypocrite much?" - the author says as an aside) Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: Love the Sinner: Embrace the Sin Author: paperann Artist: 2blueshoes Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Explicit Sexual Content, Dark Themes Summary: While Sam and Dean were raised as hunters, it was their choice to continue the fight against evil—their duty to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. Time and time again, they’d save the world, fight the monsters, but in truth: Destiny doomed the Winchesters from the start. Why else was Sam born as Lucifer’s true vessel, spiraling into a demon blood addiction so easily and spectacularly—unless an inherent darkness resided inside him all along? How could Dean wield the Mark of Cain, only passed down through biblical blood and honed by those few deemed ‘worthy'—unless he wasn’t a natural-born sadistic killer? In a sad twist of irony, the Winchesters were always fated to be monsters, no matter how they tried to even the scales. Aboard a sinking ship, they chose insanity—Dean scraping together broken parts to stay afloat while Sam kept thinking love conquers all—maybe it was time to let go, to drown. Giving in didn’t necessarily mean giving up. Even if it hurt, there could be another life waiting for them. Together. Anything was better than being trapped in this cycle—whether it was cowardice or courage it didn’t matter—someone had to break it, before it broke them. Art: Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: For The Love Of Chuck (Or Not) Author: runedgirl Artist: a_biting_smile Rating: NC-17 Summary: After Chuck’s revelation, Sam becomes hopeless enough to want to give up on life itself, so Dean knows he has to take drastic action. What can they do that Chuck would hate enough to give up on his “favorite show” and let the Winchesters make their own choices again? Warning/Spoilers: Takes place directly after the Season 14 finale. Castiel appears as a side character, no romantic undertones. Art: Live Journal Story: Live Journal Title: A Map Without Landmarks is Useless Author: Zee487 Artist: An Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Major Character Death, Suicide Attempt, Violence Summary: When Sam is born, John props Dean’s elbow up on a pillow, carefully places the tiny wrinkled bundle into Dean’s arms, and tells Dean, “This is Sam. He’s your brother. You gotta watch out for him.” Dean looks at his brother’s big, clear eyes looking back at him and feels Sam’s tiny hand wrap around his finger and falls head over heels in love. Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3

#wincest big bang #wincest big bang 2019 #master post

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albapuella · 4 years

Text

How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure (Chapter Two)

AO3

Fandom: Homestuck

Summary: How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days AU Dave needs to win a bet; Karkat needs to write an article. Shenanigans ensue.

Tags: Humanstuck, alternate universe - no sburb session, POV switches galore, implied/referenced child abuse Author’s note: This story is the result of a jam session I did with aceAdoxography on the davekat thirst federation discord server. This one's a little out of my usual wheelhouse, but I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. New chapters every Saturday/Sunday. Didn’t bother with the formatting this time: You want the fancy formatting, go to AO3 :D

Day 1:

Despite his slacker appearance (and life-style, to be honest), Dave was always punctual. He'd even made an effort to look the part of a guy going on a date with another guy: jeans with only a few holes at the knees, his favorite record shirt, and a red hoodie—all freshly cleaned. So freshly cleaned that the sweater was still very slightly damp. Well, whatever, it'd be fine. They were having dinner first, and that meant he'd have plenty of time for the thing to dry out before they went to the movies where the main thrust of Dave's doki-doki plan would commence.

Karkat arrived a few minutes later. He wasn't dressed to the nines, but it was at least to the sevens. It occurred to Dave, as he watched him approach, that he hadn't known how tall Karkat was. The answer was slightly shorter than Dave but with a more solid build. Stocky. Or maybe that was just the black sweater he was wearing. Then again, his legs looked pretty solid in the black pants he was wearing, too. Either way, he looked good.

Dave gave him an appreciative whistle which made Karkat's eyes narrow. Not the reaction he'd wanted. “Looking good, Karkat,” he said quickly, hoping to smooth over any feathers he might have inadvertently ruffled. “I'm digging the whole sexy college professor thing you've got going.”

“Uh, thanks,” Karkat said with evident disbelief. “You, uh, you look good, too.” He straightened up. “You said we were doing dinner first.”

“Yep.” Dave held out his arm. “I’m taking you to my favorite place. A lot of people think it’s wack, but I’m buying, so if you really don’t like it, at least it didn’t cost you anything.” When his date didn't immediately take his offered arm, he shook it invitingly. “It's not too far from here.”

Karkat looked from Dave's arm to Dave, suspicious. Then he sighed and laid his hand on Dave's arm, his hold tighter than Dave had expected it to be considering his earlier hesitation. “Okay. Fine. Sounds great. Let's go.”

---

The first thing Karkat noticed when he took Dave's arm was that his sleeve was damp. Then he noticed the feeling of the arm beneath his fingers. Despite looking thin enough to break, there was some muscle here. As they walked to what was apparently Dave’s favorite restaurant, Dave just kept talking. If Karkat had been offered a thousand dollars, he doubted he could have remembered any specific details of the inanity he'd been subjected to. A nervous talker. He'd have to put that down in his notes.

Dinner went much the same. Dave talked at him while Karkat sat there trying to eat his food (overpriced, faux Italian—of all the places Dave could have chosen, he'd picked a fucking Olive Garden? That was going in his notes, too.). In all honesty, Karkat tried not to pay too much attention to what was being said. First, he'd already determined that most of what came out of this man's mouth was completely meaningless nonsense, and second, if he actually listened to any of it, he'd be hard pressed not to respond to the idiocy. While Dave had no evident compunction about swearing, Karkat wanted to get through at least this first date without screaming.

All right, so that was an exaggeration. Some of what Dave said was actually pretty funny. In a hopelessly awkward sort of way. Karkat hated that Dave's clumsy compliments were making him blush. Clearly, the man had brain damage... which also explained the rapping that Dave kept doing (completely unprovoked!). By the time dinner was over, Karkat was only too grateful that their next destination meant that Dave would have to stop talking.

---

Since Dave had picked the restaurant, Karkat had picked the movie. Some romantic comedy chick flick Dave couldn't be bothered to remember the title of. Still, it gave him an opportunity to sit right tight next to Karkat and eat his weight in popped, buttery goodness, so he really couldn't complain.

“What’s the deal with that dude?” Dave whispered. “I thought he was already tight with that other chick. What gives? Is he cheating on her?”

Karkat made a noise like a cat being stepped on but softer. “Dave,” he whispered back, his tone full of the same sing-songy patient impatience that Rose would use when she thought Dave was being particularly dim, “if you were paying attention, you'd already know that that 'dude' is that 'other chick's' cousin. They are probably not romantically involved. I know you're from Texas, but that's not how it works above the Mason Dixon line.” Then he ducked his head and took a long drink from his soda. “Sorry. Just-just watch the movie and be quiet.”

Dave blinked. He'd been starting to think Karkat wasn't going to open up at all. At least, he'd had fuck all to say during dinner. Even if it had been an incest joke at his expense, it still was nice to hear Karkat say something. Something that wasn't just non-committal noises or unenthusiastic agreements. He leaned against Karkat's shoulder to whisper, “It's not true, you know. About Texas. We don't fuck our cousins; I mean, we do, but not first cousins. We're strictly second cousins only. It's a rule. Of course, none of my second cousins are as hot as you, so I'd be willing to make an exception. Just this once.”

This earned him a light elbowing to the gut and a low growl, but Karkat didn't push him off.

By the end of the movie, Dave had gotten five more elbows to the gut, three startled bursts of laughter, two creative insults (quickly joined by muttered apologies), and one “Will you please just let me watch this movie?” Over all, Dave felt like he'd succeeded in charming the hell out of this motherfucker, thank you very much.

They'd walked out into the open air, a nice breeze whisking away the smell of popcorn and sweat from the movie theater. “I had a lot of fun, Karkat. Thanks for coming on this date with me. Do you think we could do this again sometime?”

Karkat blinked at him, a clear look of surprise on his face. “Oh, uh, sure.” He shook his head. “I mean, yes, I'd love to go on another date with you.”

Dave's heart leapt. “Awesome. You can hit me up on Pesterchum. Or I can hit you up. How about I hit you up?”

“Fine, that's... that's fine.” Karkat's smile seemed uneven. “I'll be looking forward to it.”

Although Dave was tempted to try for a kiss, he didn't think he ought to press his luck so far on the first date. Karkat had loosened up some while they'd been in the theater, but out here under the streetlight, he looked nervous again. The last thing Dave wanted to do was chase him away. “Okay then. I guess I'll see you later?”

A slow nod. “Yeah, later.” Karkat was stilted and contained again. Restricted, like a hermit crab stuck in a shell that was too tight. It wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all. Dave had caught a few glimpses of the real Karkat tonight, and the sight made him hungry to see more.

Dave watched him walk away, admiring the view with a new goal in mind: he was going to get Karkat Vantas out of his shell if it was the last thing he did. Getting to rub him in Rose’s face at her wedding was only going to be a bonus.

---

* Never shuts up. Not even during movies. Especially during movies. Attention span of a gnat. From Texas. Doesn't know how to use a dryer. Finds me attractive. Probable brain damage. Funny. Charming. Obnoxious. Never takes off sunglasses. Olive Garden.

Karkat sighed and set down his pen. He'd tried his best to be as cordial as he knew how to be, and he still hadn't managed to last for the entire four hours without insulting his date. Multiple times. Oh well. At least Dave was apparently brain damaged enough to find rudeness terribly amusing (if the way he'd kept bugging Karkat during the movie had been any indication).

He'd been surprised when Dave had actually asked if they could go on another date. Karkat knew he hadn't made the best impression, and yet Dave wanted to spend more time with him? He looked over his notes, trying to ignore the surge of happiness that filled him at the thought. It didn't mean anything: Dave was clearly an idiot, and after a few more days, Karkat was going to start on the offensive. Whatever meager promise there would have been in this fledgling romance, it was still doomed from the start: like all of Karkat's relationships.

Day 2:

It was all Dave could do to wait until the next day to pester Karkat. He didn't want to come off as too eager, after all. Didn't want to put Karkat off. But Dave was only so strong.

TG: so i was thinking TG: if youre not busy TG: we could go to the park this afternoon TG: watch the grifters and maybe get robbed TG: or you could come to my place and hang TG: is it too soon to do that? TG: asking for a friend TG: this is dave by the way TG: i dont know how many people youre talking to TG: not that its any of my business TG: i wouldnt want you up in my grill asking me who im talking to CG: IT IS SIX O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING ON SUNDAY. TG: yea and youre up anyway CG: BECAUSE YOU WOKE ME UP. WITH YOUR TEXTS. THAT YOU SENT JUST NOW. TG: oh shit sorry CG: IT'S FINE. I NEEDED TO GET UP ANYWAY. CG: YOU WANT TO HANG OUT WITH ME? WHY?

Dave frowned down at his phone. Was Karkat fishing for compliments or was he being serious?

TG: because its fun to hang out with you TG: thats how this works right? TG: i thought we could watch another movie TG: at my place TG: or your place i guess if that works better for you TG: ive got popcorn if that sweetens the deal at all CG: YES. BECAUSE THE WAY TO MY HEART IS MICROWAVED POPCORN. TG: fucking called it CG: … CG: FINE. I'LL MEET YOU AT THE PARK AT 2:30PM. IS THAT ACCEPTABLE? TG: perfect ill meet you by the giant yo CG: YOU MEAN THE OY/YO. TG: tomatoes tomotoes karkat

Dave watched the little “CG is typing” message run for almost a minute, feeling his nervousness grow. What had he said that required a novel length response? He managed to reign in the impulse to apologize preemptively, but it was a struggle.

CG: OKAY. WHATEVER. I'LL MEET YOU THERE.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Fine, good then. Nothing was wrong.

TG: im looking forward to it TG: its not hard to intuit TG: when we come out to debut TG: sit by the yo then well go round TG: downtown get the lowdown TG: before we get busy in the hissie TG: partake of the fizzie cause we got a duty TG: to watch the fuck out of this movie CG: RIGHT. SEE YOU THEN. BYE.

Dave shrugged. He couldn't expect Karkat to really appreciate his off the cuff rhymes so soon after waking up, he supposed. Maybe they'd land better later. Flat reception or not, the important thing was he'd gotten Karkat to agree to come to his apartment. He looked around, frowning. Maybe he should clean up a little.

---

Jesus Fucking Christ. Karkat tossed his phone on the bedside table with a groan. It had been all that he could do not to curse out Dave like there would never be a tomorrow. Considering the fact that he was currently planning to go to the apartment of a practical stranger, that much might just be true for him. He lay in bed a little longer, out of spite mostly—he could never get back to sleep after being woken up—, before getting out from under the covers. First things first: notes.

* Inconsiderate asshole. Horrible rapper. Calls the OY/YO “the YO”. Doesn't know the right way to express “tomatoes, tomahtos”. Wants to spend time with me. Insane. We have that much in common.

Thanks to Dave's wake-up call, Karkat had plenty of time to eat a hearty breakfast and start his article.

“How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure” BY KARKAT VANTAS

Since you have decided to read this article, I will assume that you are looking to learn the art of ruining your relationships without the mess of all that trial and error. Maybe you enjoy breaking hearts. Maybe you are the kind of masochist who enjoys getting their heart broken but is at a loss as to how to properly sabotage your relationship yourself. If you can manage to follow these simple steps, you will be well on your way to the same bitter loneliness that usually only the most unlucky in love get the privilege to experience.

The first step is the victim. For the purposes of this article, I picked one that is particularly obnoxious and brain dead. You may have different qualities you are looking for in a potential short-term partner. Ultimately, the most important thing to consider when you plan to lose a guy (or gal or enby) is that you make certain they are one you do not mind losing. That way you can start the process without any regrets.

The second step is the hook. Laugh at their dumb jokes; accept their stupid compliments; ignore their mangling of the English language (in my case, his horrible rapping); and generally be as agreeable as you can manage. A severe lack of intelligence in your short-term partner can be a boon here, though you will find most people are not immune to flattery. You need to make certain that you have your short-term partner well and truly interested in you before you attempt to lose them. If you try to lose them too soon, you will miss out on the full relationship ruining experience.

A little too informal, maybe, but a fine start. Depending on how well this afternoon went (assuming he wasn't murdered and stuffed in a closet), maybe Karkat would be able to start on step three. He was able to stomp down his nascent guilt with ease. After all, Dave wouldn't have been interested in him after the novelty wore off anyway.

---

The afternoon was a little warmer than the evening had been, but Dave still wore his hoodie. It felt lucky, and it was still clean. More the latter than the former, but the point stood! He sat down on the bench next to the giant yellow YO installation and waited. While it was tempting to shoot a message to Karkat, he decided against it. He’d be seeing him in less than ten minutes, and he didn’t want him to think he was clingy. Which he wasn’t. Totally not. Dave Strider had never clung his whole life. Ask anyone. Except Jade. Don’t ask her.

He noticed his leg was bouncing and put a stop to that noise. He was a cool operator. He had this thing on lock. The date yesterday had gone good, right? Karkat wouldn’t have agreed to see him again if he’d had a terrible time. He pushed back his hood and ran a hand through his hair. Nothing to worry about. He’d have a date for Rose’s wedding and continue sorting out the mystery that was Karkat Vantas.

Dave heard the crunch of gravel and looked over to see Karkat approaching. Another sweater combo, but gray this time. The guy had a style he preferred, clearly. It was fine: he looked great. He stood and closed the distance between them. “Hey, Karkat.”

“Hey,” Karkat returned, frowning. Of course, that seemed to be his default expression. “I brought a movie to watch,” he said gruffly.

Although Dave had been hoping he’d be able to pick the movie this time, he wasn’t too cut up about it. It might be a little early in the relationship to bring out The Room anyway. He wouldn’t know. “Sounds great. My place isn’t too far from here.” He held his arm out. “Shall we?”

Again, Karkat regarded his arm with suspicion. “Why do you do this?”

“Do what?”

Karkat opened his mouth before seeming to think better of whatever he’d planned to say. “Never mind.” He took Dave’s arm. “Let’s get going.”

As they walked to his apartment, Dave tried to keep the conversation flowing, but Karkat’s subdued responses quickly killed his enthusiasm. “I feel like I’m talking too much,” he said finally.

Karkat mumbled something which sounded suspiciously like “You think?” before he shook his head. “No, of course not. I’m just a little too tired to, uh, participate, that’s all.”

Dave winced at the reminder of his first faux pas of the day. “No problem, dude. I got us covered. I got words for days.”

“Months even,” Karkat added before ducking his head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

Nudging Karkat’s side, Dave laughed. “Nah, man it’s true. I’ve got words for fucking years.”

Karkat smiled slightly. “Decades.”

“Centuries.”

“Eons”

“Until the next motherfucking epoch, I’ve got words, Karkat. So many words. All the words even.”

Karkat snorted, covering his face with his free hand. “Damn it, Dave. Stop making yourself likeable.”

“I think that’s the point of this whole thing,” Dave pointed out reasonably. “Dating, I mean. It’s not like the old days where your dad and my dad decide if you’re worth enough chickens to trade me for, you know. These days I get to decide for myself how many chickens I want to be traded for.” He gave Karkat a mock critical eye. “How about it, Karkat? How many chickens could I get for you?”

“I don’t know,” Karkat said, his mock serious tone almost too close to a serious tone for Dave’s comfort. “Let me look in my pocket.” He made a show of staring down at the pocket containing his free hand before sliding the hand out and flipping Dave the bird. “Is this enough for you?”

Dave laughed. “I’m sorry, Karkat. You must have at least five chickens to ride this ride.” He felt his face flush but pushed onward. “I guess you’ll have to settle for a movie, and maybe some pizza.”

Karkat was grinning, and Dave decided right then and there that he wanted to keep seeing it. “Maybe next time.” As though to intentionally spite him, Karkat frowned again. “Are we almost there?”

“Yeah, man, just a little further.” As they continued their journey to his apartment, Dave felt himself frown. What was Karkat’s deal? He was a lot more fun when he let himself be himself. Dave didn’t like meanness for meanness sake, but he enjoyed a good joke. For some reason, Karkat seemed to think he shouldn’t joke around? Why? His frown deepened. Karkat also apologized a lot. And he was so often deferential even when it was obvious he had OPINIONS he wasn’t sharing. The pieces were adding up to a disturbing picture.

Maybe after he was done hanging out with Karkat today, he should hit up Rose. She’d know what to do.

---

Karkat’s expectations for Dave’s apartment had been fairly low, and he’d been pleasantly surprised. While not as meticulous as his own apartment, there at least weren’t empty food containers on every surface or dirty clothes everywhere. There was an overall shabbiness though: the feeling that the occupant didn’t care overly much about the apartment’s upkeep. The futon in front of the television was ancient and threadbare as were the carpets. The posters hung on the walls were dusty and faded, and there was a sort of mildewy smell. Still, as previously mentioned it was clean (more or less), and there were no obvious signs of a hidden murder dungeon (not that there would be if there were one, naturally).

“Nice place,” he said for politeness’ sake.

Dave beamed like a little boy who’d gotten just what he’d wanted for Christmas. “Thanks. It’s not much, but it keeps the rain off.” He gestured towards the futon. “Make yourself at home. Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got apple juice. And water from the tap, I guess. I could go pick up some beer if you want to go that route, or--”

Karkat held up his hand, hoping to stem the tide of suggestions. “Water’s fine, thank you.”

“You’ve got it,” Dave said before tilting his head and making twin awkward gestures with both hands involving his pointer fingers. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

It wasn’t until after he’d disappeared into, presumably, the kitchen that Karkat realized he’d been making finger guns. What a dork. Not that Karkat was any more suave, but he liked to think he was at least less childish. He tried to supplant the rush of fondness he felt by recalling just how pissed he’d been with this manchild this morning. It was not one hundred percent successful.

Dave returned with two glasses: water for Karkat, and apple juice for himself. “Take a seat,” he insisted as he set the glasses on the coffee table (sans coasters). “It won’t bite.”

Gingerly, Karkat took a seat on the ancient futon. The padding was so thin, he could feel the bars beneath. It was going to take a while to become unbearable, and he hoped this hang out? date? didn’t last long enough for that to happen. Just as he’d been about to reach for the water, suddenly uncertain whether he actually ought to drink anything Dave gave him, Dave flopped down onto the futon beside him like a sack of gangly flour. “Dave!”

“S’up?” Dave asked, grinning.

“Don’t ‘s’up’ me--,” Karkat managed to stop himself from calling Dave an asshole, but only just. “Just don’t ‘s’up’ me. Speak like a normal person.” He realized he was making a mistake as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “Sorry, I--”

“Dude,” Dave said, his grin dropping away, “Karkat, you don’t have to apologise for every kind of mean thing you say. I’m a big boy: I can take it.”

Karkat supposed he shouldn’t be surprised: he’d never been good at pretending to be a good person. If he could have managed that feat for any length of time, he wouldn’t be in this position. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as dryly as he could.

“I’m serious.” Dave sat up and turned to face Karkat head on, and Karkat saw his own annoyed expression mirrored in the black lenses. “I haven’t known you very long, and maybe I shouldn’t say anything, but--”

“You’re right,” Karkat interrupted, feeling his tenuous hold on his temper slipping. “You shouldn’t say anything.” After taking a moment to make sure he wasn’t going to say anything he didn’t mean to, he spoke again. “Let’s just watch the movie and eat some microwaved popcorn. Does that sound like something we could do? Or would you like to keep pretending you have some deep insights into my character as though we’ve known each other longer than three days?”

Dave raised his hands, and Karkat realized he’d sounded far more aggressive than the situation warranted. At this rate, he wouldn’t even get a chance to lose this asshole! Nice job, Vantas: stellar work. “No, you’re right. I’ll step off.” Dave said softly. He got off of the futon with far more grace than he’d flopped onto it with. “You just put the movie in, and I’ll, uh, I’ll make the popcorn.”

Karkat watched him go before putting his head in his hands. Well, fuck. As though this whole situation hadn’t been awkward before. He should just leave. Just leave, forget about his stupid article, and stop dragging this stupidly likeable idiot down with him. He should.

He stayed where he was.

---

Dave took maybe longer than he absolutely needed to to prepare the popcorn. As much as he liked to consider himself a smooth operator, he could tell when he’d made a mistake, and he wanted to give the guy in the other room a chance to cool down. What made it made it worse was that Karkat had been right to get mad at him: Dave barely knew him. In his place, Dave would probably be pissed, too.

Even so, Dave didn’t think he was wrong about the conclusions he’d come to. It was obvious that Karkat was, for whatever reason, putting on a show for Dave’s sake. Honestly, it was kind of creepy. If he understood why Karkat felt the need to do that, he’d feel better about it.

But it wasn’t his business. Not yet. Maybe you had to reach a certain level on the boyfriend echeladder before that kind of thing was something you talked about. It would probably help if they were actually boyfriends and not just newly dating, too. There seemed to be at least one obvious solution to that problem.

Dave could be patient. After all, he still had eleven days or so to get Karkat to at least like him enough to be his plus one at Rose’s wedding. It wasn’t all he wanted anymore, but it'd be enough to start with. As Rose had so often told him, start with small goals.

He poured an obscene amount of butter over the popcorn in the bowl and headed out to the living room. Karkat was bent over, fiddling with the DVD player, and when he looked up at Dave, his mouth was curved somewhat upwards. “What movie do you have for us?”

Karkat stood. “Coming to America.” He made his way back to the futon and sat down as though worried he might fall through if he sat down too quickly. “It’s more comedy than romantic, so I thought you might enjoy it more.”

That sounded vaguely familiar. “Okay.” Dave joined him on the futon, taking care not to startle him this time. “Let’s get this party started.”

---

Karkat had hoped bringing a comedy would hold Dave’s attention enough to keep him from talking through the whole thing. He’d been mistaken. Yes, a lot of what Dave said was funny, but it just never fucking stopped. Finally, Karkat couldn’t take it anymore.

He grabbed the remote and paused the movie. Then he very deliberately set the remote back down. “I want you to listen to me, Dave. Are you listening?”

Dave looked confused, but he nodded. “Yeah, I’m listening. Do you have something you want to tell me? I’m all ears. Lay it on me.”

God, he couldn’t even listen without rambling! “Would it kill you to shut up?” He saw Dave’s eyebrows peek over the tops of his glasses. A part of him told him to reconsider his current course of action, but naturally, Karkat could never abide by a piece of good advice. “Would it literally cause you to drop dead if you couldn’t expel your idiocy out of your mouth like a goddamned septic pipe full of half-formed metaphors and bullshit? Would your head explode? Can we try that experiment and see what happens?” Karkat felt his fingernails biting into his palms and realized he’d clenched his fists. “What do you say, Dave? Wait, I’ve changed my mind: don’t say anything. Let me bask in the gentle ethereal glow of silence for a moment. Can you do that for me, Dave? Can you let me bask? Will the endless flow of words finally cease?”

‘No’ was clearly the answer to that question since Dave was already opening his mouth. Then, to Karkat’s utter shock, he shut it again. His expression wasn’t ever easy to read with those douche shades he insisted on wearing all the time, but now it was completely closed off. Even the eyebrows had lowered back to their original position.

Silence stretched between them.

Karkat felt sick to his stomach. Shit. Shit. He really just couldn’t do it, could he? Couldn’t pretend even for a few hours that he was a normal person. Well, so much for this experiment. Time to write off this little adventure. Was it worth even trying to apologise? Before he could decide, Dave made the decision for him.

He was clapping. “Damn, just got owned,” he said, a wide grin splitting his face. “You owned me, Karkat. You should feel proud. Not everyone gets own this,” he gestured to himself. “I just hope you know what you’re getting into: I’m barely house trained.”

For an embarrassingly high number of seconds, all Karkat could do was blink. “You’re not mad?”

“Fuck no,” Dave said, still grinning. “I’m a big kid now. I’ve graduated from diapers all the way to pull ups. It takes more than a finely crafted, well-deserved take down to take me down.” The grin softened. “This is what I was trying to say before: I want to date you, not some weird super agreeable version of you. If you want to tell me off for talking too much, fucking go for it. You’ve got a way with insults--it’s a gift. Frankly, I’m insulted you’ve been keeping it to yourself.”

“There’s more where that comes from, asshole,” Karkat said before he could stop himself. To his amazement, Dave still seemed more amused than anything. A strange mixture of anger and fondness welled up inside him. “Stop grinning at me, and watch the fucking movie.” He picked up the remote and hesitated. “You don’t have to be silent,” he said, still feeling a little guilty over his earlier outburst, “just maybe less talking?”

Dave made a big show of running a zipper over his lips. Then he immediately ruined it by saying, “Scouts honor, Karkat. My word is bond. You can cash that shit at the bank.”

Karkat tried to picture Dave as a boy scout and failed. “Right.” He pressed play and the movie resumed. Of course, Dave still talked during the movie, but the sheer volume of words had slowed to a moderate stream rather than the full-bore blasting Karkat had been subjected to earlier. As he sat there on the futon, occasionally answering Dave’s stupid comments with barbs of his own, he felt warm in a way that was only nominally connected to the temperature of the arm he was leaning against. He felt… content.

---

Overall, Operation Hang Out had been a big success. It had been rocky in places, but again, overall, Dave felt like he’d hit his major mission objectives. A movie was watched, pizza was consumed, and Karkat finally, finally, did something other than apologise every time a hint of the person he’d met at the cafe had come through. He didn’t necessarily want to keep pissing Karkat off, but that bitch fit he’d thrown had been epic.

Karkat wasn’t the kind of guy Dave had expected to find himself interested in. At least, he’d never thought he’d have a grumpy asshole kink. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed the more quiet parts of Karkat’s visit, too. It had felt nice to sit on the futon with someone leaning against his shoulder. Dave wasn’t a sap, no, not a suave guy like him, but he couldn’t deny he’d like to do it again some time.

He considered texting Rose as he’d planned to earlier before deciding not to. After all, he’d managed the first crisis all on his own, and she might consider it cheating if he got her help. No, for now at least, this bird was flying solo.

---

* Clean apartment. Finger guns. Puts too much butter on popcorn. Also talks during movies outside theater setting. Likes getting insulted. Kink? Wants to date the “real” me. Delusional. Comfortable arm. Had a nice time. Had acceptable time. Clothes in his shower???

#Homestuck #Humanstuck #fan fic #my fic #wip

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fanonorcanon · 5 years

Text

Cullen & F!Mage Trevelyan (Peaceful Thedas AU)

“Oh for fuckssakes,” She groaned, getting up slowly. The eluvian had thrown her out at the top of a hill. A hill strewn with bushes, rocks and weeds.

“Are you alright, that was quite a fall,” someone said.

“Oh yes, completely fine,” she spat, dusting off her clothes and the pack that had fallen from her back. “Nothing like rolling down a fucking hill that’s at least ten feet tall with--” she began before she looked up. Oh, Maker. He’s hot. “Sorry,” She finished lamely.

He chuckled and she felt her face grow hot.

“Can we start over? Hello, I’m Tilda, and you are?”

“Cullen, a pleasure to meet you,”

“Why yes, it certainly is,” she smirked, tilting her head. He seemed stunned rather than pleased so she pressed on. “So where am I, Cullen?”

“You don’t know where you are?” He asked.

“Not really, eluvians don’t usually come with instructions.”

“You came through an eluvian? I’ve only heard of those in legends!” He grinned.

“Uh yeah, anyway, where is this?”

“Ferelden.”

“Yes, I figured as much, but where?”

“Oh! Apologies. We’re in Honnleath,” Cullen replied matter-of-factly.

“No, really. Where are we?” She laughed.

“I’m not sure I understand why you think I would lie about that, but we are indeed in Honnleath. Redcliffe is several miles that way.”

“Huh,” She heaved a sigh and began pacing.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

“So let me get this straight. Here, in this Thedas, Honnleath never got invaded by darkspawn?”

“Dark what?”

Her jaw dropped. She'd heard of eluvians taking people to faraway places, but never to a different world. A different timeline maybe? Very strange indeed. “You’re kidding. You’ve got to be. You don’t even have darkspawn? Well shit. I really lucked out. No demons either then?”

“A myth told by the Chantry,” Cullen replied hesitantly.

“Okay.” She nodded.

“Are those common where you’re from?”

“Very. You guys been to war much?”

“What?” Cullen was adorable and completely sheltered by a land that had never known war.

“I’m staying here,” She murmured, mostly to herself. She made the decision without hesitation because fuck that conflict-ridden world. The maker had given her a chance to start over in a land with no big bad hanging over one’s head. “You guys probably don’t even have slavery here, do you?”

“No, not in Ferelden. There are some who aren’t opposed to the idea, but I am. Is that a problem for you, Tilda?” He asked sharply.

“Not at all, you misunderstand, I deplore slavers.”

Cullen smiled brightly, clearly relieved.

“Definitely staying here,” She said, louder this time.

“You’ll probably want to stay with one of my sisters for the time being,” Cullen said firmly. “I’m sure I can send a messenger on to let them know. I don’t think they’d mind.”

“Nah, I’m fine right here. Hopefully you can give me some insight on where and what this place is. Because right now it's a damn paradise compared to the Thedas I knew.”

“If you insist. Just for tonight until I can arrange something more fitting for you,” Cullen agreed reluctantly, leading me towards his house.

“Hey, Cullen I am not fussy at all. I was actually trying to get away from some demons. Nasty things, trust me.”

“If you weren’t opposed to it, I’d love to hear some tales of the way things are there.”

“To someone who’s only known peace, I’m sure they’ll sound very grand but that’s not really what they are,” She replied.

Cullen gestured for her to sit while he fetched cups and a pitcher of water.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

He sat everything down, including slices of hearty bread with butter and jam before sitting down.

“Should have made tea,” he murmured to himself.

She put a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to be so nervous, Cullen.”

“I’m not, at least I don’t think I am. I don’t get much company that I welcome other than my family so I suppose I am feeling a bit out of sorts.”

“So you get a lot of unwelcome company then?” She arched a brow at the blush that stole over his face. “Let me guess, a handsome man like you probably gets lots of proposals?”

“No!” He sputtered.

“So more than a lot?” She pressed.

“Maker’s breath. I don’t think they’re proposals. But they do ask me to meet them at some place in Redcliffe it's either a fountain or statue or something, I'm afraid I don't concern myself with the specifics. I always tell them that I’d rather not make the trip and leave things unattended for so long. There are many older people living in the area, I worry about them you see.”

“Wow,” she giggled. “So you’re turning down loads of people so that you can help the elderly. You’re a real charmer, huh Cullen?” She tried to bite back further laughter as he blushed even harder.

“It just seems like the right thing to do!” Cullen huffed.

“I’m sorry. That’s just so precious.”

They talked well into the evening about his family, her own family and things they like to do when they have the time. Conversation lulled only when their stomachs growled loudly. Cullen chuckled and got up to make dinner.

“Would you like some help?”

“No, you're a guest, please rest. I'm sure you need it after today. Demons, huh?”

“Yeah, demons. Horrible things.”

“What were you doing before you encountered them?”

“There was a war with mages and templars that hadn’t been going well for either side so there was an agreement to meet peacefully to talk. I was marching to the temple of sacred ashes with friends from my former Circle in hopes of making an accord or at least some sort of pact, but I think there was an explosion, some woman urging me on… I can't seem to remember that part. It's not important though; seems more like a nightmare than anything.” She tried to push away the thought of what it would mean to the Thedas she knew that the only way anyone thought there'd be peace had perhaps disappeared in a giant flash of green flame. Mages would certainly be painted the villain. She sighed heavily.

“It sounds important.” Cullen looked worried, his brows furrowed thoughtfully.

“I doubt a simple alchemist like myself would make any difference in the oncoming storm there,” She chuckled humorlessly.

“Maybe it's the romantic in me but I've read many stories where one person makes all the difference. I truly believe that's possible. And you've fought demons before so it seems that you'd do a lot better than someone like me.”

“That's kind that you think so much of me, but more to the point; are you trying to get rid of me already, Cullen?” She feigned deep offense, laying a hand against her chest.

“Of course not! I just don't think I should put my own desire for agreeable company above the fate of the world. Even if it isn't my world.”

“So you find me agreeable? Only agreeable?” She teased.

“Stop that,” he huffed.

“I’m sorry, but you make it very easy to tease you,” she grinned sweetly at him.

He set down a pot of tea then two plates laden with cheese, cured meats, apples and more of the hearty bread from earlier.

“Let's just eat.” He sat across from her, a blush reaching his ears.

Seeing him get flustered over the smallest things was just too much.

“Are there mages and templars here?” She asked around a mouthful of bread.

“Slow down. The food’s not going anywhere, my lady.” Cullen chuckled at her frown.

“They're not very common. I've only met two mages in my life and not a single templar,” he said.

“Do templars rule over mages?”

His brow creased. “No. Why would templars need to rule over mages?”

She began to tell him about demons, harrowings, tranquil and the rite of annulment some mages had been threatened with.

“Templars, where I come from anyway, operate under this guise that they need to protect mages from themselves. In my own experience many templars fancy themselves as jailors to mages, think themselves beyond reproach. Some do really bad things. Tormenting someone who cannot fight back, either because they fear retribution or in the case of tranquil where they’re incapable of standing up for themselves because the spell doesn’t let them is abhorrent. Those templars are rarely reprimanded.”

“But couldn't mages just supervise each other? It hardly seems fair. And no one deserves to be made tranquil,” Cullen huffed.

They sat in companionable silence for some time before she spoke again.

“Can I tell you a secret?” She whispered.

“I'd be honored to keep your secret, my lady.”

“I actually considered becoming tranquil.”

“Why? Why would you give up your free will?” Cullen asked, completely aghast.

“I didn't want to leave myself open to corruption. It was something that had been drilled into me so heavily to the point of paranoia. But one of my instructors convinced me to go forward with my training. That it was okay to be unsure, but to hone your mind like a blade and always be on watch. To be cautious but bold.”

“They sound like a really great person.” Cullen smiled at her.

“Yeah, thanks Cullen.” She sighed happily. “I haven't told anyone that since my instructor all those years ago.”

“If you’re truly intent on staying, we could use an alchemist in the area. As I said there are many elderly people living nearby and the nearest alchemist is in Redcliffe. Having one closer could make all the difference,” Cullen said quietly.

“Is there some place I could stay for longer than a single night? I don’t want to besmirch your honor, ser Cullen,” she said playfully.

“I’d have to ask around.”

“Don’t worry too much. I could find a cave somewhere out there and become a real ‘witch of the wilds’,” she giggled.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, there are bears and wolves aplenty out there.”

“Cullen, I’ve fought demons and darkspawn. I’m sure I can fend off some wildlife.”

“I’d rather you not have to though,” Cullen said softly, his brow creasing once more. He seemed deep in thought before he slapped a hand on his knee. “There’s an old fishing shack near the lake, I could fix it up a bit for you. It’s not far from here.”

“As long as it’s not too much trouble.”

“It should only take a few days. You can stay here in the meantime. I’ll sleep there.” He stood abruptly and began to walk towards the door.

“Surely it can wait until tomorrow. I could help,” she reasoned.

“No time like the present,” he grinned. “I’ll return in a few days, though I might stop in for food every now and then if I can’t find any game.”

“But what about supplies? Nails and things.”

“I can get those tomorrow. I’m mostly going to check the damage and gather lumber.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re really something.”

“Thank you, I think.”

“Please don’t push yourself too hard. I’d rather you not hurt yourself just for…” She couldn’t help trailing off.

“No, I’d really appreciate having an alchemist in the area. This is simply a service to the community!” He chuckled.

“I’d still like to help, Cullen. It’ll be dark soon and it’d be a lot easier to see in the dark with help.” She held out a hand and summoned veilfire to her palm. “Are you sure I can’t convince you?”

“That’s amazing. I-I suppose that would be very helpful.”

She checked her bag for the basics, bedroll, soap and a change of clothes. He packed his own bag with the same, including food and basic cooking supplies.

“And to think you were just going to walk out the door without all this,” she chuckled.

“I was a bit eager, I suppose.”

She nodded and followed him outside and towards the shack, he picked up an axe by the door on their way out. When they arrived she saw no damage, and thought it needed no repairs.

“No, no, it needs some kind of insulation, tar or something between the boards. You can see inside from here. And besides, it’d be much too cold, my lady.”

“There’s a fireplace and a bed. I don’t need much more than that, Cullen.”

“No, this is unacceptable.” He shook his head and frowned.

“You’re very stubborn,” she commented.

“Maybe so, but I will make certain this place is comfortable several days from now.”

They set down their packs and searched for suitable lumber.

“You’re not cutting down a tree right now, are you?” She asked alarmed.

“No, I was just going to mark them with chalk then come back tomorrow with tools and possibly some additional hands for heavy lifting. My sisters are both betrothed to strong men, and will likely need little convincing to help bring an alchemist to the area.” He ran a hand through his hair. It was curling around the edges from the heat.

She built a fire when dusk approached.

“You can head home now. I’ll be fine here for tonight.”

“What, don’t be ridiculous. I’m sleeping here. I’ll walk you back. You deserve comfort after the day you’ve had.”

She shrugged. “I’m quite accustomed to roughing it, Cullen.”

“I’m afraid I must insist, my lady.”

“You’re not going to budge on this, are you?” She frowned at him.

She tried to settle in his bed after watching him go but instead ended up browsing his bookshelves. Hidden behind several books on sword and armor care was a book called ‘Hard in Hightown’ the cover was much different than the copy she'd seen in her own world. She grinned. Who would have thought Cullen would have smut like this? She settled onto the couch and began to read. Before she’d realized she’d gotten to the last chapter.

“My lady? I knocked on the door, but you didn’t answer, are you alright?” Cullen asked as the front door cracked a bit.

“Yes, I’m fine. Come on in.”

“What are you reading?” His smile seemed to rival the sunlight streaming through the door behind him before he shut it.

“Oh, just a little something called ‘Hard in Hightown’.”

He visibly paled.

“It’s quite good, actually. I wasn’t expecting much from a title like that, but it distracted me enough that I didn’t sleep. I must have lost track of time.”

“Maker’s breath,” he sighed. “I apologize, I’ll take that back now. It should be nothing more than kindling.”

“But I’m almost finished! Have a seat.”

Cullen looked nervous, but sat beside her on the couch.

She feigned intense focus and watched him squirm from the corner of her eye.

“Maybe I should make some tea,” he muttered, going to stand. She set her hand across his restless legs to still them.

After she’d finished the story, including the autographed page at the back, she closed the book and set it down.

“So why does he call you Curly? Is it because of your hair?”

Cullen nodded.

“He’s a writer in my world as well. Mostly of crime novels. Is this what he’s best known for? Erotic romance?” She smirked as Cullen went pink and nodded again. “Okay, I’ve tortured you enough. Let’s eat then get to work. I plan to earn my keep in any way I can. Well, save for how some of the folks in the book earned it,” she giggled. Cullen hid his face in his hands and groaned.

“I’m truly sorry that you saw that, my lady.”

“I’m not. It was a good way to spend an evening.”

“You sure you’re not too tired?”

“Cullen,” she began, exasperated. “I'll be fine.”

“As you will, my lady.”

☙ ☙ ☙

After having a quick breakfast of eggs and smoked meat they headed to the lake.

“I wasn't sure if you wanted me to tell anyone of how you got here,” Cullen said quietly.

“Hm, I suppose it would pose a lot of questions,” she replied.

“I only told them that you're an alchemist and you thought this would be a nice place to settle in. I hope I didn't speak out of turn.”

“Not at all. Thank you, Cullen.”

Once they'd gotten close to the clearing by the lake a blond man was waving enthusiastically and wore a bright smile.

“This is Alistair and this is Thom,” Cullen said.

“Good morning, my lady,” Thom said, looking up from papers he had spread over a stump.

“So Cullen tells us you're the alchemist who fell from the sky,” Alistair chuckled. “He didn't tell us what a beauty you are, though.”

“Yes. He did.” Thom said flatly.

“Should I tell Mia that her betrothed is flirting with other women?” Cullen was flushed all the way to his ears but wore an intense frown.

“I don't mean any of it! She knows I'm only joking, see she's smiling. You're no fun at all, Cullen. He's a real mood killer isn't he Thom?” Alistair said.

Thom hummed thoughtfully.

“How long have you been an alchemist, Tilda?” Alistair asked.

“I started helping my mum when I was small, but I polished my skills in a mage academy.”

“Are you from Tevinter then? I hear that place is crawling with mages these days.”

“I'm not, but the mage academy was in Tevinter, yes.” She was lying through her teeth. She'd never even been to Tevinter! “But I haven't been there for some time. I've mostly been wandering Ferelden.”

“Where are you from, then?”

“Ostwick,” She answered truthfully.

“Shall we get to work then?” Cullen asked. “Thom can you show her your plans?”

Thom nodded.

They'd planned to give the shack siding and shutters for the few windows. True to Cullen’s word, they’d all finished before the week was out. Thom had come back a few days later with a cabinet well suited for alchemy. There were over a dozen small drawers, shelves for empty vials and cabinets beneath it for larger tools like a brew pot and kettle. It was a lovely gesture and she thanked him profusely for his kindness.

Shortly after settling in and stocking up on herbs for common potions and cures she was often visited by Cullen.

“Are you sure you don't need any help, my lady?”

“You could call me Tilda for a change,” she teased him.

“I'm being polite,” Cullen argued.

“As you will then. Do you need something? A love potion perhaps? Now that you don't have to dote on the elderly you should be free to accept invitations from admirers.” She couldn't help smirking at him.

“Maker's breath,” he whispered. “Call me a prude if you will but I don't know if I'm ready for all that. I'm building an archway for my sisters weddings.”

“It's okay to not be interested in romance, Cullen.”

He sank down into a chair at the small table she'd squeezed in for dining on.

“It's not that I'm not interested,” he began hesitantly.

“But?”

“It's just as I've said. I don't think I'm ready. I have so many ideas of what romance should be and I don't want to make a mistake.”

“You can't expect to be perfect at the start. And if you find the right person they'll understand and help you through any inexperience you might have. Communication is the most important thing in a relationship.”

“That seems very wise. Did you leave anyone behind in… that other world?” There was a look in his eye that she'd never seen.

“Most certainly. Left a trail of broken hearts all the way here.”

“You're seeing someone now? I had no idea.”

“I'm joking, Cullen. There's not much room for romance in a circle. Was just a few unpleasant experiences that aren't worth mentioning.”

“Oh.”

“I hear Annabel is pretty sweet on you. Alistair said that she's brought you so many pies that you've begun sharing. I have yet to get one of them.” She feigned offense.

“It seemed wrong. I don't know why. If you like I can bring one.”

She let a silence fall between them.

“I'm sorry, my lady. I wasn't trying to hide it or anything.”

She stood and turned away from him to hide her grin.

“They're not even very good.”

She burst into laughter.

“You're worse than Alistair,” he huffed indignantly.

“Pah, I'm far more charming.”

“I suppose,” Cullen mumbled, a blush coloring his cheeks.

“Mister Rutherford, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were flirting just now!” A woman with curly blond hair stood in the open doorway.

“Mia!” Cullen yelped.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #female trevelyan #cullen rutherford #dai #fanon writes fic

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newsiegirlscout · 6 years

Text

Written for the MPaS Halloween Writing Contest Between Two People Based On a Lighthearted Conversation!

If you’re anyone else, Happy Halloween!

And if you’re @thelordismygod-blog---it’s on, FISKE.

(Written rather hastily, but....enjoy!)

The atmosphere of Miss Lynn’s classroom was one of barely-contained jubilee as children dressed as anything from faeries to well-known fictitious movie figures to what appeared to be Avicenna passed out sweets to their classmates’ gaily-colored boxes. In celebration of Halloween, she had agreed to forgo class and allow a day of festivities to the delight of her students--the only problem being that while many teachers were content to simply show their children films, she felt that her students would soon see The Nightmare Before Christmas more than enough times over their elementary career and had opted to let them choose an assortment of activities.

This was a decision she had an instinct she would soon regret.

After a few minutes of excited chattering once all treats were passed out and games were played (which, with as many coordination-required activities with sugary incentives they had set up, seemed like a wise choice to play before passing out candy), Penny clapped her hands. Almost instantly--and what a miracle it was for a second-grade teacher--the others turned around, giving her their full attention.

The lights darkened, and the bright beam of a flashlight illuminated her face.

“Will everyone sit down wherever? We’ve decided to start our scary stories as soon as everybody’s settled.”

Though some of the students returned to their seats, the majority chose to either sit down where they were, or drag beanbags from the class library to the front of the room. As they watched with anticipation, electric tealights began to alight around the classroom.

Finally, what appeared to be the last one flickered twice faintly, then suddenly came to life as the face of a luminescent amber countenance as a pumpkin. The children screamed in delight, then watched, giggling nervously, as a certain flame-haired boy climbed onto the stool in center stage and set the gourd on his lap.

“Thanks, Penny.” he said to his friend as she clicked off her flashlight and handed it to him. “Our first story, told by yours truly, is not one of fabrication and cheap fright. Please take heed and listen, for our protagonist may be at your window next.”

He was met by a sea of confused stares.

“This is a true story.” he said blatantly.

The room gasped.

“This, my listeners....is the tale of Lizzie Borden.”

########################################################

Mr. Peabody and Sherman walked down the cobble-strewn streets of nineteenth-century London, taking no small note of the gossiping packs of passersby and the apprehensive nature of the villagers.

“Mr. Peabody, what’s going on?” Sherman asked with a wavering air in his voice, “These people are acting like they’ve just seen a ghost!”

The beagle winked. “Well, that may not be far from the truth. Perhaps this gentleman can fill us in.”, he said, tipping a coin to an excitable newsboy in exchange for a paper.

As the redhead ran his eyes over the headline, his eyes widened.

MAN AND WIFE KILLED AND MUTILATED BY AXE

Of course, a picture, however grainy and out-of-focus, had to be included in the article, which the beagle noticed a second too late.

“Wow”, Sherman said, giggling nervously, “This guy...really got it in the head.”

Mr. Peabody flushed a light pink. “Perhaps I should take that, Sherman.” he said hastily, skimming over the article, “It says here young Miss Borden, after some time of what could be considered provocation, was suspected and convicted of the murders of her father and stepmother.”

“What does provoclamation mean?” he inquired with an air of curiosity.

“Provocation. Essentially, actions or speech, especially those meant deliberately, that annoy, frustrate, or infuriate one. Your friend Miss Peterson provoked you in the cafeteria last year by using those demeaning terms--”

##########################################################

Sitting front-row center, the mentioned Miss Peterson flushed and tugged a lock of golden hair in front of her face.

“Did he really say that? I said I was sorry!”

Sherman smiled.

“I know, Penny. But you also kind of tried to kill me. So I think Mr. Peabody’s allowed to bring it up.”

#############################################################

“--or in this case, Mr. Borden was not exactly what you’d call a well-liked person. He was rather affluent--wealthy, that is--and gave large donations to various branches of the family, but remained somewhat of a Scrooge within his own household. In addition, Lizzie had been building a roost in the barn to attract pigeons, but Mr. Borden, believing they attracted children to hunt them, killed them with a hatchet.”

Sherman’s jaw dropped, tears welling in his eyes.

“Yes, I would say it’s rather unjust myself. But I should probably mention that the specific weapon suspected of the Borden’s deaths was also a hatchet.”

The red-headed rascal pouted. “Not really helping, Mr. Peabody.”

His guardian shrugged. “Unfortunately, those are the facts. Since we’re here to attend an important gathering requiring that knowledge, there isn’t really any getting around it, but I do apologize. Are you ready to hear the full account?”

Sherman put his hand on his stomach and expressed distinct unease.

“Is it alright if we get a root beer first?”

#######

Hunched over his rootbeer in the soda bar, Sherman listened intently to Mr. Peabody.

“Alright. The first murder was that of Mrs. Borden, who was believed to have faced her killer during the attack and received multiple blows to the head and face. The door jammed when the maid attempted to enter, causing her to utter an expletive, after which Lizzie was heard laughing on the upstairs floor; a point from which the body would immediately have been seen. Lizzie later informed her maid of a department store sale and permitted her to go, but she declined.”

“A short time after this, Bridget was awoken by Lizzie exclaiming her father’s death.”

“Yep. She definitely did it.” Sherman said with finality, “We aren’t going to see her, are we?”

“Au contrair, my boy;” Mr. Peabody replied grimly, “In a sense, we are. We are Miss Lizzie Borden’s lawyers.”

“So...we’re gonna send her to jail for the good of all mankind?” he said with a final desperate smile.

Mr. Peabody took a sip of his soda before continuing. “Ah, alas. In the timeline where she is incarcerated, I fear a greater impact may be forced on society in the present. No calculation on canine or human nature can be assured, but in most outcomes I’ve been able to see, lesser evidence is examined in the present, allowing many more convicted, dangerous criminals to go free.”

“No, Sherman, our job is to prove Miss Borden innocent.”

#######################################################

The class gasped.

“Did you let her go?” asked one timid boy near the front.

“Not yet,” Sherman said with a wink, “Actually, we still have to attend the trials and get licenses and stuff. The one big problem is tracking down Lizzie; she left, and her sister never saw her again.”

The phone rang suddenly, startling Miss Lynn.

“Miss Lynn’s classroom, teacher speaking!” she said quickly. After a minute of listening, she hung up.

“Sherman, you’re dismissed early. Your father is waiting for you in the office.”

The class watched, fascinated, as the boy left. In reality, he only had a particularly well-scheduled optometrist appointment; but who’s to say which is fact, and which is depiction?

#mpas #mr peabody and sherman #mr peabody #sherman peabody #waffles to go

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worldwalkernovel · 6 years

Note

if you're still taking content requests for alleirat, here's a weirdly specific au: which one leaves passive-aggressive notes tied to all the mistended plants on their apartment building's rooftop garden after keeping them all alive out of spite, and which one is the vigilante superhero living in the same building who sees the plant-tagger while masked and absolutely _seethes_ because their secret identity is objectively more important than marching up and saying "so it's yOU-", but they WANT TO

Brenneth picks up her abilities by accident and uh--the thing is, being able to breathe fire? Very cool. Visually spectacular. Leaves her lips chapped and her tongue with a smoky, spicy taste on it, a little reminiscent of chili powder. Not highly applicable if what you’re after is nonlethal attacks. So mostly her preferred vigilante style is “I have a big stick and I will hit you with it until you surrender or I knock you out, it’s your choice”.

However, the first time she wound up in the news, it was a blurry cell picture of a woman in all black, feet braced apart and flames still curling out of her teeth beneath her mask, the tires of a car melted past recognition in front of her. It’s a shot that’s been polished up thirty times trying to get a better look at her, but mostly the reason it matters is because the light of the fire had glowed through her throat and through the exposed skin between her collarbones, lighting up her bones like holding a hand over a blinding bright flashlight, even showing through the fabric of her shirt. Brenneth doesn’t know how her powers work, but the fire starts in her chest, somewhere, and shines something awful, like a walking X-ray.

So they call her Fireheart, that first paper who gets a picture of her, and it sticks.

Fortunately, Brenneth Gadhafi, real living human being with a life and a day job as a jeweler, mostly dresses in colors and never goes anywhere without her favorite red jacket unless it’s over 70, and also she does not glow in her daily life, so not many people look at her, with her hair looped back into a half-crown and falling loose down her back and her tools in her mouth, and think Fireheart.

She could fucking live with being a little more noticeable, though, because then whatever dick in her building keeps leaving her petty little notes on her plants might think twice.

The latest one is on her tomatoes and says “You should order some ladybugs. Also, water these more.”

She also has eyes, Mystery Plant Vandal, and she knows you took a tomato. Brenneth scowls at the note. It’s very pretty handwriting, actually, typeface-perfect penmanship with a curl on the y’s and g’s and a tidy hook on the t’s, and it’s plain black ink on a yellow sticky note. Brenneth has a collection of these notes by now, including one from a fern tucked into the shade of the elevator maintenance hut that just said “Buy some fucking drainage rocks”, and the worst part is that this asshole, whoever they are, is usually right.

Her tomatoes have aphids.

Brenneth grinds her teeth together and breathes smoke out through her nose, and looks up places to order ladybugs on the cheap. Then she takes three tomatoes downstairs and eats the dinner of champions, otherwise known as two cold slices of pizza and two tomatoes sliced on a plate.

Brenneth’s interest in cooking for herself has never been great and it’s taken a bit of a hit lately. Vigilantism is time-consuming.

She stuffs the last slices of tomato into her mouth and goes to put on her black turtleneck--better to evade the paparazzi with, my dear. Then she goes out and hits a couple people with her stick (it’s a staff, actually, because Brenneth took some weird classes in her late teens, but it’s...basically a stick) and has a serious talk with a guy about whether mugging people at knifepoint is how he wants to spend his time. The flames flickering between her teeth seem to give her argument some legitimacy.

Overall it’s a very productive night and she’s on her way home by midnight.

She jumps and pulls herself up onto her fire escape, then creeps onto the roof from there. This is Brenneth’s tried-and-true method of sneaking back inside, as her fire escape window jammed six months after moving in and three separate appeals to the property manager have not gotten her anywhere. Brenneth hasn’t been burned by fire since she started breathing the stuff, so she kind of gave up after that and just started using the roof door instead.

The thing is, when Brenneth goes out, she usually gets home around three in the morning, give or take, so she’s used to the roof being fucking deserted, and therefore she feels fairly justified in her immediate reaction to the figure crouched on the concrete.

“What are you doing?” Brenneth demands, and there’s a low and dangerous rumble in her voice, like the roar of a bonfire, as her chest blossoms with heat and light. It’s why the Fireheart always, always glows--Brenneth’s no fool, and she always uses the fire to mask her voice, to sound as unlike herself as possible.

The figure jumps up, startled, and--she knows him. Not well, but he’s distinctive, long copper curls falling over one shoulder and deft slender hands raised in automatic surrender. Apartment 459, her memory supplies. She’s pretty sure his name starts with a C. She knows for absolute fact that at least nine people on her floor alone would sleep with him in a heartbeat. He is handsome, she’ll grant, almost pretty in the sour yellow light shining from above the roof door, with delicate features that belong on a Michelangelo and a graceful way of standing. He’s dressed like he just got off work, eyes lined in black and a dusting of gold on the lids, his sleeves rolled up and the top button of his shirt undone.

There’s dirt on his hands.

Brenneth’s idle appreciation of her unexpected encounter with her local marble statue evaporates.

“Sorry,” Plant Vandal says with a look of genuine apology, like he hasn’t been rummaging around in someone else’s tomatoes. He faces her with a look of fascination, but no fear. “I was just looking at my neighbor’s plants.”

“At midnight?” Brenneth asks, narrowing her eyes. Hey douchebag, she considers saying, maybe buy your own plants if mine bother you so much. In a moment of frankly herculean self-control, she does not say that, because she’s doing this whole secret identity thing and chewing out neighbors for flora tampering doesn’t generally help.

“Just finished up at the hotel.” Plant Vandal’s hands are still up and he smiles a little at her, tentative. “I’m not sure whose plants these are, honestly. I started looking at them when they first showed up and I guess whoever it is didn’t really know that much about gardening, so I started leaving notes.” He pauses, and the smile becomes a little more like a grin. “And then I kind of thought it was funny and kept leaving them.”

“You’re kind of an asshole,” Brenneth observes in her rumbling voice, and he laughs, dropping his hands. “You seem--pretty calm,” she adds. “Normally I make people nervous.”

“Well,” Plant Vandal says, and flashes her another smile. “I work in customer service, ma’am, I see weirder shit than you every day. Besides, you've never killed someone if they weren’t an immediate threat to someone else’s life, and the only life I’m an immediate threat to is these aphids, so. Not really that concerned.” He’s still smiling and Brenneth feels sort of--wrong-footed. This is not a reaction she’s used to. “Not that you’re not very impressive, though. Does it hurt, keeping up the fire like that?”

“It--no,” Brenneth says, and parts her lips to let some of the fire in her throat coil lazily away, like she’s blowing out smoke from a cigarette. “Why are you messing with your neighbor’s plants, anyway?”

Plant Vandal’s smile fades, then, and he crouches back down, stroking the leaf of a bamboo stalk that, incidentally, has flourished without his snide little notes thus far. “I just like plants, I guess,” he says. “They’re easy to manage.” He pauses and glances back up to her. “Sorry to have kept you, Fireheart. I’m sure you have better things to do than listen to me ramble.”

“No, it’s okay,” Brenneth says without really knowing why. She finally hops down from the top of the fire escape and sits down on the concrete ledge, one ankle tucked up and her stick across her lap. “Who else can you talk to, if you can’t talk to a firebreathing stranger at midnight, I guess. Tell me why you like plants.”

(On the other side of this conversation, Crispin is scrambling to remind himself that being listened to is not the same as being in love, and mostly failing.)

#worldwalker #brenneth #crispin #alternate universe #vigilante au #ficlike #brenneth's magic does not work like this in canon but i do KIND OF LOVE IT #this isn't so much brenneth seething as it is brenneth being Seriously Thrown by the revelation that plant vandal seems pretty nice #this is also genuine authentic pre-white-wolf crispin which i have never written before #like...dude was friendly and charming and laughed a lot even when he was sad #anyway they start having these weird unpredictable meetups with more regularity #and when brenneth gets hurt and can't vigilante for a while crispin leaves anxious notes on the fire escape #uh...krei is a cop and torei is an ex-cop and brenneth generally dumps people on krei's precinct with Evidence when possible #shiko is a nurse who finds brenneth beat to shit in an alley and more or less kidnaps her #crispin would honestly be pretty well out of this whole situation if not for the facts that #a) he's been accidentally harassing the fireheart for months now #b) his bosses at the hotel are in pretty deep to the mob and that's gonna break bad pretty fast here #and of course c) it takes all of three conversations for him to stop pretending he's not stupid in love with the fireheart #who is out to take down his bosses #this was supposed to be some headcanons and then it was Not #queue deeper than the sea of stars #cthulhu-with-a-fez #asked and answered

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