#attractive. it's terrifying to me. it's bringing up these feelings I'd pushed away because i think in the back of my mind i never thought

[lightningfilledsaber]

I can and will make everything about being trans

[rwprincess]

Two Worlds Collided

Masterlist

A/N: Oh, an anachronistic songfic from RWPrincess? But this time it’s about John Bender! :D Inspired by Never Tear Us Apart (originally by INXS in 1987, but I particularly like this Paloma Faith version)

Word Count: 2K

Synopsis: Bender met reader at the Breakfast Club and the two seemed like opposites, but they shared a common hidden sadness. Over the years, feelings and relationships change.

CW: Swearing, sexuality, Bender being a general asshole

Bender had met her the same way everyone in the Breakfast Club had, on the Saturday detention on March 24th. He had seen her in the hallways prior to that as he was always observant. He had seen everyone in the Breakfast Club before that day; but he hadn’t given her much thought. Now, he was paying attention to little else. He had no idea why he was drawn to her; they were both so different and he could never picture himself with a goody-two-shoes like that. But the way she had reacted to his more vulnerable, real moments, how she tried to make a connection with him...that stuck with him. He knew he should have learned from his disastrous blow-up with Claire that two people who were so different just wouldn’t work out. He repeated this to himself over and over, like a mantra, but it never changed how he actually felt.

After the breakup, the Breakfast Club had a split between those who chose Bender and those who chose Claire. Of course, Andrew sided with Claire unconditionally, but John considered that as no big loss. Allison tried to play the middle ground and Johnson had sided more with him, but he was surprised at the wholehearted backing he received from Y/N. He had assumed that she would either try to be neutral like Allison, or pick Claire. She had no reason to side with him, he had always come off as an aloof ass. But she had, and he was eternally grateful for that. He had originally decided to get together with Claire because the notion had a hot, forbidden quality to it. They spent time insulting each other and making out to make up for it. It was as passionate as it was destructive, so of course it couldn’t last. However, when he was alone and reflected to himself, he had been attracted to Y/N all along. She was hot, yes, but he had plenty of good-looking girls to choose from. He was more drawn to that kind, quiet inside she had displayed that day. How she had gone out of her way numerous times to reach out to him and had been genuinely nice to him. Most of the time, someone only did that to gain something for themselves. Whether it was to use him or to make themselves feel better, it depended on the person, but with Y/N that never felt like it was the case.

Don't ask me

What you know is true

Don't have to tell you

I love your precious heart

He thought back to the first time he saw her on that Saturday, walking into the library and looking so out of place. He was already adjusting into his spot when she entered and she froze in front of all the tables like a deer-in-the-headlights, as if she had just materialized there and had no clue what she was doing. He remembered feeling both attracted to that doe-eyed look and scoffing internally at it. While she wasn’t part of the cliques that Andrew and Claire were, she had a very sheltered look to her and he was envious of that type of innocence. Her ignorance must have been bliss compared to the hell he lived each day at school and at home. She was just as out of place as the preppies or ultra-dweeb Johnson, but instead of being offended by that notion, she looked terrified. She meekly put her items on the front-row desk opposite to him and he thought about all the fun he could poke at everyone here, including her. However, the first blow did not land well. Bender loved making people uncomfortable, but he didn’t necessarily want to make them cry. He’d made some off-handed remark towards her. He had been circling her and eyeing her, employing the discomfort he liked inflicting, trying to ‘guess’ why she was in detention. “I bet you were caught fooling around with a teacher, right? Always the quiet ones that you’d least suspect…”

John Bender rarely regretted his words or actions. He knew he was an asshole and let unfiltered thoughts through so that he could be the center of attention. In doing so, he had to stand by all the shit he said, even when he crossed a line. This was one of the scattered occasions in which he felt remorse, though. She didn’t reply, not verbally, anyway, but she looked scared shitless and was rooted to the spot. Tears instantly sprang up in her eyes and she looked as if she were about to hurl right on his combat boots. He backed off after that. He didn’t apologize, because that’s not something John Bender could have on his reputation, but he didn’t target her. There was something so sincere about her reaction and he saw himself reflected in that expression. Not the tough-as-nails persona he projected, but his secret self who had seen too much too early in life and could barely stand another blow. He didn’t know what her deal was, but there was a heavy sadness behind those eyes that was far too real for him to tamper with.

When he had shown the group his souvenir for spilling paint in his garage, courtesy of his father, she must have seen that reflection back. No one in that group actually knew him. They all thought he was a lying sack of shit; what could he say? His reputation preceded him. But he caught her gaze as he backed away from the group, and the sadness in her recognized the sadness in him. He felt an odd sort of click, a mutual understanding, but he turned away from them all and trashed the library.

I, I was standing

You were there

Two worlds collided

And they could never tear us apart

That was months ago, and out of everyone he met that day, she was the one who truly stuck by him. He’d surprisingly connected with Johnson, sure. Everybody likes to get high and Bender was the supplier. And he and Allison had similar interests, but she wouldn’t give up Andrew and with that territory came Claire...there was just no going back to that. But Bender still had Y/N, and he could never understand it. The first time he had brought her into his friend circle, he tried to justify it as sticking to his word and ‘having the balls to stand up to his friends’ like he had told Claire to do. He also reasoned that it was some sort of social experiment. As much as he liked to portray himself as someone who couldn’t care less, Bender was entirely social. He craved attention and admiration for others and could read just about anyone like a book. Maybe that’s why he didn’t mess with Y/N after that first comment landed so wrongly. He felt like he knew exactly what she was thinking and feeling and decided to back off. However, it wasn’t just some ‘watch and see how she interacts’ set up; Bender genuinely wanted her there. He wanted to integrate her into his life.

She was still extremely quiet, mostly a speak-when-you’re-spoken-to type, but he started to peel back layers in her personality. He found that, despite that lurking sadness, there was an unending pool of optimism. She tried to see the best in situations and in people. She meshed incredibly well with his friends because she listened instead of judged. She would nod along like she knew exactly what they were talking about and how they felt. He started to develop an attachment to her. While he was still dating Claire, he told himself it was akin to having a pet. Y/N was like a goldfish that he could tell his problems to and know the secret would be kept. But after Claire, he realized that wasn’t the case...particularly when he sought Y/N’s comfort above all else. He divulged the entire last big fight he and Claire had to her, and she was just so...reassuring. After that day, he began to see her in a different light. He argued with himself over what his feelings and intentions actually were, but he couldn’t keep them at bay for long. She was good for Bender. He had never felt lighter.

Of course, Bender had not known stability in his life ever, and the risk of falling for Y/N and having it mean something and being accountable to one person overwhelmed him. He did what he knew best: he fought it and ran away from it. At first, he tried to avoid her, just distance himself. But he’d gravitate back; being without her was too heavy to bear. He wanted to try to actively push her away, to fuck up this relationship with his words, just like he did with everything else. But when he opened his mouth to try to lie, to say he didn’t need her or want her around or whatever, he would look into her eyes and it became impossible. He remembered the way he had shaken her to her core the first day they met, and he couldn’t allow himself to bring that sadness up again in her.

We could live for a thousand years

But if I hurt you

I'd make wine from your tears

Eventually, he gave in. While he was able to control his words to not say anything harmful, he wasn’t able to contain them from slipping up and telling her, “Dammit, I love you!” It wasn’t in a context that could be taken as joking or being said flippantly; she knew immediately what he meant and that he meant those words, wholly.

She took his face in her hands and told him, “I love you, too.” There was no turning back, and as the years passed, they fell deeply in love. He'd dug up her secrets and fears, but she seemed to trust him enough to not use them against her in any way. They both dreaded the prospect of never getting out of Shermer and falling into the same circular trap their parents had. However, he reassured her that the moment they had the opportunity, they would bust out of there. He lucked out that Claire had never asked for her diamond earring back. It was probably one of many and she had forgotten she had even given it to him as a token. He decided to pawn it to top-off the savings he and Y/N had accrued. "You're too good for me, you're sure as hell too good for this place,'' he told her. The trade-in was enough to get them out of town and start anew, but only one of them could really ‘move up’ for now. While they argued back and forth about who should get to pursue which dream, Bender rationalized to her, “I was barely cut out for high school. I can’t really do college. And that’s okay. You’re the brains in this relationship, I’m the beauty.” He winked at her and with her laughter as response, that sealed the deal of who was going to school.

I told you

That we could fly

'Cause we all have wings

But some of us don't know why

She searched the crowd, holding her diploma. Bender had supported her both financially and emotionally these last four years and now they had the degree to prove it. She felt pride in being able to take over from him and let him follow a new path. He had always been good with his hands, but despite his protests, he was good with his mind too. He was a sharp-thinker and she knew that he could make a career that he loved out of that. She’d be there to push and brace him as he had done for her. Finally, she spotted him. When their eyes connected, she felt that same crackle that she had the first day they had met, all those years ago. Before the friendship and the love, she knew there was a spark there, that they were two of a kind, even though they were so different.

I, I was standing

You were there

Two worlds collided

And they could never tear us apart

[poptod]

hello! i'd like to make an ahkmenrah x reader request! maybe present-day reader gets teleported back in time to when ahkmenrah was alive and they eventually get to the palace and stuff happens? maybe they tell him about modern life? and maybe reader is unnaturally beautiful to the ancient egyptians because humans evolve to be more attractive as time goes on so a person from our time would be hot shit 4,000 years ago? this is long lmao. thanks!

Notes: god ive always wanted to do this kind of storyline but i was worried about like,, logic and stuff getting in the way of the storyline. anyway! i was so fucking elated to receive this request. i got a bit carried away so apologies! WC: 3.2k

+

Okay. It isn't that bad.

Would you ever see your family again? Probably not, but you weren't ruling the possibility out.

Would you ever get to have sour patch kids again? Probably not. But even during the time you lived in 2020, you had eaten more concentrated sour patch kids flavor than all of the people around you combined.

This little village on the outskirts of ancient Thebes is hardly L.A.––though that's probably a good thing––and is small enough for you to know every inhabitant. Your shop there is small to suit the town, and well known ever since your arrival in this time.

They found you beside the river, thought you to be a gift from the Gods. You were hazy, though––whatever had so forcefully pushed you back in time had made your head spin, making you sick and unbalanced. So, when they asked if you did in fact come from the Gods, you had no way of defending yourself either way. Generally you've been denying it––they think you are a god, and the only way you've convinced them you're not a god is by saying you're a gift from them. It explains the way you look, unnaturally beautiful and alien amongst the more pure genetics of earlier humans.

Your shop is pretty simple. You make portraits from paint, more realistic than anything else that exists, and it only affirms their belief in your god-like status. Fortunately word seems to not have gotten out––the village has remained small, and no one from Thebes has run into you. Every now and then you get unreasonably anxious that a noble will find you and turn you into a slave. It's a worry most people around you have, so you find comfort in the fact that you're not the only one. Still, you're not quite accustomed to such an atmosphere––the thought of nobles and Kings noticing you still sends terrified aches into your stomach.

It's about two weeks in that it gets bad. People start to pass by the village, more than you would've thought, and they're all looking to trade goods, food, and information. The people of the village talk about you––you're something interesting, you can't deny that, but they don't know just how worried you are. Whenever you see someone you don't recognize outside your home, you refuse to come out.

Five days later and there's soldiers in your home, looking over your paintings on their way back to Memphis from conquering the realm of Kush. You hold a deep contempt for them––you don't know all that much about history, but you know how Egyptian soldiers and Pharaohs reigned power over the people of Kush.

The soldiers aren't all that worrying. What really gets your heart pounding is the final man to enter your hut; a man bearing a crown and a long sword, with golden braces around his wrists and a chest plated in green scales. Your fingers dig into the wood of your counter when he notices you. The crown on his head––it's the crown of both upper and lower Egypt.

This is a Royal.

"Where did you learn this skill?" He asks you, eyes trained on one of your bigger drawings. It's just on papyrus––not for sale––and hung on the wall as a display of your talent.

"I spent a little while travelling the world," you answer. Technically, growing up in the modern world was a bit like travelling the world; you got to see the cultures and practices of many, many people. "The rest of it's practice."

"The peasants here, they... they claim you came from the Nile. Is that true?"

"Well... that is where I was found," you say carefully, but you can already tell you've fucked up. The look on his face is indescribable beyond the fact that he's pleased.

"How would you feel coming back to the capital with me?" He offers to you, setting his hands on the counter and leaning forward. "I think my father would much like to meet you."

"I – I don't think I'm really cut out for -"

"Nonsense," he dismisses with a smile, taking your hand from its' spot on the wood. "We shall teach you proper writing skills, give you a beautiful home, and the salary isn't horrid either."

You can't just say no. If you do, he's going to ask questions––he's going to get confused, and he's going to get suspicious. No one would turn down an opportunity like this; free schooling, free housing, and much more money for something you already do.

"Well... alright," you say quietly, looking to the home around you that you built with the help of the other villagers.

"Wonderful. My name is Kamun."

He's not a very nice person, you come to find. Or perhaps he's just not your tastes––the soldiers seem to like him well enough, at least the ones who aren't completely subordinate to him, but his attitude towards women and poor people is scathing to say the least. Otherwise he's very amusing, with a good sense of humor and quite generous with his food and wine as long as he gets his fill of it first.

The boat back to Memphis, where the royal family currently stays, is a long ride filled with various entertainments. It's clear these are not soldiers accustomed to rough conditions––the dancing women and flowing beer is enough to tell you that. Instead, you surmise these are faux war-heroes; people adored in their hometown for doing nothing but intimidating others in a foreign country. They try to get cushy with you, soften you up to their words and touches. It doesn't work.

He keeps you close to him. You let him do it, sort of––it's better than telling him no. Better than starting a ruckus. Then again, avoiding a ruckus is what got you here in the first place, standing before the doors of the courtroom where a false God on earth rules the Nile.

"Father, I bring you a gift from Thebes," says Kamun, pushing you forward by the small of your back. You can't bring yourself to meet the Pharoah's eye, so you fall to your knees and bow.

Everyone is staring at you. You don't look normal, and they all know it, and you know it. You could cry from the heat of their eyes on your back.

One of Kamun's soldiers steps forwards, handing the Pharaoh and his wife several of the drawings they'd taken from you. Silence passes as the two scan your work.

"How did you achieve such a mirror of the human face?" The Pharaoh asks in a slow, deep voice that sounds as he looks––old, weathered, wise.

"They came from the Nile," Kamun answers for you, and murmurs take the crowd by storm. You, on the other hand, feel your heartbeat increase in massive increments, speeding your already uneven breath. "A gift from the Gods, the locals said."

"I can't – I am not magic," you rush out, hoping your clarification clears you of any responsibility to the Pharaoh. You know he rules everything––if he says you are to stay here, you have no choice, and you don't like it here. Too many people. "I cannot give you anything, my King."

"I think you're lying," says a voice, its' tone soft and a velvet low. It catches you off guard, brings you to raise your head and meet the eyes of someone you don't know; a young man dressed in gold beside the Pharaoh's throne.

You almost lose your breakfast as your eyes bulge, your mind instantly recognizing him and connecting the dots. You were, by far, not a historian, but you knew a fair amount of Egyptian history––namely a family in the Old Kingdom who was headed by the Pharaoh Merenkahre. The remaining statues and busts of the King and his son are astonishingly accurate, and there can be no doubt in your head.

That being said, there also can't be any reaction on your face. You try your best to reign your expression in.

"I..."

Actually, you do have something to offer now. You know the names––memorized the history, committed each event to memory, and now you can pull their lifestory off from the top of your head. Wouldn't that be valuable to a King; a seer of the future, to predict the rise and fall of the economy and the coming armies. Besides, you can't just say he's wrong. That'd be treasonous to them. So you have to agree you're hiding something, come up with an excuse as to why you hid it, and it proves harder than you thought. You're quickwitted, though––it got you away from the villager's wrath, and it will promote you to noble living now.

You hide a smirk beneath a calm expression as you address the younger prince.

"They gifted me foresight," you say quietly, pretending as though it hurts you to tell the truth, "but told me to never inform others."

"You are in the presence of Ra once more," the Pharaoh reminds you.

"And others," you point out. "I would... it would be better to discuss such matters.. in private."

Detailed information about already-past events is enough to sway him to believe you. The Pharaoh is surprisingly easy to convince, and with a few, meaningless predictions of the future, he gives you housing in his own palace. Kamun looks proud of himself––puffs his chest out in front of his father and earns no compliment. Ire laces his glare as it falls upon his brother, Ahkmen, praised for his ability to see through your obvious lie.

The Pharaoh asks his younger son to guide you to your room. Apparently it's closer to his room than it is to Kamun's, and evening is approaching fast. The walk there, while short, is marked by a conversation composed mainly of Ahkmen's questions and your answers. When the two of you reach your room, he doesn't leave––actually, he follows you in and locks the door.

There's nothing more terrifying than a man with unchecked power, and there is no one watching you.

No fail safe.

You gulp.

"I know you're still not telling the truth," he says, and though it dismisses several of your worries it still begs the question; how did he notice? "Just thought I'd spare you the embarrassment in front of my father, but my generosity ends there. Now I won't hurt you, and I won't tell anyone––I'm just curious."

Oh thank fuck. He's not going to rape you.

"I'm not Egyptian," you blurt out.

"Obviously," he interrupts, but you glare him into raising his hands defensively.

"I'm from the future."

He stares at you. For a minute. You know this because you count it––he just pauses right in his stance, doesn't move, and stares at you for a whole minute like you just told him you're made of gold.

"I'm sorry, what?" He says, laughter suddenly wracking his body.

"It's how I know what's going to happen to your family," you say, hoping he'll believe you. Otherwise this handsome, seemingly-nice man is going to think you're insane for the rest of time. "I studied your family for years as a side-hobby, I don't know how to predict the future for anything but you and your father."

His laughing pauses, or lightens at least; enough for him to say, "actually?"

"Yes," you say, completely serious. This seems to gain his interest once more. "You have to help me. I know at some point people are going to ask me questions about other things and I'm not going to have an answer."

"Just do what all our priests do," he says with a chuckle.

"What do they do?"

"Lie," he says. You can't stop the grin that spreads across your face from the stupid joke, and when he sees that a shit-eating grin spreads across his own face, delighted he could make you laugh.

"Yes, well... I guess I could do that," you mumble in a laugh.

"There's no need for you to worry. Now that I know the truth, I can help you," he says, offering you something that takes nearly all the anxiety out of your brain. After two days travel with a prince, it feels like it took 50 pounds off your shoulders.

"Thank you, so much," you chuckle in relief.

"Of course. I do have questions though, and I want you to answer them."

"Anything."

These questions of his, they come at all times––almost at a constant rate when he takes you on long walks, which he does often. He passes it off to his father as an interest in your beauty, and it apparently works. This little lie also helps you enormously in avoiding the romantic advances of many of the people you come into contact with. You're still not quite sure how it works, since Egyptians supposedly had a strong sense of patriotism, but you look rare and they idolize it. Every eye that falls upon you sees something beautiful, and you can't understand it.

At least Ahkmen is normal. He doesn't talk about you being beautiful. Ever.

And it kind of makes you sad.

"Would you say people on the whole are happier in the future or in the past?" He asks you, his words surrounded by the warmth of a summer day in Egypt.

Birds chatter loudly in the trees around you, singing in the humid air that marks the mating season for many of them. The flowers that surround you are already familiar––you thought it would take longer for you to commit the shapes and colors to memory, but here you are. Dressed in gold-laced silk and turquoise necklaces.

"I think the happiness of a population is dependent entirely on the circumstances surrounding it," you say. Sometimes your answers relate more to the human condition than the progress of time on the human race; he likes these answers, too, so you tell him exactly what you think. "Six thousand years from now, there are times of great misery. One is even called the Great Depression, but five years before that were some of the most prosperous times my country had ever seen. The same cycle is evident here."

"So.. great misery and great happiness come in waves?" He asks, pace slowing as he tries to understand what you're saying. You pause along the pathway, allowing him space to think.

"It's a pattern, actually. When the economy goes up, it will always come down. Recessions happen right after economical booms. And yes," you say before he can ask, "a time of unease will follow the prosperity of the current years. But it won't be for a time yet."

"Will it happen in my lifetime?"

He's murdered about three years from now. You think you might be able to stop it, but if you do, it'll alter history quite a lot. Either way, he wouldn't live long enough to see the recession the building of the great pyramids caused.

"No," you say. "But I'd prepare for it anyway, if only to keep your citizens safe."

"Of course. You... you are a great scholar," he tells you, resuming the slow walk down the shore of the Nile.

"Oh. Uh, thank you," you mumble as a blush fills your cheeks.

"What did you do in your time?"

"I was an artist, but I spent a lot of time giving lectures on the role of autistic people in ancient Egypt. Autistic people are often timekeepers," you say, and you know he'll figure out what you mean. Autistic isn't a term here, but many timekeepers of these ancient times were autistic, and considered highly by their societies.

"You might be able to give lectures again, if you'd like," he suggests. "People would come from far and wide to hear you speak. And you've got things to say that I know many scholars will find interesting."

"Mmm," you wince, "I kind of want to stay away from altering history too much."

"Oh, yes. My apologies," he says in a softer voice.

"It's alright," you say. "I'm glad you think I would be a good choice for that kind of thing, though."

He chuckles bashfully as he turns to the ground, scuffing his sandals as he walks.

Ahkmen is sweet––much sweeter than any of his family members, and you find yourself appreciating that every time you pass by his room. You pass his door often, always stopping a second to contemplate the tall, wooden doors. He's on the pathway between your room and the library.

Most of the time he's not in his room. Actually, you can usually find him in the library––there or outside in the markets or near the stalls. Today is different; he's been missing all day, and only when you walk the path back to your room do you hear his voice, talking to himself in his bedroom.

"They're bombarded with just such compliments, though. I can't – I can't stand out!"

"Or maybe you should, because you still haven't said a single thing yet and they probably think you're completely uninterested and that's why they aren't noticing you?"

"You and your... logic," Ahkmen spits.

"Come complaining when you kiss them under my advice."

As you attempt to peek through the crack in the door you stumble, knocking your hand against the wood. You barely hesitate before knocking again––cool and collected, smooth to slip into another lie.

"Oh! Hello, um – hi," he says awkwardly, slipping out of the room when he sees you. He quickly closes the door behind him, careful to keep you from seeing the other person in his room, but you can't bring yourself to care about the stranger.

Think of an excuse, why am I here?

"Oh, that's... I like your flower," he comments softly, eyes flickering between your eyes and the flower tucked into your hair. You'd forgotten about it, but raised your hand to touch the petals as you smiled. The perfect excuse

"Thank you. I thought you might like it, so I," you take it out of your hair and grab his hand, holding his palm upwards, "wanted to show you.. um, here."

Setting the flower in his hand, you curl his fingers around its' stem and push his hands back into his chest. He stares at you for a moment, confused by your strange behavior, but accepting of your gift anyway. You know him well enough now––he'd never decline a gift from you.

"A white iris," he tells you in a lofty tone. "A symbol of the dead. Funny it looks so lively on you."

You need to get out of here before your chest combusts.

"I need to go now, but I'll see you this evening, yes?" You ask, stepping instinctively closer. He doesn't back away.

"Of course. And, um," he takes your hands, keeps you where you stand as he slips the flower back behind your ear, "keep it. I want to see it on you at dinner."

He's close to you––close enough that it gets hard to distinguish his breath from your own, when you started holding his hand. When his other came up to your face. When he leans in and kisses your forehead. It's barely there, just barely, but there's no mistaking the soft plush, the affection clear behind gentle, precise movements.

You rush away the second he lets your hands go.

[justtogetthrough]

If I tone myself down enough, if I hold certain parts of me back, will you stay? Will you not leave me? I don't know if I could survive you abandoning me. You're the first person to give me hope and even though much of that hope is disappeared now, every last bit of it remaining will go up in flames if you leave and I'm so afraid that if you can't handle me, no one can. I don't know if I can live with this knowledge. I don't know how many times I can survive people I get attached to leaving me. It's emotionally intolerable that it is often my fault people leave. I wish I could dbt my way through this fear and this eventuality, because it feels like you're gearing up to leave. But idk if dbt really broke through to me bc I'm in such emotion mind I can't slow down enough to select and use different skills to get me through this total terror that I'm in the midst of being ghosted. That you're phasing this out slowly to prevent unsafe behaviours you've heard about in the past bc I trauma dumped too much. It'd be so on brand of you to try and let me down gently. I want to believe this isn't what happening but this is where my brain goes. At least I'm not asking you for reassurance. I really want and need reassurance but my ex traumatized me and got so abusive when I'd ask for reassurance that I can't bring myself to ask you. I know you're not her. But it made her so mad and often led to her angrily telling me she couldn't deal with me and needed space. Seeking reassurance made her leave. And seeking reassurance, a well known bpd behaviour, would be shoving my symptoms and unwellness in your face which is why I think you're leaving in the first place. I don't want my unwellness to push you away even faster by making you deal with it head on. And if you're not up for lying.... and the truth is you are done.... I am not ready to hear that. And I think you know that. So I dont want to put you in that position, in any position, and instead I will just cry and panic in private and without you ever knowing because I truly believe this abandonment is happening and I am terrified of speeding it along by clinging to it or seeking reassurance bc those have never worked either. I am praying to the universe giving you space away from me will preserve this, but in the past that has made you sad before so idk I just want to CLARIFY, my neurodivergent brain needs information, but all the possible outcomes are equally terrifying to me so I'd rather cry every day for something that maybe isn't even true than to ask you directly and be a burden of emotional labour, or cause that to be the prompting even to solidify in your mind that k, I don't wanna do this anymore and I'm ending it here thanks.

Please, please don't leave me. I want to change but idk if I can and idk why I am severely mentally ill. I would give anything to have met you 5 years ago, when I was way more stable, and before my ex undid all the recovery and progress I made so that now I'm back to square one all over again trying to pick up the pieces and get better, and I get that you don't wanna support me through that. You've done that with yourself and your partner. There's nothing special about me and no reason you should stick this out with me. I wish I could be better for you. I wish I was well enough that you'd be more interested in me. I want you in my life so bad but I get why you wouldn't want me in yours and I'm so sorry I'm like this. The first few months we dated was so fun and I wish I never told you about my past. I wish all you knew about me was the stuff from those first months of talking. I get the lack of appeal. I'm sorry I'm like this and I wish I could go back and just hide everything from the beginning. I miss when you were attracted to me and interested in me and lowkey obsessed with me. I'm sorry I ruined all of that. I'm sorry this is who I am. I'm sorry it l seemed so promising in the beginning, before you really got to know me. I know you reassured me last month you haven't left me. But I'm afraid that you will. I'm afraid that as I've hit peak instability, as I do every December, that you already are. I am just. So sorry. I like you so much as a person and I'm sorry for ruining everything. There was so much potential and I fucking ruined it. Tell me what it would take for you to want to stay friends with me and I'll do anything. I'll stop talking about my mental health. But it may be too late for that bc you've already stopped responding to my memes, something you would always do before and that made me felt so safe and secure from receiving your attention even by way of a one word response. Even when you were busy, you wouldn't let a meme go by without even a one word acknowledgement. Now you just leave me on read most of the time and the change is alarming and it seems like you're just tired of interacting with me. It feels like I'm losing you and I want to drown myself in all the tears I shed writing this. Please don't leave me.

[eryiss]

Summary: Freed and Gajeel were total opposites in every way, only connected by the guild. When they were forced to train together under Makarov's orders, they expected antagonism and mistrust. Instead, they were given a lesson in how quickly opposition can turn to attraction. The issue: let the budding relationship simmer away, or let it explode. [Freed x Gajeel Multi-chapter]

Notes: Hey everyone. A bit of an emotional chapter this time, but Bickslow is involved so there’s also some relief. Hope you all enjoy it.

Links: FFN, Ao3, Chapter List

Chapter Nine - Some Time Later

One Week Later

Before the memories hit him, Freed felt a horrible sense of deja vu.

He was in the guildhall infirmary, with almost all of his energy sapped away from him, just as he had when he had first been taken to Fairy Tail. He had a feeling that there was something changed inside of him that would shape the rest of his life, just as he had after the demon had invaded his soul. He had a feeling of yearning, hoping to see someone who was destined to be a part of his life, only to be disappointed to see he was alone again. Everything was so reflective of how it had been when he'd first woken up after his first instance of possession, and it was horrible.

Of course, the memories did eventually come to him. The tournament. The twisted feeling of power that had slowly been seeping into him through the day. The lack of control that had overwhelmed him. The sudden inability to control his body. The feeling of trying to pour his magic into the demon to overwhelm it.

And then, there was Gajeel.

Gajeel had broken down every wall of defence that the demon had in place as if it were nothing. Even with the overwhelming power emanating from the fully unleashed demon, Gajeel had been able to walk towards him, and reach out to Freed. Like a light in the darkness, Gajeel had managed to drag him out of the demon's control and allowed him his autonomy again. He had managed to do something Freed had thought impossible.

The demon was gone. Gajeel had somehow burned the thing from his soul, removing it entirely. They had killed what remained of the demon together in a unison raid moments before Freed had passed out in his arms.

But, despite the importance of it all, that wasn't what Freed was thinking about.

I'm yours and yer mine.

That demon aint got a fucking claim on you.

Yer fuckin' mine.

It ain't ever hurtin' you again, y'hear me. Never

The words weren't subtle. They weren't something you could misunderstand. They weren't anything but a claim on Freed. Gajeel was stating loudly, in front of everybody in the guild - everyone that mattered to them both - that he and Freed belonged to one another.

Perhaps if it was coming from any other man than Gajeel, Freed might have felt fury. He might have felt some level of anger that Gajeel had proclaimed such a thing so publicly without so much as asking Freed, but he only felt a sense of rightness at what Gajeel had said. Of course he and Gajeel belonged to each other. How had that been in any doubt? The moment they had first laid eyes on each other, the motions were put in place to bring them into each other's arms. It was destiny.

Had Freed always been so romantic? Perhaps he had needed the right man to bring it out of him.

"Ah, you're awake," A grouchy, haggard voice cut through the silence. "You certainly took your time, didn't you?"

Freed looked towards the door of the infirmary, to see Porlyusica walking towards him. This too was how he remembered his first experience of living in Magnolia, with the impatient and impetuous woman acting as though his life was an inconvenience for her to deal with. That was something that was familiar, if nothing else.

"How long have I been unconscious?" Freed asked, and found his voice hoarse.

"Nine days," Porlyusica said, picking something up from the small table beside Freed's bed. He didn't know what it was, but it began to glow with healing magic. She turned to Freed and sighed. "Lower your covers and hold still."

Doing as instructed, Freed blushed a little when he realised he was without any clothing. The woman didn't seem bothered, and slowly began to lower the magical item over his body. It was scanning him, and he let out a gasp when the device passed over his heart. There was a sudden flood of warmth through his body, unlike anything he could ever remember feeling before. It was pleasant, but so foreign to him that he didn't know what to feel.

"Ah, good," Porlyusica said, placing the device down again.

"What was that," Freed demanded, pulling up the sheets to protect his modesty.

"I stimulated you, that magic was intended to induce a feeling of comfort and delight," She shrugged, picking up a small piece of paper that Freed assumed had his details on. "You've had that demon eating away at you from the inside for years, so you probably grew used to its influence. It has been slowly dulling your emotions for ten years. You just felt joy like the rest of us do for the first time since your possession."

What?

His emotions had been dulled?

Surely he would have noticed that. The ability to feel how he felt was something that he had always taken for granted, and he never expected it could leave him. Perhaps he had become jaded, but he had dismissed that as growing up and working in a profession where you often saw the worst of people. The demon had been responsible for that, too?

Fuck. Fuck his damn parents and the damn demon and the damn priest who had gotten him into this position. How the hell had he lost so much control of who he was without knowing it? Why had the people he loved allowed this to happen to him. His parents were meant to protect him, not to allow this.

Was this what anger felt like when not influenced by a demon? Uneducated and bitter?

"You'll acclimate," Porlyusica said, as if knowing what he was feeling. "Those friends of yours have wanted to see you since the incident. Annoying brats. I'm going to put you to sleep again, they'll no doubt be here before you wake."

"What?" Freed asked. "No, I don't intended to-"

"Quiet," Porlusica said firmly, and tapped her cane on the floor. "Sleep."

And Freed slipped away before he could protest.

——

"Hey baby," Bickslow's voice woke Freed up before his eyes were open. "Are you feeling okay?"

He didn't know how long it had been since Porlyuscia had put him to sleep, but he woke up in the same bed with the sun higher in the sky. He blinked away the light and saw that Bickslow, Evergreen and Laxus were all sitting around his bed, looking at him with expressions of mingled happiness and concern. He pushed himself off the mattress so he could sit up, wincing at the feeling of aching muscles.

With a quick glance around, he saw that Gajeel wasn't there. That didn't feel good.

"Erm, yes," Freed said in answer to Bickslow's question, his mind not working as fast as he would have liked. "I believe I am. Are you three unharmed?"

"We're not the priority, Freed," Evergreen scoffed a little at the thought, but her expression turned to one of sympathy. It was almost motherly, which was a concern coming from her. Even worse, she took his hand and squoze it as if he needed consoling. "We all saw what happened, now be honest and tell us how you're feeling."

Freed hadn't thought of that. Everyone had seen him weakened and out of control. On the brink of death…

Fairy Tail maged had seen a lot of bad things - it came with the job - but he knew that they always were more affected when it was one of their own being hurt. This could have been terrifying to watch, and he supposed that he owed them some honesty.

"I feel… drained," Freed admitted. "As if I got into the worst fight of my life. Everything is aching, my flesh feels like it's burning from the inside, but no more than normal after a difficult mission," He thought for a moment, moving his arm as if testing that he still could. Of course he could, and the feeling spread warmth though him. It reminded him of what Porlyusica said to him, and he smiled a little. "I'm lighter now. As if a burden has been lifted."

"Well that's good," Evergreen smiled. "And you're not hiding anything from us?"

"Not knowingly," Freed assured them.

"So we can start teasing you about the fact your demon ripped off your clothes and when you transformed back we all saw you naked," Bickslow grinned, and it was a clear attempt to lighten the mood. Evergreen whacked him on the arm, but he just laughed. "Because we all saw your dick, and I gotta say baby, I'm impressed with what you've got going on down there. Don't know how I went so long without seeing it."

Freed chuckled, slightly weakly. "I'd rather not be teased about it, if possible. And I was under the impression that you've started seeing someone."

"I am," Bickslow sighed dreamily, in an overly exaggerated sense of course. "And he's the most handsome man in the world. And he's better than you because he's always getting naked in public and I love it."

Freed laughed. It was good to have Bickslow in moments like this.

Evergreen and Bickslow, as they so often did, started to playfully squabble between themselves. Evergreen had said something about how the PDA between Bickslow and Gray was revolting and far too graphic for the guildhall, and Bickslow argued back saying that Ever only thought that because she didn't have the chance to do it with Elfman because they were still being secretive about their very obvious relationship. The arguments spiralled from there, and Freed watched with amusement.

His gaze drifted from the two squabbling idiots to Laxus, who was looking at him with a quiet expression of concern. When he noticed Freed looking, he curled an eyebrow as if asking if he really was feeling okay. Freed nodded, with a small smile, and Laxus seemed to deflate a little.

"Really gone, huh?" Laxus murmured.

"It seems so," Freed nodded, and that was all that needed to be said on the matter of the demon. For a moment, Freed remained quiet, but there was one thing he needed to know. "Where is he?"

Laxus sighed, ran a hand over his face, and spoke. "You not waking up was getting to him."

"That's not an answer to my question," Freed said firmly. "Where is he?"

"He needed some time away, to deal with everything," Laxus explained. "I'll find him, he'll wanna know you're okay."

"Thank you," Freed whispered, smiling a little.

"No problem," Laxus nodded, standing up.

He walked out of the infirmary without speaking to Bickslow or Evergreen, who clearly hadn't been following their conversation as they both looked perplexed. When Laxus was outside of the building, they could all see an explosion of lightning as Laxus shot off into the sky, apparently having a good idea as to where Gajeel was. Freed certainly hoped so, he needed to see Gajeel as soon as he could.

What was he going to say to him, though? Thank you for ridding me of my curse? Everything you said about belonging together I fully agree with? When you weren't here when I woke up, I realised I always want to wake up beside you?

"Wonder what that was about?" Evergreen commented, speaking about Laxus' departure and bringing Freed's focus back to the room.

"Maybe he's still pissy becuase he and Loke were the losers of the tournament," Bickslow grinned, again trying to keep the mood light. Freed looked at him with a raised eyebrow, because that was something that would certainly distract him. "Shit, you didn't know, huh? Yeah, they didn't work well together at all. It was funny. Lost by a landslide. Laxus wasn't happy about it when I reminded him he has to do a forfeit."

"I expect so," Freed smiled. "Who will be giving him the forfeit, might I ask. I assume you, since I passed out during the fight."

"Me and Gray were deemed the winners, after we were sure you were okay of course," Bickslow assured him. "But we felt it was kinda bullshit. So we thought you and Gajeel could take the money from the prize, and me and Gray get to have fun with the forfeit. That okay?"

"I suppose," Freed chuckled slightly, because almost any other person would want the money. "What have you planned for them?"

Maybe it wasn't the most relevant thing to think about at the time, but Freed wanted the distraction. The lightness of his soul, the revelation that he could truly feel his emotions to their fullness again, and the fact that Gajeel hadn't been there when he woke were all starting to pile up on top of him. A distraction, even a ridiculous one like this, was exactly what he needed. Bickslow seemed to sense this, as he spoke with gusto and joy.

"Well, I wanna have them dress up like old-timey jesters and perform shows every night of a week where they make total asses out of themselves in front of everyone," Bickslow grinned. "And my darling baby wants them to be our butlers for a week and then they have to do everything we say. We haven't decided yet."

"Surely, if you have them as your butlers, you could make them dress like jesters and perform shows as well as anything else you wish," Freed suggested, and Bickslow grinned.

"You're a genius," He exclaimed. "And instead of suits, I'll make sure they're only wearing really tight black briefs and bowties. Really give me something to look at."

Freed chuckled. This was normal, at least.

——

Gajeel needed to keep moving. He needed to keep himself moving and active and his mind away from Freed because the moment his mind did fall onto Freed it would inevitably linger on the fact that Freed wasn't awake and that Freed might not wake up and that something Gajeel had done might have ended up killing the man that had so quickly intertwined their lives together. That was a thought too awful to even consider, so Gajeel had to keep moving.

After three days of waiting for Freed to wake, Gajeel had left Magnolia. Maybe he was a coward to do so, but he didn't care. He found himself walking, and hours later he was in the forest where he trained. The same forest where he had first gotten to know Freed.

It hadn't been a good idea.

He'd been sleeping under the stars ever since. He had exercised and forced his body to the brink of exhaustion every night, because the idea of lying down and letting sleep overcome him was nauseating. He couldn't let his mind wonder because that would mean letting himself think about Freed and he couldn't do that.

Every day, his body ached. He had pushed himself further than he ever had before. He'd ran more laps of the forest than ever, swam across the lake faster and with more purpose than he could remember doing, and he had pushed the dead tree trunk further up the hill than he thought he ever could. It was all in vain, because even in the split seconds his mind might wander from the exercise to Freed, it felt as though he'd been punched in the gut, and horror flowed through him.

He couldn't take any more. Today, his body was beyond moving more than necessary, protesting against the slightest attempt to exercise. That was how he found himself sitting in the shallowest part of the river, cross legged, with his hand turned to a small blade as he whittled away at a piece of wood.

His intention had been to meditate, something he often did. But today, confronting his mind has not been possible, because they made him feel sick to his damn stomach. And so he'd reached for a nearby bit of wood, and started to carve away at it. First it had been to occupy his hands with something to stop himself from fidgeting, but the more he carved the more he got into the rhythm of it, and he quickly realised that he was carving it into something. Something for a very specific person.

A crown. A crown fit for a prince.

And fuck it, when Freed woke up - becuase he would wake up dammit - Gajeel was gonna treat him like a prince. Two weeks ago he'd given Freed shit for being pampered, but now Gajeel would give anything to be the person pampering his spoiled ass that moment. He'd bring him hot tea, make him dinner, massage his damn feet if he had to. Anything to get his prince back to him.

But for now, he had to make the crown. Because once the crown was complete, then Freed would be awake and everything would be fine. It just had to be fine. Yes, it was a ridiculous claim to make, but he had to cling onto something for hope.

He'd make Freed a real crown one day. Metal, infused with gemstones.

Freed would like that. He'd call Gajeel an idiot, but he'd enjoy it really.

Gods dammit, this was so stupid. Gajeel growled and stood up, but kept the half-made wooden crown in his hand. His body protested from the small amount of movement, but he stormed towards a nearby upturned tree that he had been resting on and slammed his fist into the bark. He did it again, and again, not turning his skin to iron so that he could feel the coarseness of the wood grazing his knuckles. He needed to feel something dammit!

"That helping you?" Laxus' voice came from behind him, and Gajeel nearly jumped at the sudden sound as he turned. Fuck, how had he missed the man approaching. "It doesn't look healthy."

"The hell are you doin' here?" Gajeel grunted. He wasn't in the mood for company. "Needed to think."

"I get that, I've been there," Laxus shrugged, leaning against the tree that Gajeel had punched and looking unwilling to move. "But he woke up, asked where you were. Thought you might get pissed off if someone didn't tell ya."

Gajeel paused.

Freed was awake.

Awake, and asking for him.

For a week, Gajeel hadn't allowed himself to think about Freed at all, and the few moments that resolve had slipped he had gone to the worst case scenario. Maybe it was some kind of bullshit defence mechanism, where if he thought only about the bad outcome then maybe it wouldn't hurt so much when it happened, but he suddenly realised that he hadn't entertained the possibility that it might be okay.

He wanted to storm back to Magnolia as quickly as he could, but stumbled a little under his feet. His legs were aching and his body objecting to any movement whatsoever. He tried to fight through it, because dammit he could make it through some pain if he got to see Freed, but he nearly fell to the ground. The only thing stopping him was Laxus.

"He's not gonna be happy if you nearly kill yourself getting to him," Laxus said, hooking Gajeel's arm over his shoulder. "The two of you are fucking idiots, you know that. You love each other to the point of self destruction."

"Love?" Gajeel muttered. "He said that?"

"He looked pretty damn heartbroken when he realised you weren't there," Laxus said, slowly walking while helping Gajeel. "It means he loves you."

"Y' think so?" Gajeel asked.

"Of course," Laxus scoffed, helping the aching man traverse the woodlands. "He's not gonna admit it yet, probably convinced himself it's too soon to say it, but it's pretty damn clear. He doesn't show his emotions very well, so the fact he's showing them about you is a big deal. And if any guy could affect him so much to make him fall in love within a week, it's you."

"Really?"

"In a week, you managed to turn hatred into a special bond, you managed to nail a unison raide, you got rid of the fucking demon that's been ruining his life," Laxus laughed. "You're it for Freed. You're the last guy he's ever gonna love because who the fuck could compare to that?"

Gajeel blushed a little. Was Sparky always this complimentary?

"Aint this the point where you say yer gonna kick my ass if I fuck around with him?" Gajeel asked, because he wasn't particularly good with his feelings and Laxus had just said a lot of things that could overwhelm Gajeel if he lingered on them for too long. "Give me the shovel talk or whatever?"

"Why the hell would I do that?" Laxus asked. "I saw how you look at him, I know you're not gonna be a dick or hurt him. And if you do, he'd deal with you himself."

Gajeel certainly agreed with that, his prince by no means needed anyone to fight his battles for him.

He found himself a little happy that he had gotten Laxus' blessing, even if he didn't think he particularly needed it. Laxus was an important part of Freed's life, and Gajeel didn't want to be the reason for any kind of rift between them. He also wouldn't have been surprised if Freed was firmly the type of man who might choose his friends over a new lover, and Gajeel respected that. So to have Laxus approve of them felt good.

"Just be good to him, okay?" Laxus said quietly, helping Gajeel pass over a branch that had fallen. "A lot of people have been shitty to him - more than he realsies - so be in his corner, okay?"

"Of course," Gajeel nodded, because he didn't need to be told that.

"But don't take any shit from him either," Laxus said with renewed volume, and apparently the seriousness of their conversation was over. "He's a cocky son of a bitch and he can pull some shit when you least expect it. If you're gonna be his boyfriend then it's your responsibility to knock him down a peg when he's being an ass."

"Kinda contradictory, don't y' think," Gajeel laughed a little.

"Trust me, you'll see just how much of an ass he can be, and you'll see what I mean," Laxus grinned at Gajeel, and Gajeel felt as though this was Laxus' way of offering Gajeel a way into his life, as well as Freed's. Gajeel grinned back, and they continued walking. After a little while, Laxus spoke again. "Now, you're gonna have to test how much you care for him now. We can either walk back like this, and get there past midnight, or go to the train station and risk a fucking train without his runes to settle our stomachs? It'll be faster, but feel shitty as hell."

"Train," Gajeel said immediately, despite his stomach groaning at the thought. "He's worth it."

——

When Gajeel saw Freed, he almost wanted to cry.

He stormed across the infirmary, and Freed looked towards him with an expression just as relieved as Gajeel was feeling. He didn't stop moving, and wrapped his arms around Freed as tightly as he could in a hug. Freed did the same, apparently his body recovered enough to deal with Gajeel's full strength. For a moment, they both clung to each other as tightly as they could, and Gajeel found solace in the scent of his lover's embrace.

Freed was alive, awake, and here. Everything was okay.

"I'm sorry," Gajeel mumbled into the crook of Freed's neck. "I should've been here when you woke up. I'm sorry."

"You're here now, that's all that matters," Freed whispered, and the hoarseness of his voice made Gajeel feel like shit. Freed seemed to notice, as he pulled away and cupped Gajeel's chin firmly. "I've been tortured by a demon for all of my adult life, and you have gotten rid of that. Not being at my side the moment I woke up is entirely forgivable."

"Should've been here," Gajeel argued, pressing his forehead against Freed's.

"I don't mind," Freed whispered again, leaning up and pressing his lips against Gajeel's in a chaste kiss. "So long as you're here now, I don't mind."

Gajeel leant down further, and pressed their lips together again. He pushed into Freed slightly to deepen the kiss, and his inner dragon purred at the feeling of Freed kissing him again. One night with the man had been enough for Gajeel to know that Freed was special, and that no kiss would be as good as a kiss from Freed. He had been wanting nothing but to feel the man against him again, and to have it finally happen was euphoria.

When they pulled apart, Freed was smiling at Gajeel with a lovestruck expression that looked so good on him. Gajeel would have loved to keep Freed in that moment, because such an expression could only be achieved when someone was feeling bliss. Freed was blissful looking at Gajeel!

"Lie with me," Freed requested. Gajeel didn't need to be told twice.

He maneuvered his tired body into the bed - resisting the urge to make a comment about Freed's nude state - and rested against the headboard. Freed shifted slightly, and leant against Gajeel, nuzzling into his chest with a yawn. So fucking cute.

For what seemed like forever, they stayed like this. Just the two of them, together again and breathing and alive and happy. Gajeel would happily live the rest of his life in that moment, with Freed in his arms and with comfort filling his soul. This was a level of contentment that Gajeel had never felt before, and he was unwilling to let it go. Freed was going to be his for as long as Gajeel could fight for him.

"I meant it, y'know," Gajeel murmured, pressing his lips to Freed's ear. "I wanna be yours. I want you to be mine. I meant everything I said."

"I know you did," Freed smiled, looking up. "I want to be yours too. I want to wake up beside you every morning, and kiss you goodnight every night."

Gajeel couldn't help but grin, lean forward and press their lips together again. Freed was his. He was Freed. In each other's arms, they fell asleep. Content, happy, and in love.

[destiel-love-forever]

Hello! I saw your post about wanting prompts.... As a cheerleader in the midst of my competition season, I've recently been itching for some kind of cheerleading au, but it's kind of hard to find. I love your work and if you find time to write something like this, I'd def give it a read!

Thank you Anon!! Here it is (: 

Dean Winchester is the Angel's star quarterback. It's his senior year and he should be focused on one thing: getting a college scholarship. That's what his dad - and coach - has been telling him. Then a distraction in the form of a new cheerleader with bright blue eyes and a gorgeous body comes along and things change. Will Castiel ruin Dean's chances at a future, or will he turn out to be his lucky charm?

AO3 link:

Lucky Charm

The warm sun falls on Dean’s exposed back as he leans over his extended legs in the grass, stretching them out. He holds the position longer than necessary because of how good the lingering summer heat feels on his skin. Any day now, autumn will sweep its way into the small town and even though it’s his favorite time of year because of football, he’ll still miss the hot days out on the lake and the warm nights around bonfires with friends.

Nothing compares to football season, though. The freedom he feels out on that field. How everything melts away. And the cheerleaders. Oh boy, does he love the cheerleaders.

“Winchester,” his best friend Benny grunts, flopping down onto the field with him and beginning his stretches.

“Lafitte,” Dean says back in acknowledgment, looking over at him and grinning when he sees his best friend’s bare chest and neck is covered in scratches and hickies. “Better put a shirt on or coach will be pissed.”

Benny rolls his eyes. Dean’s dad is the coach and he’s a total hardass, but he has a soft spot for Benny. John Winchester gets a kick out of Benny, the young boy from wealthy parents, destined for greatness, no cares in the world. Sure, he gets pissed when the boy drops passes or shows up to practice hungover or late, but it’s always a few extra sprints and he’s letting it go.

Unfortunately, Dean doesn’t have the same privilege. John Winchester puts the weight of the world on Dean’s shoulders, the young boy with a widowed father, no money to send him to college, not intelligent enough for good grades, so many cares in the world he could suffocate on them. Dean’s father planned his future before the boy could even throw a football. The rage that comes out when Dean fucks with the plans is violent and terrifying.

“Where the fuck is Ash?” Benny asks, referring to their other best friend. The three of them are captains this year and John wanted them to come do drills and review plays before the first practice of the night tonight, when the entire town is welcome to come watch the season officially begin at midnight.

Dean pulls himself out of his anxious thought tornado and shrugs. “Probably getting laid. Or napping.”

“Fuck both of ya. I’m right here.” Ash throws his bag down and sits beside it, not bothering to stretch yet. Instead, he lays on his back with his four limbs spread out, soaking up the sun. “Can you guys believe school starts in a week? Senior year. I can’t wait.”

“We’re going to be kings of the school,” Benny adds.

Dean just looks over at the two of them, snorting. “We already were. But, yeah, it’ll be fun.”

Benny rolls his eyes and looks at Ash. “Someone’s being grumpy today.”

“This should cheer ya up,” Ash says with a smile in his voice. Dean looks in the direction he’s pointing and straightens his back, puffing out his chest without meaning to. It’s only a group of five cheerleaders but all five are scantily dressed and gorgeous. Especially the one with black hair and bright blue eyes, his strong legs sticking out from short-shorts in the blue color of their school. His belly button shows beneath his t-shirt he’s made into a cut off, the hem stopping where he cut through the team’s logo.

Fucking gorgeous.

“Who is that?” Dean half asks, half demands. Both of his friends just shrug, neither having any information on the new guy.

The group comes closer, since they’re sitting right next to the table set up with the water jug and the stereo. Jo, the squad’s captain, goes to the stereo and plugs her phone in like she’s going to play music. Benny, her nearly permanent on again/off again boyfriend, hops up and waves his hand in the air. “Woah, woah. No. We’re using that today during warmups.”

“Well, you can have it then, Benjamin,” she spits over her shoulder. Dean wasn’t aware they were off again, but it’s looking like that’s the case. “We have the field for the next forty minutes. We’re practicing our routine for Midnight Madness.”

“Right. Midnight Madness.” Benny walks toward her with a goofy smile as he talks about the kick off practice they have tonight. “I could drive you to that. Pick you up. Drop you off after.”

“Oh, you think so?”

They continue going back and forth, Benny’s flirting softening her up. Dean stops listening though. He can’t concentrate when blue eyes starts stretching. The boy brings an arm behind his head, grabbing his elbow and pulling, his gaze falling somewhere off in the distance. His shirt rides up and with Dean sitting on the ground he can see his rosy nipples. He licks his lips.

Something hard hits him in the side and he jumps, grunting before yelling, “What the fuck?”

Ash has a knowing smile as he wiggles his eyebrows at him. “Careful there. You’re popping a hard on.”

Blushing, Dean grumbles something generic about Ash’s mom giving him a hard on as he hurries to adjust himself. His friend laughs at him and he’s seriously considering punching him until he glances up to see blue eyes looking straight at him.

Act cool, Dean. Act cool. You’re the star quarterback of a team who won the State Championship last year. You can handle a cute boy. Act. Fucking. Cool.

“Hey,” he says with a - if he does say so himself - very casual head nod.

The boy’s cheeks turn pink and he looks at the ground. “Hey.”

High on the fact that he made him blush, Dean pushes further. “What’s your name?”

“Oh. Um.” The boy fidgets, looking at him with wide eyes. “Castiel. Cas. Castiel.” He laughs nervously. “Either works.”

“Alright, Cas. I’m Dean.”

“Hi, Dean.”

Dean gives Castiel the smile everyone tells him is charming. “You must be new? I’d remember a face like yours.”

He hears Ash whistle and say under his breath, “Smoothe.”

Ignoring his idiot friend, he waits for Castiel to respond. It takes the boy a minute. He rocks on his heels and looks at the grass instead of Dean before nodding and saying, “Yeah. New.”

“Where ya from?”

“New York.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

Dean tilts his head, having decided this is definitely his conquest for the school year. There’s an irresistible pull to the boy and they’ve known each other for five minutes. Hell, he’s not even thinking about just hooking up with him. He’d bring this boy out on a date. Dean Winchester’s first ever date.

“So, you’re a senior?” The boy nods. Dean smiles. “Nice. Me too. And you’re a cheerleader. That’s exciting.”

Castiel blushes. “Yeah. Uh, are you a football player?”

Dean laughs softly. Understatement of the year. “Yeah. Quarterback.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah. So, I guess we’ll be seein’ each other often.”

The boy bites his lip and looks over at his new friends. They’re all staring at him in wonder, probably because they’ve gone to this school long enough to know Dean’s reputation. Castiel looks back at Dean with a nervous smile. “Great.”

“Great.”

“Yes. Great,” Ash says with a dramatic eye roll. “How about we put an end to the most boring conversation I’ve ever had to endure?”

“How about the football idiots stop talking to the cheerleaders?” Jo snaps, grabbing Castiel’s hand and tugging him. She tells a girl sitting in jean shorts and a shirt, presumably a friend not on the team, to start the music when she gives the signal. Then the group all heads out onto the field.

Free to look without any risk of getting caught, Dean tilts his head to the side and appreciates the view of Castiel’s ass bouncing slightly as he hurries with the others. “Fucking hell,” he whispers in amazement.

“Oh, boy,” Ash laughs. “You’re fucked.”

---------

Castiel’s thankful that the only obligation he has for Midnight Madness is the team’s dance routine. The rest of the time he can sit with his new friends and zone out on the hot as fuck quarterback that’s prancing around in a shirt with the sleeves cut off, the slits going to the bottom of his ribcage to reveal the tanned skin beneath the fabric. His black shorts hang loose on his hips and skim the tops of his knees. He’s the opposite of Castiel. Huge muscles, flirty smile, high confidence, extremely attractive, and popular. At his old school, Castiel wouldn’t have even been on the cheer squad. He was far too shy and geeky. But he promised himself at this new school he’d reinvent himself. So here he is. And now the quarterback was flirting with him. Surely only for fun, not because he’s actually interested, but it still has Castiel flustered.

“Popcorn?” his new friend Chuck offers, pointing the bucket in his direction.

With a thankful smile, Castiel takes a few kernels and pops them in his mouth. He’s not sure how he got so lucky. Chuck’s his neighbor so when he moved in earlier this month he had an almost instant friend. It was him who convinced Castiel to go out for the cheer squad. He had great logic. It was something Castiel actually thought he’d enjoy, and their school was the perfect place for a guy to be on a cheer team, because the popular kids at the school didn’t put up with any jokes about being a fag or whatever. At the time, Chuck had said it was because the most popular guy at the school is openly gay. Now he’s burning to ask if Chuck meant Dean.

The coach blows the whistle and all the boys hurry over to the sidelines for water. Castiel watches as Dean takes off his helmet and squirts his water bottle over his head before tilting his chin back to squirt some in his mouth. Once he swallows, he shakes his head, wet hair going wild. One of his friends - the one Jo claims she hates but Castiel thinks she loves - says something, and Dean laughs. Hard. It carries through the air and Castiel shivers at the sound.

“Damn, that boy is hot,” Chuck mutters, looking in the exact same spot as Castiel.

Castiel’s stomach drops. The way Chuck said that was wistful, a tone Castiel’s used himself multiple times. The sound of a gay man appreciating a straight one. Since there’s no harm in agreeing with Chuck, though, Castiel sighs wistfully himself. “Yeah. He is.”

“Great kisser too. God, his mouth, man. I’m tellin’ ya - you haven’t been kissed until you’ve been kissed by Dean Winchester.”

Nearly choking on his second bite of popcorn, Castiel coughs and asks in a squeaky voice, “You’ve kissed him?”

“Well, jeez. Don’t act so shocked. I’m an attractive guy.”

“No. I mean, yes. You are.” Castiel doesn’t bother being embarrassed by admitting that. Within days of knowing each other, Castiel knew nothing was going to happen between them. Ever. They’re just great friends. “Dean’s gay?”

“Yeah. Well, he’s bi, actually. But yeah.”

Castiel turns his gaze to the field, stunned by the revelation. The swirl of possibility makes him ten times more nervous about Dean Winchester. It was one thing getting flustered by a straight boy being flirty but an entirely different thing if Dean is someone he could realistically be with. That makes the fear of rejection so much worse.

“Did you guys date?” he asks quietly, eyes tracking Dean as he backs up with the ball in his hand, then throws it across the field in a high arc. The ball goes toward some other boy but Castiel keeps his eyes on Dean.

“No. We were just fuck buddies for a while.”

“Why did you stop?”

“I wanted to be exclusive, to maybe try and date. Dean Winchester doesn’t do that.”

“Why?”

Chuck shrugs. “He claims he doesn’t believe in love but he’s a great guy and I don’t believe that for a second. Once you know him, you’ll see what I mean. He loves everything. One of those people that’s just completely full of life, you know? Always smiling.”

Castiel nods, still watching Dean. He can definitely see that, yes, but he has a feeling there’s much more to the story. Dean stands in front of his coach now. His helmet is on so Castiel can’t see his face, but his hands are in a constant state of clenching and unclenching by his sides. He notices that when the coach begins to yell, Dean takes the slightest step back, a shiver running through him.

“Why do you think he doesn’t date, then?” Castiel asks, wondering out loud.

“Everyone thinks it’s because of his dad. Relationships are a distraction.”

“Distraction from what?”

Chuck gestures to Dean and the coach. “Football.”

“God forbid,” Castiel mutters, rolling his eyes.

“Really god forbid, though. Dean’s getting scouted by Division 1 schools. People think he could one day make it to the NFL. A long shot, but a possibility. He’s good. Wait until you see him play.”

The coach advances on Dean and grabs the front of his jersey, yanking him forward and screaming into his face. Castiel leans forward, alarmed. “Oh my god. He can’t do that, can he?”

“Who? What?” Chuck looks in the same direction as Castiel and cringes, his frown deep. “Oh. Actually, he can.”

“Dean’s parents don’t get upset?”

The look Chuck gives him is incredibly sad. “Cas, that is his parents. His mom’s dead and his dad is right there.”

“His dad is the coach?”

“Yup. Real loving guy, hey?” Chuck shakes his head. “Wait until you see him during a real game.”

Castiel looks at the field. Dean’s getting a drink again, along with the others, but this time he doesn’t laugh afterward. He just ducks his head and places his hands on his hips, glaring at the grass in silence. Everyone gives him a wide berth. They must know better than to bother him.

Castiel knows for sure now. There’s something else lingering beneath the surface of Dean Winchester. A version of himself that’s not happy all the time. That doesn’t smile. That believes in love. That desperately wants love.

In seconds, Castiel has fallen for the boy. The boy beneath the surface.

-------

A hand hits the back of Dean’s head and he snaps his head in the direction of the person hitting him, cheeks turning red as he worries he got caught. His dad looks at him with a scowl and his eyebrows pulled in. Dean prays he didn’t notice Dean watching a certain cheerleader on the sidelines. When his dad’s eyes look over his shoulder at Castiel, he deflates.

“Somethin’ more important than the game, boy?”

“No, sir. Of course not.”

“You sure?” His dad turns to gesture at the field, where the other team is only ten yards from scoring a touchdown and tying the game. There’s only three minutes left and the Angel’s defense is exhausted. It’s not looking good. “Because the game is this way. Not that way.”

Dean bites the inside of his cheek and tries to remain calm so he can play this off. “Someone was shouting. I looked over there quick. Sorry.”

His dad just stares at him, unimpressed and probably not believing him either. The ball is snapped and a play begins. His dad leaves Dean alone to start coaching. It takes everything inside the young boy not to look at Castiel again. He gets closer to the white chalk of the field’s official edge and tightens his fists at his sides. His dad is right. He has to focus.

The opposing team scores on the next play and Dean’s gut sinks. He glances at the clock. Now there’s only two minutes and ten seconds left. It’s not impossible but it’ll be hard. As the players start to switch, Dean’s dad grabs him and yanks him close before he can run off. “This is your fault. That interception in the first could cost us this game. Go out there and fucking fix it.”

“Yes, sir.”

His dad shoves him toward the field and Dean stumbles for a second before jogging to his position. The other players start to line up. He feels sick as he waits for the ball. His dad is right, this is his problem to fix now. They can’t start the season off with a loss. Especially when the loss would be his fault.

His throat clenches and makes it hard for him to breathe. He hears the crowd shouting and the cheerleaders cheering and his dad screaming at them. The cheerleaders. Dean sucks in a breath and takes a chance, glancing over at the sidelines. The cheerleaders are facing the team right now instead of the crowd. Castiel’s in the front, right next to Jo in the center. He’s shaking his pom poms but his mouth is closed as his eyes bore into Dean. When he realizes the quarterback is looking at him, he gives a wave of a pom and a nervous smile.

The anxiety in Dean’s chest unfurls and he’s left with a floaty feeling. When he turns back to the game, he feels invincible.

-----

Castiel stands on the sidelines, anxiously waving his pom poms. His knees are wobbling in anticipation as he keeps his eyes glued to Dean’s every move. The clock is winding down and Dean’s managed to push the team down the field a good amount. They’re only thirty yards from the end zone now. The problem? There’s also only twenty-four seconds left on the clock.

The coach calls a time out and Jo orders them to spin around and do a certain cheer. He goes through the motions, forcing his eyes to stay on the audience, forcing his mouth to stay in a perky smile. The second they’re turned back around to watch the game, his face is serious again, his heart racing.

“Come on, Dean,” he whispers below his breath. “You can do it. Come on.”

The ball is snapped and Dean takes his steps backward, arm cocking in the air. His head swivels and Castiel scans the players, trying to find an open spot, praying there is one. Praying wherever it is, Dean sees it.

Castiel holds his breath when the ball is launched through the air. He watches it’s slow descent, realizing it’s heading for Benny Lafitte. The entire stadium turns quiet. It’s as if the air is charged with electricity.

When the ball lands on the ground, two or three yards further left than Benny, the opposing team cheers and the whistle blows as Dean’s dad calls another timeout. From his left, Castiel hears Chuck suck in a breath and whisper, “Shit.”

He doesn’t have to ask what’s wrong. The second Dean’s within reach, the coach is grabbing his face mask and yanking him to the sideline. The boy’s neck twists in a way that must have been painful - and quite honestly dangerous - and then the coach’s bright red face is pressing right up against the face mask as he screams. They’re close enough to hear parts and bits but too far to make sense of much of it. Castiel hears something about a ‘goddamn failure’ and ‘home.’ Something else about ‘embarrassment’ and ‘benched.’

Castiel’s eyes burn as he watches the scene. He glances around, astonished that no one cares that this coach - this father - is manhandling his son and screaming at him. When he looks at Chuck, his friend gives him a sad smile. Castiel just shakes his head, still shocked, and looks back at Dean and his dad. The whistle blows to signal the timeout is over and Castiel wonders if the man even had time to tell Dean a play or what to do. It seems he spent the entire time berating him. He says something else, something not yelled, then slams the palm of his hand twice against the side of Dean’s helmet and sends him off.

Six seconds. Final play. Too far away still to kick a field goal. “Come on, Dean,” Castiel shouts without meaning too. His cheeks burn with embarrassment but the other cheerleaders join him with words of their own. Then the Angel’s side of the bleachers start shouting encouragement at the young quarterback. Dean glances at the crowd, scanning it, then his helmet drops lower and he looks at Castiel like he did earlier. Instead of getting flustered this time, Castiel nods once, reassuring, and yells, “You can do it!”

The boy’s shoulders straighten and he turns to the team. The ball is snapped. Dean falls back. His arm is cocked. The crowd goes silent. The air becomes electric.

The ball flies through the air. Toward Benny again.

This time, it lands right in the boy’s arms. Three steps and he’s in the endzone. The crowd freaks out, jumping up and screaming. The boys on the sidelines storm the field to celebrate. The other cheerleaders are yelling and kicking their legs up in excitement. Castiel sees Jo fly away from the squad, heading straight for Benny, and something idiotic takes over his own body. One second he’s wishing he could hug Dean and the next second, he’s sprinting toward the boy with the number one on his blue jersey.

He launches himself at the boy, taking him by surprise. Dean releases a soft grunt before chuckling and returning his hug. His large arms wrap around Castiel’s bare waist, huge hands spreading across the small of his back, and he shivers at the calloused touch. One of the hands leaves so Dean can pull his helmet off. His hair is all over the place as sweat clumps it together, and sweat is rolling down the side of his face from his temple. Castiel’s mouth goes dry watching it travel down to his strong jaw. He wonders what it would taste like it.

Staring up at him in awe, Castiel accidently whispers, “You’re amazing.”

Instead of the cocky or flirty response he expects, Dean smiles softly and holds him tighter. “I’m pretty fond of you, too, Cas.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Dean leans down, slowly, making sure Castiel understands his intentions. When the cheerleader does nothing but lift up on his toes to make the journey shorter for him, he smiles and closes the distance, molding his lips over Castiel’s. Dean drops his helmet to the field so he can use the hand to cup the back of Castiel’s neck and hold him steady, his other hand increasing pressure on his back to pull him in closer. When he breaks the kiss off, he stays with their lips almost touching, so he can breathe him in. He whispers against Castiel’s mouth, “I think you’re my lucky charm.”

Castiel leans back to look him in the eyes, grinning like a total idiot. “Then I guess you’ll just have to keep me around.”

“Yeah.” Dean nods, feeling dizzy with happiness. “I guess so.”

[lenalvthor]

Ayyyyy, so idk of this is the right blig, but if you wanted ideas for little mini fics relating to the hsau, I'd love to see how Sara and Ava's relationship was before the whole thing with Ava's coming out. Anyway, I love the fic and I hope you have a wonderful day!

hi!! 💛apologies for leaving this in my inbox for so long, this last week has been a ROLLERCOASTER but i promise you, i did see this and get very excited abt it and send it to rachel and we were both freaked out a bit abt getting prompts for the fic

so we have many, many ideas about pre-fic avalance in this au. like Many. many to the point that we don’t have the time to write an actual mini fic about it because the fic would be the furtherest thing from mini. also, bc it would be rlly weird to have to try and go back and write them before all of this, like we go back and read ‘don’t you like you’ and everything feels so strange bc we wrote it before we had this big detailed plan for everything that was gonna happen between them and it just feels crazy that they were in this place where they weren’t even friends let alone in love 

but what i am gonna do. is give you a fuckload of bullet headcanons instead. so i hope that suffices bc buckle up, there’s gonna be a few 🌈🌈

so ava and sara don’t go to the same elementary school. they’re both star city natives though so they kind of know of each other. sara did dance when she was little and was in layla’s dance class and ava was sometimes there when barbara came to pick her up etc etc. 

(ava’s school was a little nicer, was the fancier star city school that barbara teaches at. damien insisted nora went there bc of it’s good reputation and gary’s mom wanted the best possible start for her son, hence how the three of them ended up there and became friends) 

so by the time middle school comes around and they actually become a part of each other’s spheres, they know the other vaguely by name and the like 

in middle school, ava and sara meet and they don’t quite get along but they don’t rlly know each other so it’s not an issue - sara’s this reckless trouble maker that ava wants nothing to do with bc she wants to just do well and be liked and successful and normal while sara’s off getting into fights and sneaking out of school and never doing anything by the rules, so not interacting pretty much suits them both just fine

until in 8th grade, after spencer leaves to join the army and ava’s still trying to piece herself back together and he left around the time that she decides she was going to quit basketball after this season and she was scared she might be gay and starts vehemently ignoring any and all possibilities of that fact - that’s when sara lance comes out as bi

and sara doesn’t know why ava suddenly makes a point to argue with her more than usual, or call her out in her bullshit, or just be a general pain in the ass but she is, and what sara doesn’t realise is that ava’s angry that sara came out bc it put ava in a position where we had to actually confront herself abt her sexuality

sara has a quiet suspicion of why ava’s acting like this, and it would sort of make sense that ava would be gay (or bi, but sara thinks gay) but also she doesn’t wanna assume so she leaves it and just pushes ava’s buttons just as hard 

but it’s not all bad, bc the day nyssa and sara start dating, everyone at school is talking about it and ava knows her friends will be too and she’s terrified bc she doesn’t want to know if they think it’s weird, but kuasa just goes “whoa, no way” and lily whistles and says “damn, they’re probably the hottest couple at school” and gary doesn’t say anything but he’s got this look of curiosity and relief on his face and nora is looking at him carefully before she just glances over at sara and says “good for them” and ava doesn’t know if she wants to laugh or cry with relief

(and it’s still 2 and half years before she even tells nora - the first person she comes out to - but it’s a start at least) 

ava and sara get better for a bit in 8th grade, but then high school happens and suddenly they’re in the same homeroom and heaps of classes together and being partnered / grouped up for projects all the time and they both just get on each other’s nerves to no end

both of them are vying to be rip’s favourite in class and it makes ava furious and sara so smug because ava wanted to be the teachers pet bc she worked hard and did a load of extra curriculars and was always polite and on time and we’ll behaved, whereas rip just liked sara because she was entertaining and good at soccer and a little too cocky for her own good

and around this time, sara is slowly becoming friends with amaya and ray and jax and nate, is being less reckless and dangerous and unbearable as she was in middle school, starting to mellow a bit

but anyway; they’re at each other’s throats all of freshman year but their rivalry ends up being kind of fun bc arguing in class when it’s actually about school isn’t as frustrating for all the teachers and sara notices that ava actually makes her think, makes her feel smart, bc she can actually kind of keep up with the smartest girl in their entire grade, and ava meanwhile realises that sara is actually pretty smart, she’s actually kind of a genius and if she actually tried, she could probably give ava a run for her money and that both infuriates and pleasantly surprises ava 

but then early sophomore year, nyssa leaves. sara’s not at school for a few days and by the time she comes back, everyone Knows because it’s high school and nothing can stay secret for long, and everyone’s trying not to gossip bc sara’s slowly become quite popular around school but they can’t help it, they all wanna know what’s going on

and ava detests sara but she’s always admired her for coming out, for being so proud abt it and dating nyssa when there was like a grand total of 3 other lgbt people at school all of whom fit every single stereotype that ava wanted nothing to do with (and she’ll never admit it, but she had always felt kind of safe and comforted knowing nyssa and sara were dating bc it made her feel like she would be ok one day), so she can’t even imagine how sara feels especially if the rumours about why nyssa left are true 

sara’s heartbroken and angry and confused and she keeps pushing ava with jabs and mocking retorts and remarks that are lot harsher and more biting than usual but ava just smothers the urge to respond and rolls her eyes pointedly and ignores her bc she knows sara’s just lashing out

and at one point in gym, sara just drops her back and turns to face ava and demands “what the fuck is your problem sharpe?” and ava crosses her arms and goes “pretty sure you’re the once with the problem here, lance.” to that, sara glares and spits out “i’m not the one walking around with this fucking holier than thou attitude as if you’re better than me. can you at least argue back instead of rolling over like a doormat?” and ava literally wants to throw a dodgeball at her but she just holds her ground, doesn’t say anything, keeps sara’s gaze before biting her lip and looking away for the briefest of seconds. sara makes this smug huff of triumph, as though ava’s abt to fight back but ava just looks back at sara with an expression that’s too gentle, and says “i’m sorry about nyssa, sara.” and goes to join her dodgeball team

(amaya comes over to ask sara what it was about and sara can’t bring herself to answer, just shakes her head because she doesn’t quite know what just happened) 

things get better quickly, like. sara would never say it at the time but zari is this refreshing burst of fresh air who didn’t know nyssa the way all her other friends did and it’s so nice to have her around, even tho she’s still quite new. and then wally comes to star city and everything is fun and exciting w the legends and things aren’t perfect, definitely not bc oliver and laurel break up and sara and laurel have been fighting just usually like sisters do and dinahs been calling, on saras ass abt her slipping grades at school and sara just wants to piss them both off so she hooks up w oliver (and they’ve known each other for so long that they both feel guilty abt it and they try to make it a Thing bc they don’t want to admit that they both just used each other for different reasons)

it it’s sometime after that, after she and oliver collapsed under the very weak foundation their relationship was already built on, after laurel starts dating tommy, after amaya promises sara she’s not a bad person for what happened with oliver, it’s sometime then that ava makes that challenging retort abt sara even trying to get a better grade than her in french

and all sara can think of is laurel, the way laurel hadn’t been mad when she hooked up with oliver, the way laurel had just snuck into her room late at night and slipped under the covers and hugged sara close as sara broke down abt why their mom just didnt care abt all the good things sara was doing, the way laurel had softly murmured “you’re brilliant sara. you are, you’re so smart and so capable and if mom can’t see that, then she doesn’t deserve to.”

so sara does try. and she gets an a+. and the beam on laurel’s face when she sees it on sara’s desk, the pride on quentin’s when sara tells him - sara never looks back (and she also starts to look a bit more at ava, because maybe she’s not all horrible) 

gary comes out at the very end of sophomore year, sara goes over to give him a hug and she sees the expression on ava’s face - proud and protective and kind but also sort of hurt and definitely, definitely jealous, and sara suddenly remembers the way ava had acted towards her after sara had first come out and she remembers her vague, kind of unfounded assumption that maybe ava was gay, realises that ava’s never had a boyfriend, never said yes to any of the numerous attractive guys who have asked her out 

but also, sara’s known ava for like, 4 years by now and she knows what kind of family ava has and she feels this sudden ache in her chest bc ava must be in the most difficult position - sara doesn’t even know if ava is aware of it, so she doesn’t wanna say anything or offer support (also bc ava still grinds her gears to no end)

but she just keeps an eye out, checks ava’s facebook / instagram every once in a while to see if she’s posted anything abt it or added smth like a pride flag to her bio

and then on a sunday evening in october junior year, ava comes out on facebook. sara doesn’t see it first, in fact, she’s lying on the living room couch trying to not fall asleep reading her social studies text book when from the armchair, laurel lets out a quiet “huh” and both quentin and sara say “what?” at the same time and laurel goes “ava sharpe’s in your grade, right sara?” and sara nods and quentin’s like “is that the girl you did that chem assignment with earlier in the year?” and sara wrinkles her nose and goes “unfortunately. she’s a pain in my ass.” and laurel just hums and says “well, she just came out.”

sara almost falls off the couch, scrambling into a sitting position and snatching laurel’s phone and ignoring laurel’s protesting “hey!”

she reads the post through several times before she goes to comment and realises she’s on laurel’s phone, grabbing her own but then she hesitates, wanting to write something genuine but it feels too vulnerable so instead goes “ffs sharpe, on top of everything else, i now have to compete with you for hot girls too?”, but she opens messenger and goes “hey, just wanted to say congrats on coming out. i know it’s nowhere near easy to tell your family so like, hope that went okay. and i’m here if you wanna talk abt it at all.”

and the day after, as they’re clearing up microscopes and stuff in bio, ava quietly thanks her for her message and sara shrugs, goes “i get it.” and ava pauses before quietly admitting “you know i always admired you for being out. especially when we were so young back in middle school. i’d only just started thinking about it then and … i was a mess. seeing you being out and happy and just - the same person you’d always been … that helped more than you know.”

and it’s probably the most meaningful conversation they’ve ever had (or at least had in a Long time)

and 4 days later, ava shows up on sara’s doorstep after a fight with her mom at dinner and this entire fic began. 

also, for your own reading pleasure, some other random moments we thought of; 

sara only ever called ava ‘sharpe’ or ‘sharpie’ or any other variation of her name until they were both 15/16

ava used to roll her eyes every time sara got a a bad grade because she could be so much better if she tried, but she doesnt

sara nearly started a fight the first time she and ava had to work together on a project, and once they started it and it became clear they worked well together she was the Most Annoyed™️

back in middle school ava always scoffed and made some patronising comment every time she watched someone break up a fight sara had gotten into (except for the one time in the first few weeks of class when she had to stop sara throwing her second, or maybe third punch at a homophobic jerk in their class who’d cornered her on the way back from school - that time she shoved him away and watched him go before turning and cautiously asking if sara was okay, and sara glared at her and told her she’d had everything under control before storming off in the opposite direction)

there are probably many many headcanons for this part of the universe that we will think of but i hope this suffices for now, feel free to come yell about anything legends / fic related bc this was so much fun 💖💞