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detectivedreameater · 3 years

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Hello From The Other Side || Erin and Marley

TIMING: Right after this PARTIES: @corpse--diem and @detectivedreameater SUMMARY: Marley gets spat out of the portal and heads straight to Erin’s to answer her 30 missed calls. CONTENT: Blood/Injury descriptions, PTSD mentions

The portal dumped Marley out onto the ground with a loud thump! As she crashed directly onto her face, adding yet another scrape to the bundle of cuts she already had. She didn’t care. She’d made it back. It had worked. She was home. Marley scrambled for the phone in her pocket and clicked it back on, still laying on the ground. The battery flashed at her, only 2% left. She’d have to be quick. She clicked on messages-- 27 unread messages, all from Erin-- and she went to type out a reply, but the phone died and she cursed in at least three different languages. She had no idea where she was, but it looked like she was near some buildings. Brushing as much of the blood from her face off, she stood and stumbled from her spot, looking around for any familiar street signs. Exhaustion had been replaced by adrenaline, excitement. She’d made it, but-- shit, she was way out in the Bend. Couldn’t life cut her a break just once? At least it was night. She was covered in soot and blood-- both blue and black-- and her clothes were torn to tatters, but that didn’t matter if no one could see her. She needed to get home and clean up, but as soon as she started moving, her feet didn’t take her in the direction of downtown. She was in East End before she knew it, gravel crunching under her feet as she turned back into a solid state. It wasn’t until she’d reached the door that she realized how tired she was, limbs hanging like metal and lead. She reached up to open the door, but thought better of it, instead, and curled her first to knock. The sound reverberated in her skull and she clenched her teeth. She heard shuffling, an annoyed voice-- of course Erin would be annoyed by a visitor this late-- before the door opened and Marley waved. “Hey, uh,” she didn’t actually know what to say, “sorry I disappeared. I'm back now.”

Erin’s body begged for sleep. She could feel it pulling behind her eyes, fighting a war with an anxious mind that refused to bend. It was growing uncomfortably close to a week since she, or anyone at all, had heard from Marley. Gone. Vanished off the face of the earth, apparently. And if her hunch about the portals was right, there wasn’t a damn thing her incessant phone calls to the police station were going to do to help. So here she sat, cradling another glass of whiskey against her chest, worrying a hand through her hair. Maybe tomorrow she’d bother her partner again, try to get a more specific idea of where Marley had been seen last. If this was portal bullshit, maybe she’d get lucky and fall into the same one that had gotten Marley. It was worth a shot, right? She couldn’t just sit here. She couldn’t just continue to sit here, and worry, and do nothing. The knock at the door startled her from her thoughts. It was late, too late for anything business-related. She’d been running on empty but she knew she’d cancelled all plans otherwise, considering the walking torso she was still babysitting in her garage. The only thing that got her off the couch was the hope (and fear) that the police had actually found something. But if they had, and they’d come to her in person to break the news--she yanked the door open. “What do you--” Want.

Marley. Her jaw hung open as she stared at the sight. It was real. It was her. Bloody, bruised, and generally battered, but it was Marley. Casually strolling up to her doorstep like nothing had happened. Erin let out a long breath, her eyes burning with relieved tears that she couldn’t stop if she tried. She stepped forward, wrapping her arms tightly around her. She was really here. “You fucking asshole,” she murmured, squeezing harder than necessary, like she’d disappear all over again if she didn’t.

“Oh, wait, don’t--” Marley started, but it was too late, Erin was throwing her arms around her and the fresh blood caked on her tattered jacket was smearing all over her now, too. “Do that…” She finished weakly. She didn’t entirely mind, though. It felt kinda nice. Sighing, she reached around to pat Erin’s back, trying not to get too much more blood on her. “You should um-- let go now, though, unless you also want to be covered in blood and viscera.” And whatever she would call the goo that had melted onto her after she’d killed whatever those things were. She gently pried Erin’s arms off of her and held her at arm’s length, trying not to let her exhaustion show too much. She wondered if she could even see it underneath all the gore. “Can we go inside?” she asked, then, looking around. “I’m kinda tired.” But she was smiling, for whatever reason. Relief, probably. Yeah, that must be it. “And I could really use a drink.”

“I don’t care,” Erin mumbled, making no moves to remove herself or lessen her grip. She’d had her hands in worse things than what she felt squishing against Marley’s clothes. Reluctant still even as Marley pulled her off of her. This close though, she could see the damage hidden beneath splotches of blue and red blood. Tiny bites littered the surface of her skin, speckled alongside bruises and gashes along the surface of her skin. Concern swarmed her features. What the hell did she get into? When she finally pulled away, her hands and white dress shirt were covered in whatever the fuck had died on Marley’s jacket. “Yeah, yeah,” she nodded, wiping her eyes, unconsciously smearing more of the mess onto herself. Still didn’t care and she couldn’t help but return Marley’s smile. “Sorry,” she shook her head, moving to let her into the house, locking the door behind her. “There’s whiskey on the table. I’ll, uh--” she paused, trying to calm the noise in her brain. “I’ll get you some clean clothes. And a washcloth. And some… first aid. Are you hungry--no, wait, you don’t eat what I--sorry, I’ll just...” She gestured behind her but didn’t move more than a few steps backwards, still staring at Marley in disbelief. Her heart pounded in her chest. Suddenly, she felt afraid again, slowing her steps even further. “Don’t leave. Don’t go anywhere. Just stay right here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Marley moved into the house stiffly, feeling the ache inside of her increasing. She’d need to feed soon, she wasn’t sure how long she’d been gone. She hadn’t thought to look at the date when she’d checked her phone, just the messages. Just to call Erin. Erin was crying now, too, and Marley felt a knot forming in her chest, sticking in her throat. She swallowed and headed towards the couch where Erin instructed there was whiskey waiting, and she shuffled along, straining to take her jacket off before she sat down. It stuck to her in places she didn’t think cloth could stick, tearing at wounds that were still open and fresh and peeling away skin. She winced. She’d take broken ribs over this any day. She laid back on the couch and let her head rest against the back as Erin went off to find her clothes and a rag and band-aids. She nodded and gave a thumbs up. “Don’t worry, I’m not moving from this spot for at least the next hour.” She looked down at her now bare arms and saw the dozens of tiny bite marks, the size of perhaps a cat’s mouth or a small dog. She tried to wipe the blood off but more kept pooling up. It was strange to be so injured at night, but she supposed coming from a multi-dimensional portal, things didn’t follow the rules.

Erin practically ran to gather up the supplies promised, only pausing to wash off her hands and face of the foreign blood sticking to her. Regrouping with shaky breaths in front of the bathroom mirror. But only for a moment, only long enough to stifle stubborn, relieved tears. Marley was alive. She was back. She was in her living room, right now, safe and sound. “Where the hell were you? What happened?” The questions practically burst from her the moment she re-entered the room, scanning the newly exposed wounds her jacket had hidden. Tried to push away the unease swirling in her stomach, her hands anxious to help. She looked exhausted, worn from whatever hell she’d clearly gone through. Erin lifted her hand, trying to brush away some of the blood-soaked strands of hair caked to her face. “Are you okay?” She asked, her voice softer, riddled with concern.

“Uh, well,” Marley contemplated on what to say, exactly, “remember those portals I told you to stay away from? I sort of...fell in one. Not on purpose! Before you yell at me. I wasn’t even near any of the ones I’d plotted, actually. It was just my luck that one randomly opened up behind my fucking patrol car and swallowed me whole.” She held out her arm to Erin when she came over with the supplies, but was surprised when she reached up to brush her bloodied hair away from her face. Blinking, she looked down at Erin. “I am now.” The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them and she had to sit up straighter, clearing her throat, to pretend like she’d meant them. “I mean-- now that I’m back. It was-- I don’t know where I went. Guess I’m a little used to that at this point, though, huh?” Maybe joking right now wasn’t the best idea, but Marley didn’t know any other way to be. She held her arm back out, as if prompting Erin to patch that up instead so that she could go clean her own face off after. “Sorry I didn’t call first. Don’t think my cell carrier has cross-dimensional broadband yet.”

Those fucking portals. Erin’s jaw set tightly, swallowing back a wave of nauseating fear that some magic fuckery had nearly taken the one good thing she had left. It’d been the creeping, incessant thought nagging at her since Marley had vanished, one she’d steadfastly ignored in order to get through each day. Marley would come back. There hadn’t been any other option her sanity could entertain. She wavered slightly under Marley’s gaze, those three words throwing her more than they should have. But she got the hint, taking a deep breath to pull herself back together. She was here. She was alive. “That’s not funny,” she answered as evenly as she could manage, though it was hard to hold back the bite in her words. Took the hint and dropped her hand from her face, giving a particularly nasty looking gash on her arm attention. “Sorry, I was just--” Fucking terrified. Marley could figure that out well enough. Erin let out a breath, opening the first aid kit, keeping her eyes on the task at hand. Another pause, longer this time as she sorted her words. “What the hell happened in there? How did you get out?”

“Worried?” Marley answered, looking down at Erin when she dropped her hand and wondering why she suddenly wished she hadn’t. She cleared her throat again and watched her work, soaking up the blue blood from the wound as it pooled until it finally started to wane. “Sorry. Kinda impulse at this point.” She grumbled and winced a little when the alcohol was dumped on to disinfect it. She wondered if it could disinfect cross-dimensional creatures that couldn’t ever have existed in their world. She blinked back to reality and looked back down at Erin, red eyes soft and tired, despite their glow. “Uh, it’s complicated. To explain. I’m-- not sure I really understand what happened, or where I was, really, but...there were these uh-- nightmare creatures. Shadowy...things. They didn’t move right. And the world wasn’t….right, either. It was all separate and broken up and-- floating. And I fell a long ways and I couldn’t reach the portal right away. I just tried to get back to it. Took a bit. Just kinda made my way back to it as fast as possible and climbed back out. Or-- fell. I’m not really sure. It didn’t feel like I was there that long, but I don’t know what day it is here now.” She paused her story to look down at Erin again. “Sorry, that was a lot. You uh-- okay?”

Erin listened quietly, navigating the wounds along Marley’s skin. Most were superficial and would likely heal given some cleaning and time. But some, like the near-perfect jaw imprint of a portal creature, needed a little extra help. Between this and her nightmarish explanation, she didn’t understand, but she was getting a pretty damn good idea at the hell she’d endured. “It’s Sunday,” she answered, flicking her eyes briefly back to hers. The red glow shouldn’t have calmed her but it did, a growing warmth spreading in her chest that was working its way through the tangle of anxieties. “You’ve been gone for five days,” she grumbled, securing the bandage on her arm before patting the wash cloth against another ragged wound on her shoulder that spread to her collarbone. Erin winced, moving the tattered shirt away to get a better look. Felt like one of them was always winding up on the other end of a fresh med kit these days. She shook her head. “I’m fine. I didn’t go anywhere or fight any shadow portal creature things.” Her brows narrowed and she avoided her eyes. “But, uh--I don’t think your partner and I are ever going to be friends after this. Or anyone in the entire WCPD, if I’m being honest.”

“Fuck,” Marley exhaled, lifting her other hand to rub her head. “That long?” Time must’ve moved differently in there. Why wouldn’t it have? It’d only felt like a few hours to her. Maybe more. After she’d passed out, she had no idea how long she’d been there. Wasn’t like she could’ve checked her watch or phone. Maybe she’d start wearing an analogue again. She watched Erin finish up one of her arms and move towards her shoulder. Though the wound was visible through the tears in the cloth, it wasn’t exactly fully accessible. “Like I said,” she grumbled, “didn’t mean to. Was even doing my hardest to not go near any of them. Not my fault one opened up in the asshole of my car.” Though it did feel like some sort of cosmic “Fuck you, you deserve this!” didn’t it? She ruffled her nose. “Don’t think many of them really like me, either,” she said, sighing. Sometimes it was hard to be there. Without anyone who really understood her side of things, it was hard to remind herself why she did the things she did. “Here,” she shooed Erin away a second, before reaching down and pulling her shirt up, groaning with effort and pain. The bruise that blossomed across her ribs looked almost like the arms of the creatures that had tried to consume her, imprints of their mangled hands having left behind red welts as well. “Better?”

Erin raised a brow at that. “Yeah, that long. How long did you think you were gone? If you had to guess?” It didn’t sound like a walk in the park but at least it didn’t sound like she’d gone through nearly a week of that hell. Silver linings, maybe? “I know,” she nodded, letting her grumble, getting angry again the longer she thought about it. A humorless chuckle slipped from her lips. “It’s a joke. You go out of your way to avoid this bullshit, keep your head down, do what you’re supposed to do, and you still get swallowed up by something.” It was hard not to be bitter. Impossible. She didn’t understand how more people didn’t feel the same. Her eyes widened just slightly as Marley pulled her shirt off, swallowing as they lingered over the bruises marking her sides. “Jesus,” she whispered, her finger trailing lightly along the shapes wrapping around her ribs. When she realized what she was doing, she yanked her hand away, red creeping up her neck and cheeks. She mumbled an apology and couldn’t look at her for more than a few seconds when she went back to tending the cut on her shoulder. “You’re back. And you’re alive. So yeah,” she nodded, letting out a long breath as she pressed the washcloth to her shoulder. “Definitely better.”

“Felt like only a few hours to me,” Marley answered, “though I did pass out at one point. Maybe I really was out for five days, who knows.” She certainly never would. She wasn't going back in that portal under any circumstances, least of all to test out a time theory. She looked down at Erin a bit perplexed. “There’s really no ‘supposed to’ in this world. It’s just do or die. That’s just the way it is. It’s shit but-- that just is.” She wished for a long time that things could’ve been different for her, but they weren’t, and she’d had to leave that train of thought behind decades ago. Erin was looking at her stomach now, and the bruises and cuts that lined it. Luckily, the whatever monsters hadn’t been able to open their jaws wide enough to clamp down on any valuable bits, like her stomach and organs. Instead, they’d left angry, red scratches and tiny little puncture holes from nails. Bruises, welts. She shivered but didn’t move as fingers ghosted across her skiing, tracing the patterns they’d left behind. “You don’t have to apologize,” she mumbled back, sitting up straighter as Erin moved away from her to grab the cloth and press it back to her shoulder. Her head turned to look down at Erin’s, close enough to her that the red glow of her eyes reflected off Erin’s pale skin. Marley swallowed. “I meant the shirt, but…” she paused, “that works, too.”

“Let’s go with a few hours. For both of our sakes.” Marley’s next statement was even less comforting. This was how it was. Magic, and those who wielded it, just did whatever they wanted. It was bad enough the world was brimming with “normal” people who abused their power, regardless of who it hurt. There was even less control here, it seemed, and Erin couldn’t stop being reminded of how low on the power chain she was. “It is shit. Maybe it doesn’t have to--” she started, Josephine’s words suddenly coming to mind, but she backpedaled just as quickly, shaking her head. “Who am I kidding, huh?” She smirked wryly. Marley understood this world better than she did. She actively fought to right those same wrongs they were both frustrated with and she still felt this way. Maybe not an argument for tonight, not with how glaring the exhaustion on Marley’s face was. And close. Very, very close. “I know what you meant,” she breathed. Her eyes dropped to Marley’s lips and that warmth in her torso spread like wildfire. For a moment, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. “Definitely better either way,” she teased, the words slipping from her without a second thought. She even dared a small smile, lifting her eyes to the comforting red glow of Marley’s. Marley. This was Marley. Her smile wavered and panic took hold. She ducked, resting her forehead to Marley’s shoulder. Remembered how poorly this had gone the last time they veered off track. She couldn’t do that again. Fuck. “You know, uh--” she cleared her throat, lifting her head, pulling back slightly. “There’s--a lot of blood. This would probably go quicker if you just showered. I can finish patching you up after.”

“Few hours it is, then.” Marley looked around the house and tried not to think too hard about the fact that Erin’s hands were on her bare skin. This had happened a few times before, and every time, Marley had felt the same warmth. It sat in her stomach, felt like a candle flame. Like she’d swallowed fire. She rubbed the side of her head, looking away when Erin did, trying not to tense when she put her forehead against Marley’s shoulder. “Oh, huh,” she mumbled, glancing down at all the tiny bite marks still leaking blood. “That’s-- probably a good idea.” She should’ve done that at first, anyway. Then she could find all the actual injuries and figure out what really did need to be tended to. She moved to grab the arm of the couch and lift herself up, but her muscles strained against her and she gave a muffled cry, stopping her progress. “I uh-- can you help me up?” she asked, wondering, suddenly, if she was asking too much of her.

Erin’s brain was buzzing as she started collecting bandage wrappers and the washcloth, muddied purple splotches from the two kinds of blood staining all sides. It drew her eyes back to the bite marks and the matching purple bruises smattered across her skin. To exhausted red eyes that scrunched up in pain as Marley tried to move. She was so damn tired of seeing her in pain and that small cry felt like a hard kick to Erin’s stomach. She dropped everything onto the table. “Hey, don’t worry, I’ve got you,” she assured her, closing the space that she had desperately tried to put between them just moments ago. “Your ribs? Or is it more of an ‘absolutely everything hurts because you were just chased by hell dimension demons’ kind of thing?” She asked, reaching for her hands as she leaned in front of her, trying not to stare too hard or make this any weirder than she already had. Hands securely wrapped around hers, Erin nodded, a small, soft smile on her lips. “On 3, I’ll pull. Whenever you’re ready. Nice and easy, okay?”

“Both?” Marley suggested, looking up at Erin and shrugging. “Yeah...both.” She normally would’ve hated the idea of needing help to simply fucking get up off a couch, but she was too tired and achey to care right now. She held her hands out for Erin and squeezed. “On three.” Sucked in a breath. “One, two, thre-- AHh fuck!” Marley stood but it hurt, fuck did it hurt. She wheezed and grabbed her stomach and leaned against Erin as she stood, head on her shoulder. In and out, in and out. Her other hand was still gripping Erin’s. “Just...I just need a second.” Or five. Or ten. Or maybe a whole ass minute. She cleared her throat, though, after a moment and sucked in a breath and nodded, lifting her head. “Okay, I’m good,” she murmured, looking at Erin’s eyes. The worry lines on her forehead and scrunched at the edges of her eyes, and the worried furrow of her brows. The way her lips wavered from smile to frown. Marley reached up subconsciously and drew a thumb across her cheek, wiping away a spatter of blood. “Don’t look so worried,” she mumbled, “I’ll be good in no time.”

Whatever had given Marley the strength to power through the pain to get here was long gone. It was a miracle she’d gotten here at all. Adrenaline was fickle like that. More pain meant more recovery time. “Take your time,” she answered softly against the side of her head, holding her hand tightly, the other loosely wrapped around her waist. Firm but not high enough to disturb what Erin would bet were refractured ribs. Fuck. “I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you. Not like this.” More pain also meant more phone calls to her doctor. She was probably sick of seeing Erin’s number lighting up her phone all hours of the day (and night) with questions, new possible symptoms and injury reports. The woman took it all in stride. Where else could they turn to? Not exactly a slew of supernatural doctors out there. Knew they didn’t have room to be anything but thorough when it came to Marley’s injuries. “I’ll believe it when I see it...” she teased, voice tapering off when soft fingers grazed her cheek. That unsettling warmth returned. Oh, this was--this was so unfair. Erin was bone-achingly tired and it would be so easy to tell better sense to fuck off. It’d already taken it’s fifteen minute break, apparently. One hand moved to cover the one on her cheek, holding it against her own skin. “Worrying is my default. Comes with the whole package.” The corner of her mouth quirked upward but she grew quiet. Comfortable. She didn’t make any more moves to the bathroom. “Still doing okay? Need a few more seconds?”

It would be so easy, Marley realized, to simply lean over right now and kiss Erin. They were close together and her hand was on Erin’s cheek and Erin’s hand was on her hand, and she was looking at her like that. There were a lot of factors, really. The pain didn’t seem so bad at this angle, either. But Marley remembered herself, and remembered what Erin had said-- I don’t want this to ruin our friendship-- so she cleared her throat once more and leaned away and moved her hand. “No, no, I, ah-- I’m good. I’m okay. I can-- make it on my own, I think. Might just take me a sec.” She clutched her ribs again and breathed in, making sure they weren’t entirely broken again. Just fractured. “I think uh-- I think I’m gonna take the week off, though. Maybe two. Fuck-- maybe a month.” She teetered down the hall towards the guest bathroom. “What do you think? Maybe we can take a damn vacation while we’re at it.”

When Marley pulled away Erin was… disappointed. No, that wasn’t right. Her shoulders shouldn’t have slumped the way they did. No other word but disappointed seemed to fit the void her hand left. Some part of her knew this went beyond nearly losing Marley, and the overwhelming relief that came the moment she saw her standing there on her doorstep. “I can--yeah, if you’re sure,” she finally managed, though her voice came out hoarse. She didn’t like the way Marley was still favoring her ribs but she seemed determined to do this on her own. Maybe Marley was more thrown by the last few seconds then she let on. “I think it’s about damn time you said that,” she said, giving a little smile as she watched her hobble along. She followed after her, shoving down pride and disappointment and whatever the hell else kept popping up from the depths. She cringed. “This is so painful to watch. Let me help. I promise I won’t follow you into the shower,” she half teased, putting an arm up for Marley to take. “I’d like to get to bed at some point tonight.”

“You know, it’s funny,” Marley said, trying not to let her voice betray her. She was usually so good at keeping her composure, but there were factors, this time, making it harder. Much harder. She cleared her throat. “Falling into a hell portal kinda makes you wanna take a vacation.” She glanced behind her as she stopped to lean on the wall and noticed Erin following her down the hall, close by. There was a strange look on her face, but Marley wasn’t sure she understood what it was. She was just too tired, that was all. Blinking, she glanced at the offered arm. Rolled her eyes as much as her body would allow before taking it. “Fine, fine. I’d hate for you to lose out on more sleep because of me.” She was right, though, and they made it to the bathroom faster than if Marley had tried to alone, and as she stripped down, flinching with every movement, she wondered if maybe that was a metaphor for her life. But, no-- that was too obvious. The water felt nice on her skin, her wounds, and she washed the grime and blood and muck out of her hair and off her body and watched it swirl down the drain. The only evidence that she had fought for her life and won.

She had toweled off completely before realizing it was now stained blue. But it didn’t much matter. She tugged on the spare shirt and shorts Erin had fetched her and turned in a small circle, trying to examine all her injuries herself in the mirror. The gashes on her back nearly matched the faded ones on her face and she frowned. Soon, there wouldn’t be enough room left for scars. She pushed her way out of the bathroom and hobbled back towards the living room, maybe not better but certainly not worse. And no long covered in dirt and blood, so that was win. “I’m ready for my makeover,” she announced as she came back in. Angry, blue bites littered her arms, Bruises to match. They would heal in time and disappear back into tan skin and then, really, there’d be nothing left of her experience. Nothing but the memory.

Erin didn’t move from the closed bathroom door until she heard the spray of water, and even then, she lingered for a few minutes. At this point, she was all too used to something going wrong just when there was supposed to be peace. But her worries were unwarranted and she took the opportunity to run to her own bathroom. Blood smudged her cheeks, gained from the bear hug she’d pulled Marley into the moment she saw her. As the sink color muddied, she tried not to think about what had died to leave those marks. Marley was here and alive, and that’s all that mattered. Quickly she changed, discarding the ruined red-stained dress shirt into the trash. Marley was still in the bathroom when she returned to the living room. Probably for the best. She needed another moment to regain her bearings and further shove away everything she needed for when Marley reappeared. Her eyes bounced up to hers, then to the freshly cleaned skin covered bite marks once again. Right. She still had to patch her up. She stood from the couch, her knee knocking over the medkit. “Fuck--uh,” she started, kneeling to pick up the bandages, craning her neck to watch her slowly make her way over. “Feeling better?” She asked, nodding towards her. “You look better. Cleaner. Less, you know. Blood.”

Marley watched Erin knock the first aid kit over and moved to help her, but was stopped when her ribs reminded her that she was in no condition to be moving. Groaning, she leaned against the couch and sunk onto the arm. “Well, I mean,” she looked down at herself, at all the tiny little bites that littered her arms, her legs, her shoulders. “Not bleeding means better, right?” As for feeling better, well, she felt clean. That was better. She moved around to sit back on the couch, holding a hand to her ribs to make sure they didn’t shift too much while she did. Maybe one day she wouldn’t have fractured ribs, but it certainly wasn’t going to be today. She sighed, gave a gentle smile. “I’m ready for my makeover,” she said, holding her arms out. If they were going to ignore the awkwardness and pretend it wasn’t there, she was going to make sure things stayed light. They could pretend she hadn’t almost just died, she was fine with that.

“No, no, I got it,” Erin assured her, wincing at the sound Marley made when she tried anyway. “Just sit, relax.” She grabbed the supplies from the floor and settled in beside her. “It means something, alright,” she teased lightly. She supposed better would come with time. Better wouldn’t happen tonight, not after all that she’d been through and all that she’d seen. With the dirt and caked blood washed away, the wounds scattered across her arms were loud and visible. Blue blood was starting to scab over but Erin got to work anyway. “I think we’re going to be here for a while,” she remarked, glancing at the sheer amount of bites. “Let me know if I hurt you.” Her hands were a little shaky but after the second or third wound, she found a rhythm. It was easier to focus on this than anything else rattling around inside of her. One hand drifted down to her forearm, the other spreading Marley’s fingers out to examine them for damage. She swallowed. “What was it like?” She asked, trying to fill some of the silence in the room. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“You won’t,” was all Marley said. Erin couldn’t hurt her anymore than those things had, and even if her fingers grazing over bite holes stung, it wasn’t really a hurt. She didn’t suppose there was much Erin could do to hurt her anymore. There was plenty Marley could do, though, to hurt her. Hadn’t she already? She’d seen the pained and horrified look on her face when she’d opened the door, when she’d stripped her jacket off, when she’d just now stood in the hallway, the extent of her injuries full visible for the first time. Marley’s eyes closed, she was ready to sleep for the next 3 days if she could. They popped back open when Erin spoke up. She didn’t know what there was to talk about, but if Erin was asking, that meant there was something. Marley grappled for something to say. “Maybe not right now,” she said quietly. “But...sometime. Soon.” A promise she wasn’t sure she could keep, but one that she wanted to. “Just kinda wanna...be glad I’m here. With you.”

Erin nodded slowly, quietly. She should have guessed that from the exhaustion hanging onto the ends of her eyelids. “Whenever you’re ready,” she answered, smiling softly back at her. She’d be there to listen. With you. Erin’s entire body froze, fingers hovering along the last of the worst gashes on her arm. Did she say it like that on purpose? Did she even know what she was saying? Or was Erin just absolutely that dense? The buzzing questions and Marley’s words stunted her into silence and she finished wrapping her arm instead of immediately replying. She was absolutely thinking too hard about this. She knew that. Didn’t mean she could stop. Realizing she was too quiet for probably too long, she brushed her hand over Marley’s, squeezing it gently. “I’m glad you’re here with me too,” she answered sincerely. There was relief lining her words, much like the relief that had consumed her when she opened the door to see Marley standing there, but there was a grave seriously that overwhelmed them too. It was hard seeing those wounds and to not think about how close she’d come to not making it back here. To her. Her eyes threatened to grow misty again. Kissing Marley’s knuckles, she let her hand drop back down and stood up quickly. “Hey, we should get you to bed. You can barely keep your eyes open,” she chuckled softly, moving across the room. “I’ll just-- I’m gonna grab you some water. I can’t really feed you but it’s the least I can do?”

It wasn’t quite relief that washed over Marley, but it wasn’t something akin to it. She knew Erin wouldn’t push right now, but perhaps eventually. That was where the relief wore off. And it wasn’t that she didn’t want to, more that she didn’t-- know how. Her own brain was still trying to grapple with what had happened. It didn’t make sense. She’d been so focused on getting out and running way, on surviving, that she hadn’t had time to sit and process what she’d seen or where she’d been. Erin’s hand squeezed hers and Marley looked down in time to watch her press her lips against her knuckles. She felt a shiver run through her body but did her best not to move, blinking to look away when Erin stood. “Yeah, bed--” she started, her throat still clenching, “water. Water sounds good.” It did sound good, it sounded great. Erin left to grab the water and Marley let out a long sigh, leaning back for a moment. Just a moment. Shadows played on the ceiling above her and she closed her eyes tightly. She was safe here. She was home. She wasn’t in that place. Marley opened her eyes again. She could see perfectly in the dark, but she felt surrounded by shadows. Swallowing, she closed her eyes again. They would go eventually. They always did. And before she knew it, her mind had faded away, and sleep dragged her down. Dreams were never a comfort a mara could experience, but at least no nightmares could take away her rest.

#chatzy #wickedswriting #chatzy: erin #hello from the other side #erin

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werezmastarbucks · 4 years

Text

dayton

honeymoon masterlist

word count: 2631

music: air catcher by twenty one pilots

The tiniest part of you wanted to go to Columbus, because you loved that place. But the bigger part, the one that connected your brain to your hands clutching the wheel, told you if you fail, you’ll have all the time in the world to go back to Columbus. To wherever the fuck you want. Kai said he can operate practically any type of transport, but doesn’t like ships. Flying was fine with you as long as he really knew not to crash a plane. You had to constantly remind yourself that he had many years to learn everything.

As you drove, you were revising the CDs Kai found in the car. He was putting the disk in and pressing play, or sometimes he just read the names of the bands. He opened the window and threw away all the CDs that were named trash. Now that you two were misplacing them, they were supposed to stay there on the road after Kai sent them out of the window, you were asking. Right? But, crashing on the ground, they were damaged, so did it fall under the order part of the spell? Were they to return into the car after you deliberately got rid of them?

“You’ll know tomorrow”, Kai replied playfully. Surely he knew how that works, but it seemed he was unwilling to just tell you everything about this prison, and wanted you to discover things for yourself.

Dayton was empty, too. Just like Roanoke and Huntington on the way through. You found this stillness somewhat soothing. You didn’t like gatherings and crowds, didn’t like noise and people. You decided to dive back into the three foot world, and just enjoy the empty roads for once, and start worrying when the realization of utter loneliness settles in.

You looked on your right, where Parker was sitting, staring at the cover of “East of the Sun, West of the Moon” by a-ha (do not throw them away under any circumstances!) in his hands, with one brow raised, belt across his chest. You still felt like you were alone here although he was next to you. He still didn’t feel like a human person - more like a part of this world. As inanimate. He was remarkably quiet, and you knew it wasn’t for good.

On the Germantown Street, you stopped the car, feeling tired. The sun was about to set down completely, the May angle leading it onto your left. You got out and stretched, and Kai stepped out of the car a minute later.

“Where will we sleep? Any good hotels?”

He shrugged.

“I haven’t been in Dayton”.

“You haven’t been to Dayton?” you repeated.

“That’s what I said”.

“Ever?”

“Ever”.

He looked around and stared at the sky again. Parker has been glitching like that since last night, when he stared up as if trying to cope. You looked at his upturned nose and his youthful face, thinking, he is in his forties. This dude is going to be fifty years old soon, and he is a nut case, and I have him on my hands.

He looked back at you.

“Adventure begins here”, his tone was half-questioning, and he smiled. The way it curled his capricious mouth, his eyes glowing, told you he didn’t really believe in getting out. You’ve only spent here a day, but he gave up already. He knew there was no getting out, and he just took it as a long journey, to keep his girlfriend sane. You had no idea where he thought he was going.

You walked back to the car and took your bag and the phone. Kai’s eyes wouldn’t leave you.

“You’re changing the car again?”

“Uh-huh. Why not? It’s not like someone’s going to report them all?”

He smiled again.

You walked down the street, ghostly and quiet. No stray dogs, no garbage being thrown around by the wind - but that’s likely due to Dayton being very clean. Kai wouldn’t bother taking the bag out of your hands, walking with his head turning right and left. You felt like in a museum, observing the 90s’ fashionable displays and stores. The eerie sight of clothes you had a habit of associating with your mother’s youth, and the lighthearted, distant, happy past years, the square thick screens and simpler times, were now a reality for you. You could reach and touch that sky-blue blouse on a slim mannequin, wearing posh plastic necklace, a picture from an aesthetic lookbook for inspiration. Aesthetic and nostalgia, that’s what the nineties were to you, but now they were here, brought right upon you, by magic, and they were very real.

You slowed down in front of one of the windows of the Dayton Mall, a low, nice-looking white and green store, and looked at the leather jacket displayed.

The bag dropped on the ground as the understanding slowly creeped into your mind. Kai was standing few steps away from you, with his head cocked, watching you yet again. He seemed like a tour guide, a museum security guy who was more concerned about whether you enjoy this experience rather than keeping it all intact.

“I can do whatever I want”, you said slowly.

“Absolutely everything. There’s nobody to stop me”.

“Don’t headbutt the glass”, Parker warned you, and there was this note in his voice that told you he’s talking from personal experience.

You took off your hoodie, the evening air a bit cool for only a tank top. You wrapped your hoodie around your hand and swung it, breaking the display.

The glass shattered loudly, pieces of it falling to your feet with ringing. Interesting, you thought, you get here, into this world of opportunity which poses as prison, and the first thing you do is vandalize.

The jacket wasn’t even that cool, so you didn’t aim for it. You looked down the street full of windows, and you could feel your blood boil. There was something inside of you, trying to get out, like the fuse that suddenly got lit. Everybody has it. Anybody would do it. You turned back to look at him - no need to mention his name, there is nobody else but this guy - and he grinned half-invisibly. It was a grin of indulgence, a hidden smile that lit his face when he did something bad: you recognized it from last week, when he said he’d kidnapped Elena on the first week after he got out of prison. It was the smirk that bloomed on his face as he spoke about how he gutted his own mother, and god save you, it was the same smile he had after you opened your eyes and still had a taste of his mouth in yours.

You ran along the Germantown Street with the red pipe wrench you fished out of a car you found in the street. It was heavy in your hands as you swung it, crashing it into the glass, bothering the headless and armless mannequins, startled and falling down, creating the mess on their places. The glass was cutting your hands, flying in all directions, spitting sharp shrapnel like rain. With each broken window, your shoulder ached more and your head ached less, and you felt less like crying. Maybe there was a wake among that act of desctruction, but you missed it amongst the wild excitement of complete permissiveness. Parker walked after you, smiling quietly, as you raged around him, carrying the bag, and looked around. Finally, when you got tired, he sat on the asphalt next to you and looked at your hands.

“You’ve tapped one percent of what you can do here”.

His sly hand took your palm, and your skin stung a little. It wasn’t as bad as that burn yesterday. You watched your own hands not believing pain could live longer than physical manifestation of it. Kai’s fingers wrapped around the cuts tightly, making you sigh sharply. He was so full of magic now, fresh prince of everything, that it radiated out of him. You could swear you felt it coming from his hand to yours. The cuts started sucking on themselves, and the ache stayed deep inside slender bones, phantom.

“Another”.

“You shouldn’t waste your magic. Who knows how long we’re going to stay here”.

Kai gave you a meaningful look.

“Well, we decided we’d find a way, right? So, I’m doing it soon”.

“You know you’re lying. You’re only going to Oregon because I asked you”.

“See how nice I am?”

Your palm snaked out of his hand as soon as he healed you.

“That’s what I don’t like about it”.

Parker eyed you down.

“You’re really hard to please, aren’t you?”

“I’m a bit grumpy cause I’m stuck here with you”.

“I have told you before, I never asked you to”.

You didn’t really have the energy to fight now. You wondered how you’re going to cope with his breakdowns in the future - and they’re bound to happen from time to time. Maybe become just like him, emotionally volatile. Seems easy enough. So far, everything here has been too easy, and you were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Darkness fell on Dayton, and there was intense white glow somewhere beyond a row of buildings in Madden Hill.

“There it goes. I think it’s a cool hotel. You should go to sleep, you have a long drive tomorrow”.

He got up and offered you a hand.

“It’s weird you’re not driving”, you noticed.

“I don’t like driving”.

You stood up without his help and he frowned again, like he was noticing every little thing crossing your mind.

“How is that? I thought you liked being in control”.

“I am. I’m making you drive me everywhere”.

You sniffed.

“I do it because I like driving”.

“Then it’s a win-win, right?”

He patted you on the back and removed his hand as if afraid you’d bite.

You walked on towards the glow, crossing lit and dark streets. Here the lightning is automatic, and here is not, Kai was commenting. He was commenting on everything which indicated he was in a good mood.

“That’s the best ‘94 can do?” you inquired, looking at the tall rectangle building.

“It’s a Hilton”, he noticed.

“It’s an ugly ass hotel”, you grumbled. Kai snickered and followed you inside.

“Are you hungry? I’m hungry”.

Parker knew his way around everything. He knew where the kitchen was, and, while you were coming up choosing a room, he went on raiding the huge space filled with food.

He was devilishly good with it, too.

That evening, after you’ve eaten, you went strolling around the place and found out one more thing: you didn’t like being without him while you knew he was around.

Empty space that was supposed to be filled with people creeped out your unprepared mind. The stairs sounded hollow, and you expected somebody to jump out of the long, empty corridors. In the windows of the hotel, there shone an empty city, lit for nobody. Shadows and silhouettes were floating around in the dark sky. You decided not to butcher every thing that came into your way and fought the desire to break the window to look outside. What will become of you if you use the foot and fist method for everything just because there’s no one to stop you? Kai wouldn’t mentor you. He’s more of a devil on the left shoulder than the voice of reason. He will definitely be willing to spoil you until you’re flexible material he can use.

You now had a great opportunity to reflect on all that, Parker included, and decide on your course of action, separate yourself from your cell mate. But instead of staying away to think you found yourself drawn to the place where he was, because the empty ugly Hilton was scary.

You returned into the room and found him, sitting on the floor of the big top floor suite, with the little bedside light next to him, crouched over something. Walking closer, you found it was the charger from your phone, and something remotely resembling a part of a boombox. One of the loud speakers from it was torn out, and laid at his hand, and you couldn’t understand a single thing he was doing.

“What is it?”

“I’m making you a portable speaker, like one of those bluetooth things kids have”, he said shortly.

You looked down on him, a little surprised, because he’s never acknowledged his own age or the era he’s lived in before. Preoccupied, he looked very smart, and completely normal. He even rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie.

“How?”

“See this thing? It’s from that player”, he motioned his hand towards a player lying afar on the floor. Looked like he’d kicked it away with force.

“I’ll adjust the wire so that it can see your iPhone, and voila”.

“But I need the charger”.

“It’s gonna work”, he nodded.

“Are you sure? Kai, I can’t lose my phone!”

He sighed, and looked up at you.

“Did I mentioned I studied at MIT?”

“No. You know there’s been a shooting?”

You didn’t know why you mentioned it immediately.

“Wasn’t me”.

“Clever motherfucker”.

Kai shifted as if you touched him. He looked at you as you walked away. Coming close to the bed, you felt you were almost collapsing with exhaustion even though you didn’t do much.

Just before you fell asleep, you looked at the time on an electronic clock next to bed. It was almost midnight.

You woke up as if someone hit you. The silence was pressing on your ears, pressing your head, and moreover you didn’t know where you were. Without opening your eyes, you tried to remember the place and what happened. The darkness was blue and black, and it was so warm you tried to pull the covers off of yourself, and failed.

Kai moaned, displeased, right behind your ear, and you realized his arm was wrapped around you, and that’s why you felt like you were lying in a cacoon.

You rolled halfway, not without a struggle, and saw his face very close.

“Kai, what about personal space?”

His body was so close you could feel the heat coming off of him. Of course, he’s one of those boys who turn into stoves when they sleep. Somehow his body just did that, so that you didn’t really know what he was unhappy about. You were scared of how well your shape adjusted to his, and you were lying comfortably in such a position that you usually get when you wake up in the morning. Even if bed seemed uncomfortable last night, in the morning you don’t want to move an inch, and the pillow seems perfectly soft.

Still, you could feel his invasive mass, almost pushing you off that king sized bed, cornering you to the edge, like he was trying to scope you and win over the bed at the same time. You felt for his hand against your ribs and found he formed a fist, clutching the fabric of your shirt, like you were about to roll away.

“What personal space?” he murmured.

Fair enough. In this world, that was all yours and nobody else’s, this crowdless, lifeless planet, thounsands and thousands of miles of nobody’s land, in this spacious cursed desert, there was not space enough for the two of you to move separately. You had felt it while wandering around the hotel, when you decided to run back to where he was just to see another human next to you, to make sure you’re not alone. This prison was as claustrophobia igniting as it was hollow. There was no personal space here.

#kai parker #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #vampire diaries imagine #tvd imagine

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bellakitse · 4 years

Note

Ooh I love this prompt list! How about “Ah, the puppy dog face. Check mate, huh?”

Pancakes and Coffee Syrup

Opening the bathroom door again, he stops, freezing like a deer caught in the headlights when he finds his boyfriend’s father standing just outside the bathroom. From the way he’s dressed, it’s obvious he’s just come home from the overnight TK told him he was on.

“Good morning, Carlos,” he greets him calmly. Like this is a regular occurrence for them to run into each other outside his bathroom, and instead, not the first time ever that Carlos has spent the night in his house.

Carlos spends the night at the Strand household, Owen makes him breakfast in the morning.

30 days of Tarlos - Day 15

Carlos wakes up with a pleasantly warm body next to him. He opens his eyes to find soft green walls instead of his dark navy ones; it takes him a moment to realize he’s not in his bed, and therefore, not his apartment. The night before comes back to him in flashes like a dream. He remembers showing up at the Strand household, TK opening the door with a mischievous grin on his face before he pulled him in by his shirt, his mouth on Carlos’ before he could even say hello.

They’d stumbled towards his bedroom, touching and giggling like schoolboys as they kissed any inch of skin they could reach. When they got to his room, TK had pushed him on the bed, and all Carlos could do was watch in awe as this beautiful man smiled down at him. His green eyes shining as they crinkled at the corners before he climbed into his lap, stealing his breath with every kiss he gave him.

They’d spent the night making love, taking turns pressing into the deepest parts of their bodies until they shook with pleasure.

Carlos has always enjoyed sex, and knows he’s a good and considerate lover who knows how to please his partners. Yet he can honestly say he’s never had sex like the kind of sex he has with TK before. Everything is heightened with TK; his want and need for him are more intense than he’s ever felt with anyone else.

He looks down at the man in question; there are locks of soft brown hair in his face as TK sleeps with his head on his chest, his mouth parted in his sleep to the point that there is a small trail of drool from the corner of his mouth.

Carlos rolls his eyes at himself when he finds it adorable, he’s stupidly gone on this guy, but there’s nothing he can do when his heart thumps funnily over him.

He starts to move, shifting from under TK slowly and quietly, he’s unable to stop his smile when TK whines in his sleep and tries to cling to him. He considers staying for a moment, but he really needs to pee.

He heads for the bathroom to relieve himself. After washing his hands, he splashes some water in his face and steals some mouthwash.

“Captain Strand,” he croaks out, swallowing hard under the embarrassment he feels at getting caught half-dressed by his boyfriend’s father.

“I think if you and TK have progressed to having sleepovers here, instead of just at your apartment, you can call me Owen,” he says with an easy smile.

“Right, of course,” he answers, trying to be polite. “I’m going to get my clothes and get out of here; I’m sure you want to get some sleep, sir.”

“Are you saying if you stayed, I wouldn’t get sleep?” Owen questions, there is an amused twinkle in his eyes that makes Carlos wince. “Is that how loud you and my son are? I’m not going to get any complaints from the neighbors, am I?”

Carlos stares at him, his mind going completely blank.

How do you even answer that?

If it’s with honesty, then the answer to that would be yes, he and TK are very vocal in bed, but even though it’s obvious Owen is messing with him, he’s pretty sure that’s not the answer the man wants.

“Uhh – “ he tries, but nothing else comes out.

Owen chuckles amused with himself, and with him, it seems.

“I’m joking,” he assures him. “I don’t want to know at all if that’s the case.

Carlos presses his lips together and gives him a nod.

“I don’t go to sleep right away after an overnight,” Owen starts, he jerks his head towards the rest of the house. “I was going to make some breakfast. TK will get up when he smells the food. Why don’t you join me?” Owen continues with a smile and then looks at him up and down. “After you put some pants on, of course.”

Carlos can feel his face go hot from the root of his hair to his chest; it doesn’t help that Owen’s mouth twitches like he’s seconds away from laughing. He nods one more time.

“Good,” Owen says pleased, clapping his hands once. “I’ll see you in the kitchen.”

Carlos goes back into TK’s bedroom; his boyfriend is now spread out like a starfish, still dead to the world as he sleeps. He considers waking him up in a moment of panic, but in the end, with a sigh, decides against it. He puts on his clothes from the night before, grateful that his shirt didn’t have any buttons for TK to snap off in his usual impatience to get Carlos out of his clothes.

Walking over to TK, he leans down to press a kiss on the side of his face, smiling at the soft sound TK makes in his sleep before taking a deep breath as he leaves the room.

He likes Captain Strand, both professionally and personally, just because he also happens to be the father of the man he’s quickly falling in love with, doesn't mean he needs to be afraid.

Walking into the kitchen, he finds Owen stirring ingredients in a bowl.

“Do you like blueberry pancakes?” he asks, looking up from what he’s doing.

“Yes, I do,” he answers; honestly, he likes any type of pancakes.

“Great,” Owen says with a smile. “Blueberry for you and me, then, TK isn’t really a fan, he prefers – “

“ – Banana chocolate chip,” he says, shrugging when Owen looks over at him surprised. “I’ve made breakfast for him when he spends the night; he has a sweet tooth in the morning.”

Owen nods, the corners of his mouth quirk upward. “He does,” he says softly. “When we lived in the city, he would have a donut, a Danish or a bear claw, and some frosted monstrosity he likes to call coffee every morning. Even when it’s plain black coffee, he puts some kind of flavored syrup in it.”

Carlos makes a face as he agrees with him. “I know, there is caramel, french vanilla and hazelnut in my cupboards now," he tells him. “I dragged him to the store the other day to buy some things for dinner, and he was eyeing a bubble gum flavored syrup, I had to put my foot down.”

“Did he pout?” Owen asks, grinning when he rolls his eyes. “You caved, didn’t you?”

“He gave me the puppy dog face,” he explains, scowling when Owen laughs.

“Ah, the puppy dog face,” Owen chuckles, shaking his head. “Checkmate, huh?”

Carlos lets out a loud sigh, even though he doesn’t mean it. He has no problem caving to TK; he likes to make him smile, even if it’s over something gross like bubble gum syrup.

“Don’t feel bad, kid,” Owen says as he starts to pour the batter on a skillet. “TK perfected that face before the age of two, he’s a pro, and we’re all suckers for it.”

“That would explain why he’s so good at it,” he murmurs. “He makes it, and I find myself saying yes to whatever he wants.”

“He gets that from his mother,” Owen explains as he looks back at him with a sympathetic face. “It’s the green eyes; she has them too. She would turn them on me, and I would be putty in her hands.”

Carlos smiles at the tidbit of information; he doesn’t know much about TK’s mom. He doesn’t speak much about her, except when he does, he does it with deep affection, so he knows they’re close, maybe not as much as TK and his dad, but it’s obvious he loves her.

“Accept your fate now,” Owen continues as he warns him. “It makes life easier.”

“I have,” he answers, he stops for a moment before continuing, his heart jumping as he speaks. “Fact is, your son has me wrapped around his little finger.”

Owen looks at him for a moment, studying him, and Carlos lets him, not hiding away from the man’s scrutiny. He doesn’t want to hide his feelings from TK’s dad; he wants him to know how much he cares for his son and that he’s not going anywhere.

“From what I can see, the feeling is mutual,” Owen starts to say, giving him a meaningful look as he turns serious. “You know about New York and before we came here?”

Carlos nods, swallowing hard as he remembers TK telling him everything the night of the solar flares. TK didn’t want to start anything with him before Carlos knew what he was getting into, he told him about his ex, the pills, and the OD before asking him if he still wanted to be with him. Carlos had gotten out a broken yes before pulling TK into a tight hug, grateful that life hadn’t taken him away before he got a chance to know him, to love him.

“I didn’t think my son would be happy anytime soon after that,” Owen tells him quietly, the pain he feels for TK etched into every line of his face. He gives him a small smile after a moment of quiet between them. “But he lights up when he’s around you, doesn’t matter where, at the firehouse, the bar or a call, you show up, and he smiles. I don’t have the words to thank you enough for that.”

Carlos opens his mouth, trying to find the words around the lump in his throat. He wants to tell Owen that he doesn’t need to thank him, that it’s his privilege and honor to make TK happy. He wants to say to him that it’s all he wants to do, to make TK smile and joyful. He wants to tell him that he’s the one that’s grateful because having TK in his life is a blessing, one he’s thankful for every day.

He wants to tell the man before him that he’s in love with his son.

The look Owen gives him tells him he doesn’t need to say any of it, Owen already knows.

A moment later, Owen looks over his shoulder, a smile on his face, and that’s all the warning Carlos gets before arms wrap around his waist.

“I thought you had left,” TK mumbles into his back, his voice still thick with sleep. “But then I saw your shoes.”

Carlos turns, lifting his arm over TK’s head to wrap it around him, bringing him to his side. He looks down as TK cuddles into his chest and sees he still has his eyes mostly closed. “Your dad offered to make me pancakes.”

TK cracks open an eye, looking over at his father suspiciously. “Banana chocolate chip?” he questions, getting an eye roll back from Owen.

“For you, yes,” his dad tells him. “Carlos and I will be having blueberry pancakes.”

“Weirdos,” TK mumbles, now leaning more heavily on him.

“How about I get you some coffee,” he suggests walking TK over to the kitchen table and sitting him down.

“Hmm, yes,” TK moans appreciatively. “With two pumps of hazelnut, please.”

Carlos shakes his head at him before turning towards the coffee machine, Owen points at one of the cabinets where Carlos finds familiar bottles of coffee syrups. With two pumps into the coffee, he turns back to TK, who is finally looking more awake.

He smiles brightly at him as he gives him his coffee. TK takes a sip, letting out another pleased sound.

“Good?” he asks, smirking down at him.

TK bobs his head as he reaches for his shirt, tugging him down as he tilts his head up. Carlos lets him, closing his eyes as TK gives him a light kiss.

“Sweet, just like you,” he says, grinning up at him. Looking over at his dad as he starts serving the plates, he lowers his voice. “Everything okay? He didn’t give you a hard time, right?”

Carlos shakes his head as he thinks back to everything Owen just said to him, he looks over at the man to find him watching them with a soft look on his face. When he catches his eyes, he sees the joy and, once again, gratitude in his expression. Looking at TK, he sees the care for him in his.

“No, sweetheart,” he says, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “He was great.”

TK smiles brightly at him in response, happy just like Owen said, and it fills him with warmth to know he’s the cause.

“Everything is great.”

#911 lone star #tarlos #tarlos fic #911 lone star fic #30 days of tarlos #my writing #tk x carlos #anon #ask #Anonymous

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ravenbrenna09 · 4 years

Text

Jij Verliest - Chapter Five: Clip 4

master list previous

...

Dinsdag 19:12

When Robbe had messaged Thomas about meeting up, he had chosen a restaurant as the location.

It was one of Thomas’s favorite restaurants near his apartment—and, to Robbe’s relief, within a few minutes walk from the train station. But it had also been the setting of a handful of their dates. For Thomas’s birthday, their six-month anniversary, and a few other occasions, they had celebrated here.

In typical Thomas fashion, he was late.

Robbe wasn’t surprised. In all honesty, he had done his best to prevent Thomas’s lateness. He had told Thomas an hour earlier than the time that Robbe and Jens actually arrived at the restaurant. But still, it was over an hour past the time—around the time that Thomas should be arriving—and he still wasn’t here. Even though there were at least three more trains, Robbe was nervous that they would somehow miss the last one.

But Robbe knew that Jens would drag him away before that happened.

“Robbe, quit it, you’re pacing,” Jens said. Pausing mid-stride, Robbe turned. Jens was leaning against the brick wall of the restaurant. The strap of his duffle bag was across his chest and the bag was wedged between him and the bricks. His hands were buried deep in his pockets. There was a concerned look on his face. “You okay?”

Robbe shook his head, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “No, not until this is over.”

Jens nodded, understanding written all over his features. He leaned back against the wall and let out a sigh. Robbe knew that Jens didn’t want to see Thomas—and, going a step further, didn’t want Robbe to see Thomas—but Robbe was thankful that Jens had come with him.

Even though Senne had offered, Robbe didn’t want to think about coming with him. If Robbe knew Senne as well as he thought he did, he would deck Thomas the second that Robbe was interrupted. As much as Robbe sometimes wanted to do it—especially recently—he didn’t want to see Senne in an intense match between lawyers for the next three months or more.

“Well,” Jens said, crossing his arms across his chest. “Hopefully, we won’t be here much longer and it will all be over soon.” When Robbe sent him a confused look, Jens nodded curtly in Robbe’s direction and announced with disdain, “Look who finally decided to show up.”

Robbe pivoted to find Thomas walking up to them. There was a confused look plastered on his face as he glanced between Robbe and Jens. Thomas was dressed in his typical work suit, this time a black one, with a bright purple tie wrapped around his neck. Robbe felt his eyes linger on the tie. He recognized it—how could he not; Robbe had bought it for Thomas—and Thomas only wore it on certain occasions. When he wanted something.

Thomas glanced over Robbe’s shoulder. “Hey, Jens.”

“Sup,” Jens said, popping the ‘p.’

Thomas nodded, turning to face Robbe completely. Even as the two of them stood in silence, staring at each other, Robbe could see the question forming deep in Thomas’s eyes. Before he could get the question out, Robbe pulled the silver watch from where he had buried it deep in his pocket. There was a moment where Thomas simply stared at it and Robbe bit down on his lip, trying to figure out what to say.

Letting out a steadying breath, Robbe held the piece of jewelry out to him. “Here,” Robbe said. “I told you that I didn’t want it.”

Thomas blinked. “And I told you to think about it.”

Robbe sighed. “I did. I still don’t want it.” He dropped the watch into Thomas’s waiting hand, making sure their skin didn’t touch in the process. Once the watch was gone, Robbe shoved his hands into his pockets and swayed on his feet. Thomas held the watch in his hands, gripping it tightly, and Robbe waited for the pin to drop.

It always happened.

The long stretch of silence that preceded an argument was familiar to Robbe. In the last few months of their relationship, Robbe had become strikingly aware of it and increased his efforts in avoiding it altogether. He would cater to Thomas’s every need, knowing that it was likely a stressful by-product of his apprenticeship, and put aside his own discomfort or problems to try and lift Thomas’s mood. It was exhausting, draining, and Robbe had burdened it all.

Not anymore.

“I don’t understand,” Thomas spoke up, pulling Robbe from his thoughts. Robbe blinked up at him, taking in the confused look on his face as he clung to the watch. “Why did you want to meet up in person if you were just going to give the watch back?”

“I wanted to meet in person…” Robbe trailed off, biting his lip. Robbe knew that he didn’t want to be together with Thomas anymore. Now that he knew the type of love that Sander gave, it was hard to want to go back to tense conversations and awkward silences. Robbe deserved better. He knew it. But that didn’t make the prospect of potentially breaking Thomas’s heart any easier.

Letting out a sigh, Robbe continued, “I wanted you to know that I mean it when I said I don’t want to get back together with you.”

Somewhere behind him, Jens made a surprised noise.

Thankfully, Thomas didn’t seem to hear him. For a second, he stared at Robbe, a confused and dazed look on his features. Once it slipped away, it was replaced with his lips turned up in a smile, borderline amused, as though it was all some big joke. Crossing his arms, Thomas asked, light-heartedly, “Why?”

Somehow, it roused the anger in Robbe’s stomach.

“Because it’s not fair!”

As soon as the words slipped from Robbe’s mouth, Thomas’s smile faltered and he opened his mouth to talk. But Robbe was speaking again before he had the chance. “You go and break up with me because you were unhappy. But then, you spend three months ‘moving on’ and you drag me around like some easy second option that you want just in case. Then I am finally able to move on and now you want to get back together again? It’s not fair, Thomas, and I’m sick of it. I don’t want a relationship with you anymore. End of story.”

Thomas stood in front of him, blinking wildly. Then he snickered and said, “Are you serious, Robbe? Is this because of that guy?” Robbe rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “I saw you guys together on Friday. Come on, Robbe. You know as well as I do, nothing beats what we have.”

“Had,” Robbe corrected quickly.

“Huh?”

“Had,” Robbe said, emphasizing the word. “Whatever we had ended when you broke up with me, Thomas. You wanted to break up, not me. If there was a chance that you would change your mind, you shouldn’t have broken up with me in the first place.” Thomas’s face was twisted in shock—and maybe a little bit of anger. “And for the record, it has nothing to do with him. I’m choosing this for me. I don’t deserve to be dragged along and treated that way. Goodbye, Thomas.”

Robbe went to leave, grab Jens and haul ass to the train station. But he noticed Jens pushing himself up off the wall. In one slow motion moment, Jens grabbed Robbe by the wrist and pulled him behind his back, making Robbe stumble along the way. Once Robbe corrected his balance, he realized that Jens had blocked off Thomas, who had his arm held up, frozen in mid air.

Now, Thomas looked angry. “Move.”

“No,” Jens said. Unlike Thomas, who wore every emotion on his face, Jens masked his anger behind his chilled-out look. Their long years of friendship had allowed Robbe to pinpoint the microexpressions in his features. If Robbe had brought Senne, Thomas definitely would’ve been lying unconscious on the concrete by now. “Robbe said what he wanted to say. Goodbye, Thomas.”

Wrapping an arm around Robbe’s shoulder, Jens headed away from the restaurant and toward the train station. As they moved away, Robbe could hear Thomas’s footsteps. But it was his plea that made Robbe feel instantly guilty. “Come on, Robbe.”

Robbe stopped walking. For a second, Jens turned to him, a look of disbelief evident in his eyes. But Robbe swallowed the guilt in his throat and turned towards Thomas. While Thomas looked sad and beaten, like a dog that got scolded, Robbe could pinpoint the triumphant look buried in his eyes. It was a look Robbe was familiar with—even if he had been blind to it before. Thomas loved to feel the euphoric high of winning and Robbe was tired of playing his games.

Steeling his nerves, Robbe swallowed again before he managed to say, evenly, “If you show up at the flatshare again, I will call the cops on you. I don’t want anything to do with you anymore and I’m done looking over my shoulder.” Thomas simply stared at him, a defeated look on his face. It was as though Robbe had injured his being and the guilt manifested again. Swallowing it down, Robbe added, “Goodbye, Thomas.”

Leaving Thomas behind, defeated and in shock, Robbe marched on to the train station with Jens right behind him.

…

Dinsdag 19:25

As the two of them had marched away, Robbe was worried that Thomas was going to follow them, get on the train, and tag along on their vacation. Even after Robbe saw Thomas heading away from the restaurant, away from them, his stomach wouldn’t ease up and continued performing its makeshift dance against his insides. Once they got to the station, Robbe hoped the churning in his stomach would disappear or, at the very least, ease up. But it didn’t.

Even as Robbe settled down into the uncomfortable cushion of the train’s carriage, across from Jens, his stomach continued to turn. It increased in intensity as the seconds drew on, turning slowly into the minutes that followed. Robbe’s foot shook nervously as he stared out the window. He was searching for signs of Thomas, on the platform or obscured by the shadows, afraid that he would appear, unable to take no for an answer.

Jens was staring at him, but he kept quiet.

Once the doors locked and the train started to move, Robbe’s stomach tightened. As quick as it started, the surge of pain dissolved in his stomach, tingling behind his belly button. As the train pulled out of the station, and with no Thomas standing on the platform, Robbe sunk into his seat. His shoulders relaxed, releasing the weight that had been on his shoulders since Thomas showed up, and his body slumped into the soft cushion of the booth.

Robbe could’ve fallen asleep, but Jens kicked his foot, slightly jarring him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jens asked.

Robbe shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about Thomas,” Robbe said.

“Not about that,” Jens said, annoyed. Robbe glanced over at him, peeking through his eyelashes. The look of annoyance quickly turned into a knowing grin. “I’m talking about the guy Thomas mentioned. The one he saw you with on Friday. Is he the reason that you didn’t come to the party on Friday night?”

Robbe knew that he could lie about it. It would be easy to slip in a lie about how he went home to relax in the darkness of his bedroom or to recover from exams. But it would never work. Jens had known him far too long to fall for it. Even in moments where Robbe desperately wanted to be on his own, Jens would see through it. Sometimes, he would maintain his distance. Other times, he wouldn’t.

But Robbe didn’t want to lie to Jens.

Especially about Sander.

Avoiding Jens’ curious eyes, Robbe nodded. “Yeah, we met up after I finished my last exam,” he said. “Once we finished eating, we headed back to his apartment. We spent most of the evening playing video games and drinking beer.”

Jens chuckled. “Is this the guy that had you all smiley in the bar two weeks ago?”

Biting his lip, Robbe nodded and Jens grinned brightly with a knowing glint in his eye. “Yeah, it’s the same guy. Because of exams and studying, we hadn’t really had a chance to talk about him again,” Robbe said, shrugging. “Mostly, we’ve been texting because of the exams and stuff. But we hung out a couple of times between studying and stuff.”

“He makes you happy.”

It wasn’t a question.

It was a statement.

Feeling his cheeks darken a little, Robbe nodded.

Jens grinned. “Good. You deserve someone better than Thomas Martens.”

Rolling his eyes, Robbe leaned back into the cushion of his seat. He could hear Jens tapping away on his phone, likely texting Lucas—or his mom—that they had made it on the train. Letting out a breath to collect his nerves, Robbe added, “If I bring him around sometime next week, do you promise that you’ll go easy on him?”

Even with his eyes closed, Robbe could tell that Jens was smiling, “If he makes you happy like that, Robbe, you don’t have to worry about me not liking him.”

…

Dinsdag 20:04

Before he and Jens arrived at the beach house, Robbe could hear the familiar sound of Moyo’s music.

As Robbe and Jens approached the house, the rapping tones were turned up loud and booming with a bass that could shake the entire coast. Over the roof, Robbe could see a large wafting cloud of smoke descending closer and closer to the sky. As they headed to the house, Robbe spotted Jens sending him a knowing glance out of the corner of his eye. It wasn’t the first time they had all been to the beach together before and somehow, it felt like nothing had changed.

Once they stepped around the corner and out of the shadows, they found all five of their companions surrounding the blazing fire. Moyo was talking with Kes, who had an arm thrown over Lucas’s shoulder without a care in the world. Across the fire, Aaron and Jayden were sharing a joint, holding s’mores in their free hands. At the sight of Jens and Robbe, they all shouted unintelligibly.

From his spot beside Kes, Lucas twisted out of his arm and leapt to his feet. Like the others, he was dressed in a short sleeve button-up shirt and a pair of shorts. Despite the minimum amount of lighting, he had a pair of sunglasses on the top of his head and nearly half of the buttons of his shirt were undone. Jens barely had a chance to observe his boyfriend’s appearance before their lips slotted together, quickly and briefly.

Robbe rolled his eyes, tossing his bag outside the door. “Really? Is it going to be like this all weekend?”

Once their lips disconnected, Jens sent him a ‘Try me’ look. As Kes and Moyo stood from the fire, leaving Aaron and Jayden with their s’mores, Lucas pulled Jens’ duffel bag from his shoulder. With one calculated toss, it landed on Robbe’s bag and tumbled off a few seconds later. Kes appeared over Lucas’s shoulder and Robbe welcomed Kes’s hug. Moyo patted Robbe’s shoulder and high-fived Jens over his head.

“How did it go with Thomas?” Lucas asked.

“As good as it could’ve gone,” Robbe said. Jens wrapped an arm around Lucas’s shoulder, pulling him against his chest. Robbe poked him in the shoulder. “You should’ve seen him. For a second, I thought that Jens was going to punch him.”

“Oh, really?” Lucas asked, turning to Jens, who shrugged.

“We managed to get to the station without him following us,” Jens said, ignoring Robbe’s comment. Lucas glanced over at Robbe, who raised his eyebrows. “About ten minutes into the train ride, Thomas started texting Robbe again, begging for his forgiveness and to give him a second chance.” Lucas rolled his eyes and Moyo scoffed. “Robbe only opened the messages to block him.”

Lucas turned to Robbe. “Do you think he’ll show up at the flatshare again?”

Robbe shrugged. “I don’t think so, but you never know. I told him I would call the cops if he showed up at the flatshare again. And I texted Milan and Zoë to let them know, so if he decided to show up, they would feel okay with actually doing it.”

“Good,” Lucas said. Aaron stepped in the spot between Jens and Robbe, nodding over to him.

“Yeah,” Kes spoke up. In the year Robbe had known him, he had never seen Kes look so serious. His smile was gone from his face and a protective look had replaced it. Jayden appeared over his shoulder, a joint hanging from his lips, and leaned against him. But Kes didn’t shift beneath his weight. “From what Luc’s told me, it basically seems like he’s been harassing you. You deserve better than someone who changes his mind.”

“Thanks, Kes.”

“It can only get better from here.”

“It’s too sad,” Aaron spoke up.

“Aaron.”

“No, I’m serious,” Aaron insisted. “We came to the beach to have a few days away after we finished finals! We are supposed to be having fun and here we are, talking about Robbe’s shitty ex who won’t leave him alone or listen to him. No offense.” Robbe nodded but made a point of rolling his eyes. Looking serious, Aaron pointed at all of them. “And you all know that I’m right.”

For a second, they were all quiet, standing in a circle outside the beach house. Robbe shifted his weight between his feet and Jens reached out to stabilize him, nearly smacking Aaron on the nose in the process. Then, Moyo grinned wolfishly from ear-to-ear. “I have an idea.”

“What?” Aaron asked.

Moyo grinned. “Sacrifice Robbe to the ocean!”

“What?!”

As quickly as he had shouted it, Moyo wrapped his arms around Robbe. His arms were pinned beneath Moyo’s surefire grip. Even though he was stuck, Robbe was still laughing. He tried to kick at his friends but Jens stepped forward, seizing one foot, then the other. He locked his ankles in place, wedged between his arm and his side. As Jens and Moyo lifted Robbe from the ground, Aaron grabbed at his knees to steady him and followed the path of his friends to the beach. Robbe struggled in their grasp, laughs escaping as he tried to wiggle free, and the other three trailed behind, laughing loudly.

Arriving at the edge of the water, Moyo and Jens stopped. The water lapped at their knees, soaking their shoes and the bottom of their pants. Swinging Robbe back and forth, the two of them counted down until they sent Robbe flying into the ocean water. They hadn’t thrown him far enough for it to be a deep drop, but Robbe was completely submerged. It didn’t take him long to surface, spinning around to find his friends.

Moyo was laughing loudly, beaming from ear-to-ear with the rest of their friends, and Robbe couldn’t blame him because his own cheeks hurt from laughing. However, it didn’t stop him from shooting the biggest wave of water towards him. Moyo yelped in surprise as Robbe waded out of the water. Once he was close enough, Robbe lunged toward Jens, climbing on his back and covering him with water, as Jens shouted in shock.

Later, after Robbe changed into a fresh pair of clothes and was in the midst of wringing out the excess seawater from the cloth, he realized that he hadn’t been the only one to go swimming. His phone had too. And it was absolutely ruined.

...

Dinsdag 22:34

#wtfock #wtfam #jij verliest fic #sobbe #sobbe fanfic #jij verliest #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #rosander #twitch streamer!robbe #twitch streamer robbe #tattoo artist sander #tattoo artist!sander #multi clip #text: sander

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0dirty-deals0 · 4 years

Text

Lucky You, Lucky Me (Mammon x GN! Reader)

A/N: Based off the theory(?) That if Mammon likes you he brings you luck. First Obey Me fic, don't be afraid to tell me what you think! Thank you!

It was Mc's turn to do grocery shopping today, though Lucifer didn't want them to go alone so he had Mammon follow them as their personal 'guard dog' as Lucifer claimed. Complaining was a given, though he didn't do as much of it since Mc was involved.

If he was being honest, he was glad he'd be the one going with Mc since this would mean a bit more time alone with them. He savours every moment with them, from just playfully bickering about brand types to Mc dragging him around by holding his hand tight. He would never say he loved those little moments with them out loud though, so he hides behind his usual air of confidence.

"Aren't you glad you get the chance to hang out with me, Mc?"

"Of course I am, I'm going out with my boyfriend after all. I hope you like going out of with me too.,"

Sometimes that confident persona shatters quick though when Mc pulls a power move such as that (with a sincere smile to boot!). He's reduced to a blushing, stuttering mess as Mc continues to happily navigate through the different aisles of the store.

Despite his many complaints, he never minds being dragged by Mc. It isn't as emotionally draining as it is to be around his brothers. With Mc he feels recharged, a bit more pep in his step that amplifies whenever they praise him or just say a simple 'thank you'. They make him feel lucky that they're close to one another.

When it's about time to pay, Mc gives him some money and asks if he can get something for the both of them at the convenient store.

"You do realize who your givin' this to, right?" Mammon still takes the money and keeps it in his wallet anyways. "I could just take this money and buy whatever I wanted with no regard of what you wanted."

He's digging his own grave, he knows he is but hey it's a bigger warning than anything he'd give his brothers. Hell, he'd probably not even spare them a second glance and walk away.

"I trust you enough to know you won't do that," Mc answers honestly as their eyes continue to look at the items being scanned. They have no idea how their answer makes him feel, he just lets out a scoff to hide his growing blush.

"Suit yourself, human. Don't blame me if I don't get ya anythin'," they give him a casual thumbs up as he walks away.

He walks around the convenient store grabbing all the snacks he knows the two of them like. He even grabs one or two new things for them to try together as well. As he's paying he notices that a bakery beside the shop is selling something that Mc has been dying to get their hands on, but never seemed to have any luck doing so. He pays quickly and walks over to said bakery to investigate.

To his surprise and sheer luck, they seemed to have just made a new fresh batch. He quickly walks in and gets as many as he can for the two of them and pays up. He hands them the snacks from the convenient store and decides to keep the treat a surprise until they reached home.

Once home he presented the treat to them proudly. "Lookie here at what I got you, I'm pretty amazin' right?" Mc is quiet for a while before they practically tackle Mammon into a hug.

"Holy shit-! What's wrong-"

"hOW DID YOU GET THIS, THEY WERE SOLD OUT EARLIER WHEN WE PASSED BY!"

"They made a fresh batch when I was glancin' around," Mc was practically vibrating on top of him and he was finding it hard to not just hug them back from how cute they seemed.

"Are you serious!? Mammon they never make these things twice! Once they're gone, they're GONE! Or so said the advertisment," Mammon hands them the big bag of baked goods.

"Sometimes adverts lie, human. If anyone should know it's me."

"Yeah but, this is seriously amazing," Mc couldn't help but squeal a little as they opened the bag to observe, though upon observing they froze a little. That made Mammon nervous.

"Something wrong?"

"No, I just," Mc looks at Mammon, a little concerned. "These are usually hella expensive. It's a miracle if we could even afford 2 but there's like a dozen in here. Did we even have enough leftover money from the shopping trip for this?"

Mammon hands Mc his wallet and sure enough there was still cash in it, if anything there seemed to be a lot more cash than they expected.

Mc turned her attention to Mammon once again. "...We must have gotten really lucky today, huh?" A smile spreads onto their face once again and Mammon can't help but return it with a genuine one of his own.

"I guess so."

They kept quiet for a moment as they glance at the things around them, the snacks, the wallet filled with cash and the pastries just waiting to be eaten.

"...Wanna head to my room now so we can enjoy all of these together?"

"I thought that was the main idea?"

Mc laughs and gets off Mammon, offering a hand to help him up which he takes with no problem. He lets his hands linger on theirs for a while longer before letting go completely.

Once in Mc's room, Mc heads out for a while to get some of the snacks they left behind in the kitchen and asks Mammon to pick a movie for them to watch (make fun of) together while they're gone.

Once they're gone, Mammon's mind wanders as he goes through the titles. He realizes that at the convenient store he was in, he most definitely used up all the money in the wallet buying those snacks. He doesn't remember doing anything... out of legal means to get the extra cash so he wonders where it came from. He just remembers feelings like he had to get those treats for Mc, just to get some praise from them, just to make them happy because of him.

A few snacks come raining down on him and he jumps at the suddenness of it all.

"I have returned with our snacks! Did you choose a movie already?" He hands them whatever it was he was holding at the moment and Mc goes to play it with no questions asked.

They then plop down next to him on the bed, snuggling up close as they share with him the treats they now have quite the abundance of.

Mammon takes a bite of the treat and his eyes widen, "Oh holy shit, I didn't expect them to taste this good."

"I didn't either!" Mc admits, they're just wiggling with happiness next to him. "Maybe it tastes better because you're sharing it with someone you love?"

Mc giggles at the groan Mammon lets leave his lips though he does begin to wrap an arm around Mc, pulling them close to him. Mc plants a quick kiss to his cheeks in reponse to his action.

"Stupid, we were just super freakin' lucky today like you said," despite his 'harsh' words, he has to admit, right now in this very moment, he was lucky to have you beside him. His partner in crime and most importantly, someone who loves him as much as he loves them.

#obey me #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #obey me shall we date

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winryofresembool · 4 years

Text

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 21

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Calypso and Annabeth have an important encounter

A/N: Sorry for the lateness! It’s time for some Annabeth action. Just a fair warning, since next Friday is the Christmas day and the Friday after that the New Year, I am not sure when I'm going to be able to post again. Be prepared for at least one week's break, possibly even two. But don't worry because more is definitely coming.

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

Calypso is the bolded text and Hazel the regular in the texting part.

Words: 2300+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

…

Getting Leo to talk to her again was a huge weight off of Calypso’s shoulders, but there was still more to be done. Annabeth still kept to herself during the history lectures and Calypso didn’t want to force her to talk; she felt Annabeth should be the one to initiate it. From what Calypso had heard, Piper had tried to talk to her earlier, but so far Calypso hadn’t noticed any significant changes in Annabeth’s behavior. When she walked into the lecture hall that day, she noticed the blonde girl on the opposite side of the room, focused on her book. Letting a small sigh out of her mouth, she went to her usual seat pretty far from Annabeth.

Since the lecture wouldn’t start for a few more minutes, Calypso decided to use the time by checking her phone. When she opened her WhatsApp, she considered for a moment to whom she should text. Her first instinct told her she should contact Leo, but she imagined he was probably busy going to his own lecture at that moment, so she ended up scrolling through her other contacts instead. Noticing that Hazel seemed to be online, she started typing to her.

10:05: Hi, Hazel

10:05: Hi there! Was just thinking about you!

10:06: You were? How come?

10:06: Frank just texted me that on his morning jog near the campus today he had run into someone he had apparently recently met somewhere (he didn’t tell me where exactly).

10:07: and they had talked for a while.

10:07: At some point Frank mentioned the guy’s first name was Leo. I’m pretty sure it was /the/ Leo!!

10:08: How can you be so sure? I’m sure there are plenty of Leos around this campus. It’s not a rare name.

10:09: no but hear me out. The description matches with what you’ve told me. He said he’s a mechanic with a dog and when I asked Frank what he looked like, he said ‘dark hair, scrawny, eyes look like there’s some mischief going on in that head of his all the time but he’s not actually that bad when you talk to him’

10:09: I admit that does sound like the Leo I know

10:09: I told you! What a small world it is, apparently the boys we’re interested in know each other!

10:10: Still feels so weird when you put it that directly. You’re the only one who knows so far. So please, if you somehow happen to see him as well, don��t say anything.

10:10: Alright, I won’t. But what are /you/ waiting for? If he’s anything like the boys in our art class I’m sure he’s all over you by now.

10:10: Hazel!

10:11: Sorry, sorry. But you did talk to him after that… situation you had?

10:11: I did. We’re good now. Thanks for the advice the other day, by the way. It did help.

10:12: Ha, so you’re saying I gave you good advice. Could that mean that maybe you should also reread what I just said a moment ago?

10:12: Sorry, I gotta go. Something came up. TTYL!

10:13: Calypso!!

10:13: That’s so rude :P

Calypso hadn’t lied, though. She had noticed someone sneaking from the other side of the hall to the seat behind her, and that someone happened to be her friend to whom she hadn’t properly spoken for several weeks now. Trying to stay on her seat as neutrally as possible, still watching her now dark phone screen, she waited for Annabeth to start the conversation.

There was a tap on her shoulder. “Cal…” she finally heard Annabeth’s familiar voice say.

“Yeah?” Calypso asked tentatively, slowly turning on her seat to see the speaker.

“I think we should talk,” Annabeth stated, sounding more like her usual self.

“Um, sure,” Calypso answered but didn’t have time to say more when the professor stopped her, starting the lecture. “After this class, OK?”

“Right.” Annabeth nodded. Then she turned her focus to the professor, but Calypso noticed that not for long. She started doodling something into her notebook and was tapping on the floor with her foot, a habit that Calypso had noticed was very familiar to Leo, especially when he was nervous. Sometimes it was so easy to forget that Annabeth also had dyslexia and ADHD like him. The information seemed to come to her so naturally… but before the Percy incident, Annabeth had revealed that especially when she had been younger she usually had had to read the textbooks at least 5 times before she had finally absorbed what she had read. Later on, with the help of a teacher that actually understood her learning disability, she had learned some other methods that seemed to help her. One side of Calypso thought that it was relieving to see Annabeth show signs of weakness because usually she seemed so good at everything she did that it was mildly intimidating.

Soon Calypso realized that she herself had trouble focusing on what the professor was explaining while thinking about what she should tell Annabeth after the class. What could she say that she already hadn’t in the previous time? That she absolutely hated Annabeth’s boyfriend’s guts? That her flatmate made her feel weird things when they were in the same room so there was absolutely no need to be jealous?

Once the lecture was over, Calypso packed her things and gestured to Annabeth that they should have their conversation outside the lecture hall. They were walking silently until most of their fellow students had split into their own directions and found a quiet spot by the windows. There were some armchairs spread around the corridor to make it seem more comfortable and the girls sat down on two of them.

“I take it you may have changed your mind about me,” Calypso said directly once she had settled on her seat, feeling there was no need to tiptoe around the topic.

“I… yeah,” Annabeth started, and for a brief moment Calypso thought she showed a tiny bit of fragility. Suddenly she realized that maybe Annabeth wasn’t being her usual confident self, because she wasn’t that great at dealing with her feelings. Things like maths, chemistry and physics were simple to her because there were certain rules that needed to be applied. But the human mind was harder to read, Calypso knew that much. “Sometimes I think there are two different Annabeths: one that is very protective and jealous when it comes to the people she cares about, and then there’s the rational Annabeth who tries to yell to the other one that she is being ridiculous. I’m sorry. I overreacted.”

Calypso shook her head. “No, I think I can understand why it bothered you. I hate keeping things from you, but I promised to myself… I mean, it is safer to not get you guys involved.”

“But… why? What could happen?” Annabeth asked, folding her arms.

“I’m not going to go to details but my father… I’m sure you have figured out by now that he is not a nice guy. When he doesn’t like someone, or someone tries to get into his way… Good things don’t usually follow that. And I mean it. There is a very good reason why I moved this far from my previous home. To be honest, I would have liked to go all the way to Greece but that just wasn’t possible.”

“So you’re saying that your father is what you’re afraid of? And he could get us - I mean your friends - into trouble if you shared too much information with us?” Annabeth collected the pieces of the puzzle together.

“Basically, yes. But please, don’t ask more. I may already have said too much,” Calypso said worriedly.

“Don’t worry. My lips are definitely sealed,” Annabeth reassured her.

“Thanks.” Calypso hesitated a bit. “Um, can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,” Annabeth nodded.

Calypso shifted a bit on her seat, trying to get more comfortable. “If I’m honest, I was not expecting you to forgive me that whole Percy thing that easily. What changed your mind?”

“Well, let me just tell you that you have some very good friends who managed to persuade me.” Annabeth gave her a playful smile.

“Huh? Who?” Calypso knew that Piper had talked to Annabeth but she didn’t know there were others as well.

“First of all, Percy convinced me that there was absolutely no reason to be jealous. I’m not going to tell you how he did it, but he can be pretty sweet when he wants to. Besides, between you and me: Seaweed Brain just can’t lie to me. I can read him like a book.” Annabeth’s smile only widened as she said that.

“OK.” Calypso didn’t think she wanted to hear more about that topic.

“But that wasn’t all. Piper also talked to me,” Annabeth added.

“What did she say?” Calypso asked curiously.

Annabeth’s eyes started sparkling mischievously. “A lot of things,” she started, “but she reminded me of some events that happened before Percy’s arrival that evening.”

“I don’t understand you now,” Calypso pretended to be stupid even though she was already guessing where Annabeth was going with her statement. “What events?”

“I don’t know…” Annabeth tapped her fingers against her forehead. “I think hugging, cupcake sharing and flirty bickering was involved. Keyword: think. I guess the people involved know more about that than I do.”

“That was… that was just us being friendly!” Calypso rushed to deny. “And what was so flirty about our bickering? We do that all the time and I’m not trying to…”

“Relax, Cal,” Annabeth stopped her. “It just kind of reminded me of me and Percy. But if you say so…”

Calypso groaned slightly. “Fine, you won. Again. Maybe… I may be starting to like him. But that doesn’t mean anything. He probably doesn’t like me back. And it wouldn’t work out for various reasons. I… When I moved here, I really thought I could just forget about everything that happened in my past and start to live my life. But it turns out that my past is still following me and stopping me from forming functional relationships. Besides… none of my former relationships worked. I may have been a kid back then but I made some bad decisions and it wrecked my self confidence. I don’t want to get hurt again and I also don’t want to hurt Leo. He has a very good heart, despite his weirdnesses…”

“Calypso, I know from my own experiences that ghosts of your past can be hard to fight. I have had plenty of family issues of my own in the past and they have probably influenced my later decisions, I admit that. But you seem to have taken an attitude that you have to deal with it alone. But you don’t. Let us help you. Maybe I can’t speak for all of us but I know I’m not afraid of your father. It is always possible to fight if you just come up with a good strategy.”

“This is probably a weird comment but that sounded like something I’d imagine the goddess Athena say. Are you sure you’re not her? Or related?” Calypso attempted to joke.

“Last time I checked, all of us were regular people,” Annabeth chuckled. “I admit I’m probably not quite as advanced in the greek mythology as you are although I have studied some of it, of course. But your question reminded me of this book series I read as a kid: Peter Johnson and the Olympians. The characters in it were children of Greek gods and I always wished that I’d be like one of the main characters who was a daughter of Athena.”

“Ooh, I read that series too!” Calypso said enthusiastically. “It was kind of cute although now that I know more about history and Greek mythology, not all the characters are quite like I picture them in my head. But I appreciate the effort to make the mythology more known to young readers.”

“Right! I agree.” Annabeth nodded before realizing they had gotten pretty far from the original topic. “Sorry, we got a bit sidetracked here. I seriously do hope that you’ll let us help if needed. I myself am gonna try to be more patient and let you do it on your own terms, though.”

“Thanks, Annabeth. Um, about that Leo part, though…” Calypso felt her cheeks heat again and she wanted to curse her silly mind for reacting like that every time she thought about her flatmate. “Would you please be kind and keep it between us? I just really am not ready to deal with that yet…”

“Fine. I’ll let it be. For now. But maybe think about it. Who knows, you could be surprised by what might happen…” Annabeth said mysteriously.

“What do you mean?” Calypso frowned.

“Like I said, there are people who are ready to help you carry your burden even though you’re too absorbed by your issues to notice that. That’s all.”

“O-kay,” Calypso said suspiciously, wondering what Annabeth’s statement implied.

“You should know that one of the people who talked with me was Leo. He said he had noticed that you were feeling pretty down since the… incident and that you seemed to blame yourself for everything. And that you also felt very bad about not being honest. That’s what really opened my eyes and made me decide that I need to get over my grudge that doesn’t even make sense. I got what I wanted, didn’t I? Logically thinking, you should be the one who’s mad at me.”

“That Leo…” Calypso was so focused on that part for a moment that it took her a while to register what else Annabeth had said. “Um, sorry. To be honest, I think the Calypso from a couple of years ago would have been mad. But my priorities have changed and I also realized that Percy is way happier with you.”

“I’m glad you’re not holding a grudge, though,” Annabeth said.

“Life’s too short for that,” Calypso shrugged.

“I guess so. So, we’re friends, right?”

“Right,” Calypso confirmed, giving Annabeth a genuine smile. Some hope had risen in her heart again and she made a mental note to thank a certain mechanic later at home.

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics #caleo uni au

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be-the-spark-flyboy · 4 years

Text

Glitter On The Floor

Call It What You Want 4/?

Pairing: Med student!Poe x Reader (college AU)

A/N: I have an unusual ship going on in this dont come for me if you dont like it okay also I suck at writing summaries

Chapter summary: A new years party that brings more revelations than resolutions

Warning: little angst, drinking, swearing

Word count: ~3.2k

You never thought you’d ever be excited to attend a party but here you are checking and double checking your reflection in the full height mirror in Jessika’s room.

“Oh god, you look hot okay? Stop hogging the mirror,” She teases you, nudging you aside trying to perfect her eyeliner.

Oh, you look hot, alright, and you feel damn good too. Your cropped sweater top was thick enough to keep you warm and paired with the mini skirt and velvet thigh-highs boots, you feel damn fine in your all black ensemble.

Normally you would’ve opted to stay at home and watch the fireworks all by yourself at midnight from the rooftop. But after a lonely Christmas eating takeout and binge watching shows all by yourself, you just wanted to see you friends again. Rey and the boys were also attending, which made you feel a lot better about going. You had a good feeling about this.

No one was more excited at the prospect of you attending a party than Jessika. She’d basically went through your entire wardrobe to find you something appropriate to wear, then ended up lending you her sequined mini skirt because your all black theme was too gloomy for new years.

“Our ride will be here in five minutes and then we’re gonna find you someone to make-out with at midnight,” Jessika wiggles her eyebrows at you suggestively and you roll your eyes, “Unless, you’d rather make-out with a particular med student you can’t shut up about instead, huh?” She’d been teasing the hell out of you about Poe since you told her about the hot stranger, who saw you fall down the stairs, who also happened to be a friend of a friend who was an adorable med student, dog dad and also afraid of ghosts-

Okay maybe you did talk about him slightly more than anyone else. But that didn’t mean anything did it? “Poe is just my friend, Jess,” You shove at her, sighing in frustration. “And he has a girlfriend,”

“But don’t his friends hate her? I’m sure if you ask, they’d help you break them up and set you up with Poe,” she says, drawing indignant gasp from you.

“Jessika Pava, since when did you start giving out ideas to ruin peoples’ lives?”

“I’m not trying to ruin lives,” She grabs you by your shoulders, bringing you to look at her, features set in a serious frown. You wonder if she was actually being serious for once in her life. “I just want to see you happy, with the man you love,”

Nope, not serious for once. You slap her hands away and she guffaws at your exasperated groan, “God, who said anything about love?”

“So you do like him though, right?” you roll your eyes again, walking away from her to collect you purse from your room. “You didn’t deny it!” You hear her squawk from behind you.

—-

The party was already in full swing when you arrive. Jessika drags you along with her right away to introduce her boyfriend to you for the first time. She had only been dating Snap Wexley for around three months now, but she seemed to really like him.

Snap was a nice person. He was warm and welcomed you into his residence with a huge smile. His apartment was a two storey duplex with a ridiculous amount of patio space. It seemed everyone in your college were filthy rich, except you.

The entire place is crowded, music blaring from the speakers and people dressed in sparkling attires, milling around. Thankfully, you recognize almost no one, though it seemed like Snap had invited almost half of the entire campus.

Jessika loops her arm around yours, pulling you along into the house. You see Rey excitedly waving you over from the living room and you happily tackle her and Finn in a hug.

Jessika gels right in with the two of them although this was the first time they got to meet. Extroverts. The night goes on as both Finn and Rey animatedly recount their holiday stories and in no time, the four of you are laughing at Finn’s reenactment of how his cousin almost broke the Christmas tree in half, trying to decorate it.

“Where’s Poe?” You ask, noticing the absence of the third member of their little clique. Not like you were searching for him or anything.

Rey shrugs, “He should be here soon, he said he was about leave the house,” then her attention shifts to behind you, “Oh look, he’s here,” Rey motions.

You see him from across the room and your breath catches at the sight of him. Dressed in a navy blue button up tucked into his dark jeans with the sleeves rolled up, he looks handsome as ever, with an arm around his girlfriend’s waist. Your chest tightens for an entire different reason at the sight.

Then the entire conversation you had with Jessika earlier on plays in your head. You couldn’t possibly like Poe right? He was just your friend.

They look good together, like some celebrity couple that just stepped out of a magazine. Sarah’s dressed in a burgundy cocktail dress that fits her like a glove, elegantly coiffed curls sits on her shoulders, not a hair out of place. Something like jealousy curdles in your stomach and you stomp it out before it grows into something ugly. But not before it spoils your mood entirely.

“Urgh, he’s with that witch,” Finn scoffs beside you. You have no idea why Finn hates Poe’s girlfriend so much. He really isn’t the type to just be mean to people for no reason and it also confuses you to no end that Rey seems to agree with him. Not that it was any of your concern, anyways. So you brush it off.

You make the mistake of turning back to the pair just in time as Sarah pulls Poe in for a kiss. You quickly avert your gaze elsewhere. The excitement you felt since morning completely drains out of you. Suddenly, the last place you want to be in was anywhere surrounded with people.

“I’m going to get something to drink,” You inform Jessika, unhooking your arms from her. You break away from your small group without another word, before she even gets the chance to react.

—-

Poe never thought he’d ever feel this miserable around people. Because these weren’t his people. He wanted to run to where his childhood friends were standing as soon as he had caught sight of them. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do that. He was to busy being talked at by people he barely knew. This was the last place he ever wanted to be.

But Poe keeps up the pretense of a happy couple and feigns through the crowd convincingly enough to not invoke the wrath of the woman beside him. Poe follows Sarah, steering away from the corner where he spotted his friends. Having Finn and Sarah in the vicinity was just a recipe for disaster. He had only made that mistake once.

Poe finds you weaving through the crowd, hurriedly moving past everyone with a singular destination in mind. And you look...wow.

Poe remotely registers that he shouldn’t be ogling you from afar with his girlfriend right beside him. Despite that, he just can’t seem to tear his eyes away from your figure until you disappear around the corner.

Your outfit complements your figure just right, and your boots- Shit. He catches himself wondering how soft your thighs would feel under his fingertips.

Shut the fuck up, Dameron! He scolds himself, forcing his thoughts back to the present. He really shouldn’t be thinking about you like that.

He wonders how far his imagination would go if he didn’t try to stop it. No. He really shouldn’t. A tug on his arm brings him back to reality as he gets dragged along to patio, half against his will.

—-

“Shit, shit, shit,” you curse as the liquid sloshes out of the cup spilling onto the table.

“Are you always this clumsy?” You yelp as a tall figure materializes behind you, almost making you drop the cup. “Relax, its just me,” Ben Solo passes you a roll of kitchen towel for the mess.

You had managed to somewhat befriend Ben over the course of two weeks while the two of you worked on your assignment together. He wasn’t bad company.

“How long have you been standing there?” You mop up the beer on the table, “And how did I not see you?”

“Lost in thought?” he shifts back to his previous position, perfectly blending in with the wall painted black. Huh, no wonder you didn’t notice him.

“Um, no,” you lie. “Who are you hiding from?”

“People, in general.” He replies like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. But of course, you understand.

You hear bright laughter before you see a head of blonde hair walk towards the kitchen. Her eyes light up in recognition when she sees you standing there, “Hey, it’s you! We have that class together, right?” You try your best to make small talk but thankfully Phasma was chatty enough for it to not feel awkward while she collects her drink.

She turns to leave and then startles when she sees Ben standing against the wall, casually sipping on his beer. You’re pretty sure he didn’t mean to position himself like a Halloween decoration meant to sneak up and scare everyone, but you wouldn’t put it past him to do just that.

“Oh hey, Solo. Didn’t see you there,” She quickly recovers, sending him a bashful smile.

“Hey, Phasma,” Ben replies, barely meeting her gaze and shifting on his foot, cheeks dusting pink as she brushes past him. Your eyes widen when you realize what just happened.

“Oh my god, Ben, do you like her?” You whisper-shout at him once you’re sure she’s out of earshot.

“What? No, what are you talking about?” He tries to act nonchalant but the pink in his cheeks turns to a full blown scarlet, giving him away.

“Is that why you’re hiding in the kitchen?” You tease him. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,”

“Who are you hiding from?” He throws back at you.

“I’m not hiding,” it was your turn to act nonchalant.

“Really? Then why are you here?” He crosses his arm, scepticism evident in his tone.

“To get a drink,” you raise your beer as if to prove your point.

“Oh so you’re gonna leave now, right?” He raised an eyebrow at you, not buying your excuse.

“What? Is this your kitchen now?” Leaning on the counter, you roll your eyes, relenting. “Fine, I’m hiding. Let’s not talk about this anymore,”

---

“I don’t know, she seemed a little down all of a sudden,” Finn leans against the patio parapet, facing Rey. Raucous laughter bursts through the quite night from the group gathered on the other side of the patio.

You had disappeared after telling them you were ‘going to get a drink’ and Jessika had informed Rey that you were still in the kitchen only minutes earlier. Rey couldn’t help but wonder if there was something going on with you.

“Maybe she’s just tired, Rey,” Finn pulls her into his embrace, trying to comfort her. Rey worries to much about other people. It was just in her nature to try and take care of everyone she could and Finn loves her for that. But sometimes it also causes her more stress than she needs.

Rey rests her head on his shoulder, “Maybe,” You seemed pretty pumped to be hanging out with all of them, why did you deflate so suddenly?

“Oh my god,” She pulls away from the embrace, looking at Finn in shock from her sudden realization, while Finn watches her, confused about what caused her outburst. “I think she likes Poe!” Finn continues staring at Rey in confusion, unsure how she came to that conclusion. “Think about it! She was fine until Poe came waltzing in with his girlfriend,” she gestures frantically to the pair on the other side of the patio, Sarah practically draped across Poe, the two of them looking like the embodiment of an ideal couple. Only in the outside.

“Oh... OH,” Finn exclaims when it finally hit him. “Is she jealous? I don’t know, maybe hurt?”

“If only he wasn’t with her,” Rey couldn’t keep the malice out of her tone at the mention of Sarah. “We can’t even do anything about it now,”

“I’m really gonna kick Poe the next time I get a chance.” Finn groans. Finn really would’ve loved to meddle with his best friend’s life, but in this scenario it would only make things more complicated. But the drama was so tempting.

“Kick me for what?” Poe’s voice startles the both of them as they swivel around to look at him. How the hell did he walk across so quickly?

“Heyyy, Poe, didn’t see you there,” Rey forces a chuckle from herself, trying not to look too suspicious.

“Yeah! Hey, Poe,” Finn adds lamely.

Poe narrows his eyes at the two of them acting all dubious. It was never a good sign. He’s been on the receiving end of way too many of their pranks to not know what that look meant. He sighs, thinking, what’s one more prank in the joke that is his life right now?

---

“So... Phasma, huh?” You start again, determined to get something out of the brooding man beside you. If you’re going to spend the rest of the night in the kitchen, you might as well try to get entertainment out of your fellow anti-social buddy.

“I thought we weren’t talking about that anymore,” he mumbles. You grumble something about him being no fun under your breath. “I’ll tell you if you tell me,” he bargains with you.

You contemplate your choices. Surely it wouldn’t do any harm telling Ben about Poe right? “Okay, fine,” one advantage of taking refuge in the kitchen was that you had a free flow of drinks. You were on your third cup of whatever was in the punch bowl and feeling slightly tipsy. “There’s this guy I kinda sorta like, but he’s also my friend,”

“Why don’t you just talk to him if you’re friends?” Ben questions you.

“He’s here with his girlfriend,”

“Oh,” He winces as you nod your head in agreement.

“My turn. Why don’t you talk to Phasma?”

“I don’t want to?” He answers you, unsure, more like question instead.

“You’re just scared, aren’t you?” It was pretty obvious. Fear was the reason so many people held back from doing what they want.

Ben sighs heavily before turning to you, lowering his voice a little more “I just don’t wanna screw this up, okay? I really like her and I don’t know how to talk to her,”

“So you’d rather not try?” Ben just shrugs. “I think you should ask her out,” you give him your opinion. “Okay consider this. The worse thing that could happen is that things between you two remains the same. But if you try, at least you’d know,”

“The worst thing that could happen is that she throws her beer in my face infront of everyone,” You couldn’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you from the picture he paints. “But I get where you’re coming from,”

“Okay, maybe don’t immediately ask her out. Just chat with her a little, first.” You reach up to pat him on the shoulder, “Whenever you’re ready,”

“Wait, right now?” He whips his head around to look at you, alarmed at the prospect.

“Then when? After your graduation?” You sass. Ben takes a deep breath steeling himself.

“Okay,” He pushes himself off the counter, smoothing down his shirt, then his hair. He takes a step forward, then turns back to you, “Do I look okay?”

You give him a reassuring smile, poor boy was so nervous. “You look great, Ben,”

He takes another step forward then immediately propels backwards again, turning to you, “What if I get rejected?”

“Then we’ll ditch the party and get greasy pizza from that shop around the corner,” you promise him, earning a grateful smile from him.

Another step forward and he turns back, again. “What if-”

“Oh god, Ben just go!”

“Okay, fine fine,”

—-

You carefully position yourself in the kitchen so that you’d still have a view of what was going on in the living room but still be hidden from sight. It’s been a few minutes since Ben had gone on his mission to ask his crush out.

As the clock strikes closer to midnight, the crowd gravitates towards the patio to watch the fireworks. You follow, staying at the back of the crowd. The whole place was packed.

You briefly wonder if you could just pick up your coat and leave. You could take a nice long walk back to your apartment and curl up with a book and mug of tea. You had promised Jessika you’d stay, but you were also tempted to leave. She was already in her boyfriend’s care anyways.

You can clearly see Ben’s tall figure sticking out in the crowd. It’s not easy to miss him. Surprisingly, he spots you easily in the dark as well. He sends you a discreet thumbs up and you respond with no lack of enthusiasm on your part. At least one of you were having a good time. Good for him.

You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to keep yourself protected from the cold. But it finds a way to your bones anyways. It seems it was your curse to spend all your time all by yourself, year after year. You couldn’t remember the last time you had your family around you, opening Christmas presents together in the morning and watching the fireworks on New Year’s Eve. Although this time was kind of your fault. You could’ve still hung out with Rey or Jess, but you really didn’t feel like it.

Well, if this was what the rest of your life was going to be like, then you’ve already had enough practice for it.

—-

Poe watches the firework being set off in the distance. The light and the colours painting itself across the night sky, ebbing and flowing like waves. One disappears and another one explodes, sending a different shade shining through the sky.

From his vantage point, he could clearly see Finn and Rey, arms encasing each other, giggling at something. So content to just be in each other’s company. He wants that so much it aches.

Sarah’s arms around his feels like lead, weighing him down, and he wishes it were someone else’s. Finn was right. He shouldn’t have let himself be treated like he was expendable.

Maybe in this new year he’d finally let go of his fear and look for someone who actually loves him. In this new year Poe decides he deserves better.

—-

The Dameron Taglist (open):

@writefightandflightclub @arkofblake @yougottakeeponkeepinon @multifandomlife22 @skymerons @smol-peter-parker @rae-rae-patcha @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @spider-starry @hkmultifandom @cloud-leader @elmoakepoke @staringmoony @valhallavalkyrie9 @the-cry-of-youth @liadamerondjarin @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @takemepedropascal

#poe dameron #poe x reader #poe dameron au #poe dameron fanfiction #sw fanfic #fanfic #its finally hereeee

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askpolylosersclub · 5 years

Note

My brother just tried to run away and I'm feeling really worried and scared, do you have any funny stories?

Woah, I'm sorry to hear that, man. That's rough. Hope your brother's okay. I guess I can tell you a story that I think is kinda funny...

Cuz there we were just sitting eating breakfast the other morning, and I can't even remember how the conversation went this way, but we were talking about 'types'. Ya know, like the types of men or women or whatever that you're into.

And Richie said he was more attracted to people who are shorter than he is. And I was like...bro, so you mean everybody, then? So then Rich was like 'well Eddie for sure has a type I know what Eddie's type is' and I'm like, dude, I don't have a type. And if you say it's anyone taller than me I'm gonna knock your ass out. And he's like, nah, Eddie likes the bad boy type.

Honestly, I gotta laugh, man. I was like, really, Rich, are you the bad boy type? Cuz he's sitting there in that fucking leather jacket that he always wears, with his scruffy hair and like seven rings on one hand, and he probably hasn't showered in a week, and he owns a framed 1984 Gibson explorer signed by James Hetfield (he's the lead guitarist for Metallica), and he drives a red convertible. And I'm like...Rich you're not cool you're just having a mid-life crisis. Trust me I know, I've been having one since I was like 25. 5 seconds later he does a weird Donald Duck impression just to make sure we definitely don't think he's the bad boy type at all. Plus he's eating fruity pebbles for breakfast.

So I'm like, well let's just analyze this theory properly, right?? Maybe someone else in this house fits the bill? And speaking of...then Bill comes into the room, and Bill's pretty cool, right? I mean he's our leader, he's completely fearless, he dives headfirst into danger, right? He's a famous horror writer and he has his own movies coming out, and he's got that sexy gray streak in his hair, right? He's reading a script as he walks through the door, he looks pretty important and busy...BAM, he walks straight into the door frame as he's entering the room, and drops his coffee all over himself. Well, you'd think he could still recover from that, probably, since it's Bill and Bill is definitely cool and he always has been, but then as he's getting a cloth, he slips on the coffee he just spilled, and falls over a chair. I mean...we were all there to see it except for Mike and Bev, and only Ben got up to help him, and that seems kinda mean, but if you had been living with Bill as long as we have, you'd know how often shit like that actually happens.

At least none of us laughed...

Well...Richie did.

So then I'm looking at Ben, right? Our regular prince Charming. Ben's by the sink holding onto Bill and cleaning coffee off of his shirt and his arms and asking him if he's okay. You can still be the bad boy type and be caring, right? I mean, Ben is RIPPED, I mean full on, like well defined fucking 8 pack, every muscle in his body is toned and chiseled kinda ripped, like just fucking shredded. He's the only one of us who regularly rocks any facial hair, he's the CEO of his own company, and he owns a motorcycle, just in case you weren't enough in love with him already, dude. So could Ben be the bad boy type, maybe? Well...no. You only have to look at those puppy dog eyes for like 5 seconds to realize that Ben doesn't have a bad bone in his body, bro. He apologizes when people bump into HIM on the street, he opens doors for people from like 15 feet away, he volunteers at a soup kitchen every weekend in winter. Bro, I'm DEFINITELY not saying any of those things are bad...but that's kinda the point, right?

I hear an irritated sigh, because Stan's sitting next to me...and honestly I feel like you guys get a certain impression of Stan from this blog, because that's what he WANTS you to see. You must think Stan's cool, right? I mean he's always perfect, he wears designer clothes, he has perfected the art of the poker face, he has a really important job, he's super smart...plus he's got this whole cold-hearted dom thing down to a T. Well, lemme just tell ya...he's sitting next to me at breakfast, he's wearing a cardigan, he has his reading glasses on, he's drinking chamomile tea and he's doing a crossword puzzle in the morning paper. Stan has been 70 years old his entire life. Do I love Stan and think he's amazing? Absolutely. Do I think he's 'cool'? Not at ALL, bro.

So we're onto Mike, and I'm like...Mike's pretty cool, huh? I mean he's big, he's strong, he grew up doing hard manual labor and he's not afraid to get dirty. Sure he laughs at everything, and he's super nice, but there's gotta be a little bit of a bad boy persona in there somewhere...deep deep down. Mike's in the garden, and we can see him through the open windows. It's sunny outside, he's got his sleeves rolled up and dirt all over his hands cuz he's pulling up weeds around one of the flowerbeds under the kitchen windows. He's a little sweaty and when Mike gets sweaty his skin literally glistens, man, I'm tellin ya. He's got that sexy, porno gardener thing going on, and I'm like...yeah, maybe Mike fits the bill, after all. Then he starts watering the flowers and talking to them, like asking them if they're thirsty and telling them how much he loves them, and we're back to square one.

And then Bev walks into the kitchen.

She's got leather boots on, and a denim jacket, and black fingernails. She grabs a triangle of toast from Stan's plate before he can stop her, takes a bite, says 'Gotta go to work', with her mouth full, 'Later pussies', kisses us all on the cheek one by one and then off she goes out the door.

...turns out Bev was the bad boy all along.

- Eddie

#askthelosersclub #askpolylosersclub #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #bill denbrough #ben hanscom #stanley uris #mike hanlon #beverly marsh

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 5 years

Text

Meet me in the past part two

AN: yeah so this part two of the story, I hope you enjoy! I wasn’t exactly sure if there was a door leading the garage from Bill to his house, but in my story it sure is so. please let me what you think!

Summary: After Stanley Uris takes his own life, his daughter goes to find the recipients of his letters and ends up in Derry. After and incounter with IT, she ends up traveling back into the past, meeting the younger version of her dad and his friends.

warnings: cursing that’s it I think

tagging; @artlovingbre @cocastyle

‘Shit do you think Bowers got to her?’

A hand was touching her forehead, softly moving her head back and forth. Emily jumped up, slapping the hand away. She had to shut her eyes at the blinding light that seemed to burn her eyes away. It took a few seconds before everything came back to her, about her dad, the losers club and the Jade oriental. Her eyes snapped open once more at the thought of the restaurant. Her eyes made eye contact with a boy, most likely her own age, who was looking like a deer in headlights. Emily looked around, but she wasn’t in the restaurant anymore.

Instead she was in some sort of back alley. It looked disgusting, there was trash on the ground all around her, and she was pretty sure she was sitting on what used to be a cradle of beer. It sure as hell smelled like it. ‘Where am I’? Emily asked, her voice sounding gravely, most likely because she just woke up.

She turned back toward the boy, finally noticing that there were more people than just the two of them. Behind the boy there were 5 other boys, and one girl. Emily blinked in shock once she focused on one boy in particular. The curly haired boy did not seem like he wanted to be here at all, he had a scowl on his face and he was trying his best to put distance between him and herself. He was wearing a Kippah, and dressed a lot more fancy than the other boys, and girl did, he dressed like an adult man in a kids body. He also looked an insane amount of Stan. Emily frowned as she kept staring, the resemblance between the boy and her father were remarkable. The boy in turn opted to glare at her.

‘Can we go now, she woke up and who knows how she got here anyway?’ Emily was wondering the same thing. The last thing she remembered was falling in the restaurant, and although she didn’t know the adults all that well, she had never suspected that they would just leave her on the street.

‘Who are you guys’? Emily asked choosing to ignore the Stan look alike.

‘I’m B-b-bill, the first boy told her. She took notice of his stutter immediately, but he looked embarrassed so she didn’t comment on it. She knew what it felt like to have people judging you for something you couldn’t help. ‘Wait, did you just say Bill?’ Emily frowned at him, and at her question, his eyebrows rose up.

‘Y-y-Yeah, why?’ Bill asked, sounding confused. Emily tore her eyes away from him staring at the others. She didn’t understand what the hell was going on. ‘My names is Beverly’, the redhead introduced herself, ‘but you can call me Bev’, both Beverly and Emily said at the same time. ‘Wtf new girl’, another boy, one with magnifying classes spoke up. ‘The names Richie, but the ladies call me Trashmouth, want to find out why?’ He asked with a smirk.

‘Beep beep Richie’, another boy bristled. ‘You think you’re so funny huh, dickwad? As if any girl would be into you and your Trashmouth,’ he spoke bitterly. Richie continued unfazed. ‘Don’t worry Eddie Spaghetti, you know your mom is still the only one for me’.

Eddie, Richie, Bill and Beverly. Emily started to feel lightheaded, the panic spreading like a wildfire. Eddie and Richie were still bickering, but Bill and Beverly were looking at her questionably.

‘I’m Ben’, a boy shyly spoke up, while shuffling back and forth on his feet. It was clear that the boy was self-conscious and didn’t have a lot of confidence, but Emily thought he looked quite nice. ‘Ben’, she repeated. He nodded his head timidly, while looking down at his shoes, unable to make eye contact with her.

If their names were all the same as the adults in the restaurant, then, ‘Mike’, a boy with a white overall spoke, confirming her suspicions. Emily’s breathing picked up, all of these kids looked eerily similar to the losers club she had met only 3 hours ago . At least, she thought it was three hours ago, she wasn’t sure what day it was, and how long she had been laying in that back alley. If all of them were the people her dad wrote these letters too, than her dad- lookalike, should be called Stan as well.

Her fist clenched together tightly, she was sure she was absolutely losing her mind. There was no way that these kids were the same people she had met as adults. Still, she couldn’t help the way her eyes hopefully looked into the last boy’s eyes, the only one who hadn’t introduced himself yet. He was looking at her too, and Emily felt the shared looks turning into a staring match. She felt the hostile demeanor aimed towards her, and she wondered what she had even done to deserve that behavior.

‘Stan’? She asked softly, while her voice shook. The boy broke eye contact at that, a surprised look crossing over his face before covering it up and putting on a blank face. He nodded solemnly, but instead of making eye contact, this time he stepped another step back.

‘How did you know that? Are you a friend of Bowers?’ Stan asked her, but Emily was too busy to focus on not crying to comprehend his question. This had to have something to do with what happened in the Jade Oriental.

This IT that Bill had been talking about. She thought back about the fortune cookie attacking her, about her falling flat on her back and passing out. Bill had talked about this IT transforming into the things you feared most, and maybe that was what was happening right now. Could IT transfer into humans? It sure seemed like it.

She just had to think about this logically. That’s what she always did; best case scenario, this was just a dream. Emily pinched herself but it did nothing except sting, not a dream then. The other option was that this was IT, and he was trying to trick her for whatever reason that may be. She didn’t allow herself to dwell on the third explanation, which was that she was send into the past. She wasn’t sure she could handle being in the vast proximity of her dad.

Back to option two, this was this IT. Would it help if she pretended that she wasn’t on to what IT was doing? It certainly wouldn’t hurt to try. She smiled, a wobbly, tired smile that seemed more like a grimace. ‘I have no idea, who this Bowers guy is’. She told Stan, standing up for the first time since she woke up. She stumbled forward, but Richie and Bill held her back. ‘E-e-easy, you m-m-must have t-t-aken a nasty f-f-fall.’

It wasn’t, but she didn’t know what other excuse she was supposed to come up with. She turned her smile to Bill, nodding her head, but stopping once she realized she was only worsening her headache. ‘Yeah, I fell while I was trying to chase my dog’. She told him. Emily had always had an excellent poker face, and she hoped it wasn’t failing her now.

The losers seemed convinced, even though Stan was still sharply watching her. ‘Did you find him’? Richie asked, adjusting his glasses to stabilize them. Emily shook her head, trying to seem sad as she told them that the dog had been too fast for her. It wasn’t hard to be sad as she thought about all the things that had happened in the last couple of days.

‘I hope you find him’, Ben said hopefully, flashing his big smile as Emily looked at him. ‘I’ve never seen you around here, are you new?’ Stan asked, sounding too laid back to have it come across convincing. Emily’s breath stocked, it was the same type of voice her dad would use against her as her tried to figure out if she was lying about something.

Emily didn’t trust her voice, so instead she nodded. She hadn’t even interpreted the question, but she was too afraid to.

‘So where do you live’? Eddie asked, while trying to pry Richie’s hands of his arm, the scowl on his face wavering as his smile threatened to break through.

Emily hadn’t thought of that, at all. She didn’t what she was supposed to answer. If this really was IT, why hadn’t he done anything yet? Besides, it was shocking to see her father this young, but it wasn’t exactly scary. Not like the thing attacking her had been.

‘I, I don’t have a house yet’, she said, ‘I came early, my parents still had some business to take care of at home’. She gulped, it was a bad excuse and she knew it. Still though, it was hard I come up with answers on the spot, especially since she wasn’t sure what was happening.

‘Oh, so where will you be staying?’ Richie inquired. Emily looked around hopeless. She had no idea.

‘W-w-ere h-h-having a s-s-sleepover, I-if you w-w-wanna come?’ Bill questioned, and Emily felt a surge of gratitude towards him. ‘Yeah, that would be great’.

Richie hooted, to which Eddie shut him a look as if to say that he should stop it.

‘B-b-ev is r-r-riding white m-m-e, but y-y-you can r-r-ride w-w-ith Stan.’ Bill said. Stan’s head turned so quickly it almost sounded like his neck broke. He mustered the most angry look at Bill, turning his glare towards Emily, before huffing, turning around and leaving his bike there, as he walked down the street. It was still for a couple of seconds, nobody daring to move an inch. Richie was the first one that spoke up. ‘I’ll go after him’, he sighed as he too turned and walked after Stan. It was becoming quite obvious that Richie and Stan cared about each other.

Emily felt like crying all over again. She had never been on the receiving end of that look from her dad. He rarely even got that angry, only when the neighbor would once again ride his car into the mailbox after a night of partying, and if one of his customers called him to complain when he was at home. It may not have even been her dad, but it still hurt.

She just wanted to go home, to her mom, so she could be mad at her father in peace. ‘He’s just worried about us, bowers has been really vicious lately’, Bev explained.

‘Who’s bowers?’ Emily shrugged helplessly, her dad hadn’t said much about his childhood.

Ben looked down, his hand grazing his shirt near the underside of his belly, hissing once his hand made contact with something. ‘A bully’, Eddie answered.

‘Well, I don’t know him at all, so don’t worry. I have no plans in bullying you guys. I mean I don’t even have friends’, Emily mumbled bashfully. It wasn’t exactly true, she did have a best friend, but she didn’t really think that counted.

The group smiled. ‘W-w-well you d-d-do now’, bill smiled.

‘Welcome to the losers club, new chick’. Richie beloved as him and Stan approached the group again. Stan still looked reluctant, but he didn’t seem as mad anymore.

‘Oh right, My names is Emily’ she flushed.

‘Hey Emily’. Mike had the kindest smile on his face as he said this, and he already turned towards his bike, getting on it. ‘You can ride with me if you want?’

Stan sighed, ‘or with me, you can also ride with me’. He said looking apprehensive, still though, he offered, and that made Emily more happy then she would have liked.

Nevertheless, she turned around towards mike, ‘thank you, but it’s fine. I’ll just ride with Mike’. Stan nodded, quickly getting his bike as well, and with Bill the leading, the group got on their way.

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

Stan rolled his eyes for what felt like the thousandth time. Even though it was starting to get a bit annoying, Emily couldn’t help but giggle at the way Richie and Eddie were still bickering. It was endearing to see. She had been at Bill’s house for about 3 hours now, and it was becoming clear that these people really got along well with Stan, and were very close with one another. They were accepting and kind, and they made Emily feel right at home in their group. Richie could be a bit much at times , and Eddie freaked her out a bit with his rants about how she shouldn’t sit on a dirty floor, do you know how much bacteria were on there? Still, they were a fun group, each with their own personalities, qualities and opinions of their own.

Currently they were playing 20 questions, as they said they wanted to get to know Emily better. She had, of course agreed, but it was only after answering several questions that she had the insight to lie a bit. She didn’t want IT to know too much about her, and even if this was really her dad, she couldn’t make it weird by telling him all the stuff his daughter would like to do in the future. They had the usual questions like what are your hobbies (Theater and reading), what do you want do when you grow up (teacher), what was the name of your dog?

Though everyone was nice, Stan still seemed very uncomfortable with her being there. It hurt. She had always been close with her dad. They would hang out every Sunday, whether it was making a puzzle or going to a theatre, it was their hang out day. Even if they had a fight, which happened from time to time, they would never go to bed without making up. He always listened respectfully to her opinions, even if it didn’t really make sense. He was just a great father in general, and a respectful man.

Emily could definitely see that in younger Stan, but it seemed as if this Stan had trouble hiding his distrust towards everything. She could see how happy and open he was with his friends, but he wasn’t at all like that with her. With her, he was stiff as a board, watching her like a hawk would watch its prey, as if waiting until she made a mishap.

It was better than when she had woken up too though, as he would sometimes give her reserved smile. The smiles were obviously fake, but Emily still appreciated the effort. He asked her about where she came from. Emily wanted to say Atlanta, but she didn’t want to give too much away, so she told the group that she came from Brooklyn. Stan then had asked about her parents, and it was clear he was trying to figure out what her intentions were. Bill had given him a warning look and Stan had backed off, but Emily had felt very faint in that moment.

‘you aren’t very loud, are you new girl’? Richie asked her. It was true. Her mother had once joked that Emily had the quietness of her father, only without his weird sense of humor. Emily was quite, and could really enjoy jokes crude or not, but she could never come up with jokes herself. She shrugged towards Richie, proving his point more with a smirk, and Richie laughed with her. Her attention was once again drawn towards Bill, who was fidgeting on the floor where he was seated. He had been doing that for the past hour. As Emily and Bill made eye contact, he smiled and stood up, brushing his pants as he did so. ‘I’m just going to grab some more drinks’, he said as he walked out of the room.

‘I’m sorry’, Stan mumbled suddenly from beside Emily. She turned her body towards Stan, indicating to him that she was listening. ‘I shouldn’t have been so rude to you’, he finished. She smiled, feeling a little lighter at his words, he was starting to remind her more and more of her dad. ‘It’s okay, I guess I was kind of strange’, Emily said.

Stan smiled back at her, and this time, it was genuine. He still didn’t look like her trusted her completely, but it was clear he had taken, at least a slight, liking toward her. Before anything else could be said, the door of Bill’s room was thrown open again. Bill was heaving slightly. He was holding what seemed to be a map clenched in his fist. ‘I g-g-got it’, he said while looking around the room. As he looked at Emily his eyes widened, as if he had forgotten that she was there.

Eddie seemed to jump in to help him. ‘hey Emily, do you think you could clean up the kitchen? It’s a weird tradition we have, to clean up the kitchen yeah. So because your new you should do it. Do you know how many bacteria’s there are in a kitchen. My mom said she had a friend that died because some of the bacteria’s of her kitchen table got into her soup and-‘

‘Okay, Eddie thanks for that detailed story,’ Stan said, cutting off Eddie’s rant successfully. ‘I’m sure she gets the gist by now’.

Emily frowned, it was a weird story, but she wasn’t exactly going to question it. Especially not because her story was also suspicious, and they didn’t push her about it too much. She nodded, already begin to stand up. ‘yeah of course, where will you guys be’? She asked turning around at the door to face the group.

‘The garage, we’re going to look through some of Bill’s old stuff’. Beverly answered. All of the losers gave her a tight smile before getting up themselves

Emily accepted this answer and started her way to the kitchen, Bill had showed her around when she had first gotten here. She heard the others go to the garage, and she felt the need to follow them. It was obvious that they were hiding something. If there was anything that described Emily well, it was that she was very curious. Still, she showed the respect her parents had taught her, and she stayed in the kitchen. It didn’t look like the kitchen needed any cleaning to her, as they had only been into the kitchen to grab some drinks and chips, but she still searched the cabinets to find a washcloth.

Normally, she wouldn’t check someone’s cabinets either, but Bill hadn’t told her were any of the stuff was to clean, so she had to figure it out herself. She held the washcloth under cold water and added a cleaning soap before beginning to wipe it across every surface of the kitchen. This wasn’t usually her chore. This was what her mom did. Emily herself always did the dishes while her mom cleaned the kitchen, and her dad would put everything away that Emily had just dried.

It was a weird thought to have, a random one, but for some reason she wished there were dished she could do. Just to get into a familiar setting. Just as this thought had she heard screaming coming from the garage.

She dropped the washcloth and ran towards the door she had seen the losers disappears through. The door was locked, she couldn’t get it open. It freaked her out and for a second she did nothing but stare at the door. Emily suddenly had a flashback to seeing her mom standing at the bathroom door, screaming her father’s name but getting no answer. The screaming still continued. It tore her from her flashback as she once again tried to open the door. As soon as she did, the screaming stopped.

Emily banged her fist against the door. ‘Guys, guys are you okay’? She screamed, her mind instantly thinking of all the bad possibilities that could have happened. A loud crash stopped her from trying to open the door once more. The sounds were coming from the living room, but Emily was too scared to go and see. Another crash caused her to take two steps forward, peering her head around the door that lead into the living room. She couldn’t see anything from where she was standing, so reluctantly, she let go of the doorknob she was still holding. She took another step forward until she was fully in the door opening.

There was a vase laying broken into the middle of the room, but besides that, Emily couldn’t see anything. She walked towards the vase and bowed down, already picking up several pieces. She felt a looming presence behind her suddenly, and in her hurry to get up she felt forward into the sharp pieces of the vase. She held her hands out, and felt the pieces piercing her skin. She hissed instantly jumping up, taking a look at her hand who had instantly started bleeding. A gloved hand landed on her shoulder, causing her breath to stock. The glove was white, and the hand that was in it was gripping so tight was starting to hurt.

Slowly Emily turned around, the blood draining from her face, her mount opening as if to scream, but no sound came out. Before her stood a clown. That was the best way to describe him, though right away you could tell that he wasn’t just a clown. His mount opened so wide that Emily could see the rows of teeth inside of it. He looked like he was going to kill her. However, when he reached his other hand towards her neck, he himself stopped. His mount closed again slightly, and turned his face so that Emily could see his eyes. They were yellow.

He tilted his head, and got his face closer to her. Emily could see from the corner of her eyes that there was a poke form a fireplace, right within her reach. She could reach out and use the poke as a weapon to defend herself. As she tried to though, she felt her hands shake so much, she had never felt so scared before, and she knew she would never have the courage to fight this thing.

The clown seemed to smell her, drawing his head back as fast as he did. It seemed confused. With a gasp, Emily realized that this was the IT that Bill had told her about. A smirk spread across IT’s face. It wasn’t nearly as playful as the smirk Richie god when he tried to annoy someone. No, this smirk was pure evil. ‘Uris, huh?’ The clown giggled, and finally Emily found her voice. She screamed as loud as she could. The door leading up to the garage began to pounce, this time from the other side. She could hear her name being called, but she was too busy screaming to truly notice it. How did this thing know that? She only looked away from the clowns eyes when she heard gasps. The losers club was now standing in the living room, right in front of both Emily and the clown.

Mike sprinted forward, grabbing the poke Emily had been too afraid to reach for. Before he could swing it towards IT, he drew back, letting go of Emily. The clown kept smirking, walking backwards, not saying a word anymore. Only when he disappeared did Emily collapse onto Mike.

Stan and Eddie ran forward towards her aswell. Richie, Bill and Ben ran out of the room to see where IT had gone off too, but ultimately didn’t see anything as they returned empty handed. Emily started sobbing , the pure fear draining her of any inhibitions both mentally and physically. Mike had tried to attack IT, which meant that there was no doubt about it anymore, Emily really was send to the past. Stan, who was sitting in her right side grabbed her arm to look at the wounds the shard of glass had left.

He was careful not to touch any of the blood. Emily knew that this was because he didn’t like any of his stuff dirty, but she didn’t think about that as she hurled herself towards him, gripping him tightly. Stan went rigid, but she didn’t let him go. This was her dad, even if he didn’t know it.

She was so mad at him for leaving her, so furious, but right now he was here. Even if he wasn’t the dad she knew, he was still her dad. He still smelled like vanilla and safety, or maybe he had always smelled that way. Whatever it was, Emily didn’t want to let go of him, she had missed him so much. She heard Richie chuckle awkwardly behind her. ‘Okay, Emily, let doctor K look at the wounds’.

‘Shut the fuck up asshat’, Eddie spewed out, but he did pulled Emily’s arm towards him, taking a look at the hand himself. Emily pulled away from Stan, the tears flowing freely. She turned her body towards Eddie, and settled back against the wall once more. Eddie started pulling out pieces of shards and she cringed, but didn’t pull her hand away.

Though Stan still sat uncomfortable, and shuffled back a little further away from her, he didn’t get up and leave, he stayed by her side, even if he was undoubtedly dying inside at the blood on his shirt. It made Emily’s tears slow, at least her father still cared, young or not.

As Eddie did his best to fix her up, there was only one thing on her mind. What the hell is she supposed to do now?

#stan uris #stanley uris #stanley uris x daughter #stanley uris imagine #x daughter #My writing #it chapter two imagine #it chapter 2 #bill denbrough #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrack #ben hanscom #Mike Hanlon imagine #Beverly March imagine

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ashtheshortstack · 4 years

Text

Waiting for Your Curtain Call - ch 2

Rating: M Ship: Kristoff/Anna Chapter 2: Sparkling Eyes

Tags: Modern AU, Bodyguard AU, Popstar AU, KristAnna, human!Sven, Eventual Smut, Slowish Burn, Fluff, Bodyguard Kristoff, Popstar Anna, Popstar Elsa

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Leaving Anna alone in her room, Kristoff and Elsa moved into the hallway. He could see the worried expression on the elder sister’s face as she chewed her lip.

“Look, there’s no way she can perform like this and you know it. I’ll stay here with her,” he said.

Elsa shook her head. “She’s my sister. She needs me.”

“I understand that. But you can’t both bail on a charity event. It’ll look really bad, first off, and you damn well know your father wouldn’t allow it.”

Sighing, she nodded. “Yes, I know.”

As if on cue, Agnarr came storming up the steps. “What is going on up here? The driver has been waiting for twenty minutes!”

Elsa stepped forward, calmly placing a hand on her father’s upper arm. It was hard to believe she was his daughter at times. He was so demanding, yet the eldest Arendelle was always so tame in her demeanor.

“Papa… I’m afraid Anna won’t be attending the event this evening. It’ll just be me.”

“What? Elsa, that can’t happen and you know it.”

“I have a few solo songs I could sing, and I’ll just sing Anna’s parts as well. There’s no way she can attend, Papa, not in the condition she’s in,” she retorted as she crossed her arms across her chest.

Agnarr was clearly over this conversation as he let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What ‘condition’?”

Kristoff stepped in then, holding up Anna’s phone, showing the image to the father. He stood silently as Agnarr processed the photo before him, his brows furrowing. Kristoff watched as the man’s jaw clenched, swallowing thickly.

“Goddammit,” Agnarr cursed quietly. “I knew that spoiled brat was nothing but trouble,” he sighed. Agnarr seemed to gather his frustration before looking back at them. “Is Anna alright?”

Elsa and Kristoff shared a glance before turning back to Agnarr with a shake of their heads. If anything, that only made the man even more annoyed.

“I’ll be back,” Agnarr muttered before pushing past them and into Anna’s room.

Kristoff wanted nothing more than to follow him, to press his ear to the door and hear what the man was saying to his daughter. If you asked him, Kristoff would say the man was more interested in being his daughters’ manager than their father. Iduna wasn’t half bad, but she was meek and didn’t put a stop to her husband’s antics at times she probably should. If anything, that frustrated Kristoff even more.

If Agnarr forced Anna to go perform while this news broke, the press would have a field day. The interviewers would have mics in her face asking about it every second they could. If they did attend, Kristoff would have to be blocking cameras and paparazzi all evening. He couldn’t think of a worse way to spend his night. Or Anna’s, for that matter. She’d be miserable.

Agnarr left her room, despite the grimace on his face, he seemed at least a bit sympathetic. “Elsa, you and I will be going to the concert. Kristoff, could you keep Anna company until her mother gets home from the office? It’ll only be a few hours, but I think it best if she’s not left alone right now?”

He nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it. Come, Elsa, we’re already late getting you to wardrobe.”

o~o~o~o

Tiny sobs filled Anna’s bedroom. Knowing he needed to be more than just her bodyguard at that point, Kristoff rubbed a comforting hand on her back as Anna cried into her palms. She was sniffling, wiping the snot on her sleeves. Kristoff had been around her enough to know that when Anna cried… she ugly cried.

Her face was wet, red, and puffy—and her sobs showed no sign of stopping. She hiccupped a few times, trying to catch her breath. Kristoff found a bottled water in her room, handing it to her and she took little sips.

“I—I should’ve known,” she murmured, voice wavering. “I should’ve known someone like that wouldn’t be satisfied with someone like me.”

Oh fuck no. She was not going to put that pompous asshole above her like that.

“Yeah, he wasn’t good enough for you anyway,” Kristoff replied nonchalantly.

Anna sniffled, blinking up at him. “What?”

He gave a shrug. “You know what I mean. You could do better than the ‘cute one’ of a boy band. He’s nothing compared to his brothers. The ‘sweet one’ or the ‘older one’ would be more your type.”

She actually laughed at that. It wasn’t a cheerful laugh by any means, but it at least made him feel better to know he helped decrease her sobs at least for a moment. “You may have a point.”

“Anna, I hate to admit this… but I never liked him.”

The ginger snorted with a nod. “Oh, I could tell. He really grinded your gears, huh?”

“More than I could ever tell you.”

“It’s amazing… how many red flags you ignore because you have feelings for someone,” Anna sighed. “I wish I hadn’t pretended I didn’t see them.”

“It’s not your fault he’s an asshole, you realize that right?”

She pursed her lips. “I know…”

Kristoff narrowed his eyes. “That wasn’t a convincing statement.”

“I just can’t help but feel like… maybe I did something wrong? Maybe—I don’t know… I… I didn’t want to have sex with him, and I guess because of that he went looking elsewhere.”

Kristoff felt the anger bubbling in his chest. Of course, that punk was trying to use Anna for sex and publicity. That’s all it really was. He didn’t give a damn about her. God, he hated that he was right.

“A man that tries to pressure his girlfriend into having sex with him isn’t a man, first off. And I have no doubts that even if you had been with him that way, he still would have cheated. Hans is the scumbag here, Anna. You did nothing wrong. He was using you.”

Anna hugged her knees to her chest. “You really think he didn’t actually love me?”

“Did he tell you he did?”

“Yes…”

“After only two months of dating? Yes, Anna, that was a manipulation tactic.”

“Oh,” she sighed, a weak sadness to her tone.

The tears bubbled into her eyes again, and he noticed her quickly try to blink them away. He hated that he felt like an asshole, but she deserved the truth, didn’t she? Kristoff didn’t tell her or warn her about Hans when he should have, so the least he could do was make sure that dickweed didn’t smooth talk his way back into a relationship with her.

If being brutally honest is what he had to do to protect her, then that’s a risk that he was wiling to take. It would sting to hear those words, he knew. But this was all he could do.

Swallowing thickly, Kristoff placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Do you—uh—want ice cream or something?”

Anna gave him a weak smile. “Did you learn that from breakups in rom-coms?”

“I don’t know how to do this sort of thing,” he admitted.

She giggled lightly. “Yes, actually, there’s mint chocolate chip in the freezer.”

As he walked down the massive flight of curved stairs to the kitchen to grab the ice cream container from the freezer… Kristoff realized how truly gone for her he was. He was bringing her ice cream, rubbing her back, doing anything he could to make her feel better. There was a chance he could brush it off, pretend he was just trying to be a good person or friend, but he knew better. He knew if Sven was crying over a girl he’d tell him to get his own damn ice cream and quit crying on him.

But for Anna?

He’d do anything to make her happy. To see her smile. To make her laugh. He wanted her to stop wasting tears on the son of a bitch who hurt her. Who was using her to further is career and hopefully just get in her pants.

How could Hans not see what an amazing person Anna was? It was almost impossible not to fall in love with her. Was that man really so stuck on himself that he couldn’t see this wonderful human being who adored him? Maybe, Elsa had been right when she spoke months ago that Anna really didn’t know anything about love. If Agnarr—the man who controlled their careers—and Iduna—the woman who let him boss around his children and stayed at her office for long hours until the late evening—were her examples of “true love” it was no surprise that she was a bit misguided.

Kristoff grabbed the ice cream and a glass of milk to go with it and brought it back to Anna like the mindless love-stricken dog playing fetch that he was.

When her eyes lit up at the sight, however, he couldn’t find it in him to humor the negative thoughts. Being gone for her was worth it if she looked like that when he did something for her. Every time.

“Thank you,” she cooed taking the ice cream and a spoon.

The container was brand new, apparently. Anna paid no mind and dug her spoon in. Kristoff moved to her large flat screen, turning it on.

“Any requests?” he asked. He couldn’t fight the smile on tugging on his lips when he saw her cheeks stuffed with ice cream like a chipmunk.

Swallowing her mouthful, she shrugged. “I dunno. Isn’t it like—tradition to watch something like The Notebook?”

“Anna, I am not watching The Notebook.”

He would, if she really wanted. But he had to at least protest.

Anna hummed, tapping the spoon to her lips. “What about… Titanic?”

“That’s—better, I guess.”

“Oh! Oh! I know! Ghost! We should totally watch Ghost, dontcha think?”

Kristoff smirked at her. “Why do all of your choices involve dead people?”

“Because I want to cry about something besides my sorry life, Bjorgman. Put on Ghost.”

He couldn’t argue with that. And so, Kristoff found himself searching through the movie catalogue before finding Ghost and pressing play. He helped her onto her bed, sitting against the headboard as they found a comfortable position that put a reasonable amount of distance between them, but close enough that Kristoff could give her a pat on the shoulder if she got upset.

The passionate pottery scene had Kristoff a little uncomfortable as he readjusted himself and tried his best not to think about being in such a position with the girl next to him. He would love to wrap his arms around her, place his hands over hers and—

She was sniffling again.

“Anna?”

Her bottom lip was quivering, tears slipping down the side of her cheeks. “Do you—Do you think someone will ever love me like that?”

It was a movie, he wanted to say. Wanted to remind her that this man would be dead majority of the film, but he couldn’t. Not when there was such devastation in her eyes as she watched the romantic scene play out, and he was trying to ignore the melody of “Unchained Memories” as it rang throughout her room. Rich people and their high def televisions and surround sound… why.

No matter how much he wanted to tell her that it could be him. He could be that person. He could love her the way she deserved to be loved… the words never bubbled to the surface. That wasn’t what she needed to hear right now. If anything, Kristoff would never want to be her rebound. Especially if she was rebounding from Hans Westergaard of all people. The scumbag didn’t set the bar very high as far as first relationships went, but he didn’t want to be second to him. He wanted Anna to want to be with him.

There were times he would think she’d be better off without him. That she deserved people like her—popstars and famous guys—but now… he regretted letting her go through with that. Kristoff could remember her bouncing happily, how giddy she was when Hans first started making his moves on her. She babbled about how nice he was, he was a gentleman, he was the first guy to ever be interested in her. And Kristoff held his tongue like a fool because he thought she deserved better than himself.

But no. She deserved someone who cared about her. He knew that now. Learned that lesson the hard way by seeing her so broken and puffy.

“Someone will, Anna. I promise.”

She wiped her eyes, gazing at him with those seafoam eyes with a smile. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

He did. He wanted to be that person.

Anna’s grin grew along her lips. She plunged her spoon into the ice cream, scooping out a large helping before holding it out to him. “You want some?”

Glancing down between her face and the spoon, he blinked. “Uh, sure.” His fingers twitched to reach for the spoon, but instead Anna held it to his lips. Kristoff tried to ignore the swirling in his gut as he took the spoon into his mouth, cleaning it of the ice cream. There was a tightening in his jeans, and God, how he willed his dick to calm down. It was just ice cream for fuck’s sake.

Those dreamy little eyes of hers simply watched as he removed the ice cream from the spoon, and she tugged it from his lips. When Kristoff had imagined swapping spit with Anna, it certainly hadn’t been like this. He cheeks were warm, but he hoped the darkness in the dimly lit room was enough to save him from any possible embarrassment.

“It’s good, right?” she asked.

Gulping, he nodded. “Y-Yeah. What—” he cleared his throat, “What brand is that?”

She laughed, gesturing to the container. “Did you not see that it was Ben and Jerry’s when you brought it up here?”

Smacking his forehead, he quickly turned his attention back to the movie now that Sam and Molly had moved on from heated pottery making. “No, I wasn’t paying attention. I was—I was worried about you.”

Anna hummed in response. “Thank you for that. For being worried about me, I mean. Papa was just angry at me that I didn’t want to perform.”

“Well, he is your manager.”

“Yeah, but he’s also my father, and sometimes he forgets the line between,” she retorted.

Well, she had him there. There was a lot of salt in her statement that he decided not to press. Anna was already in a bad enough mood, he didn’t need to make it worse by bringing up shit with her dad too.

There was a bit of an awkward silence since Kristoff decided against any follow up questions about her statement. But Anna broke the quiet with a coo.

“That’s so cute. The ‘ditto’ thing.”

He snickered. “A little cheesy, isn’t it?”

“What’s a relationship without a little bit of cheese, right?”

Kristoff found himself humming in agreement.

“…I shouldn’t have given into Hans… That wasn’t the type of relationship I wanted, you know? He was all about publicity, social media, bragging about all the great things we did together. Taking cute pictures and posting them is fine… but he was obsessed with the amount of likes each photo got. That bothered me. He only did big romantic gestures when there were people to see them,” Anna was curling in herself against, her knees pulling to her chest. “Why did I not notice before?”

“Rose colored glasses,” Kristoff replied quickly.

“Huh?”

“We see the person we want to love with rose colored glasses. We ignore their flaws, pretend we don’t see them, despite how big of a red flag it might be flying in our face. It’s normal. It’s human. You can’t blame yourself for his actions.”

Before he knew it, Anna was scooching towards him, she rested her head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Kristoff. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He nearly choked. “Ah ha, it’s nothing. I’m your friend, and I’m always here for you.”

She agreed with a nod of her head. Kristoff wasn’t sure how much time went by as he watched the movie. Found himself sickeningly satisfied watching the murderers get dragged to hell, silently wishing the same thing would happen to Hans. He was a shit person and deserved it too. He hadn’t noticed Anna’s breathing even out, hadn’t notice she’d stopped commenting on the film.

He glanced down at her place on his shoulder, seeing her fast asleep. With her so close, he could see how tiny she was compared to him. How puffy her lips were from crying, how swollen her eyes were, how red her cheeks were. He could count each freckle on her cheeks if he really had the time. The marks were scattered along her face like shimmering constellations. She was beautiful… and it sent a fluttering ache in his chest to see her so up close. Touch came with the job—putting his arm over her shoulder to guide her away from crowds, blocking her from walking with a hand front of her, tugging her out of situations by the wrist—but nothing ever like this. Nothing that ever made him long to feel like this with her again.

As the credits of Ghost rolled, Kristoff checked his phone, noticing it was nearly time for Elsa to go on. He switched to the live television and flicked on the channel. The performer prior to her was finishing up his set, playing his last song as an acoustic. He was sitting on a stool, playing his guitar with the mic on a stand at his mouth.

The crowd sang along, lights swaying in their hands. Kristoff loved the energy of festival concerts like that. He wishes they could’ve gone, so he could watch from backstage as Anna sang her heart out next to her sister. Elsa was always the more elegant of the two when they performed, always poise, holding the mic right at the perfect angles, using her free hand to animate. While Anna was the opposite as she flounced around the stage like a bouncy ball. She was always high fiving fans near the stage, dancing and skipping to different locations. It amazed him how she could sing while being so energetic and active, how she never seemed to be out of breath despite this.

The Anna leaned up against him after crying for hours… was not an Anna he was used to. He’d never seen her so broken. Never seen her so distressed and upset. Kristoff almost didn’t know how to handle it, but he let instincts take over. He was used to comforting his little sisters when something bad happened. And even though his feelings for Anna were much stronger than that of a friend or sister—he still did his best to channel that energy.

Elsa took to the stage on the television. She smiled at the crowd with a wave.

“Hello! I’m so honored to be here tonight. I’m afraid my sister Anna isn’t feeling well and couldn’t be here tonight, but she sends her apologies. We hope you’ll have a chance to see both of us another time,” she announced to the crowd.

The audience roared as she kept on her best smile and waved. He wasn’t sure what that reaction could’ve meant. Were they angry that Anna wasn’t in attendance? It wasn’t quite clear. But Anna was still a human being and had to do what was best for her.

Elsa began performing her solos first. Songs Kristoff had heard far too many times in his life. Not that Elsa wasn’t a fantastic artist, she was. She had a great voice. And maybe he was a bit biased to say he preferred Anna’s voice over her sister’s. It was odd as the performance went on… to see the blonde up there alone without Anna shimmying up there with her.

Anna mumbled against him, nuzzling her cheek impossibly closer to him. It took every ounce of him to not wrap his arm around her waist and tug her in, but he knew that Iduna would be home any moment… and that was not a position he wanted to get caught in with her daughter who had just been cheated on. Kristoff was sure his job would be in jeopardy if she did. Still, she hugged his forearm before letting out a small, happy sigh that had his heart yearning for more.

The concert continued on and watching Elsa sing Anna’s parts was weird. He almost hated it. It was amazing to him that sisters could sing so differently.

He found himself lost in thought when Iduna lightly tapped on the door before opening it. Feeling himself bristle, Kristoff’s eyes were wide at the sight of her. It wasn’t a shock to see her, obviously. He was well aware that Anna’s mother would be returning from the office later in the evening.

Iduna just smiled. “Hey, how is she?”

Glancing down at her sleeping form, he sighed. “She tired herself out from crying, I think,” he told her honestly.

She pursed her lips, nodding. “That’s probably the case,” she approached them, looking over her daughter with a guilt-ridden expression. “I told Agnarr that her dating that boy was a bad idea, but you know how it is, anything to get publicity.”

Iduna sighed, cupping Anna’s cheek. “Thank you for looking after her, Kristoff. I can take it from here.”

With a silent nod, he started to slip from Anna’s grasp, but she clung to him with a distressed moan. He chuckled nervously, glancing up at her mother.

“Anna, I have to go.”

“Don go…” she murmured, eyes staying closed.

Kristoff managed to maneuver his arm from her, despite how she whined in protest. “Your mom is here. It’s okay now.”

It was then that her eyes fluttered open. “Mom…?” Anna turned over to see her mother scooching her way onto the mattress next to her. She reached out, much like a little child after a nightmare. Iduna moved onto the cushions, pulling Anna into her lap as she snuggled against her. Soft sobs began to wrack through the girl once more, and Kristoff couldn’t bare to hear her cry any longer.

He gave Iduna a curt nod with a small wave as he made it to the doorway. She mouthed thanks once more as he left.

Once outside, Kristoff sat in his truck for a moment to gather himself. His rubbed his hands along his face, letting out a frustrated sigh. He knew Hans Westergaard was bad news. Her parents knew it. Her sister knew it. So, why did none of them stick up for Anna? Kristoff assumed it wasn’t his place. He was just her bodyguard. It wouldn’t be proper for him to stick his nose where it didn’t belong. But then… Anna was heartbroken. So heartbroken her fans could absolutely be furious with her for not showing up to the charity festival. Why did none of them stop this relationship that was clearly toxic?

No. Not again. He would stick up for Anna, give her his opinion when he felt it was necessary. He was done with being put in his place. Done with whatever repercussions Agnarr Arendelle had for him. It didn’t matter anymore. Anna mattered. And that was that.

He pulled up his phone, checking social media apps for the first time since the concert. When he saw that #FuckHansWestergaard and #HansWestergaardisOverParty were trending as well as #AnnaDeservesBetter—well, maybe her fans agreed with him. A smirk twitched to his lips.

Karma was really a bitch, wasn’t it?

#kristanna #kristoff x anna #the queen & her reindeer king #ash writes #frozen fic #frozen smut #anna x kristoff #kristanna fic #waiting for your curtain call #wfycc

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babybluebanshee · 5 years

Text

Feedback - A MHA Fic

Hizashi Yamada may be loud, obnoxious, childish, goofy, and frankly have the stupidest hair on the planet...but he's still a teacher.

Aaaaaand Ashido makes five. Sorry, kid, but “tooken” is not a word.

Hizashi made a harsh red line through the incorrectly conjugated verb, then moved his pen over to a legal pad. In large capital letters, he wrote “VERB REVIEW B4 WEDS.”

After he finished writing, he tapped his pen against the paper once. Twice. Then, he underlined his note. Three times.

He moved back to Ashido’s paper, and tallied her score in the corner - a 64%. Not bad, by Ashido’s standards, but it could stand to be improved. He’d have felt slightly better about it if he hadn’t written even lower percentages on Mineta, Kaminari, and Hagakure’s papers.

He sighed and polished off his soda. As was his way, he tried to look at this from a positive angle. He’d known the unit on irregular verb conjugation was going to be rough going in, especially in a language as absolutely insane as English. He taught the damn course and he sometimes had trouble with it. At least now he had an idea of where the students needed the most work before the test on Wednesday. The extra review would be good for all of them. And hey, maybe he could do some browsing online and try to find some review games. Those seemed to help when the kids were struggling with sentence structure.

Hizashi smiled as he tossed the empty soda can in the wastebasket by his desk. Everything would be fine. Class 1-A was one of the most promising groups of kids that UA had seen in years, and what they didn’t learn right away, they always managed to get eventually. He scribbled a little happy face on Ashido’s page (to complement the one she had doodled after her name), and set the sheet amongst the other graded assignments.

He casually looked over the next, slightly crumpled sheet in the stack. After a moment, he closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. Goddammit, Bakugo...

For the past three weeks, Bakugo had been turning in assignments that were only partially done. At first, it had just been a question or two left blank. Then five or six questions. Then entire sections.

This time, aside from his lazily scrawled name in the corner of the paper, Bakugo had left this entire paper blank.

Hizashi shoved his hand up under his glasses, trying in vain to rub away the headache this would doubtlessly bring on. He was so glad he’d taken out his hearing aids while he graded. Right now, the noise would not have helped. At all.

He marked a giant zero in the corner of the page, pressing so hard he was momentarily afraid he’d rip a hole in the paper. As he set Bakugo’s paper off to the side, his stomach clenched in hunger. This was as good a stopping point as any, he supposed. Time to find something to constitute dinner.

He padded down the hall and into the kitchen. Just as he was trying to decide if he felt motivated enough to go through the trouble of cooking vegetables and meat for some ramen, or just blasting it in the microwave and eating like a poor college kid, he spotted the pink bag on the counter, the words “Shrimp Chips” emblazoned on it in cheerful bubble letters. He lunged, quietly blessing Shouta and his pathological need to have a constant supply of garbage food in the apartment at all times as he tore into the foil bag with his teeth. He pulled out a handful and stuffed them into his mouth.

Something soft and fluffy snaked its way between his legs. Looking down, he saw Mame’s two giant green eyes staring up at him from the black void of her face, gazing longingly at the chip bag. Her fluffy tail swished back and forth lazily. She opened her mouth in what Hizashi assumed was a pleading mew. He smiled down at her and shook his head, moving his legs to sidestep her. Mame bounded away from him and jumped onto the nearby table, splaying herself out quite contentedly on the table in a pile of papers, discarded mail, and Hazashi’s school bag. She immediately rolled onto her back and stretched out a paw longingly. She then brought her paw back to her mouth, once, twice, three times.

She was signing “food”. And Shouta said you couldn’t teach a cat to sign.

Hizashi chuckled, swallowed, and then signed back, “First of all, child, you’re not even supposed to be up on the table.”

Mame blinked in response.

“Second, these are my chips. None for you. Shouta doesn’t want you eating anything but cat food anyway. He already feels bad when he has to explain to the vet why you’re so fat.”

Mame rolled back over, letting out a squeak of indignation, before stretching and jumping off the table. Unfortunately, her shifting weight jostled Hizashi’s bag, and before Hizashi could set the chips aside and catch it, everything inside had spilled out onto the floor. He tried to glare angrily at Mame, but she had suddenly become very interested in thoroughly cleaning her front paw. He supposed it didn’t matter. He could never stay mad at her anyway.

He brushed the chip dust off his hands and began to sort through the mess on the floor. Honestly, he’d needed to clean out this bag for a while. Its contents were a mess of lunch receipts and old notes he’d written to himself and playlist ideas for the radio show that had never fully come to fruition. As he crumpled up the trash in his hands, he uncovered his gradebook. He groaned slightly as he began to realize that meant he hadn’t recorded any of the worksheet scores yet, and he was already more than halfway through the pile. He’d have to go back and do them all again.

At least he’d caught himself. And he also had shrimp chips. That sort of softened the blow.

He gathered up the rest of the mess from his bag and put it on the table. He’d sort through it all before bed. Then he gathered up his gradebook, tucked the chips under his arm, grabbed another soda from the fridge, and walked back towards the bedroom.

He flipped open his gradebook with one hand, so he’d at least have it open to the right date by the time he sat down. It fell open to a page near the beginning of the semester. He was just about to shake the book to turn the pages (very nearly losing his underarm grip on his chips), when something caught his eye.

“Bakugo, Katsuki: 88%”

Huh.

His eyes drifted downward, to the next assignment he’d catalogued. An 87%.

He approached his desk, and he began arranging his things to his liking, but he never once took his eyes off the grade book. He scanned the next assignment. Bakugo had scored an 84%.

Hizashi sat down slowly, his chips and the rest of the papers forgotten. He turned the page in his gradebook. Bakugo’s next grade was an 89%.

The next was an 88%. Then a 90%, followed by an 85%. Another 87% and another 89%.

This didn’t make any sense. How could Bakugo start out with such high scores and then suddenly start turning in blank assignments?

He turned the page and got his answer. A 73% was the next grade he saw. It wasn’t exactly failing, but it was a dip in quality, jarring compared to the previous pages.

Maybe the blank assignments weren’t so sudden.

He continued to scan the page. The percentages hovered around the low seventies for a while. On the next page, they dipped into the sixties. Checking the dates, Hizashi saw that these grades began three weeks ago, right around the time Bakugo had started turning in the half-finished assignments.

The decline was steady, until Hizashi finally got to the last assignment he’d recorded. A 58%. A far cry from where they’d started.

His phone was in the corner, next to his hearing aids. He snatched it up and opened up his text thread with Shouta. His husband would be out patrolling right now, but it was still early, and Hizashi hadn’t gotten any breaking news updates on his phone. Hopefully, he wouldn’t catch Shouta at a bad time.

Quickly, he typed, Yo, have you heard anything from Cementoss or Ecto about Bakugo’s grades?

Shouta’s response was quick, taking a little more than a minute. Hizashi was the only person who could brag that Shouta had never left him on read in the entire time they’d known each other.

No. Why? Short and sweet. That was Sho for you.

I’m grading 1-A’s last assignment. Noticed something super weird.

Yeah?

So I’ve complained at you about the kid turning in unfinished work, right?

Many times. They’re enjoyable rants.

Before Hizashi could reply, Shouta sent another message. Do I need to talk to him again about getting his work in? Because I’m sensing the last talk didn’t stick.

Hizashi smiled and replied, Not sure yet. I looked at his grades from the beginning of the semester and they’re good. Not perfect, but good.

Hmm…

Then I started noticing him slipping. He was still handing in complete assignments, but he was getting more stuff wrong. Then he starts handing in this half-assed stuff and his grade just drops more. It’s weird.

What do you think is going on?

Dunno yet. That’s why I was asking if anyone else has said anything. If they had, I was thinking maybe we could have him talk to Hound Dog or something?

Like I said, haven’t heard anything from either of them. They’re not shy about telling me when someone is struggling.

It was true. Hizashi had never known either of his fellow teachers to turn away students who came to them for extra tutoring. And if the students wouldn’t come to them, they had no problem approaching them privately and gently insisting they should. There weren’t many students who would say no to a guy who looked like a walking corpse and someone who could make the parking lot swallow you up.

It just made everything more confusing. He couldn’t think of why Bakugo was doing so much worse in his class than any of the others. It couldn’t be because Bakugo particularly didn’t like him. Not that the kid was particularly fond of any of his teachers, but Hizashi had seen the way Bakugo behaved around people he genuinely hated, like poor Midoriya. That explosive resentment was a far cry from the casual annoyance Hizashi usually saw on Bakugo’s face when they were having a long lecture about diagramming sentences.

Then the word caught him. Explosive.

He thought of Bakugo during training, igniting the nitroglycerin-like sweat that poured off him, and making thundering explosions, loud enough to rattle windows and be heard for miles.

Hizashi’s gaze flicked up to his hearing aids, still at the corner of his desk. English had been a challenge for him because of them. Obviously, learning another language entailed being able to listen to it and pick up the various patterns, words, and grammar rules.

He picked up his pen and tapped it against the desk. Yes, English had been difficult for him, because he’d been deaf since birth. He knew that was the reason.

He could only imagine what it must be like for someone who doesn’t even realize something is wrong yet.

He tapped out a response to Shouta’s last text. I think I know what to do. I’ll explain when you get home. Love you xoxoxo.

Hizashi picked up Bakugo’s blank worksheet. Next to the zero, he wrote, much more lightly, “See me after class.” Then he underlined it. Three times.

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

Hizashi kept his eyes trained on Bakugo as the rest of the class filed out of the room. He thought it pretty telling when the normally cocky little twerp was trying his damnedest to look everywhere but at him.

Finally, Bakugo stood up from his desk and approached the front of the room, hands deep in his pockets. As he did, Hizashu covertly touched the screen of his phone. The video he had queued up began, and a high-pitched whine filled the room. Even though his headphones cancelled out most of the feedback, it still made him wince as his hearing aids worked overtime to process the frequency. It was irritating, but he’d survive. He needed some proof.

“What do you want?” Bakugo muttered tersely.

Hizashi flicked his gaze down at his student’s pocket, where he’d stuffed the blank homework assignment Hizashi had handed back to him. As if sensing that Hizashi was looking, Bakugo crumpled the paper in his fist and shoved it further down.

“Look, I’ll do the stupid thing again if that’s what you want,” Bakugo said, a bit louder. Hizashi knew the kid was trying to intimidate him. He tried it with literally everyone who even looked at him funny.

Hizashi just sighed quietly and replied, “This isn’t about one assignment, Bakugo. It’s about the last several assignments.”

Very few of his students had ever heard Hizashi use his “authority” voice, as Shouta called it. Hizashi honestly didn’t like using it. Most of the teachers in UA were some form of intimidating, and he didn’t want to be that way. He wanted his students to feel like he was a friend, rather than an authority figure. But that didn’t mean he didn’t know when it was time to straighten up and start putting on a teacher voice.

At least the tone had gotten Bakugo to stop looking at the floor and move his eyes somewhere in Hizashi’s general direction.

“It’s not my fault your class is a waste of my time,” the kid muttered.

“Then you should have no trouble explaining to me why your average score on my homework was an 87% until recently.”

Bakugo didn’t answer at first, but Hizashi could practically see the wheels turning in the kid’s head, trying to offer up some angry response that would hopefully scare this prying teacher off.

The high-frequency playing on Hizashi’s phone droned away. It was starting to make his skin crawl. Bakugo didn’t show any signs that he even noticed it.

“Guess your teaching bored me so much it made me drop a few IQ points,” Bakugo offered up weakly. Once again, his gaze was firmly fixed on the floor.

Hizashi took a deep breath, and said, “Bakugo, how long have you been having problems with your hearing?”

That really got Bakugo’s attention. His red eyes contracted to pinpricks, and he straighten his whole body to look Hizashi square in the face. “What the hell are you talking about?” he shouted. His words echoed through the empty classroom. “I can hear just fine!”

“Uh huh,” Hizashi said, picking up his phone and showing it to Bakugo. “Then why couldn’t you hear this high frequency that’s been going for the past few minutes?”

For a split second, Bakugo looked at Hizashi like he’d slapped him. Then the familiar rage contorted his features again, and he shouted, “You’re a liar! You didn’t have anything playing on that piece of shit!”

Hizashi held the phone out to him. “Check if you don’t believe me. But blow it up, and I’ll have you expelled faster than you can blame Midoriya.”

Bakugo swiped the phone from Hizashi’s hand and looked down at the screen, studied the video of the high frequency. He tapped play on the screen, and instantly, the dreadful noise filled the room again. Hizashi actually flinched a bit at the renewed onslaught.

He watched his student stare in silent confusion at the video for a whole thirty seconds before Bakugo spoke up again. “I...it...this stupid video doesn’t even have any sound,” he grumbled, thrusting the phone back towards Hizashi.

Hizashi took the phone, mercifully muted the video, and stuffed it back into his jacket pocket. “Now, back to my original question: how long have you been having problems with your hearing?”

“I already told you, I don’t have any stupid problems!”

“Then you’re definitely gonna need a better excuse to explain away these half-assed assignments,” Hizashi retorted firmly. A brief flicker of confusion crossed Bakugo’s face, and Hizashi guessed this was the first time a teacher had actually sworn in front of him. Hizashi took advantage of the confusion to add, “I talked with Aizawa and the other teachers. My class is the only one where you pull this stunt. Incidentally, math and literature are classes that don’t revolve around being able to hear what your teacher is talking about very well. Unlike, say, English.”

Bakugo merely growled.

“Maybe you’ve noticed ringing in your ears? Or that sound is fading in and-”

“How many times do I have to tell you?!” Bakugo’s sudden shout filled the room. Those red pinpricks were back on Hizashi, full of fight and fire. He had no doubt that Bakugo’s palms were roughly two seconds from starting to pop. “If you can’t get it past your stupid, gel-encrusted hair and through your thick skull, then maybe you’re to one having problems with your hearing!”

Hizashi couldn’t help it - he started to laugh. He’d been prepared for Bakugo to insult and demean him (the crack about his hair was almost a given), but this was just too good. And the look on the poor kid’s face - torn between unbridled confusion and an animalistic urge to jump the desk separating them and claw Hizashi’s eyes out - only made him laugh harder.

Finally, Bakugo barked, “The hell is so funny?!”

Hizashi simply reached up and slid his headphones off, being sure to turn his head slightly so Bakugo could see the thin wires running from the insert to the black processor behind his ear.

“I kinda hope I’ve got a problem with my hearing,” he said. “Otherwise I paid through the nose for the world’s ugliest jewelry.”

Bakugo didn’t reply. He just kept staring - gaping really - at Hizashi’s ears.

Hizashi set his headphones down on his desk, and said, “I’ve been deaf since I was born, but I’ve only had hearing aids since I was about six. I wasn’t kidding when I said they were expensive.”

No reply.

“The doctor who fitted me with my first pair as a kid told my parents that’s probably why I cried so loud. I literally couldn’t hear myself and stop.”

Still no reply.

“The headphones serve a double purpose. They protect my hearing aids against damage, and have a backup power source for them if the batteries ever die while I’m fighting villains or helping in a rescue.”

Silence.

“Bakugo?”

“...you mean to tell me those stupid headphones you wear actually have a purpose?”

Hizashi laughed out loud. “Excuse you, but those things are the height of fashion and function. At least that’s what Hage pays me to say.”

Was that a flicker of a smile Hizashi saw on Bakugo’s face? He decided not to press his luck by asking. Instead he said, “Now, will you answer my question or not?”

Bakugo chewed his lower lip a bit. Another beat of silence passed, and then he finally grumbled, “A while.”

“I’d ask you why you didn’t say anything sooner, but I already know why.”

“Screw you.”

“So you’ve noticed some symptoms?”

“...yeah. It mostly started as ringing.”

“Started?”

“Yeah, it’s worse now. Now sometimes people will just...cut out when they’re talking to me. If I’m not looking directly at them, I miss what they say.”

“And I’m not gonna ask you to learn lip-reading just to get by in English class. It’s a pain, trust me.”

“You can read lips?”

“Yep. I sign too. Since I went through a chunk of my life not being able to hear anything, it can be a little overwhelming. I sometimes take them out when I’m at home. Or in a boring staff meeting.”

That one actually got Bakugo to laugh. Or snort, really. But at least it was something other than confusion or fury.

Hizashi smiled and said, “But you’ve been able to hear your entire life, and if it’s caught early, you might not need as elaborate a set-up as mine.” He took a business card from his back pocket and held it out to Bakugo. “This is for a woman named Nanama Sakakibara. She’s one of the best audiologists in Japan. I want you to think about seeing her. Also, I’m no doctor, but I’m pretty sure that your explosions are what’s damaging your hearing, so maybe think about hitting up Power Loader for some ear protection in that costume of yours.”

Bakugo gave him a stiff nod, but eyed the card like it might bite him. He flicked his glance back up to Hizashi’s. “Do I have to take it?”

Hizashi’s smile morphed into a cat-like grin, and he said, “No, of course you don’t have to. I can always keep it to give to your mom when I set up an emergency parent-teacher conference to discuss your near-failing English grade.”

Bakugo narrowed his eyes at him, then silently snatched the card from Hizashi’s hand. “You’re a dick,” he grumbled.

Hizashi merely smiled wider and picked up his headphones, sliding them back into place over his ears. He slipped back into his announcer voice and said, “I’m a dick because I care, sparky.” He gave Bakugo a double finger-gun, and added, “Now amscray before Eraser gets suspicious about why you aren’t at training yet.”

Bakugo began to move toward the door. Hizashi found it pretty promising when he didn’t immediately shove the card into his pocket, with his incomplete assignment.

When Bakugo reached the door, he stopped, one hand on the door frame, his shoulders tense and his head ducked down.

A beat of silence.

Then: “Thanks or whatever.”

And suddenly Bakugo was gone.

Hizashi shook his head. The gratitude was more than he’d expected. At least it was better than holes blown in the walls.

#hizashi yamada #present mic #katsuki bakugo #deaf mic #deaf bakugo #shouta aizawa #my hero academia #mha #fanfic

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ryouverua · 5 years

Text

Ryoma Hoshi FTE - (Kaede #1)

Last but not certainly not least!

..... I swear that wasn’t a joke about his height -

Jokes aside, he may be one of the ones I’ve been looking forward to the most.

We caught him right in the middle of some deep thought, huh?

Why is Ryoma so good

Me, seconds before remembering what happens with Kaede: Oh good, he needs a friend! .... Aw, damn it.

Apparently he likes these and I, uh, I’m afraid I don’t get it, but please enjoy I guess. 8′)

Just hearing you acknowledge it is good!!!

One (1) second after Kaede shows any sign of displeasure: I’M SORRY IF MY PRESENCE IS SUCH A BURDEN ON YOU

except said in a more cool and tragic way because it’s Ryoma fuckin’ Hoshi and I love him

.... Y’know, I’m not quiet about the fact that I think Kaito is one of the most emotionally-intelligent people in the class, along with Kokichi and Angie. I could probably talk about it a lot, tbh. But they only stand out so much because they’re in a group of very aware people in general (as well as.... a lot of duds). I’m not surprised to see Ryoma showing this kind of awareness. For the little screen time he got, he always felt incredibly mature and intelligent in all areas.

Another reason why he had to make a quick exit, I imagine...

ghghgkh

It turns out that the perfect man is also hilarious.

Damn it Ryoma that’s totally my style of deadpan observational humour

Oh shush Kaede, it was funny.

I can’t help but think he just attempted to tell that as an actual joke and the fact that it fell flat with her embarrassed him aaaah no don’t pull your hat down -

hnghgh this makes me want to be with my boy again... I’m so glad I didn’t do this FTE last year

......... I’m realizing more and more that Ryoma and I have the same style of talking and humour sometimes. The guy is fluent in sarcasm, but in a way that flies under the radar. Damn it, I really like that.

I-It’s okay to like animals!

.... So, random theory that no one asked for.

This whole topic of animals seemed really random and shoehorned to me. The segue between being tired and having an animal around was a bit of a stretch. But Kaede brought it up, right? And Ryoma even said she tricked him, like she was purposefully going out of her way to get him to say he liked something?

I think in the timeline when she does this FTE, she went and looked at the student profiles, saw that he liked Russian Blues, realized that it was a cat breed, and then went out of his way to talk to him about animals based on that! If she was going to approach him, she already knew that he was trying to avoid people and didn’t find joy even in his talent - so (for once Kaede, I’m so proud of you!) she researched what he did like in order to get to know him on that angle.

.... it’s either that or I did some mental-gymnastics on behalf of the writers who wanted to get him to talk about animals with her but couldn’t figure out how and said ‘fuck it’. I’m choosing to stay positive, though. 8′)

see she is far too eager for that not to be true! let one of my overcomplicated theories be right for once damn it -

Used to..... aaaah, oh no. I know that feeling...

W-Well still, at least the cat is alive! And... could have been someone to live for. But in the narrative of the game, the cat was long gone.....

Ugh, they still could have totally had the cat in the motive video. Thinking of that video still really upsets me, damn it - it was just such a low blow and so damn calculated. Probably one of the most upsetting parts of the game, tbh; it had a ring of realism to it that a lot of the other parts didn’t. The way all the classmates reacted when they saw it too was... well....

Ooooh fjghgh Ryoma he sounds wonderful!!!

fuck maybe I should look into a new dog

There is literally no way I could have chosen any other answer, being who I am and knowing what I know now. Not that the other options aren’t alright, but aaaaaaahsdflkj they purposefully omitted his cat from the video

Agreed!!!

KAEDE WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT

Damn right.

I wish he hadn’t forgotten about this feeling. Maybe it would have changed the outcome of Chapter 2....

and I’m going to finally get a dog do you hear me

PSA from Ryoma, who as usual as THE best words of wisdom for everyone.

No damn it, I refuse to believe that your cat didn’t love you and you weren’t a wonderful owner!!!

The most neutral, impersonal option award goes to....!

I. Uh. I don’t know half of these. I’m not surprised there are a lot of types, but this really isn’t my animal area.

Ffff he’s pretty cute when he gets embarrassed. It’s okay to like things, Ryoma! He just... feels like he isn’t allowed to feel good about anything anymore, huh?

Eek, tell me about it. I never realize how much my friend’s cat has shed on me until I’m finding chunks of white hair left on my pants when I get home. And my personal favourite dog breed is hypoallergenic and sheds very minimally, so....

Big agree, Kaede.

you’re the one wearing the cat-like beanie my friend

Aaaw, this one was really nice! I knew I’d like his FTEs, and I still have 5 more (from both sides) to go!

<3 <3 <3

Damn it though!!! I wish he had been reminded about his cat in Chapter 2!!! Just something about cats - just something small to live for - even that could have been enough. I’m happy and sad at the same time I cannot believe - !

#Ryoma Hoshi #Ryou plays drv3 #Kaede Akamatsu #spoilers #drv3 spoilers

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catgluue · 5 years

Text

The Price of Life Chapter Three

So I’ve sent this to be Beta’d but I’m frankly too excited to wait so happy birthday to you, tumblr. I reserve the right to make changes, such as when I discover tumblr formatting has eaten all my italics.

Anyway this was fun to write and I hope you all enjoy it.

Read on A03

----

“I'm bored.”

“Well that makes two of us,” Havoc deadpanned, scrubbing at his eyes with one hand. It was a little after three in the morning and they were situated outside Rebecca's hospital room. It was a fairly unconventional birth plan, with he and Riza taking it in turns to sit with Rebecca, ostensibly so they each could rest but realistically so they could switch out before she got too annoyed with either of them. Their five year old, Marcus, was at Mustang's for the night, but wherever Riza went her shadow was sure to follow. And her shadow happened to be twelve and mouthy.

“Did I take this long to be born?” Mae wanted to know, yawning hugely. She had, of course, been given the choice to stay home but true to form she wanted to be where the action was. Havoc loved the kid to death but he'd forgotten how abysmally obnoxious tweens could be. A while back he'd joked to Mustang that Mae was now the same age that Edward Elric has been when he'd been recruited into the military. Far from finding this funny, the General had gone white as a sheet and spent half an hour locked in his office on the phone with his head in his hands and Riza glaring daggers at Jean.

It had not been a pleasant afternoon.

“No idea,” he said. “I mean, I wasn't there. I know you also decided to show up sometime after midnight and your Aunt Rebecca was up all night waiting for you, so you definitely owe her one.”

“What about-” she began, sitting straighter in her chair, before pausing as though thinking through what she was about to say. “Was anyone else there apart from Aunt Becca?”

He grinned tiredly. “Oh I think someone else might have showed up,” he said, a hand on his chin. “What was that guy's name? Troy?”

“Ha ha.”

“I think you maybe met him once or twice. Dark-haired fellow, lots of stars on his jacket? Thinks you're cool for some reason?”

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “Forget I asked.”

They were quiet for a moment under the fluorescent lights of the hallway. Havoc knew well that hospitals were places apart from time; the lights and people were unchanging. Well, mostly unchanging, he thought, as he spied Breda walking up the hall juggling three styrofoam cups.

“I told you to stay home,” Jean said, accepting the cup which turned out to be full of coffee.

“Yeah well,” Breda said with a shrug. “There was nothing good on the radio.” He handed a cup to Mae, who sniffed it suspiciously. “Black coffee's your drink, right?”

“Yeah but hot chocolate is fine too,” Mae told him, taking a sip. “Uncle Breda were you there when I was born?” Breda shook his head no, settling into a chair on her other side.

“Nah we missed the action. I got to see you a little while after though, you were all pink and tiny and cute. I wonder what happened?” Mae made a face at him, and he nudged her with an elbow playfully. She wasn’t spoiled exactly - Hawkeye would never let that happen - but she had grown up with an abundance of Uncles who were inclined to indulge her every whim until such a time as they’d been sat down by their commanding officer and ordered to desist. (Mae’s Aunt Becca flatly refused a similar order.)

Mustang, for all that he clearly loved the little girl, could be surprisingly stern when he had to, a surprising aspect of their odd arrangement that Jean found made him respect the man even more. It was easy to be a kid’s pal, to take them to the zoo and buy them gifts. It was harder to make them do their homework, or their chores, or eat their vegetables.

“Uncle Breda was almost as afraid of you as he is of dogs,” Havoc confided. “Remember when we sat you down with a pillow and made you hold her?”

“One of the more terrifying experiences of my life, and I helped stage a coup,” Haymans remarked. “You hated me, wouldn't stop screaming until Havoc here took you back. Same thing with Fuery. I think babies can smell fear or something.”

“Maybe you just took some getting used to,” Mae remarked primly, setting her cup down and stretching. The door opened and a tired-looking Riza emerged, amid what sounded like Rebecca threatening the doctor with surprising vigor and creativity for a woman who had been in labor for something like six hours already.

“You're up, Jean,” Hawkeye told him, hauling him to his feet before he had the chance to process what she meant. “I think it's finally time for the big event.” he froze, unbelieving that their long wait was about to pay off and he was about to become a father for the second time. Hawkeye saw his dazed expression and chuckled softly.

“It helps if you open the door,” Mae supplied helpfully, reaching over to pluck the coffee from his hands before he spilled it.

“Can it, squirt,” he said without any real venom, and walked past Riza into the delivery room.

Rebecca looked beautiful: even sweaty and frizzy and tired as she was, Jean didn’t think he’d ever seen someone so radiant. Of course she was also screaming a string of curses so apart from being beautiful she was also terrifying . Like a vengeful goddess or something, he mused. She caught him looking and beckoned him over with the hand not clutching one of the nurses’ arms.

“JEAN HAVOC STOP STARING AT ME AND GET OVER HERE SO I CAN BREAK ALL THE BONES IN YOUR FING-AAAGH!!”

He did as he was told, offering a hand that she clung to painfully.

“You’re doing so well,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice.

“I,” she panted, “am doing a FANTASTIC job.”

“That’s what I meant to say,” he told her. “Can’t be long now right?” He directed this at the doctor, though Rebecca’s ensuing yell of expletives let him know she’d taken it personally.

“All right, Rebecca,” the nurse said after a glance under the sheet that covered her. “It’s time to push.” Havoc felt himself go clammy at the thought, and he brushed a hand across Rebecca’s forehead tenderly.

“You,” he told her, “Are the best baby-haver in history. Nobody pops em out like you can. You’re crushing it.” She grinned wearily, and despite her myriad of threats he could see the genuine affection in her eyes as she squeezed his hand more gently this time.

“This kind of blind adoration is exactly why I keep you around. Now don’t you dare look away, if I have to witness this then so do you.”

It was a boy.

-x-

“Good boy, Taisa! Here, you throw it this time, Mae, you can throw further than I can.” The bushy-haired boy handed the frisbee to the dark-haired girl, who turned, aimed, and threw in one smooth motion.

Jean watched them fondly. He’d been out with Marcus, since Riza and Rebecca had a standing appointment to have lunch together on Saturday afternoons, and Becca had brought the baby. They’d gotten ice cream and were walking through the park when they’d run into Mustang and Mae, who coincidentally alsohad a standing appointment to have lunch together on Saturday afternoons. He’d just assumed she tagged along with her mom and Becca on those occasions but he had to admit it was the perfect opportunity for Mustang to have some quality time with his bodyguard’s kid. It had been Marcus to point them out first, and Havoc had looked to see the General seated on a park bench, chuckling at normally reserved Mae animatedly telling a story that seemed to involve an explosion.

Seeing them side by side really highlighted the passing of time; he remembered when Mae was seven and would play in this same park with Black Hayate, before he passed on to Good Boy Heaven. Mae and Riza had both been inconsolable, and the General had made sure that Hayate was promoted two ranks posthumously and given a proper sendoff befitting his station. Now Mae was fourteen, long-limbed and getting taller almost by the minute.

“I can't believe how big they're getting,” Havoc remarked, watching Mae and Marcus take turns throwing the frisbee for Taisa, one of the late great Black Hayate’s children.

“Do you know she came to me the other day and asked me how to get a boy in her class to notice her?” Roy said, pushing his hair off his face in an exasperated gesture while Havoc barked out a laugh.

“Oh man, I'm guessing you weren't ready for that kind of a talk, huh boss?”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“So what did you tell her?” Now he thought about it, Jean realized that even in his capacity as favorite uncle (or so he liked to believe) he wasn't ready for Mae to start dating either. She’d always been the bookish type, on the quiet side with people she didn’t know well. He had just assumed they wouldn’t have to worry about boys for years yet. Mustang shrugged.

“I was so surprised I just told her to be herself and that any boy who didn't notice her wasn't worth her time.”

“Well that seems like solid advice to me,” Jean told him. A little boring, but he doubted he’d have been able to come up with anything better when put on the spot like that.

“I'm glad you think so; Mae rolled her eyes and said never mind, she'd just go look through Aunt Becca's magazines for actual advice and thanks for nothing,” Roy said bitterly, though he was clearly amused.

Now that he thought about it, Havoc could recall a day last week when Mae had come over and talked to her aunt in hushed tones. At a certain point there had been a peal of laughter and his wife crowing that finally a Hawkeye wanted to look through trashy periodicals with her. He had avoided the kitchen after that and so didn’t hear anything else.

“Ouch. Did you tell Hawkeye?” Roy looked at him in surprise.

“Well no, Mae asked me not to.”

“So you're more afraid of the wrath of a teenage girl than the wrath of Riza Hawkeye, your trusted adjutant and infamous sharpshooter,” he said flatly. “Interesting perspective.”

“It's not like that. If I want Mae to continue trusting me, I need to prove myself worthy of that trust. She should be able to come to me with questions, or things she might not want to talk to her mother about. The Captain understands this.” Of course , Havoc thought. As usual, he was three steps and a nonverbal conversation behind Mustang and Hawkeye. They would have talked about this, probably years ago – probably before Mae herself was even able to talk. They were as much of one mind about Mae's upbringing as they were about anything else.

“Sounds like solid reasoning to me.”

“Besides, if I told Hawkeye there was a boy at school not giving her daughter the time of day you know she’d find a way to show up and ‘accidentally’ let slip how many guns she keeps on her person,” he said cheerfully and Havoc had to admit that he was probably not all that far from the truth.

-x-

The office was filled with the sound of last minute paperwork being gathered up, and Mae's soft begging at the General's desk. It was almost quitting time on a Friday and Hawkeye was delivering some documents while her daughter did her best to cajole her mother's senior officer.

“Please, please please please,

“I can't sign this; I'm not your legal guardian,” Mustang deadpanned, glancing at the final paper she had placed on his desk.

“But you're practically the most important man in Amestris, after the Fuhrer,” Mae reasoned, trying to hand him a pen as he crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at her.

“Go try this on him, then: you'll probably have better luck.” Mae rolled her eyes at the suggestion.

“He'll make me play him for it and I can never beat him.”

“Well, I can't help you either. Have you even asked your mother?” the General asked with a shrug.

“You know she'll never say yes, she always changes the subject when I ask about alchemy. It's just a short term course and I'm doing really well in school this year,” she explained. “I thought you'd understand.” This child of the military really was getting to be a master manipulator, Havoc thought, watching as she batted large amber eyes at Mustang. Sure she lacked subtlety but she knew how to play Roy like a fiddle. She could ask for the moon and he'd find a way to bring it down for her.

“Look Mae,” he said slowly, as though choosing his words carefully, “I know you might think that alchemy is a glamorous profession, but it's not easy. It's a lot of hard work. Most alchemists aren't up to the task of working for the state and there's not much money without government funding.” This was, apparently, the wrong thing to say. Mae's eyes flashed and she squared her shoulders.

“I know I'm not some kind of prodigy like you or Uncle Ed but I don't want to do anything flashy. I want to go to Xing and study with Uncle Al and Aunt May,” she explained. “I've been reading through some of your books and medical alchemy is really cool.”

“When the hell did you read any of my books?” he demanded, and she shrugged, looking slightly guilty.

“Sometimes I borrow them. I always bring them back though. I've been looking through them for years, and I've done a few transmutations. Little ones,” she admitted. Mustang leaned his chin on his hand lazily, regarding Mae as he might look at a fascinating equation.

“Have you? That's actually pretty advanced, you know.”

She blinked, obviously not expecting praise. “Really?”

“You must have an aptitude for it.”

“I know,” she looked around before lowering her voice. “I know mom's father was an alchemist. I think that's maybe why she doesn't want me learning it.”

“Could be,” he said in his most bland, I-know-nothing-whatsoever-about-this-matter voice.

“But I thought you might understand why... why I'm so interested in it.”

“I can't sign the permission slip for you,” he repeated. “Do you know what would happen to me if your mom found out? Terrible things, unspeakable things. Remember the time I got you roller skates before she thought you were ready?” Havoc winced – he was sure none of them would ever forget the roller skate incident.

“Will you – will you talk to her then?”

“And what makes you think that would help?” Mae rolled her eyes.

“She listens to you, Sir. She might not act like it but you should hear her sometimes, it's all “General this” and “General that”, I think she really respects your opinion.” Flattery would get her everywhere, it seemed, as Mustang sat up straighter and ran a hand through his hair, as the Captain reentered the room.

“Follow my lead,” he muttered, and she nodded. “Evening Major, what do you have planned on this beautiful Friday night?” Riza lifted an eyebrow at his flowery tone, a smile playing around her mouth.

“Well it’s Mae’s turn to cook, so I thought I might do some reading,” she answered lightly.

“Oh that's unfortunate, you see I was planning on sweeping her off her feet for a night on the town. Since you seem to be delighted by the prospect of not cooking I suppose you could join us, if that's all right with you of course madam,” this was directed at Mae, who pretended to consider. Havoc started slowly gathering his things, interested to see how this would play out.

“I guess she can come, if she promises not to talk too much.”

“Yes of course, leave those chatterbox tendencies at home and we've got a deal,” Roy said, gazing at Riza evenly over his hands, steepled before him on the desk.

“I think I can agree to that,” Riza said, with another of her barely perceivable smiles that nonetheless seemed to light up her whole face.

“Great,” the General said. “It's a date.”

“Oh shoot!” Mae exclaimed, snatching up her school book - without the form, which she swept into the General's lap seemingly by accident. “I forgot I told Aunt Rebecca I would babysit for her tonight! Oh how terrible, I suppose you'll have to just go without me.” Jean thought that should he want to, he could have knocked Roy over with a feather, while Riza just gave her daughter a small wave, face almost suspiciously bland.

“Well if you promised. We'll miss you though.”

“You'll manage. By mom, bye Sir,” Mae chirped, turning to fall into step with Havoc, who had paused after donning his jacket.

“You realize we're not actually going anywhere,” he said quietly as she took one of his massive binders filled with cases he needed to review before Monday without being asked.

“Keep walking, Uncle Havoc,” she hissed.

“What's in it for me?”

“Free babysitting for a month.”

“Two.”

“One and I'll throw in an overnight trip.”

“Deal,” he said. They'd been wanting to take a weekend off to see Falman in Briggs for a while. “And well played,” he added with a nod.

“Thank you, I learn from the best. What's for dinner?” Hardened con artist and all, she was still a teenager who was somehow constantly hungry. He reached out and ruffled her shoulder length black hair and she responded by ducking away from him and smoothing it back down with a motion that he’d seen his superior officer make a million times.

-x-

BANG BANG BANG

Havoc almost jumped out of his seat at the knocking at the door. It was sometime after eight and dark outside. He picked up his sidearm off the mantle and inched towards the door carefully, before snatching the handle and wrenching it open. Springing back, he brought the gun up and then back down almost as quickly when he saw who it was. Mae Hawkeye, face red and wet with tears, was standing on his doorstep with wide eyes on his gun.

“You scared me,” he explained, dropping his weapon and clicking the safety back on. “What's up, kiddo? Everything ok?” Everything was clearly not okay but everything he knew about teenagers and this teenager in particularly told him to tread lightly. She looked like a frightened animal, and he kept his distance lest she bolt.

“Hey,” she sniffed, looking around him into the empty living room. “Is Aunt Rebecca here?” Great, he thought, girl stuff. Perfect. This was much better than the quiet hour alone with a book and a scotch he'd been anticipating. He poured the scotch anyway, thinking he'd need it.

“She took the boys for ice cream,” he said. “Can, uh, can I make you some tea?” Mae swept by him, dropping a suspiciously large bag on the floor near the coat rack with a thunk . Sounded like a couple changes of clothes and about five books, he estimated. This was serious.

“Sure,” she said, sinking into one of the armchairs and putting her head in her hands. Jean closed the door and headed to the kitchen to switch the kettle on, and by the time he came back she was sitting upright, having dried her face and smoothed her hair back. She looked young, and she was wearing an expression he knew all too well.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked, and she gave him a withering stare that was ironically all Hawkeye, considering what she was probably mad about.

“I can't,” she said in a long-suffering tone. “I mean, I just, I had a fight with mom and I needed to get out.”

“Right,” he said, leaning back and taking a sip of scotch. “Let me guess, girl stuff?” Mae snorted.

“You couldn't even begin to imagine.”

“Right, of course not,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation. When did she get so needlessly dramatic? She certainly didn't get that particular trait from her mother.

She sat on the edge of the couch, arms tightly crossed. He sat next to her and playfully bumped her elbow with one of his.

“Hey come on, you guys usually get along great. Whatever you were fighting about can’t have been that bad.”

“Oh yes it can,” Mae hissed.

“Did she return a book to the library you weren’t finished with yet?” He asked, recalling the source of a previous rift. Mae had a habit of not using bookmarks, claiming to always remember her page, and Riza had a habit of fastidiously following rules, such as the rule that library books could only be borrowed for a fortnight at a time. It was surprising the mistake didn’t happen more often, when you thought about it.

“She’s a liar,” Mae said softly and Havoc blinked at this. Riza Hawkeye was honest to the point of (always tactful) bluntness at times. Sure she could keep a secret when she had to but usually only … when she had to…

He kept his expression carefully neutral.

“It’s not my business,” he told her, hoping this would discourage her from fully revealing the cause of their argument, “But if you caught her in a fib it was probably for good reason.”

“It wasn’t a fib, she’s been lying to me since I was born,” Mae spat bitterly. “And I gave her the chance to finally come clean but she just kept up the lie, like I’m stupid —“

“No one could ever accuse you of being stupid,” he told her. And it was true, she had taken to her alchemy lessons like a fish to water. At fifteen she was at the top of her class and rapidly outpacing the curriculum available. He’d once heard Mustang quietly say to Hawkeye that he’d been looking into finding a private tutor in Central, but he had been immediately shut down by one of her withering stares that seemed to speak volumes to Roy. Havoc couldn’t see why - the girl was a natural, let her do the thing she was clearly great at. “You know how protective your mom can be. Maybe this lie, that I have no knowledge of and is not my business, was for your own good when you were younger. She doesn’t realize how fast you’ve grown up.”

“She still should tell me the truth.”

“You know, your mom’s a person too,” he told her gently, well aware that he was divulging one of the biggest secrets of parentkind. “Have you considered that maybe, uh, whatever it is, is a sensitive topic for her too? It’s probably not a fun secret to keep. I bet you she wishes she doesn’t have to.”

Mae scrubbed the back of her hand across her eyes.

“Thank you, Uncle Havoc. I’m gonna go wash my face.” She headed off down the hall and he breathed a sigh of relief, glad that playing dumb had worked. He reached for his scotch and took a long drink.

Another knock, and Havoc set down his glass in annoyance, before opening the door. It was Riza, of course, looking world-weary and almost like she'd been crying. Jean had known Riza for, geez, at least twenty years now. He didn't think he'd ever seen her cry.

“Hey. Is my daughter here?”

Wordlessly, Havoc opened the door and she walked past him, setting her purse on the coffee table heavily. The tea kettle started to sing in the kitchen and he hastened to take if off the heat, bringing Riza a cup of chamomile without asking.

“Just wait until yours are teenagers,” she said wryly, accepting the mug from him.

“Well when they are, and they run out during an argument, I'll know to go look for them at your place,” he said, and found that despite his joking tone he meant it. This earned him a sad little smile.

“It'll be nice to be the fun aunt for once,” she said softly. “People always say parenting is hard, but no one ever tells you it can be so heartbreaking.” She shook her head slowly. “I didn't mean that. Not exactly.”

“I know what you mean,” Havoc assured her. He hated having arguments with his kids, even if it was just little stuff right now, like whether or not one should jump on the bed. Mae hadn't come out with it, but he could guess what they'd been fighting about.

“I'm the one who ran out,” she confessed. Havoc inched closer to the couch and put what he hoped was a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Not now, but this morning. I was going in to work early and she kept asking me about – well it doesn't matter what. I owe her an answer but I brushed her off.”

“Whatever it is, I'm sure it's ...complicated,” Jean said delicately. Her hand came up briefly to rest on his.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Mom?” came a small voice from the hallway. It was of course Mae, face freshly scrubbed, looking remorseful, yet with a familiar glint of determination in her eyes. “Let's go home,” she said. Riza took a deep breath, and stood up.

“Good idea.”

He’d thought about using Rebecca as a go between to find out the result of this argument, but in the end decided against it. As he’d told Mae, it really wasn’t his business, even though he was desperately curious to find out whether she’d been told of her true parentage. But as it happened, there was no espionage necessary; Hawkeye approached him the next day while he was making coffee in the office.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For whatever you said to Mae about me.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” he said. “I just ah, told her that whatever it was, the situation isn’t ideal for you either.”

“She said that whenever I was ready to … discuss the subject we were arguing over, she would like to hear it.” Riza shrugged. “Sometimes being a parent is a wretch, but then they do something mature and it was all worth it.”

“She’s a great kid,” Jean told Riza solemnly. “You did a good job there.” She smiled a little sadly and he thought he saw her eyes flick to the front of the room, just for a second.

“Oh, you know,” she said softly. “It takes a village.”

-x-

With Grumman retiring and General Mustang moving into his old office, their team was all but disbanded. It meant promotions and pay raises all around, of course, and Havoc was pleased to finally be given his own unit, but this last afternoon lazily packing up the office was bittersweet. He, Breda, and Fuery lingered, chatting and arguing over pens, while Roy finished some paperwork. Colonel Hawkeye had been conspicuously absent, a fact none of them had mentioned due to the stormclouds that had immediately gathered over the Flame Alchemist’s head when one of the subordinates had asked.

The door flew open, and sixteen-year-old Mae stormed in and directly up to the large desk, the spitting image of her mother in a rage. Roy looked up, did a double take, and sighed.

“Oh hell,” he began. “Mae-”

“Don’t you even-” she spat, crossing her arms over her chest. “You fired my mother - how could you possibly-”

Jean exchanged panicked glances with Breda and Fuery. This was a situation he could never have foreseen - even in his paperwork-induced stress dreams he was the one being fired, never Hawkeye. He couldn’t say he really blamed Mae for being upset; he personally was going to be having a word with his superior officer the moment the kid left, insubordination be damned. Fire Hawkeye? Had the General lost his mind, he wouldn’t last two weeks without her watching his back! Mustang was massaging his temples as though he felt a headache coming on.

“She shouldn’t be telling you that kind of thing,” he muttered, which was of course the wrong thing to say.

“She didn’t tell me anything, I know what termination paperwork is, and I know your signature!”

Havoc found himself in the unique position of both wanting to stay and see the pending Fuhrer of Amestris be torn a new one by a teenaged girl and simultaneously wanting to be nowhere near the impending firestorm that was undoubtedly going to take place. From Fuery and Breda’s shell-shocked expressions they were also frozen to where they stood.

“You know believe it or not I do have my reasons,” the General said, voice quiet. “And I am planning to enlighten you, despite the fact that I do not have to, but this is neither the time nor the place.”

“Oh save it,” Mae snapped, though the shaking in her voice told Jean that she was close to tears. He had no idea how Roy was still staring at her levelly; he would have crumbled if she’d used that tone on him. “You’re just a snake - all this time you’ve been pretending to care about us but now you’re getting promoted you’re suddenly too good-”

Behind the desk, Mustang’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, young lady,” he said carefully.

“Well then tell me!” She demanded, fists clenched at her side. None of them had ever seen her this upset with Roy before, and Havoc suddenly recalled Mustang, holding a baby while Edward Elric angrily asked him what Mae would think of him when she was older. He had never given it a second thought, assuming that Mae’s affection for the General meant that she didn’t harbor any resentment.

The tears in her eyes told him he’d been wrong.

From across the room Havoc noticed a few MPs peering into the office, looking for the source of the yelling, and he locked eyes with Fuery, who casually picked up one of his boxes and headed for the door, closing it behind him. Neither of the two at the desk seemed to notice.

“Look,” he said, changing tacks, “I’m almost done here, go wait outside and I’ll-”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Mae hissed, “You’re not my father, remember?” The dam broke. She dropped her head into her hands, shoulders shaking with sobs. Roy reached out in what seemed to be an automatic gesture, pulling her into a hug, rubbing small circles into her back while she cried on his epaulets. When she finally pulled away, sniffling, he handed her a handkerchief and regarded her seriously.

“There’s a set of rules the military has in place,” he began, and Havoc and Breda were suddenly both very busy placing stacks of documents and books into the boxes, “that forbids romantic relationships between officers.”

“Oh,” was all Mae said.

“If evidence of fraternization is discovered, then depending on the rank of the officers involved and the seriousness of the infraction, then at the very least those officers don’t remain stationed in the same city. At worst they could be court-martialed.”

“I didn’t think-“

“I meant to discuss this with you,” he told her, rifling around in his desk. “Clearly I didn’t think you would find out when you did.” Whatever he’d pulled out of his desk elicited a gasp from Mae, and her whole demeanor suddenly shifted. Havoc was too busy minding his own business to catch a glimpse of the object, but he had a guess at what it could be, and why it meant Hawkeye couldn’t continue to work in the military.

“You know most people would start by asking someone on a date first,” Mae told him shakily. “How do you even know if she likes you?” she teased. Mustang had the grace to keep his expression neutral.

“I think she does. I could be wrong.”

Mae had taken the small box and was turning it over in her hands. “She’s pretty upset right now. Even if she didn’t tell me why, I could tell she was mad.”

“I jumped the gun,” he explained. “I was supposed to wait until after the inauguration. She’ll forgive me though. Will you?” Havoc fought the strong urge to run out of the large office, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, or do anything else to break the spell of the moment. He just continued to crouch, rifling aimlessly through the open drawer of his desk. Roy was clearly not asking for forgiveness for what had happened today and Mae, ever the clever one, could tell. It was a tense few moments before she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, choking back a sob.

“Of course,” she murmured, and pulled away with a grin. “You know if mom says yes then you’ll be my stepfather.”

There’s a long moment where Havoc realized he’d somehow gotten dust in his eye and it was wildly uncomfortable.

“No,” Roy said, considering. “I’ll be your dad.”

#royai #price of life #Fullmetal Alchemist #aaaaaaaaa

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pray4jensen · 6 years

Text

This is a commission fic. for @jemariel for her contribution to the @deancasanthology project. She requested an AU fic. where firefighter!Dean walks in on a startled sword-wielding naked Cas who thinks Dean’s an intruder. Based off this post about home invasion.

deancas, fluff, 1.4k

Cas had been warned many times about home intruders. He’d been nagged by his brother, Gabriel, until he’d consented to hiding a remarkably pointy sword under his bed for protection. He’d taken a criminology class, had learnt the ways of serial killers and how best to survive them. But despite it all, he had never imagined that he would ever be put to the test.

Now he knows that he made a very grave error of judgement.

It’s 7:03 a.m. when he hears the door creak open. He’s awake, just barely, but the heavy stomp of footsteps leading straight to his bedroom rouses him like nothing else.

Cas stumbles out of bed. He squints, glares at the door for a moment because he’s been robbed of his morning coffee, but there are six seconds left before the serial killer enters and that’s only just enough time to dive for the sword under his bed.

There’s only one problem, though.

Cas is naked.

For a moment, he stands there, frozen. He values his life but also his dignity, and he knows that he only has enough time to either pull on his pants or grab the sword—not both. Another two seconds pass. The intruder’s hand meets the doorknob.

Cas chooses his life.

What happens next is the story that will have Cas dying of mortification at every family gathering.

As soon as the door opens, Cas leaps into the air, swinging his sword wildly in warning swipes. The serial killer, dressed oddly like a firefighter, stumbles back, falls flat on his ass when he sees the naked man wielding his deadly weapon, and Cas jumps on top of him, straddling him while he brings his blade to the man’s throat.

“You’re not going to murder me,” Cas growls, defiant, just as the man babbles, “Please don’t kill me!”

Cas blinks.

“I’m Dean,” the firefighter says, and then Cas realizes what he’s done.

The man explains how he’s here to inspect the apartment’s fire extinguishers. Apparently the whole complex got the e-mail, Dean tells him, and launches into a long explanation, which starts off with a lot of stammering because Dean still seems to be in shock about his almost untimely demise, and during which Cas is acutely aware of the fact that he’s still straddling the man without any clothes on.

Oh.

And the sword.

Cas...still...has...the...sword.

Cas removes it from Dean’s neck, lays it down on the carpet, and promptly wants to die.

After Dean finishes, he lets out a big sigh, one of relief probably, because Cas doesn’t seem intent on murdering him anymore. He even lifts his hand, gives it to Cas to shake, and Cas is taken aback by the friendly gesture, can’t even get himself to look the freckled man in the eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Cas blurts. His voice comes out in a squeak. Cas narrows his eyes at that and mortified, I am an abomination, he thinks. “I thought you were a serial killer.”

Dean coughs a lot and Cas finally manages to look at him, and after a long moment where they stare at each other a bit too long and Cas notices that Dean has a very attractive mouth, Dean forgives him, pats Cas on the shoulder awkwardly, while gruffly reassuring him that it “could’ve happened to anybody, buddy,” and after another coughing fit, Cas scrambles off the man and they finally meet in a vertical position.

“Uh, here, you probably don’t wanna—” Dean mumbles and he shrugs out his coat, wraps it around Cas to hide his nudity, and Cas nods vigorously, desperate to be decent again, and after that, they awkwardly tour the apartment while Dean assures him that his fire extinguishers are up to par.

Another awkward five minutes later, Dean’s standing in the doorway, is done his inspection and ready to move on to the next block, and Cas becomes acutely aware of the fact that if he undoes the buttons of the coat to hand back to Dean, he’d really just be stripping in a very unsexy fashion.

“Uh, you can keep the coat, Cas,” Dean says hastily, and waves his hand, and Cas prays that he’ll never have to see this man again. “I—I can come ‘round later to collect it?”

Cas curses.

But nods.

And after they agree on six o’ clock, the man gives him another nervous smile and disappears.

The rest of the day, Cas spends his afternoon in Sam Winchester’s apartment. Sam Winchester’s a friendly neighbour who’s had him over a few times, who lives with his girlfriend, and at any rate, Cas agrees wholeheartedly when they bump in the hall and he receives an invitation for beer.

Truth is, Cas can’t face looking at his apartment right now.

By the time they get to their second beers, Eileen comes by, tells them about how the whole apartment complex has the hots for an attractive firefighter who’s been carrying out safety inspections. Something about that seems very funny to Sam, and Eileen winks and says, Apparently, he went into one apartment with his coat on and came back out without it.

Cas drops his beer.

After that, their conversation moves on to Cas’ dating life. It’s true that Cas hasn’t had much luck lately, and then Eileen mentions that Sam has a brother, someone who sounds very dorky whom Cas feels affection, all just by hearing about him. Fifteen minutes later, Eileen’s already arranged for Sam’s brother to come over, promising him that there’s a very handsome man in their apartment.

Cas turns red with embarrassment but is pleased when Eileen tells him that Sam’s brother has responded with an enthusiastic Yes.

“Horn dog,” Sam mutters, but promises that his brother’s not a bad guy.

When the initial blind date turns into a full-fledged dinner, Cas insists on helping out, and Eileen hands him a rather large knife to cut vegetables.

Then the doorbell rings.

Sam and Eileen urge him to open it, winking because his blind date’s arrived early, and Cas, flustered, heads to the door, knife still in hand.

That turns out to be a big mistake.

It’s Dean.

Dean sees Cas standing on the other end, sees the knife covered in red vegetable juice that looks suspiciously like blood, and when Dean doesn’t immediately see his family, he leaps onto Cas and tackles him to the ground.

“Why’re you trying to kill me, pal?” Dean demands and Cas prays to God for a swift death because he can’t live with this type of humiliation any longer.

They roll around on the floor, and Sam and Eileen yell, and there’s general chaos where Cas accidentally embeds the knife into his own thigh. At that, the medically-trained firefighter’s eyes widen, and Cas has to live through the agony of Dean immediately pulling off his pants and boxers to treat the wound because he’s afraid Cas has hit his femoral artery.

“Just missed it,” Dean says, panting, and they stare at each other and wonder how Cas is naked and wielding a knife again in Dean’s presence.

This time because he doesn’t have his jacket anymore to cover Cas up, Cas watches as Dean pulls off his shirt and drapes it over Cas’ crotch as they wait for the ambulance to arrive.

Cas lets out a shuddery breath.

Dean has abs.

“I should probably just go with you,” Dean says, and they ride the ambulance together all the way to the hospital. Dean is a nice guy who holds Cas’ hand the whole time, even though Cas can’t bear to look at him (looking at his chiseled chest is a lot easier).

There’s a lot of waiting and they end up spending the whole day at the hospital. When it’s all over, Dean carries Cas in his very big and muscular arms to the car, and then later, to Cas’ apartment. After Cas is deposited in his bed, Dean tells him that he’ll have his brother, Sam, come up in the morning to check on him. Cas nods and they stare at each other awkwardly.

“You should probably—maybe stop playing with knives, dude,” Dean admonishes and he gestures to the sword that’s still lying on the floor from Cas’ intruder attack this morning.

Cas nods, numb, and with one last look at Dean’s beautiful chest, hopes that he’ll never have to see this man again.

But on the way out, Dean pauses and grins.

“Not bad for a first date, huh?” he says and Cas gulps and a year later, they end up married.

#destielfanficnet #profoundnet #destiel drabble #destiel ficlet #supernatural #masterpost #rmb when i said i had a surprise for u #like 2 weeks ago #the real surprise was that i have no time management skills #ANYWAY I HOPE U LIKED THIS FRIEND #this was the first time i've ever ventured into an AU fic and it was surprisingly fun!!#i hope i did ok #thank you for this awesome prompt #and i hope u'r enjoying ur copy of the deancas anthology! <3

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