#i channeled my sadness into anger while watching the rest of the movie and almost punched my phone multiple times oof

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE ❜

✨ REQUEST: hermanikiiiiiii i wanted to request you the prompt number 1 with coco cruz!!thank you, love you muchisisimoooooo💕💕

✨ PROMPTS: “Wait, you love me? Like Garfield loves Lasagna?”

✨ MADE BY: Juls.

Gif credit: to my lovely @supervalcsi.

WORDS: about 2k.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place or something that makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted ❤

❚❙ JOHNNY ‘COCO’ CRUZ MASTERLIST.

❚❙ MASTERLIST.

❚❙ JOIN MY TAG LIST.

When you heard that Coco had been shot, your heart suddenly stopped. It was four days ago in some kind of dog's fight, as Chuckie told you at the scrapyard. Bishop needed someone to take care of him while they were investigating what happened, so you offered yourself without doubting it.

Much to your regret, you are only two good friends, even if you feel more things that you can't explain, about which you haven't talked with anyone. And thanks to your work in the hospital, you managed a room only for him, so he could rest as much as he wanted, as much as he needed. But your back hurts like hell after being sleeping on the sofa, close to the bed, just to make sure that you were able to attend to all his necessities for minimal they were.

These days there, you have learned a lot about him, about his curiosities, about his fears; spending his time awake talking with you to keep his mind entertained, to not think about the pain in his lower abdomen. Your mates took the bullet in a jiffy, but, normally, the sorrow remains for a couple of weeks. Luckily, he only complained when the hour of the next turn of medicines was close.

You have tried to not think about your feelings the time you were in the hospital, but it was impossible. All you wanted to do was to lie by his side on the bed, embrace him between your arms and kiss him, having to conform yourself with holding his hand and resting your cheek on the mattress. Your eyes have never left his eyes, not even when he was sleeping, on alert in case of an unforeseen because of pain, or an infection, or God who knows. You were really paranoid.

“You ready?”

Coco glared at you, slightly tilting his head. You had asked the same question five times in the last two minutes. Offering him a hand to secure himself, the mexican put down from the hospital bed, ready to leave and go home. Angel and Gilly had cleaned his house, even if you insisted to Bishop that you could do it. But he asked you back to stay with him till the next morning, so he wouldn't stay the night alone until they came back from the other side of the border.

Two knocks in the opened door brought you back to reality from your own thoughts, in the meantime that you helped Coco to wear his leather kutte. Directing your tired eyes to the entrance of the room, you found three Vicki's girls, happily waving their hands. Raising an eyebrow confused and your lips pressed, they came in without asking.

“Papi, we've missed you”. The latin and playful tone of voice from Mariela, as she swung her hips to your friend, gave you shivers.

In just one sight, your presence was pushed to the background. These girls hadn't even called to ask about his state of health and, now, they were there as if they did all the work you did —delighted, of course. Trying to keep calm, you put Coco's clothes into his bag, zipping it when everything is ready.

“No te preocupes, we take care of him now”. Carolina sentenced with contempt and superiority, grabbing his stuff ready to abandon the hospital.

“Yeah, mami. Go home and rest”. His words hurt. More than a bullet.

Preferring their company besides yours let you know that he hadn't taken in count what you did. And yes, you did it because you wanted, but you also thought that maybe could mean a step ahead. But it wasn't. Not saying a word, doing anything but a simple nod with your chin, you grabbed your bag to step out from there. Ashamed. Feeling stupid.

Two weeks have passed and Coco has come back to the clubhouse. This time you have been doing extra shifts to compensate for your lost days taking care of him, almost walking like a zombie from home to work, and from work to home. So, when Bishop invites you to a party in his honor, you decline it. You are too tired physically to assist and tired mentally for foolishness. What is the point of going to a party to see Coco having fun with those bitches? You have had enough after two weeks without receiving a single text to thank you or to know how you are. He hasn't even cared about the fact that you haven't shown up in the club for two weeks. That's the little he thinks in your friendship.

Zapping from one channel to another, you try to find something to watch. A movie, a tv show, whatever that helps to distract your mind, while you enjoy thai noodles with beef. Finally finding an action movie, you cover yourself with a cozy blanket, grabbing the cardboard box to start your dinner. The ringtone of your phone interrupts your calm, with Coco's name on the screen. At first, you don't want to answer, but he continues insisting for more than three long minutes. Hanging up and calling again. With a furious growl installed in your throat, you leave over the table your dinner to grab your phone.

“The fuck means you aren' comen'?”

He doesn't even let you say hi or how are you.

“It means that I'm tired and I have to work at five”.

“I don' think one damn beer reverses your sleeping schedule, Yo' Grace”.

“Fuck you, Jonathan. I've been working double shifts to cover the hours I was taking care of you in th—”.

“Nobody asked you to do it”.

Eyes widened and your heart racing. You can't believe he just said that.

“Yeah, nobody did. But your hermanos preferred to be on the other side of the border. Your putas preferred to be partying and sucking dicks in Vicki's. And your mamá sent me pal' carajo when I called to tell her what happened. I did it because I was your friend. Because I cared about you. Because seeing you there with… all those tubes was killing me. That shit continues giving me nightmares every fucking night. But you shit on that. You kicked me as soon as your putas came to the hospital”. You don't know when you have started to cry, more than because of the rage than because of the sadness. “I'm sorry if I'm too tired to drink a fucking beer, but my job is more important than a person who doesn't give a shit about me, who hasn't called or text me in two weeks, who only wants my company when no one else is around. Have fun in your damn party and fuck all those whores to thank them for picking you up from the hospital, but didn't care about how you were after being shot”.

Hanging up, you toss the phone somewhere on the table, wrapping your body with the blanket and lying down on the sofa. Trying to contain the tears, the only thing you earn is to cry bitterness. You can't understand why he only has noticed your absence at the party. What has changed? Probably it was his egocentrism working, wanting to be surrounded by a lot of people, not caring if they're his friends or not. But you're done being his lapdog.

About to fall asleep, the angry hits in the main door make you suddenly wake up agitated.

“Open up!”

The rage is consuming you again after hearing the strong mexican accent, taking three long strides towards it to receive him with your reddened crystal eyes.

“What the fuck 'you want now? Haven't you had enough beating myself up?”

“You're fuckin' dramatic”. He spits in your face, stopping with a foot the slam to his about to close the door again. “I didn't talk to you because you were working, bu' you didn't talk to me either”.

“Yeah, because you were served with your bitches. Go fuck yourself, Jonathan”.

“Don' call me like that again”. Coco grunts taking a step into your house. “You had to work, they came to cover your back”.

“Oh, please, don't make me laugh. They just wanted to have the credits of taking care of you, so you will expend more money with them. That's the only thing they care about you. Wake up from your world of fantasy, Coco. If you weren't part of the MC, you wouldn't be a shit for them; just another fucking soldier with a broken home”. You can't help but push his chest with both hands, driven by anger.

At first, he doesn't say anything. He looks thoughtful, being aware of the truth in your words. And it hurts that you have to be the one to open his eyes. The problem is that you weren't thinking while talking, pulling your gaze away from him and pressing your trembling lips, one against the other.

“I'm sorry”. You babble, cleaning your tears with the back of your left hand. “I didn't mea—”.

“But you said so”. Coco interrupts you with a husky tone of voice, bristling every inch of skin of your anatomy. “That's wha' I am without my kutte. An ex-soldier, a criminal, an outlaw. I spend my money on them because they take care of me, one way or another”.

“I did it too”.

“So, what? What you want? Money? Tell me an amount”.

Squinting at him, you can't help but chuckle with a painful and bitter laugh.

“I did it because I love you, not because I want your money”. You confess, knowing there's no going back. “I don't care about your money, nor your job, nor about your kutte. I love you because you make me happy. After all, for me, there's nothing better than a hug of yours, because you… you are simply amazing. You're intelligent, funny, loyal. And I wish that you could see yourself through my eyes, Coco”.

He, not saying anything, is killing you slowly. Barely breathing, you cross your arms over your chest to hide the fact that your lungs aren't receiving any air.

“I thought that after being shot, you realized you only live once. And that… after being those… boring days with me, you realized that you preferred the company of these other girls. The funny part of being alive. So I just pulled myself away”. Taking a small pause, you bow down your head, cleaning your tears again. “These weeks have been torture. I've written you a lot of texts that I haven't sent… and I've been a lot of times about to call you. But 'you know that… feeling when you think... the other person is not gonna answer you, because maybe is too busy for you? That shit has been destroying me”.

Hoping that Coco finally is going to speak, he remains silent. Looking at you openmouthed, processing all the information you have just give him.

“Can you, ple—please, say something?” You beg almost shaking.

“Wait, you… love me? Like… Garfield loves lasagna?”

Raising your eyes, pouting at him, you know that he's trying to make you laugh after understanding all the pain you have been through. Lonely. Without talking about it with anyone.

“I'm sorry, mami… I just… fuck”.

Cupping your cheeks onto his hands, Coco slams his lips on yours, tasting the salty tears you have shed because of him. The sloppy kisses bring some more air to your lungs, calming your racing pulse and making you feel less unhappy. As your fingers get intertwined in his shirt, crinkling under your grip, he urges you to walk backward so he can close the main door with a kick.

“God knows I'm so fuckin' sorry… Please, forgive me”. Coco's whispers brush your lips, keeping his eyes closed just like yours. “I'm gonna take care of you now, okay?”.

Nodding in silence, you place your arms around his middle back, hiding your face into his chest. His strong scent brings you back to life, while his arms wrap you tightly to comfort all the pain he has provoked you without knowing it.

“I just want you, ma'. No one else. Just you”.

[sprnklersplashes]

songwriter!janis fic (unrequited crush, no-very-happy-ending) 

also on ao3

It all started because she loved Taylor Swift when she was in middle school. Who is she kidding, she still loves Taylor Swift, but that’s where all this began. A middle school girl’s obsession with Taylor Swift. A confused, sad girl with a broken heart and smudged black eyeliner, finding refuge in lyrics about loneliness and anger and revenge. They became anthems for her, mantras to mutter when the warzone of middle school became too much for her.

“Someday, I’ll be living in a big old city, and all you’re ever gonna be is mean.”

“Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in.”

“I can still see you, this ain’t the best view.”

It amazes her. It’s honestly as if Taylor Swift has managed to look into her life and given her a bundle of songs for whatever she needs. For when Regina has thrown her one too many snide looks, for when she’s standing at the door of North Shore High on her first day, for when she eats lunch alone, for when her mom is the best mom she could have asked for, for when she and Damian are lying on the grass in her backyard, staring up at the sky, laughing at absolutely nothing. The songs become the soundtrack to her life, the chords and those raw, honest lyrics an emotional outlet she so desperately craves. Taylor, and her songs, become a confidant, almost a close friend who always knows what to say.

With all that in mind, perhaps it was only a matter of time before she asks for a guitar for Christmas. She’s fourteen, braces and a slight lisp, and jumps up and down like a mad woman when she sees it under the tree.

She practices for three days straight, until her fingers bleed, but Should’ve Said No is the first song she learns off by heart. She yells the lyrics with maybe a little too much passion, but her parents applaud her nonetheless.

Like she said, that’s how it all started.

Because that same Christmas, she realises that screaming her feelings while playing guitar actually feels pretty cathartic. And that if it worked for Taylor Swift, it could work for her. So she writes stuff down, plays around with chords and strumming until the beat on the guitar matches the one in her head. She grabs a page and a pencil and writes and re-writes her innermost thoughts and feelings on the page until they sound the way she wants them to. She plays around with rhyme schemes and structure and everything she’s been taught about in English class, and a thrill runs through her as she does so. It’s the same breathless high she feels when she paints or draws, the rush that comes from creating something.

Her parents sit on the other side of her bedroom door, no doubt exchanging worried glances as she repeats the same verse, same chorus, with only a word changed. She watches them when they think she can’t see, peering through the crack in her door. The conclusion they seem to come to is ‘well, as coping mechanisms go, it’s pretty good, and she’s happy, so who are we to stop it?’.

It takes her four days to finish her first song. And it sucks. But she keeps it, writes down the lyrics and chords in one of the few empty notebooks she has, and there’s no going back from it now. She writes, and she writes, and she writes, near enough every day. She likes to think she gets better with each one. She learns more chords, buys a cheap ukulele the summer after freshman year, tries her hand at piano during a particularly difficult few weeks. She doesn’t plan on doing anything with them. They’re just her little pieces to hold on to. Her therapy sessions outside the carpeted office.

No-one knows about it. She has a reputation to keep up, after all. The loner-by-choice, too-cool-for-school, aloof art freak. Everyone has their roles to play in the ecosystem that is high school and, much as she hates the entire system, that is hers to play. And she plays it well, if she may say so. The fact that hardly anyone knows her past that facade suits her just fine. After all, if people think she doesn’t care, she can’t get hurt. No-one needs to know that Janis Sarkisian actually has feelings.

Even less need to know that she writes songs about said feelings.

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By the time she reaches her junior year, she’s onto her third notebook. She keeps them tucked away in her sock drawer, expertly hidden so only she can find them. Damian teases her about it, calling her “the protagonist of a Disney Channel Original Movie”. She just rolls her eyes and reminds him that “if either of us is gonna be Disney’s first openly gay character, it’ll be you”. He can’t argue with that.

It should be noted that when Janis said that no-one knows about her songwriting, Damian was the obvious exception. He found out just weeks after she started. There’s no keeping secrets from him.

Between all her notebooks, she’s written around forty songs.

Then she meets Cady Heron one day. The human embodiment of a labrador puppy, complete with wide, lost eyes. She likes her instantly, decides to take her under her wing because Lord knows the girl needs it. Cady’s smile is infectious, her laugh like a summer breeze. She has dimples and caramel-coloured hair and really likes maths.

She meets Cady on a Monday.

By that Saturday, song number 41-titled “Dimples and Curls” is more or less complete.

She plays it for Damian, hands only slightly shaking as she changes chords, the strumming short and upbeat, the melody strangely happy for such a bittersweet song.

He applauds her, but the subject of the song hangs in the air even after she’s played the last chord and the music fades. Unsaid, but not unknown. Just like her songwriting, Janis couldn’t keep a crush from Damian if she tried.

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“Hey, check it out.”

Cady drops onto the seat across from Janis, the whole table shaking as she does so. Like a small meteor just hit Earth. Janis looks up from her lunch, pretending like she had been doing her own thing and not watching the door until Cady came in. Pretending like her stomach doesn’t do little flips at the sight of her crossing the cafeteria. She pulls the flyer towards her and hums in amusement.

“The winter talent show,” she reads before chomping off a carrot stick. “Oh, is it that time of year already?”

“Seems like only yesterday we was welcoming the young’uns into this brave new world during the harvest season,” Damian sighs, putting on a delightfully over the top Southern Belle accent, no doubt influenced by their reading of Streetcar Named Desire in English class. Janis cackles, and nearly chokes on her lunch as she does.

“And now the cold winds of winter are descending upon us,” she replies, her accent equally heavy. She bats her eyes for good measure, because she can and because it makes Cady laugh. “Oh but I pray the children will survive this season, it is often rough for them.”

“I am never showing you two anything winter related ever again,” Cady says.

Janis just shrugs and runs her hand through her hair before her eyes go back to the flyer. Clearly, whatever sophomore they got to design it this year did their best; found the prettiest looking snowflakes on Google Images to put on the cartoon stage, decided to write in some swirling, slanted font rather than the start-studded block lettering they usually went for. It’s still the same as it is every year, meaning just as mockable, but she’ll give them points for tying.

“Well, anyone here going for it?” she asks. She looks from Damian to Cady and back again, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Last year and all that.”

“Not sure I can,” Damian sighs. “I mean, I’m booked up with Spelling Bee rehearsals and spring cabaret auditions happening next semester.” He drums his fingers against his throat. “Gotta give the little vocal chords some rest, you know?”

Janis’ response is to sing the lowest note she possibly can before turning to Cady and giving her a pointed look, the corner of her mouth quirked up.

“Who? Me?” Cady’s cheeks turned crimson and she shakes her head so much that the caramel curls bounced around her shoulders. “No way. Damian can take the stage, I’m fine with my calculators and textbooks.”

“You could always solve equations in front of everyone,” Janis says. “I could call out college-level questions from the audience and you solve them in under 30 seconds.”

“I think I’ll pass,” she giggles. She leans forward slightly, eyes glittering, and Janis does her best not to squirm. The effect Cady Heron’s eyes have on her should be studied by scientists. “What about you, Janis?”

“I don’t know.” She thinks back to when she helped on stage crew last year, as well as helping out (or taking over) with the set design. It had been fun, the kind of challenge she needed to keep her mind off the slowly-going-off-the-rails plan. And she was told it looked good on her college applications, because all people can think about apparently is college, college, college. “Maybe. They might need another genius stage manager.”

“And you’ll step in if they can’t find one?” She digs Damian in the ribs for that comment.

“But not performing?” Cady asks, and Janis freezes. Performing had never even crossed her mind before. She’s used to backstage, hell, she likes backstage. It’s not that she has stage fright or anything, and if she had, her stunt at Ms Norbury’s little healing session would have squished it. She had just never thought about it.

But Cady had, apparently.

“I-No, I-I don’t think so,” she stammers out. “Um, I might do backstage again, but not actually doing something, you know, talent related.” She bites her tongue and clamps her lips shut before anything else can come out.

“Okay then,” Cady replies slowly. She gets up from the table, her little empty water bottle in her hands. “I’m going to go for a refill, save my seat.”

“No problem,” Janis says, but Cady’s already jogging away.

She doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that Cady’s known her too long to think of her as cool, and so this kind of awkward babbling isn’t really surprising to her. Instead of thinking about it, she just sets her head on the table and lets Damian rub her back.

“You were nowhere near as bad as you think you were,” he assures her.

“Title of your sex tape,” comes her murmured reply. Damian chuckles and runs his fingers through her hair, like she’s his pet cat. It helps.

“So you’re definitely not going for the talent show then?” he asks.

Her first instinct is to say no, because of course she isn’t, because she never has before and she sees no point in breaking a three-year streak, but the answer catches in her throat. At the same time, something begins forming in her brain, pieces of a melody she’s already known, words filling in blank spots in her brain, and her fingers twitch involuntarily, playing the chords on an invisible guitar. Without a word, she grabs a notepad and pen from her bag and scribbles the words down before she forgets them, quickly becoming breathless just by sitting there. She forgets, for a moment, everything else, the talent show, Cady, even Damian next to her, and just revels in the task and the quick buzz she gets just from writing. Just like that she has one eye on the clock, itching to get home and put her notes into the rest of the song.

But with those notes came an idea, an idea so completely out of left field she almost laughs at it.

“Janis?” Damian asks, just slightly unnerved by her. If anyone else were at this table, even Cady (especially Cady), she would have had to excuse herself and run to the bathroom, or just hope the words stayed in her head long enough for her to get a quiet moment. “Did the Goddess of Music just possess you again?”

“Maybe,” is her response. He doesn’t know it, but she answered both the questions he asked in the past minute.

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She sits on her bed that night, her homework half-done and strewn across the desk, abandoned in favour of the guitar sitting in her lap and notebook open on her bed. She’s been working on his song for the better part of a week, inspiration and motivation seemingly striking and then fading whenever she gets a free moment. Abandoning it has crossed her mind-she’s no stranger to abandoning things that aren’t working-but for some reason she hasn’t quite been able to shake this particular song off.

Maybe it is Euterpe, the Goddess of Music, descending upon her because this song has to be finished, it has to be, Olympus willing it so.

Or maybe it’s because this song is one of the most personal things she’s ever written, a love letter she’ll never send, and the idea of it sitting unfinished drives her crazy.

She plays another chord and sings the line again, changing the ending slightly, and makes the adjustment in her notes.

She’s crazy. This is already crazy, her secret double life as a wannabe T-Swift, but now she’s gone beyond that. Thinking of actually playing it. On a stage. In front of people. She doesn’t care what people think of her, she stopped caring about that a long, long time ago, but holy shit what will people think of her after she does this? Life isn’t like the movies, she knows that much. It won’t be some pretty, softly-lit moment where the crowd sits with teary eyes, Cady runs onstage and kisses her and she’s offered a deal by some big shot producer, and they all live happily ever after the end. What could happen is people think she’s even more of a weirdo than they do now.

Or she gets tomatoes thrown at her head and she’s booed off the stage. That’s a possibility.

She calls Damian, because that’s the only way she sees out of her little thought cul-de-sac. She puts the phone on speaker and props it up against a pillow, keeping her hands free for her guitar and her pen. He picks up on the third ring, just as she’s strumming out a G chord.

“Oh, is someone prepping for her Grammy?” he asks. “You’re still taking me as your date, right?”

“Only if my dog can’t go,” she replies. She taps her nails against the wood, the rhythm too fast and frantic to just be a habit. Yes, she can tell Damian anything, and being nervous in front of him is laughable, but sometimes her body forgets that. “So, I was thinking about the talent show.”

“Oh? You’re going for stage crew again? Cool.”

“No-not exactly.” She knows he can’t see the smile creeping across her face, but she’d wager he can hear it through the phone. A small swarm of butterflies flutters in her chest, leaving her just slightly out of breath. “I… I. think I’m going to try performing in it.”

A burst of laughter comes through the phone, slightly tinged with static, and Janis wishes he were here so she could slap him. Even if it’s not malicious in intent at all, and she’s laughing right along with him. Slapping is kind of a love language for them.

“Okay, okay cool. What’re you going to do?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” she says, and then she plays the opening chords to her latest experiment. She doesn’t add in the lyrics, not yet. Still, she sits back and basks in his applause when she finishes, cackling into her hand. He might be one person, but he’s got enough enthusiasm to match a packed auditorium. “What do you think?”

“I’m into it,” he tells her. “So… that’s the one you’re doing?”

“Think so.” She tosses the pick between her fingers. Like he could feel her smile, she can feel his raised eyebrow through the phone, the elephant in the room poking her with its trunk. “Yes, I know.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it,” she tells him, and he doesn’t deny it. She looks back over the lyrics she’s written and re-written. Despite some adjustments, it’s still in essence the same. Still about a girl with pretty hair who smells like vanilla and cinnamon, who has a boyfriend and is unknowingly breaking the heart of a girl with black eyeliner and paint stained fingers. Because her boyfriend is pretty and clean and smells like soap and can do math, and how is the poor art girl even meant to compare to that?

“Yes,” she says after a while. “It is about Cady.”

“Aw, my poor lovestruck songstress,” he sighs. He shifts then, and the air shifts with him. “You sure that’s the one you want to sing? I mean you have dozens of other non-Cady related songs. I’m sure Mr Duvall would love to hear Angry Teenage Lesbian Anthem.”

“First off, I gave that one a title, it’s called Shattered,” she reminds him. “And-” She freezes, the rest of her sentence catching in her throat. He’s right. She could perform one of her other songs, that are already finished and therefore removing the pressure to have this one finished, polished and stage-ready. And of course, it would mean she wouldn’t be standing in front of her entire grade and telling them all how badly she’s in love with her best friend. Showing her deepest secret to the people who have already driven her out of school once. It’s a far safer, potentially less traumatic option for her.

But…

“No,” she says. “I know it sounds crazy but I feel like… I feel like I need to do this.” She swallows thickly and picks softly at the guitar strings. “It’s like… like this way at least I’m telling her, you know? Even if she doesn’t know it.”

Of course, Damian gets it.

“That’s beautiful, babe,” he tells her. “So you’re actually doing this?”

“I’m actually doing this,” she replies firmly. “And tomorrow, I need you to make sure I don’t chicken out before I sign up.”

“Got it. I’ll just order you to do it as Senior Co-Chair of the Student Activities Committee.”

“That’s an abuse of power.”

“Then consider yourself abused baby.” He laughs and she laughs with him, and then she hears something on Damian’s end. “I have to go. A certain little sister of mine has a princess costume that needs attending to. See you later.”

“See you later,” she replies before he clicks off the call. She looks down at her paper, then at her guitar, and thinks about what she just committed to. “I’ve got some work to do.”

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The song goes through four rewrites in the weeks leading up to the talent show. The whole first verse is changed, the chorus scrapped and replaced with a new one, then that one is scrapped and she goes back to the old one. She sits hunched on her floor with a pencil in her mouth, wondering if what she’s written is too personal or not personal enough. If it’s too obvious that Cady, smart cookie that she is, will work it out and that’ll lead them down a new, scary path. She cuts some lyrics that give the game away, opting to replace one about love for numbers with love for learning, because that opens up the pool to half their grade. She writes about Cady’s blue eyes rather than specifically those double dimples that make her melt. Maybe she’s compromising her artistic vision, but it might be worth it if it’ll keep her crush a secret. She keeps the old lyrics tucked in the back of her notebook, just to have them.

Meanwhile, she’s also dealing with the fact that people know she has signed up for the talent show. That Miss Too Cool For School Loner Art Freak Janis is actually performing at a school event. And she doesn’t even get extra credit for it. They’re surprised, and curious, and none more so than Cady. The other girl appears at her side almost instantly after first period, skinny little arms wrapped around her bicep and blue eyes alight.

Oh, the things those eyes do to her.

“Janis!” she squeaks. “I saw-on the sign up sheet-your name! Oh my God, is this a joke? Did Damian put you up to it?”

“No, no, I signed up of my own accord,” Janis tells her. That only makes Cady bounce more, ponytail bobbing up and down.

“Oh wow, that’s amazing!” she says. She stops then, her mouth freezing in its place and her cheeks turning pink. Slowly, she comes down to Earth, like a balloon that had the air let out of it. Janis can almost hear the wheeze. “I mean um, it’s pretty cool, I guess.”

“It’s pretty grool,” Janis replies, and just like that Cady bounces back up again.

“Oh my gosh, what are you going to do?” she asks. “Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“You think I have some secret knife-throwing talent?” she grins. She hesitates for a moment, looking down at Cady’s excited face, because even if this isn’t telling her… it’s telling her. “I’m… I’m going to sing.” She pulls on the strap of her backpack and avoids Cady’s eyes. “Something I wrote.”

“Okay,” Cady says. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“Hey!” she laughs. “I can write stuff. I can be deep.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about it,” Cady says, bumping her arm against Janis’. “But for real, Janis, I can’t wait to see it. I know you’ll be amazing.”

Warmth spreads across her pale cheeks, a pink blush no doubt colouring her face, and she somehow manages to choke out a “thanks” as her brain turns to static. Her only thought is ‘Cady thinks I’m going to be good’, and it’s written in glitter pen across her brain.

“This is going to be great,” she goes on. “Oh, wait until I tell Aaron. He’s got a break in his schedule that week so he’s coming up to see the talent show! Isn’t that great?”

And just like that, Janis’ good mood falls. Her face stays the same, because she’s trained to do it, but everything behind it crumbles.

“Yeah, that’s great,” she replies. Cady squeezes her hand, oblivious, and drags her along the hallway, chatting away about some lion documentary she had watched last night.

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

She finishes the song that night. She arrives home with a heavy chest, so full of complicated, messy feelings, and her conversation with Cady still so fresh in her mind, her ears still ringing from the emotional whiplash. Her parents barely get a ‘hello’ as she enters and bolts up to her room, her hands shaking, the thoughts swirling around her brain desperate to be let out.

And let them out she does. She writes so quickly they look more like smudges than words, her fingers flying over rapidly changing chords, her voice broken and panting as she sings. The words almost write themselves, like the song has taken on a life of its own and she’s just along for the ride. She barely remembers to pause, to breathe, so wrapped up in the storm she’s created with just her guitar and pen.

It’s only when she finishes and falls back on her bed that she notices the tears in her eyes. She blinks them away and pulls herself up, her notebook in her hand. It’s done. The perfect blend of her own honest feelings and just enough smokescreen to keep people from knowing who it’s really about.

There’s no backing out now, she thinks. Her stomach drops, like she’s on the top of a roller coaster about to go down. A laugh bubbles up in her throat and leaves her breathless, her head spinning while she’s still laying there.

If holy shit were am adjective, she'd use it to describe how she feels. Because holy shit.

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

Being backstage when she’s not on crew is a strange experience. She stands with her guitar slung around her body, in the middle of a current of students moving around her, half with the clunky microphones and walkie-talkies she’s used so many times before. She asks five of them if she can do anything to help-because they’re her people and she needs to do something to occupy her time-until she finally takes the hint and leaves them to it. Stagehands are the most efficient parts of any production, as she told Damian once. They’re a well-oiled machine at this point.

“Yo!” For a second, Janis thinks she imagined the whisper, just one in a jumble of backstage noises, until Damian appears at her side. A tiny ‘shit’ escapes her mouth, her body jerking. Barely anyone bats an eye at her, except him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.”

“Don’t worry. I think at this point a small breeze could knock into me and I’d crumble.”

“The great Janis Sarkisian gets nervous?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Only when she’s doing something incredibly personal and scary in front of her entire grade,” she whispers back. She swallows past the lump in her throat. “Aside from that I’m a beacon of confidence and unshakable will.”

“Hey.” He taps his knuckles against hers. “Remember how scared you were at Norbury’s assembly?”

“You mean after I had my picture all over the school with the d-slur written underneath it?” she mutters. “Yeah, I was shitting myself.”

“And yet, look what you did there,” he reminds her. “You were amazing. And you’re going to be amazing here too. Once you get on that stage, all those butterflies are going to make you fly, kid.”

She smiles, her heart warm, and pressed her face into the crook of Damian’s neck.

She doesn’t know how she got so lucky to have him, but she knows better than to tempt fate.

“Janis Sarkisian?” She lifts her head to find a freshman girl with a headset around her neck looking at her. “You’re up next.”

“Okay.” It’s only now she becomes aware that the last minute of Fairytale Of New York is playing, the notes will soon fade out, and that’s her cue. She turns to Damian and lets him straighten her black cardigan and fiddle with the collar of her shirt. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.” He drops a whisper of a kiss to her nose. “But good luck.”

She holds her half-heart necklace as he goes, the twin to the one around his neck. It’s as close as she can get to having him with her. Her chest tightens as she makes her way to the stage and she tries to breathe through it, because the next thign she knows, Mr Duvall is announcing her name, and she’s being greeted by a blinding spotlight that thankfully obscures most of her peers’ faces.

“Uh, hi,” she says into the microphone placed out for her. It’s just people , she reminds herself. Somewhere in that crowd, second row, seat 14, is Damian, and she breathes easier. And next to him is Cady, the girl this song is about, and for some reason that straightens her spine and irons out the shaking in her voice. She takes the pick out of its holder and tosses her hair back. “This is a song I wrote about being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.” She blinks and hopes no-one sees the tears in her eyes. “So sing along if you get into it, because we all know it’s a shitty ass feeling.”

She plays the first chord, and then any and all doubts she had about this flee her. As cliche as it sounds, the song takes over her, and she blows through the nerves in the first verse. The experience becomes cathartic instead, like releasing a pressure valve on her soul. Even with the little diversions she threw in, she hasn’t felt this open and god damn free since last year, paraded on her peers’ shoulders with both middle fingers up. Except now she’s not flipping anyone off, or proving a point, she’s just finally telling someone how she feels, and holy shit, it’s amazing. Whatever the aftermath of this is, she won’t care, it’s worth it just for this feeling.

As she sings the last word, and that final note rings in the auditorium, her hands are shaking, her cheeks wet with tears and her hair sticky with sweat. She touches beneath her eye and her fingers come away stained black.  She hasn’t cried in front of people since middle school. She doesn’t care.

The cheers of her classmates ring in her ears, Damian’s whooping the loudest of all, and as she takes her bow, she hopes she’ll remember this moment for a long time.

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

“Oh my God!” she’s barely into the auditorium when Cady launches herself at her, arms wrapped around her neck and legs circling her waist. Janis nearly topples over, digging her back leg into the ground just in time, and hugs Cady with the same ferocity. “You were amazing!” she yells into her shoulder, the sound muffled by Janis’ hair.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” She sets Cady down, but the other girl keeps a tight grip on both her arms. Janis wonders if it’s to keep herself from flying away, given the amount of bouncing up and down she’s doing. “I can’t believe you wrote that! It was so good! You need to record it, Jan. Do you have any other songs?”

“Just a few,” she says. “And I don’t know if I’m in the business of making an album any time soon.” She swings her guitar case a little. “This might have been a one-time thing.”

“Well, even if it was, it was awesome,” she says.

“Thank you, Caddy,” Janis replies. “That means a lot.”

Her mouth runs dry as Cady smiles, all baby pink lipgloss and sparkling eyes and full cheeks. If this were a movie, she thinks, this would be the part where they kiss. No need for talking, or an explanation. Because Cady would have just known. The music would turn soft and twinkly, and the lighting would match it and it would look like they’re in a dream and they’d just kiss, and it will fix all of Janis’ problems. Maybe a single tear will run down her cheek. And then they’ll run off into their new lives as the end credits roll.

How sweet that would be.

But her life isn’t a movie. If she wants anything, she has to go for it herself.

And that includes-

“Caddy.” Her name is delicate on her lips, handled with care. Cady looks at her, giving a simple ‘mm-hm’ in response, and Janis’ heart beats out of control. “That song I just sang, it-”

“Hey, guys.”

Also if this was a movie, Cady’s sweet, lovely, nice boyfriend would not be barging in right now. He’d either be a douchebag who she doesn’t feel bad about hurting, or he’d be nonexistent.

Unfortunately, this is not a movie, and Aaron Samuels exists and is the human equivalent of a squishmallow.

“Hey Aaron.” He slings his arm around Cady’s shoulders, and she leans into his touch almost instinctively. “Janis, you were great up there. I didn’t know you wrote songs.”

“It’s a bit of a new hobby,” she says, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat, and finds a bottle of water being handed to-thrown at-her.

“Hydrate those chords,” is Damian’s greeting.

“This is what I get for being friends with a theatre kid,” she sighs before she takes a drink. She hadn’t realised how dry her throat was until now.

“Okay, so we’re all going for pancakes,” Aaron says. “I take it you two are coming?”

“How can I say no to pancakes?” Janis asks. “Uh, you guys go ahead, I have to get my stuff from the green room.”

“Okay, we’ll wait for you,” Cady says. “Aaron brought his car so he can drive us.”

“Grool.” Cady and Aaron turn around together, Aaron spinning his eyes around his finger and Cady lacing her fingers through his, talking about something she can’t hear. It’s like watching them through a sheet of glass.

Not a movie. Not unless it’s one of those really, really sad movies. Sad homophobic movies.

“You okay?” Damian asks. She snorts at the question. Nothing has changed, so of course she’s okay. But then, nothing has changed, so she’s not really okay.

“I did it,” she sighs. “It’s out there. I told her, unofficially. Whether or not she works it out…” She runs her hand through her tangled hair. “That’s something else entirely.” Damian hums in agreement, a sympathetic look on his face that soon morphs into a grin.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Mom.” They snort, Janis caught between a laugh and a sob, and squeezes Damian’s hand. She’s not optimistic about any romance in her future, at least where Cady is concerned. She and Aaron are still rock-solid and she’s happy for them, whenever she isn’t angsting about it. It’s a weird combination to have.

And at least she’s done this now. Despite a future for her and Cady not being in the cards for now, she’s glad she did it. The secret isn’t out, not entirely. Just written on the walls in invisible ink.

“Come on,” she tells Damian. “I actually do have to get my bag, and you can use this as an opportunity to double check the ghost light is on.”

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

Cady and Aaron keep their promise and wait for them, waving off their apologies as they jog across the parking lot. Cady lets Damian take the front seat with Aaron and slides into the back with Janis instead. Janis frowns, confused as to why she isn’t taking her normal seat up front, and Cady rolls her eyes.

“There was a draw on the way here, and we lost,” she explains. “And now Damian has control of the aux chord,” She gestures with her head to the passenger seat, and Janis turns just in time to see him open his Spotify and scroll through his playlists. As the opening notes to Waving Through A Window fill the car, it’s met with three loud groans. Damian only turns it up louder, and adds in his own backing vocals.

“So, that song you sang,” Cady asks, leaning back in the seat. “Was it about anyone in particular?”

Janis looks down, her hands pressed together in her lap. If this is the moment the universe decided to give her, it’s a really terrible moment. Not only is Cady’s whole boyfriend sitting an arm’s length away from her, but she left her nerve back in the auditorium. Clearly, her and fate aren’t on each other’s wavelength.

“You wouldn’t know her,” she says. “She doesn't even go here.”

“Oh,” Cady replies. Her face falls, but she’s not too put out by it. Why would she be? She nudges Janis’ shoulder, a proud smile on her face, and squeezes Janis’ hand. “Well, if she has someone like you into her and she hasn’t taken the chance yet, then she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Janis only thanks her, and quickly changes the subject.

Someday she might tell her for real, but for now she'll stick to the songs.

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 24

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

2004 

“We lay to rest a beloved member of the community. A mother. A friend. A daughter. A wife. Claudia Stilinski...” We stood on the lawn of Beacon Hills Memorial Cemetery, watching Aunt Claudia’s casket being lowered into the ground. She had been sick for so long and it was starting to turn ugly... But she was in a better place now, that’s what Uncle Noah said. When he spoke at least. I looked past the grieving people, like Ms. McCall, Scott, the entire police department, and looked at Stiles. He looked so tired. His cheeks were tear stained and his eyes were red from crying. 

Once people started to disperse, my parents and I made our way over to Uncle Noah and Stiles. While the adults talked, Stiles and I just continued to stare at the grave. The grounds keepers were starting to cover her body with dirt. 

“Do you want me to spend the night tonight?” I whispered, reaching over and holding his hand. 

Stiles shook his head, chewing on the inside of his cheek, “I want to be alone tonight.” He gave my hand a squeeze.

“Wouldn’t tonight be the worst time to be alone?” 

“I just want to be at home with my dad. I need some time for myself.” 

“(Y/N).” We both turned at my father’s voice, “Let’s go, sweetie.” We both looked back at the grave.

“Okay. Well, call if you change your mind.” I gave his hand a squeeze before letting it slip away. 

We got into the car, making our way back home. 

“How you holding up, sweetie?” Mom turned back and looked at me over the sink. 

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.” I said, looking out the window.

“Well, you don’t have to.” Dad said, “We’ll get into our pjs and watch Disney movies. You know how much Aunt Claudia loved Disney movies.” 

I swallowed thickly, “Actually... I was hoping that I could go to see the Hales. If that’s okay.” Dad sighed loudly and mom smacked him subtly. 

“Sure, baby.” Mom said, a sad smile on her face, “I’ll call Talia when we get home.” 

-

When I was dropped off at the Hales’, Talia welcomed me with open arms, a blanket, and a hot chocolate. I guess what I needed was away from the whole situation. We played games, Laura braided my hair, we made friendship bracelets. At the end of the night, Laura and Cora had fallen asleep to the movie we had been watching and Derek had snuck us both onto the roof of the Hale house. We were on our back, looking up at all the stars in the sky and the moon shining down on us. We had been in silence for a while until Derek cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“So, uh, are you excited for high school next year?” 

I sighed and shook my head, “After today? I don’t think I’ll be ready for anything.”

“Yeah...” He turned on his side to face me, “I’m sorry about your aunt. I know she was important to you.” 

“Thanks...” I turned, “I guess I’m just kinda worried about everything. I don’t know what life is going to be like without her. And I’m worried about Stiles too.” 

“I bet. I don’t know what I would do if I lost my mom.” He said. Then, he reached out and grabbed my hand, “Whenever you feel like this again, let me know. You can come over and we can do this again. Whatever you need, I’ll be there.” 

I smiled, a slight blush to my cheeks that I really hoped was hidden in the dark, “Thanks, Derek.” 

“Of course.” He smiled, “It’s what friends do.” 

-

The communication with Beacon Hills was slim to none. And, ya know, that didn’t feel great. I understood that everyone was busy living their lives whether it was being a high school student or fighting supernatural beings or being a supernatural being or the sheriff in a town full of both. But unanswered texts and calls were starting to get to me. 

The ones I got weren’t great either though. Stiles occasionally sent me a long email about the events that had happened since long distance calls weren’t in the phone plan. 

I had learned more about the alpha pack - a blind one, a woman who could definitely use a manicure, a strong man, and twins who could morph into each other. I was almost a little happy I didn’t have to deal with that. 

All the betas were missing except Isaac who had stayed behind. Even if he did get in trouble every now and then. 

And then missing turned into dead. Hearing that Erica was dead really hit me hard. I barely knew the girl, a few moments and quick chats usually didn’t mean that much. But they found her locked in a closet, rotting. It was horrifying. She was a child. She was finally enjoying her life - a new life without seizures and bullying, her parents had taken her to get pictures taken; happy to see that their little girl loved herself for the first time. Now she was gone. 

They found Boyd alive, thankfully. And surprisingly, they had found Derek’s sister: Cora. 

Not forgetting that there were flocks of animals committing mass suicide and kids turning up murdered. It seems home is getting more and more dangerous. Not only was there an alpha pack but there was a creature called a Darach, a dark druid. 

The leader of the alpha pack, Deucalion, was trying to get Derek to join his pack. He also wanted me to join as well, apparently he had been asking where I was. To join, he would have to kill the betas. Derek, who I’m sure was done being manipulated, refused. To keep him safe, Derek kicked Isaac out of the depot to live with Scott. 

Speaking of dead...

Even thousands of miles away, the vision of falling three stories still hurt as much as if I was actually there. A battle between the alphas, Derek and Scott. And honestly, I wasn’t sure if Derek was alive or dead. Every little message I thought to him just echoed in my head. I had cried, tried forcing myself to work through it. But nothing really worked. I still woke up in the middle of the night, naked on the castle grounds having shifted my feelings or else I was instinctually trying to search for him. First it was anger, next it was denial, then more anger. And that was all just last night. 

Hell, not even forgetting to mention the fact that the test Lachlan ran on me was a little more than just a blood panel. They checked for human chorionic gonadotropin hormone aka the pregnancy hormone. And things were just getting better and better. Because it was positive. I am pregnant. And the father may be dead. 

-

Sending a preemptive long distance fee to Stiles’ PayPal account, I called the house phone. It didn’t have caller ID but it was something. Michael didn’t think it was a good idea, however, it was gonna be a cold day in Hell before I listened to his double agent ass. Lachlan thought I deserved closure. And I trusted him more. 

“Stilinski residence.” Stiles’ voice was a little scratchy, but still loud and clear. 

“Stiles, if you hang up on me I swear you will live to regret it. I still have access to your secret YouTube channel.” There was a pause on the other end, then a sigh. 

“Hey (Y/N). I was wondering why I got an email from my PayPal."

 "Is there a reason I've been on everyone's pay no mind list? Because it's starting to piss me off."

"Well... Derek said that we shouldn't worry about or get you stressed out."

"So not talking to me for months is supposed to help?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Uh... Ya got me there."

I groaned and started tapping my foot, "I just...." My mind seemed to go blank, my heart rate going up. That's not right. I wasn't doing anything to make it spike like this.

"I know, I know. And I'm sorry, I wish I could contact you more. But there's a lot going on here with the alpha pack and Lydia and-and Derek-"

"Shit." I wheezed, sitting down on the bed. My body felt so warm and not in the way it normally would.

"Yeah I know, it's a lot right now-" His voice was drowned out by my senses taking over. It was the familiar warmth of intimacy. But not from me. It was Derek! He was alive. But he was with someone. And that someone-

He was kissing her. Touching her. His heart racing. Her touch set his skin ablaze and nothing else mattered. Not even the wounds on his body that nearly killed him. But all that mattered was her intoxicating touch. The touch of a woman he didn’t know. But her whole being enveloped him.  

I screamed loudly in anger, but behind that anger was so much pain. My chest ached and felt like it was being pulled across the world. I dropped the phone, holding my chest.

"(Y/N)? (Y/N)! What's wrong?!" My breathing was erratic and my thoughts were going wild between what had just happened and what I was thinking and what I had to do from here. I felt so helpless and alone. What could I do?

Then... There was an answer. Maybe it was the stress? Maybe it was my raging hormones? But I had my answer.

I picked the phone back up.

"(Y/N)! Talk to me, what's going on?"

I inhaled and exhaled deeply, "Derek’s alive."

"He is?"

"But not for long." I hung up.

How dare he? HOW COULD HE? AFTER EVERYTHING WE HAVE BEEN THROUGH OUR ENTIRE LIVES AND HE JUST- JUST THROWS IT ALL OUT? And for what? Who could have been more important than me? I'm his stupid mate for Christ's sake.

But if he wants to sleep around?

Fine.

Fine.

He could for the next thirteen hours. Because I'm going back to Beacon Hills for the soul purpose of ripping his heart out like he did mine. And if this emotional trauma affected my child? Well, there were repercussions for that too.

-

Michael and Lachlan were in my room, watching me as I threw together a bag to take on the plane. Remarkably, as a member of the Lunar Circle I would get free airfare courtesy of Lachlan mostly because the guy was insanely rich and he agreed with my revenge plot, for the most part.

"Okay, let's think rationally here." Michael said, taking things out of my bag as I was putting them in, "He's a total douche bag for doing this. We all agree. But in your state, I don't think you should fly. I mean anything could happen."

"I can fly until I'm thirty-six weeks along." I said curtly, grabbing my things out of his hands and putting them back in the bag.

"Come on, think about what you're doing-"

"I have thought about it. And I'm going to kill him."

Michael looked back at Lachlan who had his arms crossed over my chest, only observing.

"A little help here, Praetor McLeod?"

Lachlan shrugged, "Seems justified to me."

"Murder? Murder seems justified to you." He asked incredulously.

"It's the werewolf way." Lachlan said simply.

"Thank you, Lachlan." I smiled.

"Anytime."

"Okay, what about this?" Michael stood in front of my path to my bag, "Murdering him seems like a great idea right now, I totally get it. But-but if you do that, it will weigh heavily on your conscience."

"The Lunar Circle has excellent insurance, including therapy." Lachlan chimed in.

I moved Michael out of the way, "Duly noted."

Michael sputtered, "And-and your baby? What about your baby? That's their dad."

"Their dad who decided to stick his penis in another woman." I raised my eyebrows at him, "That one? Yeah, what a stand up guy."

“But you love him. Don’t you think killing him-”

“Michael!” I slammed my suitcase shut, “Shut up.” I turned and faced both of them, “You’re right, okay? I do love him, which is the worst part. I hate him so much but I still love him. I dedicated my life to him and I thought he had dedicated himself to me. I was wrong.” I zipped the bag and made my way out the door, “I’ll be back at the end of the week.”

-

Getting on the plane didn’t take long. Relatively short lines, quick ticket, fast boarding. Like someone was looking out for me as I went to kick Derek's ass. Becoming alpha to Derek's pack was starting to sound better and better as the pain continued to radiate through my body. Eventually, I just felt numb.

The people on the plane were nice. I sat next to an older gentleman who slept for the most part so I could whisper profanities under my breath. The stewardess had been kind, making sure I had enough to drink. It seems someone had tipped them off I was pregnant, probably Michael. The guy had been a nervous wreck since he found out I was pregnant. He wouldn’t even let me train, not like he had much of a choice in what I did. But he sure knew how to annoy me out of a room. Lachlan had been supportive, talking about adding an additional room onto mine for a nursery. I told that it wasn’t necessary since I wouldn’t be staying in Scotland that long. 

After the plane landed, I was met by a very tired looking Stiles. We didn’t speak much, just began the drive back home. 

"So...." He swallowed, his eyes darted from me to the road ahead, "Pregnant," He chuckled nervously, "That-that's great! I'm so happy for you.” He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. He was hesitating, he wanted to say something else, “Uh...Speaking of-” I groaned loudly, another lecture. 

He ignored my dramatics, “Maybe you shouldn't kill him. That's not good for the baby..." 

“It wasn’t good for the baby when he decided to take our bond, step on it and rub it in the dirt.” He was silent, but not for long.

"Yeah-but you see we kinda need Derek to help with some big bads. Like Deucalion and the Darach and ya know, other stuff." 

"I remember you telling me about it. I tried to do some research but Lachlan said that we didn’t have too much information on them.” 

“Well that’s not too helpful.” 

-

We made it back to the house at sunset, which was perfect timing. The cover of night would be great to conceal me in the dark. Sure, he would smell my scent but he would have no idea where I was coming from. I pulled on the handle on the door but stared at it when it didn’t budge. Still locked. I looked back at Stiles. He looked tired, a wreck.

“Would you just... See dad before you cover yourself in blood? He was really excited to hear you were coming home.” Like he always seemed to be, Stiles’ was right. I should see Uncle Noah. 

“I will. I need to rest anyway. Besides, I can’t kill him on an empty stomach.” I winked.

“You terrify me.” He unlocked the doors. We got out just in time for Uncle Noah to jog down the driveway. 

“There she is!” He grinned, wrapping his arms around me and hugging me tight. 

“I missed you so much.” I said into his shirt, giving him a soft squeeze. He pulled away and looked over me, “Look at you.” He motioned to my stomach that looked more like I was bloated than a fetus growing inside of me, “This-this is... Mhm. Exciting!” 

I chuckled, “Thanks. Very mhm.” 

“Uh, you hungry?” 

“Starving.”

-

Dinner had been extremely awkward, the conversation mostly coming back to the child growing inside of me. Lots of questions from both of them. Mostly how I hadn't called. In actuality I had called approximately twenty times a day with no answer from anyone per Derek's request. Unfortunately for him, his requests were now being put on the back burner. I excused myself to my room.

My room was kept the same, I'm certain no one had been inside besides Uncle Noah. And from the ruffled blankets, maybe Stiles. Back when we were kids, we used to sneak scary movies and had to sleep in a huddled pile because we were too scared to sleep by ourselves. 

I grabbed a jacket and opened up my window, I was half way out of it when my door opened. Stiles stood in the doorway. We stared at each other for a minute. 

“I may regret saying this one day because I don’t care for Derek, but don’t kill him.” He said, “Kick the living shit out of him, sure. Get in a few punches for me. But don’t kill him. We need him.” Of course, all it took was Stiles to talk me off the murder-ledge. 

“I won’t kill him.” I smiled, “I’ll be home soon.”

-

Odds are, with the alpha pack threat Derek will have the depot protected. What he failed to remember was that the most dangerous being in the world had a key to every place in the depot. I simply walked in the front door. Almost like he was expecting me.

His scent was so strong, like the forest after it rained. It made this ball of emotion well up in my chest bringing me back to all the love and memories we had shared together. Not all the memories were life and death. They weren't all fights. Some days, Derek and I would curl up and bed and never leave, only grabbing food here and there. His smile would light up his whole face, sometimes it would even reach his green eyes and make them sparkle. When he would nap, he would lay his head on my chest and sleep, like he was finally at peace with himself and the world. That was the person I loved. 

I walked through the main room at the depot, getting to the stairs. The worst part here was the pictures, us together, the pack. I want to make the depot less abandoned and more homey for the betas to have a place to go and relax. Some of the pictures had turned heads at the photo developing counter (but I had managed to convince them that it was for a theater class). The worst part was that on my way here Boyd had been killed. If only I had been here soon, if only I had been here at all. Only two of the pack remained, Isaac and Jackson who was no longer a killer lizard thanks to Lydia. Say what you will about Peter Hale but sometimes he knew what he was talking about.  

If Derek knew I was here, he hadn’t tried to make a move. Smart. 

After wandering a bit, I finally decided to face the music. I found him hunched over his desk in the main office room. Rain was dancing against the fluorescent lights from the street lamps down below. He hadn’t looked up at me the whole time that I walked up to him. He felt defeat and alone. He had lost everything. He was looking down at his desk, his hands laced together. He looked up slightly, more looking at my shirt than my face. 

“I...” His voice was soft and quiet, something unlike the loud, booming man I was used to, “I messed up.” 

“Yeah, you did.” It was silent for a moment, then he spoke again. 

“Who’s with you?” He asked, his eyes scanning the room. 

I narrowed my eyes at him, “No one.” 

“Then why do I hear another heart-” His eyes widened. He stared directly at my stomach. I thought I almost saw his ears perk up. 

“Are you...”

“I am. I’m having a baby. Emphasis on the ‘I’m’.” I really hadn’t wanted to do much talking, I really hadn’t planned on saying anything besides obscenities and screaming at him. He stood up from the desk and quickly came around, he reached his hand out towards my stomach but I smacked it away. 

“You have no right to touch me. Especially when I can still smell her stench on you.” I scrunched up my nose and sneered. 

“Look,” He licked his lips, “I can’t give you a good answer or an excuse-”

“Good, because I don’t want one.” I glared. 

He looked at me a moment then continued, “I don’t know why I did what I did. Something just came over me. Please tell me you believe me.” He put his hand on my shoulder. 

He really should have taken a lesson out of his own book. With amazing speed, I grabbed him by the throat and threw him across the room. When he landed, my features shifted and my eyes glowed red. He groaned, holding at his waist. That’s where he had been injured in the alpha fight, it had healed but it was still sore. 

“I don’t want your apologies.” I growled, walking towards him, “I want you to feel what I felt. The pain and the suffering. The violation...” I chuckled darkly, “You know that I felt her hands on you? Touching the most private parts of your body that only I was supposed to feel. Do you know how disgusting I felt afterwards? I felt used and dirty and it wasn’t even my body.” I stepped on his chest with my boot to keep him down on the ground. He still wasn’t looking at me. I snarled, grabbing him by his shirt and shoving him against the concrete pillar he landed on. 

“Look at me!” I roared, “You broke me into a million little pieces. You didn’t answer my calls.” I punched him. 

“You kept me hidden in the dark about Erica’s death.” I hit him again. 

“You wouldn’t let my family communicate with me and when they did they couldn’t even tell me everything that was going on. I was begging to hear from someone, anyone, I was all alone!” I threw him across the room. 

“You blocked my number two months ago.” I stalked over to him, ignoring the tears running down my face, “I couldn’t even hear your voice on your goddamn voicemail!” I got down on my knees and grabbed his chin so that his eyes met mine. 

“LOOK AT ME!” I screamed, “Look what you did to me! For months you’ve been using our bond for your own strength, strength that used used to heal and have sex with another woman!” My voice was starting to crack as all the things I had thought about were coming out, “See how much my heart broke when I felt how happy you were with someone other than me.” He was finally looking at me. The worst thing though was that his eyes were full of so much love for me, that special twinkle that Peter said only happened when he looked at me. I wasn’t angry anymore, I was devastated. 

“I came here to kill you.” I sniffled, my features shifting back to normal, “I wanted to tear your heart out. But I can’t... I can’t because I love you and I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I shouldn’t have hurt you, but I want to because of what you did.” As the anger fogged cleared, I realized that I was just as bad as he was. 

“You had every right to hurt me-”

“No, I didn’t. I shouldn’t have hurt you. I’m sorry.” I looked down at my hands, “I felt so out of control. I thought I was getting better at it.” 

“You were.” Derek sat up slowly, “It’s the baby. All of your emotions are going to be heightened. More than usual.” 

“It doesn’t matter.” I made my way towards the exit, not caring that he was calling after me, running to catch up to me. I just left him there. Even when I got home and he tried to get into my window, I just ignored his pleading. What I did wasn’t right, I shouldn’t have hit him or punched him. I was just so angry and that anger clouded my vision. 

Weren’t we a pair - one cheats and the other goes into a blind rage. Perfect. 

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

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[aliveandfullofjoy]

It’s the first day of 2021, which calls (yet again!) for my ten favorite new-to-me movies I watched in 2020!

The rules are the same as always: no movies from this past year (2020) or the year before (2019). Every other year is free game.

All ten of these movies are fascinating and beautiful and well worth your time, so consider this a strong endorsement for all of them. I’ve also included ways to watch all of the films (as of this writing, Jan. 1, 2021). 

01. Two for the Road (dir. Stanley Donen, 1967; USA) Donen takes the ideas of romantic cinema and celebrates it while injecting a healthy dose of painful reality. He chooses two of the English language's most attractive movie stars, Albert Finney (in full himbo mode!) and Audrey Hepburn, and follows their ten-year marriage as seen on their various road trips across Europe. It's a memory piece more than anything else, but the arc of their relationship is clear and their palpable connection burns through the screen. These are two beautiful, intelligent adults who love each other deeply, who are still physically attracted to each other, who are able to hurl verbal jabs and insults at each other with the best of them. Finney is magnificent, but Hepburn sort of steals the show. In what is probably her finest onscreen performance, she gets to grow from a virginal bride to a fully fleshed out adult, living beautifully in different shades of sexy and goofy and bitter. They make a screen couple for the ages. The script is funny without losing its honesty, it's tragic without leaning too far into artifice, it's romantic without being treacly. It's a remarkable balancing act and makes for a masterpiece. (Two for the Road is available to rent online or viewed at this link.)

02. Stop Making Sense (dir. Jonathan Demme, 1984; USA) Stop Making Sense feels like a miracle. It hints at a narrative arc, but that part is unimportant. It’s a live performance recorded and packaged specifically for consumption as a film. In its brief runtime, it becomes a living, breathing, sweating testament to David Byrne’s skill as a performer, as a songwriter, as a storyteller, and to the remarkable talents of everyone in Talking Heads. It’s a breathtakingly joyous experience. I can’t remember the last time I watched a recording of a live performance that captured the same brand of energy, of buoyancy, that you feel as you’re leaving a great communal experience. This is a masterpiece that proclaims as loudly as possible that there is no joy greater than making art with people you love. (Stop Making Sense is currently streaming on Amazon Prime.)

03. Scattered Clouds (dir. Mikio Naruse, 1967; Japan) Filled to the brim with unspoken turmoil and emotional devastation, Naruse's final film chronicles the rough terrain of a relationship between a widow and the man responsible for her husband's death. Spanning years and exploring just how deeply these wounds can go, much of the Scattered Cloud’s success rests on the performances from Yuzo Kayama and Yoko Tsukasa. Kayama is a handsome, likable screen presence who beautifully lives in his own cloud of grief. Tsukasa gets a bit more to chew on, as this really is her story: her arc and her inability to move forward, despite the best intentions, is one of the film's most lasting ideas. Brutally sad but incredibly beautiful. The work of a master filmmaker. (Scattered Clouds is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.)

04. L’Atalante (dir. Jean Vigo, 1934; France) My only regret with L’Atalante is that I didn’t see it sooner. The final (and only feature-length) film from Jean Vigo before his untimely death at 29, this film is a technical marvel and a humanist miracle. Featuring spirited performances from Dita Parlo, Jean Dasté, and the great character actor Michel Simon, and intoxicating dreamlike imagery, as well as a relentlessly romantic score from Maurice Jaubert, this film looks and feels like no other film from its era. (L’Atalante is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.)

05. Daisies (dir. Věra Chytilová, 1966; Czechoslovakia) Věra Chytilová's iconic masterpiece of anarchic cinema more than lives up to its reputation. Operating on its own chaotic wavelength, Daisies follows the exploits of Marie I (Jitka Cerhová) and Marie II (Ivana Karbanová) who seek to spoil themselves after realizing how spoiled the world is. They begin to live extravagantly and rip off older men and cause general mischief. Over less than 80 minutes, Daisies upends a whole slew of cultural norms. Beautiful, ambiguous, funny, cynical, and truly visionary. (Daisies is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel and HBO Max.)

06. The Hero (dir. Satyajit Ray, 1966; India) The Hero sort of feels like Satyajit Ray's answer to 8½ in its meditation of fame and regret. Uttam Kumar is fantastic as Arindam Mukherjee, a superstar actor who works through his career and his loss of values in an interview with a reporter played by Sharmila Tagore, who is also fantastic. Under Ray's sleek direction, gracefully opening up the world of the train, and with his intelligent and human script, the cast uniformly sinks their teeth into this film. Kumar is the MVP out of necessity -- without him, the whole film would fall apart -- but the whole ensemble is remarkable, peppering the background of the train scenes and in Arindam's flashbacks. This also has one of the all-time great nightmare sequences. Easily one of the master director’s best films. (The Hero is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.)

07. Malcolm X (dir. Spike Lee, 1992; USA) Malcolm X is a truly massive film housing an even bigger performance from the great Denzel Washington. Tracing Malcolm X’s life and career while juggling numerous tones and visual styles and spanning across decades and continents, this is surely Spike Lee’s most ambitious film up to this point in his career. Washington is onscreen for virtually all of its long runtime, from the early exuberant days before his imprisonment all the way up to that fateful day in the Audubon Ballroom, and he is, of course, tremendous. All that classic Denzel charisma and magnetism is on full display, whether in his impassioned speeches or in his more intimate scenes. Lee’s direction is top notch, making this full story about a life with an incalculably profound impact feel richly and deeply intimate. This is one of the essential American epics. (Malcolm X is available to rent online.)

08. Beau Travail (dir. Claire Denis, 1999; France) Beau Travail’s place in the modern canon of world cinema is assured, and Denis is rightfully seen as a master, but it really can’t be overstated just how much of a gem this film is. Pepper with sparse dialogue (though always packed with meaning), the film lives in one of two modes: muscular, suntanned men doing slow, precise choreographed exercises in the heat of the day and those same muscular men dancing and gyrating with attractive young women in some ethereal nightclub. Between these poles lies Denis’ almost cosmic meditation on masculine ego, homoerotic obsession, and regret. A fascinating, enigmatic, devastating beauty. (Beau Travail is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.)

09. Only Angels Have Wings (dir. Howard Hawks, 1939; USA) Only Angels Have Wings might be Howard Hawks' crowning directorial achievement. The aerial work, the rainy nights, the beautiful atmosphere of the bars, the palpable camaraderie of the characters, the tragic loss of life and yet the persistence to move forward. Cary Grant leads a terrific cast, including a quietly moving Richard Barthelmess and a rarely-more-likable Thomas Mitchell, and his chemistry with both Jean Arthur (the most charming) and Rita Hayworth is a joy to watch. This film seems to dabble in multiple genres at once, subverting the cliches of the Hollywood formula while still embracing the melodrama and the artifice within. In that way, the film feels very strange, but if the viewer lets themselves be carried along with Hawks' unique rhythm, the reward is one of the most fascinating and exciting films in Hollywood's fabled 1939 output. (Only Angels Have Wings is available to rent online or viewed at this link.)

10. Closely Watched Trains (dir. Jiří Menzel, 1966; Czechoslovakia) Between the precise composition of the shots and the young narrator-protagonist, Closely Watched Trains feels like a spiritual predecessor to Wes Anderson's work. This comparison extends to the thematic content of the film as well, as the story of a young man coming-of-age against the backdrop of the Nazi regime is definitely cut from the same cloth as The Grand Budapest Hotel. Lucky for me, I love Anderson's work, and Grand Budapest is my favorite of his, so Menzel's stylistic flourishes immediately endeared me to the film.Menzel maintains a skillful tonal balancing act throughout Closely Watched Trains. Even under the wry, almost self-deprecating humor, the film never loses track of preciousness of life and the horrific tragedy of war. Beautiful cinematography, strong performances across the board, a memorable score, and a clever script make this a gem of the Czech New Wave and a moving, delightful, and accessible coming-of-age tale. (Closely Watched Trains is currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.)

Honorable mentions (in alphabetical order): Ace in the Hole (Billy Wilder, 1951), The Band’s Visit (Eran Kolirin, 2007), But I’m a Cheerleader (Jamie Babbit, 1999), Carnival of Souls (Herk Harvey, 1962), A Cottage on Dartmoor (Anthony Asquith, 1929), Crossing Delancey (Joan Micklin Silver, 1988), Divorce Italian Style (Pietro Germi, 1961); Eat Drink Man Woman (Ang Lee, 1994), Fireworks (Kenneth Anger, 1947), The Freshman (Fred C. Newmeyer & Sam Taylor, 1925), The Hitch-Hiker (Ida Lupino, 1953), Kuroneko (Kaneto Shindo, 1968), Le Bonheur (Agnès Varda, 1965), Le Notti Bianche (Luchino Visconti, 1957), Like Father, Like Son (Hirokazu Kore-eda, 2013), Local Hero (Bill Forsyth, 1983), Love & Basketball (Gina Prince-Bythewood, 2000), Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior (George Miller, 1981), Monsoon Wedding (Mira Nair, 2001), One Sings, the Other Doesn’t (Agnès Varda, 1977), Pennies from Heaven (Herbert Ross, 1981), Pickup on South Street (Samuel Fuller, 1953), Rushmore (Wes Anderson, 1998), Seven Samurai (Akira Kurosawa, 1954), Sleepless in Seattle (Nora Ephron, 1993), Symbiopsychotaxiplasm: Take One (William Greaves, 1968), Tea and Sympathy (Vincente Minnelli, 1956), They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? (Sydney Pollack, 1969), Tomboy (Céline Sciamma, 2011), Wendy & Lucy (Kelly Reichardt, 2008), Within Our Gates (Oscar Micheaux, 1920), Whisper of the Heart (Yoshifumi Kondo, 1995), and Who Framed Roger Rabbit (Robert Zemeckis, 1988).

And some miscellaneous viewing stats:

First movie watched in 2020: A Fantastic Woman (Sebastián Lelio, 2017)

Final movie watched in 2020: Holiday (George Cukor, 1938)

Worst movie watched: The Notebook (Nick Cassavetes, 2004)

Oldest movie watched: Ten films by the Lumière Brothers (Louis Lumière, 1895)

Longest movie watched: Seven Samurai (Akira Kurosawa, 1954; 207 minutes)

Month with most amount of movies watched: December (58 movies, including shorts)

Month with least amount of movies watched: February (11 movies) (pre-COVID, naturally)

First movie from 2020 seen: Birds of Prey (Cathy Yan, 2020)

Total movies watched: 455

[mycomfortblanket]

Let's Channel All Our Sadness Into THis

Continuation of a Tumblr Prompt, "I don't want to feel this anymore. I want to be numb." Heart has recently been torn to shreds so might as well make something out of it, right?

'I remember it hurt, watching her hurt,' is a line from some movie that continues to run through Aang's head as he watches Toph pretend to listen to the conversation that is going on around them. They're sitting in the living room of Sokka's apartment listening to his latest encounter with Zuko's sister.

She must feel him staring at her cause one second her eyes are trained towards the ground, unfocused and empty, and the next she looking in his direction. They stare at each other for a few seconds before she drops her gaze to her lap and picks at the hole in her jeans. It's been a week or two since the breakup with Kanto and she has slowly been withdrawing into herself. Katara had to actually show up to Toph's place and physically drag her to Sokka's. Normally, they see each other every other day or so since they live so close to each other, but none of them had seen her in days. She hasn't said anything since she greeted them all when she got here.

When she had announced their relationship several months ago, it was a shock to the group, but Kanto had quickly found his place among them, and became close with them all. So, when Toph had mumbled one night they broke up when she was asked where he was, it was a bigger shock to everyone.

"...What do you think, Toph?" Aang's attention is pulled from staring at her to Sokka. He isn't sure what the question was and he's sure Toph doesn't know either. She glances up at the group and senses that they're all waiting for her reply and the clear attempt to pull her into the conversation and include her somehow.

"What?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I said that we should go see a movie, we were thinking about either Old or Free Guy."

"Oh, uh. I don't know," she says, standing up slowly, " Listen, I'm going to head home. I've got some stuff to work on," she trails off and grabbing her coat, she heads towards the door. The rest of the group look around at each other, and Aang quickly stands up, beating Toph to the door.

"Yeah, I'm going to head home, too. I have work in the morning, so I'll walk with you, T.." She doesn't say anything in acknowledgement but waits at the door as he quickly says bye to everyone and grabs his coat.

Once they're out on the sidewalk, the only sound is their feet on the pavement and Toph's sniffling every few moments. Aang stuffs his hands deep in his pockets to protect them from the cold and racks his brain to try and think of something that could possibly bring her out of her head a little bit.

Right when he opens his mouth to say something, she cuts him off, "You didn't have to come along and babysit me."

"I'm not babysitting you," he says but his tone makes it sound like a question.

"I know you all think I'm a fucking wreck. It's evident in the way you guys talk to me," she keeps her face pointed down and clicks her cane against the pavement. He didn't realize they had been talking to her any differently, but now that she mentions it, he can see it. How they carefully pick topics that steer clear of relationships or something that might have involved Kanto. "I just need time to deal with it," she says, her voice low and sounding so dejected and tired.

"Yeah, I'll go check on her," Aang says into the phone before hanging up with Katara. That night they left Sokka's apartment, she had gone downhill quickly. He knew the breakup between Toph and Kanto had been bad, but he didn't think it would ever get this bad. She had began to refuse to see anyone or answer any calls or texts. Needless to say, everyone is worried.

As he waits for the elevator to open onto her floor, he starts to think about how he is going to go about talk to her. She isn't the easiest person to read or get to open up about her feelings so it will definitely take some care and consideration.

He knocks at her door a few times, but when he doesn't receive an answer, he tries the knob and finds it unlocked. Carefully, he opens the door and is immediately hit with the smell of alcohol and the sight of Toph sitting on the couch with her head in her hands, a bottle of alcohol of something sitting on the floor next to her foot. She doesn't even acknowledge the fact that he has just walked into her apartment.

Taking a deep sigh, he shrugs off his jacket and hangs it on the hook by the door and walks over to the couch to sit beside her.

"You don't need to come check up on me, Aang."

He casts a quick glance around the living room and adjacent kitchen and sees the empty bottles, take out boxes, and clothes strewn about the counters and floors. "Yeah, obviously I don't. You seem to be handling the break up well," he answers.

Toph lifts her head and shoots him a glare, her eyes bloodshot and she has fresh tear tracks on her cheeks, "Fuck you, Aang. I don't need your fucking charity check ups or conversation. I told you that the other night," she snatches up the bottle from the floor and starts to pace around the living room, taking a swig as she goes, "Just let me deal with it in my own way."

He watches her face and notices how she doesn't even grimace when the liquid goes down her throat. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and stands by the window like she is looking out and shakes her head slightly.

"It just hurts, you know?" she whispers. "I never knew something could hurt so fucking bad." She abruptly turns away from the window, a look of anger on her face now. "I mean, he says all this fucking bullshit to me and how I'm the best thing that ever happened to him and the next fucking week, it's like, 'Oh, I found someone else to stick myself in'," she takes another swig. "I don't mean anything anymore and obviously just something he can throw away after he's done! 'I never liked you like that, Toph. I never thought you were funny or smart or pretty, I just needed something to do'!" she yells and throws the bottle at the wall, shattering it.

Aang tenses when the bottle makes contact with the wall and when he looks back at Toph, he sees that she has her head in her hands and her shoulders are shaking with her sobs. He stands up and goes to her, wrapping her in his arms.

"I don't want to feel like this anymore, Aang. I just want to be numb," she says so quietly, he almost doesn't hear it. "I should have known better than to give myself completely over to someone. I mean, I fucking watched you get your heart shattered by Onji and I swore I would never let someone hurt me like that."

Aang tenses when she mentions Onji. Although it had been a few years since they had broken up, the subject was still a little sore for him. His first love had broken his heart and then gotten with the guy who had tormented him in high school.

"Does it ever go away, this feeling?" she asks, burying her face in his chest.

Taking a deep breath, he considers her question. Although it had been years, every now and then, the plaguing question of 'Why wasn't I good enough' or 'What did he have that I didn't' haunts him at night when he is lying alone in bed at night.

It takes him a moment to answer, to steady his voice, "I think it does. It just takes time, Toph," he whispers to her. He leans down and kisses the top of her head. He can feel the way her tears are starting to seep into his shirt, making the material stick to his skin, but he doesn't mind. He'll stand here for hours with her if it means she won't be alone with her thoughts.

He ends up staying the night with her, and when she finally passes out, he starts to clean up her place, throwing bottles in a trash bag he had gotten from under the sink. He cleans up the mess she made from throwing the bottle at the wall, and discovers that she had done this at least 3 more times, which explains why her apartment smelled so bad.

Around 2 am, he finally collapses on her couch and places an arm over his eyes. The reminder of Onji that Toph had given him earlier that day was sticking with him. He remembers how raw that pain was, how it stole the breath from him every few hours and brought him down to his knees. He wouldn't wish that pain on anyone so knowing that his best friend is hurting that way is hurting him.

He wakes up around 10 am to the sound of Toph rummaging quite loudly through the fridge. Rubbing a hand over his face, trying to wake himself up, Aang sits up on the couch and looks over towards the kitchen. Toph is in a bralette and shorts, something she normally wears around the house. At first, the rest of the group were kind of scandalized when they discovered this, but after a while, it became normal to see her dressed like that.

"What are you looking for?" he asks.

"There was a bottle of vodka in here yesterday," she mumbles.

Taking a deep breath and stealing himself for this argument, "I threw it out." Toph stops looking for the bottle and slowly stands up, turning her face over to him.

"You did what?" her voice is low and deadly. Aang visibly swallows but lifts his chin and chest in fake confidence, which he realizes is kind of stupid since she can't see him no matter what he does.

"You're drinking yourself to death, Toph. It's not health-"

"How I choose to handle this fucking breakup is none of your goddamn business, Aang," she yells, walking from the kitchen into the living room, pointing a finger at him. "You weren't any better, so I don't want to fucking hear it."

Aang stands up from the couch and moves towards her, "It is my business if you're self-destructing, Toph. I'm not watching you go down the hole I went down, it's not safe."

"Safe?" she screams. "Are you fucking kidding me? What's not safe is you throwing out my shit."

He takes a deep breath and places his hands on her shoulders, aiming for a calm demeanor, "Go get dressed. I'm taking you to breakfast."

"I don't want to go anywhere with you right now."

"Do it, before I fucking make you do it," his voice is low and steady. She knows that when he puts that tone in his voice he isn't screwing around. Toph crosses her arms over her chest and chews on her lower lip for a moment. After a moment of pouting, she huffs loudly and stalks towards her bedroom.

The tension drains from Aang's shoulders. He really has no desire to go out in public right now, especially with the mood that she is in, but his duty to her as her best friend out weighs his personal needs.

They're both sitting in a booth at one of the local diners and he can feel the anger still radiating off of Toph. The waitress picks up on it too because she cuts herself off halfway through the specials, and just scurries off to get their drinks.

"Go on, say it," he says.

"Fuck you for making me come out like this," she says, her arms crossing over her chest. "I was doing just fine, you know. I was handling it."

"Drinking yourself into oblivion everyday so you don't feel it doesn't count as handling it, Toph"

She just snorts and turns her head away, her lips pursed. Their waitress comes and drops off their drinks and quickly takes their food order and scurries off again. Aang thinks they're going to spend their meal in tense silence, but when he glances up at her, he sees the fight going out of her and tears swelling up in her eyes.

"Why are you even doing this, Aang?" she whispers.

He doesn't even realize he is doing it until he is out of his seat and sliding in next to her. His arm comes around her shoulders and he pulls her to him, letting her rest his head against his shoulder.

"Because, I remember this pain. I remember how bad it hurt, how it felt like someone had shot a hole right through my chest and left me to bleed out. Because, I can see how hard you're trying to be angry about the situation, but I know you're sad and dying inside." Toph turns and buries her face into his shoulder, hiding her tears from the rest of the world. He rubs his hand up and down her arm, trying to soothe her.

The waitress comes back with their food and sees the way Aang has his arm around Toph and gives him a sympathetic smile and quietly sets their food on the table before walking off.

"Come on, eat something. I doubt you've had a proper meal in days," he mumbles to her.

[soooldout]

200910 Sunggyu on Vlive Channel +

Sunggyu recently started working out. Sungyeol taught him how to work out to be fit while they’re in the military.

He didn’t have a Kinky Boots show or recordings today, so he took a rest and watched the Korean movie, “Deliver Us from Evil” at home.

He shares a Netflix account with his manager/long time friend Daehyun. They haven't had an argument while working together.   

Fans said he is so good at expressing his anger on Kinky Boots Act 2. Sunggyu said it’s because he doesn't do that in real life. He gets along with the actors who play Lola very well. 

When he went camping with Minseok and Eunsung, he had so much fun singing or grilling choco pies. Choco pies taste much better if you grill them. He hasn't met his friends recently because of the pandemic. 

The reason he said he sometimes wants to go back to the military is because there he's always with someone. But he only feels like that very briefly on very rare occasions. It's much better to be a civilian. 

 He has recorded about five new songs. He actually recorded more but picked the five for his next album. He’s waiting for more songs to be composed. He thought of releasing “Closer” and talked to Jongwan (of Nell), the composer of the song. But Jongwan said he wrote the song for 26-yr-old Sunggyu, not 30-yr-old Sunggyu, because he thinks Sunggyu sings ”Closer” with different emotions now. They originally recorded the song when they were working for the album ”27.”

Kinky Boots requires much stamina as he’s on stage pretty much throughout the musical. The conveyor belt scenes are hard and the songs are also very high notes. Fans asked if he would play the role of Lola one day. He laughed and said if he would be able to do it. It's a very attractive role. He might play it if he gets the chance but maybe it's not the right role for him. He will have to take off his shirt if he plays Lola, so his mom won't like it. He sang ”Land of Lola” briefly. His favorite number is ”Soul of a Man.” At first, it was hard for him to sing because the notes are very high. But it's the song he expresses Charlie’s emotions, so he likes it very much now. 

He said he expressed his anger on the show ”You Are My Oppa” only because the producer asked him to do so. Same with ”Sesame player” or ”Weekly Idol”.  But he expressed his anger during dance practices because he was actually upset. When he was younger, he was harsh on himself so he sometimes got frustrated and got mad or cried. He's more mature now. He had been under a lot of stress because he can't do what he had planned due to COVID19. But it's not something he can do anything about as it is the pandemic, so he has accepted it. 

He almost cried when he heard the news that his first Kinky Boots show is canceled while he was getting ready on the backstage. He was very disappointed and sad because he prepared so much. He wasn't able to do anything on that day. Same when his show got canceled again. But then when he finally had his first show, he was very nervous. He had two shows on that day too. He was very thankful. 

These days he doesn't meet with anyone, so he didn't get a chance to see  Sungjong on his birthday but they talked on the phone. 

Fans told him his MBTI is the complete opposite of Woohyun’s. He said their personalities are very different and he thinks it’s good because they can complement each other. Everybody knows their personalities are different.  They had arguments but not often at all. 

He doesn't like taking selfies and he hasn't taken one for a while. 

He really misses his family but he can't go visit them because of the coronavirus. He really wants to meet his niece. His mom wants to see his Kinky Boots shows very much.  But she spends much time with his baby niece and nephew so she can't really take the risk. Sunggyu is very sad that he cannot go see his family during the big holiday, Chuseok (Full moon festival). He realized how precious it was to see people you miss at any time.

Sunggyu has a very good relationship with his older sister. He hasn't met his new niece, unfortunately, but his sister showed her to him on video calls and also sent him many photos & videos.

He learned how to drive from his manager back then. He used to drive an SUV because it felt safer and more convenient, but now he doesn't have a car. 

He will get a flu shot sometime next week when he can take a day off. You need to take a rest after you get a flu shot. He's not afraid of getting vaccines. The reason he frowned when they drew his blood at the military was that he didn't want to see it. It feels weird. But getting vaccines is ok. He's used to it. He got so many in the military. 

He doesn't want to get tattoos because he thinks it will be too painful, not because he's scared. But he sometimes thinks it looks cool on others. 

They haven't decided if his new album will be mini or regular. Some composers are the ones he hasn't worked with before. He wrote some lyrics. He hasn't picked the title song. He doesn't know how many songs will be on his new album. He might have a song featured by a rapper. It’s probably not gonna be Dongwoo because they sang together a lot of Infinite songs. It will probably be someone new. Jangjun’s too busy so it won't be him. 

He's not sure if he'll be able to have a showcase in this pandemic. He really really hopes he can release a new album. He hopes so, much more than Inspirits do. He really hopes he can have an online concert. He wants to see his fans with Yeobongs, too. He got shy saying the name Yeobong because it means “Honey”. There were other candidates for the name of the light stick that were too funny.  He said Kkobong was a too funny name for the lightstick as it means an underling. The fans said it was his idea and then he said it's a cute name and actually a shortening of kkoma eunwonbong, meaning a mini light stick. 

He really really wants to have a fan meet at the end of the year. He wants to have online concerts and fan meets more than anyone. But the time and his turn have to come. A lot is going on at the company. He really hopes he can have them. He is not a board member of Woollim. 

He really wanted to be very active after his military discharge. He wanted to feel compensated for the 2 yrs he was gone. He didn't expect this pandemic and he's sad and disappointed. He was very upset when his concerts got canceled. He'd been waiting for them for so long.

These days he gets foods delivered as he cannot go out to eat. He recently loves Mexican foods such as burritos or tacos. 

Now he will eat, take a shower and take some rest to get ready for tomorrow’s performance. 

He promised to do another Vlive next week. 

“Stay healthy everyone. I know it's hard but please find a way to be happy even in this pandemic. Hang in there everyone. Stay safe. See you again soon!”

translations by ifntnews on twitter

[myemergence]

The Thought of Losing You

A/N: Submission for Buddie First Kiss Week, prompt: after a fight

Big thanks to marciaelena for the beta!

Check out all of my stories over on AO3

**

When Buck was a kid and he'd get upset about something, he always had Maddie. She would sneak a carton of ice cream out of the freezer and they would climb into her bed and watch something on TV. Somehow it always made what was going on fade away, made all of his problems seem a little bit smaller. As Buck got older and Maddie moved away from home he'd still climb into his bed with ice cream and call Maddie when he had a particularly hard day. They'd choose a movie and watch it together while they talked on the phone. And his problems didn’t seem so big anymore.

It had been a terrible and rotten day today. He had a particularly terrible end of shift and it wasn't even because of the call. It was the aftermath.

He wanted to call his sister, but he knew she was at work and he couldn't bother her just because he couldn't handle being an adult . He couldn't call Eddie, because Eddie was pissed and not talking to him, the entire cause for Buck’s mood.

When Buck first got home he busied himself with cleaning the loft from top to bottom; he did all of the laundry in his apartment, and even cleaned out the refrigerator. He showered and changed into a pair of sweats. And now? Buck just feels empty.

He leaves his phone discarded on the counter along with his keys, front door locked,  and burrows into the blankets in his bed, ice cream carton in hand. Buck knows it's not the same as having Maddie here or even the same as hearing her voice on the phone. At least those times he'd felt connected to her. He knows she's working and she's going to Chim's when she gets off from work at ten. He's not going to be the guy that interferes with that just because he's moping. He flips through the channels mindlessly before settling on a movie.

He can't focus on it.

All he can think about is the argument he had with Eddie and the absolute anger that rolled off of him in waves. Buck struggles to think of another time that he's seen Eddie so angry, with the brunt force of that focused solely on Buck.

It's been hours since their shift ended and he tried calling Eddie after he first got home. It went to voicemail and Buck hung up before leaving a message because really, what was the point of leaving a message anyway?

Buck sent a couple of texts asking Eddie to please just talk to him. His text messages had gone unanswered.

Buck got the message loud and clear.

He was just doing his job, why couldn't Eddie see that?

You're so careless, do you ever stop to think? Eddie's words echo in Buck's ears even ten hours later.

He silently eats a heaping spoonful of the creamy chocolate ice cream, trying to push Eddie's words away.  It's draining all of the energy out of him. He tries to push the words away, push Eddie's anger away, but somehow it just lingers.

Buck sighs heavily. Doesn't Eddie realize that he was just trying to protect Eddie and keep him safe? He has a son to go back home to, he needs to be more careful than he's been lately, make sure that he's around for Christopher.

Buck feels bitter about it, but there's not much that he can do.

Buck looks on as Friends with Benefits starts to play and one corner of his lip pulls up slightly. This is one of Maddie's favorites. If he's being honest, it's become one of his favorites too, although he’d never admit it. He sets the near-empty ice cream carton on the edge of the bed. He yawns before he settles down in the warmth of his comforter, exhaustion burning his eyes as much as the unshed tears.

Buck thought that they understood each other. He thought that Eddie would accept what happened today and be thankful that he was able to go home to his son safely.

He isn't sure how long it takes, but his eyes get heavy and he's unable to keep them open any longer.

________________________________

Buck's eyes open groggily when he hears someone pounding on the door. He ignores it at first, going down to the freezer and grabbing another pint of ice cream. He glances at the clock and sees that it's almost ten. He hears the knocking persist as he pulls the ice cream from the freezer, deciding that he's not going to open it. Who the hell would show up at his apartment this late anyway?

He's moving back upstairs to restart the movie, pretends that Maddie's here to make him feel better.

So far he's doing a shitty job of pretending.

He's almost up the stairs when he hears the key turn in the lock as he gets back into bed. Buck can't quite see as most of the lights are off downstairs. "Maddie?"

Buck hears the door close, and, a moment later, Eddie’s voice. "Don't you know how to answer your cell phone, man? I've been trying to get ahold of you for the last EIGHT hours."

Buck shrugs. "Apparently something else I do wrong," he mutters, quiet enough that Eddie can't hear him from downstairs.

"I thought something happened to you. You can't just-" There’s the sound of the door being locked before the lights turn on downstairs. Buck watches Eddie ascend the stairs towards his room, watches as Eddie stands there looking at him.

"What? I can't ignore you? Oh, I forgot that's the Eddie Diaz special . I'll make sure that you're the only one that gets to ignore someone next time."

Eddie sighs heavily from where he stands across the room. "Can we talk about this?"

"Do we even have anything to talk about? I'm reckless and don't think about anyone or anything else, right? I got the message loud and clear, Eddie." All he does is think about Eddie and Christopher. He feels his chest ache as he remembers their argument back at the station when they'd returned from the call.

"Buck," Eddie sighs. "We both know that I’m terrible at this ." He waves his hand around without direction. "Please."

Buck sighs as he sets his carton of ice cream down. "Sit down," he says finally, motioning to the bed.

"I'm sorry I got angry with you," Eddie says finally as he moves to sit on the edge of the bed, voice even. "I was just so frustrated because once again, you were putting yourself on the line. Buck, you could have died. And you didn't even stop to think about that."

Buck laughs, and it sounds a little broken and unnatural. "Is that really what you think? That I just don't think about anything? You think that little of me."

"If you thought about it, you wouldn't just rush in there like you're a fucking hero every time. You would realize that you have people that you need to stick around for. Cap called it and you went back into the building. You could have died . Then your little niece that's supposed to be meeting her Uncle Buck for the first time in a few months, she'll only know him by stories. Is that what you want?"

He rubs his hands down over his face. "Of course that isn't what I want . But if I was in there then it would mean that you were safe. If I was in there that would mean Chim was safe. If I was in there it meant that Hen was safe. Every single one of you has someone that you have to go back to. I'm not about to make you guys risk your lives more than you need to, not if I can-"

"Unbelievable," Eddie mutters. "Honestly. Yes, we all have people to go home to, people who love us. But you have people that you need to be safe for."

"An empty apartment. That's what I come home to. Yeah, I have a sister and a niece on the way, but it's not the same thing."

"That's all you have, then? A sister and a niece on the way?" Eddie asks him pointedly. Buck swallows hard but remains silent as he lowers his eyes. He doesn't know how Eddie wants him to answer that question. He knows that there are people in his life who would miss him, but they don't depend on him.  "You'd leave a soon to be brother-in-law behind, your friends-"

"They would all be fine! Yeah, they'd be sad, but they don't depend on me. They don't need me." Buck's body feels heavy with the weight of the conversation. Arguing with Eddie, of all people, is one of his least favorite things to do. It reminds him of how things were after the lawsuit, and he cringes at the memory. "They don't need me in the same way that Christopher needs you to come home, Eds. What would he do if you didn't come home one day?" A broken laugh bubbles past Buck’s lips and he swipes at his tears. "We almost found out. It wasn't that long ago that we almost lost you forty feet underground. We had to consider what life would be like without you and let me tell you, it wasn't pretty.  I don't think that Christopher would survive the loss of another parent. Isabel- I don't even know how I would ever explain it to her. I don't think I could survive it--telling them, or losing you."

Buck isn't sure when Eddie scooted closer on the bed,  but his hands are resting on top of Buck's now. "You think that people don't need you? That I don't, that Christopher doesn't?" Eddie gently squeezes his hands, searching for Buck's gaze. "I have watched you almost die more times than I care to remember. Under the ladder truck. After your embolism. After the tsunami. So now every time that you choose to put yourself in these high-risk situations at work, it tears me apart. And yeah, part of that's the job and I get that, but you do it without consideration of what that could do to me ." Eddie's voice shakes as he looks down, thumb tracing along the back of Buck's hand. "Because that could be the time that you don't make it out. That could be the time that you leave me and Christopher behind. I don't think I could survive it, Ev. I—"  

Buck stops Eddie with a firm press of his lips, his fingers curl  at the nape of Eddie’s neck to draw him closer. The kiss is wet and messy, and Eddie takes Buck's face in both hands. The mere thought of losing Eddie is gut-wrenching, which makes Buck want to burrow deeper into Eddie and never come up for air. He needs to be closer, to eliminate every bit of space between their bodies, so he presses Eddie back until he's laying on the bed. Buck moves one hand to Eddie's hip, gently gripping there as they continue to kiss. Finally, he draws back and leaves Eddie panting on the bed beneath him.

It takes a minute for Eddie to compose himself before a breathless "oh" slips past his lips. Buck's unable to contain his laughter, and he drops his head forward until it rests on Eddie's shoulder, his body shaking with it. "Why are you laughing, you dick?" Buck tries his best to get it under control as he looks down at Eddie.

"'Oh'? That's honestly the best that you could come up with? I kiss you after months of — whatever the hell it is that we've been doing and all you have to say is 'oh'."

Eddie laughs easily at his words, eyes crinkling at the corners before he reaches up and brushes a thumb against Buck's cheek. "Don't be stupid next time, or I'm gonna kick your ass."

"Guess you're gonna have to show me what I have to stick around for."

"Guess so," Eddie hums his agreement before he reaches up a hand behind Buck's neck and draws him down, Buck's weight heavy against Eddie. Their lips brush together lightly this time, a promise to Buck that he’ll always have something to come home to.

[petri808]

A Little Help From Beyond

@krbkmonth2020 on Twitter. 

Kiribaku Ghost Prompt. Warning character death, misunderstandings, pining, happy ending I promise.

“Deku you fucking dumb son of a bastard!!!” Bakugou cradles the dying man tight to his chest with his head pressed against his face. His teeth gnashed and gritted, eyes squeezed tight against the truth that his childhood friend was bleeding out in his arms. Tears stream down his cheeks, a visible waterfall breaching his mask. “You’re not supposed to die!” They were Twin stars of the pro world! Rivals till the end who could push each other to achieve only greater and greater heights! “What the fuck am I supposed to do now!!”

“S—Sorry… Kacch—an…” Midoriya squeezes Bakugou’s hand with what little strength he has left. “You shine for us both now…”

The second Midoriya closes his eyes for the last time, a brilliant flash starting from his hand quickly envelops Bakugou’s. A surge of energy rips through the blonde’s body and he instantly knows exactly what just took place. “No! No, fucking no!” He shakes the limp body. “Fuck you! I don’t want this! Damn it!” He collapses on top of his friend, gripping to the torn green costume. “Damn it Deku! I-I don’t deserve this…”

Time dragged on from that moment for Bakugou like a movie that wouldn’t end. Day after day, week after week. Every night his dreams replaying the events that took his friend’s life and the guilt tore through his psyche, leaving him an empty shell. He didn’t even want to go to the funeral because that… that would have made this final, and he didn’t want to accept that Midoriya was gone. But his friends dragged him to it. You need the closure Katsuki. You need to process what happened, so it doesn’t destroy you. News flash, it already was.

So, he pushed everyone away after that. If anyone showed up at his apartment, he would rage at them through the door until they left. Any villain that crossed his path paid dearly regardless of their crime, because it was the only way he could release the building anger and pain. All his life, Midoriya was there and no matter how much the guy could get on his nerves, he’d never imagined a time he wouldn’t be around. And now, when they’d finally found their balance… he’s gone.  

After a month, the only person brave enough to keep trying was Kirishima. It was a choice to stay close because he could understand why the man felt broken. If he lost Bakugou he’d probably feel lost too.  

“Come on Katsuki, just open the door and let me in.”

“No. I told you I’m fucking fine and I don’t wanna talk to anybody!”

Kirishima rests his head against the door, uncaring if anyone passing through the apartment hallway found it odd. It killed him that this strong, proud man was slipping into a deep depression. He assumed one reason was a survivor’s guilt for living through a fight that cost Midoriya his life. But the other was more personal, and probably the biggest struggle of all to get past.

Throughout UA he’d watched the two men battle, heard the stories of their childhood, could see that despite the rough treatment, Bakugou cared deeply for his old friend, and he wondered if there was an unrequited aspect hidden beneath the surface. Did one or the other possibly…    

“You can’t lie to me, man. I know you’re not.”

“I said Fuck off shitty hair!!”

Inside the apartment, Kirishima can hear the music cranked up to tune him out. He sighs and closes his eyes, placing a hand against the smooth wooden surface of the door. “I can love you like Deku,” he whispers as the tears pool behind his eyelids, “if you just let me in too.”

All through high school and into their adult years, their friendship grew. Somehow, he’d wormed his way into the hot heads inner circle while everyone else were called extras. But there was always one other person that meant more to the blonde and that was Midoriya. Even dead he was still rival’s with the man.

He shakes his head. It didn’t matter now. There’s nothing he can do about Midoriya, but he’ll be damned if he’ll let Bakugou lose himself over it. It was devastating, he understood that, Deku was his friend too. But now it was important to take care of the living. Broken hearted and dejected, he walks away, swiping at the few tears that broke free. But he’ll be back tomorrow to try again.

Off to the side, watching this scene unfold, Midoriya floats out of the way as the sullen redhead walks past his conscious spirit. It’s been almost five weeks since he’d died, and it was frustrating being stuck watching the people he knew falling apart over it. Bakugou was the worst, but what he’d just heard Kirishima say blindsided him. To a living human, his words were spoken so quietly that even if they’d been standing next to the man, they wouldn’t have heard anything more than a mumble. But he did, loud and clear. Eijiro Kirishima was in love with Katsuki Bakugou!

“Wait, but does he think I had, or we were!” He’d grown up with Bakugou, but he wasn’t in love with the man!! Wow, he never thought anyone would make such a leap in terms of their friendship! But it was cute to know someone loves and cares for his friend. Midoriya shelves those thoughts away for now and disappears through the door to check on the blonde.  

What he finds is a darkened room with the blinds drawn and his old friend sitting on the couch with his head hung low. If he could produce tears, they would fill his eyes. It was a heartrending sight. He moves over and kneels in front of the blonde, reaching out to place his hand on the man’s knee. It goes through as it always does, so he retracts his clenched hand in anger, closes his eyes, and screams. “Argh!! This sucks!!”

All the sadness and frustration rages outward in a surge of energy from his unheard scream. If he’d been alive tenants two doors down would have heard it. When he opens his eyes, Bakugou is staring straight at him with a confused expression. Wait, what?! He waves his hand in front of the man but gets no reaction. Okay, no, he didn’t see him, so did he hear the scream? He tests this theory, screaming at the top of his lungs; still no reaction.

Growing frustrated, Midoriya stands up and starts pacing back and forth in front of the couch. He puts his analytical mind to work, but he didn’t understand what just took place. “It was probably just a fluke. Kacchan looked up just to look up. Argh, this sucks!!” He kicks through the coffee table in a fit. “I don’t know anything about being a ghost!!”

“Deku?”

Midoriya whips his head back around to see Bakugou with his hands cradling the sides of his face, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

“Stupid, Deku’s dead dumbass, that couldn’t be his voice. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m fucking losing my mind!”

“He heard me?!” Midoriya tries to reach out and grab the man’s shoulder, “Kacchan! I’m here!” But it slips through the man’s body. Pissed off, he swipes his hand at the man’s body over and over, desperately trying to make contact. “Fucking damn it! Just let me comfort him!” He screams at the air.

Bakugou flinches and gasps. He looks around, confused. The windows were closed, yet he swore it felt like a burst of wind just hit him. Okay, now he was getting creeped out. First, he thought he’d heard his dead friend and now a ghostly wind? He runs his hand over his face, “maybe its sleep deprivation,” he rationalizes to himself since he hasn’t had a good night sleep in over a month. He stands up and walks away towards his bedroom.

As he watches Bakugou leave the room, Midoriya stares down at his hands, wide-eyed. It was like his quirk! If he could learn to control this energy, that might be the key because each time his friend sensed something, it was when his energy surged. “Woo hoo!!” He pumps his fists in the air. Now he just needed to figure out what to do with this newly found power.

He follows Bakugou to the bedroom and sees the blonde writing in a notebook. When he’s finished, places it on a nightstand then goes to the bathroom. Midoriya funnels as much energy as he can into his hand and miraculously, he’s able to turn the pages. Awesome! He was getting a small handle on this ability.

It was a journal! He never knew the man kept a journal! But the more he read, the deeper his heart sunk. It was filled with regret and anger, of not treating him better when he was alive, not saving him in the end, of not realizing how important he really was. Bakugou felt he didn’t deserve to be given OFA… “Oh, Kacchan,”he looks over at the closed bathroom door. OFA had accepted him once before because he was worthy of it. But the worst part was, the man felt all alone. “But you’re not alone.”

When he hears the turn of the bathroom doorknob, Midoriya backs away so he doesn’t scare Bakugou with the page turning. The blonde skulks over to his bed and just drops onto it like a sack of potatoes, quickly turning off the lights and pulling the blanket over his head. He swore he heard soft sobbing sounds coming from the man. And that’s the last nail that shatters his heart. Bakugou wasn’t a crier.

He’d always looked up to the Bakugou as the strong one, able to deal with anything thrown at him. And while the death of a friend or even a parent is devastating, it frankly surprised Midoriya that it would become so all-consuming for him. ‘I never realized how much I’d really meant to him.’ But now he did, and he needed to make sure the blonde got through this.  

Midoriya leaves via the window and heads to Kirishima’s home. He needed to check on the man and wanted to make sure he wouldn’t give up on Bakugou either. But when he arrives, he’s was already asleep. So, he sits on the edge of the bed and practices affecting their corporeal world.

Using the same techniques, he’d used in life to gain control over the power of OFA, Midoriya channels energy into his hand and places it over Kirishima’s. The sleeping male gasps lightly but doesn’t wake up. That’s a start. He concentrates to keep the hold strong. “Kiri?” He asks quietly, “Can you hear me?”

“Izuku? Whoa, why are you here?!”

The man’s eyes stay closed, and he doesn’t appear to be awake. But clearly, he was hearing him and responding to it. Like sleep talking. Perfect, that works.  

“I wanted to check on you Kiri and tell you not to give up on Kacchan.”

He sees Kirishima’s brows furrow. “I’d never give up on him.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Tell me, do you love him Kiri?”

“Yes, but he loves you not me and you love him too. I can’t get in the way of that.”

“Kiri, Kacchan doesn’t love me like that and neither did I.”

“But he’s so upset over your death. He must love you.”

“Oh Kiri, he’s upset because of guilt. We grew up together, and it just hit him hard that for the first time in 20 years he must face this world without me around.”

“That’s true…”

“So now more than ever he needs you, Kiri. Kacchan needs someone to turn to who’ll never give up on him.”

“I can do that.”

“One last thing. It’s hard for Kacchan to talk about his feelings. The more you push, the more he’ll back away.”

There’s a long pause before the man responds. His brows furrow as if deep in thought, but Kirishima eventually lets out a long exhale. “Okay. You know him best, so I’ll do as you suggest.”

Midoriya places his free hand over his friend’s forehead. “You sleep now and thank you for taking care of him for me.”

“Goodbye Izuku.”

“Goodbye Eijiro.”

When Midoriya releases his hand, the man slips back into a more relaxed sleep. The harrowed look on his face replaced by a small smile, as if it had lifted a great weight from his shoulders. Kirishima wasn’t out of the woods yet regarding Bakugou, but at least now he could move forward without thinking he was interfering in something that never existed.

With one last look at the sleeping male, Midoriya hoped for the best and leaves to go back to Bakugou’s apartment. Of all the places he could have been pulled back to after he died, not his own apartment, his mother’s home, even the UA campus, it was here and he’s finally understanding why. There was still one last unfinished business to be tended to.  

And now that he knew he could reach the living in their sleep he could try to talk to his childhood friend… But as he sat on the edge of the blondes bed, watching the restless man, he debated whether he should. It would probably be best to let someone amongst the living help him because they would have to continue the work. Yet this was his old friend and he couldn’t stand by and just observe.

With a hand placed on Bakugou’s chest, he pushes his energy at the man. No talking, just emotions. In life he’d always been a positive person, and so he uses those same emotions to influence his friend now from the other side. Midoriya watches on tentatively, first seeing the man stiffen up, then his body slowly relax. It was working. A soft sigh escapes the sleeping male along with one tear. It wasn’t much and hopefully just the small sense of Midoriya’s presence would be enough to calm the blonde for the rest of his slumber.

He smiles and releases his hold on the man. “It’s gonna be okay Kacchan. I promise…”

The next morning, Bakugou awakens more rested than he’s had in weeks, which was odd since he swore, he’d felt like shit when he’d gone to bed. Come to think of it, the scant memories of his dream were of happier times instead of reliving his friend’s death, and it even felt as if Midoriya was there in the room with him. ‘No,’ he shakes his head, ‘it’s cause you were hallucinating last night, idiot.’

When he looks at the clock, he realizes he’d overslept, which was highly unusual for him. The time read 10 am, but because he’d drawn the blackout curtains, the sunlight never alerted him. Oh well, it was his day off, anyway.

A knock at his front door drags him out of bed. Really?! He growls as he stomps to the door. If it was Kirishima again here to beg him to talk, he swore to holy hell he would beat the fuck out of the man. He was tired of everyone trying to force him into talking!

“Katsuki? You up man?”

“What the fuck do you want now Eiji?!”

Kirishima takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. “I just want to apologize f-for pushing you too hard. I get it, okay, you’re not ready to talk yet but when you are, just know, I’ll always be here for you Katsuki.” He stops there, waiting to see if the man will respond, but after a couple minutes of dead silence, it’s clear there wouldn’t be any. He’s crestfallen. But at least the man wasn’t yelling at him which was a start. “Okay, I’ll be going now. See you around, man.”

On the other side of the door, Bakugou listened to the words coming from his friend. It was a complete turnaround from the night before and frankly surprised him a bit. No, he wasn’t ready to talk yet, but he pleased that Kirishima finally recognized it. Don’t get him wrong, he appreciated their concerns, he just wanted to deal with things on his terms.

And of all of their motley crew, Kirishima would have been the only one he would talk to when that time came. His feelings for the redhead were still a little confusing. Well, to be honest with himself, he wasn’t sure where his heart had been swinging before all of this had happened. But one thing was for certain, he could always rely on Kirishima.      

“Wait, Eiji…” He cracks the door open enough to see the man a few steps away but turned back to look at him. “If you agree not to talk about it, you can come in.”

The redhead smiles with relief and holds up a hand, “I won’t.” This was a step in the right direction, and he wasn’t about to ruin it. ‘Thank you Izuku.’ Whether the dream was wishful thinking or something else, he’s glad he’d had it.

Midoriya watches the apartment door close behind them. A tingling sensation washes over him and his body slowly disappears. He smiles, his job is done. Bakugou needs to let him go before his soul can be at peace and this is his confirmation that the man is on the road to recovery. One day he’ll see his friend again, but it was Kirishima’s turn now, and he knew the redhead wouldn’t let him down.

Over the next few days, Kirishima keeps to his promise never bringing up Midoriya’s death or even the man in general. He could tell Bakugou was still fighting with himself internally, but at least he wasn’t locking himself away alone in the apartment. After the workday was over, he dropped by, sometimes brining dinner with him, at other times Bakugou cooking. Oh, how he missed his best friends cooking! Just by looking at the blonde, you’d never think he’d be a whiz in the kitchen, but his meals were always perfectly prepared.

Things almost felt back to normal in these moments. Their conversations revolving around the usual. Dealing with villains, their families, and what their other friends were up to. Anything that could distract from sadder topics. Kirishima didn’t care how long it would take to get Bakugou through this event, but he was ready and willing to do whatever it takes.

He let Bakugou prompt or direct conversations most of the time. It was safer that way then to tread into a topic that might trigger a bad memory. But one of their favorite things to do was simply sit on the couch and quietly watch movies together. For as loud as the blonde could be, he wasn’t much of a talker anyways.

The night started off no differently than the last three before it. Kirishima arrived around 6 pm and Bakugou had cooked dinner. The blonde knew his friend was off the next day, so he decided it was time to get a few things off of his chest. He’d agonized over this for far too long and finally realized he’d never get over Midoriya’s death by holding everything in.

It had started the morning he’d woken up for the first time in a month without a nightmare. His brain told him he was imagining things, but his heart had felt Midoriya’s presence around the night before. A soothing presence and the unmistakable comfort only the childhood friend could provide. Maybe it was because of this turn around that he’d let Kirishima in that day, but whatever it was, it had been the start of his healing process.

“What should we watch tonight,” Kirishima asks with the remote poised in his hand. “Action, horror, or comedy?”

Without looking up from the floor, Bakugou reaches over and lowers the man’s hand slowly. “I rather just talk, if that’s okay?” Though he needed to address the main issue at some point, there was another reason he needed to get off his chest first.

Kirishima puts the remote down. “Of course. What do you want to talk about?” Expecting it to be about Midoriya, he made sure to give Bakugou his undivided attention.

“Did you notice anything different about my quirk today?” Since the day Midoriya died, he’d been careful not to reveal what had happened. But in his stress with the villain, his control had faltered.

“Not really, but I couldn’t watch you the entire time.”

Bakugou sighs, “you gotta promise me never to reveal what I’m about to tell you.” He turns and looks at the man. “No one can know I told you Eiji, absolutely no one.”

“Of course, you can trust me Katsuki.”

He looks away again. “Midoriya was actually born quirkless…”

It takes Bakugou approximately 30 minutes to explain the truth about Midoriya, All Might, and the quirk known as One For All. How he’d figured it out and that’s why they brought him into the fold. He brings up the fight with Shigaraki as an example of why it’s so important to keep it a secret. The power of the quirk was one thing, but it’s transferability was another reason. Bakugou explains what happened during the fight with Nine.

“It was the first time Midoriya shared OFA with me.”

“First time?”

Bakugou sighs. “Do you remember a bright flash of light at the time he died?”

“Yeah, but I just thought it was a reflection.”

The blonde shakes his head. “That was OFA transferring to me.” He holds his hands up and stares at them, concentrating to make a bit of electricity spark around them.

Kirishima’s eyes widen. That was not Bakugou’s sparks but looked like Midoriya’s lightning instead!

“I was so angry when it happened! How dare he just give this to me! I don’t deserve it. It should have stayed with him… he should be the one alive wielding this power…”

Despite his shock, Kirishima recovers quickly. “I’m sure he felt you deserved it, or he wouldn’t have given it to you.”

“Yeah… I know. All Might explained to me afterwards that OFA has to accept the person too. You can’t just,” he waves his hand gesturing in the air, “give it to anyone. I think… I was just angry because this is supposed to be Deku’s power, not mine. He deserved it, he earned it, a-and I never did.”

“I think you did.” Kirishima places a hand on his friends shoulder. “Midoriya thought you did, and that should be enough to believe in yourself man. He wouldn’t have given it to you if he thought you couldn’t handle it.”

“But what if I can’t do it justice? I’m not exactly the symbol of peace.”

That makes Kirishima chuckle. “I’m sorry for laughing cause you’re right about that, but it still doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it. Katsuki, you told me he looked up to you all his life as the epitome of a hero next to All Might. So, what if you’re not the bubbly, happy type. What’s important is that you still do what is right.”

“The public is devastated that their symbol is now gone, so am I supposed to take Deku’s place in that role? Gah!” He cradles his face in his hands. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to explain my new-found powers to the public. And if people notice the similarities with Deku, how do I explain it?! I’m so confused, I don’t know what to do. Maybe I should avoid using it…”

“Stop it!”

Kirishima forces Bakugou to look at him, and when he does, the blondes eyes widen at the boldness and fierce gaze staring back.

“Who cares what other people think! The man chose you Katsuki, you, because he felt you are worthy of it. Don’t let him down and hide, cause that’s not the kind of man we came to both love and admire!”

“What the fuck did you just say?!” Bakugou’s mind reels at the man’s words. “Deku didn’t love me, what the fuck are you talking about?!”

“Are you really that blind?! You were his closest friend and no matter how much you bullied him growing up, he never stopped caring about you.” Kirishima sighs. “I’m not talking about romantic love. Midoriya loved you like a brother.”

“And what about you? You said we.”

Oh crap, he forgot he’d made that slip up! Ugh, of course the blonde caught it. Kirishima’s face burns the color of his hair. “I-I mean you are my best friend, s-so I, you know, I care a lot about you too and that means something.”

Bakugou laughs. “You’re such a horrible liar Eijiro.” He then places his hand against the man’s face and smiles. “But while I’m not ready to go there just yet,” he swipes his thumb gently along the skin, “you are growing on me.”

[burritodetodo]

Burrito’s Guide To Survive Coronavirus Quarantine

We got to keep social distance (1 or 2 meters each other) or stay home during coronavirus outbreak so I thought I can share with y’all some things I’m gonna watch or do doing quarantine (this is a very long post, REBLOGS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!).

BUT FIRST SOME RULES:

Wash your hands: do it for 20 seconds or a while, but ALWAYS do it. It prevents the virus from spreading. If you don’t have sanitizer, water and soap! The cheapest and best ally against the disease.

Buy everything you need: if you can, try to buy stuff so you can stay some days at home. If the place is crowded, go back home and come later when it’s more empty. Same as medicine.

You can go for a walk: stay at home all day can be overwhelming for your mental health, but unless the goverment puts a curfew or gets strict about it you can go walk outside for a while always respecting the 1 or 2 meters from other people and without making contact (chatting) with other people. This ain’t my rule, a CDC professional says. DON’T go visit your friends or to crowded places such as bars, restaurants, shoppings, etc. If you want to buy something, ask for delivery or take away.

If you have coronavirus sympthoms (high fever, diarrhea, cough, feeling tired, breath difficulties) DON’T GO TO THE HOSPITAL YET, CALL TO YOUR PUBLIC HEALTH ORGANISATION OR WHATEVER YOU GOT AND THEY’LL TREAT YOU.

(credits to whoever made this meme)

SO YOUR LIFE IS ON QUARANTINE

Let’s say your boss or your school told you can stay at home. Okay then, you gotta prepare for some days inside *Isolation by John Lennon plays in the distance*. The first thing you think is you have to prepare a batch of series and movies to watch in order to kill some time. I’m gonna recommend you some you can find on VOD or cable, if you don’t have it don’t worry because I got you covered!

Infinity Train: a yet two seasons saga about people who got to face their problems aboard an endless train. The protagonists are joined by creatures who have different nature and help them, or not, to acknowledge their issues and leave the train. It’s on CN, it will continue on HBO Max.

The Owl House: a teen girl who daydream a lot was going to be sent to a down-to-earth camp but then she crosses a portal to the Boiling Isles, a magical world where she is taken care by a powerful Owl witch/saleswoman and her adorable demon. Lots of fantasy, some action scenes and many many puns. It’s on Disney Channel, it’ll be on Disney+ in some weeks.

Primal: Genndy Tartakovsky delighted us with the alliance of a caveman and a dinosaur, two rivals in a wild world who ally after facing a devastating event. It IS brutal and beatiful, has no dialogue and keeps you watching closely. Five final episodes are set to premiere this year. It’s on Adult Swim, maybe on HBO Max.

Tuca and Bertie: for the critics, one of 2019 best shows. For Netflix, a show that had to be cut off because the studio unionized. Two friends in their late 20s face changes in their lives: from living with a boyfriend and plan a life to look a way to stay sober and get a job. Deals with trauma, ptsd, anxiety and more harsh moments very well. In fact, the creator is a vital part of Bojack Horseman! It’s on Netflix.

Aggretsuko: red pandas are cute eh? But what about a antopomorphic red panda who releases her anger and frustrations by singing at a karaoke? This awesome comedy by Sanrio & Netflix is one of anime’s big hits lately. Like T&B, has a good handle of adult problems but not going too deep just to not break the comedy. You can watch it on Netflix.

Regular Show: yeah-uuuuhhhh! Eight seasons, a movie, five Halloween specials and some others. The adventures of a racoon and a blue jay with their co-workers/friends that relies on psychadellia and 80s and 90s nostalgia. It begins good, gets better, then lowers the quality (they were producing the movie at the same time tho, give some credit) and with and after the movie ends awesome. It’s on CN web, dunno if on Hulu (US only) and proably on HBO Max.

Evangelion: it’s a classic at this point, but addictive to me because I end rewatching the series or the final movie many times. A post apocalyptic future where the world has to deal with strange creatures known as the Angels and a boy with lots of traumas has to get on a mecha to save the humankind. All the characters have traumas and issues, the interaction between them or the action makes it worth. The End of Evangelion is a movie that ends the unfinished series. Warning: at some point it becomes very twisted and there are scenes which are too much violent. Viewer disclosure etc. It’s on Netflix worldwide.

Steven Universe & SU Future: this is the tale of the gem boy who ends a galactical tyranny and brings democracy to the universe. A acclaimed show that broke through many topics like gender, identity, ptsd, relationships and many more. Besides it’s got the best scores of the Milky Way and beyond thanks to the talent of Rebecca Sugar, Aivi Tran and Surasshu. And the actors and acrtresses! I don’t forget the movie, a musical that is an introduction to the epilogue: Shippuden Future. The show is available on CN and will be on HBO Max. Worldwide? No news.

Adventure Time: something that began as an innocent boy and a magical dog having adventures in a post apocalyptic world turns into the journey of Finn Metens from childhood to almost adulthood. There is a lot of fantasy and comedy you enjoy, but there are dark moments and serious ones through S6 that find a balance with early seasons form S7 to the finale. It also has great music, memorable moments and colaborations. And guess what? There is going to be a special set to premiere on HBO Max in some weeks! You got plenty of time to catch up or rewatch before that on CN or only (!!) S5 on Netflix.

Final Space: a dude tries to save the universe with their friends, where we can find his love interest, a cat-man and his kitten son, a intersexual alien, an AI then robot that is the best of them, two particular siblings and an annoying bot that prevents insanity that makes you insane. Crazy adventures in space, lots of situations, sadness, an evil smol bean who is a space emperor, a dude who looks for revenge, space deities that can destroy the universe. Is this a lot or info? It is not, because there is more and you can watch it on TBS, Adult Swim and Netflix (the world except US).

Rick and Morty: the most powerful, smartest human in the universe has adventures with his grandson. It’s awesome, but has a very toxic fanbase. Anyway, you can enjoy it on Adult Swim or Netflix (which is up to date!) and the rest of S4 is set someday.

Bojack Horseman: a Hollywood satire about human relationships, fame, traumas with a pour of comedy. Alongside the previous series, the best adult animation of the decade. Sadly cut by Netflix because the studio unionized (see T&B), said by both the creator and Aaron Paul. You can watch the six amazing seasons on that platform.

I’m not an animated movies guy, but here are three I really like and you can watch:

Porco Rosso: a handsome Italian combat aviator turned magically to a pig has a face off with an American pilot hired by pirates to get rid of him before WWII in Fascist Italy. It’s entertaining and, like every Ghibli movie, nice to watch. It’s on Netflix and will be on HBO Max for US.

Lego Batman Movie: Batman is depressed and has to get over it. It’s wacky and has lots of comedy. Plus Will Arnett is top 3 Batman. On Netflix (Latinamerica).

Spiderverse: Oscar winner movie about your friendly neighbour Peter Parker Miles Morales. Miles sees Spiderman die and feels bad after being transfered to a private school. Then a radioactive spider from a Fisk compound bites Miles and he’s Spiderman... among other dimensions’ Spiderpeople: Gwen, Peni, Peter Parker, Noir and Peter Porker. It’s visually amazing. On US it’s on Netflix (I guess), on Latinamerica on HBO.

Some interesting live actions I watched lately

Atlanta: Donald Glover is Earn, a dude who struggles to find a job for her baby girld and sees an opportunity when his cousin, Paper Boi, has a hit and uses him to make his cos famous. Sometimes a comedy, sometimes a social satire with touches of drama. And all protagonists are now big shots, like Zazie Beetz, Brian Tyree Henry or Lakeith Stanfield. There are two seasons and two seasons set for 2021 (2022 possible beacuse of coronavirus). It’s on FX, Hulu (US) and Netflix (world)

Avenue 5: this is brand new. On 2060 space cruises are a thing, and one cruise (the Avenue 5) has an accident that leaves the crew and passangers stranded for years. The captain (Hugh Laurie) has to solve this shit with a bunch of incompetent crew, bosses like Judd (Josh Gad), except one female engeneer who is very smart. Lots of crazy things happen in this series from the creator behind Veep. It’s on HBO (it’s free in the US!).

Peaky Blinders: it has some years but damn it’s epic. A gang from Birmingham makes their way to the top during the late 1910s after the Great War and extends through the 1920s. S5 is right in the ascension of fascism in Britain. ALL THE CAST acts spectacular, names like Cillian Murphy, Tom Hardy, Anna Taylor-Joy and a long etc. But my fave is Paul Anderson, that ultra violent junkie Arthur Shelby is splendid, then is Tommy and aunt Pol, the baddest badass woman in Britain. Blinders is going to have seven seasons, there are two left. You can watch it on BBC or Netflix.

Sex Education: speaking of Britain, excellent teen comedy. Horny, doubtful teenagers going through those hard years. Stories of sex (duh!), abuse situations, abortion, there are gay relationships either, Gillian Anderson! It’s on Netflix, go go go!

Watchmen: despite not having Alan Moore on board, Damien Lindeloff did a tremendous job with the comic. Way better and less misleading than Zack Snyder’s 2009 film, Watchmen is again at the gates of the world’s end (like today) and handles the problem of racism and white supremacy quite well. Just 9 episodes, but worth to watch. On HBO.

CAOS: Sabrina the Teenage Witch is over. Warner and Netflix made a revival of the Archie Comics character and brought her to XXI Century. But gorier, hornier, dark and magical than the nice 90s sitcom. Sabrina Spellman goes from a doubtful teen who has to decide if she has to be a witch or a powerless woman to rule Hell. How she does it? Find out on Netflix! Note: S1 and 2 take some episodes to start properly. Don’t get bored too easy.

There are A LOT MORE to recommend and I make a list: Harley Quinn (DC Universe), OK KO (Hulu -US only-), House MD, Young Justice (DC Universe/Netflix), Ken Burns’ documentaries (Netflix), Titans (DCU), Over The Garden Wall (CN), Seis Manos (Netflix), Thundercats Roar (CN), Easy (Netflix), GLOW (Netflix), Star Trek Discovery (CBS, Netflix) and Picard (CBS, Amazon Prime), etc.

- You named cool shows, but I’m not from the United States or I don’t have a subscription to (insert VOD here) because I can’t afford it

- Glad you asked, I have the answer here

Introducing Stremio. It’s an open source platform where you can watch shows, movies or even live TV on Windows, Linux, Apple or Android. You create an account, install some addons and start looking for what you want to watch.

Stremio is based on torrents, you should install addons from many known torrent sites. So maybe you find an old show, but there aren’t many seeds to watch. And it could be frustraiting, so make sure there are people sharing so you can watch it.

You can download Stremio here and check the FAQs which is very clear.

NOTE: Stremio is note quite “clean” way to watch, but if you do please support the shows you watch by posting, commenting about them, making memes, thanking the creators and crew for their work, buying merchandise if you can. They put a lot to make the shows we love, let’s give ‘em back that love and effort.

You’re tired of the same music, the same movies or need to leave something to make company? There is Vaughn Live, a streaming page where are lots of channels with movies and series on strem (not VOD). For example, there is a channel that streams Adventure Time, other Regular Show, other Sci-Fi shows, another with DBZ and so on. Take in count that if the channel has +70 viewers, the free access is cut and if you want to watch it you have to pay.

En Vaughn también hay canales en español, como Simpsonmanía, Dragon Ball, Futurama, dibujos viejos y muchísimo más. Anyway, go to https://vaughn.live/ and enjoy yourselves!

Y hablando de canales en español, pueden ir a SeriesLan donde está el mayor reservorio conocido de series animadas de entre 1960 a 2010 en español latino. Pueden encontrar tesoros desde Don Gato, los Halcones Galácticos o Street Sharks a Flapjack y Mechas XLR. Otra alternativa para que pasen el rato.

Some interesting facts:

Epic Games releases a free game per week in their store. This week will be two games. You can check in https://www.epicgames.com

Steam has good prices on games and some free ones. There even is the latest Football Manager for free until March 25th. Check on https://store.steampowered.com/

If you’re interested,

I got this playlist I made on Spotify

with songs I liked in more than one year. More than 1200 songs.

And that’s pretty much it! You got resources for a lot of days, 14 initially since that’s the quarantine time in my country. Remember: obey the indications of the Health authorities, this is no time to play the “fuck the goverment” game. We will overcome this pandemy together, helping and caring for each other. That’s why I did this guide, to keep your minds busy in these tough times! Wash your hands, keep social distance, stay at home, go outside if necessary and have some patience please. This has been a PSA.

Stay strong!

Burrito

[animefan299110]

LHAW Chapter 4: Training and a Movie

RWBY is owned by Rooster Teeth and the late, great Monty Oum.

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

Jaune whistled to himself as he moved the spatula through the eggs in the frying pan. It had been a few days since he and Tai had their talk and Jaune felt as though a small portion of the burden that was on his shoulders had been lifted. Granted he still had the occasional nightmares of that night, but it was nice to know that he was slowly starting on the path to recovery. He just wish that Yang was as well.

"Jaune?"

Jaune stilled slightly at the voice behind him. He turned to see said person with her disheveled pajamas and greasy blonde hair. "Oh, hey Yang." Jaune said with a smile. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No; just got up." Yang said, her eyes looking at the sizzling eggs in the pan.

Jaune followed said gaze and was tempted to chuckle a bit. But decided against it since he figured it wouldn't be appropriate to do so. Instead he only asked, "You hungry? I could make you breakfast if you want."

"Huh?" Yang asked in confusion as the smell of the eggs wafted through the air. She snapped out of her stupor and blinked at Jaune. "Oh yeah, sure." Jaune only smiled as he resumed his work. As Yang took a seat at the kitchen table, she turned to him and asked, "By the way, what were you whistling when I came down?"

"Oh that," Jaune said while continuing his craftsmanship in cooking, "that was actually "Prof. Love" by SMOOCH."

"SMOOCH?" Yang asked with a raised eyebrow. "Haven't heard them in ages."

Hearing this, Jaune looked back in surprise and asked, "You used to listen to them?"

"My dad and Summer did." Yang said while shrugging her shoulders. "They used to be big fans of them. I remember whenever one of their songs came on the radio, the two of them would just dance like a pair of knuckleheads and sing the song. Sometimes my dad would have Ruby in a baby carrier and she would move her arms and legs thinking they were playing some game." She smiled a little at the memory of the two adults dancing and singing badly while little Ruby was gurgling and giggling in a baby carrier. Her smile soon turned to a frown as the memory reminded her of a time when everything felt right in the world and not messed up.

Jaune noticed and said nothing as he set a plate with eggs, bacon, and toast in front of Yang. He then sat across from her and began eating as well. There was a moment of silence between the two of them before he finally broke it. "Yeah, my parents were big fans of SMOOCH as well." He said. "It's actually how they met each other."

"Really?" Yang asked.

"Yep." Jaune said simply. "My dad was just going there to have a good time and my mom was a groupie traveling with her friends. She had a little too much to drink that night and my dad brought her back to her hotel room. He left her with a glass of water and a note with his number on the nightstand. She called him the next day and well...the rest is history." Yang nodded; it now made sense where Jaune's gentleman-like persona came from.

Jaune paused a bit to eat his food before he continued. "When I was fifteen, my mom, my dad, my sisters and I went to one of their concerts. My sisters weren't keen on going, but they changed their minds when they found out that the opening act was The Lunatic Jester Brigade."

"So your sisters are into crappy music, huh?" Yang asked with a smirk.

"Yep." Jaune said as he mirrored Yang's smirk before continuing. "Anyway, when SMOOCH came out onto the stage, I was in awe by their music. I remember how I wanted to be cool like them."

"So you wanted to wear makeup in your 50s and sing in front of thousands of old-timers like you?" Yang asked as she gave another smirk.

"You know what I mean." Jaune said, giving Yang a sarcastic glare. "I wanted that confidence that they had to do what they do best. It's a trait I'm lacking." He added sheepishly. Yang nodded in acknowledgement; Jaune certainly had some self-confidence issues, especially when it came to training and knowing girls.

"Who knows?" Yang said with a shrug. "Maybe one day, you'll find something or someone to help you with that."

"What; like a wingman?" Jaune asked incredulously.

"Exactly." Yang answered simply. Jaune only rolled his eyes; he didn't have a lot of male friends and the only one closest to being a wingman was currently traveling to Mistral with a bombastic red-head and a crimson reaper. He frowned slightly at the thought of his teammates and friend and how much he missed them.

The rest of the meal was met with silence between the two blondes. After they had completed their meals, Jaune took the plates and silverware and brought them to the kitchen sink to wash them. Yang, meanwhile, rose from her chair and made her way towards the stairs. But not before turning back to Jaune and saying, "Thanks for breakfast; it was…good."

"No problem, Yang." Jaune said with a smile. "I'm just glad you were willing to join me." Yang returned a small smile and made her way up the stairs. 'At least she's talking and smiling a little.' He thought to himself as he washed the dishes.

When he had placed them on the drying rack, Jaune made his way upstairs and into his room, where he retrieved Crocea Mors and pocketed his Scroll. He then headed downstairs onto the first floor quietly so as to not alert Yang. He walked into the kitchen and opened a side door that led down into the basement. Jaune then locked the door behind him so as to get some privacy.

The Xiao Long house had an interesting basement; not only did it house the heater and electrical box, but it was also set up as a training room for the winter months. Tai had shown it to Jaune before the axe incident and told him that he could use it for training whenever he wanted. The training room had several manikins, benches to relax on, a few Mu ren Zhuang wooden dummies, and a man-made training circle. Jaune couldn't help but notice a few broken pieces of mankins and wooden dummies lying in a heap in a corner. No doubt they were the unfortunate victims of Yang and Ruby's training sessions. 'Mental note,' Jaune thought, 'try not to destroy too much training equipment.'

After setting Crocea Mors down on a bench, he proceeded to move the manikins and wooden dummies out of the training circle. As soon as he made sure the equipment was kept at a safe distance, he pulled out his Scroll and opened the folder that contained the video of Pyrrha. He then propped it up on the bench and pressed "play" before picking up his sword and shield.

As Pyrrha continued to talk, Jaune did not move or follow the intructions at first. He just stood there, wanting to just hear her sweet and caring voice again. It had only been a few months since the fall of Beacon, but he was still haunted by her memory and what had happened between them that day. But despite that day and what he felt he had failed to do, he knew that he couldn't give up on making himself stronger. Not just for her memory, but for all of his friends and teammates.

The video immediately rewound itself to the beginning. ""Alright Jaune, just like we practiced." Pyrrha said. At this, Jaune lifted his sword and shield, waiting for her to continue. "Follow these instructions: shield up. Keep your grip tight. Don't forget to keep your front foot forward." Jaune did as he was told: he lifted his shield slightly higher, tightened the grip on his sword, and placed his left foot forward with his right at a 90⁰ angle.

"Ready?" Pyrrha asked before saying "Go."

"AAAH!" Jaune cried as he thrust the sword forward.

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

For two hours, he followed Pyrrha's instructions, trusting and swiping the air just as she had taught him. He breathed deeply and slowly as he collapsed down onto the floor. He tried to stand up by using his sword to boost himself up. He then placed his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He wanted to continue training, but he was too worn out. He gritted his teeth in anger at the thought that despite all of his training, he still felt like he wasn't getting anywhere.

After a few minutes, Jaune decided to call it a day and placed everything back to where it originally was. He then left the basement and went upstairs to take a shower. As he step into the stall, he let the warm water wash over him while trying to calm down. The past was the past; he couldn't change it even if he desperately wanted to. Yet it didn't make him feel any better as he fought the urge to punch the tile wall in frustration.

After he got out of the shower and dried himself off, he felt the dampness of his hoodie and sighed knowing that he would no doubt have to wash it. "I swear I wear that hoodie so much I wonder if people think I don't wear anything else." He said to himself before putting on a white t-shirt. He then went downstairs, put his hoodie in the washer, and sat down to watch some TV. Upon turning it on, a news station immediately popped up with an anchor reporting news about Beacon and Vale. Almost on instinct, Jaune picked up the remote and changed the channel, only to come across another news network reporting the same old information.

"Despite countless searching and questioning, Professor Ozpin, the once great leader and headmaster of Beacon Academy, is still being reported missing."

*CLICK*

"Leo Caspian, an advocate for faunus equality rights, was found dead in his home last night along with his wife and two sons. Originally thought to be the work of human supremacists, experts now confirm that the murders were committed by the White Fang. It has been noted that Mr. Caspian strongly opposed the organization's extremist ways throughout his career."

*CLICK*

"Atlas officials continue to impose a ban on trade and have cut off all communication to the outside world."

*CLICK*

Jaune shook his head as he kept flipping through the channels, each covering a story more sad and depressing than the last. It felt like the entire world was going to hell and it was getting worse every day. He clenched his fist at the fact that the culprits responsible were right in front of him and his friends the whole time and they were all too blind to notice. He remembered how satisfied he was when he had found out that Roman Torchwick met his end at the hands, or rather mouth, of a Griffon Grimm. 'Poetic justice at its finest.' He remembered thinking when he heard the news.

His channel surfing came to an end when he came across the RMC movie channel that showed actor Spruce Willis walking through an airship terminal. As the baggage claim station came into view, the words "Try Hard" zoomed into view. 'Try Hard it is, then.' Jaune thought before setting the remote and leaning back into the couch.

Five minutes into the movie, Jaune noticed some movement to his right. He turned and was surprised to see Yang walking down the stairs. "Oh, hey Yang." He said.

"Don't mind me," she said with a wave of her hand. "I just came down to get a snack. I'll be out of your hair so-" She stopped, however, when she saw what was playing on the TV. "Are you watching 'Try Hard'?" She asked curiously.

"Y-Yeah." Jaune said in surprise. "S-Sorry if the volume is too loud; I can turn down if I'm disturbing you."

"No; it's fine." Yang said as she sat on the opposite end of the couch. "I actually like this movie. Did I miss much?"

"Not really," Jaune said as he shrugged, "Spruce Willis' Shawn McCain found out that his wife is registered under her maiden name. No action yet."

They sat in silence for a bit, watching the terrorists find Tony's dead body on the stairs with the words "Now I have a gun" written on his shirt. "You know," Jaune said, finally breaking the silence, "I'm sad Alan Bickman is dead; he was a great actor and this movie helped cement his name into the movie business."

"Hmm." Yang hummed in acknowledgement.

They soon came across the signature moment when Spruce talked into the radio and said "Yippee ki yay, mother******". "Oh right; I forgot." Jaune said in disappointment. "RMC censors that phrase."

"It's stupid, really." Yang added. "I mean it's one of my favorite quotes and they have to ruin it.

"I know, right?" Jaune said in agreement. "It's one of the most iconic action movie quotes and they tarnish it by censoring it."

"Exactly." Yang replied.

Sometime later, the screen showed Spruce crawling through the air ducts muttering to himself.

"You know," Jaune said, "this scene always irks me. He's crawling through a metal air duct and he's talking to himself. First, metal isn't exactly silent when you crawl on it. Second, the echoes are going to reverberate off the walls and out the vents. At some point, one of the terrorists is going to hear him."

"Huh." Yang muttered with a raised eyebrow. "Never really thought of that until now." They decided to watch the rest of the movie in silence, just so they wouldn't be talking over an important scene.

It was during a slow scene that Yang's gaze fell on Jaune. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something different about him. It wasn't his hair since he never changed it up. The dilemma wracked her brain until her eyes fell upon a piece of clothing he was wearing. It made so much sense now: he wasn't wearing his signature hoodie and armor.

It was a bit surprising for Yang considering the only time Jaune didn't have his hoodie and armor on was during non-combative classes. In those, they were required to wear their school uniforms and nothing else.

Gazing at Jaune without his signature equipment, she noticed that he had gotten slightly bigger over the year, not in body fat, but in muscle build. He may not be as bulky as the guys she was into, but he was a far cry from the noodle he was when he first came to Beacon. She then glanced at his arms, which had developed some muscle as well and seemed to hug the sleeve of his shirt. 'Wow,' Yang thought as her cheeks turned slightly pink, 'guess Pyrrha's training really paid off.'

"Y-Yang?"

"Huh?" Jaune's question suddenly snapped her out of her thoughts. She blinked a few times before noticing that Jaune was looking at her with concern. "Oh…sorry Jaune." She said. "What's up?"

"Nothing much." Jaune said. "It's just that you were staring at me for a while now. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine." Yang said with a wave of her hand. "I just noticing that you didn't have your hoodie and armor on."

Jaune glanced down and smiled as calmness washed over him. He looked back at her and said "Oh this? I was training downstairs in the basement and my hoodie got damp. I put it in the washer and my armor is upstairs."

"Oh," Yang said once the truth was revealed, "sorry, it's just….I've never seen you wear anything other than your hoodie and school uniform."

Jaune paused for a bit as he contemplated that bit of information. It was true that while at Beacon, he had only worn his hoodie and school uniform. But then again, Beacon had a pretty strict dress code, second only to Atlas. "Well," Jaune began as he scratched his head, "I guess I never really needed to use this shirt. I mostly kept it around in case of an emergency."

"Hmm" Yang said, turning her attention back to the TV. After a few minutes, however, she said "You know, you should wear it more often. It looks good on you."

"Oh." Jaune said, a bit surprised that Yang made that comment. "Um…d-duly noted. Thanks for the advice." Yang only nodded before turning her attention back to the movie.

It's wasn't long before McCain and his wife left with Fargyle and the credits began to roll. Jaune then turned the TV off and began to stretch while Yang rose from her spot and made to leave for her room. Jaune suddenly got an idea and when Yang was at the foot of the stairs, he said "Wait, Yang." The girl stopped and looked at him. "I was just wondering," he began while scratching his head, "maybe we could do this again sometime. You and me, watching a movie, just…hanging out." He took notice of her impassive expression and quickly added, "I-I mean, that's if you want to. I don't want to put any pressure on you. I-I just thought it would be a nice way to hang out. A-As friends, of course."

Yang continued to say nothing as she made her way up the stairs, resulting in Jaune's face to shatter in disappointment. Halfway up though, she paused and looked down at him. After a minute of silence, she said, "Sure."

"W-What?" Jaune asked in surprise by Yang's answer.

"Your idea of hanging out and watching movies…I'm willing to do it." She said. She then pointed her finger at Jaune and said, "But no romantic comedies; they're cheesy as hell. So no Nottingham Hill or 30 First Dates."

Jaune only smiled as he chuckled and said, "Sure thing Yang." Yang returned a small smile as she continued upstairs. Jaune sighed contently and turned the TV back on. 'At least she agreed.' Jaune thought to himself, 'that's a start.'

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

And thus concludes another chapter for Love Heals All Wounds. Well guys, I have an announcement. After I publish the next chapter for my My Hero Academia story, I will be taking a break from writing from May 21st to June 17th. Even writers need vacations.

But that doesn't necessarily mean I am abandoning my current stories. I just need to "recharge my batteries" so to speak...and now I'm reminded of Penny. Excuse me...

*Twenty minutes of crying later...*

Anyway, don't forget to favorite, review, and follow for more updates. And of course, kudos to Kerlongsj Evert Orlejov for beta reading this chapter. Next time on Love Heals All Wounds...there will be some angst, though not as much as the second chapter.

Until next time, this is AnimeFan299110 encouraging you all to go out with a Yang...I'm not even going to say it anymore.

[lemonsandstrawberries]

Double Trouble Reunion - the ending that won’t happen

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony), Avengers,

universe: Double Trouble universe (Steve and Tony, T2 and S2)

summary: Tonys and Steves have a calm evening when a stranger interrupts them.

length: 4 168

warnings: MAJOR AVENGERS ENDGAME SPOILERS

a/n: what would happen if Thanos came to DT world? here is your answer! this is a bonus chapter and just me playing around with the idea of how it would go in this world, a proper update is in the works and will show before the end of the month. this is not the ending I have planned for this series, so do not fret (please do, because I kinda live on that). hope you will like it! likes and comments are appreciated and needed!

——————–

Double Trouble Reunion - the ending that won’t happen

"So, what we should watch next?" T2 yawned, watching the end credits roll and the happy music playing. It was one of their lazy, comfortable evenings and binging on movies with his lovers was one of his favorite things. Laying on top of Steve, with his fiance holding him around the waist was an added, lovely bonus.

"Dunno. Any ideas?" Steve asked from the opposite end of the couch, his Tony spread on him in the exact same way as T2 was on his Steve. Like butter on toast, they were sinking into each other and a perfect match and Steve kept brushing his hand through Tony's locks. Tony's chin was tucked down as he kept gently breathing, nodding off halfway through the movie because of the cozy and sleepy atmosphere.

"More Disney?" S2 suggested hopefully, smiling like an excited kid. It was a nice change to see such bright expression on his face instead of his usual overconfident smirk.

"No more Disney!" T2 hollered, and T1 lifted his head up abruptly with a loud harrumph, his eyes darting around the room in an unfocused way. Steve was already on it, and guided his boyfriend's head back to rest on his chest and continued the tender caress to help him settle again.

"Why not?" S2 asked, corners of his lips turning down in that pouting, almost childlike way.

"Can we watch something for grown-ups for a change?" T2 asked back, his smile giving up that he was just playing. "Star Wars?"

"It is still Disney!"

Steve observed the half-hearted argument, feeling warm and happy inside, which reflected in the soft smile on his face. He let the other couple figure things on their own, while he kept holding Tony, guiding him back to sleep.

And then he noticed it.

A sparkle of electricity starting in the corner of the room.

"Uh, guys-" Steve tried to interrupt, watching the sparkling circle grow bigger and bigger. "Guys!" he called again, more urgency in his voice and saw the other couple stop their argument, seemingly freezing in panic. Steve jolted up, still mindful of Tony in his lap and quite roughly moved him behind himself, hiding and protecting, getting on his feet and ready to fight when an unknown man appeared in the room.

Dark hair with white streaks at the temples. Sharp face and blue eyes. Red cape and hands glowing with fire.

Friend or a foe?

"Ah, dammit, he found us," T2 commented sarcastically, still relaxed and cuddled to his Steve. It was the opposite of Steve who got all tense and ready to fight, while S2 squared his jaw and shoulders and tightened his hold around T2.

"Wha- what's going on?" Tony asked, lifting up from the couch on his arms and taking a peek from behind Steve's back, his eyes widening upon seeing an unknown man. "Who the hell are you?" he asked harshly, not liking someone invading his home.

"That's Doctor Stephen Strange," T2 answered on the behalf of the stranger. "He is an acquaintance of mine."

Strange didn't answer. His eyes focused on T1 and S1 for a bit longer before he turned to face the other dimension couple. "We never met. I am here to tell you, that you have to leave this reality, you have been disrupting it for far too long."

T2's smile faltered a bit before he got his snark back. "Ah, so you are the other Strange. You guys didn't have a chance to meet yet," he said to T1 and S1.

"The hell is he talking about?" Tony asked, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Who are you?" he asked again, demanding answers from Strange and not T2.

"I am Doctor Stephen Strange," Strange repeated, "I am the sorcerer supreme and the guardian of this reality."

"Sorcerer? What is your job exactly, besides making balloon animals?" Tony asked harshly, his eyes becoming sharper with focus.

Strange's face didn't change at the insult. He even seemed to become less tense and formal after hearing the words, like if it was something familiar and almost expected.

"I think I can explain this one," T2 offered, patting S2's hands and giving him a signal to let him go. Reluctantly, S2 listened. With a soft breath, T2 scooted to the front of the couch and started his story. "When I came back from this reality and back home, Stephen Strange paid me a visit. He warned me about the consequences of traveling between realities and creating new timelines and he even destroyed the portal. Unlucky for him, I was able to rebuild it. And then we used it to get here," he said, looking at S2 with a loving smile, "and then we used it once more," this time he turned to Tony, his smile dimming into a sadder one.

"It was a mistake to use for the first time," Strange said in a calm voice.

"It was an accident," T2 justified himself with a shrug, not really bothered. "I don't regret it."

It was clear that Strange wasn't happy with this answer. "Good. Because now you need to go back. You made your universe wait long enough and did enough damage to this world and the fabric of time can't hold much longer two sets of the same entities."

Everyone remained silent in shock. T2 lowered his head down, seemingly smothered by the news, but then he lifted it up, smiling sadly. There was a double meaning to Strange's words only he knew. "So, it is the time for that to happen, huh?"

"Stark," Strange warned, his voice showing emotions for the first time. Anger. Fear. Warning.

"What? What to happen?" Tony asked, urging the other him to answers.

"Stark, I am warning you-" Strange started just to be interrupted.

"I won't lie to them," T2 said, looking tormented, but his voice was firm and his gaze was steady when he looked at Strange. "They have a right to know."

Strange didn't answer, his eyes showing that T2 having this knowledge agitated him, but he also knew that there was nothing he could do to stop this. "You have time to leave until morning," he said instead, and sketched a sparkling circle in the air and stepped into it.

"Wait-!" Tony called, but Strange was already gone the portal disappearing. He didn't understand and he hated not understanding things. He looked at T2, at the way the other him was avoiding everyone's gaze. Were his hands shaking?

"Babe?" S2 asked, putting his hand gently on T2's arm and squeezing. The reaction was almost violent, T2's whole body shuddering and he quickly tucked his hands between his thighs to hide the tremors.

"Yeah?" he asked, his smile growing and a bit more real but still sad.

"I think you have some explaining to do," S2 reminded, his voice gentle. His whole posture screamed how uncertain and out of his place he felt, and both Tony and Steve could say that T2 didn't share anything with his Steve and kept everything to himself.

"True," T2 agreed, closing his eyes briefly to gather his thoughts. When he opened them again, he looked at T1 and S1, his gaze more focused and clearer. "Back in my reality, Strange warned me about it. He said that if we continue to use the portal, my… subconsciousness could get tangled with other Tonys' subconsciousness. And it did, I think during the - fourth time I used the portal," T2 rubbed at his forehead, "I saw glimpses of other realities. And I think - I think I saw my own death because it's-" T2's voice dropped and he looked directly at Tony. "It will happen, Tony. They are coming."

Tony felt the air being knocked out of him. His mouth open in panic and his mind got flooded with the terrifying vision he tried to forget about it. Alien forces invading Earth. His team dead, scattered in a broken world. His Steve dead. And him, not able to stop it, to help anyone, to save anyone.

"The fifth time I took the portal, I saw more. I saw infinity stones together and I was the one holding them. The world was back how it was before the attack, but my mind and body started to disintegrate. That Tony Stark didn't survive the fight."

"You saw yourself…?" S2 asked in a quiet voice. He couldn't believe it. His Tony… was going to die? His Tony who was kind and sweet and had such a big heart was going to have to sacrifice himself?

"Bullshit!"

Steve got up, jaw tight and eyebrows furrowed. "We won't let this happen."

Tony got up right after Steve. He looked shaken but tried to channel his anger and not show how much he was affected. "We have an advantage now. We can prepare for the attack, we can get the whole team and go with you and stop whatever is going to happen-" Tony rambled, not knowing if it was possible, not caring if it was possible or what consequences would be, all he knew was that he couldn't let T2 die.

T2 smiled sadly. He was touched and appreciated the offer, but the more he thought about it, he was slowly understanding. "Did you ever lie to me?" he turned to his Steve.

"Huh?" S2 blinked owlishly, not understanding the sudden change.

"Did you ever lie to me? And I mean a real lie, not the this medicine tastes like strawberries kinda lie-"

"Tony," S2 said, sounding almost pleading and looking panicked at the other couple. He knew it was a delicate topic.

"Answer. Please."

Something in T2's voice made Steve talk. Maybe it was the eery calmness, just as if T2 was ready to accept his fate. Slowly, S2 shook his head. "No."

T2 closed his eyes and breathed out softly, his theory confirmed. He took Steve's hand in his, before looking at the other dimension couple. "You should go."

Tony and Steve felt relieved. They were uncertain of the upcoming battle, but they wouldn't leave the other couple alone.

"It will be fine," Steve assured, meaning every word, "we will assemble the whole team and-"

"Oh no, no," T2 interrupted, laughing as if he heard a good joke. "I meant that you should go. I am staying here."

"Wh-what?" S1 asked, his battle spirit vanquished. He heard Tony stumbling to the back and sitting down on the couch in pure shock.

"I don't think Strange meant mine and Steve reality to face that end. After all, we never had anything to tear us apart and I think… that our future is safe. Here is the endgame."

Steve's heart stopped. It just stopped. He looked at T2's smiling face and couldn't comprehend anything. Was this happening because…?

"We can't stay together much longer or we risk both universes to collapse, but if we switch places, no one will know. We are practically identical, the only things that differ us are known by us, no one will ever notice."

No. No no no. They couldn't agree to this. S2 and T2 couldn't pay for their mistakes. For his mistake.

"I know this is a lot to ask from you," T2 looked at his Steve, just as if T1 and S1 agreed to travel to their reality and the topic didn't need further discussion, "and you don't have to feel obliged to stay with me. You can go and maybe in some other reality you will find peace," he braved a smile on his face and put his hand on S2's cheek.

In a slow move, S2 put his hand over T2's. "Don't be ridiculous," S2 hissed angrily but smiled back in the end. "I am staying with you," he promised, moving his lover's hand and kissing his palm. It was a tender moment, that didn't last for long.

"I don't agree to this," Tony said in a shaking voice and everyone looked at him. "I don't. We won't abandon you and take your place-"

"Tony-"

"- do you even hear yourself?! Do you know in what situation you are putting yourself in? Do you know how heartbreaking it is for me and Steve?"

"Tony-"

"This is a stupid plan and we are not doing it, T2!"

"TONY!" there was a loud slam of an opened palm on the table and T1 closed his mouth, eyes shining with tears out from desperation. He couldn't handle it. He won't go with this plan. There had to be another way, some loophole, something-

"I am doing what has to be done," T2 said in a firm voice, "to stave off something worse."

This hit too close to home. Both Tony and Steve looked with terrified faces at the other Tony.

"What did you just say…?" Steve was the first to ask, his voice quiet and trembling. Tony couldn't utter a word, his eyes having this glossy look and fingers curled into fists. He hated feeling that hopeless and defenseless.

"Come on," T2 said in a forced out sunny voice, trying to look unbothered, "I will tell you the details of your wedding, we don't have much time," he said, taking Tony by the arm and walking out.

"I guess I have to teach you to dance now, huh?" S2 asked, standing up and dusting his shirt off from the leftover popcorn. "Nat won't be happy if you come back and don't know any steps," he offered his hand to Steve, and not thinking much Steve took it.

***

Tony couldn't believe this. He didn't want to believe this. His emotions were crowding in his head and dulling everything. It was unfair how at ease and calm T2 seemed, showing Tony different websites and currently stopping on some Italian designer's homepage, while T1 seemed to go deeper and deeper, seeing only darkness and despair.

"Our wedding suits will arrive soon, we needed to send them back for quick fixing, because, well, I am a stress eater, so I just hope you will fit in it, you know? I don't want to have my wedding suit remade for the third time. And, you are wearing a white suit, while Steve will be wearing black, we wanted to go with something traditional-"

"You can't do this," T1 whispered, his voice and body trembling all over again. He couldn't lose this. He didn't want to lose this.

"- and you still have to pick the flowers and the cake, but I guess it shouldn't be a big problem-"

"You can't do this!" T1 yelled, tears going down his cheeks as he grabbed T2 by the arms and turned away from the screen and to himself. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, sounding broken.

T2 smiled, gentle and loving. He put his hands on Tony's cheeks and framed his face, looking deep in his eyes, the exact same set of eyes he had.

"Because I love you."

That was it. That simple. He just wanted to give Tony a happy ending after a life of guilt and pain. And Tony just broke.

***

"One, two, three, one, two, three… And spin! Good!"

Steve didn't think. His mind just shut down and he fell into what he knew. Following orders. He couldn't feel his limbs, but somehow they were moving on their own, almost as out of his control. He wanted to scream. His heart was bleeding and he wanted to push S2 away and yell his frustration out, say that there had to be a different way and that they won't trade lives and just when he felt anger and despair rising and fueling him and giving him strength he opened his mouth and -

"Don't," the oncoming outburst never had a chance to happen. S2 squeezed his hand, silencing him. There was some urgency in the touch, almost desperate need for contact. Steve looked at him and saw tears shining in the blue eyes and a teary wet smile on the face that looked almost exactly like his. "Just… don't. Let's dance," he said and pressed his forehead against Steve's. Steve could feel the warm, uneven breath on his face, the way S2's back trembled as he tried to stop himself from showing more emotions than necessary. It was hard. It was so unexplainably hard on both of them and there were no words to express their pain and fear for each other.

So, they kept dancing, Steve lowering his head and sinking into S2's, first silent tears falling down.

***

"You two ready?"

They weren't ready. They never would be ready. They felt sick.

"Ready," Steve replied in a trembling voice, just because Tony remained silent. The whole morning was so quiet. They slept together, ate together, and it was the familiar routine that helped them to keep going without falling apart.

"All set," T2 replied, stepping away from the portal and smiling in a more cheerful way than what was considered natural, trying to hold together. Tony's silver ring with a sapphire was shining on his fingers, while Tony took T2's pink gold one with diamonds. Steves had also exchanged their engagement rings, S2's pink gold band on S1's finger, S1's gold with a ruby ring on S2's finger. It had to be done.

Steve tried to desperately make eye contact with the other him. They never gave up before. Never. Why they were giving up now? Why S2 wasn't saying anything? S2 felt Steve's burning look looked up from the floor, giving the other him a brief smile, that he hoped was encouraging. It wasn't, and Steve felt a painful pressure in his chest, his heart clenching.

"We can't do this," Tony broke the silence, his voice coming out hushed and hurried. "We can't-"

"We discussed it, Tony," T2 cut him off, unusually harsh. This moment was already too hard on them both, they didn't need additional drama.

"We didn't discuss squat! We should stay! We have the portal, we can get other Avengers here, we can stop it-"

"And break this world?!" T2 yelled, eyebrows rising in disbelief. He knew that Tony was hurt, they all were. "No," he said quietly, but with so much strength it was almost startling. "It has to be done like this. Please."

Tony's shoulders sank. He put both fists to his eyes, trying to hold back the tears. "Why you have to be such a stubborn asshole," he tried to joke, a wet, forced laugh escaping his lips.

"I am you," T2 answered simply, smiling sadly, but also proud, "that's why."

Last goodbye, last kisses. No bargaining this time. They did what Strange told them to. Only one pair of Tony Stark and Steve Rogers per world. It had to be done.

When the portal turned off itself taking their lovers to their home, they stood in silence for a minute or so, the moment smothering them both.

"You okay, sweetheart?" S2 asked when the silence kept going on and became almost suffocating.

"Yeah," T2 answered in a trembling breath. He turned around to face his fiance, earlier held up tears streaming down his cheeks, but a bright smile on his lips. "So, what do we now?"

S2 took his lover's hand and pulled him closer, kissing the newly acquired engagement ring. "Get married?"

T2 laughed, almost desperately. "Oh, God. I don't want to plan it all over again."

"Liar," S2 grinned, knowing how much his boyfriend enjoyed planning their wedding. Tony only smiled, cuddling closer and wanting a kiss, Steve was happy to give.

***

Steve painfully fell down on his knees and hands. Somewhere in front of him, he heard Tony stumbling and knocking something down. Reality traveling wasn't easy. Steve's stomach was tied in a knot and his head was splitting. And he was a super soldier. How T2 did it five times?

"Babe!" Steve called, getting up on wobbly legs. Tony. Tony had to feel even worse. He saw his boyfriend hunched over the desk, taking in deep, wheezing breaths. "Tony!" he stumbled to his boyfriend and turned him around, panic coursing through his veins.

Tony looked pale, very pale. His lips were trembling and eyes were blown wide open in terror.

"Honey, look at me, focus on me," Steve begged, framing Tony's face with hands and Tony jolted as if electrocuted, but his vision became sharp and focused again. "Tony, it is me, it is fine-"

"We have to go back," Tony blurted out, starting to tremble.

"We can't-"

"We have to go back!" Tony yelled, trying to wrestle out of Steve's hold. "I saw it, Steve, I saw it, we can't - I can't - we have to help them-"

"Tony, shhh, just-"

There was an explosion behind Steve's back. On instinct, he cradled Tony closer, shielding him and falling to the ground. The sound was ringing in his ears and it took a lot of effort to look to the back, his eyes trying to pierce through smoke and sparkles of electricity.

The portal was gone, only a pile of wires and metal left behind. Somehow, T2 had to think earlier of this scenario to happen and set the portal to self destruct after the transfer was completed, cutting the way. It wasn't an unplanned act of self-defense as in Strange's attack, it was a carefully thought through operation, flawlessly performed by one of the creators. T2 knew which parts were essential and would take time to recreate, time they didn't have. That's why Tony didn't even bother to look, both hands pressed to his face and mouth twisted into a scowl.

They were not going back. The connection was lost.

***

Tony was right. No one noticed that they didn't belong to this world. Steve felt disconnected, once again having to learn to live without Bucky, while Tony found peace in visiting his living parents. The team welcomed them, and they subsided into wedding plans, discussing catering and music.

They got married. They adopted kids. Two boys. They named the older one Kent, the younger one Richard. When the press asked Tony why the old fashioned name, Tony laughed and pointed to his husband that old fashioned was good. They lived the life T2 and S2 wanted them to live. Sometimes arguing, but always finding a way to come back to each other, to make up and be a family again.

And then that day came.

Tony and Steve waited on the balcony of the compound, looking into the sky since early morning hours. Just in case, they had assembled the Avengers and gathered them in the common floor, preferring to have the whole team gathered in one place. Their boys were outside the city together with grandparents, Tony sending Maria and Howard to a nice cottage near the woods he had bought for himself and Steve for whenever they wanted to escape the city rush. They were living their best life, taking the gift they received from S2 and T2, hoping they were doing the same, but never lingering on the thought for too long, finding it too painful. The threat was always in the back of Tony's head and was also on Steve's mind. They were preparing for this day.

Morning changed into afternoon.

Afternoon changed into evening.

Soon, the sky turned dark and first stars shone on the dark canvas.

Nothing came. The sky wasn't split by an alien space ship. There was no screaming of attacked and terrified people. No panic echoing through the city.

"T2 did it," Steve whispered, looking at the stars. One life had to be sacrificed willingly to ensure the safety of the whole multiverse. He felt so proud but he also couldn't imagine S2's pain. Maybe he didn't have to, feeling that pain himself. There was a choking sound next to him, and he noticed Tony trying to swallow down the tears streaming down his face. "Oh, honey…" Steve said in a compassionate voice, wrapping arms around Tony and holding him, as the heart-wrenching sobs shook his husband's body. Words couldn't explain their heartbreak and how grateful they were for the life they got. All thanks to S2 and T2.

"Hey, boss," Friday said through the intercom, "sorry to interrupt, but the team is getting impatient. I propose a movie night to lift up morale."

Steve and Tony looked at each other, and Steve wiped off tears from Tony's cheeks. At the gesture, Tony smiled and sniffled, new tears still gathering in the brown eyes, but there were some determination and hope reflected in them. Steve knew that Tony also felt proud.

"Yeah. Queue the movies, Fry," Steve decided, kissing off the last of tears on Tony's face and looking back at the sky.

He had a loving husband, great sons, and in-laws who adored him and was surrounded by friends. He never knew he could have this all and he would be forever grateful for being given the opportunity.

[impfiltration-archive]

📃 ( for green!! )

Send a ‘📃’ for a short drabble involving our muses|| @pafallende

pidge thinks about running away from the team, but green is there to help her realize how much she means to voltron

Pidge wasn’t sure if language was enough to describe her bond with the Green Lion.

She hope she’d never have to say that; those kind of lines always felt hackneyed, like they’ve been directly plagiarized from some low-budget romcom. Something, something, “There are no words to describe our love,” blah, blah, blah. Cue the sloppy makeout session in the rain, and Pidge could already feel her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

Maybe if her Dad just cried over cartoons like normal people, then Pidge wouldn’t have to rely on a bunch of vague clichés. No, no—don’t blame Dad’s movies.

PIDGE:\Mind\thoughts_>>>You wish you could still watch them with him again.

PIDGE:\Mind\emotions_>>>homesickness>heartache

Pidge feels a rumble in the back of her mind, and a new warmth sparks in her chest. She is being embraced; the sudden comfort she feels can only be translated to being held. Pidge revels in it. As satiny as these Altean blankets were, they feel too weird, or unfamiliar, for her to really enjoy. The same can be said for the pillows, her room, and this entire ““quiznacking”” situation.

Shiro crashes an alien ship into the desert, stumbling out as a walking collection of paranoia and loose-ends (Pidge doesn’t think he’s fully recognized her yet).

PIDGE:\Mind\emotions_>>>heartache

Then, Shiro and her ended up on a scavenger hunt for a “Voltron” with a handful of randos. This led them to the Blue Lion, the thing that flew them clear across the universe in seconds—all the way to Princess Allura, who immediately claimed them as her paladins of war.

That’s the part that Pidge is having some trouble processing.

She was meant for space, that’s how her family raised her. Also, this random, chain of events was better than her original plan to get herself to the stars, which was roughly: Infiltrate, investigate, try to steal a Garrison shuttle.. Continue from there. She’s off Earth, now, though, and in addition to having her own ship, she finally knows what happened to her family.

Pidge is in the perfect position to go find her Dad and Matt. So, why should she bother staying here? Sure, the Galra sound like trash, but she doesn’t want to fight them—just take back what’s hers. Allura is asking for soldiers; she wants them to offer their lives for her cause.

Like they almost did today, when Sendak came.

Forming Voltron was exhilarating, but the build-up there had been terrifying. She still hasn’t shaken off the disappointment from opening those cell doors to everyone but her family. Also, it took her being scared of dying before she could actually “give herself” to the team to form Voltron. She thought she’d never see her family again, she thought she left her Mom to rot.

Pidge couldn’t make a life out of that.

That’s why the girl has been tossing and turning in her new paladin quarters for the last hour,  just mulling everything over. How she should she break the news to everyone? It’s clear she can’t stay. Maybe she should just casually mention, “Hey, I’m already on a mission,” or maybe not say anything at all, and just leave?

Green rumbled again. This time, it was less of a reassuring purr, and something more along the line of scolding. Pidge agreed wholeheartedly; she shouldn’t run away without a word. For about the millionth time that night, she rolls side over onto her side. This time, she up bunches her blankets up around her face, as well as closes closes her eyes. Instead of all the other hectic things going on in her life, Pidge tries just focusing on Green’s energy.

The vague presence of her lion in the back of her head seems to surge, and before she knew it, Pidge was asleep.

Unconsciousness was a plummet. Straight through a black, blot of nothing (Something that just barely grazed Pidge’s sense of perception), then emerging onto an entirely new plane. It was like diving into the water, when everything had this gleam to it and went fuzzy around the edges; only, the place Pidge found herself was a forest.

Tall trees, thick grass, that undeniable earthy smell of old leaves—it all hit the girl in one go, like her little dirt-patch seat sat in the very heart of all things nature.

There’s this immediate intuition that this place is safe. After her 33rd rash from ivy and over-pollinated flowers, Pidge has developed an almost inherent revulsion for all things leafy; however, that little spark of aversion is overwhelmed by feelings of admiration and compassion. It all just resonated with the environment, letting her know she’s precious as sunlight itself.

Pidge closed her eyes and breathed it in, feeling any and all tension drain away. When she breathed out, it was a deep sigh that morphed into a burst of laughter towards the end, when something started to nose at the back of her neck. It’s Green, Pidge just knows it—as if that knowledge was directly planted in her head.

She twists around to grin all wide and buck-toothed at her lion, finding an actual lioness in place of her giant, mechatronic form. Of course, this one was green, and the proportions were off compared to an earth lion. Green had a round face and wide eyes; also, there was a ridge of fur ran up from her stomach to her front. She was like some weird, alien-version of a lion, and Pidge loved her with every fiber of her being.

Like that, the girl is smothering herself in the crook of Green’s neck, and clinging onto her like some kind of massive stuffed animal. “I’m so happy to see you!”

Green’s purr is instantaneous. Her maw doesn’t open, but Pidge feels like the reverberations of a chuckle are just sprinkled along her stream-of-thought.

TRANSMISSION:\frequency\Green_Lion>>>You’re acting like weren’t just united, little cub

Pidge pulls away as her smile goes sheepish. “Well, yeah, it’s just– I don’t know.” She made some awkward gestures as she tried to pick out the right words. “It feels like I was always suppose to find you, and l just.. I fit here. With you, I mean.”

Before she can stumble over her anymore of her words, Pidge gets another faceful of lion. Green is gentle, though, as she nudges her forehead against  the side of her paladin’s face.

>I understand. A lion of Voltron is much more sensitive tothe cosmos than your human sensibilities would ever allow. >For all those years I spent in stasis, I could still see into the universe, and sense so much potential

Pidge loses track of the forest. Her eyesight just flips channels, switching from greenery and tree roots to a stretch of space that truly embodied infinity. Comet tails burned cyan streaks into nebulas; every cosmic dust cloud was shaped, folded, and thinned-out into different abstractions that drifted around like some kind of majestic eye-floaters.

The stars dotted everything else, almost creating their own, shimmering vortex as their immensity and luster sprawled out to encompass any and all perception. As her eyes adjusted, Pidge found herself focusing on a handful of them that seemed to be twinkling brighter than the rest.

>I believed several different lifeforms could’ve been my pilot

All the sudden, that cluster of stars began to fade.

>But none of them raised to the occasion

Then, they were gone—no grand death or anything, just gone. At that, Pidge felt a vague sadness well up in her chest. She was floating out there, another body among all the heavenly and celestial beings, and she felt lonely. That is, until, she was embraced by a new energy, something so bright and warm that all the comets, stars, and nebulas were dulled.

>Then I was able to find you, little cub. >A daring child with an inquisitive mind,so ready to fight for the truth>I knew you would come to me

Pidge finally comes back to the forest landscape. There’s a tear in her eye, and she’s pressed her forehead right between Green’s brow. Honey stares into gold, creating a spectrum between vigorous youth and aged wisdom. The former crumples to the latter after a few beats, when Pidge loops her arms back around Green’s throat, then burrows her face into the thin fur of her lion’s face.

The lioness trills this time; a short, chirping sound of approval.

>I was very happy when you found me>However, now that I’ve told you all the years I spentwaiting for you.. Will you explain why you just want to leave?

Green didn’t really have a tone. It was more like she thought into Pidge’s head while giving a live-feed of her emotions along a secondary train of thought. It was weird, but Pidge knew she was being chastised either way. She let go of Green as well as scooted back some. She looked like she had just broken her mom’s favorite hand-lens.

“W-well.. I need to find my family. That’s why I came here.”

So far, Green has been sitting like Bea-bea whenever she wanted a treat; now, the lioness was standing on all fours, and began to stalk around Pidge. Anxiety ran down the girl’s back as she raised up to her feet. The air had a new staticky feel to it. She’s precious and loved, but disappointing, too—it’s teeming through the atmosphere.

A lump forms in Pidge’s throat while she shuffles around to keep her eyes on Green. She knows she’s messed up, and she’s struggling to try and explain herself. “I want to be your paladin, but I already have my own mission. Won’t we still be bonded?”

>So you wish to put me back in stasis and watch you fade away?

Pidge felt a gut drop, a little, remembering how lonely the stars were.

“No, I don’t want that– What if.. What if I took you to find my family?”

Pidge cringed at the growl of anger that burst in the back of her head. Green kept on stalking as the air turned all the more stale. She was disappointing; she was selfish.

>And now you wish to tear me away from the other lionsafter 10,000 years of separation, for a hunt youcan barely lead yourself?

Pidge wanted to point how Allura was doing the same thing by expecting her to just drop everything and go along with her war. She also wants to say, no, finding her family wasn’t some kind of “hunt”, and she does know where to look. She’s got an eyeful of nervous tears.

She’s shaking like a prey animal, not sure about what kind of stand to make. Her knees are buckling, and breathing was starting to get hard.

“B-but.. My family.”

Green stops. Her ears are flat against her head, and Pidge swears she can feel the lioness stare right through her heart and soul. There’s a sudden and very distinctive lack of friendliness to Green. She lost that kitty-allure; big eyes were slanted, now, and her poise has gone from tender to predatory. Pidge holds her breath, fearing she might be mauled. 

>And what if I were to leave you to your family?

Atop of paranoid and distressed, Pidge also finds herself confused. Although, uncertainty stews for maybe a second before she drops to her knees. It’s like someone had taken a shot; just one second and her guts had been strewn everywhere, leaving her with a gaping hole right where her ribs should be. 

That’s how it feels. Opening her eyes up is a struggle, even more so with when it comes to focusing on anything. At first, everything is just a blur of light, and when she can make out shapes, they barely process. 

There’s too much going on. Her heart is screaming in her ears, and breathing is even harder than before. Pidge is sure her lunges are gone; she’s just a gasping fish on the floor of a boat. Despite the gore, her hands fumble for her chest—it’s instinct to curl up on herself. She gropes at the ground and her legs, then finally feels her fingers twist around the fabric of her shirt. Pidge focuses on that, and finds there’s.. nothing.

No blood, no guts, no signs of any damage whatsoever—nothing. Pidge whines like a lost kitten as she sobs all wet and snooty. There had just been this sudden burst inside her; Pidge was sure her insides had been blown apart.  

There’s a tug somewhere inside her, and Pidge feels a new compulsion to look up. When she does, she finds the Green Lion looming over, and even though she’s already folded-over herself, Pidge still tries to flatten out her back like that might hide her from view.

>Shouldn’t your connection with your family be enough?>Our bond has only been suspended for a tick, and you’ve crumpled.

Pidge tries to say something. Her mouth opens and there’s noise, but it’s nothing coherent—just more whines and little, wheezy noises. For a second, Pidge thinks back to that night on the stairs, when she overheard the news report about the Kerberos. 

She was so sure that was the worse moment of her life, when she lost everything by light of the 11 o'clock news. Right now, she hadn’t lost something, but felt like apart of herself had died. Green’s presence just dissapear, cutting her off from all her love and warmth.

Now, her voice wasn’t a soft undertone to her own thoughts, but something that was drilled into her head through prying claws. Now, there was no soft grasses or trees lining a warm horizon, but someplace dark and dangerous.

She was pleading for Green to give all that back to her, but words were so hard, now, without any guidance. The girl cried even more before she finally turned over to base-instincts: rolling onto her side, to show her stomach, as a sign of submission.

Pidge was still clinging to her front, but the message was clear. She concedes; she needs to be with Green.

There’s a purring sound, and Pidge feels an instant relief. She was warm and precious again, made whole by Green’s love as it flowed through every part of her being. The crying comes to an end; although, they still left her face wet and blotchy with a sticky-coating over her lip from all the snot. Green just lowered herself to curl around her paladin, dipping her head down to lick up the side of Pidge’s face.  

It was smothering and patronizing, but Pidge didn’t protest any of it. All that fear was still draining away, and she was thankful she could cuddle up with her lion like this. She took fistfuls of Green’s fur like you would a blanket, then more or less melted into into her side. From there, she sounded muffled and slurred, like a tired child about to be tucked-in. “Please don’t ever leave me, Green.”

The tree and grasses—now restored to their warm, spring haze—were starting to fade around the edges, blotting out to Pidge’s regular unconsciousness. Green just nuzzled her paladin’s side as she poured endearment and a sense of promise through their bond. 

>We will always be at each others’ side, little cub.

[winterwitch611]

Shattered (1)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton

Summary: Clint & Bucky are dating. When Clint jumps to the wrong conclusion can their relationship be saved?

Word count: 3061

Chapter: 1/3

They just finished watching a movie. Nothing they cared to pay attention to, just some stupid thing that was on TV. They were both too lazy and preoccupied to change the channel. Bucky had noticed that Clint had been a little off lately. So that was occupying his mind; but tomorrow is their one year anniversary. Maybe his boyfriend will feel better once they’re celebrating. He has a surprise in store for him, little did he know.

“Hey doll, you ok?” Bucky asked, as he stretched his leg across the couch and nudged Clint with his foot.

“Huh? What?”He asked dazed. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. Just tired I guess,” was his response.  

“Okay. If you say so. I think I’m gonna go lay down. You care to join me?” He hoped Clint would say yes. He really wanted to just curl up and hold him. Maybe find out what was bothering him.

Bucky made his way to the bedroom. He stopped to look back and saw Clint sitting forward on the couch with his arms resting on his knees, head hung low. Something was not right, and his stomach did a small flip. He turned and continued on his way to their bedroom.

With a long sigh, Bucky began to get ready for bed. Walking slowly to the bathroom he flipped on the light and began his routine. Once he was done he moved back to the bedroom to change into some thin sweatpants and jumped into bed. He lay back, staring at the ceiling, thinking, ‘This has been a great year. I finally have some peace. Got Stevie back in my life. The nightmares are mostly gone. I’m part of a great team. I live in Avengers Tower and I found the love of my life here. What more could I ask for? Other than to know what’s bothering Clint.’

Just as he finishes that thought Clint enters the bedroom. He sits on the edge of the bed with his back to Bucky. ‘This cannot be good’ he thinks. “Hey baby, what’s going on?”  

Clint takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly and says the most gut wrenching thing imaginable. “I think you should leave.”

Bucky is speechless. He feels all the blood drain from his face. His head swims. Choking back a sob all he can say is, “Wha….Why? What did I do?”

Clint’s body stiffens. “I think it’s for the best. Things just haven’t felt right lately. I know you feel it too. This was a mistake. We both needed a friend to lean on and it got out of hand. If we end it now maybe we can salvage our friendship.”

Bucky can’t speak. He’s shaking. The thoughts are racing through his mind. ‘This can’t be happening. How is this happening? I’m dreaming. This is a nightmare. I’m gonna wake up any second now. Please, let me wake up.’

He takes a breath between sobs and says, “You think our relationship is a mistake? You’re saying everything we’ve been through in the past year meant nothing? That every time you told me you loved me was…was… a lie?” After waiting for a response that never comes he continues, “Can you at least look me in the eye while you rip out my heart?”

The other man doesn’t say anything but he visibly starts to shake. Bucky starts to reach for him then thinks better of it. “Please…TURN AROUND… SAY SOMETHING!” he shouts.

The minutes tick by. No response comes. Tears are spilling from both men’s eyes as they sit in silence.

Clint feels the bed shift. He braces for what he thinks is coming. A hit? A shove? Nothing. It was just his boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, getting up to leave.

Bucky stops in the doorway but doesn’t turn around. “You just ended us and you couldn’t even look me in the face to do it. You’re a lot of things, Clint Barton, but I didn’t think you were a cold hearted coward.”

The archer flinches.

The front door closes and Clint is alone. He’s completely alone for the first time in a year. He lies back on their, his, empty bed. Tears streaming down his face; sobs overtaking him. He had to do it, he tells himself. He knows he’s not really the one Bucky wants to be with; and he can’t take being his second choice any longer.

                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky makes it to the elevator doors before his legs give out. He hits the wall and slides down to the floor. He’s completely grief stricken. What the hell just happened?

The elevator doors open and Natasha falls to her knees in front of the former assassin that’s now a quivering wreck. FRIDAY alerted her to the distress on the Barton/Barnes floor of the Tower they all share.

“Bucky? What’s going on? What happened?” He doesn’t respond. “Bucky, is Clint ok?” He nods his head. That’s the best he can do right now.  She cradles his head in her hands. “C’mon. Get up. Come with me.”

She helps him to his feet and into the elevator. Her mind is racing; but she needs more information. Natasha thinks she can probably get more out of Clint but she can’t leave Bucky like this. He’s in bad shape. The only other person in the tower right now is Tony but he’s locked himself in his lab. Fat lot of help he’d be anyway. He’d probably just make it worse.

The elevator stops at Natasha’s floor of the tower. She helps Bucky to the couch in the middle of the living room. After getting him some water from the kitchen she sits down on the couch next to him. He’s just staring into space with tears streaming from his eyes.

“Bucky?  Can you hear me?” she asks. He nods. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on. Can you please tell me what happened?”

“Clint… asked me to… leave,” he manages to say through broken sobs. “I don’t know… what I did. He wouldn’t… tell me. Wouldn’t even… look at me.”

‘I’m going to kill that idiot,’ she thinks to herself. Nat and Clint have been best friends for years but right now she thinks maybe he’s the one that should have gotten the shovel talk, not Bucky.

Nat pulls Bucky in for a hug and gently strokes his hair. She softy speaks in Russian to calm him, whispering comforting words she’d never want the rest of the team to know she’s capable of. She’s grown fond of James Buchanan Barnes in the last year now that he’s no longer the Winter Soldier; and no longer trying to kill her. He’s also the love of her best friend’s life. Finding out how to fix this is her mission now.

“You feeling a little better? Maybe you can tell me what you think happened?” Nat asks as she pushes her hand gently through the distraught man’s hair.

He shakes his head, “I don’t know what happened…. I just… don’t… know,” he says; and then stops as his eyes widen like he just remembered something important. “Nat can you do something for me?” He asks, almost pleading.

“Of course, what is it?”

“In our bedroom, under my pillow, there’s a small box. Can you get it for me before he finds it?” As he finishes the sentence he sees the look of pity on his friends face and breaks down all over again. “I… was… was going to propose tomorrow. It would have been our one year…anniversary. Only Steve knew. He was helping me plan everything. How do I tell him what happened?”

“Don’t worry about Steve. I’m going to go do what you asked. Will you be okay alone for a little while?” Natasha doesn’t want to leave him by himself but she suddenly has the urge to choke the life out of a certain archer she knows.

He nods.

She lays him down on the couch and pulls a blanket over him. After planting a gentle kiss on his forehead Natasha heads back to the elevator. Clint better have a damn good explanation for all this.

Right now Nat’s the one with the murder strut.

                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The elevator doors open and in three long strides Natasha reaches Clint’s door. She doesn’t bother to knock. She storms across the living room and she can hear faint sniffling coming from the bedroom. ‘Oh, he thinks his crying now. Wait until I’m finished with him,’ she thinks to herself.

As soon as she reaches the bedroom doorway she says, “Really, Clint? You finally found the person you were destined to be with. The person that loves you more than anything. And you throw him out without having the decency to give him an explanation?? Without even looking him in the face?? What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Didn’t take long for him to plead his case, did it?” Suddenly feeling defensive, Clint sits up and glares at his best friend. His tears halted. “Did he tell you how he’s been sneaking around with Steve? Huh? Did he? How about all the looks they’ve been giving each other when they think I can’t see them? He left that part out, right?!”

As he shifts to sit on the edge of the bed Nat starts to stomp across the room toward him. He almost feels as if she’s about to physically attack him but she hops up on the bed behind him and reaches under Bucky’s pillow.

“What the hell are you doing?”

She sighs and hops back off the bed to stand in front of Clint and tell him exactly what the hell she’s doing.

“I’m showing you what a complete idiot you are.” She opens her hand to reveal the small box.

Clint feels like he’s just been punched in the gut. His eyes are wide and he’s frozen in place. After what feels like days he reaches for the box. Tears are welling in his eyes again. Running his fingers over the small box a few times, he musters enough courage to open it. Inside is a beautiful platinum band. As the gravity of his mistake hits him he pulls the ring from the box and notices an inscription. ‘I’m yours, forever –JBB’

“What have I done?” he whispers as he collapses forward.

Nat catches him as they slide down to the floor together. She holds him as he wails. The power of his pain overwhelms her as tears well in her eyes. Her anger is gone now. There’s just sadness about all this hurt and pain. Deep down she knows why this happened. Clint has always felt unworthy of anyone’s love. That he was always just a stop along the way. That no one would want to spend the rest of their lives with him. So he was always waiting for the inevitable betrayal. She hoped there was a way to repair the damage.

Suddenly a voice can be heard overhead “Excuse me, Agents. Agent Barnes is in need of immediate assistance. I fear he’s about to do something rash” FRIDAY warns.

Natasha and Clint look at each other. There’s no decision to be made. They’re both on their feet in seconds, running for the door.

                     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clint and Natasha reach her floor in record time. They start to yell Bucky’s name when they don’t see him in the living room where Nat left him. They aren’t sure where he is. “FRIDAY???  Where is he???” Clint yells to the AI. “Agent Barnes is in the master bathroom, sir.” is the reply.

As they reach the doorway of the bathroom they’re stopped in their tracks. They see Bucky sitting on the floor with one of Natasha’s guns in his hand. He’s not aiming at himself he’s just running his flesh fingers over it and staring at the wall, in a trance like state.

Clint drops to his knees beside Bucky. “Bucky? Can you hear me?” He asks softly. “I need to know if you can hear me, baby… please.”

Bucky turns his head toward Clint. The look in his eyes is pure Winter Soldier rage. “Baby?” Bucky asks through gritted teeth. “Did you just call me… baby?” The tone of his voice makes Natasha back up slightly.

“I… I’m so sorry. I made a horrible mistake. I should have talked to you. I was wrong… so fuckin wrong.” Clint wanted to try to explain himself but Bucky wasn’t in any mood to listen.

A switch had been flipped and there was no telling where his mind was taking him. The man he loved just ripped his heart out and didn’t have the decency to look him in the eye when he did it. Now he’s just supposed to turn off the rage and listen to an apology? Not happening. Not today. Maybe not ever.

Bucky continues to run his fingers over the gun in his hand. “Did you really just call me baby?! I think you’re the one that needs to leave now, Barton!” Bucky snarls through clenched teeth.

Barton? This can’t be a good sign. Calling each other by their last names had ended with their first kiss. Clint looks up at Natasha standing in the doorway. “This… this is why I shouldn’t get close to people. I always fuck it up.”

Natasha’s heart is breaking just watching this scene unfold before her. She motions for Clint to get up and come toward her. “Let me talk to him. Give us a few minutes. I’ve got him. Just go… go for a walk.”

Clint hangs his head as he walks past her in the doorway. “Thanks, Nat. I’m sorry I caused this. I’m a fuckin disaster. Seems nothing will ever change that.”

As Clint walks away Bucky looks up. She knows that look. It’s a look of anger, hurt and desperation. Like he’s trying to decide who he wants to shoot. He looks down and continues to run his fingers over the gun almost like he’s self-soothing, or plotting a death, it’s hard to tell sometimes. Natasha takes that moment to quickly text Steve:

Nat: You need to get back here ASAP.

Steve: Trouble?

Nat: Bucky. Clint. Not good. My floor. NOW.

Steve: On my way up. Just got back

Nat falls to her knees beside Bucky. “Hey… can we talk? I want to help. Please let me try.”

He looks at her through a curtain of hair, not quite picking his head up all the way. “I know you think I’m gonna shoot myself. I’m not. It’s not even loaded. I took out the clip and emptied the chamber. Didn’t want the temptation. The weight of it in my hand grounds me… calms me.”

Natasha let’s out a long breath “Jesus Christ, Bucky, you scared the shit outta me. I sent Clint away because I didn’t know if you were planning on shooting him or yourself.”

Bucky sits quietly for a moment then it all comes spilling out. “To be honest, I was trying to decide that myself. How could he think I was running around behind his back? He really must think I’m a worthless piece of shit if that thought was spinning through his mind for, what, weeks?! So he shared a bed with me, had sex with me, told me he loved me and the whole time he thinks I’m fuckin Steve?!”

Just as the last few words leave Bucky’s lips Steve appears in the doorway “Wait… what?! Who’s fuckin Steve?”

Bucky looks up at him and huffs out a half laugh. “Apparently, I am.”

                             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clint headed up to the roof after Nat basically told him to get lost. He sat down in his favorite spot right above the “A” on the side of the building. Legs dangling over the edge. As he looks out over the city, thinking about what an idiot he’s been, he can sense someone behind him. He almost wishes whoever it is will just shove him off the side. After seeing how he made Bucky feel… yeah… he deserves it.

“He loves you, ya know?” Steve says quietly. “I’ve never know Bucky to give his love to anyone. To let someone that close to him. Let them in. Trust them not to hurt him”

That last part was a gut punch. Clint felt the bile rise in his throat. He actually thought he was going to throw up all over Tony’s precious “A”. He slides his legs back over the ledge and turns to face the man he thought was his competition.

“Steve… I… I’m sorry. So fuckin sorry.” Clint hangs his head as the tears start to roll down his cheeks once more. “I wish I could take it all back and start this night over again. If I wasn’t such an insecure asshole I could be laying in bed, right now, next to the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Can you at least understand why I thought he wanted to be with you? I mean, come on, look at you and then look at me. On what planet would someone as beautiful as Bucky want someone like me? I’m a goddamn walking disaster. I spend half my time on the medical floor because I can’t get out of my own way…. I …”

“Clint!” Steve heard enough and was going to tell him so in the most Captain way possible. “You do understand he was going to ask you to marry him, right? He wants to spend the rest of his life with you; but if you don’t trust him or feel like you can talk to him and tell him how you feel… well, maybe you were right. Maybe you shouldn’t be together. Trust is the foundation of every relationship. If you don’t have that you have nothing.”

Clint sat in silence for a moment and let that sink in.

He needs to fix this, make it right. “I need to try to talk to him.” Well that was an understatement. The real question here is will Bucky want to hear what he has to say? Or will his just tell him to fuck off? He finally makes full eye contact with Steve. “I’m scared. What if I fucked this up beyond repair?”

Tags: @caramell0w @jojosflyingcircus @sinsnotsinners

Beta: @caramell0w  Thank you!! Best EVER!!

[sherlock-one-shots]

Evermore (Sherlock X Reader)

I have other requests lined up and, I promise, I’m working on them, and with my new job, it’ll be a little easier to get a routine going, now that my hours are much steadier, but the kids at work were watching Beauty and the Beast (the new one, which I have yet to watch all the way through yet (whoops!)) and this is the song I came in on and I’ve been.

OBSESSED! OBSESSED, obsessed, obsessed. This song almost moved me to tears and I hadn’t seen the whole movie, and listening to it now, I knew I just HAD to write something for it, and I can’t wait, so here it is.

This begins before he meets John, and he kind of meets John in the middle.

Also, heads up, it’s lengthy…like, 2,000 something words…a good four pages, almost five…it’s a lengthy oneshot

Inspired by ‘Evermore’ from “Beauty and the Beast” sung by Dan Stevens

Also, sorry about spelling and/or grammar mistakes. I wrote this late at night ? early in the morning.

 ~*~*~*

I was the one who had it all

I was the master of my fate

I never needed anybody in my life

  Independence. Solitude. Isolation.

Things Sherlock Holmes learned to value at a very young age and things he enjoyed well into his adult life.

Until Her.

They met late one evening, walking down a darkened sidewalk together, side by side. She didn’t think he would notice her speeding up so that she fell into step with him, walking beside him instead of behind him like a normal stranger would have done.

He realized why quickly, watching her from the corner of his eye wringing the strap on her handbag and watching the street paranoid.

Dark, London street, a woman alone. Sad that she had to worry, but he looked ahead, slowing down so that she could walk beside him without having to jog.

She thanked him once they reached a street lamp. She was grateful, a kind smile making its way to her lips as she nodded in goodbye.

He didn’t know why he did it. He looked forward to walking alone, especially at night. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone to bother you at night.

He was looking forward to his walk alone.

He took a step forward, calling out to her and offering to walk her the rest of the way home.

She didn’t argue.

Nightly walks became afternoon walks, afternoon walks became coffee, coffee became lunch, lunch became dinner, dinner became night’s in, staring at Sherlock’s wall, evidence, maps, and everything related to his current case.

She rearranged things while he thought, trying to make the pieces connect. Often times she helped him, repeating certain aspects until they both came to the realization and rushed to Scotland Yard to deliver the news.

And he helped her as well, writing novels based loosely on the crimes they solved together, ones that he demanded to read the rough draft of and edit for her.

“Are you serious?” Mycroft’s words echoed in his brain, even now, after so long. “This will only cause you pain. She will only cause you pain.”

He didn’t believe him.

 I learnt the truth too late

 Happy. That’s how he would have described himself. Happy. Happier than he had ever been, and she would have said the same.

The happiness shattered as her voice rang through the flat, angry and loud. He was gritting his teeth as she grabbed her coat, the door slamming behind her saying much more than she did, saying what she didn’t.

He was angry, stomping through the flat, slamming doors and making messes wherever he went, packing her things into a box he emptied and throwing it outside of the flat, onto the landing where she would definitely see it if she decided to come back for it.

“This will only cause you pain.”

He knew Mycroft wasn’t a complete idiot, but he hadn’t believed him for a second.

It was too late now to head the warning.

 I’ll never shake away the pain

I close my eyes but she’s still there

I let her steal into my melancholy heart

It’s more than I can bear

 It had been one month since then. One month since Sherlock heard her sniffles coming from the other side of the door as she picked up her things and carried them off, never to return.

Rings were forming around his eyes, the lack of sleep beginning to catch up with him. His vision was blurry and lids dropped

He couldn’t sleep. He had tried before, laid in bed and closed his eyes, only to see her minutes later in a dream, smiling and happy, memories flashing behind his lids that he couldn’t stop, ones that made his jump away, an aching in his chest.

Then anger would make an appearance, not at anyone in general, just an anger that made its way into every word he spat, into everything he did. He had let her in, he finally let someone in, let them know everything, he deepest secrets, his plans, goals, feelings, something he never talked about.

And now she was gone. He let her in and she was gone from him, that support, that love, the one person he could talk to was missing now and wanted nothing to do with him.

Anger would move back to the back burner just long enough for the ache to return and have Sherlock gripping the blankets, wide awake, trying to breath normally.

The pain, he knew, wouldn’t go away. But he would have to hide it. He would have to do his best to ignore it and hope to God that he would be alright.

 Now I know she’ll never leave me, even as she runs away

She will still torment me

Calm me

Hurt me

Move me

Come what may

He took a deep breath as Anderson explained, in no order whatsoever, what he thought happened.

Sherlock didn’t have time for this. He had the information, he just had trouble piecing it together. That combined with Anderson’s ramblings made his frustration almost unbearable.

The eviction notice on his door this morning didn’t help much either.

He reached into his pocket, opening his mouth to say something he really, really shouldn’t have, when his fingers came into contact with something soft in his pocket. He rubbed the soft cloth between his index finger and thumb and his mouth closed quickly, eyes leaving Anderson and looking towards the pavement as he rubbed the cloth some more.

It was from her scarf. It had ripped during one of his cases. He meant to give the piece to her, considering it was her favorite scarf.

It seemed he never got the chance.

Frustrations and anger melted away as he touched the familiar fabric, tension in his shoulders leaving and he looked back to Anderson, who stared at him strangely.

Before Anderson had the chance to ask why Sherlock acted so strangely, Sherlock excused himself, telling another officer to let Lestrade know he would be in contact.

She was gone. She left, never coming back, but she never left. Not really. She still had a hold on him and he didn’t know whether to let her go, or to keep that last piece he had of her.

He had tried before, just moving on, but it was a lost cause. She was everywhere.

 Wasting in my lonely tower

Waiting by an open door

I’ll fool myself, she’ll walk back in

And be with me forever more.

 There were days where cases were not available. Those days, Sherlock tried to make himself busy, but he found that at the sound of every footstep, every creak outside of his front door, he would turn quickly, hoping it was her, back again to stay, this time.

It was usually the landlady, scolding him for noise and telling him to get out in the sun, pushing back the curtains and letting light inside.

She tried to clean some, too, being as helpful as possible considering the date on his eviction notice was fast approaching and he had done nothing but find another flat somewhere else.

Isolation had become something of value to him once more, and Bart’s was the one place where isolation wasn’t just a fantasy. Even at his flat he was never really alone for long periods of time. And, while Molly fumbled around every so often, she was quiet. She reminded him of her, her mannerisms, her helpfulness, her flirting (quite awful flirting, he might add). He almost couldn’t help the mean remarks that flew from his mouth sometimes. Sometimes he wanted to apologize, sometimes he didn’t want to look at her. He didn’t see Molly, he saw her.

The doors swung open, Mike Stamford entering with a smile and another man in tow.

A flatemate.

 I race against the trials of love

I curse the fading of the light

Though she already flown so far beyond my reach

She’s never out of sight

 He rarely got on social media. He had an account, one that she had made for him before the split. She made it as a joke, but he used it, just to see what people he tolerated were up to, sometimes it helped crack cases wide open.

She was one of the few people he followed. He didn’t know why he logged in in the first place, but he made sure no one could tell he was online at all.

He scrolled through, wondering if she was alright.Then he saw it.

He stopped scrolling just as her hair came into view, blowing in the wind. He scrolled a little further, seeing the picture completely.

She was happy, grinning from ear to ear with someone else, the man’s arm around her waist while she hugged him tightly.

He stared at the photo for a moment before closing the computer and sitting back.

She had moved on. She was gone, the light in his darkness several months ago. Now her light was fading from him, belonging to someone else and lighting their way.

However, her career was soaring. Three books published now, and it was nothing for Sherlock to turn on the telly and see her on another channel, talking about her novels. Never once did she mention him directly. She always referred to him as a ‘dear friend’, but, though she didn’t mention him and though he couldn’t speak to her, it brought him some comfort just to see that she was well and happy.

 She will still inspire me

Be apart of everything I do

He put the bow down, scribbling something on the paper quickly before repeating the few measures he had finished that morning.

John complimented the piece, sitting down to eat his breakfast, not bothered by the playing. It was the first time Sherlock had played since then.

Sherlock didn’t thank him, only nodded, playing again.

John asked for the title and Sherlock mentioned a name quickly before playing louder, drowning his roommate out. John shifted in his seat, seeing her name printed on the paper. It held no significance to John, he had never heard the name before, but he didn’t question it as Sherlock moved his body to block John’s view.

 Wasting in my lonely tower

Waiting by an open door

 Mrs. Hudson reminded Sherlock of his old landlady, Mrs. Hudson was, however, much kinder and more understanding. She knew her, she knew what happened, and could tell that, when the dark circles were returning, she was a sensitive subject and that Sherlock had seen her recently.

Mrs. Hudson would come up often, bringing up clients.

She usually mentioned that it was a client, but some mornings she mentioned that there was a guest for Sherlock. His head would snap to the door at the sound of heels, only to see another woman standing there, not her.

His door was open all the time. It bothered John at first, he wasn’t used to just leaving the flat door wide open, but Sherlock demanded it be, at least, ajar. Whenever it was open, that was when you knew he was in and that you were more than welcome to barge in.

He didn’t want that to change.

She was more than welcome to come back, he would welcome her with open arms, no matter what happened. If she returned in two weeks, two years, twenty years-he would be here. Always, just waiting, even though part of him knew it was a lost cause.

 I fool myself, she’ll walk right in

And as the long, long nights begin

I’ll think of all that might have been

Waiting here for evermore

 A bit of courage allowed John to speak up about the piece that had rang through the flat for the past few weeks. Sherlock hadn’t given it up and had finally finished the beautiful, melancholy, and haunting piece.

“Sherlock?” John asked. Sherlock only hummed, not turning as he made the final touches to the piece.

“What is the name of the piece?” He asked. “I saw a woman’s name, but,” He trailed off.

“’Y/N.’” He answered simply, folding the piece and putting it in an envelope.

“Who was Y/N?”

Sherlock took a deep breath, dealing the envelope quickly. “A dear friend.”

~*~*~*~*~

You opened the mailbox, wrapped in your robe as He packed the rest of his things and put them in a car.

You didn’t look as he drove away. You only grabbed the mail, seeing the envelope on the top, familiar hand writing scrawled across the top. You ripped it open immediately, pulling out the sheet music inside, your name across the top as the title.

You suppressed a smile as you walked inside, holding the music close, leaving the rest of the mail in the box.

 It is currently one in the morning.

I have to be up at seven for work.

But this had to get done.

I might revisit this, I don’t know how I feel about it yet. Like, I really like this idea, I think there were things I could have done differently, but I’m so excited about it at the same time, I don’t know, I’ll see in the morning.

It’s lengthy, it’s sad, but hopefully it was a good read…? Please leave some feedback on this one, I want to know what you guys think about it. This is my first ever song fic, so I’m in brand new territory.

Also, I’m really sorry if it’s cutting sentences off on some devices? I found a new program to write on, but it seems like it’s coming with it’s own issues as well.

[planetsam]

I would like to in the kindest most non-crazy way possible beg you to write more Mileven fics, because you're writing is incredible and has made me cry twice (what?), and I really need fics written post-context of season 2 to help me move on with my life after this weekend. They could be about literally anything, I just need more of that fluff. Thank for being amazing, sorry for bothering you

He doesn’t think he’s ever going to find it.

It’s the dead cold before the first snow, he’s bundled up and peering through the fading light, trying to navigate with a half remembered route. He doesn’t have school tomorrow which is a good and a bad thing. Good, because he’s probably going to be out here all night. Bad, because no-one knows he’s out here and he’ll possibly freeze to death before they find him. He knows the old cabin, there’s only one around here and it’s been uninhabited for years. They went there a few times on campaigns, the monsters always wound up looking like a furious Jim Hopper who roared ‘What are you doing here’ and ate them from the toes up.

The light’s nearly gone by the time he gets there.

He feels a tug a moment before there’s a snap followed by several loud pops. He whips around as there’s a scramble in the cabin, by the time he turns around he’s faced with the barrel of a gun, held by a panicked looking Jim Hopper. If he wasn’t having an out of body experience, Mike is fairly sure that he would be pleased with the accuracy of his creation. Jim Hopper definitely looks like he wants to put him in a great deal of pain. Possibly eat him, starting with his toes. The fog of his breath only makes it so much worse. Mike realizes that the only thing visible is his eyes, even though he’s got his hands up. Hopper sighs and lowers the gun.

“Kid, what the hell are you doing here?” He questions.

“How’d you know it was me?” Mike asks. Hopper gives him a withering look, “I came to see El.”

“How did you know–”

“Me. I called.”

They both look back at the house. El looks awful. He nose is red, but not from blood. Her eyes are wet too. Her feet stick out from the blanket she’s wrapped around her. As if on cue she coughs and Hopper turns from him back to the porch, ushering her inside. He holds the door open with his foot and glares Mike into the house. Mike wastes no time in running up the stairs and inside, shutting the door behind him.

“Shoes,” El croaks and he looks down, realizing his shoes are still on. She looks up at Hopper, “it’s a rule.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t start with the rule thing,” he says gruffly, ushering her back to the couch.

Mike takes his shoes off and opens up his coat, pulling out the bag he stuffed in it. He sets it aside and takes his coat off the rest of the way, followed by his hat and his scarf.  El is settled on the couch, tucked back under the blanket when Mike approaches. It’s just a cold, but it’s her first cold that hasn’t been met with panic and government scientists prodding her. When he looks at the soap operas he has a feeling why she immediately things she’s dying.

“I brought soup,” he explains to Hopper who raises his eyebrows.

“You radioed your boyfriend for soup?” He demands. El shrinks into the blanket, going pink at the cheeks and Mike’s not sure if he should be embarrassed or pleased.

“Sick,” she insists again and looks at him.

Hopper throws his hands up and grabs a mousetrap, presumably to fix the alarm Mike tripped. Mike turns to El who looks up at him from where she’s wrapped up in the blanket. She really does look sick and that’s before the back of his hand touches her forehead like his mom does for him. She looks up at him with the implicit trust she’s always seemed to show in him. Mike swallows, suddenly dry mouthed before he smiles at her. Her hair’s gotten longer since they saw each other, but it’s less of a shock to see her like this than it was the first time. He wants to say that she looks like every other girl, but he’s starting to realize that she doesn’t. That she probably never will, not to him.

“So this is where you’re living?” he asks looking around. She nods, “I came here as a kid a few times. We always thought Hopper kept something creepy in here but it was just boxes.”

El nods and points at the open door.

“That’s my room,” she explains, “that’s the kitchen, bathroom, living room,” she points up at a loft, “hopper’s room.”

He looks around as she gives her tour from the couch. She sneezes for real this time and burrows deeper into her blanket, peering up at him. Knowing she’s close has somehow made this both awful and easier at the exact same time. He’s not sure any amount of close will be close enough. She wiggles down on the couch and he sits in the spot she’s cleared. She wastes only a second before she wiggles back and puts her head on his lap, sighing softly. Mike figures that if he gets sick he can blame it on the cold and being out so late.

“You were here the whole year?” He asks and she nods.

“I kept asking to see you,” she begins and he grips her shoulder, not wanting her to be upset.

It’s still a raw wound. He wonders if it’s ever truly going to close and decides that it will. It has to. Out of all of them he’s the one with the thing that makes it all worth it. He’s the one with her coming back. Barb won’t come back, Will can’t get un-possessed and none of the Byers can stop that from happening. He has her though, she came back. And he held strong until she did. There’s not a lot Mike’s proud of but in this case he’s pretty proud of them.

“You can see me now,” he says when he sees her looking at him.

“Only for a little while.”

She honest to god pouts and he marvels at the flip flop his stomach does. Her face is less guarded, even her words come easier. It’s only for a little while now but soon, soon it will be for longer. Someday they won’t have to be apart at all. While it’s just for a little while though he doesn’t want to make it bad. Not if this is how it’s going to be for a while.

“So how’d you learn to talk more?” He asks instead and she flushes pink, the tv switching channels to a soap opera, the kind his mom watches, “tv? That’s cool! You know in school sometimes they put on movies in other languages so we can hear them.”

“It helps to practice,” she says and he nods.

“You’re way better,” he tells her.

“Thank you,” she says, “I started homework too, for school.”

The fact that El wants to go to school almost makes Mike want to do it too. He’s definitely started trying harder. That’s the thing, El takes all the stuff that seems boring usually and somehow makes it exciting. Like homework. He can’t remember ever being so excited at the prospect of homework like she looks now. Irrationally he’s mad at Hopper all over again for keeping her cooped up for a year. For keeping her cooped up for another year, even if he knows the logic behind the decision. Her hand covers his and he looks over as she rubs her thumb over his knuckles.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

He’s angry at a lot of things these days, he has been for the past year but there’s no worry to cut it with. There’s just the anger. People seem to blame everything he does these days on hormones but Mike doesn’t seem that happening with any of his friends. He’s scared too, what if the anger doesn’t go away? What if even when she comes back properly he’s still too angry? He tries to think of those things when he gets mad and the shame can sometimes pull him out, but he’s already embarrassed and mad at himself for acting like this when he gets to see her.

El scoots over and puts her head on his lap, shifting so she’s tucked under his arm. She tugs the table closer with her mind and before he can protest, an invisible hand lifts up his feet and puts them up. The tv rapidly cycles through the channels as if looking for something better before returning to what they were watching. Mike peers over at her face, she’s focused but there’s no blood from her nose. She twitches her finger and an Eggo sails towards him, he’s not an athlete but he just manages to catch it.

“Better?” She asks him and he nods, realizing that he’s been stunned out of his anger, “good,” she says and burrows against his leg.

He reaches out with his other hand after a moment and touches her curls. She keeps her eyes focused ahead resolutely and lets him, after a moment though she skinks into the touch. Her hair is impossibly soft and the color of hot chocolate, far lighter than his. Her skin is more tan though, even if she spends more time indoors and he has to go outside every day. She makes a soft sound when he winds one of her curls around his fingers, pressing against him more.

“Your hair’s really pretty,” he says.

“Do girls at school have short hair?” She asks.

“Some of them do,” he says, trying to think, “I don’t really pay attention to them,” he admits. She smiles, “but who cares? You can always cut your hair if you don’t like it, my mom cuts mine like every other week.”

“Your mom cuts your hair?” Eleven asks, twisting to look at him.

“It’s different for girls, Nancy won’t let her but Nancy cut off like half her hair in the bathroom a couple months ago.”

“Why?” Eleven asks.

“She was sad about her friend and she said boys are dumb.”

Eleven nods.

“Boys are dumb,” she agrees. She glances at him when his hand stills in her hair.

“I’m a boy,” he points out.

“You’re a Mike,” she says, “that’s different. You’re not like the other boys.”

Mike’s heard that for most of his life but it’s the first time he’s actually pleased to hear it.

“Hey, El?” He says. She looks up at him, “thanks for making me feel better.”

She beams up at him.

“Thanks for bringing me soup,” she says.

“Anytime.”

“No, not anytime!” They both look as Hopper comes in. Eleven clutches his hand and pushes against him, like she’s trying to hide. Mike’s eyes narrow because being yelled at again by Hopper might be terrifying but he sure as hell isn’t going to just let him scare El. “Okay which of you wants to go first?” He demands, “lets start with you, what’s wrong with the soup we have?”

“It’s bad,” she says, “I wanted Mike. So I used the radio and the Morse code.”

“You mean the only to be used in emergencies code?” He demands, “what did you say?”

“She said soup,” Mike supplies, “sick and come over.”

Hopper turns towards him.

“Not where we were?”

“No! I’m not stupid!” El shoots back, about to push herself up but Mike tightens his hand on her. She huffs and presses her face into his leg.

“We used to sneak up here and tell ghost stories,” Mike admits.

“I told him I lived in the woods, at the Snow Ball, after we kissed.”

Hopper’s face turns an alarming shade of red. Mike opens his mouth to point out that it’s been a year and a half, he hasn’t told anyone about her and he can very clearly keep a secret. El looks up at Hopper’s now purple face and sighs, like this is also equally dramatic. She sits up.

“We kissed before,” she says, “I’m sick so we aren’t kissing now.”

“You did what?!” He erupts, “Wheeler!”

“I also hid her in my blanket fort while my parents were home, why is that the big deal?”

“Because–because–”

“Because, because–” El begins and Mike realizes if Hopper turns more purple they’re going to have to take him to the hospital.

“Because we’re too young?” He interjects and they both look at him, “we aren’t. Not after all the shit that’s happened. We like each other a lot.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” El snaps, “you said so.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, I was being sarcastic!”

“Well he is,” she says rolling her eyes, “right?” She adds, looking at him like it’s occurred to her to check.

“I mean yeah,” he says, it doesn’t even occur to him to say otherwise. Hopper glares at both of them and the part of Mike that told a government lab they’d have to get through him to get to her screams something about him knowing her first. But Eleven grips his hand and he stays quiet, “she’s my girlfriend,” he says instead.

“Yes,” El repeats.

Hop gets up and comes back with a map.

“How did you get here,” he questions Mike, “you never see a map before kid?” he demands and Mike rolls his eyes.

“I’m a dungeon master,” he mutters and immediately starts marking out his route.

El’s weight is a warm press against his shoulder. Mike thinks of the gym and then he thinks of the campaign he’d been working on. El had been there too, the exact same spot, except now her curls are against his cheek.

“A what?” Hopper questions finally.

“Dungeon Master, it’s Dungeons & Dragons,” he says handing him back the map, “we’ve all got roles. I’m the Paladin. But I think up the plots.”

“Yeah?” Hop says absently, “what’s Will.”

“Cleric.”

“Lucas?”

“Ranger.”

“Yeah? What about her?” he questions nodding at Eleven who glances up at him.

“She’s our mage,” he says.

Hop glances up at them but Mike’s focused on Eleven who seems to like that. Mike knows that she’s not supposed to use her powers, but he doesn’t understand why. If he could do the things that she can—he’d do them all the time. His route seems to meet Hopper’s approval, at least for now. Mike watches as he pushes himself up, looking between them. He glances at his watch.

“Whose covering for you?” He asks.

“Dustin,” he says, “we’re having a sleep over.”

El gasps in delight which immediately turns into a coughing fit. Mike rubs her back like his mom does for him, until she catches her breath. She smiles and looks at Hopper. The older man sighs, clearly not liking what’s being asked but not having the heart to say no.

“That fort comes out here,” he says, “and stays open.”

“But you snore,” El protests.

“But you and your boyfriend aren’t going in your room with the door shut,” Hop says and looks at Mike, “go move the fort.”

Mike gives her hand a squeeze and heads into the room. Strung up at the foot of the bed is a fort, make of patchwork blankets and two mismatched chairs. Despite everything, Mike is stunned at the development. He shakes it off and carefully moves it piece by piece into the living room, assembling it back together from memory. He’s got his thermals underneath all his other layers which seems like a decent among of clothing to him. They wind up underneath the fort with the tv on soap operas, Hop is snoring above them. El’s curled up against his shoulder this time, probably too close for her adoptive father but Mike isn’t going to point that out.

It’s nice, quiet in a way that things haven’t been in a really really long time. Any quiet moment he’s had he was using to try and contact her. Or thinking about any other ways he could be trying. Now though he just feels her breathing evening out against his shoulder. He eases her down and she doesn’t stir, just curls into a ball facing him. He lays down and looks at her. He’s seen a lot of glimmers of the girl who he knew a year ago with her buzzed hair, but he doesn’t look for them. He just looks at her. It’s the easiest time he’s had falling asleep in a year and a half. They wake up nose to nose, hands gripping each other and the smell of Eggos in the house.

Mike would think that’s low of Hop if El didn’t drag him from the fort and not let go of his hand as she devours them. At least she’s toasting them now, though Mike is still determined that one day they’re going to have actual waffles. In a diner, where everyone can see them. Its something that he’s determined will happen one day, no matter what the universe says. But for today, today they just have the blanket fort and the Eggos.

Somehow that’s more than enough.

[esunspot]

How I wish it could’ve went

In a perfect world, we would’ve spent July 2, 2020 almost exactly the same. Instead of saying “그만하자,” I would’ve asked you “그만 할까?” As of right now, it seems like this would have made the world of a difference.

I think our conversation would’ve played out similarly. Of course it would have had slight alterations but we would have still spent the majority of the night sitting in my hammock, expressing how we truly felt for one another. We would have still learned the deep reverence we felt towards each other as individuals, and acknowledged that we always made love. I think I would have had the courage to ask you then, “How could we make love if only one person loved the other?”

We would have still fallen asleep crying, kissing each other softy. When you would leave in the middle of the night, you would have still come back to reach over that ridiculously large bed to kiss me thinking i was asleep. I would have still been secretly awake, feeling it and knowing that you had your own, subtle way of showing me that you care for me deeply. This small act meant, and still means, the world to me.

Instead of finishing the conversation the next day with a set “let’s end us,” you would have still come over to watch Hamilton with me. We would have laughed a lot harder, cried a lot harder, but held each other a lot tighter. I would hope that we would both feel a small glimpse of the pain of what it would be like to leave one another. And it would ultimately cause us to appreciate each other a whole lot more.

Our relationship started off backwards, and this is where we would have finally reached the beginning. 

You would leave and it would have been okay. The only sense of anxiety we would’ve felt was positive--simply eager and excited to see each other again. I think I would have still felt a strong sense of sadness and guilt. But it would’ve been channeled into ambition; I would’ve been ready to make up all the pain you previous lover had caused you, and the scars i had left you too. I think you could’ve been ready to start new again too--maybe take a few steps forward and not be so scared since you were finally able to trust the process a little bit more.

I would have slept that night thinking about how these commitment issues were a struggle that both of us had to overcome separately. But even still, it doesn’t mean that we would have to do it apart without us cheering for one another on the sidelines. I think I would’ve truly realized what it would mean to hold someone’s hand and let them lead me, but also tell them when I needed to stop and take a break, or maybe take another turn.

Nonetheless, you would have forgotten your almond butter at my apartment. At the time, I was so fascinated by the science of making butter. I was so intrigued by how hot the almonds got in the blender! Hopefully you thought it was cute.

Instead of waking up the next morning, July 5, 2020, feeling alone, anxious, and terrified. I would’ve woken up feeling okay. You were still here, and we both had decided to not walk away but rather take another turn--together. I would’ve pretended to be annoyed at the fact that you left the butter--probably made a joke about how you just don’t like my cooking and left it there on purpose. But really, I would’ve been glad to just stop by your place, drop off your things, and give you a big hug saying I’m beyond grateful for you, and I intend to be there for you--actively engaged, generously caring, but also extremely gentle with you and the pieces of you that you left in my care.

I would’ve never felt the urge to distract myself by visiting acquaintances. And my neck would’ve never ended up bruised, my vagina would’ve never been left with scars, and my entire mind, body, and voice would’ve never been taken away from me again.

When I would show up at your door, you would’ve opened it and embraced my hug a little tighter than usual. You would’ve invited me in, and I would’ve said “just for a little bit,” knowing that I was probably going to be there for over an hour. I think we would’ve made love again, but it would’ve been more gentle and passionate than before. Afterwards, you would hold me from behind like usual... and I would feel safe, beautiful, and at home.

I’m sure I would’ve had the courage to tell you that I intend to make you feel that same way--nothing but safe, cared for, and appreciated. I was ready to show you that you always had another place to call home, and i was ready to take it at whatever pace made you the most comfortable while expressing my needs too. We would’ve finally started working together as a team, and I’m certain this time we would make it. We would’ve finally started trying.

Weeks would pass and things would’ve been great. Maybe a few bumps along the road--you would’ve had some spouts of anxiety, and I would’ve needed some assurance to maintain patience and security. Slowly but surely, our insecurities would’ve subsided and we would’ve finally started our relationship together.

But throughout this entire time, I would’ve still been pregnant. When I finally would have the courage to take a pregnancy test, you would’ve been there. In fact, you would’ve bought me the test yourself and would wait for me as I took it. Immediately, I would’ve started crying and you would’ve been silent--almost like all your insecurities, fears, and pressures were flooding back. I would’ve told you everything I was scared about, including the specific details of my past traumas. And the whole time you would’ve listened and held me, asking me if I needed anything at all. 

You would’ve asked me, “What do you want to do, Anna?” And i would’ve pushed for your response if I had asked you that question. You would’ve stayed firm with not responding, and encouraged me to come to the conclusion on my own accord--”It’s your body, your choice.” 

I would’ve told you with certain intentions of receiving an abortion as soon as possible. But “soon” was going to be tentative. I think I still would have been scared of the doctor’s, and you would’ve been reminded of how hard that day was when I had to go to the OB/GYN a few weeks prior. You would’ve given me tons of research, encouragement, and gentle affection to reason with me logically but also hold my hand to let me know that I’m not alone.

I would have noticed your own anxieties about this, and I would have told you the truth. “You’re going to make the best dad ever one day, but that day isn’t anytime soon.” We would’ve been able to talk about our dreams as future parents and share our childhood memories with one another in depth. With this, I would’ve realized that being with you already feels like I’m with family. And most importantly, I would’ve realized that I already have too many people to take care of right now--including myself--and I shouldn’t have to squeeze room for my own child, room should’ve already been there.

And so, with your support, I would have received a surgical abortion at 18 weeks. It would have still been invasive, it would have still been painful, but it would have felt nothing short of rewarding. After all, making love to the man I cared for most resulted in a mass donation to science and the future--which ultimately meant that I we were both investing in future families and creating life in our own, unique way.

Afterwards, I would have still been sad and scared--traumatized from having to go through something that invasive again. But this time things would’ve been different: it was my choice. You would’ve been there to remind me that we were able to make something so beautiful out of this accident, and if anything, there was a powerful purpose behind it. You would’ve seen all the blood in the bathroom and the truth behind how it’s hard for me to complain about pain, and you would’ve been ready with your cleaning supplies, pads, and comfort food to make sure I was okay.

From there on out, we would’ve moved forward feeling nothing short of proud knowing that we had overcome something so terrifying together. I would’ve been so honored to have someone so supportive, patient, and courageous as my partner. I would’ve been so proud of us as a couple for the strides we had made in our communication, teamwork, and trust in one another. And most importantly, I would’ve been extremely proud of myself for making it through this--it would’ve been a hallmark in my healing, and it would’ve been a tangible reminder that my traumas do not define me. 

I’m certain we would’ve made it to the next winter together. Instead of missing the previous one so much, we both would’ve looked forward to our second set of holidays together--more pretty lights, movies, and trips together. 

I’m not sure how the rest would be played out in an ideal world, and i guess that’s what leaves the excitement in my life for me--the anticipation and surprise of not knowing. It makes everything so much more rewarding and grand--and that’s something I can imagine but wouldn’t dare to put into words (I don’t want to jinx it). Whether or not we would’ve worked out doesn’t matter to me, I think this scenario of just a few months would’ve already been worth a lifetime of happiness and success in my mind. 

But strangely, this isn’t an ideal world. And I’m not sure if I wish it were.

You still left me and kept me wrapped around your finger. He still raped me, strangled me, and stalked me on multiple occasions. And you still aren’t really here. The days you would bring me food, talk to me for hours on end, and ask me on a daily basis how I’m doing truly mean the world to me. But it isn’t enough for me to diminish the spite and anger I have towards you for all the hurt you brought me. Shaming me the moment you discovered I was pregnant, yelling at me without considering the fears and violations I’ve recently experienced, and leaving me to wait for you on a day where I saw the first image of the life we had created together. These are things I’m not sure if I could ever forgive you for.

I’m in a world of pain and you are only a speck of that, and right now... everything is about me. It isn’t selfish to say this at all, it’s the right mindset for me to have in order to get through this. I have the means to care for my child, and I know for a fact I’m going to be a good mom. Maybe not a great one, I’m sure my sass will clash with my child’s, but definitely a mother who will protect her child fiercely, provide and care for them endlessly, and love them unconditionally--with so much passion that my love will be more than enough for them. Opportunity and a village of inspirational and loving individuals is something this child will never run short of. And this child will have the most beautiful, wonderful, and phenomenal life I can’t even dare to imagine fully. But you are not in the picture--you can be if you’d like.

I want this but it’s hard for me to come to this conclusion knowing that I’m going to be hurting my child’s father. I’m going to be the reason why you may not be there to open gifts with them on Christmas mornings, teach them how to ride their first bike down a mountain or tie a figure-8 knot on a harness, and nurse them back to good health when they scrape their knees from falling off a tree (or rock, probably a rock). I can do all these things in your place instead, but I don’t know if I could potentially hurt my child like this. And as much as I love you, care for you and your family, and have good intentions to bring only joy into your life, you would never stand a chance against the love I have over this precious being in my stomach.

But you would always be their biological father, and knowing you I don’t think you could ever live the rest of your life without getting to know them. And I’m not sure if you being rushed into this would bring out the best in you at all. And I am most certainly not willing to take the risk of bringing trauma and resentment into my child’s life. So whether the answer is to give birth and present you with custody filings or receive a surgical abortion, at least I know both of my options involve the creation of life and investing into my child’s future. Whether this child is born soon, or in the next several years, my decision is going to be based on what’s best for me and my future children.