#'crush on a goody two shoes who could kill me if he wanted' support group. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hopesbarnes · 3 years

Text

Black Swan (15)

Summary: Y/N used to be a Russian spy under the code name Black Swan. But that was a lifetime ago, now she’s a part-time avenger, dance teacher, surrogate sister to Natasha Romanoff, and trainer to new Shield Agents. She’s come a long way from the days of killing targets and being tortured. But when someone from her past comes around will she be able to ignore her history anymore? Or will she end up falling in love with the only man her sister ever loved?

A/N: Just the epilogue left. Major shoutout to @starbxcks I really wouldn’t be posting this without you.

P.S. Does anyone want to see the solo costumes, and the videos I found of what I imagine the dances to look like?

With one week until competition season officially began, and arguably the most important competition of the season you were stressed. Every day was hectic with practices. Bucky tagged along every day as your unofficial assistant. He kept notes for you and learned everything he needed to know in order to assist backstage. Sometimes it was hard to keep track of that many girls at once, and while you could handle props yourself it was easier to have someone else do so.

He kept track of your masterlist of what was required for each dance (shoes, costumes, hairpieces, props, etc) and who was in what dance. He also wrote down every little thing you needed to remember, and you have no clue how you did competitions before him. You managed to wrangle Natasha, who had watched your previous competitions, and Clint to assist. She agreed to help with stretches and hair/makeup while Clint would mostly be moral support and do the heavy lifting.

On Friday morning the four of you, in separate cars full of props, suitcases, and random assortments of things needed for the weekend, drove the three hours to the competition. All the girls (and boys) competing would head over after school ended in time for a nightly meeting you were holding.

Bucky was practically bouncing the entire car ride, asking questions about how the weekend would run and the chances the girls would win. After the week of hanging around the studio, the girls started calling him ‘Mr. Bucky’, and even gave him a few “Team DAD” shirts to wear the weekend (one of them just so happened to be covered in glitter). He protested saying he wasn’t a dad, but they deemed him as such anyway. It just went to prove that children hold no judgments, even when a giant super-soldier with a metal arm is in a dance studio.

The rest of the day was a blur. You checked into the competition and dropped off props, had lunch with Bucky, Natasha, and Clint-which wasn’t as weird as you thought it would be. Clint and Bucky quickly fell into a joking rhythm-, met up with the team and handed them their goody bags and door decorations, wished them all a good night’s sleep, then ate in your room and went to bed early curled up against Bucky.

------

Bucky’s three alarms went off at 4:30 am and both of you got up and took a shower and got dressed in your shirts with the dance studio name on them, yours saying “COACH” and Bucky’s saying “TEAM DAD”. You applied some glitter eyeshadow and added a bow to your hair while Bucky put his in a half french braid. Within no time at all you had packed your bags for the day and headed to grab breakfast.

The entire day was packed, your first number started at 8 and the last was at 4 pm. Thankfully, everything was relatively spaced out and the little kids weren’t until 3 o’clock.

Natasha and Clint ended up joining you in the ballroom hallway at 7, both excited as well. They went off to help do hair and makeup while you gathered your two soloists for warm-up. You placed the hair strips in their hair and Bucky double checked that they would stay in place and they had everything they needed.

They both warmed up fine, and went on stage and absolutely crushed it. All the girls from the studio cheered loudly for both of them and they both scurried off to get ready for their other dances.

You met up with the two seniors for their duet at 11, and you walked them through stretches. Bucky and Clint were helping with props, so Natasha joined you backstage. The two dancers practiced their lifts and they went off without a hitch. You almost had tears watching them, and they weren’t even going full out with emotions or all the steps.

As you waited in the wings for them to go on, Bucky found you and gave you a quick kiss before holding your hand as they went on stage.

Their dance was beautiful. They took the steps you gave them and brought them to life. Every movement was purposeful and their faces depicted the emotions so well. You could see the story they were telling through their dance and let out a few tears.

When they finished and came off stage you hugged them both tight, thanking them for the job they did. It was amazing, and everything you ever hoped for.

---

There was a lunch intermission between the solo, duets, and trios before groups started in the afternoon. Clint brought food for you, Nat, and Bucky and the three of you found a table to eat at. The boys talked about how insane the dancers were and how they didn’t even think they could do what these kids did. Natasha talked about how she wanted to possibly join the studio on a part-time basis because she didn’t realize just how much she missed it until now.

After finishing up lunch you gathered the little kids and made sure they all had their correct tights and shoes. You put their hair accessories in and sat them down to remind them to point their feet and smile wide. They ran through their routine fine and were adorable on stage. Afterward, you made sure each girl found their parents or were with Natasha before gathering the large group with Bucky and practicing the dance, making sure the girls were still stretched and energized.

One girl scraped her knee pretty bad and you went to find a first aid kit, only for Bucky to open his backpack and pull out a kit with everything a dancer could ever possibly need. He disinfected the wound, bandaged it, and had the girl back on her feet ready to perform. You kissed him on the cheek and thanked him for being as amazing as he was.

The girls were set backstage, and you had enough time to run out to the audience for this dance. You managed to grab two seats in the front and Bucky and you watched the girls give it their all.

Against all odds, every single dance was perfect and there were no major hiccups with any routine. It was by far your best competition, and you know for sure it’s because of the team you had with you.

After a few more hours, the girls all gathered on stage and you sat in the audience with Bucky, Natasha, and Clint. They went through individual genre categories first, and all of your dances were given platinum (highest score) and managed to take first in their respective categories. All the dances qualified for nationals and that took a huge weight off your chest.

But what you really wanted was for the solos to place top 3 overall, your groups to take first in their size group, and possibly for your duet to take overall first place. You crossed your fingers and silently hoped throughout the awards.

They announced your solos, and your girls placed second and fourth. The girl who got fourth looked slightly disappointed but smiles nonetheless. Your duet placed first for duo/trios and you jumped up excited.

The two group dances scored first overall for small and large groups respectively. The announcer announced that the last award of the night would be the overall highest score for the entire competition.

“And with a perfect 300, Gravity!” the announcer said and you almost screamed. Bucky and Clint jumped from their seats, while Natasha dove to hug you. Nothing mattered but the joy you felt in that moment.

After every competition, the whole team books a restaurant. This one was no different, and after the end of the awards, all the families make it to a restaurant a couple of minutes away. The girls are all in various costume parts, or just sweatpants and their team jackets. The tables have bobby pins and lashes discarded, and giggles fill the air. In the middle of the room is the giant trophy (amongst the other smaller ones) and it’s the best feeling ever.

You grab a booth with Bucky, Natasha, and Clint next to some of the other teachers and parents and make your way around to congratulate all the girls and see how they’re doing. When you get back to the booth Natasha excuses herself to the bathroom, and the minute she’s out of sight Clint squeals.

“I’m gonna do it,” he says and Bucky gives him a strange look while eating a few french fries.

“Propose,” he says and shows the ring you had picked out with him.

“Oh, OH!” you say and light up. You’ve been waiting what feels like forever for this to happen.

“I’m gonna have her come outside with me in a little bit, and ask her,” he says grinning. He tucks the box back into his coat and you all pretend like nothing happened when Nat comes back out.

“Hey, babe will you come with me to grab something from the car?” he says before she can scoot back into the booth.

“Uh- yeah I guess,” she says, stealing one of Bucky’s fries and grabbing Clint’s hand following him outside.

You see the two of them head outside and look away. This was their moment, and you didn’t want to take that from them.

“I didn’t get to say it earlier, but I’m so proud of you, love.” Bucky says.

“I never could have done it without you.”

“Okay, bullshit,” he says laughing. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x y/n

62 notes · View notes

yume-x-hanabi · 4 years

Text

Family - Chapter 3

Translation of chapter 3 of the short story from the ToX2 scenario book. (See my masterpost for other chapters.)

(Note: this is a very rough translation. I’ll need an editor when I’m done with this story orz)

CW: graphic description of violence

Chapter 3

Julius untied his bandage and looked at his red-colored left hand. The burn had healed and it didn't hurt anymore, but there still remained scar that caught people's attention, as well as the sensation of his skin being pulled. In the locker room of Spirius Corporation’s Department of Dimensional Affairs, Julius covered his hand with a black leather glove. He closed this fist and opened it. The soft pony leather glove fit perfectly.

After that, he took out his glasses from his jacket's pocket and put them on. He looked at himself in the mirror inside his locker. Those were fake glasses without corrective lenses. They felt weird on his face. They softened the sharpness of his gaze and made him look like a goody two shoes.

But that was fine. After all, he was a god of death masquerading as a human to approach his fellows and consume their lives. He must conceal his true nature. He could not let anyone be scared of him. Anyone.

Julius quietly closed his locker. Time to start working.

In the file a support agent handed him, there was information about a new fractured dimension scanned by the Kudlak.

Fractured Dimension No.F41A5 Data Transmission

Depth: 121 Variation: 0.35 Entry Point: Duval

Teammate: …

Julius closed his eyes and let the light of his mind run through the darkness, searching for the coordinates; the light converged toward a point and made contact. The entry point opened up. The next moment, Julius jumped into the fractured dimension.

In the prime dimension, Duval used to be a port town south-east of Trigleph that throve on fishing. However, the town lost its shine when the world declined, and became a dangerous area where crime flourished. This fractured dimension’s Duval station had a similar rough atmosphere. Dressed in a fine suit uncharacteristic of the area, Julius stood out like a sore thumb and attracted hostile gazes. Cautious of not letting his guard down lest he invited pickpockets, Julius looked for something out of the ordinary.

“Bunch of hyenas,” he spat in his mind.

“Sorry for the wait, partner,” a funny voice called from behind him. His teammate had arrived.

“Who said you could call me partner, Rideaux?”

Without looking back, Julius swiftly sidestepped a shiny shoe aimed his way from behind.

“What?!”

When the ugly shoe missed its mark—Julius’ back—the leg attached to it lost its balance and its owner, Rideaux, fumbled forward.

“Let me show you how you kick someone’s back.” Julius kicked the now defenseless man with all his force.

“Guwah!”

Julius’ colleague, who was only a year older, fell to the ground ungracefully, and got up while coughing painfully.

“Why did you do that?!”

“There was a venomous snake on your back, so I crushed it for you.”

“Then I must… thank you… Oh?” As he was about to return the favor, Rideaux’s fist stopped in midair. “Glasses?” A twisted smile distorted his angry face. “Ha ha ha ha! That’s good, that’s perfect! It suits you so well! Did you take my words to heart, boss?”

“I don’t care what you think, but can you stop calling me that?”

“So, who’s the lucky one you want to hide your evil look from? Did you get a girlfriend or something?”

Julius did not answer.

“Am I right? You need to introduce me to that poor woman later.”

Behind the fake glasses, Julius’ eyes clouded in anger.

“For the sake of your love life and your fake glasses, I’ll forgive you for that kick, boss.”

Julius steeled himself to slap off the hand Rideaux was extending toward his shoulder, but that hand suddenly slammed into him and pushed him aside.

“Wha?!”

A knife embedded itself onto the ground, and a man clad in black jumped after it. An orange-gloved hand grabbed the knife and thrust it at Rideaux in the same movement.

Rideaux parried nonchalantly. “Aren’t you an impatient one, Mr. Nameless Thug?”

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear anything from a Spirius agent after you lot sold off our organization, Orange Gear!”

Understanding the situation, Rideaux shrugged. “Ooh, so in this dimension, our company is making deals that incur terrorists’ ire.”

“Don’t you act surprised!”

Julius knew that Rideaux was trying to do something similar in the prime dimension.

“If you two think you can survive this…”

Before the man finished his sentence, Julius’ sword slashed through his stomach. “Be quiet.”

In an instant, the terrorist was rendered unable to fight, and his body hit the ground.

“Always alert, huh.”

Julius swung the sword to shake off the blood from its tip.

“Oh? It wouldn’t be like you not to be alert in this town.” Rideaux smirked.

“I was talking about you. You stole one of my swords when you pushed me.”

Julius retrieved the sword from Rideaux’s hands by force.

“I just thought I should give you a handicap. He’s just a low level thug from a terrorist organization.”

The man was oozing blood from his stomach. On his chest, a pin in the shape of an orange gear glinted.

“Heh, is that badge a sign of the terrorist group?”

“Look at those fools taking pride in being treated as cogs in a machine.”

When Julius bent down to take off the badge, the man sat up and tried to grab him. Wordlessly, Julius took out his blades and stuck them through the man’s throat, finishing him on the ground.

“I collected them as a child… Those shiny things the assemblymen and directors who came into my house had pinned to their suits…”

Watching Julius smile as he played with the badge in his hand, even as his cheek was red with the man’s blood, Rideaux felt that something in his partner had shifted.

“Stop smiling, brat!” someone shouted angrily.

Several hot-blooded men formed a human wall around them, as though they were trying to block their path. They all wore the same badge as the dead man.

“Here come his buddies…” Rideaux started counting them aloud with exaggerated gestures.

Like any good terrorist group worth its name, the Orange Gear did not simply block out the street, but also had members aiming their weapons at them from the nearby buildings’ windows.

“Too bad, I don’t have enough fingers to count them all.”

“Hey you, the one in red with the stupid bob, you better shut your mouth or I’ll kill you!”

“You’ll kill me… Nice.”

Julius’ lips formed a faint smile. “Shall we compete, Rideaux?”

“…Compete?”

“This world is doomed anyway. Let’s see who can gather the most badges. You’re not the type to say no to games, are you?”

“You…”

Rideaux was surprised by Julius’ proposition to make killing a game. At the same time, a shiver ran down his back. The spyrix in his gut stirred. The darkness behind Julius’ glasses…

“Julius, you know… You really do have the most evil eyes.” Rideaux laughed and took out his knives, holding three in each hand.

Julius cut through the mountain of corpses at his feet with his two blades.

The members of the Orange Gear lunged at him with a scream.

Countless badges fell from the sky along with droplets of blood.

#tales of xillia 2 #julius will kresnik #rideaux zek rugievit #can someone send julius to therapy pls #this chapter is messed up wow #yume translations #kresnik family

16 notes · View notes

juju-on-that-yeet · 4 years

Text

Hopelessly Devoted to You

Summary: Yancy’s in love with his best friend. He already knows it won’t work between them, so he keeps his building crush buried deep. That is, until he admits it by accident. Warnings: None Characters: Yancy, Illinois, Yandereplier shows up a bit

Tags: @peribloke @tired-eldritchhorror @crithechaotic @letsrevitup

Read on AO3

Enjoy!

All things considered, living at Ego Inc. is a pretty sweet deal, even compared to Happy Trails Penitentiary. Not having a set schedule took some getting used to, but Yancy finds he enjoys being able to eat whenever he wants, to sleep in as late as he wants, or stay up late doing…pretty much anything.

That’s a good thing about Ego Inc.: There’s so much to do here that Yancy never has to step a foot outside the place, much to his relief. Freedom is intimidating, and unlike Captain Magnum and Illinois, Yancy doesn’t have any inclination for adventure beyond the four walls in which he lives. Here, he doesn’t have to leave the house to get something to eat, work out, or even record a song or dance on a stage.

Another great thing about Ego Inc., perhaps the best part: The other egos. Yancy was wary at first of all these new people, but it didn’t take him long to realize that they’re all misfits and oddballs just as his prison family was. He and MarkBop took a shine to each other over their shared love of song, and Yancy managed to convince Wilford and Bim to let him perform on the studio stage. All three had been impressed with Yancy’s singing and dancing chops, and Yancy’s spent too long surrounded by thugs and criminals to be intimidated by Wilford, so he gets along with them well. He found a friend in Yandere, too, after he challenged Yandere to a brawl and was promptly beaten into a pulp. He likes Yandere’s chutzpah and Yandere likes his, and the two quickly became metaphorical and literal partners in crime. Google Chrome became a friend too, or at least something close to it, just by proximity. His anger doesn’t faze Yancy; he's got his own problems with anger and he’s met plenty of angry people back in prison. He's found that they can be pretty swell if one looks past the rough edges.

There’s only a few egos who Yancy doesn’t much care for. Silver Shepherd is nice enough, but he’s too much of a goody-two-shoes for Yancy’s style. Darkiplier creeps him out, and Yancy bristles at his authority the same way he did at Warden Murderslaughter’s. Dr. Iplier reminds him too much of a parent, coddling and saccharine and way too gentle, and Yancy’s already made it clear that he’s not interested in that kind of family here (somehow the way Yandere babies him and calls him “Yan-Yan” and lavishes physical affection on him feels different).

There’s egos he thinks are okay, egos he’d rather avoid but can’t say he dislikes, and egos he doesn’t have much of an opinion on. But there’s only one that he can’t say he knows how to feel about at all.

And that person, strangely enough, is Illinois.

By all accounts, he should have a solid opinion. The two of them plus Captain Magnum came to Ego Inc. as a package deal, a trio of musketeers, on the tail end of a whirlwind adventure. Yancy certainly has an opinion of Magnum; he’s an awesome guy and great fun to be around, and helped show Yancy the value of freedom as the group traversed the globe. He looked out for Yancy when Illinois got too caught up in the thrill of adventure to watch out for his friends, and was the first to notice when Yancy started to bristle at the nomadic life they were living with the desire to be inside four walls again. Despite the good company Yancy’s found at Ego Inc., he still considers Magnum one of his best and truest friends.

But then, there’s Illinois.

Or Lio, as most of the egos have taken to calling him. Their opinion of him is as mixed as Yancy’s; half the group seems to have fallen for his charm, or at least likes him well enough. The other half bristles as his flirty personality and finds him irritating. Hell, the whole reason Yancy picked a fight with Yandere was because Yandere decked Lio after Lio blew a kiss at him. Yancy's managed to keep Lio in Yandere’s good graces as he's befriended him, assuring him that Lio means no harm. But at the same time, Yancy can see why some people dislike Lio so much.

He’s arrogant, cocky, self-absorbed, reckless…

Passionate…

Hard-working…

Gold-hearted…

Handsome…

Perfect.

Therein lies the problem.

“Don’t miss me too much,” Lio quips before he leaves for another jungle trek or spelunking trip.

“Like what you see?” Lio jokes when he comes back with ripped clothes from near-misses with traps.

“Did you finally fall in love with me?” Lio asks with a cheeky grin whenever Yancy does something particularly thoughtful for him.

“Oh, sure,” Yancy replies with a laugh.

“Yes,” he thinks, earnest and hurting.

He’s in love with Lio. He has been for a while.

He can’t stand it.

He knows Lio, he knows his issues with commitment. He knows about the partners of his that have come and gone, some who were killed on adventures, some who were scared off by the dangerous lifestyle. He remembers talking with Lio about Dark’s rule to avoid forming relationships with humans, romantic or otherwise.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Lio had sighed, “I do my best work alone, after all. It’s about time I stopped breaking hearts.”

Yancy had rolled his eyes and teased him, and inside he’d cringed. If only Lio knew.

Yancy knows from experience that he has a bad habit of falling hard and fast. It never really takes much; his standards aren’t exactly high, having spent so long surrounded by criminals.

His first love at Happy Trails was a blonde waif of a woman, jailed for shoplifting. She had a dazzling smile and the skill to snag apples from the cafeteria right under the noses of the guards, and that was all Yancy had needed to fall for her. They had a whirlwind romance that ended a few months later when she made parole. She came to see Yancy the first two visitation Sundays, and on the second, said she wouldn’t be coming back. She’d moved on with normal life, was trying to do better, and coming around to Happy Trails and carrying on a relationship with a convicted murderer wouldn’t do her any favors. Yancy had swallowed sobs as he wished her the best.

His last love at the prison was a dark-haired man in for drug trafficking, tall and nearly as broad as Magnum, but clean-shaven and absolutely covered in tattoos. He had an artistic soul, just like Yancy, and it drew them together right away. Yancy still remembers spending long nights dancing his fingers along the man’s many tattoos under the fluorescent lights of his cell. He was around much longer than the woman, and when he was finally released, he didn’t bother visiting even once. It took three months of visitation Sundays for Yancy to give up on him.

In between those two, there were plenty of others, and Yancy remembers them all, remembers every little piece of his heart they took with him. The prisoners not in Yancy’s group called him all sorts of unsavory names behind his back regarding the number of partners he’d had. Yancy doesn’t consider himself promiscuous, though it wouldn’t be so bad if he was. Maybe if he was only in it for the physical side of things, it wouldn’t hurt so bad when they left.

Because they always left.

And Yancy has no doubt that if he ever confessed to Lio that Lio would end up leaving, too. If he accepted Yancy’s affections then there’s no way it would last, not with the ghosts of a hundred failed relationships on both their backs. More likely, though, Lio would reject him, and Yancy would lose an incredible friend.

For all of Lio’s faults, for all his self-importance and too-high self-confidence, he’s still a good person. He supports Yancy’s passion as enthusiastically as he does his own, providing insightful critique when Yancy needs it and cheering on every performance. He defends Yancy to others when he gets in trouble, and doesn’t bat an eye at Yancy’s past crimes or current anger issues. He knows how to keep a secret, and Yancy trusts him enough to tell him his fears, his worries about living in this big building that isn’t a prison, the way freedom feels like pressure after so long without. Lio trusts him, too, and can be unflinchingly honest about his own fear of commitment and his petraphobia from years of dodging boulders. Under all the bravado is a truly charming man, someone kind and considerate and strong and beautiful –

“Get it together, Yancy. Quit thinkin’ about it.”

Fortunately, Yancy is a performer, which means he can be a damn good actor when he tries. And he tries so hard around Lio, swallows every feeling and prick in his heart deep into himself. They build and build, but Yancy keeps them locked up tight.

He does let it slip to Yandere once, though.

“Oh my gosh, you’re in love with Lio??” Yandere asks, squealing with excitement. “Tell me everything! How long have you known? Does he know? When are you gonna tell him?”

“Woah, hey!” Yancy cries, trying to placate Yandere’s excitement. “Look, I haven’t told him nothin’, and I ain’t gonna.”

“What!? Why not??” Yandere gasps with a pout.

“Because it don’t…” Yancy sighs. “It don’t matter. He ain’t gonna like me back. He’s got his whole thing about commitment, y’know.”

“Well, yeah, but…” Yandere’s eyes go starry. “But maybe he could change his ways for the right person, you could make him a better person –”

“It don’t work that way, Yan,” Yancy interrupts. “It’s a nice thought, but love don’t fix people. All the relationships I had in prison didn’t fix nobody.”

Yandere pouts again.

“But you two would be so cute together!” he exclaims, “You should at least tell him, get it off your chest! I can be your wingman, we could –”

“No!” Yancy shouts, then reigns himself in. “No, I’m not tellin’ Lio. And youse gotta swear you won’t, neithers.”

“Okay, Yan-kun,” Yandere says, concerned and bummed but not wanting to upset Yancy further. “But I’ll help you if you ever change your mind.”

Yancy isn’t surprised by Yandere’s reaction. He’s a truer romantic than Yancy ever could be, that’s for sure. Yancy may not have a clue what possessed him to fall for Darkiplier of all people, but he has to admit that they seem happy together, that they treat each other well. Yandere is, well, a yandere: He’s captivated by love, obsessed with it, he believes in happy endings and rom-coms and riding away on a white horse together.

Yancy’s a romantic, too, but he’s a realist. He’s been around the block too many times to believe in the power of love like Yandere does. Yancy knows that love can’t fix people, it can’t smooth over flaws, it can’t dull rough edges. Sometimes love can motivate people to do better, to be better (Yancy’s seen that, too), but it can’t change who people are.

Loving Lio won’t make him less of a heart-breaker. Confessing to Lio won’t make him more likely to love Yancy back.

So Yancy keeps it bottled up.

He keeps hanging out with Lio, of course, because Lio’s still his friend and he could never stay away for long. He still listens to Lio’s stories of adventure, still bounces song and choreography ideas off of him, still spends days with Lio and Magnum, too, just like old times before the group found Ego Inc., back when Yancy was too distracted by constant activity to think about his crush. He likes the change of pace at Ego Inc., but it means he can’t always stay up into the wee hours of the morning laughing with Lio and Magnum, nor can he always cause trouble with Yandere and Chrome all night.

Inevitably Yancy ends up lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, wrestling with own thoughts. He’ll give himself whiplash pushing Lio out of his mind only to catch himself thinking of him minutes later. When Yancy falls asleep, he dreams of Lio, dreams of slow-dancing with him to quiet showtunes, dreams of holding onto his broad shoulders as Lio’s hands lightly hold his waist, dreams of moving his hands across Lio’s shoulders and up his neck to cup his cheeks, dreams of Lio flashing his classic heart-stopping grin as Yancy’s fingers trace his cheekbones, dreams of leaning in as Lio tugs him closer, dreams of their lips coming together –

Yancy wakes up and showers in freezing water for the next thirty minutes, waiting for the heat in his blood to cool, the heat that makes him want to finish the dream in his mind, the heat that makes him want to punch holes into his bedroom wall.

Thank goodness, at least, for the soundproofing. He’d asked for it when he first got his room, partly for the sake of the others and partly for his own privacy. Yancy has a habit of singing out his feelings, and he prefers a place to do it without anyone listening in.

“You know I'm just a fool who's willing, to sit around and wait for you,” he sings to himself quietly, under the roar of water in the shower.

“But, baby, can't you see, there's nothing else for me to do?” he sings as he gets dressed, words muffled as he pulls a white t-shirt over his head.

“I'm hopelessly devoted to you,” he sings as he hesitates by the door, knowing that he’s about to face Lio once more, and push everything down once again.

It’s not just the lovelorn sadness that’s getting harder to hold back. It’s the anger. The frustrated, impotent rage that he sometimes feels toward Lio for being such an oblivious, heart-breaking flirt. But more often he’s angry at himself, angry for torturing himself, angry he can’t just see Lio as a friend and get over it, angry that he has to hide so much of himself away day in and day out. Yancy hates it, because he’s gotten a lot better about his anger, lately. His outbursts have been much less frequent since he left Happy Trails, and the one he does have are much milder, much shorter. But anger is building in him like it never has before, right alongside the aching lovelorn pining filling up his heart.

He’s not in Happy Trails anymore. This is a prison of his own making, and it’s far worse than any amount of time in solitary Warden Murderslaughter could’ve given him.

He looks at Lio and he wants to kiss him.

No, he wants to punch him in the throat.

“Say it now, say it now, explain to me,” he sings to his bedroom ceiling, “Why this happens every time, give me any kind of sign, ’cause I just can't walk away…”

Lio laughs, and Yancy wishes he could listen forever.

He knocks his head against his bedroom wall until he stops thinking about it.

“Why beat your handsome brow?” he asks himself, “Nothing changes, nothing changes, nothing changes, anyhow.”

Lio brushes dust off his hat with strong, calloused hands that would feel so good in Yancy’s hair.

“Stop it, stop it, it ain’t happenin’, Yancy, get a grip!!”

“I love him, but every day I’m learning,” he shouts into his bathroom mirror, “All my life, I’ve only been pretending!”

When Lio hugs him, as he does sometimes, his whole mind and body stop working, and Yancy remembers the feeling of his arms for the rest of the day.

He screams his throat raw at night, throws the heaviest book on his shelf at the wall.

“My head is saying, “Fool, forget him,”” he gasps, “My heart is saying, “Don’t let go, hold on ‘till the end.””

He sits in the middle of his bedroom floor. There’s a dent in the wall. How long has it been since he last did something like that in anger?

“And that's what I intend to do,” he whispers, as quiet as he can manage, “I’m hopelessly devoted to you.”

The dam is doomed to burst.

After all the acting and hiding and swallowing feelings, Yancy blows his own cover in a single thoughtless moment, completely by accident.

Him and Lio are hanging out like usual. Magnum has gone off to who knows where, leaving Yancy and Lio on the floor of Lio’s bedroom, there to better take in Lio’s latest additions to his geode collection. The conversation’s moved on from the geodes, but they’re still sitting on the floor, laughing and goofing around.

“Dark really hates when Mags goes out sailing,” Lio chuckles, “I guess because he’s too conspicuous.”

“As much I don’t like the guy, he’s got a point,” Yancy points out, “Don’t think most folks make prost’etics outta tree trunks anymores.”

“And that’s the last thing people tend to notice,” Lio laughs, “After the beard, the scar, the accent, the way he’s as big as three men put together…”

“Youse think he’d be mad at us for talkin’ ‘bout him like this?”

“Nah, he’d take it all as a compliment. The man likes to be seen.”

“And you don’t?” Yancy raises an eyebrow.

“I never said that I don’t,” Lio chuckles, “Only that Magnum does.”

“Sounds a bit hypocritical s’all I’m sayin’.”

“Well, can you blame me for wanting to be seen?” Lio winks, and Yancy swears he can hear a whip crack in the air. “I mean, I am very handsome.”

“Very fulla youse-self, more like.” Yancy flicks him in the nose.

“Hey!” Lio sputters, and Yancy laughs. “Don’t act like you don’t get it. It’s only a matter of time before you fall for my effortless charm.”

“Is it really “effortless” if youse such a try-hard all the time?” Yancy asks wryly. “‘Sides, I already have.”

It comes out without him thinking, just another line of banter. His throat dries up.

“Did I really just say that?”

“Oh, have you now?” Lio chuckles. He’s still acting playful. He thinks Yancy was kidding. It’s not too late, this is salvageable.

“C’mon Yancy, play along! Flick him in the nose again and say “in your dreams” or somethin’! Don’t just sit there!”

But Yancy’s throat is still dry. This is different than a simple “oh, sure” or sarcastic “I’m swooning,” this is a true admission. Of guilt, of love, of everything Yancy’s been working so hard to hide. His brain screams at him to speak but he can’t make his voice come out. He knows it must show on his face; he can feel his blood running cold, feel how his smile has fallen away, feel how wide his eyes are. Lio doesn’t notice right away, he laughs at himself, at Yancy’s statement, but then he meets Yancy’s eyes and takes in his expression. There’s a futile hope that he won’t make the connection, but how could he not? Lio’s no idiot.

“Yancy, are you okay? What –”

Lio realizes. His eyes go as wide as Yancy’s. Shock floods his face like Yancy has never seen before. He wants to crawl away and die.

“Yancy, buddy,” Lio gasps, “That…that bit about falling for me, that…that was a joke, right?”

Lio knows it wasn’t. That much is clear. But if Yancy can just pretend, if he can try to play it off, then he and Lio never have to address it. They’ll never have to talk about it again. Things can go back to normal. Lio wants to save face, his own and Yancy’s. Yancy only has to say the word.

But he can’t. He’s spent too long denying it to himself, spent too long pretending. He can’t make himself do it any longer. He wants to keep denying, he has to, but he can’t play it off. His heart is too tired. His voice is too weak. He can’t hide anymore.

Watching Lio’s face is like watching a car wreck in slow motion. Yancy watches his confession settle into Lio’s mind, watches Lio realize that Yancy won’t take it back. His face fills with panic, his skin pales a few shades. Yancy thinks they must be twins, both pale and moon-eyed in their paralyzing shock. Lio opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again. He’s speechless. Yancy’s never seen that happen before.

“Yancy…” Lio starts. Regret, sorrow, pity, fear. It all plays across his face. He settles for strained, uncomfortable guilt as he struggles for words. “Yancy, I’m…I’m sorry.” He looks away, then back at Yancy again. “I don’t…” He sighs, a quiet huff out of his nose. “I don’t.”

This is the outcome Yancy knew would happen. This is the outcome Yancy feared. This is the thing that kept his mouth shut all this time. This is the thing he saw in his nightmares.

He can feel his heart split all the way down the center, twisting and knotting up in his chest. There’s knots in his throat, too, so lumpy and painful and aching that Yancy fears Lio can see them. He’s sure Lio can see the tears starting to cloud Yancy’s eyes.

“Oh,” Yancy manages, ��I mean…yeah.”

He’s not surprised. He knew this would happen.

“That’s why you tried to hide it in the first place, you fucking genius, you moron, you huge goddamn stupid piece of worthless unlovable –”

Yancy gets up from the floor, fleetingly glad that this didn’t happen in his own room. He doubts he’d have the stomach to kick Lio out.

“I’m…I’ll just go,” he manages, voice choked with barely-restrained sobs.

“Yan –”

“Bye.”

“Yan!”

Yancy stops, hand on the door, knob already turned. He tells himself not to look back, but why start listening to himself now? Lio has stood up, too, staring after him with some mix of worry and terror on his face.

“Yan, how…how long?” His voice is layered with pity, and it makes Yancy’s heart start burning.

“It don’t matter.”

He opens the door and runs off. Lio doesn’t call after him, he doesn’t follow.

Yancy storms into his room seeing red, nothing but red, filtered through ugly tears. The moment the door slams shut they pour out in a howl.

“It’s ruined. I ruined it. I just lost my best friend.”

The lump in his throat bursts, sobs shoot out of him without his control. His body is torn between collapsing where it stands and storming around the room.

“He knows now, he knows. He knows how much I want him, he knows I’ve wanted him for a long time. He knows everything.”

His body makes its choice.

Yancy picks up his desk chair and heaves it across the room with a roar.

He punches holes into the wall. He kicks his bedframe so hard he leaves a dent. He throws books. He tears up music sheets. He only ever pauses to wipe tears out of his eyes when he can’t see enough to keep destroying. He never stops screaming. He never stops cursing himself inside. He never stops telling himself off for destroying his friendship with Lio. He never stops yelling at himself for letting his biggest secret go.

Unfortunately, though his room is soundproof, some sound can still leak out if it’s loud enough.

“Yancy, what’s going on??” cries Yandere from outside Yancy’s door. He must be here to hang out with Yancy. To watch a movie? To tear up the town? Who knows? Who cares?

“Go away!!” Yancy screams. He doesn’t recognize the sound of his own voice, hoarse from shouting and warped from rage.

“What the hell are you doing in there!?” Yandere shrieks, alarmed by the venom in Yancy’s voice. Yancy doesn’t care. He slams his hand against his bedroom door, feeling a sick glimmer of satisfaction when Yandere yelps from the other side.

“I ain’t gonna tell you again!” Yancy roars, slamming the door again, both hands this time. “Get! Lost!!”

He turns away, anger unabated. He still can’t see through the red in his vision. Through the ever-falling tears. He hates this sadness. He hates this feeling. He hates his own stupidity, his own big mouth. He keeps wrecking his room, putting holes in the wall. He hears nothing from outside for a long moment, and thinks Yandere’s finally left him alone.

Until he hears a loud thud from his door, then another, then the door slams open as Yandere kicks it in.

Yancy whirls on him, and he catches Yandere’s determination falter. Yancy’s been good about managing his anger until now, Yandere’s never seen this before. They’re each at a standstill. But it only lasts a moment before Yandere furrows his brow again and approaches Yancy.

“The fuck’s he doin’ here, breakin’ into my room!? Can’t he let me grieve in peace??”

“Look, I don’t know what the hell you’re so mad about, but –”

Crack!

Yancy punches Yandere without thinking about it. He’s only angry. Angry to lose his privacy. Angry to have his space intruded on. Quick as a flash, Yandere reaches out to grab Yancy’s wrists. Yancy pulls but can’t pull free. Yandere snaps up his head to glare at him, eyes burning red. His grip on Yancy tightens, tightens. A bruise is already blooming across his cheek, a thin line of blood sneaks past his lips.

All at once, Yancy comes back to himself.

“What did you do!? You just punched Yandere! Youse already lost one friend today, what’ll you do if you lose another?? You’re gonna get abandoned again!!”

The red leaks out of Yancy’s vision. He blinks, gasps.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice weak and raspy and already wet with fresh tears, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t thinking, please, I’m sorry –” He drops to his knees, blood rushing in his ears. “Don’t leave, don’t leave, I’m sorry, don’t leave me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” His words trail off as he starts to sob, aching and loud and painful like he did when he first ran into his room.

He can hardly see Yandere through his tears, but he can see the red in his eyes fade away as Yancy begs before him. Yandere may not know anger like Yancy’s, but he knows fear of rejection, he knows fear of abandonment. He lets go of Yancy’s wrists.

“Yan-kun, hey, hey, it’s okay,” he gasps, like he’s in pain, too. He kneels down to Yancy’s level to hug him. “It’s okay, you’re my friend, Yan-kun, I’m not going anywhere.” Yancy hugs Yandere back, as tight as he can, as Yandere rubs his back. “What happened, Yan-Yan? What’s got you so upset?”

Yancy only bawls harder in response, burrowing into Yandere’s arms so hard that he stumbles, falling back to sit on the floor. Yancy curls up in Yandere’s lap, wailing into his neck, and Yandere holds him, stroking his hair and trying to soothe him. They sit there in Yancy’s ruined room, curled over Yancy’s ruined heart.

Yancy keeps crying. He can’t forget any of it. He can’t forget his haphazard confession, he can’t forget Lio’s shock and embarrassment and guilt and pity, he can’t forget his own beating heart, still thumping for Lio after everything. He can’t forget the friend he’s lost, the lover he wished he could’ve had. He weeps because it’s over, it’s well and truly over.

He cannot sing for tears, but song haunts him anyway, it rings in his mind as keen as his beleaguered heart beats:

But now there's nowhere to hide,

Since you pushed my love aside,

I'm out of my head,

Hopelessly devoted to you.

#yancy/illinois #yancy #illinois jones #ahwm #markiplier fanfiction #kristin says stuff #these booooooys #also thx thomas for introducing me to songs in here #big preesh uwu #now you're an accomplice in my angst owo #my writing

102 notes · View notes