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#but like the only surprise here was he dying TWO MONTHS before 100 years
locuas642 · 6 months
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Mighty Nein: Finished Episode 99
I feel comfortable doing a major update on my journey through Critical Role campaign 2.
Some might ask "Why episode 99 instead of 100?" and the reason should be obvious for those who already watched the show but in case you havent there are two major reasons.
First of all, episode 99 feel like a good cutting-off point. This episode shows the culmination of the campaign longest Plot thread that had been looming since the beginning and does so in a satisfying (if not action-packed) manner with most of the characters in the campaign reaching a point you could theoretically end it and you would feel they got some degree of closure if not a complete arc and only one or two major plot threads remaining.
the second reason is that episode 99, which btw was their HUGE celebration of FIVE YEARS of doing Critical Role and cheering for another five, was the last episode before the Pandemic forced a months long hiatus and having the group having to re-work things to be able to operate safely.
Because of this I feel justified in marking down episode 99 as a sort of "end of part 1" deal to give my thoughts in an orderly manner.
For starters I had heard the early criticisms of the campaign starting off un-focused, which was blamed to a more "open-world" format with the characters constantly changing idea of where to go next. Having witnessed it, I can say for certain the show was a bit unfocused at the beginning. This is in part due to the players not really knowing yet what they wanted to do or still finding the group's dynamic, but I think it is also in part due to the conflict of, as described by Liam at one point, the players dying to give out details about their characters, but most of the characters keeping their stuff close to their chest and not trusting anyone just yet.
In this regard, the character of Jester was essential, I feel, to keep the campaign moving, since she was a really good pillar for this early part as someone very upfront about herself and also an agent of chaos who was really good at actually building a dynamic with the rest of the group. it's not surprising she became such an iconic character.
I think it says something about Jester that I find her the easiest to picture as she is, rather than as Laura Bailey. Also, as a tiefling, I feel I cant imagine her as anything BUT a tiefling, while I might sometimes need to be reminded which race are some of the other characters.
Speaking of tiefling, I feel like I should mention Mollymaurk, a character who I wasnt really aware of his existence until I began preparing to watch Campaign 2, since I have believed Cadeuceus had always been Taliesin's character for campaign 2. Molly is... a character who existed.
I think Taliesin's Molly was the one who nailed the best the whole "Anti-Hero" nature of the Mighty Nein. Someone who wasn't a hero, was here to hopefully make some coin. That being said, I dont think he was as charming as Taliesin wanted him to be, I kept forgetting he was in the group and I did not feel he had as many memorable moments as the rest of the Nein.
He was, however, a perfect example of a character whose death progresses the story. Because his demise shifts the entire party's dynamic and, unlike some npc, his abscence is inescapable for the rest of the campaign moving forward, forcing a situation nobody, not even Matt, had planned for their character arcs. Including the introduction of Caduceus, who ended being what I felt was the thing that was lacking in the group. The biggest irony of Caduceus being quieter than Molly is that Caduceus had a lot more of a pressence than Molly. and his relationship with Fjord was something I did not see coming.
Mostly because Fjord was only slightly ahead than Molly in terms of me knowing they existed. Mostly because Fjord was in the opening (okay, molly technically is, but you get me) and Fjord was... honestly, He was just there right until way later, when I finally realized he was supposed to be a dork, and we got into his arc to become a Paladin. that was when his character really picked up for me and became a lot more interesting. His arc into becoming a Paladin was also so different from Vax's last campaign that it was fun to watch.
Beau was the character I was looking forward the most. because as a monk she felt she would have some fun combat. and it is in fact a bit interesting the minor, unplanned arc she goes through of Stunning Strike initially failing to quite connect every time until the Lorenzo fight when stunning him with her last Ki point completely shifted the combat in their favor.
Yasha I always knew I would like however, remember when I said I could not imagine Jester as anything BUT a tiefling? I often find myself forgetting Yasha is non-human, mostly becaus eher status as an Aasimar fely more like a mechanical thing than something that quite fits her. Unlike Nott, which everything regarding her race informs everything about her character arc.
It is, however, hilarious that Sam restoring Nott into Veth leads to the character technically becoming worse due to losing an awesome trait and Sam vowing to not use the new one. Her relationship with Caleb was something I did not see coming.
Which speaking of Caleb. Liam plays Caleb exactly how I would play them, by which I mean I am the weirdo who sees no reason to play Wizard if you are not constantly filling your spellbook with spells you will probably become too overwhelmed to use.
Overall. I do think the beginning of the show is a bit of a bore. it takes time for everything to take into place. and there are a few times when I think in hindsight the party took the least interesting route. I do think the point when the series picks up is when they steal their first ship, the Mistake. The arc that follows helped a lot in making me endear to the group. and then going to Xorhas was probably when I definitely felt on board with this.
Those are my overall thoughts so far that I can tihnk of. I might do more stuff if I cant put more stuff into words, but that is it until I can think of something
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eternallovers65 · 3 years
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i guess he bopped to hard
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mishastoesies · 3 years
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layout of MY widower arc:
jack is born and he’s a baby. sam and dean walk into the nursery guns raised and they see a crying baby. dean moves first, puts his gun away and holds the baby and tries to get him to stop crying
dean calls the baby “cas jr.” while he’s trying to get jack to stop crying and sam is like [sam noise] dean his name is jack. look at the wall for two seconds
dean lets jack hold his pinkie, jack grabs it, and gives dean a little baby handprint scar around it. cue dean’s glib little “got a killer grip there, slugger” while he’s actively trying not to cry
dean carries jack in a sling while watching cas’ body burn. everything else about that scene remains the same. the yellow curtains were INSPIRED
when they get back to the bunker, dean pours all of his hard liquor down the drain. and when he’s done with that, he goes into the kitchen, grabs the wine he uses for cooking and the six packs of beer he keeps around and pours those down the sink too
 enter... the hell zone: dean has baby insomnia, grief nightmares where cas burns on the ceiling when he manages to sleep, hallucinates cas everywhere, and the withdrawal symptoms are VERY bad. shot of him crying for three seconds, taking a deep breath, and soldiering on
during ALL of this, sam is trying to be there for his brother but like... the monsters did not Stop just because dean acquired a baby. cue sam becoming the de-facto On Site Adult for the wayward sisters, especially alex who becomes sam jr., and also doing more witch stuff with rowena because yknow. dean’s busy with the kid he’s allowed to fuck around and he’s PRETTY sure he won’t have to do any finding out (spoiler: he does find out, but that’s a season 14 sam thing)
SPEAKING of the wayward sisters, dean has an epiphany during one of his more lucid moments and looks at jack’s makeshift nursery and is like “the bunker is... not a good place for a kid” so he takes himself to sioux falls and crashes with donna and jody for a few weeks before he can get him a Home
mary tries so hard to give him baby advice but it’s all terrible advice from the reagan era because yknow. thats where she’s from. “you don’t need a carseat, when you were jack’s age you slept on the floor of the impala” “by the time he’s two you can just drop him off at the park and let him play” “are you MAKING your own baby food? i did the same thing! i fed you and sam blitzed up pop tarts a couple of times!”
gabriel shows up early and nearly sends dean into Mystery Spot 2.0 because he’s convinced that dean knocked cas up. this is the first time we get confirmation of jack’s true form looking like cas. dean gets yelled at for a good 3 hours when he says “no no no, jacks not mine, he’s the antichrist” because thats gabriel’s NEPHEW how DARE he say that
when cas comes back, dean runs to him, spins him around, and kisses him on the lips. dean is weeping during this. cas is shocked, and pulls away, and this leads to: the awkward era. 
during the awkward era, cas is 100% in love with dean and dean is 100%  in love with cas, BUT they both don’t want the other one to make a “hasty decision” - cas thinks dean’s just emotional from having to be a single father for months on end and is latching onto him as a result of that, and dean thinks cas is only being nice to him because of jack and couldn’t possibly feel the same way as him
dean can go back out on cases now, and cas is relegated to stay-at-home parent because he wants time with jack. dean avoids them because he thinks that he’d be unwelcome and intruding on them. cas secretly wishes dean was with him the whole time. 
this continues until dean gets got by one of those offshoot-djinn that make you see worst nightmares instead of idyllic dreams. his worst nightmare, surprise, is cas dying again. dean and cas have their very emotional conversation in the middle of the night about this, dean says “i can’t do this without you”, cas says “i don’t want to do this without you,” cue emotional sex scene, and in the morning, they’re once again in-sync and acting like an old married couple, taking care of jack together and being a liddol fambily
while all of this has been happening sam has embroiled himself in witch politics, having become the leader of a growing reformist faction in the community that wants to reconcile with hunters and work to stop larger threats, and he’s pretty sure that rowena’s betraying him because she’s out for power and power alone, so he decides to fake his own death using rowena’s resurrection trick and some illusory magic (here we recast sam as ryan ross from panic! at the disco) to go undercover and see what she’s been saying 
(spoiler: she HAS been double-crossing him and readying for a hostile takeover with her own group. sam now needs allies, powerful ones too... who can he call on? that’s right. gabriel thee archangel. yes my version of season 13 ALSO has horrible sabriel bait! you’re welcome!) 
the angels’ plan to kidnap jack is 100% worse this time because they effectively want to take this very small baby and use him as a generator to keep heaven running. they don’t view jack as a person with potential, they view him as a battery. cas and dean are now on the run from heaven itself, and who can they call on to hide them? who left heaven after deciding the angels were just Not That Compelling? that’s right. chuck. 
chuck in THIS version has a soft spot for his grandson and takes them in, BUT they have to share a house with becky. becky loves the baby, and jack, who is now one year old, loves becky’s pet cat and becky’s three year old daughter. 
scene were dean and cas are lying in the guest bedroom of becky’s house and dean is like “i didnt want this for us. i wanted us to be normal” and cas is like “dean, i don’t want normal. i want you. i’d go anywhere for you, i thought you knew that” 
claire comes to visit them often, even when they’re at becky’s house. the first time claire visits is when dean is alone in the bunker with cas still dead, though, and after she punches dean in blind anger, she holds jack and is like “yknow, i always wanted a baby brother.” when she visits at becky’s house she brings cas a dean funko pop and is like “i got it at the hot topical :)” 
there’s so much more to this but this is like... the main part of it
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mythiccheroacademia · 4 years
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The whole time traveling children has me feelin some type of way tbh. Imagine Mirio, Kaminari, and Tamaki walking into their respective rooms and there are just small children vibing. Mirio with his daughter, Kaminari with a daughter and Tamaki with a son. 😭
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as i said, parent!bnha is SUPERIOR
A/N: So, instead of making these separate asks, I’m just going to make it one giant post. I thought it would be easier that way. Probably the only post that’ll have more than three characters lol
Warnings: none
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Kaminari Denki:
when kaminari walked into his room, he didn't expect to see two children on his bed fighting like wild animals
the younger girl was totally beating the boy’s ass tho
kinda embarrassing bc she’s gotta be like, seven, at most
as if it’s not the weirdest thing he’s seen (bc it’s not) he rushes in to break them apart
he manages to separate them with his arms 
the boy with yellow hair snaps his jaws at his sister’s fingers
“hey! bad! no biting!” he scolds
the little girl blows a raspberry and taunts “yeah! papa says no biting!”
the older sibling just rolls his eyes “rat”
meanwhile, denki is literally malfunctioning
papa?
PAPA? HUH???
the only person’s pants (and heart) he’s been trying to get in to for the past three months was y/n’s and he sure as hell would remember if he did
he didn't have kids
especially one that was his age
“sorry! you two are cute, but i’m not your pops”
thus, they begin to tell denki about how they mayhaps followed him and their mother into a dangerous mission and got hit with a time travel quirk
denki just nods his head
tbh, he’s not that weirded out
weirder things have happened
but, he does have one question
“who’s the lucky woman?”
coincidentally, you bust into his dorm room, wet from a recent prank and head steaming with anger
“Kaminari Denki!”
his son juts a thumb over to you
“the woman that’s about to murder you”
“oh say less”
his life literally couldn't get any better
before you get the chance to throttle him, the little girl jumps in your arms and your anger is immediately quelled 
“hey mommy! i just wanna let you know that it was [son’s name]’s fault that we followed you when you told us not to”
“WHAT!?”
you’re to busy trying to get them from killing each other to comprehend anything that’s going on
kaminari is in a love-struck gaze bc hot damn, he won the jackpot, huh?
if he wasn't in love with you before, he’s in love with you now
you and your feral children
it was nice being God’s favorite
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Kirishima Eijirou: 
funny thing was
kirishima woke up from his afternoon nap with his mini-me in his arms!
at first, he was really confused as to why there was an 8 yr old boy with spiky teeth and (your hair texture) black hair on his bed
he thought he was dreaming
then the little boy bit his nose and grinned like he had done the funniest thing in the world 
“WAKE UP DADDY! WE GOTTA GET SWOL TODAY”
did he get hit with some duplication quirk?
and what was that he said...daddy?
as in, father?
kirishima is wide awake now, but before he can ask the kid what’s going on, the boy is up and making use of his punching bag
he decides it wouldn't hurt to get a morning work out in, so he decides to humor the kid
after a mini workout, kirishima is in near tears as the boy tries to flex the little muscles he has 
eventually, he gets the kid to tell him what happened and finds out he was hit with a time travel quirk of some sort
instead of being weirded out, kirishima is ESCTATIC 
he has a family in the future 
he’s so excited and proud that he just has to show his son off to his friends!
the first thing he does is go and bother bakusquad in the common room
he’s bragging like shit to them and his ego swells as they all swoon over how cute and handsome the kid is 
you and bakugo come out of the kitchen to see what all the commotion is about and the little boy excitedly runs to you and jumps into your arms 
“momma! you’re here! you’re so pretty! why’d you marry daddy when he looks so unswol?”
it’s silent before bakugo fucking dies of laughter 
“y-you finally let shitty hair hit it? and got knocked up?? LMAO”
everyone’s dying and kirishima wants to die
he can’t believe this was how his long-term crush on you was getting outted
by an 8 yr old boy
so not manly
you look confused before you put the pieces together
the kid did look like you and kirishima
you want to console kirishima about the crush that you lowkey knew he had on you, but your son was one step ahead of you
with a gracious smile, he hits bakugo’s head
hard
“what the fuck kid!?”
“don’t make fun of daddy, uncle bakugo! at least daddy didn’t faint at his wedding″
Bakugo’s contemplating murder and everyone’s rolling on the floor
“WE BEEN KNEW YOU WERE THE BIGGEST SIMP”
even ten years later, bakugo still holds a grudge against your son
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Togata Mirio:
i’m about to kill y’all w this one
since year one, mirio has been feigning over you 
but 1) you were too dumb to notice 2) you both were really busy with, y’know, school and 3) he lowkey gave up bc he thought you deserved better
so imagine his surprise when he sees this four year old girl on his bed
and she looks like you with his features
mirio might not be the brightest crayon in the crayon box
but he’s got eyes
and it wasn't like he’s memorized your features to the T
the tiny girl is swinging her legs absent-mindedly before exploding with happiness when he sees him
she runs to mirio and he catches her with open arms 
“daddy! daddy! i got hit with the coolest quirk at school today!”
proceeds to tell him about her best friend discovered her quirk and it was a teleportation quirk 
mirio can’t help but giggle along with her even tho he knew it was a scary situation for the parents
speaking of which...
he innocently asks her who’s the mom
“mommy is the prettiest mommy in the world! she has e/c eyes, hair like me, and the most beautiful s/c skin! her name is togata y/n!”
if he wasn't geeking before, he’s geeking now
not only did he manage to marry you, but you let him be your baby daddy?
him?
big bet
mirio doesn't even care at this point
he’s parading around UA with the fattest smile as he introduces his daughter to damn near everyone 
everyone’s freaking out bc wtf when did mirio get someone pregnant??
maybe he should've explained himself, but he sees you at your locker and makes a b-line for you
“good morning, y/n!”
he doesn't notice that you slam your locker close and hide the confession letter you wrote to him behind your back
you’re a stuttering mess and he’s too busy basking in the fact that he’s holding y’alls child 
y’all look like a mess
but he’s ready to lay it on thick when the little girl kisses your nose and cheers,
“mommy, i missed you”
he explains the situation 
you cant help but smile, “you know this could potentially ruin the timeline?”
and you feel like melting as he gives you the softest smile 
“there’s no way I’m letting that happen. not when i end up with the woman i’m in love with. we’ll just have to twist fate together”
and twist it you did
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Tamaki Amajiki:
tamaki wasn't the bravest person ever 
and he knew his crippling anxiety got in the way of a lot
but he had never been more proud of himself for managing to invite you to his room
it was supposed to be a study date
despite how bold you normally were, he took comfort in how nervous you seemed 
now, you two were leaning in, about to kiss
and then a voice from behind interrupts 
“uh, am i interrupting something?”
you two let out the ugliest squeal and jump 50 feet away from each other 
you’re all over the place, trying to explain the situation
tamaki’s heart is barely beating at this point
it takes the kid, who looks about 16, about thirty minutes to calm you down and revive tamaki
explains that he’s from the future and a descendant of tamaki’s family
decides to leave out that you two are his parents so he doesn't risk possibly erasing himself from the space continuum 
that would be bad
despite how surprised you two were, you two take it rather well 
you three spend the day together bc you and tamaki feel this weird sense of responsibility for the guy even though he’s only two years younger
the boy is trying his hardest not to expose himself, but it’s so hard
you two are asking him everything from his favorite food to if he has any siblings
he’s good at pretending that he’s cool, calm, and collected, but he wants nothing more than to jump into his parents’ arms and cry about how scared he is of messing up
but he won’t 
bc he’s a strong boy
but he slips up
“how far are you down the future?” tamaki asks
“uh, about like 100 years or so--”
“you’re lying”
the kid nearly chokes on his food as his father blinks at him
you try and scold tamaki but he continues
“i don’t mean to be mean, but your nose twitches when you lie. y/n does the same thing”
that’s when the jazz record stops and everyone is staring at one another
“....wait”
this time, you nearly pass out
y’all had a kid together???
THE HELL??
the boy, coincidentally, starts fading and he thinks he fucked up
now he’s full out sobbing into the both of your chests, scared that he’s disappearing
despite the news, you and tamaki calm down, look at each other, and hold your son
“don’t you worry, baby” you coo, kissing his fading hair
“i have a feeling we’ll see you quite soon” tamaki comforts, closing his eyes
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Bakugo Katsuki:
bakugo finally understood when his mom said
“the meaner you are to your parents, the nastier your kids will be to you”
he regretted being such a demon bc his kid was literally the spawn of satan
katsuki didn’t need an explanation to know that that...thing was his kid
he looked damn near identical to him with features that he couldn't quite place
but anyways, that wasn't the focus rn
rn, he was trying to figure out a way to keep that animal caged
as soon as katsuki took his eyes off him, the six yr old ran out the door as fast as his little legs could carry him
“catch me if you can, you old bastard!”
yup, it was his kid
“GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE FUCKER”
his son is blasting his way through the halls, skillfully evading Katsuki’s grabbing hands 
he’s wildly laughing as he flips and turns through the doors, watching with glee as his father falls on his face
multiple times
the small boy latches on to a cupboard and smirks
“no wonder mom always beats your ass! you weak!”
katsuki nearly looks like the devil, eyes white, and face red with fury
his pride suffering by the second
he’s about to cuss the kids to hell when you come out of the kitchen, confused
you were about to ask why katsuki looked like a rat with rabies before you caught sight of a basket of fruit teetering on the edge of the cabinet, above the little boy’s head
“look out--”
the basket falls on the kid’s head and he’s on the floor, reeling from the hit
katsuki would've normally laughed his ass off, but he felt kind of...concerned?
he watches you run towards the child who’s trying his hardest not to cry
the boy holds his head, fat tears in his eyes as you pick him up and coddle over him 
“i’m sorry, baby. I'm sorry i didnt get there in time” 
cue the waterworks 
the boy is full-on sobbing into your chest about how his head hurts
you bounce him and kiss his forehead as katsuki checks over the red bump 
“you’ll be okay, brat” he comforts, voice softer than usual
in that moment, katsuki can’t help but notice how much a family y’all look like rn
then the dots start connecting and he goes 
oh shit 
so, maybe, he’s had a tiny crush on you
and it didn’t help that you two were friends with benefits bc yall were horny teenagers
but who knew he’d get the balls to ask you out on a proper date one day
he was such a simp for you gosh it was ugly
“you have to be more careful from now on,”  you say to the boy 
the brat suddenly looks innocent and katsuki wants to throw him
“sorry, mommy. i’ll be gooder”
the look on your face is priceless 
bakugo uses it as a chance to kiss you 
“huh?”
“i guess now’s a good time to tell you that i want to be your dick on demand but with feelings and shit, dumbass”
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depressedacadamia · 3 years
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Make a wish
Paring: Solangelo 
Summary:  Will Solace is celebrating his 17th birthday, he just wishes his boyfriend was there to do it with him.
A/N:  lakjsljgklj: So I SWEAR i will finish wrtiters month, things are just really hectic because the holiday is ending for me soon and I'll be a student once again meaning I'll revert back to my schedule of posting weekly :( That said HAPPY BDAY TO WILL, a character that isnt seen and referenced as much as they should. Absoloute dumb smart person icon and thanks to @solangeloweek. sit back, relx and enjoy Will solace's bday week! <3 from Persephone!
Read on A03      Masterlist
“Happy birrthhdaaayyyy dear Williammm,” the Apollo cabin sang in a - honestly not very- harmonious tune. He cringed as he heard his full name being belted loudly throughout the entire cabin. He was finally 17. He had survived 17 years of life as a demigod and here he was celebrating them with his entire family; everyone who he would ever want on his birthday.
Except for one.
Nico Di Angelo- his boyfriend of 2 years and who was one year his junior- was not in attendance for Will’s birthday party. He had expected as such; afterall, he had been on an important quest for the past 2 weeks and his return was not expected soon.
Nico had brought this up before he left for the quest, telling Will of his worries that he would not be able to witness or be present for his birthday and at the time, Will had seen how desperately this quest needed his boyfriend and so selflessly, without hesitation, he comforted Nico and told him that it didn’t matter.
But now, as the moment was passing, he couldn't help but feel that he was lying. He was so pathetically wrong because deep down, it did matter and what was worse was that Will was almost definite that Nico also knew this.
Alas, he could not dwell on who wasn't here and instead he turned back to his cabin and blew out the candles, masking his face with the graceful smile that he so often forced upon his face, to the point where it had become a second nature.
“Make a wish Will!”
He nodded and smiled and perhaps, perhaps if anybody were to inspect Will’s smile any closer, they'd notice his eyes only creased in an attempt to hide the tears and that his smiling mouth was actually a painful grimace as he closed his eyes and wished for the one person whom he wanted most in the world.
The lights went out, in an epic flutter before the smoke, whilst invisible, made its mark through its tinge in the air, contaminating it ever so slightly. However, to Will- whose eyes were already weltering up with tears- the gentle tinge was all he needed for tears to start rolling down his cheeks.
He couldn't help but attempt to hide his face- he was 17 for goodness sake it was his birthday party! He couldn't cry now, not on a day when he was supposed to be so happy and most definitely over such a pathetically petty reason such as ‘my boyfriend isn't here’.
But no matter what, as the darkness set over him and all the other campers within the cabin, Will couldn't help but feel his mind overwork himself. If Nico was here right now, would they be by the lake? Would he be opening his gift from him? What would Nivo have got him?
He was so wrapt up within his own thoughts that he barely noticed the soft glow emanating from his own skin- it was gentle and solitary- the glow only appeared in one place- the left side of his chest; right over his stylised sun tattoo and more importantly, his heart. The glow seemed to pulse with his heartbeat, slow, steady- and the absolute tune of sadness itself.
Sadness is not fast, is not beautiful nor poetic as poets love to fantasise. It’s harsh like the wind against you as you grip your clothes and its unpredictable like the weather; it can cloud over the sunniest day and it’s sad moans echo through the howls of thunder. Sadness is not the absence of happiness nor is it the direct opposite but it’s like an addiction, it’s not a single emotion but a clamour of the worst- anger, depression, frustration, emptiness.
So when Will’s sad heart beat glowed with every sad beat, it was almost as if he was singing the melancholy melody within the cabin itself. Everyone was aware that Will missed Nico but to see one of their siblings- the one whom the most amount of responsibility was placed one, from such a young age nonetheless- made them all the more eager for the surprise they had in the dark.
“Sunshine?” A soft, slightly concerned voice from out of the darkness whispered. Nico had only seen Will’s heart glow once in his entire life - and that was when…
Tear stained and grieving, Will turned around to find the source of the familiar voice.The lights weren't on, but somehow the candles beside them on the cake were and in the softly illuminated room, Will could clearly see the slightly concerned, slightly smirking and 100% beautiful face of his boyfriend.
Will paused and rubbed his eyes; he wasn't so sad that he was seeing things, right?
“No, I’m not a figment of your imagination, Solace,” Nico clicked his tongue. His hands raised up to hand Will a present. “Happy birthday, sun boy.”
“Ni-co?” Will slightly hiccuped as he attempted to hide his tears, afterall- he looked kinda ridiculous now that NBico actually was here the entire time.
“You missed me that much?” Nico tilted his head, “ Maybe I should make surprise appearances more often.”
“I thought you were on a quest, trying to not die, forgetting the fact that it was my birthday.”
“I don't think you can put those last two facts under the same category as if your birthday and me not dying are even on the same level.”
“Obviously.” Will sighed as he rested his hand against Nico’s cheek. “My birthday is of the utmost importance.”
Nico rolled his eyes and gave Will the benefit of the doubt, knowing that only moments ago, Will was seconds from being so heartbroken he would have collapsed. He went on his tip toes and gave him a brief peck on the cheek as he slipped the gift into Will’s hands.
“Happy birthday Sun boy,” Nico murmured against his ear as he watched Will- his smile glowing- hastily unwrap his gift.
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nicole-lynne · 3 years
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Pool Party Disaster
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Notes: Well y'all, because I'm the worst, this has been sitting in my drafts for the better part of a year. It was supposed to be for @kayteewritessteve's writing challenge...and then I lost every single motivation I had to do anything I enjoyed. So it's 100% late and who knows how it really turned out. But I finished it so here ya go!
Description: Steve and you are in a secret relationship, but it may not be so secret anymore after some semi-public sex.
Based off the prompt: "I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one would notice."
Warnings: NSFW +18. Minors DNI.
You watched lazily as a bead of water rolled down Steve’s shoulder blade, past the dip of his back, and disappeared into his swim shorts. In a large group of people, you knew you should look away, but it felt impossible to drag your eyes away from the place where the shorts hugged his muscular thighs.
“You know you’re drooling, right?”
Snapping your eyes in the other direction, you shifted to find Bucky hovering behind your chair with an annoying smirk on his face. Folding your arms roughly, you ignored the heat in your cheeks. “I was not.”
“Yes, you were.” Bucky said as he moved to sit in the pool chair next to you. “But it’s okay, I don’t think anyone else saw.”
“There was nothing for anyone else to see anyways.” You said snarkily.
“You two aren’t discrete at all, you know? Steve practically popped a boner when you walked out in your suit. Somehow all these other idiots just haven’t put two and two together yet.”
Truthfully, you weren’t surprised that Bucky had figured it out. He was Steve’s best friend and a trained assassin. It’d been more surprising to you that it had taken him this long. You and Steve had started this, whatever this was, over a month ago and no one had mentioned it yet.
There was a part of you that wanted to deny it just for the satisfaction of seeing Bucky question himself, but the other part felt relieved that someone finally knew. And as you glanced over at Steve, laughing with Thor about something, you knew, no one denies Steve Roger. He’s the kind of guy that girls trip over themselves to get a few moments of attention.
“Look, Buck-”
“It’s fine, it’ll be our little secret.” He squeezed your arm lightly, clearly seeing all of the thoughts on your face. “Why not let you two have your fun while you can. You know Tony will blow a gasket once he finds out.”
The idea of your brother finding out about your budding romance with the supersoldier wasn’t exactly something you wanted to think about today. Clearing your throat, you gave Bucky a smirk with a bit of gratefulness behind it.
“Although, I’m still amazed you’ve been able to keep it a secret from the little play-boy genius.”
“It’s not like we’re making out right in front of him, Buck.” You said, irritated.
“No, you were just practically undressing him with your eyes like a love-sick teenager.” Bucky guffawed loudly, and you shoved him backwards futilely. He stayed planted to the chair, snorting at your weak attempt. “Okay, fine, I’ll drop it. I’m just saying, you better get a plan together before Tony stumbles upon it on his own. After the Accords and...well, you know he’s not Steve, or my, biggest fan.”
“I know...you know I don’t blame either of you for that though.”
“We know you don’t, doll. It’s still hard to live with.” Bucky said with a grimace.
“Buck, it wasn’t you. And I’m glad Steve protected you from Tony. You’re his best friend and he needs you in his life.” Reaching forward, you squeezed his hand until he looked up at you. “Besides, who else would annoy me if you weren’t around.”
“You know you love me.” He scoffed, giving you a big grin. “So what are you guys gonna do?”
“Eventually, we’ll work on a plan, but for right now, thanks for keeping it quiet. You’re a great friend, even if you are a sadistic ass sometimes.” You smiled and patted his leg before standing up and moving towards the patio door that entered into the huge kitchen.
To your back, Bucky shouted, “Baby, you don’t even know the half of it,” making you shake your head and giggle. Sliding the door closed, the rest of the noise from the backyard hushed to a dull roar.
You made your way toward the island, in search of something to snack on. Finally you located some tostitos - score! Pulling out a handful of chips, you turned to watch the party through the glass panes that took up the whole fourth wall.
You were pretty sure that Tony had invited the entire company for his barbeque and no one dared to decline. He wasn’t exactly scary or anything, but he definitely liked things a specific way and he always made a mental note if someone wronged him - in his eyes. That was the reason it was so hard to admit this thing with Steve. It wasn’t a secret that Tony didn’t like Steve and he wouldn’t be too happy to know that his little sister might be falling - hard - for the supersoldier.
The sound of the door opening and closing brought you back to reality and you looked up to find Steve watching you intensely from the other side of the kitchen. The light framed him, reflecting on the few drops of water on his chest, and his hair was spiked from where he’d run his fingers through it.
“Hey there, soldier.” You said, smiling sweetly at him.
“Hey, sweetheart.” He replied, walking around the island to you. “You look like you’re having fun.”
“Yeah, it’s alright. Not as much fun since we have to keep our distance.”
“Seemed like Bucky was keeping you company.” He said curtly, his gaze focused on the solo cup on the counter.
You raised an eyebrow, “um, yeah I guess so.” Steve hmphed grumpily. “He was teasing me about being so obvious while I checked you out. He said we’re not discrete enough to be having such a naughty fling.”
Surprised, Steve lifted his eyes to meet yours. “Oh. I thought... Well, I thought he might be-”
“Hitting on me?”
“Something like that.”
Reaching forward, you slipped your hand into his. “He wouldn’t be dumb enough to do that, Steve, when I’m so obviously into you. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you all afternoon.”
Steve let out a breathy laugh and shook his head. “I’m sorry, doll. I guess it’s just seeing you like this has my head all cloudy. It’s hard not to imagine every guy being attracted to you looking like that.”
“Are you serious? I’ve been watching these vultures circle you all day hoping to get a shred of your attention. It’s ridiculous.” You laughed haughtily and hopped up to sit on the counter top. “I think one girl jumped into the pool in front of you like six times trying to catch your eye.”
“Really? I haven’t even noticed.” Steve said, amusement in his voice, as he moved to stand between your legs. “I was too busy focusing on how incredible you look and how much I wanted to have you wrapped around me.”
You let out a shuddered breath as he dipped his head down to press a kiss against your exposed shoulder while his hand moved under your top and pinched your hard nipple. Every time he talked like that, so different from his public image, it made you black out. There was only the tiniest voice telling you that anyone could walk in at any moment.
“You’ve got to stop talking like that or I won’t be able to control myself.” You panted, glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one had spotted you through the tinted glass.
Steve’s lips trailed up your neck until his teeth nipped at your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine. “What if I don’t want you to control yourself?”
Lord have mercy, this man was going to kill you.
“I’ve been so desperate to have you all day, sweetheart. I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one would notice.”
“What if someone’s watching?”
“No one’s watching us. They’re all too scared of Tony to look for us.” His fingers on his free hand traced back and forth along the tops of your thighs, leaving goose bumps where he touched.
“Aren’t you?” You forced yourself to ask.
Steve leaned back to look at you, “Scared of Tony? Nah. I’ve fought him for the people I love before, and I’ll do it again if I have to.”
You couldn’t help the smile that grew from his words and shifted closer to his body, letting the heat of his skin radiate through you.
Breaking the silence, Steve’s gruff voice said, “Now do you want to explain why you snuck out of my bed before I could have my way with you this morning.”
You hadn’t meant to leave him hanging this morning, but you’d been late for your meeting already, and if the hard-on pressed against your ass was any indication for how the rest of your morning would go, you couldn’t risk being any later.
“I-I was late for a meeting that I couldn’t miss.” You managed to stutter as his mouth trailed down and sucked on the pulse point in your neck, knowing that always drove you crazy. “I’ll make it up to you tonight, I promise.”
“I don’t want to wait until tonight,” He nudged your thighs apart more and ran his index finger along the edge of thin material covering you, rolling your nipple with the other hand. “I want you now.”
Before you could protest, he pressed his thumb against your clit through the bottoms and captured your mouth in a kiss, swallowing your moan happily. Your lips parted and his tongue slipped against yours. In just a few moments, he had you worked up and you were grateful that the swimsuit was absorbent. Then, with no hesitation, he broke your kiss and dropped to his knees, his pupils blown with lust.
“Steve,” you hissed, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I’ve been dying to taste you, sweetheart.” He said as he pulled the fabric to the side hastily and ran his tongue through your slit. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan and, instantly, you ran your fingers through his hair. “God you’re amazing.”
“Don’t stop.” You breathed out.
Quickly, he sucked your clit and flicked his tongue back and forth over it, causing your eyes to roll back with intense pleasure. His finger teased at your entrance and, with one look up to your blissed-out face, he pushed in one finger to the knuckle.
As slow as he could, he dragged his finger out of you, hooking it just right against your g-spot, then pushed it back in. Each time, playing with your clit in the same rhythm. You were dripping wet but Steve wasn’t letting any of it go to waste. The warm feeling was growing in the pit of your stomach and you knew this orgasm wouldn’t take long at all.
You were beginning to regret not waking him up this morning.
His other hand cupped your ass and pulled you closer to his face just in time for him to hit your g-spot and your clit at the same time, pushing you just over that edge. Fire raced through your veins as you rode out your high, his moans sent vibrations through your body that made you buck against him harder. His hands gripped you tightly to keep you sat on the counter until you started to come down, his mouth still working against you in gentle motions before letting your suit snap back into place.
Slowly, he pressed a soft kiss to each of your thighs and stood up, letting you pull him in for a kiss and you moaned as the taste of yourself hit your tongue. You let your hands roam down his chest to stop at the top of his shorts. Only hesitating for a second, you pulled them down enough to reveal how hard Steve was.
“Can I fuck you, baby?” His breathing was ragged, his lips brushed against yours, as you pumped him in your hand.
All your inhibitions went out the window and all you could do was whimper in response. With one swift motion, he jerked your suit to the side and pushed into you, both of you groaning in pleasure. He didn’t pause to give you time, instead, he began thrusting into you mercilessly.
Your head tipped back, letting him drop his lips to your exposed neck. He slammed into you over and over, rocking your body on the counter, and you dug your nails into his shoulder, desperate for something to ground you.
“Feels so good, sweetheart.” Steve murmured. “Were made for my cock.”
His dirty words made you moan, and you tightened your legs around his waist in response. Slipping his hands under your ass, he lifted you up so he was hitting a deeper angle. With the change, you slipped your hand between your bodies and started circling your clit, bringing your orgasm closer.
“Don’t stop, Captain.” You huffed.
The second you used his title, his eyes darkened with lust and his speed picked up as he stroked into you roughly. Each time, he hit the perfect spot and your eyes rolled back in your head. Your hand had stopped moving, distracted by what Steve was doing. Pushing your hand to the side, Steve moved into the spot and rubbed in sync with his movements.
“You gonna be a good little girl and cum for me?” He growled.
A few more thrusts and your orgasm washed over you and you clenched around his dick in pleasure. Immediately, he attached his lips to yours in a passionate kiss and you slipped your hand into his hair to tug him closer. He pulled out of you two more times before he faltered and his own orgasm hit him. You could feel him pulsing in you and there was no stopping your own body squeezing him for everything he had.
Both of you were panting, trying to catch your breath, occasionally making eye contact and laughing about what had just happened. Gently, he pulled out of you and tucked himself back into his shorts before reaching for a few napkins on the counter and cleaned you up as best as he could.
“Thanks, soldier.” You giggled, adjusting your suit bottoms.
Steve opened his mouth to respond when FRIDAY interrupted. “Mr. Stark requests your presence in the study.” All the bliss drained from your body instantly. You whipped your head around to look at Steve but his face was already hard as stone. Sliding off the counter, you dragged yourself toward the study with Steve trailing behind you, silent as a shadow. You lingered at the door for a moment before pushing the door open and walking in.
Behind the desk, Tony sat back in his plush chair with his hands steepled together. His lips were tight together in a harsh line and he was glaring daggers into Steve behind you.
“On the counter? Really? I eat there.” Was all he said.
“H-how did you know?” You squeaked.
“I always ask FRIDAY to inform me of any... inappropriate behavior when I throw a party.” Tony raised a brow incredulously, “People are animals and can’t keep their hands off each other in public, clearly.”
“Hey,” Steve snapped, “keep it respectful.”
“Why don’t you take your own advice, Cap.” Tony jumped up. “That’s my little sister you had your filthy hands all over.”
You blanched at the thought of Tony seeing what you’d just done.
“I’m sorry that you had to find out this way, but that doesn’t give you the right to judge either of us.” Steve took a step toward Tony. “I’m well aware of some of your indiscretions in your past.”
“Indiscretions are way different from absolute betrayal.”
“I think you’re being a little dramatic now, Tony.” Steve ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “I think I deserve to be dramatic after my sister was being railed on my kitchen counter.”
“That’s enough,” Steve stood in front of Tony and balled a fist into his shirt roughly, “you’re not going to talk about her like that again.”
Neither of them paying attention to you, you backed up and dropped onto the couch. Tears swelled in your eyes and rolled down your cheeks. This was the worst case scenario of your brother finding out - no, this hadn’t even come up in your list of worst case scenarios. You were absolutely mortified that a moment like that had been captured on camera.
Not able to stop it, a sob slipped from you and you buried your face in your hands. Steve’s eyes moved from Tony’s face down to you, instantly releasing Tony’s shirt and moving to your side.
“Sweetheart, don’t cry.” He wrapped his arm over your shoulder and tucked you into his chest, making you cry harder, your body shaking violently.
“Ahh kid, I...” Tony trailed off, shoving his hands into his pockets.
Steve glared at Tony harshly, then leaned down to kiss your head. “Baby, I need you to try and take some deep breaths. Can you do that for me?”
Lifting your chin with his fingers, he waited patiently until you made eye contact with him. Your eyes were red and puffy from crying, but Steve didn’t judge, only waited until you nodded slightly. He took a deep breath and you followed his motions, inhaling deeply, holding at the top, and releasing it slowly.
Steve held your focus as he breathed with you until you stopped shaking and the tears were dried on your cheeks. He gently cradled your face, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs, before kissing the tip of your nose.
You knew, without a doubt, that you loved Steve more than anyone you’d ever been with. The fact that he’d helped you through this breakdown had just made it more clear that he was the one you wanted to be with. Your eyes fluttered shut and you worked up the courage to look at your brother. Turning to him, you grimaced at the blank look on his face.
“I’m sorry about how you found out, Ton. But I’m not sorry for loving Steve. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m not going to let your own emotional problems get in the way of my happiness.” You croaked, your throat raw from crying.
Tony’s face fell and he had the decency to look ashamed. “Kid, I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry for what I said. I guess I was just in shock at...”
“I know this isn’t easy for you, but believe me, this wasn’t how I wanted you to find out either.” Steve squeezed your hand in support and you gave him a small smile.
“You really care about her, Rogers?”
“No, Tony.” Steve said and your head snapped up to see him grinning at you, “I love her. I’m in love with her.”
Not having a care in the world, you launched yourself at him to give him a huge kiss. Steve chuckled but kissed you back with the same enthusiasm. Tony groaned and grumbled until you leaned back, a blush on your cheeks.
“Look, I guess this all fine and dandy, but let’s try to keep the displays of affection in front of me to a minimum. I already have to bleach my eyeballs and I don’t need any more reasons.” Tony headed toward the door, avoiding looking in your direction again. “And Cap, if you hurt one hair on my baby sister’s head, I will blast your ass all the way to Wakanda.”
You and Steve bust out laughing and you let him haul you to your feet. He held your face affectionately and you leaned into his touch.
“Since we’ve got Tony’s blessing now, you want to sneak home for round two?” He teased.
“No way, Captain. Now that we’re free, I’m planning on spending the whole day with you in the pool.” You took his hand in yours and pulled him to the door. “Besides, I’ve got to show all those girls who you belong to.”
“Belong to?” Steve darted forward and flipped you over his shoulder, smacking your butt playfully. “I think you’re all mine, baby.”
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flamencodiva · 3 years
Text
Bottom of the Bottle 2 - Sneaking Back on Stage
Description: Dean was at the peak of stardom until his world came crashing down. Can he find his way back to the top?
Word Count: 5340
Warnings for entire series: Smut (oral female and male receiving, P in V, Threesomes, Fingering, Orgies) Fluff, Angst, Violence, Language, Mentions of Drug use, Drinking, Mentions of Death.
Songs in this chapter: Partial Lyrics of Brother's Osbourn Ain't My Fault and Full lyrics of Down don't Bother Me by The Derek Truck Band
Beta'd by: @wonder-cole
Aesthetic by: @firefly-graphics
Dividers by: @talesmaniac89
Series Masterlist
Main Masterlist
<< Chapter 1
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Dean pulled the bike up on the driveway and parked her next to his father’s truck. Then, killing the engine, he hopped off with a smile. Finally, Dean found a place where he could start over, a place he could play and live again. He found a small spring in his step and ran his fingers through his short hair. He was glad it was quick. His years with Purgatory had the band growing out his hair long. He hated it, but it was for the image. At the time, he would do anything just to be able to be involved in music and if growing his hair long was the worst of it, it was worth it to him.
But the minute that he was put in jail and kicked out of the band for something he didn’t do, he was glad to be rid of it. He was happy to cut off the long hair and return to his short locks. Turning the key to unlock the door, he let himself in to find his father sitting at the dining room table, hands folded on top of it.
“You could have gone to bed, you know,” Dean muttered as he placed the helmet on the table in the foyer and shrugged off his jacket to put it on the hook, “I told you I was going to be back.”
“Where did you go?” John asked as he looked up at Dean.
“Out,” Dean huffed, “I’m not a kid anymore, dad. So I went out, the bike had a wire come loose, I was close to a place, got help, came back.”
“You can’t do that again, Dean,” John said as he got up from the table.
“Do what? Go out and have fun? Go out and try to find some friends?” Dean asked, “I’m confused as to what you want from me here. I’m already working at the garage. I’m living under your thumb. I have a damn motorcycle instead of Baby.”
“I just wanted you to think before you went out,” John said as he walked to Dean, “I know you love to sing, and you love music, but it isn’t everything.”
“It’s all I have!” Dean practically yelled. “You know you started spewing all this bullshit about how I abandoned this family and ran away and couldn’t wait to leave,” Dean ran a hand across his face. “I wanted to go out and explore and find myself. You want to know the fucked up thing?” he walked up to his father, “I came back when Sam called me about mom. Not you,” he poked at John’s chest, “Sam, he called me to tell me mom was sick. You were the coward who couldn’t even face me to tell me my mother was dying!”
“Would you have answered the phone if it was me?” John muttered. “You have to admit, the minute you signed that contract, you wanted to high tail it out of here faster than a damn wolf chasing its prey.”
Dean looked down at the floor and licked his lips, “I wanted to get away from you. Not mom, not Sam, you. Because I was so mad and disappointed that my own father didn’t want me to follow something I was good at, something that gave me life.” Dean walked over to a picture of his mother and let his fingers graze over it, “I came every chance I could. I was in that hospital by her side when you didn't know it. I always waited for you and Sam to leave because I didn’t want to fight you while she was fighting Cancer.”
Dean wiped the stray tear that was falling down his cheek and shook his head.
“But it doesn’t matter. Nothing mattered, not that money I gave for the treatments or the fact that I tried to get Mom one of the best specialists I could find.” he turned to face his dad. “Music is in me, and I can feel it. What hurt me wasn’t mom dying. It was the fact that my own father thought of me as a disappointment when I made it big.”
John let his son’s words sink in before heading to the stairs, “A lot of good that fame and fortune did. You became part of a group that, in the end, it brought you back down to zero.” John was halfway up the stairs before he stopped, “you called me a coward for not calling you, but you’re a coward for not manning up to face me at that hospital.”
John’s footsteps began to fade as he ascended the staircase and retreated to his bedroom, leaving Dean to stew in his anger. Dean let out a frustrated growl with his jaw clenched and stomped up the stairs towards his old room. Why was his dad so adamant about keeping him locked up in a cage? He was already in a cell for six months, and he hated every minute of it. Apart from the fact that he could write a few lyrics, he hated being in that damn jail. He didn’t do anything wrong, and everyone tried to fight him for being a damn rock star.
Entering his room, he could see the boxes from his old home scattered around. Some boxes labeled clothing, some marked notebooks, and a few just miscellaneous. Walking to the box labeled notebooks, Dean tore the tape out and pulled out one of his more recently used ones. His fingers grazed over the pages before he turned to his bag full of his things from jail. Reaching inside, he pulled out a small booklet he had filled with some lyrics he had.
Dean didn’t go to bed right away that night. Instead, he took that time to filter through the small notebook and transferred his lyrics to his larger notebook. The memory of Y/N on stage seemed to haunt him. She looked at peace being up on that stage, almost ethereal, an angel ready to spread her wings and fly. Putting down his pen, his eyes roamed his room before settling on the silhouette of his guitar case. Sure, Dean had plenty of guitars, but this one, this one was special, and he was surprised to see it propped up in the familiar corner of his room.
Getting up from his chair, he walked over towards it, pulled the hard case out, and placed it on his bed. Opening up the latches, he lifted the lid and smiled. There nestled nice and snug was a Fender FA-100 Dreadnought Acoustic Guitar. He loved this guitar and hadn't been able to play it for years. He felt almost sad that he had it with him but could never really pull it out to play often. It was a birthday gift for his 17th birthday from his mother. Sure, she said it was from both her and his father, but Dean had a feeling it was more his mother than his old man.
Gently pulling it out of the case, Dean sat on his bed and placed the guitar on his right thigh, the fingers on his left hand holding down a chord on the fret before he strummed it. He winced at the awful sound that came out. It needed tuning. He looked around his room using the tiny light from his desk lamp and smiled when his eyes landed on the corkboard above his headboard. There, pinned to it, was his favorite pick. It was one of the few things his father did give him that he loved, a pick that he had seen in the music store that he had to have.
Taking a deep breath, Dean began to pluck at the strings and turn on the knobs to find the right notes. There was something about the way he felt holding his guitar that sent a shiver down his spine. Dean missed this feeling, and he kicked himself for letting the image geniuses at the label dictate that he should only be the voice of the band. Focusing on his tuning, he continued to play with the knobs until he was sure the guitar had the right notes to play.
With one last strum, he hummed in satisfaction at the sweet sound. He moved his fingers along the fret, strumming at the strings when a melody came to mind. He wasn't sure of the tempo, but he knew the notes he wanted to play. Adjusting himself and the guitar, he cleared his throat and let the music flow through him.
“Blame the whiskey on the beer, blame the beer on the whiskey,” he let out and smiled, “I like the sound of that,” he chuckled before grabbing his notebook and scribbling it down.
He continued to find the melody, and he figured a slow rhythm was a good fit for the song. At least that’s what he felt.
“Blame the bar for the band, blame the band for the--” he paused as he tried to find the right word, “song? Yeah, that works,” he wrote it down and shook his head gently.
His mind began to fill with doubt as he looked down at the lyrics. Was he really going to try to get back into music? Could he really deal with being a label stooge? He wanted to make music, sure, but it needed to be his music.
“You got this, Winchester,” he calmed himself, “You’ve been playing music for a long time. This is a good song.” he licked his lips and looked down at his fingers, “you had these lyrics in your head for a while, you just gotta get them out.
He continued to strum on his guitar and progressed as much as he could. He had gotten to the first round of the bridge before yawning. But, looking over at the clock, it was well past two in the morning, and he had to try to get as much sleep as he could.
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The following day, Dean woke up to his father banging on his door.
“Wake up,” John called through the door, “I’m headed to the garage. You should head out soon. Coffee is already brewed.”
Dean let out a groan and ran a hand across his face to try and wake up fully. He stretched his body before forcing himself to get up. Dean looked at the open notebook on the floor and sighed. He had to finish the lyrics and try to memorize the song by tonight if he wanted to show Benny up. He didn’t like that Benny thought he would use Y/N for his own personal gain. That wasn’t in Dean’s nature at all. Besides, if the song was a hit, he could perform the other songs he had lying around, but he had to find a way to hide it from his dad.
Walking to his window, he looked outside and sighed. The sun was just rising, and he could hear the birds chirping on the nearby tree. Opening the window, he leaned on the windowsill when something caught his peripheral vision. He turned his head slightly to see the trellis that ran up the side of the house by his window. Reaching over, he pulled on it and gave a pouted shrug.
“Still feels sturdy,” he muttered to himself before looking down and feeling his pulse race. “You can do this,” he said, looking at the height, “you did it back in high school to go sneak over to ‘easy’ Gracie's house.” he reminded himself. “That and all of Mullet’s parties to play a gig.”
With a nod, he began formulating his plan. He spared no time in grabbing his clothes and getting dressed. His notebook was tight under the crook of his arm as he made his way downstairs to grab a coffee. His father had already left, leaving him alone. With a coffee mug in his hand, he used his free hand to write out the rest of his lyrics before looking at the time and dashing towards the front door. He made sure he kept the notebook close to him as he got ready for his bike ride to the garage.
He kept to himself as he placed certain things in his locker before grabbing his coveralls and put them on over his clothes. Then, his notebook in hand, he walked over to the work orders board and picked a clipboard to work on for the day. In between changing the oil on a few cars, replacing brake pads, and rotating tires, Dean had finished writing and found himself memorizing the lyrics he wrote out.
“I got my hand’s up. I need an alibi,” Dean muttered, “find me a witness who can testify.”
The melody was slow and funeral-like, and for the most part, it worked. What mattered to him right now was memorizing the damn words so he could get them out. He was sure the melody would change later, as he kept bouncing from uptempo to slow funeral march. It was hard trying to find a good beat, but he wasn’t sure what direction he was going. Was he going to stick to the complex rock rhythm he got used to with purgatory? Or was he going to go to his country roots?
He didn’t notice his father looking at him closely, the sad look on John's face as he recognized that Dean was writing lyrics. The old man could always tell when Dean was working on a song. Dean could never sit still when he was inspired, and the fact that Dean kept tapping different rhythms during the day wasn’t helping him hide it. But John was out of ideas, and the last thing he needed was to find his son on the news where they were announcing his death. It was bad enough seeing his son being arrested on the news, but to have his death broadcasted would absolutely shatter him. John had tried so hard to shelter Dean from getting the performance bug, but it seemed like the tighter John held on, the more Dean slipped through his fingers.
The rest of the day, Dean had played with a few different melodies in his head, but nothing seemed to stick. By the time he had memorized the song, it was time to close the garage. Dean had put his coverall back in his locker and walked over to his bike.
“Dean?” John called.
“Yeah,” Dean answered, turning to face his father.
“What do you think about heading over to the diner we always used to go to for dinner?”
Dean looked at his watch and then back up to his Dad. He still had some time to head home and grab his guitar and sneak out, “yeah, sounds good. Need to have that famous burger of theirs. I missed it when I was up in KC,” Dean said with a tight-lipped smile.
“Okay, I’ll meet you there,” John nodded his head as he let Dean go before him, “I gotta lock up, so you go ahead and see if they can get us in a booth.”
“Sure,” Dean called out before putting his helmet on and zipping up his jacket.
The ride to the dinner wasn’t too bad. It was short. To begin with and Dean made it with perfect time to grab the last available booth. Dean ordered a burger for himself along with a beer and a slice of pie for after. The waitress was about to leave when John appeared and slid in.
“I’ll have the meatloaf and a water, Jenny, thanks,” he said to the young waitress.
“You got it, John, coming right up,” she smiled at the elder Winchester before turning to Dean and winking, “I get off at 8.”
Dean offered her a smile before turning to his father, “you come here a lot then?”
“Haven’t really cooked since your mother died,” John muttered as he looked at Dean. “You did good work today,” he changed the subject, “I was thinking about showing you how to run the books and showing you all the accounts, you know, get you ready to take over.”
“Dad--” Dean sighed, “I love working at the garage, I do, but it won’t make me happy.”
“Because music makes you happy,” John scoffed, “look what music did to you!” he pointed out.
“You know as well as I do that it was the industry, not the music. Those are two different things!” Dean argued.
John shook his head before running a hand across his face, “look, you need a backup, and I need someone I can trust to take over.”
“You planning on retiring soon?” Dean let out as he leaned back in his seat.
“Maybe,” John sighed, “I can’t run the garage forever, and I don’t want to sell it.”
Dean looked at his father’s face and could see the hurt in his eyes, “you really love that garage.”
“It’s my second love to my family,” John said as he folded his hands together over the table. “Just think about it?”
“I guess I can do that,” Dean muttered as their waitress, Jenny, came by with their food.
“You know she’s single,” John commented as he grabbed his fork to dig into his meatloaf.
“I don’t need dating help,” Dean let out as he grabbed his burger in his hands, “besides, I’m not looking for attachments.”
“Sometimes they’re a good thing, though,” his father commented after swallowing his food.
Dean rolled his eyes, “after the fiasco with Lisa, no thanks.”
“You’ll find someone,” John chuckled, “I don’t think I ever met Lisa.”
“Thank your lucky stars for that,” Dean huffed. “All she cared about was the fame and notoriety. Then I caught her with some publicist screwing in my bed,” he shook his head, “then again, I was nailing two, maybe three girls at a time so… no skin off my back when I cut her loose.”
John stayed silent for a minute, digesting what his son was saying, “so you went for the sex god approach then.”
“Better than being the drug addict,” Dean shook his head and took a bite of one of his fries, “the alcohol helped to just dull the senses anyways. I was a pretty face and a voice for the band, that’s it.”
John could hear the unhappiness in his voice and see the pain radiating in his son’s eyes over not making the music he wanted. It hurt John for a bit, but it also had him thinking about how it might help keep Dean home and safe.
“The business can chew you up and spit you out pretty easily.”
Dean watched as his father continued to eat his meatloaf, letting the conversation die. Yet, he knew where it would lead if he kept the conversation going.
Finishing his meal, Dean cleaned up his face and reached for his wallet before John stopped him.
“I got this son, you go on home, or are you going back out for a ride?” John asked.
“I need to rest, so I’ll be up in my room,” Dean lied as he slid out of the booth. “So I’ll be in bed by the time you get home, maybe.”
“Okay, I’ll be up watching some tv, so I’ll try not to make too much noise,” John pulled out his wallet and a few bills to place on the table.
Dean walked out and towards his bike just as John got into his truck.
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On the ride home, Dean was thinking of what his escape plan would be. He already knew he would climb down the trellis, but his guitar had to come with him. Reaching the house, both men stayed in silence as they went their separate ways. Dean closed his door and put the lock on for good measure. He felt like a teenager hiding from his parents, but he knew his father would never understand. And honestly, Dean really had no place to go, and if he had to keep his musical exploits a secret, then so be it. One could say he wanted to try to impress a particular bartender he met last night, also wondering if he would hear her sweet voice again. Grabbing his case, he looked around for something he could use to strap it to his back, finding a rope he could use on the fly.
Once he was sure that the case was secured to his back, Dean carefully climbed out of the window to sit on the windowsill. He moved as carefully as he could, making sure to avoid making too much noise with his guitar case and getting it out of the window. He breathed a small sigh of relief when he reached the trellis and slowly began to climb down.
“You got this, Dean,” he said to himself as he made sure to place his foot on the holes as he climbed down. “Just like that time you snuck out to head over to the bonfire,” he took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in his throat, “granted you also missed a small hole and fell when you reached the last foot off the ground, but you did it.”
Finally reaching the bottom of the trellis, Dean gave a small jump and smiled in satisfaction. Heading to his bike and rolling it away from the house to not make any noise when he started the engine. Once he was a block away, at least, his night began. The ride to Rusty’s was smooth, and Dean could see it already start to fill with patrons. Parking his bike, he adjusted his guitar and made his way inside. His smile grew when he saw Y/N at the bar already taking orders.
“You know we really do have to stop meeting like this,” he called out with a smile when she turned to him.
“Does that line work? I mean, right now, it just seems like you’re trying too hard,” she let out as she walked over to him, “going to drink, perform, or both?”
“Both,” he answered, “know where I can find Jo?”
“She’s over by the stage taking names for tonight,” she pointed over to the blond who was talking to a few groups.
“Wait,” Dean squinted a bit, “That’s Jo Harvelle? I know Jo,” Dean smiled and turned to face Y/N, “Will you be performing tonight?”
“Nope,” she sighed, popping the ‘p.’ “Yesterday was a fluke. I was filling in for someone.”
“I’m going to go talk to Jo,” Dean said before leaning over and taking Y/N’s arm gently before she could leave. “Whoever told you that you weren’t amazing last night was lying to you, sweetheart.” He let her go before she could give him a counterargument and made his way to the stage with his guitar strapped to his back.
As he approached the stage, he could feel a hand pull him back, and a person walked past him.
“Hey,” he called out, “do you mind?”
“Why yez, ah do mind,” the familiar Cajun voice said, “didn’ tink youz goin’ tah show up.”
Dean gave Benny a cocky smile before huffing, “I did tell you I would see you. Let me guess you have a song to sing tonight too?”
“Betta’ than what chu have to play i’m zure,” Benny chuckled, “I didn’ tink dat dey let chu play an inztrumentz.”
“I was playing the guitar before I ever joined that group,” Dean said with a low growl, “how the hell did you recognize me anyway.”
“The long lockz don’ matta to me brotha,” Benny sighed, “but da eyez are da windows to da soul.”
“You and everyone else seem to recognize me,” Dean muttered, “well, you can go ahead and sing your song before me,” Dean offered him a sly smile, “I’m sure I can bring the house down.”
Benny let out a scoff before turning away to walk towards Jo, “good luck wit dat brotha.”
Dean watched as Benny talked to Jo, who gave him a quick nod while jotting down a note. Once she was done, the Cajun turned around and checked Dean on the shoulder.
“Good luck up, der,” he chuckled at Dean, “you lookz like you need it.”
Dean clenched his jaw as Benny walked away. The guy really didn’t like him. Dean didn’t do anything. Hell, most people’s assumptions of him now have to do with the damn drug charge. Shaking his head, he walked up to Jo and adjusted the guitar strapped to his back. As he walked up to the young blond, he couldn’t help but smile as a memory of a young girl in pigtails flashed before him.
“Never thought you’d grow out of the pigtail stage,” he said as he stood in front of her.
“Well, well, well,” she said, chuckling before pulling him into a tight hug, “never thought the infamous Dean Winchester would grace us with his presence. I thought this place would be too. country for you?”
“I want to sign up to perform,’ he let out with a deep breath.
“Fees $20 to perform,’ she sighed.
“Performance fee?” Dean scoffed, “Really, Jo? Who the hell came up with that?”
“Look,” Jo sighed, “The $20 goes for every and all performers. It’s a small fee for renting out the stage. Besides, you get more in tips if people really like you.”
Dean grumbled as he fished in his pockets for a twenty-dollar bill. He handed it to Jo and shook his head, “I’m only going to be singing the one song.”
“Okay,” Jo wrote down his name and smiled, “You can wait by the bar and order some food. I’ll have someone pull you to the back about three performers before you.” She reached over and pulled him into a hug, “Welcome home, Dean. I have a feeling this is going to be a fresh start for you. You never looked right with that band.”
Dean smiled as he hugged her back, “Thanks, Jo.”
With that, Jo pulled away to let him walk towards the bar with his guitar still on his back. Approaching the bar, Dean smiled, seeing Y/N smile as she served customers. Her laugh reached his ears, and it pulled at him. There was a sense of comfort he felt from listening to Y/N’s laugh. Her laugh was very familiar to him. Walking to the bar, he pulled up a stool and sat down to wait for his turn. He wanted to try out his new song, but he wasn’t sure about the tempo yet. He continued playing around with different beats, but all he could come up with was a depressing march, but it didn’t seem to fit the song at all. With a groan, Dean decided to get something in his stomach while he waited.
“You look like you got something bothering you, Gringo.”
Dean snapped his head up from the menu to see Y/N leaning over the bar top towards him.
“Just trying to figure out what to eat before I have to head up on stage,” He chuckled, trying to shrug off the nervous feeling he had on him. “Besides, Benny’s gonna get mad if he sees you talking to me.”
“I can handle Benny,” Y/N offered him a smile, “besides, I’m the only bartender here, so I’m doing my job.”
“What do you recommend from the kitchen?” Dean asked as he licked his lips. There was something alluring about Y/N, but at the same time, he felt as though he had known her from before their encounter in the coffee shop.
“Honestly? The ultimate bacon burger,” Y/N answered. “It’s got premium Angus beef, with nice crispy bacon, a chipotle aioli, lettuce, tomatoes, and pickles. Not to mention you can have it with steak fries or onion rings.”
“That actually sounds good. I’ll have that and a bottle of Margiekugels,” Dean closed up the menu and sighed, “So is there ever a chance I’m going to see you on stage again?”
Y/N looked over at him as she put in his order on the digital register, “I don’t know,” she sighed, “it was just a one-time thing being up there.”
“Well, if you ever want to go up there again,” Dean said before taking a sip of his beer, “I could always be your backup.”
“Look,” Y/N shook her head with a slight huff. “I know all about you. Just because you cut your hair doesn’t mean that people aren’t going to recognize those big green eyes of yours,” she gave him a soft glare. “I’m not into rock stars, so do me a favor and just find someone else to play with, okay?”
Dean let out a small huff with a smirk, “well, screw you then, sweetheart.”
He took another sip of his beer and shook his head.
“You think you know me because of what the media says about things I didn’t even do? Then fine, you know me. But in reality, you’re just a scared little bitch who wants to stay behind the bar counter.” he grabbed his guitar as he got off the stool. “You can have them send my burger to the table in the corner over there,” he pointed towards the back of the saloon and slapped some money on the counter, “keep the change.”
He stalked off with his beer and guitar, chest full of anger as he looked up to see Benny had already gone on stage and was singing a song. The people were cheering and hollering for him.
Goin' 'round in circles
Pickin' out a cue
Travelin' with no memory
Ow, in my shoe
Down don't bother me.
If the music say
You can take a picture baby
Time won't care
And you're my second nature
A-coming over me
And though I might be shakin'
Down don't bother me no more.
Down don't bother me no more
Down don't bother me no more
Down don't bother me no more
As Benny finished his song, Dean rolled his eyes as everyone in the crowd cheered and whistled. Seemed like Benny has a crew of regulars that come to see him. He took a swig of his beer, smacking his lips and smiling at the waitress who brought his burger to him. Dean could feel Y/N staring, but he didn’t care. She had made up her mind, and he was done trying to prove to people that he wasn’t an asshole.
Finishing up his burger, he watched as Benny made his way over and rolled his eyes. He should have known that the seat he picked was closest to the kitchen.
“I’ze hope chu enjoyed dat performaze brotha,” Benny chuckled, “chu look like you could yuz da luck.”
“I don’t need luck,” Dean grumbled, “I know my skills, so why don’t you go back to yours and leave me and mine alone.”
Benny lifted his hands in surrender and let out a laugh, “didn’t mean ta hit a sore spot witch you. Enjoy da burga.”
Dean shook his head as Benny walked into the kitchen. His nerves were starting to get the best of him as he could feel his hands shake. Looking at his guitar propped up in the chair, his mind began to spin with thoughts.
‘What the fuck am I doing?’ his mind shouted. ‘People are going to hate this song. I don’t even have a tempo yet!’
He could feel his heart race. Nothing could get him to snap out of it. At least, not until Jo came up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, making him jerk.
“Hey,” she gave him a warm smile. “You got two performers before you. You should head backstage. I’ll show you the way.”
Dean nodded numbly as he followed her, not noticing an old friend watching him as he disappeared behind a black curtain.
Chapter 3
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dawsons-justice · 3 years
Text
He Promised, You Trusted.
Part Two to “I Promise, You Trust”
A/N: Reader is between 14-17, so this is a Father Figure!Antonio x Reader. No romance, 100% platonic. 
TW: Nothing horribly graphic, some mild angst, but mostly just to lead up to the fluff
Masterlist
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It sure was cold outside. Chicago had been cold, but Minnesota somehow was colder. Your aunt had apologized she couldn't pick you up from school but it wasn't really her fault. She had to pick up some extra shifts to keep up with the bills. You're just glad she let you stay with her. 8 months ago, you really had no idea where you would end up.
8 months ago...
Detective Dawson ran off to make some calls, leaving you to your own thoughts. You noticed the worried glances of his coworkers watching you from the unit floor. You didn’t know any of them, they were all sorta intimidating in their own way, well, except for the woman with brown hair, she looked nice. It just felt better to block them out and focus on the mug in your hands. The hot chocolate had gotten cold in the time it took you to process everything and really you haven’t truly processed anything.
Dawson came back in the room, his face muddled with several emotions. There was some stress, determination and anger but you made out the sympathy on his features most of all. Most people don't want sympathy, but you were just glad someone was caring enough to do so. Trailing behind him was another cop, older, you'd seen him before, just didn't know his name.
"You got anyone we can call?" Antonio asks. you had to wrack your brain a bit. It hadn’t occurred to you that this would be important. "I have an aunt. I haven't talked to her in years. My dad and her don't get along."
The two men exchanged a glance. And you understood now. If you didn't find a home yourself, they'd have to put you in a group home. That was not good. You had heard stories, everyone has. Group homes only provide shelter to trouble. If you ended up there who knows what would happen to you after. You hadn’t thought this through, this was a bad idea. In some sort of a desperate plea, you grab the detective’s hand as he’s about the leave with the other guy.
"Wait no no... I can't live in a home. I can't. I'd rather go home to my dad. Please no." Panic evident in your voice. His face softens, kneeling down to your height. He was just going to try to comfort you. You forced yourself to remember whatever he says can’t change the truth. He isn’t the one making the rules. You’re not naive.
"Hey, hey kiddo. Not there yet, let's give your aunt a ring and see if we can get ahold of her. You got a name?" His voice calm, if he was worried you really couldn’t tell now, unlike when he first returned. You gave her name, not knowing anything besides she lived in St. Paul. But they were cops, you figured they could track her down.
The other guy, Voight, left, you heard him call out to someone named Halstead to run your aunt's name. Antonio didn’t move, just kept holding your hand looking around as if he wasn’t. The fact we seemed unbothered by the comforting gesture put you more at ease, yet you still were struggling with this.
"B-but what if she doesn't want me?"
There was a look of disbelief in his face, as if you were made of solid gold. It was fake and you knew it, still, it was comforting. "We're gonna figure it out, ok? I'll tell her myself what a great kid you are."
"I'm sorry."
The detective didn’t have to say anything, but you knew he deflected your apology. Somehow you just knew the minute you said it what his response was going to be. He didn’t feel bothered. And on top of this it was going to work out. He would make sure it worked out.
And it did. Given the explanation of the situation, your Aunt was happy to take you in. Antonio pulled some strings and you spent one night with his colleague Kim Burgess (the woman with the brown hair) before your aunt took over custody. In less than 48 hours you were on your way to Minnesota with a bag you packed and your dad had no clue. For once you knew there was at least one person who was worth trusting in this world.
The snow crunched below your feet. It was only another mile or so to your aunt’s place. The roads were pretty clear. Much of the snow had been packed down for days, but a recent heatwave melted and refroze the roads to solid ice. The deceiving snow was only an inch or two thick on top of the slick icy layer beneath. So, when you hear tires squeal, it is not in any way surprising. You were learning to drive yourself; ice roads were something that even your aunt had trouble managing let alone teach you how to navigate. You had respect for anyone who was able to successfully manage those roads in two-wheel drive. Whipping around, there’s not a two-ton car sliding towards you as you had expected, planning to dive roll into the snow. There’s a black van with a guy in a ski mask running towards you.
Crap.
Taking advantage of the ice, you threw your backpack at him, hoping he’d lose his balance and walk onto the more slippery road. Yet things do not go to plan as he easily recovers and continues to pursue you, reaching you and wrapping his arms around your waist. You fought. You screamed, wailed, bit, flailed, kicked and every other defensive action your subconscious could think of. It didn’t work, he was just too much bigger than you. You were thrown into the back of the van.
no no no no no this can’t be happening.
You considered yourself a calm person, but that was before you were tied and gagged in the back of a van. The darkness seemed to only escalate your fears as you had a blank canvas to imagine your worst nightmares becoming reality. "Please, just let me go” you must have said it 40 times before something heavy hit your head.
Things faded in and out. Darkness and light fought a battle, but you could never really tell if you could see or not, it was all just shadows. The nausea was also coming in waves, paired with the throbbing sensation on the back of your head. You had been pistol whipped. But of course, you didn’t know that. The sheer terror of the entire situation still had you disoriented. You couldn’t feel the time pass, most people know what a minute or five minutes feels like, but you couldn’t focus. It was all too much.
 When the van doors slide open you hear the guy who grabbed you talk to whoever was driving. “I still can’t believe this guy.” His gruff voice scoffed, close by.
“Well, he had the money, who are we to judge.”
“Guy? Had someone hired them to take me? Was I about to be sold or something?”
 You’re embarrassed to say the next voice you heard brought you half a millisecond of comfort, it was misplaced. “You had to put a sack over her head?” It was your dad. How? Better question why would he ask that question though he had no emotion in his voice.
The men and your dad talk as you wrestle with this entire shock. Suddenly someone picks you up and carries you over their shoulder. You figured it was guy who grabbed you, but feeling that whoever was holding you gently lowered you to the floor, you made the new assumption it was your dad. The blindfold and gag came off in a quick motion. You were met with the hollow face of your father in some sort of abandoned room. He gave a sickening smile, one that brought no relief with it. “I brought you back sugar!”
“Dad, let me go.”
He nodded and started to undo your restraints. It couldn’t be this easy. Taking a moment, he was preoccupied with removing the duct tape glue from your arms, as if he cared, you jumped up, running across the room to open the metal door, but it was locked.
“Open the door, dad.”
“Y-you’ll just leave.” He whimpered, face looking offended.
This wasn’t your dad. The eyes were too hopeful and the demeanor was too caring. This was you dad having some sort of a mental breakdown. The pieces came together as you watched the tremors in his hands. Not knowing the man in front of you felt more terrifying than the man you ran away from. Before, you knew somewhere buried deep in his subconscious he would never seriously harm you beyond some bruises. But you stared into eyes you didn’t recognize. It was entirely possible he was going to kill you. All of that mess 8 months ago just to end up dying in Chicago and nobody knows about it.
But that’s where you were wrong.
Within a 25 mile radius…
“Detective Dawson,”
The somewhat uncaring police deputy at St. Paul started running down the situation. There wasn’t much to tell. Your backpack was found in a snowbank near some blood in the snow with you nowhere to be found. Your aunt had been adamant that the deputy at the front desk reach Antonio. And of course, the detective roped his unit into the situation. Voight made it a priority. It didn’t take a psychologist to see that Antonio cared about you, he cared about all his teen CIs. They were his secondary kids. He would find you, even if he hadn’t promised you to do so. He promised himself. When word had come in that your dad had been behind the entire situation it was not much of a shock. A man with a past of petty crime and domestic abuse with mental health concerns did seem like a high probability suspect. He had also rented out a storage container on the industrial side of town. Antonio and his team suited up. He was going to end this situation here and now.
 “CHICAGO PD OPEN THE DOOR”
In a frenzied craze, your father throws you to the floor. It would make sense for him to run, but logic wasn’t a key factor right now. His foot goes to your neck and the gun points to your head. The gun must have been on his back, you hadn’t seen it until now.
I don’t want to die.
Not like this.
Not here.
Please no.
Please.
 Bursting through the door you make out several people with weapons drawn on your dad. Light floods the dark room leaving the two of you partially blind, yet the tension still filled the air.
“LET HER GO.” It wasn’t a request. It was an order. Regardless, your neck was still being crushed. Air was slowly waning from your lungs. And then it wasn’t. In an instant you felt his foot roll out from over you, giving you a chance to scramble away.
“Y/N, Y/N, it’s ok. We’re police.”
And that was likely the only time anyone from your side of town was happy to hear that phrase. But still, you couldn’t quite comprehend it. It was a full mess of tears, screaming, wailing and shaking. You had been mere seconds from death by gun or choking, you couldn’t just suck it up. Not even you were that badass. Nonetheless, the cops weren’t getting anywhere with calming you down.
“Call an ambo.” Calls another voice, a woman. “Tonio, you ok?”
“Yeah” And under normal circumstances you would have connected the dots, but as it has already been overly reiterated, you were not stable right now. The only thing you could register was the familiar hand on top of yours gently squeezing your arm below.
“Shhh shhh, it’s ok kiddo, we got you. He’s gone.”
Hold it, you know that voice.
And what would you know, you finally grasped it. Staring down at you is Detective Dawson, once again saving your neck, literally. It was probably against some rule, but you just buried your head in his shoulder trying to block out everything outside. He let it slide, just holding you there, seemingly not in any rush to move you till the paramedics arrived. In time you realized the other officer trying to calm you down had been Burgess, but you just hadn’t recognized her. You’re in pain, but not horrendous amounts, must be the adrenaline. Regardless, Antonio calls another officer, Atwater, to carry you outside to the ambulance. Before you know it, the ambo is driving away from the scene to Chicago Med, leaving the Intelligence Unit to deal with the aftermath including Dawson.
Sitting in the ER, you wait for test results to return on your head scan. More had happened in the last 12 hours than in the last 8 months. You realized how much you liked the simplicity and (relative) safety of Minnesota, but now you’d at least carry pepper spray. You’re pulled from your thoughts as you see Dawson peak from the side of the curtains. You had not felt too lonely or afraid before given the officers stationed outside your room, but seeing him made you feel better.
“Hey kiddo, how’s the neck?” he smiles, moving into the room slowly as if he was trying not to scare you.
You smile weakly, still exhausted. “Alright, considering.” You noticed tape on the base of his neck on one side extending underneath his shirt where you couldn’t see. “What happened?”
“I might be getting a little long in the tooth for tackling suspects.” And by suspects, you knew he meant your dad. He was the one who got him off you. “Are you ok?” You ask. “All good, just had to get my shoulder checked out.”
“Ok, glad you’re ok.” And you truly were. You would feel awful if you had been the reason he had been seriously injured, especially after you were supposed to be out of his hair.
He nods, fiddling with his hands on the rail at the end of your bed. “Hey, your aunt is on her way to get you, it’s gonna be awhile, but I talked to your doctor and they said they’ll keep you till she arrives to monitor your concussion.”
You nod. “My dad?”
“We got him, he’s going away for a long time.” You notice his lack of enthusiasm in that response, obviously thinking that justice had not been fully served.
“But not forever.” Your voice soft, barely over a whisper.
He shook his head. “Long enough you’re not going to need to worry about him.”
“But you’ll come rescue me again if he tries, right?” You cocked an eyebrow, knowing it wasn’t a promise he could make, but every reassuring thing he told you made you feel better anyways.
“As much as I love the job, I don’t know if I’m going to be on the force in 40 years.”
“Yeah, you might not be able to a shoot a gun while using a walker with tennis balls on the bottom.” The two of you laugh a bit at that visualization.
As you quiet down you notice he looks a bit more serious.“But yeah, I’ll get you.”
Once again, probably against some protocol, but you just had to reach out and hug him burying your face in his leather jacket. He leans forward to pull you in. Something about it was just natural, you knew he’d protect you, you knew that now.
“Thank you so much. I’d be dead.”
“Of course,” He pets your hair, resting his chin on the top of your head.
“T-thank you for caring.” He pulls back to look you in the eyes.
“I checked your record, no priors since you left. Thank you for being worth it.” He smiles.
The two of you sit there for a minute, staring at each other, his hand still the (good) side of your head. You’d never really had a dad moment like this, but if this was the first and last dad moment you ever had, you were ok with it. It was perfect. He stands up, stretching out his back as if he’s about to leave. But instead, he pulls up a chair.
“You don’t mind if I stick around till your aunt arrives do you?”
You gently shook your head. Truth was, you were too afraid to ask him to do so, but of course, somehow, he knew what you needed. So there the two of you sat. Talking about the extremely normal things you had been involved in back in Minnesota. You swear he kept a small smile on his face the entire time. Just happy to see you moving on. It was done.
 When you turned 18, you reached out the Antonio again and asked if he would be willing to meet up for lunch, now that it was “legal” to do so. And now it has become an annual event with occasional bonus trips when you somehow wind up in the Windy City. Your lives may have grown apart in distance but something would always keep the two of you together. He’d always be there for you, and you needed that. Maybe not everyone needs a perfect father figure to survive in the world, but knowing a tough boxing detective would be by your side in one phone call gave you the freedom of safety. Your aunt is an amazing woman, but Antonio Dawson is really the one who you owe everything to.
He promised, you trusted, and it was the first decision of your life that truly mattered.
A/N: I know my presence on this account is sporadic, but I hope some people enjoy this. I’m going to dive into my drafts to work on some of the partially written responses I have for some old requests. (: 
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misterspiderman · 3 years
Text
Missed Connection
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4
Pairing: Hope Mikaelson x Reader 
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It’s almost been a month since your encounter with the stranger you believed to be from your dreams. Without any luck of seeing her again, you were beginning to think that maybe that’s all she was; just some mere figment of your imagination that you so desperately wanted to have all the answers you needed. 
As insufferably difficult this summer was for you, you still managed to get through it. You thought it was because school wasn’t in session and that you’d be back in your element in no time once classes begin again. 
That was what you had hoped for anyways, but alas even when the halls were filled with your peers and your routine was back in place, nothing seemed to change. The mysterious void in your chest didn’t ease like you wished it would.
You couldn’t help but wonder if your friends had been feeling the same way, too. Surely there’s no chance that you could be alone in this situation, right? 
“You can’t tell me that things haven’t felt a little weird since Landon destroyed Malivore. He doesn’t even know how it happened, Lizzie.” 
The blonde Saltzman nearly whips you in the face with her hair as she abruptly turns to face you in the crowded hallway. “Y/n, we live in a world where witches, werewolves, and vampires exist. Everything in our lives is bound to have a tiny amount of weirdness.”
She made a good point and you knew that, but you also knew that this feeling was different. It had to be. 
Lizzie frowns at the disappointed look on your face and rests a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Look, the most important thing is that Malivore is gone. No more bizarre monsters coming to kill us every week. Now try to stop overthinking things and let’s get through this school year in peace.”  
Before you knew it, your conversation ended just as quickly as it started and Lizzie was on her way back to class. You hang your head with a defeated sigh, desperately searching the hallway for someone who may be just as lost as you were. Instead, you see everyone going about their first day back like normal. 
Students who were away with their families are now smiling brightly as they reunite with friends. Other groups of friends laugh at a joke another says as they pass you by and you wonder if there was someone you should be doing that with.
The clarity that you sought out today only made you more confused than ever. At this point you wished that it was still summer vacation because seeing your classmates having a great first day back had you thinking that you really were alone with your feelings.  
Maybe you just needed a day to hang out with your friends after class today. They may not share your thoughts on how odd things have felt recently, but being around them definitely helps clear your head. 
“I’m sorry, Y/n. You know Landon and I would be down to watch a movie or something, but we’re going on our official first date today.” Josie tells you, disheartened. 
After the multitude of movie dates the two of them shared throughout the summer, you’re surprised that none of those had been labeled as dates, but you weren’t going to tell her that outloud. The two of them seem to be really happy to be spending so much time together and you weren’t going to get in the middle and be the third wheel no one wants, especially on a first date. 
“No worries, Jo. I’ll ask Lizzie and MG if they’re free.” She gives you a gentle squeeze on your arm with a sympathetic smile before you go off to find her sister. 
Things didn’t seem to be going to plan here either.
“If I hadn’t already agreed to this stupid- I mean,” she grits her teeth with a forced smile, “very cool study date with MG I’d totally hang out with you. God knows I’d rather do anything else.” You knew you weren’t supposed to hear that last part, but Lizzie was always awful at lowering her voice. 
If you weren’t already feeling distraught, this definitely was the cherry on top of your depressing cake of sadness. 
Instead of showing Lizzie that, you plastered the fakest smile you could and responded with, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just… hang out downtown and get myself a milkshake at the Grill or something.” 
Plan “get your friends to distract you from the abrasive thoughts penetrating your brain” had failed, but you weren’t going to let it stop you from at least getting out of the school for a couple of hours. With everyone so busy while classes are back in session, it made you wonder what in the world you did after school before this year. 
As much as you tried hyping up how fun it was going to be hanging out downtown by yourself, it only made you feel even more bummed out. Like everything else you’ve been doing since the night Malivore was destroyed, something felt off and nothing seemed to be your remedy.
Minutes turned to hours and you ended up drinking four full glasses of cookies and cream milkshakes at the Grill, literally falling into a sugar coma at your table outside. The sun was barely setting when you got here, but then it was fully dark out when you were woken up from your sugar rush nap. 
“Jesus, Y/n. I thought you were dead or something.” You lean your head upwards to see that it was Landon who woke you from your slumber. 
“One could not be so lucky, phoenix boy.” You groggily respond, stretching out your muscles and wiping any drool from your cheeks.
Looking at your surroundings, you notice that Josie isn’t around. 
“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?” 
There’s a pained look on Landon’s face at your question, “Yeah, about that… she, uh, she said she wasn’t feeling too good and decided to go back to the school.” 
You raise an eyebrow at him, “What, did you take her to eat sushi or something?” 
That was meant to be a joke, but the look of realization on the curly-haired boy’s face told you all you needed to know. 
“You went to a sushi place.” 
Landon quickly slides into the seat across from yours, “It’s what I suggested. W-Was I not supposed to?”  
“Jo can’t digest any sort of raw food without wanting to convulse. I learned that the hard way when I first started going to the Salvatore school,” you shiver at the memory, “Never again.” 
The phoenix begins falling into a full state of panic, “Oh my God. I didn’t know that! Wh-What am I supposed to do? What if I completely ruined everything? What if she never wants to go on another date with me again? What if-” 
Your patience was thinning very quickly, “Landon, just relax. Take a breather for a second,” you inhale, watching him do the same, and breathe out at the same time, “Go back to the school, check up on her, have a convo about getting some better communication skills and I’m sure everything will be fine.” 
Landon nods, “Okay, okay yeah. That’s good. I’ll, uh, I’ll do that,” he continues to sit across from you until you look at him expectantly, “Do I do that now?”
“For your sake, Josie’s, and especially mine, yes. Now would be great, buddy.” 
“Right, okay. Thanks, Y/n!” He scrambles out of his seat and begins to shuffle away from the Grill. 
“Go get ‘em, Tiger!” You shout with as much enthusiasm you could muster before slumping back into your chair. 
Still dazed from the sugar rush nap and exhausted from that conversation, you lean forward with your elbows on the table and begin wiping the sleep from your eyes using the palms of your hands.
“This is gonna be one hell of a year.”  
“Long day, huh?” You recognize that it’s a girl’s voice you’re hearing, but not one that was familiar to you. 
Moving your hands away from blocking your view, you look up to see the person you convinced yourself was just a figment of your imagination. The long auburn colored hair, fair-skinned, blue eyed girl from your dreams was standing right before you. For a moment, you thought that maybe you really had lost it. 
“Sorry. I just, I saw you sitting here earlier and thought you might want company.”
You’re almost positive that you were staring at her with your mouth hanging open like an absolute idiot. Just say something, dumbass!
“Mind if I join you?” She asks, gesturing towards the now empty chair that Landon left behind. 
“Yes!” 
Idiot! 
“I mean no! No, I uh, I don’t mind.” You chuckle nervously, adjusting yourself in every way possible to hide the fact that you were internally freaking out.
The girl gives you a patient smile before taking the seat in front of you, “So, party of one tonight, huh? I mean, I saw you finish talking to someone right now, but it didn’t seem you two were here together.” 
“Yeah, no. Not together at all or with anyone really,” for some reason you had to make this very clear to her, “That was just a friend of mine who’s having some lady troubles, so I decided to be a good samaritan and give him some positive advice.”
“How chivalrous of you.” Right away you could tell that she was teasing and the nerves you had seconds ago simply began to vanish. 
“Why thank you,” you smile, feeling a wave of warmth when she returns one back, “But yeah, it’s just been me, myself, and I for the night… and day… and probably for the rest of the school year if I’m honest.”
Her smile fades and she tilts her head inquisitively, “What makes you say that?” 
Oh, where to begin. 
“I’ve been asking myself that for a while now actually. Everything should feel perfect given the fact that I have these amazing friends, I go to this incredible school, I’m 100% healthy and not dying of anything that I know of,” you shrug at yourself, “I should be happy with that, but I’m not. It feels so selfish of me to say and I wish I could fix it, but I can’t. How can everything be so close to perfect, but yet there’s still something wrong?” 
The girl stares at you with such empathy and sadness in her eyes that you could swear she was holding something back. 
You continue, “Things also haven’t felt normal lately. My definition of normal anyways. For some reason everything has felt completely off, like I’m missing something. You know when you forget that there’s somewhere you’re supposed to be? Like an event and you don’t realize you’ve forgotten about it until the day of and you say to yourself, ‘oh shit, I can’t believe I forgot about this really important thing’. That’s how I’ve felt ever since summer started,” you notice her tense up slightly, but you continue, “but I can’t remember what I’m forgetting.”
At this point, you were surprised this girl didn’t think you were crazy and start running for the hills. If this were any normal stranger, you wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to overshare the thoughts you’ve been keeping secret from your close friends. For some reason, she made you feel the complete opposite. Strangely enough--given the world you live in--you felt safe with her.
“Everyone at school is making me feel like I’m the only person who feels this way. Everyone else can go back to normal. Everyone else can move on and go on dates and study dates and hang out with their friends and go to class without feeling lost and overall just be… normal.” You finally let go of the breath you had been holding in for what feels like months.
Then you start to laugh at the ridiculousness that just spewed out of your mouth, “Jesus Christ. I’m so sorry. You probably thought you were going to have an innocent ‘nice weather we’re having’ type of conversation, but instead you got a stranger dumping their whole life crisis onto you.” 
“You really don’t have to apologize. Trust me, I understand how insanely messed up life can get and how relieving it is to just vent it all out,” she gives you a reassuring nod with a genuine look of understanding that you’ve been wanting to see for months, “Even if it’s to someone who can potentially be a serial killer.” 
The both of you burst out into a fit of laughs and you swear that you’ve never felt so connected to a person you just met. It was as if your souls had met in another life and were catching up for the first time in a while. Neither of you had a name to place with your faces, but that didn’t seem matter because you already felt like you’ve known this girl for years. 
“I’ve had quite a rough couple of months myself. Not sure if I’d binge drink four cookies and cream milkshakes to numb the pain though.” 
You shrug, “Well, it’s better than the latter option that I can’t even legally purchase because I’m underage. Plus, it helps that these are the best milkshakes in town--even if they are 4 dollars a glass.” 
Now you’re hoping that your old co-worker can cover your bill since you only brought ten dollars with you tonight. Before you could reach for your wallet just to be sure, another thought crossed your mind. 
“Wait. How did you know they were cookies and cream? I know it’s a lot of milk to force inside by body, but I normally leave no trace of evidence behind. Are you a witch or something?” That last part was obviously a joke otherwise she’d be at your school by now.
The girl opens her mouth to speak, but it takes her a moment to come up with an explanation, “It was my best friend’s favorite. Yeah, we used to go out for milkshakes all the time and I guess something about you reminds me of them.” 
You smile, flattered, “Well, might I say, your best friend has amazing taste,” she purses her lips into a tightened smile and lowers her gaze, almost as is the memories of this said ‘best friend’ pained her to think about, “I’m assuming things aren’t so great with them right now?”
She sighs at the thought, “We were close for a long time. I’m actually surprised that they stayed as long as they did. I probably gave them a million reasons to bail, but they were annoyingly persistent,” she chuckles, “I’ll admit, it took me a while to settle into our friendship, but the moment I did was something I would never regret. From that point on the only thing that could separate us was death.” 
Judging by her heavy use of past tense words, you could only think the worst happened, “Did they, you know, um…?” You didn’t want to ask the full question seeing that she was clearly still hurt by the absence of this person. 
She shakes her head, “No. No, it turned out death wasn’t the only factor that was able to keep us apart. We meant a lot to each other and later realized that there was more to us than just friendship. Eventually, things started becoming serious but me being the person I am, I pushed them away and left.”
“Have you tried reaching out to them again?” You thought that there was no way two people who felt those intense feelings could completely forget about each other.
“Once, but things changed. They took one look at me and acted as if I never existed.” Maybe it was the empath in you, but it broke your heart seeing a small pool of tears building up in her eyes. You wished that you could say something to make her feel better and tell her that everything will be okay, but how could you when you don’t know her?
She quickly wipes the tears before they could fall and takes in a deep breath that you instinctively mirrored to compose yourselves. 
“I guess it’s my turn to say sorry, huh? I feel like my baggage was a little heavier than yours there,” she sniffs, huffing out a light chuckle. 
“Well, if we’re giving out medals here, you’ve got the gold. That’s for sure,” you grin, hoping to lighten up the mood.
Her laugh--that you could tell was genuine--gave you the assurance you needed. 
“I feel like I should give you a hug. I mean, if you’re cool with that,” you suggest, ready to push yourself out of your seat, “Because I could kind of use one and I’m just assuming--” 
“That would be great, yeah,” the girl nods with a relieved smile. 
“Alright, great.”
The two of you stand, moving around the table to meet each other in the middle. Her head seemed to fit perfectly against your chest as her arms pressed behind your back. All of the weight that had been piling up on your shoulders began to fall at your feet and the tension from stress that built up inside your chest began fading away. How this could happen from an interaction with a complete stranger, you had absolutely no idea. 
“Is it weird if I say this doesn’t feel weird?” You ask with the side of your head leaned against hers. 
“Well, I think things are only weird when someone makes it weird.” 
You pause for a moment, “Do you think this feels weird?”
She laughs and you know for a fact that she could hear your heart skip a beat, “No. I don’t.”
You fight the goofy grin from appearing on your face, but fail miserably, “Okay, good.” 
Part of you was afraid of what’ll happen the moment you separate. You had no idea when would be the next time you see this girl or if there was going to be a next time. This was the first day in a while when you didn’t feel lost, instead you felt that this was exactly where you needed to be. You felt normal.
Before you could actually start making things weird, you begin to pull away from her embrace, “Well, tonight I learned that I can click with a stranger within a span of ten minutes give or take, so thank you for that.”
She smiles, “Thank you, too.”
“I think it’s safe to say that we’re at the point of learning each other’s names now.” 
“Yes, because why start with those when we could just tell our whole life stories and share an intimate hug first?”
“Exactly! Actually, you know what? I think we should get married in Vegas really quick and we’ll just figure out our names during the vows section of the wedding ceremony. Whatever we come up with in the moment will just be how we refer to each other for the rest of our lives,” you joke. 
“You’re absolutely right.” Wow, a girl who can keep up with your sarcasm without thinking you’re a complete--huge emphasis on complete--idiot? She is the girl of your dreams--literally and metaphorically. 
You stared down at her in wonder, hoping to God that you’re not dreaming and that this interaction has been real, “It’s, uh, it’s Y/n by the way. My name. Y/n L/n.” 
“Hope. Hope Marshall,” she reveals and a victorious smile appears on your lips when you finally have a name to match a face. 
Your smile quickly drops when the clock tower starts going off and you realize that it’s nearly midnight, “Well, it’s been a pleasure meeting you tonight, Hope. I'm sorry to cut the rest of the evening short, but my school just got a new headmaster and unfortunately he’s a lot more strict on our curfew than our previous one. Don’t want to turn into a pumpkin, you know?” 
She chuckles, “No worries at all. It was nice meeting you, too, Y/n,” Hope smiles and you can tell that she didn’t want to leave. If you were being honest, you really didn’t want to either. 
Neither of you could find the energy to be the first person to walk away. To do that would be like trying to separate two annoyingly strong and stubborn magnets apart.
As much as you wanted to spend the whole night learning more about each other, you also didn’t want to be put in detention on the first day back at school. 
Unwillingly, you take the first step backwards without wanting to fully turn away from your newfound acquaintance, “Thanks again for the chat. I hope to see you again very soon, Marshall.”  
Hope rolls her eyes, but can’t contain a smile, “Only if you’re lucky.”
“I think I like my chances,” you wink playfully before turning your heel to make your way back to the school feeling the most energized you’ve felt in a long time.
~
apologies for the later update than usual with this series and I apologize in advance if it takes a while for part 6 to be posted. I’m in a bit of a writing funk right now and my mind is currently locked onto the Wilds soooo there may or may not be imagines for that fandom coming from me soon. anyways, happy late 2021 and here’s to hoping this year isn’t complete shit! much love y’all
taglist: @chicken-wang09​ @trikruismybitch​ @sodangtired​
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canary3d-obsessed · 3 years
Text
Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 11 second part
(Masterpost) (Other Canary Absurdity) 
Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!
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Message from the Lan Clan
After dinner the Yunmeng bros go to talk to Jiang Fengmian in his study. They're quiet and respectful here, with no shoulder-shoving or arguing. This scene has such Brady Bunch energy, where Dad's Study is the Man Place where boys come to talk about Serious Things.
The boys tell Dad Jiang about the Yin Iron and he says yeah, I know. This is probably why he let them run off on their road trip without punishing them, but he could have, like, shared data with them so they might have actually achieved something related to the Yin Iron, rather than just wandering around the countryside bonding with Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang.
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He shows them a letter from the Lans that basically says the Lan Clan is in the shit, and he tells them they've got to go to the Wen indoctrination because otherwise they will also be in the shit. 
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He gives the boys a warning about the Yin Iron, which is that 
1. it can be refined and 
2. if you refine it carefully, it will not control you. 
Awesome tip, will definitely use, thanks pop.
(more behind the cut)
Jiang Cheng wants to argue about going to the Wen party, but Wei Wuxian vocally gets on board, not leaving any opportunity for whining. 
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Wei Wuxian is only sucking up a little bit in this scene. He obviously has a lot of affection for Jiang Fengmian, but WWX doesn't play up to his favoritism nearly as much as he could. Compare, for example, how he leans into Yanli's preferential treatment of him.  
Fight Outside the Cold Cave
Over on the Gusu side of the country province township, the disciples have gathered outside the cold cave that previously none of them knew about, and Su She is freaking out. 
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Most of the acting in The Untamed is naturalistic, but then there are occasional characters who are portrayed with a much more theatrical, broad style. Su She's villainy is not given a lot of layers; he's playing a type, more than a person.
Many of the villains in The Untamed are played this way, but not all. Wen Zhuliu, for example, is a genuinely horrifying bad guy while also conveying depth and ambivalence--despite having hardly any lines. And JGY is a masterpiece of a performance. For Su She, the directors or the actor have opted for "sniveling backstabber" as a type, which is unfortunate, because it robs his final scenes of emotional impact.
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Lan Qiren tells the disciples to get to safety. He rushes forward, gamely getting his ass kicked by human cuisinart Wen Xu.  He's not as effective a warrior as either of his nephews but he's a brave S.O.B.
Hanguang Jun to the Rescue
Before things can go completely pear-shaped, Lan Wangji sails in with his guqin.
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The Blue Steel technique of the Lan Clan
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Like many gifted learners, Lan Wangji's musical abilities are more advanced than his social skills. Here he musically makes the ground literally explode, almost as if it had been specially rigged with incendiary charges.  
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Lan Wangji is very pretty when he's worried, and his affection and concern for his uncle is touching. He's 100% not interested, as we will see, in Lan Qiren's whole "lets all die for the future of the Lan Clan while my nephews hide" agenda. He's on his own agenda of smiting the wicked and protecting the weak.
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Notice how Su She is standing right next to Lan Qiren here, even holding his arm? The next thing that Lan Qiren says is to tell all the disciples to keep up as they run into the cave. Somehow Su She totally does not keep up, and he gets caught outside along with a bunch of other disciples.
Giving Up
Wen Xu and his men kill most of the other caught disciples, and then threaten Su She, asking him how to get into the cave. In fear for his life, he tells them. Not cool, Su She, but possibly forgivable. Although when you voluntarily join a, you know, battle cult, physical courage is kind of an important qualifier.
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But this shit here...
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They didn't fucking ask about the books, douchebag.  
Su She was there in Lan Qiren's house when the two heads of his clan knelt to each other, each claiming the right to be the one to stay behind and die. And he heard Lan Qiren say that the ancient books are the foundation of the clan and that only if LXC and the books survive, will the clan continue. By giving up both men, and pointing out the book situation, Su She has totally earned his expulsion. 
Lan Wangji Takes a Stand
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Lan Wangji decides, for the first but not last time, to openly defy his uncle...and it's got nothing to do with Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji is a hero, who follows the dictates of his conscience. His conscience is extremely filial and extremely orthodox, but he’s got a growing open-minded streak.  This is going to cause a whole lot of conflicts for him over the next few years.
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This time, however, he manages to skate out from under the whole disobedient, unfilial thing by citing Lan Yi's directive, which means Lan Qiren has to accept it because she's his predecessor and elder relative (She is probably not a literal ancestor, since she spent her life in a cave putting fucking headbands on fucking rabbits which probably didn’t leave time for having babies).
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This is a pretty extraordinary moment for Lan Wangji and for Lan Qiren, because Lan Wangji just asserted his own form of authority to do the exact opposite of what Lan Qiren wanted, and Lan Qiren just sucked it up and let him.
It's also very different from western stories involving a holy McGuffin such as the Yin Iron. Lan Wangji's solution of "fuck it, just let the bad guys have it, it's not worth so many people dying for" is refreshing and surprising to me, a westerner raised on The One Ring, the Grail, the Death Star Plans, etc.
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Lan Wangji steps out of the cave and uses a sword blast to save Su She, the ungrateful bastard, from getting stabbed by Wen Xu. Then he surrenders, and they break his leg to slow him down. This does not actually incapacitate him, because he is Lan Fucking Wangji, already a BAMF at like 17 years old. When they whack his leg, his chunk of Yin Iron falls out onto the ground.
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That thing was in a magic bag of holding before. So...it just falls out when you whack him? If they whack him again will his guqin fall on the ground? What about candy?
Archery Practice at Lotus Pier
Meanwhile, back at Lotus Pier, the brothers are enjoying some quality time together before they head to the hostage-taking indoctrination.
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Wei Wuxian is such a great cultivator that he can hit a distant target even when he jerks his bow upwards as he releases the arrow.
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Jiang Cheng seems fairly pleased, and proud of his brother. He's competitive and fundamentally grumpy but not, at least here, a sore loser.
Club Ruohan
We go over to Da Club, where Wen Ruohan is yelling at Wen Qing for letting Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian go. He names them both, so they're becoming more and more known to their enemies. Which is not a good thing.
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He menaces her with the zombie mosh crew, having them kill a dude in front of her and then saying her baby brother will be next in the circle of zombies if she tries any more stunts. Neither of them can imagine how much zombie ass her baby brother is going to kick, later in his (un)life.
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Side note: What is up with WRH’s hair? Why bother pulling your hair up over your ears if you're going to leave an enormous curtain of it over your face? It's because he knows there's a wind machine next to his throne, isn’t it?
Leaving Lotus Pier
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Jiang Cheng: when I ran off earlier in the year on my road trip you didn't pack a goddamn thing.
Wen Indoctrination
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Is it even possible to stand next to this much active volcanic shit and not, uh, die? I live in the tornado part of the US so I don't know much about lava (yet. 2020 still has 2 months to go). But it seems like it would be hard to breathe the air. Also they appear to build houses on lava piles, which seems imprudent.  I say that even as someone who plays The Elder Scrolls Online, which is full of lava towns and nonsense like “ash farming.”
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Nie Huaisang is adorable at all times, but particularly here, when he's so happy to see his friend who *didn't* fuck his gege and then abandon him without an explanation. 
Nie Huaisang: I'm so glad I can count on Wei-Xiong to be consistent and not vanish for months, or become a traumatized shell of his former self, or, like, horribly die.
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Jin Zixuan isn't quite as happy to see Wei Wuxian.
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Wen Chao enjoys the sound of his own voice way too much, and is malevolent and boring. On the plus side, he likes to stand with his hand stuck out in the air, which is fun for your resident photoshopper.
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Nie Huaisang is so miserable every time he's holding a sword, or blade, or whichever we're supposed to call this. He's got his fan tucked into his belt, which is sweet. He is happy to give up his sword but don't you dare try to take his fan.
Meanwhile Wei Wuxian is worried about Lan Wangji, and Jiang Cheng isn't.
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Lan Wangji shows up under guard, and takes his position at the front of the line, but without any extra disciples. The Wens let him change into snowy white robes after breaking his leg which will go well with arterial blood spray. He's focused and is determined not to interact with Wei Wuxian in this public context.
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When I was little, I would sit near my best friend at church on Sunday, but not be allowed to talk to her until church was over, and it was exactly like this. She was good at churching and I was hyper and hated church. We are still best friends and these things are still true.
This interaction is like a thumbnail for the whole dynamic of these three boys: Lan Wangji outwardly ignoring Wei Wuxian while having many interior feelings about him; Wei Wuxian demanding attention and creating a bit of a scene, due to his very genuine caring; Jiang Cheng telling him to leave that boy alone for fuck's sake.
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Lan Wangji: Stop trying to talk to me Wei Ying, I’m busy composing a song in my head about the two of us and our love for each other. 
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crystaltrinket · 3 years
Text
you put a move on me - Naruto - Uchiha Sasuke/Hyuuga Hinata - drabble series for SasuHina Month 2021
Summary: Rogue-nin Sasuke holds Hinata captive after an act of robbery goes awry.
[Rating: G-T? | Prompt: A Tribute To Your Favorite Fanart/Fic | Word Count: too many to count at this hour | Warnings: None]
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14
Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21
Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28
Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31
Author's Note: Whew! Honestly, I had half of this done yesterday and worked on the rest today. Please forgive any mistakes. I relied on Google docs to correct my grammar.
I don't have a specific favorite SasuHina art or fic, so I just put together my favorite elements in SasuHina fic. Hope that works. This part is a little bit longer since I included 10 Omake pieces from Hinata's POV. Part 31 is wayyyy at the bottom but follows directly after Omake 29.5.
I hope you enjoy! And I hope to see you again next year ;) @sasuhinamonth
Omake Part 1.5 - 100 words
Hinata could feel herself moving. She willed her eyes to open but her body didn't obey. 'Am I dying? Is this death?'
She heard a low voice curse. Hinata tried to remember what happened before her vision went black. She remembered dressing in her finest kimono, getting into the palanquin and heading toward the country's borders to meet her new civilian husband. And then...
'Ah, yes,' she thought. 'The bandit murdered my clansmen in charge of handing me over to my new prison.' Red eyes came into her mind. Red eyes that could only belong to one clan.
'Uchiha Sasuke.'
Omake Part 7.5 - 100 words
Hinata steeled herself against her captor. She's no fool. She heard the rumors of his strength. Hinata figured the only way to deal with him was to pretend she was talking to another elder. Her clan head voice was something she perfected before she was cast away.
--
They rarely talked during their travels. But when he asked why she continued to follow him, she wished he kept silent. She was sure he could hear her heart beating loud in her chest.
Remembering her clan voice, she lifted her chin and answered.
Her shoulders almost slumped in relief, hearing his laughter.
Omake 10.5 - 100 words
Hinata could tell he was lying.
She can't imagine he accepted his clan's massacre so easily. To live without hearing their voice, seeing their smile, feeling their touch. Hinata's heart clenched.
She knew herself how the loss of a loved one can affect a person's psyche.
Unfortunately, O-bon festivities don't allow a grieving person the impact of acceptance.
Still, she doesn't pry and lets him rest. Her eyes wandered to him laying beside her on the hillside. Without his perpetual frown, he looked peaceful.
Hinata closed her eyes and exhaled.
She wished she could feel as peaceful as Sasuke looked.
Omake Part 12.5 - 100 words
She repeated those words to herself after Sasuke's team found out she was a missing-nin. Hinata shut her eyes, unwilling to cry. She couldn't give up her freedom now.
'I don't want to go back.'
Hinata felt a light tap on her shoulder. Sasuke was ready to go.
--
He said nothing to her on their journey. He didn't mention where they were headed to his teammates either.
She half expected him to desert her. The other half hoped that he wouldn't leave her.
At night, she repeated those same words to him. His eyes were understanding and she felt relief.
Omake 17.5 - 100 words
Hinata softly cursed. Of course her plan to lure the ANBU team away didn't work. Nothing ever worked in her favor.
She bit her lip, trying to figure out the best course of action to save Sasuke. Hinata grinned, seeing the telltale sway of long brown hair.
She deactivated her bloodline and made herself comfortable in her position. She waited.
--
Hinata was ready to confront them and rescue Sasuke at sunrise. But a commotion entirely not her own, brought them out ready to strike. Seeing her opportunity, Hinata revealed herself. Chakra blazed at her hands.
"I'll fight you for him."
Omake 22.5 - 100 words
Sasuke's breathing steadily became regular as she talked about their former village. She continued a little more even though he was already in deep sleep. Hinata glanced over her shoulder to peek at him. Carefully, she turned to fully face him.
Hinata studied him. Memorizing every line from his travels, the eyebags from lack of sleep, the face that she grew accustomed to seeing everyday.
She felt tears drip from her eyes. 'I can't believe I was so foolish.' Hinata hid her face in her hands. Her shoulders gently shook as she tried to maintain composure in Sasuke's sleeping embrace.
Omake 25.5 - 180 words
Frustration bubbled inside her. Karin and Suigetsu, sitting across from each other, continued to argue despite their shared goal. Hinata sat adjacent to them, anger simmering underneath her calm façade.
"Hinata-sama," Juugo came up behind her, carrying a tray of tea. He placed the tray beside her and took his place, sitting behind her.
"Thank you, Juugo-san," Hinata took the lone cup. "Had I known it would be like this, I would've left myself."
"Sometimes, they need a little help." His voice lowered. "If you know what I mean, Hinata-sama."
She hummed thoughtfully and sipped from her cup, testing the temperature.
"This is very good tea, Juugo-san," Hinata placed it back on the tray.
The large man bowed his head, smiling. "Thank you, Hinata-sama."
The other two continued to argue, their thumping rattling the tray.
Hinata moved swiftly, her fingers deftly touching their chakra points.
Stunned, the two bickering teammates fell on the ground.
"What gives?!" Karin yelled. Suigetsu sneered at her from his position.
Hinata calmly retrieved her tea. "Now, I have your attention. Let's talk about rescuing Sasuke."
Omake 27.5 - 100 words
Juugo's birds flew up in a tree, ending their journey.
"Tell Juugo-san, thank you," she whispered.
Hinata felt her blood coursing through her veins. Her fingertips tingled in trepidation.
They couldn't afford to risk Sasuke's strength. She knew who he was up against.
She snuck around the prison, evading the guards surrounding the perimeter. Hinata scaled the prison wall to reach the roof. She quickly found the ventilation shaft.
Taking a deep breath, she concentrated her thoughts on locating Sasuke's chakra signature.
'There!' It was weak, but it was his. Gritting her teeth, she made her way down the shaft.
Omake 29.5 - 172 words
Hinata knew Sasuke felt the same. The village was too quiet, too accepting of their vagrant ways. It seemed all too convenient a vacant house was available. With the previous owner having died alone, it was an opportune moment for them to move in with the village's blessing.
--
Months soon turned to a year. Sasuke's teammates came and went as they pleased, leaving Hinata with Sasuke.
She found him in the cold, practicing his kata. He moved fluidly going through the motions ingrained in his body.
She didn't want to bother him, but she knew better than to leave without notice.
"I'll be at the market," she called out. He paused mid-form to walk over to her. Seeing him in front of her, Hinata noticed his breaths were visible from the biting cold. "Is your kata keeping you warm?”
He smirked. "Aa." His eyes studied her as he tucked stray hair behind her ear. "Don't take too long."
Hinata felt her face warm up as she looked up to his face. "Aa."
Part 31 - 632 words
She went through the market, politely greeting everyone who knew her. Here, she was Hana and he was Makoto, two people not quite married but living together.
The market was a little busier during this time of year. The village was preparing for their annual snow festival. Hefting her groceries in her arms, Hinata left to return to her home.
"H-Hana-san!"
Hinata turned at the sound of her alias. A young man came up to her out of breathe. "Oh, Shigure-kun! H-How can I help you?"
The young man blushed. "I-I wanted to help you with your groceries. To carry them for you, I mean."
"That's kind of you to do, Shigure-kun," Hinata smiled. "But I'll be alright." She took a step towards the pathway to her home.
"Please, allow me," he reached for one of the bags. "I'm not surprised Makoto-ji-san isn't here to help." The young man scoffed. "He never seems to help you."
Hinata slightly turned from the boy so her groceries were out of reach. "I don't mind. Makoto-san doesn't need to help me."
"Hana-san, I -- " the young man stopped, his eyes frozen in fear.
Hinata looked at him confusedly, before feeling familiar chakra behind her.
"She said beat it, kid," Sasuke growled.
Shigure regained his composure and looked straight at Hinata. He took a deep breath and bowed. "Hana-san, I want to say that I like you and I hope to see you at the winter festival!" He straightened and turned his eyes to Sasuke. "Makoto-ji-san," he said through clenched teeth and bowed his head. "Good day to you."
Hinata looked between the two males, caught in a gridlock.
"I'm not going to repeat myself," Sasuke said menacingly. Shigure nodded again and stiffly turned on his heel to leave.
--
A few days later, Hinata found herself at the winter festival, admiring the fresh snow on the plum blossoms and the ice sculptures carved by the village's artisans. Beside her, Sasuke walked with a hand on the small of her back, eyes roving around for the troublesome boy.
"I don't think Shigure-kun will come around, don't you think?" Hinata giggled behind the thick sleeve of her kimono.
Sasuke grumbled. "He won't if he knows what's good for him."
Hinata grabbed a hold of his sleeve. "Come, let's enjoy the festival."
Hinata pulled him around the village, visiting artisan stalls and eating sweets to her heart's delight. Sasuke showed no interest but indulged her whims.
Hinata's teeth started to chatter as they continued with the festivities. She felt Sasuke wrap his arm around her shoulders.
"Come, maybe the weeping plum blossom tree will provide some insulation." He guided her towards the pink flowered tree covered in snow.
"Isn't it beautiful, Sasuke?" she said in awe. She gingerly touched a low hanging branch causing some snow to fall.
"Aa," he answered. "Absolutely beautiful."
Hinata turned to see him gazing intently at her. "Sasuke? Is something wrong?"
Sasuke blinked and turned his head away. He shoved his hands into his kimono sleeves.
Hinata stepped closer to him, using him as a way to shield her eyes from the passing villagers. She activated her Byakugan.
"Sasuke, I don't see anyone tracking us..." Hinata blinked away her bloodline. "I--"
Hinata's arms folded against Sasuke's chest as he wrapped his arms around her.
"I was going to wait a little while longer," he whispered in her ear. Hinata felt her heart pound at the warmth of breath on her ear.
"Wait for what?"
Sasuke gently pushed her away to place something in her hand. Hinata gasped, tears welling up in her eyes. His fingers came up to wipe them away.
"Marry me, Hinata."
Hinata looked up, seeing a small smile on Sasuke's face.
"Yes," she gently smiled, bringing his face closer to hers. "Yes."
32 notes · View notes
softholand · 3 years
Text
gingerbread kisses - t.h
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pairing: tom holland x youtuber!reader
warnings: a lot of dialogue and some good old festive fluff
words: 2.5k
a/n: this is like a part two of my youtuber!reader series, it can also be read on it’s one but if you haven’t read chocolate kisses yet, you can do it here i really hope you guys enjoy it and please let me know what you think!! ✨
It was another normal workday at your flat, you had all your lights and camera set in your living room, ready to start filming. Today’s video was going to be a Q&A with a special guest, Tom Holland.
It was expected that your baking video with him was going to be one of the most successful ones, but you weren’t expecting the number of views that, to this day, a whole month later, kept coming.
With so many comments almost begging you to bring him to your channel again, you finally gave in and asked him to do a Q&A with you, but since it was the end of the year and Christmas was just around the corner, you decided that, while you answered your viewer's questions, you two could build gingerbread houses.
“Tom, where are you? I’m about to start this without you!” You shouted from the living room floor, where you were seated. “I’m coming, I just had to get something before,” Tom answered, appearing in front of you, wearing a ridiculously ugly Christmas jumper, making you burst out laughing.
“Oh my God! Where did you get that?” You asked, trying to recover from your fit of laughing. “Oh, don’t worry, darling! There’s one for you too!” He stated, taking an identical jumper from behind him.
“You’re not letting me get out of this, are you?” You questioned, sighing when you saw him shake his head. Once you took your (his) hoodie out, replacing it with the ugly sweater, you were finally ready to start recording.
“Hi guys, welcome back to another video! This week we have a special guest that you guys have been asking since our last video together.” You said, giving Tom time to sit next to you. “It’s Tom!”
“It’s me!” He exclaimed, smiling at the camera. “This time we’re not baking anything but, since Christmas is almost here, I thought it was a good idea for us to build some gingerbread houses!” You said, pointing to the kits you had bought on your last trip to the grocery store.
“It’s been so long since I’ve done this!” Tom smiled, clearly excited to start. “But, instead of just sitting here, I asked you guys on Instagram to send some questions so we could answer while doing our houses. What do you think?” You questioned, looking at him.
“Dangerous… but fun!” He said, making you laugh. “So, we have the Christmas tree with the lights on, it’s starting to snow outside, I’ve made us some hot chocolate and of course, we cannot forget our ugly sweaters, courtesy of Tom.” You grinned.
“You’re welcome!” He praised, making you roll your eyes. “I’d said we’re ready to start.” You announced, to which he gave you two thumbs-ups.
Once you had taken the house out of its package, you laid all the biscuit parts in front of you, Tom doing the same beside you.
“So, the first question is “What’s your best/worst memory together?” You let them know while putting the baking glue on your biscuit. “Do you wanna start?” Tom offered, to which you shrugged. “It’s okay, you can go first.” You said, seeing that he already had the answer at the tip of his tongue.
“Best memory is your twentieth birthday party.” He stated, without taking his eyes out of his project. “Why?” You asked, also concentrating on building the house.
“C’mon, y/n! You know why!” Tom finally looked up, making kissy lips to you. “Tom! It’s supposed to be a surprise for the end of the video!” You whined, earning a chuckle from him. “Okay, fine! I’ll behave!” He said, making you laugh this time.
“I think my favorite memory of us is at the Far From Home premiere party! We had so much fun!” Tom declared, making you smile. “Yeah, that was nice!” You agreed, thinking about your favorite memory with Tom. “Mine is probably when we went to New York, I loved that trip!” You confessed, remembering all the crazy things you and Tom did back then.
“Yeah, that was a good one!” Tom agreed, smiling at you. “Worst one has to be the time paparazzi locked us outside of that restaurant. It was awful, I honestly thought I was gonna die that day.” You remembered, feeling chills cover your body. “Yeah, same!” The boy next to you answered, clearly feeling down just thinking about that event, so you made sure to quickly change the subject and ask the next question.
“So, the next question is, what was your best trip?” You asked, motioning for Tom to go first. “Mine has to be Bali, I loved that place and I’m dying to go back.” He stated. “Tell me about it, I was so jealous when you guys went there!” You whined, remembering the photos he kept texting you. “What about you, y/n?”
“Oh, 100% Christmas in New York!” You told him, without even having to think. “It was magical!” You smiled, remembering the trip like it was yesterday.
“Nice! I never spent Christmas in New York!” Tom commented, before going for the next question. “What’s the other Starbucks order?” He asked, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.
“Yours is tea!” You said, rolling your eyes. “Hey, I drink coffee too!” Tom uttered. “Rarely! Most of the time is Chai Latte or a Royal English Breakfast Tea.” You stated and of course, Tom had to agree.
“Yeah, you’re right! I should try more of their stuff. But you also always get the same, White Chocolate Mocha or Peppermint Hot Cocoa at this time of the year.” Tom listed, making you smile knowing that he knew your drink orders.
“But it’s just soooo good! I can’t help it!” Tom chuckled, before passing your phone back to you for the next question. “That’s a good one, who’s the messier one?” You questioned. “I don’t even think I have to answer this, you guys realized that from our last video together!” You declared, making you both laugh.
“Ok, I’ll give you this one. I’m pretty messy! But I’m trying to get better at it, I promise!” Tom added, to which you chuckled. “My house is built, now I just have to decorate!” You announced, making Tom gasp by your side. “What?! There’s no way! I’m still trying to make these walls stick together.” He whined, making you chuckle.
“That’s because you’re not using enough glue, look, you have to put a straight line across the whole biscuit, otherwise it won’t stick.” You told him, showing exactly how to do it. “But the glue it’s showing on the other side.” He reasoned. “It doesn’t matter, Tom! We’ll just make it look like snow. See?” You pointed to your own house and he nodded, going back to work, focused on finishing it so he could start decorating.
“Next question, what’s the most useless talent you have?” Tom asked, already laughing. “Mine is really stupid but I can put my feet on top of my head,” Tom stated, demonstrating exactly what he was saying, almost knocking everything that was on the table in front of you off.
“That’s not a talent, you’re just flexible.” You rolled your eyes, to which he laughed. “You’re only saying this because you’re jealous you can’t do it.” He smirked, clearly trying to get on your nerves. “Shut up, I have a much better one, I can lick my elbow.” You said, also showing your completely useless talent. “That’s… weirdly impressive.” Tom expressed making you both laugh.
When Tom was finally done building his house, he joined you and started to decorate. You told him and your viewers that you were going for more of a white Christmas theme, while Tom expressed his desire to make the house as colorful as possible.
“Tom, I think the next question is for you.” You gave him a look, before continuing. “What is the dumbest way you’ve been injured?” He gasped, putting one of his hands over his chest while you laughed. “Why are you coming for me today?” The brown-haired boy asked, pretending to be offended.
“I’m sorry, but how many times have you broken your nose while filming?” You asked once you had stopped laughing. “Three, actually, two and a half, the last one wasn’t a complete fracture.” He explained, trying to not make a fool out of himself.
“Well, I’ve never injured myself badly, just some paper cuts, which for me it’s very dumb.” You mentioned. “See? Your answer is dumber than mine and still, I get the title.” Tom shook his head, making you laugh. “So, taking a break from the questions, what are you doing with your house?” You questioned, taking a moment to observe his work.
“I’m gluing some gummies on the roof.” He exclaimed, putting the icing on the sugar-coated candy before sticking it on the house. “And you?” Tom asked, stopping his movements to look at yours.
“I’m putting shredded coconut on the roof and a little bit on the floor, to make it look more like snow.” You smiled, happy with what you had done so far. “Uhh, bougie!” Tom uttered, sticking his tongue out.
“Shut up! Okay, question number… I don’t even know what number we are, so… weird habits of each other? Oh my God, Tom makes SO much noise to eat, it’s ridiculous!” You blurted, to which he immediately complained. “I do not!” He exclaimed. “Yes, you do!”
“You never said that to me!” You laughed at Tom defending himself. “I have told you, at least, a hundred times!” You stated. “Well, at least I have control of my own body, you can’t stop bouncing your leg for literally two seconds.” He exclaimed.
“That’s because I have anxiety and you know that! I’m always moving a part of my body!” You practically yelled. “Still annoying!” Tom said. “Well, I can’t help it!” You interjected. “Neither do I!” He replied. “Next question?” You asked. “Please!” He shot back, making you both burst out laughing.
Once you stopped, Tom took your phone and asked the next question. “Do you have nicknames for each other?” He smirked, making you panic. “Hey, you said you’d behave!” You warned, pointing a finger at him. “I will, promise!” He told you, but that didn’t stop you from being nervous about his answer.
“I sometimes call her cherry, because she can do that trick with the cherry stem, it’s unbelievable!” He smirked, making you blush. “That’s actually pretty easy to do!” You said, trying to make light of the situation. “Oh yeah, it’s totally easy to tie a knot with a cherry stem with your tongue. Super chill!” Tom added, without taking that stupid smirk out of his face.
“Stop it! I don’t think I have a nickname for you, I call you spider-boy sometimes but just to spite you.” You smiled, sticking your tongue out. If Tom wanted to play, you could join his little game.
“I wish I could tell them all the other names you call me in bed,” Tom whispered, making you almost choke on your hot chocolate. “Thomas!!!” You screamed, trying desperately to clean the mess you’ve made. “Fine…” He replied, taking a sip of his drink.
“Ok, since we are almost done with the houses, the second to last question is: If you could, what would you change about your first kiss?” You asked, immediately regretting choosing the question. “Oh, that’s cool! Let me see… no, I don’t think I’ll change anything about it, maybe the place. It was a little too crowded.” He replied, not even trying to hide his smirk.
“Really? That’s all you’d change?” You asked, giving him the chance to take back his answer. “Yep, that’s all! What about you, y/n?” You shook your head, feigning disappointment that he didn’t choose to make you his first kiss. “I’d change the person, you idiot!” You answered, throwing one of the icing packages at him.
“Hey, that hurt!” Tom protested, throwing it back at you. “Stop it! We have to finish these so we can end the video.” You warned, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Oh, I’m done!” He announced, showing off his finished gingerbread house with a very colorful roof, windows, and door. “Already? I still wanna do a garland on the door. I even bought special sprinkles for it.” You stated, rushing yourself. “Of course you did!” Tom mocked, to which you simply flipped him off.
Once you had also finished your house, you and Tom did a quick cleaning of the table, before going back to filming. “We’re back!” You said, to which Tom added. “And we’re finished!”
“I’m really happy, they turned out so pretty!” You beamed, looking at your finished works. “They did!” Tom agreed, smiling widely. “So… before we end this video, we do have a last question, one that was the most asked and that is: are you guys together?” You said, finally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
You and Tom shared some guilty looks before blurting it out together. “Yes!” Tom’s smile was so wide that it made you smile too. “Yes, guys! You were all right! Tom and I are in a relationship now and we are so happy to finally share this with all of you!” You grinned, looking at your boyfriend, that of course was looking back at you.
“Yeah, I feel like the luckiest guy in the world and I honestly couldn’t be happier,” Tom murmured, making you blush. “Stop it!” You smiled, now completely lost in his eyes. “I think you have to finish the video now, darling!” He joked, bringing you back to earth.
“Oh, yeah, right! So… that was everything for today’s video, I hope you guys enjoyed it! Don’t forget to give the video a thumbs up and subscribe to my channel! Please, let me know what you guys thought in the comments section down below and… I think that’s it. Do you wanna say something?” You asked, shifting your eyes to Tom. “Thank you for having me again and I hope to come back soon for another one!” He said, giving the camera an adorable little wave. “Bye guys! See you next week!” You cheered, getting up to stop the recording. “We did it!”
“Yay! Can I eat now?” Tom quipped, before smashing his house in half. “Thomas!!!!” You shouted, not believing what he had done. “What?! We’re not supposed to eat it?” He wondered, putting one of the cookie pieces in his mouth. “I mean, yeah, but not… like that!” You tried to reasoned, to which he scoffed.
“C’mon, you didn’t think I wasn’t going to make a mess, right?” He smirked, signing for you to come closer. And you did, sliding right in front of him, straddling his waist.
“You’re an idiot!” You teased, clasping your arms behind his head. “Hmm, c’mere!” Tom lifted your chin and there was nothing more to do other than kiss his lips, so you did, only this time, instead of chocolate, they tasted like gingerbread.
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tagging some of my mutuals ✨ @stuckonspidey @definitely-not-black-cat @missnxthingg @bi-writes @uglypastels @screamholland @peeterparkr @wazzupmrstark @tomhollandthing @lauras-collection @tommybaholland @mrs-hollandstan @duskholland @allyz @hazinhoodies @hollandcreep @worldoftom @whatevsholland @geminiparkers
195 notes · View notes
shingia · 3 years
Note
Hello!!! I love ur fics sm 😭💖 This is weirdly specific and been plaguing my mind for days,,, Can I req an angsty fic where Atsumu broke up with the reader because he wants to chase his dreams and ultimately leaves but with the reader saying "I'll wait" . A few months later he seeks for the reader again and finds out the reader has terminal illness and is dying. You can decide if there's major character death or a miracle,,,, please and thank u so much!!
𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐨 - 𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
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aw thank youuuu <33 and also WOW this request is in-tense, i modified the ‘terminal illness’ part a little bit for plot convenience, but i rly hope you’re gonna like it ! i am : stressed. also, i’m a sucker for happy endings (just ignore my last bokuto fic) so i couldn’t go full angst on that one 😅
quick storytime : my great grandpa died from heartbreak and i always thought it was a beautiful (yet very sad) way to die, so i guess that’s where i got my inspiration from <3
⤷  atsumu x gn!reader | angst | word count : 1.7K
warnings : hospital environment, heart condition, mild description of ‘illness’ and mentions of death (a little)
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your first kiss with miya atsumu had been sloppy, dizzy, with a strong scent of rum and smudged lip balm all over your lips. but there was no doubt that it had been the best kiss of your entire lives…
…just like your last had been the worst. 
two months later, atsumu still couldn’t forget the salty taste of your lips that begged him not to leave. if he focused hard enough, he could even remember the feeling of your hands desperately clinging to his jacket in a last attempt at making him stay by your side.
but he didn’t, and as much as he hated himself for putting an end - even temporary - to what had been the most beautiful chapter of his life, he had never regretted his decision ; and he knew exactly why. you had promised to wait for him, and in pure egoism, he knew and hoped that you would. because no matter the distance, he was still madly in love with you.
which is why he did not understand why osamu was so outraged when he told him that he was finally ready to come back to you. but the younger twin knew things that his brother didn’t - he had seen you let yourself waste away, like nothing else mattered without the one you loved.
but more than that, atsumu did not know about the secret his brother promised to keep. he did not know that, two weeks ago, osamu had found you unconscious in your living room with an alarmingly slow heartbeat. the poor boy had not understood everything the doctors had told him - but whatever a cardiogenic shock was, he knew that it would have carried you off if without his intervention.
however, you had been categorical : atsumu shouldn’t not know about this, under any pretext. you refused to be a burden to the pursuit of his dreams for which he had already sacrificed so much for. but now that atsumu was back, something about this promise didn’t sit right with his brother. and so he decided to tell him everything.
« …most doctors thought about a standard heart attack » he told him after explaining the situation, on the lookout for any impulsive reaction from his brother. « … but one of them talked about something else. you might want to sit down ».
but atsumu couldn’t care less about his brother’s advice. actually, he didn’t care about anything else than you right now. it was already taking a lot of effort for him to stand there listening to samu instead of being on his way to the hospital - but he stayed. for an obscure reason that he didn’t really understand, he stayed.
« did you know that people can die of heartbreak ? » osamu asked, more serious than he had ever been in his whole life. 
the blonde twin felt like the ground had suddenly swallowed him whole - although his brother was trying his best not to sound too accusating, it was more than obvious that whatever situation you were in was because of him. and only him.
« no they can’t » he tried to protest, not even believing in his own words. panic was beginning to win him over - and in a matter of seconds, he lost all his composure « WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU NOT MOVING ? LET’S GO ! » he shouted, already opening the front door. at that moment, one question burned his lips, but he knew he would never have the guts to ask it out loud. 
‘did i kill them ?’
——
the steady beeps of all the machines around you were the only thing disrupting the deafening silence of your hospital room. you were sick of spending your days alone. but you had no right to complain, osamu had offered to come and see you after work every day, but you had politely refused. well, politely was a big word… your body was so exhausted that you had trouble articulating simple phrases, and therefore exclusively communicated through nods or hand gestures.
your phone had been confiscated and the doctors kept you away from the news - or at least from the negative news, because they knew that your heart might give out at the tiniest emotional distress.
which is why you were so surprised to hear a knock on your door at about 3pm, outside of the nurses’ shift hours. knowing that you were too weak to talk, osamu let himself in, slowly closing the door behind him before coming closer to your bed.
« how are you doing ? » he asked, resting his hands on the other end of the bed. you shrugged, pointing at the IV and all the monitoring surrounding you. as long as these machines were there, it was hard to feel better than just ok. « listen, um… someone is here for you. the doctors said i could bring him in, but i wanted your authorization first… » he started before clearing his throat. « atsumu is back. do you- are you ready to see him ? ».
ready was probably not an appropriated word. but after two months spent pretending that he was still laying next to you in bed every night, still texting you good morning every day, still sending you the dumbest memes at the most random times, it would have been a huge mistake to refuse osamu’s proposition.
and so he let him in. obviously, atsumu had orders from the doctors and his brother : don’t run, don’t move too fast, don’t speak too soon, don’t touch them without warning. but nobody had asked him not to cry. and how could his eyes stay dry when you looked so fragile and so vulnerable ?
osamu quietly left the room, leaving the two of you together not without apprehension. but if there was one thing he could trust his brother on, it was taking care of you. two months could not have gotten the better of four years of relationship.
but as much as he cared about you, atsumu had always been - and still was - pretty bad with words. and the first ones that left his mouth were a great example. « are you going to die ? » he asked in a shaky voice, brows knitted.
you would have given him an answer if you had one, but you didn’t. the doctors said that you had gone through the most painful part, but the risks of aggravations were still too important to let you go home. you were not 100% safe yet.
« i told you i’d wait » you spoke in a hoarse voice, the beep of your heart monitor getting a little bit faster.
the steps atsumu took towards you were slow, like he had been told, but just one glance at his eyes was enough to know that deep down, he was dying to feel your skin against his.
« i know you probably hate me right now. and for good reasons » he started as he sat on the chair next to your bed, still painfully avoiding any contact. « but there’s something i need to tell you, in case… in case… well, if something were to happen ».
his eyes lingered on your fingertips, blue and cold, and his whole body tensed at once. the thought that everything you were going through had been caused by his own selfishness was driving him crazy. but he had one last thing to keep himself grounded, and that thing was exactly what he was about to tell you.
« i love you. but i caused you so much trouble that i think there’s only one way to prove it… » he said, taking a deep breath before finally resting a timid hand on your arm. « i want to marry you. right now. i don’t fucking care if it’s not considered official, i just want you to know that leaving you was probably the biggest mistake i ever did. and that i’m not leaving ever again. so fuck it, let’s get married ! you almost died, life’s too short to plan a stupid ceremony ».
he stopped for a few seconds, panting from his teary monologue and paying attention to any beep or other sound that might indicate that he had made things worse for you. but it seemed like you were doing ok. how could you not be ? the love of your life had just proposed to you - sure, it wasn’t how you had imagined it, but wasn’t it even more beautiful like that ?
the tears that started rolling down your cheeks were undoubtedly tears of happiness and relief to know that, finally, your life was back to normal. atsumu was your normality, and for the first time in two months, you finally felt like you had a purpose. you had no idea if soulmates existed, but what you had with atsumu seemed more than close enough.
if someone had entered the room at that moment, it’d probably have taken them several minutes to understand what was going on. two young adults, crying yet smiling, one of them laying on a hospital bed looking like they had been through hell and back, and the other tearing off two pieces of his t-shirt and looking genuinely proud of himself -  nothing about this made sense.
« my apologies, it was the easiest way to make us rings » atsumu chuckled, eyes still blurry as grabbed your hand in his with infinite tenderness. slowly, he tied the piece of cloth around your ring finger, loosely enough so that the doctors would not consider it dangerous for your blood circulation.
« i’m keeping that until you’re getting out of here. by my side. » he affirmed, pointing at his own makeshift ring before looking right into your eyes, as serious as ever. « and i’m also keeping you. forever. consider this my wedding vows »
as much as he hated to phrase it like that, you could both die in peace now.
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i spent so much time on medical sites to be as accurate as i could, i felt like meredith mf grey for a few hours
@toworuu @catwithangerissues
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feferipeixes · 3 years
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Still Alive
After Dipper learns that this whole "being a demon" thing means he's going to live forever, he and Mabel talk about the future, and what he's going to do when everyone he knows dies. It's not until much later that he starts to realize that they'll never truly die -- just like he'll never truly get sick of ice cream.
Thanks to @toothpastecanyon for beta reading!
(See the most updated version on AO3!)
===
“If you could choose one project to do and be guaranteed that you’d finish it eventually, no matter how long it took, what would you do?”
“Hmm....” Mabel replied, itching her scalp with a plastic hand clapping toy. “Oh! I’d get my hands on the Ultimate Magical Shimmering Rainbow-splosion Fluffykins doll! There’s only five hundred in existence -- they’re super duper rare!”
“No no no,” Dipper countered. “That’s too easy, and too short. All you’d need to do is set up some eBay alerts, bribe a few people, maybe sneak into the FluffCorp factory building. Not even -- you could just snap your fingers -” (he snapped his fingers for effect, causing a puff of blue flame to momentarily appear) “and conjure it.”
“I can’t -” Mabel started, but Dipper kept talking over her.
“I’m talking about something really unprecedented. Something that would take a long time, something you wouldn’t ordinarily be able to do. Something that would change the world.”
“Oh, I get it now!” Mabel tossed the toy aside and flipped over, letting her head dangle off the end of her bed. “I’d call you a dork a million times.”
Her brother scowled at her and jumped out of his chair and into the air. “Hey!” he yelped over Mabel’s laughter. “I'̼͚̻͓͎̲m̡̖̰̘̣͎ ̖͇̕n̛̻ơ̰t̷̟͇̱ ̝̺̻a̳̦ ̪̟̮͖ḑor̞͓̭k̟̤̖!̛͍ And even if I was, that wouldn’t take you very long! At, uh, a rate of, let’s see, you could probably say ‘you’re a dork’ at least 30 times per minute, and if you didn’t ever sleep…”
Mabel watched the red tinge fade away from his features as he paced around in mid air, doing math in his head. “Yeah. You’re totally not a dork, Sir Maths-a-lot. You sure showed me.”
“- It wouldn’t even take you a month,” Dipper finished. “Besides, how would that change the world?”
“Hmm, well if I call you a dork enough times,” Mabel answered, “maybe my big scary demon brother would decide he doesn’t want to be a dork and instead he’d do something with his cool magic powers that ends up making the world a better place!”
“Mabel?”
“Yeah bro-bro?”
Dipper frowned at her. “Your face is turning purple.”
“Touche,” she replied, rubbing her chin very seriously. She slid the rest of the way off the bed and clutched her throbbing head. “Owww…”
“That's what you get for giving me dumb answers,” Dipper quipped, arms crossed.
“You mean for giving you fun answers,” Mabel corrected, and then winced at another sting of pain. “Why are you asking me these weird questions anyway?”
A panicked look flickered across Dipper's face, and his feet touched the ground. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
Mabel, still massaging her temples, pushed herself semi-upright to give her brother a look. “Come on. ‘What would you do if you had all the time in the world?’ ’What movie could you watch a million times and never get sick of it?’ ’Do you think Stancakes have a shelf life longer than 100 years?’ Something is clearly up.”
Dipper giggled awkwardly (was there any other way he could giggle?) and stared at the ceiling. “Nothing. It's nothing!”
“What, are you really not gonna tell me?” Mabel pushed. ”What if I tickle you?”
Her brother recoiled in horror. “You wouldn't.”
There was a tense silence as the two twins considered whose was the stronger will: the expert fighter with a plethora of torture tactics at hand, or the demon. Mabel narrowed her eyes. Dipper sharpened his claws. No words were exchanged. The room was perfectly still.
Mabel jolted forward half a foot and Dipper shrieked.
“Okay, you win, just don't tickle me!” he begged, throwing his hands up. “I'll tell you!”
“Good,” Mabel replied. “Things were about to get ugly. Spill it, bro-bro.”
Dipper sighed. He dusted himself off -- a habit he'd gotten into lately even though he was pretty sure nothing he could do would make his orange shirt and vest look any less weird with his new body.
“Remember… Remember the thing I told you the other day, when I had that infodump and learned more about my powers?”
“Oh yeah,” she said. “You found out that your omniscience tells you whenever anyone farts.”
“No!” he squeaked. “Although, you are right, it does do that and it's annoying, especially because now I can smell it from like a mile away.”
He wrinkled his nose, staring off into space for a minute before shaking his head. “But that's not what I mean. I'm talking about… how I'm never going to die.”
It had been about a week since Mabel had walked into the living room to find Dipper writhing and sobbing on the floor. She remembered the way he’d looked right through her, how he hadn’t seemed to even notice her presence when she sat him upright, how he kept muttering “still alive, still alive” over and over again, and it hadn’t made any sense to her then, but when he finally snapped out of it and was able to vocalize what he’d seen…
She shuddered at the memory of it.
“Since then,” Dipper continued, “I’ve been thinking about how I’m going to deal with it. And I had this idea that I could come up with things to do to fill the time.”
“What, so you’re going to plan out your whole life?” Mabel asked, incredulous. “Let me guess -- you’re making a checklist? Hah! Can you imagine?”
She giggled, and then he reached into his vest and pulled out oh sweet Moses.
“I’ve already got some good stuff on here,” Dipper said, ignoring or not noticing his sister’s flabbergasted expression. “I’m gonna learn how to make a sword by hand. I’m gonna watch all of Tiger Fist backwards to see if there are any hidden messages. And there’s this spa getaway weekend that the Multibear invited me on -- shoot, wait, he’s gonna be dead by then, umm…”
Mabel raised an eyebrow as her brother started scribbling on the checklist. “Dipper. This is obsessive even for you.”
“What would you know?” he shot back. “You’re not the one who’s immortal.”
“I know how to have this thing called ‘fun’,” she replied. “Maybe you’ve heard of it?”
He grumbled at her, eyes locked on his checklist. He couldn’t believe he forgot that the Multibear spa trip thing was a limited time offer. That kind of stuff was slipping his mind more and more these days, like the time Mabel asked him to play cards with her and he was so busy alphabetizing his Sibling Brothers books that he neglected to respond to her for three days.
Although, now that he thought about it, that might’ve been before he became a demon.
Something damp and cold hit Dipper in the face, and he spluttered in surprise. “What was that?” he shouted. One of his flailing hands happened to close on the object as it fell, and he held it up to the light.
“It’s a popsicle, doofus!” Mabel said. She’d fetched two from the minifridge in their room while he was distracted, and was busy licking away at her own, which was chocolate. “Remember those?”
He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t have ti-”
“I’ll throw another one at you,” Mabel interrupted.
“- I guess I could have some ice cream,” Dipper finished.
He floated over and sat on the floor next to his sister. He removed the paper from the popsicle and gave the object a sniff. The aroma of orange and vanilla caressed his sensitive nose, and he realized how long it’d been since he had any sugar. Without a second moment’s thought, he threw his head back, stretching both his neck and jaw further than they were supposed to go, and placed the entire popsicle -- stick and all -- into his gaping maw.
“See, what’d I tell you?” Mabel said, smirking at the satisfaction on her brother’s face. She reached up with her popsicle to scratch an itch on her nose, and then went right back to eating it. “I always know what to do with my time. I wonder what it’d be like if I lived forever…”
Dipper eyed the glob of chocolate ice cream on the bridge of her nose. “The world would probably be a much more chaotic place.”
“You mean a much BETTER place!” she declared. “Everyone would have fun and ice cream all the time!”
He grinned. “You’re right. It would be a much better place. Because my best friend would be there.” Mabel looked at him, a twinkle in her eye and ice cream all over her face, and his grin fell away. “I guess this is what you felt like when I said I was going to be Grunkle Ford’s apprentice, huh. I’m such a shitty bro-”
Mabel at once had her hands on his face, squishing his cheeks together so he’d stop talking. “Nuh-uh. Bro-bro you’re gonna stop hating on yourself Right. Now.” She was still smiling, but her tone had twisted into something harsh. “Okay, sure, I’m gonna die someday and then you’re gonna have to figure out what to do on your own. But I’m not ready to think about that and neither are you! We’re hecking 13 years old! We should act like it, while we’ve still got the chance. Please don’t make me think about dying yet.”
Dipper winced, and she let go of him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“S’okay.” She patted him on the back, harder than he’d been expecting, and he was so surprised that he coughed up the popsicle stick he’d eaten earlier.
For a minute, neither of them said a word. Dipper lifted a hand to his face, where he felt something sticky.
“You got chocolate on my face.”
“Yeah. On your vest, too.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “What are you going to do about it?”
He looked at his hands, still small and smooth like a child. With a thought, he bathed both hands in a blue flame, searing away the chocolate and leaving them clean, just the way he liked them. Then he cleared his throat.
“I’m gonna chase you around the house,” he stated matter-of-factly.
Smiling ear-to-ear, Mabel jumped up and ran to the wall. “You’re nuts if you think you can catch me, even with demon powers!” Cackling, she threw the door open, which bathed her in a blinding white light.
Dipper thought about his infodump from the other day, thought about the part he hadn’t told Mabel, the tiny glimpse he’d gotten of his sister when she’d been old, pale, and still -- too horribly, horribly still. It was just a glimpse, but it haunted him -- the thought that one day there wouldn’t be a single trace left of Mabel Pines anywhere in the world. She was right -- as always -- that he was obsessing, that he was letting a thought hurt him when it didn’t have to.
He wasn’t ready to think about growing up yet, either. No matter how strong the pull to obsess was, he had to find a way to fight it.
“You can’t get away from me!” Dipper roared, and flew after his sister into the future.
---
"Wahoo! That was a great idea -- getting ice cream -- Dipper! I feel so much better! You always know how to cheer me up."
Dipper, clad in his usual human disguise, collapsed onto the bench with a grunt. "I dunno, this stuff tastes off. You’d think with all the technological advancements since the Transcendence that they’d have found a way to perfect ice cream."
His friend Arin, who was somehow managing to carry five popsicles in two hands, nodded with a serious look on her face. "Yeah. Oh sure a lot of old timey diseases were eradicated and we've got flying cars and stuff. But not one of these ice pops actually tastes like orange!"
She stared at him for a beat longer, then finally broke into snickers. One of the popsicles fell out of her hand, and a stubby arm immediately shot out from under the bench to catch it.
His face twisting in confusion, Dipper bent over to look under the bench. There were two gnomes right beneath him -- one of them hissed when they saw him, making him jump and making Arin laugh even harder.
"Ha-ha, okay," Dipper said, hand on his chest like his heart was racing. Despite this, he couldn't keep a small smile from creeping onto his face.
So much had changed in the last five hundred years, and yet so much else had stayed the same. Wars were fought, societies had formed and collapsed, but people were still people, and Dipper was still Dipper. Even though he’d had more than a few incidents where his demonic nature overcame his humanity, he always seemed to land back on his feet again eventually. Sometimes all it took was a friend.
Right now, his friend was a girl named Arin who he’d saved when someone else had tried to sacrifice her to him. He remembered how grateful she’d been, how she gave him a hug despite him being a void black monster splattered with blood, and how she then spent 20 minutes chatting with him about dragons even though she’d just had a very traumatic experience. She seemed, in other words, cool. So he later presented himself to her as fellow undergraduate student Dipper, without revealing that it was him who’d saved her that night, and they’d been good friends ever since.
Arin sat next to him and started taking bites out of her ice pops. "Yknow, the Transcendence-era wasn't that great," she said, although with her mouth busy it sounded like she was drowning.
Dipper's brow creased. "What do you mean?"
She gulped down the hunk of ice in her mouth. "No offense -- I know you're totally obsessed with Transcendence history stuff -- but that was soooo long ago. There's no one left who was alive back then, except like vampires I guess. But vampires don't eat ice cream so it doesn't matter."
Dipper bit back the urge to say "I know a vampire who loves ice cream as long as there's blood in it". What came out instead was "So?"
"So!" Arin shoved an entire popsicle into her mouth, and then had to take a minute to cough up the stick. "S-so," she continued amid gasps, "no one knows for sure what ice cream tasted like in the year 2012. And that includes you, Mr. Argues-With-The-Teacher! For all we know, old timey ice cream tasted like sawdust!"
Dipper considered his chocolate popsicle, which he's barely looked at since the first taste. "I guess you're right." He gave it another wary lick.
It didn't taste like chocolate the way he remembered it, but it was close enough.
"Do you ever think," he asked, unable to meet his friend's eyes, "about all the stuff that used to exist but doesn't anymore? All the ideas and food and... people?"
Arin groaned. "Is that what this is about? My best friend of the past 2 years -- secretly one of those 'I was born in the wrong century' people?"
"No!" he shot back, before taking another lick of the popsicle. "I just think it's sad that stuff goes away and no one's there to remember it."
"Well, maybe no one remembers that stuff, but that doesn't mean it's forgotten."
Dipper looked up. "Huh?"
Arin scarfed down her remaining two popsicles, which had begun melting onto her hand. "People die and ideas change and the world moves on. It happens constantly! But those people influenced their friends and their family and their coworkers. Who in turn influenced other people. Those people might be dead, but they live forever in the words and actions of everyone who came after."
Dipper just stared at her, jaw dropped. "Where did that come from?" he managed to get out. "Five seconds ago you were gagging on frozen sugar! You're not allowed to be this insightful!"
"Sugar rushes always make me super thoughtful," Arin said, patting him on the back. "It's 'cause I'm a genius. I'm probably gonna crash hard later though. Also by the way your ice cream is totally melting."
"Ah, shoot." Dipper hurriedly tried to catch the melting ice cream with his tongue, and Arin giggled again.
"The point is," she said, "if you've always got your head stuck in a history textbook, you're gonna miss out on the present. If you're always thinking about the dead guy who invented ice cream, you won't be around to eat any with me."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," he said. He felt an itch on his nose, so he wiggled it. "Thanks, Arin. I feel better- why are you looking at me like that?"
Arin was indeed staring at him with a perplexed look on her face as if she was not the one who'd just swallowed a metric ton of ice cream. "Why do you do that?"
Dipper frowned. "Do what? AGH-"
He yelped as Arin whipped out her phone and snapped a photo of him, blinding him with the flash even though it was a bright, sunny day out. "What was that for?"
She didn't say anything, simply handed him her phone. It certainly was not the best photo ever taken of him. It was blurry, his hair was a mess, and his mouth was contorted in shock.
On the bridge of his nose was a dollop of chocolate ice cream.
"You do it every time we get ice cream," Arin said, taking her phone back. "I mean, you call me weird, but I'm not the one always itching my nose with an ice pop."
"Oh," Dipper said. He paused and looked at his fingers, which were all chocolate-y too now. "I didn't even notice I was doing it."
"Suuure, weirdo," Arin chuckled. She stood up, wobbling a bit as she did so, and steadied herself on the back of the bench. "Listen dude, this was fun but I think the sugar's starting to hit me. I'm gonna head back to the dorm before I collapse. Wanna hang out later?"
"Definitely!" Dipper replied. "You should get some rest! Try not to give psychological counseling to anyone on the way -- you're gonna burn out your brain!"
He waved at his friend as she staggered away, and watched her until she turned a corner around a building. Then he sighed, and wiped his nose with his finger.
"Hey Mabel," he whispered, looking at the chocolate he'd collected. "It’s me, Dipper.”
A passing jogger sent a pointed look at the young man who was talking to his finger, but Dipper ignored them.
“I seem to remember you saying something to me about living forever. You said that one day you’d be gone, and I’d have to find a way to carry on alone.” He thought about Arin’s words, and felt something swell in his chest. “But I guess you’re still alive after all.”
He sniffed, and looked up at the sun as it started to bathe the sky in the pinks and purples of evening. He saw people in flying cars, people rushing through pneumatic tubes, people high fiving on jetpack because it was a wonderful day to be out. And he thought about what Arin said; thought about all of the sicknesses he'd seen friends and family afflicted by that no one ever had to suffer from again. He thought about all the preters he saw walking freely and happily on the campus, without worrying that they'd be attacked.
"And you were right," he said. "The world is a better place."
Dipper licked the remaining chocolate off his fingers, and got up. As he headed back toward his dorm room, he wondered what other legacies his loved ones had left in him.
(AO3 link)
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I’m Always Curious Part Twenty Nine
Previous Part | Next Part |  Masterlist Notes: I hope everyone’s having a good week 💕
Also if y’all didn’t see, I made an I’m Always Curious Playlist, check it out if you’re interested 😊 Also toying with the next chapter being in Pike’s POV, we’ll see tho
Warnings: Cursing and mentions of canon-typical violence Summary: When I had determined the most appropriate position for the tag and that couldn’t quiet my mind any longer, I headed down to the shuttle bay.
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Having had opposing pictures of her character drawn for me by Spock and Tilly, meeting Commander Michael Burnham was a bit of a trip.
The things that Spock had told me about her led me to expect someone austere, distant. But while she was composed, she was cordial, going so far as to make small talk on the way to the Ready Room. It wasn’t in the forced way that it had originally been with Jett, either. Apparently Burnham had heard a fair amount from me from Tilly. Jett joined us in the turbolift, and from there it was a short trek to the Ready Room.
I felt my stomach twist in apprehension as we neared the doors. While I had had some time to process the fact that Pike and I were in close range again, I had spent far too much of the last hour reflecting on the look he’d given me. I was distinctly out of place in the Ready Room. Not only was I the most unfamiliar with the crew, but I was still in my civvies. The Captain was already there, a PADD in hand. His eyes darted to the three of us we entered, but they quickly lowered to the device again as he said, “Commander Burnham, a word, please.” Burnham excused herself from Jett and myself, and I took the moment to look around. I ached with the familiarity - the sight of Chris’ table from Mojave in the room, along with a few other things that had made the trip over from the Enterprise. I drifted toward a window, unable to help my fingers trail over the wood of the table on my way. Jett followed at a pace, glancing at Burnham and Pike before stopping beside me. “Any idea how long Durling’ll take?” She asked. I shook my head a little. “Cornwell just said that he’d be here in a few hours.” At the sound of the Ready Room door opening, I straightened, hands tucking behind my back at attention-- And then I immediately dropped them as I scoffed, “Oh, it’s you.” “Is that any way to greet me?” Eli asked, walking deeper into the room, “You used to stand at attention, be all ‘yessir’ about it.” “I am your superior now, Durling.” “In rank only,” He retorted, coming to stop just in front of me. Despite his words, though, he was pointing that warm smile down at me, like not a day had passed or a thing had changed. And I couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto my face at his familiar gaze and teasing. After the war, Durling had been assigned to the USS Cetus, a temporary post as he awaited an official reassignment. While we spoke from time to time, I hadn't seen him in weeks. “God, I forgot what a dick you were,” Jett grumbled beside us. Eli turned to her, brows raising in surprise. “And it’s good to see you, too, Reno. Especially considering we thought--” “Oh, I know. This one got all misty on me about it,” Jett nodded to me. “Unnecessary detail,” I muttered.  “You can cry? I thought you’d gotten your tear ducts removed back on Starbase 115,” Eli frowned at me. “I would punch you if we weren’t in mixed company.” “Restraint? Wow, that’s new for you.”  We turned at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind us. Pike was there, brows raised a little. Eli smiled, turning fully from myself at Jett. “Eli Durling,” He introduced himself to both Pike and Burnham. “Commander Michael Burnham. Welcome aboard.” “Christopher Pike,” Pike tacked on as he shook Eli’s hand. Eli glanced back at me, brow raised, and I felt the urge to punch him intensify. Instead I just gave him a slight glare before averting my eyes. He knew about me and Pike. I had spent the last year with the man, we’d spent that time having one another’s backs. He knew all of my secrets— but then, I knew all of his. “We should start the briefing, the target’s nearly in range,” Pike added as dropped Eli's hand. “We’ve never run any 22-9-14s on the Discovery,” Burnham explained. “Well, you’re in luck, because the three of us ran a lot of them," Eli nodded back toward me and Jett. “Define a lot, I mean how many times did you ruin your phaser cannons after you transferred?” Jett asked. “Well,” Eli glanced back at me, “I’m not sure I have a count on the phaser cannons, but I personally ran around a hundred, and the Commander ran a number somewhere in the 300s.” “Somewhere? Where in the 300s?” Jett frowned at me. “I’m not sure that’s pertinent to this briefing, as I don’t have the same penchant for bragging that Lieutenant Commander Durling does,” I folded my arms across my chest. Eli smiled.
“Regardless, you’re in good hands,” He added, turning back to Pike and Burnham, “I’ll coordinate from the Bridge while the Commander takes care of the tagging process. Any questions?” “I’ve got one,” I piped up. “Of course you do--” “What am I tagging?” I asked over him. Eli nodded to Pike’s desk, and Pike stepped out of the way, waving his hand with silent permission. I watched as Eli walked over to it, opening a file and pulling up a holographic display of a ship. I pushed off of the wall and walked over to join him with the others, my eyes wandering the surface of the ship. “Is that a DY-100 Sleeper?” I frowned, bracing my hands on the desk to get a better look. “It is,” He confirmed, “The S.S. Botany Bay.” “You’re familiar with this craft?” Burnham asked. I glanced at her. “Few months into the war, Command was looking for craft that might be able to slip past Klingon sensors. These vessels are antiques— 20th century, decommissioned. Older metals, outdated tech, but high crew capacity.” “And the Botany Bay was used during the war?” Pike asked. I turned back to the hologram. “Only two ships were in good enough condition to shore up and get off of the ground. This was neither of them.” “Maybe it’s just being tracked for longevity, see how long it holds up,” Jett suggested. “No,” I shook my head a little, “No, Cornwell said colony when I came aboard…” I straightened up, folding my arms back across my chest, “We’re either gonna get radio silence or hear some really cryptic shit.” “That’s the spirit,” Durling clapped my shoulder, and I shot him a sidelong glance. “You realize this is gonna be a manual?” I asked him. “Ah-- No,” He laughed nervously, “No, you don’t have time for manual.” “Time or not— Look at the surface area on that thing,” I nodded to the hologram, “If this is an original sleeper class and launched back in the 1990s when they were originally being built, it’s possible that the integrity of the hull is going to be compromised. That means that the arms on the bot are going to be too rough for this task.” “What would you have to do to attach it manually?” Burnham asked.  “She’s gotta eject herself from her ship,” Jett told them. “How much does that differ from a ship-based tag?” Burnham asked. “... It’s different,” Eli tread carefully as he said so. I could feel him eyeing me critically, and I couldn’t help the way my jaw clenched as my stomach swooped with nerves. I hated manual tags the most. There were fewer safety nets: no tether, no easy way back to the ship if something went very seriously wrong--just me and a jet pack and a whole lotta hope. “Considering the fact that Command even authorized this mission in the first place, a manual attachment should be our last resort,” he added, “And who am I to argue with Command?” “Usually the second in line,” Jett answered. “Who’s first?” He frowned. There was a pause as I felt the two of them direct their gazes to me. “I resent that,” I muttered. “Which puts you in direct opposition with Commander Reno, which, given the longevity of her rank, technically puts you at odds with your superior--” Durling muttered. “O-kay.” “What are the steps that we need to get this off of the ground?” Pike asked, cutting over our bickering. I suddenly felt like a schoolkid called out for chatting in class. “Reno needs to look over craft, make sure it’s safe to fly,” Eli told him, “Your ship’s doctor needs to give our pilot a once-over as well, same reason.” I rolled my eyes a little. I was a little tired, more than a little jittery at the prospect of being behind the controls of an attack fighter again, but I had flown and been cleared for flight in worse condition. “Anything else?” Pike asked. “No,” Eli shook his head, “Barring any complications, we should be set to launch… round 1800 hours.” “If that’s the timeline, I’m gonna go get some sleep,” I straightened, “Thanks guys.” I turned away, heading for the door as I heard Durling pipe up: “Oh, and Commander?” “Yes,” I turned back, “Lieutenant Commander?” Durling took a moment, eyes sweeping down my body, then up again. “Where are we with that uniform?” I forced out a little laugh before nodding once, “I’m gonna leave now.”
-- I knew that I needed to get rest, but the prospect of a manual tag kept had set my mind racing. Instead I studied the schematics that I had available for a DY-100. And when I had determined the most appropriate position for the tag and that couldn’t quiet my mind any longer, I headed down to the shuttle bay. -- “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Jett almost scowled at the sight of me stepping onto craft. “Not tired,” I fibbed. Jett gave me a short look before lowering herself beside the control panel. “Make yourself useful, then, pass me the magna-spanner.” I crouched down beside Jett’s toolkit and found the requested implement before passing it to her. Once I had, I sat on the floor of the craft, leaning back against the wall and looking around the small cabin. It seemed so much more confining than I remembered— crammed with measuring instruments, controls, an emergency med pack. I directed my gaze toward the hatch in the ceiling, the one I’d be pushing myself out into open space from in just a short while. “So,” Jett spoke up, “What’s the plan after this?” I smiled at the question— just like old times. “Maybe get some more pie?” I offered. “And sugar crash later?” “Mhm. It’s the risk you take when you eat the hard stuff.” “And after that?” “...Dunno. Maybe something that actually utilizes what I went to the Academy to do. You know, speak and translate something other than Klingon, work with texts and languages we’re less familiar with…” “But we put our dreams away?” “But we put our dreams away.” Jett leaned back, tossing the magna-spanner at me. I caught hold of it, depositing it in the toolbox. She humphed, “Well, you’re morose as shit, but your reflexes seem to be in good order. Should be helpful, huh, Captain?” I frowned before I heard, “Yes, it should.” My head was turned from him, and I had been focused on other parts of the ship, but I hadn’t even heard him come aboard. I glanced up at Pike to find him standing with his hands tucked behind his back. He cleared his throat. “Doctor Pollard needs to examine you,” He nodded over his shoulder. “Right,” I pushed myself to stand before glancing down at Jett, “You’re set here?” “Please leave,” Was her smiling answer. I smiled a little myself, shaking my head before following Pike off of the craft. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the way he had to duck to ensure he didn’t hit his head on the way out. A brief wave of embarrassment crested over me when he glanced back at the sound. Pollard and Eli were in the shuttle bay, not too far off from the craft. The introductions were short as I shrugged out of my jacket and tossed it to Eli. He caught it without a question or hesitation, hardly missing a word as he regaled Dr. Pollard with the story of his part in the Battle of Xisad. She seemed to only be listening out of politeness, humming in response now and again. Knowing Eli, though, this chatter was meant to distract all of us from what I was about to do. Dr. Pollard’s hand skimmed over my left shoulder blade and I jolted a little, tensing as I sucked in a sharp breath.  “Alright?” She asked. I nodded as I heard her switch to the scanner on her tricorder. “Quite a lot of scar tissue,” She added. “Caught the wrong end of a bat’leth,” I explained flatly. “Is there pain?” “No.” “Does it hinder any of your movements?” “No.” When Pollard returned her hand to that same area, fingers carefully massaging the area to ensure the truth of my statement, I held carefully still. “...Is there a right end of bat’leth?” Eli asked, breaking the tense silence from our superiors. “The side without the pointed blade would’ve been preferable,” I told him, glancing in his direction. “You’re so particular,” He scoffed, but he was smiling. I shook my head a little, feeling the tension drain from me a little. “Well, apart from a slightly elevated heart rate, everything seems to be in order," Pollard reported from behind me. “That’s not a concern?” Pike asked. “According to the Commander’s prior medical records, there is typically some uptick in heart rate prior to these particular missions. She’s fit to fly," Pollard tucked her tricorder into its holder. I gave her a small nod of thanks. “And yet not outfitted to fly. Starfleet regulation 67: an officer acting in the interests of the Federation must be in uniform to command or commandeer any vessel,” Durling rattled off. I hummed, nodding, “An excellent point, Lieutenant Commander, but you seem to be forgetting Starfleet regulation 67-A: In the event of an emergency procedure, Starfleet personnel are permitted to eschew Federation vestments as the mission demands. Or have you forgotten who that rule had to be instituted for?” Durling shuffled closer, holding my jacket back out to me as he muttered, “Can’t recall.” “Well— that’s hilarious, because I can. And I’ll be in a Starfleet flight suit, I do believe that that counts as uniform.” “It does,” Pike piped up. “Exactly— thank you, Captain.” “Anytime, Commander.” “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get changed and run through the pre-flight checklist with Jett,” I added. I thanked Pollard again before I turned, heading back to the attack fighter. Anytime, Commander. Two words. Easy. Two words that set my heart racing faster than the prospect of a manual tag-and-run did. Tag list: @angels-pie​​ ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta​​  ; @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​​ ; @how-am-i-serpose-to-know​​ ; @onlyhereforthefandomandgiggles​​ ; @inmyowncorner​​  ; @tardis-23​​ ; @2manyfandoms-solittletime​ ; @paintballkid711​​ ; @katrynec​​​ ; @hypnobananaangelfish​​ ; @elen-aranel​​ ; @blueeyesatnight​​
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whump-town · 3 years
Text
The Bridges Between You and Me
Emily whump (even though I'm supposed to be doing other things)
no real warnings, i don't think.
On her lunch break she takes her sandwich to the roof. It’s a great escape with only one access door, one Dave showed her and warned no one could ever know about. That had been after she and Reid only barely made it out of Benjamin Cyrus’ cult of horrors and pedophilia. A peace offering, she realized, to settle the fear he hadn’t known he had of losing her. After that, she started being invited to have a drink in his office and was welcomed into the boy’s club. Something Reid had only ever told her was a thing and something Morgan turned his nose to but also secretly wanted in on. A general snobby (sensitive) shrug of dismissal - couldn’t be that cool if Hotch gets invited and they don’t.
For the last few weeks, she’s been taking her lunch up here, away from Reid’s glances and the worry lines being formed along Morgan’s brow. It’s only a matter of time, she knows, before she has to give up the spot. Only one or two more lunches before Morgan takes his concern to Garcia and they figure out the little hideout. Won’t be as much fun then, not with Morgan’s betrayed hurt and his probing questions. For now, she’s got a safe-haven.
“You’re smoking again.”
Well, she thought she did.
Leaning against the brick, one of his long legs stretched out in front of him Hotch looks up from his coffee to quirk an eyebrow at her. It’s by no means a question, he sat in silence and watched her light her cigarette and pull off it before commenting. Before drawing attention to himself and crushing their individual peace. He knows she’s smoking again, has for a while, but thought she’d kick the habit again with time. She’s only just come back from the dead, hell he’d smoke too. That or drink himself to death but the idea alone makes him shiver with distaste - the parallels between himself and his father are already too pronounced for that notion.
Where he’s expecting her to maybe smirk and dismiss him with sharp sarcasm, he’s shot down with a clenched jaw. Her eyes darken, “shut up.” As he looks away, eyes going to the cool coffee in his hand he can hear her sigh. How much has changed since she came back? She’d been angry, walked away from him without a word and that had stung more than if she’d slapped him when she found out what he spent her departure doing. Knew that he could have fought to stay and instead went like a coward. They haven’t talked since. Haven’t even looked at each other. He used to know her better than he knew himself. Now he’s not sure what he knows.
Maybe he really did kill Emily Prentiss.
She rubs her palms into her eyes, fighting back tears. She will not cry in front of Hotch but all this shit is starting to be too much. Her emotions are beyond her control. Anger and fear and anxiety and panic - each one a speeding bullet wedged in her ribcage ricocheting until she’s chipped away. Is this what he’d felt after Foyet? He had a warpath too. Morgan had pretended not to see it, dismissed it as Hotch only coming down on him but he yelled and Garcia and Reid. Two people who always get away whatever hell they’ve dug up. He’d felt bad about it, an admission that only came out after a few drinks. One he’d made to the floor.
“Got another apple crate?” She can’t say sorry. He had to her for just raising his voice a little, for getting angry when he shouldn’t have been. He always apologizes and fixes his mistakes. That’s always been one of her faults, too content to watch her burning bridge spread and takedown cities and forests. Her mother had such conflicting points of view on an apology. Sticking her nose up at the sound of the lives she took at the cost of destroying her bridges and at the same time twisting her fingers up in Emily’s hair to wrangle one from her stubborn lips. Emily had gotten so caught up in doing the very same thing that she never learned. Doesn’t know how to say those words even if she wanted to.
But Hotch… She imagines him as a boy, just as he’d described to her once. Hardly 100 pounds soaking wet at thirteen but always so much taller than the other kids. An optimist despite everything he’d been through. Coming home with the hope to find a mother who wipes his tears with the edges of her summer dress and a father who throws his hat up into the air with a praising shout when he finally manages to get somewhere on his bike without training wheels. And still opening that front door every day with so much hope and love for two people who felt him better dead.
She knows she could hit him, she could yell and scream. Burn the bridge and kill the city and he’d still hike around the mountain, he’d swim across the river and she’d find him smiling on her doorstep. Loyal as a dog. It’s why he never told anyone about his father - he just kept coming back. Reminds her painfully of that stupid quote from Einstein.
He looks up at her, surprised as he nods that he does have another apple crate and pulls it around for her. Right beside his. “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results”. When is he going to understand that she’s never going to stop hurting him? That he can give her that stupid look - a smirk trying to work its way up but already shining brightly in his eyes - and she’s still going to end up doing it again. Dragging him below the water’s surface. Drowning him to save herself. All she does is take and take and he won’t stop giving.
She finds herself envious of Hotch’s inability to control his vulnerabilities. That little finger count he does as he pulls in a breath through his nose, a conscious movement that is both impossible to hide and incredibly telling. Though, they all pretend he’s got them fooled. He’s sort of an anxious wreck and JJ had once concluded it’d physically kill him if he was aware of just how little he actually manages to hide from them. It hurts to see him stand just outside the comfort they show one another, afraid that he’s unwelcomed or that his being there complicates their dynamics. She wants to be known the way that they know him.
To be human so uniquely.
“Are you going to tell Jack?” she asks softly. She leans her head back against the brick, rocking it to the side to look over at him. Guilty, she looks down at the cigarette in her hand. Somehow the constant thought this stupid thing could kill her does nothing but her stomach twists, her throat tight at realization that Jack would be so upset with her. He’d be crushed to see her smoking again.
It’s a habit she picks up every now and then.
She’d picked it back up, after ten years, after joining the team. For a month she was burning through over half a pack and stopped when she walked into Strauss’ office with her recognition, one-upping Hotch’s transfer. Started again after New York… Well, when she got news of the bomb she went out and bought a pack. Chain smoked until they informed her it was Kate and Hotch. Then she went and puked in an alley. There are plenty of things that had her at least reaching for the relief of one: getting taken hostage by Benjamin Cyrus, Matthew dying and dragging up her past, Reid getting Anthrax, that bastard George Foyet. If she’s perfectly honest she never really stopped after everything with Foyet.
She needed the peace, the ease of routine, and familiarity. Someone had to keep their shit together and it certainly wasn’t Hotch…
Teenage rebellions are such a pain in the ass once you turn twenty.
Jack had seen her one afternoon, she’d been finishing the one she pulled into Hotch’s driveway with. Her attention on not being found out by the man she’d assumed was inside. A safe assumption because Jack told her as much but only after he’d cried, only after he had her promise she’d be done. No more (even if she did finish the pack - but she’d felt awful with everyone after… even if she did pick up another pack).
And the guilt burns through the addiction, making her nearly sick at the thought of finishing the one in her hand.
He smiles. Sisyphus at the bottom of his hill, boulder weighing him down.
She hopes wherever his father is, it's miserable. Even with the fear of what lay ahead for her, the conviction she was headed for the same place as men like his father. So she convinced herself she didn’t even believe in that. But here she is again, watching herself become his father. Drawing her fist back, aimed for his forgiving smile. Taking advantage of Hotch’s loyalty, his stupid misplaced love.
“I won’t tell him.”
He’s smiling at her, pinching his eyes to flash her the black-eye she put there. Smiling with blood dripping down his chin.
She looks away. She mumbles “thanks” and takes to rubbing her fingers between her knuckles to soothe the sting of the bruising she imagines there. “How is he?” she deflects. She might as well have him laid out on his back, taking cheap shots at his ribs. “When did he get so big?” She’s got him where she wants him, kicking all the sensitive areas she knows will lay him out. Distracting him under the lure of Jack and it doesn’t matter that he’ll figure that out later just so long as it makes him smile that bloody smile and ramble about his son for a few minutes.
And after a few minutes of exposure to the sun, feeling the warmth of Hotch’s love for Jack settling around her, she almost feels like smiling too.
But that only lasts for so long. With a sigh and a silent look of disdain when his knees protest like rusted hinges when he stands and their joy shattered. But that does make her smile, even when he frowns at her humor at his expense. For a moment they’re the moon and sun, opposites circling their way around the world. Caught in a gravitational pull of nearly colliding and too far away.
He doesn’t bother her about that day on the roof or ask the question he already knows the answer to - if she’s smoking or not. She feels just enough satisfaction being fulfilled when Dave explains how Hotch found out about the roof that she doesn’t try to bring it up either. It’s fine, she tells herself. He looks at her again and she feels her frustration with him (with the world) dissipate to it’s normal simmer. Until she feels less fooled by Atlas, like she hasn’t had the world rolled over her shoulders to settle onto her bag. Her knees sink and she watches Atlas’ mighty back. Her body is aching - come back, she begs, come back.
It rushes back.
The wrong word piercing the veil and shattering the manufactured calm surrounding her. She knows, in a split second, that it was the wrong thing to say but it was too late. And as it occurred, as she flinched in the preparation for the pain to come, she thought about them. Derek standing only a foot away - the sound of his quickened breaths keeping pace for her. Giving her timing, finding her rhythm. He always keeps her steady.
Behind Derek, no doubt just a step behind Hotch, Reid’s looking over her shoulder.
And she’s sure Hotch knows, just as soon if not before she does, that this has gone tits up.
There’s no coming back. Her head hits the floor, lays her out for a moment where she can’t think past the pain blossomed out across the back of her head. All she knows is the fingers of pain wrapping around the back of her head and the chill in the air. Softly, as if submerged in mud, she can hear Hotch shouting. That tone he takes on when he’s scared, when he’s really scared. She wonders if this time he can save her or if history really does repeat itself.
“Hey, hey--” Morgan crouches down by her side. His hands covering the wound, that look in his eyes. He’s scared. She’s scaring them. “Stay with me, Princess. Come on, eyes open.”
And maybe history doesn’t repeat itself but she’ll be damned if it doesn’t at least rhyme.
Derek doesn’t seem to reciprocate the same humor on the matter.
“Emily.”
Mmm, she turns her head away. Morgan has this tendency to sound like a broken alarm clock. She finds herself looking up at JJ - caught in the tears in the corner of her eyes as she throws demands around at LEOs like she’s Hotch. Watching them listen like she is.
“Hang on Emily,” he begs. “Please. Just a little bit longer.”
God, she rocks her head back. Whines when Morgan shifts his weight but a hand grabs her wrists, stops her from pushing him away. “Get off me,” she grunts. She wants to kick out, to push away but Hotch moves too and under the weight of both of them she can’t move. But it hurts. It hurts so bad and she hates them. She hates Morgan pushing her away. The way that she ruined JJ and Reid’s friendship. How scared Garcia is and Dave keeps looking at her like he’s expecting her to have just disappeared. And fucking Hotch and his silent treatment.
And Jack.
Oh… Jack.
Morgan goes with her in the ambulance, the last time he’d been stopped. Hotch stands outside, his hands at his hips as she moves on and he stops there. Reid’s just behind him, always just behind him. She sees them, hazed by blood loss and everything going on but she sees them. Hotch his mountain made of man and Reid seeking his shelter from her storm.
When do they stop looking at her like that?
When do they finally realize she’s never going to stop hurting them?
She dreams about her mother.
The rain stings as it lands on her bare shoulder blades, pouring so hard it’s beating the gravel down their driveway. “Come inside, Emily!” Her mother has stepped out onto the balcony, the one that overlooks the garden they have to pay someone to maintain. “You’ll catch your death out here, darling!” Her mother steps closer, into the rain. “Emily, please. Let me make you some tea.”
And that’s how she knows it’s a dream.
Her mother would never do any of those things. Never follow her out into the rain. Would have never even realized she’d gone out. She wouldn’t call her “darling”, not when one is around to hear her do it. Her mother never once made her tea.
Garcia figured out Emily’s devotion to tea after a month of having known her. Then it wasn’t just a small bonding it was an entire affair as Emily was guided through the office to the little kitchenette and shown she wasn’t the only one. Where Garcia would show her the teas Gideon liked best and where he kept them in a little metal box. Fitting, she thought, as Garcia showed her all the usual suspects and Ginger Tulsi tea which she hadn’t expected at all. Garcia is more into the fruits, anything with the picture of a fruit on it.
There was a single, mangled box of Earl Grey sitting alone on a shelf. She didn’t even have to ask to know that it had to be Hotch’s. It was.
Reid doesn’t drink tea. He would pick up the habit a year later after Gideon leaves but only to soothe his nerves. The smell would remind him of being younger, of having Gideon.
Morgan doesn’t drink tea. Couldn’t even look at it after her death. The smell made him sick, physically ill to just pass Garcia in the hall with a mug of Chai. That stupid ratio Emily invited unique to how Garcia likes tea. She’d done it for Jason too and Hotch too. Dashes of cinnamon and the additions of almond milk to curate something unique… something to leave behind. A reason for Reid to cry in the bathroom and Hotch lose himself for a moment, cursing blindly when his shaking hands drop his mug.
She left them grief.
She left them with a gaping hole in their sides and blood gushing down over their fingers.
And they still came back.
She wakes slowly, groaning at the immediate pull she feels on the stitches down her right side. Sluggishly, she realizes that no matter what she does this is going to hurt. Breathing is agonizing. Thoughts are like axe picks trying to split her skull open.
“Emily?”
She opens her eyes and finds all of them.
Reid is curled into a cot, blanket drawn up over his shoulder and face pressed down.
Garcia is sleeping with her head on Morgan’s shoulder, the two of them nearly curled into each other. Content, peaceful. How could you be anything but? Nothing can go wrong with Penelope Garcia on your side, Morgan’s calm face reflects just that.
JJ has managed to curl herself into a chair, Hotch’s suit jacket pulled up over her like a blanket. Hotch makes his chair look tiny. His legs splayed in front of him and his head tipped back, in a way that’s going to hurt him once he wakes. They look too much like they did that night, the night she died. JJ’s hair is a mess, pulled back away from her eyes but still somehow beautiful. Light and kind in a way Emily could never imitate. Hotch has these awful rings under his eyes, sharpened by his cheek bones. He’s exhausted.
He always is.
“Rather sweet, aren’t they?”
She turns her head to the sound, smiling despite herself.
Rossi has his feet kicked up on the edge of her bed, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m surprised the snoring didn’t wake you up.” He pulls his legs down slowly, bending each with care before placing it down on the ground. With a groan he rises, one hand on each side of his chair as he forces himself to motion. “Then again,” he mumbles, stepping around to a little tray. “It’s probably best you weren’t around for the trouble those two conjured up.” He motions to Morgan and Hotch with the cup in his hands, she doesn’t have to look to know that’s who he’s talking about.
She opens her mouth but her question is cut short, killed by her sore throat and impossibly dry mouth. “What’d--” she winces, coughing that turns into more of a gag. It hurts but she sees Hotch’s leg jerk, his head moves and she pushes it down. Holds her breath.
“Don’t go hurting yourself on account of him,” Rossi fusses. “He’ll take it very personally if you die… again.” He eases the sting with a smirk and it has to be the drugs because she mirrors it back. Stepping to the edge of the bed he presses a straw to her lips, encouraging her to take a sip.
A year before Foyet started killing again they went to Georgia. The strange thing was that you could actually see the heat baking in the air, the way it came up in waves up off the road. Somewhere, the memory so hazy now with the drugs in her system and the fog of that day, JJ had managed to wander off. She was out standing by a fence, a little flower pinched between her fingers. “A honeysuckle,” she said, showing them. Like the sun herself with her flower outstretched in the palm of her hand.
Hotch had smiled, genuinely, brightly. See? Even he knows when the sun is that close.
They both took a flower in their hands, showing them how to draw out a single drop of nectar.
As Rossi encourages her to have another sip she’s drawn back to that memory. The warmth of the air and Reid’s triumphant laughter when he finally got it, turning to Morgan, to Hotch to show them he did it. Something good.
“Where’d you go?”
She blinks and he’s managed to move. The whole room shifted. Darker. She sees Reid, turned over onto his back. JJ over on the couch, resting against Garcia. Her fingers trailing up and down over JJ’s arm. In her lap a book, keeping her distracted. A bag of yarns and fabrics at her feet, she’s camped out. Not going to move.
She clears her throat, “honeysuckles.” Turning her head she looks over at the others, for where Morgan and Hotch should be. She points over to the empty chair but even that hurts.
Rossi hums, he understands what she means. He’s got coffee in his hands and nods down towards it. “Morgan is taking a walk,” he says. “Too nervous to sit still. Coffee didn’t help.”
Emily nods, swallowing despite the pain grating up her throat.
“Jack,” is his answer for Hotch. “Gone to call Jessica.” He leaves out the state in which Hotch had managed to get himself worked up into. Standing here over her bed pale as a ghost and whispering something too softly for Dave to hear. A nightmare but she doesn’t need to know that.
“Get some sleep,” he advises as he settles himself down. “You’ll need all the strength you can manage when they get up.”
She nods, that makes sense. That way she’ll be alert to keep Morgan and Reid out of her jello. The drugs… They throw her off and she stumbles, chokes. “Dave?” He’ll stay, won’t he? He won’t leave.
Dave reaches over with hands warmed from his coffee and holds her hand. “Sleep,” he whispers.
No more warmth drawn from the fires she sets. She has teas that taste like berries to look forward to. Garcia with her hair full of butterfly clips. The hours of channel flicking Morgan falls into when he’s bored. The sweet smile that will light up Reid’s face when finally gets her to agree to a round of chess. The pseudo-girls night out they'll have right here. With shirley temples and virgin pina coladas. Hotch will be there too, when thinks she doesn’t need him, but the lights have gone out and he knows what it’s like to still be scared of the dark.
She doesn’t have to set fire to another bridge to feel the warmth of something real, of something loving.
They’re right here.
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