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#i might post other funny things later so keep your eyes peeled for that i suppose
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this was funnier in my head
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nuclearforest · 2 years
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🎃 and 🍂 for the ask game!
Ayyy thanks for the ask. I mean, I can only hope that my answers are not too disappointing because my writing process is like. About as unhinged as I am.
🎃 pumpkin: do you have any favorite brainstorming techniques? how do you like to gather ideas for your wip?
I do not; mostly because ideas come to me in either rare moments of genius or I just realize I want something in my life. (I might write something for the big 3 after I got an idea reading some other fic just like, two days ago. I have so many heckin ideas I will never be free). It kinda helps that I've always been inclined for idea generation and honed it as a skill, so now i'm cashing in lol.
But that said, all stories are thievery so if you keep your eyes peeled there's inspiration everywhere. And if you read something that inspires you and you want to transform it, you can always reference where the idea came from if it's direct enough (or if you're using somebody else's OC).
For my current WIP, Sirens' Guard Dog, I actually thought of the base concept of taking mine and a few friends' OCs and giving Hans a siren harem back in Mermay. And uh. Just one road trip later I had ideas buzzing in my head for how it was no longer going to be a single chapter ordeal. So I started winging it, as usual, and got like 9 chapters in dreading it the whole time. On an entirely different roadtrip, I managed to clear that plot block that had me dreading continued work and actually made an outline all the way through to the end. So now it's much easier to churn out a few thousand words per week since I know what's going on. Which is like, a rarity for me because I usually wing shit the whole way through. (A Month to Love a Werewolf was just a new prompt every day and I went for it and strung it into a story lmao).
.
🍂 leaves: what does your editing process look like? how does your wip typically change as you work on it?
Editing? Who is she?
I have no beta and honestly the best I get is MAYBE skimming a chapter before I post. (I mean sometimes I will share things with friends if I'm super unsure of it and want some reassurance it's not hot garbage, but...). I'm a brave fool. Most of the time I catch a few errors here and there because my fingers move a bit faster than my brain and my eyes aren't watching, so sometimes like months after posting I'll reread and go in to update it.
Other than that, there isn't much about a WIP that changes in the process. Mostly because I'm used to winging things. Funny enough the Sirens plot has had a few minor tweaks to make things flow a bit more logically or hit more interesting plot points, but even for something planned it's a relatively constant river. I'm definitely proud of it! Here's to hoping I manage to hit 130k by the time I'm done.
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shurisneakers · 3 years
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harmless (v)
Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)
Warnings: cursing, ghosts, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, rats
Word count: 2.3k
A/N: why did i like this chapter sm someone explain. anyway!! y’all are so passionate about these two i love it mwah
if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them
here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333
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Previous Part || Series Masterlist
He dislikes the subway. 
Other than his other valid reason to have disdain for trains, the subway is dark, it’s shady and he’s sure he’s seen rodents fight to the death here on several occasions.  
Still, he’s following you down the stairs of the station, watching as you whistle along to the song blasting through your headphones. There’s a backpack swung over your shoulders, hands stuffed into the pocket of your hoodie and converse doing a skip every now and then. There’s a bandana that’s tied across your face, acting as a mask to hide your identity. 
He realises that you’re dressed like a commuter. Were you going to dress the part every single time?
You walk along with the crowd. He follows, a few feet away.
Until you stop. He abruptly stops too, leading someone to walk right into him. 
“Watch it, dumbass,” they hiss with the courage of someone who has no idea who he is. He ignores them. 
He looks on as you dig around your backpack and pull out a roll of paper. A poster, he realises soon when you peel off a layer from the back and press it to the wall. 
Was it legal to put up posters in the subway? He wasn’t quite sure. 
He observes as you turn around and continue down the path. He waits a few seconds before trailing up to the poster.
Volunteers needed!
If you’re interested in being turned into a ghost for a couple of hours, this is your chance! Should be okay with being on camera so that we can make money off of taped paranormal sightings.
Paid opportunity. You get to pick your outfit. Randos don’t apply.
He yanks the poster of the wall before continuing down the same place you did.
He finds another poster along the way. He doesn’t hesitate in pulling it down. You were advocating to kill people. 
He knows he’s going in the right direction because more posters creep up along the wall.
The both of you are on the platform by now but to him, something changes about the placement of the posters. They were growing in frequency, the distance between them decreasing as they were situated close to each other.
He pauses in front of the next one, hand hovering over the paper.
All it reads is ‘STOP’.
He furrows his eyebrow, pulling it down before peering over at the next one.
‘TAKING’, is all that it says.
It doesn’t take him very long to make his way through all the posters in the hallway. 
‘THESE’
‘DOWN’
The train’s arrived by now but a quick scan over the crowd and he knows that you haven’t entered. That, and he knew that you were too dramatic to leave without a trace or a small conversation with him. 
‘DICKHEAD’
Tasteful, he thinks. 
“It took effort to make them, stop ruining it,” you whine from the end of the hallway. It’s empty, given that rush hour was over a while ago. 
Even though the mask covers half your face, it’s obvious that there is mischief etched under it. The twinkle in your eye is telling. 
“You’re literally killing people.” He holds up the poster. Not the ‘dickhead’ one. He pockets that for later. 
He knows there are a few minutes before the next train arrives and more people flood the station. The eccentricity of today lay in the lighting from the incandescent lamps and acoustics of the platform. It made his voice echo like a movie scene. 
“I very much am not,” you huff. 
“You’re turning them into ghosts. That’s what a murderer does,” he says pointedly. 
“Well, only if you keep saying it like that. You’re making me look bad.” You cross your arms across your chest. “What are you, Fox News?” 
A scurry next to him earns his attention. Two rats nibble at a piece of fallen food. He wonders when they’ll starting brawling. 
“Explain this.” He waves the poster around. He isn’t taking it too lightly he hopes. If it’s actual murder then it’s going to be an issue. 
You pull out a black cylinder, slightly bigger than a pen. He can’t really see any more details, but you hold onto it like a wand. 
“I’m turning them into ghosts. I’ll post videos of them doing stupid shit. I get famous and then boom, cash money.” You rub your index finger and thumb together. “I’ll give you a share if you volunteer.”
“You’re not explaining the death part.” 
He can feel it. You’re about to start derailing. 
“Winter Soldier, the ghost story. Literally.” You grin, yanking down the mask from your face to prove it. It pools around your neck. “That’s so funny, c’mon, it’d be amazing.”
It’s been years since he’s heard that. Never in this context. 
“No,” he says sternly, “and I’m going to have to bring you in if you’re going to kill people.”
The rats were ignoring everything that was going down like the hardened criminals that they were. They had probably seen worse. He can’t stop paying attention to them.
“I’m not killing them, bro.” You raise your hands in exclamation. “I’m just moving some molecules around, some frequency shit. They’re alive, just ghosts.”  
He’s always been one for science. Straight As throughout high school, attended science conventions as a hobby, alive even at 100 through some mad experimentation, definitely seen some weird shit during his lifetime. 
But this doesn’t make sense.
“No,” he repeats. “Give me the thing.”
“Fine, I’ll show you.” You roll your eyes. “Since you have absolutely no faith in me.”
He does a quick review of his surroundings. 
No one’s around, which is good. 
But that just leaves him in front of you, which is bad.
“Don’t you even thin-” he starts, muscles tensing as he shifts into a defensive stance.
You whip out the little pen thing from beside you but before he can react you turn around and duck. 
The click of a button releases a bright light, small but intensely stronger than the fluorescents in the station.
He reels back, feet carrying him away from where you’re crouched. His eyes quickly look down at his body. 
Nothing’s changed. 
He lifts his hand to check, runs it over his face. Still alive. He thinks.
“Behold,” you declare, “Ghost rat.”
He looks to where you’re pointing. The two rats from earlier were still nibbling on their food but something was off about them. 
He could see the faint outline of the tiles on the wall behind them, almost like they were... translucent.  
You aimed at the rats, not him. He doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or annoyed at the fake threat.
He watches as they move. They don’t look hurt or injured.
“Cool, huh?” you say smugly. 
He can’t stop staring at them. 
“Bring them back.”
“They’re fine, look how abstract it is.”
“Bring back the rats.” He can’t believe this is what his life has come to.
Bucky Barnes, Rodent Protector.
You aren’t fazed by his indifference, instead wonder filled eyes gaze at the animals. “Astral mice, sarge. Embrace the miracle of modern science.”
“You killed them.”
“They’re alive, they’re just ghosts.” You raise a finger to point. “Look, they’re still eating. Biological functions are still taking place.” 
 Which was true. But still. He doesn’t know what is going on.
“Bring them back to... non-ghost alive.” 
“You sure you don’t want one? That one kinda looks like you.” One hardened glare after you realise the answer. “Jeez, alright then.”
You dig through your bag before pulling out a matte black replica of your current invention. 
“Sexy colours, right?” You hold them up. “I modelled them after your arm.”
He looks down. Sure enough the gold and black matched his cybernetic limb. It was oddly flattering. 
“Say thank you, Y/N, for letting me be your muse-”
“Un-ghost the rats.” 
“Ungrateful,” you narrow your eyes at him. 
Still, you comply with his demands, ducking down to their level again.
A click of the button, a bright light and the rats are back to normal. Non-transparent normal.
“Okay, give me that.” He takes a step towards you. 
“Nuh uh.” You pull your arm back. His mouth twitches at your response; what are you, five?
The black one is stuffed back into your bag but you wave around the gold like a threat. 
He sighs, making a pass for it. In a second his arm is twisted and shoved against his back, forcing him to spin so that he’s facing away from you. His eyes widen.
What the fuck?
“Now we’re having a good time,” you whisper into this ear. 
He swiftly turns around, grabbing your wrist to rotate his own out of your grip. 
“Since when can you fight?” he asks.
“Are we getting to know each other now?” You raise your leg to give him a semi gentle kick in the side, using his momentary distraction in blocking it to give him a knock on the head with your free hand. “This is so romantic, sarge.”
There’s a low rumble in the distance and he knows the train would soon start pulling into the station. It was still a distance away, but his heightened senses warned him that it wouldn’t take much time. 
He groans. How much longer would he have to go at this?
He could easily win this fight and he knew it. But something in him itched, pulled him back from doing it.
He blocks another attempt at his head. “Stop that.”
You grin. “You know what’d be fun?”
He knows you’d reply even if he didn’t encourage it. The lights from the train light up the tunnel around the corner. 
“This.” You don’t give him a second to recover before you flick your wrist away from him.
The device flies out of your hand and right onto the track. The both of you watch, you in glee, he in horror, as the train runs right over it, unleashing the brightest light he had ever seen. His eyes shut instinctively before it blinds him.
He forces himself to pry open his eyelids, look at the damage caused. 
The train, sure enough, is translucent. He can see the posters on the other side of the platform through the carriage, through various people holding onto the poles for support or seated on the seats.
“Ghost train!” you cheer. He’s mortified.
“Fuck no,” he mumbles, yanking the backpack off your shoulder. He rummages through it, looking for the gold version.
“You lookin’ for this?” you ask nonchalantly, holding it up in your hand like it isn’t the solution to stopping a bunch of ghosts from wandering around New York. 
“Turn them back.” He gives you a chance. 
“Do it yourself, coward.” You grin, holding it above your head. The train is going to stop and he needs everyone to be alive and non-ghost before they leave.
He doesn’t wait this time, instead turning to you. The thing is still held in your grip above your head. He rolls his eyes, doing a quick assessment before grabbing your free hand, tugging you closer and plucking the device out of your hand before you have the opportunity to retract it.  
“Great, now figure out which button to press.” You’re dangerously close to him. He can feel your hoodie brush against his tactical jacket. “Also if you wanted to be all pressed up against me, you could have just asked.” 
He furrows his eyebrows, letting go of you as you give a loud laugh. He looks down at the device. It has several buttons, littering up and down the side. Each look the same. 
The train’s slowing down. 
“They’re both the same device; this version is not a magical solution to the other one. If you press the wrong button then both of us are going to be fucked.”
The last carriage is getting closer. 
“Say I win this round and I’ll fix it.” 
There’s a gleam in your eye. He knew this was exactly what you wanted. 
He wishes he was as stubborn as Steve, just run through each button until the right one worked.
“You win this one.” He hands it back. He wasn’t like Steve and judging by the number of items the idiot jumped out of planes without a parachute on a daily basis, Bucky was glad about it. At least Bucky did it sporadically.
“Yay, two each for the both of us, then,” you say, taking it from him and twisting, eyes running down the sides. “Close your eyes, old man, or else your cataract’s gonna get worse.”
Right as the train pulls to a stop, you press down on the button before throwing it and the blinding light that emanates from it. It lands on the top of the train right as the doors open. 
The passengers start stepping out. Some of them are looking at their hands and legs in a little disbelief, most just push through the crowd to leave.
He can’t see through them. It’s a good sign. 
He turns to look at you but you’re not there. Instead, the weight of the small device weighs down in his pocket.
The sound of a thud on glass draws his attention. 
He looks up at the train. The window of the carriage in front of him has a bit of fog on it. You trace a heart in the condensation and blow him a kiss before pulling your mask back on.
The train starts moving, leaving him alone in the platform again with your invention.
He lets out an exhale, wandering outside to grab a sandwich before waiting to catch the next train to go home. 
Later in the evening, he catches hold of a bit of tape and the ‘Dickhead’ poster finds a place on Sam’s door. 
He doesn’t appreciate it.
So now it’s tucked away in the shelf of Bucky’s bedside table along with a freeze ray, a ghost-inator, and some discount Pym Particles. 
Next part
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samadiw · 3 years
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Knickers - Part 03 - Yellow Knickers 💛
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Yellow?
Fucking yellow?
She didnt have yellow knickers, she didnt have yellow anything and it wasnt like she could stroll into Hogsmeade and buy a pair.
Hermione pulls out her drawer of knickers, for a girl who didnt get it on much, she had a drawer full of colourful undies, one must always feel good in what covers your twat.
She gingerly picks up a scanty almost see through black pair of knickers, well, they would have to do.
Placing the pair on the bed, she reaches for her wand and waves it over the undergarment, the colour instantly changes from black to dark yellow.
Hermione grins, it looks better than she expected.
H : "Not bad..."
She flops down on the bed and thinks of Malfoy's cock for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.
The fucker had no shame in just whipping it out in front of her, his crass boldness turned her on, he didn't care to tip toe around her as if she would shatter into a million pieces.
Her toes curl with wanting, he would widen her nicely, she had always been told she was tight.
Damn that bloody Malfoy cock.
*******
T : "The fuck man."
B : "Don't you get sick of losing?"
T : "You're cheating, I know it."
B : "Its wizards chess, you just suck."
T : "I have to meet Luna but once I'm back, I want a bloody rematch."
B : "Let's make it interesting, care to place a bet?"
T : "10 Galleons?"
B : "My house elf makes 10 times that, you bloody cheapskate."
T : "Later."
B : "Use protection, we don't want crummy chess players being added to the population."
T : "Fuck you, Zabini."
Draco walks in towelling his hair
B : "Ah, want to grab a butter beer?"
D : "Sure, mate."
Throws a bottle at Draco and he catches it expertly.
D : "So, whats the name of the new broad?"
B : "Patil..."
D : "Nice."
B : "Is Weasley still banging Granger?"
D : "Haven't a clue."
B : "She's looking rather fine this year."
Draco tightens his hold on the bottle and takes a long swig.
Blaise didnt know the half of it.
The next morning
T : "Fuck, are you ready to leave?"
D : "Yeah, I've got some, unm...work to do."
What he wanted to do was claim his seat in the Great Hall before someone else did.
B : "Well, I'm ready, I'll come with you, Theo, do hurry up bitch."
T : "Yeah, yeah, I'm hurrying."
They walk into the Great Hall and find it half full.
A bunch of 3rd years are sitting in Draco's usual place.
The blonde towers over the younger students and hisses darkly.
D : "Move, now!"
The adolescent boys trip over themselves in their haste to get up.
"Yes, Mr Malfoy, sir."
"Right away."
"So sorry."
Blaise and Draco slide into the seat.
B : "I think the tall one wet his pants."
D : "Respect, Blaise, must be taught when young."
B : "Theres a fine line between respect and bullying."
D : "Potato, potahto."
B : "Why the fuck do you keep looking at the entrance?"
D : "For Nott, ofcourse."
Blaise raises a brow and grins.
B : "Sure you are..."
Hermione links her arm through Ron's and he whispers a funny joke into her ear, she throws her head back in laughter.
From across the hall she can feel steely grey eyes watching her every movement.
She locks eyes with the ice blonde and bites her lip.
Settling down in her usual spot, Hermione looks at Draco through hooded eyes and challenges him.
Draco smirks, fucking showtime.
He's about to drop something when a voice cuts into his train of thought.
PS : "Mr Malfoy."
Fuck..
D : "Yes, Professor Slughorn?"
PS : "Come with me, boy, I need your rather unique potion making skills."
Come on, no, no...
D : "Now?"
Slughorn raises a brow.
PS : "Yes, now..."
Draco glances at Hermione desperately.
Did the old codger have to fuck up his morning?
Draco weakly protests
D : "But sir, I'm um..hungry."
Hungry for Grangers cunt.
PS : "Now! Before I start deducting points off Slytherin."
The bloody bastard.
Draco gets to his feet
D : "Fine."
Hermione looks on in disappointment, brings her legs together and watches Malfoy trail after Slughorn miserably.
The fuming Slytherin throws a look of annoyance her way before exiting the hall after the potions master.
Draco misses his first two lessons because of Slughorn's potions emergency, he is still at it when his year piles into the classroom.
He wipes his brow and looks up, Hermione grins and pats the seat next to her suggestively.
It wouldn't do to openly sit next to the Gryffindor without a bunch of questions being asked.
Draco coughs to distract everyone else and shakes his head, Hermione frowns, rolls her eyes and pulls out her books.
PS : "Good job, Mr Malfoy."
Draco replies in frustration.
D : "Yeah, no problem, Professor."
He gathers this things and sits next to Theo.
The class drones on and by the end of it Draco has dozed off more than once.
Theo nudges him and hisses.
T : "For fuck sake, get up."
The class ends and the exhausted students leave the dungeons and make their way to lunch before the next round of classes start.
Hermione studiously avoids Draco, she wouldn't go to him, let him come to her.
Refusing to sit with her, who the bloody hell did he think he was?
She steps into the abandoned girls bathroom to fix her hair and wash the tiredness off her face.
It takes but a second.
The door opens, closes with a bang and a heavy firm body presses up against her back.
Shocked at first, Hermione reaches for her wand but she looks up to see Draco grinning smugly at her.
She turns around and shoves him
H : "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
D : "Isn't it obvious?"
H : "This is the girls lavatory."
D : "I'm aware."
H : "Get away from me, you pervert."
D : "I haven't seen your knickers today, Granger."
H : "And you're not going to see them now."
D : "Oh, I beg to differ."
He places firm hands on her waist, lifts her and settles her on the counter.
Hermione lashes out
H : "Have you lost your damn mind?"
Draco winks.
D : "Possibly."
Hermione tries to hop down.
H : "I'm not playing this bloody game."
Draco holds her in place, his long fingers brush gently along her skin and edge upwards.
He pushes up the school skirt so it bunches around her waist and stares at the bright yellow undie hugging her pussy lips, outlining every dip and curve.
Draco swallows hard, up close she looks absolutely breathtaking.
H : "There, you saw them, are you satisfied?"
D : "Immensely, yellow might be my new favourite colour."
H : "Very funny, now let me go."
D : "Not so fast, pet."
He runs a long finger down her material covered slit.
Hermione gasps and a involuntary moan escapes her full lips.
She comes back to her senses and scolds.
H : "Stop it, anyone could walk in."
Draco rolls his eye, waves his wand and distinctive click echoes through the quiet bathroom.
He grins mischievously.
D : "Problem solved."
He continues to rub enticing circles around the flesh of her inner thighs.
D : "I wonder if you taste as good as you look."
H : "You wouldn't..."
D : "Oh, I would and you will love it."
He peels down her panties, leaving a trail of fire where his fingers touch her skin.
Draco puts Hermione smooth legs over his shoulders and bends to give her exposed cunt a quick lick.
Hermione gasps as he delves inside her with the tip of his tongue.
He gives her clit a quick flick and proceeds to eat her out generously.
Holy fuck, was Malfoy licking her cunt?
Oh, so good, so bloody good.
D : "You taste divine, let's see what makes you come."
Hermione's breathing elevates, she surrenders to the blonde licking her to glory.
The noises he makes as he moves his tongue echo in her head and fuel her pending release.
H : "Malfoy...."
D : "Wet, so fucking wet."
They have 4 minutes and 26 seconds before their next class.
Draco figures he needs 3 minutes tops to fuck her with his talented tongue and feel her orgasm on it.
D : "You taste fucking amazing."
He parts her pussy lips with his tongue again and begins to lap at her eager wetness.
Moving slowly, he uses the tip of his tongue to circle her ever receptive bud.
His tongue slips and he's rewarded with a loud moan.
Ah, so that's the spot.
Draco relentlessly tongues Hermione till she squirms.
He wants to look at her, keeping up his ministrations he braved a look at the witch whispering his name.
She was shuddering above him, her body wracked in pleasure.
Head thrown back, wild curls around her face, fuck...she looked stunning.
Her eyes closed, thighs spread wide and hands massaging her breasts and pinching her nipples.
This was a sight he could get used to.
H : "There, oh fuck...don't stop..."
H : "Oh...mm...I'm going to come."
Music to his ears, he takes her swollen bud between his lips and sucks hard.
D : "Let go, baby."
Hermione lets out a cry, grabs a fistful of Draco's hair and comes crashing down around him.
Only after she rode her high and stilled did he wipe her dripping juices off his chin and get to his feet.
H : "Well, that was..."
She hopes off the counter and attempts to stand on wobbly legs.
Draco licks his cum stained lips and grins.
D : "Something else."
H : Yes, something else.
Draco muses .
D: "And we havent even kissed yet."
Post orgasm bliss aside, Hermione asks.
H : "Why didn't you sit next to me? Do you still think me dirty?"
Dirty, was the woman mad? She fucking came in his mouth and he couldn't believe the words that were coming out of her mouth.
Draco pulls Hermione close and kisses her.
The kiss is no gentle exchange between lovers, its hard, fast and demanding
He pries her stubborn lips open with his tongue and slips it in to seek the inner sweetness, they grab onto each other fighting for dominance, until, she breaks free and surfaces for air.
Draco nibbles on the heated flesh of her neck and whispers.
D : "That's your cum you taste on my tongue, do you honestly believe your blood status means fuck all to me?"
He places a tender kiss to her lips
D : Actually, I wanted to spare you the embarrassment of mingling with an ex Death Eater.
Hermione shoves him playfully.
H : "Sod it, sit with me tomorrow."
D : "You dig your own grave, Granger."
A distinctive tent decorated Draco's trousers, he cups the bulge and adjusts his painfully hard erection.
H : "Oh, you're still hard, let me..."
D : "We don't have time."
Hermione's face falls in disappointment and Draco smirks.
D : "Don't worry about it, you can make up for it tomorrow."
Draco picks up the discarded yellow knickers and pockets them.
D : "I'm keeping these by the way."
H : "You cant be serious?"
D : "I rather enjoy the thought of you walking about the castle knickerless."
H : "You fucking smug prat."
D : "Blue is my favourite colour, Granger."
Draco lifts the spell and walks out.
Funny, she would've bet her left tit that it was black.
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writersmorgue · 3 years
Text
You're a Hero, Eijirou Kirishima
for @juicebocs and their wonderful art that absolutely did not make me cry. definitely not.
“Have you seen the news?”
Has Katsuki seen the news? Sure he fuckin’ has. All of Japan has seen it at this point.
He shoots Kaminari a glare, forcing the blond to back the fuck off. He just needs to get home but this paperwork is taking forever to submit.
At this point he rewatched the video more than his own wedding vows.
Eijirou had been on a routine mission, but of course, his trouble-magnet of a partner had ended up in the middle of a bank robbery smack dab in the middle of Tokyo. Alone. The robbers had set up a hellish version of the trolley problem basically, with one group of five children and one pregnant woman in one room and a dozen other adults in another.
Eijirou had panicked like any sane person would. After being given a time limit, a mere ten seconds to choose one, he picked the children.
Now in Katsuki’s mind, this makes sense. He would’ve obviously chosen the fuckin’ kids. Probably. It’s different, he supposes, when lives are actually on the line.
When Aizawa had them attempt this problem in second year, Katsuki had brushed it off as ‘bullshit he’ll never need.”
Funny how life works.
The upload bar reaches 100% and Katsuki almost knocks over Kaminari on his mad dash out of the building.
He clicks on Eijirou’s contact and presses the phone aggressively up to his ear, cursing when his husband’s cheerful voice informs him that he can leave a message after the beep.
“Leave a message my ass, Eijirou you better be fuckin’ okay.” He growls into the receiver, clenching his teeth and pressing the end call button as he steps onto the train.
Curse the fuckin’ agency for forcing him to stay late today out of all days.
It’s a mere twenty minutes later when he finally makes it home, hiking up his post-shift sweatpants he stills, waiting for a sign of life.
“Ei?” He calls, “I’m home.”
Nothing but the distant sound of water running.
Katsuki speedwalks to the bathroom, dodging various items strewn on the floor.
Eijirou’s mouthguard, his stupid shoulder gears, his boots.
Steam is visible from the doorway of their bedroom, slipping through the cracks of their bathroom door and out into the frigid air. Katsuki peels off his sweatshirt, leaving it to hang on their bedpost, he rubs his arms as goosebumps rise on his skin.
“Ei?” He calls as he places his hand on the doorknob, “I’m coming in.”
No response. God fucking damnit.
He twists the handle, waving away the wall of steam that collides with his face.
Squinting in the dim light, he can barely make out the huddled form of his husband in the bottom of the tub. Scorching water pelting his bare back. His skin is almost as red as his hair prompting Katsuki to somewhat frantically turn the temperature down.
He crouches in front of the redhead and plops himself down on their fuzzy black bath mat.
Eijirou clamps his eyes shut and digs his head into his arms. Katsuki frowns, sticking his hand out to meet his husband who flinches slightly when they make contact.
Katsuki rubs his hand along Eijirou’s warm arm before sliding his other arm under himself and resting his head on the tub.
“Ei-baby, can you look at me?” The affectionate nickname slips, laced with worry.
Eijirou sniffs and brings his head up, tears silently stream down his face, mixing with the shower water, and he curls farther in on himself.
“I’m sorry,” He sobs, grimacing as if preparing for a blow. Katsuki’s frown deepens.
“The hell are you apologizing for?” Of course, Katsuki knows, he’s not stupid. Obviously, his angel of a husband blames himself for not saving the other group even though he was handling a hostage situation alone for some fucking reason. “Ei you didn’t do anything wrong.”
Eijirou’s face screws up before he chokes out another sob, “Katsuki you weren’t there, I fucked up. I could’ve saved them both. I’m a terrible hero, you deserve someone better.”
“Ei, quit with your fuckin’ bullshit. You know that’s not true.” The softer, “one of the hostages filmed it.”
Eijirou flinches so hard Katsuki retracts his hand, “Oh no, oh nonononono-” Eijirou gasps, gripping his head in his hands
“No Ei-” Katsuki reaches out, almost afraid to touch him, “Eijirou Kirishima look at me.”
His husband’s wide eyes meet his, “No one blames you. The whole fuckin’ country has probably seen the video at this point, yes, but no one blames you. Babe, you didn’t do anything wrong. You waited for backup that didn’t come, you were calm and collected, and you made a decision, one that most pros wouldn’t have been able to make. But you know the one thing you didn’t do?”
Eijirou opens his mouth, probably to spew some self-deprecating bullshit that Katsuki is not going to deal with right now.
“You didn’t let those fuckin’ kids die. You’re a hero, Ei.” He cuts him off, reinstating the hand contact on Eijirou’s arm. He grips the redhead’s hand, hard.
Eijirou uncurls his hand and intertwines their fingers together.
Katsuki sticks a hand into the stream, tucking a loose strand of hair behind the other’s ear.
“C’mon Red, let’s get you dried off, this shit can’t be good for your skin.”
He stands, walking over to the cupboard and quickly grabbing a few fuzzy towels. He shuts off the water and rubs Eijirou down as his husband shivers, skin hardening in small waves.
Katsuki reaches a hand down to pull Eijirou up but stops when they make contact.
“If you blame yourself again while I can hear it I’ll blast you to the moon,” Katsuki murmurs sweetly.
“Understood,” Eijirou immediately responds, knowing the blond can and will keep that promise.
Katsuki pulls him upright and gently tugs him into a warm embrace.
Eijirou crumples into his arms, letting himself fall, knowing Katsuki will catch him.
Katsuki rubs circles into his back, shushing him softly as he cries.
“I- I couldn’t do anything, a-and they’re dead. All those people had families, Kat. They had lives-” Katsuki grips red hair and leads them both down onto the bed.
“Let’s get you into something warmer, yeah?” He stands, causing Eijirou to let out a short whimper when he leaves, “Close your eyes and count to twenty, Ei.”
He steps away to their closet as soon as Eijirou does so.
He returns exactly twenty counts later with Eijirou’s baggiest sweatpants, boxers, and a Crimson Riot hoodie that he’s had since high school. It’s old and tattered but it makes Ei feel safe.
Katsuki sits on the bed next to the redhead and pulls on his own All Might hoodie. Then he pulls his husband down and curls his body as best he can around the bigger man. A towel was placed under them for Eijirou’s wet hair.
“I’m proud of you, Eijirou. You were amazing today.”
The big puppy digs his head into the gap between Katsuki’s head and shoulder, taking in his husband’s scent.
“Thank you, Kat. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I love you, stupid.” Katsuki brings a corner of the towel up and begins dragging it along Eijirou’s hair, slowly drying it.
“I love you too.”
109 notes · View notes
thosewickedlovelies · 3 years
Text
Into the Woods: chapter 1  |  Frankie Morales x GN!Reader
Summary: Neither you nor Frankie are expecting to run into anyone in the middle of the woods.
Tags: none!! all audiences!
Word Count: 3,054
Note: HE’S HERE!!! Please enjoy the official first installment of the outdoors insta frankie series 🌳📷😍 So much love to the wonderful @yoditorian for coming up with this concept and Frankie’s IG name, and also helping me brainstorm 💗💗💗
Backstory
---
Francisco Morales loves this shit. Walking for hours without seeing another soul, nothing to think about but where to place his feet on the path ahead of him. Assuming he’s following a path at all. These are his woods- the country surrounding the house he’s lived in for years, a place just shy of isolated from the nearest town. They’re not really his, legally. He’s not exactly sure what the rules of land designation entail, but it’s not a national park, and no one has ever chased him up about the occasional wood-chopping or campfire-building he does.
So he walks.
It’s a damn perfect day for it, too. Brilliantly sunny with a hint of breeze, rustling the greenery around him and carrying the scents of sun-warmed leaves and late summer flowers. The birds are in high spirits, their vibrant chirping filling the air with chatter. Screeches of alarm, sometimes, too- a side effect of hiking with a giant energetic dog. Frankie watches ruefully as Oso crashes off into the undergrowth again, doubtless chasing down some poor creature.
He slows his pace to wait for her, taking the opportunity for a water break. His heavy pack thuds to the ground. Frankie grunts as he stretches, rotating his shoulders and flapping his sweaty t-shirt away from his back. I should really hike along the river more often, he muses. He doesn’t mind working up a sweat (obviously), but a ready supply of cool water during a long hike does wonders for one’s well-being.
“Boof!” Oso’s deep bark as she returns brings Frankie’s attention to her.
“Yeah? Would you like that, too? A nice swim in the river to cool you down?” He crouches to ruffle her neck fur the way she likes. Oso only pants in answer, blinking at him adoringly.
She slurps thirstily as Frankie pours some water from his bottle into her mouth. He chuckles. “Don’t worry, Osita, we’ll be near some water soon.”
Their goal today is a small pond Frankie had only found earlier this year. It’s a good spot for his campfire cooking, as well as endlessly photogenic. This is marginally important to him, as he attempts to keep a regular diary of his wanderings through instagram. It’s mostly for fun, but like anyone else, he isn’t immune to the particular buzz from his posts unexpectedly getting a high number of likes.
But he had also discovered that he wasn’t the only one with this hobby. There were whole communities of people out there who found peace the same way he did, and they happily gave advice if ever he posted about a struggle.
Frankie pauses again a short way away from the pond to make sure he’s on course. Oso sniffs around excitedly, bounding off again while Frankie checks his GPS. “Huh.” Looking around, he laughs at himself a little when it tells him he’s almost walked past it. He rotates to his left and thinks he spots the telltale gap in the trees ahead. He tucks the GPS away.
Oso barks from somewhere ahead of him. A split second later, a human yelp sounds from the same direction. His eyes widen.
“Shit!” Frankie breaks into a run. In all the years he’s been out here, he rarely sees other people this far from the trails. “Oso!” he yells. “Here, girl!”
Oso isn’t aggressive (unless the situation warrants it), but whatever new friend she thinks she’s meeting won’t know that. Frankie races toward where he judges the noise came from, heart pounding. He bursts through some bushes and is almost knocked down by his beast jumping up to greet him.
“Hey, girl, who was- no!” Oso peels away again across a bit of clear ground, her collar slipping through Frankie’s fingers. He’s barreling toward where her tail wags from behind a bush, when you stand.
Frankie skids to a stop so abruptly his feet slide out from under him. His ass hits the ground with a thud, his rucksack taking only part of the fall. He scrambles upright gracelessly, clumsy with the weight on his back, never taking his eyes off of you.
You stare at each other.
Nothing about this moment feels real to Frankie- you could announce that you’re the dryad who rules this forest and he would believe you, that’s how unlikely your appearance is. Shifting sunbeams dapple your skin, and even from several feet away he can tell that you have the most striking eyes he’s ever seen.
For a second your gaze flicks down to the side. You lean slightly as if something has nudged you, and as you move your hand away from it Frankie realizes you’re holding something.
Shit. He returns to his senses. Is that a weapon?
He’s met people on the trails before, most of them harmless fellow hikers. But occasionally there are some with weird vibes, especially the farther away from the paths you got. He’s fully capable of defending himself, but that doesn’t mean he wants to have to.
“Oso! Here!” Frankie says sternly. Your expression doesn’t change as you watch the dog trot over to him. Jaw set, wide eyes tracking his every motion.
He supposes he can’t blame you for being wary. Or armed. It’s a perfectly reasonable response to running into a strange man in the middle of the woods. He knows he’s not exactly the picture of reassurance. Tall and broad, probably too sweaty to believably claim he’s on a casual hike. He decides to speak.
“Sorry to startle you.” Frankie keeps his hands by his sides where you can see them, resting one on Oso’s head. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone this far from the trails.”
Your tense stance doesn’t relax. “Me either.”
His head tips to the side. “Do you come to this area regularly, then?” He tries to keep his voice slow and soothing.
He can see you assessing him, trying to measure how safe he is. “I have been recently. What about you?”
“All the time. Me and Oso take nice long walks.” Frankie pats the dog’s head in a more formal introduction. “I like to come out here and cook.” Your brow furrows at that, bemusement appearing amidst your guarded features. Before you can respond, he prompts “What are you doing this far off the main paths?”
“Foraging. You come all the way out here to cook?” Disbelief is etched in every line of your face.
Well, when you say it like that.
Foraging. That makes perfect sense. Frankie follows a few of them on instagram. He’s always pleased when he notices the more obvious edible plants and berries, but it’s not usually his focus. His vegetable garden at home takes up most of his efforts. It’s managed to thrive in the years since he started it after leaving the army, and it’s become a source of pride for him to be able to wander out, pick some things for the day’s meal, and head right into the woods.
“Yeah,” he responds. “Here, I can show you. I keep an instagram.”
Your eyebrows rise even higher at that.
Moving slowly and watching for your reaction, Frankie holds his hands up as he turns, keeping one in the air while the other makes a show of tugging his phone from a side pocket of his pack. He keeps the screen visible as he opens the app, then pulls his arm back in the beginning of an underhanded throw. Poised as such, he looks at you expectantly.
Now you’re almost frowning. Clearly still suspicious, but possibly fractionally less concerned about danger from a man willing to give his phone to a complete stranger in the woods. Hesitantly, you raise your hands to catch it.
Finally Frankie can make out that the thing in your hand in a canister of mace. The sight inexplicably relieves him. Pepper spray is a normal person’s defense, something that anyone might carry to help themselves feel safe. Far from the kind of weapon he would fear from someone angling for true violence.
All of this decided in the space of a second, Frankie gently tosses you his phone.
--
You’re so distracted by delighting in the prolific blackberry bushes which surround your pond that you don’t hear the approaching creature until it’s upon you.
You screech in shock at the massive fur-thing’s appearance, bowling you over from your crouch. It doesn’t seem bothered about wanting you to pet it, only wiggling and sniffing at you enthusiastically. You register the collar around its neck at the same you hear the shout.
“Oso!” That must be its name. “Here, girl!” The dog dashes away, then back, clearly torn about leaving her new friend so soon.
Icy adrenaline douses your system. That was a man’s voice, rough and cavernous. Who knows what kind of person he could be, no matter the earnestness of his dog? Your hands shake as you rip open your bag for the canister of mace you’ve never had to use.
There’s a pronounced rustle and then his voice sounds again, terrifyingly close. “Hey, girl, who was- no!”
Shit. The dog is back, looking at you eagerly, rear in the air and tail wagging like this is an exciting game. You have to choose a course of action quickly. Twisting the safety off the pepper spray, you rise to your feet.
His reaction is almost funny; you think you might have laughed if this was literally any other scenario. Like a cartoon character slipping on a banana peel, the man wrenches himself to a stop with such force his feet fly up from the ground. The contents of his bulging pack crunch against the earth, but he barely seems to notice he’s fallen, keeping his eyes on yours the entire time he cycles back to his feet.
You stare at each other.
That’s a man all right. Towering even from this distance, with wide shoulders that help the impression. His eyes are round and stunned, the cap on his head knocked slightly askew and freeing sweat-dark curls to spring around his ears.
Your first thought is that he looks warm. Not temperature warm, although the gleam of sweat on his neck confirms that, too. But approachable warm. There’s a softness to his body that belies the muscle his motions highlight, creases around his eyes that wrinkle brown like tree bark in the sun.
Then his dog noses your thigh, reminding you that you have pepper spray in your hand because you’re in the middle of the damn woods with a potentially threating stranger. You risk a half-second glance down to move the canister away from her face.
You regard the man with stony distrust, fear flushing your face and neck with heat. Confrontation makes the blood roar in your ears, but it gradually quiets as he orders the creature away from you. For several more seconds the only sound is rustling leaves.
He clears his throat. “Sorry to startle you,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone this far from the trails.”
His voice doesn’t sound as harsh now that he’s not frantically shouting for his dog. Still you keep your answer short. “Me either.”
His head tilts inquisitively. “Do you come to this area regularly, then?”
That’s a fair question. He has a right to be curious too. “I have been recently. What about you?”
“All the time. Me and Oso take nice long walks.” The man pats her head, and the dog’s ears perk up. “I like to come out here and cook.” Wait, what? Before you have a chance to process that, he continues. “What are you doing this far off the main paths?”
You won’t be deterred. “Foraging. You come all the way out here to cook?” If this is some elaborate murder setup, that’s not a very plausible lie.
“Yeah,” he answers. “Here, I can show you. I keep an instagram.”
You’re slightly more skeptical than fearful now. You watch silently as the man turns in place, putting the side of his backpack in your line of sight so you can see him fish his phone out. He makes his actions slow and obvious. The white background of an instagram page glows on the screen as he retracts his arm in a throwing pose. Clear eyes meet yours.
What? This guy is just going to...give you his phone, no questions asked? Taken aback, you can feel the deep grooves of a frown between your eyebrows as you consider.
You’re hesitant to reveal the pepper spray, but if there’s still some possibility this is a trick, he might second-guess attacking you if he sees you’re armed. You ready yourself for a catch.
Which you accomplish, easily, his toss landing the phone right in your hands. The dog lurches forward, but this time man has a grip on her collar and she’s forced to halt with a whine.
“Sorry, girl. We’re not playing fetch right now, okay? Sit!” The man doesn’t even seem concerned with monitoring you, looking down seriously at his dog as he speaks.
You keep one eye on them as you turn your attention to the screen. Frankieintheforest, reads the username at the top of the page. Just a guy out in the woods, continues his bio. Well, that’s accurate, anyway. Frankie, huh? You spare him another glance, matching various features of him to the ones in his photos. A broad hand here, sturdy hiking boots there. Several glimpses of the same flannel that’s currently tied to the strap of his backpack. His face in a few group shots. You click on an image which shows Oso parading around a yard with a grinning toddler on her back. “Ferocious beast carries away yet another victim,” quips the caption. An involuntary smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.
There are too many photos going too far back for it to be fake. You turn the screen toward him. “Cute kid,” you comment. “Is she yours?”
His eyebrows lift in surprise. “No,” the man half laughs. “My buddy’s. I’m just the godfather.” A small smile softens his face as he takes in the picture.
Being named godfather was nothing to sneeze at. You study the man carefully, keeping your face neutral. He seems genuine, his dog keen and friendly. Dogs were a good judge of character, right? Indicative of the character of their owner? He hasn’t demanded anything from you, not done anything threatening beyond just being here.
You glance between him and the phone again. “Frankie?” you question.
He raises one hand in a wave, directing a crooked sort of smile at you. “That’s me,” Frankie confirms.
You offer him your name in return. “Uh, you can have this back now.” You gesture with the phone.
He brings his hands up to catch it, and you thank every deity you know of when your throw connects. You’re at a bit of a loss for what to do next, however. You suppose this means you’re at a truce. But you still don’t think you’d be able to let yourself focus on foraging while knowing there’s a stranger wandering so nearby.
Frankie seems to be thinking the same thing. One hand rubs over the back of his neck. “Well,” he begins. “My plans for today were to sit by this pond and cook over a fire.” He points his thumb to the right, where not far away the reflection of sunlight on water wavers against the tree trunks.
“You can join me if you want.” He shrugs awkwardly. “I’m just gonna collect some tinder and then park it, so you don’t have to worry about me interrupting your foraging or anything.”
Oso finally wriggles free of his grasp and surges forward, leaping across to you with a triumphant woof! “Oso, no!” Frankie stumbles after her, only to stop after two steps, clearly unwilling to make you uncomfortable by getting too close. He looks on helplessly, hands flexing.
“It’s okay,” you assure him. This time you offer her your free hand to sniff, which she does, before promptly shoving her head beneath it for pets. Amused, you comply. Her multi-hued fur is soft beneath your fingers.
“You’re alright, aren’t you, Oso?” You dart a self-conscious glance back up to her owner, but he appears content to let you coo at his dog.
“She’s a good judge of character,” Frankie says simply.
You swallow. Those deep brown eyes linger over you, and this is all just a bit...much. “Right. Well. I’m just going to…” you ease back, hoping to convey ‘continue going about your business.’
“Oh, sure!” He takes a little hop backward. “I’ll be...here.” His hand makes a small circling motion to indicate a limited nearby area. “You’ll hear me before you see me. Or Oso.”
Frankie frowns slightly as if something has occurred to him. “Uh, she might want to follow you around today though. I can tie her to a tree if that would bother you? I don’t usually watch her too closely,” he admits sheepishly.
“Oh, that’s okay.” You realize that you mean it as your thoughts continue to form. “She’ll make for good protection if I meet any more big scary strangers.” You aim the last words down to the dog herself, sending a wry a sidelong glance to said stranger.
He chuckles again, a rasp of a sound like creaking branches. “That’s fair. But I meant it when I said I’ve never seen anyone else in this particular area. You’re pretty safe.” He punctuates his statement with a nod to the canister still in your hand, soft understanding clear in his face.
Your head ducks slightly. “Well,” you say again. ”I’ll..see you around. I guess.” You don’t wait for a farewell, turning to foist your pack back onto your shoulder. You strain your ears for any noise behind you as you flee, but there’s no sound of pursuit.
“Go ahead. Have fun, Oso,” Frankie calls, already at a distance from your quick pace. There’s a distinctly animal scurrying, and then the dog bursts into being by your side.
Your arms wheel as you jump. “Jeez, you are enormous,” you mumble, pausing to pet her again. Discreetly you look over your shoulder in time to see Frankie turn away from you, heading for your pond.
--
Post note: I know pepper spray is like, super illegal in the UK and other places, but it’s not abnormal to carry around in the US so just pretend it’s fine.
Taglist: @thirstworldproblemss, @leonieb, @computeringturtle
82 notes · View notes
myhockeyworld87 · 4 years
Text
Bubble Wrapped - Part 3
Word Count: 4,279
POV: Reader
Warnings:  Same as always, Language, Smut, NSFW, Please see the note in the Masterlist
Teams: Bruins, Caps, Flyers, Lightning and Pens
Notes: Ok so we’re moving on to part 3. Feel free to send me in suggestions for things that you’d like to see happen in the Bubble. Also a few people have mentioned our reader having a love interest in the end, feel free to tell me who you think it should be. I love hearing from your guys. Happy Reading!
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If day two went anything like day one you had your work cut out for you in more ways than one. You woke up early and got ready, grabbing a quick breakfast in the kitchen that was part of your suite. Heading down to the lobby, you found that everything was going according to schedule and that breakfast seemed to be going fine and there had been no food fight incidents like last night's dinner. All in all, the morning went pretty well. A lot of the teams had practice or went to at least check out the rink and there was very minimal interaction between them. Lunch went just as smoothly, with only a few minor problems here in there that needed your attention.
 By three o'clock you headed up to your suite to eat your lunch the kitchen had prepared and rest your feet a bit. You tossed your blazer off and grabbed a fork, sitting down on the sofa to eat the avocado quinoa salad chef had made you. Barely three bites in, your phone rang. "Hey Car, what's up?"
 "I hate to bug you, but Logan said there's a problem at the pool. He said it's urgent."
 "Did he say what it was?" Dropping the salad on the coffee table you grabbed your keys and headed to the roof.
 "Nope, just that he needed someone up there right away."
 Your suite had a private staircase to the pool and you took the steps two at a time, hoping that Ovechkin wasn't throwing anyone off the rooftop pool. "I'm already on my way. Thanks, Car."
 "Keep me posted," Carly said before ending the call. You burst through the door expecting a disaster but finding the place pretty calm. There were some players in the pool and even more lounging around on the chairs. It was definitely a mixed crowd, with some Bruins, Bolts, and Capitals there, but they seemed to either not be interacting or actually being friendly with each other. Scanning the pool deck, you looked for Logan but noticed more eyes on you than anything else. You finally saw him, over by the towel bin.
 "Logan, what seems to be the problem?"
 He was visibly flustered and yet you couldn't see why. "I…I ran out…I ran…"
 "Oh for godsakes spit it out."
 "I ran out of towels." You blinked a few times thinking that with his mask on you'd not heard him correctly. That's when you realized you didn't have a mask on as you'd been eating when you ran out of the room, but really with everyone being tested daily and no one coming in and out of the bubble, you were fairly safe. Still, you took a step back just so that there would definitely be six feet between you and Logan. It was probably for his safety as well, because running out of towels was not an urgent matter and you really wanted to cuff him upside the head.
 "So call housekeeping and have them bring some up."
 "Oh yeah right." You rolled your eyes. Logan was not someone you wanted on your team in this bubble life, but you'd had no choice as your bosses told you he had to be there. Pulling out your phone, you made the call yourself down to housekeeping; who said they would be right up.
 "Ok, now that's done. Is there anything else you need?" You tried to be patient, but you could see Brad Marchand laughing at the exchange between you and your co-worker. You glared back him, hoping to silence him especially after all the chaos he'd helped cause last night, but he just cocked his head at you, as if the look you gave him meant nothing.
 "Well, I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to do up here," Logan said bringing your thoughts back to work.
 "It's simple Logan, pick up the towels, put them in the bin, make sure it doesn't overflow." Like it currently was you wanted to add. "And call housekeeping if you need more." You'd thought you'd given him the easiest job at the hotel, but obviously, you'd need to rethink things if he couldn't handle this.
 "Right, right." He said shaking his head franticly. Housekeeping came up then with a huge stack of towels and you motioned for him to go get them, though he didn't register your meaning right away. Just as Logan went to turn to get them, Marchand came by, walking between the two of you. If you hadn't felt it, you would've never noticed the light push he gave you, making you stumble and lose your balance, sending you directly into the pool.
 You surfaced the water sputtering. "Well, that son of a…"
 "Are you ok?" Strong arms came around you and carried you over to the side, even though you could stand in the water.
 "Yeah, I'm…ouch!" you went to get your footing and noticed a pain shoot up from your ankle but also your shoe felt a little funny.
 "Don't try to stand on it." He moved you so that you were face to face and you finally recognized your rescuer as Jake Debrusk from the Boston Bruins. "Here wrap your legs around me and I'll take you to the side of the pool." Although you found yourself doing as he asked, you realized you weren't that far from the edge and probably could've just swum there yourself. Once you were finally there, Jake lifted you up to sit on the edge, while a few other players came around to see how you were. Well, you wanted to assume they were there to see if you were ok, but it was probably more about the fact that you were soaking wet and your silk cami was clinging to your skin, not leaving much to the imagination. Jake brought your foot up to look at it, moving your ankle in a few directions and making you wince. "I don't think it's broke, but it might be sprained." He took your high heels off and held it up. "I'm not surprised, the heel is totally broken."
 "Shit, they were one of my favorites too."
 "You should probably get some ice on it and elevate it," Jake told you, and you realized how cute he was. He had a smile that reached from ear to ear, and a voice that you could listen to for hours on end, which he probably got from his dad.
 "You're probably right. Do you think you could help me down to my room?" I mean if you were going to have to stay off your feet for a little bit; you might as well make it worth your while. The grin that was on his face got a little wider.
 "Yea…"
 "It's ok I got her." A voice from behind you said, and Jake's face fell. You could tell he was going to argue but the person continued. "You're soaking wet, she doesn't need that mess in her room." Jake simply nodded.
 "Yeah, you're right Charlie. You should take her." Well, you had a one in two shot, on who it was going to be, either McAvoy or Coyle. Craning your neck, you tried to see which is was, but the sun was bright and blinded your vision. They scooped you up before you could even think about shielding your eyes, and the next thing you knew you were face to face with Charlie Coyle. Jake was cute, there was no denying that, but he also seemed a little too innocent; whereas Charlie, well, there was something intriguing about him. You couldn't quite put your finger on it just yet.
 Charlie headed to the elevators, with you in his arms. "What floor are you on?"
 "Twenty-nine," you answered and he cocked his head realizing that you were in the penthouse suite. "One of my perks for being stuck here running this place."
 "Not such a bad perk." The doors no sooner closed than they were opening back up again and you were fishing for your key to open the room. Entering on the second floor of the two-level suite, you directed him to the bedroom. "You should probably get out of these wet clothes." You cocked your head at his suggestion. "No need to get a cold and all. People will think you've got COVID or something." He tried to add hoping to sound helpful.
 "Can't have people thinking that," you agreed. "The bathroom's that way. I could use a towel." He carried you into the bathroom, then set you down on the small stool, that you'd gotten for the vanity. He made no move to leave and you had to chuckle to yourself, as you knew exactly what was on his mind. Coyle was easy on the eyes with a soft smile. His features reminded you of Tyler for some reason, so you weren't opposed to where his thoughts were leading. You wiggled the soaking wet camisole up your body; peeling it off and throwing it in the tub. You'd worry about getting it cleaned later.
 His eyes went wide, dropping immediately to your breasts, which were only clad in a lace bra, your nipple already hard from the water and also in anticipation of things to come. "Could you help me with the skirt?" You hopped up on your good foot and twisted around so you could hold on to the counter while he unzipped the garment. You could've gotten it down easily yourself, but decided Charlie could have a little fun. He came up behind you, fingers working the zipper down, then he shimmied the wet skirt down your legs. His sharp intake of breath could be heard in the bathroom, as he took in your matching lace thong.
 Charlie let his hands glide down your thighs, all the way to your calves. Once the skirt was on the floor, his hands stole around your waist, lifting you up while his feet moved the garment to the side. "Better?"
 "Much, though still a little wet."
 He reached for a towel, and instead of handing it to you, he patted you down with it. Starting at your shoulders, he worked his way down to your breasts. "Seems futile to have this on," he said as he pulled at your bra. You simply nodded, and his hands went and unclasped your bra before he resumed his work of drying you off. You watched him in the mirror, as he moved the towel to your front, toweling off your breasts. The cloth dropped out of his left hand and his palm covered your breast. Your breath hitched in your throat, right as we tweaked the nipple. He continued drying you with his right hand as his left toyed you with your breast. "Has anyone told you today, how beautiful you are?" He breathed the compliment in your ear and it sent a shiver down your spine.
 "Not in the last few hours." You teased and he smirked at you through the mirror.
 "Well, you are." His lips were on your neck then, dropping kisses all around there and then down the back of your spine. The towel followed and he dried both of your legs, gliding his hands up your inner thighs, before sliding your thong to the side and dipping his fingers between your folds. "Mmm…This spot is pretty wet."
 "Well, I don't think…" You gasp as he hit that sweet spot inside you. "You're helping." The moan that left you echoed off the bathroom walls.
 "You like that?" you hummed out a yes and he continued to finger your pussy; the towel completely forgotten now, as it lay on the floor. "Then maybe we should get rid of this altogether." He made swift work of ridding you of your panties and now you stood completely naked in the bathroom mirror. "Should we move back to your bedroom? I mean you really shouldn't be on that ankle."
 You'd actually forgotten about the injury and now that you thought about it, your ankle didn't hurt all that much, but you weren't going to argue with moving things to a horizontal position. "Sounds like a good idea," you answered and turned as he grabbed your ass so you could wrap your legs and arms around him. His mouth came down on yours the minute he held you and he took a moment to just kiss you before making his way to the bedroom. Your hands threaded through his hair, tugging gently so he would deepen the kiss. Charlie didn't need to be told twice as his mouth devoured yours. He kissed differently than both Pasta and TK. Long sensual strokes of his tongue in your mouth; he wasn't hurried at all. When you were in the bedroom, he gently laid you down on the edge of the mattress before dropping to his knees. He propped your legs up on his shoulders, then proceeded to kiss and nibble on your inner thighs, before taking his tongue and licking between your folds. "Oh," you moaned out as he started to eat you out. His mouth worked it's magic on you, flicking across your clit, before his fingers spread you and he could thrust his tongue inside. Your hands played with your nipples and you could feel the smirk on his face as he looked up at you from his spot between your legs. His mouth left you, only for a second to be replaced by his fingers and you groaned out in pleasure.
 "Does that feel good babe?" and you hummed your approval. "I can make you feel much better." His mouth was back on you then sucking on your clit. It threw you over the edge and your hips bucked up into this mouth. Charlie's free arm pressed against your hips to hold you still as he worked you through your orgasm. His fingers slowed as you came down from your high. "You're fucking beautiful when you cum." Your body was already flush from your climax, so thankfully he didn't notice the blush that his words gave you, as he crawled up your body. He'd already shed his swim trunks but hadn't removed your juices from his lips as his mouth connected to yours.
 The kiss caught you off guard, or maybe it was just the fact that you were still on a euphoric high from your orgasm, but as soon as you recovered, you pushed at Charlie's chest for him to roll onto his back. He went easily and you kissed your way down his body as he made himself comfortable against the pillows. His cock was rock hard and pressed up against his stomach. You bypassed it at first, letting your hands lightly skate up and down his thighs before licking up the length of his dick. He sucked in a breath as his hands slid into your locks, not pressuring you to take him in your mouth, but urging you to, and so you did. Taking just the head between your lips, you swirled your tongue around. "Fuck babygirl, your mouth feels like heaven." Slowly you sank down on him, taking him deep in your throat. His hips flexed up into you slightly and you gagged a little but recovered quickly, sucking him in and out of your mouth. You hollowed out your cheeks sucking hard on him and he moaned. You let one hand toy with his balls, as you bobbed up and down on his cock. They tightened under your touch, and you knew it wouldn't take much more to make him cum. It was shortly after that, that he pulled you off him. "Can we…?" He tried to catch his breath before starting over. "Would you…?"
 "Fuck me, Charlie." You spit out as you wiped the back of your hand across your face. He grabbed you under the arms and hauled your body up to his so that you lay on top of him. You straddled your legs around his hips, his cock nestled between your pussy lips and you rocked back and forth; his dick getting coated with your wetness.
 He grabbed your hips and stopped your teasing. "Fuck (Y/N), I need inside you." Reaching down he took his cock and lined it up with your entrance, then thrust fully inside you. He wasn't huge, but you still enjoyed the familiar stretch that having a cock inside you brought. It took a few minutes while you both adjusted, but then you started to ride his cock. His one hand guided your hip, helping you set a steady rhythm, while his other played with your breasts, tweaking and pinching your nipples. You threw you head back at the combination of being filled by Charlie and what he was doing with your tits. "So, fucking beautiful." He breathed out, then flexed his hips up into you. You rode him for a bit before he flipped your positions and you were suddenly underneath him and he pumped furiously in and out of your pussy. "Gonna cum for me again babygirl." You were close as you felt your orgasm building but didn't know if you would get there in this position with him. You snuck your hand between your bodies to play with your clit. "That's so hot. Yeah baby cum for me." It wasn't long and you felt your legs start to tremble as the orgasm worked its way through your body. The wave came crashing down on you and your pussy quivered around his cock. He thrust a few more times before pushing deep inside you one last time; the muscles in his neck straining as he came inside you, calling out your name. He took a second to catch his breath, then quickly pecked your lips before rolling onto his back. "You're fucking amazing." He finally breathed out.
 "You were pretty fantastic yourself," you echoed back as you rolled on your side. "One thing though," he looked over, a look of contentment on his face. "How the hell do you know my name?" You knew him of course, that was part of your job, but you weren't wearing your credentials when you'd gone up to the pool, because you'd been in such a hurry.
 "Babe, I wouldn't forget someone as beautiful as you.' You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the comment. It was definitely unnecessary considering that you'd already fucked him. "I'm serious, I remember when you introduced yourself yesterday. I knew I had to make it a point to get to know you. Just didn't think we'd end up here so fast, not that I'm complaining."
 You were lightly tracing your nails over his chest and found yourself asking one last thing. "So is that why you totally blocked your teammate from bringing me back here, because you wanted to get to know me?"
 There was a blush that stained his cheeks. "Yes and no," he rolled on his side to face you then. "Thought it would be a good opportunity and all, but he's a kid, probably would've lost his load the minute you took off your shirt. I was doing you a favor." He said with a little wink, then kissed your lips again.
 You pulled away, though a bit reluctantly. "I should probably get back to work."
 "Yeah I get it, you're in popular demand." You gave him a little chuckle as you knew he wasn't talking about your hotel duties. "But listen, I would like to get to know you, so call me and maybe we can chat or do other things sometime while I'm here." He rolled out of bed then and retrieved his shorts, pulling them on in one swift motion. "You sure the ankle's ok?"
 "It'll be fine. I'll just wear some more comfortable shoes for the next couple of days." He leaned over the bed and kissed you one last time before heading out the door. "Talk to you soon," you said as he made his way out.
 "I sure hope so."
 Once he was gone, you called down to the front desk to let them know what had happened at the pool and that you'd be down shortly as soon as you grabbed a quick shower. You were just finished putting on some makeup and throwing your hair in a messy bun when your phone rang. It was a Facetime call from Tyler. "Hey baby," he said with a smile as his face popped up on the screen.
 "Hey Ty, how's bubble life?"
 "It fucking sucks." He was laying on his hotel bed shirtless. "I just got back from practice, but I'm bored out of my mind."
 "Aww, poor baby. I feel so bad for you just laying in that hotel room with nothing and no one to do?"
 "Right," he agreed a pout on his face.
 "You mean to tell me you haven't charmed the pants off of some hotel server yet?"
 "(Y/N), this is not your hotel. Everyone, I mean EVERYONE," he emphasized it by bringing the phone closer to his face. "Is male. Can you fucking believe that?" You couldn't help the burst of laughter that left you. "It's not that funny babe."
 "Oh I beg to differ, it's hilarious." You had a hard time catching your breath from all your laughter.
 "I wish I was in Toronto with you, baby. I miss you so much."
 "You wouldn't be missing me if someone was there to keep you company." He always said things like this. It was just part of his natural charm and being an outrageous flirt.
 "That's not true at all. I swear I tell you this all the time, yet you don't believe me." Part of you believed that he did miss you, but you thought it was only because of the amazing sex the two of you had. You'd never thought about it being anything more. "Anyhow, how're things on your end?"
 "Well I had a food fight between the Bruins and the Caps on the first night, so it's been fucking fantastic."
 It was his turn to laugh now. "Tell me that's why Pastrnak tweeted what he did about Wilson."
 "Well not exactly, but that was the end result after the two got done playing a game of pool."
 "Wait, so Wilson and Pasta were in your suite?" He frowned at the thought knowing that you'd been staying in the penthouse. "Please tell me nothing happened."
 "Nothing happened." It wasn't necessarily a lie, considering all you'd done was kiss Pastrnak and promise the same to Wilson. You decided it was best to leave out what had happened between TK and Charlie just moments ago. It had sort of been an unwritten rule between you and Tyler that you didn't speak about your sexual encounters.
 "Oh, good. Wilson's an ass. Did I tell you that when you called me the first time?"
 "Nope, you only said that he gets around."
 "Well he's an ass and you should stay away from him."
 "I'll try and remember that." Even though you knew that wasn't going to be possible. "Oh, by the way, tell your friend Marchand to fuck off next time you talk to him, as he pushed me into the pool this afternoon and ruined my favorite heels."
 The look on his face on was one of both contained laughter and indignation for what you went through. "Marchy can be an asshole at times, I'm sorry babe. I'll buy you new shoes to replace those."
 "You don't have to do that Ty." Though it was sweet of him to offer. "I'm going to plot my revenge on him though."
 "Seriously, don't get involved with him. He can be a little rat when he wants to."
 "We'll see." You told him not willing to make a promise you weren't sure you could keep.
 "Not to change the subject, but how's the bet going?"
 "You mean the one that when I win, you'll be my sex slave." He chuckled at the mention of what you would win if you succeeded.
 "Yeah, that bet."
 "It's going; plans are in place." They weren't, but they would be soon.
 "You know we should just scrap it." You couldn't quite read the look that crossed his face to see if he was serious or not.
 "Afraid you're going to lose?"
 "No, it's just…" He seemed to think about what he wanted to say. "Can't have you having all the fun."
 "Consider it payback for every time you post the bat signal Seguin."
 "You know it's not a bat signal. I've told you that before." He seemed to be sincere but you couldn't tell for sure.
 "Whatever, I've already got a plan in place." You didn't but tomorrow was another day, and you would start then for sure. "But listen, I gotta get back to work. I'll call you later and if you're lucky I'll give you a little show."
 "I'll be waiting for your call. Don't go and find someone else to play with." He teased.
 "I'll try not to," you told him and swore there was a look of concern on his face, but it was quickly replaced with a smile and a wink. "Talk to you soon, Ty." You blew him a kiss before he said goodbye and hung up the phone, wondering how you were going to win that bet with him, because there was no way, that you were going to be his sex slave for a full twenty-four hours and you knew if you agree to cancel it that's exactly what you'd be doing.
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So....this was supposed to be an answer to a prompt. But I tried to save it to Drafts and Tumblr ate it, so I’m posting it this way instead. The prompt was “I see the way you look at him” for SpAus (requested by the lovely @enchantingtriumph )
One very important clarification: This happens before Chapter 6 of Legacy, and that scene. 
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It had been a while since Austria had visited Madrid. It was not because of a lack of enthusiasm for his husband, because looking at Spain still made his heart race. Political entanglements in the German states had made it impossible to take the time to visit. 
He had written to Spain many times asking him to make time to come to Vienna, the answer had always been the same. It had been impossible for him to leave his empire unattended, even for a trip to see his husband. It had left Austria feeling slightly bitter towards the empire as a whole. Before his explorations, Spain had time for other things, and in recent years he had seemed entirely focused on babysitting the children that he had brought back from the New World. 
Austria wasn’t sure whether he had imagined a certain new impersonal coldness in the letters. He had told himself that it was his imagination, but Spain’s letters had seemed to become more formal. 
He had decided that it was time for a visit, even if it meant leaving some things to his ministers. If Spain was growing distant, then he needed a loving embrace to remind him of the passion in their marriage.
They were sitting on a veranda with the afternoon sun providing pleasant warmth. Spain’s palace in Madrid had such beautiful spaces to enjoy the pleasant summer climate. As he contemplated Spain across the table, he wondered if he should bring up any of his thoughts about his changing tone. Perhaps it would be better to wait until they were alone together at night. It seemed like it would sour the rest of the day if he were to raise it in the moment, and he didn’t want to start on something so unpleasant. 
He picked up one of the oranges and started to peel it, and momentarily contemplated whether he should have asked a servant so that he could keep his hands clean. He glanced at Spain again and broke the silence, “I have missed you.” 
Spain had been looking at the horizon like he was expecting something. He turned his head and replied, “I’ve missed you too. It’s been far too long.” 
The words sounded sincere enough, but his eyes didn’t seem to reflect it. Austria dismissed the feeling that it was odd, because it may have just been the time and the distance. The feeling dissipated when Spain smirked and added, “I can show you how much I’ve missed you later when we go to bed. There are some things I have missed quite a lot.” 
Austria chuckled; no one else would dare to be as bold as his husband. No one else would dare to voice their desires so clearly. He responded, “Have I left you lonely?” Spain smirked and said, “Oh, very lonely. My bed has been cold.” 
Austria could feel himself blushing. He was certain that he had missed this feeling that he was desirable to his husband. Before he could respond, the silence was interrupted by the sound of hooves. 
Spain’s head turned immediately. Austria was intrigued. This must be whatever Spain had been looking for so anxiously. Austria turned his gaze curiously towards the sound. 
It lighted upon a young man who was busy dismounting, and handing his reins to a waiting groom. The first thing he noticed was that the coat the man was wearing was exceptionally rich, and had gold embroidery at the sleeves. He couldn’t help but think how expensive that must have been. 
As he looked, he also noticed that the person that Spain was busy looking at also had incredibly fit thighs. He could at least appreciate that Spain had good reason to be so distracted. 
Then, the person turned to face them, and Austria got a clear view of his face. It took a moment for him to recognize the young man who had seemingly aged several years since he had last seen him. The last time he had laid eyes on New Spain the boy had been much shorter and had still had the chubby cheeks of a child. 
Looking at him in the moment, he guessed that New Spain had aged very quickly. He looked more like a strapping young man than a child. But, once he saw his face, Austria felt ashamed for looking at his thighs the way that he had. Though he did not look like the cherubic child that Austria remembered, he was still quite young. 
Austria glanced at Spain, who had yet to tear his eyes away from his colony. As he watched, Spain silently beckoned. New Spain smiled and immediately started approaching. 
Austria peeled off a segment of orange and took a bite as he contemplated the situation. Something felt like it had changed in the years he was gone. He took stock of the moment. 
The way that Spain was looking at his colony seemed to conceal very little, and New Spain’s smile seemed to return the feelings. New Spain was absolutely beaming when he reached the table. He noticed Austria and offered him a courteous bow. At least Spain had been careful to teach his charge proper respect. 
Spain said, “Ale, come sit with us.” 
Austria glanced around, counting the chairs. There were only the two, and he certainly was not going to give up his seat for a colony.  New Spain seemed to realize the same thing, and said, “Is there space for me?” 
Spain glanced around, clearly amused. He seemed to notice the lack of chairs, but was not fazed by it. He pulled New Spain into his lap and said, “See, plenty of space.”
 Austria raised an eyebrow at how comfortably Spain did that. With a small child he would not question, but New Spain was far from being a child. And the way that Spain took hold of his waist hardly seemed familial. 
Spain continued to speak to his colony, “How is he?” 
For a moment Austria did not understand the question, until he realized that Spain was asking about the horse which the boy had apparently been putting through its paces. 
New Spain was staring at Spain as he said, “He’s quite fast, and he listens well.” Spain was looking at him with rapt attention, and had little attention for anything else. He replied, “Then it was a good present.” 
Austria looked at the boy’s face, and he noticed the distinct pink that rose in his cheeks and the way that his gaze didn’t leave Spain’s lips. New Spain answered, “I do not expect so much for my birthday every year.” 
Austria was beginning to feel distinctly like he was the unwanted third person at the table. At that moment, he understood the sudden coolness in Spain’s letters. He had not been starving for romantic attention.  
Spain put his hand on the boy’s face and said sweetly, “If you want a horse every year, I will be sure that you get it.” 
Austria tried not to imagine the expense that it would take to fulfill that promise. New Spain laughed, though the statement had not been particularly funny. Then he said with a smile, “You’re too generous.” 
He seemed to be doing his best to charm Spain, and as far as Austria could tell it was working. He took note of the way New Spain was wearing his waistcoat unbuttoned, so anyone could see his undershirt.
 Spain planted a soft kiss on his colony’s cheek and said, “Go get cleaned up for dinner.” New Spain broke their moment and looked at Austria as he said, “Should I come to dinner?” 
Austria appreciated that the boy still understood what might be too far. Spain nodded and answered, “Yes, I am expecting you to.” 
New Spain nodded like he understood. Only then did he do as he was told. He stood up and gave Austria one last glance before he walked away.
 Without a shred of shame Spain turned his head to watch the boy walk away. Austria cleared his throat and said, “You haven’t been that lonely, I see.” Spain looked at him and said, “What do you mean by that?” 
It seemed absurd that he was going to feign any ignorance after what he had just done. But Austria clarified anyway, “I am not blind. I see the way that you look at him.” 
Spain shook his head like he had any room to pretend. He said, “It isn’t what you’re thinking. I am not doing anything with him.” Austria scoffed, and countered, “But you want to. Or do all of your colonies get horses for their birthdays?” 
He saw the facade drop as Spain realized that he was caught. His demeanor shifted, and he said, “Are you going to remind me to be faithful?” 
Austria would like to say that there was no room for other lovers in their marriage, but his mind lingered on how long it had been since they had seen each other. He sighed, and resigned himself to the inevitability of some infidelity. He answered, “No, I’m not. I know that I’m not here often, and you may not want to be alone.” 
It felt bitter to say it, but he was well aware of the proper way to react to a royal mistress. Spain looked surprised to get such an accepting answer. Before he could get too pleased with the permission, Austria added, “But, if you must do something, I want you to be discreet. I do not want all of Europe to know about this.” Spain nodded and replied, “Very well.” 
Austria was dubious at how easily he took the condition, but he was not going to push. Only time would tell whether he was able to keep the promise.
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bluejayblueskies · 3 years
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philia
n. a love between friends; based on mutual respect, common values, shared desires, and unwavering trust
Words: 2.5k Relationship: Sasha James & Tim Stoker, past Sasha James/Tim Stoker Tags: Light Angst, Canon Compliant, Aromantic Sasha James, Lovers to Friends, Awkward Conversations Warnings: internalized arophobia (throughout), fear of arophobia from another character (doesn’t actually occur)
|| Ao3 ||
.
If one thing could be said about Sasha James, it’s this: she doesn’t scare easy. All the traditional spooks—spiders and the dark and heights and everything in between—don’t send her heart racing like they did some of her childhood friends, and when she was old enough to go to the library by herself, she slowly and methodically worked her way through the meager horror section at her disposal. She liked the way that the fear tasted, metallic in her mouth and sending gooseflesh tingling across her arms and lips, and even when she landed on a book or a movie that pushed her beyond her limits for terror, she found that she couldn’t look away, too immersed in the way that her hands shook as she turned the page.
 Maybe that’s why she ended up at the Magnus Institute. When the horror began to feel stale, each story contrived beyond the point of enjoyment, where better to turn to than somewhere that collected horrors that were real?
Sasha lasted three months in Artifact Storage before she decided that she’d finally found her limit, and it was gold monocles that turned your sight inward and stainless steel knives that leaked briny blood and a chalkboard eraser that could peel the skin clean off your face with a single stroke. Her brand of horror lay in stories, not in things, she decided then. In stories, at least, the fear was contained.
 The problem, though, is that it’s easy to not be afraid of stories. Even if they’re real ones, told by real people, they’re still just stories, and so Sasha can separate herself from them, lock them away in the Institute at night and return to the more mundane horrors of her television screen or her bookshelf. It’s much, much harder to not be afraid of the things she can’t escape.
 Sasha James doesn’t scare easy. But when she walks into the Institute on Monday morning and sees Timothy Stoker sitting at his desk, positioned opposite to hers and in the perfect location for mid-day glances and snippets of conversation, her heart jumps into her throat so fast she thinks she might choke on it.
 Sasha puts on her headphones, sits down at her desk, and doesn’t let her eyes stray from her computer screen for the rest of the day.
 And the next.
 And the next.
 Fear is a funny thing, she thinks as she stands in the shower that Friday night, letting the water drum against the back of her skull and trying to figure out why even after fifteen minutes of standing in the scalding spray, her skin still itches with unseen dirt that she can’t quite rid herself of. It can spur people to go to lengths they never thought imaginable. Like Gregory Chavez, who found he could run nearly two miles at a dead sprint when chased by a thing that had once been his son but that now craved nothing but blood and terror. Or Biah Wynn, who found it within herself to burn her family home to the ground with her brother still inside when a sharp-tongued thing from her dreams told her to.
 Or Sasha James, who’s been avoiding her best friend for a week because she had sex with him and now can’t bring herself to admit that it was a mistake. Or, more accurately, to admit why it was a mistake.
 Tim probably hates me now, she thinks as she tips her head back and lets the water run over her eyelids, holding her breath as it trickles over her closed lips and hits her arms where they’re crossed over her chest in a protective gesture. And he’d be right to. I kind of hate me now.
 Sasha turns the shower off, laments for a moment the state of her water bill for that month, and readies herself for bed.
 She allows herself to continue this way for two more days before the voice in her head manages to convince her that don’t ruin a good thing is becoming more and more of an impossibility the longer she ignores the inevitably awkward conversation that they need to have. Her resolve finally breaks through the sharp static of fear Monday evening, when Tim pushes back from his desk and Sasha says, breaking the silence with all the grace of a battering ram, “Fancy a cuppa?”
 Timothy Stoker doesn’t startle easy. At the sound of Sasha’s voice, however, he jumps so badly that the file folder he’d been preparing to stow away slips from his hands, spilling loose pages on the ivory tile floor in a mess of white paper and black ink.
 “Jesus,” Tim says, bending down to collect the papers. His eyes are cast firmly on the ground when he says, voice tight, “A little warning next time before you decide to break a week-long vow of silence?”
 Sasha’s wince is full-body. “Sorry,” she says, trying and failing to impart a week’s worth of apologies into a single word. Then, with forced levity: “Permission to speak again?”
 Tim’s quiet for a little too long. He’s collected all the papers and they sit limply in his hands as his eyes trace the lines between the tiles, lips curled down into a pained expression that Sasha hates, though she knows it’s nobody’s fault but her own. Then, quietly, he says, “I don’t know, Sasha. Maybe a week ago, the answer would have been yes? But I… I don’t know if I feel like talking now.”
 Thorns of Sasha’s own design dig into her heart and claw up her throat, and she fixes her eyes on the surface of her desk. It’s full of yellow post-it notes she doesn’t remember writing and approximately twenty stray pens and pencils and a million other things that are far, far less important than the man still squatting on the floor next to her, pretending to organize the papers in his hand.
 “Okay,” she says, and the word bites into her tongue with razor-sharp teeth. Then, even though she said she wouldn’t, she says, “I’m sorry, Tim. And I want to explain, if you’d let me.”
 Please let me.
 Tim looks at her, just once, and the hurt in his eyes cuts into Sasha like broken glass. “I… I just need some time,” he says, like Sasha hasn’t given him too much of that already, like she hasn’t already had the thought of I just need more time, more time to figure this out running through her head for days.
 “Okay,” she repeats. The smile she musters up feels hollow, too full of hope to hold up to scrutiny.
 “Okay,” Tim says.
 Tim leaves. And Sasha works late, if only to give her mind something to do that isn’t wallowing in guilt and self-pity.
 She works late Tuesday, too. And Wednesday and Thursday. Then, as her computer blinks 17:00 on Friday and she flips open another file, she hears from behind her a quietly amused, “You’re turning into Jon, you know.”
 If asked later, Sasha will maintain that she didn’t startle at the sound of Tim’s voice. The file, at least, stays firmly clasped in her hand, though she sets it down before turning in her chair to see Tim standing a few feet away, jacket slung over one arm and hesitance written all over his face even as his mouth forms a teasing smile.
 “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Sasha says, aiming for levity and coming close enough for it to count. “I don’t have nearly enough grey in my hair for that yet. Besides, you know I can’t pull off a sweater vest.”
 “Not with that attitude, you can’t.”
 Sasha smiles fully, letting tendrils of humor pull the corners of her mouth up toward her eyes, and the lines of tension in Tim’s face begin to smooth. The hesitance is still there, the hurt lying just beneath, but it feels a lot less like a wall and a lot more like a locked door. She just hopes that Tim still trusts her enough to give her the key.
 “Fancy a cuppa?” he says.
 They pick a little tea shop a few blocks away from the Institute, open later than the rest and with prices that only make Sasha wince a little bit as she orders a cup of jasmine green tea and then sits at a little corner table across from Tim, away from the hum of the rest of the café. He wraps his hands around his mug of Darjeeling, looks at Sasha, and says, “Is this the part where you say, ‘It’s not you, it’s me’?”
 Sasha winces and takes a long sip of her too-hot tea to cover it up. When she pulls back, the roof of her mouth thoroughly scalded, she says, “In… a manner of speaking.”
 It’s Tim’s turn to wince, though he doesn’t bury it in his tea, instead painting over it quickly with a mask that’s not so thick that Sasha can’t still see the hurt that lies beneath. “Right,” he says, and the little laugh that escapes him is entirely devoid of humor. “Guess that’s it, then. Nice and succinct—don’t know why it gets such a bad rap in rom-coms, to be honest.”
 The guilt is burning its way up Sasha’s throat, hot and sticky. It’s a struggle to force herself to speak around it, but she does, because it’s important. Because it matters. Because she’s not going to lose her best friend just because she’s afraid. So, she swallows the lump in her throat just enough to say, “It’s not because I don’t want to be in a relationship with you, Tim; it’s because I don’t want to be in a relationship at all. A… a romantic one, at least.”
 Tim doesn’t say anything at first, and though Sasha knows he’s just taking the time to parse her words, to understand what she’s trying to tell him—he’s ace, he told her before they… before, so he’ll know what she means—she can’t keep the anxiety from clawing up the back of her throat with acid-dipped nails. She takes a drink of her tea, and then another, until she’s staring at the bottom of her mug with her heart thrumming in the back of her throat. The sound of her own pulse in her ears is so loud that she almost doesn’t hear Tim when he says, quietly, “I’m sorry, Sasha.”
 Sasha sets her mug down hard enough to chip, surprise and guilt turning her blood to liquid nitrogen and her muscles to ice. “No, please- please don’t apologize, Tim, I should be the one who- I should have told you sooner instead of- of leading you on when I was never going to reciprocate. And then you told me you were ace and I- I still didn’t say anything because- because—”
 Sasha waves her now-free hand in the air wildly, grasping for a reason that just won’t come. Finally, for want of anything better, she lands on, “Because I somehow thought that was going to be the thing that you’d hate me for instead of for how I’ve been acting all week.” She deflates, ever so slightly, and says, “I am so, so sorry, Tim.”
 She affixes her eyes to the table, to the spiraling wood grains that trace lines across its surface, and doesn’t let go. She can think of a million expressions Tim might be wearing right now, ranging from guilt to sympathy to frustration to hurt, and she doesn’t want to see any of them.
 A hand, warm and terra-cotta brown, settles on top of hers, and Tim says, “I meant that I’m sorry for assuming that the reason you were avoiding me was about me. I should have asked sooner, but I…” He lets out a small laugh. “I suppose I thought you hated me. That I’d done something—though I couldn’t figure out what—and now you never wanted to see me again. And then I- I made it about me. Got frustrated when you wanted to talk. Didn’t even consider that there might have been something else going on.”
 “Why would you have?” Sasha says quietly, eyes still glued to the table. “I didn’t give you any indication that there was. I didn’t say anything.”
 Tim hums, a sad sound, and says, “I suppose neither of us did.”
 It’s quiet between them for a moment. In the interim, the sounds of the café filter in: the clank of cups against countertops, the hiss of steam as it spills free from stainless steel water heaters, the chatter of those around them who are lost in their own worlds of words and wants and wishes. Then, Tim’s hand tightens around Sasha’s, almost imperceptibly, and he says, “I’ll love you any way you want me to.”
 Sasha finally looks up from the table. Tim’s watching her, his eyes full of an affection so sweet it tastes of melted caramels on Sasha’s tongue. “I’ve loved you in so many ways, Sasha James, in so many times and places and moments. And I’m not going to give them all up if one of those ways isn’t something that you want from me. I’ll just put that one aside and replace it with new ones.” Tim shrugs and smiles, and it’s so casual, so easy, that Sasha thinks she must be dreaming it. “If you don’t want to date, then we won’t. And that’s not going to make me love you any less.”
 Sasha looks at Tim, trying to wrangle the tendrils of emotions within her into something beyond the electrifying, giddy happiness that she feels bubbling up in her chest. What comes out, in the end, is a small laugh and a quiet, “It’s that easy?”
 Tim holds up a hand. “Scout’s honor.”
 “Huh.” Sasha taps a finger against the edge of her mug, feeling the press of now-cool ceramic on her skin. The smile tugging at her lips is insistent enough that she finally just lets it slip free, uninhibited by shaking hands or acid claws or rapid-fire heartbeats. It’s still a nervous thing—a fawn just learning to walk, a baby bird pushed from its nest and struggling to unfurl its wings mid-freefall, a butterfly emerging from its cocoon with stained-glass wings and a life turned upon its head. It remains so for several weeks, through the still-awkward coffee runs and the times Sasha spends curled up on Tim’s couch with the space between them burning red-hot and icy-cold in equal measure and the staggering guilt that still returns as Sasha stands in the shower or lies in bed or walks through the doors to the Institute to see Tim sat at his desk, his smile growing wider each day.
 Then one day Sasha reaches for it, almost absently—that nervous feeling, the almost-falling swoop of her stomach—and finds it gone. She reaches and instead finds Tim, standing in the kitchen of her flat with flour dusted on his nose and kneading a ball of bread dough as he regales her with a story of his first tried-and-failed attempt at making bread that involved not one, but two separate fire-alarm incidents. And when she smiles at him, it feels so light and freeing that a laugh comes with it, bubbly with surprise and affection.
 She spreads stained-glass wings, strong enough now to carry her weight and beautiful in their own right, and lets the wind carry her home.
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soyforramen · 4 years
Note
Prompt: betty, jughead, the same hooded/masked figure keeps showing up at their door on Halloween. Creepy or funny? Your choice!
(This is so much better than trying to figure out elasticity of demand, and I absolutely cracked myself up with this, so thank you)
xxx
“Howdy neighbor!” 
Jughead gritted his teeth and nodded at Brett.  Betty elbowed him in the side, smoothly turning it into a wave. While neither of them really liked their neighbors across the street (at least it wasn’t Donna outside setting up the Halloween display), they had to pretend to be polite for a little while.
“Good morning Brett!  Already hard at work I take it.”
“Someone’s got to take back the Pumpkin King title from Southside Lane,” Brett said as he leaned on his pitchfork.  His truck was loaded up with enough hay bales and pumpkins to start a petting zoo.  “Let’s bring some pride back to this neighborhood.”
“It’s fucking September,” Jughead muttered. 
In Brett’s yard was the most benign, suburban version of Halloween.  Pumpkins carved with emojis, hay bales impaled with cartoonish, oversized bats, and gravestones with terrible puns (though Betty had to admit the, I was hoping for a pyramid was pretty amusing).  It was everything that Jughead hated about Halloween, and Betty couldn’t help but be tickled at the thought of him having to see it every morning.  
Jughead grumbled, the rain clouds over his head darkening with every second spent looking at the set up.  
“Good luck with it.  Looking good,” Betty called out.  She herded Jughead and the rest of the groceries into the car, already stifling a laugh at the rant she knew would be coming. 
Nancy Thompson let out a scream just as a knock came from the door.  Jughead and Betty glanced at each other - neither were expecting company, nor had they ordered anything.  Betty set aside her laptop and padded towards the door.  She peeked through the peephole and gasped.  
“Jughead,” she hissed.  
He glanced up and she waved him over.
“What the hell?” he whispered when he looked through the peephole.  “Is that -“
“Somebody dressed up in a Regan mask?” 
“I knew this place was upper middle class, but …”
“But why?” 
Jughead stepped away from the door and shrugged.  “Probably a bunch of high school kids playing a prank.”  
“Still…”
Betty stood on tip-toe to peer through the door.  “And, they’re gone.  I’m going to post this on Nextdoor, certainly we can’t be the only ones who’ve had Regan show up at their door.”
“Honestly zombie Regan would be the best thing that could happen this year,” Jughead said as he walked back to the couch.  
“I’d rather have zombie Nixon.  At least he was impeached,” Betty said, following him to watch Glenn fall into a deep sleep.
Xxx
One week later, and they were watching Keanu Reeves go on a face journey through Transylvania.  The door rang, and Jughead groaned.  Betty snuggled in closer to his side and they both ignored the doorbell.  Insistently, it rang again and again, only to stop suddenly.  He untangled himself from her and went to the door.
“I swear, if it’s Archie needing a ladder again … It’s Obama,” he whispered.
“What?” 
Jughead shushed her.  “I think it’s that weirdo again.  Only they’re in an Obama mask this time.”
Betty rushed towards the door and pushed him aside.  “What the hell?”
As she watched, the figure turned and walked off into the darkness of night.  She waited until the figure left, and cracked open the door.  
“Gone again.”  Jughead stepped onto front porch, Betty close behind, but they couldn’t see any sign of life.  “What did your Nextdoor people have to say.”
“You mean our neighbors?” Betty shook her head and pulled out her phone.  “No one else has seen anything, but Mr. Tate’s cat escaped again, so you might want to slow down when you turn the corner.”
“Hey guys!”  
They turned to find Archie, their next door neighbor, waving at them from his garage.  
“Do you think I could borrow your ladder?”
Xxxx
Two weeks until Halloween, and the neighborhood had exploded in festive decorations.  The Blossoms’ two story manse had exploded in gothic horror decor imported from the south of France - “Allegedly,” Jughead had snarked - while the Lodge-Andrews had gone with simple, yet tasteful hints of the season.   Along with the change in temperature had come an orange, passive-aggressive reminder about the HOA’s suggestion that every house participate in celebrating the holidays as a way to join the neighborhood in camaraderie. 
“Let’s just put out a pumpkin -“
“No, not happening,” Jughead snapped.  “I didn’t buy a house just to have some yuppie board - who aren’t even elected -“
“Just because you protested voting doesn’t mean they weren’t elected,” Betty reminded him. 
“-Trying to control how I spend my time and money, it’s, it’s…”
“Un-American?” 
“Immoral!  To take a commercial holiday like Halloween, meant to sell more candy and increase dental decay, and turn it into some requirement -“
A knock at the door and a cheery voice cut through their argument.  They both cursed when they realized who it was.  Jughead stalked off to the basement and Betty made a mental note that this was the third time he’d left her to deal with the Westen Wallis’ alone.  
“For better or worse my ass,” she muttered as she went to the door.  
“Guten Morgen, neighbors!  Donna made of her famous delectable pumpkin Tartts’ Tarts -“
“Tarts from the tart,” Betty muttered before she opened the door with a wide smile.  “Why thank you, this is ever so thoughtful.  And me without anything else to send back with you.”
Brett’s smile grew, and Betty feared for her soul.  “Actually, I don’t know if you saw the flyer -“
“Yes, about the Halloween decorations?  I just don’t know if we’ll get to it this year.  Jughead’s been so busy with school, and I’ve -“
“It’s just that it’s a traditions, you know.  And we do it for the kids,” Brett said.  Betty slowly shut the door, but he continued moving to keep eye contact.  “It’s the talk of the town, and it would -“
His words muffled and Betty walked straight to the kitchen and dumped the tarts into the trash.  
“You owe me Jones,” she yelled out on her way upstairs.
xxx
“Why doesn’t she just go outside again?” Betty asked. 
Black Christmas, while not technically a horror movie, was still on Jughead’s required October Horror-Thon, as well as on his anti-commerical-Christmas playlist.  Despite seeing it twice a year for the last fifteen years, Betty still hadn’t gotten a good answer out of him for the seemingly huge plot idiocy.
“Horror movie rules,” Jughead said through a mouthful of popcorn.  “If she goes outside, they don’t have a way to establish how big of a threat the killer is.”
“Then why doesn’t he just wait outside to kill her?”
“That’s not -“
A knock came from the door, and Betty gave him a look.  
“I dealt with your neighbor this morning.”
“You’re right, it was terrible and treacherous of me, I’m a terrible husband,” Jughead said.  He kissed Betty on the tip of her nose and she pulled him down to meet his lips.  The knock came again and they both rolled their eyes.  
“Don’t forget to put out your pumpkin,” Betty called in a sing-song voice. “Who is it this time?”
“Taft or Cleveland.  Which one had a mustache?” he asked as he turned towards her. 
“Both of them I think.”
“Do you think if I tell them we’re socio-anarchists they’ll go away?”
Betty snorted.  
He opened the door and leaned over.  “At least they left a ransom note this time.”  
Jughead closed the door and double checked the locks while he waved an orange paper at Betty.  
“Let me guess, decorations?” Betty took the paper from him and squinted at the paper.  “Does that say pumpkin or party favor?”
“Either way I refuse to participate.  Did you fast forward this?”
xxx
The day before Halloween, and Jughead braced himself for the onslaught of gaudy, irredeemable tons of plastic and paper decorations that would end up in the trash two days later.  A waste of good materials, and all for what?  A waste of a perfectly good holiday, that’s what.  
He squinted against the morning sun, throwing his school bag into the back of the car.  Seven AM came far too early when all the parents wanted to argue about last night was whether or not Halloween costumes should be allowed rather than thinking about shifting some of the football budget towards something more useful, like new textbooks.  
“Ohayogozimasu!”  Brett chirped from across the street. He looked both ways - twice - and jogged his way over to where Jughead stood.  
Jughead dropped his head and counted to ten.  He wasn’t caffeinated enough for this. 
“Hello, Brett.”
“I see you haven’t put anything out for Halloween yet.  I have some extra decorations if you want.”
Murder is not an option, Jughead thought in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Betty.  Especially when my commute is only ten minutes, the voice reminded him.
“No, thank you Brett.”
“Are you sure?  Because I know you and Betty have only been here for a few months, but we’re all really big -“
“No, thank you, Brett,” Jughead said through gritted teeth.  
Brett held up his hands and smiled that inane politician smile of his.  “Okay, but if you change your mind…”
“Goodbye, Brett,” Jughead said as he opened his door.  Safe in his now locked car, Jughead dropped his head to the steering wheel and reminded himself that they’d moved here because of Betty, for Betty’s career, and it didn’t matter how idiotic the rest of the world was, not when -
A tapping on the glass and Jughead rethought over the consequences of manslaughter.  Ten to fifteen wouldn’t be that bad.
“Yes, Brett,” he said after he’d cracked the glass.
“Just wanted to remind you that me and the missus are having a little get together tonight about Halloween candy -“
Jughead slipped the car in reverse and let it roll towards the street.  Brett jogged to catch up.
“-After all, we don’t want the children -“
It wasn’t until Bon Nuit street that Brett finally peeled off to finish his early morning jog on Stonewall street, that Jughead could breath a sigh a relief.
Xxx
“That was ad libbed,” Jughead said through a mouthful of noodles.
“What?  The dominatrix suit?” Betty asked.  She stole his wonton and he put up a fight even though they both knew he’d have given her his entire order if she asked.
“‘Jesus wept.’  Originally it was supposed to be ‘Fuck off.’”
“Good change.”
The knock at the door came again, and both residents slammed their bowls down.  Together they walked to the door and jerked it open.  George Washington, sans dentures, stared at them.  
“Well?  What do you want?” Betty asked, arms crossed.
The figure held out a sheet, and Jughead shook his head.   “No more games.”
With a growl, the figure yanked off the mask to reveal …
“Donna?” 
“Put out a damn pumpkin,” Donna snapped.  “I have been listening to Brett bitch for the last month, and if I have to listen to one more -“ she pitched up her voice and in a simpering tone said, “-Betty and Jughead I will murder everyone on this block.” 
Donna threw the paper at Jughead and stalked off into the night.  
“And put up a damn snowman in December,” she yelled.
Betty and Jughead exchanged glances.  
“No decorations?”  she asked.
He smirked.  “No decorations.”
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biussworld · 4 years
Text
Those Eyes
Tumblr media
Here’s the fourth piece in my “If the heart could speak” series! The rest of the works in the series could be found here.
Relationships: Todoroki Shouto x Gender-neutral!Reader
Genre: Fluff
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1.2k
As soon as Todoroki's eyes peeled open, he gathered himself and glanced at the bedside digital clock. The time reads 12:26, meaning he overslept way more than he used to before.
He runs his hand over his face and lightly taps the side of his cheek to further wake himself up, then gets on his feet to go freshen up in the bathroom. As soon as he's standing right in front of the bathroom door, he notices a yellow post-it stuck on it. He plucks it off and reads,
"Good morning, Shou! If you're reading this, I might have already left for that week-long conference thing I was talking about a few days ago. I didn't want to wake you up because I know you've been up late for work again, but rest assured I did give you a little forehead kiss!
P.S. I made some of your favorites in the fridge, it should be enough to last a few days if you aren't eating all of it today. If they run out, just order pizza hehe.
I love you! ❤"
He reads the note twice- maybe three, four times over and over again, and recognizes the few emoticons you've drawn all over the margins of the little slip, the hearts and stars you've oh-so-carefully drawn for him. Every re-read pulls at the corners of his lips until he's smiling widely like a huge idiot in front of the door. He chuckles, then turns the knob on the door and steps inside the bathroom. He sticks the note right at the upper corner of the mirror, and it's not because he wants to keep reading it while he's washing up. Totally not.
He sees you two's toothbrush cup and notices the lonely blue toothbrush--his--sitting inside. You must've brought yours with you, instead of a new one up in the cupboard. His eyes land on the other bath products lined on the bathroom counter and notices that you've arranged them by height, again. Last time, you color-coded them because you liked the aesthetic of it. Silly, silly you.
His entire routine consisted of brushing his teeth while reading your note three more times and washing his face and trying to arrange the products on the counter the same way you did. When he's finished, he grabs his phone from the bedside table and makes his way to the kitchen.
Like what you said in your note, you did prepare his favorites. Not just some because by the number of reusable containers filled with broth and other foods inside the refrigerator, you might have cooked him too much food in fear of him starving to death. It's not like he can't cook, he just can't do it without you.
He takes the pink-lidded container labeled "abalone rice porridge," pours himself a serving into a bowl, and heats it up in the microwave. While waiting for the timer, he unlocks his phone and sees about seven messages from you. They were all along the lines of "Are you awake?" and a few were kissy emojis you slipped in between. The messages make him chuckle once more, and he sends you a little "Just about to have breakfast. Take care. x" before stuffing his phone in his pocket. Once his meal is done heating up, he takes it out and starts digging in.
The porridge tastes heavenly as always, but what caught his attention more were the carrots that you had cut like miniature flowers. He takes a particularly long glance at one piece of the carrot flowers and notes the little ridges and cuts you've made on it. It's not perfect, but it doesn't look bad either. He carefully scoops it onto his spoon and stares at it like it's a rare treasure find because how can someone do that to a thin slice of carrot? He can't even cut carrots evenly! The little carrot flower in his spoon seemed to be more delicate the longer he looks at it and he almost doesn't want to eat it, but since you cooked this for him, he'll gladly finish it all.
He sets the dishes in the sink and makes a mental note to do it later, then he trudges to the living room to plop onto the couch. His head rests on top of the backrest as he replays his entire morning--well, noontime--in his head.
Your little yellow note adorned with doodles that put a smile on his face, the ridiculously-arranged bath products on your bathroom sink counter, and the pretty carrot flowers you've mixed into his porridge-- all of those are the smallest of the bare minimum things he encountered, but it's just so... you. And he thinks it's funny that your house is littered with you everywhere that even though you aren't there, you are.
His hand falls to the spot beside him and he notices the dip in the cushion, must've been where you sat before you left for your conference. He lets his hand linger on the spot a while, then he sighs and closes his eyes.
In his head, he imagines you writing the note with a subtle crease in between your brow, you comparing your bath stuff one to another to see which is taller than the other, and you cooking him the best rice porridge while dressed in the cutest apron he's ever laid eyes on. He also thinks of how you might have looked at him if he had woken up earlier and had caught you doing any one of those.
You'd look at him with your soft eyes and slowly smile at him after taking in his sleepy form. You'd giggle at how his hair's been messed up from tossing and turning in bed, then drop all that you've been holding just to walk up to him and kiss him on the tip of his nose. Just that, because you know he would've been so excited to see you in the morning to even freshen up before coming out of the room.
If he hadn't slept in too much he might have seen you off for the day; taking your cheeks into his palms as he looks lovingly into your eyes, advising you to take care, eat your meals every day, and send him texts about your whereabouts throughout the week. After that, he'd come to wait with you for your train ride, keeping your hand in his left hand the entire time because it's always cold in the mornings. And then when it's time for you to go, he'd brush your hair out of your face and place a kiss on your forehead, on the bridge of your nose, and a significantly longer one on your lips. He'd have one last look at you and your loving eyes, before waving you off with a small smile on each of your faces. And as your train moves, you'd mouth him an "I love you" and blow him a kiss, with him repeating your actions.
The scene in his head made him grumble and wish he'd woken up sooner, but the fatigue from yesterday's patrol was not to be ignored. He sighs, opens his eyes, then takes his phone out of his pocket. He taps onto your message thread and sees that you haven't replied to his text.
He's typing... I miss you already. Sent.
He lets his phone drop onto the spot beside him and he sighs one more time.
This is going to be a long week.
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warmau · 5 years
Text
kofi request: lovestruck!yukhei
yukhei strolls into the first eight am class of the semester with a huge grin plastered on his face
but that’s to be expected
he’s wong yukhei
when is he not smiling?
despite the rainy september weather, the gloom on every other students face, and the blaring white lights of the stuffy college classroom 
yukhei looks like he’s just won a beach getaway as he slings an arm around a grumpy looking haechan and starry-eyed mark
“well - didn’t yall miss me?”
“hell yeah dude!” 
mark grins and haechan buries his head into his hands - muttering something about how this is his freshman year and yukhei is already making his head hurt
yukhei takes it as a compliment as he teasingly leans over with puckered lips and haechan swats at him like an angry cat
the noise from their corner drowns out the awkward silence of the room as everyone waits for the professor to trudge in
they do, ten minutes late, a broken umbrella and all
yukhei cracks a joke about it and gets reminded that: “mr. wong this is college not high school. we don’t need a class clown.”
as usual, there’s a reading of the syllabus and mark takes notes excitedly as haechan doses off and yukhei surveys the room 
he basically knows everyone aside from incoming freshmen, but he’s sure they’ll all be best friends by tomorrow
and then the door opens with a slam
all eyes turn to look upon you
you’re d r e n c h e d
still holding your backpack over your head like an impromptu and horrible alternative to an umbrella
 your expression is far past disgruntled and the professor doesn’t even get a word in before you march past them and to the only empty seat  
directly in front of yukhei
the professor recovers and continues to drone on as you start shuffling in your bag and groaning to yourself because the only notebook you brought got absolutely damaged by the weather
you have nothing to write on, you look like a mess, and you’re sure the overall vibe you’re giving off is far from friendly
but then, to your surprise, a piece of torn out paper dangels in front of your nose
you look over your shoulder and yukhei’s grin grows wider
“thought you might like to take some notes”
he coos and haechan opens on eye to watch you sort of laugh a little quietly as you take it 
yukhei watches you turn back, almost in slow motion, the remaining drops of rain are disappearing on your skin and you might have looked offputting to everyone else
half pissed, half exhausted trudging to the seat
but to yukhei you looked - you looked - 
he rests his cheek against his palm, the back of someone’s head has never enticed him so much until finally, the class is over
mark is bouncing up and down eager to see if yukhei’s schedule falls in line with his and haechan is making up some excuse as to why skipping on the first day can’t be that bad
but yukhei can’t hear or see anything else
as you turn, slipping your backpack over your shoulder as you catch eye contact with him for a mere five seconds
you smile
yukhei feels white noise fill his head
“thanks for this!” 
you wave around the paper with your half-hearted notes and scribbles, walking out toward the door 
and yukhei isn’t used to all these conflicting thoughts hitting him at once
what’s going on with me? am i sick? why’s my hea-
“dude, i totally forgot - that senior yuta is having a party and-”
mark’s voice snaps yukhei back into reality and he gets back in his groove
no worries, just positivity, no meddling worries or problems
except its a lie
from that day on,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,yukhei is never the same
you only have one class together and it’s this horrible eight am
you’re late half the time, but yukhei is getting yelled at half the time
so really - you make a great pair
the thing is, no matter how easily yukhei has been able to connect with others
you’re different
everyone around yukhei is simple. haechan is hard to read, but loyal to a fault. mark can’t lie. xiaojun and hendery are funny just like him, but they’re also probably smarter. kun is dependable and the person to go to for anything. ten is one of yukhei’s favorites.
but you - what the hell are you?
you make yukhei’s throat clog up - his low pitch voice suddenly coming out in weird, mousy noises
you lean back and let your arms stretch up over your head during a boring lecture and 
it’s like an earthquake shakes through yukhei’s long body - his neck feels hot whenever you tilt your head sideways and his eyes can’t peel off the skin of your neck
yukhei panics - and he never panics - when you ask simple things like ‘does anyone have a pen?’ or ‘did we have homework?’
yukhei can never answer - mark always does 
and when mark starts joking with you after class one day, this i supposed to be prime yukhei territory - he’s supposed to join in with his own humor and have everyone laughing
but he jsut hangs back
because the thought of embarrassing himself in front of you is too much to bare
which is insane - yukhei is gracelessly shameless
haechan notices - like he always does - and asks yukhei finally as the midterms are coming up 
“so like are you broken?”
“what?”
yukhei raises an eyebrow and mark bites back his lip, “haechan don’t tea-”
“nah like has no one else noticed?”
haechan looks between yukhei and mark and then sighs with a roll of his eyes
“yukhei you’re literally always smiling and talking and this is the one class where you haven’t said more than ten words since all the way back in septemeber.”
yukhei opens his mouth - not sure what kind of excuse he can even put forth on the table because haechan is right he’s ,,,,,,,,,, he’s a little broken and it’s because
“the midterms next week - right?”
your voice fills up yukhei’s head and sets his whole body back into overdrive
you sit in your seat, turning all the way around and yukhei thinks he’s going to stop breathing at some point
why is your sweater all baggy and cute, why are you pouting as mark explains that the study guide isn’t getting posted till a day before the actual damn test, and why oh why why why are you so -
haechan clicks his tongue
“yukhei will help you prepare for it if you want.”
yukhei whips his head around so fast it nearly swirls right off
mark is about to say he can help too - but haechan slaps a hand right over his mouth and gives you a grin
you agree, saying you’ll meet yukhei in the library after then
and yukhei doesn’t do anything but let his wide eyes watch you turn away
the library feels like it’s going to swallow yukhei hold
at least thirty people greet him as he walks in, but all he can offer is a small nod which leaves everyone confused
you get up from the table and wave your hand for him to come over and yukhei thinks
if i book it right now, will that be bad?
he might be nervous but he’s not rude, so he makes his way over 
you already have some notes and the textbook out 
yukhei manages to say some words - but he forgets them right after they slip out 
and the whole hour you “study” together - yukhei is just sure he’s seeing pink spots in his eyes 
cherubs in the bookshelves
cupid trying to aim the perfect shot from the wall clock above the librarian's desk
he keeps bouncing his leg as you talk and when the hour is up he shots out of his seat
“i - uh - soccer -”
soccer practice, say you have soccer practice!
“gotta-  so-”
“yukhei”
his name sounds so sweet when you say it
“yukhei, hey - are you ok?”
yeah im ok, and you’re beautiful
“yukhei?!?”
he doesn’t realize he’s swaying dangerously close to toppling over and you grab his arm and get him out of the stuffy library and into the empty halls 
he feels that embarrassment he dreads getting around you and wants to apologize or do something
until suddenly you’re saying something and yukhei is pretty sure he’s dreaming
“do you wanna go on a date after the midterms?”
“a date?”
yukhei straightens up
“wait - a date?!”
you nod
“yeah, im asking you out.”
“wait - wait - wh-what?”
“do you?”
“do i?”
“do you - yukhei - want to go on a date with me?”
“wasn’t this about the midterms-”
“yeah but do you -”
he shakes, half from excitement and half from anxiety
“is this a joke?”
“no - do you wanna go?”
“yes, fuck yes-  i mean yes of course-”
you smile and yukhei remembers the smile you gave him back on that first day you walked in
covered in rain, a scowl on your face, arms crossed as you threw yourself into the chair 
and then - how soft you’d become when he’d handed you a flimsy piece of paper 
and how you looked - you looked so - you looked like the soulmate of his dreams
“wh-why did you decide to ask me out -?”
he asks as the high of the moment doesn’t leave his mushy brain completely unfunctioning
you take his hand and yukhei short circuits but keeps it together
“haechan told me you were broken and he told me it was kinda my fault.”
you giggle and yukhei short circuits again, this time letting it show with the goofy way his smile turns up
even though he finds haechan later, giving him a noggie and telling him to never pull a stunt like that again 
in the moment yukhei can only thank haechan over and over 
as you swing your hands a little and you make a joke about how maybe a date will make him un-broken
but yukhei doesn’t think so - he thinks rather than broken,,,,,,,, he’s more like lovestruck 
and the more you keep smiling at him like that, the more lovestruck he’s gonna keep getting
2K notes · View notes
watchathon · 3 years
Text
Halloween Special: Coraline
In case you’re finding this post just by browsing the tags I’ve used for this post, this is the Watchathon, a blog where I watch something and make a blog post where I write down my thoughts as I watch. Each new thought starts with a hyphen and a bolded first word.
- Like so.
Today, I’m celebrating Halloween with my favorite spooky movie: Coraline! 
I realize that it’s not actually a Halloween movie, and I’m hoping to do actually Halloween-themed movies in the future, but when I had the idea to do a Halloween special post, this was the movie that first came to mind.
It’s scary, funny, gorgeously animated, but I’m sure I’ll be getting more into that during the post proper. With that said, here are my thoughts on Coraline:
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- Even the studio logos and opening credits for this movie have an unsettling vibe, with both the visuals and the background music.
- And that’s before we’ve even gotten into the scene of the doll being transformed slowly into a doll of Coraline by mysterious stick limbs.
- I know that when I move, I’d love to be greeted by the sight of a man doing yoga on the rooftop.
- Nice introduction to Coraline when we see her pull a stick off of a bush and use it like a dowsing rod. Really sets up her character as a kid who’s not averse to the weird. The kind of kid who might, say, make several trips through a mystical hole in her room that brings her to button-eyed “better” versions of her parents and neighbors.
- And here we see Wyborne “Wybie” Lovat, Coraline’s closest-thing-to-a-friend in her new town. He’s more logically-minded, able to tell that Coraline’s dowsing rod is poison oak, and even analyzing Coraline’s name (after he’s corrected that it’s not Caroline.)
- I like the transition from Coraline holding her ear to the well, to her washing her hands in the kitchen sink.
- And here we see that the Coraline doll from the beginning of the movie made its way to the trunk of Wybie’s grandma. Which is scary, as well as bizarre from Coraline’s perspective. You move into a new house, and it turns out your landlady (who doesn’t normally allow kids) owned a doll that looks suspiciously similar to you, including your outfit.
- I like the music during this scene of Coraline exploring her new house. It’s so serene and calm.
- Coraline just killed the bugs in the shower with her bare hands... Not much I can really say about that except: “Gross...”
- I know all too well the feeling Coraline’s dad has when his writing is erased. I said this is a scary movie, here’s the scariest dang thing. *shivers*
- The entrance into the Other World is the perfect blend of creepy, and beckoning, with the music and cool colors.
- As well as the first appearance of the Other Mother. There’s the buttons for eyes, and the very fact that she’s an identical copy of Coraline’s real mom in everything but the eyes, making her scary on simply the conceptual level. 
But she’s so much nicer to Coraline than her real-world counterpart, not to mention that she cooks much nicer-looking meals than Coraline’s dad, and resides in a nicer version of Coraline’s house.
- And then there’s the Other Father, introducing himself to Coraline with a nice peppy song about her. The lyrics are filled with foreshadowing, but it’s not like Coraline was going to dig that deep into it. Why would she? The Other World is giving her the family life she wishes she could have in the real world.
- I’d say that Coraline shouldn’t accept food from strangers, but I mean, it’s her parents. But not really her parents, it’s her Other Parents. But they seem to know her like they are her parents. But they don’t actually know her, because they’re not her parents. But they are alternate versions of her parents. But... Oh dear, I’ve gone cross-eyed...
- And the Other World is even complete with a way for her to talk to her old friends from Michigan! Granted, they’re not actually her friends, but they are exact copies of... Nope! Not jumping down that rabbit hole again.
- Coraline gets confirmation that the Other World was real when she wakes up to find that her poison oak has completely disappeared, without a trace. I remember when I first watched this movie, I was afraid it would turn out to be all just a dream, but this confirms right off the bat that the Other World isn’t just in Coraline’s head.
- I like that we’re getting introductions to Coraline’s neighbors, starting with the Amazing Bobinsky, who’s working on a mouse circus. And also misunderstands Coraline’s name to be Caroline.
- And Coraline gets her first warning about the dark secrets of the Other World from said mouse circus. Plus, as a bonus, the mice get her name right on the first try without needing to be corrected.
- Next up is Miss Spink and Miss Forcible, the former also getting Coraline’s name wrong.
- You’ve heard of crazy cat ladies, now get ready for crazy dog ladies who stuff all their dogs when they die!
- Second warning about the danger of the Other World, from Miss Spink reading Coraline’s tea leaves.
- One thing I never really noticed before: The cat’s already showing a personality of his own right now, even when he’s just Wybie’s cat friend who’s not technically owned by Wybie.
- Seems Coraline’s starting to grow fond of Wybie, thinking of him as a friend instead of the annoying kid who lives somewhere near her house.
- Looks like Other Mother is really trying to push the idea that the Other World is better than the real world, what with how she insists that the Other Father is the Better Father.
- The garden arranged into a picture of Coraline is so beautiful. And so impressive when you remember that this is a stop-motion movie, and that portrait had to be actually built for its few seconds of screen time.
- Another thing that the Other Mother offers to Coraline as a benefit of the Other World: A version of Wybie that’ll listen to her, that won’t change the subject to slugs or whatever.
- Plus a version of Bobinsky that not only gets Coraline’s name right, but trains his mouse circus to spell it out. It’s like the Other World is “fixing” all the things that bugged Coraline about her life in the real world.
- And all that temptation looks like it’s working. When Coraline’s mom buys her the same grey uniforms the rest of her school will be wearing, Coraline only responds that the other mother would buy her a better uniform.
- Looks like the cat’s kind of suspicious of the Other World when he sees Coraline crawling inside.
- And the cat’s the only living thing from the real world other than Coraline to come into the Other World. Or, well, the only still-living thing...
- The third warning about the dangers of the Other World comes from the cat, also the first warning given directly to her instead of secondhand or via tea leaves.
- This movie can be creepy in a lot of ways even before Coraline’s life is in danger. For example, one of tne of the “good” things in the Other World is Other Miss Spink and Other Miss Forcible’s skin peeling away to reveal that underneath they’re actually young beautiful women.
- Not everything in the Other World is just the Other Mother’s puppet. She created Other Wybie, but he’s still clearly concerned for Coraline, and needs to be implicitly ordered to keep up the cheery facade.
- And here’s the big wham scene where it starts to get real spooky: The Other Parents saying that they’ll need to sew buttons into Coraline’s eyes if Coraline wants to stay in their world and keep all the things she likes better about it. Luckily, Coraline’s smart enough to refuse and immediately decide she never wants to return.
- The Other Mother might not have total control over everything in the Other World, but she clearly wants to make it so she does. Denying Other Father the ability to speak, and as we’ll see later she’s sewn Other Wybie’s face into a permanent smile that he can’t ever move.
- “Mothers don’t eat... daughters.” “I don’t know. How do you taste?” The cat might not be on the Other Mother’s side, but he can be creepy, even if it seems like he’s just messing with Coraline.
-  - I like that the cat’s here to serve as a companion from the real world to Coraline, consistently on her side even after the Other World shows its true colors. In this case, he kills a circus mouse that was sounding an alarm. Meanwhile that idea didn’t even occur to Coraline, who probably figured it was just circus practice.
- “Good kitty.” You’re darn right!
- Oh, dang, I thought that the Other Mother’s monster transformation came later than this.
- I heard somewhere that in the book, the Other Mother just looks like this monstrous form off the bat. I have to wonder, then, why Coraline was so trusting of her. Maybe it was just a really good dinner she cooked?
- Here we see that Coraline isn’t the first little kid that the Other Mother lured to her world so she could take their eyes and keep there forever. Their ghosts still reside in the Other World, unable to rest in peace or even remember their own names, but able to give Coraline her final warning so she doesn’t share their fates.
- It’s so creepy to see Other Wybie’s face with his mouth sewn into a permanent smile. But even with that, and with his eyes being only buttons, it’s easy to see that he’s desperate to save Coraline from this world.
- Other Wybie even sacrifices his life for Coraline.
- As I said before, Wybie is more logically minded than Coraline. So, really, it only makes sense that he’d hear Coraline talk about the Other World and arrive to the conclusion that she’s crazy.
- It always brings tears to my eyes, seeing Coraline sleeping in bed with pretend versions of her parents made from the pillows and sheets.
- At least the cat’s still there for Coraline.
- The charming colors of the tunnel to the Other World have even turned to a dull grey. It’s like a visual representation of how the Other Mother has given up on luring Coraline into staying, and has moved onto the idea of forcing her to stay, even eating the only key that allows travel between worlds.
- You can tell how much Coraline doesn’t want to say that she’ll let the Other Mother sew buttons in her eyes if she loses. But she has no choice; the Other Mother wouldn’t agree to the game unless there was something she could win.
- It’s both creepy and sad to see the Other Father, forced into attacking Coraline and keeping the eye from her.
- It’s cool how Coraline used Other Spink and Forcible’s bat-dogs against them. Also unsettling like everything in this part of the movie, but really cool and clever.
- Other Father and Other Spink/Forcible were transformed into corrupted versions of themselves. Other Bobinsky? Erased and replaced with a horde of rats that had his voice come out of them.
- Again, good kitty. Even when Coraline thinks she’s lost the game, the cat’s there to lend a hand.
- Coraline even thinks of the cat as a friend!
- But the cat’s not Coraline’s only ally. The ghost of one of the other children advises Coraline to be clever, all too aware that the Other Mother wouldn’t keep her word.
- You’ve heard of throwing your SO, now get ready for throwing your stray cat friend who became one of your only allies in the Other World where your parents are trapped as well as the ghosts of children who came before you! *gasps for breath*
- The Other Mother’s now given up on any pretense of being Coraline’s mother, having gone full monster. But given how she still has that hairdo? I’ve got to imagine that she’s still not quite displaying her true form.
- It’s so sweet to see Coraline interacting with the cat. Even outside of the Other World they’re still friends.
- I understand why people are upset why they changed the climax from Coraline’s clever gambit to a battle with the Other Mother’s hand (and Wybie helping), but I think this works well for a movie adaptation. I haven’t read the book, so I could be wrong, but just from seeing the movie, I think this climax is good.
- I love this ending with Coraline and her neighbors having a garden party, Bobinsky even helping plant some berries. It’s so cathartic after all the trouble Coraline’s been through.
FINAL THOUGHTS:
To reiterate: This is my absolute favorite spooky movie! And my first pick when it comes to movies fit for the season.
The first Laika movie I watched was Kubo and The Two Strings, in theaters. Then I went back and watched Paranorman to celebrate Halloween. Then I watched Missing Link when that came out in theaters.
Coraline came last out of all the Laika movies I’ve seen, but it may well be my favorite, with its lovable characters, amazing music, and gorgeous animation.
It has just the right amount of scare for me, as someone who’s not generally fond of horror. And as a PG movie, it leans more towards scary and unsettling aesthetic than jumpscares or blood/gore, another thing that makes this just right for me.
This is the perfect kinda movie for the season, and I highly recommend it for anyone who wants a spooky movie to watch tonight, on future Halloweens, or just whenever you’re in the mood for something creepy.
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banshee1013 · 4 years
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Suptober Day 10 - Sweet Rides
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OMG I GOT ONE DONE ON TIME (well, sorta, HAHA).
I finally managed to keep myself to a pencil drawing only, still took me 4 hours but I’m pretty pleased with it.
Then I stayed up until 1:30am finishing the fic - which was supposed to be a FICLET - 2k later! Oops.
Anyway, here’s Day Ten! Now to figure out what to do for tomorr... uh, later today, haha.
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Overall Title: The Road Less Traveled
Overall Rating: Mature (may change to Explicit, we’ll see how it goes)
Tags: Castiel/Dean, mention of Sam/Eileen, Post-Season 15, ExAngel!Cas, MostlyRetiredHunter!Dean, Road Trip
(Note: all ficlets are unbeta’d. At the end of the month, I’ll wrap up whatever I manage to get written, clean it up, get it beta’d, and post to AO3. So please pardon any mistakes!)
========================================================
CHAPTER FIVE - SWEET RIDES
Words: 2026
Dean’s fingers drum a one-handed beat on the steering wheel, keeping time with John Bonham coming over the speakers. His other hand, resting on the bench seat next to him, is loosely entwined with Cas’. 
After their rainy weekend interlude at Rufus’ cabin, Cas has been extra hands-on; never out of contact with Dean in one way or another for very long - and Dean has zero complaints with this development.
Giving a quick squeeze, he disengages his hand from Cas’ and flips the turn signal, sliding over to the lane for I-5 North. 
Cas up to this point has been focused on the passing scenery with half-lidded eyes and soft smile, quiet and seemingly lost in thought. Dean had squeezed his hand a few times during the eight hour drive from the cabin, checking to see if he’d dropped off, but every time Cas had turned to him, returning the squeeze; the look in his eyes full of love and warmth, and Dean will do anything to keep Cas looking at him like that. 
This time, Cas turns to him, but his eyes are now full of curiosity. 
“I-5 North? I thought you wished to go south after we reached the west coast?”
“Thought we’d make a pit stop first.” Dean smirked to himself, recalling the conversation with Sam yesterday when he’d called to check in and found out they were headed to Seattle. 
------------
“Seattle, huh? Helluva drive just to get some Starbucks!” Sam snorted, his voice echoing slightly with the speakerphone on so he can sign the conversation to Eileen.
“Haha, Sammy. No way am I getting Starbucks in Seattle - that’s like going to Italy and getting McDonalds.” Dean paused, glancing over his shoulder toward the bedroom, the Cas-shaped blanket-covered lump in the bed still unmoving, and silently cursed himself for not setting his phone on silent. 
He desperately wanted to be back in there with him.
“So, everything alright? I gotta go, things to do.” More like someONE to do…
Sam did not sound convinced but didn’t push the issue. “Nah, all good here. Eileen and I are back at the bunker and just wanted to make sure you didn’t end up in a ditch somewhere.” Sam chuckles at his own joke, then continues, “Hey, I know where you should go… y’know, when you get to Seattle.” 
Dean sighs - now that he knows nothing is wrong, he’s tempted feign a bad connection and hang up - but he’s genuinely curious to find out what Sam is going to suggest. “Yeah? Do tell.”
“You should get some Dick’s.”
“Hahaha very funny, “ Dean growls, and moves to hang up when Sam yells, “Wait, WAIT!”
“WHAT?” Dean grimaces at the volume of his voice and glances over at his shoulder again. Cas stirs and rolls over but doesn’t wake. “What?” he says again, quieter.
“I mean, you should go eat a Dick’s.” Sam giggles, and Dean hears Eileen's soft laugh in the background.
“Okay, that’s it. I’m outta here.” Dean pulls the phone back from his ear once again and starts to hang up when he hears Eileen’s voice - “Dean, wait!” 
With a mighty sigh, he puts the phone back to his ear and hears a smack in the background; an open palm against muscle and cloth, followed by Eileen’s voice:  “Stop BEING a dick and tell him.” 
“Okay, okay. You guys are no fun.” Sam speaks into the phone again. “It’s a fast food place out there. ‘Best burgers in America’ according to Esquire Magazine.”
-------------------
Cas’ brow pinches in confusion and it’s still the most adorable thing ever. “Pit stop? Why are we stopping for pits?” His eyes narrow. “Are they peach pits? Do you need to distill cyanide from them?”
Dean can’t help himself - he outright guffaws. “No, no cyanide, why would I… I mean, we’re making a detour, stopping somewhere here in Seattle before heading south.” 
“Ah, very well then.” Cas tilts his head. “Is it for coffee? I hear Starbucks is headquartered here, I suppose acquiring some from the original source might be interesting.” 
“NO Starbucks… seriously, why does everyone…,” Dean pauses, then carefully schools his face into a serious expression, “We’re going for Dick’s.” 
“EXCUSE ME?”
“BURGERS!” Dean manages to gasp out as he gets the laughter under control. “It’s a burger place Sam told me about. ‘The most life-changing burger joint in America’ or so Esquire Magazine would have you believe.” Turning to Cas, he arches an eyebrow. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
                                                ~~~ *** ~~~
“What the… Cas, I think I’m gonna be sick.” 
No, it wasn’t from the burgers - Dean hadn’t even gotten to those yet. He’s not even sure if they can. 
As they pulled into the parking area for Dick’s Drive-In, he had slammed on the brakes, Baby coming to a sudden stop with a squeal of rubber on pavement at the sight before him.
The parking lot was full - of Impalas.
Black 1967 Impalas to be exact. DOZENS of them, all in a row.
Some had their trunks open, the inside of the lids decorated with devil traps and wards. Others had green coolers nearby, identical to the one in his backseat. 
The squeal of tires had drawn the attention of the people gathered around, and one in particular waves and makes his way over to them.
“Oh shit, no no no…” Dean mutters, then quickly plasters on a wan smile as the guy approaches his window and leans on the sill. 
“Hey there, I”m Davis, President of the Seattle chapter of the Supernatural Haunted Impalas club.” Dean glanced down at the man’s outstretched hand, briefly considers peeling rubber out of the parking lot and reluctantly decides against it - the last thing they need is a APB out on them for decapitating a guy in full view of witnesses - and takes the guy’s hand. 
“hi, uh… De.. Daniel. I”m Daniel… uh, Dan, and this is… “ Releasing the guy’s… Davis’... hand, he turns to Cas, eyes wide and imploring. 
Thankfully, Cas gets it. “Calvin,” Cas says, taking Davis’ hand and giving it a solemn shake - up and down, twice, and a quick release - “You can call me Cal.” 
Davis blinks, then gives them a broad smile. “Nice to meet you boys. We’re all just parked over there, find a spot and come say hi!” He leans back, his smile widening. “Nice cosplay, by the way - Dean, I presume, and you must be Endverse Cas, am I right?” He throws fingerguns and a wink before turning to head back to the group.
“We should leave… yeah, we should definitely get the HELL OUTTA HERE…” Dean looks over his shoulder, trying to figure out the quickest way to bail on the situation; but just then, a loud rumble erupts from Cas’ stomach. 
“Dean…” Cas sighs. “I’m very hungry, and you promised me a life-changing burger.” He gestures at the group, many of whom are now actively watching them. “And they’ve already noticed us. We might as well go and order the burgers, and then make an excuse to leave.” He drops puppy-dog eyes to rival Sam’s, and Dean knows he has no recourse but to go through with the charade - at least long enough to get a burger.
“FINE. We’ll order the burgers, make nice with locals while they’re cookin’, and then get the hell outta Dodge.” 
Dean pulls into a spot at the end of the long line of Baby Wanna-Be’s. No sooner had they climbed out and closed the doors, a bubbly brunette bounces over to them. 
“Hey guys, you look great! And wow, your Baby is GORGEOUS! What’s her name?” She claps a hand over her mouth in dismay. “Oh, of course, I shouldn’t assume gender. What’s your Baby’s name?” 
Dean’s lips part but nothing comes out, at a loss for words - then, “Baby.” 
The bouncy brunette blinks, then nods, the smile returning. “Uh, great! Awesome!” She extends her hand. “I’m Brittany, and this is my girl, Gertrude,” indicating the Impala parked next to them. 
Dean has to admit - Gertrude is in great shape. “Hi, Brittany, I”m De… Dan.” He passes an admiring gaze over the car. “She’s beautiful.” 
Brittany blushes fiercely. “Thank you so much! She’s my pride and joy.” 
Dean can’t help but grin - he gets it. “I know how you feel.” He starts toward the car, his interest piqued now.
Cas grabs his elbow. “Dean… uh, DAN,” he stammers. “We should order our food first.” 
“Oh, right! Of course.” He turns back to Brittany. “Give us a moment? We’re starving.” 
Brittany nods like her head is on a swivel. “OH of course! We’re not going anyway, go feed your boyfriend!” She turns back to Gertrude and strikes up a conversation with another couple. 
They make their way to the order counter with no further distractions and order their food, both choosing the “Dick’s Deluxe” with fries and milkshakes, then wander over to the group of Impala owners. 
By the time their food is ready, Dean is genuinely surprised at how much fun he’s actually having - the Impala owners are friendly and really know their cars, the pride of ownership evident - and Dean can’t help but respect that. However, they of course are also just as fanatical about Chuck’s books, which Dean struggles to hide his discomfort with. 
As they head back to the counter to pick up their food, Dean turns to Cas. “I dunno about all this, Cas - they’re really into Chuck’s books and they have no idea what a tool he was.” His head drops with a sigh. “Should we tell them?” 
“No, Dean.” Cas looks back over his shoulder at the group, their laughter and happy voices carrying across the parking lot. “They’re happy; the books have brought them together, given them friendship - a family, even.”  He shakes his head. ‘Chuck used those words to manipulate you, but they have no power over you - over US - anymore. This way, they serve a good purpose.” 
Dean blinks - he hadn’t thought of it that way. Of course Cas is right. 
“Yeah... and look at all the sweet rides that came from them!” 
                                                ~~~ *** ~~~
They gather their food order and head back to say their goodbyes, but the group appear to be packing up anyway - trunks being closed and coolers returned to their backseats. 
Davis approaches them. “Hey guys… we’re about to head out, but we’re only going over to Golden Gardens Park to watch the sunset and hang out around the fire pits. You’re welcome to join.” He nudges Dean with his elbow. “The group’s really taken a shine to you,” he says with a bright grin, “and your Baby, of course.” 
Dean turns to Cas, throwing an arm over his shoulder. “Whadda ya say, sweetheart? Our first sunset…” he shakes the bag of food in his other hand, “and dinner on the West Coast?” 
“I would love to, Dean.” Cas’ eyes are bright, his smile soft and warm and Dean really wants to kiss him right now, but… company.
“Adorable,” Davis says, hands clasped in delight. “I love how you two stay so in character.” 
                                                  ~~~ *** ~~~
The last rays of the sun slip behind the Olympic Mountains, but Dean is watching Cas watch the sunset. 
He’ll never get tired of the look of wonder on Cas’ face when he experiences new things. 
Or for that matter, the sounds he makes, either. Listening to him moan through that admittedly fantastic burger was downright pornographic. 
He places a hand on Cas’ fire-warmed cheek and turns him away from the dimming horizon.
Damn the company. He’s gonna kiss his boyfriend.
He tastes the salt from the fries, the sharp vinegar of the pickles, the rich savory flavor of the burger, the lingering sweetness of the milkshake. 
He tastes the unique flavor of Cas and relishes it. 
Cas threads his fingers into the hair at the back of Dean’s neck and tilts his head just so and oh, it’s so, so good. 
He hears a few giggles and more than a couple “awws” and pays them no mind. 
He’s way too busy thinking about a completely different type of sweet ride.
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bonesthebeloved · 4 years
Text
You did to me what tsunamis do to homes- Sanders Sides
@lance-alt
Summary: Patton and Remus fuse for an experiment. Then they fuse again. Then they stay fused because Patton wants too. When the others finally find out how bad it is hurting Remus, the damage is already done and they have to deal with the aftermath. Wordcount: 3849 words Relationships: Platonic creativitwins, Romantic Intruloceit. TRIGGER/ SQUICK WARNING: !UNSYMPATHETIC PATTON!, mental abuse, neglection, manipulation, dismissal, swearing, disassociation, shouting, panic attack mention (brief), some plushy and clothes get ripped apart I guess, vomiting, (idk how to tag this but Patton flirts with Roman while he and Remus are fused so that), Crying, food mention. (If I forgot anything please let me know. this is a heavy one and I don’t wanna accidentally hurt people with it.)
Patton being unsympathetic/ abusive isn’t really explained but I don’t have the brain cells for that atm so let’s just say he thinks he can protect Thomas this way and is willing to do anything to ‘keep him safe’ however incorrect he may be.
After this post by @lance-alt (Hope you like it bud.)
They had found out that they could fuse because of creativity. Remus and Roman had finally reconnected enough for them to be friendly with each other again. Baking and making a mess of the kitchen while loudly singing Disney songs at 10 am, sitting on the couch together to watch crappy horror movies and laughing at how terrible the special effects were. Dancing in the living room to Panic! at the disco, with energy so high it could match Patton’s when he had too much sugar.
When Remus had grabbed his brother to spin in circles, the soul reason just being him simply wanting to do so now that he could, when something had happened.
Bright light and they both weren’t quite themselves anymore.
A stumble as they looked down. The floor much further away and their body not quite theirs.
It had been exciting, to be the King again. Remus had made them hug themselves and Roman had spun them around before both of them made them run towards Patton’s room.
When they unfused again there had been confusion.  When they fused again Logan had conducted an experiment.
And now Remus was in the logical traits room. Fidgeting his thumbs while Patton picked some music. It wasn’t the duke’s preference. He liked something more upbeat. Something edgier. But Patton had picked the music and this was only for an experiment so he didn’t argue.
Besides. He did not want to get on Patton’s bad side.
The dancing was awkward and so was the fusion. It didn’t feel quite right. Unlike being Romulus where he and his brother just shared the mind and looked through the same eyes, they were in a room. Two chairs in front of a big screen and a control panel. It had been a little odd. But not bad perse so he’d let it slide. Maybe Patton just liked it like this. He didn’t mind. Simply wasn’t used to it yet.
Not that he had to get used to it. This was a one-time thing after all.
When they unfused Logan had been ecstatic. Already asking Patton so many questions about how it had felt and set up a meeting for them to fuse as well so he could witness it first hand.
Remus was dismissed with the wave of a hand. Leaving the room confused and not feeling quite right.
They had fused again after a few days. Patton coming to him with a smile and an offer to try it again because ‘it felt so funny! didn’t it? I think you’re my favourite person to fuse with Remus!’
And Remus couldn’t have known that Patton had only tried it with Logan. Remus couldn’t have known what ‘letting Patton steer the ship’ for a while could have let too.
They were fused the whole day. And inside the room, Remus had sat back. Patton needed time to learn how to properly control their body. And, as he already had experience with fusing with Roman, he let him figure it out, repressing the odd feeling that came with not being himself.
And when they unfused in the evening, Remus too tired to do anything else than simply plop on his bed and fall asleep, Patton said goodbye and that they should do that again sometimes.
A few weeks later and they were barely unfused. 
They only separated when it was time to go to bed. Too tired to do anything else and slowly forgetting how to do anything else but sleep and wake up to Patton knocking at his door.
One of the two chairs in the room had disappeared. Remus never sitting on it.
Instead, he said in the corner of the room, trying to ignore the feeling of his limbs moving and touching things even if he sat still himself. Trying to ignore the feeling of their body eating and talking and communicating while he was silent.
 At first, he had been trying to pitch into their decisions. But after Patton had made them rip apart the octopus plushy that Roman had gifted his brother on their birthday, threatening to destroy more of his precious belongings if he didn’t work with him, he had settled down.
Remus now barely moved when they were fused. Arms wrapped around his legs, staring blankly at the opposite wall, trying to tune out the sensations and sounds. Trying to not look at himself being so…not himself.
A few months had passed and Patton made their body lay down onto Remus’ bed every time they unfused because Remus couldn’t remember how to move his limbs without somebody else doing it for him
-
When Logan walked up to them after three months of nonstop fusion, Remus had lifted his head to look up at the screen for the first time in weeks.
“Hey, Pathos.” He disliked that name. But Patton had picked it for them and arguing had only led to Virgil’s old jacket, which he had used as a comforter for when everything got too much, being burned right in front of their eyes. Remus not even having a chair or the power to do anything but watch, tears streaming down his cheeks. Mouth sealed shut because he wasn’t the one that did the talking.
“I know it’s none of my business but I can’t help but ask, don’t you think it might be unhealthy to stay fused all the time? I know you’ve told me that you get things done easier like this, yin and yang and so on. But I also know that it is easy to lose your sense of self in things like this.”
“Oh Logan, thank you so much for worrying about us,” Patton spoke. Remus had lost the ability to flinch at that point. Simply keeping his head low, his body stiff, staring at the wall opposite of him. It had begun to change colour in the last few days.
“And it hasn’t been easy. Believe me, it hasn’t been. Remus and Patton are very different people after all.”  Remus’ only response was the twitching of his pinky. On the inside, he was screaming, yelling, hoping that Patton had finally seen the error in his ways. 
“Remus really wears on Patton sometimes. With all of his crazy ideas and violent tendencies.” Oh.
“But They’ve found their peace like this. Like me! I think they’re better off like this. And isn’t everything more peaceful now that Remus is under control? Don’t you think it’s better this way?”
Logan looked taken aback by the negative talk towards one of the components of the fusion. Though he didn’t comment on it. Simply nodding, shrugging it off and going about his day while Remus was left in the room with Patton. Trying not to listen to the moral sides thoughts in his head. Trying to get them away from his own. Trying to not think.
Patton just walked them to a mirror. Staring right at it before he spoke.
“You really thought he was going to help you? They know you’re wrong Remus. And if this is the only way for me to keep you away from them then I will carry that burden with pride.”
No. He hadn’t wanted to be free. He hadn’t. Because that would be bad and he wasn’t bad. He wasn’t- “You can’t lie to me, Remus. Or did you forget that I can hear your thoughts as well?”
Remus turned his head again. Retaking his staring contest with the wall opposite of him.
The wall was getting patchy. spots of green and blue interrupting the evenly coloured cyan wall like the wallpaper was coming off.
-
The fusion got more unstable. With Roman coming up to them to confess that he missed his brother and Virgil crying during a panic attack because he wanted Patton to comfort him but the idea of Remus being there too made his skin crawl.
Logan had begun to figure out what he thought was going on. Pathos seemed too put together. Too nice and cheerful and pg to have them both equal parts controlling him. He didn’t swear. Didn’t make a mess, didn’t do anything like Remus but rather was just a slightly more excentric and charismatic version of Patton.
And that night Remus hung above the toilet. Retching as wave after wave of sick clattered into the toilet bowl. The memory of Patton controlling their body to flirt with his brother making him physically ill. A new wave of bile rising up at the memory of how he had them smile of the thought of Pathos with his brother. Of how Patton’s thoughts about his brother had mixed with his own. Of how uncomfortable Roman had looked until nothing but stomach acid was left and his throat stung and the taste of sick had to be washed away with mouthwash.
The wallpaper was peeling more each day. The corner opposite him now almost fully green and blue. 
Virgil had avoided touching them. Stopping his hushed conversations with Logan each time Pathos walked into the room. Eyeing them with suspicious than slowly grew into anger. And Remus felt one of the last strings that attached him to the others snap when they cut up his usual outfit that night. Patton’s anger and sadness at making his best friend this upset coursing through him. Feeling the self hate and hate for him rip at his chest as the sash was cut to pieces. The eye attached to the outfit ripped off and stomped on.
He wasn’t sure which were his own feelings anymore.
The wallpaper was halfway off now. Green and blue replacing Cyan walls. Remus focused on the green parts and silently wished for freedom. When Patton threatened to drown his pet rat he numbed the thoughts until only Patton’s own remained.
Deceit hadn’t spoken to them for an entire month. Though he and Logan were together a lot. Always talking or holding up papers. Always quieting down when they entered the room.  When Pathos had confronted Deceit and had wanted to judge him for not communicating with them and say that he could at least be civil, Deceit had actually hissed at them.
“I’m not speaking to you until you give me my friend back Patton.” 
Remus had cried that night. Patton having left him on the bed as always. Unmoving. Unresponsive to the almost freezing temperature in his room and the fact that he couldn’t use his blanket to get warm because it had been ripped to pieces.  He laid there the entire night. Tears simply streaming down his face as he stared at the wall he was facing. The grey colour of it a nice change to the usual green and blue that had completely taken over the room.
Unmoving when Patton broke his mirror the next morning when they fused again and he had felt tired and cold.
Roman had begun to look at them strangely. His expression was so sad that Remus could feel the hurt from where he was sitting. His brother had stopped talking to them all together after the conversation they’d had. Remus had gotten enough of his willpower back from hearing his brother begging them to un-fuse, to please have his brother back, to finally take action.
They were having dinner when it happened.
Pathos had called all the sides to the dinner table. Wanting to spend some time with all of them because ‘we never talk any more kiddos!’
They were holding the pot of spaghetti, about to put it on the table when they froze.
Virgil cursed loudly when the hot spaghetti dropped onto his lap and arms. Though cursed even louder when he looked to the side and saw the pot lying on the ground and next to it, gripping their head and slowly being consumed by light, was Pathos.
“Stay together! I’m not letting you leave!” A voice, sounding more like Patton’s then the one they had gotten used to coming from the ball of light. All of the sides having jumped up, Logan and Deceit ushering the other two back. Holding their arms out protectively.
“It’s better like this! We’re better like th-” “No!”
And with Remus’ voice, hoarse and terrified sounding, echoing through the room, one silhouette split into two.
And there were Patton and Remus. Patton quickly jumping up from his place on the ground and staring down at Remus with fury in his eyes. His usual outfit on like always. Fists bawled, teeth gritted. Furious.
Patton was about to open his mouth to say something to Remus when he was stopped by a hand gripping his arm. He whipped around to see Logan shake his head. Holding back Deceit, Virgil and Roman with his other arm. The three of them looked ready to kill.
“Go,” Logan said simply. It wasn’t comforting. Wasn’t even a warning. No, with the cold tone and cold eyes and arm holding back the other three it sounded more like a threat than anything else.
Because Remus didn’t look well.
Remus lay curled up on the ground. Not having moved a muscle since they un-fused. Arms around his legs and head bowed down slightly. Eyes staring at something they couldn’t see. Wearing an old t-shirt and joggers instead of his usual outfit. Muscle mass almost completely was gone.
Roman’s vision what white with anger, breath uneven and harsh as he tried to calm himself. Deceit was visibly shaking and Virgil had run out of the room as soon as they knew for sure that Patton had locked himself in his own one. Logan was frozen in place for a good few seconds, snapping out of it as soon as Roman rushed passed him, dropping down to his knees next to his brother.
“Remus? Remus, it’s me! Can you hear me?”
The only response he got was a tear slipping from his brother’s eye. No movement. Rising and falling of his chest the only thing moving his body.
“What the fuck did he do to you…?” Came Deceit’s whisper, coming to sit next to Roman on the floor and lifting Remus’ head up slightly to lay it on his lap.
When Deceit began to carefully card his fingers through grimy hair Remus’ pinky twitched.
“He’s getting back his responses. Keep going.” That was Logan, kneeling down at Remus’ feet and putting a hand on the side’s ankle to show that he was here.
Another twitch.
When Roman carefully wrapped his arms around his brother and leaned his head onto his arm Remus did a full-body shiver and his gaze dropped.
Remus moved his hands. And after repeating the same gestures a few times Logan realised that he was using sign language. “He’s signing your name Roman.” And Roman burst into tears.
“Yes! Yes, Remus, I’m here! We’re all here okay? Logan, Dee, all three of us are here for you okay?”
‘Deceit?’ he signed
The ghost of moralities thoughts swirled in his head. Mixed together with his own so much so that he didn’t know which were his own anymore.
A part of him said Deceit was bad. Evil, wrong, bad, snake, liar.
Another part wanted to simply be held by his long term friend and short term crush. Wanted to be comforted like he would have been had none of this happened.  Wouldn’t Deceit have seemed scared to touch him like he would break if he did something wrong.
‘Tired,’ is what he signed instead of the thousands of words he’d been wanting to say. And the three of them seemed to understand.
So Logan picked him up. And Remus tried to ignore the panic that shot through him at being touched so suddenly. Tried to ignore the feeling of wanting to be closer and of knowing that he also felt something for Logan because that would be too complicated. 
And when they entered his room he tried to ignore his twisting stomach when all three of them gasped. Deceit insisting he tells them what had happened. Why it looked so empty.
‘He made us destroy it. Had to behave.’ He signed. Happier than anything that he had taken the time to learned to sign a few years ago.
“He…what?” “What is it? What did he say?” Roman pressed Logan, the logical side carefully laying Remus down in his bed, summoning a blanket that was clearly his own and putting it over the creative trait before answering the question. Looking at Deceit and Roman, a frown carved into his face.
“He said that Patton made them destroy his belongings so he would behave.” “He WHAT?!” Deceit roared. And the lump on the bed jumped at the loud noise. 
“I’m going to tear that fucker apart!” “Deceit wait! That wouldn’t do him any good right now,” Logan tried to argue. Trying to calm down the fuming Deceit.
It seemed to help a bit. Dee sitting down on the bed next to Roman and holding his head in his hands while Logan summoned a comb and slowly began to work through the knots.
For now, they just had to make sure Remus was alright, Deceit decided. He’d get Patton back for this eventually.
 -
The aftermath of the abuse (because Logan had said, that’s the only way to describe this,) was heavy.
Remus had to learn how to move on his own again. Seemingly having completely forgotten that he had to move his own limbs after such a long time of not being in control. 
Logan had, after a long conversation with Remus where not a word was spoken, reported back to the other two to tell them that his muscle mass had declined so much because he had barely moved, if at all, in the last few months.
He had to learn how to walk again. They got him crutches once he could properly lean on his arms again and watched him hobble around the new common room.
Patton had moved his room to another part of the imagination. If he was too ashamed or too stubborn they didn’t know. They still made videos together. But Remus never showed up. Leaving Deceit to fill in his place. He and Patton were never in the same video and the conversations Patton had with the others were short and harsh. 
Virgil was indecisive. He and Remus had never gotten along. But as soon as Logan had told him what had happened he felt sick every time he saw Patton.
So Virgil moved to the grey. The neutral part of the imagination where nobody ever went to and that nobody could find unless you weren’t looking for it. He came by on occasion. Talking with Logan or Roman, bickering with Deceit. But it wasn’t quite the same as it had once been.
Roman and Deceit both went and taught themselves sign language. Roman wanting to be able to communicate with his brother once they had realised that he seemed to have completely forgotten how to speak and Deceit wanting to be there in any way possible.
Remus was able to walk again after a month of practice. Wandering around the living room and swinging along gently when music played.
He worked out together with his brother. His strength returning slowly until he was able to enter the imagination again to go on a quest together with Roman.
He grew closer to Deceit as he had ever been. When they finally decided to put a label on things it had felt natural and nothing had changed.
Half a year later and Remus admitted to having fallen for Logan as well. Tears streaming down his face and fingers shaking as he signed the message. 
And Deceit had hugged him and kissed his tears away. Telling him that it was alright and that they could figure this out. And after a month or two Deceit announced that he wouldn’t mind Logan joining their relationship. Roman just happy for his brother and his friends and baking them a cake for the occasion.
And not everything was alright.
Remus wore soft sweaters and leggings. Refusing to put on the outfit Roman had remade for him. 
And they never baked and made a mess of the kitchen while loudly singing Disney songs at 10 am again because the ghost of the thoughts was still present and he refused to make any noise before he was certain everybody was awake. Never sat on the couch together to watch crappy horror movies and laughing at how terrible the special effects were because the voice of Patton was scowling at him that these people had put effort into this movie and ‘why would you mock something like this when everything you create is so much crueller?’ Never danced in the living room to Panic! at the disco, with energy so high it could match Patton’s when he had too much sugar because his mind told him that acting like that was foolish and a waste of his brothers time. 
He didn’t speak his mind like he had done before. Only said what was necessary. No vulgar or odd thoughts. No weird or exciting ideas. Nothing because he had been convinced that it was wrong. That he, his whole nature, his whole being, was wrong.
Remus understood then that Patton didn’t fuse with him because he liked it or wanted to help him. Morality wanted nothing more than to break him.
But life went on and healing was a slow and painful process.
When, after nearly a year of silence, Remus spoke his first words, his boyfriends and his brother had hugged him close while crying happy tears. 
And when, after nearly a year, his brother invited him for movie night again he had agreed.
And when, after nearly two years, he didn’t flinch anymore when somebody made a sudden gesture towards him nobody said anything but he knew they noticed.
And when, after nearly two years, the voice in his head that wasn’t his and the thoughts that weren’t his own began to quiet down, he didn’t say anything. Though his boyfriends noticed that he slept better. And his brother noticed that he spoke his mind from time to time.
And when, after nearly two years, he was dancing to Panic! at the disco in the living room with energy so high it could match Logan’s when talking about the stars, he felt that, though nothing would be the same again, though nothing would ever be quite whole again, he might be able to be okay again.
-
So Uhm… Here ya go?  This was extremely heavy even for me so I’m sorry I guess?  A very quick thing for all the Patton stans that are gonna come for my chins after this: I love him a lot. I love all of them a lot. I just, at the moment, think unsympathetic Patton is interesting to write.
Anyways. Hope this is kinda what you imagined Lance? Yeh. Okay. Bye.
-
Idk if I should put my taglist (I’m gonna but I hope y’all are mindful of the warnings and tell me if you wanna be excluded from heavier stuff/ removed.)
Taglist: @purp-man @crazycookie13o @deceitifullies101 @sapphire-knight @ragingdumpsterfiremess @chronophobica @lance-alt
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yumeka36 · 4 years
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I just got home from the Frozen 2 advanced screening at Disney Studios (as pictured above, got more swag than I thought I would). Gonna give my immediate thoughts and comments, with a more coherent post at a later date. Obviously, if you don’t want to be spoiled, don’t read below:
WARNING! MAJOR FROZEN 2 SPOILERS BEYOND THIS POINT!
-I’ve been listening to “Show Yourself” non stop since the soundtrack came out and it was gorgeous seeing the accompanying animation. The song starts as Elsa is riding Nokk towards Ahtohallan and continues as she makes her way through the cave. What was also unexpected for me is that she transforms into her “final form” at the end of the song, so she’s wearing that outfit throughout a good portion of the movie, not just the epilogue, so I hope that means there will be more merchandise for it!
-After that, she wanders through Ahtohallan which is made up of moving “sculptures” made of snow/ice that show memories: she sees some of herself and Anna when they were young playing with Olaf, various people in Arendelle, and of Iduna and Agnarr (I believe Iduna was saying something about being afraid to reveal what she really is, a Northuldra). Some funny parts, Elsa walks by a memory of herself at the end of “Let It Go” and makes a face like “yeah, I was silly back then” XD But the best part was when she walks by a scene of Anna and Hans about to dance at the coronation. She gives it a cold look and then breaks the Hans sculpture, lol.
-The important memory she finds is that King Runeard was using the dam against the Northuldra - something about cutting off their resources so they’d be forced to trade with Arendelle, or something like that, I don’t remember exactly. A poignant part was when Elsa first sees the memory of Runeard and he’s talking about how he hates and doesn’t trust anyone who uses magic, to which she says angrily that his fear is blinding him. And again, Elsa is wearing her final outfit during all this, so there was so much time to ogle it XD
-The “gone too far” part is when she follows the memory of Runeard as it fades down into a deep abyss. He was talking about something suspicious regarding the Northuldra, so she decided to jump down into the depths to find out even though she remembers the song’s warning. She sees that Runeard attacked (and likely killed) the Northuldra leader. She begins freezing as she’s down there and before she gets completely frozen, she sends a burst of magic up above, calling out to Anna (and the fact that Elsa “dies” here is proof that she’s not immortal even after becoming the fifth spirit). Her magic reaches Anna and Olaf in the cave and shows them what happened. They realize they have to destroy the dam but Olaf starts to “flurry” - pieces of snowflakes peel off him and drift away, and he tells Anna that Elsa isn’t okay. Anna pulls Olaf into her lap and holds him there as he fades away. He doesn’t melt exactly and we don’t see the full process: we see his flurries gently flow out of the cave and land in a pile somewhere else. Bruhni watches sadly from a ledge below.
-The saddest thing to me was that, after the aforementioned scene of Olaf’s “death,” the scene fades to black, then opens up again overlooking the same cave but it looks like a different time of day, then cuts to Anna crying inside - so she was literally crying alone in the cave for what could have been hours! I thought right after Olaf melts is when she’d start singing The Next Right Thing, but she spends who knows how long grieving. That is just too sad 8_8 Before she starts singing, she says “Olaf...Elsa...what do I do?” My heart shattered then. Another part that shattered it more was when Anna confronts Matthias and the soldiers as they try to prevent her from approaching the dam. When they ask her why it has to be destroyed, she tells them and says “My sister gave her life for the truth, we can’t lose anyone else.”
-Oh my gosh, the reunion at the end was my favorite part and so sweet~ After the mist around the forest fades, Anna and Kristoff approach the pillars with Anna looking like she’s ready to burst into tears...until some snow crystals flutter around her and then behind to where the shore is (not sure if it’s the shore of the Dark Sea since it’s daylight at this time, or it could just be a nearby beach). She sees Elsa riding Nokk - she starts running toward her but then stops because she’s still not sure it’s really Elsa. When Elsa says her name and holds out her arms, she runs to her and they share a beautiful hug (while Anna is sobbing). Honestly I can’t remember exactly what was said because I was an emotional wreck at that point, but Elsa tells Anna that she’s the fifth spirit, that Anna saved her, and that the bridge has two sides: herself here and Anna in Arendelle, and they’d fix the past wrongs together. And I also loved the fact that Kristoff comes over and is relieved that Elsa’s okay: he says “Elsa, you’re alright!” and gives her a hug, then (humorously) says “ you look different...did you cut your hair?” She also gives Sven a little pet. I’m so glad they included this part as it shows that Kristoff doesn’t just see Elsa as a cockblock to Anna, lol. Kristoff proposes to Anna here as well (Sven tears up a little seeing it XD)
-As for Olaf’s revival, Elsa tells Anna “I have a question for you” “What is it?” “Do you want to build a snowman?” She then concentrates and we see the pile of Olaf’s “flurries” come flying down from the cave to become Olaf again. Elsa says it’s a good thing water has memory, implying that he still remembers everything despite being “resurrected.” The epilogue just had so many cute moments - Anna and Elsa share another hug as they walk back to the stone pillars, Elsa wipes away a tear on Anna’s face, they put there foreheads together at one point when they’re talking, Elsa takes Anna’s hand and leads her to one of the now tamed earth giants and they both gently touch his giant nose, and Frohana share a warm hug. I cannot wait to get HD screenshots of it all!
-And for Anna’s coronation? To be honest, it didn’t seem like a coronation to me - it literally just had Kai announcing Anna as she walks outside (onto a stage I think? Don’t remember exactly) but right after that she’s out in the streets with Olaf, Kristoff, and Sven, who are dressed up. So it must have been some kind of event, but wouldn’t the coronation have a party in the castle and a ceremony, like Elsa had? We then see Matthias outside with another Arendelle citizen (he’s discovering the new technology of photograph, lol) - wouldn’t they be part of the ceremony if there was a coronation, and not just out in the streets doing whatever. It just didn’t seem like a major event was happening, I’ll have to see the movie again. Regardless, they reveal statues of young Iduna and Agnarr (they should have had statues of Anna and Elsa too!) and Anna notices Gale flying about and asks if he/she (does Gale have a gender?) to deliver a letter to Elsa. Gale carries it over to the forest and Elsa reads it. As we know, it’s a reminder about charades. Anna ends the letter saying “I love you” to which Elsa says “I love you too, sis” (that’s where this line that we heard in one of the teasers came from - pretty crazy they’d use a line from the very end of the movie, knowing we wouldn’t figure it out!)
-I mostly talked about the ending here but I’ll say a few things that stood out in the rest of the movie to me: Some Things Never Change was adorable. Anna and Elsa share a sweet hug at the end, during the “holding on tight to you” lines. And I absolutely cracked up during Kristoff’s verse when he’s doing Sven’s voice and telling him about getting down on one knee with the ring - some nearby townspeople see him and it looks like he’s proposing to Sven and they get the most awkward looks on their faces XD The scene in their parents’ ship was really emotional: Anna and Elsa clinging to each other with tears in their eyes as they see the memory of their parents take shape...my heart was breaking. The ensuing scene where Elsa’s overcome with guilt and runs outside with Anna telling her she’s not responsible for their actions, and she believes in her more than anything, etc., More was said between them here and I’m having trouble remembering it exactly but it was deep.
-Oh, and the post-credits scene was hilarious: it’s Olaf telling the events of the story to Marshmallow and the Snowgies (Frozen Fever is canon!) just like he does earlier when he describes the first Frozen to Matthias and the others (”it began with two sisters...”) The funniest part was his dramatizing lines of the latter part of the story - ”Elsa is dead,” “Olaf is dead,” “Anna’s crying alone” - it’s hard to describe, it’s funnier when you see it.
Later I’ll write a post with more coherent thoughts about the movie itself and not just a spoiler list - I might do that soon or wait until I see it again this weekend. But I will say that I loved it - having seen it for myself, I truly believe there’s no “tragic separation” that we’ve been fearing. There’s really nothing bittersweet about it, nothing like Anna saying “will I ever see you again?” because it’s a given that they can still be a family and nothing is keeping them from seeing each other whenever they want. At this point, it’s not that I dislike the ending as it is “I want to see what happens next!” It left me even hungrier for more Frozen, like a short reassuring us that they’re still a family by having another charades scene or something like that. Or another movie is always welcome! There was also some lore/plot-wise things I’m a little confused about, but that’ll be for another post. It’s 1am here and I need to decide if I can sleep or not, lol. If you have any questions, please send them via direct message. I’ll either answer them right away, or tomorrow if I do manage to sleep tonight.
The shock of finally seeing this movie after six years of pining hasn’t sunk in yet but it will soon.
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