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thatfanficstuff · 3 years

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Impossible - 18

Pairing: Eric Northman x reader

Warnings: mentions of unwanted touching and assholes thinking of rape (no sexual assault takes place beyond groping)

A/N: This is longish. I'm lazy and didn't edit. If anything is glaring let me know.

***

It was decided that you and Sookie would present as friends looking for a new church. You intended to play quiet and if necessary you would pretend you were the puppet Stan thought you to be until you escaped from your horrible vampire boyfriend. You thought he loved you. Sob. So on and so forth.

Part of you wanted to go with Stan’s idea. Hell, if there was a way to be rid of the Fellowship without it pointing back to the vampires, you’d jump for it in a heartbeat. They were the epitome of everything wrong with so-called religions. Standing behind their gods to justify their hate and prejudices.

You sighed as you pulled into the parking lot. A perky blonde signaled for you to park and you frowned.

“Why does she look familiar?” Sookie asked.

“That’s Sarah Newlin, the reverend’s wife. I’m not happy that it appears we were expected, Sookie. I doubt she greets everyone that pulls in the parking lot.” You clenched your teeth together. Your gut was telling you to just pull right back out of the parking lot, but this was still your best bet to find Godric. “Just be on guard.”

Sookie nodded her head then slipped out of the car with a grin on her face, ready to greet the Mrs. You followed along behind her playing timid.

“Hi,” Sarah exclaimed. “I’m Sarah Newlin. I saw y’all pulling in and thought I’d come out and greet you myself.”

Sookie walked right up to her and shook her hand. “I can’t believe I’m actually getting to meet you. My name is Heidi Merlotte. This is my friend Sylvia North. We’ve recently moved to the area and are looking for a church.”

Sarah shifted that smile to you and held out her hand. You took it gingerly and kept your other arm wrapped around your waist. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sylvia.”

You just nodded in acknowledgement.

“Well, you’re a quiet thing aren’t you?”

Sookie wrapped her arm around you and leaned forward as if sharing a great secret. “We moved to get Sylvia out of a situation, so to speak. She’s still recovering.”

You could almost believe the look of sympathy Sarah directed your way. She turned and motioned for you to follow her. “Well, follow me and we’ll see if Steve’s available. I’m sure he’d just love to meet you.”

“The reverend himself?” Sookie enthused. “That would be amazing.”

The two of you followed Sarah to an office where Steve Newlin sat behind a large desk. “Honey, we’ve got a couple of friends here looking for a church. Heidi Merlotte and Sylvia North.” You shuffled in and took the offered hand, nodding at his greeting before looking around the office. Sarah bent over to whisper something in her husband’s ear that you weren’t meant to hear. “They insinuated they moved to escape some sort of trauma.”

Steve made a sound of agreement before gracing you with that megawatt smile he was so famous for. You settled into your chair, content to let Sookie do all the talking. She always chattered when she was nervous anyway.

“Sylvia and I met in church actually, but we left when we discovered that the pastor was…well he was…” Sookie trailed off dramatically and you managed to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Homosexual?” Steve suggested.

Ugh, just when you thought you couldn’t hate this guy more than you already did. What an ass. “A sympathizer. He was a sympathizer,” you said before he could say something else that made you want to punch him in the face.

“Now see, that really makes me mad. How can you claim to love God if you love something God hates?” Too late. You wanted to punch him.

“Well, given Sylvia’s history, we know just how horrible vampires are,” Sookie added after a pause and you wondered what she’d heard in the asshole’s head. “No one will ever convince us that they have any sort of control. They are just evil.”

The Newlins’ attention turned to you with her words. You’d curse her, but this was the plan. You unbuttoned the top button on your shirt and pulled it open to show Eric’s marks. Normally you just wore one, but he’d given you a couple of extra the night before to add to your story. Once they’d seen, you buttoned your shirt back up as if you were ashamed.

You cleared your throat. “He was my boss. He was nice enough at first but then he started catching me in the backroom and feeding. He glamoured me into thinking I enjoyed it. That he loved me. I didn’t know until he came to my house one night and Heidi caught him doing it. She told me everything and helped me escape.” You reached over and grabbed Sookie’s hand. “She saved my life. I truly believe that.”

When you finished with your fantasy, you bent your head forward and wiped away a non-existent tear.

“I am sorry that such a horrible thing happened to you. But that’s what we’re here for is to help people like you. None of this was your fault,” Sarah’s voice comes.

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” You kept your head down so you didn’t have to meet their gazes again. Frankly, you were tired of looking at them.

Steve clapped his hands together. “Well, let’s take a little tour, shall we?”

A tremor of unease crawled down your spine. You were pretty sure the Rev. Newlin’s job description didn’t include giving tours to the peons. You looked up at them, attempting to appear upset instead of untrusting. Sookie and you followed the couple out of the office to what you assumed was the door of the sanctuary.

Steve stopped before opening them and turned to face you. “Now, be careful when I open the doors.”

You arched a brow. “Careful?”

He grinned. “Sometimes when we open these doors, so much love comes flowing out it just knocks you right over.”

You were pretty sure that was the flood of bullshit actually.

“We’ll be sure and brace ourselves,” Sookie responds with a chipper smile.

When they opened the doors, you were actually impressed with the sight that greeted you. The large wall of windows at the back of the church allowed sunlight to flood the sanctuary. It was quite a stunning display. “It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it? I just love this room. It just seems to glow in the afternoon light,” Sarah said, obviously meaning every word.

“It’s just so inspiring,” Steve added.

Sookie fidgeted beside you and you knew whatever the reverend was thinking, it wasn’t pleasant. You reached over and hooked your arm with hers.

He looked between the two of you. “Say have you two ever been to a lock-in?”

“A l-lock-in?” Sookie stuttered out.

You gave your brightest, fakest smile and channeled your inner Sookie. “Not since I was a kid. Gosh, those were good times.”

“Well, we’d love to have you join us,” Steve offered.

Whatever he was up to, Sarah didn’t like it if her body language was anything to go by.

Sookie tugged at your arm. “We should go home and get our stuff so we can do the lock-down.”

You looked down to cover your smirk. They were definitely behind Godric’s disappearance then. You understood Sookie wanting to get out of here, if she’d confirmed that, but in all honesty you were the best option for getting Godric out of here without causing a scene.

“You have plenty of time. The lock-inisn’t until tomorrow. Besides, we haven’t finished the tour yet,” Steve said.

“You wanted to see me?” a voice interrupted and Sarah only looked more concerned. A large bald man came to stand by the Newlins. He was obviously their muscle.

“Oh good. Heidi, Sylvia, I’d like you to meet Gabe, one of my aides,” Steve introduced.

Gabe shook your hands while running his gaze over both of you. He licked his lips and you wanted to kick him in the nuts. Maybe later. It would give you something to look forward to.

“Gabe will be joining us for the rest of the tour,” Steve said, patting the other man on the back.

The tour continued far longer than necessary. “I’m sorry but we need to be going. I don’t like to be out after dark,” you said.

“Oh there’s just one more thing I want to show you. It’s a very special part of the tour. Most people don’t get to see it. My father’s tomb.” He sounded entirely too happy about that.

“Steve, are you sure?” Sarah asked.

“Absolutely.”

“I just don’t see why we need to go down there.”

“Not to be rude but I really don’t want to see someone’s grave,” you said.

Steve looked at you. “You have to see it. You can really feel his spirit down there. It’s the cornerstone our church is built on.” He opened a door that led down a steep set of stairs. Creepy basement. Check. And probably no windows. Perfect place to keep a vampire.

Sookie grasped your arm. “Sylvia?”

“What’s the matter?” Steve asked.

“She’s a little claustrophobic,” you lied.

“Well, at least take a little looksee so you can say you saw everything and you can make an informed decision,” the reverend argued.

“But we’ve already decided to go here so I don’t think it’s necessary,” Sookie said, her voice shaking. “We should go, Sylvia.”

“No,” Steve said. “Gabe!” Steve dived for Sookie and Gabe came after you. He grabbed you from behind, crossing his arms over the front of you, copping a cheap feel as he did so. Fucker. Irritation and Anger flooded through you and you knew Eric would pick up on it. He wouldn’t give you long before he came in after the two of you.

It wouldn’t take much for you to get free and to free Sookie as well, but you wouldn’t get a better opportunity to explore the basement. You feigned fighting and let the asshole carry you down the stairs with a firm grip on your breast.

You heard Sookie fighting behind you. “A little help, Gabe. I think the fucking banger’s on V,” Steve yelled.

“Quit fighting, Heidi. You’ll only get hurt,” you called and heard the commotion die down. At least she trusted you enough to do what you said.

They carried the two of you into a storage cage and locked you in after taking Sookie’s purse and searching both of you. As soon as they were out of sight and you heard the door shut upstairs, Sookie turned to you. “I sure as hell hope you have a plan because that Gabe guy is a total asshole.”

You hummed in agreement and pulled your lockpicking tools from your hair. They looked like barrettes and bobby pins to the untrained eye. “My plan is to find Godric before Eric gets here to rescue us.”

“You seem sure he’ll come,” she said, sounding surprised.

“I am. And if he doesn’t, I’ll get us out. Don’t worry about it.” You moved over to the gate to see the best way to go about getting the two of you out. The chain link configuration complicated things a bit but you’d figure it out.

“You’re always so sure about things. I wish I was like that.”

“A little bit of uncertainty makes life exciting,” you said with a grin before grabbing the gate and shaking it to see how sturdy it was. Keeping your grip you leaned against it. “Little god, little god, it’s time to go home,” you said in a singsong voice. Godric would hear you if he was anywhere in the basement.

“Little god?”

“Long story,” you assured her and shook the gate again. “Good news, the gate is designed to keep people out, not in. Also good news, I’m not completely human.”

“What’s the bad news?” she asked.

“This will be loud.” Unfortunately, the only top to the cage was the ceiling so there was nothing above you to grab onto. Instead, you grabbed onto the chain link beside the gate and used it to swing your body at an angle so your feet hit right where the lock was. You repeated the action two more times before dropping down so you could check the lock.

“Little god, I’m not leaving without you. I know you like me too much to let me die,” you said distracted as your focus was on the gate. You’d definitely done some damage but you decided to keep your feet on the ground and see what kind of damage side kicks could do.

After the second kick, you heard the door upstairs open. “What’s going on down there?” Gabe. Good.

“Nothing,” you called back even as you kicked again and the lock gave way. You grabbed the gate and pulled it shut as his feet thundered down the stairs.

He glared at the two of you before finally settling on you. You had no idea what Sookie looked like behind you but you were giving your best evil grin. “What are you up to, you little bitch?”

“That’s no way to talk to a lady,” you taunted, waiting for him to get closer.

“You’re not a lady,” he said. “You’re just some vampire’s whore.” He licked his lips and looked you over again as he pulled keys from his pocket. When he caught sight of the lock, he frowned and moved forward, “What the hell?”

Once he was within striking distance, you slammed the gate forward so it cracked him in the head and shoved him back. You didn’t give him time to recover before you attacked with punches and kicks. He got a couple of hits in as he tried to take you down. To regain the upper hand. But you weren’t about to let that happen. Finally, you got in position to put your arm around his neck. You kept the hold up until he dropped to his knees. When you would have continued until he quit breathing, a hand dropped on your shoulder.

“Enough.”

You looked to Godric. He wasn’t your sire. You had no loyalty to him, but he was a friend. You released Gabe and took a step back. Your gaze ran over the little god. Other than being paler than usual, he looked good. The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. That was all the invitation you needed to wrap your arms around him.

He returned the hug. He moved his nose near your neck and inhaled. “You smell like my child.”

“Mates.”

He held you at arms length and looked at you in surprise. “He’ll come for you then. Not that he wouldn’t have anyway.”

“Oh, yeah. I figure we’re about out of time.” You gestured to the cage. “Godric, meet Sookie. Sookie, Godric.”

Sookie gave him a smile and a little wave. “Nice to meet you.”

His mouth set in a firm line and his gaze settled on you. “You brought a human with you to rescue me?”

“She’s a little something else, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Not particularly, no. Especially considering what this one would have done had you not been who you are,” he gestured at Gabe.

“Speaking of, you should let me kill him. He groped me.” Reminded of the earlier incident you moved over to the prone form and nudged him so he was laying on his back. Then you kicked him in the balls as hard as you could. “Asshole.”

Godric’s lips twitched. “Feel better?”

“Much.” Sounds of a fight came from upstairs. “Eric.”

“Yes. I am here, my child. Down here.”

In a flash Eric was there. He stopped in front of you first, holding your arms as he looked you over. “I’m fine.”

He nodded once before turning to his maker. “Godric,” he said almost reverently before kneeling in front of him.

The moment was interrupted by Sookie’s laughter. The three of you turned your attention to her. She had a hand over her mouth as she tried to quiet herself. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s just Eric is all respectful and kneeling while you hugged him and called him little god. It’s just funny.”

Eric got to his feet and gave you a look. “Of course, you did.”

“What? Godric likes my hugs.”

#eric northman x reader #eric northman fanfiction #true blood fanfiction #eric northman x you #impossible #series

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petri808 · 3 years

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O5+Itafushi sick/injured/comfort for Anon 😊 totally canon divergent since we still don’t know a lot about their backgrounds and the series is still on going 🙃 Hurt/Comfort, angst w/happy ending. *Does container manga spoiler aspects if you’re not up to date on it.

It couldn’t be helped... logically, Megumi knew this, but what his brain understood didn’t mean his heart could accept. Yuuji was fated from the beginning to die and he knew— Knew that all the man wanted was to die without regret, and saving their world... well how much more honor could one achieve by fulfilling his grandfather’s dying wish? He should be happy for his friend, content in the knowledge that Yuuji gave them a chance to rebuild a better world without the fear of Ryomen Sukuna ever destroying it. Should be... but he wasn’t.

How many times had Megumi convinced himself they weren’t heroe’s, they were just sorcerers. Spiritual police in a sense, there to protect without a desire for acknowledgement. And that their deaths were both inevitable and not immune to regret. All they could do was their best not to garner too much of it and become the very curses they swore to fight. It was why most jujutsu sorcerers learned from an early age not to care about humanity, or at least lie to themselves that it was a possibility. Such bullshit, really.

So, as he stood there staring down at what remained of his best friend’s body, Megumi couldn’t help the regret bubbling up in his very soul. This was literally and figuratively his fault. Yuuji’s, or rather Sukuna’s exorcism was a combined effort in which he’d participated in. That’s not something you can simply set aside. Yes! Megumi was glad that Sukuna was gone, but so was Yuuji! He didn’t care if his friend had been born into, or chosen to, or somehow been trapped in this fate. It wasn’t fair at all. None of this was fair to any of them, just as his own birth had been an unfortunate creation for revenge.

“Fuck!” Megumi gritted out a barely audible utterance as his nails dug into the clenched fists at his sides, and tears trickled down his face. This wasn’t fair at all!

He shouldn’t even be there. If Gojou sensei knew he’d snuck into the morgue he’d be in trouble. But he didn’t care! They didn’t even let him say goodbye to his friend before carting him off to Dr. Shoko. It was for his own good— pfft, fucking uncaring bastards! Yuuji was the first real person he’d ever connected with who gave him back a sense of the humanity he’d lost along the way. The man made him feel, and now. “Fuck...” Megumi knew he was screwed. His heart had crossed the line. Images of a smiling Yuuji play like a movie behind his closed eyes, bringing a pained smile curling on Megumi’s lips. He’d avoided admitting it to himself, but it was true. He’d fallen for Yuuji Itadori.

It had been an unspoken promise Megumi made to Yuuji, one he’d made deep within his heart the moment it had chosen to cross the line. He’d find a way to sever Sukuna from Yuuji and save his love from the ultimate sacrifice. This promise had never been proclaimed from his own lips, but there was no running from the covenant he’d created in his soul. As Sukuna once explained, certain pacts in their works simply could not be broken.

His knees weakened, crumpling Megumi to the floor in a position of summary execution. All of the emotional walls he’d learned to control, gave way in a flood, sending shadowed curse energy to blanket the room. He didn’t even try to stem the flow of power surging out from his pain. It was entirely selfish to lash out with his regret and anger, but Megumi couldn’t stop... didn’t want to let go. “It’s not fair!” He raged into the still darkness. “I should have saved you! If I was stronger, I could have saved you! But I’m too weak... even now, I can’t...” he hung his head head and closed his eyes, “I can’t even let you die properly because you deserve to live Yuuji...” Because I still need you... Damn the consequences, he’ll take whatever comes his way! “Yuuji!!!”

.....Megumi wasn’t exactly sure what happened, how he ended up passed out on his side, or even how long he was laying there. But something gentle brushed against his face, sweeping his hair aside, and caressing it to stir him awake. His body was groggy from the power drain, eyes barely able to focus in the amber emergency lighting. Whatever it was said nothing, just continued soothing him and coaxing with light prodding to wake up. It felt so nice... Wait! Fuck! Was he caught?! Was it Gojou, Dr. Shoko, someone else?!

His eyes flash open wide as he scrambled to sit up, ready to explain himself, but— “Sukuna?!” Megumi screamed in shock.

“What?!” The naked man stumbled back, looking around in a panic. “Where?! He’s supposed to be dead!”

Megumi adjusted his eyes better, because the form in front of him looked like Yuuji, but with all of the same markings as Sukuna, including the second set of open eyes. Although the voice was different... not exactly Yuuji’s, not Sukuna’s, maybe a mix of both. “Who are you?” He asked, noting that the curse energy flowing from this thing was akin to Sukuna in power and this could be a trick from the God of Curses. Is this what his regret had wrought?!

“It’s me,” the figure stepped forward in confusion, a hand over his chest. “Yuuji. Megumi how could you not know it’s me?”

“Because you look like and feel like Sukuna.”

Yuuji looked down at his body and could see the markings too. But that’s when he also noticed something else in the room. His dead body lying on the operating table. His eyes widen as they whip back to Megumi. “Am I?!” His shaky voice cracked.

It was becoming clear. Megumi nodded. “My regret brought you back as a...”

“Curse...” Yuuji breathed out. He was stunned, and yet somehow not surprised. “Wow... but I don’t look like a normal curse.” He could think and feel, “I’m like Mt. Fuji head?”

“I don’t understand it either. I’m so sorry Yuuji— I just couldn’t let you go.” The tears formed again in Megumi’s eyes. “I’d sworn to myself I’d save you, but I failed miserably and for that... n-now you’re a curse.”

“I should be mad at you.” Yuuji knelt down in front of his friend, smiling. “But I’m not. I know all too well how hard it is to let go of people we care about.”

Megumi shook his head. “You don’t understand. I’m being selfish and that’s wrong! I just... I-I just... I love you too much to let you go.”

“You... love me? Like a friend, friend love or...”

Megumi turned away and if it wasn’t so dark his blushing cheeks would be glaringly obvious. “No, the other kind.”

“Brotherly love?”

For a second there, Megumi had to question his own sanity again for failing in love with an idiot. He ran his hand down his face in a huff. “The I wanna kiss you kind! I know you said you like women with big butts and all, but yeah,” he mumbled, “that’s how I feel about you idiot.” His face was truly on fire by this point, only made more difficult by the fact the man he loved was hanging out for all to see.

“Oh!” Yuuji chuckled and sandwiched Megumi’s face between the palms of his hands. “I’m just messing with you. I knew that for a while now.”

“Wait how?!” But dang if seeing Yuuji’s smile again didn’t just melt him. “I kept it hidden.”

“You did, but Sukuna sensed it in you when your domains overlapped, and he showed me.”

Yuuji leaned forward and brought their lips together in an awkward kiss. It was brief, but for Megumi, it solidified how he felt. That yes, he really did love this man and finally! He got to kiss him!

“There was a time I thought Sukuna had a crush on you actually,” Yuuji chuckled. “But then of course, it turned out he just wanted to use you.”

“So... you’re okay with me liking you?” As he spoke, Megumi pulled his coat off and handed it to Yuuji to cover up.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Yuuji smiled and put on the coat. “But what do we do now? Technically I’m not alive, I’m a walking, talking curse.”

“Fuck,” Megumi sighed, his shoulders slumping, “I didn’t exactly think this through, just lost control.”

Yuuji placed a hand on his shoulder, “hey, we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Megumi couldn’t hold back any longer. He pulled Yuuji into a tight bear hug as renewed tears pooled in his eyes. “I don’t care what you are, I’m just happy to have you back.”

Yuuji returned the hug. “Me too.”

Suddenly, clapping echoed through the darkened room seconds before the light switch was flipped on, causing Megumi to flinch. Shit! They were caught so quickly!

“I had a feeling this would happen.”

It was Gojou’s voice. Aww crap!

Megumi moved Yuuji and placed himself between the two men. “Leave him alone!”

“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head Megumi Chan, I’m not gonna exorcise him. I followed you here, so if I’d wanted to stop you, I would have done so sooner.”

“You’re messing with me.” Megumi narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “It’s our job to dispatch curses. Why would you make an exception.”

“Yes, under the old ways, but as you know, those ways were destroyed by us. As long as a curse is not a problem, I don’t care if they exist.” Gojou cocked his head in an evil grin. “Yuuji is now for you, as what Rika is for Okkotsu. I didn’t exorcise Rika, did I?”

“No...”

“Exactly!” He clapped his hands together. “Having powerful special grades on our side is a benefit in my eyes,” Gojou moved his mask to reveal his own, “and these eyes know everything,” he winks before affixing the mask. “Besides, who am I to get in the way of love,” he shrugged.

Megumi rolled his eyes at that last jab, but Yuuji let out a sigh of relief. “Gojou sensei, do you know why I’m like this?” He motioned to his body. “Shouldn’t I be more like Rika? But I can think for myself and talk, and I feel... well, normal.”

“That’s a good question!” Gojou cackled and pointed at Yuuji. “I have no idea!”

“Ugh!” Megumi slaps his forehead. This man never changed.

“But,” Gojou grew serious in an instant, “I can guess there are three factors involved.” He held up one finger, “Number one! You, Yuuji are no ordinary human but created by a curse at birth.” Raising a second finger, “Number two! You and Sukuna were bonded at the instance of death, so you’ve fused with him.” Adding a third finger, “and lastly, number three! When one special grade sorcerer curses another former special grade sorcerer, that amount of curse energy wasn’t going to create a lower lever spirit. So, voila! You were made Yuuji!”

“But is it like I still have control of Sukuna or something?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. Do you still sense him?”

Yuuji paused in thought before shaking his head no.

“It’s likely Sukuna’s soul was fully exorcised, and since Megumi was only thinking of you, it was only you that was brought back. This is just the form your cursed energy has taken. We’ll need to test what powers you’ve retained, but from what I’m sensing, they are on par with Sukuna’s residual energy.”

It’s Megumi who speaks up next. “So, is Yuuji allowed back at school?”

“I’ll allow it, provided your classmates don’t mind. Remember, while you can see him, he’s no longer alive, so normal humans won’t see him anymore. He is just a cursed spirit.”

Megumi and Yuuji looked at each other, then back to their teacher with Yuuji taking hold of Megumi’s hand. “I think they’d get mad if we didn’t return,” Yuuji smiled.

Gojou tipped two fingers as he turned to leave, “then I shall see you in class tomorrow. Try to keep the noise down in your room.” He teased with a cackle.

Megumi flushed red. “He’s so irritating.”

“Yeah, but you gotta admit Gojou sensei’s one of the cool ones.”

“Yeah,” Megumi sighed, but smiled. “Guess we should head back to school too.”

Yuuji squeezed his new boyfriend’s hand and nodded. “I can’t wait to see everyone’s faces when I walk in!”

“Just, no practical jokes like phasing through walls to scare them. We don’t need someone actually trying to exorcise you.”

“Oh, right! I’ll behave.” Without warning, Yuuji then swept Megumi into a bridal carry. “Let’s test my powers! I bet I’m faster than Gojou sensei now!”

“Wait! What are you doing?!”

Yuuji grinned down at Megumi with ruby red eyes glowing. “Trust me.” Cause I’ll kill anyone who dares to hurt you now...

#Itafushi #itadori yuuji #fushiguro megumi #yuuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #fushidori #yuuji x megumi #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen manga #jjk spoilers #Itafushi fan fic #Itafushi fan fiction #hurt/comfort #angst with happy ending #fushidori fan fic

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bottomlouisficfest · 4 years

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The first half of the Bottom Louis Fic Fest is complete! We posted 21 fics in the first month and we know it was a lot to keep up with, so we wanted to compile them all so you can make sure you’ve read every single one of these incredible fics. Please give all of these fics a chance and be sure to give the authors kudos, reblogs, retweets, and comments so they know how appreciated they are. And look out for even more amazing fics coming up!

Note: You can find the part 2 masterpost of the 2019 BLFF fics here.

Now That This Old World Is Ending

A fic by daggerinrose on AO3 | @thetommmo on Tumblr | @real_thetommmo on Twitter

49k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Needing a good distraction from his broken heart, Louis Tomlinson goes on a camping trip with his friends to Northern England. However, a different kind of distraction arises when his friends disappear from their camp. Hellbent on finding them, Louis soon discovers that the area has been taken over by a cult and teams up with a resentful archer with fire in his eyes and blood on his hands.

Far Cry inspired AU.

Listen To Your Heart

A fic by lovelarry10 on AO3 | @chloehl10 on Tumblr | @oneolddirection on Twitter

35k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis has always been comfortable being Harry’s one and only. When Harry starts to branch out, Louis has a hard time letting him go.

Harry is very lucky to have someone who listens to what he has to say, despite the fact that he’s deaf. He’s finally feeling like he’s coming into himself, but Louis seems bothered by his newfound confidence.

You'll Find Me (in the region of the summer stars)

A fic by sweetmelodrama on AO3 | @peakmelodrama on Tumblr | @peakmelodrama on Twitter

50k | Mature | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Niall had never been exactly perfect at choosing young boys to become the next hero of Olympus, but there was just something in Harry that told Niall that this boy was going to be changing things around Mt. Olympus forever.

Or the one where they're all greek gods except for Harry, who thanks to Niall has to defeat everything from sirens to giants to dragons in order to survive. What Harry doesn't know is what could be waiting for him at the end of his quest -anything from nymphs to dryads... or even a certain soulmate omega.

the world is vast

A fic by Harryskiwiposes on AO3 | @hadtobelou on Tumblr

26k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“I hate this. I fucking hate this so fucking much.” Harry began to cry. “She was only 17 for fuck’s sake. She had her whole life ahead of her! She should be researching colleges and skipping school to hang out at the mall. She should be playing with her little brothers and helping her mother in the kitchen with dinner. This is bullshit! Complete bullshit! I thought I could do this, I thought…”

He didn’t finish his sentence. Instead he kicked the brick wall before collapsing against it, his head back, rain beating against his face, mixing with his tears.

They stood in silence for a few moments before Harry looked to Louis. He saw the same sadness and sorrow as the night before. He felt the same connection, the same feeling that he and Louis were alike - both broken looking to belong.

Or - The Killing Au

Pour Decisions

A fic by hazzahtomlinson on AO3 | @watermelonwalls on Tumblr

12k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Prompt 80: AU where drunk!Louis fills out a fake job application for hot boss Harry Styles, including lurid details about his ‘desired position’ and ‘qualifications,’ and accidentally submits that instead of the real one.

Bloom

A fic by bitter_leaf on AO3 | @bitter-leaf on Tumblr

24k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Harry tucks the flower into the top pocket of Louis’ jacket, patting over his heart just once.

“What is it?” Louis asks, eyeing the sunny little yellow flower, a bit like a buttercup, “It’s lovely.”

Harry pushes a piece of hair behind his ear and smiles, “It’s a primrose. I got them in this morning, reminded me of you.”

When they first meet at Harry’s flower truck, Harry falls hard but Louis’ unavailable. Only before long, Harry reignites a spark that Louis thought long forgotten.

sweeter still when we're alone

A fic by louisjewels on AO3 | @louizsv on Tumblr | @perfecltnow on Twitter

20k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis is looking up at him, eyes glazed over and fucked out. His hair is a mess and Harry truly feels like he’s fallen under Louis’ spell.

“That’s right, you little witch,” he groans. He grabs the back of Louis’ hair and pulls it so that his head is tilted so far back that they’re barely centimetres apart, breathing in the same air. Harry closes his eyes and moves closer.

Nobody ever tells you that love potions taste like cherries.

Ours are the moments I play in the dark

A fic by edensrose on AO3 | @holdingthornsandroses on Tumblr | @thetrashpigeon on Twitter

30k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Jane Austen's Persuasion AU. Nine years ago Louis Tomlinson was persuaded to break off his engagement to Harry Styles, a poor sailor. Since then Louis has come to regret being so easily convinced to give up his one chance of happiness. Now Louis' family is in debt and his childhood home is being sold. In a complete reversal of fortune, Harry has returned to England a wealthy bachelor looking to settle down. Events conspire to bring them together once more though Louis is- must surely be- the last man on earth that Captain Styles would think of now.

Warming Up To You

A fic by youreyesonlarry on AO3 | @youreyesonlarry on Tumblr | @youreyesonlarry on Twitter

56k | Mature | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“I feel you,” Harry nods along as he zips his bag open, carefully pulling out his fancy looking camera before pressing a button to turn it on. “I love taking pictures for a number of reasons, but I think the best part of the whole thing is that I’m able to go through my older pictures and have all these memories from those moments come back to me.”

He puts the camera against his eye and points at Louis, and before the shorter one can even react, he hears a ‘click’, and Harry’s smiling down at the screen of his camera.

“And I don't think I want to forget about the day I got stranded in a cabin with a pretty stranger,” he finishes off.

The Time is Now for Me and You

A fic by grimouis on AO3 | @ratherhear on Tumblr | @grimouis on Twitter

9k | Explicit | Louis/Liam | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis inhales shakily and then buries his face into the crook of Liam’s neck and cries. Liam just holds him close, keeping his hand moving lightly along Louis’ spine to let him know that he’s here and that he will be alright, despite Liam not knowing what’s going on.

It doesn’t take longer than a few minutes of crying before Louis extracts himself from Liam’s embrace, seemingly having collected himself enough to not break down again.

“Do you wanna tell me what all this is about?” Liam asks gently, keeping a gentle hand on Louis’ arm.

“We broke up.”

or; Liam is a weenie and Louis is a mess.

Ready To Fall

A fic by whoknows on AO3 | @crazyupsetter on Tumblr

21k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Ninety and rising,” Nick says triumphantly, as though making Harry’s heartbeat pick up by thrusting an obscenely attractive person in front of his face is any kind of success. “Louis Tomlinson has just walked into our control room and suddenly our dear Harry Styles has lost all ability to speak. Could this be some kind of strange coincidence?”

“I hate you,” Harry hisses, forcing his eyes back into Nick’s direction, uncaring that the mic must have picked it up. “I thought we agreed that you were going to play fair.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nick denies, except he’s holding up a picture of Louis’ face now, sharp cheekbones prominent, soft lashes nearly sweeping against his cheeks as he looks down, and his fucking mouth –

“A hundred and two!” Nick crows, all but clapping his hands together in glee. “The highest it’s ever been!”

“To be fair, I did bend over the desk on purpose,” Louis’ voice comes crackling in the headphones. Harry practically breaks his neck whipping his head around at the sound of it, gaping at him through the glass panel. “You can’t really blame him for getting a little excited about that, can you?”

Just a Little Taste

A fic by amomentoflove on AO3 | @daggerandrose on Tumblr | @dagger_rosefics on Twitter

13k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis works at The Blind Bat as a bartender during one of the busier times of the night. Typically, there’s one bartender on duty, his best mate Niall Horan, but Louis steps in to help with the demand. There’s always someone who needs a drink, a menu, or something to replenish their energy. He also has to look out of the humans who willingly allow vampires to feed on them. He’s quite protective of the regulars who come to get their kicks with a quick drink and a bite. A vampire’s bite, and the rush of endorphins that come with it, can be addicting. He should know.

Should Be, Meant To Be

A fic by thecheshirepussycat on AO3 | @the-cheshire-pussy-cat on Tumblr

9k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Prompt #65: Louis signs up for a Sugar Daddy dating website on a drunken dare. He forgets for a while, until one night he gets a notification for a message request from none other than his really hot (really rich) boss, Harry Styles.

Don’t Call Me Angel

A fic by larryent on AO3 | @larryent on Tumblr | @benicegivelove on Twitter

16k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Manhattan is a dangerous playground for the rich and entitled Alphas of New York. Those same wealthy Alphas are robbed after spending one night in the presence of a blue-eyed Omega and Officer Styles is assigned to the case.

Absolutely Smitten

A fic by MyEnglishRose on AO3 | @lwtisloved on Tumblr | @darlinlou on Twitter

20k | Mature | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Adopting Clifford was a way for Louis to finally cope with his loneliness, as a lively dog would spice up his life and his boring daily routine. Now, he surely didn’t expect Clifford to lead him to meet one strange man obsessed with his cat that he walks and cooks with.

Somehow, Louis falls in love pretty fast along the way.

Or. Louis is walking his dog. Harry is walking his cat. Leashes get tangled, and feelings too.

Somebody Gets Hurt

A fic by LashtonTommo on AO3 | bottom_tommo on Twitter

6k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles have been romantically linked for years. The couple threaten their careers after trying to amuse themselves on a slow day.

By the Still of Your Hand

A fic by summerwine on AO3 | @smrwine on Tumblr | @SMRWINE on Twitter

10k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis has a little insecurity, Harry makes him feel better about it.

written in the stars (that's you and me)

A fic by fackinglouis on AO3 | @fackinglouis on Tumblr

22k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis pushes himself up on one elbow and stretches enough to just barely trace his fingertips over Harry’s jawline. Harry’s eyes drop to track his movements as he does it again. “D’you feel that?” he whispers.

To him, it feels like all of the universe’s magic lives just beneath his skin when he touches Harry with intent. It feels like something special. Louis watches Harry’s lips part and wants to touch that too. He almost does, but then Harry shakes his head. “Feel what?”

Written for the prompt: Louis is a funny and bratty psychic and Harry is set on proving he's a scam.

thinking about the t-shirt you sleep in

A fic by nonsensedarling on AO3 | @absoloutenonsense on Tumblr

52k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Harry's alpha fraternity donates to a local thrift shop (because of Liam's latent crush on a cute beta in his lecture). Louis' financial situation (and confusing omega instincts) lead him to make some interesting fashion purchases. Lots of pizza, feelings, and not-really-lying.

Paint me a Literature of Love

A fic by bottomlouiswriter on AO3 | @xoxo-hl on Tumblr

18k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Harry loves literature. It also just so happens he falls in love with a painter who is the perfect subject for prose and poetry.

Louis loves art, specifically acrylic. It seems perfectly fitting that he finds a man that inspires him to paint with all the colours in his supply.

Or - The 90's au with art teacher Louis and literature teacher Harry.

building me up (but buttercup, you lied)

A fic by sakturen on AO3 | @softhie on Tumblr | @28pxls on Twitter

31k | Explicit | Louis/Harry | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Harry’s mouth felt dry just saying those words. What he had with Louis was so much more than a simple ‘fuck buddies’ situation. It was slow kisses in the morning between soft sheets and shy smiles, it was holding hands in the afternoon while walking and eating ice cream. It was breakfast for dinner, laughing and licking honey from each other’s lips as they shared goals and even some secrets, it was happiness, it was glow.

To Harry, what he had with Louis meant everything. Until Louis decided it meant nothing.

#blff #fics 2019 #bottom louis fic fest #bl fic fest #fic masterposts

292 notes · View notes

litwitlady · 4 years

Text

whoever is filthy, let him be filthy still (5/6)

Read on AO3 - where it’s now complete.

Warnings: light addiction discussion

v. Michael (and Rosa, too!)

‘I know it feels impossible right now, Michael. But it’s progress. Without the lies between you, you’ll be able to heal when you’re both ready.’ Dr. Sampson leans forward and stretches out her arm. ‘May I see your list again.’

He unfolds the worn sheet of notebook paper and hands it over. ‘I’m done. Well, kind of done.’

Her eyes scan the names. ‘So, that’s it? Only four?’

Michael sighs. ‘There’s five. But I’m not ready for the fifth yet. Obviously. I couldn’t even write his name down.’

She narrows her eyes at him and then smiles. ‘I think there’s another name missing.’

He frowns at her. ‘There isn’t.’

‘When you look at yourself in the mirror, Michael, what do you see and what do you want to see?’ She sits back in her chair, knowing she’s hit a nerve.

Michael slumps on the sofa, suddenly regretting the moment he’d stepped into her office.

***

A couple of weeks later, Michael stands in front of the mirror in his tiny bathroom staring at himself. Replaying Dr. Sampson’s questions over and over in his mind. Still unable to answer either one. But even so, he thinks he understands what she’s getting at - that he needs to make amends with himself. How to go about that is anyone’s guess.

Despite how lost he feels, he’s still trying. These days he no longer sleeps until noon or goes to bed as the sun begins to rise. He works out regularly and eats fewer cheeseburgers, but still stops by to chat with Arturo regularly. Sanders is getting his money’s worth - a lot more than his money’s worth actually. And he’s still not drinking. Has even looked up the local Alcoholics Anonymous schedule in case he ever needs the additional help.

And all of that has been nice. Once upon a time, he’d never have admitted that - not even to himself. But he can feel himself changing. Letting go of so much of the bullshit he’s held onto for so stupid long. Isobel has even remarked more than once at how much more he smiles now. At how much more he genuinely means every smile now.

But in spite of all his positive changes, he knows he hasn’t found the right way to forgive himself. Nothing he’s done feels big enough - significant enough. He’s struggling and needs help. So, before he starts his day, he places a phone call to Dr. Sampson’s office and asks for an extra appointment. He finds it hard to recognize his own voice. Which is a good thing because the old one sucked.

***

A few days later he makes the drive to Albuquerque. Dr. Sampson seems happy to see him, which he’s relieved about because penciling him in on such short notice couldn’t have been easy.

‘Okay, Michael, let’s see if we can work through your mental block. What have you worked on so far?’

‘Normal stuff - like eating better, working out, and not drinking. That’s all been good, but it’s just…I don’t know…health kick bullshit. None of it really matters. Problem is - I don’t know what really matters. I’m a pretty simple guy.’ He bites at his thumbnail.

She nods. ‘I think those changes are great, Michael. And are absolutely part of making amends with yourself. But you’re saying you don’t feel satisfied yet?’

‘Yeah. There’s still this nagging feeling in my gut that I’m not trying hard enough.’

‘All right, let’s work on that for a minute.’ She crosses her legs and jots down something on her notepad. ‘Is there a moment in your life when you remember your trajectory changing? Maybe you had big life plans but something got in the way. Or maybe someone interfered and pulled you off track. Anything like that?’

There’s a lot like that. But one very specific day floods his memories. He swallows and begins to bounce his leg. Sees Dr. Sampson read him like an open book, but he’s too afraid to talk about that day out loud. He drops his chin in defeat.

‘That’s the one, Michael. That’s where the work is. And it’s not meant to be easy.’ Her voice is so soft and understanding. He wonders how understanding she’d be if he opened his mouth and told her the truth about what he’d done that summer night so long ago.

***

The next day Michael loads several boxes into the bed of his truck and takes off for the local church. He street parks and waits for the Addicts Anonymous group to let out. She finds him leaning against his Chevy, hat in place, and right leg bent onto the fender behind him. All he’s missing is a long piece of wheat straw hanging from his lips.

Rosa crosses her arms, confrontational but also amused. ‘You missed a good meeting. Maybe next time you’ll actually make it inside.’

‘Not here for the meeting, here for you.’ He lowers his tailgate and slides one of the boxes forward, cutting the flaps open with his pocket knife. ‘Thought we could drive out to the desert and get a little practice in.’ Holding up a lightbulb, Michael smirks at her. ‘Some chirpy little birdies told me you’re absolute shit at control.’ He tosses her the bulb like it’s burning. She drops it, glass shattering on the street at her feet.

‘Fuck off, payaso. I’ve got better things to do than be lectured by another overpowered alien. Never ends well for me.’ She turns her back and starts to walk away, shoulders wide with purpose and intent.

Michael lets her walk away. Shuts his tailgate and climbs back inside his truck, adjusting his side mirror to focus on her retreating form. He watches her pause, clench her fists, and turn back. Squinting her eyes at him and flicking him off. He laughs and eventually she slides in next to him. ‘I hate you.’

‘Hmm.’ He quirks an eyebrow and smiles, turning the key in the ignition. ‘Hate’s good. It’ll help you focus.’

The drive takes thirty minutes and they ride in silence. Rosa fiddles with the radio dial until she gets frustrated enough to give up and leave it on the one working station - country hits from yesterday and today. Michael knows she may as well be in hell, and she doesn’t bother hiding it. They have that in common.

He parks in what appears to be the middle of nowhere. But to him, it’s like home. The Chevy’s tire tracks branded into the desert sand. Rosa can’t help but comment. ‘Come here often?’

‘Several times a week since I got the truck. Alone…mostly. To clear my head.’ Mostly is doing a lot of work considering how many hours he’s spent here with Alex over the past eleven years. But Rosa doesn’t need to know that. ‘You can borrow it if you ever need to.’ He lowers the tailgate again and grabs a lightbulb. ‘Ready?’

She narrows her eyes. ‘What? No helpful advice about grounding myself and finding my center?’

Michael rolls his eyes. ‘I’m not Isobel. And I’m not Max. Just fucking concentrate.’ He holds out the bulb towards her and when he sees her eyes focus, he throws the bulb high into the air. It crashes on a nearby boulder. ‘You really are terrible.’

‘What the fuck? Why did you throw it?’ Her arms are crossed again, sweatshirt sleeves pulled down past her fingertips.

‘Too much time and you’ll overthink everything. If you’re anything like me, you need the added pressure. Now it’s my turn.’ He grabs his own bulb.

She shakes her head. ‘What do you mean, your turn? Can’t you do this already? I mean, you’re supposed to be teaching me - not yourself.’

He floats the lightbulb in the air between them. ‘I can use and control my power better than Max or Isobel will ever be able to. But there’s others powers I’ve never bothered to try before. Never cared enough, I guess. Or maybe some other fucked up reason. Who can say? Now shush.’

Using the same tactic he’d tried with Rosa, Michael tosses the bulb into the air and before it hits the ground, the tiniest spark blinks at them. Rosa pushes him playfully. ‘No fucking fair! How did you do that?’

Michael stares at where the bulb shattered and honestly can’t believe he managed to make anything happen. Even with Isobel’s newfound telekinesis, he’d been convinced he wasn’t worthy of anything more than what he already had. The proof at how wrong he was incredibly hard to swallow. ‘Let me try a few more times and then I’ll try to explain.’

Several splattered bulbs later, he’s able to light them and float them at the same time. Easy as breathing. Rosa has even started smiling and clapping each time he’s successful.

‘When Max and Isobel were kids, they sucked at control. Max used to turn entire neighborhood blocks dark just from someone mentioning your sister’s name. School was always so dangerous because his accidental boners blew the classroom lights more than once. It got so bad that some days he’d have to go home early, feigning migraines.’ He laughs at the grin on Rosa’s face. ‘You can tell him I told you that story.’

‘Liz needs to know too.’ Her grin is wicked and Michael feels a very immature twinge of satisfaction.

‘Isobel was better, but not near as good as me. She’d get tired sometimes or upset and her control would crack. But that never stopped her from creeping into our minds. So, we started fighting back. In her weakest moments, it wasn’t her doing the influencing - it was us, me and Max. She’d leave our mindscapes with an intense desire to cluck like a chicken or bark like a dog. Really stupid kid shit.’ He lines up several more bulbs along his tailgate, squinting at the midday glare. ‘She’s too good now, though, and you definitely can’t tell her I told you that.’

‘You never struggled, though? Not like them?’ She hops up onto the tailgate and tilts her head, really intending to listen to him. It shifts something loose in his heart.

‘I didn’t grow up with love or comfort. I grew up with neglect and violence. Any time I fucked up, I risked brutal consequences. So, out of necessity my control has always been impeccable. I used to think my high I.Q. had something to do with it, but I know better now.’ He picks up two bulbs and stares at them. ‘It didn’t matter if I was having a bad day or hadn’t slept the night before. It didn’t matter if I was sad or angry or drowned in lust or love. I never lost control.’

He floats the two bulbs out in front of her. ‘You know that feeling when you need a fix so bad it hurts? That heaviness in the pit of your stomach? And the way your lungs expand against your ribs like they’re a second away from exploding?’

He glances at her and she nods, solemnly. Because she does know. It’s another thing they have in common. ‘That’s where you’ll find it. That’s where your power lives. And that’s how you control it. Max and Isobel will never fully be able to understand. But you and me? We were built for this.’ Max’s words echo back through his head. ‘It’s fucked up, but it’s the truth.’

They share one last meaningful look and then Rosa turns her attention to the two bulbs in front of her. Michael lights one and she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and lights the second. When her eyes reopen, the glowing bulb shines full and bright across her face. Her eyes glisten with tears and Michael turns back to his truck to give her some space. He watches as slowly one by one, the remaining ten bulbs on his tailgate light up.

‘Float them and I’ll buy you dinner.’

It takes her another hour, but eventually she can light and float at the same time. ‘I didn’t know I’d have your power, too. I thought I’d only get Max’s.’

Michael frowns and shakes his head. ‘We all have every power. Some just come easier. It’s something we only recently learned.’ Opening the other two boxes, Michael floats every single bulb, spinning them around her. ‘Light them all.’ She plants her feet and keeps her eyes open this time. Brightening them in a pattern only she can see. Head thrown back, eyes shining, and face blushed by the pleasure of her power. It’s in that simple moment that Michael figures out what comes next.

Two days later, he walks into the admissions office of Eastern New Mexico University’s Roswell campus with the clearest head he’s had in a long time. Maybe ever. The advisor talks him through all his options, and he leaves with an application and program guide. For social work. It’s not the future he had planned for and lost. It’s not the future he’d subjected himself to and hated. It’s the future that was waiting for him once he’d finally forgiven himself.

#whoever is filthy let him be filthy still #michael x rosa

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tendertenebrosity · 5 years

Text

Another Torin piece, this time a vaguely comforting one? We’ve jumped ahead and Torin has been acquired by a academic who studies the natural world.

“Here he is, Sorcha,” Professor Moran enthused. “The specimen I’ve been telling you so much about. This is Torin. Torin, this is my very dear friend Doctor Sorcha Herron.”

Torin, halfway over the threshold of the door, flinched. The specimen. Ick. He reluctantly stepped out into the afternoon sun and walked over to join his owner out in the courtyard.

He eyed the woman that the professor was standing beside, immediately prepared to dislike her.

She watched him approach, her eyebrows raised. “Hello, Torin,” she said briefly, before turning to the professor again. “Where did you say he came from? You said he speaks Common?”

“Oh, yes, very well,” Moran assured her. “Don’t you, Torin?”

“Yes,” Torin said, dislike solidified. He bowed, stiff and elaborate, spreading his wings out gracefully. “Hello, Doctor.”

“I acquired him while I was in Eastport,” Moran said eagerly. “I was told he came from even further south than that, though. Isn’t he incredible?”

“Remarkable,” she admitted. “I must admit, I was wondering if you’d fallen for a fake, but it’s a very convincing one if so. May I see those wings closer?”

“A fake? Really, Sorcha, how…”

“I mean, remember the thing you bought from that…”

“That was taxidermied, Sorcha, honestly, this is completely different!” Moran turned to Torin, gesturing excitedly. “Could you spread your wings for a moment, Torin, to show Sorcha?”

It was phrased like a request, but Torin didn’t feel like it was one. He bowed his head and spread his wings, the shadow of them falling wide across the ground.

Professor Moran and the doctor walked around him. Soon they were talking animatedly, too fast and to littered with unfamiliar words for him to really follow.

“There, see how the musculature attaches down to here?” Moran’s finger didn’t touch Torin, but it came close. “It’s not like the Fairchild theories at all. But then those were based on…”

“What’s the respiratory system like?”

“Well, oh, I have the most fascinating theory, you must let me show you the diagrams after dinner…”

And on. And on. Torin stared at the ground, his cheeks burning. His wings started to ache, and he let them droop. Moran and Herron didn’t seem to notice. He stood there in silent misery while they discussed him animatedly as if he wasn’t even there, or couldn’t hear them, or it didn’t matter if he heard them. He shuffled his wings closed.

The woman came to a stop in front of him, and planted her hands on her hips. Her eyes were alight with interest. “All right, you got me. This appears to be genuine. But, Bertram, there’s no way it’s capable of flight.”

“Oh, I beg to differ!” Moran said, beaming. “I’ve seen it.”

“Gliding, perhaps. But not powered flight – the wings aren’t big enough. You must have – ”

“He can too.”

“Bullshit. I’ll believe it when I see it. It can’t possibly.”

Torin’s stomach was turning itself over and over. The specimen. It. Appears to be genuine.

Professor Moran was turning to Torin, a grin playing around his mouth. “I think that could be arranged! Torin, I wonder, would you mind going for a short demonstration flight before we go in for dinner?”

“Yeah,” Torin said sullenly. “Sure. No problem.” He snapped his wings open. Ignoring that he had two people right beside him, he leapt upwards and threw all of his resentment and hurt and loneliness into the force of his downstroke, propelling himself up into the sky with a huge clap of air and cloud of dust.

He flew up, up, up – as far away from Professor Moran as possible, his heart still churning with emotion. The manor dwindled down to a dollhouse beneath him, the tiny figures in the courtyard doubtless staring up at him.

The sky was calming as always. Nobody up here to treat him like an object. Just the afternoon sun turning the clouds to golden-red wisps, the buffeting force of the wind, and the pleasing strain of his own muscles carrying him aloft and steering him safely.

But he couldn’t stay up there forever.

“Damn,” Bertram said, shielding his eyes against the glare. “Okay – okay, he’s definitely coming down now. Where is he going? Sorcha, did you see where he landed?”

Sorcha unfolded her arms long enough to point. “There,” she said. “On that rooftop.”

“Which one?”

“The round tower.”

Bertram searched the line of the roof, frowning. “Where – oh, there!” A flash of black and white caught his eyes – Torin shaking out his wings. They folded away and the winged young man was reduced to a tiny dark figure perched on the rooftop.

Bertram sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping with relief.

“Well,” Sorcha said dryly. “All right. I’m convinced.”

“Mmm,” Bertram said, distractedly. The little dark figure wasn’t moving. Was it easier to land up there than to come back to the courtyard? Surely not. “I… don’t think he’s coming down.”

“Doesn’t look like it, no.”

“Oh, dear. We upset him.” Bertram ran a hand through his hair, grimacing. “Sorcha, I really wish you hadn’t called him it.”

“Oh, so this is my fault, is it?”

“I – ” Bertram sighed. “Well, it’s partially mine. He can be shy. And he doesn’t like… I shouldn’t have rushed him straight out here to meet you. I… kind of forgot to warn him you were coming.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I hate to ask, but… are you confining him at all? What would you do if he just took off into the sunset right now?”

“It’s not like that,” Bertram protested. “Oh, dear.” He ran the hand through his hair again, chewing his lip. “Sorcha, I’m sorry. You can make your own way through to my offices, can’t you? I’ll be along in a minute.”

She shook her head indulgently. “I’ll help myself to your liquor cabinet,” she warned, picking up her dropped bag and starting towards the door.

“Yes, fine, whatever.”

Bertram puffed as he reached the top floor of the tower. No wonder I never come up here. Damn, I’m unfit.

But, there. The window. He approached it carefully, slid the shutters apart, and leaned out into the evening air. This ought to be right underneath where he’d seen Torin land.

The wind was picking up. “Torin?” he called, craning his neck out the window and upwards. He caught a glimpse of a pale foot, being hastily pulled out of view. He listened for a response, but there was none.

“Torin, can you come down, please?” he shouted upwards.

No response. He sighed and leaned against the edge of the window frame to yell into the wind.

“Torin, can you hear me? This is – ah, damn it,” he said, dropping his volume and coughing, before craning his neck again. “Look, it’s really hard to talk to you like this, Torin! Are you going to be able to get down? You’re not stuck, are you?”

There was a scuffling noise. That was all. “Torin – look, I…” Bertram slumped and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Please come down! I want to talk to you. I’m – I’m sorry.”

He listened to the sound of the wind for another minute, but Torin didn’t respond.

“Listen, all right, we don’t have to talk right away,” he said, trying a different tack. “Why don’t you come down off the roof, come in and get washed up, no questions. Then after dinner we can sit down and talk? Sound good?”

There was another scraping noise, and a tousled black and white head peered over the eaves. Bertram just about had a heart attack to think of Torin leaning over the edge like that. “Gods! Be careful!”

“I’m not stuck,” Torin informed him. The wind whipped his hair around him like a halo. “I don’t want to have dinner with you.”

Bertram chewed his lip. “With me, or with Sorcha?” he shouted.

“With either of you.” The head began to retreat again.

“Wait!” Bertram said desperately. “Okay, then. Okay. You don’t have to have dinner with us. How about – You fly down to the yard and go inside. I’ll have your dinner brought to your room for you. Okay? Please?”

Silence. Squinting upwards, Bertram could just about make out Torin’s frown.

“Okay,” Torin said, sulky. “I’ll fly down in a little bit.”

Bertram leaned his forehead against the window frame, relieved. “Okay,” he called. “Good. Right. Just a few minutes, all right? Be careful.”

Bertram knocked on the door of Torin’s room.

There was silence inside for a few moments. He sighed, covering his face with his hands. “Torin?” he called.

The voice was low, cautious. “…. Yes?”

“Can I come in?”

“It’s your house.”

Bertram sighed, again. He decided that he’d had enough of yelling at someone he couldn’t see, and eased the door open slowly.

Inside, Torin was sitting on his bed, legs drawn up underneath him, tail feathers spread in a wide fan across the bedspread. He had a book in his lap and his wings mantled across his shoulders. Bertram saw the dishes he’d had sent up from the kitchens, sitting on the floor by the bed. The food had scarcely been touched.

They looked at each other for a moment.

“I suppose it is,” Bertram said. “But what I really mean is… I wanted to talk to you. Can I come in and do that?”

Torin shrugged, hunching his wings further over his shoulders. “Okay.” His feathers were fluffed up, Bertram noticed, making his shoulders look twice the size. Was he cold? He had been up on the roof for over an hour. Did Bertram need to get him warmer clothing?

Bertram grabbed the chair and dragged it over, sitting in it backwards.

“I’m in trouble, aren’t I,” Torin asked, very softly, looking down at his lap. His feathers rose even further, and his gaze was shadowed under his lashes.

Bertram sighed. “No.”

Torin flicked a glance up at him. “Really? You’re not going to…” he hunched himself up even further. “Beat me, or whip me, or cut… well, whatever? You’re not going to punish me?”

“What? No,” Bertram protested, horrified. He looked over Torin’s posture, his feathers on end, dark nervous eyes, and felt his stomach sink in realisation. “Oh, Torin. Of course not. I don’t… can you even picture me… No.”

“So am I confined in here, then?” Torin asked. “Or do I have to wear something? Like a collar, you said I didn’t have to wear one, but maybe now…”

Bertram covered his eyes with one hand. “No,” he groaned. “I’m not going to do anything to you! You aren’t in trouble!”

“Oh.” Torin lifted his eyes, and gave Bertram a cautious look. He sat up a little straighter.

“I mean – Look, um, obviously in future I’d rather you didn’t fly onto rooftops and refuse to come down,” Bertram said, smiling, trying to put Torin at ease. “I can’t follow you up there and I didn’t have the faintest clue what to do.”

A tiny smile touched Torin’s face in response.

“But I’m not here to yell at you about it or anything. You were upset.” Bertram sighed, his shoulders slumping. “And that’s my fault, isn’t it?”

Torin’s feathers were still on end. “So if you’re not going to hit me,” he said. “How are you going to make me do things?”

Bertram met his eyes. There was a challenge in them.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, flustered. “Um, reasoning? Logic? Appealing to your good will? Explaining why you have to do things and trusting your intelligence?”

Torin cocked his head, slowly. “Huh. Really.”

Bertram spread his hands. “It’s all I’ve got.”

A smile slowly spread across Torin’s face. His feathers settled, with a suddenness that surprised Bertram. “If you say so. Whatever will become of society if that catches on?”

Bertram laughed, equally from genuine appreciation of the joke and surprise. He folded his arms over the back of the chair. “Well, Gods know it doesn’t work very well on the university board.”

Torin grinned and tucked the white lock of hair over his temple behind his ear. “I’m… sorry I flew off in a huff, professor,” he said. He took a deep breath. “It’s just…”

“No, that’s all right,” Bertram said. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have sprung Sorcha on you without warning. It’s just, you’re not shy with me, so I sort of… forgot that, well, Sorcha’s my friend but she’s a stranger to you.”

Torin looked uncomfortable. “Uh. Professor… I didn’t appreciate that, no, but…”

Bertram’s heart sank again. “But… she’s not the problem?” he guessed. “I am?”

Torin shrugged unhappily. His feathers shifted and resettled over his wings. “I just wish…”

“You wish what?”

Torin’s eyes flashed upwards to Bertram’s. “I wish you wouldn’t talk about me like that!” he burst out. “Like I’m one of your dusty bones, or creepy stuffed owls, or, or whatever! You’re nice to me most of the time, and it’s not that I’m not grateful, and I know you probably think you’re entitled to talk about me however you like –”

“I don’t!” Bertram protested, alarmed.

Torin kept going, his eyes blazing blue and suddenly shimmering with unshed tears. “But you get that look in your eyes and it’s like I’m not, I’m not even a person to you anymore! Just l-like before, at the markets, and I just stand there while you measure things and sketch things and poke me and I hate it! I hate it!”

Bertram watched him, aghast. “I – I didn’t mean – ” he said miserably. “It’s not that – I didn’t mean - I’m sorry. I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Well I do!” Torin said, and threw himself forward to lie facedown on the bed. His voice continued, muffled. “And I know you only bought me because that’s what you wanted, to study me, so I know you’re not going to stop it and there’s no point even talking about it...”

“No, I – no!” Bertram said. He rocked back on the chair, his chest a maelstrom of guilt and confusion and, yes, disappointment. “Of course there’s a point talking about it, Torin. I genuinely didn’t know. You never mentioned this before. I’ve been sketching you for weeks. You never said.”

“Well, are you going to stop studying me?”

“Uh…” Bertram hesitated. He wished he hadn’t. But he did.

“There! You see!” Torin raised his face, blotchy with emotion, and propped himself up on his elbows. “You aren’t, because why would you?”

“Look, we can stop for now!” Bertram said. He buried his face in his hands. He felt like he was withering with shame. “I didn’t – I didn’t know I was upsetting you. We can stop. I was going to show Sorcha some things but – no, no, you don’t have to do anything tonight, and I won’t sketch you tomorrow. We can… take a break for a while.”

Torin’s gaze slid away, and his mouth twisted. “A break,” he whispered. “Okay.”

“A break while we figure a solution out,” Bertram said earnestly. “I mean, I can change the way I do things – if it upsets you - Now that I know, we can figure something out.”

Torin looked unconvinced.

“Hey,” Bertram said, softly. “We can figure out what you’re comfortable with. Okay? It’s going to be different. I’m sorry. No more sketching and no more study until we sort this. Okay?”

Torin nodded hesitantly.

Bertram stood. He pondered the wisdom of reaching out to pat the winged young man on the shoulder, and decided against it. “I’m – I’m really glad we had this talk,” he said, his voice a little ragged. “I have a lot to think about. All right? But please don’t ever worry that I’m going to hit you. Because I’m not.”

Torin gave a tentative smile. “Okay.”

#Winged OC #Angst #held captive #Unwilling scientific study #but a fairly benign one?#slavery #dehumanisation #Torin #Yeah Bertram it's almost like #owning sapient beings is morally indefensible #he'll get there eventually #Caretaker #Professor Bertram Moran #my stuff

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chimmychanga1225 · 5 years

Text

Homeless: Damijon (3)

It’s slow as hell, but whatever. Hope you enjoy.

———

After bidding goodbye, the group began introductions for Jon, starting with none other than Wally. “Hi, my name’s Wallace, but you can call me Sir.”

Kate hit him upside the head, pulling laughs out of Calvin and Barbara. “Ignore brat #2. My name’s Kate Kane.”

“Oh, nice to meet you,” Jon said shyly. “I’m Jon Samuel Kent.”

“Wow, busting out the middle and last name? What now, you gonna give us your social security?”

“Do you have any limits, Wallace? Because you’re currently reaching mine,” Kate growled. Wally’s eyes went comically wide, as he backed off.

“On an unrelated note,” he began, “gotta blast.” Brat #2 sped out of the room and building, clearly not taking any chances with the red head.

Kate’s demeanor quickly shifted from full take down mode to the lowest-amount-of-threatening-she could-manage mode as she turned to Jon. “Hmm, Jon Samuel, right?”

Jon nodded earnestly. “J.S..... Consider yourself officially dubbed Jesus,” Kate decided, not an ounce of humor in her expression.

“W-What,” Jon asked, confused by the girl’s reasoning. He looked to Calvin and Barbara for help, but while Barbara could just barely stifle her laughs, Calvin sighed. “It’s Kate. No one can really follow her thought process. It’s a miracle we haven’t sent her in for testing.”

“You know you love it, Nemo. Now let’s go. We have to find Brat #2 and give Jesus a tour. I’ll take Babs,” and with that, Kane and Barbara strutted out of the room.

———

“We only go to one floor in the Wayne building, so there really isn’t a need to show you anything else here besides nook and crannies fool of spider webs and trash,” Barbara informed. She took her hands from her lap and held Kate’s as she pushed her chair along the crumbly walk way leading away from the building. “However, we still need to take you around town to show you the hot spots.”

“Hot spots,” Jon weakly reiterated. He couldn’t help but feel terribly lost. The whole method to enter the building alone made his head feel jumbled, but mapping out the city too? These people were severely over estimating his ability.

Calvin gave Jon a “comforting” (painful) clap on the back, along with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry too much about, kid. You’ll be able to pick it up after a while.”

A thought suddenly occurred to Jon. “Kid? Wait, how old are all of you?”

“Babs and I are 19. Calvin’s 17. Brat #2 is 15, but likes to act like he’s older than everyone else,” Kate told him, idly playing with the hands linked to her’s.

“You’re all so young,” Jon stated, surprise etched all over his face.

“What did you expect? Senior citizens?”

“No, I just... nevermind.”

Kate shrugged, not bothering with the newbie. She instead focused her attention on Barbara’s scratched up glasses. The pair steadily pushed ahead of the group, leaving Calvin and Jon in the dust.

“I know it’s a sensitive topic for some people,” Calvin said slowly, as if not to scare Jon away, “but how’d you get here?”

“Nothing special. Just the usual,” Jon brushed off the statement as best as he could.

“There’s no usual way to get homeless, Jon. We all have stories. If you don’t want to share just yet, that’s fine. But my advice is to be prepared to spill later. Damian will get the truth out of you one way or another.” Calvin turned away from the other, jogging ahead to catch up with Kate and Barbara.

“Looking forward to it,” Jon grumbled.

———

Damian was sure of it. He was going to kill someone before his shift ended. “Excuse me,” a customer screeched in his face, “we’ve been waiting for our order for over ten minutes. What’s the hold up!?”

The teen tried his best to keep his composure. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Unfortunately, we’re a little backed up in the kitchen. Please excuse me.” Damian dismissed himself to the back, hearing the woman’s grumbling the entire way. Only when he was finally out of sight did he kick the shit out of the wall. “Fuckin hate this job,” he growled, throwing one more solid kick at the wall. After getting all his energy and anger out, he collapsed down on the worn down tiles of the kitchen to pull out a cigarette. “Sounds like it’s someone’s time of the month. You aren’t allowed to smoke here, you know,” an obnoxious voice rang out.

“Shut up, Tim.”

“It’s against the establishment’s policy to smo-,” Damian cut him off.

“It’s a McDonald’s, Timothy. Get over yourself.”

Tim quickly snatched the pack and cigarette from Damian, tucking them away in his apron. “It’s bad for you, anyways,” he lectured.

Damian stood up, dangerously glaring at Tim. Not that it made much of a difference, with the relatively wide gap between their heights. “Give then back.”

“Back to work,” Tim simply ordered.

It’s truly a miracle Damian hasn’t killed someone yet.

———

“I’m off,” Damian said to no one in particular. He took his weekly payment with him, stuffing it into one of the many pockets in his second hand jacket.

“Wait up,” someone yelled from behind.

Damian strode ahead, determined not waste anymore of his time at the “establishment” or with its “associates”.

“Damian, wait!”

“Ugh, what do you want Timothy?”

“If you’re done acting like a child, here.” Tim places the Marlboro pack in Damian’s hand, before retreating back in the direction of his car. “See you next week, Damian.”

“Whatever.” As much as he disliked the goody two shoes, Damian couldn’t hate Timothy. He’s only been working for a few months with Tim, and he’s already treating the other like a younger brother. Either way, Damian was grateful. “Thanks,” he called out, although Tim was already long gone.

Damian shook the box, trying to get it to dispense a cigarette when instead he got a little rolled up note instead.

You should really stop smoking, D. You’ll get sick. But I did leave a few essentials in the box. :P

- T

Damian tore the box apart only to find a wad of cash clipped to... a pad? “You’re dead, Timothy.”

———

“I’m back,” Damian called out, sounding only moments away from collapsing.

“How was work? Did you get paid,” Barbara badgered. Damian groaned in response, raising an envelope in the air. Kate swiped it from his hands to bring it to Barbara. “You’re welcome,” he muttered.

He walked past the two as they counted out his pay, and collapsed on his cot. “You guys show new kid around?”

Calvin came around to Damian’s area, sitting by his corpse, basically. “We showed him the ropes and everything, but he’s still pretty tight lipped. He’s hanging with Wallace for the moment.”

“And Wallace is where?”

“To be determined.”

“Fabulous,” Damian grunted with effort as he pushed himself up. “We should probably go find those two before they set the city on fire or do something else stupid.”

“Do we have to chase after them every time he does something idiotic,” Kate complained. “I don’t want to play babysitter 24/7.”

“Fine. Damian and I can go while you and Babs stay here, in case they come back or if someone calls. Cool?”

“Awesome,” Barbara exclaimed dryly. She was too focused on budgeting the necessities for next week to worry about everyone else. “See you later.”

———

“Wally, I don’t think this is a great idea,” Jon said, stressfully checking their surroundings. “What if we get caught?”

“C’mon Jon, it’s only stealing if they really need the money. We’re at a private gym. There no doubt hear people can spare a 20 or two with their fancy pool memberships.

“Yeah,” Jon said still not entirely convinced.

“If you’re so nervous, let me show you how it’s done, newbie. I’ll be back in a flash,” Wally took off before Jon could protest.

Wally walked through the changing room casually, as if he belonged there. Jon was almost impressed by the other’s bullshit capabilities.

Wally whistled away as he walked by the security lockers. Only after a minute of two of waiting for the hall to clear out, did he start fiddling with one of the locks. Just seconds later did the cubby unlock with a small pop. Wally sent a wicked grin to Jin as he held up a wallet. At least until Wally heard a “Just what do you think you’re doing” from behind him.

Wally’s instincts kicked in, getting him to run but the man behind him already grabbed him by his hoodie’s collar and slammed him on the ground, head first. Jon felt his heart drop as he heard the sickening crack. And just when he thought it was over, the man began to kick him in the ribs while he was down.

“Scum like you shouldn’t even be in here,” he fumed, sending a kick after every word. Jon rushed in, covering Wally’s body with his own. “Stop! Please just stop! We won’t bother you again, so please...”

“Be grateful I didn’t call the cops.” The man sauntered off rather quickly as he and Jon realized Wally wasn’t getting up. “Wally? Wally?!”

———

Well that’s it for now. Bye.

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surrounded-by-superheroes · 6 years

Text

The Soldier and the Assistant Ch. 4

Click here for chapter three!

Summary; You run into a mysterious stranger on the street while running late for work and spill coffee all over yourself in the process. Later, you find out the man was none other than James Buchanan Barnes and your company is about to write a story about him. The thing is, he’ll only talk to you. As you get to know one another, you both start realizing this relationship is a little more than work. Will both of you let the romance bloom? Or kill it before it starts?

A/N; Bucky and Steve crack me up and I never get enough of their bullshit. Amen.

Warnings; Language.

Tags; @farfromjustordinary @ria132love @karlilarki

Words; 2,595

Chapter Four

Change of Plans

*Bucky’s POV*

“What the fuck would you have me do, Steve? I wasn’t going to let her cry alone in her apartment, still terrified.” I justify my reasons for bringing you here as you sleep soundlessly on the couch. Steve rolls his eyes and rubs his temple.

“For the last time, I’m not upset you brought her here. Just surprised. Stop trying to convince yourself you need a reason to feel like protecting her, jackass.” Steve snaps back, an entertained smirk on his face. After sighing, I remain silent as we stand across from your sleeping form. I’d brought you up and in Steve and I’s apartment and sat us both on the couch. You’d told me the whole story in a calm, distant voice then proceeded to realize you’d left the coffee I got you at work. Honestly, you seemed more upset about that than about Jim, but that’s most likely the shock. Afterwards, you calmed down and fell slowly asleep in my arms. Steve finally got here and that’s when I laid you down and told him what happened. Now, the both of us are just standing across the room from you lying on our lumpy tan couch. Steve’s hands are in his pockets, most likely missing the perch his suit’s belt usually provides, while my arms are crossed across my chest.

“I’m not sure what to do.” I admit uneasily. “She can’t go back there and work for that asshole again.” That’s one thing that absolutely cannot happen. Steve nods along with my words.

“Agreed, but her future is up to her. We don’t know if she’ll want to press charges or just quit and be done with everything.” Steve says, ever the reason to my insanity. I frown at the thought of Jim walking free and briefly think of holding a gun to his head, but dismiss the thought. I’m in enough trouble and I’d rather not get Steve blamed for anything else, or you. “I’ll call Natasha. See what she can find on this Jim guy. Maybe there are other people willing to speak up. I doubt this is the first time it’s happened.” Steve claps a hand on my shoulder and I nod at him once before he heads to his room to make the call. My place is in here, watching over you. Suddenly, your legs crumple into your body and you frown. As quietly as I can, I walk over and grab the blue blanket off the back of the couch, laying it over your body and tucking it under your feet. The frown disappears and I find myself smiling down at you. That’s when I decide that if you don’t wake up I’m not taking you home. Sleep is a precious peace and I refuse to disturb yours after a day like today. Carefully, I reach down and brush my lips across your forehead.

“What are you doing to me?” I question you and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Almost imperceptibly, you smile.

*Reader’s POV*

Waking up is fucking hell most days, but today especially. My eyes are still covered in makeup and now are crusty from sleep and tears. My mouth tastes weird and dry from the lack of, well, any drinks yesterday and my body is still cramped inside my pencil dress. I wipe the crust out of my eyes without a care to what I look like; I’m sure I already look like shit. Finally, I break the film and open my eyes to reveal an unfamiliar bedroom. Looking down, I see navy sheets and comforter covering me in a pale-yellow room. Some paint is chipping off the walls, but everything else in the room is pristine. The bed is in the center and is flanked by two small, white tables. Straight across is a honey-colored dresser and on the wall to my left is the doorway to a bathroom in the corner, another door on the wall that meets it. Symmetry. The setup is definitely a soldier’s room, but the accents are not. It isn’t hard to guess that this is Bucky’s room, especially since I can smell him in here. Bar soap, spice, and something bitter like gasoline or oil.

There are pictures placed on the dresser and both bedside tables. Mostly of Bucky and Steve, but a couple of just places. Drowsily, I climb out of bed and wander around to get a better look at the pictures. All are black and white with the exception of one, but I love seeing Bucky in uniform. The one on his right nightstand, most likely closest to him when he falls asleep, is a colored picture in a white frame. He was clearly coerced into frame, judging by how he’s angled and Steve’s arm drawing him in by the neck like a noose. They’re both grinning even though Bucky is in the middle of an eyeroll and it makes me smile. Straightening up from my crouching position, I glance at the walls of the room. What I love most is that most of the walls are covered in drawings and writing. Carefully, I let my fingers trace the fine script on one of the thin pieces of paper. I’d have never guessed Bucky’s handwriting to be so fine. Feeling a little more awake, I head to the bathroom and find a little pile of clothes with a note.

“For you. Figured being in these would be more comfortable than a dress. Soap’s in the shower and you’re more than welcome to it. Bucky.” I read the words aloud, feeling the soft fabric of his sweatshirt and sweatpants under the paper. “Sweet.” I murmur and glance up at the mirror, nearly shouting when I see how bad I look. My hair is a mess, my makeup is slathered over my face, and my dress is askew. Immediately, I shut the bathroom door and strip. I let the water be freezing to wake me up and do my best to get all the stuff off my face. After giggling a little at Bucky’s old spice shower stuff, I use a little and rinse fast. I’m in and out in less than ten minutes, then walk out in fifteen wearing Bucky’s big clothes.

The note he left me is folded up in my dress that I take out with me. I open the door and wince a little at the bright light. Bucky keeps his own room dark. Then, the smells and sounds start hitting me. Bacon overpowers everything else and I can hear it sizzling. My eyes find the source of the sound to my right, in a small kitchen. Bucky stands there in sweatpants and a loose T, poking the bacon with a fork in his right hand. There’s no Steve in sight, but it may be too early for him. I have no clue what time it is. All of a sudden, I feel extremely embarrassed. One bad day and you call a stranger to pick you up, spend the night at his place, and sleep in his bed. God. Even so, I set my dress beside my purse at the door and walk over to Bucky.

“Morning.” I bid him quietly, my voice still a little croaky from sleep. Bucky’s head snaps up at the sound of my voice and he turns to look at me with a comforting smile on his face.

“Afternoon.” He corrects and points at the clock on the oven. My eyes shut as I sigh, a headache already on it’s way. “Here.” I open my eyes to find Bucky gesturing to a small breakfast table for two. Smiling thankfully, I sit down where he tells me.

“Uh, so listen, I’m really sorry about all this.” I tell him sheepishly as he returns with Motrin and coffee. “Thank you. Anyways, I’m really thankful for everything you’ve done for me, when you really don’t know me and others would’ve just kicked me out.” I continue as he now brings me eggs and bacon on a plate with a fork. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, I’m listening. You’re just being ridiculous. I’m not going to throw a crying girl out on her ass, no matter who she is. What would the reporters say?” He teases and the discomfort in my chest evaporates.

“You know what, I really don’t feel bad anymore.” I quip and he smiles lopsidedly. “Thank you for breakfast and coffee, you’ll make a fine husband one day.” I tease right back as I fold my legs under me, getting comfortable. His eyebrows shoot up as he sits across from me with the same breakfast, but he says nothing about my comment.

“You’re welcome.” He responds softly as I take my meds with my coffee. The taste is perfect, somehow, and breakfast is delicious. “Now, it may be too early for you to talk about this, but I wanted to ask you what you’re planning to do. About Jim.” Bucky asks and his voice is careful, not knowing my mind on the subject yet. My eyes shut a moment and I pause to collect my thoughts.

“Ugh, right. Well, obviously I’m going to press charges against the son of a bitch, come what may. I’m out of a job pretty much either way. Especially since I’m not going in today and there’s no way I’m calling.” I explain my plans, then look back up at Bucky. Those blue eyes are striking and shining with pride as he looks at me. The look cements the plan even more in my mind; if he’s looking at me like that, then I must’ve made the right choice.

“Sounds good to me.” He agrees and I can’t help but smile at his handsome face. “Hopefully you won’t mind, but you actually won’t have to do that. Steve’s already taken care of it.” Bucky reveals and starts eating his breakfast as I stop in shock.

“What? How?” I ask instantly, flabbergasted.

“Well, Steve called Natasha to dig up what she could on Jim. He could’ve had his own cemetery with the amount of skeletons in his closet. Natasha rallied them and was there when Jim was arrested.” Bucky allows a chuckle to slip from his pretty lips. “She was ecstatic at the opportunity.” He tells me and my mind reels with the addition of such new information.

“So…he’s gone? That’s it?” I ask him, still trying to wrap my mind around it. Bucky nods, his face quizzical at my not understanding.

“Yes. He’ll be in prison before the year’s end if Natasha gets her way, which, she always does.” He reports, eyes scanning me for what I’m thinking. After a few moments of silence, he gets up and kneels beside me. “It’s over, doll. I…apologize if this isn’t the way you wanted it done, but the bastard didn’t deserve to breathe any more free air.” He tells me, those eyes burning into mine as always. I shake my head, reaching out and messing up his hair lightheartedly. His grins, although it is a lonely grin.

“No, I’m not upset. I’m only surprised.” I tell him sincerely, then smirk. “You’re ruining your reputation for being bitter, Bucky.” His grin reappears as I tease him, and we both stay there for a moment. With our eyes connected and my hand still in his hair, the air around us seems to charge with heat and electricity.

“And whose fault is that?” He whispers gruffly and I see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. My hand falls from his hair to his jaw and I smile slightly when I rub my thumb over his scruffy cheek.

“You know, you look lonely sometimes. When you smile.” I tell him in a sadder tone, letting my hand drop to my lap. “When you allow yourself to smile.” I continue.

“Do I?” Bucky asks and fleetingly I think his ankles must hurt from crouching for so long.

“Yes.” I tell him simply, my eyes fluttering from his eyes to his lips, then back again.

“I don’t feel lonely when you’re around, doll.” Shock courses through me, but he doesn’t give me a chance to respond. “Damn. I sound like an idiot.” He mumbles and stands. I catch his hand before he walks away and he looks back at me, his eyes swimming in vulnerability.

“I already know you’re an idiot.” I tease and get a laugh out of him, then a happier smile.

“You’re still a smartass. Eat your breakfast.” He tells me and takes his own plate away, rinsing it and putting it in the dishwasher while I finish my food in silence. Once I’m done I follow his lead, which coerces another smile from his lips. “How about this, you think I’m lonely, so why not spend the day with me?” He asks and I notice he seems to force the words from his mouth, or perhaps they were so eager he couldn’t hold them in anymore. Either way, they bring an amused smile to my face.

“You make it sound like a chore, Bucky.” I tell him honestly before continuing, “of course I wouldn’t mind. Do you have any plans?” At that, a mischevious smile overtakes Bucky’s face.

“Yes, actually. I do. I want you to write that article.” Bucky says firmly, steel and determination written all over his face. My eyes widen at the prospect.

“Bucky, you’re aware that I don’t have my own private printing press, right?” I ask, gesticulating dangerously with my fork still in my hand. Bucky leans over, takes the fork, puts it in the dishwasher, then nods.

“Yes, thank you. I want you to write it anyways. Think about it.” He tells me as I heave myself up on the counter while he washes dishes. The corner of his mouth twitches at the action. “What paper, magazine, whatever, isn’t going to hire the author of that article? An article about the world’s most wanted assassin?” He continues dryly and I snort.

“Right, the fluffy assassin that just made me breakfast and let me stay at his place.” I find it more important to address what he thinks of himself first, instead of his offer. Bucky smirks and shrugs.

“Maybe don’t include that.” He suggests and I nod with a silly grin. “But, what do you think of writing the article?” Bucky stays on course, drying his hands on his shirt. I tap a nail on the counter while I consider him and his kind offer.

“Why? Why are you doing this?” I ask seriously, losing the levity for a moment. Bucky sighs and runs his hands through his hair while he thinks.

“I like you. You’re different and seem like you deserve a chance. You certainly deserve a hell of a lot more than the treatment you’ve had so far.” He growls and I hop off my perch and stand a little less than a foot in front of him. The irony of is words aren’t lost on me, but I choose not to point it out.

“That isn’t an answer, Bucky Barnes.” I remind him and he rolls his eyes. “But anyways, I like you too. I’d be happy to do the article.” I relent and pat his arm, then head to my purse. After grabbing my notebook and pencil, I sit back down at the breakfast table. “Ready?” Sighing in resignation, Bucky comes over and sets a cup of coffee down in front of me.

“Born ready.”

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connormurphyobsessed · 7 years

Text

The Masks We Wear (Connor Murphy x Reader)

Okay hello! This is my first imagine! Yay! I’ve worked really hard on it so don’t be afraid to give feedback! Requested: Nope Words: 2,557 Warnings: None other than some swearing

Being the new kid isn’t easy, especially when you are judged so fiercely for being yourself. You know the right words to say, the correct outfits to wear, when to smile, when to laugh, and when to disappear. You’ve never been the popular person, but you get along just fine with the façade that you’ve mastered so well it almost feels like you. Almost. Your first day of school arrives just like the five before, even though the fall semester was already half way done. With your dad in the army you couldn’t blame him for all of the moving, after all your grandfather, great grandfather, and so on, all chose the same life. This move was slightly different though, your dad finally got the promotion that would keep you in one place for the rest of high school. You knew that at this school the mask you wore would need to be convincing enough to help you survive longer than usual.

This new school was bigger than the last, and your sense of direction wasn’t top notch. After the office gave you your timetable you scurried through the hall desperately looking for classroom 27B, and wondered if the office lady thought it would be funny to give you a fake room number. You looked at the doors as you darted around the now empty hallway as everyone had already entered a class. You were startled back to reality as you heard a locker slam behind you. You turned to see a boy walking away from you with leisure towards what you thought might be an exit, but you couldn’t be sure. “Umm… Excuse me!” you surprised yourself with saying, but the boy only glanced over his shoulder and kept walking. You dashed towards him this time, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I don’t know where 27B is and I’ve been looking for 15 minutes, and I don’t want to be late on my first day.” This time the boy turned around and looked at you with a mix of boredom and the smallest bit of amusement. “You’re looking for 27B?” you nodded your head as you glanced at the piece of paper to the rooms around you, back to the boy. “You’re on the wrong floor,” he said with a little more amusement showing. “Oh…” the embarrassment evident on your face, “Well I guess that explains why I can’t find it. Anyways, thanks, and I’m y/n” “Connor” “Well, thanks, Connor and I’ll see you around? I don’t really know anybody and you’re the only conversation I’ve had with someone at the school who doesn’t work here” “See you around,” he shrugged “I guess, but I wouldn’t plan on it.”

With that short-lived conversation, you were off to your first class. All the classes seemed to drag on, with teachers mindlessly going on about formulas that you wouldn’t remember in a week. As it does at every school the lunch bell rang, and it was time for what you pictured hell as :a lunchroom. Kids scuttle around trying to find a table that would get the most attention from the people they want to impress, and others take it as time catch up on homework in clusters of others as a form of protection. You on the other hand used this time to find a group that would keep you safe, I mean high school kids are mean. You settled on a group of girls that seemed nice enough and spent your lunch smiling at the right time, laughing when needed, and making the right comments so that the girls at the table said they could tell you would fit right in with them.

The next week was fine enough. You made some friends that you could eat lunch with, gossip about the teacher’s new haircut with and text for help on Algebra homework. You even decided on trying out for the cheerleading team, which you made. It seemed as if the mask you perfected was working like a dream. On the Monday of your second week, the girls you ate lunch with were all busy. A few had lunch detention, while others had the weekly student council meeting. With nowhere to go for lunch, you wandered on the lawn by the football field, where you spotted the familiar face of Connor, the boy who you met on your first day. Picking up your pace you walked over to him and sat down across from him and pulled out your lunch. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked with annoyance rising in him. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m about to eat lunch with you,” you replied taking a bite out of your sandwich. “I know what the fuck you’re doing. Why are you eating here?” he said this time getting angrier. “It might seem like a funny joke to eat with the freak, but this freak prefers to eat alone, so leave.” The anger in his voice made you jump, but you didn’t get up. “Why would eating with you be a joke? And I’m not leaving, I don’t have anyone to eat with and this freak likes eating with people,” “Yeah well have fun by yourself,” he said as he picked his bag up and stomped away. You watched him walk away, the surprise evident on your face. Why had he thought you were trying to be mean? Why was he so defensive? All of these questions rattled in your mind as you walked back to the school building.

After cheer practice, you went with some of the girls to get frozen yogurt just around the block. “Do you know anything about some kid at school named Connor?” you asked as everyone took a seat. “Which Connor?” one girl answered. “Well he’s tall, has long hair, really pretty eyes actually-,” “You mean psychopath Connor? He’s a total freak. He has some major issues, but his sisters nice. I’d stay away from him if I were you, if people see you near him they might get the wrong idea,” and with that the subject changed to who was the best kisser on the football team.

The next day during lunch you told your friends that you had to do work with a teacher at lunch. Instead, you went back to the lawn from yesterday and sat next to Connor once again. “Again? Really? I thought I made myself clear,” Connor said as flipped the page in the book he was reading. “I’m not the best with listening to directions,” you said smiling at him this time. “Your friends still busy or some shit?” “No, I just wanted to eat with you,” Connor finally looked up from his book in surprise, but quickly went back to his annoyed face. You two spent the rest of lunch in silence together, him reading, and you eating your sandwich.

The two of you eating lunch together continued. With your persistent talking Connor eventually replied with more than one-word answers, and soon your daily lunch together became something you looked forward to. “So what about ‘Fahrenheit 451’?” “Well I did read that one, but only after I watched the movie and had turned in my essay” “Well fuck, and you still got an A?” you nodded laughing looking at the amazement that had settled on his face. “I am impressed, that takes real skill to bullshit your way through English class so well,” he said slowly clapping. You dramatically bowed as you walked over to the lawn together. Connor had started waiting for you by the bleachers so you could walk to lunch together, but he denied that he was waiting for you. “It was a needed skill. Sometimes my family would move and the new teachers would automatically want an essay the next day from a book I’ve never read.” “Well that sucks,” “I guess it does, but I’ve gotten used to it. I’ve gotten used to it all,” “You shouldn’t have to get used to it. Why aren’t you mad at your parents? I would be so fucking furious, and you just smile about it all,” you laughed as he said this while sitting down under a tree. “I don’t get to be mad. This is what my family does. Besides I would sound so horrible if I got angry at my dad, the man who served three tours in Iraq, the man who risks his life for America,” you said as you pulled large clumps of grass from the ground, “But sometimes I just want a dad, an actual dad, not some war hero, but someone who tells me to change shorts because they are too short, a dad who says cheesy jokes, not some man who lives in the same house as me, but is a billion miles away because he has no idea who I am.” You started throwing the clumps of grass you had uprooted. You glanced over at Connor who looked conflicted. “What?” you asked abruptly aware of how loud you had gotten. In an instant Connor suddenly hugged you. His arms were long and lanky around you, but somehow you felt safe. His body smelled like coconut, probably from shampoo, and his heart beat somehow sounded beautiful. He let go of you, a second later, and the hug had felt like a million years and less than a millisecond at the same time. You looked up at him and he was looking anywhere, but your eyes. “Thanks,” you whispered, “I really needed that.” Connor mumbled out a response along the lines of ‘no –problem’.

After that day you were painfully aware of Connor. You were aware of every step he took and how he kept his hands in his pockets, and scratched at his jeans when he got angry over something small, and how when you made a bad pun he would roll his eyes, but smile slightly. It seemed like all at once everything about Connor was magical and you would count down the minutes until lunch with him, and it seemed Connor was thinking the same thing. “So I was uhmm-well I was think-no that’s no right,” Connor mumbled about a month and a half after your first lunch together, “I was thinking that we could hang out outside of school.” Connor looked down at you trying to hide the nerves that he felt asking. The nerves were evident on his face though as he watched you reply. “I’d love to,” you said simply, but the smile on your face said it all. You were ecstatic; finally, you would spend more than the designated time at lunch together.

You and Connor had settled it and decided that you would hang out that Saturday and work on English homework together at your house since Connor said that his parents would be all weird about it. Finally, Saturday arrived, and the nerves you had denied were obvious as you paced your room trying to figure out which shirt to wear knowing they were basically the same shirt. Little did you know that Connor was also pacing his room trying to decide if he should wear a black shirt or grey shirt. Of course, Zoe found this hilarious and Connor, being too nervous to yell, allowed Zoe to help him chose a shirt. They settled on grey, Zoe saying that it showed that he wore more than black. Connor showed up on time and you couldn’t help but smile at the fact that he was an actual friend, even though you wanted more, but he was somebody who you didn’t feel the need to wear your mask around, with him you could just exist. “Uhmm, we can go hang out in my room if you want,” you asked motioning towards a hallway. “Sure, but your parents will be okay with me in your room?” he asked as you opened the door to your room. “Oh, they don’t really care what I do, and if they did they aren’t ever home to enforce the rules they have.” With that you sat on your bedroom floor and pulled out your English books, but they were quickly forgotten when you started talking. Within minutes of talking the subject turned to Connor’s family. “I don’t know. It’s just like I’m the fucking black sheep. I just want them to look at me and not be ashamed of their son,” Connor huffed as you lay side by side on your floor looking at the blank ceiling. “I’m sure they aren’t ashamed” “You don’t even know them, you can’t be sure” “But I know you,” you said pushing yourself into a sitting position. “What the hell does that mean?” “It means you are the last person anyone could be ashamed of. You have this wonderful mind that anyone would be lucky to know about, you are the fastest reader I know, you pretend to hate others, but you are so incredibly caring, and you are my favorite person and the only one who knows me.” Suddenly Connor pushes himself up. “Bullshit. You have friends and I’m just a pity friend and we both know it,” Connor said. You knew you hit a chord in him. Whenever you said nice things about him he automatically thought it was a lie, no matter how many times you promised it was the truth. It pained you to think that somebody you cared for as much as Connor didn’t know that you did. “Now that’s bullshit Connor. We both know that it’s fake with everyone, except for you! I put this mask on so I blend in, stay alive, and make it until the next school,” you took a breath and moved closer to Connor as you started speaking again. “You’re the exception, with you it’s all real. I don’t have to pretend life is okay, or pretend I care about school drama. With you I’m just me, and with me I think you are just you.” Connor stayed silent for a minute after that. “If we’re being honest and shit right now,” Connor spoke softly, “People don’t like the real me, but for some reason you do, the angry parts and everything, so I guess don’t need a mask with you.” You looked at Connor and saw how scared he was, of being alone again, of being rejected. You knew that this was truly him without the façade that he had perfected over time. “Connor,” you spoke softly. He took his gaze off the floor and looked at you. You slowly put your hands on the side of his face and brought your lips to his. He still smelled of coconut, but you were more concentrated on the feeling of his lips on yours. The surprise of you kissing him quickly wore off and he kissed you back as if it were life or death. His chapped lips melted into your and his hands found your waist as he pulled you closer. Too quickly the kiss ended as you both needed air. “I hope it was okay I kissed you,” you softly laughed. “It’s more than okay. I hope it’s okay that I don’t want to stop kissing you,” he replied as he went back to your lips for another kiss.

#dear evan hansen x reader #deh imagine #deh x reader #deh #connor murphy #connor murphy imagine #connor murphy x reader #dear evan hansen #evan hansen imagine #evan hansen x reader #imagine #mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist imagine

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hannahindie · 7 years

Text

At the End of All Things: Chapter 2

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester x Amelia Richardson

Word Count: 1,780

Warnings: Amelia. That’s literally the only warning there is. Because she is the literal worst and writing her made me angry, so just prepare yourselves for that.

A/N: This is an AU/Crossover between Supernatural and Walking Dead. I’ve brought some characters back from the dead since it is an AU, and it’s going to be chock full of ships. I’ve always wondered how the Winchesters would make it in a world full of walkers, and what Rick’s crew would think of them, so this is my take on it. If you would like to catch up on Chapter 1, you can do so here!

Thanks to two of my favorite people in the world for beta’ing this for me! You two help make my words way better than I could dream of them being.

@trexrambling- “Come on, Sammy. Even you don't like her.” @pinknerdpanda- “ Ugh! I just hate her.”

As always, tags are at the bottom, and if you’d like to be added or don’t see yourself, please let me know! If you do not like The Walking Dead, AUs, or crossovers, please let me know and I can remove you from future tags. Any feedback is welcome. :)

Westgate: Columbus, OH

Dean leaned against the trunk of the Impala and looked over the little town they'd managed to build up over the past few years. It had been six years since Zach had zapped him into the future and shown him what their destiny was. Six years since Dean had said ‘screw you’ to destiny and told Sam that they may be each other's weaknesses, but they were stronger together. That one decision had changed the course of not just their lives, but of every single person they had with them now.

Dean had known the consequences of their actions if they had stayed on their original path; Jo, Ellen, Bobby...all of them would be gone. Sam would have said yes, and Dean would have died along with the rest of their slowly shrinking group of friends. But here they were, their family mostly intact, although maybe a little worse for wear.

Cas had still fallen victim to his dwindling grace and had consequently succumbed to popping whatever pills he could find and having orgies, but the angel seemed happy. Happier than Dean had ever seen him, if he was being honest. The end of the world should have spelled out the end of them, and somehow it had marked a beginning that none of them could have dreamed of having.

He smiled as he watched Chuck walk across the road, his eyes on the clipboard in his hand and muttering quietly to himself. Dean’s eyes traveled to the house across the street from his, where Cas was sitting on the porch surrounded by several women, the sound of laughter floating across the empty street. Cas looked up and met Dean’s gaze and smiled, then waved and went back to talking to the women currently sitting around his feet. Further down, he could see Jo walking with Ellen, and Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at the little bit of a waddle she had already started to develop due to her growing stomach.

“Sure you want to do this?”

Dean looked over to see Sam walking into the garage. He caught the lukewarm beer Sam tossed to him, cracked the seal, then grimaced as he took the first swig.

“At this point, anything would be better than this beer. Where’ve you been hiding this?”

“Ash made it in his shed. Didn’t have time to refrigerate it yet.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Not gonna lie to you, Sammy, I don’t think Ash needs to worry about wasting electricity on that. That...that was awful.”

Sam shrugged as he took another sip, “Yea, it is. I thought you might be of the opinion that terrible beer is better than no beer, though.”

Dean smirked, “You aren’t wrong.” He braced himself and took another sip, “Wow, no, that’s really terrible. For the first time in my life, I think I might prefer no beer.” He looked down at the plain brown bottle and rubbed his thumb over where the label would be. “I’m sure, Sam. Not sure about everyone going with us, but I don’t think we have much of a choice in the matter. Not that I’d ever admit it to his face, but I’m pretty sure Bobby could still kick my ass.”

Sam nodded, “Yea...but I think I might be more scared of Ellen.”

Dean laughed, “That’s a fair point.” He glanced at Sam from the corner of his eye, “What about Amelia? Is she going to stay here with the others?”

Sam took a long drag from his beer and smacked his lips together. Dean couldn’t tell if his brother’s eyes were narrowed because the beer was so bad, or because he was contemplating how he should answer. “The short answer, for now, is no. She’s planning on going.”

“Sam-”

“I know. It’s a bad idea, and I tried to explain that to her. She says she’s ready, that she can handle it.”

“Has she been training?” Dean asked as he walked over and sat his beer on the workbench.

Sam rolled his eyes, “You could call it that. She’s going to training, but it doesn’t matter if she could nail every move. She’s reckless, she has an attitude...” Sam sighed, and Dean allowed his brother a moment to collect his thoughts. “I’m not being fair to her. She feels like an outsider, and she kind of is. The rest of us have been through so much together, even before all of this, and I don’t think she understands that. I just...I don’t know that she could protect herself, much less everyone else.”

“Sam, you need to talk to her again. We need people to stay here anyway...maybe if she realizes that’s important, she’ll stay. And when you do it, try not to make that face you always make when you think you're right and the other person is wrong. It doesn’t help.”

“What face are you talking about?” Sam questioned as he dumped out the rest of his beer and tossed the empty bottle in the trash.

“That face, the one you’re making right now,” Dean emphasized with his pointer finger. “You mean well, but you sound a little condescending when you’re trying to convince someone your plan is the better one. So just...don’t, okay? I don’t know how to tell you how not to do that, but just try, man.” He clapped Sam on the shoulder, “Good luck. You’ve got about twelve hours to convince her.”

“And if I can’t?”

Dean shrugged, “She comes with us, and she’ll learn to do her part. Everyone has to pull their weight, even baby Winchester.” Dean winked as he pulled the garage door shut, and Sam gave him a tight lipped smile.

“Yea, you’re right. It’ll be fine. I’ll see what I can do.”

Sam walked off, his hands shoved in his pockets, and Dean sighed. Sam was going to need all the luck he could get.

“I am going!” Amelia hissed, her hands on her hips. Sam leaned against their kitchen counter, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. He had thought he had the conversation planned out well enough that he could avoid the argument that was probably inevitable, but as soon as he said ‘Amelia, we need to talk’, she had interrupted him and not quit talking. She had finally stopped and now waited expectantly for his response. He stared at her for a long moment as he carefully considered what he should say, Dean’s warning of keeping his face in check echoing in his mind.

“Sam!”

He sighed, “Amelia, I understand why you want to go. You want to be helpful and contribute, but the best way to do that is to stay here. We need people to stay behind and keep this place running until we get back. Risa and Jane are staying behind, so is Kevin-”

“I don’t give a shit who is staying behind. We’ve gone this long without anything going wrong, why do I need to stay behind and protect it? This place is the most fortified camp in the tri-state area. I’m assuming Jo is going, despite the fact that she’s five months pregnant? But I guess that’s because her husband wants her around.”

Sam looked at her in surprise, “That’s the exact reason why we need people to stay! Eventually, someone is going to find this place. They’re going to want to take it. We need people to make sure that doesn’t happen, and that those that can’t travel stay safe. And Jo going is between Jo and Dean, it's not our business. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You’re leaving me! You want me to stay here because you don’t want me to go with you. I’m just some girl you saved because you had to, and now you’re with me because who else are we supposed to have? Quit being a chicken shit and just tell me that’s what’s going on, but quit trying to talk me out of going and giving me bullshit reasons! ” She looked up at Sam, her lip quivering and her eyes brimming with tears, and Sam’s resolve broke.

Sam couldn’t deny what she said was at least partially true. He remembered the day he had found her, surrounded by the dead and alone, half-heartedly swinging a machete and sobbing. He had known he couldn’t let her die, and he had somehow managed to kill every single biter before she had been torn apart. She had looked at him with a shine in her eyes ever since, like she was looking at her very own knight in shining armor. He had tried to ignore it, but their camp had still been small then, and being in such a confined space it had been hard to stay away from her. Over time he had grown a fondness for her, and although he was sure that it didn’t match how she felt about him, he’d decided that it had been enough for both of them. Dean had been right; it was more a relationship of convenience, but Sam did love her in his own way, and it occurred to him that he didn’t always show it.

He sighed and held out his arms, “C’mere, I’m sorry, Amelia. You know that’s not true.” She fell into him, and he could feel her shoulders shake as she cried against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and tucked her head under his chin, “I’m sorry, babe, you don’t have to stay. I just...I trust you to take care of our home. If you want to come with us, you can. Okay?” He gently moved her out to arm’s length and looked her in the eyes, “But you have to be ready for anything. It’s not going to be an easy trip, it’s going to be dangerous, and you have to be ready to fight for everyone not just yourself. You know? It’s not just about the two of us. It’s about our family.”

Amelia nodded and wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, “I know, I understand. I can do it, Sam. I can.”

Sam smiled at her gently and brushed a few rogue strands of hair behind her ear, “That’s my girl. We’re leaving tomorrow, so get packed up, okay? Keep it light, just the important things.” She nodded and left the room, and Sam collapsed heavily into one of the kitchen chairs.

That went about as well as he had expected. He ran a hand across his tired eyes and wondered if he was going to regret his choice to let her go.

Read Chapter 3 HERE.

Forever Tags: @trexrambling @pinknerdpanda @wheresthekillswitch @emilywritesaboutdean @arryn-nyxx @emptywithout @escabell @charliebradbury1104 @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @deanssweetheart23 @canadianjelly @super-not-naturall @aubreyreadsstuff @dean-winchesters-baby @melissaj616 @fandomismyspiritanimal @keepcalmandcarryondean @assbutt-still-in-hell @owllover123 @rosie-winchester @amionthetumbler @duubaduu @hiimaprofessionalfangirl @goldenolaf25 @authoressskr @nanie5 @mrssamfuckingwinchester @zincomms @kathaswings @crazynerdandproud @barbedwireandbubblegum @sandlee44 @boxywrites

At The End Of All Things: @jellersquad @babeonthebike

#Supernatural #The Walking Dead #fanfiction #SPN #TWD #AU #Crossover #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Amelia Richardson

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