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kandi-pendragon · 3 years

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I was planning on making a YouTube video for this but I’ve got my hands full and I’m too lazy so here we go:

I’ve seen a lot of fellow Merlinites begging for a season 6 of Merlin, probably hoping for it to follow the script that three young women came up with (look them up on YouTube under the name 3RingsLeft. I love them and their songs own my whole heart) in the absence of closure from the Merlin finale. Now personally, I don’t want that to progress further than a script, but that’s only because I’m a sad pathetic excuse for a human who’s only purpose in life is to roll around in her misery and enjoy not getting any closure whatsoever from a show. And I doubt that I’m the only Merlinite out there who feels this way. That open ending is precisely what hooks you at the very end, it’s exactly what makes you so obsessed. The acting, the plot, and the characters keep you watching, but the finale keeps you thinking about it long after you moved onto other shows. And I’m too much of a coward to put that feeling of obsession on the line by rooting for closure, because my obsession is about the only thing I have going for me right now :)

Anyway, back to my point. I have been thinking about this for several months, and I wanted to get it out there. I know it might never happen but like I said. I’m pathetic. I cling to hope until the devil comes along so I can sell my soul to make my dreams come true. What have I been thinking about, you ask? Simple: BBC Knights.

Here’s a little information I wrote down ahead of time to organize my thoughts on the matter:

What is it?

Exactly what it sounds like. The idea of BBC Knights would be a spin-off of BBC Merlin, featuring the Knights of the Round Table, set in the time jump between season 3 and season 4. During this time, Lancelot is still alive, as is Uther. Arthur is newly appointed regent, and Morgana has quieted down for the time being. We get to explore so many things that we never got to before. Nothing would interfere with the finale of season five, of course. This would only be a filler, to give more content for the fandom, as well as more information, to better understand some of the characters.

Because you can’t have the Knights of the Round Table without also having Arthur and Merlin, the two of them would still be included in the show. However, they would no longer be the main focus. This would excuse some things too, for instance, not having to use Kilgarrah anymore. If the show is not focused on Merlin, we don’t have to find our way around not including Kilgarrah, because his voice actor, John Hurt, is no longer alive. (Rest In Peace, Mr. Hurt)

Focusing on the knights and this time frame would let us see more of Lancelot being a knight of Camelot, too — something he had been working towards his whole life — while BBC Merlin only granted us 2 episodes of that before killing him off. He had an entire year of being what he had strived to become since he was a child, and we never got to see it.

It would also give us the chance to better understand some characters’ backstories, something that the actor Eoin Macken said he wanted to do in the original show, had the last two seasons not been solely focused on the plot, and achieving the finale. Gwaine once mentions that he has a sister: “Well my sister is an evil old toad, so I’d be eternally grateful.” But we never even learn her name, much less what she did to make Gwaine hate her. We know that Lancelot met Percival before the others did, but we know none of the details. We know Elyan traveled around on his own for years, but we don’t know what he did, where he went, or who he met. We know Leon has been a knight for some time, but we don’t know anything about his childhood with Arthur, nor his friendship with Gwen and Elyan. There is so much potential for backstories, not to mention character development.

Of course, this all might be hard to achieve, since it’s been 8 years since Merlin ended, and the cast has aged (though not noticeably. I swear they’re immortal.) There have been hairstyle changes, beards grown, muscle mass gained. However, it’s shouldn’t be too hard to pass off. Maybe Arthur wears a crown or circlet to cover up the fact that he doesn’t have bangs anymore, Maybe Gwaine’s hair grows like a weed, Maybe Lancelot hasn’t shaved in a while, that sort of thing. Plus, it’s the fans. Merlin’s skin could be blue and we would just be grateful to have new content to analyze and cry over.

Things to include??? This is not obligatory, however, just some of my ideas. Obviously BBC Merlin changes some of the legends that they use. The Cup of Life instead of the Holy Grail, Leon instead of Galahad, the Afanc not collaborating with how it’s described in Welsh folklore, not to mention they used characters from Arthurian legend and made them their own, like Gwaine. (Gawain) Obviously if we included more adventures that the legends speak about, we would have to change the version of those legends, to better suit the characters as the show made them. However, the legends are still worth looking into, because I believe they would make for interesting episodes if done right, and they might also provide inspiration.

* Gwaine & The Green Knight * New Characters (Yvain, Drudwas, Sir Kay, Sir Bors etc.) * Yvain & His Lion * Drudwas ap Tryffin and his Adar Llwch Gwin (his griffins) * Agravaine coming to Camelot (and everyone’s first impression of him) * Explanation of Morgause’s Injury (why did it look like half her face had been paralyzed/burned off when all Merlin did was throw her into a wall?? Idk maybe I’m just stupid) * Agravaine Meeting Morgana and Morgause * Sir Kay and the Cath Palug (Palug’s Cat) * More insight to the Knights views on Magic * More detailed and fleshed out backstories for the knights (Gwaine’s sister, How Percival met Lancelot, More depth on why Elyan left Camelot, embarrassing baby Arthur stories from Leon, etc.) * Character development * New Opening Titles (main actors will change, and it wouldn’t make sense to use scenes from the original show. Also it would make more sense to keep Kilgarrah out, since he most likely won’t have a presence in the spin-off. Music could stay the same, but the scenes and names in the opening titles would probably change, as well as the whole “The destiny of a great kingdom rests on the shoulders of a young man. His name… Merlin” would be replaced, since the focus is no longer on the young Warlock.) * Meliodas the Demon King ._. * More POC representation, more POC in the cast. * Maybe queer rep? Casual, passing mentions of a mlm fling in the knighthood (doesn’t have to be someone we know) a character going by they/them pronouns without explanation and without making it a big thing, etc. Small, but noticeable things. It’s 2021 we deserve the bare minimum. * Tavern scenes! We know they spend a lot of time in there, but only get to see a few moments and hear about a couple more. * Maybe a first mission with all the main knights. Them working as a small team for the first time. Bonding around the campfire. This would give an excuse to create some insight into the characters while also sticking to the plot * Arthur struggling with the responsibilities of being regent (brief scenes or mentions, him leaning on his knights for support, them having to go on adventures without him) * More Gwen and Elyan!!! Being siblings!!! Please!!! * Introductions of characters we’ve already met: King Bayard, Elena, Vivian (seriously wtf happened to her?? Is she still in love with Arthur??) * Training scenes!!! When Arthur’s busy!!! Give me Leon teaching Elyan some sword moves and laughing about something from when they were kids! Give me Percy and Gwaine sparing only a few feet away! Give me Merlin helping Lance with his armor and Gwen watching her brother from across the field! Give me insight into each characters fighting style, skills, and weapon of choice! D e t a i l s!!! * More mythical welsh creatures, like the welsh cousin of the Kelpie who’s name I can’t remember but translates to water horse. So much opportunities for cool magical creature encounters! * And more!!!!

Now that we have a director in our cast, (who was rooting for this kind of characterization chance btw) I think maybe, if we’re lucky enough, we might have a chance. Idk, maybe I’m too late, but Eoin already said that he was working on a Pseudo Merlin project (whatever the hell that means) and I just. I love entertaining this idea. Who knows, maybe the spn fandom can help us summon a daemon and we can all collectively sell what little fragments of our soul we have left.

Those who still want a season 6, I get it! And I don’t blame you! And guess what— this would not interfere with that at all. Maybe we can both get what we want :)

But right now I’ve accidentally hyped myself up and made a petition so uh. Feel free to sign? If I get enough people on board I might do something about it and message Eoin, as soon as I know he’s done with his Merlin project and it would all work out 👉👈

If you have anything to add onto this post, go ahead! What would you want out of a spin-off?

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

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Field of Poppies Part 5

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 5: Amelia finally breaks her silence about the father of her child.

Tommy wasn’t sure to be happy or a bit nervous. But it just so happened that he and Amelia would get the family vardo to themselves for the night. Ada had opted to go stay with her cousins at the camp next to theirs. Polly took Finn over to her sister’s camp across the way. And Arthur and John had decided to rough it for the night, sleeping under the stars.

Tommy wasn’t sure he’d been that close to Amelia for that long. It wasn’t super cramped inside the wagon, but it wasn’t very roomy either. And with Amelia seven months along, they had to be close to one another.

“Not too warm, are you?” Tommy asked when he noticed she was still awake, staring at the ceiling with her hands on her stomach.

“No.”

He waited a moment and cleared his throat. “Something you want to talk about?” There was that little tell in her eyes that meant she was deep in thought. It was a hint of sadness yet questioning.

She took a deep breath but didn’t look at him. Her fingers drummed over her stomach. “I uh…he was someone I knew.”

“Who?” Tommy’s brow furrowed as he turned to his side and propped himself up with his elbow. “Who did you know?”

“The uh…the father.”

“Oh, right.”

Amelia chewed on her lower lip. “My parents were talking to his parents about maybe arranging a marriage. He was my dad’s boss’s son. And they thought it was a perfect match. I guess my dad would get the most out of the deal but I dunno what they were exactly talking about.” Her shoulders moved slightly in a shrug. “Maybe thought it would elevate us in society, what he always wanted.”

The tone of her voice sent a shiver down Tommy’s voice. It was almost like she was telling him about something she was grieving. Why she was mourning something. But there was shame in her voice as well. And he couldn’t be certain why that was until she told him everything. And he hoped she did. He hoped he was trustworthy enough to confide in.

“I didn’t know him very well. We’d only met a few times with my parents. Then I went out with him for the night. He…” She shut her eyes, to block out the memory only in vain.

“Mel-”

“I swear I wasn’t drinking or-or anything. I trusted him and I don’t know.” She started to cry.

Tommy sat up and gently took her hands. “Mel, Amelia, you know I don’t give a fuck about that. If you were drunk or whatever. It was his fucking fault for doing that to you. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He could only surmise what she was talking about. It would kill him to hear the graphic details of the assault. And it wouldn’t do anything to help the anger boiling in his blood.

“I didn’t say anything, I didn’t know how to say it. But then I got pregnant and my mother-she…” Amelia hiccupped.

Tommy’s thumb stroked gently over the top of her hand. “S’alright, love.” He tried to soothe her. But what could he say? It was done and now Amelia had to pick up the pieces of everything, to live with the memory. What could Tommy say to help? No words seemed to do the trick.

“She called me a whore; said I was being loose all over the fucking city.” Her tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She didn’t move to wipe them because she didn’t want Tommy to let go of her hands. “I told her the truth. She told my dad and he said I was a liar. They believed him over me.” She couldn’t say anymore, it was too much.

“S’alright.” Tommy swallowed his anger and helped her sit up so she could hug him tightly. “I’ve gotcha. I’m sorry, Mel, I’m sorry.” The story was more than he expected and it made his heart pound. He had no clue who the man was, what his name was, what he looked like, but he swore he was going to kill him. No one hurt his Amelia without consequences.

Yet, despite his anger, Tommy was relieved she was in his arms. He felt better that he was there for her. His arms wrapped around her, cradling her close. There was confidence in his chest that he could protect her.

“I’m sorry.” She sniffled against his chest.

“Don’t apologize.” He stroked her hair back. “He don’t deserve you or the baby. Your parents don’t deserve you either. Fuck ‘em all. If they ever bother you again…”

“I know.” She lifted her head and wiped her cheeks. “Arthur told me what you said.”

His face went red. “Rat bastard.” He muttered.

She smiled tearfully. “Tom, I appreciate you so much. I’m just not sure I’m worth any of this. My mom said-”

“Don’t matter what she said. What matters is that you’ve got people here who care ‘bout you. People who would never hurt you like that.” He wrapped an arm around her when she let out a hiccup. “Just try to get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was so quiet out in the countryside. There were no loud noises waking Amelia up in the morning. So, she slept until nine o’clock, a rarity those days.

Warm sunshine was streaming in through the small windows in the vardo. She sat up to see Tommy was gone and had been for a while by the looks of it.

She got dressed, feeling a bit sluggish from waking up so late. Yawning, she stepped out of the wagon.

“There she is. Thought you were gonna sleep the day away.” Arthur grinned. He sat with Polly, watching Finn toddle around in the grass.

“It’s good you got some sleep,” Polly said. “You’re going to need it.”

Amelia smiled. After the emotional conversation she had with Tommy the night before, she felt much better. The burden of keeping everything inside had been lifted, making her feel lighter and happier. “Is Tom around?”

“He’s riding around the grounds, probably isn’t too far,” Arthur answered.

“Well, I’ll go for a walk to see if I can find him.” She decided and began heading for the river.

It was a beautiful summer day and Amelia felt blessed to be in the sunshine with the clear sky overhead. Conversation floated through the air as people greeted those they hadn’t seen in a while. Families spent quality time together, for a brief span of time they were unbound by the stresses of life.

“Mel.” The soft sound of hoofbeats on the damp ground came up behind her.

Amelia turned to see Tommy riding over on his horse. He slowed the gelding down to a walk once they got beside her. “Oh, glad you found me. I was looking for you.” She smiled up at him.

There didn’t seem to be anything more natural than Tommy Shelby riding a horse. Amelia couldn’t even recall when he started riding, it was almost as if he was on the back of a horse before he could even walk. She remembered long summer afternoons spending time at Charlie’s yard with the horses.

Amelia could ride but she was never quite the rider the other Shelbys were. Her parents didn’t see the benefit of having her around horses. Besides, she thought it was fun to watch the others show off their skill. She was content just to lope around on a well-tempered pony with the reins almost to the buckle.

Tommy, as well as the other Shelbys, were more content with a challenge. He enjoyed green horses who would kick up a fuss with him. He didn’t mind being bucked off as long as he could get back in the saddle again.

His uncle said his horsemanship came from his maternal grandfather who was said to be some sort of horse whisperer. But Amelia attributed it to Tommy’s personality. He was the kind of boy who wanted to see how fast he could go. He wanted to see the risks and toe the line. That was always how he was with everything.

But he was happiest with horses, that much, Amelia knew.

“Want to hop on?” He offered.

She giggled. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Her hand rested on her stomach.

He smiled. “Right, sorry.” He dismounted with ease so he could walk with her instead. “Probably couldn’t even get you up there with that stomach of yours.”

“Hey!” She smacked his arm.

Tommy laughed and pulled the reins up over his horse’s neck to lead him along. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. Were just saying you’re pregnant s’all.”

“Hm…” She shook her head with a smile and a sigh.

“I did think you were going to sleep the whole day though.” He said as they continued walking along the bank of the river. “You were out like a light. Didn’t even move when I left. Pol told us not to wake you up.”

“Well, it was nice to sleep in.” She agreed. Her hand absent-mindedly rubbed over her stomach. “Thank you, by the way, for talking to me last night.”

He shrugged. In his eyes, she didn’t need to thank him for talking or listening for that matter. It was what friends did after all. It seemed silly he wouldn’t. “Of course. I’m just sorry about what happened.” It was unlike Tommy to let things go unresolved. But what was he supposed to do about some stranger in London? It wasn’t completely unreasonable to learn who he was, hop a train, and kick the man’s teeth in, but he knew that’s not what Amelia would want. And it wasn’t what was important.

“Y’know in a way, I’m not upset that I got pregnant.” She admitted. “I wish it hadn’t happened the way it did but if I hadn’t gotten pregnant, then I wouldn’t have ended back in Small Heath. And I wouldn’t be back with you.”

He paused in his step to look over at her with a smile. “Always looking on the bright side of things, aye? That’s the Amelia I grew up with.”

She smiled back but felt her cheeks go a bit red under his gaze. “Can we head back? I think my feet are getting a little swollen.”

�� “Sure.” Tommy clicked his tongue to the gelding so they could turn around and walk back to the vardo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once they returned, they were greeted again by Polly and Arthur.

Amelia sat down while Tommy hitched up his horse to graze.

“Any more Lee boys giving you trouble, Tom?” Arthur asked.

“I think they got the message.” Tommy sat down on the steps of the wagon and accepted a cigarette from Polly.

Amelia looked over the grassy field where a group of children was playing. She spotted Ada and John with their cousins and other Traveler kids. “Who’s that with John?” She wondered. Even from afar, she could tell the dark-haired girl around John’s age was upset with him about something. She was spouting off at him as the rest of the kids ran back and forth around them.

The two eldest Shelbys snickered and Polly sighed. “That’s Martha Shelby.”

“Oh, is she a cousin?”

“Nah, but she’s bound to end up being a Shelby one of these days. Those two already bicker like they’re married.” Arthur chuckled.

“She’s one of the Boswell girls. They’ve been friends for a very long time even if they wouldn’t admit it.” Polly added.

“Oh, and here the happy couple comes now.” Tommy pointed out.

Indeed, John and Martha were both stomping over, each looking irate with one another. “Tom, tell Martha that I jumped a fence that was this high!” He urged, holding his hand up to his hip. “I jumped Whiskey over that fence near Uncle Charlie’s yard and it was this high!”

“No way, you couldn’t jump a horse over a twig without falling flat on your face.” Martha crossed her arms over her chest.

“How are you, Martha?” Polly asked.

“I’m fine, Polly, thank you.” The young girl answered politely while still being frustrated with her friend.

“Tommy, tell her!” John urged.

He sighed. “I have no fucking clue, John. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“HA!” Martha jabbed a finger at him. “You are a liar.” She concluded before hurrying back toward the game of football.

John glared daggers at his older brother before following after her.

“You’re only stirring the pot.” Polly scolded, although she did look amused.

“Please,” Tommy smirked. “The more they fight, the more they’ll realize they should just get on with it.”

“They seem young to be deciding that sort of thing.” Amelia leaned over as best she could to help retrieve a toy for Finn.

“Gypsies like to arrange marriages when they’re young,” Polly explained. “I’m sure the Boswells are already looking for a husband for her.”

“And they wouldn’t naturally pick a Shelby for her. So, might be best if Martha decides for herself, even if they are young.” Arthur agreed with a shrug.

“Hm.” Amelia didn’t agree with the sentiment but could see their point. “I think it’s important to make your own decisions when it comes to love.” She had a faraway look in her eyes as she watched the kids play.

Polly subtly glanced over at Tommy. It was hard for any of them to ignore that statement. But Tommy just shook his head, urging his aunt not to say anything about arranged couples.

Arthur cleared his throat and took the hint to change the conversation. “Y’know, Mel, I think you ought to name the baby after me. Afterall, I’m your favorite Shelby, ain’t I?” He grinned.

It drew her back to the conversation, making her laugh. “And what if it’s a girl?”

“Well…I dunno. Maybe there’s some sorta variation.”

“Perhaps.”

“Arthura or…erm…”

Tommy chuckled as his brother racked his brain for options. He leaned back and finished off his cigarette. It was a very nice day.

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glbertblyth · 4 years

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Hey guys! Just posted chapter two, this time it’s Gilbert’s pov!! Really hope you enjoy and please don’t be afraid to leave comments and kudos on Ao3!!

By the time Gilbert Blythe had begun to walk the cobbled pathway that lead up to his home, the sun had begun to creep its way below the horizon. The evening country sky was awash with beautiful hues of reds and oranges. Burnt bright and fiery.

It reminded him of Anne.

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. The girl with constellations on her skin and cosmos in her stormy gray eyes. The girl who kissed him and left his mind to spin on its axis. The girl who hated him.

He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, making a poor attempt at banishing the swirling mess of thoughts in his mind.

Anne despised him. Anne despised him and she’d kissed him.

The same phrase had been endlessly looping through his subconsciousness for the better part of an hour now. For all the years he’d known her - for all the times they’d bickered and bantered and fought - never even in his wildest imaginations had he thought he would feel the weight of her lips against his.

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was something of an absolute mystery to him. And it never ceased to amaze him just how frequently he felt caught off-guard around her.

He never returned Anne’s ill affections. Never hated her. Never wished anything of poor luck upon her life (he knew she’d already been through far too much), but sometimes the words that came out of her mouth felt like a knife being held to his throat. Like- if he made any sudden movements the sharpness of her words would tear into him.

And, god help him, it always thrilled him to no end. To be on the receiving end of her cunning wit and look her in the eye felt much like looming over the edge of a very high cliff. Except, instead of enormous crashing waves or deadly spikes being on the opposing side, it was the ever so intriguing face of one fiery red head.

He absolutely delighted in having the ability to rile her up. To push her buttons. To cause her skin to flush angrily and shoulders to tense and pretty face to squash into a scowl. She probably found herself to be intimidating. And she was to a certain extent... but mostly Gilbert only found the whole thing rather adorable.

To put it plainly: where her rivalry with him was based on hatred, his was based on pure amusement and intrigue. And he was always ready to take whatever punches she threw his way.

Until a few hours before. When oddly enough, he had most certainly not been prepared for her attack. An attack that wasn’t an attack on his character or intelligence, but on his consciousness. On where he thought a line was between them. On everything he thought was capable of taking place.

Because while he didn’t hate Anne, he was never stupid enough to believe that they were friends. He was attracted to her, yes, how couldn’t he be? She was intelligent. Passionate. Beautiful in a way that he could really only describe as being... out of the ordinary. Not in a bad way, but in a way that was quiet. In a way that it was obvious she couldn’t tell exactly how many heads she turned. But she had a fire in her soul that roared against him. A vicious tongue that, at times, could be downright degrading. And a wall towered between the two of them because of it.

So why, after she’d used that exact tongue for something he would have never expected from her, did he have the incredibly disorienting and unexplainable urge to run after her and do it again. Kiss her again. Procure the same tilt-a-whirl feeling in his head that the heat of her lips moving against his had caused.

A feeling that he hadn’t even felt with Win-

He tamped those thoughts off right at the start, giving his head a fierce shake. That was a train of thought better left unridden.

Damn it all, how could one moment in time leave his mind reeling with such a mighty force that he felt like he couldn’t make sense of anything?

“Blythe,” an accented voiced reached out from only a few paces away, and it was in that moment that Gilbert had realized he’d stopped completely. Staring blankly at his front door for the last few minutes, wrapped entirely in his own thoughts. “Blythe you moke, is that you?”

Sebastian Lacroix, Gilbert’s roommate (brother really), stood on the wooden porch of their house. Looking at the boy with a bemused expression and shaking his head slowly.

Gilbert had burrowed himself so far into his own head that he hadn’t seen the rusted old truck sitting in the driveway as he pulled in behind it.

“Hey Bash,” Gilbert returned drily as he forced his feet to move. He climbed the creaky old steps of the porch and skirted around the older man.

Bash followed behind him as he passed through the door and into the cozy atmosphere of the small living room. Gilbert removed his shoulder bag and tossed it onto the fluffy couch as he heaved a sigh.

“I’ve been trying to call you all afternoon. Wanted to see if I should order some pizza for dinner,” said Bash as he clapped a hand on Gilbert’s shoulder.

The boy reached into the back pocket of his jeans and was unsurprised to find that his phone was dead. He held the dark screen up to show Bash just as much.

“You really need to start bringin’ a charger with you if you’re gonna be gone studying long enough to drain the life from your phone,” scolded Bash.

Gilbert merely rolled his eyes, “You got it, Dad.” But as soon as the joke left his mouth, he winced.

The relationship between Gilbert and Sebastian was... complicated... to say the least.

They were family, there was no denying that, but the way they came together as roommates - as brothers - was a rather tedious story.

In the simplest of renderings, it went like this: Sebastian Lacroix had been in Gilbert’s life for as long as he could remember. A constant companion and person to lean on.

At age seven, (eleven years prior) a round faced Gilbert had been told by a young social work intern that his father was dying. It hadn’t been his job, he was merely shadowing the case worker assigned to John Blythe (he’d been sick for a long while with no family able to look after him and his young son) but when it was revealed that John was far sicker than anybody originally thought, no-one had wanted to be the one to tell a child he was going to lose his father. The young man’s heart had hurt for the boy, but had the feeling that he was capable of taking a great deal. That he knew more than what he should have for his young years.

That intern had been Bash.

Sebastian always said that the reason he’d decided to take Gilbert under his wing so fiercely was because of pity. Because he’d felt bad for the scrawny little runt who’d just had the world ripped from beneath his feet. But Gilbert knew the truth. He always had.

Only eighteen at the time, Sebastian had been just as lonely as Gilbert had felt. Young, shunned from his home in Trinidad, and lost in a new country, he’d been in just as vulnerable a position. Just as in need of a friend.

So they’d bonded. Gilbert becoming like a shadow at Sebastian’s side.

When seven years later, Gilbert had held his father’s hand as he passed and he’d been officially dubbed an orphan, Bash was there. Holding his other hand as if to tether him to his spot. To earth. An acknowledgment that, even though Gilbert had lost his last blood relative, he was not without family.

And since that moment, Bash had done everything in his power to prove just as much.

Despite the fact that he was mature well beyond his years even at that age, had Bash not come along with the license to be a foster guardian, Gilbert would have been immediately placed with a random family. He’d had no other extended relatives. Nowhere else to go.

So Sebastian had stepped up. Signed on to be his legal guardian. Acted as an older brother. And then, when Gilbert had finally turned eighteen over the past summer and been freed from the system, as an equal partner.

Though the shades of their skin and chapters of their lives varied, they were brothers. Just as close as blood. If not made closer by the things life had thrown at them.

“So... pizza?” Bash said, interrupting his thoughts once more.

“Uh- yeah. Go ahead.”

Gilbert made his way over to the computer desk along the wall and plugged his phone into the charger. He held it in his hand as he waited for it to light up.

“What’s got you all in your head?” asked Bash as he padded over, feet bare against the carpeted floor. His phone was poised in his hand. Prepared to make the call to the pizza place, “Is it Winnie?”

Gilbert’s lips thinned. The sound of his ex’s name still made him feel tender. Vulnerable.

“Nope.”

“So she’s stopped pestering you then?” Bash raised a thick dark brow, forehead crinkling.

The younger man barked a lifeless laugh, “I wish,” then he lifted his hand and waved his brother off, “it doesn’t matter. Call for the pizza, I’m starved.”

Bash shrugged, “Whatever you say, Blythe.”

Winifred Rose, to put it lightly, had broken Gilbert’s heart.

They’d cut things off only a few weeks ago, right before school had started again. It had been a long time coming, her being in the grade above him and all. She’d graduated the previous year and had planned on going to nursing school in the next town over.

At first she’d been adamant on still wanting to be with Gilbert. Promising that being in college wouldn’t change how she felt about him. And it was fine for a bit. Great even. Couples dated while one was in college all the time. But the closer they’d gotten to the fall semester starting... the further she’d been pulling from him.

And one accidental uncovered text message later, he’d found out exactly why that had been the case. She’d been fooling around with a college sophomore.

Suffice to say he’d cut that shit off right then and there. And she hadn’t stop pestering about a second chance with him since.

At least he no longer had to see her at Dr. Wards office. She’d been interning with the family physician alongside him, but the nursing program for her college courses had been far too demanding to stay on.

The moment his phone blinked to life in his clutch, it began buzzing like crazy. A lump gathered in his throat as his eyes skimmed the various messages and twitter notifications.

Gossip certainly spread fast in Avonlea.

Moody (7:05 pm): dude

Moody (7:05 pm): did i just hear that you and anne kissed outside of red bird

Moody (7:06 pm): holy SHIT

Winnie (6:32 pm): you can’t ignore me forever gilbert... will you please just talk to me?

Winnie (7:09 pm): why am i seeing that you kissed another girl all over your twitter mentions

His jaw clenched. Maybe he’d undersold just how desperate Winifred was being... She’d texted him every day without fail. Making excuse after excuse as to why she’d done what she had. That it didn’t change how she felt about him. That she loved him.

It had only pushed him further away.

After sending a quick and elusive reply to his classmate and friend Moody Spurgeon, he clicked open the thread of messages from Winnie. His fingers hovered over the keyboard.

It had been weeks since he’d replied to her. Was he really going to risk interaction just because of a petty accusation? She certainly didn’t deserve any sort of explanation from him. Especially not about being seen kissing another girl. Not after what he’d found in her phone.

But maybe... a small part of him was still hurt enough to rub the kiss in her face. To subject her to the pain he’d gone through. Did that make him a bad guy? Did he care?

He dropped the phone onto the desk and raked a frustrated hand through his mess of curls. He did care. And he knew it wouldn’t be right.

Sometimes he really did hate having a self-conscience. Sometimes... he wished just once in his life he could be sporadic. Free. Make decisions without mulling over them endlessly beforehand.

Kiss somebody without warrant.

He groaned inwardly as he made his way over to the couch and flopped down face first into the mess of plush pillows. His arm dangled off the side and feet over the armrest.

And there he was. Back to square one. Thinking of Anne and how she’d left him there. Breathless and confused and covering it all up with a smirk. Having to confront the boy behind him that she’d left staring.

It had been ridiculously comical when he’d turned to see who it was she was hiding from. He vaguely recognized him from the hallways of Avonlea High, though he’d only begun seeing him around fairly recently. And by the jealousy that had been written all over his face, he obviously hadn’t been around enough to know that Anne and Gilbert would be the very last two people to ever expect kissing each other.

Whatever that boy had done to cause - no force - Anne to kiss Gilbert... Well, it had to be bad. He hadn’t even minded that she’d used him as a way to avoid the boy. Figured it was definitely for good reason. So when he’d opened his mouth to make a remark, Gilbert had merely gave him a thin lipped smile and a nod of his head. Brushing past him and maybe hitting him with his shoulder a little harder than necessary as he did so.

A ding sounded from where his phone lay on the desk, signifying yet another incoming message. At the very same moment, the sound of Bash’s footsteps could be heard as he crossed through the kitchen door. Gilbert tensed momentarily, and then rushed to sit up.

But it was too late, Bash was leaning over and reading the message on the screen.

His eyebrows shot straight up as he glanced over to where Gilbert peered at him over the back of the couch. The smile on his face was one that surely meant trouble.

Gilbert jumped off of the couch and scrambled back over to the desk, not meeting Bash’s eyes as he snatched it out of his line of sight.

“I’m sorry, did I just read a message saying you were seen kissing somebody?”

Another incoming message chimed, and Gilbert’s hand clenched on the phone. This damned town. You’d think they had nothing better to do than to go spouting every detail that seemed to be out of the ordinary for the entire world to hear.

Gilbert shook his head exasperatedly at Bash’s coy expression, “It’s none of your business.”

“Come on! Eleven years I’ve been in this blasted town and nothin’ interestin’ ever happens. Give your brother a break and tell him the gossip will ya?”

Gilbert released a small bout of surprised laughter, “Not a chance.”

Bash narrowed his eyes at him but turned away instead of questioning him further. As he walked back into the kitchen, he grumbled under his breath.

“Worked my ass off with crazy teenagers every day as a CPS worker just ta’ come back home and deal with another one and he ain’t even got the decency to share the town’s gossip. I swear...”

“I can hear you!” Gilbert called after him, shaking his head in amusion. Bash had a dramatic flare that rivaled that of Anne’s.

Dear god stop thinking about her.

“Wasn’t tryna’ to be quiet!” Bash called back as he crossed through the kitchen and into the dining room, “And you’re answering the door when the pizza arrives. I paid for it!”

Gilbert rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

When he pulled his phone from behind his back to check the messages, the smile dropped from his mouth. One was a reply from Moody, but the other was from Winifred.

Winnie (7:42 pm): is she your girlfriend?

Before he could stop himself, he’d typed out an answer and hit send.

Gilbert (7:46 pm): would it even make a difference

Her response was immediate. And brought a frown to Gilbert’s face.

Winnie (7:46 pm): is that what it takes for you to answer then?

Winnie (7:46 pm): wait forget i said that. i’m glad you did.

Winnie (7:46 pm): and in answer to your question... yes. it would for me.

He hesitated a moment before replying again.

Gilbert (7:47 pm): and what if i said that she is my girlfriend

The typing bubble appeared. Stayed there for a few seconds.

Winnie (7:48 pm): then i would respect that

Gilbert dropped his phone down onto the desk in surprise. Three weeks. Three weeks had she been messaging him nonstop. And this was all it took for her to take a step back?

He didn’t know if he wanted to release a cry of excitement and relief or if he wanted to curl into a ball in the face of the possibility of things actually being a hundred percent over with the girl he’d dated for a full year.

She cheated on you. It doesn’t matter if it was just a fling or not, it still hurt.

His phone dinged again.

Winnie (7:51 pm): so?

Winnie (7:52 pm): is she your girlfriend or not gilbert. stop messing with me

He hastily typed out his reply. But his eyes widened as his thumb hovered over the send button.

Oh, Anne would absolutely murder him. An actual verbal massacre would take place in front of god and everybody.

But... she’d also been the one to kiss him. She’d been the one to need an escape from another boy. This couldn’t be that big of a step up right? Maybe... maybe they could use each other. Team up to get the respective unwanted attention off of their backs.

Besides... Green Gables wasn’t too far from his house. Just a mile or so. He could always stop by in the morning before school, explain the situation, and then take the beating while fewer witnesses were around.

It wasn’t as if he couldn’t hold his own against her anyway. And what had he said about wanting to be more spontaneous?

With the ghost of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, his thumb made the final movement to hit send.

Gilbert (7:52 pm): yes. she’s my girlfriend

+ + +

“Why, Gilbert Blythe! It’s been a long time. What brings you here so early in the morning?”

When the elder woman had opened the front door of her house to find Gilbert standing there, arms nervously crossed behind his back, the surprised smile that had broken across her face was radiant.

“Hello Miss Cuthbert,” Gilbert greeted politely. His hands were ringing themselves, fidgeting where he’d hidden them from her sight, “Sorry to intrude-“

“Oh nonsense, young man. It’s always a pleasure to see an old friendly face,” Marilla interrupted him, “Please. Come in. I have a fresh batch of plum puffs I made just last night.”

He made to interject- to say he only needed to be there a few moments so that he may speak with her daughter- but the older woman was far stronger than she looked. And she’d yanked him in and shut the door behind him before he knew it.

He ran a hand through his mess of curls awkwardly and shifted his weight from one foot the other.

“Miss Cuthbert,” he began as he watched her flit about the tiny area. She’d grabbed a plate from the kitchen and a pan of pastries from a bar just inside the dining room, her long shawl unraveling from around her shoulders in her haste, “I came here so that I might possibly speak with Anne before we head to school?”

Marilla paused in her escapade, glancing over at where Gilbert stood in the doorway, “Yes of course. I believe she’s still in her bedroom getting ready,” she pointed toward a hallway that was just through the dining room entryway and across the living room, “the very last door.”

Gilbert nodded politely, already beginning to move in the direction she’d pointed, “Thank you Miss Cuthbert. This should only take a moment. I’ll grab one of your plum puffs on my way out if that’s alright.”

“Yes yes, of course. And for heaven’s sake child. You’ve known Matthew and I nearly your entire life. Call me Marilla.”

He flashed her a charming smile just as he was about to disappear into the hallway leading to Anne’s bedroom, “Marilla,” he echoed.

When he reached Anne’s door, he hesitated. He could hear the faint sound of music playing from a phone speaker and her quiet voice happily humming along. And from the looks of how the shadow he could see through the crack in the door was swaying around, she was dancing.

A quiet smile graced his lips before he lightly rapped his knuckles against the worn wood.

The humming stopped and the music paused. When he heard her moving toward the door, he took a slight step backward, “I’m almost ready Marilla. I’ll be out for breakfast in just a-“

The moment the door was open and her gray eyes met his, she stopped abruptly. Mouth snapping shut and face turning the same fiery red as the hair on top of her head.

Her eyes promised his death.

Gilbert grinned at her, “What’s up, Carrots?”

The next thing he knew, her hand was on his arm and he was being jerked into her bedroom.

He found himself intrigued as he glanced around. It was a cute little area with a twin bed in the middle, a vanity along the side wall, and several pieces of art framed and hung all around. No doubt drawn by her friend Cole.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she seethed, pulling his roaming gaze away from the small space.

“You Cuthbert ladies sure have a thing for yanking people into rooms,” he replied cheekily, ignoring the acidic tone in the red-heads voice.

He studied her a moment. Her hands balled into fists at her sides and an angry flush coloring clear down into the neck of her pretty floral patterned dress. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, framing her freckled face.

She was as beautiful as always. As fierce as ever.

And her blue eyes blazed with the same hatred for him that he always knew he could find there.

In the face of it, he couldn’t help when his smile widened crookedly.

She took a deep breath. As if trying to calm herself, “Listen if you came here about what happened yesterday, I-“

“It’s not about that,” he cut her off, “Okay- well yeah. It is. But I highly doubt I’ll be saying anything you expect.”

A repulsed expression marred her pretty features, “I hope you don’t suddenly think I’m going to do it again.”

A small burst of laughter escaped from him, “Trust me. Neither of us want that.”

Liar liar, he thought. Gilbert hadn’t been able to get the feel of her soft lips out of his head from the moment it happened. But he didn’t even want to admit that to himself let alone to her.

Her lips thinned. “What do you want?” she asked warily.

He leaned back casually against her closed bedroom door and stuffed his hands into his pockets, “Who was that boy you were hiding from yesterday?”

Her eyes narrowed, “Diana will be here in twenty minutes to pick me up and Marilla will have my head if I don’t eat breakfast with her and Matthew before I leave so if all you came here to do was interrogate me about-“

“Carrots relax.”

“Stop calling me that!” she snapped shrilly.

He pulled his hands from his pockets and held them up in defense. “Alright alright, I’m sorry,” he said, “There’s a point to me asking this. I promise.”

Anne released a huff. Crossed her arms and jutted her hip out to the side.

“Forgive me if I don’t take any of your promises to heart,” she retorted indignantly.

“Fair enough,” he replied, “But humor me. Please.”

At the last word, he’d looked up at her from his relaxed position on the door through his dark eyelashes. It was a move he knew worked on nearly every female in Avonlea. Except for Anne. The first time he’d tried it on her back when they’d met, he’d been awarded with a very hard textbook to the face. It was the first time it hadn’t worked. Hadn’t charmed the girl into a fit of embarrassed giggles or brought a pink flush to her cheeks.

He did it now adays just to see Anne’s scowl deepen. Apparently he’d grown a liking to flirting with death.

She rolled her eyes at him. Making a small noise of disgust that allowed for an amused smile to play on Gilbert’s lips.

“Fine. Whatever,” she started, “The guy was Royal Gardner. He’s Diana’s cousin. You probably noticed he just started at Avonlea High? He’s in the same grade as us and an absolute pain in my ass.”

Gilbert cocked an eyebrow, “I thought I was the only pain in your ass.”

“Don’t be vain. A lot of boys are pains in my ass.”

His lips twitched. “Is that so?” he asked before he could stop himself.

The punch she threw at his arm was very well deserved.

“You have a death wish Gilbert Blythe. I swear you do.”

Gilbert snorted. It was a bit of an understatement, if you asked him. He sort of felt like he’d traipsed right into a lion’s den.

He cleared his throat, “So if so many boys are already a pain in your ass... Why was this one a cause for you to kiss me?”

Anne looked down shyly. And if Gilbert hadn’t known any better, he might have said that the slight pink that colored her cheeks was from embarrassment and not anger.

It was gone in a flash though. She straightened. Head held high and stormy eyes meeting his in defiance.

“He’d asked me out the day before. Wouldn’t take no for an answer,” she glanced away from him, “I uh, had to tell him I was seeing somebody in order to get him to leave me alone. I wasn’t expecting to see him at Red Bird. And you were there... so I panicked. Seized the opportunity that had revealed itself.”

Gilbert nodded thoughtfully, fighting to hide the smirk that threatened his lips. So, this Royal guy thought he might be dating Anne? The situation was far more perfect than he’d originally thought.

“I was a pawn,” he replied casually.

Anne rolled her eyes at him. Probably for the millionth time in the span of the five minutes they’d been talking.

“You-“

He pushed on, “Do you remember Winnie?”

Her eyebrows scrunched together, “Your ex-girlfriend? What about her.”

Gilbert paused a moment, steeling himself. When the girl across from him placed a hand on her hip and raised an annoyed eyebrow, he released a breath.

“She maybe, sort of, thinks that we’re dating too. As well. Like- uh. Yeah.”

Anne swore quietly and looked down at her hands where they were fisted in the loose skirt of her dress.

“Why would she possibly think that?”

“Anne. You kissed me. In public. You know how this town is... I’m sure everybody thinks we’re together now.”

She harrumphed at that, and Gilbert couldn’t help but find it a little bit adorable.

Her eyes met his again, “It’s 2019, a kiss does not insinuate dating.”

Gilbert took a single step closer to her and was relieved to find that she didn’t back up. “Did you miss the part where we live in a small town in rural Maine or...”

“That doesn’t mean-“

“What if we let them think it.”

A surprised laugh burst from Anne as soon as the words had left his mouth. But when she looked at him again and saw that he hadn’t been joking, the smile dropped from her face.

“Wait you’re being serious?” she asked.

Gilbert swallowed. Nodded.

She began to shake her head furiously, “No way. No fucking way. I don’t even like you! You don’t like me!”

She stepped away from him and started to frantically tidy up the space around her as if to busy herself. She scrambled to her bed and grabbed the blankets there to fold across the mattress. She fluffed her pillow unnecessarily, causing Gilbert’s lip to twitch in amusement as she watched.

Anne’s voice was an octave higher than normal as she continued to rant and busy herself with the sheets of her bed.

Gilbert stepped forward, not even trying to hide the amusement that was sure to be written all across his face.

“Anne,” he said, “Anne calm down a second and listen to me, will you?”

She spun on her heal to face him, eyes bright with a mixture of panic and anger. Hands clutching viciously to the throw blanket in her grasp.

“Do not tell me to calm down Gilbert Blythe,” she snapped at him. There it was, the knife to his throat, “You come here to- to suggest what? That we suddenly start dating? I can’t even- We never- I can barely stand to be around you, let alone-“

It was a good thing the knife had never intimidated him before. And it certainly wasn’t now.

“We wouldn’t really be dating, Anne.” He interrupted her with a laugh.

She blinked, “What the hell are you talking about?”

He walked up to her slowly. Grabbed the blanket that dangled from her hands and then set it on her bed. Their bodies were inches apart and it was as if he could feel her there. Feel the heat radiating off of her.

He met her harsh gaze, “What if we just made everybody think we were dating. What if we made Royal think we were dating.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and straightened her stance. But she didn’t back away. Didn’t take a step back like he would have expected her to.

“What’s in it for you?” she asked, voice laced with poison and skepticism.

He shrugged, “I’ve needed Winifred to get off my back for a while. Call it an even exchange.”

“Nobody will believe it. We’ve been at each other’s throats since we met.”

On the contrary, she’d been at his throat. He didn’t have a doubt in his mind that they’d be perfect friends if only she’d let him in instead of wielding her words against him like a mighty sword.

He leaned in a fraction, relishing in the way he heard her breath catch in her throat, “They’ll believe what we make them believe.”

She bit her lip, eyes expressing clear contemplation in the swirling grays and blues of her irises. But then she stiffened, and the shutters slammed shut against him. She moved forward, pushing past and around. Causing him to stumble backward slightly despite her small frame.

He turned to find her paused in front of the doorway with her back to him, fists clenched at her sides and back stiff straight.

“No.” Her voice was flat.

He took a step toward her, “Anne-“

“I said no. It’s a stupid idea,” she placed her hand on the doorknob and twisted. Pulled it open and then stepped aside to make way for him to pass through. She looked over at the place where he stood, a solid resolve in her eyes. “I think you should leave. Diana will be here any minute and now I have to rush my breakfast.”

Gilbert deflated. He was disappointed, but he wouldn’t force her to do something she didn’t want to. Still, he’d already told Winnie... Been so determined he’d be able to convince Anne to take part in his plan.

As he walked through her doorway and past her, he paused a moment. Leaned down slightly so that their faces were closer together.

“Just a few months. We get Royal and Winnie off our backs. And then we never have to deal with each other outside of class again,” he said quietly. He could see his breath move the auburn locks against her face. His eyes flit to lock with hers, “Think about it.”

When her lips thinned and she refused to respond, Gilbert gave a curt nod. Then walked down the hallway, out into the living room and back into the kitchen.

He quickly brandished a wide smile and farewell to Marilla as he grabbed one of her pastries and left through the door. All the while knowing Anne watched through the window as he climbed into his car and backed out of the Cuthbert’s long driveway.

The entire way to Avonlea High, a smile curved at his lips.

#shirbert #anne with an e #awae #shirbert fanfiction #shirbert fanfic #my writing

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serendipitioussurvival · 5 years

Text

This little Alpha of Mine

Another Steter au.. thing. enjoy~

Fem!Stiles/Peter Hale, Werecreature!Stiles

Half the population of Beacon Hills was overwhelmed with horror and pity when the Beacon County Sherrif’s office posted the missing person notice of one Maczysz ‘Max’ Stilinski. Her vehicle had been found in the parking lot of the Preserve lake with busted windows and blood coating the door and seats. Of course, the public didn’t know about the blood, Hale Pack had cleaned it up for John so there wouldn’t be any questions about why it looked more like a crime scene instead of a case of abduction.

That isn’t to say that Hale pack was completely calm, either. All eight of them, plus a young Scott McCall, his mother, and Jeorek ‘John’ Stilinski were hit with multiple levels of frustration and worry that only grew to be more so with the more time that passed. The few tips the police department did get proved to be mostly duds and, after a week of her being gone with no credible lead, her case went cold. The deputies and police still looked for her, of course, they just weren’t expecting to find her alive.

The pitying looks John got from work almost drove him to drink again, the knowledge that his daughter would come back from the grave just to kick his ass if he ever picked up the bottle again was the only thing that kept him from going back down that path. Scott, who had gotten into fights regularily when people said they were sorry for his loss, refused to believe that she was dead, never stopped looking. Hale Pack, too, had his back with this assessment, especially when Peter told them that they would be able to feel it if she were dead, through their pack bonds.

It had also caused a burning shame at the realization that only Scott, Isaac, Vernon, and Peter had pack bonds with the eccentric Stilinski. It had caused a rift in the pack for a few days before everyone swore to be better when they found her.

Sometimes that vow was what kept them all together.

It was only because of the wards Max had put up around the old Hale house that he had been able to dodge the attack from Ennis, giving him just enough time for the rage and fury that had been bubbling under his skin for the past month of her disappearance to come to the surface in a vicious arch of claws that easily gouged out the tissue and muscle of his right shoulder, rendering it obsolete - at least for a few moments.

They fought and fought until Ennis had his claws at Peter’s throat, sneering down at him in victory.

The next instant he was on the ground screaming in fury and pain as a Fox / Coyote hybrid tore at the back of his neck with its teeth, platinum coat with russet furs scattered like a blush on its forehead and spine and black patches on its ears and in the center of its tail. It growled and gnawed until his spinal cord snapped and his screams had long since died, it continued after for good measure until his head was completely removed from his body. A fitting slow death for the murderous bastard if Peter did say so himself.

He did not move when it turned its blood coated maw to him, licking at its chops with lowered ears as if it didn’t approve of the taste. Well, that bode(bade?) well for him, didn’t it?

Or so he thought until the hybrid approached him and gave a long lick to one of the healing wounds on his arm. He seized when an accompanying growl came from the door, a Coyote flashing brilliant blues in warning, jerking back only when his flashed back.

“How incredibly unhygienic,” he mused, brow-raising when she huffed in amusement and licked at another one of his wounds across his chest, speeding the healing of his wounds. “And who is the Princess Charming to my oh so elegant Damsel in distress?” a low whine that time, accompanied by her ears pricking up at the various footsteps rushing towards them (from yards away but that only secured his theory further). She gave a single growl like yip at the Coyote at the door, nuzzled her nose against Peter’s neck, and promptly left out the back with her Coyote friend in tow.

Something that interested him considering Fox’s weren’t pack animals. If she truly was a hybrid werefox/coyote then it would make sense as to why she was accompanied by a werecoyote, they tended to hunt in pairs and stay in family groups. She had understood him too and then scented him in a very intimate way. Regardless, she had saved his life - Max would’ve killed him if he died before finding her - and had lowered the threat of the Alpha pack that had made its way to Beacon Hills.

He wasn’t expecting to see her again, but he did.

Right as the second month passed after Max had gone missing Isaac and Scott had the great idea of forcing the Werecoyote to shift, thinking her a Malia Tate who had gone missing when she was eight or so with her little sister. He had found out too late, and thus was coming onto the scene of Isaac and the hybrid staring at one another, hunkered to the ground as if she were afraid with shrill whines leaving her maw. When Scott’s roar sounded through the forest her Alpha red’s flashed and a shrill howl left her. It wasn’t in challenge, it wasn’t even in answer, no it was released in grief at the loss of a pack member.

“No, wait-!” he tried, but the moment he took a step forward she was bolting into the woods, disappearing just as a shirtless Scott cleared the tree lines, escorting a very unsteady teenage girl with his shirt on. Her nose rose in the air when the wind blew, whining low. “You’re an idiot,” Peter cursed Scott, then blinked when she rushed to him, stumbling slightly over her own feet, and buried her face into his bicep to try and smother herself in his scent. “You just broke a pack up, if you were going to do this to the one you should’ve done it to the other.” He didn’t bother to try and explain why she was relaxing at his smell - didn’t quite understand it either honestly - and didn’t even think when he wrapped his arm around her protectively.

He didn’t know who either of them was but they had saved his life and that was something he wouldn’t forget. Not when they could be potential pack members, not when something was nagging at the back of his head about both of them.

“The other one?” Scott questioned numbly, looking pained as the small victory was taken from him. “Isaac, what other one?”

“There was another one, Scott, an Alpha. It uh, it looked like a Fox, coyote, wolf thing.” he was rubbing at his chest with a frown. “I don’t know about this one man, Peter’s right. She sounded so… sad.” Malia whimpered when she looked over the forest line, then buried deeper when she couldn’t catch sight of her den mate.

When she was safely stowed away in the back of John’s police cruiser she immediately began trying to get to the picture of Max and John standing together smiling on his dash. Peter didn’t understand why until she began whimpering in earnest and trying to form words that she no longer remembered how to properly form. “Max,” it sounded like she was saying it around food in her mouth, but the name was there. “Maaaax.” her fingers wiggled through the little metal railings that separated the back and front of the police cruiser.

“Of course,” Peter hissed, drawing together the points and small observations he had made along with his theories. “Max!” and then he was shedding his clothes and launching into the air, shifting so that he could chase after her faster than his two legs would carry him. He searched all night and all the next day but found no trace of her. The pack even joined him the next night, Derek having ‘appropriated’ the memory Malia had of Max. Derek actually trusted his uncle to view the memories he had seen, especially since it had to deal with Max.

Turns out Malia had watched her face off against Kali - the one who had drug Max (she had a lot of cuts and smelled mostly of ozone and blood) through her window and presumably broke the others - and use her Spark to send rose vines through her Silent Hill style before, at last, it decapitated her and drug her body to the earth to serve as food for the Nemeton. Malia had padded forward to initially eat Max but had been surprised by the way she faltered against the ground, clutching at her abdomen with red-stained skin, a fresh bite in plain view on her forearm. She was rapidly smelling like not food and more like her kind, so she waited.

Max had greeted the Werecoyote as her skin began to flush with fever. She told her briefly her name and how, if she were lucky, the bite would take and she’d get to be actual pack and wouldn’t die. Malia hadn’t understood, but Peter did, and so did Derek when he viewed the memory. It was their first clue in a long ass time-

It did nothing to alleviate the frustration, it only added to it actually. How could they not have thought that she would’ve been targeted by the Alpha pack, how could they not have assumed or thought about the fact that she could've been bitten or turned?

No, they didn’t see Max until she was saving Scott from the Darach who had tried to lunge at the newly appointed ‘True Alpha’, maw locked around her throat while her claws dug at her chest, trying for her heart. Deucalion and Peter were grateful for her savagery, were impressed by it, but Scott and Derek were too focused on the fact that she smelled like fury and grief. They were too focused that this was Max, that this was the smiling girl who was always cooking or baking for them, that was always comforting Erica and Vernon through their traumatic memories. This was the woman who was always scenting them, the one who had been the glue keeping them all together.

“Max,” Peter breathed, chest rumbling comfortingly when she rubbed her head against his neck, ears and tail hanging low with her building nerves.

“It seems,” Deucalion drawled as he crouched over the dead Darach, “that your friend is stuck in her shift.” he shoved his hand into the ragged flesh and tendon that Max had made of the Darach’s chest and ripped out her heart, then without so much as a secondary glance at the body, rolled the heart to the Hybrid. “If you eat that it will re-balance your energies and you’ll shift back.”

“I could just force her shift, I’ve done it before.” Scott protested, not trusting the Alpha of Alpha’s. Peter dug his hand into the fur of her flank and soothed her pitched growls. If Peter was surprised when she actually shifted to lean more into him then he didn’t show it outwardly, no he was focusing mainly on the fact that her pack bond came into full strength when she did.

“It won’t work on Max like it did with Malia,” Peter told him, kneeling so that he was at eye level with her. “She shifted as she was dying, the last of her Spark most likely is the reason she even turned.” he picked up the heart and stilled Max when she took a threatening step forward at Scott when he growled at Peter. “It’s okay,” he soothed, taking the fact that Scott had actually retreated with a groan when her amber red/orange Alpha eyes flashed at him. “Max, eat this, okay?”

It was only because it was him who had offered the heart to her that she was eating it, he knew this and it filled him with equal parts joy and smug arrogance. He was shrugging off his jacket and scarf the moment she finished eating, readying for when she shifted back and her inevitable nakedness.

“Was it under your orders that Kali attacked Max?” If his answer was yes then Peter would kill him himself.

“No,” a truth, “Kali regularly acted on her own, it does not surprise me that she met her end from one of her victims.” another truth, Scott flinched away.

“She killed Kali?” it was said in pain and hurt - as if she had done so to personally slight the teenager.

“Out of self-defense you idiot,” Peter hissed, eyes never leaving Max as she began scratching at her ears, whining low in her throat. “considering that she would’ve died if she were a human, I’d say it was completely justifiable. She killed Ennis too, saving my life, and that bitch over there saving your life.”

“Then I’ve been trying to recruit the wrong wolves.” Deucalion murmured, sitting down with a heavy sigh so as to accept whatever fate befell him now. Honestly… he was ready for death, he had his sight back and with the death of his pack - whose bonds he couldn’t even feel them die through - his anger was dimmed. He no longer had a purpose, no longer had a plan. If he were being completely honest he was relieved.

He joined them as they watched the hybrid shake and cry, lowering itself fully onto the floor with her body pressed as tight against Peter’s as she could get it. He was stunned when platinum fur receded into fair human skin dotted with moles and freckles like constellations. She was lanky, maybe five foot six at most, and had hair that reminded him of sunlight and laughter in a meadow that dropped to the middle of her back. She couldn’t be any older than eighteen,

“Peter?” It was guttural and high pitched and it was perfect. Her hands shook when they reached for his face, trembling even when her fingertips ghosted over his scruff. She was naked and lying half on top of his lap but she was back, her whine and relief hit him full force when he sank his cheek into her palm, jacket covering up her naked skin from their prying eyes. “Peter!” and then she was launching into him, limbs at awkward angles as they scrambled to try and find purchase so she could press completely into him. “PeterPeterPeter.” she whined, burying her nose into his neck to drown herself in his scent.

“I’ve got you, Max, I’m here.” he soothed, hefting her into his arms and against his chest to soothe both of them. He had gone so long without her that he had forgotten what it felt like to have her, forgotten her scent of Sandalwood and ozone, forgotten how her touch always sent warmth straight to his heart and relaxed him in ways he never thought possible. “I’m here.” he wasn’t going to let her go again, not after having lost her.

#Steter #Teen Wolf #female stiles #Stiles is female #Stiles is called Max #maczyszstilinski #Female Stiles name is Maczysz #Werecreature #creaturestiles #creature stiles #mature theme #brief nudity #implied nudity #honestly these are just story bits I've never really furthered #aha

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 5 years

Text

Movie Night (ft. Cas's t-shirt)

THANK YOU for the ask, Dear Anon! I'm very flattered that you enjoyed the last one, and hope this meets your expectations! I WISH I could tag you in this, but you're on anon so.. Anyways, I went for Tuesday movie night idea, and clubbed it with a 'cute t-shirt prompt' I received and it got long AF but please leave a comment if you read and like!

"Ahh," Dean let out a perfect sound of exhaustion meeting the plush comfort of his couch. "It's finally Tuesday."

Sam snorted from the side, because his relationship with tuesdays had been kind of a love-hate. Not that Dean ever took him seriously - he doesn't blame his brother, really, because he wouldn't believe Dean either if he told him 'a piano crushed you to death' or any of those other ridiculous ways in which he'd died.

"If you like movie nights that much," Jack added, from the side - he was settled in one of the big chairs, looking more like a kid than he usually did. "Why don't we watch movies on other nights, too?"

Sam leaped to answer, ever ready to squeeze in a lesson for the nephilim. Good values needed to be a part of the upbringing. Children need to be taught by example. "There's an analogy we can use for this, Jack. Say, uh, Dean loves his birthday very much." Dean frowned at his brother. "Because of the pie, and the gifts, and all the beer." Dean shrugged. "So, he wishes on his birthday candles that everyday be his birthday!" Sam paused, and Dean wondered why he spoke as if he was talking to a kid, and not the strongest 2-year-old ever. "But, what happens then, is that he keeps growing a year older on each birthday - that is, everyday!"

Jack looked alarmed. "That's - bad."

"Yeah, because then I'd grow to be 60 in like a month and die." Dean added, in a deadpan.

"It won't take you thirty years to get to sixty." Sam reminded him.

"Shut up, Sam." Dean scowled and turned back to Jack. "Listen, kid, this isn't about all the good movies in the world getting finished too soon, if we watch 'em everyday. It's more about the attitude."

Jack nodded.

"Like, uh," Dean swallowed. "Like our dad always taught me and Sammy, hunters need to live a disciplined life. Can't just start watching a movie whenever, because that'll make your head feel like you're giving it permission to do crap, just like that, without a routine. That's never good for a hunter - even less so, he'd say, for the sons of an ex-Marine. Messes your head up, and takes away your ability to fixate on your decisions." Dean paused. "It's not like I've not watched movies on a Saturday because I wanted to, but the old man made sense - it's just, a routine is better to stick to."

"That sounds like a horrible amount of behavioral psychology to associate to an activity as trivial as watching a movie." Came a new voice, as Cas stood in the doorframe, his head just slightly tilted as his eyes looked straight at Dean.

Dean's exhale was caught in his lungs, and he blinked, staring at Cas with a chest full of air, and still feeling like he'd sink instead of buoyant. Cas was no longer in the trenchcoat and pants - he wore grey pyjamas which fit snug over his thighs, and a t-shirt which had to be new, because holy fucking shit.

He'd have noticed the angel walking around their bunker, wearing a black AC/DC shirt like that - simple, to someone else, perhaps - yet the way it fit over his biceps, widened his shoulders a bit more, and gave an elevated look to his chest because of the smooth descent to a toned abdomen - rendered Dean incapable of looking away. Complete with his hair sticking up at odd angles, hints of a stubble and inspecting eyes focussed on Dean, he looked like the stuff of Dean's (guilty, oh so guilty) dreams.

"H-hey, Cas." Dean cleared his throat, shifting on the larger couch to make space for him. He waved his hand dismissively to disregard all that he'd just said. "Forget about that, it was crap - come sit down." He suggested, breathlessly.

"Look who finally joined us," Sam addressed, in a normal voice and not even bothering to look up again - making Dean wonder why he didn't get all caught up in Cas's t-shirt, like Dean just had. He was unfairly attractive - but not just to Dean, right?

"I'm sorry," Cas replied, as he sat down next to Dean. Not a single part of them touched, since they were on opposite edges of a large couch Dean originally got for Sam and him - but there was still a tingling under Dean's skin, which had to be Cas's fault. "I couldn't find any socks." He turned to Dean, suddenly smiled, and tugged his pyjama up a little to show him the socks he wore. A pair of fucking novelty socks, they were - but Dean found himself grinning mindlessly, as Cas crossed his legs under him, and the visual was taken away from him.

"Of course, you couldn't." Sam inputted. "Dean hasn't been doing the laundry lately."

"Why am I the only one supposed to do it?" Dean threw back, and Sam didn't say anything to it.

"Nevermind." Cas declared. "I found socks, unwashed though they may be. Let us start." He referred to the movie.

Jack had fell silent for a moment, and he spoke up again. "Yeah! What are we watching today?"

At the same time that Sam opened his mouth - probably to drag Dean on how they better not watch something they'd just watched - Dean spoke up. "We're watching The Fellowship of The Ring, today."

"We just watched that on literally the third Tuesday of March -" Sam complained.

"Listen." Dean threw back. "Don't shove your crazy awesome memory with movies and dates, in my face - 'cause my brain forgot the movie already."

"Forgot? You probably can quote it line by line, Dean." Sam frowned. "But I guess you're not satisfied until you flawlessly recite it in your sleep, like Lost Boys."

Dean flashed his best shit-eating grin, and if that's what he was gonna do, he wasn't gonna agree with Sam. "Well, it's what we're watching, Sammy. Deal with it."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "What about Jack? Or Cas? Why don't you ask them if they want to watch Lord of the Rings again?"

"I do." Jack announced, brightly. "I like Frodo and Samwise Gamgee." Sam rolled his eyes. "But, I could also watch something else. I trust Sam's recommendations, after Harry Potter." He added, faithfully.

"Careful, buddy, Sammy's raising your son to be a nerd." Dean muttered to Cas, and he nodded, as if it was a line that needed to be answered with a nod.

Sam grinned like it was victory handed to him on a platter. "He said he could watch something else, Dean."

"What about Cas?" Dean turned to him, rotating in his seat. "Whadd'ya wanna watch, buddy?"

Cas pursed his lips, as if in deep thought. The deciding element. The one who'd tip the scales in the favor of one of the Winchesters.

"It's not Sophie's Choice," Sam grumbled sourly, as if he already knew what Cas would choose.

"Let him think!" Dean shushed his brother.

"I have reached a decision." Cas informed everyone, looking solemnly at the TV, instead of their faces. "We shall watch The Fellowship Of The Ring, tonight." He turned to Sam. "And if there's no hunts and we're at the bunker tomorrow too, Sam's choice shall prevail - that is, if Dean agrees to go against John's sayings and watch a movie on a Wednesday."

"That's fair." Jack grinned.

Dean beamed at Cas, with his little smile and his goddamn t-shirt, which was gonna drive Dean crazy in due time, he was sure. "See, Sam?" He ignored the comment on his father, because it was rare stilted humor, and in a perfect deadpan.

Sam muttered something under his breath which sounded a little bit like 'profound bond' for some reason, and rolled his eyes in defeated agreement, as Dean began to look for the movie.

"Whatever," Sam substituted, not looking up from his phone as the opening credits began to play. "The three of you can rewatch the entire LOTR series if you want, I'll just leave you to it." He shrugged.

"Hey!" Dean was annoyed. This was family movie night. Sam was supposed to be a part of it too. "Lord of the Rings is right up your alley, nerd. Why're you bitch-facing so hard tonight?"

"Well," Sam chewed on his lip. "It's very long, and I wanted to get to bed for an early night."

Dean narrowed his eyes, and hit pause on the remote just as the elves began to narrate. "Why?"

"No reason." Sam stalled. There was an almost familiar edge to his voice and -

Suddenly, it all made sense to Dean. The dots connected in his head, and Sam's reluctance to watch a three hours long movie was suddenly reasoned.

"Why, Sam?" Cas repeated, intrigued. "Are you alright? Do you not feel well?"

"He feels fine. I know," Dean cut in. "He's got a date." Sam's eyes widened before he vigorously shook his head in denial. "Some virtual crap, I bet, because you don't like to get laid, and an actual date may've involved that - but whatever is your idea of a fun time, hey, I'm not judging."

"It's not a date!" He declared.

"Then it's something like it." Dean shrugged, getting surer, with Sam's panicked expression. He knew his brother well enough to read through this cover. "Tell me Sammy, is this a video call with some chick you met online on those awful sites?"

"Dude, no." Sam balked. "I'm on no such awful site to meet chicks."

"Sure, you're not." Dean narrowed his eyes. "Then, who? Because clearly I'm right about the rest of it."

"It's," Sam looked like he didn't wanna continue, would like nothing better than to not finish the sentence. But with Cas joining in on the stare, he let out a subdued, "Uh, Rowena."

There was a stillness in the room. Dean and Cas slowly exchanged a look, and Sam flushed. "Who?"

"We know her, Dean!" Jack corrected, promptly.

"Not like Sam does," Dean shot at his brother, who looked flustered as crap, and it was all Dean had ever wanted from this conversation.

"Dean!" Sam looked grossed out, while it should've been them. He was the one dating a three hundred years old witch. "We're gonna discuss -"

"- if you're about to tell me you'll discuss a case, I swear to call you on your bullshit by calling Rowena right away." Dean challenged, definitely.

"I -" Sam pursed his lips. "I don't need to have this conversation with you, jerk."

"What about the rest of us?" Cas asked, and there was a smirk playing on his lips, which made him all the more attractive.

"None of you." Sam declared, standing up, looking offended. "You are literally infants! Don't breathe a word of this to anyone, Dean, or I'll - whatever, just watch your frigging movie, I'm out of here."

"If you're gonna do stuff, use headphones!" Dean waited until Sam was far enough to not hit Dean for it and yelled after him, as the latter marched out of the room, embarrassed. It was his duty as the older brother to make that happen, so no issues there. He turned back to Cas, grinning at him - and Jack, of course.

"The rest of us are here without the intention of leaving halfway to call a chick, right?" Dean asked, though it was a pretty stupid question for Jack - and if the answer were yes for Cas, he'd have a major-ass freak out right there.

"Right." Cas confirmed, for some reason; his voice rich and gravelly, and Dean's attention was once again taken by Cas's t-shirt - now that his kid brother was sufficiently out of the picture. True, Jack was still there, but that's a different issue. Dean had to hold a reputation in front of Sam, that he could control his senses in the presence of Cas, and that he could rein it in, and that he could do a lot of things which he was very far from, in reality.

"Me too." Jack announced, brightly, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Jack, you're two." Cas informed him, and Dean had to stifle a snort at the very notion. Nevertheless, he toned down the weird, made himself comfortable in the couch - maybe shifting a little towards the middle, and let out a small, content sigh, for the second time this evening.

He hit play.

“Why do we keep making the same mistake?” Dean groaned, his head falling back on the sofa. Once again, like every tuesday ever - they’d forgotten to get food before they sat to watch the movie. Now, around half an hour in, it was all Dean could think about. But getting up seemed like an awful chore.

Cas nodded his head in agreement, grave and earnest. “It’s because we don’t learn our lesson.”

“Dean, do you want to learn said lesson tonight, by not eating?” Jack asked.

“No.” Dean glared at him. “I may be around Mr. No-Food, and Little-to-no-food, but it isn’t wearing off on me.” They’d not paused the movie to have this discussion, so he kept his eyes on the screen as he spoke. “As a human, I have a few simple needs. Such as beer and something like popcorn to chew as I watch a classic with my - I mean, with you guys.”

“Okay." Cas shuffled in his seat, beginning to stand up. Dean frowned instantly, and pulled him down, gripping his wrist. Cas easily succumbed, and was back on the couch with a surprised little bounce - looking at Dean, confused. "What? I'll get you the beer and popcorn, so that you don't have to get up. I can obviously see you don't want to."

Aww, Dean's brain melted.

"Nope." He said, out loud, popping the 'p'. "You don't need to do that. I'll go."

"I volunteer, Dean. It's not about need," Cas protested. "And you enjoy this movie more than I do."

"Sure, but I've watched it a helluva lot more too." Dean raised his eyebrows, and Cas smiled a little, one of those smiles that he reserved for Dean, and made his insides flutter.

"We could just pause it." Jack suggested, not looking away from the TV yet, for the entirety of the conversation.

"No, you keep watching, there's no need," Dean excused, standing up himself, smiling in spite of himself. Cas looked at him, and not at the screen.

"Dean," And that wonderful voice of his swept over Dean's brain and made the puddle vaporize or some shit.

"Yeah, Cas?"

"I could keep telling you what's happening, while you're in the kitchen." Cas proposed, breaking into a wider smile, all crinkly and toothy.

"Aww, Cas," Dean couldn't stop himself in time, staring blindly at Cas's face and short-circuiting in his head. And instantly cleared his throat, and added in a more composed tone. "Okay, you do that. Thanks, I guess."

Dean wondered, as he walked into the kitchen and went looking for the bacon he'd made earlier, what was up with him tonight. He was usually able to hold his tongue in front of Cas - he was usually able to look away from him, even though it took some persuasion. But there was something today, that had taken away his brain-to-mouth-and-eyes filter.

Must be the new shirt.

Dean knocked, obnoxiously loud, at Sam's door before barging in with a plate of bacon and a beer. He saw Sam fast asleep, on his front, and did not know where to go with that, so he left the table at his bedside in case he was going to wake up and resume his midnight call or something.

Then he took the rest of the food and two beers and went back to the movie room.

All through his venture, Cas had kept yelling updates through the door. "Merry and Pippin just hugged Frodo!", "And now, Frodo just met Bilbo again!", "Arwen is speaking with Frodo now!" This had made Dean grin so hard, that he almost dropped the dishes. Damn, Cas was awesome.

As Dean handed him a beer, and put the plate of bacon between them on the couch, Cas whispered to him. "And Arwen just kissed Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

And Dean stared at Cas, his blue, blue eyes and his eyebrows pinched together in concentration, and his crinkled nose - and his goddamn voice, and his way of speaking, and how he just said the words 'Aragorn, son of Arathorn' like an entire fucking dork, and how adorable it was that he'd been doing a live-commentary for Dean, and just - he was almost overpowered by a desire to kiss the perfect little smile tugging at his lips, and palm the stubble-covered cheeks, and maybe, if Jack weren't here, pull that gorgeous fucking t-shirt over his head, because it was distracting.

Dean was instantly taken aback by his own stream of thoughts. He was clearly going crazy.

He could bet it was the fault of the shirt.

Okay, but at this moment, Dean needs the remote.

And it's not just because the remote is on the other side, next to Cas, and Dean's brain instantly launches into a scene in his head, when Dean asks for the remote and Cas is too comfortable (he's already holding onto a large cushion like it's a blanket) to move, and he tells Dean to take it himself - and then Dean will have to lean over Cas to get it, and there'll be a moment where he's almost on top of him, and they'll happen to look at each other, and Cas's eyes will flit down to Dean's lips as Dean adjusts himself to reach the remote, on Cas's lap, and maybe Cas says something like -

That's enough.

Dean doesn't need the remote so that something like that plays out in reality. He only needs the remote to lower the volume, because Jack is asleep and he'll wake up otherwise in the war scene and noise that'll follow.

But this way or that, he can see the said scene happening.

Maybe there's a part of him which wants it to happen exactly how it happened in his head.

Maybe it will.

So, with more energy than the sentence needed, he says, "Cas! I need the remote!"

And Cas turns his head to look at Dean, an incomprehensible expression.

But instead of saying a variation of, 'take it yourself' like he was really, really supposed to -

He picks up the remote with his left hand and hands it to Dean simply.

Dean stares at it for a moment, everything forgotten, especially the reason why he needed the remote in the first place. And then he kicks himself for being a goddamn teenage girl about this, and plays off the disappointment with a 'thank you' in the manliest voice he can conjure, and he's pretty sure it makes up for the kind-of-but-not-really pornography he'd been dreaming up. Sam's irritating voice nags in his head, you're confusing reality with porn again.

Of course, Dean is too lost thinking and staring at Cas sideways when he's sure Cas can't see him - to remember to lower the volume, and Jack wakes up with a jolt at the Uruk-Hai screeching at Gimli the dwarf.

Jack's going off to his room. The movie isn't finished yet, but he's been dosing off throughout and Dean can't tolerate the insult to the Classic, so he tells him to just go off to sleep. It's been a long day.

"Will you both watch it whole?" Jack asks groggily, before leaving and Dean looks enquiringly at Cas. He only has to turn his head a little, because Cas is much closer to him now. They've both gravitated towards the middle.

"Of course." Cas answers. "Unless Dean needs to sleep." Dean shakes his head confidently, and Jack nods.

"Okay, goodnight dads." He mutters, at least it sounds like it, and Dean would've lost it if Cas's slight weight leaning on his arm weren't grounding him to his current location instead of somewhere panicky in his head.

"Goodnight, Jack." Dean lets out, and he's aware it doesn't sound as constipated as he thought it would, and he's proud of it.

"Dean." Cas speaks up, a moment later. "I think we should turn off the lights."

"What?" Dean blinks, mildly.

"I know neither of us will want to get up later." Cas justifies. "So we might as well do it now."

"Can't you," Dean grumbles. "Can't you use your mojo to push the switch, or..?"

Cas sighs. Then blinks, and the entire room goes dark. Cas's eyes open, and they're gleaming like blue halos of light in the suddenly dark room - and Dean can still make out his face, in the light of it. It's all hard lines and small smiles, from the little he sees. "I need to remember I can do these things, don't I?" He mumbles.

"Yeah, our human incapabilities are wearing off on ya." Dean tells him and they start looking at the screen again.

"You're not incapable if you have to stand up to turn off the lights." Cas replies, and Dean just hums in response.

A little later, Cas speaks again, and he sounds happier almost. "Dean."

"Uh-huh?" Dean looks away from Gandalf on the screen, to look at the angel.

"Did you notice Jack kept falling asleep?"

Dean pauses. "Oh." He smiles too, it coming over him all of a sudden. "Yeah."

"That means," Cas's tone is bright, and Dean can hear his smile. "He's enough human to fall asleep in the middle of a movie, again."

"Human incapabilities strike again," Dean teases, and Cas chuckles audibly and it's a really, really good moment. Although yeah, it's a bit too domestic for Dean to be perfectly at calm - Cas and he are sitting in the dark, watching a movie they've watched so many times before, discussing the progress of the nephilim they've been raising (with Sam, of course) and Dean has his hand around Cas's seat - in what he now feels guilty on realizing is the oldest trick in every guy's playbook. They're both more in the middle of the couch than not, and the beers have been drained to the last drop. One of them doesn't sleep, the other won't - and then there's Cas's perfect t-shirt, which shall drive Dean to madness each time he sees it, and beyond.

Slowly, the arm which is on the couch, falls on Cas's shoulder - and it's a rather rapid course from there to it being slung around Cas, with Cas tucked under it and leaning into Dean so that it's comfortable.

It's not that Cas's head is on Dean's chest, or not even that his fingers are playing with the fabric of Cas's shirt - its just that they're so close to doing that, and somehow Dean can't pull back this time.

Like, he suddenly realizes, he's been doing forever.

It's again, a good thing that he pretty much knows LOTR scene by scene, and in spite of almost completely being distracted by everything Cas, he answers all trivial questions Cas mumbles at him in that deep, deep baritone - and there's a heat pooling in Dean's insides, and he can't quite place if its the spot behind his ribs, or further south.

Both sounds most appropriate.

Dean is not proud of this, but he fell asleep.

It's not that he didn't finish the movie, because he did - he remembers the last scene (or it could be from a previous watching that he recalls it) but it's just that he fell asleep right there. Next to Cas.

No, not even next to him. Pretty much wrapped around him. And somehow that's - not so wild, after all. It kinda feels awesome. Its not even morning yet, so he has more hours.

He wakes up with his hair tickling his breath and coughs mildly when he realizes that he'd buried his nose in Cas's hair - and his lips on his head, apparently. He straightens, but is sure to not make much movement - because Cas doesn't sleep like they do, he rather drifts off to a sorta-catatonic state but stays very much awake and alert. He doesn't want to wake Cas up, because the angel looks so comfortable, nestled on Dean's chest - that it somehow invokes a feeling of pride in him.

And love.

And that's that. The not-freaking-out segment of this story abruptly comes to an end, and Dean clenches his fist to stop himself from beginning to tremble.

He ends up with a fistful of that goddamn shirt which Dean blames for everything in that night, and Cas stirring awake, and straightening. The weight rested on Dean's abdomen is lost, and it feels weird and colder.

"It's seven minutes to four. Ante Meridiem." Cas announces, in a voice which is roughened by lack of use.

"You should go back to sleep." Dean begs, because Cas doesn't need to see Dean get anxious about the whole pile of feelings he's beginning to feel crushed under.

"Dean." Cas says, in that voice, and straightens some more. He's at Dean's height again, and their noses are inches apart, and Cas looks worried about him. "Dean?" He repeats, and he's concerned, and he's perfect, and his voice is something else, and the way he looks at him is something else like Dean is worthy of all his attention somehow - and the emotions are brimming and he doesn't know what to do with them until he -

He jerks himself ahead, and grabs Cas's shirt for good measures, pressing his lips against Cas's.

It's a moment of bravery, it's a moment of impulse, and it's a moment of utter stupidity because Cas doesn't react -

Until he does, and he kisses back, and he's excited and into it and Dean's taken aback by his vigor and in awe of his own hands which are grappling at Cas's t-shirt for friction as he moans into Cas's mouth.

"I blame the t-shirt," He whines, when they pull away, to look at each other better. And he does.

Of course, he's not an idiot (except for the many times that he is). But what he definitely isn't, is dense enough to not realize that this had been over ten years in the making.

These urges were familiar, and suppressed each time - the sudden feelings were overpowering, except he'd learn to deal with them tactfully, by crushing them with every means possible.

But what had changed today and he'd actually acted on it instead of swallowing it, had to be the tee. It fit like magic, and it perfectly showcased his lean, muscled chest - and gave a peak of his collarbones, and if he stretched, his obliques - and it was as black as his hair in the dark, and ah, it had to be the shirt.

Because otherwise, he didn't know what it could be, that had made tonight - today - this.

Cas still had his hand on Dean's bicep. "This one?" He looks down at himself. "I got it from your closet months ago."

"What -"

"And, you blame it?" He repeats.

"No," Dean shakes his head, anxiously, truthfully as he captures his lips in a kiss again. Slotting in place against each other, and as loving as they were passionate - he had had no idea that kissing Cas would be this amazing. "I love it. I'm gonna need you to keep wearing it. On Thanksgiving, I'm gonna be thankful for it."

Cas laughs against Dean's lips, and says something which is lost in the bliss of the moment.

Nevermind. He has all the moments after this, to listen to him. But he only has this one, at the end of a Tuesday movie night, to enjoy their first kiss (he's pretty sure all the short, little kisses just make up one major kiss). So he does.

Edit: Thank you for reading! Would like to tag @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @all-or-nothing-baby @styggtroll @notyoursweetbaboo @moderatelypanickedbisexual @but-for-the-gods-three-days and @emmii4 ! If you don't wanna be tagged, I'll remove you from the list, just ask! Have an awesome day!

454 notes · View notes

gumnut-logic · 5 years

Text

In Need

Title: In Need

Part Five of ‘In His Place’

Marks series

Author: Gumnut

26 - 29 May 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: “Why do you do this to yourself?”

Word count: 2953

Spoilers & warnings: Virgil/Kayo, Wing!fic, not my usual fare.

Timeline: TBA

Author’s note: This is part five. @the-lady-razorsharp and I are writing this series together. You can find the entirety of the story on Ao3 in order under both our profiles. This one explains a bit more. Thank you all for your wonderful support in this venture of ours. We hope you are enjoying it as much as we’re enjoying writing it :D

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

Alan was running out of brothers.

He returned to John with some breakfast only to find the tension in the room had skyrocketed. John had tears in his eyes, and, oh my god, so did Scott. What the hell?

Something was wrong.

He opened his mouth to ask, but the expression on his eldest brother’s face had him shutting it again.

The youngest was always the protected one. He knew when he wasn’t wanted.

A soft word to John, a brush of fingers against his arm, a glance a Scott and he left.

Perhaps he should go to Virgil. His second eldest brother had always had an ear for him, a kind word of encouragement...

But Virgil had disappeared into his workshop a week ago. Alan had attempted to see him several times, but the man was obsessing over something and didn’t want to talk. To anyone. Alan had even seen Grandma leaving the workshop despondent. Kayo was volatile and worth hiding from if he valued his life. Brains was the only person who managed to hold a conversation with Virgil, but that appeared to be in another language, the engineering concepts were so far above him.

Everything was out of whack, off kilter. IR was barely functioning with two operatives down and everyone was hurting.

Including Alan.

After all, one brother with limbs missing and almost dead from blood loss, and another brother broken in more ways than one.

The only brother left was Gordon.

And god, he needed to talk to him.

Normally, Gordon was his go-to anyway. He went to all his brothers for various things, but Gordon was closest in age and they had always been a pair. So yes, Gordon was most often his confidant and he didn’t hesitate to approach the aquanaut for help.

Except this time, he couldn’t be found.

Tracy Island was under a cloud bank of grief and anxiety. The whole house was steeped in it and this morning the weather was echoing the depression by providing a thick sea fog that obscured everything.

If a brother wanted to hide, it would be easy.

Alan had scoured the house, with no trace of his next eldest brother anywhere. The hangars were next, but module four was empty and, with the exception of Virgil’s workshop, there was no indication that any brother had been down here for days.

That left the beach. If Gordon was worried, he would seek out the ocean. Of course, there was the chance he was in the ocean, but Alan had hope that he hadn’t swum off to wherever it was he ended up on his ocean forays.

He took a guess and headed out to one of his brother’s favourite spots - a rocky beach directly opposite Mateo. It had an array of rock pools always full of life. Gordon had even created a few artificial pools of his own for study purposes. Alan had secretly named it Bay de Gordo. Gordon called it Butt Beach for reasons only known to Gordon.

The fog swirled around him as he made his way past the palm trees and around the bluff. Visibility was minimal and if he hadn’t known the island as well as he did, he could have stumbled himself an injury. It was ghostly. Jagged rock appeared to emerge from the mist and there was no wind. The whole island appeared to be holding its breath.

As the water came into view, Alan let out a breath as a humanoid shape was sketched out in the gloom. Iconically, his brother was decked out in only his swimwear, standing on half-submerged rocks in the lagoon.

Staring out to sea.

“Gordon?”

His brother didn’t respond. He was focussed on the hidden horizon.

“Gordon?”

Alan put his foot onto the first of the rocks and stepping-stoned his way out to the silent figure.

“Gordon!”

The aquanaut startled. “Alan? What the hell?”

“I’ve been calling you.”

“Oh. What do you want?”

Alan frowned. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“Sure.”

“What do you want, Alan?”

He fought the urge to take a step back. “To talk.”

“About what?”

“Uh, stuff?”

His brother looked away for a moment, his eyes wandering to the lack of horizon again. A sigh and Gordon ran a hand across his face and into his hair. “Sorry, Allie. This sucks.”

Alan let his shoulders drop. “No kidding.”

Nothing was said for a few minutes, both brothers thinking. But Alan needed to talk. He had to.

“Gordon, why is Scott crying?”

The aquanaut’s head shot up. “Crying? Scott’s crying?”

“Kinda? He had tears in his eyes. John, too.”

A moment of decision in his eyes and Gordon’s whole posture slumped. “It’s Virgil.”

“What?”

“Scott found him pulling out his own feathers attempting to make new ones for John.”

“What?! Why?!”

“Something about needing data. There are gaps in his mark and he was bleeding. Kayo was livid. She and Scott have him bailed up in the infirmary.”

“He was hurting himself? On purpose?” Something inside Alan twisted in pain.

“He said it was the only way. Wants to continue. Needs to pull out more.”

Alan stared at his brother. Gordon obviously wasn’t taking this any better than Alan. His lips were thin enough to be bloodless.

But then Alan thought of John. Of his mangled mark and those two horrible gouges in his back. He thought of his own golden span, as blond as his hair, catching the sun as he flew ever so fast over the ocean. To have that torn from him. To never soar to those heights again.

He looked down at his feet. “I can understand that.”

Gordon was staring. He could feel those russet-brown eyes on him. Out of all five brothers, Gordon would be least likely to understand the joy of flying with only wings for support as he had none of his own.

“Gordon, wouldn’t you do almost anything to help John?”

Voice quiet. “Almost.”

“Then you can’t begrudge Virgil the attempt.”

“I don’t.”

Alan frowned. “What?”

“I don’t.” An indrawn hiss between teeth. “Allie, I need to do some laps.”

“Gordon, can’t we just talk about this a bit?”

“I-“ Gordon was obviously caught between his need for the sea and Alan’s need for him. “Can you give me half an hour? I just need...the water.”

“Okay.” Alan swallowed. “I’ll wait for you here.”

“Thanks, Alan.” He reached out and caught Alan’s shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze, before turning back towards the sea. The unique mark on his brother’s back shimmered grey and silver, the lines shifting and reforming shape in the foggy gloom.

There were no feather lines on Gordon’s back. Gordon was different from all his brothers. His mark was not static. It shifted with mood and need and want. Today it shifted into a complex wide diamond shape with a thin tail trailing down his back into his swimwear.

And unlike his brothers, when he activated his mark, the mark did not lift from his skin, it sunk into it. The lines sculpting his body, absorbing the human and creating the form chosen.

Today, his mark shone as the aquanaut jumped from stone to stone, gathering momentum. On the last rock, he leapt into the air and, in a swirl of fog, shifted into an eagle ray, diving into the water and disappearing beneath the waves.

Gordon’s transformations never left Alan without a shiver and a wonder of exactly how it felt.

And if he would ever see his brother again.

-o-o-o-

Virgil woke slowly, more slowly than usual and once enough neurons had fired in the right sequence, he recognised the remains of sedation.

Scott.

Damnit.

Rolling onto his back reminded him exactly why Scott might have seen knocking him out a necessary solution. Pain shot up and down his mark and he was forced to roll back onto his stomach.

Ow.

There had been yelling. Scott had been furious. But it was scared furious, not anger. He had terrified his brother.

He sighed as yet another wave of guilt washed over him. A cough, a grimace and he closed his eyes against the images that wouldn’t stop haunting him.

A beach off eastern Australia on the way back from a successful mission. It had been unusual to have John and Kay with him instead of Gordon and Alan. But change could be as good as a holiday and they had a few moments so under the pretence of grabbing a few extra rays of sunshine for John, they had set Thunderbird Two down on the beach and taken a moment for a breather.

John was down from TB5 for a break and it had been great to have his little brother along for the ride. Kay had been an extra pleasure and despite the seriousness of a rescue, they had taken those moments to bond a little and freshen up a few of John’s land-based skills. The beach on the way home had just been a bonus.

Some bonus.

Ten minutes after they had landed, a ship had appeared in the sky, Alan had started yelling in their ears and suddenly there were falling children.

Children. The bastard had thrown children off his ship and watched them fall. All to get the two Tracy boys to do exactly what they did.

Virgil didn’t even think. He was in lift, his mark phasing through his uniform within seconds, wings spreading, his boots tossing up sand as he took a running leap into the air.

John was only a second behind him.

Two children, two rescuers. It was simply planned, but effective. Virgil caught the little boy, John a little girl. Kay had boarded TB2, opening and raising the overhead hatch. Virgil had back-winged, killing off his descent velocity enough to hand the child to Kay, before regaining altitude to help John.

Because behind them was an ominous buzzing. John had his hands full with the little girl and three flying mechanical creatures with outstretched claws were narrowing in on him.

Again, Virgil didn’t think.

Perhaps he should have. It might have changed the outcome.

He threw himself between John and the mechas, his laser deployed, slicing one from the sky almost immediately.

“Virgil Tracy, is it?” On loudspeaker from flying mechanical bugs, it was creepy enough to make him pause. “You’ll do nicely.”

The two remaining mechas suddenly became four and Virgil became seriously outnumbered. Kay was yelling at him over comms that the children were safe. He needed to return to Thunderbird Two.

Easier said than done. He took another one out with his laser, but Virgil couldn’t hover and the bugs had greater manoeuvrability than he.

One clamped onto his right wing and yanked. The pain was blinding. The world spun as he lost altitude and began to fall, mecha grinding bone against metal.

But the sun shone off his brother’s glorious white wings. John’s hands caught him, those wings a white blur of muscle and intent, working ever so hard to stop his spin. John’s hands on his right pinion, untangling the bug’s claw from Virgil’s wing and flinging it away.

The other two mechas snatching his brother from behind, claws digging into white feathers.

Laughter over the loudspeakers.

His own hoarse yell and then his scream as the bug grabbed his wing again and simply broke it. Discarding both him and his wing, it joined the attack on his brother.

No!

That last image of John caught in all those claws; red flecking white as he struggled.

He couldn’t reach his little brother. Couldn’t save him. His wings couldn’t support him. He was falling. The planet up and hit him, ripping conscious thought from his mind.

Kay had to tell him what happened next. Apparently, Thunderbird One had torn onto the scene. It was Scott who caught John as he fell, discarded by the bugs as they buzzed off, precious feathers in their grip. Both John and Virgil had been bundled onto TB2 and there had been a mad dash for Tracy Island.

Virgil had woken in this very room to find out his little brother had had his wings torn from his body and would never fly again.

Scott had tears in his eyes.

Scott.

Crying.

Virgil scrunched his eyes shut and had to force the breath he was holding from his body.

His back complained.

He had lain in this bed as long as he could, but eventually he had fled. Kay had followed and he found himself climbing the stairs to John’s observatory. Perhaps seeing John himself would have been more sensible, but he couldn’t face his brother, unconscious or not.

He still hadn’t seen the astronaut.

How could he face him after such failure?

Virgil adored his brothers, all four of them, but there was something connecting John, Gordon and himself, the middle three. There always had been. He knew the moment Gordon was born. He knew when the bullies cornered John in school - the bullies regretted it immediately. He knew when they were injured or ill. There was something connecting them, something keeping them safe.

But from the moment he had awoken in this room, it had been different.

John was in pain.

John was unconscious, but he was in pain.

At first, Virgil had been unable to get out of bed, so it had been Kay and Scott reassuring him that John was recovering, that he was okay.

But Virgil could feel him. He wasn’t okay.

It was as if ripping off his brother’s wings had ripped open their connection. Virgil could feel that shredded mark as if it was his own. He found himself lifting his wingspan just to reassure himself he still could.

And the emotion. He found himself upset at the slightest thing. There was anger. There was sadness, regret and loss. It was as if he was running the course of grief, but not of his own. He found it difficult to control, difficult to keep calm.

And John was still unconscious.

Confused and caught up in his own response, he told no one. Instead he channelled it. John had lost his wings. John need new wings. It became as simple as that.

Virgil had an artist’s hands and an engineer’s mind. He would make his little brother wings. Not wings to replace his own, but wings that could never be torn from him again.

The concept lit a spark and Virgil made it happen.

A light metal-polymer composite laced with cahelium, finely sculpted by laser. He built pinions large enough to support his brother’s weight and strong enough to fight a hurricane. Artificial muscles supported by an electronic nerve fibre network that on consultation with Brains could interface with his brother’s nervous system.

Brains was working on the most integral component. On lift, their wings phased from an otherspace to their space. They were contained within the mark and were summoned on lift. Brains had found a way to access that otherspace, to manipulate objects within it. To call for the lift.

This is what the Hood had been after. Virgil had no doubt it was. How he had found out about it, the engineer did not know, but the bastard knew and he wanted it.

There was no word in existence that could express the hate Virgil felt for that man. He had taken his father and he had hurt his brother so badly.

The room around him blurred and Virgil had to take a moment to control himself.

A blink. A frown.

John was awake.

His brother wasn’t very far away. Just in the room next door. It was like he was hearing an echo of his brother’s thoughts. No words, no pictures, just expression.

He knew the moment he stumbled out of bed and caught sight of the damage that had been done. The emotion washed over Virgil and his breath caught.

And he heard John call his broken feathers to lift.

Virgil gasped. God, it hurt, but the echo was suddenly overwhelmed by his own body’s pain as his black feathers were called forth.

His mark seared hot as his span manifested. His right wing attempted to unfold and the broken bone screamed at him. It had been healing, but he had been pulling feathers in order to digitally print crucial parts of his creation and it had been exacerbated. The medic in his head feared an infection. The agony at this unexpected stretch almost confirmed it.

Abruptly John aborted his lift, the call faded, and his sea of emotion calmed somewhat.

Eight metres of ink black wingspan collapsed to the floor either side of his bed and Virgil whimpered.

John had called his feathers. How? He let out a breath and blinked tears from his eyes.

Ow.

“Virgil!”

Oh shit. Kay.

She was standing in the doorway glaring at his limp wings. “You can’t keep lifting like this! You need to rest to heal.”

Virgil swallowed, tensed, and folded his span inch by painful inch. His eyes were scrunched shut by the time they were properly retracted. A gasp and he let them go.

His mark flared hot as his feathers settled.

He was panting. There were tears in his eyes again and he blinked them madly away.

A hand on his cheek, gentle, brushing at his stubble.

“I’m sorry.” His voice came out harsh. He blinked again.

“Why do you do this to yourself?”

He opened his mouth to answer and couldn’t. Another swallow and he found a rough whisper. “I don’t know.”

His back ached as pushed himself up and reached for her, but it was worth it to wrap his arms around her. He buried his face in her neck and clung.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #john tracy #kayo kyrano #alan tracy #gordon tracy #scott tracy #marks and wings #virgil/kayo

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hysterialevi · 5 years

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When the Devil Cries pt. 33

Fanfic summary: (NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY) After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur has to also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Male OC

Previous chapter

This story is also on AO3

From Arthur’s POV

O’CREAGH’S RUN

ONE WEEK LATER -- MORNING

Ridin’ up to the snow-covered cabin, Hamish and I stopped just outside the front door as we tugged on our horses’ reins, coming to a complete stop.

The two of us had just returned from quite a lengthy hunt in the wilderness surrounding O’Creagh’s Run, and despite the icy weather, we actually found some pretty decent game out in the woods.

There weren’t many animals roamin’ around at the moment, but Hamish and I managed to catch a big buck we found frolicking through the white mountains. It had enough meat on it to feed us for a few days, and if we was lucky, we’d probably be able to sell the pelt, too. I only wished Eddie had been able to join us.

It was...actually quite fun huntin’ with Hamish. The man spoke to me like I was an old friend, and he always cheered with excitement whenever I agreed to go wandering with him.

It was a nice change of pace, compared to what I was just dealin’ with the week before. It felt like I...finally had someone to fill in Dutch’s shoes after he turned on me. Felt like I wasn’t bearing all this weight on my own.

I just wondered how long it would last. ‘Cause as much as I enjoyed Hamish’s company, the skeptic in me couldn’t help but dread the day it’d all finally come to an end like a rude awakening. Nothin’ perfect lasted forever in this world, after all.

And I doubted Hamish was any exception.

“Well,” Hamish said, dismounting Buell, “that was certainly a good hunt. Who taught you how to track so well?”

I hopped off my horse and walked her to the hitching post, hoisting the plump deer off her back as we both headed inside.

“Learned from my daddy mostly,” I answered, my voice straining with effort. “It’s...one of the few good things he taught me.”

Hamish picked up on my tone. “Your father wasn’t a good role model, I take it?”

A chuckle escaped me. “You could say that. Though, to be honest...I can’t really judge. The sins he got hanged for, I’m still runnin’ away from. Seems like the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

“Well,” Hamish followed me from behind, “you carry that buck inside for me, and I’m willin’ to forgive all of ‘em, hah!”

Trudging back into the cabin, the two of us pushed our way through the thawing snow as the sun climbed higher in the sky, spreadin’ a much-needed heat across this frozen land.

A good chunk of the ice in this area had already melted over the past week or so, and if things continued on like this, I imagined we’d be able to go fishing soon.

It had been a long time since I last ate anything that wasn’t venison or canned vegetables, and the idea of relaxin’ on a boat in the middle of the lake put my mind at ease.

Though, as much as I was basking in this nice weather, I couldn’t deny that I was also worried about how easy it’d be for our enemies to track us down now that the snow was startin’ to disappear.

I mean, even though I sure as hell didn’t miss that god-awful blizzard from last week, it was the only thing that was really covering our tracks.

No one in their right mind woulda followed us through a storm like that, and the fact that it was finally gone, well...let’s just say I found myself keepin’ an eye on the tree line more often than usual nowadays.

I had had enough surprises for one lifetime, and the last thing I wanted was for Atticus or Dutch to come crawlin’ outta nowhere before putting a bullet in our heads.

Right now, my only concerns were helping Hamish, finding food, and keeping Eddie alive...and I intended for it to stay that way.

Lugging the deer into the house as Hamish shut the door behind us, we quickly escaped the chilly breeze as I plopped the carcass down in the kitchen and rolled my shoulders, happy to get that weight off my back.

“Thank you, Mister Morgan.” The veteran said with a smile, proudly admiring our work. “I don’t much like relying on others for help, but...I’m afraid I ain’t as young as I used to be. It’s nice havin’ some muscle around the house for once. Makes things go smoother.”

I returned the smile. “My pleasure. It’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for us.”

Hamish patted my back. “Well...you did the hunting, so I’ll get this thing ready to eat. Why don’t you go check on Eddie in the meantime? See how he’s doing. I told him not to move around too much before we left, but that boy sure don’t like staying still. Even with an injured leg.” The old man paused. “Say, has he been usin’ that cane I gave him?”

I sighed in frustration. “Not as much as he should be. Eddie only uses the cane when he absolutely needs to. Otherwise, he just tries...walkin’ around on his own.”

Hamish laughed softly at that. “Eddie’s stubborn, just like me when I first lost my leg. Don’t worry, though. He’ll adapt eventually. He’s got no other choice. Just keep an eye on him, all right? I don’t want him puttin’ more pressure on that leg than it can handle.”

“Trust me,” I said with a nod, “I will.”

Walkin’ away from Hamish as he started preparing the deer, I strolled towards the living room and began slipping off my winter coat, only to stop mid-way when I noticed Eddie wasn’t resting on the couch.

“Uh...Hamish?” I called out, raising an eyebrow. “You have any idea where Eddie could be? It don’t look like he’s in the livin’ room.”

The old man picked up a knife, gesturing to the back door. “If he’s not there, he’s probably sittin’ on the back porch.”

I peered through the frosty window. “...In this weather?”

Hamish chuckled. “Like I said, Eddie isn’t one to stay still.”

I let out a tired breath. “...Got that right.”

Reluctantly pullin’ my coat back on, I tightly wrapped my clothes around me and prepared to return to the “lovely” weather outside, gently pushing the back door open.

Luckily, the snow wasn’t nearly as relentless as it had been a couple days ago, and things appeared to have calmed down since that blizzard. But even then, my face was still red and cold from bein’ in the woods all morning.

The only thing I wanted to do right now was throw myself in front of a hot fireplace and enjoy a nice bottle of beer, but...there actually was something important I had to talk to Eddie about. It weren’t nothin’ serious or alarming, but it was probably best if that conversation happened away from Hamish.

Pushin’ the door closed with a soft creak, I searched around the back porch for a moment before spotting Eddie in a wooden chair, his nose buried in what looked like a collection of some music notes.

At the moment, he was scribbling something down in his handful of papers, and the cane Hamish gave to him was peacefully leanin’ against the side of the armrest.

I didn’t know quite how to describe it, but something about Eddie seemed to have...changed over this past week. In a good way. His eyes carried that passionate spark in them once again, and the man appeared to be less stressed, despite us technically bein’ stranded in the middle of nowhere.

To my surprise, it actually seemed like Eddie was pleased to be away from the gang. I mean, yeah, things ended in flames with Dutch -- and Rodrick practically unleashed hell itself onto our camp -- but I still expected the pianist to miss some of the people there.

They were like family to me, after all. John, Hosea, Miss Grimshaw -- they were the siblings and parents I never truly had.

For over twenty years, Dutch’s society had been my entire world, and as a young man...I couldn’t even imagine a life without them.

Eddie, on the other hand...he barely knew any of them. He only had, what, a couple of months to bond with them?

That camp may have been home to me, but to Eddie, it was probably nothin’ more than a place full of unfamiliar faces. And not only that, but a bunch of outlaws, too.

I guessed I really shouldn’t have been surprised that Eddie was more relaxed away from them. He seemed to get along well enough with some of the members, but it was clear to me now that the man was only truly comfortable around me.

I just felt a bit guilty that it took me this long to realize it.

Roamin’ towards the preoccupied man, I stood next to his chair and casually peeked over his shoulder, hoping to get his attention.

“Eddie?” I said innocently, wearing what was probably a horrendous-looking smile.

No answer.

Well, whatever he was workin’ on must’ve been important.

“Eddie?” I repeated, but a bit louder this time.

Pausing mid-action, the pianist held his pen still for a second before jolting his head in my direction, chuckling out of embarrassment once he realized he weren’t alone.

“Oh, Arthur!” he greeted, his expression lightin’ up. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come out here.”

I rested an arm on the back of his chair, pointing to the music notes.

“Whatcha got there? You workin’ on a new song?”

Eddie sighed in a regrettable manner. “Restoring it, more like. The song’s actually been complete for some time now, but the rest of the notes were burned in that fire Rodrick caused. It was supposed to be a gift for you.”

My smile grew even wider at that. “A gift?”

The man nodded. “Yeah. I started writing it when we were still in Shady Belle, but I never got the chance to perform it for you, what with the lack of pianos lazing about in the wilderness.”

I shrugged. “Maybe you can sing it.”

Eddie scoffed in an amused tone. “Me? Sing it? The goal here is for you to like it, Arthur.”

I laughed, pattin’ the man’s shoulder. “Your voice can’t be worse than mine. But...if you really wanna save it for a piano, I won’t protest.”

Changin’ the subject, I stopped leaning on the chair and took a few steps back, eyeballing Eddie’s cane with a curious gaze.

“So, how’s your leg doing? Hamish says you’ve been wanderin’ around quite a bit.”

The man grabbed his cane and laid it on his lap, examining the simple object.

Eddie took a breath. “I won’t lie. It’s...frustrating. I used to be so agile, you know. Even as a child. I was always running around all over the place. Climbing, too. Anything that was above the ground, I’d try to get on top of it. Now, though...”

He pressed his cane against the floor and pushed himself up from the chair, grunting with effort.

“...I can hardly walk on my own two feet. And I’m not even thirty years of age yet.”

I glanced at Eddie’s wounded leg, still feelin’ somewhat guilty that I wasn’t able save it.

“You’re still healing,” I reassured. “Just give your leg a break, and soon, you’ll have nothin’ more than an annoying limp to worry about. At least, that’s what Hamish says.”

“I certainly hope so,” Eddie replied, walking closer to me. “But...enough about me. How’ve you been feeling, Arthur? I imagine you must be hurting after what happened between you and Dutch. I...I know how much you loved him.”

My gaze fell to the floor at that and I bit the inside of my lip, lettin’ my guard down for just a moment.

“Yeah,” I admitted, my voice quieter than usual. “It might sound strange...but I still love Dutch, to be honest. Even though he nearly goddamn killed me. I suppose I just ain’t ready to let go of the twenty years we spent together.”

Eddie frowned in a sympathetic way, caressing my cheek. “You don’t have to let go of them. The ending doesn’t make the journey, Arthur. Even though you and Dutch may no longer be on the same side, that doesn’t mean you have to forget all the memories you shared. Just don’t forget how you got here.”

I placed my own hand over Eddie’s, grippin’ it tight. “Oh, I won’t. Believe me.”

Losin’ myself in the other man’s eyes for a minute, I snapped back to reality when I suddenly remembered why I came out here in the first place, causin’ me to reach into my satchel.

“Um -- anyway,” I said, clearing my throat, “that ain’t why I came to see you. There’s actually somethin’ I wanted to give you.”

Eddie smirked. “Oh? You have a gift for me as well?”

I took out a crumpled envelope, fumbling through its contents.

“Yeah. I didn’t tell you this back at Beaver Hollow -- considering everything that was goin’ on -- but I got a letter from Mary Linton. You remember her?”

Eddie thought for a moment. “...The woman you were engaged to?”

I nodded. “That’s the one. She wrote me again recently.”

The pianist peered at the envelope. “Well, what’s it say?”

I breezed through Mary’s message, wantin’ to get straight to the point.

“All she said was, she didn’t wanna be involved with me no more. We met up a few months ago, you see. When the gang was still in New Hanover. I helped her out with a few family problems, and saved her brother, but...now she’s sayin’ she wants to move on. That she can’t stay in contact with me any longer. But -- that ain’t the part that matters.”

Putting the envelope away, I shoved the thing back into my satchel once I found what I was lookin’ for and pulled out a beautiful wedding ring, presenting it to Eddie.

It was surprisingly still in good condition even after all these years, and the small jewel adorning the simple band twinkled softly in the winter sun, catching Eddie’s attention.

“It’s...it’s the same ring I used to propose to Mary all them years ago,” I explained, my voice low with regret. “I never expected to see it again after...well, after Mary left. But she returned it with that letter, and told me to give it to people who were in love. People who could use it.” I sighed out of despondency, unable to take my eyes off the piece of jewelry.

“I used to hate lookin’ at this thing, y’know. It...always reminded me of everything I’ve lost. Everything I’ve messed up in life. Hell, I nearly threw it off the cliff when Mary gave it back to me.” I brought my gaze to Eddie, my heart liftin’ upon seeing his face. “But now...it only reminds me of what I’ve gained. It makes me realize that, as confusing and difficult as love can be sometimes, it ain’t impossible. ...And that’s why I want you to have it.”

Smiling in awe at what I was saying, Eddie found himself to be at a loss for words as he gently brought the ring into his grasp, staring affectionately at the gift.

It looked like the man was on the verge of tears, and I could tell he was doin’ everything in his power to remain composure, but even then, it was clear that the pianist was touched.

He let out a shaky but happy breath, strugglin’ to find the right words to say.

“...Thank you, Arthur,” Eddie said sincerely, returning his glossy eyes to me. “It’s truly wonderful.”

I grinned warmly at the reaction, blushing slightly under the shadow of my hat.

“I’m glad you like it. I-I know we can’t actually get married, or have a proper wedding or anything, but I still want you to keep it. It belongs with you.”

Eddie closed his hand around the ring, holding it securely. “I won’t let anything happen to it. I promise.”

Placing his hands on the sides of my face, the pianist pulled me into a loving kiss and practically let himself fall into my arms, the two of us holdin’ each other in the middle of the snow.

I couldn’t believe what was happening right now.

After so many years of losing every person I’d grown attached to, and failin’ the majority of my relationships, I never imagined I’d find someone who loved me as much as I loved them.

It was one hell of a ride Eddie and I had been on these past couple o’ months, but no matter how wildly this mess ended or how hard we’d have to fight, I was gonna do whatever it took to keep him alive.

We were so close to finding our freedom now. I could feel it.

We just had to carry on a little longer, and someday, I knew Eddie and I were gonna live the lives we had sacrificed so much to achieve.

The only thing that stood between us and our goal right now...was Atticus Rose.

And there was no way in hell I was gonna let him stop us.

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #eddie ryan #arthur morgan x male oc #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 story

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camsthisky · 7 years

Note

Prompt 9 between Bruce and Bat Fam where perhaps Bruce was magically transformed into something else, be it angst or comedy. I need more fic with Bruce bonding with his kids.

This didn’t turn into exactly what you wanted, and I’m sorry about that. But I have some problems working with specific prompts like this sometimes. I swear my fingers have minds of their own sometimes. I hope you still enjoy!

This is set a few weeks after Bruce comes back from being lost in time.

“How many times have I told you notto run down the stairs, Dick?” Bruce says when he hears feet stomping down intothe Cave. His head is pounding something fierce, and he’s lying on a medicalcot. Must have gotten hurt on patrol then. Wouldn’t be the first time. He onlypushes himself up when the steps falter at the bottom of the stairs, and thenhe tenses.

Because that’s not Dick. That’s—he doesn’tknow who that is, but it’s not hisson. A young man, maybe seventeen or eighteen, with dark hair and blue eyesthat sport dark shadows underneath, is standing at the bottom of the steps. He’salso extremely pale, and he’s staring at Bruce like he’s just seen a ghost.

“Who—” is all Bruce manages to getout before the other cuts him off.

“I’m just gonna go get—get Alfredand the others," the teen says, blinking rapidly. And before Bruce can respond(like ask how the hell this guy knows Alfred, or why he’s in Bruce’s secret cave), he’s gone. Up the stairsand into the manor.

It takes a few minutes for Bruce tomake himself move from the medical cot and tumble over to the stairs. He’s justabout to try and go up them when the clock above him opens and he hears asharp, “Bruce!”

Bruce’s vision wavers, and onlyonce he steadies himself does he look up to find—Dick. But not Dick. BecauseDick is eleven years old, and this man is clearly only a few years younger thanBruce himself is. If that.

“Dick?” he asks, his browfurrowing, and No-Dick supports him when he wavers again, leading him back overto sit on the cot. “Or are you—you can’t be John.”

Not-Dick sucks in a sharp breath,and no. Bruce would know those bright blue eyes anywhere. This is Dick. This ishis son. But somehow, he’s in his twenties, not his little boy who’d justcelebrated his eleventh birthday. It looks like Dick’s aged fifteen years in anight, and that’s when Bruce’ circling mind really starts working overtime.

“What’s going on?” Bruce asks,meeting his son’s eyes. “Why do you look so—is this some kind of vision? Timetravel?”

Dick grimaces. “Our best guess istime displacement,” Dick tells him. He’s searching Bruce’s face, and Brucesearches back. There are so many—lines. Scars. Even a few freshly stitched cutson his forehead. His hair is still a mess, though, and his eyes shine with thatsame troublemaker glow they’d had just yesterday when Bruce had found Dicksliding the banister full speed. “We found you unconscious on the street whilewe were looking for our Bruce.”

“I see.”

Bruce had known the possibilityexisted, but this is his first experience with it. And Bruce doesn’t doubt thatDick is lying, either. Which means—it means something that Bruce isn’t sure hewants to explore right now. So, he cups Dick’s face with his hands, and justholds him.

Dick’s grimace turns into a frown. “Pleasedon’t look at me like that.”

“You grew up.”

“Yeah,” Dick says, covering one ofBruce’s hands with his own. “I guess I did.”

“Grayson!”a voice calls from up the stairs of the stillopen clock, and Dick smiles fondly at the call. Bruce lets his hands fallaway from his son’s face and turns towards where Dick’s looking. There’sindistinct murmuring between two voices—the one that had called Dick and theyoung man from when Bruce had first woken up, Bruce thinks—from upstairs.

“Dick,” Bruce says, feeling alarmwelling up inside him. Seeing Dick all grown up had thrown him off, and hecurses himself silently for forgetting about the teen from before. “Why arethere more people in my house than you and Alfred?”

Dick coughs awkwardly. “You mayhave, uh, adopted a few more kids.”

Bruce honestly doesn’t know how torespond to a statement like that. But luckily, he doesn’t have to, because akid comes barreling down the stairs and over to Bruce and Dick, barely payingthe former any attention. The teen from before follows, but at a much slowerpace.

“Grayson!” the kid calls again, hisdark eyes furious as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I demand you dosomething about Drake!”

Dick sighs, but it’s exasperated,like he’s one this a billion times. “I’m sure that whatever Tim did to you washarmless. I’m not going to kick him out just because he accidentally upset you.”

“Oh, no,” the teen—Tim Drake, Bruceis guessing, which raises a lot more questions than it answers—says, hiseyebrows raised. He’s a lot twitchier, Bruce notices, giving Bruce side-glancesevery so often. “I definitely did it on purpose. You know, since Damian triedto stab me again.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t dodgeproperly,” the newly named Damian sneers. “I am doing you a favor by—”

“Enough,” Dick says, and Bruce isslightly taken aback. Because he’s never heard Dick sound so authoritative before.And Bruce is having a hard time lining up this man with his eleven year oldback—back in his own time. And these are supposed to be his kids? “Damian, we talked about trying tokill Tim. And Tim, really? He’s eleven years old and he’s still trying to breakout of old habits.”

“He’s a demon,” Tim hisses, hisfists clenching and eyes narrowing as he takes a step forward. “He tried to kill me and now he—”

“Tim,” Dick says, eyes flashing, and Tim’s mouth snaps shut as hedeflates. Those shadows under his eyes look darker than ever, though, and Brucewatches as the teen looks away from Dick and closes in on himself. After aquiet moment of Damian and Bruce both looking in between the two, Dick finallyslumps. “Look, Tim. I know it’s been hard. And that this situation is kind oflike the one before, but—”

“This is nothing like before,” Damian snarls. “Father is not dead this time.He is alive.”

Bruce raises his eyebrows, and cutsin before Tim or Dick can say anything to that. “Dead? I died?”

Dick winces. “Kind of. It’s morelike you were lost in time.”

“I see,” Bruce says. But he reallydoesn’t. “So, is anybody interested in telling me what’s going on?”

This is one of the most insanethings to ever happen to him, and he thinks he should be actively searching fora way home. To his Dick. Who is eleven years old and probably scared. Time displacement, Dick had said. Thatmeant he needed to go home.

“We ran some tests,” Tim saysquietly, and he’s staring at the floor. “Physically, you’re around Dick’s age,so we think something may have gone wrong when Bruce—our Bruce tried to travelto a different dimension.”

“Which means,” Dick continues, asad smile on his face, “that the only way we’ll know where our Bruce is, iswhen he comes back.”

“Do you think your version of me isin my time, then?” Bruce asks, relaxing by a fraction. “And I assume there issome sort of device that can be altered to fix this, as well. The same that wasbeing used to jump dimensions?”

Dick winces. “Sort of. Tim and Bcould probably modify it, but Bruce took the device with him when—”

A sound—louder than thunder—decidesthen is the perfect moment to try and rupture Bruce’s eardrums. Bruce covershis ears with his hands and watches as a bright light flashes in the middle ofthe cave, and when it disappears—both the light and the noise—all that’s leftstanding there is an eleven year old Dick Grayson and an older—well. An olderBruce Wayne.

He has to be in his forties at theleast, with more scars and wrinkles than Bruce has ever seen in the mirror. Theother him looks dispassionate and grumpy,and Bruce can’t help the wrongness bubbling in his stomach. No one should looklike that after spending five minutes with Dick, who is literally a ray of pure(troublemaking) sunshine. And this older version of himself had raised Dickinto a young man.

Why? What happened?

Dick—Dickie, his eleven year oldson from his time, the one Bruce isn’t sure how to admit he’s relieved tosee-bounces up to him, a gigantic smile on his face. “Hey, B! Heard you gotlost. Need some help finding your way back home?”

Bruce smiles fondly, and then, whenDickie jumps at him to wrap his arm around Bruce’s neck, Bruce slides off thecot to catch him and hug him back. Maybe he can admit it after all. “It’s goodto see you, Dick.”

Dickie detaches from Bruce’s neck,stepping back a bit but not losing complete contact, and that grin turns into asmirk as he puts his hands on his hips. “Good to see you, too, B.” Dickie jabsa thumb over to where the other Bruce is watching them. “That Bruce is crabbierthan you would believe. All he does is grunt and brood all the time.”

The older Dick laughs sharply, andeveryone looks over at him. “What?” he asks as his chuckles die down, lookingat the other Bruce in particular. “Little me is right. And I’m sure Jay will behappy to make a sign for you, too. ‘World’s okay-est dad. Warning: will usegrunts and brooding as main forms of communication.’”

The other Bruce shoots Dick ano-nonsense look. “You got me that ‘World’s Okay-est Dad’ mug for me forChristmas five years ago. Try again.”

Dick shrugs, but he doesn’t look fazed.“I’m sure Cass would be able to come up with something.”

“Is that really how you want to getthose two together?” Tim asks, seemingly over whatever was bothering himearlier. “You know that those two will literally turn the entire manor into completechaos, right?”

Damian snorts. “Like it’s notalready chaos? You and Todd seem to bring it with you wherever you go.”

“What about Dick? He literally dyedB’s cape pink last week. Alfred had to make a new one.”

“Grayson is—tolerable,” Damiangrumbles. “You and Todd, however, should be banned from being in the same roomas each other.”

“You’re such a—”

“Okay!” Dick—the older one—chimes in,his cheer sounding a little forced now. He turns to the older Bruce. “A littlehelp here?”

The other Bruce huffs a laugh,shaking his head. “Don’t mind me. The World’s Okay-est Dad thinks you’ve gotthis one handled.”

“Bruce,” Dick whines.

“Wow,” Dickie says into Bruce’s earas the four dissolve into another petty argument. “They fight a lot.”

Bruce chuckles—because, yeah. Theydo. They’ve been arguing since Bruce woke up. But, there’s something underneaththe fighting that resounds in Bruce’s chest. He can see it now that he hasDickie in his arms, settling the ruffled parts of his mind.

And part of him, especially seeingDick grown up like this, scolding his younger brothers, it makes Bruce thinkthat maybe he’s done something rightwith this kid in front of him. Even if he doesn’t quite believe his family willgrow this big. After all, Dick and Alfred are the only family he needs.

“What say we go home?” Bruce asks.

Dickie smiles. “Yeah, I’d likethat.” And then he pauses a moment before he says, “I missed you, Bruce. Itwasn’t very long but—but it was still a little scary not being able to findanyone but that older Bruce.”

“I know,” Bruce says, because asmuch as he hates to admit it, he thinks it was a little terrifying for him,too. To see Dick grown up, his age, at a place where he didn’t seem to needBruce anymore. “I missed you, too.”

And years later, after Bruce andDick are returned to their own time, after Dick’s become Nightwing and provedthat he really doesn’t need Bruceanymore, Bruce finds a kid trying—and succeeding—to jack the tires from theBatmobile, and he does something he’s really only done once before.

He takes him home.

#bruce wayne #tim drake #dick grayson #damian wayne #dc #prompt #angst prompts #time travel #camryn writes

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miracleonicefanfiction · 7 years

Text

Working for the Weekend (Dave Silk)

This was my first Miracle story ever! Based on a video where Dave Silk describes the annoying habits of his roommate. Hope you enjoy! ———–------------------------- Everyone’s watching, to see what you will do

Everyone’s looking at you Everyone’s wondering, will you come out tonight Everyone’s trying to get it right

Everybody’s working for the weekend

Dave Silk was sitting on the bench in what turned out to be a horrific and gruesome Friday night practice. Apparently, Herb had a meeting with Lou Nanne (and some other guys who’s names Dave didn’t know) following today’s afternoon team meeting. All he knew was that these guys could make or break his Olympic dreams, and that was enough to send his hockey anxieties into overdrive. Therefore, practice was set to be from 7:00-9:30P.M. and right now, with 30 minutes left, this was becoming (what Dave thought was) one of the worst practices of the one month that the team had been together. No one was playing well, and it was probably due to the fact that the colliegate boys should’ve, would’ve, been out at Stub and Herb’s right now.

This was why Dave’s mind was focused more on a nice, cold Corona than anything else when his coach called out his line.

“Silky!” Herb shouted, taking Dave out of his dreamland. “Get your head out of your ass and play hockey! Let’s get moving some time tonight, please!“

With an eye roll, Dave knew that his dreams would stay dreams tonight, because once practice was over, he justed hoped that he could make it to his room before collapsing. "Weave, weave, weave, but don’t weave for the sake of weaving!"

The sounds of his coach were drowned out by the sound of two players colliding. Dave stopped short to see Rammer and McClanahan on the ground. Ouch… Dave thought. Nobody wanted to be rammed into by the 6'3”, 190lbs defenseman. Better him than me… Maybe that will shut him up for a while, or at least, tonight…

When the team had arrived in Minnesota, staying at the U of M’s unoccupied dorm, Dave had been less than eager to find out his rooming assignment. He was only familiar, only comfortable, with the guys from BU and Jack Hughes, who was from Harvard. Yet, he figured he would be rooming with Buzz Schneider, since it was most likely going to be alphabetical. Buzz was 25, mature, and married, so Dave figured that it wouldn’t be so bad having him as a roommate. But boy, couldn’t he have been more wrong. When he and his fellow Bostonians heard the rooming assignments, Dave could barely form a sentence, let alone a word.

“I bet Verchota is a nice guy,” Rizzo said. “Can’t wait to room with him."

Dave shook his head. "I wish I could say the same. I’m rooming with McClanahan."

OC gave Dave (what attempted to be) a ‘look on the bright side’ pat on the shoulder. "Maybe, it won’t be so bad, Silky.”

Now, at practice, sleep was replacing alcohol as Dave’s ultimate fetish. Watching his roommate suffer almost caused Dave to crack a smirk before he was nudged in the side by his linemate.

“What the hell, Verchota? Are you trying to break my ribs or something, because, well, good job…” He shot his blonde-haired teammate an angry look.

“No, but if I was, it would be more of a favor then the warning I’m giving you,” Phil replied with an eyebrow lift.

“What? What warning?” Dave questioned. Seems like practice was starting to pick up afterall.

“Just beware of grumpy Mac, okay Silky?” Phil shot his linemate a sympathetic grin, which Dave was not receving. “Look, what I’m trying to say is try not to get murdered tonight.”

Just as Dave was about to retort, he was cut off by Mac, who was now on his feet, yelling at Rammer at the opposite blue line. “You think that’s funny, huh, Rammer? Crash into me on purpose?”

As the chaotic scene was unfolding, Phil and Dave were joined by John Harrington. The three viewed the scene in unison, then looked at eachother and broke out into laughter. “Gosh, I feel so bad for Rammer. The poor kid just wants to go home like the rest of us,” Bah spat out between chuckles. “Robby is such a big baby sometimes. How the hell do you live with him, Silky?”

Dave shrugged. “I’ve contemplated jumping into an outdoor pool during a thunder and lightning storm before. Or at least playing pick-up sticks on the freeway.”

Phil and Bah began, once again, laughing, which apparently caught the attention of Coach Brooks, who blew his whistle.

“This is absolutely ridiculous, boys. I’m coaching an Olympic hockey team, not babysitting a bunch of kids from daycare! You all better have your brains screwed on properly by tomorrow morning, and bring your game. Practice is at 9 A.M.” With that, their head coach exited the arena leaving everyone baffled.

“Herb is letting us go early?” Neal piped up from the bench.

“It appears so,” Craig Patrick responded as he skated towards the bench. “I expect everyone to regroup themselves by the A.M. hour. No more silly mistakes at practice.” He turned towards the group of Robby, Rammer, OC, Johnson, Suter, and Strobel still at the blue line opposite from Dave. “And let’s be nice, please.”

Bob Suter gave Mac a punch in the arm. “Yeah, Ricky, be nice!” Mac, not having any of the teasing today, gave Suter a shove back.

“How ‘bout you shut your fat face!”

“Whoa, Robby relax, alright! He’s just joking with you. Calm down,” Johnson reasoned while grabbing his linemate by the waist to prevent what could unfold very soon. “And Rammer didn’t mean to hit you. It was an accident, okay?”

“Accident my ass,” Mac snorted. Mark sighed, wishing his teammate wasn’t always so difficult.

Doc and the team’s trainer, Gary Smith, who had gathered their supplies, began to leave. “I think everyone should get a good night’s rest, tonight, alright boys? See you all tomorrow,” Doc called out.

Some of the boys began heading to the locker room, when Rammer spoke up. “I’m really sorry for hitting you, Robby. It was just an accident. You know that we’re all still trying to pick up this new European style of hockey, it’s foreign to us. I mean, just look at Rizzo and Electric. They collided last week.”

Mac huffed, rolled his eyes, and skated off the ice.

“Why is he so bitchy today?” Koho, whom Mac had given that nickname, spoke up, while the rest of the team began to skate towards the locker room.

Jack O'Callahan laughed, “how 'bout everyday!”

While a couple of guys laughed at the remark, Steve Christoff spoke up. “Aw come on, OC, you know that Robby is a nice guy.” Eric and some other Minnesota guys nodded.

“Riff is right,” Neal squeaked, “he just has to warm up to some of you more intimidating guys.”

“At least you don’t have to room with him when he’s like this, OC,” Koho chuckled. Dave cracked a smirk and shook his head.

As the boys got into the locker room, Mark and Robby were having a 'whisper’ fight.

“I don’t want to!”

“You have to!”

“Mark..”

“Robby..”

“Ugh, alright! Fine!” Rob threw his hands up, surrendering. He went over to where Rammer was untying his skates and looked at Mark, who shot him back a 'do it now or else’ glance. Sighing, Rob began, “Um, Rammer, I, uh, just wanted to, um, you know,” Rob gritted his teeth, “apologize for, uh, getting angry at you earlier. I’m a bit tired and cranky, so I’m sorry for being a bitch and taking it out on you.”

Before Ramsey could respond, some guys began chantings of “hey” and some began whistling. Rob apologizing was something Dave thought he would never see while on this team, or at all during his lifetime. Sure enough, the team began chants of “Robby, Robby”.

“Geez, I guess I shouldn’t have said anything at all,” Mac chuckled.

“Alright, alright,” Ramsey shut the chanting down. Holding no resentment towards his former gopher teammate, Ramsey stood up, smiling. “I forgive you, Mac!” He exclaimed, pulling Robby into a bear hug.

Robby wrinkled his nose. “I hope you guys enjoyed that because it’s never happening again.”

The boys proceeded to shower and change into their street clothes. Dave and his friends walked back to the dorms together.

“Wasn’t that a sweet team bonding moment?” Rizzo inquired. “I just love it when everybody gets along.”

Jack shook his head. “Eh, I wouldn’t get used to it, Riz. They’re still Minnesotans and we’re still Bostonians.”

Arriving at the dorms, Dave could not wait to rest his aching muscles, filled with lactic acid. When he discovered that his room was unoccupied, Dave was hopeful that he would be able to fall asleep before Mac came home. However, his friends had other plans as they hung out in his dorm room.

“Since when did you decide to start being neat?” Jimmy questioned, observing the pile of clothes (once on the room’s floor) folded on Dave’s lower bunkbed.

“I didn’t.” Dave’s eyebrows furrowed. “Robby must have folded my clothes.”

“Wow, you have your own personal maid!” Jack laughed.

“I guess so,” Dave pondered, “It sure does make up for his annoying habits.”

Just then, Craig Patrick knocked on the open door. “Come on boys its already 10:20. Room checks are in 10 minutes.”

“Alright, we were just leaving anyways,” OC yawned. “Gotta catch up on our z’s.”

Left again to his empty room, Dave changed into his sweats (which he and many others called pajamas) and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth, still aspiring to get to bed before his roommate. However, that dream was crushed as once he was finished in the bathroom he returned to find Robby on the floor also in sweats, doing sit-ups.

“Stop making me feel guilty,” Dave mumbled. He had never seen someone so dedicated that it almost made him uncomfortable. He was climbing into bed while his roommate was doing sit-ups. Dave was debating getting on the floor and doing the same thing, but he was too tired and lathargic. Once Mac finished his pre-bed workout, he went into the bathroom to go brush his teeth for probably the third or fourth time today, and Dave took it as the perfect time to try to fall asleep. Since he had the bottom bunk, he got to dictate the radio station that they listened to. Rob was never opposed to Dave’s night music anyway, since he usually fell asleep in 5 seconds flat. Dave tuned into STAR 107.9, which was playing Loverboy’s 'Working for the Weekend’.

Everybody’s working for the weekend

Everybody wants a little romance

Everybody’s goin’ off the deep end

Everybody needs a second chance, oh

You want a piece of my heart

You better start from start

You wanna be in the show

Come on baby lets go

Dave shut his eyelids as Robby stepped on his bed and hoisted himself up to the top bunk.

“Goodnight, Silky,” Rob whispered.

Dave cringed, knowing what was about to come. “Goodnight, Mac.”

It hadn’t even been 5 minutes before Dave’s desire of sweet dreams had been disrupted by Rob’s snoring. You have got to be kidding me. Dave turned up the radio in an attempt to drown out his roommate’s obnoxious snorting. Everything had failed, and Dave found himself tossing and turning, clenching his ears with his head under his pillow. He was exhausted, but he could not fall asleep like this. Meanwhile, Mac was out cold. The minutes seemed like hours until he finally fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion, three hours later…

Everyone’s looking to see if it was you

Everyone wants you to come through

Everyone’s hoping it’ll all work out

Everyone’s waiting they’re holding out

Rob’s 6:45A.M. alarm clock (it took a while to tape those sticks) startled Dave as his eyes opened and he sat up with a gasp. Every single fucking morning. As he yawned and scratched his head, he shut the alarm clock off and went back to bed. Practice isn’t even until 9:00A.M. 15 minutes later, Rob’s second alarm went off (just incase he slept through the first one) just when Dave was about to drift off again. You have got to be kidding me. Dave shut the alarm clock off again and stuffed his head under his pillow. After another 15 minutes (Robby didn’t want to risk being late to practice) and another scare, Dave vocalized his frustrations.

“Robby, would you shut your fucking alarm clock off, already?” When he received no answer, Dave climbed out of bed and performed the action himself, proceeding to climb up the bunk bed to where Robby was still asleep. “How is that humanly possible?” Dave grabbed a pillow and whacked Mac in the face with it. “Get the fuck up! Your stupid alarm woke me up three times!”

“Good morning to you, too,” Robby mumbled, still dazed from his wonderful sleep. As Rob jumped down, he yawned and got dressed, while Dave got back in bed. “Have you seen my sneakers?” Rob questioned, searching the room. Dave, still angry that his sleep was interupted, picked up one of Mac’s shoes beside the nightstand and flung it at him. “Ouch! Why so grumpy?”

Dave got out of bed, giving up trying to sleep. “Because every single fucking night you ruin my damn sleep,” Dave shouted, putting on shoes and slamming the door behind him.

Everybody’s goin’ off the deep end

Everybody needs a second chance, oh

As Dave stormed down the hallway, he realized that he had been so frustrated that he didn’t even think about where he was going. “Fuck… if I pull another stunt like that, there’s no way I’ll be here much longer.” Dave shook his head as he exited the building in a hurry, still with no destination. Now, it was 7:30 and he was starting to get hungry. Dave began contemplating apologizing to Mac for his tantrum because there was no way Herb would bring him to Lake Placid if he couldn’t get along with his teammates, let alone Herb’s golden boy. Besides, Dave couldn’t control how his roommate behaved, what time he woke up and went to bed, and whether he snored or not. Get it together, Silk.

40 minutes later, after a nice walk around campus, Dave had finally blown off steam and cleared his head. Even though he felt he should apologize to Mac, the problem was that it still wouldn’t cure the fact that Robby was causing him to severly lack sleep. “Maybe I should just confront Robby about the snoring,” Dave pondered to himself. He re-entered the dorm’s lobby, to where some of the team was eating breakfast, Mac being one of them. Talking a deep breath and approaching Mac, Dave decided that the best thing to do was to call out his roommate on his behavior if he ever wanted the issue solved.

“Mac, you may not like what I’m about to say, but too bad, alright? Your obnoxiously loud snoring needs to stop because it prevents me from sleeping. And you can’t set three alarms if they don’t even wake you up, because thrn they only wake me up, and maybe I don’t want to get up that early. Especially after not being able to fall asleep until 1:00A.M. if I’m lucky. If you’re not willing to do anything about it then we are going to have a big problem because I need sleep, just like everyone else does.” Dave exhaled in relief, as he was satisfied to get that off his chest.

The rest of the guys were chattering amongst themselves as Mac rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Silky. I never snore. And the fact that those alarms don’t wake me up shows you why I need them.”

Dave scoffed. “Did you here a word I just said? I need sleep!”

“Yes, and I don’t snore so I don’t see what the problem is.”

Mac turned back to the conversation that he was currently having with OC. “Anyways, it’s a fancy term that means being scared of the guy that lives next door,” Mac continued.

Dave crossed his arms. “How would you fucking know if you snored? You’re asleep, you asshole!” With that note, grabbing the team’s attention, Dave spun on his heel, took a bagel, and scurried back to his room.

“Wait 'till we get to Lake Placid, we’ll see who absorbs who,” OC chuckled.

Dave practically stomped his way down the hall. “I’d rather get on a plane back to Boston then room with that jerk until February.” Opening and shutting his door with a slam, he rushed to get ready for practice. Throwing on some shoes, Dave packed his duffel bag and hitched a ride with Rizzo and Jimmy to Bloomington Ice Arena, where Saturday’s practice was being held. During the whole practice, Dave went out of his way to not speak to, or even look at, Robby. After two and a half hours of pure skating drills, Dave decided he was finally going to get that Corona tonight.

“So Silky, what was that little blowup at breakfast about?” Verchota asked, while they made their way to the showers.

Dave cringed. The whole team saw your little tantrum. You’re too old for this, no matter what the cause. “Let’s just say 'grumpy Mac’ better sleep with one eye open tonight.”

“He’s that bad to you, huh?” Verchota gave him a sympathetic smile. How does he like Robby? How do any of the Minnesotans? If Dave was fed up after almost one month, how had they lasted over three years with Mac?

“You have no idea,” Dave responded, shaking his head. Now, it was less about Dave’s sleep loss itself and more about the fact that Rob was in denial about it. Letting the hot water sooth his aching muscles, Dave contemplated how he was going to handle this situation further. He figured that all would be decided after he got his long awaited fixing of alcohol. After getting dressed, Dave had realized that he had left his wallet at home. Having enough of the chitter-chatter atmosphere, he made his way out of the locker room, desiring some alone time. Or at least time to him and his Coronas.

Arriving back at the dorms, Dave realized that he had forgotten his room key. “Dammit!” After taking out his anger on the door, he remembered that Mac had left a spare key under the welcome mat (because even the most deteriorating of college dorm rooms needed a home-away-from-home feel).

Absolutely drained, Dave was completely oblivious to what was lying on his bed (which must have magically got made). Searching for his wallet, Dave almost entirely missed the small square box, before stopping dead in his tracks. It was covered with green wrapping paper and topped with a small white bow. Shaking it, Dave wondered what it could be, while he attempted to open it. “If this is some sort of prank, I swear…” Removing the cover, he found what appeared to be a set of earplugs. Taking them out of the box, he found a little note:

Sorry for your troubles. Maybe this will help.

-Rob

#moinetwork #submission #mcclanahansbackhand #hockey fanfiction #p: silky #p: mac

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musicblossom97 · 7 years

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3 There were so many people and all of them staring at me. I just thankful it’s been hours since I ate last. “Attention everyone,” Nathaniel belted out. “This is Lily; she is a new addition to our family and will be treated as such.” I could see Aria and Garrett. They smiled at me in encouragement. “Early this morning Ray and his team came across her and made the decision to bring her home. She is not aware of everything about us, and you all know what I’m referring to, so remember to watch your conversations around her. Thank you and enjoy the rest of your evening.” Even though Nathaniel had stopped talking everyone was still staring at me. Luckily, Garrett and Aria came to my rescue. “See that wasn’t so bad.” Aria said. “No, it was horrible. Please don’t ever make me the center of attention again.” I pleaded. “I think you need a drink.” Garrett said. “Nothing alcoholic please; that’s the last thing she needs.” Garrett nodded, and gave Aria the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. “So, I take it things are going well.” Aria blushed. “Yes they are perfect,” She said. “And I have you to thank for it.” “I’m glad I could help. It’s the least I could do.” Garrett came back with three drinks. Two clear bubbling drinks and a red one. “Here is your drink Lily.” He handed me the red one. “What is it?” I asked smelling it. “Its punch, I think its fruit punch.” He said. It smelled fruity. “Did you really just smell your drink?” Xavier said walking over to us. “Maybe I did. I wasn’t sure what it was.” I said taking a sip. I felt the blood running to my cheeks. I had hoped no one would see that. “Why do you two seem even more chummy then usual?” His question pointed at Garrett and Aria. “Well,” Aria started. “Thanks to the wonderful Lily, we realized we have the connection.” “We never noticed it before because we’ve know each other since we were in diapers.” Garrett finished. “And how is it that you figured that out Lily?” Xavier stared at me waiting for an answer, but before I could give him one; a woman came over and interrupted us. “Xavier,” She whinnied draping herself on his arm. “I’ve been look all over for you.” She had red hair that stopped at her chin and vibrant green eyes. She wore a black one shoulder dress that clung to every curve she had and barley covered her butt. “Cheri, I’m in the middle of a conversation.” Xavier seemed annoyed. “Nothing is more important than me, Xavier. I am your girl friend.” She turned his head to look at her. “Actually,” Aria piped up. “The person he shares a bond with is more important than you.” “Not now Aria,” Xavier shot her a look. “if you all will excuse us.” “No,” Cheri said. “I will always be the most important thing to Xavier, that stupid bond means nothing.” Xavier pulled her away from the group. “Well, that was something.” I said trying to lighten the suddenly dark mood. “I don’t trust her.” Aria said. “There is something very wrong.” “Don’t worry about it.” Garrett said. “Xavier is a big boy. He can handle himself.” “I think I’m going to walk around a bit.” I said. “My feet are starting to hurt from standing still.” I walked away from them. Everyone seemed to be in their own little groups, it reminded me of high school all over again. I was once again by myself. Ray and Clara had joined Aria and Garret. I didn’t see John and Adam anyway. Xavier had disappeared. Nathaniel was moving from group to group entertaining his guests. I overheard someone talking about a path to the beach. We must have been near the shore line. I walked around the edge of the party looking to see if I could find the path, but instead I found a secluded bench and decided to sit down for awhile. I will have to ask if someone could take me to the beach. I’ve never seen the ocean before. “Are you hiding?” A familiar voice asked. I looked up to see Eric. “I guess you could call it that. Parties aren’t really my thing.” He walked over and sat beside me. “I can’t blame you. A lot of the younger group plan on heading over to the beach for a bonfire around seven.” “Really,” I’m sure you could hear my excitement. “I’ve never been to the beach or seen the ocean. I was going to ask if someone could take me.” “I don’t think the others would mind if you joined us, but it’s only six so we still have time.” “It’s only six. It feels like it’s later than that.” I could already see the stars starting to come out. “I can see why you guys live out here. It’s so beautiful.” “Not nearly, as beautiful as you.” Eric said. If my cheeks weren’t red before they were now. “I’m really not.” I took another sip of my punch; studying Eric for a moment. He wasn’t as dressed up as the others. He had on a blue dress shirt and a pair of black slacks. “I think you are,” He stood up. “Take a walk with me.” He offered his hand to me. I took it standing up, setting my drink on the bench. I figured I would come back for it later. We headed back towards the party. Everyone was too distracted to notice us. He led me down a path into the woods that I didn’t notice earlier. “Where are we going?” I asked him. “We are on our way to the beach but I think we will take the long way.” He kept looking over at me. It was making me a tad bit uncomfortable, but I ignored it. I was too busy looking at the scenery to care. It was breath taking out here. It wasn’t anything like where I used to be. Everything seemed alive here. I didn’t notice Eric’s movements. It wasn’t until he shoved me against a tree, that I knew something was wrong. “What are you doing.” I said trying to push him off. “Shut up. It will be over quickly.” It was like someone flipped a switch. This wasn’t the person I thought Eric was. This person was rough and didn’t care. “What will?” That was a mistake. Eric slapped me in the face. He hit me so hard it felt like the world was spinning. “I don’t know why Xavier thinks he has the right to make Cheri think he loves her, but not be able to keep his eyes off of you.” He punched me in the stomach sending me to my knees. “You know we bonded last night, me and Cheri, and you know what she said? She said she didn’t care. That she wanted Xavier and nothing and nobody was going to change that.” He pulled me up and shoved me against the tree again. “So, I’ve decided that since it’s his fault, I’m going to make him hurt and it wasn’t until you showed up that I knew how.” He had one of his hands running up my thigh. “First, I’m going to have my way with you.” He said ripping the side seam of my dress, so his hand was touching skin. “Then, I’m going to rip your head off and send it to him as a gift.” He was crazy and I was trapped. I tried shoving him of but it didn’t work. His hand was digging into my leg. I only had one chance, so I screamed as loud as I could. “HELP!” Eric threw me against another tree. My head bounced off. “You stupid bitch, they won’t make it in time.” He stalked over, and picked me up by my throat shoving back against the tree. I could feel blood dripping down; I must have cut my leg when he threw me. I couldn’t breathe, my vision had started to go black when he suddenly let go. I dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, coughing and spitting up blood. I heard scuffling and looked up to see Xavier throwing Eric against a tree. He looked at me. “Lily, run back to the house.” He was distracted long enough for Eric to get up and charge at him. “Go.” He yelled as he fought of his attacker. I started getting up when I heard growling. I looked to see Eric’s body sprouting fur; his body changing shape. I could hear his bones breaking and the next thing I knew there was a wolf where a man once stood. I ran as fast as I could. It was difficult I kept tripping over roots and I was in pain but I need to get help. I saw lights up head and heard the music. I pushed through the clearing and felling. Everyone stopped what they were doing. Ray, Clara, Nathaniel, Aria and Garrett rushed over to me. “What happened?” Clara asked. “Xavier… Eric… a wolf… going to… kill him.” I could barely make a sentence. “Shit.” I’m not sure who said it but the guys took of towards the woods. Clara and Aria stayed with me. “Somebody get some water.” Aria shouted. “You’re okay now, take deep breathes.” Someone handed me a water bottle. Looking up, I saw that it was Tammy. She looked worried. “What happened out there Lily?” Clara asked me. I took a sip of water trying to calm down more before explaining. “Eric took me for a walk saying we were headed to the beach. He suddenly attacked me saying he was going to have his way with me then rip my head off because Xavier was keeping him from Cheri, which he is apparently bonded with.” I took another sip. “Xavier showed up telling me to run and I swear Eric turned into to a wolf.” They looked at each other. “I’m not crazy.” “We know you not.” Aria said. “But this is not how things were supposed to go.” “Lily,” Tammy spoke up. “I need a favor.” “What is it?” I asked “When they come back Xavier is going to be pissed and he is going to try and kill him after he hears what happened, what Eric was planning to do to you.” She knelt down next to me. “I need you to stop him from doing that.” “How will I be able to stop him?” “He started looking for you a good twenty minutes before you burst out of the woods. He knew something was wrong.” Aria stated. “So I am positive you have bonded, and that means you are the only one he will listen too.” I stood up and looked at them. “I’ll try my best.” Tammy hugged me. “Thank you.” Just as she let me going Xavier burst out of the woods. He strutted straight towards us. “What happened?” He demanded. “Why the hell did you go with him?” “I…I uh.” I couldn’t speak. He was so mad, but he looked so concerned. Thankfully Aria stepped in. “She’s never been to the beach. He said he’d take her, but instead he attacked her.” She looked over at Tammy who nodded. “He was going to rape and kill Lily. He and Cheri are apparently bonded but she is refusing it.” With unfortunate timing, Ray and Nathaniel came through the tree line with Eric in between them. Garrett followed closely behind. “I’m going to kill him.” Xavier spun around head towards them. I ran after him. “Xavier stop,” I said grabbing a hold of his arm. “Please don’t.” He turned towards me. “Why are you defending him? He was going to kill you and worse.” He pulled out of my grasp. “I’m not defending him.” I looked at him, pleading for him to stop. “Then why do you care if I kill him or not?” Xavier started moving towards Eric, while Nathaniel and Ray were trying to pull him away. I ran to get in front of him but it was difficult, I was limping. I had to think of something quick. “Because I care about you.” Xavier stopped dead, giving me the chance to get in front of him. “I care about you and I have no clue why. But I am not going to let you do this.” I wasn’t lying. I did care about him, a lot more than I realized. “What?” He asked me. He looked like he had been shot. “I’ve only known you for a few hours, but I can’t imagine my life without you. I may not know a lot of things about your family, but I’m pretty sure that if you do this, I will be without you,” Xavier looked at me. “And he is not worth that.” Xavier pushed past me headed right for Eric. “What did you do? Did you bite her?” He yelled at Eric. “What are talking about?” Garrett got between them. “Her eyes,” Xavier pointed to me. “They’re glowing.” I had no idea what he was talking about but he pushed past Garret. He had about five yards before he reached him. “Xavier.” I cried out going after him yet again. “Look at me.” I grabbed his arm turning him around. “Look at me.” My voice softened. I reached my hand up to turn his face towards me. I made sure he was looking at me. “He didn’t bite me. Please, let them handle this. Just come with me back to the house please.” He stared at me for what felt like an eternity. Then I felt him relax. “Okay.” He sounded defeated. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” I let myself relax into his arms. I felt safe there. We stood there long enough for them to drag Eric away. Quite a few of the guest followed them. I pulled away so we could head back to the house when my knees gave out. Xavier still had a hold of me so he caught me before I fell. “She’s bleeding.” Aria said rushing over to us. “I didn’t notice it before, I’m sorry Lily.” Xavier swept me up into his arms so he was cradling me with my bleeding leg out. “I actually forgot about it with everything going on. I think I cut it on a branch.” Xavier headed towards the house, with Clara, Aria and Tammy in tow. We were almost to the steps when Cheri came out of the house. “There you are. Why do you keep disappearing on me?” Cheri saw me and her eyes narrowed. “And why do I keep finding you with her.” “Not know Cheri. Move out of the way.” Xavier said. “No.” She replied. “I asked you a question, and I want an answer.” She put her hands on her hips. “We already discussed this tonight and I’m not doing it again. Now move, I need to get Lily inside.” “I don’t care about her, and neither should you. You should only care about me.” She had a venomous tone to her voice. “Did you have Eric do this?” Aria asked. “Ha, like I would waste my time with that thing. Anything he did he acted alone. Xavier, you have a choice and I know you will choose correctly. Leave the little urchin and come with me know. Or stay with her and loose me forever.” He actual looked like he was considering it. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but,” He could possibly be going with her. “Good riddens Cheri.” She screamed and ran off the deck. “Well, it’s about time you got rid of her.” Tammy said as we entered the house. Xavier took me into the kitchen and set me down on the counter. Aria rushed over and started looking at my injuries. “I know, you’ve been telling me to lose her for months now, mom.” “Wait mom?” I said, looking back and forth at the two of them. “Did I forget to mention that?” Tammy said smiling sweetly. Looking at then it was obvious. They had the same black hair and almost the same eyes. “Guys, we may have a slight issue. This cut is really deep and I don’t have the skills to handle it. We need a doctor.” “Isn’t Shane a doctor?” Clara asked. “I don’t know for sure, but I’ll go find out if we have one here.” Tammy said rushing out the door. “Okay for right now, Xavier, keep pressure on it. I’ll worry about all the other scrapes and bruises.” Aria said. “You have some serious bruising on your neck and a large welt on your cheek. Did you get hit any where else?” She walked to the freezer grabbing ice packs and what looked like frozen peas. “He punched me in the stomach and my back hit a few trees.” I could tell Xavier was getting mad again. “I’m okay,” I told him. “I’m alive thanks to you.” I grabbed his free hand and held it in my lap. “Your dad never taught you to fight?” Clara asked. I shook my head no, which was a bad idea. It made the room spin. “Then as soon as you are better you will start learning.” Tammy came back in with a man with a briefcase. “You were right Shane is a doctor, and luckily he always brings a medical bag with him.” The room seemed to be spinning faster. “Lily, my name is Shane. I’m going to give you something for the pain.” He had a vial and needle in his hands. “But she hasn’t been complaining about pain.” Xavier exclaimed. “That’s because of adrenaline and head trauma. She is going to be passing out here shortly any way the shot will make it easier for her to wake up, unless you want to risk a coma.” The room began to fade to black. The last thing I can remember is a sharp pain and Xavier yelling my name.

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huntertales · 7 years

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Part Four: Trust is Earned, Not Given. (Fallen Idols S05E05)

Useful Links: Last Part | All Episodes Word Count: 4,273. A/N: Finally, we're done with this episode! I honestly didn't mean for updates to get so slow. But I have to be honest, out of all the episodes I've written for this show, I think this might be one of the weirdest/interesting parts yet. I hope you guys have enjoyed this episode. More soon!

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Scratching sounds, it was the first thing you recognized after coming back around, and you didn’t realize how annoying the noise could be with your pounding headache after someone decided it was a smart idea to kick you in the head. Your body was pressed one of the trees, which had impeccable detail, because you could feel the rough bark dig into your back in an uncomfortable manner, not to mention your hands were tied behind you. You slowly opened your eyes to see a sight that wasn’t what you would have expected to come of tonight. The pagan god you’d been hunting for the past several days, who had made at least a handful of costume changes, decided that the skin he was wearing was good as any. The scratching sounds you were hearing had been of Paris, she sat on a tree stub and began nonchalantly filing her nails with one of the blades she'd picked out from a set. She glanced over at you and the boys, her lips stretching into a smile at the sight of everyone finally coming back around.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re awake for this.” She greeted you all with a smirk, knowing well enough all of you were in her clutches. You were finding it rather hard to take this monster seriously, for the mannerisms of the iconic reality star were down to a science. She wasn't exactly threatening, even with the knife in her hand and others spread out for display, but she was sure as hell happy. And you knew the reason why, she was having a feast tonight after capturing her prey. “This is gonna be huge.”

"Super." Dean remarked with his infamous sarcasm, he looked away as he rolled his eyes. "Sure wouldn't want to miss this."

Without anyone noticing, you began to try your hardest on tugging at the rope, somehow hoping you could slip yourself out of this before anyone could become the first course. You had a feeling with how it was tied, you could easily make a break for it, sometimes being smaller than the boys had its perks. "I mean, I've been stuffing myself with fast food lately. So it's nice to do to the ritual right," Paris continued on talking, having no clue of what you were trying to do, for she was too caught up on her gluttonous urges. "Prepare a nice, slow meal for a change.”

“Just like the good old days, huh?” Sam asked, pretending to be focused solely on her.

“You have no idea. People adored me.” She said, stressing the word as she scraped her nails once again across the blade to make sure it was perfectly sharp to cut through flesh. “They used to throw themselves at me, with smiles on their faces.”

"Yeah," You pretended to agree with her as you kept your facial expression neutral when you tugged on the rope, hoping it would somehow become loose. But all you got in return was frustration, so you lashed out at the monster to put it to good use. "I guess these days, nobody gives a flying crap about some backwoods-forest god, huh?"

"No, not since they cut down my forest to build a yugo plant." Paris said, admitting why she had been forced into hunting down her meals just to keep her hunger satisfied. Dean didn't seem to feel empathetic, he shrugged off her excuse, saying something about the march of progress. "For years now, I've been wandering. Hungry. Scared. Scoundering for scraps. So not sexy." There it was, the personality you would have expected from the real Paris Hilton, but it only lasted for a moment before she continued on. "But then, the best thing ever happened—someone tripped the apocalypse. And then I thought, what the hell—I'm tired of watching what I eat. I want to pig out. So I found this little place. It's awesome. Adoring fans walk straight in the door.”

“Yeah, but they’re not your fans.” Sam corrected the woman.

Paris shrugged her shoulders, not seeming to understand where the problem was. "So? They worship Lincoln, Paul, Hilton...I can see your idol is Gandhi. You people think who you look up to are great and inspiring, but they're all just human. They're nothing like me. I'll take what I can get."

"You know, I got to tell you, you are not the first god we've met," Dean said to her, "but you are the nuttiest."

"No. You. You people. You used to worship gods. And you, I know you idolize strong characters, but I can see deeper, and you're just like everyone else." Paris pointed her index finger at you, deciding to use you as an example from her knowledge. You furrowed your brow, not quite what she was accusing you of. "You idolize celebrities, too. Maybe not Paris here, but I know you've got a thing for that actor—Ryan Reynolds. You think looking up to people nobody's ever heard of makes you superior, but you're not. You're just like all the little sheep obsessed with people that have nothing more than fake tans and tiny dogs."

"Wait, wait, wait—Wait a minute, sister." Dean jumped into the conversation, making you turn your head to look at him when you heard him laughing. He let out a few chuckles, seeming to find this new found information nothing short of amusing. "You're telling me Y/N is obsessed with that douche, Ryan Reynolds? The one who's always in chick flicks? That dude was terrible in that new X-Men movie. Wasn’t he Deadpool?”

"What? He's a good actor...it was just the movie that portrayed Deadpool all wrong. He's not this dark and mysterious character. He's a sarcastic and loudmouth antihero who loves to break the fourth wall. He really deserves his own movie. I think Ryan Reynolds would be perfect for the role." You said, somehow finding yourself talking about a celebrity you had secretly harbored a crush on over the past year. Dean looked at you with a confused expression, probably wondering how you had known all that information, and why you liked the actor. "Josh was really big into comic books when we were teenagers. He would always talk about them and stuff when he tutored me in high school. And what can I say about Ryan Reynolds? He was pretty hot in 'The Proposal.' I guess I have a thing for handsome men with humorous personalities."

"See? That's my point." Paris said, seeming to think your excuse was proving only what she had started to despise of what humans had become. You used it as a way to distract her long enough to start loosening your bonds when you felt the rope beginning to loosen the slightest. "You people used to have old-time religion. Now you have Us Weekly."

"I don't know, I'm more of a Penthouse Form man, myself." Dean thought it would be funny to give a wink at her, as if he didn't prove enough that he liked to run his mouth in times of being backed into a corner.

"Maybe...But," Paris pushed herself to her feet, deciding to have a little fun for herself as she began to approach Dean, who she only viewed more as her first course as she began to look at him up and down. "There's still a lot of meat on those bones, boy."

"Well, I hate to break it to you sister, but, uh, you can't eat me. See, I'm not a Paris Hilton BFF." Dean said, knowing there was a little loophole that was at least stalling for the three of you. "I've never seen 'House of Wax.'"

Paris fell silent, while she understood that the hunter was right as she began shaking her head, there was something else that he almost forgot about. "No. But I can totally read your mind, Dean. I know who your hero is. Your daddy. Am I right?" She curiously asked, the man remained silent. Paris chuckled to herself as she turned around to face the ax stuck in the tree, you watched as she began walking to it. "And this belonged to him. Didn't it? Poor little Dean. All you ever wanted was to be loved by your idol. One distant father figure, coming right up!"

Before you could see a reincarnation of John Winchester, you felt the rope finally become free, setting you loose and giving you a chance at payback. Paris made the wrong choice of turning her back on you to touch the ax, she didn't see it coming when you dashed across the floor, and tackled her to the ground before she had a chance. You swung up your arm to take the opportunity to punch her, but she was faster, sending an unexpected blow, making you stumble to the ground. You wouldn't have thought in a million years you would be lying on the ground, having a cat fight with a pagan god that was impersonating Paris Hilton, but this job had its twists and turns. She might have been winning this fight, but you could see a blurry figure come out from the corner of your eye going straight for the ax, making Paris distracted just a second longer than you.

You took the opportunity when it arised, you swung a punch at her, making the woman fall to the ground. You managed to get out of the way when Sam jumped into the fight. With the ax in his hands, you watched as he took a swing directly at her neck, but it took five whacks all together to see her head roll off to the ground. You laid in the grass and let out a sigh of relief, happy to know this case was done once and for all. When you looked up to see Sam, holding the ax that was covered in blood, you noticed his face had a fine mist that made him look like Patrick Bateman from "American Psycho" at the angle you were looking at him.

You decided to have a bit of fun, so when you spoke, it was in a high-pitch, mocking an infamous line the true Paris would say. “That’s hot.”

+ + +

The next morning you were happily packing your bags again and grabbing the remaining amount of things you still had in the motel room. You gotten off the phone with the sheriff a little while ago, while you were overjoyed for another life saved, it stalled a bit on you packing. The boys had been ready an hour ago, but you were taking your sweet time. After everything they had been putting you through with this fighting, they could wait until you were done. You reached for your blouse that was discarded on the floor after coming back to the motel yesterday afternoon, as you bent down to grab it, you heard the motel door open after someone knocked twice. Dean announced his arrival when you heard a whistle come from him, you rolled your eyes and tossed the shirt into the duffel bag. "Now, there's a sight I never get tired of seeing." Dean was always cheeky with you, and you returned it with a disapproving shake of the head. He stepped inside your motel room with two cups of hot coffee, and from the smell coming from the brown paper crumpled in his right hand, breakfast for the go. You automatically reached out a hand to take the cup from his grip, but he quickly pulled away, you furrowed your brow in anger, it wasn't exactly smart for him to test you without caffeine. "Hey, hey, hey. Get your grubby hands away. We're not a case anymore. Which means..." "I don't know. What does it mean?" You asked him, pretending not to get what he was hinting around. Dean didn't seem to like your answer, you quickly made your move, snatching the warm cup out of his grip and the paper bag before he could react. Your lips stretched into a smile when he realized what you had done. Before he could become upset, you leaned forward and gave him a peck on the lips, knowing it was a rule for the both of you to keep relationship things on hold during hunts for safety. But now that you were free, things could go back to normal for a little while. "Thanks."

“You're welcome, sweetheart. It's the least I could do. I mean, these past few weeks have been pretty crazy, huh? I wanted a moment alone with you, just to see how things are." Dean said. You weren't exactly listening to what Dean was saying right now, but you nodded your head and mumbled a few words to make it seem like you were. Your main focus was packing up the remaining of your things as you sipped on your coffee. Dean watched as you put the cup down and reached for the blouse you had previously abandoned when he came in. But he knew from how your eyes jumped right on him you were fully back into the conversation after what he brought up. "Especially after dealing with future me. I sure was a dick, wasn't I?"

It seemed that you were caught off guard from the change of topic. Neither one of you had spoken about what you had seen after being thrown forward into time to see five years ahead, mostly it was something you were desperately trying to forget after seeing people become the versions of themselves that was your worst fear. But you had a feeling from the growing smirk that was settling on Dean’s mouth, he wasn't talking about the gritty details, it was something much more. You wanted to forget the memory that he was forcing back into your mind the most, and before you could try and change the subject, your guilt for the situation came bubbling to the surface.

“I’m sorry, okay? I'm sorry for kissing him...or you. I don't know. Whatever. It was a stupid mistake and it should have never happened. And despite how it you, only five years in the future, does that make the situation okay? Obviously, not—” Before you could finish your thoughts that were turning into a jumble of rambles, you were cut off at the feeling of someone pressing their lips against yours. You taste lingering elements of fresh mint and coffee, not the whiskey flavor and different things you had remembered from 2014 Dean, this one felt right, it always felt like home. “I’m guessing you're not mad at me?”

“Well, to be honest, I was at first, but then it got me thinking.” Dean said. You could see a smirk starting to crawl at the edge of his lips from what he was about to say next. “Do I still got it even five years into the future?”

“Hmm, I don't know. I think I need to refresh my memory just one more time.” You leaned forward to him as you reached up your arms, letting them wrap around his neck as he pulled you close, both of you shared another quick, yet passionate kiss to tear this hypothesis. Minute or so later, you pulled away, a little breathless, but your stomach felt the same way when you kissed him the first time. He always made it feel special. “You know, since I got my chance at a freebie, I guess it's only fair.”

Dean raised his brows from what you were trying to say, “You telling me, at any given chance, I can kiss another other girl I want? Well, I did see a pretty cute girl at the front desk…” He was being a bit of a bastard, making you laugh slightly, but you could see that he was only joking when you pulled on his leather jacket, making him close as you could possibly be. “Please, Y/N. I would never. Nobody compares to you, sweetheart.”

You felt his hands wrap around your waist as he bent down to your level, about to give you another kiss as you let you a quiet giggle for how the both of you were acting. But the moment was soon interrupted when you heard someone softly knocking on the parted open motel door. You pull away from Dean to see that it was Sam, he quietly stood outside with his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, I just got off the phone with the sheriff. He told me Danielle was gonna be okay.” Sam said, giving the both of you some good news. You gave him a smile of appreciation as you stepped away from Dean. As you reach for your bag, Dean found himself falling silent, he avoided any eye contact with his brother, you didn't seem to notice the behavior until the younger Winchester spoke up, this time, in a much awkward tone. “Um, I’m just gonna wait in the Impala, okay?”

You looked up to see Sam walking away, leaving you and his brother alone once more, but there wasn't something right from the look on Dean’s face. You placed your hands on the duffel bag you were once trying to zip and let out a quiet sigh, knowing things were still awkward between the boys, and it was only going to show now there wasn't anything to distract them with. “You two are gonna have to get over this little tiff one day.” You said to the older Winchester. Dean rolled his eyes from what you mentioned, he knew it was true, but the both of them would only keep this going until it was too late. “Dean, if you keep thinking about the past, it's not going to change the future. We’re all going to turn into...that.”

The mention of it made Dean flinch at the memory, it wasn't just seeing his future self pulling the colt on you that made him upset, it was more that he thought you didn't see. To this day, he wondered what made his brother say yes to the Devil. “‘The moment there is suspicion about a person’s motives, everything he does becomes tainted.’” You brought him back into reality when you spoke again. Dean furrowed his brow from what you said, you let out a soft chuckle and walked over to him with your bag strap over your shoulder. “It's a quote from Gandhi. The more you keep Sam on a leash, the closer we’re all damned to repeat history. You gotta let it go, Dean. I mean, there was a time I didn't trust you.”

Dean thought about what you mentioned, his facial expression softened when he remembered what he did to you last year. Between lying to you about what he did in Hell for months and listening to a demon himself, perhaps he wasn't better than his brother. “Look, I understand you can't trust Sam all the way just yet. But you gotta try, Dean.” You said to him. You reached out your arm and intertwined your fingers with his. “You’ll get there eventually.”

The both of you exchanged a look before deciding it was time to head out. You shut the motel room door and began heading down the path where the Impala was parked, and a patient Sam leaning against the passenger side door until his brother would open up the trunk. You gave the younger man a smile as you adjusted the strap on your shoulder, you complained to Dean that he needed to hurry up. He mocked you in a playful tone as he grabbed the keys from his jacket and opened up the trunk, allowing you first to toss in your duffel bag first, for some reason it felt like it weighed a ton. Dean was silent as he watched his brother do the same thing, you nudged him in the side with your elbow to give him the courage.

“Hey, listen, I was thinking about what you said yesterday. About me keeping too tight of a leash on you.” Dean stared off the conversation. He was a bit awkward at first, he shoved his hands inside his pocket as Sam looked up at him, wondering what this was about. The older Winchester found himself glancing over at you for a second. “Hell, maybe you're right. I mean, look, I'm not exactly Mister Innocent in this whole mess either, you know. I did break the first seal.”

“You didn't know.” Sam said, thinking he was fully only at fault for everything that was happening.

“Yeah, well, neither did you.” Dean said. Sam looked down at the ground, obviously not comforted by the thought about how all of you played a heavy part in this mess. “I'm not saying demon blood was a great way to go, but, you did kill Lilith.”

“And start the apocalypse.” Sam added.

“Which neither of us saw coming, I mean, who'd have thought killing Lilith would've been a bad thing?” Dean asked. The man found himself at a pause, almost as if he was trying his hardest to get the words out of his mouth. But he knew you were right, him and his brother needed to be on the same page for this to work. “Point is, I was so worried about watching your every move that I didn't see what it was actually doing to you. So, for that I’m sorry.”

Sam looked at the man directly in the eye from what he heard, “Thanks.”

Dean nodded his head, deciding this picture perfect moment wasn't going to last forever, he said his grief, now it was time to get back on the road. He reached up and slammed the trunk shut, while he kept himself occupied by looking for the keys to the Impala, there was a question lingering in his mind. "Where do we go from here?"

"I don't know about you guys, but the way I see it, we've got one shot at surviving this." You said. Dean looked over at you, wondering what you were going to say. "Maybe the Devil wants to wear Sammy like a cheap suit. Maybe the same with you and Michael. Maybe there's no changing that."

"Well," Dean let out a bitter chuckle from what you were saying, "That's encouraging, Y/N."

"But we can stop wringing our hands over it. We got to just grab on to whatever's in front of us, kick its ass, and go down fighting." You said. If all of you thought the fight was trouble before, you were just getting started. The boys seemed to have agreed with your plan, but you weren’t done speaking. “Look, if we really want to survive this, you gotta have each other’s backs. Both of you are gonna have to be on the same level. Because if you think the fight for you is hard, I have a feeling it’s gonna be twice as hard for me, if you know what I mean.”

The boys nodded their head, knowing well enough what you were speaking about, without addressing further details everyone knew, but pretended as if it wasn't real. You placed your hands on your hips and let out a sigh of relief. "What do you say we get the hell out of here?" Dean asked the both of you. You were more than happy to agree with that plan. Sam headed for the passenger's side as you began walking to the backseat, like always. Dean turned around to head for the driver's side, but he stopped in his tracks, he decided to change things up a bit.

Dean turned around to face his little brother with an outstretched hand, you noticed the keys were dangling from his index finger. "You wanna drive, Sammy?"

Sam was a bit hesitant at first about taking the offer. It was the first time his brother asked him to drive since the apocalypse started. "You sure?"

Dean glanced over at you for a moment, you stood there with your arms crossed over your chest, and the smallest smile starting to spread across your lips at what he was doing. The Impala was like Dean's baby, his prized possession, and seeing him being brave enough to let his little brother drive, you had a feeling this was the step in the right direction. "Yeah. I could, uh—I could use a nap." Dean said as he looked back over at his brother. "That is, if Y/N will let me crash in the back."

You didn't have a problem with that at all. You looked over at Sam, the both of you gave each other a quick smile, all before you were running around the car, going in the opposite of where you were comfortable with. Sam got himself in the driver's side as you slipped yourself into the passenger seat, Dean didn't seem to complain when he got the entire backseat to himself. The engine turned over just a short moment later, and before Sam could put his foot on the gas, Dean already was complaining about not wanting to too much chatter from you and his brother. You looked at Sam from the corner of your eye, and for some reason, the both of you shared an expression of gleefulness, like you were sharing some secret. Maybe, for the first time since being back together, you had your best friend again, there was no awkward tension between the both of you. And for the first time, you couldn't wait to share a moment of normalcy with the younger Winchester.

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rubiaryutheroyal · 7 years

Note

Edgeworth and Justine bond one night over a screening of John's latest movie that preforms badly. He watches as she looks off to the horizon, her face illuminated by the moon's gentle light, and feels something he has never felt before in his life.

[When a screening of the movie goes awry, thanks to guest critics who gave it a suspiciously low rating, John hurries off on his own as soon as the session ends. A worried Justine and Edgeworth give chase, but…]

Courtesy: John! John! ...Oh, where did that boy go?

Edgeworth: Hmm... It seems he took it harder than we anticipated.

Courtney: I fear this may have been my fault...

Edgeworth: Your fault? In what way?

Courtney: I think I had heaped too much on him when I wished the best of him in this movie.

Edgeworth: How is that anything to fault? You were simply being a caring and responsible parent.

Courtney: Yes, but as you would know, he’s quite the perfectionist. If anything goes wrong, he often blames himself for it, whether or not it really is his fault.

Edgeworth: (He is a young actor working for a famous film studio, after all...)

Courtney: But if anything, those judges were unbelievable! I didn’t see anything so terrible in that movie that would warrant such a low rating!

Edgeworth: Neither did I... The fact that they gave it unanimously is only begging the question, “Was it truly fair?”

Courtney: I too concede that they didn’t quite seem so professional. Perhaps... there could have been something underlying that skewed their judgments?

Edgeworth: Speak no further, Judge Courtney. I’m quite curious to investigate it myself.

Courtney: Thank you, Prosecutor Edgeworth. If you find anything, please let me know. I will see to it that this screening is redone if my suspicions are founded... via court order if need be.

Edgeworth: Though, as you are related to the victim of this potential suit, we may require the help of a fellow judge...

Courtney: Yes, you bring up a good point. Do you have anyone in mind?

Edgeworth: Of course. Leave the rest to me, Your Honor. (That old man may not be the craftiest of the lot, but he is without a doubt the one who hands down the fairest of verdicts.)

Courtney: You have my sincerest gratitude.

[Her gentle smile almost seems even more radiant under the faint glow of the moon, and even a totally oblivious prosecutor can see how beautiful she looks.]

Edgeworth: (...Excuse me?)

[But the moment is short-lived because...]

Courtney: Now if only we could find John... I’m sure he would feel much better knowing about this.

Edgeworth: ...I may not have any basis for it yet, but I have the feeling he might not have gone far. We should first look around the theater and ask if anyone has seen him.

Courtney: I do hope you are right...

[The two go around asking people, unfortunately to no avail for a good while... until some kindhearted soul shares that she in fact had seen a boy go around to the back of the theater. They thank her and rush over there...]

Courtney: John!

John: Whoa! ...Uh, hi, Mom.

Courtney: John Marsh! What were you thinking, running off on your own!? Mr. Edgeworth and I spent quite some time looking for you!

John: Er... I-I know, but...

Courtney: Please explain yourself this instant. Why are you hiding out here?

John: ...I was just practicing my lines.

Courtney: You were practicing...? But the movie has finished filming, hasn’t it?

John: Yes, it has. I even thought I did pretty well with my role, but... those judges must have thought otherwise.

Courtney: ...You poor boy.

Edgeworth: If I may interject, John, I don’t believe they gave you a fair review. As far as I could tell, your movie was a success.

John: Yeah? Thanks, but you’re not exactly a professional critic. No offense.

Edgeworth: Urk. That may be true, but...

Courtney: John! Mr. Edgeworth isn’t simply offering his sympathies. I agree that there may be something going on behind the scenes.

John: What? Really?

Edgeworth: While it may not be uncommon to see critics unanimously give low ratings, it is suspicious that these critics have justified their ratings despite reasonable objections from the director and crew. It’s almost as if they had made their decisions prior to even viewing the movie...

John: ...Now that I think about it, they did seem pretty nervous whenever we had some good shots. If you’re right, that explains why! Those jerks. They even pretended to be excited about seeing our movie.

Courtney: Of course, this is just our suspicions at the moment. I believe a full investigation is in order, and Mr. Edgeworth has volunteered to lead it.

John: Oh, cool. Thanks, Mr. Edgeworth.

Edgeworth: Think nothing of it. I’d rather be wrong in assuming this than turn a blind eye to a possibly hidden truth.

Courtney: Now come along, John. There’s no need to stay out here in the cold.

John: Sure, Mom. Let’s go.

[Before they go, though...]

John: By the way, Mr. Edgeworth? I’ve been meaning to ask this since we started.

Edgeworth: Yes?

John: How were you invited to this screening?

Edgeworth: Ah. The fair judge here suggested that I join her this time.

Courtney: I had originally planned for Sebastian to join, but he insisted that he was busy. Since Mr. Edgeworth had just finished filing away his last case, it seems he had a bit of time, and I thought he would enjoy a break... It’s too bad things didn’t go so smoothly.

Edgeworth: Unfortunate, but easily remedied. I’ll pay a visit to Criminal Affairs as soon as possible and see what we can do. Thank you for the invitation, by the way. The movie was rather enjoyable.

Courtney: I see. I’m glad to hear it. Good luck, Prosecutor.

Edgeworth: (...It’s not exactly Steel Samurai, but it was fair, I suppose.)

[John looks back and forth between the two of them, making a suspecting look.]

John: So... are you two dating or something?

Edgeworth: Wha-!?

Courtney: John! What do you mean by that?

John: W-well, I often see you two together and now you’ve even come to watch a movie together. Isn’t that basically a date?

Edgeworth: B-but I...

Courtney: I-it’s nothing like that! It was just a casual outing! Anyway, I think we’ve stayed here long enough, John. It’s time to go home.

John: I guess... It’d be weird if you two were dating. I’m not sure what to think about calling this guy “Dad”.

Edgeworth: (T-”this guy”...?)

Courtney: We’re leaving. Now.

John: O-okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything bad by it...

[And those two take their leave with Courtney dragging John away by the wrist.]

Edgeworth: (...The thought hadn’t even occurred to me, but he has a point. Perhaps I should be more careful about taking people’s invitations from now on...)

...Gosh, I even narrated it expressly to catch your attention and you don’t take the bait.

Edgeworth: For your information, Mod, the only thing I’ve agreed to in our contract is to follow through with the prompt, but any superfluous “feelings” to be accounted are beyond its scope.

If this keeps up, I may have to resort to hypnosis...

Edgeworth: Sorry, but hypnosis only works if the participant is willing to do something.

...Got any ideas, then?

Edgeworth: You think I would give you any!?

You’re right. I should ask Kay or Maya.

Edgeworth: ... (I'm certain whatever they come up with wouldn’t work either, but what is this feeling of dread...?)

#ask meme #miles edgeworth #justine courtney #john marsh

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