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noctumbra · 3 years

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peaches: nine [part two]

summary ─ a kiss sealed their love once again, but it was only filled with adoration and love this time.

pairing ─ dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes x reader

warnings ─ smut, +18, age difference (reader is 21, bucky is 39 40), cockwarming, hand feeding, light d/s dynamics, anal sex, plugs, dirty talk, kissing, fluff, pet names

a/n ─ it took a little while to post this, i know, i’m sorry. BUT THIS IS THE END. THE FINAL PART. WE’RE SAYING GOODBYE TO THEM. I’M EMOTIONAL. i really hope you like this final part! so please, please, leave a comment if you do and tell me what you think! thank youuu <33

series masterlist ─ part one

FINAL

It was little past three when they woke up. Both of them had collected some of the energy they’ve lost during the round one.

Bucky was in the kitchen, making a fruit bowl, when she walked in only in her underwear. Her hair was a mess, she had bruises adorning her thighs and her lips were swollen from all the kissing and the stubble Bucky was sporting. “Hey,” she murmured, sleepy tone was heavy in her voice. Bucky looked up with a soft smile.

“Hello, baby,” he greeted her and gave her a kiss on the forehead. She hummed. Her arms were quick to wrap themselves around his waist, she plastered her naked torso against Bucky’s bare back.

“How you are so damn warm all the time, I don’t even know,” she grumbled, rubbing her cheek against the muscle. “No complaints, though,” she added, eyes closing. Bucky chuckled lightly.

“Mm,” Bucky hummed. “You’re welcome to use me as your personal heater, honey.” She made a noise that sounded very much like ‘duh’ and then tightened her arms. Smiling widely, Bucky went back to cutting the strawberries in half. After he was done with them, he moved onto the bananas.

“Can we melt some chocolate, too?” She asked, peering up at his work at his side. Bucky nodded. He knew he had some chocolate they could melt somewhere in his kitchen.

“Sure,” he agreed. “Gotta find it first, though,” he added. She made a sound of approval and stayed in her place, on his back and hugging him. Bucky, feeling content and happy with her body in contact with his, started humming a song to himself silently. Not too long after, he was done with the bananas and now it was the time to search for the said chocolates. “Wanna help me locate the chocolates?” He asked even though he knew the answer.

“Nah,” she grumbled. Bucky shook his head fondly.

“Gotta let me go so that I can find’em, love,” he murmured. She whimpered, the thought of being away from him even for a minute was something she did not want to do. “I’ll be quick, c’mon.” Bucky gently led her to one the chairs in the kitchen and made her sit down. He pressed a kiss on her forehead, stroking her cheek with his thumb. It didn’t take him even a minute to find them; they were in his junk food drawer. Bucky did a quick job to melt them and gathered everything on a tray.

Both of them walked back to the bedroom. Carefully getting on the bed, Bucky placed the tray on his night stand. He could sense that she was trying to find the right position, but Bucky had other plans.

“Nuh-uh,” he said, patting his thighs. “Come up here.” She felt the warmth licking her face as she looked at Bucky. He smirked. “Yup,” he nodded. “You gonna keep me warm while I feed you, that alright, baby?” Choosing to staying silent, she nodded as well. She climbed on Bucky’s lap, settling over his groin, and barely surpassed a moan when she felt he was half-hard already. Bucky hummed. “Lift up,” he said and tapped her ass. She did, lifting herself on her knees, Bucky grabbed his member and lined it up. “C’mon.” She took a shaky breath as she lowered herself on his cock. His half-hard length getting enveloped by her silky heat, he was fully hard in matter of minutes. Bucky let out a satisfied groan.

“So good, baby,” he whispered as he stroked her bare thigh under his hand. Leaning a bit forward, he stuck his fork into one of the strawberries and dipped it in the chocolate. “Open.” Obeying his order happily, she let him feed her with chocolate covered fruits in peace. The silence between them was calm and nice; it felt like their bond was somehow getting stronger. The soft smiles on their faces were a proof of how happy they were to be together. Between the hand feeding and exchanging soft smiles, his hard length into her pussy was forgotten. It wasn’t about pleasure, the way she was seated on that thick cock, but about the trust and skin-to-skin contact. Their bodies were touching from head to toe, and both of them were loving it.

“Sometimes I wish,” she started, her voice held a sleepy tone but she wasn’t sleepy, just serene. “that we could stay like this forever.” Bucky hummed as he put the fork into the empty bowl and settled deeper into the bed.

“Recently I started wishing the same thing more than you can imagine,” he whispered, the truth spilling from his lips without a hesitation. “I’ve been thinking about talking to your parents about us.” She froze briefly on top of his body, and then her head turned and her eyes found his.

“You think it’s time?” Bucky knew her long enough to tell that she was scared, and he could understand why she was feeling that way. Her parents were Bucky’s long time friends if not his only friends. If they didn’t approve his relationship with their daughter, it was most likely to be over and that meant both of them losing the other. Not that both of you wouldn’t fight for each other, making them understand what their relationship was based on, but even if it would be brief, it would hurt you both very much.

Neither of you were ready to lose the other.

“I’m tired of hiding,” Bucky said. “I’m tired of not being able to hold your hand or hug and kiss you the way I want to. I’m tired of sneaking around. I want to take you on dates where we don’t care if someone we know would see us. I want to show you off, want to introduce you as my girlfriend, my partner. I just want to live my life with you and show my love for you to the whole world freely.”

“Bucky…” She whispered and pressed a kiss on his neck. Bucky sighed when her lips moved to his jaw to his lips. The kiss they shared was chaste and soft but carried their delicate love and their strong lust in itself. She wiggled on his lap; widening the stance of her legs, she wrapped her arms around his neck and looked him in the eye. “I love you so much.”

Bucky smiled. His eyes were a little red with sudden rush of tears. His hands moved from her waist to her cheeks, and he cradled her face gently. “I love you so much, too, peaches.” With a small whimper, she kissed him.

Their eyes were closed, chests heaving as they kissed and kissed. His hands stroked her cheeks, slid into her hair and then to her waist. Bucky held her against his body gently. Although they had the rush of pleasure in their actions, the love and tenderness were there. Both of them were yearning to be even closer to each other.

“Bucky…” She sighed when his lips moved to her neck, sucking small, barely visible hickeys on the sensitive flesh. Her hands were in his fluffy hair, nails scratching his scalp and fingers sometimes pulling his hair. “Sir, I need you, please,” she begged sweetly.

“No begging, baby,” Bucky whispered to her lips. “You gonna get whatever you want tonight. I want to give you everything you want, alright?” She nodded, breathless. Bucky gently laid her on her back. His cock still inside her, Bucky settled in between her thighs even more securely as he leaned in for another kiss. “You always gonna get whatever you want. ‘m always gonna give you anything you want or wish or need, okay, sweetheart?” She nodded again, eyes a bit teary. Bucky smiled and kissed her cheeks. His thumbs were stroking the soft skin of her sides, making her whimper in his ear.

“Sir,” she panted lightly. “Kiss me?” It was Bucky’s turn to whimper and give in, lips finding hers without missing a beat.

This kiss was dirty, rushed and sloppy. The lust between them got intense when their positions changed. Bucky’s tongue was licking her lips, inside of her mouth and making her moan with the control he was performing for the kiss. It was so easy to dominate her, so easy to control her, especially when she was letting him, it made Bucky dizzy. Bucky moaned.

“Baby,” he whispered. “Tell me what you want, hm?” His lips moved from her lips to her jaw, nibbling on the flesh and rubbing his scruff all over. You whined lightly.

“Your other present, Sir,” she said, making Bucky moan loudly. “Want you to open it.” Bucky pulled back just a little. “Want you to be the first and last.”

Bucky wanted to scream.

The way she was giving herself to him felt so damn good, Bucky didn’t know how to deal with the feeling. It was so intense and mix of bunch of other emotions: He wanted to hug her and never let go, maybe hide her in his chest, and he wanted to leave his marks on her so that everyone would know whose she was.

Instead, he started with loving on her the way she loved.

“Okay,” he murmured. He slowly pulled out, leaving her empty and gaping. His hands roamed her beautiful body as he helped her flip on her belly. She did so with a moan: Face buried in a pillow, arms placed on both sides of her head and her ass up in the air. She looked so gorgeous, so ethereal and his, Bucky wanted to mark her.

So, he did.

He leaned forward and bit harshly on one of her ass cheeks. She gasped. Her hands fisting the bedding, she closed her eyes. Bucky pulled back to look at the mark he left behind: It was a perfect brand of his teeth sitting on her ass cheek. He hummed. He slapped the other cheek lightly to make it burn and to watch it jiggle.

“O-oh,” she moaned. The little sounds she was letting out were driving Bucky mad in the most beautiful way. Biting down on his lip, Bucky trailed one finger from his teeth marks to the plug sitting nicely between her cheeks. It was teasing him, luring him in to look at it, and Bucky fucking loved it. She was letting him have her this way, she chose him to the first one there, and honestly Bucky didn’t know what he had done to deserve you.

“I’m gonna pull it off, a’right?” He whispered and saw your head moving up and down. His fingers grabbed the base of the small, heart shaped plug and pulled it off just a little before tucking it back in. She hummed. Wiggling her ass, she pressed against the heat of Bucky’s body.

Bucky played with the plug; pulling it back and pushing it in, he made her groan throatily into the bedding, made her move her hips and chase the pleasure. He could see how wet her pussy was, it was literally glistening. Bucky wanted to bury himself in there, but he did that already. It was his first gif. This time, it was going to be this small, other hole which she presented to him beautifully.

Humming to himself, he pulled the plug but did not push back in, this time. He pulled it off slowly. As soon as the widest part was off, plug fell onto the bed, winking innocently at him. Bucky groaned when he saw her loose hole. He needed to prep her a bit, but he was okay with it.

“Love,” he called out to her gently. “Grab the lube from the drawer for me.” Whimpering slightly, she lifted herself onto her arms and opened the drawer, finding the lube immediately. Bucky extended his hand and explained what he was going to do to her as she passed it. “You’re loose, but I’m gonna prep you a bit more, okay, baby?” She nodded. “I don’t wanna hurt you.” He leaned forward and kissed her tailbone. She shuddered.

Bucky squirted some lube in his hand; his fingers found their place over her hole, Bucky started circling the still tight muscle. Bucky slipped one finger inside gently. It was loose enough the let it in in one go. He hummed again, but thoughtfully. He slipped in another finger and heard her sigh deeply.

“Y’alright?” He asked, immediately stopping. She nodded, humming appreciatively.

“Feels good,” she murmured. She was rubbing her face onto his pillow, and Bucky felt his heart swell at the sight even though he was two fingers deep inside her ass. Scoffing lightly, he shook his head.

“Okay,” he said. “Tell me if I hurt you, please.”

“M’kay, Sir,” she whispered.

Bucky petted her side before continuing to prep her. As he moved his fingers in and out, adding more lube and fingers, he felt her hole loosening up bit by bit. Soon, she was moaning and whimpering and grinding her hips against his touch.

“Sir,” Bucky heard her whining. He smirked.

“Yes, peaches,” he answered casually. His fingers were moving relentlessly in her.

“Siirr,” she whined again. “I’m ready, Sir, please─” Bucky crooked his fingers, causing her to cut herself off with a loud moan. She felt ready, and he knew he couldn’t hold it any longer. His cock was hard as fuck for some time now. Groaning, Bucky grabbed a condom. He moved quickly to put it on, hands trembling slightly with the excitement.

“Y’ready?” He rasped. His hands were holding her cheeks open, making her glistening loose hole to wink at him cheekily. She nodded. She looked far too gone to talk with sentences, and Bucky could understand. He was about to lose words, too, he could feel it. “Mmm, okay,” he whispered. He grabbed his hard cock and lined it up.

The slide in was slow. Torturously slow.

She could feel every ridge and vein as Bucky slid in slowly. He threw his head back. The groan that got ripped deep in his chest was loud; she trembled. It was so fucking hot to hear him moan and groan and losing himself like this.

“Oh, fuuck,” Bucky moaned. He was looking at where they were joined, watching himself slide in her virgin hole and was desperately trying not to come too soon. “Fuck, sweetheart─” He gasped when he felt her walls ripple around him. He stilled. He was panting and was only halfway in. He wanted to take it slow, didn’t want to hurt you, but it was really hard not to just slam in.

“Bucky─” She whimpered. “God, shit, move.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” Bucky breathed. Sweat was beading on his forehead and chest already, and his body felt like it was on fire.

“You won’t,” she hissed. “Just fucking move─ Fuck─” Groaning, she wiggled her hips, clenched around him and wiggled a bit more. Bucky’s hold on her hips tightened. He started to move his hips again. He was fucking in half an inch more with his every thrust. She moaned. “Yeah, move, Sir, fuck yes, move!” Her hands found the back of his thighs, her nails dug in deep as she pulled his hips against hers.

Both of them moaned loudly as Bucky buried himself to the tilt with her yanking. Her thighs were trembling, walls were rippling like crazy around his cock, and they were both on the verge of coming.

“Shit,” Bucky hissed. She felt so fucking good around him. It was tight as fuck, hot and wet and tight. Bucky was about to lose his goddamn mind. He leaned forward, covered her body with his as he closed his eyes and tried to calm down. Kissing her bare shoulders and neck, Bucky smiled dopily. “Not a virgin in there anymore,” he whispered before kissing her cheek. She giggled breathily. She took one of her hands from his thigh and tangled it in his fluffy hair, pulling him in for a filthy little kiss.

Bucky moaned as he bit on her lip, licked in her mouth and just kissed her as sloppily as he could. His hips were moving back and forth a little because he still felt like he was about to come, and he didn’t want this to end so quickly.

After what felt like an hour but was actually ten minutes, Bucky started to slam his hips harder and deeper. His cautious pace was now replaced with hard and deep and a bit filthy one which got her moaning and whimpering under him so prettily.

“You love it, don’t you, love?” Bucky whispered in her ear as he slapped her ass cheek lightly. “You love how full it makes you feel, hm?” She nodded vigorously. He did feel so good in her, made her feel so damn full, she never wanted him out of her. Bucky slapped her ass cheek again, this time digging his blunt nails. She gasped. “You’re drippin’,” Bucky murmured and trailed one of his hands from her ass to her pussy and slid two fingers inside.

She screamed.

“Yeah,” Bucky groaned. “Sing for me, baby, c’mon.” The pace he set up got harder and faster. The sound of skin slapping skin and obscene wet sounds were so loud. Like it was possible, Bucky was getting more turned on with each thrust. “Your ass is a fuckin’ wonder,” he hissed. “A peach for fuckin’ sure, sweetheart.” Snarling, he moved on the bed. He wrapped his hands on her knees and spread them even more apart as he pressed the outside of his thighs to her inner legs. She was practically sitting on his lap now.

“Oh fuck!” She cried out. With this new position, Bucky slid in even deeper and was now stroking something sensitive in her with his each thrust. He still had two of his fingers in her pussy and now a thumb was pressing on her clit. “Oh shit, ‘m close!” She moaned. “’m so close, Sir, fuck!” Her hands flew and grabbed his ass. Her nails dug in deep as they pulled his hips against hers harder. “Yes, yes!” Throwing her head back, she bared her throat to him.

Bucky snarled as he placed his mouth on the exposed neck. He wanted so badly to leave some marks there, but he couldn’t, he knew it. Not yet.

“Come,” he ordered, voice rough and hoarse. “You come on my cock now, and I’ll fuck your pussy after, feed her with my come.” She swore, groaned and whimpered. Her eyes rolled back as Bucky pinched her clit, and she came screaming.

Bucky’s whole body trembled, and he collapsed on the bed with her body under his. The clench of her ass on his cock was so tight, he thought he might come any second if he even dared to breathe.

She shivered, her body shook violently and her muscles twitched. The orgasm that rolled through her body was very strong and intense, she felt herself floating. With a sigh, she relaxed under Bucky’s body and moaned happily. She could feel Bucky’s hands roaming all over her, fingers stroking her hair.

“Mmm, fuck,” she grinned happily. Bucky kissed her shoulder.

“You back with me?” He asked, and she nodded. She looked so blissed out, Bucky felt proud. He kept peppering kisses on anywhere he could reach. She hummed.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, and Bucky obeyed immediately. Their lips met in a chaste and loving way, and both of them sighed. It lasted for only four seconds, but it was a very sweet kiss. Then, she pushed him back lightly, signaling him to pull out and off. He did. He slid out of her abused her as carefully as he could and sat back on his haunches.

“You promised me something,” she murmured. Flipping on her back, she spread her legs. “Feed me.”

Bucky choked on his next breath. “Baby,” he gasped. “I’m an old man now, don’t spring shit like this on me.” She giggled. Smiling, he walked between her legs again and took the condom off, ditching it somewhere. He leaned in to kiss her cheeks as he slid into her dripping pussy. Bucky groaned.

Her ass was so damn amazing, but he knew he’d always prefer her pussy because goddamn.

“Mm, c’mon, Sir,” she mewled, her hands grabbing onto the muscles on his back. “C’mon, she’s hungry, feed her, please.”

“Fuck,” Bucky whispered and started thrusting at a mad pace. He was chasing his relief, not bothering with his technique or something. All he needed was to empty his balls and lose himself in the throes of pleasure.

It didn’t take him too long. With a loud groan which he buried into her neck, he came inside of her. His cock twitching and releasing stripes of come in her pussy, Bucky sighed and plopped himself onto her. She huffed. Not saying anything, one her hands immediately started playing with his hair while the other started its trailing down on his back and up. Bucky shivered.

They stayed like that for a while. Skin-to-skin, serene and post-coital, they laid there on the bed. Outside was chilly, wind was howling, but neither of them cared about it because they had each other’s body heat to stay warm.

“Are we really gonna tell my parents about us?” She asked. Bucky hummed.

“Yes,” he said. “I don’t wanna hide anymore. I’m an old man, now.” She snorted as Bucky grinned.

“You can’t play that card every time,” she grumbled. “I don’t wanna hide anymore, either,” she whispered then. Bucky kissed just above her breasts.

“I want you to be mine officially,” Bucky whispered, lifting his head up and looking at her. “And you will be.” She smiled fondly. Her nails scratched his beard, stroked his cheeks and ran through his hair.

“Okay,” she murmured. “Happy birthday, baby.” Bucky smiled widely, the crinkles around his eyes showed themselves, making your heart beat wildly.

“Thank you, peaches.”

A kiss sealed their love once again, but it was only filled with adoration and love this time.

──

“Um, Dad? Papa?” She called out softly.

“Yeah, sweetie?” Steve said, Sam only humming as he put his book down. She walked into the living room with Bucky slowly. Her heart was beating so fast, it felt like it was about to burst. Bucky brushed his hand against hers in a soothing manner.

“There is something I want to tell you something,” she announced. “Actually Bucky and I wanted to tell you guys something.” Both Steve and Sam sat up straighter, their eyes trained on you intently. Bucky held her hand.

“Y/N and I have been seeing each other romantically a little longer than a year now,” Bucky said. “It started out with only one night, but then feelings happened and…” Bucky’s eyes found hers, a fond smile forming on his lips. “I love her.” She felt her cheeks heating up, but she was so nervous that she couldn’t even feel the butterflies moving happily in her stomach.

She took a deep breath and tightened her hold on Bucky’s hand. Her parents were looking at them without blinking. The silence was almost deafening, she just wanted them to say something.

“You know what, Barnes?” Steve suddenly said, and the instant fear took a hold of her body. “I fucking hate you.”

“Gimme my five hundred bucks,” Sam grinned as he extended his hand out to Steve. “Oh, and that vacation you promised, too. I could really use one.”

“W-what?” She whispered. “You’re not mad?”

Steve let out a surprised laugh. “Mad? Honey,” he chuckled. “Sam and I knew for a while. You guys aren’t so subtle, y’know.” Bucky blinked a few times.

“What.”

“The day we were gonna make a barbecue? You both were in the garage and you said that you were helping Bucky to unpack or something?” Steve said. She nodded. “I saw the car windows and Bucky’s face.”

“Oh, at the New Years,” Sam chimed in. “We knew you were kissing because Y/N’s lipstick was sort of visible on your lips.”

“Oh my God,” she gasped. “What! You knew!”

“Yes,” they both said, grinning.

“And we’re okay with it,” Steve added immediately. “We know how supportive Bucky is, and although the age thing sort of weirded me out at the beginning, I’m okay with it now.” Steve paused. “It’d be a hypocrite of me to judge you for that since me and Sam have like nine years of age gap between us.” He shrugged.

“And,” Sam said. “We know Barnes for a very long time and to be honest, he’s been really happy this past year. It’s good to see him enjoying the life for once.” He smiled. “Although that doesn’t mean that if you make her cry or sad, I’ll kick your ass no matter what, you hear?”

Bucky chuckled. “I hear, Wilson, I hear.”

“Good,” Sam nodded and then he grinned. “C’mere you two.”

The hug they shared was a sort that only families shared. With Sam and Steve’s paternal love and Bucky’s protective, loving arms around her, she felt at peace.

No secrets. No hiding.

They were officially a family now.

fin

#bucky barnes x reader #dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #dadsbestfriend!bucky #bucky barnes x you #peaches

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seodami · 3 years

Text

Dearest treasure | KTH

Summary: Every kid in town was afraid of Kang Taehyun, the old -slightly creepy- man living alone for years and years in the same run down house. Every night he would go into his backyard with a shovel and dig a hole into the earth. No one knows why and there are kids rumouring about him burying people. Jungwon was a bright kid, wanting to find out the truth behind this widely spread rumour for a school project. And what he found out would change his life forever.

Genre: fluff, angst, flashbacks, story of life, snippets of life, tiny bit humour

Warning: old Taehyun, mention of death, mention of suicide/suicidal thoughts, death

Word count: 10152 (all 3 parts)

Pairing: Kang Taehyun x reader, (Yang Jungwon)

Note: Wow okay so this story took me a while to write and I listened to hours of das music to finish this🥺 this was honestly an emotional rollercoaster. But I’m so glad it’s finally finished so I can post it on here yayyy!!! I hope you like it an enjoooyy (please tell me if you cried I would really appreciate your responses haha bc I did)

Main masterlist

2089 (present)

Deathly silence hung in the air as thick as smog. In Jungwons eyes pooled tears, ready to spill over the edges to fall into free fall and drop heavily onto his trousers. His heart was burning, not finding any suitable words of comfort or understanding for the old man in front of him. His throat felt like it was tied up so tightly, he couldn’t breathe. Oh, how didn’t he know? Oh, how could anyone talk bad behind his back? So much hurt…

Mr. Kangs head hung low, not daring to make any other noice than his sniffling nose. Hot tear drops were silently dropping down, it felt suffocating just watching him so full of hurt and sorrow. Suddenly Jungwon felt sorry to let him relive his whole life together with the terrible pain even the young boy could feel.

“I- I…I never could…forgive myself. It was my fault-“ the once handsome mans face was dark and the wrinkles now seemingly even deeper full of regrets and unspoken words. “You wouldn’t understand, boy-“

Jungwon couldn’t form any appropriate words at that moment and let the sadness let him take away just for a little longer. His story was heavy… he felt like he just heard something he shouldn’t have heard. Something so private and fragile. It had touched him more than he had thought.

“I didn’t want to live anymore… it was all worthless since then… I had no motivation to keep going.” His voice became a tad more stable, yet still quiet and weak. His tired eyes met the innocent boys and for a second the old man could see his younger self inside his big brown eyes. Sadness and nostalgia rolled over him and he averted his gaze.

“I tried ending my life many times since that day- it never worked no matter how much I wanted it… and then I just…I just mouldered…alone, broken- and just a shell of my old self. I wasn’t the once happy, bright, clever boy anymore. I could never be that again…”

Jungwons heart felt heavy, breathing wasn’t bearable. His hands unconsciously reached forward to the tiny lost figure sitting in his sunken mould. It was a simple touch but for Mr. Kang it was the first reassuring and comforting gesture he had received in a long long time. It made him tear up stronger, still staying silent. The young boy wanted to be there for the old man. He wanted to show him that he wasn’t alone in this.

Moments of depressing, yet healing silence passed, just the ticking of the old clock in the dark living room was heard. “I’m so sorry Mr. Kang…” Jungwon finally whispered, unsure if the man spoken to even heard it. He couldn’t do much but be there in this moment. Quite honestly he felt like crying himself. But he wanted to stay strong for him.

“One day-“ Mr. Kangs voice shook a little but he kept talking. “-I remembered the time capsule. My dearest treasure. So long ago. And I made it my life mission to find it. One last moment to hold onto and…look back to.” A thick single tear slowly rolled down Jungwons cheek. So that was it. That’s why… and everyone had dragged the vulnerable man down, putting even more dirt into his deep wounds.

“I-I searched everywhere. But…but i just…forgot. It’s my last wish before I finish this…” life he wanted to say. Finish his life. It made the school boy unbelievable sad. Oh how much he must’ve suffered his whole life. And before Jungwon could’ve decided differently, a strong feeling of wanting to help and support creeped up to him.

“I’m gonna help you Mr. Kang. We will find your treasure.” Jungwon reassuringly took the heavy, wrinkled hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. It was the first time since that day, that he felt hope again. Just a tiny tiny splinter but it was there. Hope.

The next hours, both of the males digged holes through the whole garden, not saving any sweat, too focused on finding the mans greatest desire. Mr. Kang had already reached his limit after three holes, following with the 14 year old boy leading him towards an old wooden garden bench to rest on. Jungwon on the other hand was full of verve and energy to fulfill his dearest wish. To find his dearest treasure. Mr. Kang watched him with surprise and thankfulness, never had anyone gone all the way out to help him with something so important to him. There was never someone who he could’ve went to. After that day, he had broken off all the contact with his old friends. He wanted to feel alone at some point. He deserved the pain. That’s what he had always told himself. But now he was old and weak and just wanted nothing more than to be finally reunited with his beloved family. He missed you everyday. He heard his daughters laughters everyday. And he saw his son running around outside in the garden everyday. He finally wanted to be with his family everyday.

It had already gotten dark and cold at this point, Mr. Kang had brought the hard working boy a jacket and a warm tea. The sun was already long gone, just the small lights from the veranda and from the street shined over towards them. Jungwon was still digging, his once tidy school clothes now full of dirt and dust and drenched in sweat. He couldn’t give up. He knew that. So he kept digging and digging. The moon was fondly watching at the pair below, shining just a tad brighter tonight for them. Short friendly small talk about school went quickly over to heartfelt conversations about life and this and that. Nobody, not even the moon, would’ve thought that the bitter, lonely 87 year old Taehyun and the bright, cheerful 14 year old Jungwon would’ve ever even crossed paths, yet life showed again how unpredictable and full of surprises it could be. This night, a tight bond between the two men was woven. So unexpected but yet so lovely.

The clock already told them it was 6 minutes before midnight when another noice cut through the silent night air. A metallic sound. Gasping, Jungwon threw the shovel away, excitement now rushing through his veins. He fell onto his knees, not caring about the moist soil on his trousers. His hands digged through the last part, brown earth now sticking behind his nails, and moments later, he pulled out a medium sized metal box, securely wrapped in plastic. Jungwon felt like he just won the Olympics, he felt like he did it. He did it…

A quick gaze onto the bench showed him the sleeping old man, now seeming even tinier than before. With shaky steps and a weird feeling of proudness and fulfilment, Jungwon waddled over to the sleeping form, gently waking him up. The box in his hands was tightly in his grasp, not letting go. Mr. Kangs heavy lidded eyes flew open in an instant when he saw the metal box in the boys arms. Tears burned in his thankful eyes, reaching towards it with shaking arms. Everything felt heavy, yet his heart felt the lightest it had felt in a long long time.

“Thank you…so much.” Tears were now unstoppable rolling down his cheeks. It squeezed Jungwons heart, knowing he could make this man happy again, fulfilling his last wish. The both of them moved up to the house again, warmth engulfing them with its now familiar scent. Comfort. The old man reassured the boy to stay but seeing the box being opened, Jungwon felt as if he got to see something way too private. But he stayed, looking over the sniffling mans shoulder when he pulled out a small pink toy dolphin. His hands were shaking. “This was my daughters. It was her favorite toy when she was…two years old.”

Taehyuns heart clenched, seeing all his treasures in front of him. He desperately pressed the small toy against his chest, letting all his emotions in. It was intense, yet it was all he ever wanted. Seeing the familiar drawings of a green giraffe, sitting on a cloud with a family next to it. He could read all their names above the figures. Oh Taehee…

Looking through the photographs, old memories surfaced and made the man tear up even heavier. He didn’t knew how much he really had missed them. It was as if his empty shell was slowly filled again, reliving all of your best and worst moments. He saw a picture on his old friends Hueningkais 18th birthday. All of his friends were there, cake smeared all across your faces, the brightest smiles someone could ever see. The day he had first met you… Another picture had all of your friends sitting around a small bonfire, being cuddled inside blankets. Taehyun saw his younger handsome self smiling unsure into the camera with you sitting beside him. He could only laugh sadly at the memories of your camping trip where he first had kissed you, the guilty feeling just as clear.

“She looks so happy here…” Taehyun noticed with a testy smile, gently touching your face on the picture, seeing you and him laying on a bed, arms tightly slung around your frame, as you held the camera. His large eyes showed nothing but the purest form of love as he looked over to you. Oh he was such a lovesick fool. “You were a pretty couple…” Jungwon whispered, glancing over the handsome young man and the pretty women. He wished to find someone in his life later, he could look at with just as much love as he did. Taehyun nodded, pulling out the next photo. It was the two of you kissing in front of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, big smiles on both of your faces. Taehyun remembered, it was when he courageously decided to fly around half the globe to you to fix your relationship. He didn’t want to give you up, thank god he didn’t. Another photograph showed you holding your first ultrasound picture, tears streaming down your face. You were both so young and already on the way to becoming parents. It was scary, yes it was one of the most scary moments in life but it was all worth it. The next picture showed you in the hospital bed, looking weak, yet happy. Taehyun was kneeing down next to you, his gaze focused on you and the tiny newborn baby in four arms. A tear dropped down onto the photo but he quickly wiped it away. “Our little Taehee…”

The next picture showed a kissing couple dressed in a gorgeous white dress and a neat black suit. The priest between them was smiling fondly at the newlywed couple. On another one he could see the couple dancing in midst of their guests, white petals laying all over the place. Taehyun sobbed, holding a hand over his mouth. Jungwons hand reassuringly squeezed his shoulder. He was there for him. Taehyuns and your parents were dancing next to you, he could see his friend Yeonjun and Beomgyu dancing with each other playfully and many more of their closest circle. It had been so long. And he missed it. It was such a happy memory.

There were other photographs with you being pregnant, both of your baby pictures, your friends and your parents and a ton of little Taehee running around bubbly in her adorable dresses and overalls. Taehyun hadn’t seen these pictures in a while and it tore his heart into a million pieces. The last picture was inside your new house, the house he never could bring over him to leave. You were all sitting on the carpet, smiling into the camera. The little baby boy snuggling closer in his blanket and the girl pressing a soft kiss onto his tiny head. Taehyuns arms were slung around your frame, head laying on your shoulder relaxing. They were so happy. So happy.

He pulled out an edition of your favorite book with a hand written text inside: ‘For Taehee and Taejun- may they find wisdom and happiness in their long lives. From mum and dad’ Taehyun remembered. Oh he remembered everything. You two would always read this book together since your honeymoon, where you discovered it in one of the local bookstores. Since then it had always be your favorite book. And it hurt him seeing his children never got to read it. Their future was just robbed because of one moment. It was unfair. Why did he get to live when they couldn’t? He never understood.

The last thing Taehyun pulled out of the box was the pink letter littered with dozen of glitter stickers. ‘To my love’ stood on top of it in your cursive handwriting. He gulped, knowing exactly this was made for him personally. It was the letter he dreaded reading. The moment he waited for. The reason he wanted to find this box in the first place. His love. Jungwon stood stiff and still next to him, not daring to say a word. With shaking fingers, he carefully opened the envelope without tearing it. He could immediately recognise your pretty handwriting and already teared up when he read over the first sentence. ‘To my dear love Taehyun, whom I always love’ with another nod, he dared reading through the heartfelt letter.

‘So this is where life led us, what? To be quite honest with you, my 17 year old me would’ve never thought about marrying the handsome boy from Hueningkais birthday party, let alone have his children and buy our first house together. Life went wild with us, am I right Tae? But I regret nothing. Not even when I stole your favorite hoodie out of your closet without you knowing. Everyone was so done with my reckless personality and I often felt misunderstood in my younger days as you know. But you just always seemed to just see the best in me. Even when I felt like giving it all up. You were always there for me. And you were the only one to fully understand and accept me how I am. This is something I never told you in person but I can’t remember how life was without you before. In my mind, you were always there and I know that you will always be there for our family in our long future. I hope when you read this, we are both still happily married, watching our children and grandchildren laugh about all our ridiculous photos inside this box. And Taehee, oh she must be so happy to see her favorite toy again haha. Taehyun, you are my best friend, my first love, my first heartache, my true soulmate and the best husband in the whole world. You are and will always be my love, no matter how time will turn our lives around. We are always together. I love you always,

Your dearest wife Y/N

(P.S. don’t worry about getting old, you are still my handsome prince I fell in love with!)’

At this point, Taehyun was a sobbing mess, not caring what the young boy might think of him. This letter had touched his soul, his deepest heart. He felt every word you’ve written just as if it was you whispering each of them into his ear. He never felt the urge that strong before to be by your side, hug you, kiss you all over your face, tell you how beautiful you were and whisper how much he loved you and would forever. His life made sense only with his family by his side. There was nothing left to live anymore for Taehyun. And he knew that for a long time already.

Jungwon in this moment didn’t knew what to do anymore. He felt like he had fulfilled his mission, making the old man happy for a last time. With quiet steps, he took his video camera, he totally had forgotten and put it in his backpack laying on the floor abandoned. It was his sign to leave, let the man dwell in his emotions and memories. He was done here. With careful steps he went closer to the sobbing man again, softly putting his hand on his shoulder. He looked up as if he knew what the boy was about to say.

A small smile was on his wrinkled lips, clenching on the boys heart. He weakly pushed himself up just to pull the sweaty, in dirt covered student into a warm embrace. It was the first hug since ages it felt like. The hug remembered Jungwon of his own grandmother and tears stuck in his throat. He missed her. “Thank you so much, Jungwon. You are a wonderful kid. You’ve fulfilled my dearest wish. I will forever be thankful to you. May you be blessed forever. You were the only one willing to listen. Thank you.” Jungwon nodded in his shoulder, trying not to burst into tears on the spot but failed nevertheless in the end. He was so glad seeing the happy man in front of him, now seeming even younger than before. The deep sunken eyes didn’t seem frightening anymore. They were warm and welcoming. He could see sparkles of youth inside them. Yes, Jungwon did the right thing.

When the clock showed sharply half an hour past midnight, Jungwon bid his farewell to the man, he weirdly would consider his friend now, knowing he could sleep well tonight. Taehyun insisted on him keeping the jacket he gave him as well as one of the pictures inside the box for his school project and as a token of gratitude. On his quiet walk back home, he smiled endearingly down to the old photograph he carefully held in his hand. It was the last picture. Where the family of four smiled happily into the camera, sitting onto the fluffy rug Jungwon recognised now. He would treasure this picture forever. It was a generous gift, knowing how important it had been to Mr. Kang. He was so thankful.

The next day, Jungwon excitedly presented his project in class. Even though his mother yelled at him concerned where he was until this late, he managed to edit the video for his project, tearing up in the process but still felt motivated to keep going. It was important that he made this his best project. Not for him or his grade, no, it was for Mr. Kang. He was determined to change everyone’s horrible opinion about the old man.

It was eye opening for everyone. Even Park Jongsong, the scary older student, couldn’t come up with a counter attack and stared wide eyed at the screen in front of the class. It was freeing, knowing that just a bit of courage and kindness could lead you to such wonderful moments. He changed everyone’s opinion about ‘Killer Kang’. And he managed to make an old sad man happy again.

After school, the kind student hurried over to Mr. Kangs house. In bright daylight, the garden looked like a battlefield with tons and tons of freshly digged soil laying all around. Now with a much happier feeling, Jungwon crossed the chaotic lawn, knocking energetically onto the old wodden door. After a while he still hadn’t heard any steps so he tried knocking again. “Mr. Kang? It’s Jungwon. I wanted to show you the finished project. It went amazing.” The boy excitedly bounced on the balls of his feet, too giddy to stand still. There was still no answer, so Jungwon made his way towards the backyard, now being familiar with every inch. He had a weird feeling in the pit of his stomache.

And when he saw the open veranda, the old man sitting in his mould on the old couch, Jungwon let out a relieved breath. With careful steps not to step inside one of the many holes in the ground, he made its way over to Mr. Kang, not without knocking on the wall outside. Still no answer. Maybe he hasn’t heard it or he was sleeping. Jungwon waddled over to the familiar couch, seeing Mr. Kang sitting in his usual spot with his eyes closed. He looked so peaceful, Jungwon first thought the old man was sleeping tightly. Yet when there was still no answers or reactions from his side and when he noticed there was no movement of his upper body, he understood…

Mr. Kang passed away last night. Tears welled up in Jungwons eyes and he heavily let them flow when he saw all the contents of the metallic box scattered around the small desk in front of him. The photos, sorted into time accuracy, the book untouched, the adorable drawings of his young daughter, the green giraffe smiling cheekily at him. The pink letter was open and the neat handwriting was still the same as yesterday. And in Mr. Kangs hands, layed the pink toy dolphin.

Jungwon went onto his knees beside him on the fluffy carpet, letting his hot tears fall freely without restrictions. He may had lost a friend today but he knew deep down, the old kind man was happily reunited with his family. He had gained everything he lost. And for that…how could Jungwon still be sad?

For now and forever, the courageous 14 year old boy, who acted righteous and kind, carried Kang Taehyuns life story out into the wide world, spread his last words so no one would forget the once mysterious man everyone feared to look at. Kang Taehyun, a man who got everything he wished for and then got it taken away from him. A man, who loved dearly. A man, whose story would never be forgotten.

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futurebicon · 3 years

Text

Dusk Till Dawn

I was gonna post this later but I physically can not wait any longer.

Apologize in advance

CW- death, panic attack, screaming, crying, fighting, accidental slight domestic abuse, self-harm, depression, anxiety, mention of child abuse, food, suicide attempt, hospital, dissociation, grief, hurt, blood, overdose, surgery

Remus didn’t know what to do or how to help.

All he could do was hold Sirius as he kicked and screamed and cried and punched and gasped for air.

“I’m so sorry,” Remus whispered even though he knew his husband wasn’t processing what he was saying. “I’m so sorry.” Tears streamed down his face.

Remus didn’t know how much time had passed since they got the call.

Heart attack.

Overworked with physical activity.

Celeste had called them crying.

It was at least an hour later when Sirius collapsed against him, exhausted from the meltdown.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Remus kissed the top of his head.

“I can’t, Re. Please,” Sirius gasped out quietly. “I can’t.”

“Shh, I know. It’s gonna be okay.” Remus held him tighter.

“I don’t want. I don’t want to.” He sobbed.

Remus had nothing else to say until his phone rang.

“Hey, Logan.” He asked the call.

“Did Celeste tell you?” Logan’s voice was a broken sob.

“Yeah,”

“Okay, uh, is Sirius okay?” He asked.

“Not at all. Are you?”

“No.” He sobbed. “No.”

“Logan I’m so, so fucking sorry.”

Dumo had been a father to everyone on the team but it was different with Sirius and Logan. They had lived with him for years, had breakfast with him in the morning and dinner with him at night, watched TV together, talked to him about what was going on in their lives. He was truly their father.

Even more so for Sirius.

Sirius never understood what a father was supposed to be like until he met Dumo.

He knew they weren’t supposed to hit their kids but he didn’t know that they were supposed to love them.

Dumo was the first person to truly, truly care about him.

Yes, Regulus loved him and cared for him but that was different.

Sirius didn’t know what love was so he ran away from it. Not joining in on dinners, staying in his room, not speaking unless spoken to.

But Dumo never let him get too far. He didn’t push Sirius to join them or talk with him but he didn’t let him think he was alone.

Slowly Sirius stopped trying to escape it and instead started to welcome it.

It still took a while for him to truly open up, but Dumo was always there.

Dumo was always there.

He didn’t leave when Sirius would flinch away from his touch or fast movements or loud sounds.

He didn’t leave when he walked into Sirius’s room while the teenager was having a full-blown panic attack that left him paralyzed.

He didn’t leave when Sirius gave him a black eye because he was trying to wake him up from a nightmare.

He didn’t leave when he saw the bandages.

He never left.

Even when Sirius moved out he was still there.

Remus didn’t know who Sirius would call or what he would do without Dumo.

“Arthur’s gonna call us all in tomorrow and tell the rest of the team.” Logan pulled him back to reality.

“They don’t know?” “No, uh, Celeste only told me, you, and Arthur.”

“I’ll see how Sirius is but I doubt we’re going to be able to go” Remus looked down at Sirius, who had fallen asleep after exhausting himself.

“Yeah neither of us have to go. I still don’t know if I’m going to.”

“Let me know if you are.”

“I will,” Logan told him. “Alright, um, tell Sirius I’m here if he needs me.”

“I’ll tell him, but know that we’re here for you too.”

“I know.” Logan let out another sob he had been holding in and hung up quickly.

+++

Sirius and Remus stopped when they walked into the conference room.

“Hi,” Celeste sadly smiled at them, obviously exhausted.

“I did-didn’t know you were coming.” Remus stammered.

“I can’t stay long. I just had to come by and help write the statement to give to the league.” Celeste met Sirius’s eyes as she explained.

Sirius quickly looked down at the ground.

“Hey, Sirius.” She said softly.

“I can’t.” He looked up with tears streaming down his face. “Celeste I don’t know- I can’t.”

Celeste wrapped him in her arms as he fell into her sobbing.

“He loved you so much, Sirius. He was so, so proud of you.” Celeste told him as everyone left the room to give them time alone.

“I don’t know what to do.” He pulled away.

“Come talk,” she led him over to the table.

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to deal with me. You should be with your kids.” Sirius wiped his eyes but the tears were still falling.

“You’re my son just like Marc and Louis are. Now talk to me.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel.” He admitted.

“What do you feel?”

“I don’t know. I can’t explain it. It’s like I can feel all the emotions but I’m also numb to them but not fully numb because they still hurt.” He sobbed. “Celeste it hurt. It hurts so fucking bad. It hurts.”

“I know it does sweetheart. I know.” She hugged him again.

“I don’t think I can do this.” He shook his head. “I can’t handle this feeling. I need it to stop.”

“Hey, none of that.” She cupped his cheek. “Adele and Katie and Marc and Louis already lost their father, they don’t want to lose their brother too.”

“I don’t want them to but I can’t take this.”

“You can Sirius. You’re strong. It’s going to get better. I know we’re all gonna miss him more than anything. But it will stop hurting so much.”

Sirius could only cling to her and sob.

++++

“Hi, baby.” Remus hugged Sirius as he walked out of the room with Celeste.

Sirius curled into his chest.

“I’m gonna head out,” Celeste told them with a sad smile. “The kids are with their grandparents and the team’s already here.”

They said their goodbyes and walked into the main lounge where half the team was already gathered.

“You okay?” James asked Sirius who could only shake his head and collapsed onto the couch, letting Remus pull him onto his lap.

The previously happy energy in the room dulled as they waited for the rest of the team to trickle in. The energy rose slightly as they cracked jokes to lighten the mood.

“Alright now that you’re all here-”

“Dumo’s not.” Nado pointed out.

“I know,” Arthur said sadly.

“Hey if he gets to skip why couldn’t we?” Kasey protested.

“Make him do extra laps tomorrow,” Thomas told Arthur.

All of their remarks stopped as they looked over at Sirius as he sobbed into Remus’s chest. Logan had his arms crossed on his knees and head buried in his arms his body shook as Leo and Finn rubbed his back.

“Coach why’s Dumo late?” James looked at Arthur. The coach had tears streaming down his face.

“Why is Dumo late?” Kasey asked through clenched teeth.

“Celeste called last night.” He started to explain. “He had a heart attack.”

“No” Thomas shook his head.

“Oh god,” Lily threw her hand over her mouth.

“They tried to bring him-”

“Stop.” James shook his head in shock.

“I’m so sorry.” his voice broke.

The room filled with silent sobs.

“The league’s going to release a statement tonight,” Arthur told them before falling silent, letting them all process the news in silence.

“Celeste wants us to clean out his locker.” He said a few minutes later. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, she just wants to get everything out of it so she can keep some things. She said you can have anything you want from it.”

The team stood up numbly and walked into the locker room.

“You sure?” Remus asked Sirius as he climbed off his lap. Sirius nodded and grabbed onto his hand.

It was only silent whispers and cries as the team pulled things from his locker and stall.

“Stop,” Remus’s loud voice cut through the silence. “Sirius stop.”

They watched as Sirius punched Remus’s arms that were wrapped tight around his waist to hold him back.

“Let me go.” Sirius snarled, getting lifted off the ground when he tried to kick Remus’s legs. “Let me go.”

“I’m not gonna let you go until you calm down.” Remus held him tight.

Sirius didn’t stop.

The team watched their captain in shock and overwhelming sadness.

“Sirius, you have to stop. You’re going to make yourself sick, baby.” Remus tried to calm him.

Then Sirius is screaming.

Just screams.

And screams and screams.

They’re terrifying sounds. Torturously filled with panic and grief and sadness and desperation and anger and pleas.

He screams until his voice wears out and he can’t fight anymore. He turns around in Remus’s arms and screams with what little voice he has left.

Remus was shaking with sobs as he held his broken husband. Wishing he could fix everything that broke him.

Remus picked Sirius up as his knees gave out and carried him out of the locker room. Leaving everyone in silence.

++++++

It didn’t truly hit Remus until the league released a statement.

Then it hit hard.

They had breaking news on all the sports channels to explain his death and what it meant for the team.

Once the tweets started he made sure Sirius was still asleep after exhausting himself from breakdowns last night and quietly left the bedroom.

As soon as he stood in front of the sink he started shaking.

Moments later it all hit.

He sank against the wall with silent sobs.

He had lost people before, his grandpa, an uncle, but he wasn’t close with them.

He was close with Dumo.

Hell, he’s the reason he’s married to the love of his life.

His first thought when they got the call was Sirius.

And that’s who he had focused on since the call.

All the effort it took for him to try and be there for his husband, left little time to think about anything else.

But Sirius was asleep and all the tweets he was being tagged in that told him that they were sorry for his loss. Now he could process it.

He cried for Dumo, and Celeste, and Adele, Marc, Louis, Katie, the team, the fans, Logan, Sirius.

He cried for all of them.

He cried until he felt someone sit down beside him and pull him into their chest.

He was going to apologize for waking Sirius but his mind was racing too fast and all he could do was let Sirius hold him and cry.

+++3 Days Later+++

“Sirius?” Remus shot up as he felt the empty bed beside him. “Sirius?”

He ran out of the room calling his husband’s name with no response and, fuck, this wasn’t good.

“Sirius? Sirius.” Remus stopped as he looked into the ice rink in their basement.

Sirius was shooting pucks into the goal. Each shot more forceful and more powerful than the last.

“Baby,” Remus called out, getting his attention. But the black-haired man just shook his head after making eye contact. And went back to hit the black rubber.

“Baby.” He called out again. “Come back to bed. Please love?”

Sirius dropped his stick and stood in the center of the ice panting.

Remus could see the tears now that he was standing still. He was wearing simple grey sweatpants that he had stolen from Remus. But his heart jolted when he saw the hoodie.

It was Dumos lucky hoodie.

As much as the older man said superstitions were stupid, he never played a game without wearing it.

The once bright blue fabric was now a dull blue-grey color.

The red letters barely readable after too many washes.

The small New York Rangers logo was only noticeable if you knew it was there before.

The team always chirped at him for wearing it. “That’s betrayal, Dumo.”

Celeste had given it to Sirius earlier but he had refused to even touch it until now.

Sirius skated over to the side and took off his skates quickly before pushing past his husband.

“Sirius” Remus followed him up the stairs. “Hey, stop.” He grabbed his arm.

“Leave me alone.”

“Sirius calm down.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Sirius seethed and hit his hand away.

“Calm down and I won’t have to tell you to.”

“I fucking hate you.” Sirius gritted his teeth and pushed Remus in the chest.

“Don’t push me,” Remus told him firmly.

“I don’t know why I married you.” He pushed him again, with more force as tears streamed down his face.

“Stop pushing me.”

“I hate you.” He pushed him hard, Remus’s back hitting the wall.

“Sirius don’t fucking push me.”

“I HATE YOU.” He screamed and raised his fist.

“Don’t you dare,” Remus grabbed his hand before it could connect with his face before grabbing the other and holding them in a restraint. “You can scream and cry and tell me you hate me or that you don’t love me all you want, I’m not gonna stop you.” He told him firmly. “But I am never going to let you hit me.”

Sirius seemed to snap out of his trance and collapsed into Remus. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. Please, I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He sobbed and screamed.

“I know. I know you’re sorry. I know you didn’t mean to but no matter how angry you are, you can’t physically hurt me, or someone else, or yourself.” Remus held him.

Sirius could only sob.

“This doesn’t mean you’re your parents, Sirius.” Remus could read his mind. “Your parents hit for no reason. You tried to hit me because you’re angry and scared and devastated and so many other emotions that you don’t know how to handle.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“No, it doesn’t make it okay. But there was still an understandable reason for it, meaning you aren’t your parents.”

“I didn’t- know- I- was- do-doing-ing it,” He gasped. “I don-don-t know-why- I- di-did- i-i-it-t-it.” He was hyperventilating at this point. His knees gave out and dragged both of them to the floor.

“You need to take deep breaths for me, baby. You’re going to pass out if you don’t slow your breathing down.” He kissed his forehead. “Try and match your breathing with mine.” He put Sirius’s hand over his chest.

Sirius choked and gasped for a few minutes before sobbing. “I-I can’t.”

“I know it’s hard but you’ve got to try my love. Breath with me okay.” He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. Repeating it until Sirius started to follow his rhythm.

“Good job baby.” He kissed his forehead again as his breathing slowed.

“I don’t know why I did it.” He hiccuped slightly.

“Baby you grew up in a world where abuse was a sign of emotion. If your parents were angry they hit. If they were disappointed they hit. If they were hurt they hit. You learned that if you’re hurting you make others hurt. Not verbally like some people do but physically. That’s what you had always known and accepted. And yes you aren’t controlled by their tactics anymore but your mind still remembers those lessons that you didn’t even know you learned.” Remus rubbed his back and rocked him slightly as he explained.

“Right now you are hurting more than you ever have before. And you are devastated and panicked and angry. And those are all normal and perfectly okay to feel. But your mind doesn’t know what to do with this level of emotions so it goes through everything that has happened when you felt these emotions until it thinks it’s found a way to get rid of them. In your mind anger had always and only meant pain and hurt. It’s not your fault baby. It’s not. But we’re gonna have to figure out a way to stop your mind from thinking that.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“I know you are. And just because it’s not your fault and that it’s not really you that’s doing it, does not mean I’m going to allow you to hurt yourself or someone else.”

“I’m so sorry.” Sirius sobbed again.

++++++++ 2 months later ++++++++

“And with 5 minutes left of practice, they come calling.” Arthur pulled out his ringing phone. “Hey, Loops.” He put the man on speaker. “Where are you?”

“The uh, um,” He sounded dazed and disoriented.

“Remus? Are you okay?” Arthur asked.

“Hospital. At the hospital.”

“What? Why?” James asked.

“Sirius, he, he, uh, ki- tried, cut. He tried to ki, ki-” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Oh god,” Leo breathed.

“Is he okay?” Logan asked.

“They pu-pumped his stomach.” He trailed off.

“Remus?” Arthur asked after a short stretch of silence.

“Sorry. He’s in surgery, on his, uhm, wrist. Was too deep.”

The team all stood in shock.

“Do you want us to be there?” Arthur asked him.

“Please.” Remus gasped.

“Okay. Yeah, we’ll be there soon. Do you need anything?”

“Clothes. There’s blood. Clothes?”

“Yeah someone will grab you a change of clothes.”

“In bag. Locker. Sirius’s. Clothes.” Remus seemed to be getting more and more disoriented.

“Alright, we’ll bring them,” Arthur told him as Finn dug through Sirius’s bag and pulled out a change of clothes.

“Okay.”

“We’ll be there soon.”

“Okay.” Remus hung up.

“Fuck” James collapsed into his best friend’s stall, sobbing.

+++++++

“Oh, shit” Kasey breathed when they turned the corner into the waiting room.

There was blood on Remus’s clothes.

Sirius’s blood was on Remus’s clothes.

“Hey, Loops.” Finn walked in and handed him the bag of spare clothes to change into.

“Hmm?” Remus blinked. “Oh, thank you.” He took the bag from him and stood up.

“Woah,” Finn caught him as he staggered. “You okay?”

“Fine.” Remus stood up and tripped out of the room on shaky legs.

He took one look in the mirror and ripped off his clothes, chucking them in the garbage. Quickly putting on the clean clothes that smelled like his lover, and started to wash the blood off his arms.

He scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until he felt the faucet turn off and the soap taken out of his hands.

“It’s off, Fruit Loops,” Thomas told him softly.

“I’m gonna lose him. I’m gonna lose him.” Remus whispered around the sob stuck in his throat.

“No, you’re not. You’re not gonna lose him. We’re not gonna lose him.” Thomas said firmly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair.

“No need to apologize.”

“Um, thanks for, you know, coming to check on me.”

“I got your back Loop, we all do.” Thomas threw an arm around Remus, in support and to keep him upright, as they walked back to the waiting room.

“Remus.” Lily was there when they walked back in. “God I’m so sorry.”

Remus let her pull him into a hug and sobbed into her neck.

++++++++

Remus looked up when someone new walked into the waiting room.

“Hey,” He stood up as Celeste hugged him.

“How is he?” She asked when he pulled away, tears streamed down her face.

“I don’t know. Last thing they said was that he was in surgery.”

“What happened?” She asked softly as they sat down.

Remus let out a sob. “It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” Celeste told him along with the rest of the team.

“It is. I knew something was off. I knew something was wrong.” Remus couldn’t hold back his sobs any longer.

“When he woke up he said he was going to get a drink but was going to come back to bed and I fell back asleep for a few minutes and he wasn’t back so I went to the bathroom cause the light was on but the door was locked and he wasn’t answering and I kicked down the door and he was pale and he wasn’t moving and the cuts kept bleeding and they wouldn’t stop. I tried to stop it but I couldn’t. They wouldn’t stop bleeding. There was so much blood and he wasn’t breathing. I couldn’t stop the bleeding.” He was hysterical by the end. Celeste pulled him into her arms and shushed him softly. “He had no pulse. He was dead. He kept dying in the ambulance. He wouldn’t stop dying.”

Celeste squeezed the distraught man until he calmed down.

“Fuck, sorry.” Remus pulled away and wiped his eyes. “I don’t know why I freaked out like that.”

“Remus, your husband is in the hospital. You’re allowed to freak out.” Arthur told him.

Everything stopped as the doctor walked in.

+++++

Remus’s breath hitched as he stood in the doorway of Sirius’s stale hospital room.

His husband looked up at the noise.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius gasped. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, my love.” Remus rushed over to Sirius and leaned his forehead against the others.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” The distraught man kept repeating as tears fell fast.

“I love you. It’s okay. I love you. It’s okay.” Remus cupped his cheek and cried along with him.

“I’m sorry.” Sirius couldn’t stop repeating.

“Shh, shh. Don’t apologize. Baby, please don’t apologize.” Remus pressed his lips to his husband’s forehead, letting his lips linger on the warm skin.

Sirius’s words slowly and quietly faded out until only sobs left his mouth.

Remus pulled away and sat on the edge of the bed. He took Sirius’s hand lightly and tried as hard as he could to ignore the white bandages wrapped around his wrists.

They sat in silence as Remus rubbed soothing circles on the back of his hand.

“Please say something,” Sirius pleaded.

“I thought I lost you,” Remus whispered.

“I'm sorry,” Sirius’s voice was worn out.

“I thought you died.” He gritted his teeth. “And I didn’t know what I was going to do. I didn’t know if I was going to live while you weren’t.”

“Please, please don’t say that,”

“It’s the truth, Sirius. You don’t want to live without Dumo and I don’t want to live without you,”

Sirius stayed silent.

“I have never felt so purely hopeless than I felt when I was in that bathroom. There was nothing I could do.”

“I’m so sorry I’m putting you through this.”

“Stop apologizing,” Remus begged.

“It was so stupid of me but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I was two feet away. You promised you would come to me when you felt like this.”

“I didn’t want you to be mad at me.” Sirius wouldn’t meet his eye.

“What?” Remus breathed out. “Baby why would I be ma- have I done anything to make you think I would be mad?”

Sirius shook his head and stared down at his lap.

“Sirius, please. What did I do?”

“Nothing I promise that you didn’t do anything.” Sirius met his eye and looked back down.

“I will never. Ever. Be mad at you about something like this.”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Remus pulled him into his arm, praying that he would never have to let go.

#I'm sorry #lumosinlove #sweater weather lumosinlove #coops #oknutzy #pascal dumais #celeste dumais #i cried #IM SORRY I WAS SAD AND THEN IT WOULDN"T LEAVE MY BRAIN

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aikrus · 3 years

Text

What It Means To Be Dead (Tokoyami x Reader)

Fandom: Bnha Warnings: Mentions of Dying, depression, bullying, abuse, and strong language Words: 2k259 Requested By: Anon <3 Request: Hi I love your writing! Can I request one where Tokoyami )or anyone you'd like really,) finds a collection of old-ish diaries and letters while cleaning? The person's handwriting is very distinct and pretty (Think 1700's love letter find) but they never mention their name. As they read more of it they find newer entries where Aizawa is mentioned so they ask him about it only to find out the person who wrote them died almost 100 years ago and 'haunts' the school. (Sorry for long request) A/N: I deviated a little from the request, but I hope you like it!

The night had already came and claimed the land of UA for itself. Shadows overtook the courtyards, and darkness fell across the classrooms, but not everyone had retreated to the safety of their comforters which shielded them from the secrets which the black abyss held so dear.

After a draining day of learning and training, Tokoyami wanted nothing more than to go to sleep- sadly, it was his turn to clean the classroom. It was annoying and boring and he’d give anything to be able to go to sleep, but fair is fair and he wasn’t the tyrannical type.

And so, he washed the windows and wiped down the desks. He swept the floors and organized the textbooks, and he turned to put the broom back into the small closet in the corner of the classroom. With a heavy sigh, Fumikage realized he should probably tidy up the dirty, dust-filled, death trap that was called a broom closet.

Narrowing his eyes at the cobwebs, he started to knock them down with the end of the broomstick (Seriously praying to whatever god there is that no spider fell onto his feathers). The room was in worse condition on closer inspection, it looked like not a soul had thought to clean it since the school was built.

After taking the time to sweep the floors, wipe down the door and the counters, and organize the books, Tokoyami was beyond tired and ready to fall asleep in the still-somehow-dirty closet. No matter how many times he swung at the cobwebs, how many times he picked up the coats and books and papers on the floor, despite the effort he put into tidying up the smallish space, it still seemed to have a weird layer of age coating itself entirely.

The closet felt preserved in time, like the oldness it felt was not just in the items littered about, but in the very walls itself. The things it’s seen, the memories it held, something about the space simply felt... wrong.

He turned to a corner he hadn’t worked on, inwardly groaning at the amount of work he still had to do despite the time of night. With a huff, he began to organize the textbooks and pages of work sprawled around the space.

His hands fell upon and old leather book- very different in both appearance and age when compared to the marble notebooks that surrounded it. Leaning over, he saw ten to fifteen more of there journal like collections shoved deep into the corner of the room.

Tentatively, he peeled open the first book. Looking at the pages, it looked to be the diary of a girl- the beautiful handwriting looked like it belonged to someone who saw the beauty that exists within the written language, someone who stops to smell the flowers, a person who looks at sunsets and bakes goods to say they love you.

The ink that bled onto the early pages spoke of a student, a girl who wanted to be so much more, someone who wanted to save the world. He became enthralled by the speech patterns, the phrases and swirls of the letters drew him closer, enchanting his eyes to never leave the pages.

------

Soon the pages became all he could think about, even after he had to abandon the closet to race to bed. During class all he could think of was the feeling of the crisp paper under his touch. The voices of his friends seemed ugly, seemed to be missing the douse of honesty and beauty he had been exposed to, even when he was practicing all he could focus on was the experiences of the girl who wrote down all her inner thoughts.

It was like she haunted him, appearing everywhere he went. Like she poisoned him, infecting his thoughts and feelings. She became everything to him so soon, every word had him on edge, every sentence a beautiful stream of imagery that he would give nothing but to experiencing along side her, what he wouldn’t give to see the world through her eyes of love.

As the day ended, he had quiet easily convinced Sero that he should take over his night of cleaning. Sure the actual work was quiet annoying, but he would be rewarded with her sweet words, he had left the book in the corner in his rush to get back to his dorm; he regretted his oversight the moment he laid down.

“Tokoyami, wasn’t your cleaning duty last night?” Aizawa asked, his eyes lazy looking up from the papers he was grading to make contact with Fumikage’s red ones.

“Yes sir, it was. I volunteered to take over tonight as well,”

“Mhm, and is there a reason for this?” He raised his eyebrow, dragging his briefcase off the table with him.

“Cleaning helps me think,” this wasn’t a total lie, reading the journal will calm his raging thoughts of the mystery girl.

“Just don’t make a habit of it,” his teacher echoed, not having enough energy to further investigate a seemingly innocent interaction.

Tokoyami was much faster with cleaning that day, and he was even faster to sprint inside the broom closet. He grabbed the leather books and raced back to his room, already feeling the warmth her voice provided.

------------------------------

The passages started off innocent enough, complaints about school, fantasizing about a better life, just a teen writing down their emotions. It then morphed into the beauty in everything, words that didn’t release Fumikage’s eyes until they were tearing up from dryness.

Then, things took a darker turn. Dark thoughts disguised in poems, things others have said to her, representation of her pain in drawings scattered throughout the book. The beautiful world- though still majestic in its own way- turned dark and twisted.

It was painful to read, and yet he couldn’t look away. It was like the book became a part of him- no. It was like he became a part of the book, nothing more than the cracked parchment and spilled ink. It was dehumanizing, but he wouldn’t change his position for anything in the world.

His bed was taken over by the old pages, dating back over two hundred years ago. The writer was in the post-quirk awakening. The world had just discovered the glowing child right before she was born. She was one of the first quirk holders in the world- one of the first one hundred Japanese citizens to have a quirk.

The journals started when she was ten- though that book was the fifth one he read. After that discovery, he categorized them in chronological order to read along with the flow of time. She wrote of the manifestation of her quirk- her parents had been struck with terror when their daughter walked through the wall of their living room to get into her bedroom.

That was the first moment she realized how different she is. Her life never seemed to go back to the way it was before, not even after the initial shock of what she could do faded from her parents; because, there would always be a new shock, a new ability, and no one was prepared to help her.

He realized, reading more about how the quirkless treated her, that her life would have been much different is she had lived in his time. Hearing the slurs and bullying they put her through, he wishes she could see how much the world has changed- would she be happy or sad that her bully's became the minority and were mocked in their normal-ness or if she would be ashamed of the people like her.

He was very satisfied that the people who made her life so awful were getting a taste of their own medicine, but he did wonder if that made him a bad person. Tokoyami figures that it really didn’t matter, she was gone so her opinion would never be known.

--------------------

“Death didn’t feel like I thought it would. Surprisingly, it was reminiscent of when I use my quirk to posses things or people. My body was there, on the floor, but I was floating above it. Much like I am when I leave my body before finding my target. The cold was instantly recognizable- like an abyss with no end.

The only difference I’ve noticed so far is the lack of body to return to, though I can enter it, it acts as an object. While I cannot move it, I can see out of it. It’s therapeutic in a way. Really, this must have been the best case scenario- I could see how everyone reacts, see who really cares about me.

It was hard at first, seeing all theses people, who I believed were simply pretending to care, braking down behind closed doors. It was only my sister- whom held no quirk- that cared. She did everything she could to make my funeral how I wanted it, and she preserved my bedroom the way I liked it. That was a nice gesture, it truly was.

Now my life has come to an end- my body buried under ground, never to be seen again- I can’t help but wonder what comes next. How long will I be held in this mortal world? Will others be like me, or will I be forced to live alone in the agonizing realization that comes with immortality? I guess I’ll simply have to wait and see,”

-----------------------

He had fallen asleep after reading the last passage in the ninth book- where she described how she stayed a student at UA even after death. The names she referenced had been lost in time- Pro-heroes that have long been dead and are now another name on the Hero Memorial wall.

She had possessed her home room teacher and walked to the headmaster- there she said what had happened. Her headmaster agreed to keep her on as a student, but only under the condition that she wouldn’t unnecessarily possess an unknowing student. It was fair- annoying but fair. They gave her her old desk and she worked along side everyone. When he woke up, the book had moved on its own.

There was a page opened- an elegant scipt sprawllled at the top but had been smuged since it was written- the only elligable part following what could be assumed to be a name: Phatom-- The Ghost Hero. The script was familiar, but it wasn’t the handwriting the rest of the journal was written in. Beneath it was a drawing of a girl- a girl more beautiful than anyone Fumikage had ever seen. It was a realistic depiction and it looked modern- it was only with that realization which led Tokoyomi to realize this journal wasn’t one he had seen before. Flipping through it, he hadn’t even noticed its sudden appearance. It was the newest one of them all- spanning for the last decade. He leaned back in his bed and began,

So I guess it’s been a while huh? Here are some general updates: Shouta from class 2-A is an idiot but I guess he’s kinda cute. We picked out hero names today, I wanted to just keep my name but he dubbed me Phantom.. I called him Eraserhead in return. I hope it sticks.

I’ve graduated from UA more than six times now- but I kinda like it. I do some professional hero work- especially info recall- but I’m worried about how the public will react to a ghost. It would definitely fuck with some peoples religious views.

It’s better this way. I’ve also decided to distance myself from Shinso- she and I got along great, but her twin brother has been acting weirdly around me for a while. His quirk is amazing, but I’ve seen plenty of unstable students pass through these halls and I know enough to keep my distance. Shouta doesn’t seem to agree- neither does Hizashi. I guess only time will tell.

As for manifesting my physical form- it’s a lot harder than I had hoped. I can become visual for three active minutes or ten minutes with no moving. I’m still not touchable, but I hope that will change with time. That’s all for now- I’ll try to check in soon.

He shook his head- surely those names must be common, but she was in UA and only so many coincidences can happen at one time. He wonders how she was now. Mostly, he wonders if she’s still at UA. They hadn’t announced her as a student, so was she a pro hero now?

Was it weird to still be in the body of a sixteen year old? There were so many issues with immortality- he wondered how she coped with it. These questions abused him throughout the morning. He thought of how lonely she must be, how it must be so awful to be all by herself.

He wondered why he cared so much- why had he developed such a strong scene of attachement to this girl? The fuzzy feeling in his chest when he saw the drawing of the girl had taken up his entire mind- he needed to know more.

As soon as he entered his familiar class room he marched straight up to his teachers desk with passion in his eyes- “Professor, can we talk after class? I have some questions I’d like to ask you,”

Aizawa glarred at the corner of the room, an annoyed frown tugging at his lips. This was gonna be a long day.

-------------------

A/N

Sorry for dropping off the planet everyone! This has been in the drafts for a long time and finally gets to see the light of day. I’ve had some mental health issues (not related to this story don’t worry) and am working on myself. I fully intend to finish the Christmas countdown I committed to and this account is still active, but this will remain on the back burner until I am well on my way to recovery. Requests will remain open for the time being and I will continue to make progress. Thank you for the lovely anon’s in my inbox with constant support and requests, I appreciate all of you. Thank you all and I hope you enjoyed this work <3

#boku no hero #boku no hero academia #My Hero #my hero academia #tokoyami fumikage #bnha fumikage #tokoyami x reader #tokoyamifumikage #fumikage x reader #bnha reader insert #bnha x reader #tokoyami fluff

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thebeautyoffanfics · 3 years

Text

kou minamoto x gn!reader

a/n: write a fic with a comfort character, who is also the youngest minamoto brother, to help yourself through a hard time. call that kou-ping (coping)

(not even gonna lie, mainly posting this for the pun. Humor and art are the real coping mechanisms here. The ending is rushed buttttt who caressssssss)

warnings: depressing thoughts, parental issues (arguing)

word count: 1,544

Your life was… falling apart.

You sighed, bookbag being tossed over your shoulder, the school day finally coming to an end. But, your day would continue- you had to clean the toilets, feeling obligated to join your friends as you always did. Yet… with everything happening, you, honestly, didn’t have the energy. Socializing felt exhausting, and rather unappealing. All you wanted to do was sleep, despite the fact that going home was also unappealing…

Arguing filled your house at any given point. Parents fighting over petty things, then finding it okay to get you involved in their poor tempers. Unrealistic expectations piled on top of you- expecting high 90s in every class because you were capable of it. Expecting you to be happy, because you were capable of seeming like you were. Yes, you were entirely capable of faking your happiness… of pushing your emotions aside until you were comfortable in the confines of your room.

So, you’d just do that. “Just a little longer,” You whispered to yourself, hoping that the encouragement, though from yourself, would keep your emotions in check for the next little bit. Maybe, being with your friends would help- you surely hoped so, as you pushed open the door to the girls’ bathroom.

“(Y/N)’s here~,” Hanako cheered, waving at you as you entered the bathroom. You inhaled, preparing yourself for The World’s Greatest Acting, as you waved back, offering a grin to your undead friend. Death seemed to plague your personal life… seeing your ghost friend floating around made your heart ache a bit. Would it be better if your other family members, pets included, could… maybe visit a bit? If they were ghosts, would their deaths hurt as badly? Surely, they would, you concluded, as Yashiro said something to you.

“Hm?” You questioning, urging her to repeat herself, to which she complied.

“Are you alright? You look kind of spacey.”

“Yeah, I’m fine! No worries, but thank you for asking.”

She nodded, going back to sweeping, as Kou glanced at you, concern evident in his eyes. You smiled at him, making sure that the smile reached your eyes in an attempt to alleviate any concern. Honestly, you wanted your problems to remain your own. Kou didn’t need to bother himself with your issues- he probably had enough on his mind.

Not bothering with further conversation, but letting the other 3 talk as they pleased, you grabbed the washcloth and began to wipe down the sinks and mirrors, as you did nearly every day.

Once the bathroom was clean, you looked around, considering what to do next. Tiredness made your body feel heavy, eyelids barely being held open once you allowed yourself to relax a bit. Though you didn’t see it, Kou looked at you once more- as he had been doing throughout the entire day- this time taking note of how tired you seemed. Your facade was slipping, mouth drooping into a small frown, as you stared at the ground. After deciding you were as prepared as you could possibly get to head home, you looked up, widening your eyes and putting a smile back on your face.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I think I’m going to head home now. You guys be safe,” You spoke, picking up your bag and waving at your friends. They waved back, wishing you a good night, and telling you to be safe on your way home, but you didn’t pay as much attention as you normally did. Nodding, smiling, then stepping out of the bathroom, making your way down the halls.

“Kid, if you only made your staring a bit more obvious, they may have said something,” Hanako spoke up, a few moments after you left. He was well aware that Kou was simply worried- honestly, he understood why.

“Shut it- I’m just… they seem kind of upset.”

“Yeah? Then go talk to them.”

Kou pondered for a moment, before Hanako spoke once more, telling Kou that you were only getting further away.

“Right. Then, I’ll see you later, Hanako, Senpai! Have a good night,” He spoke, grabbing his back, then running down the halls- catching you at the front of the school, just after the doors were closing behind you.

“(Y/N), hang on!”

You paused, hiding your sigh, as you turned and smiled at your boyfriend. You didn’t have to pretend around him… you knew it, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to let him worry.

“Hey, Kou. Did you want to walk with me for a bit?” You asked, knowing the two of you lived in a similar direction. Out of everyone you knew, he was the most genuinely enjoyable to be with… Kou always seemed to distract you from your crumbling life. A confidant of sorts- your rock, when no one else was willing to be it. The thought made your smile falter, but you fixed yourself, as he walked next to you.

“Sure… did you feel like stopping anywhere?”

Was it that he could read your mind? You shrugged, pondering where exactly you wanted to go. You only had a few dollars on you… your parents probably wouldn’t be happy if you bought a snack, but…

“Do you wanna… grab a little snack from a convenient store, and maybe sit at the park for a little bit? I’m tired, but, to be honest, I don’t feel like going home just yet.”

“Yeah, that’s fine! It does feel nice out.”

Nodding, you continued to walk, Kou following in-step with you, and grabbing your hand gently. You were sure he was going to say something when the time came, but you appreciated his patience. Kou knew you weren’t feeling yourself… he could tell that just walking would be good for now. A break from all the noise provided from school

Once the two of you arrived at the park near your houses, you took a seat on a swing, Kou sitting next to you. Silently, you opened the small snack Kou bought you- the boy doing the same with his snack, both of you taking a bite at the same time.

“Do you want some?” Kou spoke up after a moment, holding his snack in your direction. Shrugging, you leaned forward, taking a bite from it, then holding yours towards him. He did the same as you, leaning forward, then nodding in approvement.

“You didn’t eat much at lunch, so I’m happy to see you getting something in your stomach… are you feeling alright?”

His concern was honestly endearing. You paused for a moment, staring down at the food in your hand. He knew you weren’t feeling alright. He would have worded it differently if he didn’t- his tone would have been different. Was there much use in lying to him? Would he see past it?

Tears streamed down your face before you could realize it, and you sniffled, leaning down a bit, letting your hair fall against the sides of your face- maybe it would hide your pitiful expression from him.

In a split-second, Kou was off of the swing and leaning in front of you, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Carefully, as if you were something more precious and more fragile than glass, he cupped your face in his hands. His thumbs swiped over your tears, wiping them away as he looked over your face. You shut your eyes tightly, attempting to stray away from his gaze- it was to no avail. Kou wasn’t going to let you bottle things up, nor hide from him.

“You can talk to me, (Y/N)... you can cry… you can take your time. No matter what, I’m right here. I’m right here, just for you.”

As if it were instinct, you wrapped your arms around Kou, so suddenly and tightly that you stumbled off of the swing. Landing in front of him, still sobbing, your face buried in his shoulder- he wrapped his arms around you as well, nearly pulling you into his lap as he kissed the side of your head gently. His hold was firm, protective, yet full of nothing but love. You loved him for that… how his words were so genuine. How he was so bright- how he could express any emotion he needed just by hugging you. Maybe it was that he could be read easily… maybe you appreciated it, since you spent so long attempting to be unreadable. Not even unreadable- but able to be read as any emotion you wanted to show. Kou was so genuine. He was so kind.

Kou sat there, holding you for as long as you needed him to. He kissed you kindly when you vented, his eyes holding no sign of judgement. He encouraged you, showing you so much kindness and pure love, that- when you stepped through your front door, your mom asking you, rather curtly, what took you so long- you were able to give her a steady response. His words stuck with you through the night, his texts and phone call offering you more encouragement than you were sure you deserved. Keeping you safe from the fighting, even if just for one night… for the first time in forever, Kou muttering quietly on the other end of the line, you slept soundly.

#i hope you guys appreciate the pun. dare i say i'm more proud of it than i am the fi #**fic #x reader #gn!reader #x gn!reader #oneshot #tbhk #jshk #toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #kou minamoto #tbhk x reader #jshk x reader #toilet bound hanako kun x reader #jibaku shounen hanako kun x reader #kou minamoto x reader #he's my boy........#big ol' comfort character..

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backtothestart02 · 3 years

Text

Don’t Give Up On Me - 4/4 | westallen fanfiction

A/N: The final chapter is here, and the angst is minimal, so I hope you will enjoy the closure that I hopefully brought. Happy 2021! This is the last fic I’ve written and posted in 2020 (in my timezone). More to come in the new year!!

...

Chapter 4 -

The next morning when Iris woke up, something strange happened.

It started the way most mornings had, with a sliver of light coming through the thin drapes warming her face and rousing her senses. She was beneath a sheet and a blanket, and her head was deep in her puffy pillow. Barry was beside her in bed just a few inches away, as he was most mornings.

But what was different about today was when Iris opened her eyes and saw her sleeping husband not too far away, she didn’t feel tension wracking every bone in her body. She didn’t feel an impenetrable wall between them. She didn’t feel the need to run away or to scream or to pretend so he wouldn’t feel hurt.

She felt…at peace.

More than that she felt the need to wake Barry up so he could share in this moment with her. A silly thing maybe, but for her it was monumental.

“Barry,” she said softly, almost regrettably, because he looked so content to be sleeping.

He stirred slightly in his sleep but didn’t open his eyes.

“Barry,” she repeated, this time a little louder, and it astonished her because for weeks she’d never been the one to call for him. He was always searching for her, hoping to get through to her, get her attention, make her happy.

Well, what would make her happy right now would be if she could look into those beautiful green eyes of his and see him smile just for her.

“B-” She stopped herself and considered another way of waking him up, or…not waking him up?

She shifted her body slowly over to his side of the bed, his warmth emanating off him. Just as she was reaching for his arm to wrap around her body, those beautiful eyes of his opened up.

“Iris?” He blinked, his voice somewhat scratchy from literally just having woken up. “What…What are you doing over here?”

“I…”

Suddenly, she felt embarrassed and debated shifting away, but no. She wasn’t going to do that. She hadn’t opened up about absolutely everything last night to put distance back between them in the morning light.

“I called your name,” she backtracked. “You didn’t wake up.”

He frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“I was just gonna…cuddle, see if that worked.” She shrugged her shoulder.

He smiled slowly and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close until she was fully enveloped in his heat.

“That always works.”

Iris smiled to herself, loving the feel of her body perfectly cradled in his frame, his nose deep in her dark tresses as he inhaled her scent, and his lips grazing her neck as his arm fell snugly around her torso.

“I love you, Barry.”

She could feel his smile and the tingling of his toes beneath the covers when he answered her,

“I love you, Iris.”

She felt his adam’s apple bob and ran her fingers back through his hair to pull him still closer. His hand slid up over one covered breast when she did so, and their legs tangled together.

He groaned when their lips met, and she bit his bottom lip.

“Iris.”

She pulled away slightly, then turned her body so she was facing him and returned to his heat. She straddled one leg over his hip and cupped his face, blessing him with one more kiss before she determined to say what she needed to.

“Thank you for last night,” she said, and he started to smile. She rolled her eyes. “Not just for that.”

“But you are thankful for it,” he teased, lowering his hand around her waist almost to her butt cheeks.

“Focus, Bartholomew.”

His hands stilled, then returned to their previous position.

“I’m listening.”

“Good. Because I know it was hard, listening to everything I had to say. There’s a reason I kept it all buried. I didn’t want to hurt you, and I didn’t feel that my feelings were valid.”

“Iris.” His voice choked. “Your feelings are always-”

She covered his mouth with her fingers.

“Let me finish.”

He pursed his lips, then relaxed his face, waiting.

“I didn’t think my feelings were valid until I talked them through with you, until you really let me speak, and you listened. And just a few minutes ago when I woke up, I felt so…at peace. I felt like we reconnected, and not just physically,” she was quick to add, even though he had no intention of changing the subject. “Do you feel that way too?”

He nodded and ran his fingers through her hair.

“I do. Just you wanting to cuddle with me first thing in the morning is huge, Iris. It feels…well, it feels like-”

“It used to be. Before everything.”

He attempted a small smile.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think everything’s fixed,” she continued. “I’m still dealing with the ptsd of the Mirrorverse, and one really great, deep, emotional conversation in addition to love-making doesn’t fix everything, as much as I wish it did.”

“Tell me what to do,” he said, and she knew then that he’d been half-wishing everything could be back to normal after the night they’d had. “Just name it, and I’ll do it.”

“Call me out.”

His brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“Don’t let me sink back into the person I was before last night. I need you, Barry. You’re my rock. I’m not going to get through this without you, so I need you to be my anchor, my foundation, the lifeline that keeps my heart beating.”

He pressed his forehead to hers.

“I’ll always be your lifeline, Iris.”

“I mean it, Barry,” she continued. “There’s giving me the space I need and giving me so much space that I drown in it and can’t find my way out.” She sighed shakily. “I don’t want to drown anymore.”

He opened his eyes and pulled back to look into hers.

“Hey, you won’t. I’m here for you, Iris. Everything you do and say and think, I’ll be right by your side reminding you that we’re a team, and I love you.”

She smiled softly.

“I love you, too.”

Her smile started to widen.

“What?” he asked, and his own smile was like electricity fueling hers.

She wiggled her toes underneath the sheet in excitement.

“I’m going to get a haircut!”

…

Barry sat at his desk at CCPD, writing his love letter to Iris for that day, and wondering what about a haircut had gotten him so worked up?

He was sure it was just Iris’ literal way of moving forward with a new look, but he really didn’t want her to be doing it because she thought it would help him differentiate between his wife and her mirror image. Because if he was faced with the challenge now, today, he was sure he could tell them apart, even if they were wearing the same clothes and hairstyle.

His workload had been high all day, but he’d hardly been able to focus. He’d had to restart his letter five times, because it had moved from romantic to worrisome each time he had attempted to write it.

As the seconds ticked away, he knew there was only so much time he could spend on this letter or he’d risk not even seeing her when he dropped it off on his break. Except you’re the Flash and can go any time you like…

He ignored that logic. He wanted a moment with her, to see if she’d read his letters and if she was really okay or if she needed him to intervene the way she’d asked him to do earlier that morning in bed.

A soft jingle started to sound from his phone, and he saw it was a text from Iris.

I got the cut! Want to see?

Almost dropping the phone, he flashed over to the Citizen. He found Iris alone in the office and almost fell flat on his face.

Iris had gotten a haircut, that was for sure. Her long, dark tresses were gone. Instead, she donned a cut even shorter than when he’d come out of the speed force. In fact, it looked a lot like Nora’s hair had when she’d been with them.

His eyes filled with tears.

“Well? What do you think?” she asked, not sensing his emotional state right away. “Do you like it?”

He didn’t move. Then she saw the sheet of paper in his hands, and her eyes lit up.

“Oh! Your love letter! Let me rea-”

“N-n-n-no!” He sidestepped her, and she frowned. “It’s not finished yet.” He shoved it into his pocket. “I’ll bring it by later.”

She pursed her lips, then asked, “Barry, is something wrong?”

“What? No. No, of course not. Your hair, I mean…it’s beautiful, and Iris… It’s Nora.”

“I know,” she said softly, taking his hands and pulling him into the office. “I brought her picture with me.” She perched herself on the corner of her desk. “Having you by my side, Barry, that means everything. I don’t doubt you anymore. I don’t think you prefer my mirror image.”

“You don’t?”

She shook her head.

“But I needed something for me, something I could see every time I looked in the mirror that would tell me to fight for a better future and not hang onto delusions or sadness or any negativity that could keep me from becoming the best version of myself.”

“And that’s Nora.”

She nodded. “She deserves the best version of me.” She squeezed his hands. “So do you.”

“Oh, Iris, I didn’t mean-”

“I know, honey.”

She dropped his hands and curled hers around the collar of his shirt, pulling him down slowly so she could give his lips a lingering peck. But when their lips touched, all the worries that had been bundled up in Barry since he’d first heard about the haircut were released in a boundless boost of positive energy and relief. What had intended to be a short kiss on Iris’ end turned into an intense, passionate make out on Barry’s.

“Mm, Barry.”

Her hands slid over his jacket and pulled him closer. He lifted her up on top of the desk and spread his hands over every curve as his mouth devoured hers, their tongues tangling and driving moans out as they fought to close the distance between them further.

Iris had just tipped her head back to allow him access to her neck when the sight of a certain intern with her jaw practically on the floor came into view.

“Oh, my God, Allegra!”

She quickly pushed Barry away and stood back on her feet, adjusting her skirt and wiping what she thought was all of the smudged lipstick from her face as well as Barry’s.

“I’ll see you later?” he asked, grinning.

She nodded hurriedly. “Go!”

And in a flash, he was gone.

“Things must be good at home,” Kamilla remarked, coming in behind Allegra. She pointed to her own upper lip when she caught Iris’ eye, and Iris quickly turned around to remove the final smudge of lipstick.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Things are…things are good.”

Kamilla came around the desk after shooing Allegra away and put her hand on Iris’ shoulder until their eyes met, because only they had been in the Mirrorverse together and known its anguish.

“I’m glad,” she said softly and smiled.

Iris relaxed and smiled back.

“Me too.”

The two got settled in the office working, and soon enough Allegra came back acting as if it had never happened and got to work too. Barry zipped by at one point to deliver a particularly sexy love letter to her, which she tucked away and privately read when the girls weren’t around. She read all the other love letters then too, the ones she’d been too afraid to read because she wasn’t sure if she could bear all the love from her husband when she had been partially blaming him for her current circumstances and feeling guilty about it.

But the letters were so beautiful, so romantic, and they touched a place so deep inside her that she knew everything was going to be all right.

When she got home later that day, Barry was already there making dinner.

As soon as she was out of her shoes, she went to him. Up on her tippy-toes she drew him to her and kissed his lips.

He smiled and asked, “You want to pick up where we left off?”

Instead of answering directly she said, “I read your love letters, Barry.”

He smiled until he realized she’d used the plural.

“Love letters?”

She nodded. “I loved every word.” She paused. “I’m sorry for shutting you out these past weeks.”

He shook his head and stepped away from the stove so he could focus entirely on her.

“Don’t be.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead.

“We move forward together from now on, yeah?”

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight.

“Absolutely.”

After a few beats, he said, “So, uh…dinner or the other thing?”

She rolled her eyes and smiled.

“Dinner,” she said, pulling away to laugh and pat his chest. When she looked back at him, he was pouting. “But maybe after,” she said with an innocent shrug as she made her way to the stairs and tiptoed up them to change.

Barry was left watching her and smiling long after she’d disappeared.

A warmth spread through his chest to every part of his body.

Everything was going to be okay.

They were Barry and Iris.

They didn’t give up on each other.

...

*will be posted on AO3 and FFnet when beta’d.

#westallen #fanfiction #westallen fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #don't give up on me #chapter 4

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

The Crying Reflex (Rosénali) - SnowBun

A/N: Did I use this to procrastinate from working and finishing I’m Not Into Sometimes? Absolutely. But never fear, I will finish that fic (at some point.) Posted about writing this a few weeks ago and I actually got around to it, what a shock! Idea taken from Rosé posting that Denali’s IG story made her cry.

Thank you to Hollie for always being the most amazing beta. Don’t know what I’d do without you. This is for dawningofdrag and pinkgrapefruit for making me feel like this was worth putting out into the world.

Summary: Denali always makes Rosé cry.

–

Rosé isn’t sure how they become friends. She doesn’t believe in destiny or cosmic jokes. She doesn’t think that there’s a higher being out there that writes a script to the whole universe in the stars.

Being friends with her feels more like a reflex. A meeting of the eyes across the room to stimulate, react with a friendship that feels so real she can almost hold it in the palm of her hand.

Look at me the way you do and that’s it, I’m yours.

“Can we talk?”

There are 11 other drag queens and a small but very present television crew in the room, but there is nothing else in her line of sight but Denali. All she can see is the way she dabs at her eyes and the way that they’re flitting from light bulb to light bulb in an effort to look anywhere that isn’t Rosé.

“I don’t know what it is about you,” She throws out her arms with a little laugh, like she’s about to explain that this all just some ridiculously mean joke that’s unfolding before them. “But I couldn’t even look at you. There’s just something about you.”

“You don’t have to look at me. You wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re going to have a lot of time to look at me.”

Every word that tumbles out of her mouth is a reaction to a tear that Denali blots away with a balled-up tissue paper in her fist. She encourages, even jokes, until she sees her crack a smile that reminds her of the way the sun breaks through hotel room curtains.

She doesn’t realize she’s holding her hand before her thumb is already stroking skin.

“I need you to do it not just for you, but I need you to do it for me; because I really need you here with me.”

Rosé is many things. She is a queen with unending wit and talent. She is that person who won’t stop toeing the line between hot mess and professional, purely for fun. She is the girl that everyone in the werkroom is eyeing with cautious curiosity.

“I know I can make it to the top.”

One thing she has never been is a crier.

“I know you can too.”

Well, at least she didn’t think she was.

Glass beads form in the corners of her eyes, so unlike the bright plastic ones that Lagoona had bought bags of weeks ago. No, these are Denali’s beads. Crystals of chandeliers draping from ceilings, as clear as the fact that she’s barely holding together.

She’s about to say something, even lets the air pass through her teeth so the words can come out; but then she feels her bottom lip quiver and she buries the reflex with things she prays she can admit to later.

“You know what to do.”

–

Denali shuts her eyes. Well, the non-prosthetic ones at least. Against the stark black of her dress, the orange hue of the setting sun washes her skin a beautiful shade of orange. Her radiance only serves to remind Rosé that she hates the way she looks right now.

“You okay?”

“Just tired.”

They lean against the wall, holding hands as they bathe in the last vestiges of daylight. She hums the disco number that’s been on repeat for the past two days if only to make Denali laugh, all low and breathy. It’s these small quiet moments that make the stamp of ‘you’re safe’ more sweet than bitter.

“You were amazing out there, angel.”

“So were you.” Denali turns her head to look at her and she can’t help herself from laughing when all eight black eyes stare back at her. “Still wasn’t enough for the judges, though.”

“Oh no, baby,” Rosé tuts. “I don’t need the judges to tell me shit. I’ll let my delusion tell me how great I am.”

They look out at the lot, watch crew members bustle about as they keep their distance. It’s simple really, how one person is point A and the other is point B. So easy to model with mathematical functions that distance is proportional to safety.

Even easier to prove that distance is proportional to the loneliness that threatens to swallow her whole when she’s trapped in her hotel room.

The thought of having to return to it in a few hours feels like a punch to the gut, the type that’s so strong that tears form in her eyes. To have thoughts, hopes, fears that she can only voice to a void sends her spiralling down.

She presses the back of her head into the concrete wall so she doesn’t cry. She still has to return to the runway after all. She blinks away her tears like the exhaustion and loneliness will disappear with them.

“Rosie?”

“Yeah?”

“Ever want something so bad it hurts?”

She knows Denali is talking about the competition. She knows that she’s talking about hearing, “condrag-ulations,” instead of, “you’re safe,” the next time they step out onto the stage. She knows that she’s talking about the things that they’ve both come here to achieve.

But then she notices that she’s been drawing on the back of Denali’s hand with the pad of her thumb this whole time. She feels the weight of loneliness lift ever so slightly off her shoulders and she knows without giving it any serious thought that she has all she wants right here. At least for now.

“Yes.”

“What was it?”

“Another cocktail.”

“I hate you so much.”

“I love you too.”

She colors those words shades of orange and black, permanent marker and invisible ink just for her.

–

“You’re going to win.”

It’s hard to be sure of things when the world is falling to shit. Being sure of things is reserved for statements like, “the earth isn’t flat,” or, “my dress is definitely a warm yellow and not orange.”

But Denali sounds so sure of it. She sounds like she’s turning theories into laws, like anything else is a deviation from the reality she’s living.

Rosé is holding a cocktail in one hand and Denali’s in the other, and the only thing she can really be sure of is that she isn’t willing to let go of either right now.

“I swear to God, if you’re jinxing this for me–”

“I’m not!”

Thank you.

It’s the first thing she writes on the skin of her hand in a code only they will ever understand. There are ancient languages lost to time, but she knows that when they leave this competition, those words etched into flesh will be a relic only she can read.

“I’m going to sue you for $5000 if I don’t hear RuPaul say, ‘condrag-ulations, Rosé’ by the end of tonight.”

“Shut up.” She giggles. “I promise that you’re going to win this. There is literally no way you won’t.”

Rosé doesn’t have to think too hard to know that Denali is right. In fact, her reflex is to believe her; but if she pauses, lets the lull of laughter set in for too long, then she hears that little voice in the back of her brain, telling her over and over again that it wasn’t good enough.

You’re right.

Of course, she can’t admit it out loud, but she knows whispers of fingertips will be enough for her to understand.

“In case I do win, I’m going to have to ask you to promise me shit like that every week.”

“Mmm, no way.” She pops the plastic straw of her drink out of her mouth, leaving a ring of black staining bright pink. “I have to leave some of those promises for myself. You know, share the love.”

The room is buzzing with nervous energy from the idea of either Kandy, Tina or Symone having to lip sync, but on the couch alone with her, it feels like a bubble. All she can hear is laughter and promises bouncing off fragile walls.

“I’m proud of you, Rosie.”

Her drink is halfway to her mouth when she says it. It takes a moment for her brain to process, but her body reacts right away. The tears in her eyes don’t come from the pain of having just laughed too hard or from the exhaustion that keeps threatening to knock her out.

No, they come from the way Denali looks at her, like her color blindness takes off the green on her face so she can see all the dreams she hides underneath.

I love you.

“Thank you, angel.” She gives her hand a final squeeze before letting go.

–

It doesn’t register that the hand he’s holding isn’t Denali’s.

Most of the queens have fallen asleep, the emotions from the long day leaving them all drained of energy. There are snores and whispers filling up the empty seats of the van, but he doesn’t notice. All he knows is that something is wrong, something he can’t quite place.

The way he writes it’s okay is more than just a habit that he’s acquired over the past few weeks. It’s become a reflex, no different to breathing. The words he writes need no introduction or conclusion. It’s something he knew how to do before he learned he was doing it.

When he turns his head, he’s almost surprised to find that it’s actually Olivia, hiding half his face in the sleeve of a baggy sweatshirt so no one can hear him sniffling. One look at him and everything comes rushing back.

Denali is gone and no one can understand the words now.

He isn’t angry at him, couldn’t be even if he tried. He sees the bloodshot eyes when they pass under a streetlamp and he knows the way it feels. He knows how it feels because all he can think about is how Denali used to sit there, buzzing with the idea of making his dream come true.

“Sorry, Liv.”

Rosé isn’t sorry that he can’t let go of his hand or that he’s caught him crying. If he’s honest, he isn’t really sure what he’s sorry for. It just seems like the right words to say to tell him he’s not suffering alone.

Is this what it feels like to lose half of something that’s still whole? Things won’t fall apart now that he’s gone. He’ll still push to get to that finish line until his lungs give out and breathing turns into a sting in his chest.

But how he wishes he could get there holding his hand.

“Me too.”

Olivia lets out a shaky breath before leaning against him. Rosé is thankful that he can’t see his face. All the easier to hide the tears that threaten to pour out of him.

–

The hotel door shuts behind him, the sound reverberating all throughout his mind, soul and body until all that’s left in his brain is a single thought:

I did it.

His reflex is to belt, “The winner is Rosé!” to his hotel room. Then he looks around, sees the grand emptiness of it all, and lets the pain in his chest shock his body, a billion volts to the parts of him that even he can’t see.

The void pokes, prods, stimulates, and his body’s first response is to turn and look for Denali. He knows that the doors are locked, that telling him he’s in the top four is nothing short of impossible when he’s probably already hundreds of miles away.

What would it be like if he’d been there?

What would it be like to see him wipe off the makeup, revealing nothing but the look of purest joy and pride underneath? What would it be like to hold his hand until the end so he can learn how the words we did it feel on his skin?

What would it be like if the vision of him that still lives in his mind actually paid its three weeks long overdue rent?

What happens when he comes home? What happens when he has to tell him that he’s achieved something that they both deserved to have?

Questions, questions, and more questions. They occupy his brain and it spins the way he does across the stage. There’s a hurricane in the room, tearing everything apart, and he can’t find his way into its eye.

For the first and last time during the entire competition, he lets himself cry. It is free, messy, ugly with its heaving sobs that wrack through his whole body. It’s the type of crying that would be a meme tomorrow if it had gotten caught on the set of Drag Race.

He isn’t sure why he cries, not when his dreams are literally coming true. He’s always known that things will never be as he sees it in his head, but he never imagined that the pleasure would come with a pain he can’t even understand.

It takes a moment for the hurricane to pass. It leaves him drained of emotions he didn’t know he had, but he’s alive and it’s all he really cares about. He lifts up the covers of his bed and crawls in, hoping that he’ll forget the complex cocktail of emotions that he’s just unearthed when he wakes up the next day.

Before he falls asleep, he rehearses his script in his head.

Hey, D. You were right, I did it.

–

It’s in the last few seconds before falling asleep and in the pauses while finishing his makeup that he spends thinking of what he’ll say to him when he gets home. When he finally gets a chance, none of what he plans ever gets said.

The first thing he does when he gets home from Drag Race is to collapse onto his bed. He fills his senses with the smell of his sheets. It’s a familiar embrace that pulls him into the deepest, most comfortable sleep he’s had in months.

When he wakes up, the room is so dark that he can’t tell he’s even opened his eyes. He drinks in the idea that he can leave it behind, that there is light beyond these walls and he can touch it with his bare hands again.

Instead, he grabs his phone off the nightstand. He forgets what he’s meant to do in the first place, but his fingers are already searching for the message that Denali sent as soon as he got home to Chicago. He doesn’t realize what he’s doing until the words are jumping out of the screen at him, breaking him until he smiles.

Denali: hi rosie! Idk when you’ll be back but since you’ll probably make it to the finale, that might be a while. Ilysm and i’m already so proud of you. Call me when you get back, miss you!

Denali: PS it’s all your fault that i keep singing pretty witty fashion clown, i hate you

The picture of Denali sitting on his couch, typing out something so incredibly sweet then following it up with his own brand of ridiculous, is so vivid in his mind that he can’t stop himself from laughing. Otherwise, he might start screaming about how the feeling of the bones caging his poor heart are breaking.

“Hello?”

“Rosie!”

Nightmares start where dreams end, and this one had started the moment she’d walked off the stage, leaving her hopes at Rosé’s feet, clad in chunky Tina Burner heels. He wakes up when he hears him say his name, even if it isn’t the real thing.

“Oh my god, you just got back. Does this mean I was right?”

“Why do you sound like you were doubting me, baby?”

If he’s honest, he’d been scared of this moment. It was an unspoken contract: we’ll be there together. It felt like breaking his end of the promise, even if it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

“I knew it!” He paints the dark of the room with the joy in his voice and Rosé watches all the colors she’s ever worn on runways tint the bare walls. “I swear Rosie, I knew from the day I met you that you’d make it there.”

I thought the same about you.

He bites back the words, swallows them like a bitter pill.

“Aww, you’re so sweet, D.”

“God, I miss you so much.”

The pill gets stuck in his throat, making his eyes water. He knows he’s been missed and he knows he’s missed him too, but to hear the words burst into a flash of light that fills up the darkened corners of his room makes him remember that everything they have is more than just an intersection of a dream and a nightmare.

What they had in quiet conversations on van rides and tipsy chats in the werkroom was real, and he had come home to it, even if it’s just a phone call that will never be enough.

“I miss you too.”

–

It doesn’t hit him how lonely he’s felt for months until he isn’t alone anymore.

After his third glass of wine, he settles on the edge of Symone’s bed. He watches his sisters talk about nothing and everything all at once. He tries to cut in every once in a while with a song or a joke or his usual mixture of both, but he’s perfectly content just to see all of them together again.

Days, weeks, months have passed and not all of them are spent alone, but loneliness still mars every interaction he has. In the middle of a world that’s going forward and nowhere all at once, he can’t help but feel like he’s in the middle of the ocean with water filling his lungs.

Then he hears them all laugh and he rises to the surface with a breath of fresh air and the sun shining down on his face.

“Rosita!”

Denali whines and immediately plops down beside him, laying his head in his lap. Rosé knows that he’s drunk or at least close to it, but he’s almost certain that he’d do this to him completely sober too.

It’s been four hours since they’ve reunited after months apart, but how they are hasn’t changed. The safety that he’d thought had just been there to shield him from the impending doom in a bright pink box is still there.

He won’t admit it to anyone, least of all to himself, but as he runs his fingers through his hair, he knows that he’s missed this the most.

“I’m going to fall asleep if you keep doing that.”

“Are you a fucking cat?”

“I’m a pussy, sweetie.”

He looks around the room again and it sinks in how lucky he is to have this. In a universe that he believes is constantly on the brink of implosion, he’s found people like them to hold on to. They didn’t know it at the time, but all the sacrifices they’ve made have led them to this.

Most of all, he’s found the living embodiment of growth and joy, and he has strands of his hair slipping between his fingers. He blames the fact that he almost cries on how Denali won’t stop making feminine moaning noises, causing everyone in the room to break into laughter.

Soon, he will have to go home to empty spaces. He will return to the loneliness, but the dullness of its knife will have faded. When it comes to him in the night, making the world stop again, he will greet it with this memory of contentment.

–

There are millions of things that she’s willing to do to make it stop. He could turn the universe upside down, inside out for him. He could yell at the top of her lungs for highways and mountains to move for him. He could fly a damn plane to Chicago for him.

Nothing is too much to stop being a helpless soul, watching him cry over Facetime calls.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s stupid.”

“Your feelings will never be stupid, angel.”

Denali tries to laugh, but it doesn’t come out quite right. It is too full of tears and fears, too loaded with emotions that Rosé begs to understand. It is the saddest sound she’s ever heard and shards of glass appear where her heart used to be.

“Everyone loves me now.” He says as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, because your lipsync was that fucking good, diva.”

“And what happens when I disappoint them?”

Rosé takes a deep breath, lets it settle where shattered glass lies. After a long night alone, he’d once seen a video where they turn the pieces into the most beautiful new figures. He wonders if he’ll know he’s turning his heart into something new for him.

“Listen to me, Denali. You are not and will never be a disappointment to anyone.”

“What happens when I’m eliminated? What happens when people figure out that I’m not as good as they thought I was?”

They’ve only talked about it once before, while drunk in his room after a long day of promo. If the others noticed that Denali was talking to him in whispers and holding his hand too tight, they didn’t mention it.

Does he know that he cuts her fingers when he tries to pick up the pieces for him? Does he know that he believes that nothing in the world could ever be so wrong? Does he know that he loves him too much to ever think of him the way he thinks of himself?

Months ago, he’d questioned how he could ever be so sure of anything. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Yes, you will.” He doesn’t know how he manages to keep his voice steady for him. “One bad day won’t change how much people love you. You’re a fabulous performer and an even more fabulous friend. Don’t ever doubt it for one minute, bitch.”

“But–”

“No buts here, baby. The only acceptable one is the fat ass you’re sitting on.”

It’s only when Denali laughs that he realizes he’s been crying too. How could he not when nothing in the world could be as clear? To love him is a reflex and to stop is in the realm of impossibility.

“I’m sorry I ruined your makeup, Rosie.”

“Don’t worry about it.” It’s easy to brush off, especially when it comes to him. “Maybe the people that booked Cameos are into the smudged mascara look.”

People never told him he could love someone’s laugh so much before.

–

Denali makes him realize what it means to daydream. One minute, he’s out of his own body, watching them dance in a whirlwind of giggling grace together. He spins across the dance studio and when he opens his eyes, they’re suddenly drunk off of bad cocktails in his living room, trying to do the choreography to Phenomenon.

“Wait, no!” He almost falls over when he throws his arms over his head. “We really have to put our whole body into the wiggle. Like this.” It takes a single demonstration for Denali to crash onto the couch, burying his face into a cushion to hide his scream from Rosé’s neighbors.

“I’m just trying to be accurate here.” He says when he plops down beside him. “Utica said wiggle to the top, so I’m wiggling to the fucking top, baby.”

“You can’t make a top out of a bottom, Rosie.”

“Well, I made it to the top four, didn’t I?”

They’re both laughing so hard it hurts. It’s the type of laughing that makes their eyes tear up and their vision blur. It’s the type of laughing that makes them struggle for breath until they can’t tell if it’s them or the room that’s spinning.

The cocktail of alcohol and absurdity settles at the bottom of his stomach and he lets the laughter die. He reaches out for his hand, writes down words from memory to flesh.

Thank you.

You’re right.

I love you.

He wonders how many new words he’ll learn during his stay in New York.

Denali writes something back and it’s all Rosé could have ever hoped for. It’s not that he didn’t know it before, but having the words burned on the back of his hand is still the sweetest sensation he’s ever felt.

It happens so quickly that he doesn’t know where it starts and ends. All he knows for sure is that Denali kissed him, a peck on his lips that feels like the quick burst of a bubble.

When he wakes from this dream tomorrow, he’s not sure he’ll even remember what it felt like. All he’ll think of is the way Denali presses into his side, like none of it ever happened.

“Maybe you really are a cat.”

“Just go to sleep.”

Rosé doesn’t find trouble shutting his eyes. He doesn’t need to see him to know he won’t leave.

–

Maybe it’s the power of TV magic or maybe it’s the wall of makeup that Tina had plastered onto his face that makes it look like he isn’t holding back a gallon of tears. Instead, he looks as happy as he always does, bouncing across the runway like seeing Denali leave didn’t break his heart right in two.

The thought of having to act happy feels ridiculous now that they’re both sobbing silently over the phone. Neither of them have said anything since Ru told him to sashay away and as Untucked starts to play, they remember that they have to breathe again.

“Are you okay?”

Denali is almost uncomfortably quiet. The streaks of foundation missing from his face tell Rosé all he really needs to know but he asks anyway, if only to make sure that he doesn’t get trapped in his own head. Beautiful minds make the ugliest nightmares, after all.

“Why do you always dance like that during lipsyncs?”

He stares at him in open-mouthed shock. After the emotional ringer that they’ve both just been pulled through, all he can focus on is the fact that only his knees move when he’s dancing in the background?

“Are you fucking kidding me, Denali?”

“This episode is way too tragic.” He’s brushing it off so easily that the concern Rosé feels grows with each passing second. “My elimination, your makeup, your weird dad dancing. We have to address those things one at a time.”

“And can that first thing be your elimination?”

Denali quits rambling when he says it. They listen to the synced buzz of their TVs, watch as Rosé writes it’ll be okay on her hand. He wonders if the words are still there, wonders if he can still feel them when he needs them the most.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for it yet.”

To love him is to accept it.

Tonight won’t be the night for them to talk about it. It probably won’t even be tomorrow; but when he’s ready, Rosé will keep his end of the promise. There will be other times to love him in the ways he knows how.

“Why won’t people just leave my dad dancing alone?”

“Oh, Rosie,” he giggles and Rosé thinks it might be the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. “I think it’s adorable.”

–

Denali: have you seen the response online omg

Rosé: I told u so

Denali: what

Rosé: told u they’d love u as much as i do

#rpdr fanfiction #rosé #denali foxx #rosnali #canon compliant #s13 #on set fic #snowbun

29 notes · View notes

wholesomemendes · 4 years

Note

I have a request, if you’re taking them atm! Tour is still going and Alessia is still the opening act, so Shawn, Brian, Connor, Alessia, Olivia, and Y/N hang out in their gang just having fun, being their goofy selves. Brian and Connor know about Shawn liking Y/N and Alessia and Liv know about Y/n liking Shawn. They set them up and go form there? Ily and your stories and make sure you’re staying safe! xx

Author’s Note: I am so sorry this took so long, I’ve been working on it for way too long! But this is 4.7k of personal assistant fluff and I hope you enjoy it! As always please reblog and tell me what you think!

“Thank you, Glasgow!” Screams echoed out from every corner, energy bouncing off the walls as Alessia ended her set and ran off the stage. You and Liv sprinted your way backstage from where you were watching her on the side, maneuvering through all of the backstage crew in order to reach Alessia before her after show high had calmed down. Upon spotting the two of you, a wide smile formed on her face and she began running in your direction to meet you halfway.

“That. Was. Incredible!” you screamed as she wrapped you both in a bone crushing hug.

“I know right! The crowd is so loud, I can’t even imagine what they’ll be like for Shawn,” Alessia replied with a smile, still trying to catch her breath from her performance.

“Don’t sell yourself short, they’ll probably be quieter for him. Man's looks can only take him so far.”

The two girls laughed at your light hearted joke before Liv piped up, “Better watch it Y/n, just cause you’re his assistant doesn’t mean he’s gonna give you a free pass at hurting his ego.”

“Nah, he knows I adore him, probably give him too much praise. Gotta make sure I don’t blow up his head too big,” you teased, joining in the girls giggles, “Speaking of Shawn, I better go find him before he goes out. I’m kinda slacking at my job right now.”

“Go, go, can’t leave your lover boy hanging,” Alessia lightly pushed you in the direction of his dressing room, knowing you hated when the girls teased you about your not so secret crush on your boss.

“I hate you!”

“I love you too!”

________________

“Does anyone know where Y/n is? She's usually back here by now...” Shawn was pacing around his dressing room anxiously while poor Tiff was attempting to put on the final touches of his outfit.

“I bet she’s on her way here right now, Alessia’s set just ended,” she tried to console him, “Now stand still and let me do my job.”

“I’m sorry I’m just worried, I haven’t seen her much today and I’m worried she’s not coming back here before I go on.”

“Shawn, she always comes back...” Tiff was interrupted by two short knocks on the door and your beautiful voice soothing the poor boy’s worries, “Shawn, can I come in?”

He didn’t even bother answering, instead choosing to rip the door open and pull you into his embrace, burying his face into your shoulder, “I thought you weren’t gonna come back.”

“What are you talking about, big guy? I always check up on you,” you giggled at his antics, feeling his breath slowly even out as he breathed in your signature scent.

He pulled his face out from your shirt to look at you, the panic in them still evident, “You’re usually back here by now and I don’t know, I haven’t seen you much today and I was worried and...”

“Hey rockstar, deep breaths,” you smiled up at him with the loving gaze that was reserved just for him and took his face in your hands, relishing in the way he leaned into your touch, “I’m always gonna check on you before your show. It’s tradition...and my job but that’s a completely different topic. Besides, the reason you haven’t seen me around today is because I’ve been busy taking care of all the necessary business surrounding a certain pop star.” You poked his chest at your last sentence, earning a sincere chuckle to escape his lips for the first time in a few hours.

The moment was interrupted by Tiff tapping Shawn’s shoulder lightly, “I hate to break this up, but you need to get dressed.”

Pushing Shawn away towards Tiff, you took a seat on the couch of the dressing room, watching as he covered up his muscular arms with an unbuttoned, army green short-sleeve shirt. You would be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying the view of him in a white wife-beater tank, but you knew it would make an appearance again mid way through the show tonight. You made yourself busy by looking through your twitter feed, liking some of the posts from Shawn’s fans about the concert tonight. “Finished!” Tiff exclaimed excitedly, brushing out the fabric on his shoulders as Shawn fiddled with the array of rings on his fingers.

He tilted his head to look at you through his eyelashes, a smirk forming on his face when he saw your eyes do a quick glance up and down his body. Turning his head back to look at his hands, he prayed you couldn’t see the blush forming on his face from your looks as you were the only person that had that effect on him. He got thousands of compliments from beautiful girls every day, but they never meant as much to him as they did when you said them. It seemed painfully obvious to everyone around him that he was crushing hard on you, well at least that’s what the guys made it seem like. In reality, only Brian and Conner knew after they confronted a drunk Shawn one night who immediately spilled his feelings. That’s the issue with drunk Shawn, he was very, very emotional. Not in a bad way, unless you count sharing everything you feel towards your personal assistant before even she knows bad.

“Shawn, did you remember to take your medicine?” you asked softly as Tiff left the room, meeting his eyes while he walked closer to where you were seated on the couch. You knew he hated other people knowing about his medication even if it wasn’t serious, he just didn’t feel the need to let people know. So even though you made it a point to remind him just in case he happened to forget, you always made sure to do it in privacy with the most gentle voice.

He cleared his throat, scratching nervously behind his neck, “I, um...I’m actually not taking it tonight.” This medicine wasn’t extreme by any means, it simply slowed his heart rate down so he could be calm on stage with his anxiety. But nevertheless it was medicine and for him to simply not take it tonight was a big deal whether he acted like it was or not.

Your eyes went wide, staring up at him where he had made his way between your legs on the couch as he fiddled with his fingers, refusing to meet your eyes. “Oh...that-that’s great, Shawn. Wh-Why aren’t you taking it?”

He sighed, making his way to sit next to you and laid down with his head in your lap. You carded your fingers through his long curls, trying your hardest to make sure you’d be able to easily style them again before he went on. “I don’t want to rely on medicine anymore. I get it’s not that big of a deal and a lot of artists use this type, but I don’t want to feel like I can’t perform without it. I need to do this for myself, to get over this. I talked to Andrew and Jocelyne before I made the decision, but I had already made up my mind.” A quiet moan escaped his plush lips when you lightly massaged a spot on his head as you listened intently, wishing nothing more than to take all his pain away.

“I’m proud of you,” he turned his head to look up at you as you spoke, hand coming to rest on his cheek that was once in his curls, “I really am.”

He placed his large hand over yours, lightly kissing the inside of your palm, “Thank you, it means a lot coming from you.” Your heart swelled three sizes at his words and the look in his eyes was indescribable. Deep down in your heart wanted to believe it was love, but the rational part of your brain quickly dismissed the thoughts. “Hey, I, um, I’ve wanted to talk to you abou-” “Shawn! You’re on in 15!” One of the backstage crew followed by three sharp knocks interrupted Shawn’s thoughts and he stood up with a huff, heading towards the mirror to fix his hair before turning towards the door. “You coming?”

“Of course.” You followed him out the door where he proceeded to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pressing you closer to him as you walked.

“Good, need you close tonight. Got a lot more nerves this time around.”

________________

“I can do this, I can do this, I can do this,” Shawn mumbled to himself as the two of you were sitting under the stage. You could practically feel the waves of anxiety rolling off of him while you waited for his cue to run up those stairs. “I can do this, I can do this, I can…”

“Shawn, look at me,” you took his face into your small hands, cupping his cheeks with your palms as he stared back at you with wide doe-like eyes. It didn’t matter if it was almost pitch black under there, you could see the fear inside of those eyes that usually held so much joy. “You’re going to kill it out there rockstar and you don’t need any medicine to do that.” He leaned into your touch, hanging onto every last word you were saying. “That medicine isn’t what makes you a performer, it’s what’s in here-” you released one hand from his face to poke at his racing heart beneath his chest “-that gives you talent. You’re Shawn Mendes and if that doesn’t do it for you, I don’t know what will. Because the Shawn I know is the most talented, caring, and heartfelt man I’ve ever met, and to say I was him would be the biggest honor.” You could see his tears threatening to fall out of his eyes at your words, causing you to reach up and brush them away, “Now there’s an arena filled with people who love every single inch of you, so go out there and show them what you got.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he sighed, heart feeling lighter than it ever has. He swore you must be a witch because of the magic you had over him, but his brain told him it was the grip you had on his heart that allowed you to have this effect on him.

“Good thing you’ll never have to.” With that he blew you a kiss, running up the stairs to be met with the deafening screams of thousands of fans.

________________

The screaming was insane as Shawn bounded off the stage, energy coursing through his veins. Alessia and Liv stood by your side, surrounded by people on your left and right all waiting to congratulate Shawn. Connor ran behind him, capturing the moment before clapping Shawn on the shoulder, yelling something about how amazing the crowd was over their screams. Suddenly, Shawn’s eyes locked with yours, his smile somehow growing wider as he made his way towards you. His face faltered for a moment when Andrew and some of the backstage members surrounded him, congratulating him on the show while his eyes fought to stay on you. He thanked them all profusely, trying his best to focus on them instead of where you were standing next to some of his best friends.

Once he got through the rest of the crew, he made his way over to you, letting out a sigh of relief when his arms were finally wrapped around you and his head was rested in the crook of your neck. “I did it,” he mumbled into your neck, “I did the show without it.”

Your heart was filled with so much pride and excitement for him that your eyes started to well up with tears while you squeezed your arms tighter around him, “I always knew you could do it. I’m so so proud of you, Shawn.”

“I couldn’t do it without you.” He squeezed your body one last time before Brian was clapping him on the shoulder, turning his attention away from you. Shawn gave a final hug to Alessia and Liv, although it was much shorter and less intimate than the one he gave you, then followed Andrew’s orders to meet with some fans that were backstage. You followed behind him, handing him a water bottle when he began to cough, knowing that after every show his voice typically became extremely raw. He blew you one of his famous kisses as a thank you, causing your cheeks to heat up much to your dismay. Alessia was long gone, having gone back to her dressing room, and you were incredibly thankful that there was no one around to tease you about your inappropriate crush on your boss. Once pictures were done you followed Shawn back to his own dressing room, ready to go sleep the night away in your hotel room.

“That show was ecstatic! I don’t know if it’s just because I didn’t take my medicine, but the energy just felt so good!” Shawn was smiling from ear to ear as he pulled his sweat-filled tank top over his head, throwing it on the floor for you to inevitably pick up even if he didn’t intend for you to do so.

“No, that crowd was definitely off the walls. Alessia said the same thing when she came off,” you told him, making your way to sit on the couch.

“I’m just gonna take a quick shower and then we can head out.”

“Sounds like a plan. I can only imagine you’re excited to get back to the hotel, bet tonight’s show was more tiring than usual.”

“We’re not going back to the hotel,” he turned to you with a confused look on his face, bare chest on full display making your heart flutter, “Didn’t Alessia or Liv tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“You know what they probably just thought I’d tell you. Brian, Connor, Alessia, Liv, and the two of us are going exploring. We don’t have another show for like two days or something…”

“Three days.”

“You know what I meant, but that means we have time to explore tonight and rest tomorrow.”

“Don’t you just want to go to sleep?”

Shawn strolled over to where you were sitting, leaning over you to place his hands on the couch behind you. His face was inches from yours and you couldn’t help the flush that came over your cheeks from his bare skin being in such close proximity. “Sleep can wait. Now you-” he tapped the tip of your nose- “are going to find one of my sweatshirts in my bags because there’s no way you’re going out in that you’ll freeze, and I’m going to shower. Then we’re going to go exploring with our friends because sleep is for the week and we’re not weak.”

“You say that now, but your exhaustion tomorrow will say differently,” you called out as he pushed himself off the couch to head towards the shower.

“Good thing I have someone that will let me sleep on their lap during the bus ride!” You let out a huff of air, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see from where he was already in the bathroom. Making your way over to his bags, you began packing up his clothes from earlier along with the miscellaneous objects that were strewn around the room. You followed his request from earlier, grabbing his youth hoodie that you loved so much and throwing it over your light sweater for the arena. Immediately your body was filled with warmth, it truly was one of his warmest sweatshirts, and your nose was filled with his scent, not helping your racing heart. The night had barely started, but you had a feeling that your emotions were going to get you in trouble later on.

________________

“There is no way you can eat that entire churro in one bite, I refuse to believe it.” The six of you had only been out about 15 minutes before Brian decided he was already hungry and needed one of the churros from the stand just outside of the hotel. It had been decided that you would stop at the hotel with the rest of the crew to drop everything off before you would be able to explore around the city, which still wasn’t completely accepted by Andrew.

“Oh really? Bring it on Baby Brash, how much are we betting?” Brian countered, the foot long churro already paid for and in his hand.

“Two dollars.”

“Ten.”

“Five.”

“Deal.”

“You don’t think he’s really gonna do it, do you?” you whispered to Shawn, not wanting Brian to hear you and force you to join the bet.

“I don’t know, five dollars is five dollars. Brian’s not gonna give up that easily,” he whispered back, hands in his pockets as he watched Brian aggressively eat the poor churro.

Two minutes later, Brian was five dollars richer and your small group was admiring the architecture of the city. You had taken more candid photos than you could count, with a new selfie of you and Shawn as your lock screen, a result of him hacking into your phone claiming this picture of you with both of your tongues out and cheeks squished together was the best photo the two of you had. Now you, Alessia, and Liv were currently sitting on the grass, watching as the boys attempted to climb up a structure on a playground they found. As they say, boys will be boys and even if they were all considered adults now, they were still boys through and through. “So when are you going to tell him you’re in love with him?”

“What?!” you asked, eyes wide as you turned to Alessia, “What-what are you talking about?”

“Come on, you act like we don’t know about your crush on Shawn. You’ve literally told us before.”

“First of all, yes I have a crush on him, but I’m not in love with him! That’s crazy. And two, he’s my boss and he’s never going to know.”

“Honey, have you seen the way you look at him? You’re in love, stop lying to yourself,” Liv reasoned, Alessia nodding her head in agreement next to her, “And also who cares if he’s your boss? The two of you practically act like a couple half the time, he probably feels the same way.”

“But you don’t know that,” you whined, throwing your head back in frustration, “He’s so kind to everyone, that’s just how he is.”

“You know he acts differently around you, he doesn’t do half the things he does with you around the rest of his friends,” Alessia tried to convince you, but you weren’t having it.

“No he doesn’t, you guys are just trying to convince yourself that my feelings aren’t one sided.”

“Whatever you say,” Liv rolled her eyes playfully at you, earning a light swat in the shoulder from you as you laughed.

________________

“When are you gonna tell her you’re in love with her?” Meanwhile, the three boys had successfully climbed to the top of the structure and were having their own soul discovering conversation.

“Bro, what are you talking about?” Shawn stuttered, staring at Brian who was smirking in his direction.

“You know, Y/n? The girl you’re literally drooling over and get hearts in your eyes anytime you look at her?”

Shawn’s cheeks began to heat up immediately, his head dropping to hide his lovesick smile, “I don’t get heart eyes.”

“Yeah you do, man, I’m surprised she hasn’t said anything about how in love you are with her,” Connor chimed in, causing Shawn’s face to heat up even more.

“I like her, I obviously do, but I’m not in love with her. She’s one of my best friends, I’m not going to risk that to tell her about a silly little crush.”

“It’s obviously not a silly little crush if you act like a lovesick puppy around her.”

“I don’t act like a lovesick puppy around her!”

“Yeah, you do,” Connor snorted, trying to hide it with a cough.

“See, even Baby Brash sees it and he wouldn’t know love if it hit him in the face.”

Connor turned towards Brian, mouth wide open, “Hey, I know love.”

“Oh yeah?” Brian challenged, raising one of his eyebrows, “When was the last time you were in love?”

Connor stayed quiet, refusing to make eye contact with anything but the ground as he bit his lip in denial. “That’s what I thought, now Shawn you need to make a move!”

“No,” Shawn shook his head, refusing to acknowledge his brain that was screaming love, “I’m not in love.”

“Whatever you say.”

________________

“Ok everyone know the rules?”

“What rules? It’s just first duo to get to the gazebo first wins,” you argued, watching as Connor shrugged his shoulders innocently. Currently you were on Shawn’s back as he held you like you weighed a feather, which you knew was far from the truth. Alessia was waiting to get on Brian’s back while Liv and Connor stood on the side, ready to run alongside the two pairs to judge who reached it first. You were convinced that with Shawn’s long legs you would win, but Brian was the one to suggest the race and he was talking a lot of smack.

“If you know the rules so well then we should just start,” Liv pointed out, shooting a knowing look at Alessia as she jumped onto Brian’s back.

“Everyone ready? Three...Two...One...Go!” You squealed as Shawn took off with you holding on for dear life, laughing as he used his long leds to get an advantage. He laughed when you held on tighter, burying your face in his neck and fearing that he was going to drop you. You could hear the faint voices of Brian and Alessia behind you, convincing you that Shawn was well in the lead as the gazebo was only a few more feet in front of you.

“We won!” he exclaimed breathlessly, releasing his grasp on your legs to let you slide off his back.

“Take that...Brian?” your voice trailed off as you looked around, not seeing the rest of your friends anywhere in sight. The two of you couldn’t even make out their figures in the area you left them, leaving the two of you more confused than ever, “Where... where did they go?”

“I don’t know, I swore they were right behind us…” Shawn reached into his pocket, silently cursing his friends when he saw the text from Brian on his screen:

Go get ‘em loverboy;)

“I think they left us here,” he sighed, leaning against the railing of the gazebo.

“Why would they do that?”

“Beats me.” You turned to face him and with the moonlight reflecting on your face, he swore you had never looked more angelic.

“So what are we supposed to do? Call them, wait for them?” You shivered a bit when the wind began to pick up, Shawn immediately going into what one could only call protective boyfriend mode even if he had never admitted his feelings to you.

“Come here, you’re cold.” He opened his arms up to you and you immediately cuddled into his warmth, the man was a walking heating furnace.

“How are you always so warm?” you mumbled into his sweatshirt as he rubbed circles onto your back.

“Don’t know, but it sure comes in handy when someone is always cold.” You nodded against his chest and he prayed that you couldn’t hear how loud his heart was beating from you being so close to him, “What do you say we just walk around for a bit and if we don’t see them, we just head back to the hotel?” Not knowing what else to do you agreed, unwillingly peeling yourself away from his warmth and taking his outstretched hand in yours. His large hand engulfed yours, but you couldn’t help thinking about how natural it felt to have his hand in yours. The two of you walked around for what felt like hours through the city, laughing and smiling so much that your cheeks were beginning to hurt.

As the two of you began to head towards the hotel, you stumbled upon an older woman and who you assumed was her husband taking a nighttime stroll along the street you were on. “You two make such a cute couple!” The older lady gushed as you got closer to the two of them, “Do you remember when that was us, Hank?”

“Of course I do, honey,” the man responded, “I still love you just as much as I did back then. Don’t lose that you two.”

The two of you blushed, bashful smiles on your faces at the couples words. “Thank you,” Shawn spoke up, sending a kind smile to the elderly pair, “We promise we won’t.”

“Good, good. Have a nice night!”

“You too!” You both called out, sending a friendly wave in their direction as they walked away. You both walked in silence for a couple minutes processing their words, you biting your lip as your nerves bubbled in your chest, “Do we really look like a couple?”

Shawn stopped walking, pulling you with him so your chest was facing his. “I mean, sometimes we kinda act like one,” he told you sincerely, eyes dropping down to his feet as he scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“Have you ever thought about it?” you asked quietly, your brain screaming at you for your foolishness while your heart beated proudly.

“About what? Us as a couple?”

“Yeah.”

“You want my honest answer?” He looked you in the eyes, grabbing both of your hands and squeezing them lightly while you nodded, fear pooling in your eyes, “All the time.”

“You do?”

“How could I not?” he chuckled , lifting one of your hands to rest over his beating heart, “You feel how fast you make my heart beat? You’re the only one it does that for.”

You lifted his free hand to place over your own heart, letting him feel the rapid tempo, “Mine does the same for you, it always has.”

“Do you want to try this…this us? Our friends tell us we act like a couple anyways?”

You bit your lip slightly, a playful smirk on your face as you looked up at him through your lashes, “Shawn Mendes...are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“Maybe,” he teased, hands coming to rest on your hips while yours came to his chest, “If I was, what would your answer be?”

“I don’t know, I’d have to ask my boss if he’s ok with me dating a coworker. So what does he say?”

“He says yes for sure.”

“Then it’s a yes from me.” Shawn wasted no time connecting your lips to his, pulling your body closer to his to eliminate any more space. No amount of dreaming could have prepared you for how his lips felt on yours, they were so soft and your whole body felt aflame from the passion he was putting into the kiss. You sighed when you felt his tongue swipe ever so gently against your bottom lip, immediately opening your mouth earning a moan of satisfaction from him when his tongue finally met yours. You were so consumed by him you weren’t even worried about how paparazzi could be nearby or if a fan saw you and took a picture, all you could think about was Shawn, Shawn, Shawn.

“I’m in love with you,” he mumbled between kisses, not wanting to part from your lips for even a second, “I’ve been in love with you so long I can’t remember not loving you.”

“I’ve always loved you too, Shawn. I’ve dreamed about this moment for so long.”

“Glad to know I’m not the only one that’s dreamed about you,” and as he continued to kiss you in the middle of the city, the moon shined down on the scene, the stars admiring the love that was only set to grow.

415 notes · View notes

timextoxhajima · 4 years

Text

HOSTIS, Chapter I: Primi Foederis, The First Meeting

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): angst, drama, comedy featuring doctor hyunjae

Category: Short Novel/ Long Series (because i’m expecting to invest quite a lot of effort into this)

A/N: YEET back with another short novel idk how long this one is going to run. i’m already predicting it’s going to be longer than chaebol juyeon because i have alot of ideas waiting to come out in this one, let’s see if i butcher it LOL. this is the first piece of work i’m posting on tumblr that isn’t part of my playlist feels collection because i don’t think i’ll be able to find a track that fits every chapter well like i’ve been doing for my playlist feels collection. any-o-how, hopefully this is gonna go well... and i’ll see you on the other side ;)

“i’ve invested so much time and effort to make sure i will never have to see you again...”

“but i must’ve done something unforgivable in my past life for fate to put us in the same place,”

“...even after a decade.”

the amygdala helps coordinate responses to things in one’s environment, especially those that trigger an emotional response.

this structure plays an important role in anger.

the rapid, minimal, and evaluative processing of the emotional significance of the sensory data is done when the data passes through the amygdala in its travel from the sensory organs along certain neural pathways towards the limbic forebrain.

emotion caused by discrimination of stimulus features, thoughts, or memories however, occurs when its information is relayed from the thalamus to the neocortex.

based on some statistical analysis, some doctors have suggested that the tendency for anger may be genetic.

but that’s not the case for you.

usually, you’d run your thoughts through your head before you spat them out, but the sight of him was enough to make you want to regurgitate your breakfast.

“you have to be shitting me.”

not one pinch of regret shows in your words, and all you could do was stare in utter disbelief at the man standing right opposite you. the department head had a clipboard in his hand as he flipped through it, only pausing when he heard your cold, yet frustrated tone buried in your expression.

“oh,” he releases the sheets of paper in his hand and places the clipboard down on the table he was leaning on. “so you know each other.”

the gleaming sunlight was shining into the room behind the man standing directly opposite you, and the department head was resting his rear against the edge of the desk between the two of you.

the years of hard work finished themselves as certificates and plaques of achievements that hung on the wall behind him, and from the corner of your eye, you could almost see your own enraged facial expression in the reflection off the awards.

“well, that makes things a lot easier for me, but i am still obligated to facilitate a proper introduction -- meeting -- or whatever the two of you want to call it,” the glasses on his nose would’ve fallen off if he didn’t push them back up his nose bridge.

your eyes were darting back and forth between the department head and the last person you’d ever want to see, or even have within your reach. your jaw was locked and your temples were so tight, you could feel a vein slowly exposing itself on your forehead.

“y/n, this is doctor lee hyunjae, and the both of you will be my mentees for the next two weeks.”

i know his fucking name--

“so until those two weeks are up, i wouldn’t expect anything less than the two of you following me around like little puppies,”

puppies? just call us dogs and that’ll already be half the truth.

“and after that, there’ll be a high chance that you’ll both need work on a research project with the research department--”

“‘research department’?” you blurt out rudely, but the department head doesn’t look like he could care less.

“did i say that wrong?” he raises an indifferent brow at you, arms crossed over his chest while he pulls his shoulder blades backwards.

there was no way you would’ve complained about med school being so difficult if you knew this day was coming. the energy required to contain your desire to punch lee hyunjae in the nose and ram your knee into his groin was enough to drain you in that very moment.

you would’ve passed out if you weren’t standing in the department head’s office.

“i agree it’s not like the hospital to put two young doctors to work on a research project, but the work the both of you did in your respective schools were a little difficult for the research department to ignore.”

‘respective schools’...

the silence becomes deafening, and the department head starts to smack his lips awkwardly loudly. “so if you have no further questions for now, i’d like you to fill up some administrative forms for the hospital to finalise, and then i’ll see you in the cafeteria for lunch at twelve,” he pulls out some sheets of paper from the clipboard and hands it to the two of you after slotting them into clear files.

“after lunch, i’ll give you one more tour around the hospital and a more detailed orientation of the north wing where the research department is... and the east wing where the neurology department is, which the two of you would be officially attached to and on document.”

you skim through the documents in the file, and your eyes naturally travel back up to look at your mentor.

“so if there are no further questions, you may go.”

both you and lucifer bow to your mentor, and he waits for the both of you to leave the office before he returns to his huge leather seat.

you let yourself out the door, not bothering to hold it open for your colleague. the grip on the clear file was tightening every second and you don’t realise you were on the verge of crumpling the contents of it. every muscle and feature on your face were compressed in itself, but luckily it doesn’t catch the attention of passing hospital staff and patients walking along the hall way.

the reflection off the frame of the lift tells you that your lips were white from the airtight closure, and you jab the lift button like you hated it.

“just so you know, i’m not fond of the idea of being stuck with you for an indefinite amount of time either.”

“ha,” you scoff, watching him stand a safe distance behind you in the reflection. “i must be so lucky for you to be able to read my expression and distaste... especially with how hard i tried to hide it.”

he snorts behind you, and the air hits the hair of your ponytail.

“you’ve never been able to hide your feelings anyway,”

this piece of--

“so it would be such an honor to even see you try.”

your eye twitches and your lips pucker in rage at the smug tone in his voice. you turn on one heel and raise the file, ready to swing it into his face.

“you--”

he grabs your wrist, waiting for your strength in your forearm to dissipate. you begin to writhe your way out of his grip with pursed lips, and he drops it like it wasn’t attached to you.

you take a step back towards the lift and mindlessly pat down your white coat, glaring at him with eyes you wish had daggers.

“nice to know your temper hasn’t changed.”

“i have a designated type of temper when it comes to you, not because i have anger management issues.”

the lift arrives and the doors open to reveal an empty space, pouring a bucket full of agony and scorn over your head when the realisation of being stuck with lee hyunjae for an indefinite amount of time sinks into your neurons.

just being around lee hyunjae was so difficult to swallow.

if you weren’t in a hospital with patients who had an actual reason to throw up, you would’ve done it in plain sight.

if you knew there were no laws to sentence you to death for murder, you would’ve stabbed him in the eye.

if you weren’t a doctor who took a pledge to only save lives just under a week ago, you would’ve poisoned him with some godforsaken virus mankind has found a way to contain.

you would’ve enjoyed lunch and the tour of the hospital, despite it being your third time wandering around the compound, if it weren’t for the fact that the last person you wanted to see was standing right next to you the entire duration.

becoming a doctor was nothing short of prestige and honour for your family, especially when you’ve come from a long line of neurosurgeons and relatives who would’ve spent more time inhaling the scent of a certain hospital than their own homes.

it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that it was in your blood to follow in everybody else’s footsteps; your parents would’ve probably freaked out and started worrying that you were someone’s secret illegitimate child if you didn’t become one.

“you must be y/n,” the doctor who had white hair and a wrinkly forehead had to be peeled and shoved off the seat by your mentor for him to get up and greet you.

“this is doctor kim, head of research for neurology,” your mentor introduces as doctor kim shakes your hand.

“and you must be lee hyunjae,” he shakes lucifer’s hand.

‘petty’ was a word nobody usually associated you with, but you busked in the little sprinkle of glory and smugness when you see lee hyunjae’s lips twitch in disgust when he shakes the hand that just touched yours.

“if you’re working on research, then you will report to doctor kim--”

“i’ve seen both your reports and research work and they are phenomenal--”

“uh, doctor kim--”

“how did oxford manage to come up with this set of data?” he literally sweeps his bony, wrinkled hands across the table, looking for something you assume he took from lucifer’s application portfolio.

“doctor--”

“and how did harvard even think about this link? it’s so mind-boggling, i must admit i haven’t really wrapped my head around it--”

“doctor kim!”

the sharp call startles you, and everybody else in the office turns to provide the group of you their attention.

“sorry,” your mentor raises his hand and gives a small apologetic bow. “doctor kim,” he gently removes the items the old research doctor has grasped in his hands and places them elsewhere on the table.

you note that though doctor kim does not look a day older than sixty, he must’ve been losing his brain cells and composure from all the research he’s been doing.

“the two of them will be officially placed in the neurology department under me, but do you remember that email you sent to me about wanting them to join your team?”

“of course! what do you treat me as?” the elder man frowns and pulls off his glasses, fists resting on his hips and looking up at your mentor.

the sight lifts your spirits a little, and you momentarily forget that lucifer was standing right next to you.

“uh-- okay, well, all you gotta do is drop me an email about one week prior to whenever you need them, but for these two weeks they are still going to be trainees mentored by me, you follow?”

the elder man squints at him with eyes that scream ‘i’m not an idiot’, and your mentor takes the cue.

“after the two weeks are up, just drop them an email one week prior to when you need them and you can cc them to me. they may be bright lights in the dark but it might not necessarily guide the right people.”

“will you shut your trap--” the elder doctor picks up a thick file and rams it into your mentor’s head. your eyes widen in shock, hand flying up to your mouth to hide your surprise at the sudden attack. lucifer stands by and crosses his arms over his chest, a light smile appearing over his lips.

“with enough honing and experience, they can go a long way,” he drops the file back onto his table. “you didn’t start here with as much potential as these kids do.”

“okay!” your mentor exclaims, turning around and waving the two of you away from the office space. “if that’s all doctor kim, we’re going to take our leave!”

“you better not let those kids think i’m a crazy old man!” he waves the thick file at all of you, and you give him a little wave while your mentor ushers the both of you out of the office space.

a laugh escapes your nostrils, and your mentor looks down at you with a look of embarrassment while the three of you return to the lift lobby.

“are you two close?” lucifer asks, pressing the button on the lift panel.

“he was my mentor when i first came here as a trainee, so he’s been looking after me since then, even after i stopped being his mentee.”

“oh,” you nod. “that’s nice.”

“well, he is getting on with age,” the lift arrives and he pauses while the hospital staff exit. someone in the crowd greets him.

you and lucifer follow him inside, and he presses the button of the floor that connects the north wing to the east wing.

“so it’s only a matter of time before he retires. i don’t want the hospital to be the last place he’s in and i don’t want the last time he was seen... alive... to be him burying his nose in his research papers. he doesn’t have his own family so he’s either alone at home or in the office and working until someone chases him home.”

“hasn’t the hospital or... i don’t know... you, talked to him about retiring?”

the lift doors open, and you notice the pause in the air.

lucifer’s question struck a chord somewhere, and your mentor was showing it.

“both the hospital and i have talked to him about it, but it’s not easy leaving a place you love working in...”

a pause.

“or at least a place you’ve been working it for more than forty years.”

he brings the both of you to the neurology department and returns the two of you to your neighbouring offices after he concludes the orientation and tour.

the scent of the hospital would’ve been nauseating for some people, patients especially. but there was something about the way the place smelled that convinced you becoming a doctor was worth the effort and hard work.

the way the air smelled like medicine and iv disinfectant made you hopeful for patients, the obligation for every surface to be spick and span never failed to satiate your need for hygiene.

you were finally in a place you wanted to be.

the only downfall was that you were going to be stuck with lucifer for how long, you don’t even know.

“so that concludes the tours and orientation. i hope it was adequate and even if it wasn’t, don’t hesitate to drop by my office and ask me anything you deem important enough to ask. otherwise you can just email me,” he slides his hands into his coat pockets.

the two of you bow, ready to admire his back leaving the two of you before you could roll your eyes at each other.

but he doesn’t leave.

“but before i go,” he raises a single pointer in the air, his other hand still in the pocket. “i’d like the both of you to know that the hospital has no space for... a lack of professionalism.”

you bite down on your bottom lip, slightly embarrassed.

lucifer wasn’t going to let this go.

“everybody has their differences, so i hope while the two of you have yours, it won’t affect your work here. the two of you are promising, and doctor kim wasn’t lying when he said the two of you have more potential than me when i first joined the hospital. with enough experience, the both of you could reach heights even i can only dream of.”

“oh, you flatter us,” lucifer provides a humble chuckle and waves it off.

fake ass.

“i give credit where it’s due,” he returns his hand to the pocket. “so don’t prove me wrong.”

he doesn’t wait for either of you to respond before he walks off. the atmosphere hanging between the two of you was so still, so cold, so frozen, you were almost afraid that if you moved first, he was going to burst into some maniacal laughter.

you suck in a deep breath, your eyes fluttering shut as the cold air sours your nose. the inhalation causes a sharp ache in your chest, not that it bothered you.

“if he says that we both have potential, then i guess that puts us on the same pedestal.”

light seeps in through your lids and you watch the other hospital staff walk in and out of the office, his words running into your ear canals and sinking into the flesh of your brain.

your hear lucifer turn around, and the pens in his pockets click against each other upon his movement. your eyes fixate on a clock on the wall opposite you and beyond some smaller cubicles. the red, digital numbers hanging right between the two lifts glaring at you like a demon’s eyes.

you hear the door of his office click and the friction of the rubber on the bottom of the glass door brushes against the carpeted floor.

“you know,”

you sense the stoppage in his movements upon hearing the sudden words leaving your lips.

“i’ve invested so much time and effort to make sure i will never have to see you again...”

a smile of pain and despair pulls the corners of your lips up your cheek, and you turn your head enough to see him in the corner of your eye.

“but i must’ve done something unforgivable in my past life for fate to put us in the same place.”

you turn back and look at the clock, everyone’s movements within your field of vision slowing down.

“...even after a decade.”

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

Chapter 2: Antiquum Fabulum

#timetohajima #lee hyunjae #hyunjae #the boyz #the boyz hyunjae #doctor hyunjae #angst #drama #comedy #what #timetohajima hostis

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escxpedes · 3 years

Text

loopholes (fin.)

Remember when I said I’d post this like two days after the last part? No? Me neither... Sorry about the delay, I’ve had a severe lack of motivation. (It’s mental illness innit.) I feel like every part of this story gets longer and longer, and makes even less sense. If you haven’t read the other two parts, I recommend you do so. These technically can be read standalone, but I think it’s cuter when you read them knowing the context. Even though, again, they seem to make less sense the more I write. Lots of new information came about season 5, and it’s both nerve-racking and exciting at the same time! Three cheers for anxiety, amiright? Hope you all are doing well, I’m excited to hear the feedback on the last part of this series. Let me know if there’s anything you’d like me to write, I’m a sucker for prompts! x

part one | part two

loop·hole

noun | A loophole is an ambiguity or inadequacy in a system, such as a law or security, which can be used to circumvent or otherwise avoid the purpose, implied or explicitly stated, of the system.

hands that wrap around my wrists, (and arms that feel like home.)

Shutting down the monitors she was using, Riley tries not to think about how her sleep deprivation affects her body. It’s one thing to work as a distraction, but the drag in her pace tells her this coping method is wearing her down.

How is she supposed to save innocent lives when she’s so exhausted.

And she is, exhausted, that is. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. Every part of her is weightless, suspended in air, and it feels like she can’t do a single thing about it.

An irritating helplessness encompasses her, tightening its grasp on her sanity.

She wants to cry out, throw something, cause a scene. Instead, she buries her feelings deep in her subconscious and tries not to focus on how tight her chest is.

It’s an occupational hazard, she tells herself. It’s nothing she can’t handle, she repeats daily. It’s almost a mantra by now, echoing inside her head and ramping up what seems to be an infinite supply of determination.

It’s the only way.

Mac waits for her outside, leaning against the building while she locks up. Her vision is still kind of fuzzy due to lack of energy, and her body doesn’t seem to be completely awake yet. She can physically feel Mac’s concerned gaze burning a hole in her cranium as if staring hard enough will give him access to all recesses of her mind.

“Ready?”

She nods, feigning a smile, and bumping his shoulder with her own, “You never mentioned why you stopped by so late.”

Ignorance is bliss, right?

“I left my phone in the labs.” She can hear the exasperation in his voice; concern rushes forward and sends a pang through her heart.

Suddenly, she’s irritated too, not with Mac, but for Mac. He does the right thing for humanity despite all that humanity has done to him. She can’t imagine how frustrated he must be with the entire situation, once again putting the world before himself.

He’s had so little time to process everything.

She knows he could use a break but also knows that he won’t admit he needs one.

For how smart he is, he can be really stupid sometimes.

When she turns her head to look at him, she can tell she’s lost him to his own thoughts. His eyebrows are furrowed, his usually clear eyes unfocused, and his mouth is set in a grim line.

If she listens closely, she can almost hear the gears turning, working out possible solutions, and thinking through every outcome.

It’s not an uncommon expression.

She stops abruptly, “Hey.”

This seems to shake him from his trance, his eyes meeting hers in a questioning manner.

“You are doing the best you can under the circumstances, but pushing yourself too hard won’t solve anything,” Her hand finds its way to his arm and squeezes reassuringly, “You can take care of the planet, but make sure to take care of yourself, too.”

The look he gives her is so full of gratitude and affection that nearly every emotion that Riley’s fought to contain bursts through its confinement and surges through her body.

“Thank you.”

Her breath catches in her throat, making it hard to breathe.

“What for?”

She really hopes the shaky breath that follows goes unnoticed.

“For always believing in me, no matter what.” His gaze is piercing, robbing the ability to form words from her throat.

She rakes her mind for something, anything, to say that will stop her from doing something she would totally, one hundred percent regret.

“It’s what Jack would do.”

It takes everything in her to break eye contact and shrug nonchalantly. Humor laces her tone, despite the sincerity of her statement. It is something Jack would do, something he taught her to believe in. Not necessarily in Mac, but what her gut is telling her.

It seems that in any given situation, before or after Jack’s departure, Mac’s intuition has always mirrored her own. Since the second he broke her out of prison, they always had the same values. Just like Jack, she learned how to read and understand Mac.

She knows how to interpret his rambling. She knows that no matter the situation, he’ll always put everyone else first. She knows that whatever crazy plan he’s come up with, it’s constructed with the best intentions.

She knows that no matter where he goes, and no matter what he does, her instinct is to trust him.

So she does.

With every ounce of her being.

She desperately wants to share this with him, especially if it would probably make him feel better. However, she knows the second she starts talking, she won’t be able to stop. Mac’s got a way of doing that, translating her thoughts into words that tumble out of her before she can control what they might mean.

The grin Mac throws her, which conveys understanding and amusement, allows the tension between them to dissipate.

“Speaking of Jack, he would absolutely kill me if I let you drive home in your state.”

Before she can get a word in edgewise, he’s already opening the passenger side door of his truck. The tone in his voice leaves little room for debate, as if he’s ready to refute whatever argument she can muster up, so Riley doesn’t argue.

She wants to, but just the idea of operating a car sounds exhausting.

Besides, she’s missed this. She’s missed Mac, not just as someone she’s possibly in love with, but as her best friend. With everything going on, she’s hardly been able to see him.

The absence of him in her life hurts just as much as having him in it.

She literally can’t win.

The silence that follows is comfortable, the rumbling engine serving as white noise to Riley as she dozes off against the window.

She tries to, anyway. Driving with Mac is always an adventure, which is useful when trying to avoid being killed by a terrorist organization. Maneuvering Los Angeles traffic? Way, way less so.

“Maybe driving myself home wouldn’t have been such a bad idea.” She mumbles, fighting the urge to grab the handle above the door.

“Hey! I always get us home in one piece.”

“Physically maybe,” an amused smile finds its way to Riley’s face, “But mentally? I should sue you for psychological trauma.”

The look of disbelief that follows is enough to get her through several lifetimes, or it could be the smile he struggles to hide under his offended facade.

“Ouch,” Mac puts his left hand over his heart, “That hurts right here, Riles.”

The nickname throws her off, causing her stomach to flip. It’s just a silly name, it shouldn’t affect her like this, but her heart still clenches uncomfortably.

She attempts to brush it off, trying for a humoring grin that feels more like a grimace.

Though the comfortable atmosphere doesn’t change, the playful energy is replaced by more silence. As buildings pass outside, all Riley can think about is how much she hates silence. Man, what she would do just to get rid of it for a little bit. It’s constant these days, and it always finds her no matter where she goes.

Her fingers tug at her bottom lip, a nervous habit she’s recently adopted, as she tries to think through possible solutions to the predicament she’s found herself in.

She must be pretty engrossed because it takes her a minute to realize Mac’s spoken again.

“What?” Her brain slows down enough to pick out his words, something about how much sleep she’s gotten recently, “Oh, I don’t know.”

She tries not to notice how concerned he looks when he asks, “You don’t know?”

Not really

Logically, she knows that she sleeps almost every night. How long? It’s hard to tell sometimes. If she’s lucky, she can get a couple hours in before her brain goes into hyperdrive. Other times, she’d rather be doing something productive on her rig instead of staring at her ceiling fan.

She props her elbow against the window and rests her head in her hand, “I guess it hasn’t been a priority.”

From the corner of her eye, she can see him open his mouth and close it abruptly, trying to find the right words to comfort or soothe her.

As always, Mac is trying to rectify the situation.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

She doesn’t miss the parallel and throws him the same reclusive look he had given her on multiple occasions.

“That’s my line.”

There’s an irritating tension that fills the space, like the feeling you get when you can’t get past a certain level on a video game. It’s a little stifling, urging Riley to do whatever it takes to make it disappear.

“C’mon Riley, you’ve been off ever since, you know, the whole codex situation. At first, I thought, well, it was kind of traumatizing for everyone involved, but then you moved out and,” He trails off, and she can physically see him putting all the working components together, “Is it the apartment?”

God, she wished it was just the apartment. Sure, it plays a part in all her problems right now, but she knows that it’s more of what the empty apartment represents than the apartment itself.

Still, she’s glad he came to that conclusion. It’s easier to lie to him when it doesn’t pertain to the actual issue at hand.

“The apartment’s fine,” she says after a moment of hesitation.

“It’s the AC unit, isn’t it?” His lips compress shortly before he shakes his head, “I knew I should have looked at it.”

As he starts ranting about the condenser coils in her air conditioner and how easy it is for them to get dirty, Riley can’t help but let a soft laugh fall from her lips.

“Mac, it’s not my air conditioning.”

When he opens his mouth to respond, she holds her hand up to stop him. “It’s not my heater either, or my ceiling fan, or anything that might require your unique expertise.”

“But it has something to do with the apartment.”

The statement is blanketed in excitement as if he knows he’s getting closer to uncovering the truth. He’s always been so obsessed with knowledge and learning, never quite capable of letting things go and living in ignorance.

His eyes light up with child-like curiosity; it’s highly annoying and endearing at the same time.

She feels her self control loosening.

With Mac, she feels secure, like maybe she can put herself back together again. She could confess to a crime, and he wouldn’t look at her any differently.

That helplessness kicks back in, tearing her apart from the inside.

When he slows to a stop in front of her complex, she hasn’t answered him yet.

In the back of her mind, she’s a little proud of herself for only joking about his driving once in the ten minutes it took to get there.

She stares at the lobby entrance and can feel the soft flannel of his shirt, giving him a hug before she exits his truck. She can hear the sleepiness in her voice as she leans against the door and tells him goodnight. She can see herself walk through the double doors and not turning around.

She can see it so clearly, but she remains planted in the passenger seat.

Fear tangles itself in her shoulders, in her stomach, in her heart.

Not just because she dreads the idea of spending another night counting the minutes before her alarm goes off, but because she doesn’t want to leave with their friendship in this state.

She just wants everything to go back to normal, to get back some semblance of their old friendship before she knew how she felt.

Mac waits beside her, a patient and comforting presence.

“It’s just so quiet. Up there, it’s just me and my thoughts. They never cease or quiet down; it’s a constant loop. I try listening to music or watching TV, but I can never focus on any of it. Then, I start panicking because I don’t know if it’ll ever go away. There’s no comfort, no stability. I’m just… alone.”

With every word, a little of the weight falls from her shoulders.

It almost feels like she can breathe again.

“The only time I don’t feel like that is when I’m working,” she clenches her hands in her lap, “At Phoenix, I can get to any room in the dark with my eyes closed, and I’m constantly surrounded by people I’ve known for years. It feels… safe.”

Mac’s silent, reaching over to grasp one of her hands.

“You don’t feel safe here?” He encloses her left hand between his own and squeezes, the pressure and warmth spreading through her body like wildfire.

She meets his eyes, “Not in the way that matters.”

He turns the truck off, hopping out before Riley can say anything else. He walks around the hood of the car and pulls the passenger door open, “Come on.”

“What are you doing?”

He helped her out of the truck, “You trust me, right?”

More than he’ll ever know.

“You know I do.” She eyed him suspiciously as he opened one of the complex’s doors for her, following as she entered.

“From what I can recall, Bozer got you a Nintendo Switch for your birthday earlier this year. It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of destroying you in Super Smash Bros.”

His voice was quiet, trying not to disturb the people trying to sleep.

“First of all, you’ve never destroyed me in Super Smash Bros, and you never will if you keep playing with Luigi,” She grinned, watching as he shook his head in disagreement, “And second of all, it’s two in the morning.”

He shrugged, “That’s never stopped us before.”

He wasn’t wrong, but things were different now.

Riley tried not to think about Desi, wrapped up in Mac’s bed, peacefully sleeping and blissfully unaware of this entire exchange.

Not that she had anything to worry about.

It didn’t matter anyway because clearly, Riley had issues with saying “no” to Angus Macgyver.

“Fine, but prepare to get your ass beaten.”

He grinned triumphantly, “That sounds like a challenge.”

She unlocked her apartment door, stepping into the dark and quiet entryway. She faltered a little bit, her heartbeat quickening with newfound anxiety.

As always, the apartment radiated energy that always put Riley out of place.

Mac closed the door behind him, helping himself to any food he could find in her fridge. There was an intimacy to it, a closeness that made the apartment much more bearable. Her shoulders dropped a little, the anxiety easing a little as she took a deep breath.

She busied herself in the living room, connecting the switch to her TV and grabbing a variety of different pillows and blankets.

It was, after all, a tradition for these types of events.

Mac joined her after a couple of minutes with two beers, “Your fridge is worse than mine.”

“Will you get it started,” Riley ignore his comment, handing him one of the controllers, “ I’m going to change.”

When she returned in a comfy ensemble of leggings and a sweatshirt, Mac was scrolling through the character list. She hopped the back of the couch to sit next to him, watching as he hovered over Luigi for what feels like an eternity.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Mac’s determined expression didn’t falter, “You’re just jealous of my skills.”

Those skills proved to be no match for Riley’s, though, after she managed to beat him in the first game. It became much more entertaining when she did it again in the second. She tried not to laugh, but it became nearly impossible with his onslaught of complaints.

“You’re such a cheater, you can’t do that!” He pressed down hard on the keys as if smashing them harder will make Luigi speed up.

Jokes on him, Luigi was the slowest character in the game.

Very slowly, her exhaustion began to creep up on her. She knew she was done for when Mac actually managed to beat her. He seemed just as surprised as she was, but he suggested switching to a movie anyway.

They ended up choosing a documentary, something that Mac had been interested in watching recently. Riley didn’t care what they watched, as long as she got to lay down.

Mac placed a pillow in his lap and tapped it gently.

“So, was this your plan,” She comfortably adjusted her body, so her neck wasn’t in an awkward position propped up on the pillow.

In front of them, a monotone voice explained the phenomena surrounding the universe.

“Homo Sapiens are social creatures; we need people to survive,” Riley could feel Mac’s fingers coursing through her waves, creating a soothing pattern that calmed any remaining tension in her body.

“You feel comfortable at Phoenix, sitting around the fire pit at my house, or spending time with the team at the arcade because we’re there. It’s okay to need us, Riles, because trust me, we need you, too.”

Mac’s words barely resonate with her, and she hummed noncommittally in response.

His fingers gently combed through the tangles at the nape of her neck, “I don’t think we build homes in material things like houses or apartments, but rather, in the people we surround ourselves with.”

Laying there, with her head on his lap and his fingers in her hair, Riley could only think one thing:

He couldn’t be more right.

#macriley #macgyver #Angus MacGyver #riley davis #just cute things #hope you enjoy!!

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lunetheaveragefan · 4 years

Text

one day...

Hi! This is the beginning of the first fanfiction that I’m posting here! I hope people like it!

A Sander Sides high school AU

Pairing: Prinxiety and some background Logicality

Summary: Virgil is used to being alone. He only has one friend, Logan. But when Logan makes a new friend, things begin to change as two more join their group. Roman, a boisterous theater kid, seems determined to destroy Virgil’s lonely, average life. How much will Virgil’s life change?

Warnings: Some cursing and quick mentions of anxiety/a panic attack. If you notice anything else, let me know!

Word Count: 1,691

--------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER ONE

Virgil Tempest is having a bad day.

First of all, he’d woken up late. 30 minutes late, to be exact. That left him only 10 to get ready for school, so he didn’t have time to put on his foundation. Now, the feature he hated most about himself — his freckles — would be visible for all to see.

Secondly, his favorite hoodie was in the wash, so he had to wear his old, plain black one that he hadn’t worn since at least seventh grade. It was buried in the way back of his closet, wedged between a leather jacket he’d completely forgotten he owned and the suit he had only worn once, at a funeral for some distantly related family member.

Thirdly, he forgot his headphones at home in his rush, and so now he had to suffer the whole day, unable to block out the noise of his idiotic school. He thought he had a spare pair in his backpack, but when he looked once he got to school, there weren’t any in sight.

Earlier, he thought it couldn’t get any worse, but he is sure now that it was just building up to this.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Roman Princeford apologizes loudly from above him. To say Virgil dislikes Roman would be an understatement. Roman has a ridiculously pompous name and a personality to match. The star theater kid, popular king of the school, and friend to everyone. Well, everyone except for Virgil. Even Virgil’s only friend, Logan Wise, a class-A nerd, likes Roman.

Needless to say, Virgil doesn’t see Roman’s appeal. Maybe, if Roman could stand to be a whole lot less arrogant, say, every day, or if he stopped being so excessively extra, or if he just took the time to do something other than theater and bragging, he might be tolerable. The key word there being ‘might.’

“It’s fine,” Virgil mumbles from the floor, where he had landed after Roman knocked into him while Virgil was walking. Roman had been talking to his usual group of fans, taking up most of the hallway since pretty much everyone wanted to listen to him, and had thrown out an arm in one of his usual grand gestures and pushed Virgil right over. He’d landed on the floor, books strewn everywhere, being watched by the whole hallway. Of course, it’s more crowded than usual thanks to the tall tale Roman was describing that apparently no one could afford to miss out on. It didn’t help that Roman had decided to make a big deal out of it, either.

Wishing this terrible day could just end already, Virgil shifts to a crouch and begins to gather his books. To his utter dismay, Roman bends down to help him. Annoyed as he is, Virgil can’t get up the courage to tell the other boy to leave him alone. Even so, the work goes quicker with the other boy helping, and, as much as he would hate to ever admit it, Virgil appreciates it.

They both reach for the last book on the ground at the same time, and their hands knock into each other.

“S-Sorry,” Roman says, and Virgil thinks he hears a stutter in his voice. Roman Princeford, the theater prodigy who never messes up a line, stuttering? But when Virgil looks up at Roman, there’s a blush working its way across the other boy’s tan cheeks. Strange. This close, Virgil can see the bluish specks in the other boy’s green eyes.

Roman must feel Virgil’s eyes on him, because he looks back at him, handing him his last book. Dread settles in Virgil’s stomach as he realizes that Roman must be able to see his freckles. Just as he remembers, Roman’s eyes drop to the other’s nose, where the freckles are the most noticeable. Shit, Virgil curses.

Yanking the book away from Roman, Virgil turns away and stands up, and Roman soon follows suit. There’s a redness on both of their faces now, but on Virgil’s pale skin, it’s much more visible. How long was I staring at his eyes? He shakes his head, letting his dyed-purple bangs fall over his face.

Resituating his books in his arms and weaving his way through the people, he starts the walk to his next class, art.

“Have a nice day!” Roman calls from behind him. Virgil sighs and pulls up his hood, wishing now more than ever that he had his headphones.

“Whatever,” he mutters, but the whole next period, all he can think about is Roman Princeford’s bright green eyes, tan skin, and wavy blond hair.

I must be going crazy, he decides. I mean, I know I’m gay, but gay for Roman Princeford, of all people? I don’t know him at all, and from what I’ve heard — and experienced — he’s not someone I would ever get along with. There’s no way I could possibly have a crush on him.

Right?

------------------

At lunch, Virgil drops down in the seat next to Logan with a thud.

“Greetings,” Logan states professionally. “Am I misperceiving your body language and demeanor or was your day thus far below average in terms of relative happiness and unpleasantly abnormal?” Virgil looks at him around his bangs, puzzled.

“What?” Is he even speaking English? Virgil wonders.

“Pardon me, I forget that you are intellectually compromised when it comes to my copious vocabulary. Let me rephrase,” Logan proclaims. He clears his throat and lays his hands on the table, his fingers pressed together to form triangle-like shapes. “Did your day suck or are you just being your—” Logan waves a hand at Virgil’s body— “regular grumpy asshole self?”

Virgil is taken aback for a second before he rolls his eyes.

“Roman fucking Princeford bumped into me in the hallway, and then had the nerve to say, ‘Have a nice day!’ afterwards in that disgustingly cheery voice of his!” Virgil complains, poking at his food. He doesn’t really intend on eating any of it; the school’s food is terrible, and besides, he isn’t too hungry anyway. He has some crackers in his bag if he really needs something to eat later.

“I do not understand why you antagonize him so often, but I suppose if you refuse to change your opinions of him, there isn’t much I can do on the matter.” Logan pauses, and Virgil has a feeling he knows what’s coming next: one of Logan’s rare discussions of emotions. “But you shouldn’t just assume that everyone is out to hurt you, Virgil.”

Yup, there it is. Virgil likes Logan’s company because he isn’t too tied up in his emotions, unlike Virgil. He knows the facts, and that’s relieving when Virgil is in the midst of a period of overwhelming anxiety. But sometimes, Logan thinks he knows what’s best for Virgil, especially when it comes to matters concerning Roman Princeford.

Scoffing, Virgil crosses his arms and leans against the back of the chair. “Whatever,” he sighs.

Logan takes a deep breath, obviously trying to calm his temper, which has a habit of getting out of control, and responds, “Virgil, this is unhealthy. You have—” But before Virgil can find out what Logan thinks he has to do, another voice cuts Logan off.

“Heya, guys! How are you?” Virgil looks up to see a shorter student standing there. This new kid’s hair is a mess of amber curls, tumbling over his forehead and slipping behind his round, wire rimmed glasses. Tan skin covered in freckles and a round face gives him a youthful look, but Virgil knows that he’s a junior just like him.

His name is Patton Hart, and Virgil, surprisingly, doesn’t hate him.

Patton is known for being one of the kindest people in the school. No matter who it is, Patton will find a way to cheer someone up. Back in December of their freshman year, Patton helped Virgil calm down during a panic attack around finals. Virgil harbors no ill will towards the kid, but it’s still strange that he’d show up at their table randomly.

Then, Virgil remembers that Patton’s best friend is the one and only Roman Princeford.

Roman probably sent Patton to tell me something. Damn, I hate that stuck up asshole. Before Virgil can open his mouth to ask Patton what he wants with them, since Logan and him are the only ones anywhere near, Logan talks first.

“Hi, Patton!” His voice is so upbeat and joy-filled that Virgil has to look over at Logan to make sure he did, indeed, speak. In the seat next to him, Logan’s face is lit up with a smile, and he looks so…well, not-Logan. And, wait, is that a blush on Logan’s cheeks?

Virgil raises his eyebrows in shock and blinks a few times to make sure what he’s seeing is real. When nothing changes when he opens his eyes, Virgil ignores the strangeness of whatever’s happening next to him and looks back at Patton.

“Hey, Patton,” he greets. “What do you need?” He tries to keep his voice annoyance-free, so not to hurt the other kid’s feelings. Patton’s a little puffball of innocence and positive energy, and the whole school has made an unspoken agreement to keep it that way.

“Oh, I just came over to talk to Logan about our science project!”

“We were paired together as lab partners today,” Logan explains, still with that wide smile on his face.

Weirded out by the scene unfolding in front of him, Virgil pokes at his food one last time and decides he’s not so hungry to risk getting food poisoning.

“Alright, then,” he says, standing up, “I’ll leave you guys alone so you can talk about your nerdy physics stuff.”

“Actually, Virgil, it’s chemistry we’re taking,” Logan informs him, some semblance of his usual professional manner returning.

“Well, it’s still science, and it’s still nerdy, so my point stands.”

Patton giggles, and Logan seems to blush, but at this point, Virgil doesn’t trust his own eyes.

“Well, goodbye, kiddo!” Patton exclaims, waving. Virgil laughs at Patton’s use of ‘kiddo’ even though they're in the same grade and waves back. Telling Logan that he’ll see him later, he turns and dumps his try, finally exiting the noise of the cafeteria.

#virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #prinxiety #logicality #sanders sides #high school au #fanfiction #fanfic #one day...

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Text

The Longest Night (Indruck)

Prompt for the 31st was : Halloween.

Thank you so much to everyone for reading and sharing these fills! I had a great time writing them. And thank you to @thats-amnesty-babe for playing in this space with me on Discord.

Happy Halloween!

Halloween doesn’t exist on Sylvain. However, as in many places, there are rituals and celebrations to mark the end of the growing season, days to remember the departed. For Sylphs, these are marked by The Longest Night, the time when malevolent, restless spirits roam free.

Tradition dictates gathering with friends to hunker down until darn, dimming lights to keep the spirits from knowing you are home, telling scary stories to keep everyone alert against danger, and eating to keep up energy.

In practice, this means having a giant sleepover and binging on sweets.

Tradition also suggests that, should attendees have romantic designs on each other, they can use this night to demonstrate their willingness to protect each other.

In practice, this means inviting a crush to the celebration in hopes of cuddling up in a dark corner.

Exiled Sylphs continued this tradition, setting on Halloween to avoid detection. And they kept all the practices, especially the romantic ones.

----------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m so excited” Indrid, perched near the fireplace, looks up from his sketch, “I have not celebrated The Longest Night properly in a century.”

“Yeah, we’ve had to keep it kinda low-key in the past because, y’know, no one knew there were a bunch of Sylphs up here.” Barclay shoos the mothman aside so he can tend the fire, “so we’re gonna do it up a little more this time. You inviting anyone?”

“No” the reply is far too fast, “I, that is, there are people I might invite as friends, but none in the more, ah, traditional sense.”

Barclay dusts off his hands, “You sure about that?”

“Yes.”

The cook nods and flicks his gaze over Indrid’s shoulder. He turns in time to see Duck walk through the lobby doors, chatting with Ned as he helps the older man navigate on still-recovering legs.

“I don’t know what you are implying, Barclay.”

“That spending half your nights at his house, getting invited on hikes--and then going on them--with him, and the amount of doodles on that page that are his face might be a sign you’ve got a crush on a certain human.”

“I do not,'' Indrid quickly flips to a new page.

“You can’t hide it from me, Cold. I know what I’m talking about.” He teases, standing and stretching his arms, “and the reason I know just got off work, so I’m gonna go see him.”

“Yes, yes, run along and kiss your human.” Indrid waves his hand, aware of booted footfalls getting closer.

“Hey ‘Drid.”

“Hello, Duck. Are you staying long?” He tries, as always, to keep his eyes on the ranger’s jacket so he won’t melt into a useless puddle at the first sign of a smile.

“Nah, promised I’d meet Juno for dinner. Speakin of which,” Duck sits down next to him, making them face to face, “you wanna get dinner or, uh, lunch on Saturday?”

Is he smiling like that because he likes the idea of taking Indrid out? Or is it due to being excited to see his friend later? Is it just because Duck smiles easily? Regardless, Indrid should probably speak rather than stare at him.

He glances sideways, catches Barclay mouthing something to him in Sylph.

Fine, he will do this. If it turns to a disaster, he can blame Bigfoot.

“Actually, Duck, I was wondering if you were coming to the party on Saturday…”

----------------------

Right before Duck arrives at the Lodge around ten at night Indrid, grooming his feathers for the fifth time in an hour, runs through his plan once more.

Step one: Choose darkest corner for movie viewing. Arrange for optimal comfort.

Step two: Bring Duck all his favorite foods as an offering of affection.

Step three: Date Duck.

The first two steps go off perfectly; Duck takes the seat Indrid offers him without so much as looking at the other options and takes the plate of candy, baked goods, and other snacks Indrid offers him with a grin.

To increase his chances of a smooth flirtation, he spreads his wings, showing off the green and blue light crackling in his usually white and grey feather speckles.

The human doesn’t notice, likely due to the presence of many candles, the fire, and string lights. But halfway through the movie, Duck adjusts so the right wing drapes over his shoulder.

Indrid, thanks to future sight, sees all the jumpscares in the movie coming. Duck only jolts on the first few, but then a well-executed one makes him jump into Indrid’s lap.

As the post-jumpscare giggles ripple through the room, Duck looks up at him.

“Damn, you’re real comfy all mothed out.”

“Thank you” Indrid flicks his antenna, proud, and reaches for the plate, “Snicker?”

Duck opens his mouth in reply, and Indrid feeds it to him. The human angles himself back towards the T.V, shoulder and part of his back resting against Indrid’s chest.

“Are you comfortable?” Indrid dips his head to mumuring in Duck’s ear.

“Yep, you’re all nice and fluffy. Pick good snacks too.”

“I was to pick your favorites.”

Duck’s smile changes to something surprised, “Oh, uh, thanks.”

Indrid purrs, low and quiet, as they focus back on the movie. He knows Duck cannot purr in answer to show his interest, but he’s on alert for any sign that indicates the same general thing.

“Aw, knew you’d be all happy and shit tonight” Duck tips his head back so he’s looking up at Indrid, “there’s enough sugar here to keep you satisfied for months.”

Summoning all his charm, Indrid runs a claw through Duck’s hair, “There is a lot of candy present, but there is only one sweet thing I need.”

Duck arches an eyebrow, “Nog?”

His charm, and nerve, crawls back into the shadows, “sure.”

“I can go check the fridge if you want. Close enough to nog season for there to be some.”

Indrid tries again, wrapping his arms cautiously around Duck’s waist, “But I do not want you to leave, you're so warm and pleasant to hold. Like a teddy bear.”

A chuckle, fingers stroking his cheek, “Aww, the big ol' cryptid needs a teddy bear for the scary movie. That's real cute. Be right back with that nog.” He pats Indrid’s arms and the cryptid releases him, tracking him through the room until he’s out of sight.

“I am in hell” Indrid mutters.

“One of your own making.” Barclay, empty tray in hand, stares down at him, “usually helps to check if a human knows Sylph customs ahead of time. I get the feeling Duck’s got no idea about this one.”

“But plenty of that was flirtation by human standards! Perhaps I am truly terrible at this. Then again, maybe if I show off my wings a bit more..”

“Oh my fucking god just tell him.” Barclay clangs his forehead into the tray in frustration.

A drawl calls out from the kitchen, “Hey ‘Drid, can you give me a hand?”

The cook shoves the tray into Indrid’s grasp, “That’s your cue.”

The kitchen is dark save for the light from the fridge as Duck reaches into it.

“There is some nog back here. Need you to carry the glasses, since I’m grabbin’ some refills for Mama and Ned too. Kinda wish I could turn on the lights, but I don’t wanna ruin the moo--oh damn!” The last thing Indrid sees before the refrigerator shuts is Duck smiling, “your wings are lightin up. Do they always do that?”

“No. Do you, ah, like it?”

“Yeah.” Duck steps forward, holding out the glasses so Indrid will take them, but his eyes never leave Indrid’s wings, “can you control it, like a cuttlefish?”

Indrid inches forward, still holding his hand, “They are emotion based. See?” He traces his claw tips up Duck’s wrist and glows brighter.

“Oh.” Duck smirks up at him, “movie scarin you that bad?”

The Sylph growls in frustration, not at Duck but at himself, at the fear that rises up and chokes the truth before it reaches his tongue.

“Wait, are you mad about something?” Duck frowns, worried. Indrid can’t stand the sight of him even a little bit upset, but the words still won’t come. So he does the next best thing, leans down to bump their foreheads together.

“‘Drid?”

“It is nothing, shall we go back to the movie?”

The human rubs their foreheads once, “Yeah.”

As they make their way back to their viewing spot, Indrid decides he will not press the matter further; he will follow Duck’s lead, keep the evening as romantic or platonic as the human desires. More than successful flirtation, more than a kiss, what he wants is to be near Duck and for Duck to be happy.

The movies give way to a round of scary stories by the fire, Stern and Dani proving the most consistently terrifying. In spite of their talent, Indrid is not the best audience; he responds too soon, doesn’t yelp in horror at the right moments, and sometimes laughs at reactions he sees coming. The upside of this is Duck finds it hysterical, though he tries not to break the mood for everyone else, burying the laughter in the fluff of Indrid’s chest.

Were Indrid optimistic he’d think Duck was using each bout of laughter to cuddle closer, to leave his cheek on Indrids down and his hands toying with the feathers of his wings. They opt for another round of movies, and the human grumbles when Indrid stands up to retrieve more food, nestles right back in his arms the moment he returns.

The Masque of the Red Death is not as terrible as the other films of the night, but even it cannot distract Indrid when Duck’s hands lazily card through his wings. It occurs to him, with the kind of clarity that only comes hand in hand with fear, that there is no way Duck is familiar with mothperson anatomy and his fingers are about to hit an extremely sensitive part of his wing.

An involuntary purr buzzes out of him. Duck grins up at him, pleased, and touches the same patch of his wing again, scritching and massaging it as Indrid becomes one with the pillows, going pliable and relaxed under the human’s touch. It’s not sexual, not yet anyway, but sweet Sylvain does it feel good.

“Indrid, for crying out loud, you’re flashing MAGENTA! Get a room already.”

He sits up, glaring at Barclay, pointing a claw at Agent Stern cuddled up in his lap and petting his fur. Duck’s gaze ping-pongs between them, gaining more understanding with each pass. He does nothing else until Barclay and Stern face the screen once more. Then he grips Indrid’s chin, forcing him to look down.

“You after another kind of sugar, sugar?” His playful smile transforms into one of pure, wicked delight.

“I, ah, I” this is his chance, and also the moment his mind goes blank and his wings flutter helplessly.

Duck presses his free hand into the sensitive patch of wing, “Explain. Now.”

He had no idea Duck could sound that way, voice a little deeper and rougher than usual. It lights up long ignored corners of his mind, and he chirrs with nervous arousal, wings flashing white and pale green.

“I’m waitin.” Duck tightens his grip with both hands.

Indrid chirps, forces it to become a sentence, “The Longest Night is, is, ah, traditionally used for flirtation.”

“So that is what you've been tryin to do.”

“You could, ah, could tell?”

“YepWHOAHfuck.” Duck faceplants into the pillows as Indrid, glasses thrown on, scrambles to his feet and sprints down the closest hallway. He feels rather like the heroine two movies ago, running in twists and turns through the darkness.

Reaching the farthest hall from the lobby, he slumps against the wall, panting.

“What the fuck was that?”

“AH!” He backs into the corner, Duck holding out his hands in a gesture of calm.

“‘Drid, the Lodge ain’t that big. Kinda easy to follow you.” He places his hand lightly on Indrid’s arm, ‘I’m sorry if I came on too strong a minute ago. But will you please just tell me what's going on so I don’t fuck up again?”

“You didn’t fuck up, Duck. I did. I, at first I thought I was being obvious, assumed you knew the customs associated with tonight. Then when I realized my error, I thought I was being too subtle and should just leave it be. But if you knew this whole time then I...I assumed I had been making a fool of myself and you were not interested. Hence the embarrassed flight from the room.”

Duck’s hand slides down his arm, curling around his fingers, “What’d you think all that cuddlin you was? Orthe pettin you?”

“I…” He pulls his hand free, wrapping his arms around himself.

Duck lets him go, takes a step back, expression gentle but puzzled “I had a hunch you were tryin to put the moves on me, but when you didn’t up the ante I figured I was wrong. I mean, you can see the future, why not just look and see what I’d do?”

“I am not always good at reading subtext, and sometimes I require explicit confirmation of things to notice them. As for my powers I, ah, I was afraid to even look.”

“Afraid? Indrid, I saw you tied up by goatmen and you looked calm. How is askin me out scarier than that?”

“Because I have not felt this attached to someone in years! And…” he stares at the patterned carpet, “and in the first scenario, only I was hurt. If I made an error here, you might be hurt too, think I had only been kind to you for selfish reasons or manipulated you. I do not enjoy that sight, even in futures that never come to pass.” Heart creeping up his throat, he meets Duck’s eyes, “now it is my turn for a question: why did you follow me just now?”

“I was worried about you. I care about you, fluffball.”

“I am only a fluffball part of the time.”

“I know, care about you when you’re a beanpole too.” Duck touches is cheek and, as it always does, the touch makes Indrid turn into the way a sunflower turns into the light, “‘Drid, if you wanna be more than friends, all you gotta do is ask.”

“Would…” Indrid squeezes his eyes shut, “would you like to go out with me, Duck Newton?”

A kiss the lips, lighter than moth wings.

“Yeah, sugar, I would.”

Indrid embraces him, chirping excitedly, tries to lift the ranger and spin them around before remembering he can't do so in his human form. Then his feet are off the ground as Duck picks him up, kissing him soundly.

“Chosen strength has its pluses.”

“Indeed.”

“You want me to put you down?”

“Not just yet.”

“So tell me, mothman of mine, what does magenta mean?”

“Ah” his skin reddens, “desire. And since you are about to ask, green is comfort and blue is affection.”

“And the white?”

“....Submission.”

Duck tosses his head back with a laugh, setting Indrid down, “shoulda used that voice on you sooner I guess.”

“Yes.” Indrid purrs, slipping his hands into Duck’s back pockets

“Plenty of time for me to bust it out later. C’mon, let’s go finish the movie.”

Returning to a chorus of “about time” form their friends, they hunker down in their same spot, Duck resting against the pillows with Indrid’s head in his lap, the Sylph purring as Duck rubs his neck and pets his hair. They make it through two more movies before people start dropping off to sleep. Indrid joins them eventually, snuggling down beneath a plaid blanket with Duck’s head on his chest and his friends snoring or chatting softly all around him.

And the morning after the Longest Night, Indrid Cold takes his new boyfriend out for breakfast.

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #promptober #taz amnesty

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spn-safeandsound · 4 years

Text

18. Ways to Grieve

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 2x02; Everybody Loves a Clown

Word Count: 11,378

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, grief, mentions of sexual activities

Author’s Note: Here’s Abby’s first hunt with Julia and the boys! I hope you like the chapter. Let me know what you think. Make sure to reblog and like!

Masterlist in Pinned Post!

Julia was tossed onto the bed by Dean—he was careful of her healing wrist—her semi-naked body bouncing a couple times. She gasped and lifted her head, watching with dazed eyes as Dean pulled his t-shirt off his body, throwing it in the corner of their temporary room at Bobby's house.

"Uh-uh," Julia clicked her tongue, eyeing his jeans.

Dean rolled his eyes and unbuckled his belt, sliding it from around his waist and letting it drop to the floor. "I was getting there."

"Sure."

"Keep talking," Dean stepped out his jeans and eagerly crawled onto the bed and over her. "I might have to punish you."

"Is that a promise?" she teased him; she reached up with her good arm and hooked around his neck. Pulling him only two inches away from her lips, she whispered, "Dean."

"Hmm?"

His green eyes were on her swollen lips, where his own had been only a moment before. She could feel his erection against her stomach and she hardly felt his bare chest against her.

She arched her back, pressing her breasts against him. "Fuck me, Dean."

Dean buried his face in the crook of her neck and groaned, pressing an open mouth kiss against her sensitive flesh. She could feel his rough hands trailing from her ribs to her thighs, spreading them so he could fit between them. "With pleasure, shortcake."

Julia rolled her neck under the warm spray of the shower, trying to relax her muscles. Last night had been another night of rough sex and while she enjoyed it just as much as all the sex she had with Dean, so many nights in a row were killing her body in the mornings before she could get it warmed up with yoga or a run.

This morning was one of those days; she had woken up at five o'clock and met with Sam so the two of them could take a run while the sun came up. Sam would talk about John, airing all the grief and regret he had about his dad and Julia would listen and comforted him when he needed it, just like a best friend should do.

It had been a week since John Winchester died and they'd been at Bobby's ever since so Dean could work on his car. Beth, Taylor, and Lizzie had stayed for a couple of days, too. They picked them—and John's body—up at the hospital and drove straight to Bobby's house, staying at one of the motels in town while Julia, Dean, and Sam stayed with Bobby. Sam was a wreck, though having Lizzie there for a couple of days distracted him from his grief, and Dean was worse.

It wasn't that he was having crying meltdowns—come on, it's Dean—but instead, he had stayed stone quiet at any mention of his dad. He didn't talk about John and he would walk away if anyone mentioned him—especially Sam.

Not that it matters, but that's what would lead to the rough sex Julia and Dean had been having. He took all of his frustrations out on her—being careful not to hurt her, of course—and Julia would let him. John had just died and if sex is what would make Dean feel better, she was all for it. Of course, she wished he would just open up but Dean wasn't that kind of guy. She stood by his side, though, doing whatever she could to help him process his grief.

When Julia and Sam were done with their jog at six, Dean was already up working in the junkyard. He had been getting up earlier than usual to fix up the Impala. It had been absolutely wrecked in the accident—and according to Bobby wasn't worth the time to fix it—but Dean was determined to fix Baby back up. Both of them muttered a good morning to Dean, but he just grumbled back, sliding under the car to fix whatever damage had happened there.

From there, Julia and Sam separated. Sam went up to the guest shower to wash off and after he was down, Julia would get a turn. While Sam was taking his time in the shower, she would make breakfast just as Bobby would wake up. It had been their schedule since they arrived a week earlier.

Hearing her stomach growl, Julia rinsed out of the rest of conditioner in her hair and turned off the water. She stepped out of the shower and dried off, inhaling deeply to get a whiff of bacon once again. She quickly dressed in some leggings and a long tank-top before heading downstairs.

Dean was still outside but Bobby and Sam were seated at the kitchen table, eating their breakfast with vigor.

"How's the breakfast?" she announced her presence as she walked into the kitchen, heading straight toward the cheddar and bacon quiche with a biscuit crust she had made.

"This is great, sweetheart," Bobby smiled at her as she served herself a piece and sat in her usual seat between Dean's chair—it was empty at the moment—and Bobby's chair. "Thank you."

Julia waved him off with a sheepish smile.

"Yeah, thanks, J, it's good," Sam added.

"Thank you," she took a bite of her quiche and sighed, enjoying the flavor. "Did Dean eat?"

Bobby nodded. "He shoved a slice down his throat and went back outside. He told us to tell you thank you."

"Did he say anything else?" she prodded. "Maybe about John or how he's feeling?"

"No," Sam answered her this time. "But I found an old voicemail on Dad's phone and I think it's something we could check out. I'm gonna go talk to him after I finish eating."

Julia nodded. "Okay. What did the voicemail say?"

"It was a voicemail from Ellen," Bobby told her, giving her a pointed look.

"Ellen Harvelle? As in Jo Harvelle?"

Bobby nodded.

"So you know her, too?" Sam turned to Julia with curious eyes; Julia nodded. "How?"

"I've never met them personally but Abby talks about them all the time," she explained. "Abby hooks up with Ellen's daughter, Jo, from time to time, so—"

"Abby hooks up with the daughter?" Sam asked, eyebrows raised. "I didn't know she was bisexual."

Julia shrugged, knowing that some people may judge her sister for her sexuality but she wasn't one of them. People could love the people that they loved; she wasn't bothered by it and she proclaimed herself a proud ally for her sister. "She doesn't hide it."

"Oh," Sam hummed before shrugging casually. "Anyway, do you know why Ellen would call my dad?"

"I have no idea," Julia's eyes flickered over to Bobby. "Don't they own that bar?"

"The Roadhouse, yeah," Bobby finished the rest of his food and stood up, taking the plate to the sink. "I'll get you the address."

"Thanks, Bobby," Sam gave the older man a grateful look as he left the room; he then turned back to Julia. "I'm going to talk to Dean. Want to come with?"

"No, it's okay," Julia insisted. She wanted the brothers to have a minute by themselves; usually they were together all the time and she knew that the Winchesters needed a break from her once in a while—the same went for her, too. "You go on."

Sam nodded and went outside to talk to Dean. Even from the kitchen, where she finished her meal and started the dishes, she could feel Sam and Dean's energies clashing together. Sam was sad for his father and annoyed with Dean while Dean was guilty and angry. Each boy had more than two emotions racing around in their auras but these were the two that she could feel the strongest.

Three hours later, they were on the road in one of Bobby's cars—a minivan that hardly drove past sixty miles per hour, which was a nightmare to Dean, and had no backseat so Julia had to sit on a sheet on the dirty floor.

For some reason, a five-hour trip turned into something much longer. They arrived at the Roadhouse a little before sunrise the next day and by the time they parked out in front of the run-down bar, Dean was severely annoyed with the van and so on edge that Julia and Sam felt like if they said one word, he'd blow up—it wasn't the best way to travel.

Dean turned off the van with a huff, got out of his seat and opened the sliding door so Julia could get out (the sliding door happened to not have a handle on the inside, which aggravated the crap out of her). "This is humiliating!" he slammed the sliding door shut once Julia was safely out of the way. "I feel like a fuckin' soccer mom!"

Julia exchanged a half-amused, half-annoyed look with Sam as she adjusted her Nike shorts. She didn't understand how Sam and Dean could wear multiple layers of clothing in the hot weather and not die of heat exhaustion.

Sam tried to placate his brother. "It's the only car Bobby had running."

Julia stuck next to Dean in the front of the building as Sam wandered to the side.

"Hello?" he called. "Anybody here?"

Dean rattled the doorknob and when it wouldn't budge, he turned to Julia. "Shortcake, do you have the—"

"Yup!" Julia exclaimed, digging her hand into her drawstring bag and pulling out one of their beloved lockpicks.

Dean gave her a grateful smile and a promising wink as he took them from her. Julia could practically feel the flush in her cheeks, though the hot air around her made her feel the same, temperature wise. Dean finished up picking the lock and handed the tools back to her as he cautiously opened the door.

Julia hadn't seen many bars at the side of the road but the Roadhouse met her expectation of what they would be like. It was an open room filled with dark, dusty wood—tables, chairs, the bar—a pool table, and a jukebox in the corner by the door. Somehow, it was still cute and homey.

Julia let the door close behind her and followed the Winchester brothers further into the large room, looking around at the bottles of alcohol on the shelves behind the bar, the numerous tables, and...yeah, there was a guy passed out on the pool table.

"Hey, buddy?" Sam tried to wake him up as they all drew nearer; the man simply snored, unaware of the three people watching him. "Yeah, I'm guessing that isn't Ellen."

Dean scoffed under his breath. "No kidding."

Julia wandered off and Sam joined her while Dean stuck near the pool table. She had just walked off the mini platform that the table was on when she felt the head of a gun prod the small of her back.

"Dean," she squeaked. "Please tell me that it's you behind me and not a rifle."

There was a second of silence and then there was the cock of a gun behind her. Okay, shit, it was a rifle.

"Okay, we're not breaking in—I mean, we did break it but it's for a good reason—"

"Don't move," a woman's voice came from behind her.

"Yeah, okay, I won't move," she agreed quickly.

From his place next to the pool table, a knife pressed against his throat and a warm body against his back, Dean shook his head. He'd have to give her some more training on hostage situations. She was talking too much—as usual—and playing right into the kidnapper's hands.

He looked over to Sam, who was being held by another woman—this one older than the blonde that held her gun against Julia's back—and then back to Julia. "Jules!"

When she looked over at him, he silently tried to tell her to do the move he showed her a couple weeks ago, but he didn't need to. A familiar voice spoke behind him. "Jules, is that you? Can somebody turn on the damn lights?"

Julia recognize that voice anywhere. "Abby," Julia sighed as Abby let go of Dean; he sent her a glare and quickly took the knife from her hand, earning himself an apologetic look. "Thank God."

"Wait, this is your sister?" the older woman behind Sam asked. "Then the boys must be Sam and Dean Winchester."

"Yes, I'm Julia, Abby's younger sister, and that's Sam and Dean," Julia said quickly. "So, can you please put down your guns?"

The girl behind Julia dropped her rifle and walked to the nearest light switch, bathing the room with light. Julia first looked over at her sister—who was standing beside Dean wearing only a camisole and boy shorts—then at the blonde—who was only a couple inches taller than herself and wearing pajamas like Abby—and then at the older woman—who was lowering her gun from behind Sam's back.

"Son of a bitch," the older woman mumbled, putting the gun back on safety and setting it down on the board. Her mood lifted as she chuckled, introducing herself to Julia, Sam, and Dean. "Hey, I'm Ellen and this is my daughter, Jo."

Julia smiled at her in greeting and then turned to Jo. Jo was one of Abby's closest friends. They hooked up a bit and she had heard her sister gush over her all the time. By the way Jo was giving her an apologetic look, she assumed she had a good heart—and she was super pretty, too.

"I'm Julia, Abby's younger sister," she introduced herself, pulling Jo into a hug that made her stiffen in shock. "Sorry, most of my family are huggers," she let go, not wanting to make the blonde uncomfortable. Then she gestured to her sister, "Except that one."

"It's nice to meet you," Jo smiled softly. "Abby talks about you all the time."

"Yeah, I've heard a lot about you, too," Julia laughed and then turned to her sister, who was apologizing to Dean about something; then she saw the nick on Dean's throat. "Excuse me for a second," she told Jo before walking over to her boyfriend and sister. "Abby, what the hell?"

Abby put her hands in the air, defensive. "I didn't know who he was!"

"You've known Dean since you were born," Julia pointed out. "How do you not recognize him?"

"It was dark?" Abby's statement came out as a question. "Look, it was an accident."

Julia rolled her eyes at her sister—she was so much like Dean; shoot first ask questions later—and grabbed Dean's hand, squeezing it tightly. He returned her action as she dragged him over to where Sam and Ellen were talking. "Hi, ma'am, I'm Julia. It's great to meet you."

"You, too, sweetheart," Ellen smiled down at her.

"Do you happen to have a first aid kit?" Julia wondered, gesturing to Dean, who was holding his hand against the small cut on his throat just above his collar bone.

"Of course."

Within minutes, Dean and Sam introduced themselves to Ellen and Jo, they had sat down at the bar, and Julia was cleaning up Dean's cut and sticking a bandage over it.

"So," Dean turned to Ellen for answers about the voicemail she left John. "You called our dad, said you could help. Help with what?"

"Well, the demon, of course," Ellen shrugged casually. "I heard he was closing in on it."

"What, was there an article in the Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed?" Dean asked, scoffing in annoyance; he didn't like to have his business out there so everyone could know. "I mean, who are you? How do you know about all this?"

Julia spared at look at Abby, who smiled mischievously at her. Abby had always loved when Dean lost his temper for whatever reason. It just always brought a smile to her face; Dean absolutely hated when she did it and would just get angrier, which led to more amusement on her part. It was an endless routine that always had Julia annoyed. But, at that moment, Julia took Abby's smile to mean that she was the one who told Ellen what John and Luke were up to.

Julia shook her head at her.

"Hey, I just run a saloon," Ellen held up her hands, showing she meant no harm. "But hunters have been known to pass through now and again. Including your dad a long time ago. John was like family once."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean snarked back at her. "How come he never mentioned you before?"

Julia elbowed his bicep, whispering sharply, "Dean!"

He didn't really relax like he usually did; he kept his sharp eyes on Ellen, watching as she shifted uncomfortably.

"You'd have to ask him that."

Dean fell quiet for a second, looking back at Julia with sad eyes. Julia softened the annoyed look on her face and gave him a sympathetic look; he was lashing out because his dad was gone and suddenly there was a lady out of nowhere that knew his dad without him knowing it.

Dean's lips quirked at her before he turned back to Ellen. "So, why exactly do we need your help?"

"Hey, don't do me any favors," Ellen sassed back. "Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if..." she trailed off in realization. "He didn't send you. He's all right, isn't he?"

It was quiet for a second before Sam spoke, "No, no he isn't," he told her while Julia took Dean's hand. "It was the demon, we think. It, um, it just got him before he got it, I guess."

Ellen frowned sadly. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Dean told her gruffly as Julia rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. "We're all right."

"Really, I know how close you and your dad were," Ellen said somberly.

"Really, lady, I'm fine," Dean bristled, his voice hardening.

Ellen didn't seem to mind his attitude for the moment but that didn't mean that Julia or Sam wanted Dean to continue to make things hostile.

"So, look," Sam changed the topic of conversation. "if you can help, we could use all the help we can get."

"Well, we can't," Ellen glanced at Jo before looking back at Julia, Sam, and Dean. "but Ash will."

Julia furrowed her eyebrows. "Ash?"

Ellen nodded and raised her voice. "Ash!"

The man who was still passed out on the pool table jerked awake, shaking his head—his blonde mullet swishing with every move—before turning around to look at Ellen. "What?" he grunted loudly. "Closing time?"

Julia looked back at Jo, Ellen, and Abby. "That's Ash?"

"Mmhm," Jo nodded while Abby smirked. "he's a genius."

Sam dropped the thick file—the one full of information that John and Luke had gathered on the yellow-eyed demon within the past year—on the bar in front of Ash. Julia watched Ash as she sat in between Abby and Sam at the bar, examining his energy—it was full of light with a happy-go-lucky attitude. Meanwhile, Dean stood on the other side of Sam, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at Ash.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Dean scowled. "This is guy's no genius. He's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie."

Ash chuckled at Dean. "I like you."

"Thanks."

Julia rolled her eyes at Dean's flat tone while Jo moved from her place at the side of the bar, where she was filling up glasses of water, and brought them over to Sam and Julia.

"Just give him a chance," she advised Dean.

Dean hesitated and Julia caught him looking at her. She pointedly moved her eyes toward Ash and cocked her head only a little but Dean got the gist; he sighed and sat down next to Sam, facing Ash.

"All right," he pushed the file over to Ash. "This stuff is about a year's worth of our dad and Luke Alexander's work. So, uh, let's see what you make of it."

Ash didn't respond to Dean's challenging smirk. Instead, he opened up the file and quickly started sorting through the papers. "Come on," he shook his head. "This shit ain't real. There ain't nobody who can track a demon like this."

"They could," Abby assured Ash while Sam and Dean exchanged a proud look. Ash cocked his head thoughtfully. "My dad is an expert in demons. Runs in the family."

"These are nonparametrics, statistical overviews, cross-spectrum correlations. I mean...damn," Ash said in appreciation. "They're signs. Omens. Uh, if you can track 'em, you can track this demon."

"Like crop failures and electrical storms?" Julia hummed curiously.

Ash looked over at her and winked. "You ever been struck by lightning?" he asked her, a twinkled in his eyes. "It ain't fun."

Seeing the way his brother stiffened, Sam got Ash back on track. "Can you track it or not?"

Ash nodded. "Yeah, with this, I think so but it's gonna take time. Uh, give me..." he paused to think, one of his eyes closing. "uh, fifty-one hours."

Julia smiled appreciatively. "Thanks, Ash."

"No problem, sweetheart," Ash stood from his stool and started heading to the back, where Abby told her the bedrooms were located.

"Hey, man," Dean called after him, voice tense, causing Ash to turn around to face him. Dean faltered, seeing that the man had no true intensions with Julia, "I, uh, dig the haircut."

"All business up front," Ash pointed to the short hair toward the front of his head before flicking the longer hair from his shoulders. "party in the back."

Julia giggled when the door closed behind him. "I like him."

"Ash is, like, a ditzy lab with amazing tech skills," Abby nodded in agreement.

Julia hummed and hopped off her stool. "I'm gonna check out the jukebox."

Abby waved her off and she wandered away from the bar and to the jukebox in the front. She flipped through the tiles, smiling and gasping excitedly when there were a couple of eighties love songs she liked, as a warm hand slid around her waist.

"Find anything good?" Dean asked as he looked down at the jukebox screen.

"A couple," Julia looked up at him with a sweet smile that he returned. "All Out of Love, Faithfully, Can't Fight This Feeling..."

Dean's smile slipped, turning into a small grimace when she listed some of the titles. He was fully aware that Julia liked the cheesy love songs from the previous couple of decades. They were all on her iPod and she played them once in a while when Dean allowed her to pick the music—he didn't like them but he sure did love the way her face light up when she listened to them. Her favorite of the songs was, of course, Hungry Eyes. The girl watched Dirty Dancing every week without fail.

But it was kind of funny to him that she liked Hungry Eyes the most. It described the two of them and their relationship pretty closely. Whenever he looked at Julia, he got hungry eyes—whether it was sexual, loving, or emotional, it didn't matter. He always wanted Julia in every way.

"No Hungry Eyes?" he clicked his tongue, faking his disappointment.

"Nope," she didn't catch onto his acting. "Don't worry, though, I can just sing it. I've been meaning to tell you! I've got this feeling that won't subside—oof!"

Dean had put his hand to her mouth, cutting off any more lyrics that trembled in her not-so-amazing singing voice. He laughed when she giggled and pulled his hand off, kissing his palm before dropping it.

"Oh, so you're ashamed of my singing, huh?"

"Not just your singing, shortcake. I'm not so hot at it, either," Dean reminded her; it was true and if she really got going, he wouldn't be able to resist joining in with her.

He hated to admit it but the song was kind of catchy.

Back at the bar, Sam and Abby—who moved over to Julia's seat—spoke quietly, were catching up. She had just been telling him about the picture Beth emailed her from the Fourth of July, when his gaze fell to the police radio behind the bar, a thin folder beside it. He quickly apologized to Abby for changing the subject and then caught Ellen's attention.

"Hey, Ellen, what is that?"

Ellen followed his gaze. "It's a police thing," she told him, continuing to fill up the containers of salt for the tables. "We keep tabs on things—"

"No, no," Sam interrupted politely, pointing to the file. "The folder."

Ellen hesitated for a second then walked over folder. "Uh, I was gonna give this to Abby..."

"He can take a look at it," Abby smirked, knowing that Sam was terrified of clowns. She took the folder from Ellen and slid it over to Sam. "Let me know what you make of it."

"Thanks," Sam opened the folder as Abby slipped away from the bar to where Jo was wiping off a table.

Sam went through the contents of the file, quickly skimming over each paper he picked up. When he finished, he called out for Dean and Julia, who were still by the jukebox, heads close together as they laughed. "Dean, J, come check this out!"

At the sound of her name, Julia pulled away from Dean and looked over at Sam, who was waving at them from the bar. She ignored Dean's sigh with a light smirk and linked their hands, pulling him over to see what Sam was looking at.

"Yeah?" Dean grumbled.

"A few murders, not far from here, that Ellen caught wind of," Sam informed them, showing them the research. "Looks to me like there might be a hunt."

"Yeah," Dean raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"So, I told her we'd check it out—"

"And you're not going without me," Abby interjected, bounding toward her little sister and the Winchester brothers. "Let me pack my stuff and we can go."

Dean grimaced. "Yeah, let's not—" he grunted when Julia poked him in the ribs, glaring up at him; Abby sent him the same look. "We'll wait outside."

"Good. We'll take my car."

"A clown?" Julia clicked her tongue, taking the file that Sam handed back to her and opening it up. "A killer clown?"

"I'm pretty sure that's what I said, Jujube," Abby rolled her eyes from the driver's seat of her Ford Explorer before focusing back on the road. "He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents. Ripped them to shreds."

"And this family was at some carnival that night?" Dean asked.

Julia's eyes flickered to the top of the printed article she was reading. "Cooper Carnivals."

"So, Gail, how do you know we're not dealing with some psycho carnie in a clown suit?"

Abby glared at him through the rearview mirror. "Don't call me that, Deanna."

"Hey, now!"

Julia rolled her eyes and though she couldn't see Sam, she knew he was, too. Abby and Dean were never best friends growing up like she and Sam were. They acted like siblings who couldn't stand one another. It came from love, sure, but it could be a little annoying sometimes.

"The cops have no viable leads, Dean," Sam sighed before they could really get going. "and all the employees were tearing down shop."

"Alibis for each of them."

Sam agreed with Julia while Abby added, "Plus, this girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma, of course."

Dean hummed. "Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam," he chuckled. "Why did it have to be clowns?"

"That's right!" Abby exclaimed, joining Dean in laughter. "Oh, my God, do you remember that time we went to Mickey D's and Ronald McDonald came out to visit the kid's play place and Sam peed his pants?"

Seeing the severely annoyed look on Sam's face, Julia had the sense to hold in her laughter. Her stomach hurt and her eyes stung but she did it. Dean, however, was howling with gut-bursting laughter. It was nice to see that bright smile on his face.

"After that, he'd burst out crying every time he saw a McDonald's commercial!"

"Oh, come on!" Sam protested weakly; when Julia couldn't help but join in, he shot back, "At least I'm not afraid of flying, or spiders," he pointed at Julia and then Abby. "or horses."

"Planes crash!"

"Spiders are poisonous!"

"Wait, wait," Dean caught up, shaking his head. He leaned forward and dipped to the side so he could see Abby's face from his spot next to Julia. "You're afraid of horses?"

Julia snickered while Abby scoffed. "We were talking about Sam's ridiculous clown phobia, remember?"

Julia shook her head and patted Sam's arm soothingly. "Don't worry, S, your phobia is valid. Apparently clowns do kill."

"Thank you, J," he gave Dean a pointed glare which had his brother chuckling again.

"All right," Dean calmed down. "So, these types of murders, have they ever happened before?"

"It's in the file," Abby told him, turning on the windshield wipers as they drove into some light rain. "Take it away, Julia."

"Yeah, the file says it happened in 1981," Julia hummed. "at the Bunker Brothers Circus. Same M.O. Three different times, three different places."

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "That's weird, though. I mean, if it is a spirit, it's usually bound to a specific locale, you know? A house or a town."

"So, how's this one moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?" Sam wondered.

"Maybe it's a cursed object," Abby chewed on her lip. "A spirit attached itself to something and the carnival carries it around with them."

"Great. It's a paranormal scavenger hunt."

"This case was your idea," Dean reminded his brother. "By the way, why is that? You were awfully quick to jump on this job."

Julia wrinkled her nose uncomfortably and faced her foggy window. She was all for the brothers sharing how they felt with each other but lately, Dean had been too irritable. He didn't like those kinds of chick-flick moments, anyway, but after his dad died, he'd been avoiding them more than ever. Especially because Sam kept pushing him about dealing with his grief.

Abby kept quiet as well, not wanting to intrude on the brothers' business.

Sam shrugged. "So?"

"It's just not like you, that's all. I thought you were hell-bent for leather on the demon hunt."

"I don't know, I just think this job...it's what Dad would have wanted us to do."

"What Dad would have wanted?" Dean scoffed, looking at Sam in disbelief.

Oh, God, please don't let this turn into another fight, Julia pleaded mentally.

"Yeah, so?" Sam looked back at him, daring him to say something."

Dean shook his head and turned away from his brother. "Nothing."

Julia rubbed her nails over Dean's scalp, making sure that the shampoo she had applied for him was getting his hair nice and clean. They struggled in the small shower-bathtub combo and Dean had to get on his knees in order for her to even reach his hair in the first place, but they made it work.

"It's what Dad would have wanted," Dean repeated Sam's words with a scowl, holding onto her hips for balance. "He didn't give a fuck what Dad wanted a week ago."

Julia hummed to show that she was listening as she went toward the front of his head, rubbing the soap into his sideburns.

"He didn't even want to hunt," he went on. "He got out and he said he wanted to get out again! What, Dad dies and now he's wanting to carry on the family business all of a sudden?"

"I don't think that's it, babe. Here, lean your head back," she gestured toward the water; Dean did as he was told and rinsed his hair. "Sam's grieving just like you are. If hunting is what helps him deal with the fact that your dad's gone, then let him."

"I know," Dean grumbled, getting to his feet and switching places with Julia. "No, no, you need to stand—yeah, that's fine—I get it but it just bugs me."

Julia frowned sympathetically and rinsed the conditioner out of her hair. "I'm sorry that you're going through this, Bean."

The corner of Dean's lips quirked only a little. "It's not your fault, shortcake," he murmured, bowing his head to press a soft kiss on her bare shoulder. It wasn't sexual in nature, just loving. "You're helping me."

Her heart melting, Julia grinned when she saw that he had some excess soap on his nose. She stood on her tiptoes to wipe it off. "You're adorable."

"I'm not adorable," he pouted, making her giggle.

"I beg to differ, hotshot."

After Julia and Dean were dried off and dressed, they met up with Sam and Abby in the room next door before heading over to the local fairgrounds, where Cooper Carnivals was located for the week. Detectives were already on the scene when they arrived, forcing them to rethink their plan of faking police.

Dean went to talk to the detectives, so Julia, Sam, and Abby waited by the Tilt-a-Whirl that was being set up. A short woman dressed as a clown had walked by and she and Sam had the most awkward—and hilarious—showdown with their eyes . It lasted what felt like a whole two minutes, with Julia and Abby snickering at Sam, before the woman smirked at him and walked away.

Dean, who was walking back to them, had seen the whole thing. "Did you get her number?"

Sam scowled at him while Julia wheezed, her chest aching from lack of breath. Abby slapped her arm to get her to stop, a cheesy grin on her face, and addressed Dean, "Were there more murders?"

"Two more last night," Dean confirmed. "Apparently they were ripped to shreds and they had a little boy with them."

"Who fingered a clown," Sam assumed.

Julia quirked an eyebrow and shared a look with Dean and Abby.

"What?"

"Nothing," Dean told his brother. "anyway, the clown apparently vanished into thin air."

Abby hummed thoughtfully, biting her lip. "Looking for a cursed object is like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles. They could be anything."

"It's bound to give off EMF," Dean said distractedly, looking around nearest carnival trailers. "We'll just have to scan everything."

"That's nice and inconspicuous."

Dean didn't respond to Sam's sarcasm with any of his own. "I guess we'll just have to blend in."

"You boys picked a hell of a time to join up," Mr. Cooper, the owner and boss of Cooper's Carnival, led Sam and Dean into his trailer. It was a tiny little thing with half of it being living space and the other half office space. Mr. Cooper gestured to his desk, where two chairs were waiting on the other side. "Take a seat."

A grin started to stretch across Dean's face as he took in the chairs; one of them, the closest to the door, was decorated to look like a clown. He didn't bother looking at his brother and rushed to the normal chair, pushing Sam away as he attempted to avoid the clown chair.

Dean smirked at Sam as Mr. Cooper finished, "We've got all kinds of local trouble."

"What do you mean?" he turned his attention back to the older man.

"Oh, a couple of folks got themselves murdered. Cops always seem to start here first," Mr. Cooper said casually. "So, you two ever worked the circuit before?"

"Uh, yes, sir," Sam confirmed solemnly, disturbed by his chair. "Last year through Texas and Arkansas."

Dean gave Mr. Cooper a fake smile. "Yeah."

"Doing what?" Mr. Cooper asked skeptically. "Ride jockeys? Pull shoot? A-and-S men?"

Dean had absolutely no idea what any of those jobs were. He bet that Abby or Julia would know, though. The Petersen women were smart like that. Unfortunately, it wasn't very realistic for four people to apply for jobs together as a group so they had to stay on the sidelines at the moment—Abby wasn't very happy about that.

"Yeah," Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably. "it's, uh, little bit of everything, I guess."

Mr. Cooper cocked his head knowingly. "You two have never worked a show in your lives before, have you?"

"Nope," Dean didn't try to bullshit his way around this. "but we really need the work...oh, and, uh, Sam here's got a thing for the bearded lady."

He chuckled to himself but quieted down when Sam gave him a what-the-fuck-are-you-doing look.

"You see that picture?" Mr. Cooper pointed to a framed photo on the top of the filing cabinet next to his desk. "That's my daddy."

The guy in the photo looked exactly like Mr. Cooper. Too much like him, if you asked Dean.

Sam noticed the likeness, too. "You look just like him."

"He was in the business. Ran a freakshow until they outlawed them in most places," Mr. Cooper informed them. "Apparently displaying the deformed isn't dignified. So most of the performers went from honest work to rotting hospitals and asylums. That's progress, I guess."

Honestly, if Dean was born different like that, he wouldn't do either. Two negative choices on either end didn't sound like a good way of living. Choosing between being laughed at for money or rotting away in a hospital? No, thank you. He was good.

"You see, this place is a refuge for outcasts. Always has been for folks that don't fit in nowhere else. But you two?" Mr. Cooper leaned forward in his seat. "You should go to school. Find a couple of girls. Have two-point-five kids. Live regular."

Their lives weren't normal and they would never be. Julia and Sam? They were the lucky spectrum of hunters who had a taste of a normal life. Most of them lived and breathed hunting and that included Dean. He didn't know how to do anything else.

He had a girl and Julia was one of the two most important people in his life. He was lucky to have her because most hunters aren't able to find a significant other who even understood the life, let alone someone who lived it. And kids? He still thought about the dream he had of Peter and Jonah but it was just that—a dream.

Even if he wanted that apple-pie life, it wouldn't happen. It wasn't in the cards for him.

He went to tell Mr. Cooper that but Sam beat him to it. "Sir, we don't want to go to school and we don't want regular. We want this."

Dean looked at Sam in complete shock. Sam had told him before their run-in with Yellow-Eyes and the death of their father that he intended to go back to Stanford when everything was over. Sam didn't want to hunt for the rest of his life, he made that clear. Now, all of a sudden, he didn't want to go back?

Dean stared at the gravel under his feet as he and Sam walked away from Mr. Cooper's trailer, contracts of employment in their pockets. "Huh."

"What?"

"That whole, uh, I-don't-want-to-go-back-to-school thing," Dean gestured to the trailer behind them. "Were you just saying that to Cooper or were you, you know, saying it?"

Sam hesitated.

"Sam."

"I don't know," Sam looked away from him, looking around at the rides that were now up and running for the day.

"You don't know?" Dean scoffed. "I thought that once the demon was dead and the fat lady sings that you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State."

Sam stopped walking only a few feet from the parking lot where Julia and Abby were waiting for them in the Explorer. "I'm having second thoughts."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "I think Dad would have wanted me to stick with the job."

That made Dean pause. Sam had spent most of his life fighting with their dad and had taken off for almost four years, without any contact, and now he wanted to join the family business for good. Just because their dad died. It infuriated Dean that Sam was only now wanted to do what John had wanted him to do. It was too little, too late.

"Since when do you give a fuck what Dad wanted?" his voice hardened as he questioned his brother. "You spent half your life doing exactly what he didn't want, Sam."

"Since he died, okay?" Sam admitted. When Dean nodded knowingly; he must have had an irritated look on his face because Sam bristled. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Nah," Dean lied. "I don't have a problem at all."

He continued walking without another word, heading straight to Abby's vehicle. Julia rolled down the passenger window as he approached and he leaned his arms on it as he greeted them.

"Did you get the job?" she asked him with happy eyes.

He wished that he could maintain a quarter of the happiness that Julia always had within her. Maybe he wouldn't be a dick most of the time. Maybe he'd handle his dad's death better. Maybe he'd be actually able to talk about how he felt instead of keeping it bundled inside of him until he blew up. He wasn't that person, though, and that was okay. Julia was his person and she could be happy enough for the both of them.

"With benefits," he forced a smirk onto his face. "We start at noon."

"Nice," Julia smiled and leaned toward him. "Hey, did you happen to see if they had funnel cakes?"

"What's a carnival without funnel cake, Junior?"

It was hard to walk around the crowded carnival with full hands and eat funnel cake at the same time but somehow, Julia managed. With a yellow balloon tied around her wrist, a blow-up baseball bat and a small stuffed lion in the crook of her arm, and her cell phone pinned between her ear and shoulder, she was able to stuff the sugary deliciousness into her mouth while keeping an eye out for any suspicious clown activity and keeping in contact with Abby.

Half of Sam and Dean's shift had already gone by and none of them found anything. Sam and Dean had the EMF readers out and going while they picked up trash from the carnival goers but, according to Dean, they had canvased half the fairground and there was zip to show for it.

There was only so much to do at a carnival and Julia had done it all. She rode all the rides, going for the Tilt-a-Whirl and spinning strawberries five or six times, played a bunch of games while only winning twice, and had eaten at three different booths. Don't get her wrong, carnivals were exciting and she loved them as much as the next person but she was by herself after she and Abby split up in the second hour and now, she was growing bored.

"I'm passing the frozen lemonade stand now," Julia informed her sister, who was looking to meet up with her, as she passed the crowded booth.

"The one next to the deep-fried twinkies, the chili dogs, or the turkey legs?"

"Turkey legs—wait, there's deep-fried twinkies?" she wanted one of those. "Where?"

"By the Ferris wheel," Abby told her. "I don't think you need one of those, Jules."

"Sure I do," Julia didn't understand why she didn't need one. She liked snack cakes and if it was deep-fried? All the better. "I'm headed toward the Ferris wheel."

Before she could even turn back the way she came from, a calloused hand grabbed her elbow. She jumped and whirled around, about to drop her prizes and funnel cake to beat the person's ass, but faltered when she saw that it was Dean. He looked so cute dressed in his red carnival jacket.

"Oh, Dean's here," she said to Abby. "I'll call you back."

"Ugh, fine."

Dean grabbed the phone from in between her shoulder and head with a small smile, ending the call for her. "You look like you've been busy," he shoved the phone in his jeans so he could take a piece of her funnel cake. "Having fun?"

"I'm getting bored," she confessed. "Oh, I got you something."

Dean smirked teasingly at her. "Look at that, my girl won me a prize," Julia laughed and handed him the little stuffed lion. "Oh..."

Julia wrinkled her nose as she studied the almost blank look on Dean's face as he held the stuffed lion. "You can put it on your dashboard or, uh..." she hesitated. "or I can take it back if you don't want it."

"Of course I want it," Dean grinned at her and stuffed the lion into his jacket pocket. "I love it."

"You do?"

"Yes," Dean was careful not to jostle her enough so that she could drop her funnel cake or inflatable bat while he pressed his lips to hers quickly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Julia gave him another kiss before he could pull away fully. "So, have you found anything yet?"

"I haven't but Sam has," Dean told her. "Apparently there's a human skeleton in the fun house."

Julia raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Any EMF?"

"No, but I was on my way to check when I ran into you," Dean gestured behind him with his thumb before grabbing another piece of her funnel cake. "Wanna head there?"

"Sure," Julia agreed.

Before they could even start walking in the direction of the fun house, they were stopped by Papazian, the blind knife-thrower that had teared into Dean while he was asking for directions for Mr. Cooper's trailer earlier that morning.

"What are you doing here, kid?"

Dean and Julia shared an alarmed look.

"I'm...I was just, uh, sweeping and taking my break," Dean struggled to answer him.

"Bull," Papazian wasn't having Dean's nonsense. "And what were you two talking about? Skeletons? What's EMF?"

Julia furrowed her eyebrows while Dean looked at him in surprise, "Dude, your blind man hearing is out of control."

"Hey, we're a tight-knit group, we don't like outsiders," Papazian proclaimed. "And we take care of our own problems."

Julia stiffened when she felt the man's aura pulse angrily and darken drastically. Something was off about him.

Dean sized him up, finding an issue of what Papazian did say, rather than what he didn't. "We got a problem?"

Another flare of anger.

"You tell me, you're the one talking about human bones."

Dean hesitated for a moment, and then asked, "Do you believe in ghosts?"

"What?"

"My brother, me, and our girlfriends—" Abby would get a kick out of that, Julia was sure. "—we're writing a book about them."

Papazian seemed to except that and went on his way. Julia stared after him, not liking his aura or the vibes he was giving off. He certainly didn't feel like a normal human being; he was dark and had a severe hunger.

Without noticing, she and Dean ended up at the funhouse, where Sam and Abby were waiting for them.

"What took you so long?" Sam asked Dean.

Dean grimaced. "Long story."

"Mommy, look at the clown!" a chirpy voice that could only belong to a little girl came from only a few feet away from them.

They all turned their attention to her, watching as the mom questioned where the clown was and when the little girl pointed to nothing, she hurried her daughter toward the parking lot. Once they were gone, Julia, Dean, Abby, and Sam exchanged knowing looks.

Julia finished typing her email to Beth, giving her a brief summary of how the boys were dealing with John's death and making sure to include video of her and Abby that told her, Taylor, Lizzie, and Maggie that they missed them. Once the email was sent, she started looking up supernatural creatures that dressed up as clowns.

She didn't think this was a spirit for two reasons. One, Sam and Dean had found no EMF, even on the skeleton from the fun house. And, two, something about Papazian gave her a bad feeling. Like worse than a common spirit usually did.

She shared her thoughts with Abby, who had stayed behind with her when Sam and Dean went to watch the little girl's house—in a totally not creepy way—and was currently cleaning her weapons on her and Sam's bed.

"All right, tell me again—"

"I told you, Abby," Julia rolled her eyes and looked away from her laptop. "I had a bad feeling about Papazian."

"So, what, you're Luke Skywalker now?" her older sister joked; Julia gave her an unamused look. "Okay, sorry. So, if you think that Papazian is behind this people-eating clown, what do you suppose it is?"

Julia grimaced. "Honestly, I was hoping you would know."

Abby shook her head with a laugh and climbed off her bed to settle next to Julia on hers. "Let me show you something."

Abby grabbed the computer from her pajama-clad lap and onto hers. She went to PSC's website and went to the employee section. That led them to another site where she maneuvered her way to a page where one of the links under IT tech brought them to a private website that they had to use a username and passcode to get in. It was that website that amazed Julia.

Similarly set up to PSC's website, this one had hunting items for sale like silver bullets and particular knives that a hunter might need and so on. There was a forum where hunters could post information that they've come across on hunts or if they needed a partner for a hunt, they could search there. And there was an online encyclopedia that was Julia's favorite, where each letter in the alphabet had sections that would list creatures under that letter and could lead you to more information.

She had no idea that the website had ever existed.

"How do I get in?" Julia asked. "Like, how do I get my own username and password?"

"I'll give Frank a call and have him add you, Dean, and Sam," Abby said casually. "He's the IT guy where you get the link."

"He works for us?" the picture of Frank made him seem like a very grumpy man who didn't play well with others.

"Kind of. He runs this site and he makes sure it's secure but he's pretty much a recluse," she hummed. "I think he knew Nana Rachel and Papa Isaac."

"Huh," Julia's maternal grandmother, Rachel, had died before she was born but her Papa Isaac was a great man. He was gone now, having died only a few years before her mother went.

Abby laughed lightly, rolling her eyes at her younger sister. "All right," she moved off of Julia's bed and went back to hers, starting up her own laptop. "Let's start narrowing down possibilities."

The sun had finally risen after two hours of hiding in a stolen car in the middle of nowhere, covered by a thicket of bushes so the police wouldn't be able to spot them. Their whole night blew; the mysterious apocalyptic clown had turned out not to be a spirit and it had definitely gotten away when the little girl screamed at their attack, alerting her parents to the fact that two strange men and a murderous clown were in their house.

They had run out quickly after that and had found a spot just out of town to stay hidden until dawn. Luckily, Dean wasn't left alone with Sam—well, he was but they were also on the phone with Julia and Abby in order to find out what this clown really was. All they knew so far was that the creature was corporeal, wasn't affected by salt, and could make itself invisible. So, thankfully, there was no talking of any kind about the death of John Winchester.

Unfortunately, now that Sam and Dean were beginning their trek heading back to the outskirts of town so that Julia and Abby could pick them up, they had plenty of time to talk. Unluckily enough for Dean, Sam did just that.

"Hey, uh, you think that Dad and Ellen ever had a thing?"

Dean was in no mood to talk about his dad—even if it wasn't about the subject of his death. It was hot out, the sun was searing the back of his neck, he was tired, and he was definitely hungry. The last thing he wanted to do was theorize about his father's flings.

"Nah."

"Then why didn't he tell us about her?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know, maybe they had some sort of falling out."

That was something that John was actually consistent about; he always fell out with other hunters—Bobby wasn't the only one and if John was still alive, he certainly wouldn't be the last.

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "You ever notice how Dad had a falling out with just about everybody?"

Dean nodded his head noncommittedly. There wasn't a need to answer. They both knew it was the truth and there wasn't a reason to hash out the fact that their father was a stubborn asshole who always thought that he was right.

Just thinking of John that way—even though he had those kinds of thoughts a lot while he was alive—made him nauseous. His dad was dead and here he was, thinking bad of him. This was why he didn't want to think about John. Because there was too much to think about. If he thought about how his dad treated him while he grew up, or how he didn't have a childhood because of him—or how he missed out on so much in life, the suspicion around his restored health just before his dad died, or about the last words John said to him—he would break down. And he couldn't. He wasn't that person.

He wouldn't be that person.

Sam noticed his melancholy mood. "Well, don't get all maudlin on me, man."

Dean shot him a look. "What do you mean?"

"I meant this strong-silent thing of yours. It's crap and I'm over it—"

"Oh, God," Dean expressed his irritation before Sam was finished speaking.

"This isn't just anyone we're talking about, this is Dad," Sam said, annoyed. "I know how you felt about the man."

"You know what, back off, all right?" Dean snapped at him. "Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to—"

"No, no, no," Sam objected, cutting him off. "that's not what this about, Dean. I don't care how you deal with this but you have to deal with it, man. Listen, I'm your brother, all right? I just want to make sure you're okay."

Dean clenched his jaw. "Dude, I'm okay!" he raised his voice. "I'm okay, okay? I swear, the next person who asks me if I'm okay, I'm gonna start throwing punches. These are your issues, quit dumping them on me."

Sam stopped walking and turned to Dean with a bewildered look. "What are you talking about?"

"I just think it's really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad," Dean shot straight, unable to hold back his opinion of Sam's change of heart. "It's like, oh, what would Dad want me to do? Sam, you spent your entire life slugging it out with that man. I mean, fuck, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him."

Sam grimaced and yeah, Dean felt a little guilty about his heated words but if Sam wanted him to share his feelings, he was going to do it.

"And now that he's dead, now you want to make it right?" he continued. "Well, I'm sorry, Sam, but you can't. It's too little, too late."

Sam's hazel eyes sparkled with tears. "Why are you saying this to me?"

"Because I want you to be honest with yourself!" Dean exclaimed. "I'm dealing with Dad's death. Are you?"

Sam pressed his lips together and clenched his jaw, obviously fighting back the anger he felt at Dean. Dean wished that he wouldn't; maybe he wanted to get Sam mad, wanted him to fight back. Maybe physical pain would take his attention away from all that he was feeling.

"I'm going to call Abby," Sam finally said.

It was only when Sam had slumped away from him that Dean started to feel guilty. This was his little brother; he was supposed to protect him, not make him feel worse.

Twenty minutes later, he and Sam were sliding into the backseat of Abby's car, relaxing as cool air surrounded them. Without a word, Julia—who was taking the opportunity to sit shotgun—had handed them each a breakfast sandwich and some hash browns. Of course, it was McDonalds; Dean wasn't a fan of them but Julia loved their breakfast, especially the sausage, egg, and cheese bagel. He wasn't surprised to see that she had her bagel sandwich in her lap.

He smiled at her in thanks and immediately took a bite of his own sandwich.

"All right, so, I'm pretty sure this thing is a rakshasa," Abby spoke up as she started driving back to town.

"What's that?" Dean asked around a mouthful of food.

"It's a race of ancient Hindu creatures," she told him and Sam. "They appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited."

"So, they dress up like clowns and the children invite them in," Sam assumed.

Both Abby and Julia nodded in response.

"Why don't they just munch on the kids?"

"No idea," Abby sighed, answering Dean's question. "Maybe there's not enough meat on their bones."

"Abby," Julia gave her sister a disapproving look, her face paling a little.

Abby shrugged nonchalantly.

"So, what else did you find out?" Sam wondered.

"Apparently, rakshasas live in squalor," Julia answered this time, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "They sleep on a bed of dead insects. And they have to feed a few times every twenty or thirty years."

"That makes sense," Dean nodded. "I mean, the carnival today, the Bunker Brothers in '81."

Sam agreed, "Right, and probably more before that."

"All right," Dean clicked his tongue and looked toward the front of the car. "So, did the lore say how to kill this bastard?"

"A dagger made of pure brass," Abby smirked, tapping her fingers against her steering wheel, the red polish on her nails gleaming brightly in the sunlight. "Luckily, I have one in my collection."

"Good," Dean said decidedly. "Let's go gank the blind guy."

Julia didn't particularly like being in a bar full of other hunters. Something about it just made her stomach twist. Maybe it was because she hadn't worked with other hunters except Sam, Dean, Abby, John, and her father...or maybe it was because of the leering looks they gave Jo as she wandered around, giving them the pints of beer that they ordered. Honestly, she felt bad for the blonde; she had been on the receiving end of disgusting leers but never everyday all day. It had to be tiring.

Jo was a spitfire, though, and she could totally handle herself. That was what Julia liked the most about her, other than the fact that she was funny and easily kept up with Abby's banter. Abby wasn't the type to settle down with a boyfriend or girlfriend, but if she did, Jo had Julia's vote. The blonde was special and so was Ellen. They'd fit into the family great.

Ellen came over to her with a bottle of beer and a glass of soda in her hands just as the familiar weight of Dean's arm slid around her waist. He sat on the bar stool next to her and accepted the beer from Ellen with a grateful smile.

"You guys did one hell of a job," the older woman praised one half of their quartet.

Julia smiled at her and accepted her cola. "Thanks, Ellen."

Ellen backed off with a smile and went to dry some glasses. As soon as she was out of earshot, Dean turned to her with a mischievous grin on his face. "I think your sister is chatting up Sam."

"Oh?" Julia gave him an excited look, though it was more for his benefit. She didn't really know how to feel about Abby and Sam hooking up. It wasn't because she didn't think they wouldn't make a great pair but Abby was a player and she didn't want her sister to hurt Sam, who was more emotionally intense when it came to stuff like that.

Dean nodded excitedly. "And I don't think she's the only one."

Julia gave him a confused look and glanced over his shoulder; at the other side of the bar, Sam sat with Abby and Jo on either side of him, both wearing flirtatious smiles.

Oh.

Julia coughed uncomfortably and placed her attention back on Dean, who still had that shit-eating grin on his face. "It's very weird that you're so excited about Sam's possible hook-ups."

Dean shrugged. "It's good to see him get back on the horse—or horses—heh-heh."

"Please don't refer to Abby and Jo as horses, D."

"Sorry," Dean shrugged, his eyes locking on the door that led to the resident area of the bar. "Look, there's Ash."

Ash walked over to them and set his laptop on the bar next to them. "Jules, Dean," he nodded at them and waved Sam over; Sam excused himself from Abby and Jo. "Where have you guys been? I've been waiting for ya."

"We were working a job, Ash," Sam came to stand behind Julia. "Clowns."

Ash gave him a you-have-to-be-shitting-me look. "Clowns? What the fuck?"

"You got something for us, Ash?" Dean asked before he could go on a tangent.

Ash nodded and opened up his laptop, which was stripped down to wires, the hard drive, keypad, and screen. Julia guessed that he had built the computer himself because she was pretty sure you couldn't buy one of those. Jo did say he was a genius.

"Did you find the demon?" Sam asked.

"It's nowhere around," Ash answered gravely. "At least, nowhere I can find. But if this fugly bastard raises his head, I'll know. I mean, I'm on it like divine on dog dookie."

Julia quirked an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, any of those signs or omens appear, anywhere in the world, my rig will go off," Ash explained and turned the laptop, showing them the screen; there was some type of radar and database pulled up. "Like a fire alarm."

Dean's eyes lit up as he looked over the computer; he reached for it and Ash stiffened, cocking his head. "Do you mind...?"

Ash clicked his tongue and the hand that Dean had almost put on the mouse slowly retreated.

"What's up, man?" Ash lifted his chin in a swift nod.

Julia grinned at Dean's pout while Sam asked, "Ash, where did you learn to do all of this?"

"MIT, before I got bounced for fighting," Ash answered casually.

Sam quietly scoffed in disbelief. "MIT?"

Ash nodded. "It's a school in Boston."

"I like you, Ash," Julia laughed as she reached for a high five from the genius blonde. "You're the best."

Ash returned the high-five sluggishly, though the crooked grin on his face gave away his friendliness. "You too, sweetcheeks."

"Okay," Dean said all too quickly. "give us a call as soon as you know something?"

"Si, si, compadre," Ash confirmed, taking Dean's bottle from in front of him and gulping down the rest.

The three of them got ready to leave. As Julia paid their tab, Ellen spoke up, "If you guys need somewhere to stay, we've got a couple of rooms in the back."

Dean exchanged looks with Julia and Sam before answering, "Thanks, but no. There's something I gotta finish."

Hours later, as the sun set, Dean was crouched down in front of the back-right tire of his baby, tightening the bolts of the new tire until they were just right. When he heard the gravel shift to his right, he didn't bother looking up. He knew it was Sam just from the gait of his steps.

Great, he grumbled to himself, another pep talk.

He finished with the tire and only then did he look up; Sam was standing behind the newly restored trunk, kind of huddled in on himself.

"You were right."

Dean stood up straight and walked around Sam in order to set his wrench back in the toolbox. "About what?"

"About me and Dad," Sam elaborated. "I'm sorry that the last time I was with him I tried to pick a fight. I'm sorry that I spent most of my life angry at him. I mean, for all I know, he died thinking that I hate him."

Dean didn't respond; he had nothing to say.

"So, you're right. What I'm doing right now, it's too little, too late," Sam paused for a moment, his eyes filling with tears. "I miss him, man. And I feel guilty as hell. And I'm not all right. Not at all...But neither are you, that much I know...I'll let you get back to work."

Sam left and headed back into Bobby's house. Dean turned around, a mess of emotions brewing at the bottom of his stomach. It built and it built until it rested in his chest. There was anger and hurt and resentment, and oh-so much grief...And all of it was because of his dad.

His dad, who treated him like a little soldier. His dad, who taught him how to shoot a gun when he was way too young. His dad, who left his baby brother in his care when he was only five years old. His dad, who made him grow up much too soon. His dad, who made him feel safe even when there were beings that came out of his nightmares living in the world around him. His dad, who loved him and Sam so much. His dad, who was dead.

His dad was dead.

He hastily picked up the crowbar next to his toolbox and whipped around, slamming it into the driver's window of an old car behind him. Glass shattered onto his lower torso, legs, and feet but he didn't care. It wasn't enough, it wasn't enough to describe how he was feeling.

He smashed the crowbar into Baby's trunk; it bounced but didn't budge or break. He did it again and again, over and over, as his anger exploded from him like a bomb. At the moment, he didn't care that he was trashing his beloved car all over again; the Impala just reminded him too much of his dad.

His blood was pumping, he was sweating profusely, and tears had sparked in his eyes as he bashed Baby's trunk until there was a decently sized hole in the middle. Only then did he drop the crowbar, where it made it tinkling sound against the gravel. He turned in the direction of Bobby's house, as if Sam would be able to feel his angry glare from where he was standing, but he came face-to-face with Julia.

His beautiful Julia. Julia, who had been understanding throughout the week since John's death, letting him fuck his frustration out on her. Julia, who had been good about giving him space to deal with his grief. Julia, who was the sunshine in his dark and cloudy mind. Julia Ruth Petersen, who was too fucking good for him.

And there she stood, a small smile on her face that felt like home. There was love and understanding in her eyes as she waited for him to do something, anything, but it made his stomach turn. She was good and he wasn't. He would just bring her down.

He was poison; his dad dying had proved that.

So, even though Julia there, waiting to support him and love him, he walked away from her.

(Gif is not mine)

#supernatural rewrite #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x original character

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