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klove0511 · 10 months ago

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It's Rest I Want Chapter 4

“Just like that.”

The demon grinned, and Dean hated her. She had played on his one weakness, and she knew it. But hate or not, he couldn't be mad about it, not if it gave him Sam.

He opened his mouth to accept the deal when cold washed over him. Suddenly he was a passenger in his own body, completely frozen in place while something else took control.

No, he thought, struggling to move, to speak, to do anything at all.

Sorry, Dean.

The words blindsided him. Sam was possessing him? He knew ghosts could if they were powerful enough, but he'd never expected this. For a moment, just the smallest moment, he was happy. Dean had spent his whole life protecting Sam, and more than once he'd wished Sam didn't have to exist separate from himself. It was out there that could hurt him. He'd once heard a mother lamenting giving birth because now her baby wasn't safe in her body, and he'd understood exactly how she felt. The moment faded as soon as he heard Sam speak. His little brother, his beautiful, intelligent, stubborn asshole of a brother, was telling the demon no. That he would rather stay dead. Dean howled in fury, throwing everything he had at Sam in a vain attempt to reclaim control.

Then it was too late. The demon was gone and the summoning materials burned. Dean would have cried if he had control of his tear ducts. Since he didn't, he let his consciousness fall back into something like sleep.

He was alone in his body when he woke up in a strange motel room.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, letting him see the ugly orange and olive décor. Some place still stuck in the 70s, then. There was a new bottle of whiskey on the table by the window, and next to it was a piece of paper folded in half. From the bed he could read his name, written in Sam's neat handwriting.

He crawled out of bed, reaching for the note.

Dean,

I’m sorry. I know you're pissed, and I get it. I shouldn't have done that to you. But please, you've got to understand, I couldn't let you make that deal. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you went to Hell for me. Please try to understand.

Please. Let me go.

Sam

With a snarl he crumpled the paper, throwing it across the room. Rage boiled up, needing to be released. He flipped the table, hardly caring that the whiskey bottle shattered when it landed. For the next few minutes he was barely aware of what he was doing, just needing to break whatever was closest to him. Needing to feel the pain in his hand when he punched the wall.

By the time the fury was spent, the room was trashed. Dean sagged to the floor, drained of the anger that he'd been wearing like a shield these last few months. Fuck Sam. He— His breath hitched. He closed his eyes, fighting down the sobs that were threatening. Slowly he took one deep breath, then another. When he had a sliver of control he said, “You still here, Sam?”

Silence. He waited for a breeze or a cold spot. The room was as empty as it had been when he woke up. His restraint crumbled, and he mourned with deep, gasping sobs. He hated it. Hated that he couldn't stop, hated that even this didn't feel like enough. There was nothing he could do. Nothing to save Sam. Nothing to let this feeling out.

He'd had one moment where he was as close to Sam as he could possibly be, and Sam had— Sam had used Dean's body to make sure they would never— It was impossible. Unthinkable. They'd never share another meal. Never fight over laundry day. Never bitch at each other over who cleaned the guns or wanted terrible snacks for movie night. He’d never again feel Sam’s hands on him while tending Dean’s wounds. He couldn't be. He.

God, Dean had been an idiot. He'd thought he was doing ok, considering. He'd thought he was getting by, dealing with it. Yeah, ok, maybe he was drinking too much and barely eating or sleeping, but he'd been out there. He'd been hunting, and he hadn't even gotten himself killed yet. So, yeah. Considering the circumstances, he'd thought he was doing pretty good. He was a fucking idiot.

John was tucked into one of the back booths of the Roadhouse, nursing a beer while he pored over his research. Ash had told him to come, but he hadn’t specified why. He’d been passed out drunk in the trailer behind the bar when John had arrived two hours ago. Ellen had told John to just be patient. Ash didn’t live on the same schedule as the rest of the world.

When Ash did stagger into the main room, he was rumpled and hungover, which did nothing to deter him from starting his day with a beer. He was in another hideous sleeveless shirt, flannel this time, with the shoulders fraying where the sleeves had been cut off. At least this time he had a shirt on underneath it. “Yo, Papa Winchester! You made it!” he said by way of greeting.

John struggled not to glare. The man had proven his talents already, so it did John no favors to alienate him. “What have you got?”

Ash flopped into the seat across from him. “I,” he started dramatically, “have got a lead.”

John cocked his head expectantly.

Ash rolled his eyes and guzzled his beer. “Winchesters. No flair for theatrics.” He shook his head in disapproval. “Fine. All right, did Ellen catch you up?”

John grumbled low. “No. She didn’t. What is the lead.”

“Fine. Shit, dude. So, you know Dean has been working this case. Well, he managed to find out that the mothers—not always the moms, actually, but mostly them—all encountered our Yellow Eyed friend before the night of the fires.”

John thought of the list in his journal, names and dates where the demon had appeared prior to coming to their home. “What do you mean ‘encountered?’”

“I mean encountered. Ran into. Met. But I also mean made a deal with.”

John’s blood ran cold. “Mary wouldn’t.”

Ash winced and ran a hand through his mullet. “Sorry, my man. Unless you did, then it’s safe to say it was her.”

“What does that mean though? Made a deal for what?”

“That part ain’t real clear. This guy wasn’t making deals like a regular demon. Said he didn’t have any interest in their souls. Just wanted permission. But anyhow. That’s not the lead. All that did was give me more people to look for. It took some doing, mind, but I’ve found like a dozen of these people so far. And get this: most of ‘em have gone missing in the last month.”

Permission. He thought of the demon coming into their home, into Sammy’s nursery. Given what he knew of Azazel’s plans, this information just cemented his certainty that he’d made the right call letting Sam go. He swallowed back bile. “You figure out where they’ve been going?”

Ash beamed at him. “Ding ding ding! Give the man a medal. Now, understand that I haven’t actually found these kids, right? But I have found demonic omens that line up with the patterns you’ve observed. It stands to reason that the missing people that this demon has previously targeted just might be in the place with all the demonic signs.”

The guy looked so damn proud of himself. John clenched his jaw, trying to keep his patience. “Ash. Where.”

John had just about finished planning his route when Dean came through the door. Dean hadn't looked good when John had last seen him, half-crazed researching for weeks while he tried to save Sam, but he was barely recognizable now. His son looked gaunt, like he hadn't remembered to stop for food enough since they'd parted ways. He was unshaven, unwashed, and the smell of booze reached John from fifty feet away.

Ellen greeted Dean, who asked for Ash. Ash had disappeared into the back rooms again, doing whatever it was he did most of the time. It didn't take long for Dean to emerge from the back with a new look of determination. He was headed toward the bar when he caught sight of John, his eyes widening in surprise. His poker face was good though, and that was the only sign of recognition John saw. They watched each other a moment, John studying his son's changed appearance. He obviously wasn't sleeping enough either, judging from the dark circles under his eyes. It hurt, seeing Dean look so— He searched for an adequate word. So broken.

It reminded him of himself in those early days. Trying to care for two young boys while he grieved Mary, trying to process what he'd witnessed the night she died. He'd barely survived.

Learning about the supernatural from Missouri had been the only thing he could hold on to, a reason to keep going. His quest for revenge. Like Ellen had said, he did understand that. He just hadn't understood what she'd meant when she'd been talking about Dean, not until now, at least. He’d never suspected things between them had been like that.

Of course, he'd known the boys were close. He'd encouraged it their whole lives. They relied on each other, trusted each other. Sam had worked with Dean far better than he'd ever worked with John, and Dean had blossomed in the year the boys had hunted together without John commanding them. Seeing Dean now, John understood that he had done this to his son. That closeness, such a boon on a hunt where a good partner meant life or death, was only a source of pain. It was a wonder Dean hadn't gotten himself killed yet.

Dean obviously wasn't going to make the first move, so John tilted his head in a “come here” gesture. Dean hesitated a moment more, then set his jaw and moved. He didn't say anything as he slid into the booth, didn't even look at John.

John sighed and said, “You coming with me?”

Dean's face contorted, some subtle fight between pissed and darkly amused. But he said, “I'll meet you there, and I’ll call Bobby, have him join us. Don’t forget to bring the Colt.”

“Dean—”

“I'm not debating this with you.”

That hadn't been what he was going to do, but it didn't matter. Apologies could wait.

Dean drove 20 over the speed limit the whole way, letting the roar of Baby's engine soothe him. Seeing John had been a surprise, and he'd have words with Ellen later about that. For now, he had to concentrate on not getting himself killed long enough to get his revenge. The demon, then John. Or John, then the demon? He saw advantages to both, but trying to play out each scenario made him feel hollow and numb. The anger was protecting him right now, and he needed that if he was going to stay functional long enough to get this done. Fuck planning. He'd play this by ear.

The radio crackled, and he reached for it, intending to slot a tape in. He was going fast enough that it wasn't worth finding another radio station. Too soon he'd be out of range and have to try again. At least South Dakota wasn't far, relatively speaking. Another hour or two and he'd be there. Before he could get the tape in the player, he recognized the voice breaking through the static, and it wasn't the latest DJ. It was Sam.

Relief flooded him, followed closely by shame and more anger. It took him a minute to even recognize what Sam was trying to say.

“Slow.... down....”

Dean rolled his eyes and pressed harder on the gas.

“Dean...” Sam sounded pissed, and Dean had no trouble imagining the bitch face Sam was shooting at him. He glanced at the passenger seat, a grin on his face before he remembered.

He refocused on the road, glaring into the night. “Where have you been? I thought you might have moved on or something.”

“Tired.... Work....”

Dean tried to work that out. “Possession wears you out?”

“Yeah...”

“The things you learn.” The air was cooling rapidly, but he didn't slow down. “You doing ok, otherwise?”

It took longer for Sam to respond this time, and Dean wondered if it was because he was choosing his words or because talking like this was hard too. “…Worried...”

“What do you have to be worried about?” It came out incredulous and harsher than he intended, but things often did when he was angry.

“You.” Just one word, and the only one so far that had been crystal clear. Well then.

“You don't need to be worried about me. I'm fine.”

“Not...” The temperature dropped a couple more degrees, and Dean turned the heater up.

Sam wasn't wrong, and he wasn't the first to express concern. Ellen had said as much, and so had Bobby. The way John had looked at him had spoken volumes. Even Ash had said he looked like crap, which was more social than the guy normally was. “I'm fine enough.”

“Don't... kill... Dad...”

Dean furrowed his brow. “What? Why? How do you even know about that? I haven't told anyone.”

“Not... mad...”

“How the hell aren't you mad at him? Huh? He killed you. His own son.”

“Already.... dead...”

Dean shook his head in denial. The road in front of him was blurring, and he had to let the car slow a little. No way was he dying in a car crash right before— before he finished things.

“Yes...” There was a longer pause, and then Sam's voice came through softer, pleading. “Please...”

“How can you ask me that?” He pulled in a shuddering breath. “You already— You want me to let you stay dead. Ok. Fine. I haven't summoned any demons, have I? But you weren't dead. Not yet. Not until he pulled the plug. So that's on him.”

“Dean...”

“I can't let him walk, Sam. I just can't. He's the one who taught us that family is everything. I don't— How can you be ok with this?”

“Not... ... fault...” Sam's voice was fading, and it sparked panic in Dean’s gut. He wasn’t ready to lose this again already.

“Hey, now. Don't do that. Ok? Just. You don't have to talk.” He drummed his hands on the steering wheel. “It doesn't make any sense to me, is all. After the way we were raised. He loved you most, you know? And I knew it, and I never even was mad about it because I loved you most too. It was just how the world worked, as far as I could tell. Not saying I never got pissed at you. Hell, we both got pissed at you. But that didn't fucking matter. You were the one we were protecting.” He grimaced. “I always kind of wondered if it was because of Mom. She died protecting you, so we spent the next 23 years trying to do it too. So, to have him do what he did, just doesn't make sense to me. I’m sure he had his reasons.” Dean chewed his bottom lip. “But I trusted him to look after you the way I would, and I lost you. So screw him and his reasons.”

Dean drove in silence for a long time after that. Eventually the temperature in the car returned to normal, and the static faded to normal levels. He pushed the Metallica tape into the player but kept the volume low. Sam stayed quiet, though whether or not that was by choice Dean had no way to know. He didn't even know if Sam was still listening. Some time after he crossed the border into South Dakota, Dean said, “I won't kill him, if that's really what you want.”

The words hung in the air, and Dean regretted saying them. But then the radio crackled again, and Sam's voice clearly said, “Yes... Thank you.”

“I can't promise to forgive him. That's not— It's unforgivable.”

Sam didn't respond again, so Dean took it for agreement. At the least, it seemed Sam didn't want (or didn't have the energy) to argue the point.

Bobby was the first to arrive. He met John at the end of the dirt road that led to the town. It had fallen into disrepair over the last several decades, and the surrounding forest had reclaimed it. They’d have to hike the rest of the way.

John thought back to that voicemail he still had saved and wondered if Bobby was going to follow through on his threat. Neither of them spoke, just nodded acknowledgement into the stony silence. Dean couldn’t be that far behind, and John felt the need to settle things with Bobby first. However Dean felt, he trusted his son to have his eye on the prize. He wouldn’t stab John in the back until the demon was dead. Bobby had no such motivation, and he’d made it perfectly clear that he thought he’d make a better father to John’s boys than John did.

Eyeing Bobby’s shotgun carefully, he was prepared to dodge out of the way at a moment’s notice. “Bobby.”

Bobby grunted in response.

It wasn’t fear that had settled in John’s belly. Resignation, maybe. Low level grief that had nothing to do with Sam or Mary’s loss. He and Bobby had been good friends, once. It had been years since that was true, but the man had put their differences aside not that long ago. John didn’t expect him to be able to do it again.

He opted for blunt honesty. In truth, he didn’t know another way. “How worried do I need to be about you using that on me?” John asked.

Bobby clenched his jaw and gripped the gun a little tighter. “I’m here to make sure Dean don’t end up like his brother. That’s all.” Don’t risk Dean, and you have nothing to worry about went unsaid.

That was fair enough, he supposed. It was good, even, because if Bobby was watching Dean’s back then John could focus on making sure Azazel got put in the ground. He wouldn’t have to split his attention.

Dean arrived in Cold Oak, South Dakota just before midnight. Bobby hiked ahead, acting as scout. Dean privately thought it was just to get away from John for a while. The tension between the two of them had been palpable when he arrived.

John broke the silence after only a minute or two. “Are you ready for this?”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Dean said. He was tired and pissed off. Sam had to be somewhere close, and Dean didn't particularly want to think about how it would go if John found out about that. Besides, he hadn't had enough sleep in the last four months. At this point he figured he was allowed to be a little crabby.

“Just making sure your head's in the game.”

Dean side-eyed his father. “Of course it is. We've been preparing for this fight my whole life. I'm not about to fuck it up now.”

“Good.”

“Good.” Dean let that be it for maybe a minute, but he couldn't stop his mind from thinking about it. “Why do you think my head isn't in the game?”

John shrugged minutely, barely visible in the moonlight. “You look like shit, Dean. It's obvious you haven't been taking care of yourself lately. I don't know how far that goes.”

“Why do you care?”

John faltered a step, turning to actually look at Dean. “Because I'm your father.”

That was the last thing he should have said. Fury boiled up past all of Dean's exhaustion, and he struggled to remember that an hour ago he'd promised Sam not to murder John. “You're my father? Is that like how you were Sam's father when you told me to let him die? Or how about when you gave me a fake spell that was supposed to heal him? Or were you his father when you took him off life support? God, with parenting like that, who needs monsters?”

John stilled. The tension in the air was palpable. “Sam was already dead, Dean.”

“No. He wasn't. That's the whole point of life support. There was time to save him. What's the point of knowing about all this shit if Sam was going to die anyway?” He shook his head and started forward.

To his credit, John didn't raise his voice. If it had been Sam arguing with him, it probably would have already devolved into a shouting match. “It's not our place to mess with the natural order. That's part of what we do.”

Dean groaned and turned to face John. “Right. The natural order. Like you would’ve made the same choice if it was Mom.”

“Don’t bring your mother into this,” John growled.

Dean stepped up into John’s space. “Am I wrong? You let Sam die because of the demon and its fucking plans, and you’re too much of a coward to admit you were scared of your own son.” Dean snarled. “Did you know Mom made a deal with the thing?”

John ignored the distraction. “I wasn't scared of your brother; I was scared for him! The demon was going to use him.”

“How? Have you even met Sam? He's not an idiot. No way he'd let a demon use him to fight a war.”

Sam's voice rippled out of the darkness to Dean's left. “If you wanted Dean to listen to you, why didn't you just tell him what you learned? You didn't have a problem telling me. Except, oh right, I was in a coma.” Sam chuckled, dark anger lacing his voice.

John's expression was a mix of horror and grief. “Sam? What are you— Damn it, Dean, what the hell did you do? Didn't I teach you better than this?”

“Fuck you. I gave him a hunter’s funeral.”

“And it didn't concern you that he's a ghost anyway?”

Sam rolled his eyes and threw his arms wide. “What, you want him to burn the Impala? After giving him crap about it needing a wash? Give him a break.”

“I don't need you to defend me, Sam.” John and Sam fighting raised his peacekeeper instincts. He wanted to grab Sam's shoulder and push him back, to physically insert himself between the two of them. Only it wouldn't have worked anyway. Doing that had only ever made them shout louder.

John ignored Dean's statement completely. “Yes, if that's what it takes. What's dead should stay dead. You both know that.”

Sam snarled and reached for John, throwing him against a tree. He moved to follow John's trajectory, luckily not stutter stopping forward like most ghosts, and Dean scrambled to get in front of him.

“Woah, dude, chill out. What happened to not holding a grudge?” He was still livid, furious with John, but Sam needed him to be a voice of reason. Throwing people was serious vengeful spirit territory, and they needed to get a lid on this, right now.

Sam stopped moving, but he was still seething. “Why do you let him say shit like that? You—”

Sam didn't get to finish his sentence because a demon interrupted them. It was shaped like a little girl but sported long, wicked looking claws. Dean blasted it with rock salt, and it vanished into smoke. “Come on, we need to move. It knows we're here,” Dean said, helping John to his feet. “We must be close.” John looked a little dazed, but he moved ok. Dean hoped Sam hadn't managed to do too much damage.

Bobby broke through the trees then, out of breath and wild-eyed. “The Hell are you idiots doing back here?”

Dean filled him in tersely, and Bobby led all of them the last few yards to the town. Sure enough they had been close, and they broke through the woods into the town after just another 100 yards. The place looked empty, but it didn't feel empty. Standing by the tree line was enough to make Dean's hair stand on end. The buildings were in various states of disrepair. Some seemed largely intact, just a broken window or two. Others, like the house nearest them, had entire walls that had caved in, the wood rotting with time and neglect.

“Cheery place,” Dean murmured.

John glared at him, then motioned for them to split up and search the town. Dean silently groaned, rolling his eyes. They'd all been shouting at each other not ten minutes ago, and the Acheri demon suggested they'd already lost their element of surprise. John took the right while Bobby moved toward the center of town. Dean moved to the left, toward the collapsing house. A breath of wind on his neck made him look, and Sam was there, following.

“It's creepy when you do that,” he said.

“Do what?”

“Spooky ghost shit.” They moved cautiously. Well. Dean moved cautiously, and Sam moved silently. He had the same posture as Dean, though it probably didn't matter.

“Sorry I can't do creepy werewolf shit instead,” he deadpanned. “This place sucks. Seriously, why do you let him talk to you like that?”

Dean ignored the question. He hadn’t been letting John do anything. They walked in silence a few minutes while they searched the small town. “Does it hurt?”

Sam frowned, confused. “Does what hurt?”

Dean clenched his jaw a couple times before he managed to bite out, “Dying.”

The question surprised Sam, and he stopped walking while he considered his answer. The longer he took, the more certain Dean was that whatever he said was going to be a sanitized lie.

“If you mean after the spell, then no. I got kicked out of my body in the first couple hours after the crash, I think, and I didn’t feel anything after that.”

Dean swallowed thickly. “Good. That’s good.” The way Sam had phrased it, though. “You remember the accident?”

Sam chewed the side of his lip. “Yeah. You and Dad were knocked out, but I wasn’t. It was a demon possessing the truck driver.” Sam breathed a laugh. “I threatened it with the Colt. God. Dad really would have killed me if I’d used the last bullet on Stunt Demon #5.”

“I thought you weren’t pissed at him.”

Sam rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah. Uh. I don’t know. I’m not. Not like you are.”

“So what the hell was that back there, huh? Throwing people?” Dean cleared the next building. Nothing there but some battered and rotting furniture. They turned toward the center of town.

Sam didn’t answer. “Dude, are you seeing all these ghosts?”

“Most haunted town in America, or so the stories say. You can see them?”

“You can't? This place is full of spirits.” Sam grimaced and sidestepped an invisible object. Dean gave him an “Oh really?” look, and Sam elaborated. “I think— Most of them look old, but pretty normal. Like they just got sick or something. But some of them died bloody.”

“How can you tell?” He glanced at Sam, body restored in his spirit form.

Sam shrugged, stopping to study one. Dean wished it didn't look like thin air to him. “Some of them don't fit.”

“Don't fit how? Come on, Sam, stop being cryptic.”

“They're newer. Younger looking.”

Dean shifted, keeping an eye out for threats he could actually see. “So people have been coming here for years because of the stories. Some of them had to have been killed.”

“Well, yeah, some. That guy over there in the bell bottoms probably died back in the 70s. But her—” Sam pointed off to his right, toward the tavern where John had gone. “She looks modern. I mean, her clothes, but not just that. She looks,” he paused searching for the right word, “I don't know, fresher somehow. I can't really explain it.”

That seemed important and really fucking ominous. The demon was supposed to be here somewhere, though they couldn't figure out why. Ash had started finding other likely psychic kids somehow (the dude worked magic, seriously), and there'd been a half dozen so far that also had missing persons reports. If they had also been showing up here, and at least one was a ghost, then... Dean tried to fit the pieces together. He couldn't yet, but the picture that was forming was grim. He found himself half-grateful that Sam was already dead. He couldn't imagine what he'd do if Sam went missing and turned up here. Worse, if Dean found him too late. He shuddered, then pushed the thought from his mind.

While he'd been thinking, Sam had vanished. “Sam?” he called. “Come on, man, don't wander off.” Dean glanced around anxiously, wondering where his brother had gone. He had to keep moving, though. Sam would have to take care of himself.

Dean had cleared two buildings by the time Sam reappeared, blinking into the periphery of Dean's vision and making him jump. “Don't do that,” he barked. “I almost shot you.”

“It's just rock salt,” Sam said, brushing it off.

“And you're just a ghost, remember?”

Sam considered that a moment, then seemed to remember why he'd come back. “Dude, you need to find Dad and Bobby. One of the psychics is killing the others.”

Dean looked at him sharply. “It's not the demon?”

“No. Some girl is controlling the demons guarding the town. The ghost I talked to said this is some sort of Battle Royale, fight to the death sort of thing. Only the winner doesn't get to leave.”

Dean furrowed his brow. “That's messed up. Did he know why?”

“She didn't. But it sounds like there's a new 'round' every few weeks, so maybe it just isn't over.” The two of them started heading in the direction John had gone.

“That's a comforting thought. So the girl killing people, how long has she been here?”

“No idea. Sounds like she's won at least a few rounds though. Look, over there.” They could hear someone talking in the distance, and as Dean rounded the corner, he spotted John talking to a group of young adults who all looked around Sam's age.

Dean clenched his jaw. “That must be the newest crop. Lucky we got here before she picked them all off.” Drawing closer, he called out, “Dad!”

John looked over at Dean, then turned back to the group of kids he’d found. They’d all told him similar stories about blacking out and waking up in the ghost town. None of them seemed to know why they were there, but they’d just arrived earlier that day. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Stay put.”

Jogging over to Dean, he asked, “What?”

Dean filled him in on the supposed killer amongst them.

John was skeptical. Ghosts weren’t a reliable source of information. Their perspectives were always skewed; they saw what they wanted to see. It was part of what made them dangerous. “Even if that’s true, it’s not one of those kids. All their stories match.”

Dean pursed his lips, but he didn’t protest. Together they walked back to the group, and John introduced him to Tony, Ava, Leah, Vaughn, and Mark. All the kids were about Sam’s age, but they were otherwise a pretty diverse crowd. Mark looked like he would have been more at home on the beaches of California, toned and solid and definitely not dressed for a South Dakota winter, while Vaughn was taller than all of them and beanpole thin, though in the dim light of his flashlight John couldn’t tell if the boy was also wiry like Sam had been for a while after his last growth spurts. Tony’s dark skin highlighted the whites of his eyes, and it made him look more scared than the others, and his glasses and chubby build spoke of a more sedate life than the other guys. Maybe he’d be more at home in a library than a haunted town. Ava and Leah stuck together, though he didn’t have the impression that they had known each other before today. Then again, they were both slim and of medium height, and they looked similar enough that they could have been sisters.

Ignoring the guys, Dean plastered on his best cocky grin and said, “Hello, ladies.”

John murmured at him, “Keep it in your pants, boy.”

Ava ducked her head, flattered. Leah just shifted uncomfortably.

“Have either of you seen anything? Any idea what might have brought you here?” Dean had turned the charm up to 11. It had been long enough since they’d worked together that John had forgotten that Dean sometimes did this, used his sex appeal like a girl, charming witnesses and victims into spilling their secrets. He was good at it, too.

The temperature was continuing to drop, though, and they needed to get everyone inside. “All right, everyone,” John said, voice pitched to carry over the wind that had just picked up. “There’s a tavern over there that’s still in decent shape. Let’s get there, get inside. Dean, you see if you can find anything useful.” He shot Dean a look to communicate that by ‘useful’ he meant ‘weapons.’ With luck, he’d also find Bobby and fill him in.

Dean nodded and trotted off the way he’d come, leaving John to babysit five young adults. He herded them toward the intact building he’d seen, not trying to make small talk. There was always the chance that they would let something slip when they thought he wasn’t listening, and it was a good chance to observe them. If Dean and Sam turned out to be right, then they needed to figure out who was killing the kids. His money was still on the demon, or at least a demon. Azazel was supposed to be here, but the signs could have been wrong. He had the guys work on barricading the door while he checked the windows.

“Everyone, stay close,” he said.

Ava hugged herself tighter. “Who are you guys? Did you bring us here?”

He glanced at her sharply. “We’re hunting the thing that did.”

“Thing?” Tony chimed in. “What the hell does that mean?”

He’d hoped to get out of this without giving them all the Talk. The less they knew about the supernatural the better. No one needed a bunch of kids deciding they wanted to be hunters and getting themselves killed for it. All five of them were approaching him now, arranged in a semi-circle, and he sighed, resigned to it. The version he gave was abridged, limited to ghosts and demons.

“You’re insane,” Leah said, backing away. “You and that other guy are going to kill us, aren’t you?”

“None of you are dying tonight,” John said. “Dean is looking for salt and anything else we can use against this thing. We didn’t expect to find all of you here.”

She was shaking her head though, refusing to believe him. When she bolted for the door she was already well out of reach. He could chase her, but that would mean abandoning the other four. He swore but let her go.

“I’ll go after her,” Ava said.

“No!” Mark whisper-shouted. “What if the thing finds you? We’re safer here.”

Vaughn raised an eyebrow at him. “You actually believe this? No way is this guy telling the truth. I’ll go with you, Ava. Stay here if you want, man.”

“At least it’s warmer in here! I’m going to freeze to death in that wind.” Mark rubbed at his arms and grumbled in frustration. “Fine. Do what you want. Try not to get killed.”

“All of you should stay inside,” John said. “It’s safer as a group.”

Ava and Vaughn ignored him and left through the only door. He growled, but let them go. When Dean got back with supplies one of them could chase after the others. In the meantime, he’d make sure this place was boarded up as tight as he could make it.

Leah came back on her own a minute later, complaining of the cold. “Sorry. It’s just—” She shrugged. He understood. She wasn’t taking back her words, but she was at least allowing the possibility that something was happening to her that she couldn’t explain. He figured she’d come around to ghosts and demons if and when any of them showed up.

Any of them, like Sam. How could Dean have fucked that up? Sam was supposed to be at peace. He was supposed to be gone, far beyond Azazel’s reach. John didn’t know if he believed in Heaven, exactly, but he wanted to. If Hell was real, then why not the other place? If it was real, then that’s where Sam should be. Not here in this ghost-filled wasteland. Definitely not in the one place where Azazel would be.

That was going to have to be Dean’s problem, though, because the demon from the woods was back. It appeared just behind Leah, and John had enough time to shove her roughly to the side before its claws stabbed out. It caught him square in the stomach, going right through the space she had occupied a moment before. Grunting, he aimed his shotgun and blasted the demon. It dissipated in a cloud of smoke with a shriek.

“Oh my God!” Leah crouched near him. Her eyes were wide, but she exuded competence as she pressed her hands to his wound. “Sorry. It’s too cold to lose a shirt. Everything’s filthy anyway.”

“Doctor?” he mumbled. The tingling in his fingers felt like blood loss more than hypothermia.

She shook her head and pressed harder. “ER nurse. I could probably get you stabilized if we weren’t in the middle of fucking nowhere with fucking demons. How is this real? I mean, I must be hallucinating. Except you’re really bleeding and that thing really attacked us.”

He felt lethargy pulling at him. “Hey. Tell Dean. Tell him—” He couldn’t get the words out; his throat wasn’t working right. Neither was his head, really. Everything was getting fuzzy, and there was a ringing in his ears. Just over Leah’s shoulder he thought he saw Sam flicker into view. Next to him was a stranger. Well. Damn it.

#spnproshipbang #wincest #tw mcd #season 2 AU #fic i wrote #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester #ghost!sam

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masterofmunson · 4 years ago

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driver’s license ~ part one

Harry Styles x Fem!Reader

Summary: Things between you and Harry were going great. That was the case until he blindsided you and broke your heart by leaving you for his co-star. Based off the song Driver’s License by Olivia Rodrigo.

Warnings: language and angst. covid doesn’t exist.

Word Count: 4.4k+

Author’s Note: Here she is! I’m sorry it’s so delayed. School has really been kicking my ass. Consider this my anti-valentine’s day fic. This will be a two or three part mini series, I haven’t decided yet. Please let me know what you think! Comments, reblogs, and asks are highly encouraged and appreciated! Enjoy!

It felt like your heart had been ripped out of your chest. It’d been several weeks since you saw Harry last. He returned to film Don’t Worry Darling and you were left feeling empty and buried yourself in your work. Whatever was happening between you and Harry was up in the air.

You’re friends. You’re the best of friends, at least you were for a while. He wrote a song for you. You kissed him. He kissed you back. You were happy, and then all of a sudden he became a stranger to you. You don’t recognize the person you’ve come to know.

“Harry? I thought you couldn’t take me driving today?” you asked one evening as he stands on your doorstep with slumped shoulders and a nervous gaze. You’d texted him earlier about driving around the area and his answer was short, but not out of the ordinary for him.

Now, staring at him, something was clearly wrong and he looked like he would rather be anywhere than in front of you on your porch. “Is everything alright?”

He lets out a nervous breath and bites the inside of his cheek. You open the door wide enough for him to step inside. He rings his fingers together. “Sorry, I should’ve called,” he said, his eyes roam around the foyer of your apartment.

Your brows knit together. He’s acting strange. He shows up unannounced all the time and it’s never bothered you before. You’re friends and slowly testing the waters to be something more.

“Harry, what’s wrong? What aren’t you telling me?”

The silence is deafening and it sends a chill down your spine. He looks down at the floor and the lump in your throat grows. You fight back tears. You know exactly what the silence means. He’s having second thoughts about pursuing a relationship with you. Your worst fear is coming true.

“You’re having second thoughts about our relationship, aren’t you?”

Harry swallows hard, nodding slowly. “Sort of. I don’t regret it, and I still very much have feelings for you, but I’ve had time to think. I just don’t think it would be fair to start our relationship right now. I don’t want to distract you from what’s important to you and I have the press tour coming up as well as my tour. I want you to be happy and you won’t see me for months at a time.”

You don’t really know what to say. You want to scream and shout at him. None of that mattered before the two of you kissed. He would see you whenever his schedule allowed and you traveled to see him whenever you could. He was your best friend and you made an effort to make your friendship the way it is.

You’re used to the distance. You’re used to the texts, phone calls, and FaceTiming him. It’s how you stay in touch when you’re thousands of miles apart. Why would it be any different now that you’re together?

You try not to cry. It’s such a piss poor excuse to end things between the two of you. After all you’ve been through together, he’s ending it because he’s scared.

“Are you kidding me, Harry? You’re ending whatever this is because you’re scared? I made the choice to kiss you that night. You made the choice to kiss me back. You’re my best friend. I don’t care about the distance. I want you,” you confessed. A tear falls on your cheek and you turn your head away from him to wipe it away.

Harry sighed, scratching the back of his head. “I’m sorry. You deserve better. You deserve stability and I can’t give you that, at least not right now.”

You let out a shaky breath to try and mask the sob creeping up your throat. More tears gather in your eyes and against your better judgement, you let Harry reach for your face. His thumb brushes against the shell of your cheek and you lean into his touch. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead and you hold the hand pressed against your cheek.

A few tears fall and he gently wipes them with the pad of his finger. You sniff quietly and come to your senses and pull away from him. You wipe your nose and let out an awkward laugh. You rock back on your heels and nod towards the door.

“You should go.”

He nods slowly and walks towards the door. He opens the door and turns to look at you one more time before he leaves. You look away. He’s seen enough. You can’t let him see you break further. It doesn’t matter if he’s your best friend. He’s breaking your heart.

The door shuts behind him and you gasp for air as you let the tears fall. You grab at your shirt and fall to the floor. You bring your knees to your chest and cry and cry.

You never thought the person you loved and cared for the most in the world would be the one to hurt you. He gave you a bad excuse. Why did he change his mind? Was it something you said or did? Was it because you weren’t an A list celebrity? You were just a small time producer working in your family owned studio.

It was by chance that a friendship blossomed with the rock star Harry Styles. His own music producer called in sick one day and you filled in for him. You had been friends ever since and occasionally helped him with music every now and then when you weren’t busy with other clients. It was one of the reasons why you had yet to get your driver's license. You were too busy to take the time to learn and you lived in the city so you didn’t really see a need to get your license. You could Uber or bum rides from your brother to the office if you had to.

Did you read too much into things? Harry had written a song for and about you. He told you that much. It was sweet and romantic. You kissed him and it was reciprocated. You didn’t trick or trap him into doing something he didn’t want to do. He confessed his feelings and then you kissed some more.

How would things pan out between the two of you now that he’d broken things off? You couldn’t go back to how things were before. You can’t forget the way he kissed you. You can’t just forget and ignore the way he made you feel. Maybe he would, you thought bitterly.

Harry was notorious for sweeping things under the rug and acting like nothing happened. If he doesn’t address it, it didn’t happen. You won’t let him do that to you. It’s cruel and painful. It’s pure torture.

Now, several weeks have passed since Harry showed up at your doorstep and broke your heart. Since then, you’ve put distance between the two of you. You don’t go out of your way to reach out to him and if he sends you a message, you take hours to reply. Your older brother Malcolm has taken Harry’s place as your driving instructor and he doesn’t ask what happened and you appreciate it.

It’s still a sore subject and you go out of your way to avoid Harry when you know he’s scheduled to work in one of the studios. Everyone’s noticed the change in behavior but no one asks questions. You keep your head down and busy yourself with work. It keeps you from dwelling on what could’ve been. You don’t have the time for such things at work.

It’s a different story altogether when you’re at home alone. Everything reminds you of Harry and you feel utterly pathetic. You drown your sorrows into cheap wine and poorly written romcoms. It’s easier than doing something stupid like drunk texting him.

Now, in hindsight you definitely shouldn’t have been drinking on a lonely Tuesday night. You hadn’t planned on finishing the bottle, but you lost track of time and soon enough you were opening wine bottle number two and finishing it just as easily as you did the first. You know better than to come into work with a raging hangover, but you couldn’t call off. You had a scheduled client that had been on the books for weeks.

Stumbling into the building, you push your sunglasses up the bridge of your noise and trudge to your office. You turn the lights on and close the curtains. Collapsing into your chair, you groan loudly and pull your water bottle out of your work bag and take a long sip.

There’s a gentle knock on the door and you look at your brother through your sunglasses. He laughs softly and steps inside, shutting the door behind him before taking the seat in front of your desk. He leans back into the seat and playfully kicks his feet up on your office table.

There’s a comfortable silence that falls upon the room and Malcolm drinks his coffee slowly. “Can I ask what happened between you and Harry? Wasn’t he teaching you how to drive?”

The question makes your heart drop deep inside your chest. You figured that Malcolm knew that something had happened between you and Harry. You were never in the office when Harry stopped by. Malcolm knew that you were close with Harry, but he didn’t know the extent of your relationship.

You were still figuring out what to label what the two of you were when Harry broke things off. It was still hush hush and kept between the two of you. Nothing fundamentally changed your relationship with each other. All your friends and family as well as his knew that the two of you were incredibly close. No one would’ve known you were seeing each other.

You let out a deep sigh. You tell him everything. You tell him about the song he wrote for you. You tell him how you kissed. You tell him how you’d been seeing each other, going on dates, and acting as everything was normal for the last few months. You tell him how Harry came to your apartment unannounced one day and completely broke your heart just several weeks earlier.

It’s hard to get through and tell him everything with tears gathering behind the sunglasses on your face. Another wave of silence fills the room and Malcolm sits up in the chair and reaches across the table for your hands. He squeezes your hands firmly and you force a smile on your face.

“I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that,” he said. “When you’ve sobered up, let’s take you to the DMV. I don’t want this rite of passage to be tainted with bad memories. It’s about time you get your license. Your car definitely has a thick layer of dust on it.”

You laugh loudly and pull the sunglasses from your face. You wipe away the last of your tears and nod slowly. Malcolm smiles gently and it makes you feel better almost immediately. You could always count on him to make you feel better about a shitty situation you’re going through.

Several more days pass and you are finally a licensed driver. You feel like you’re on a runners high. Now you understand why Harry and the rest of your friends enjoy driving so much. You feel free driving along the coast as the sun sets every evening. It’s made you much happier in recent days.

At least it did.

It was only a matter of time before something ruined your mood. It had been touch and go in the last few days. You could breathe a little easier knowing that Malcolm knew why you were acting and behaving out of the ordinary. He understood. He’s had his fair share of heartbreaks. You don’t have to bottle it in, not when Malcolm knows and doesn’t judge you for it.

When you come to work several mornings after your trip to the DMV, you’re met with odd looks as you walk towards your office. All eyes are on you and it makes your heart drop.

What happened? Was it your dad? Was it Malcolm?

You hurry into your office and throw your things down and barely register that Malcolm is already in your office. You practically jump out of your skin as he shuts the door behind him.

“Jesus Christ, Malcolm!” you screamed, spinning around and clutching your chest. Your heart races and leaps into your throat. “Don’t scare me like that!”

Malcolm stares at you and frowns apologetically. His face is somber and his posture is rigged. He motions for you to sit down.

“You should sit down.”

You stare at him carefully. You cross your arms over your chest. “What’s going on?”

“Please sit, and then I’ll tell you.”

You huff and roll your eyes at your older brother. You collapse into your chair and motion for him to continue. He lets out a careful breath. “There’s no easy way to say this, and you were going to find out eventually, but somehow TMZ got a hold of private photos of you and Harry together.”

Confusion washes over you. You don’t understand. That doesn’t seem too bad. There’s plenty of photos of the two of you on the internet. It’s an occupational hazard and it’s expected if you’re friends with someone like Harry.

“That doesn’t seem so bad. There’s plenty of photos of us together on the internet. Being photographed together isn’t a crime. We’re close,” you reasoned.

Malcolm noticeably winces and your heart drops inside your chest. “Normally, I would agree, but these are…. different. They’re photos of the two of you kissing at Griffith Observatory.”

Oh no. Oh no. Oh shit.

You and Harry had gone on a date to the observatory just a few days after you kissed and confessed your feelings for one another. It was nearing sunset and it was nearly empty of tourists and locals alike.

You were careful not to draw attention towards yourselves. You were having fun and being silly together. You’d been taking photos together and of each other. An elderly couple even offered to take a few photos of the two of you together.

They were incredibly sweet and thankfully had no idea who Harry was. One of the photos they took was your lockscreen for the longest time. You were happy and full of bliss.

“W-What?” you stuttered in disbelief. “How? That was months ago! We were careful and no one recognized him.”

Malcolm shrugs and it doesn’t make you feel any better. Of course he doesn’t know. “There’s more.”

You groan. Could it get any worse? His fans will destroy you if they haven’t already. You lean back in your chair and Malcolm just stares at you.

“There’s photos of Harry and Olivia Wilde together. He allegedly took her as his plus one to Jeff’s wedding. They’re holding hands and look…. close. There’s rumors that they’ve been dating for the last several weeks.”

A wave of nausea washes over you. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You feel like you’re about to pass out. You feel absolutely disgusted. You don’t know what to say.

You’re hurt and you feel betrayed. Harry had abandoned you when the better option rolled past. His second thoughts about your relationship had nothing to do with the distance or his crazy schedule. It had everything to do with his beautiful, successful co-star and director Olivia Wilde.

It makes you feel sick to your stomach. You’re in no shape to work. You’re a disaster and it feels as if your heart is being stabbed a thousand times.

What happened? What happened to the man you love and who claimed to love you? Someone you love isn't supposed to hurt you the way Harry has. He makes you feel like trash thrown on the side of the road.

You scramble to your feet and hyperventilate as you grab your things from on top of your desk. You race out the door and ignore the stares as you leave the office. You ignore Malcolm shouting after you and climb into your car and take off.

Your grip on the steering wheel is tight and hurts your palms. You ignore how fast you’re going and you drive, and drive, and drive.

Nearly an hour has gone by and you pull off the highway and make the exit towards Newport Beach. You park in an empty lot near the public beach and stare out into the ocean.

You scream in the car. Your hands shake the steering wheel and you cry, and cry, and cry. You feel pathetic and used. How could you ever believe that Harry would ever want to be with someone like you? You’re practically a nobody. It doesn’t matter that your family is in the music industry. You’re not a pop star or an extremely talented director.

Your hands shake and you reach for the tiny, beat up journal tucked away in the bottom of your work bag. You open the door to your car and pop open the trunk. You grab the blanket from the back before locking up and trek up towards the shore.

You sit down in the warm sand and close your eyes. Your shoulders relax as you listen to the crashing waves nearby.

Another wave of tears find their way at the corners of your eyes. This time you don’t try to hold them back.

Your shoulders shake as you cry and you feel utterly defeated. You’ve given Harry way too much power over you. He doesn’t deserve you and you don’t deserve to be treated like someone that can be taken and put back on to a shelf.

You open your journal to a clean page and begin to write. Memories with Harry come to mind and you write, write, write.

“I can’t believe you’re working on Olivia Wilde’s new movie,” you told Harry in awe on the day he broke the news to you. “I mean, I can. It’s just amazing! Just promise me you won’t leave me for your sexy co-star,” you teased.

Harry laughs and kisses the top of your forehead. He gives you a warm and soft kiss to your mouth. “I wouldn’t dream of it, darling,” he whispered. “I’m crazy for you.”

You grin at him and he pulls you closer in the soft sheets of his bed. His touch engulfs you and you sink deeper and deeper into him.

Tears dampen the journal as you write and cry, write and cry. You look away briefly, rubbing at your cheek, ridding it of your tears.

What happened? What went wrong? You loved him with your entire being. Why wasn’t that enough? Why weren’t you enough?

A broken sigh leaves your lips and you turn back to your journal. You write some more. This time, a memory from before the two of you kissed comes to mind.

The two of you sat on top of the hood of his car. The beach is nearly empty as it nears sunset. You eat ice cream and watch the waves crash against the shore. Harry nudges you playfully as takes a spoonful of his strawberry and banana blizzard.

“I think it’s about time you learn how to drive,” he said with a mouthful of food.

You laughed and rolled your eyes. Of course he’d say that. He’s probably sick of being your personal chauffeur and taking you everywhere. You guess it’s time to learn.

“Yeah? Is this your way of telling me that you’re sick of driving me everywhere?” you teased.

He rolled his eyes too and smiled. It made your stomach jump. “Nooooo. I just want you to drive up to my house once in a while. Is that so bad?”

“I guess not. Who do you suggest I should ask to be my teacher?”

You were teasing him. You just wanted to get a rise out of him and it worked. He gasps and shoves you gently. You laughed and he frowned at you.

“If I haven’t made it obvious, I’m teaching you. God knows what’ll happen if you get behind the wheel with anyone else.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing and bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. That fucker. He knows exactly what to say to get you to take the bait. You scoffed and finished the rest of your ice cream and Harry does the same.

“I’ll teach you in the parking lot for now.”

By the time you’re done writing, you’ve filled nearly five pages in your journal. Words are scribbled out, phrases reworked and rephrased, lines scratched through a number of stanzas.

It’s painful. It’s sorrow. It’s complete and utter heartbreak. It’s vulnerable and raw. It’s what’s become of your relationship with Harry. It’s beautiful.

You stopped crying a while ago. The remains of your tears stain your cheeks and it doesn’t bother you. You gather your things together and return to your car.

This time as you sit in your car and grab the steering wheel, you don’t scream pathetically or shake the wheel. Instead, you look out at shore, the ache in your heart reduced to a dull throb in your chest.

When you return to the office several days later, you ignore the sea of eyes that follow behind you as you trudge to Malcolm’s office. You’re on a mission and you will see it through.

The door to his office is closed and you quickly push it open. “Hey, Malcolm, I wrote something and I want you to—”

You don’t know what you expected when you opened his office door without knocking. He’s told you countless times to knock before entering, but you’ve never listened. You should probably knock now.

Jeff sits in the chair closest to the door. He turns his head to look at you. He gives a courteous smile. Your heart drops inside your stomach and you slowly close the door.

“What’s going on?”

“I think it’s best if you sit down,” Malcolm said, motioning to the empty seat next to Jeff.

“I think I’m good standing right here,” you replied defiantly, resting your back against the door. You cross your arms over your chest and glare at the two men in front of you. They share a glance before Malcolm looks back at you.

“Jeff and I were just discussing our options on how to handle the PR situation going on with you and Harry.”

You let out a bitter laugh. Since when has any PR stunts ever been handled by Harry or his team? They’re notorious for ignoring it altogether. It’s a part of his brand. His fans even know that he sweeps things under the rug. Why would they want to handle it? Any PR is good PR, according to Jeff at least.

“Since when did you start caring about bad PR, Jeff? It is because I’m a nobody in an industry that only cares about the elite? Or is it because Harry being seen with someone who isn’t a celebrity is bad for his brand?” you asked sarcastically with an eye roll.

You feel a wave of tears threaten to fall at the corners of your eyes. Your chin quivers and you bite the inside of your cheek. Don’t cry, don’t cry, do not cry. You’re done crying over Harry.

“Y/n, that’s not true. He’s in the middle of filming and we’ve carefully made it seem like he’s with Olivia Wilde. It’s to help promote the movie,” Jeff defended.

You click your tongue to the roof of your mouth. “Right, because everything’s about Harry and what’s best for him. Do whatever the fuck you want, just leave me out of it and don’t talk to me again.”

You leave his office and ignore the stares as you leave the building. You can’t be here, not when Jeff is just feet away from you. You’re sad, angry, and hurt. You just want to punch something.

You return to your car and scream in frustration the moment the door shuts. Harry didn’t even come to fix the situation himself. Instead he sent his manager to do all the dirty work for him. He still hasn’t said sorry for the hurt and pain he put you through. You doubt he’d even apologize for the hell you’ll get from his fans.

You drive home and change out of your work attire into comfy pajamas. You settle in front of your piano and mess around with the soundboard nearby that’s connected to your computer before pressing the record button.

It goes on like this for hours. You splice the instruments together, fixing and editing the tempo, sound, and bass here and there. It’s a tedious process, but one you love. You carefully place the headphones over your ears and swallow hard before you begin singing the lyrics on the main track. After you add a variety of harmonies and melodies to give the song more depth.

Then it’s over. The song’s finished and recorded. It’s perfect. It’s everything you imagined it would be when you wrote the lyrics on the beach. It’s vulnerable, but it’s beautiful and it’s you. You didn’t need Malcom’s help to produce the song. You did it all on your own, like always.

You lean back into your chair and stare at the computer file. You couldn’t publish it. It won’t see the light of day. You’re not meant to be singing the songs you write. You’re meant to share and produce them for artists that are infinitely more talented than you. Maybe you could sell the rights to someone like Billie Eilish or Ariana Grande. They could do the song justice.

No. It’s too vulnerable, too you. It’s only meant to be sung by you. It’s yours, no one else’s. You don’t need a second opinion. If things were still good between you and Harry, he would encourage you to release the song.

Maybe that’s why you set up your camera and took photos to create your own album art for the song. Maybe that’s why you watched the file slowly render in Apple Music, ITunes, and Spotify. You hover over the publish tab.

You hesitate. There’s no going back. Once it’s uploaded, there’s no way to delete it. The song is out there forever. People will link it to Harry in a matter of minutes, that much is obvious, but you don’t care. You’re doing this for you and no one else. If Harry could write songs about his exes, so could you.

You click publish, and exhale deeply as the song appears in the system.

There’s no going back.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry x reader #harry imagines #harry imagine

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unwrittenlibrary · 3 years ago

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Sole Survivor -> II

summary // days eight through eighteen; blindsides, chocolate rewards, immunity idols and cutthroat words.

words // 11.5k (wowza)

warnings // reality tv, typical survivor mentions (idols, tribal, council), cursing, introducing a nickname (sweets) & some allusion to horniness but no sexual scenes

notes // this chapter & the next will probably be the longest ones because they have the most days but!! so much more development and drama here i’m actually super happy with how this came out! i hope you enjoy it :) i did some editing but there still may be some minor spelling or grammar mistakes, i will go through again this weekend!

series masterlist here. [eighteen plus blog and this fic holding eventual eighteen plus scenes mean minors should not interact with this story]

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

PREVIOUS • Chapter II • OUTPLAY • NEXT

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Day Eight

Bucky’s shocked with how well the villains have been playing throughout the first week. While there may be tensions running high at camp, whispers and secret alliances, they pull it together on challenge days.

Except - well - Bucky’s cringing as he watches this challenge because the villains are just sucking. Apparently wrestling in the mud with padded duffle bags is their achilles heel, who would have fucking thought?

The heroes had gotten rid of Sharon at the last tribal council which made the most sense to Bucky. She had been good in her season, but challenges just weren’t her thing, social skills were and right now the heroes need challenge wins.

And it’s worked.

One by one the villains have been knocked off the platform, the heros have five points and first to six wins, Bucky doesn’t even want to go up.

“You got this Bucky!” You cheer from your spot on the mat. You’re covered in mud from the last round. Bucky kind of wants to forfeit to avoid embarrassing himself in front of you. It’s raining now, the platform is slick with rain and mud so Bucky’s slipping before they even begin trying to knock each other off.

“Villains need this point to stay in the game.” Jeff calls out - yeah thanks - “Ready? Go!” Bucky stumbles around as Steve, of all people, circles him.

They’re the same height, but Steve is definitely a little broader. “Come on, Buck! Knock him down!” You scream.

“God, she’s annoying.” Steve murmurs in response and Bucky furrows his brows a little angrily. “Come on man, leave her alone.” He mumbles, trying to keep the words off camera. He doesn’t need the world to know he’s grown a little protective of you.

Steve raises his brows. “She’s annoying.” He repeats and Bucky sighs. He didn’t want to make the first move, content to circle Steve until Jeff forced them to make contact, but for some reason he just can’t let that slide.

So, he steps forward and goes low, pushing his huge red duffel into Steve’s stomach. It makes him stumble, but not a lot, and Steve is quick to push back.

Bucky stumbles more, his feet sliding around the mud until he tumbles to the ground and tries feebly to block Steve’s pushes towards the edge. How were the heroes so good at not slipping? Did they have glue on their feet?

There’s almost a sigh of relief when Bucky’s body hits the mud, like thank God this is over. He crawls out sadly and feels embarrassed as everyone pats his back reassuringly.

“Heroes, for the first time in eight days, you’ve won immunity.” Jeff hands over the small statue. “Grab your stuff head out.” The heroes cheer as they happily march away.

Jeff turns to the villains solemnly. “Villains, I got nothing but your first date at tribal council with me tonight. You have the afternoon to discuss. Grab your stuff, head out.”

Steve Rogers - Hero Tribe

“We needed this win. And to be able to absolutely demolish the villains while getting it? It’s a boost to us and humbling to them. We could win this.”

Loki Odinson - Villain Tribe

“We were just pathetic today. Absolutely awful. Not one point? You can’t even blame that on a weak player because we all sucked!”

You’re in the water with Bucky and Natasha trying to wash all the mud off your body. “Who should we get rid of tonight?” You whisper as you dip your head back to try and get it out of your hair.

Tony and Stephen were further down in the water. Loki was laying in the shelter with Clint. You knew Darcy was sitting by the fire.

Natasha purses her lips. “I was thinking Strange.” She says with a quick glance over her shoulder. “I know they’re going to be saying your name, Y/N, so we need to get Darcy and Loki before they do.”

Your mouth falls open in shock. “My name? Why?”

“It’s too soon to get rid of physical competitors.” Bucky comments. He rests a reassuring hand on your back and you fight the urge to move closer to him. You weren’t sure what it was about Bucky, but he was so comforting, you always wanted to be around him. “Loki and Darcy know that.”

“I’ll talk to Darcy, you two talk to Loki.” Natasha orders before swimming away. You and Bucky look at each other with a laugh.

“She’s intimidating.” You admit. Neither of you move to go and talk to Loki, both content to relax in the water for a few more minutes.

“Not as intimidating as you.” Bucky splashes some water at you making you splutter.

You splash him back with a laugh. “How so? I think I’m nicer.”

Bucky shakes his head. He moves a little closer to you in the water and you smile when his leg brushes against yours. “You just have this stare.” Bucky smiles. “Makes everyone around you want to drop everything and do what you say.”

“Does it make you feel like that?” You stare at him with a smirk. Bucky presses his tongue against his cheek and looks away for a moment.

“Sometimes.” He admits as he stands in the water. Your eyes trail up from the waistband of his shorts to his collar. He’s already got a tan from the island sun and his body looks incredible dripping water off of it. You bite your lip when your eyes meet his and Bucky smiles before moving to make his way to shore.

Your hand darts out and wraps around his wrist. “I know we haven’t talked about it a lot.” You say quietly. “But you and me, Bucky Barnes. Final two. These other alliances are just a means to an end.”

Bucky nods stiffly, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “I’ll talk to Loki.” He gently pulls his wrist away from your hand. You watch as he makes his way to shore and begins searching subtly for Loki.

Clint Barton - Villain Tribe

“I trust Nat. Nat and I are friends outside of this. She’s a part of my life, she knows my kids, my wife. I just hope she’s made a good choice in working with Bucky and Y/N because from what I’ve seen they’ll pick each other over any of us.”

You - Villain Tribe

“I don’t…” You laugh. “Bucky is handsome. That’s all I have to say.”

“Can I talk to you, Loki?” Bucky asks politely. Loki stares at him for a moment before raising his eyebrows. “Come for a walk?”

Loki heaves out a sigh before standing up to follow after Bucky. “I’m assuming you and the siren need a vote.”

Bucky snorts. “She’ll love that. Black Widow. Villainess and now siren.” He sighs. “Where are you leaning on the vote?” Loki looks at Bucky from beside him. Social game wasn’t Bucky’s best aspect, he always struggled with the ability of persuasion, but he was better at this game now. Six years off of it, twelve seasons, he’s had time to study up.

“Not sure. Today was a wake up call. Maybe we’re not as strong as we thought.” Loki admits. “Who are you leaning towards?”

“Strange.” Bucky answers quietly. “We’re all pretty strong, you know? But he and Stark are just stuck in the past and Survivor is a new game now.”

“So why not get rid of Stark?” Loki just watches as Bucky picks up logs. Bucky supposes he can’t be too upset because Loki had agreed to talk and not gather. “Stark won. Strange didn’t.”

Bucky can admit he has a point and Strange was far more tolerable to Bucky than Tony was. Strange was good at laying under the radar though, and while he was incredibly talented at puzzles, physical challenges seemed to be a weakness.

“You won.” Bucky purses his lips as Lokie shrugs. “Like you said, we need a strong team. We just came to the decision that Strange is weaker than Tony.”

“What can you offer me?” Bucky is reminded of how Loki won. He was always so good at giving less than what he got in return.

“I can promise you safety tonight.” Bucky narrows his eyes. “Then we’ll talk. You have to know your reputation, Loki.”

“I do.” He smiles at Bucky. “But we all have one, don’t we? Who’s to say your girl won’t turn on you?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, deciding to ignore the jab. “Can I count on you Loki?”

“I’ll let you know.” Loki shrugs apathetically before walking away. Bucky scoffs.

Was trusting you risky? Of course it was. If he fell out with you he was sure it would be his ticket home, but he had seen your loyalty in full play too. When the alliance had turned on Shuri your season, you had refused to write her name down and gave up your idol for her.

He was playing smart, whether or not anybody else thought so. He could work with you, save you, get saved and then when it became necessary he could turn his back on you.

This was a villain's game after all.

Tony Stark - Villain Tribe

“Something is brewing. I can feel it. We got too comfortable with winning. We never put a plan in place for if we lost and now I’m afraid I’ll be the target.”

When you get the hour warning, you can tell something is wrong with Bucky. He’s shaking his leg and his eyes are shooting around the shelter like he’s an on duty security guard.

“Bucky.” You nudge his shoulder with yours as you sit next to him. “What’s up?”

He looks around skeptically before leaning in towards you. His metal arm brushes your’s and makes you shiver, it’s coolness offers a much needed relief from the sun beating down on you everyday. “We should get rid of Loki.”

Your eyes widen and you look up at him shocked. “Wh...What? Why?” You whisper.

“He wants too much from us. He wants to play that swing vote angle again. He’s dangerous, he’s won before.” He explains hastily. Tony and Stephen were whispering by the fire with Darcy.

“I’ve won before.” You point out. Bucky shakes his head quickly, his hand lands on your kneecap reassuringly.

“He’s not gonna help us, I’m telling you.” There’s a warning in his tone that makes your back straighten. “We should talk to them, he hasn’t made any friendships yet.”

You nod slowly. “Okay… Okay.” You place your hand over Bucky’s. “I trust you.” He lets out a sigh of relief and you stand, holding a hand out to help him up.

The three look up at you cautiously as you and Bucky take seats across from them. “Who are you guys thinking?” You ask gently.

“You come to us less than an hour before we have to leave? Your plan not work out?” Tony scoffs with a defiant cross of his arms.

You roll your eyes at his pride. It would be his downfall. “Our plan is Loki and we were hoping you could help.” You put on your sweetest smile and softest tone of voice.

Tony looks you up and down with a tense jaw. “How do I know you’re not trying to trick me?”

“I wouldn’t have even come up to you if I wanted you gone, Tony.” You say with a smirk. “I would have just picked you off.” You stand quickly, over the conversation. You had given him your demand, there was no need to waste your last half hour before council. “I’m gonna rinse off. I’ll see you later.”

Bucky watches you go. It’s hard not to. He doesn’t even care that the cameraman not even ten feet away captures his eyes moving over your body or how he adjusts his seat when he turns to face the two older men again.

“We’ll vote with you tonight.” Tony says with a knowing look. “But, I’ve gotta warn you. I’ve watched her season. I’ve seen her. You, my friend, are falling right into the trap.”

Bucky shrugs. “What if she’s falling into mine?”

Natasha - Villain Tribe

“We’re going to tribal tonight, which I’m sure will be a disaster. I know Jeff is gonna tear our performance to pieces and he’ll ask intrusive questions. All I can hope is that the plan works and Strange goes home.”

You - Villain Tribe

“Bucky and I came up with Loki so last minute I didn’t have a chance to tell Nat or Clint. What’s the saying? I’d rather beg for forgiveness than ask for permission. I can only hope this doesn’t make an enemy out of her.”

“Villains come on in. Grab a torch and light it up.” Jeff calls out as the eight of you walk in in single file. “Fire is your life in this game. When it’s extinguished, your time here is up.” Everybody takes a seat. You place yourself in front of Bucky and in between Loki and Darcy.

“Wow. Villains. Not going to tribal for eight days is an impressive feat.” Jeff starts off his hands pressed against his legs as he looks over your group. “Do you think tonight will make you stronger? Or expose rifts? Natasha?”

You force yourself not to flinch as she begins speaking. Have to keep the guilt off your face as you think of how upset she’ll probably be when all is said and done. “Well, I think tonight will really strengthen us as a group. Sealing up any cracks.”

You swallow and turn your head to look at her like you agree. You see Bucky out of the corner of your eye and really, really want to look at him for some comfort, but you knew Jeff would catch on.

“Loki? You agree?” Jeff moves his eyes over you and onto the laid back man. Loki nods with a cocky smirk. “I do, Jeff. Tonight will be a clean slate.”

You rub a finger under your noise nervously. You and Loli weren’t friends, but you did feel a little bad at the idea of this blindside. “Bucky, I mean, it seems like you guys have it all figured out? Is this a front or are you guys really at one?”

Bucky’s knee grazes your lower back. “I mean… I feel like we’re working together well, but you never know. I mean, I could go home tonight. You really never know.”

Jeff nods, looking a little put off by how little you’re all giving away. “Okay, well then, let’s get to the vote. Loki, you’re up first.”

As Loki walks away you finally look back at Bucky. He nods as subtly as he can and while you’re sure it will be zoomed in on in the edit of the show, nobody sitting around you seems to notice and that’s what matters right now.

One by one the eight of you make your way to the voting area. You write Loki’s name with a sad face in the O and fold it up.

This was the best move for your game, you knew it was. Loki was too good and too smart to be kept for a possible vote. You knew if he made it to the merge he could make it all the way to the end again.

And you just couldn’t let that happen.

Bucky’s Vote - Loki

“Sorry, man.” Bucky shrugs holding the slip of paper up. “You came too hard. I need to protect myself in this game.”

Tony’s Vote - Loki

“If it’s not you, it’s me.” He shrugs. “Sorry, I really like me.”

Natasha’s Vote - Strange

“Some OGs just don’t know how to adapt. I’m learning the new game while you’re stuck in the past.”

Once you’re seated again, Jeff moves to grab the votes. “Person with the most votes will be the third person voted off the island and the first voted off the villain's tribe. I’ll read the votes.”

He pulls a slip out. “Strange.” He marks. You hear Stephen’s sharp inhale. “Strange.” Jeff reads again. “That’s two for strange.” He pulls out another slip. “Strange. That’s three for strange. Five votes left.”

You suck in a breath. This was the moment, either you and Bucky would be victorious or this would be an incredibly fast fall from grace.

“Loki.” His head whips around to look at Bucky, who you know is staring straight af Jeff like you are. “Loki. That’s two votes Loki. Three votes Strange. Three votes left.” You tap your foot against the makeshift wood floor. “Loki.” Jeff reads. Natasha’s head turns to look at you with fierce eyes, but you don’t acknowledge her gaze.

“Loki. That’s four for Loki. Three for Strange. One vote left.” Jeff pulls the last slip out. “Third person voted-“

“Fuck.” Loki hisses next to you as he stands. He doesn’t acknowledge any of you as he brings his torch to Jeff, only deigns to say something when it’s put out.

“I think you all know who’s running the show now and if you let her, she’ll go all the way again.” He warns before descending the steps.

You roll your eyes before you turn to look at Bucky with a small smile. “Well, playing the game with vets obviously means playing the game. Villains starting off with a blindside, the only question is will it make you stronger? Grab your stuff, head out. See you at the next reward challenge.”

Loki Odinson - Exit Interview

“I was just too big of a threat to them. They new I would win it all again if I stayed, I can only hope they figure that out about that girl. She’ll go all the way again, she’d win.”

Natasha - Villain Tribe

“I got played. That’s what happened. She took my trust and used it to her advantage and she played me. She’s going home next. Then her little boy toy.”

Bucky trails behind you as Natasha stomps back into camp. “I just can’t believe this.” She hisses to the two of you as move to place your stuff back in the shelter.

“It was last minute, Nat.” Bucky sits down next to you in the shelter. “We didn’t have time to talk to you before tribal.”

She scoffs. “Yeah. Yeah. Now I just look like the idiot who trusted you and who brought Clint down with her!” She waves her arm in Clint’s general direction and he looks away like he doesn’t really want to be a part of the conversation.

Bucky gives her a dramatic eye roll. “You don’t look dumb. It was last minute. Loki was too dangerous to keep in the game. He was going to play us all to make it to the merge.”

“The merge? Bucky! It’s not even day ten yet. We need a strong team.” Natasha hisses. Bucky feels your foot rub against his shin subtly as she yells at him. “Loki was strong!”

“We all are! This isn’t the same survivor, Nat!” Bucky tries to keep his voice steady, but he’s getting tired of being yelled at. “If we lose again. If we somehow end up one more or one less than them, having Loki would be detrimental to numbers. Especially with Thor on the other side.”

Bucky nudges his knee into your leg dangling off the makeshift bed of the shelter. “He’s right. You know it.” You defend him.

“You two just made an enemy. Okay?” she crawls onto the opposite side of the shelter.

Bucky scoffs, but doesn’t say or do anything else in response. It’s tense as some of your tribe members sit by the fire or crawl into the space to sleep.

You fall onto your back and Bucky takes space beside you. “Did we make a stupid move?” He whispers. He can see one of the silhouettes of a cameraman near the shelter and he’s sure they’ll be trying to pick up this conversation, but he really just needs reassurance.

You shake your head. “No.” You scoot closer to him. Bucky shuts his eyes, while laying like this during the day was a no-go, it was nice to be beside you at night. Where your heat offered some relief to cold. “And there’s no second guessing in Survivor, okay? We did what was best for us.” You whisper sternly.

Bucky nods in response. He hesitates for a moment before reaching out and squeezing your hand. “Thank you.”

Your eyes widen and he can see the shock reflected on your face even in the dark, but you squeeze back. “Final two.” You say so quietly Bucky can barely hear you.

Day Ten

Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“Loki was the best move for us. I know and Y/N knows that. That’s all that matters right now. We have a challenge to win. Nat’s threats mean nothing right now.” He shrugs.

Thor Odinson - Hero Tribe

“The villains walk in and my brother is gone! I just never expected him to go home so soon. We didn’t get to play together long on blood versus water, and I hoped that we would be able to here. If I had to guess I would say they just saw him as too big of a threat.”

When Jeff reveals a set up of chocolate, your mouth waters. Sweets person or not after almost two weeks with nothing but water and rice, chocolate sounded like a five star meal at a Michelin star restaurant.

“You even get a little taste.” Jeff teases as he reveals a plate with small break away pieces of chocolate. Your entire tribe groans as he comes up to you with the plate.

You turn to face Bucky as he takes his small piece. He smiles and offers it out. “Do you want it?” You shake your head quickly and he shrugs before popping it into his mouth.

You nudge him when you notice Steve handing the plate back without taking a piece. “What are they doing?” He asks amused as the entire tribe follows suit. You roll your eyes when Steve holds the plate, still filled with chocolate, out for Jeff to take.

Jeff furrows his brows. “You don’t like chocolate, Steve?” He asks, bemused by the hero's actions. Your entire tribe turns to look at them to explain themselves. Steve shrugs. “We don’t need it, Jeff. We’re here to win.”

“So you don’t care about the reward? You just want to win to win?’ Jeff attempts to clarify. You laugh out loud. “We’ll take it, Jeff! Can we have their bites of chocolate?” You giggle as Bucky pinches your side.

Jeff laughs and Steve shrugs apathetically. “We’re ready to win. Let’s play.”

“So you don-”

“Let’s play.” Steve cuts Jeff’s question off, who looks at the man annoyed by the attitude. “We’ll play.” Jeff says sternly. “When I’m done.” Steve looks away a little embarrassed which only makes your tribe laugh a little more as Jeff begins to explain the rules of the challenge.

“It’s like basketball.” You murmur, recognizing the game from your own season. Two players from each team in the area and three on each platform. The two in the arena catch the balls and try to steal them for the contestants on the platform to shoot. You feel like your tribe has a really good shot to rebuild momentum again. “We got this.”

You end up in the arena with Clint while Bucky, Nat and Tony stand on the platform to shoot. You’ve forced Strange and Darcy to sit out, but neither of them seemed thrilled at the idea of basketball either.

It’s a brutal match. The heroes are obviously desperate for another win, desperately trying to prove themselves to whoever watches this season at home.

Something about the villains just clicks though. It’s easy for your team to communicate and score; the closer and closer you get to five points the dirtier the heroes start to play.

By the last round, you and Bucky are both in the arena while the other three attempt to shoot the winning score.

With Steve.

Who elbows you when you jump for a ball. “Shit!” The hit itself isn’t too hard, but it’s jarring enough that you fall to the ground in shock.

“Are you fucking serious, dude?” Bucky shows up behind you with a glare directed towards Steve, who at least looks a little apologetic. Bucky’s fingers lift your chin so you look at him.

“Are you okay? Do I need to call for medical?” Jeff calls from his spot near the benchwarmers.

Bucky’s fingers trace over what you’re sure will be a little bruise later or some minor swelling before he shakes his head. “You good?” He asks quietly, just for you.

His eyes on you are intense as he traces his fingertips over your skin. It’s intimate, far too intimate for the amount of people watching hawkeyed and looking for reasons to vote you out.

You stand abruptly. “I’m good.” You dust the dirt off of your legs and turn to face Jeff without glancing back at Bucky. “No medical! I’m okay! Just an accidental bump.” Your eyes find Steve’s and he offers a semi-apologetic smile that you shrug at in return.

The game is called back on. Steve seems a little shaken by his accidental brawl and it gives your team all the momentum they need to score the last basket.

“Villains win reward!” Jeff’s arms shoot up and your team cheers. You squeeze Bucky’s bicep as Darcy rushes over to give you a hug. Thank you. You mouth, the cameras may have picked up on it, but nobody else has and that’s all that matters.

Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“I bet right now they’re wishing they had some of that chocolate.” His laughter rings out.

Peter Parker - Hero

“I really wish I had taken a bite of chocolate. It looked so good.”

There’s a large table set up buffet style with chocolate candies, cakes, milk and anything you can make chocolate, is chocolate.

But there’s only one thing Bucky’s searching for, a clue. If there’s one thing he’s learned watching these more recent seasons, it’s that there’s always a clue hidden away on these reward trips and Bucky’s going to find it.

For you and for him.

“Oh my god.” You let out a moan at the bite of a chocolate cupcake you take. You hold it towards Bucky with a smirk. “Try it. I don’t think I’ve ever had a cupcake that tasted this good.”

Bucky takes a small bite and lets out a pleased groan. He’s sure if he had been eating steadily for the past couple weeks the cupcake wouldn’t taste nearly as good, but to him it’s like heaven.

“We’re gonna go for a swim. Do you two wanna come?” Darcy offers as the rest of the team darts towards the clear water. You and Bucky shake your heads quickly. “I’m too attached to this chocolate.” You giggle as Darcy moves to follow the rest of your team.

You move so you’re sitting beside Bucky and lean your head against his shoulder as you take bites of the chocolate treats. “Check this out.” You hold up your left hand and flash a small, white piece of paper.

“Is that…” Bucky trails off as you stuff it into your bikini top with a smirk. “Where’d you find it?”

“The cookie platter.” You laugh softly. “It was hidden between the chocolate chip and oreos.” You tilt your head up to look at him. “That’s our safety procurement. They’re not getting rid of us anytime soon.” You smirk.

“If we can find it.” Bucky noted, picking up another small cupcake. You grab a small, hershey kiss and pop it into your mouth. “I know where it is, Buck. I read the clue when I went to the bathroom. It’s back at camp.”

Bucky nods and finally lets himself relax, his head resting over yours as the two of you eat in a comfortable silence.

“You and I, baby.” Bucky holds a piece of chocolate out which you meet halfway in a cheers. “Til the end!” You cheers with a soft laugh.

Natasha Romanoff - Villain Tribe

“Nobody is really worried about Bucky and Y/N because they just don’t have the numbers anymore. Clint and I aren’t going to help them and Tony and Darcy only promised one vote.” She shrugs. “If they want to sit off in their little bubble and just enjoy their last few days together until we vote them off, that’s fine! We’re not worried.”

Darcy Lewis - Villain Tribe

“I mean, she had to know nobody would want to bring her until the end. She’s a fan favorite. She plays well. It’s only a matter of time until she’s gone and Bucky following right after her.”

Day Twelve

The heroes just can’t win. Which you can tell is annoying your tribe. Immunity is nice when there are people you don’t want to get rid of before the merge. It was an issue when there was and they wanted to get rid of you.

“If we lose, we need to have a plan.” You whisper to Bucky as the two of you huddle by the fire. Your thighs are pressed against one another’s and it has warmth spreading through you. “They’re going to try and vote one of us out.”

Bucky’s fingers trace over your leg. “But we have this.” He taps the immunity idol you had stuffed into your shorts after finding it on the trek back to your camp. “We can use it against them.”

You lean your head against his shoulder. “If we play it right.” You glance over your shoulder. The rest of your tribe is floating in the water, washing off the dirt from today’s challenge. “If we play it wrong, we fuck everything up.”

You can feel Bucky nod against the top of your head. “How do we play it right? They’re not going to tell us their votes.”

“They’ll try.” You cross your arms over your chest. “They’ll whisper around us and try to make us think a certain way. We just have to play smarter.” You shrug.

You stand up suddenly, dusting off the sand and dirt stuck to your skin. “We’ll just play the defeated pair act and turn it around on them. We just have to find a weak link.”

Your eyes move back to the ocean, where Darcy floats away from the group, obviously ignored and outcasted.

“Then we have our in.” You smirk down at Bucky.

Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“She’s so odd. I’m… I just find myself wanting to follow her everywhere though.” He shakes his head, like he can’t quite believe he’s saying all this. “I know how she won. She’s good. She makes it feel real.”

Day Fourteen

Things go well, but not as well as Bucky had hoped. With a double tribal council looming over them, individual immunity for you or him would have ideal, no matter who won the award.

Natasha had won individual immunity and the reward, hot dogs and hamburgers while sitting in the opposite tribe’s council. It was good, but Bucky knew she would be power high for the rest of the afternoon.

She had made it clear she would be coming for you and him.

“Heroes can’t win, so they’re forcing us to go to tribal now.” You nudge Bucky with your elbow, but he can’t bring himself to laugh. He can’t understand how you’re so nonchalant as Natasha moves around camp with a vengeance, desperate to get back at you two for screwing her over.

In the first vote, his mind tacks on. She shouldn’t be taking it too serious.

“How are you not worried?” Bucky asks quietly as the two of you sit under the palm tree. You’re weaving ferns together for no reason other than it giving you something to do while Bucky uses a spare cloth to wipe dirt off of his arm. “She’s plotting our demise and we’re just sitting here.”

You glance up at him with a smile. “You worry too much, Buck.” You shrug your shoulders. He watches as your eyes move over the beach and take in the groups spread out. “Have you noticed anything?” You ask quietly.

Bucky splutters for a moment, completely shocked by your nonchalance. “Are you listening to me?”

“Because I have.” You ignore him. Anybody else and Bucky would be furious. He thinks that may be a problem. You hand comes up to cup his chin and force his stare in the direction of the fire pit. His eyes land on Darcy, sitting alone as Tony, Stephen and Natasha chat in the shelter. “I’ve noticed how overlooked Darcy Lewis is. They don’t see her as a physical threat or social competitor.”

Bucky nods slowly. “What makes you say that?”

“They think she’ll fall into line because she owes them something for keeping her safe.” Your hand drops from Bucky’s face and he raises a fingertip to trace over where they had laid. You keep talking, “But she knows they’ll rid of her at the merge. She’s too smart individually to not.”

“And we get her to spill their secrets?” Bucky asks softly, catching on to your train of though. “Because they’re talking around her, but not to her right now.” You turn to look at him with a proud smile and short nod.

“When she goes off on her own, we’ll make our move. There’s no need to stress, Buck.” You say softly. He looks down at you and almost melts at the reassuring smile on your face.

Fourteen days and he felt something for that smile. Something like butterflies in the stomach and breath flowing easier. Was that too soon? He wasn’t sure. Time was different when you’re with people twenty-four seven. “Yeah.” He breathes out. “You’re right.”

The cameras have no doubt caught this flickering of emotions on his face and maybe by the end of this he’ll be plastered across social media as a somehow worse victim to your Survivor game. He knows Steve had worshipped you, but it was never like this. You never smiled at him like this.

Bucky swears it.

Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“She’s good.” He laughs awkwardly. “We’ll see how this alliance plays out.” He looks away and watches as you get up and walks towards Darcy, who has finally drifted off to collect fire wood. “We’ll... We’ll see.”

“Darcy? Can I come with you?” You’ve made sure the majority group has moved on to the water so they don’t see you talking with her and . “Maybe we could talk.” You shrug.

She looks you over with wary eyes before sighing. “Yeah. Okay.” She nods for you to follow and you smile thankfully at her. Darcy was sweet, there really wasn’t any other word for her.

Her confessionals had been hilarious; They were full of dry commentary and sarcastic quips that made her easily likable. She was a genius, in the literal sense, and forced her way to the end with puzzle wins. Her fatal flaw, and the ultimate nail in her coffin, had been her inability to make strong alliances.

“You’re a threat.” You say easily as you both pause to pick up some fire wood. “It’s why you struggled on your first season and why you’ll struggle now.”

She raises her eyebrows at you obviously unimpressed. “i made it to final tribal council. How is that struggling?”

“You lost.” You shrug. She seems unphased by your bluntness and that makes you happy. “You know you lost because you didn’t forge bonds. You’re sweet. Funny. Smart and strong. People saw you as a threat from that first puzzle challenge on your season and they spent the end plotting your demise. You made it to final three because of your skills not because of your social presence. It’s incredibly impressive, but it might not help you as much in this game where people already know how truly good you are.”

Darcy takes pause. An in. You think proudly, you knew you could crack her. “What exactly are you offering? You and Bucky have made it clear that’s final two.”

“So did Steve and I.” You give her a vicious smirk. “Darcy, thirty seasons and men always fall for the nails up their back and sunkissed legs.” You tilt your head with a cocky smile. “I want to create a more... Women led Survivor. So many men have won and used women to do it.”

She releases a shocked laugh. “You know I could tell him all this? Just... Use it for my own good.”

“You could.” You nod slowly. You pause, like you’re actually worried about the attempt of a threat. “You won’t though. Because you know as well as I do this information won’t get you far. Tell Bucky and I’ll just twist it so you’re gone next or tell the grandparents and they’ll try to get rid of me or Bucky, then you when your vote is no longer needed.” You give her a sarcastic pout.

She shifts her eyes to the ground. It’s a tell, flashes of her season play in your mind, she’s about to lie. “They’re talking about you tonight.” She finally says with a fake smile.

Your eyes narrow before you nod slowly. Wrong choice.

The two of your watch each other for a moment, a stock still staring match where you’re both attempting to gauge the other’s reaction. Then you smile, sweet and innocent. “It’s up to you. Vote for me or vote for Strange. I can’t force your hand.”

You give her a wink before making your way back down the trail. She’s revealed more than she even knows and you’ve just figured out how to save your game.

Darcy Lewis - Villain Tribe

“Maybe she’s right. They’ll get rid of me when they don’t need me, but there’s days before that’s even an option. She’s trying to play me, I know. I’ve seen her and Bucky, she wouldn’t mess that up.” She lets out a defeated sigh. “We know she found the idol, Nat snooped through her bag. Now we just need her to flush it while we vote for Bucky tonight. Biggest blindside yet.”

“Villains, since you won reward you will have council and vote. After the vote, whoever is voted off will leave and the rest of you will move to the jury seats to enjoy your hot dogs, hamburgers and soft drinks while the heroes come in and have their council. You’ll leave before their vote and find out who’s gone at the next challenge.” Jeff sucks in a deep breath and smiles at the group. “Sound good?”

Bucky hadn’t gotten a chance to talk with you after you had followed Darcy into the trees for your talk, but you had traced a finger over his knee reassuringly when the two of you had sat down so he’s hoping for the best here.

He knows it’s frowned upon, but he really tunes Jeff out as he begins talking to Natasha. Bucky’s eyes focus on you. The way the fire casts a glow over your skin and how you’re able to keep your face straight as Natasha accuses you of being a backstabbing alliance member.

“Do you feel like you guys made a mistake last tribal? Getting rid of Loki? Bucky.” Jeff’s voice cuts through the fog that’s in Bucky’s mind.

His head snaps up to look at Jeff, who’s unable to hide his amusement, and Bucky quickly shakes his head. “I think we made the best choice for our game. It was never the intention to hurt Nat, but she is and I guess that’s something I’ll have to live with.” He gives Jeff a shrug.

“We had a plan that you didn’t stick to. I think it’s perfectly reasonable for people to not trust you now.” Natasha doesn’t even look at him, she just keeps her eyes on Jeff.

Jeff’s eyes bounce back and forth between the two like he knows he won’t even have to prompt Bucky for a response. “It was last minute.” His eyes move to Stephen and Tony sat behind her. “Stark was in on it too, but he’s trustworthy?”

“Stark never promised me final four.” She finally turns to look at him with a smirk, like her airing that out will seal Bucky’s fate. “You did.”

Your voice cuts Bucky off before he can even speak. “We both knew that final four promise was bogus. You were never gonna turn your back on Clint and Bucky and I weren’t gonna turn on each other. Stop pretending it was your plan to bring us to the end. Lying isn’t all that becoming of you, Nat.” You lean towards her with a pretty smirk.

Bucky looks you over slowly and swallows thickly. He needed to get this attraction to you under check before he ended up in an embarrassing situation on national television.

“Shut up.” Nat says just as fiercely. Really, Bucky thinks, the two of you would have worked so well together. He doesn’t understand why you had chosen him. “Let’s vote, Jeff. Can we vote?” She looks away from you with an eyeroll.

Jeff’s eyes widen before he nods. “Sure. Yeah. Let’s vote.”

Natasha’s Vote - Bucky

“Next time, hide the idol better.” She laughs. “We need it flushed so we can get rid of your girlfriend next week, sorry Bucky.”

Darcy’s Vote - Bucky

“I almost took the offer, but numbers are just safer right now. Sorry.”

Tony’s Vote - Bucky

“Last week was a one time deal, bud. These old-timers still know how to play the game.”

“You know the deal. I will read the votes, person with the most votes gets sent home. If anybody has a hidden immunity idol and wants to play it, now would be the time to do so.” Jeff’s hands clutch the urn as his eyes trail over the group. He pauses, waiting for somebody to speak up and Bucky’s heart races for the first time all night. He’s nervous.

“Jeff.” You speak up softly. You smile at group, who all look far too pleased to see you reach into the bag at your feet, before standing up the idol clutched in-between your hands. You walk up to him him slowly with calculating eyes.

“You know, I’ve had a target on my back since day one. No matter what these villains want to say, they would never have actually worked with me past the merge.” You hold the idol tightly as everyone watches you completely intrigued. You hand the idol over the Jeff. “I would like to play this for Bucky tonight.”

Bucky’s eyes widen and he can practically feel his heart stop. Natasha’s tongue presses against her cheek as she looks down at the ground with a shake of her head. Clint looks between you and Bucky in disbelief and Darcy flushes bright red.

Even Jeff looks surprised as you make your way back to your seat in front of Bucky. He’s speechless as Jeff holds the idol up. It’s like water has rushed through his ears as he sees his name pulled out one after the other.

One. Two. Three. Four.

“Strange.” Jeff reads out. “That’s one for Strange. Four for Bucky that do not count.” Jeff says pointedly. Jeff pulls out another vote, the one in Bucky’s handwriting. “Strange. That’s two votes and tonight,” he pauses, “that’s enough.”

Bucky lets out a shocked laugh as Stephen Strange slowly moves to pick up the unpacked bag at his feet. Most of his stuff was back at camp, like the rest of their makeshift alliance. The man moves in a shocked daze similar to what Bucky feels himself. He honestly can’t even hear Jeff’s goodbye speech to Stephen over the pounding of his heart.

There’s a moment of shocked silence as the group looks around trying to come to terms with what had just transpired. In that moment, you turn to look at Bucky with a proud smile. “Told you, Buck. Needn’t worry.”

Bucky lets out another laugh and holds his pinky out to you.��“You and me all the way to the end, sweets.” Your eyes sparkle at the nickname and Bucky doesn’t let himself feel embarrassed over it slipping out. He’s far too happy with what just happened to worry about anything.

Your pinky links with his and Bucky yanks you towards him to press a sloppy kiss to your cheek. You laugh unabashedly as he does so and the rest of the tribe stares in annoyance.

It’s blatant show of loyalty. One that Bucky knows could hurt them in the end, but you don’t seem to mind and he can’t bring himself to care.

Stephen Strange - Exit Interview

“I uh, I feel stupid.” He lets out a dazed laugh. “We didn’t split the vote. You always split the vote. Nat and Tony were sure Y/N would use it on herself though and Darcy reassured us she had told the girl we were writing her name down. We got too comfortable. It just sucks it ended up being my neck on the line but that’s the game. That’s Survivor and that was one hell of an impressive play.”

Your tribe won’t look at you. Natasha sits with Tony and Clint as they whisper and eat the hamburgers placed out for everyone.

Darcy sits in between the two groups as you and Bucky watch the heroes trail into the tribal council chambers. “Heroes. Strange voted out at the villains tribal council tonight.” He gives the heroes a moment to whisper amongst one another as each of their eyes takes in the new villains tribe.

“Is this a surprise, heroes? I mean did it seem like Strange would be the one to go home after today’s challenge?” Jeff asks as the tribe settles into their seats.

The group looks at one another hesitantly before Peter speaks up. “I mean, we weren’t sure with Loki. Maybe he came on too strong... Seeing Strange go? Someone who knows the game so well? It makes us think there’s another all female alliance brewing.”

Bucky looks at you over his sip of generic soda and you suppress a smile as you bite into your hot dog. How wrong they were. You almost want to laugh. Of course they assumed it was an all female alliance again. You had seen it time and time again, long before you came on and long after, men can’t seem to comprehend why other men go home early unless it’s a woman who plans it.

It’s almost sad how predictable the heroes are in their thought process and game play. You and Bucky steal glances over food as they drone on about working together through honor and loyalty.

What does catch your eye though, is the obvious divide. You can only hope Bucky sees it too so you can discuss it back at camp in preparation for the future merge.

It’s easy to tell Steve, Wanda and Scott were alone. They sat huddled together on the end while the other’s spoke. None of them piped up to support the claims of unity or strength. You wish you could speak up and urge Jeff to point it out because it was killing you not knowing.

He was good at his job though. “Steve. Scott. Wanda. You three are so quiet, do you agree with what Thor is saying? That you’re all happy go lucky at camp?” He smiles at the blonde man who shrugs.

“I think we’re all nice to each other back at camp, but I wouldn’t say we’re united.” At this, Wanda and Scott perk up. They both nod and Wanda sits up a little straighter. “It’s Thor’s camp right now, he makes the decisions. The only reason the three of us were spared last week is because he knew we’re strong and we’ve been losing like it’s our job.” Wanda tacks on.

You smirk. Thor was leading the charge? His first season had been nothing short of disastrous. After being kept on as his original tribes muscle, he failed to make a strong alliance post-merge. Even having his brother back by his side couldn’t save him and the end he was voted out as the second jury member. He learned. You glance over at Darcy. Not everyone could.

Quickly after Steve’s comment, tribal council descends into chaos. Thor disagrees and the men begin talking over one another until Jeff steps in to begin the vote. “I honestly have no idea how this vote will go tonight, but I can’t wait to see. Villains, we’ll see you for the next challenge soon. Where you’ll see the new hero tribe for the first time.”

Your group is ushered away quickly, forced to leave any half finished drinks or food sitting on your seats. “How they get to see ours but we don’t get to see theirs?” You call out.

Your question goes ignored by Jeff and the cameramen following behind you. “Whatever.” You shrug hastily before moving to catch up with Bucky.

“Villains aren’t losing. We’re set until the merge, baby.” You wink at him, thrilled at the red you can see dusting his cheeks.

After all, who said you couldn’t have fun on Survivor?

Natasha Romanoff - Villain Tribe

“I have no words.” She sits on the sand illuminated by nothing but the moon and camera lights. “I’m... I’m speechless.”

Day Sixteen

The idol is back in play. And winning reward is necessary for you and Bucky. You couldn’t care less about the rest of your tribe getting to swim in a fresh waterfall or eating a feast, all you cared about was the clue that was no doubt going to be hidden among the food.

Last tribal had been a guessing game and a whole lot of luck. The numbers were still against you and Bucky, that hadn’t changed.

“We need a better strategy.” You shake off what you can of the rain pounding against your skin. It’s getting into your eyes and messing with your vision. “They’re destroying us.” You look at Natasha, who stands beside you and Bucky as the rest of your tribe tries desperately to reattain control of the ball.

Her lips are pursed together, but you can tell she knows you’re right. In the game of ocean basketball, where three points gets you the win, the heroes already had one to your big fat zero and they held the ball.

“Next round, Bucky and you go out and keep Clint. That way there’s a strong player in each heat. Focus on shaking their-” You’re cut off when the hero team begins to cheer excitedly and Jeff announces their second point. “-Confidence.” You say defeatedly.

You pucker your lips in annoyance as Darcy and Tony struggle through the water to the sidelines, both heaving out breaths. “We can try.” Natasha sighs going out to meet Clint and presumably explaining the new strategy to him.

“I hate to be a debbie downer, sweets.” Bucky looks down at you with an apologetic look. “I don’t think we got this.” You don’t have a chance to respond as Bucky is forced onto the makeshift oceanic basketball court.

You watch with bated breath as both teams struggle to maintain control of the ball. Shuri pulls Natasha underwater and away from Peter when he finally gets ahold of the ball.

Wanda wraps her arms around to Clint to stop him from catching the ball if Peter passes, it’s an even fight if you’ve ever seen one. And Peter looks terrified to go head to head with Bucky, who’s waiting for him by the floating baskets.

“C’mon, Bucky.” You mumble to yourself. Darcy and Tony watch in silence. “C’mon. C’mon. C’mon.” You repeat hopefully.

Bucky’s hands shoot up as Peter makes a hail Mary shot from feet away, not wanting to go head to head with Bucky. The cheers of the heroes side are deafening as it goes in.

You can only laugh as Peter gets tackled into the water by his tribe. Your eyes find Bucky, who won’t look up from the water lapping around his hips and you frown.

You guess they were bound to win something eventually.

Peter Parker - Hero Tribe

“We won! Our second win in almost twenty days. I never thought I’d be so happy to sit out here and play ocean basketball in the pouring rain.” He laughs ecstatically. “We won! We won! We won!”

Bucky Barnes - Villain Tribe

“Shit.”

Bucky can’t even look you in the eye. He’s so upset with his performance and his inability to stop Parker from that winning shot. The entire tribe is silent as they make the freezing walk in the pouring rain back to camp.

Nobody wants to say it, but losing momentum like this is only bad news. He knows every single person here is now afraid their winning streak is officially done and with no merge in sigh that means battling it out for votes.

He feels something brush against his hand and he looks up at your, shivering beside him in the shelter. “It’s not your fault.” You say quietly. You scoot closer. He can see the whites of your eyes and a vague outline of your face as the two of you lay looking at each other.

“I let him get that shot.” Bucky whispers back sullenly. He can feel you hesitate before moving until you’re pressed against him, chest to chest, and wrap an arm around his waist. It’s a welcome relief, the warmth that comes with being wrapped up with you, but it makes Bucky’s entire body flush and his heart race. “I’m like, double his size, I could’ve gotten him down easily.”

Bucky’s arm comes up to wrap around your waist as the two of you whisper. “They destroyed all of us, Buck. We didn’t score one point. You can’t blame that all on you. It was a team effort.”

Bucky doesn’t respond, his mind drifting to what will happen now. He can swallow losing a reward challenge, it just meant one more night of rice and dirty hair. He signed up for thirty-nine of those. Bucky was more worried about what happens now that momentum was gone.

Could the tribe pull it together for the next immunity challenge, or is this the end of their reign? And if it was, what would the two of you do? Numbers were numbers, and one long shot plan working doesn’t magically mean you and Bucky are safe.

Your thumbs press over Bucky’s eyebrows effectively smoothing the wrinkles that had formed while overthinking. “Get out of that head.” You smile up at him. “There’s nothing we can do now but try to stay warm and get some sleep before tomorrow’s challenge. Okay?”

“Okay.” Bucky swallows as your wrap yourself tighter around him. If anyone asks in the morning, you’ll both say it was for warmth. Sleeping apart just wouldn’t make sense in this storm.

Day Seventeen

When the show airs and your friends ask why your tribe lost this immunity challenge you’ll blame the rain again. The torrential downpour has caused the small cracks in your tribe’s foundation to widen and left you all struggling to work together.

While you and Darcy argued over puzzle pieces, Peter and Shuri flourished. They saw the same thing at the same time and barely needed to speak as pieces were handed off between them. If it hadn’t been you losing to them, you would’ve loved watching it happen.

You’ll blame the rain for ruining your sleep and making your hands shrivel up and so cold they shake. You’ll come up with every excuse in the book except for what everyone else knows to be true; The heroes were the better team in that challenge.

You can’t worry about it right now though. Right now you have to figure out a way to get anybody but you or Bucky off the tribe tonight without any numbers or idols to help you.

“What would you think about voting for Tony or Darcy tonight?” Clint has huddled up with you and Bucky on one side of the shelter with one of your tribe’s two comforters while the other three members do the same.

You make sure to keep your voice barely a whisper and turn your head so your lips can’t be read by anybody but Clint and Bucky. His eyes cut to Natasha over your shoulder before back to you. “You joking?” He asks just as quiet.

You and Bucky look at each other before shrugging in sync. “The merge is awhile away. We’re gonna be stuck in these tribes for a long time, you know it. You need Bucky and I if you want to keep your name off the chopping block.”

“Why? Darcy would be on the chopping block before me.” Clint shrugs. You look over your shoulder again and watch as Tony and Natasha talk to one another as Darcy tries to nap. None of them pay any mind to the group of you. You’re sure it’s because they assume nothing would happen with Clint here to watch you and Bucky.

Obviously they underestimated you. “Maybe. Or maybe whichever person is left between Bucky and I would team up with Tony and Darcy to take one of the troublesome two out.” You smirk, Bucky smiles and Clint just blinks. “Because if I were smart, like Tony Stark, I’d agree that keeping two of the greatest to ever play together was dumb.”

There’s a breath of silence, where all you can hear is the rain still pounding against the makeshift roof of your shelter before Clint finally nods. “If I can get a second alone with Nat I’ll try to talk to her, but I don’t see Tony moving from this shelter before tribal tonight.”

You - Villain Tribe

“It’s a gamble. Trying to turn Clint in the middle of this storm that has no end in sight.” You look up as the rain continues to pour down. “If anyone can convince Natasha to give us a few more days, it’s him though. They’re family.”

Clint Barton - Villain Tribe

“Is it risky considering her past? One hundred percent. It’s smart though. Tony could easily team up with Bucky and Darcy next tribal to break up Nat and I and make himself stronger. It’s a no-brainer. Keep the person without an ally over the person who does.”

“Villains, almost three weeks and this is only the third challenge your tribe has lost. Is that something you’re proud of?” Jeff is bone dry as everyone sits in front of the fire and ignores the pouring rain.

It’s the warmest Bucky has been all day. If his fate in the game wasn’t looming over him, he might even be glad to arrive at tribal council and huddle beside this huge fire.

“I think we’re proud of how far we’ve come and we understand every good thing comes to an end.” Tony answers for the group. Bucky can barely resist rolling his eyes. “It’s time to trim some fat.”

That gets a reaction out of Bucky as his eyebrows shoot up and he can only assume you look the same in front of him because Jeff’s eyes shoot the two of you and he smirks. “You disagree, Bucky?”

“I just want to know what fat he wants to trim.” Bucky looks down the line at Tony. “Who here is the weak link?”

“I don’t want to call anybody out and make them feel bad, but every team has fat. It only makes sense to get rid of it for the sake of the team.” He won’t look at you or Bucky as he speaks.

It has Bucky’s blood pressure rising as he stares at the man in anger. “You don’t want to name names because you know you’re wrong.” There’s no question in Bucky’s tone. “Because you know Y/N and I aren’t really fat, you’re just terrified of going against one of us.”

“Just admit it, Tony.” You chime in. “This week it’s me. Next week it’s Nat. Then it’s Darcy. You don’t want strong women in this final with you because you’ve seen what we can do.”

Bucky’s eyes find Clint’s and they stare at each other for a moment before Clint moves his stare to red head beside him. Bucky can only hope she votes for Tony tonight too. That they’ve somehow pulled this miracle out.

“it has nothing to do with women and everything. to do with how strong you are you. You’ve won. Why would I want that?” Tony narrows his eyes.

Jeff laughs. “Woah. Woah. Woah. So, Tony, she’s right? You’re admitting she’s not the weak link, but you do want to get rid of her?” Jeff attempts to clarify. “You’re really voting for you tonight, not the team.”

There’s a tense silence after Jeff finishes his sentence. “That sounds right to me. Nat?” Your voice cuts through the air. “Sounds like Tony wants to get rid of strong people. You playing Tony’s game?”

“How did this get turned around on me?” Tony’s voice is shocked. “Only an idiot would keep a winner in this game.”

Bucky can’t even see your face, but he knows there’s a smirk there as you nod in agreement. “Only an idiot would keep a winner. And there are three of them to choose from tonight, let’s just make the right choice guys.”

“Let’s vote then!” Jeff claps. “Bucky, go ahead and take the urn to place the first vote.”

Bucky’s Vote - Tony

“I’ve got to win this time. You got that check and that title. It’s my turn.”

Clint’s Vote - Tony

“I hope Nat heard what they were saying tonight, and that she understands ’m doing this for both of us.”

Your Vote - Tony

“There can only be one and it will be me.”

You can’t stop your leg from shaking as Jeff retrieves the urn of votes to read out. Tony had said a few things tonight, but that didn’t mean it was enough to turn the tribe on him.

It could be you, you think as Jeff recites his hidden immunity idol speech. You swallow thickly at the silence that occurs when nobody steps forward with one. This was it.

“I’ll read the votes.” Jeff takes off the lid and reaches in for the first piece of paper. It’s almost slow motion when he unfolds it and reads of your name. When the paper is flipped you recognize Darcy’s handwriting and scrunch your nose up at the small frown drawn in the corner.

You turn to look at Bucky as your own vote with Tony’s name comes out. ‘Breathe.’ He mouths to you with a reassuring hand on your back. Jeff reads your name two more times.

“That’s three votes for Y/N and one for Tony.” He pulls out another piece of paper. “Tony. That’s two for Tony. One vote left.”

You almost cry when Jeff doesn’t begin his voted out speech. “Tony. That means we have a tie.” Your head whips around to look at Bucky again who smiles. “Here’s what is going to happen. You’re going to vote again, you can only vote for Tony or Y/N. They will not vote. The person with the most votes will go home. Got it? Good. Darcy, you’ll vote first.”

Darcy’s Vote - You

“I... I’ve just got to go with my original vote. I don’t know what happened here.”

Bucky’s Vote - Tony

“Please, Nat. Please. Please. Please.”

Waiting for these votes are worse than the first round of votes. You can’t even look at Clint and Natasha, completely unsure of which of two would end up switching their vote. Your hopes were set on Nat recognizing Clint’s handwriting and understanding that’s where he wanted to go, but it’s just not a for sure thing and your heart is beating fast.

Your foot is tapping incessantly on the ground. Bucky’s hand is resting on your lower back as Jeff begins to read the votes. Neither of you can imagine the other going home right now, not with this much game left to play.

Jeff says your name. Then Tony’s. Then his again. You almost scream when his name comes out a third time. You look over to Nat and Clint. ‘Thank you.’ You mouth as Tony’s torch is extinguished.

They nod subtly before turning to look at Jeff again. “Villains, you once again have proven that nobody is safe in this game. Especially those who think they are. Head back to camp, I’ll see you at the next challenge.”

Natasha Romanoff - Villain Tribe

“I don’t know why Clint switched his vote, but he told me he would explain it to me tomorrow. I’m just hoping he didn’t screw us over royally.”

Day Eighteen

The rain has finally taken a break and the clouds have parted to reveal the sun. Bucky can’t stop staring at your legs as the sun hits them just right. You’re glowing.

You’ve lost weight, everybody does on this show, but it hasn’t changed much about you. He still finds his eyes trailing over your body and getting caught on your neck and hands and legs. Imagining them wrapped around him - sue him - he’s young and been stuck on an island with nothing more than some cuddles.

He finds himself wanting to kiss you more and more everyday and that kind of scares him. He’s hoping for the merge for individual rewards he might get to take you on more than he is for finally being off this tribe.

“Earth to Bucky.” Sand hits his chest and Bucky straightens out his back as you stand above him giggling. “Where’s your head at, handsome?”

There’s already red on his cheeks from the sun and despite the feint burning sensation it leaves, he’s thankful for it covering up his blush. “Just thinking about the merge. What our plan will be.”

“If we can get ourselves to the merge, I think we’re set.” You drop to sit beside him on the sand. “Besides, we have a whole day off. No challenge or anything, just enjoy us still being here. You worry too much.”

Bucky shakes his head with a laugh. “You don’t worry enough.” He nudges your foot with his own. “We’re hanging on by a thread here, sweets.”

“We’ve flipped the vote twice now. I think we have a fighting chance here, Buck.” You giggle softly. Your hands dig into the sand as you lean back on them and lift your chin.

Bucky swallows as his eyes trail down your neck and chest. “You’re right.” He pushes the words out. “Humor me, though? What our plan for the merge is?”

“If we lose again, hopefully we can convince Nat and Clint to get rid of Darcy. That should bring us right into the merge where we can break them up by working with Shuri and Wanda.” You explain quietly.

Bucky’s eyes narrow. “Shuri and Wanda were on opposite sides in that tribal we saw. Then they voted off Scott, what makes you think Wanda will be safe until the merge?”

“I don’t, I’m just going off of what ifs here. I just know that I know Wanda and Shuri, I’m hoping they’ll trust me and work together. We’ll need numbers and they’ll have them. There’s no way Steve will listen to my opinion, but he’ll listen to Wanda’s.” You turn your head to look at Bucky and let out a sigh. “It’s just an idea. We have to see what happens at the next challenge, okay? I can’t plan everything out.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I wasn’t trying to have you plan everything out. I just wanted to know where your head was at. Not all of us have won this game, some of us want to make it far.” He regrets the words right away. Bucky knows good and well that you were taking this game just a serious, he doesn’t really know why he even implied that you weren’t. “Lis-”

“Obviously, you’re stressed.” You cut him off as you stand up. “I’ll let you take a breather. Cool off. But don’t snap at me because you’re anxious. It’s not my fault we’re here. We’ve been working together, if we go down it’s because of both of us. Not just one.”

Bucky almost cowers back. He’s put off by your intent gaze and harsh tone. He’s never been on the receiving end of it and he had underestimated how small it could make someone feel.

You dust the sand off of your thighs. “I’ve done a lot for us. I’ve been the brains behind a lot of these votes, Bucky. Don’t ever try and diminish that because I don’t go around talking to everyone or because I don’t perform as well as you in competitions. It’s disrespectful and a good way to get voted off.” You hiss before stomping down the beach.

Bucky can only watch as you go, guilt squeezing his chest and consuming his mind.

You - Villain Tribe

“I trust him. I know he’s just anxious about what could happen, but he needs to understand I’m just as good at this game. That I know how to play.” You let out a deep sigh. “I don’t think I would actually vote him out, but I need him to know we’re equal partners. I have just as much power as he does.”

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

notes // omgomgomg hi! this took a little longer than i thought just because i’m on vacation and haven’t had time to write until tonight! i hope you enjoyed this, a lot more content and some more changes in the game! i’m so excited for how this is coming together and it’s been so fun to writer!

thank you so much for reading & i hope you enjoyed this part. i write for free, if you can please consider donating to my ko-fi! if you can’t, please reblog/reply, comments mean a lot to writers!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #survivor au #steve rogers

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the-last-kenobi · 3 years ago

Note

How about “Disowned by Family” for bad things happen bingo?

Hello! 🤍 Thanks for the request for @badthingshappenbingo

Ooh, the angst potential is through the roof. Tried to choose the focus based off of what I remember you writing and reading on ao3 (or maybe I just went hmmmm evil)

“Good job, Obi-Wan!” a woman cried, her voice warm with joy. “Very well done!”

Obi-Wan found himself grinning even as he launched himself from one difficult landing into another gravity-defying leap, sweat dripping from his skin.

“Don’t coddle him,” laughed a male’s voice, but he sounded fond. “Keep at it, Padawan, retain your focus.”

Obi-Wan did not waste breath on a reply, whirling through the air, springing from one part of the training room to the other, swinging from posts and tumbling under moving obstacles, listening to the cues the Force gave him when he concentrated.

At last he landed on the mat in the center of the room, and the droids and obstacles ceased their moving, and the fifteen-year-old Jedi dropped to his knees, gasping for breath but triumphant.

“That was beautifully done, Obi-Wan!” Tahl cried, ignoring Qui-Gon’s protests. She rushed toward the boy and clasped his shoulders in congratulations. “I haven’t seen a junior Padawan that skilled in Ataru since your Master.”

“You’re too kind to both of us,” Qui-Gon shook his head as he joined them, standing tall above his kneeling friend and apprentice. Then he smiled. “But she’s not wrong — that was beautifully done, my Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan laughed and bowed his head, happy to be humble before them.

A strange gift, for a Jedi — to have two people so very like parents.

Obi-Wan kept his head low, terrified to look upwards, terrified of what he would see, what he would feel.

There was a heavily wrapped split over one leg, stained with grime and blood. More red liquid was slowly seeping from beneath its edges, gleaming wetly. Shadows lapped at his feet like predators playing with their food before the eating. The Darkness was closing in. But he knew this was mere fanciful thought, and not an actual omen, that his fears were outpacing his reality.

Which was already cast in shadow.

The flickering lights were caused by the flames burning in front of him, and the flames were burning Tahl. Who was dead.

Because of him. The cast around his leg, barely holding up after a day of running, days in hyperspace, and then three days in the Temple, hiding in his room and speaking to nobody, which concealed beneath it an injury that had delayed him and his Master.

And Tahl had died, and now she burned.

Obi-Wan kept his eyes low. He did not deserve to say goodbye, he could not bear to see.

Slowly the flames died, and the shadows consumed. The other Jedi watching departed in silence, murmuring only soft benedictions and farewells.

Obi-Wan kept his eyes on his feet.

Something shifted in the shadows, and from the other side of the empty pyre emerged a familiar figure. Qui-Gon walked quietly around the place where his love had burned and crossed to his Padawan.

A large hand settled on Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“Listen to me,” Qui-Gon said in a low voice. “By my word and by the expectation of the Council, I am obligated to see you to Knighthood.”

Obi-Wan watched as tears blurred the boot tips he had been staring at for so long. Blackness swam in front of his eyes.

“But I no longer care,” Qui-Gon said. There was no wrath in his voice, no hissing, no venom. He simply spoke. “I will seek the Council out at dawn and you will be formally repudiated for negligence that cost the life of another Jedi.”

Obi-Wan’s tears escaped his eyes. They trembled for a moment against his lashes before they fell, striking the stones with a soft noise.

Qui-Gon sighed. “I told you that you were not capable of living the life of a Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Your persistence cost the life of a better.”

And then he walked away.

And Obi-Wan was alone.

“Good job, Anakin!” Obi-Wan cried, clapping his hands sharply. At his signal, the young Padawan stopped his kata demonstration and turned to grin at him, bowing with bravado.

Even after two years of training, Anakin managed to surprise him daily.

The first surprise had been when Anakin, all of nine, had announced to the Council that Qui-Gon Jinn had requested before his death that Obi-Wan Kenobi, trained to Knighthood by Mace Windu, would step in if Anakin should ever need a teacher. While Obi-Wan was still reeling, blindsided and drowning in memories of disgrace and ashes, Anakin had also presented another surprise: he had attached himself to Obi-Wan’s leg and refused to let go. Almost literally, mostly metaphorically.

They bonded immediately.

“Come here, Padawan,” he called.

Anakin came running, his braid flapping against his cheek, still beaming. “I told you I could do it! I told you so, Master!”

“So you did,” Obi-Wan agreed, and he reached out as the boy slid to a stop before him and tugged gently on the blonde braid. Anakin growled in mock rage and leaned away. “But, my very young Padawan, I also told you not to attempt it. I’m grateful for your skill because it proves that you’re strong and capable, but also because it saved you from injury. If you had truly not been ready, you could have been seriously hurt.”

Anakin barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. “But I knew I could do it, and I just proved it!”

Obi-Wan sighed, his hand moving from the braid to Anakin’s shoulder, squeezing slightly as he tried to make his impudent, mischievous student focus on him for a moment. “And you disobeyed me to do so. So now you have a victory slightly tainted by that. And what if the next time I command you not to do something, you do it anyways and it goes badly wrong? You overreach, or circumstances intervene, and you’re hurt? In the field that could very often be the case, which is why I need to know that you’re accustomed to obeying. I can’t trust you on the field if I can’t trust you at home.”

Anakin’s face sank into lines of bitterness and shame, his head ducked low. Anger heated his cheeks.

Obi-Wan stopped himself, taking a slow breath.

“I’m sorry, Anakin,” he said quietly, and he squeezed Anakin’s shoulder a little tighter, rubbing the edge of his thumb up and down as if to soothe the boy. “Forgive your Master, he likes to hear himself talk.”

“Hey, that’s true,” Anakin chuckled, but he still didn’t raise his head.

Obi-Wan laughed quietly. “Yes. And while I made some very good points, things I want you to think about as we approach our first mission— there’s one more thing I want you to remember from this.”

Anakin’s shoulders slumped. “…Yes, Master?”

“You did extremely well today,” Obi-Wan reminded him. “And I am proud of you for working so hard and believing in your capabilities.”

Anakin’s head jerked up, and a beam spread slowly across his young face again. “Thanks,” he said a little shyly. “I’m grateful for your teachings, Obi-Wan. There’s no one I trust more than you.”

Dooku was a traitor and had escaped capture, war had been declared, over a hundred Jedi were dead, Obi-Wan’s leg was so injured that he was stuck in a cast and splint for two weeks, and Anakin… Anakin had lost most of his arm.

Obi-Wan could think of few moments in his life that had frightened him more than lying helpless on the floor while his student payed for his reckless behavior with a limb.

Now he sat here by Anakin’s bed, waiting for him to wake up to his new mech arm and hand.

Obi-Wan had no idea how to guide the boy through this.

He stared at his hands in his lap for awhile, and then at the bandaged leg, the stupid bandaged leg. This wound, it had stopped him from getting to Anakin in time.

He would never forgive himself—

“Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flew to the bed, where Anakin was blinking at him in a daze, his hair in disarray and an expression of pinched pain on his still youthful face.

“Anakin,” he gasped, and sat upright, his leg throbbing as he moved. He grabbed his Padawan’s remaining flesh hand with his. Hoping to transfer some of his warmth. To ease the terrible chill.

“You… you’re here.”

“Yes.”

“Did you bother,” Anakin said, his voice a dry rasp, “to ask yourself if I wanted you here?”

Obi-Wan went very still. “I… I’m sorry. I thought you might want company. I can go.”

“Company, yeah,” Anakin replied. “But not you.”

Obi-Wan stopped halfway through standing up. He clung to the arm of the fragile chair, his bad leg trembling beneath his weight. “Is there… if there’s something we need to discuss…”

“You’re a liar,” Anakin said flatly.

Obi-Wan reeled.

“You’re a fake,” Anakin continued. “You pretend to care about me, pretend to be my friend, pretend to be the perfect Jedi. But someone who was a good teacher and a good friend would never have ignored my visions.”

“Anakin, what—” Obi-Wan asked, and could not tell if the strain of tears was caused by the pain in his leg or the explosion of anguish in his chest.

“I told you I dreamed of my mother!” Anakin shouted. “You let her die!”

“I don’t — you said dreams, you never said — Anakin, I’m sorry, I would never have—”

“And then you couldn’t even hold off Dooku,” Anakin spat, “and you made us abandon Padmé in the sand! She could have been killed, but you only cared about the chase. Nothing ever matters to you but the mission!”

“Anakin, no,” Obi-Wan said, and it was a sob this time. He felt disoriented, blindsided.

Last time, he had been expecting it, but now—

“I want you out of this room,” Anakin said, still helplessly slumped against his pillow but so full of betrayal and rage that he seemed about to spring from the bed and throttle his Master. “And when I recover enough to get out of this bed, I’m going to the Council to petition for Knighthood or for another Master to finish my training.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispered. “I’m sorry. Please.”

But Anakin was shaking his head. “You’re broken. You shouldn’t have been a Padawan, and never a Knight, and absolutely not a Master. Do you understand me?” The apprentice was breathing heavily, his eyes still glazed with drugs and grief. “You leave here and figure out some other place to be. You don’t belong here.”

Anakin glared at him until Obi-Wan had backed out of the room, leaning hard on the chair he was dragging.

As soon as the door slid shut, Obi-Wan collapsed against a wall, his forehead pressed against the cold metal, his hand still clenched around the chair.

And Obi-Wan was alone.

fin.

#so this is a parallel universe where apparently both qui-gon and anakin are just complete assholes #yeah #my poor boys #mostly obi wan in this case #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #anakin skywalker #my writing #bad things happen bingo #found family #but gone very wrong

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hyuckssunchip · 4 years ago

Text

More Than Enough

Pairings: Doyoung x Reader, ft. Johnny, Taeyong

Words: 2.6K

Warnings: Language (there is almost always language in my writings), angst to fluff

Synopsis:

Y/N and Doyoung have a fight over a misunderstanding and many things go awry. Will Doyoung and Y/N overcome this argument?

You always get the same rush as you step into the venue, no matter how many times you come; the busy bustle and organized chaos felt almost reassuring. The first fans had already been packed in tight, each one eager to catch a glimpse of their idols, the rest slowly pushing their way in. But you had the best view, you always got the best view, you thought as your eyes flitted around backstage searching for a specific pair of warm eyes.

When your own eyes locked with his, an unconscious smile broke out on your face. But before you could move towards him, he was swept away by his hairstylist, for yet another ‘final’ check up. Your shoulders dropped with a sigh and you turned around to look for a spot to wait, but were blindsided by a black haired man.

“Are you supposed to be back here?” He asked, eyeing you up and down. You could see where he would think that, you weren’t wearing a badge or anything and to be honest looked a bit sketchy wandering around aimlessly.

You smiled at him warmly, hoping to win him over, you didn’t want to go through the hassle of explaining and having to get Doyoung here to account for you. “Yeah, I’m… a friend of one of the members. Are you new here? I come all the time, I’m surprised we haven’t met yet. I’m Y/N.” You said as sweetly as possible, hoping to weasel your way out of the situation.

“No we haven’t met before. I think that you need to leave, before you cause a scene or put anyone in danger. We can’t have crazy people back here. ” He said, taking an aggressive step towards you in order to take you out of the vicinity.

“No, wait, I really am! I can explain. I’ll call him over now, just let me-”

“Hey, Y/N.” A voice interrupted you, making both you and the security guard freeze as an arm wrapped around your shoulder.

You slowly looked up to see a familiar face as you sighed with relief, pulling your arm out of the guard’s grip.

“Johnny, I thought you were still getting changed. They said everyone was getting ready.” You said with a puzzled look on your face.

“I finished up early,” he said, shrugging and then turned back to the guard to flash him a smile.

“Oh, is this your friend? I’m sorry I didn’t know.” He said, biting back his words before bowing deeply to both you and Johnny. Soon after he ran out the door, back to his station.

“Thanks,” you said to Johnny, “Doyoung would have hated it if I had to call him out here to explain again. He lets me know every time it happens. You know, you’d think by how annoyed he gets he would have gotten me a pass or a badge by now.” You ranted a bit to Johnny, still frustrated that this is such a routine thing when you come to their shows.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have one made up for you. If you had let me know sooner I would’ve gotten you one earlier.” He said smiling down at you, arm still wrapped around your shoulder. “Hey, did you know there was food in the other waiting room? Are you hungry? We could grab some while you wait for Doyoung to finish.”

You nod back at him with a smile, you’re always up for food. The two of you headed to the back room chatting noisily.

Doyoung stood in the doorway, hidden out of view, watching the whole thing. Not only did he see his hyung’s arm wrapped around your shoulder, the two of you smiling at each other as if Doyoung wasn’t even in the picture, but he also heard the latter part of your conversation.

He felt thorns of jealousy build in his stomach and scratch at his throat before they made it to his head. He couldn’t think straight with the image of you two burned in the back of his mind, and it drove him crazy as he stomped towards the room the two of you had just entered.

He was furious and he had no idea what he was about to do, and what it would do to the two of you.

You jumped a little, startled by the sudden grip on your shoulder, but soon relaxed the moment you realized it was Doyoung.

“Oh, you’re done already? I thought it would be longer-” he interrupted you with a scowl.

“W-what’s going on? Is everything okay?” You were used to the cute and goofy Doyoung, not this guy who looks terrifying.

“What was that!?” He hissed at you under his breath.

“What are you talking about?” You nervously asked, Doyoung was acting so strange and you had never seen him like this.

“Oh so running your hands up and down Johnny is normal!?” He whisper-yelled starting to get increasingly louder.

“I was not! He helped me out of a situation, that’s it! You know I would never do that to you, especially with him.” You said defending yourself. What he had seen was just a misunderstanding, but by seeing the look on his face you didn’t think that he would just let it go.

“Oh really? Because by the looks of how much you two were flirting this obviously wasn’t the first time!” His voice reaching a pitch that started to draw attention.

“Stop it! People are starting to look, let’s just take this somewhere else.” You hissed at him, attempting to pull him out of the room.

“No! You’re not denying it! So it’s true, god you are unbelievable!” He said, shouting and running his hands through his hair.

You had given up at this point, patience running low you shouted right back at him, “What is me denying it going to do!? You won’t believe me any way! And now we’ve just made a huge scene.” You threw your hands up and started for the door.

“Yeah! Walk away! I never liked it when you come anyway! You’re just in the way and following me around like some lost puppy that always needs my attention. Just leave!” He screamed at your back making you pause in the doorway.

Your breath caught in the back of your throat and you could feel the familiar sting rise up, tears threatening to fall, but you refused to let them. You let out a shaky breath and shook your head, without looking back you walked out to the sitting room that you would normally watch from and sank into a seat.

As soon as you fell you could feel the walls and any strength you had break down, the tears ran down your face and had no intention of stopping them. Is that what he really thought? About everything? That you were cheating on him, that he never even wanted you here, that you were attention-seeking? You covered your face with your hands, bawling your eyes out, a little too preoccupied to notice Doyoung watching as he made his way to the stage. The moment he saw you his face fell and contorted into a wince, immediately wanting to comfort you. But the moment was gone and he was rushed on to stage.

For the entirety of the song his mind was not on the performance. While he didn’t mess up, he wasn’t his best. He worried constantly about you and the minute he was let off stage for a wardrobe change he rushed to find you, only to be welcomed with an empty seat.

He was frantic, fearful that you had taken his words to heart and really left. He asked around and found an answer that he didn’t want. Exhausted and defeated he sank into a chair and buried is head in his hands. A hand came down on his back and rubbed it in a comforting manner. Doyoung’s eyes opened and he recognized the shoes before lifting his head to confront the member.

“Look, I don’t know what the misunderstanding was with Y/N, but you two will get through it.” Johnny said cautiously, having an inkling that it was partially about him. “I can try to clear anything up if it will help.”

Doyoung’s face was halfway between a glare and heartbroken expression. “Yeah, why were you two all over each other earlier?”

“When?” Johnny thought back trying to remember a moment that might have been misconstrued.

“You had your arm wrapped around her and were talking about how annoyed and fed up she was with me. Is that what you two do? Just talk shit about me?” He said, starting to get worked up again.

“Doyoung, calm down. That is not at all what happened. The security guard was trying to kick her out because she didn’t have a badge and I just came in to help. I didn’t realise that you don’t like it when I put my arm on her shoulder. I guess I’m just used to doing that with her, she’s like a little sister to me, you know? I’ll stop if you don’t like it.” Johnny calmly explained.

“So you two aren’t seeing each other behind my back?” Doyoung faltered.

“No, not romantically at least. Our relationship is strictly platonic Doyoung, I swear.” He assured with a smile.

Doyoung cocked his head, not liking the thought of them seeing each other without him, even if it was just platonic.

“So-”

“No, we don’t talk shit about you when we hang out. We have more interesting things to talk about.” Johnny interrupted with a small grin.

In return Doyoung gave a teasing glare before breaking out a small smile. “Okay, good. I’m sorry for making a scene earlier, I just lost my head when I saw you guys together.”

“That’s okay. But I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” Johnny gave him a sad smile before leaving to go get his hair and make up retouched.

Almost instantly Doyoung’s face fell.

“On in five! Let’s go! Let’s go!”

He was rushed on stage for the next song, his mind not quite there.

On stage he looked over the crowd, a tight smile pulled on his face. He wanted to be happy for his fans, he wanted to show them everything he could, but it was getting hard to focus again.

An arm was thrown over his shoulders, swaying him back and forth forcing his movement to follow.

“Don’t worry about it too much. You guys will be fine.” Johnny yelled into his ear, far from his mic. He pulled back and gave a nod before running off to chase Haechan.

“Right. It’ll be fine.” But he faltered as he recognized a blue shirt in the crowd.

“Y/N?”

He was already too out of it and searching for a clearer view in the crowd didn’t help his concentration.

He missed his cue.

While Taeil picked up the slack, Doyoung was overwhelmed with embarrassment as his face morphed into a bright red.

He was frustrated beyond belief and he could feel the burn in his throat choke him. The performance quickly ended and he was rushed into the black SUV that would bring him home. He hadn’t bothered to shower or wipe off the stage makeup, only tearing off the outfit for the sake of the stylists, he couldn’t disappoint them too.

He was a disappointment, to his fans, to you, to himself. He couldn’t even hold a performance without screwing up and looking like a fool in front of his fans. They came all this way for a show that they could remember and what did they get? A rookie that forgot he was on stage. He groaned banging his head against the back of the headrest.

He was a disappointment to you. He attacked you and let you down when he should’ve been there for you. He groaned again.

What a disappointment.

“Doyoung? Can you stop that?” Taeyong asked from the seat next to him.

“No.”

“You’re going to hurt yourself. What would the fans do if they found out you got hurt? What would Y/N do? She’d be worried sick, don’t do that to her.” Taeyong said softly, staring straight ahead.

Johnny had confided in Taeyong about the situation between himself and you. Taeyong wasn’t proud of the way that Doyoung acted, in fact he wanted to scold him, but how could he when he could see how much Doyoung was beating himself up over it.

He leaned against the window, staring at the streaks of lights that they passed.

“Just go home, shower and rest up, okay? Things will be fine. I promise.” Taeyong assured him.

Doyoung just let out a sigh.

The door closed shut softly, Doyoung was hoping that you were here. And in the chance that you were, he was not going to wake you.

After setting his bag down and taking off his shoes he turned towards the kitchen but froze instead. He took in a sharp breath.

You were sleeping on the couch, curled up in a ball, used tissues scattered below you. His heart dropped and he felt guilt take over him.

He made his way into the seat next to you and wrapped his arm around your back, pulling you into his embrace. He smiled sadly when you snuggled yourself deeper into his chest.

“How did it go?” You mumbled, startling him.

“You’re up?”

He felt you nod against his body.

“Terribly.”

“Why?” You frowned, sure you were mad at him, but that didn’t mean you wanted him to feel bad about his performance.

“Cause you weren’t there.” He gripped you tighter, resting his face on top of your head. “And I messed up. I forgot my lines.”

You heard the waver in his voice and knew that he was taking it rough.

“I’m sure they loved it anyways baby. You don’t have to be perfect all the time you know. Your fans love you for you and that’s why they go, the perfect performance is just a bonus.”

You moved your head to make eye contact with him. “You’re more than good enough. Don’t ever tell yourself that you’re not. Okay?”

He smiled, “How did I get so lucky?”

You gave him a peck on the lips, “I’m the lucky one.”

“No really, I totally made a scene and said some really horrible things and here you are comforting me. I should be on my knees begging for your forgiveness.”

“I’d like to see that.” You hummed re-situating yourself in his arms so that you could give him a good look.

“I’m sorry. Johnny and I talked about everything. I feel horrible the way that I reacted, I should’ve never accused you and talked to you that way. I didn’t mean a single word of it. I just got jealous and exploded.”

“So you don’t hate it when I go to your shows?”

“No! I would die if you stopped showing up. I was a total wreck today knowing that you left. And I shouldn’t neglect you like that. I promise I’ll get a special badge for you and I’ll show every guard your picture and say that they’ll get fired if they ever try to make you leave. You know what I’ll fire them if they ever let you leave. You’re not allowed to leave without me. Okay?”

You laughed at his apology. “Okay.”

He smiled, closing his eyes feeling peaceful once again.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“Not possible.”

He flashed you a gummy smile before bringing your head into his chest again.

“You stink.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah.”

“How does a bath sound?”

“Wonderful.”

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nhl-stories · 3 years ago

Text

Don't Write An Elegy (part eight.two) – Ryan Graves

Masterlist

Part eight.one

Author's Note: In the end I couldn't make a decision so I'm giving these two fuckers alternate endings, hopefully one of the two endings satisfies you or maybe both. It would mean the world if you let me know your final thoughts in a reblog, message, ask, carrier pigeon whatever 🧡

Word Count: 3.2k

…I've been wasting all this time, Trying to keep you off my mind …

Being back in Yarmouth is strange now.

All the landmarks that used to just remind me of the childhood now reminded me of her.

Sure, the residents are happy to see me but their smiles were a bit more hollow than usual. The kind of small town smile you get when everyone knows something about you and thinks they’re being polite by not saying anything out loud.

Although, they might have been making the weird smiles because of the trade too. It hadn’t come as a complete blindside, the expansion draft had loomed in the horizon for a while, but I was too busy worrying about my marriage to really put much thought into it. But the location of the trade had been a bit of a shock, I never had given much thought about moving to the Devils.

My Avs teammates seemed more upset by it than me. I’d miss Denver, but after the year I had, a change of scenery sounded nice. New Jersey sounded nice. Though I’m not sure many people have ever thought that.

My mom was probably the most excited by the trade, she liked the idea of me being on the East coast. It was a 13-hour drive that included a ferry ride, but it made her feel like I’d be less alone. As if a team of men would really give me that much alone time.

Ever since our talk during the playoffs my mom has tried to be extra sensitive to my situation. She gave me the okay to skip my usual beginning of the summer trip to Yarmouth, trying to spare me the immediate pain of seeing Gretchen.

But now it’s August and I had a hockey camp so I had to suck it up and show up, for the kids.

Nathan had offered to come down and help out, be a bit of a buffer in case of a Gretchen sighting but I turned him down. Mostly because I didn’t need a real NHL superstar being the focus of my own fucking camp.

It’s been five days but I still haven’t seen her, underneath the relief is disappointment.

Her brother/nephew was helping coach at the camp, but he told me he wasn’t going to talk about Gretchen with me; I respected his boundaries. I probably needed them too, we never had a big talk and I think at some point I’ll need the true closure of talking to her about the end.

My body seems to think the same thing. Camp is over for the day and I take to wandering the streets, for the most part everything is unchanged, but without thinking my feet lead me to the only bar in town.

A big talk doesn’t sound great but a drink does.

I take a big breath before entering the pub, it looks just the same, patrons and all.

Except for a baby grand piano in the corner where the upright one used to be.

The lid is closed but it’s clearly been used recently; it’s not coated in the thin layer of dust that it had in our home. My heart warms.

I had thought about selling the piano because it felt like a stab in the chest every time, I looked at the melancholy instrument in the living room. But instead, I shipped it to Yarmouth. I couldn’t imagine another person in the world loving it or appreciating it as much as Gretchen.

I sit down at the bar, worrying about who the bartender will be. Though I know I could pour myself my own drink and leave some money on the bar and no one would care.

I don’t even notice someone enter from the back room until they slide a beer in front of me. I look up to see Gretchen’s mom standing on the other side of the bar. I’m shocked by how far my heart drops because it’s not Gretchen.

“She’s not working today,” she answers the question I never verbalized, “But it’s good to see you sweetheart, you look good.”

Before I have time to try and read into ‘you look good,’ she comes around the bar and gives me a tight squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. I squeeze her back and try to hold back tears, there’s something so comforting about a good hug from a mother; and I’ve missed my second mother.

“And thanks for letting Chris help out with camp. I know it can’t be easy to have him around, but he really looks up to you and after the year he’s had he needs something for himself.”

In that moment I realize my past year has been a mess, but nothing like a high schooler having his whole identity upturned at the drop of a hat. The new perspective makes me queasy; I try and wash it down with a gulp of beer.

“Chris is like my own little brother,” I want to something more meaningful or profound but I’m pretty run dry of heavy emotions lately.

She gives me a pat on the cheek, “I’ll let you enjoy the drink, it’s on the house.”

I down the rest of the pint, I’m done with human interactions for a bit.

I leave a tip and head out the door and run into someone on my way out.

“Sorry I was–“

I’m stop in my tracks. It’s Gretchen. Her hair is now pitch black, if I remember correctly, it’s natural color though I can’t be sure. The tips of her hair are a fiery red. She looks like she’s seen a ghost, which is sort of true because she’s staring straight at me.

“I have to go,” I blurt before she can say anything, hauling ass down the road and away from my problems.

For the first time since Gretchen left, I give in and stalk her online. There’s not much evidence of what she’s been doing in the last few months, but I guess the same can be said for me.

There are a few pictures that have made it to the internet via other people: her playing keyboard in that Zenon getup, her in the back of a van looking very happy but very exhausted, and a picture of her and Tessa lobstering here in Yarmouth. I can’t tell if she’s doing well or terrible and go to sleep more confused than before.

The next day is the last of my camp. To celebrate I throw together a barbeque for the kids, their families, and the people who helped me put the whole thing together. That turns out to be almost everyone in the area. Not that I mind. It’s a nice to give back and nice to distract myself a bit.

Of course, that’s until I see who’s serving drinks.

Gretchen is there with a tray of Shirley Temples, handing them to a table of already over sugared kids. She’s wearing a flannel to block out the evening chill and a black dress. A new tattoo on her thigh peeks out and I have to fight away the thought of pushing up her skirt to get a better look.

She must feel my stare because she immediately turns when she’s done serving. I brace myself for her to walk over, but instead she gives me a little wave before walking away.

I spend the next hour in a mild panic. Should I be the bigger person and go talk to her? Should I wait for her to come to me? Do I just ignore her the rest of the party? The rest of my time in Yarmouth?

I know the last one is just childish, I do need to talk to her, get some things off my chest. Or bare minimum, have some concrete closure.

I end up not needing to make any decision.

I’m talking with her brother/nephew and some parents, going over how camp went and how their kids are doing when she comes up to Chris. He’s grown several inches since I last saw him, he’s almost eye level with me at this point, which makes him a few inches taller than Gretchen. This makes it harder to give him her usual noogie, she ends up just ruffling his hair at best.

“Sorry to interrupt an important coaches’ meeting but Chris the rents need help carrying some kegs.”

“Oh right, because you’re incapable of carrying a half keg.”

“I’m just a weak woman, you’re a big, strong growing boy,” she smirks and Chris rolls his eyes but relents.

There’s an awkward moment where she pauses, deciding whether she should stick around or bail.

But the parents thank me for my time, maybe they sense some weird tension, and then it’s just the two of us.

She angles her body towards me, “Hey.”

The simple greeting incenses me, I’m not sure why because I wasn’t expecting her to say something like ‘how’s the divorce is treating you?’ Those thoughts must be painted on my face because Gretchen looks concerned.

“If you’re not ready to talk, I’ll fuck off. I shouldn’t have ambushed you at your own party.”

She starts to back away.

“You’re bartending full time now?”

She stops in her tracks.

“Just helping out while I figure out my next steps.”

I bite my tongue, before I seem too eager to learn what her next steps are.

“Sorry about the playoffs, I really thought you guys would win it all this year.”

“It’s how the game works sometimes,” I shrug, the loss stung but nothing as bad as the loss of her.

“Still sucks.”

She rolls on her toes, she’s antsy; it could be because she has too much to say or that she wants to leave this awkward moment. It must be the former because Gretchen would leave if she wanted to.

“Do you think I’ll like New Jersey?” She finally says.

“What?”

“New Jersey, where you got traded, do you think I’ll like living there?”

I must be drunk. I only had two beers but they must’ve affected me way more than I thought because there’s no way my ex-wife is actually asking that question. It doesn’t make sense.

“I didn’t sign the divorce papers.”

I don’t have time to process that information before she’s talking again, “And I know I fucked up so much, so I understand if you never want to see me again, that’s fine, I deserve it. But if there’s a piece of you that still wants to try, I want you back so badly.”

Her words knock the wind out of me, I can’t find the oxygen to breath let alone the words to respond.

There’s a tug in my arm that pulls me out of this dream or nightmare, my mind hasn’t made up its mind quite yet. I turn to see one of the campers, Joey, and their parents.

“Coach Ryan, I want you to meet my parents before we go and say thanks for everything you taught me, I’m gonna play with you in the NHL with you one day,” I can’t help but smile at Joey’s excitement, it’s almost enough to make me forget Gretchen’s declaration.

“Sure, just give me one second,” I turn to see Gretchen is gone, typical.

Then I see her waving from the bar where she’s helping pack up with her parents, she mouths ‘later’ with a wink and some dread settles in my stomach.

It’s easier to turn back to Joey and their family, than to think about ‘later’ and all its implications.

Two hours later I find myself facing the dread head on.

I’m holding a six pack and standing below Gretchen’s bedroom window. She grew up in a medium-sized colonial house that is not quite as easy to sneak into as my childhood home. Thankfully, a tree branch had grown a little closer to her window in the past few years. It’s a relief because I would be very embarrassed trying to explain an injury to teammates if something happened.

It’s an easy tree to maneuver up and I knock on the window.

“Ryan?” I almost fall out of the tree when Chris appears in the window.

“Gretch is in my old room,” he has a knowing smirk and I can’t help turning bright red.

“Can you at least let me in, so I can just go through the hall?”

“Nah, it’s more fun if you struggle some more,” he laughs while he shuts the window and it makes me happy to not have my own little brother.

I’m about to have second thoughts about this cheesy teen romcom moment, but shove aside my embarrassment and head to the other side of the house. There’s at least the porch to help me crawl up to this window.

It’s already cracked open and I push it the rest of the way before crawling in the room.

She’s sitting on her bed, reading a book. I get closer and she looks up.

“Oh man, you beat me to it,” Gretchen smiles and all my words are left sticky on my tongue, “I was gonna sneak into your place in like an hour.”

The fresh tattoo on her thigh is now on full display, three mountain peaks. I have the sudden urge to use my lips to worship on the altar of her leg.

“I couldn’t wait much longer for later,” I finally manage to choke out.

I nervously move to the end of her bed, taking a seat and passing her a beer.

She gingerly takes a sip and I follow suit. I feel like the awkward teenager I was once was, unsure of what to do alone in a room with her. Thankfully, like most things in our relationship, Gretchen takes the lead.

“You know you could have just knocked on the front door, we’re adults who are still married, my parents wouldn’t care.”

“Seeing that I didn’t know we were still married until a couple of hours agon, this talk called for a big dramatic moment,” I bite my lip, “But it’s less dramatic since I knocked on Chris’s window first.”

She grins, “Sorry, it’s so unfair. Little shit finds out he’s not who he thinks he was and then gets to take my room cause it’s bigger.”

We both laugh a little before a silence sets in, the air in the room is thick with anticipation but it’s not clear if that’s a good or bad thing.

I grab a strand of her hair, letting my fingers run through to the bright red, “did you change your hair to root for the Devils?”

“Just a crazy coincidence. I went back the natural hair but plain black is so not me anymore.”

She moves a smidge closer to me.

“I’m seeing a therapist.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know if you know this, I have a lot of unresolved problems and toxic coping mechanisms that need professional help,” she lets out a snicker and I can’t help but join.

“And you don’t hate when this one writes down anything?”

“That’s the thing, she doesn’t write down anything.”

“And she’s helping?”

“Like she’s so good, I don’t even care about the commute to Halifax to see her.”

“You drive six hours round trip just for a therapist?” I’m impressed, she’s trying and not just for me but for herself.

“Sometime Nate let’s stay at his house if the appointment is too late.”

“Nate’s a nice guy.”

“If it makes you feel better, he makes me sleep on the couch. He’s mad I left you.”

“That actually does make me feel better,” a smile creeps onto my face.

“Although technically only you signed the divorce papers,” she quirks one brow.

“G,” I sigh, “I was tired of fighting for you and tired of trying to holding on to you if you were never going want me back again. It wasn’t fair to you and it sure as hell wasn’t fair to me.”

The ghost of smile vanishes from her face.

“I know. And that’s part of why I wanted to leave, to give you a chance to think about everything and get your own perspective, but I also know that basically every decision I’ve made for the past year has been pretty selfish.”

“Wow, that therapist really is working,” I smirk.

“I just want you to know if you really want the divorce, I’ll accept it because I know we’re not exactly on the same page anymore. But now that I took the time to actually work on myself, I’m ready to work on getting us back in sync. If that means we take it slow and just date each other or if we jump right back into it, I can always find a new therapist in Jersey and– “

I stop her with a kiss. Partially to get her to just shut up and partially because I can’t pretend I don’t still love her.

She has a shocked look on her face when I pull away.

“Was that a declaration of love or a shut me up kiss?”

“A little of both.”

“I missed us,” she whispers, “like it’s fucking weird not being around you and not knowing when I’ll see you next.”

“Now you know how I’ve felt.”

I don’t mean it to be unkind but no matter what tone I said it in, it would be a very pointed statement.

“I know I’m a rude bitch.”

“I’d prefer to say a rude cunt,” I try to hold back a sly smile and she rolls her eyes and grins.

“Shut up,” she bumps her shoulder into my side, before placing a kiss on my shoulder.

There’s a lot to be said, but I don’t want to dive in too deep tonight. We have the rest of our lives for that, I want to take it slow. I grab her and intertwine our fingers. We sit there for a while just enjoying each other’s presence, despite so little being said I feel a weight lifted of my chest for the first time in a while.

She tugs me down to lay on the bed with her, we’re laying facing each other and she gives me on simple deep kiss, all the electricity sparks back to life in my bones.

“Thanks for not giving up on me,” she says between more kisses.

“I could say the same thing,” I smirk into the ensuing kisses.

I pull her closer and soon we’re just the two teenagers who fell in love making out on a bed, in her childhood home.

Gretchen reaches behind her and fumbles around until she turns on some music, our old routine.

The opening chords of Bratmobile’s “Gimme Brains” ring through the room. It was off an essential album in Gretchen’s high school car so it wasn’t a complete mood killer, we had made out to it enough back in the day, but it coming on first made us both pause.

“Play this song at my funeral,” we both say at the same time.

On any other day those words might make us yell ‘jinx’ at each other or dissolve into laughter but today they held some weighty meaning about us, about our relationship and history, and the future we still had; suddenly we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other.

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julieloveupstead · 3 years ago

Text

"I'm Never Leave You" - Upstead

CHAPTER 3

Hailey when she got to the district with Kevin did her best to keep herself occupied with something, so she wouldn't have to think about the meeting with Voight that was bound to happen, after all, you can't hide from you forever. She was grateful to Jay that he knew she wasn't ready at that moment and that she needed to occupy her thoughts with something, she needed to be busy, so she did. She sat in the Wire Room and looked through files of similar cases, but she couldn't focus on anything in the world. Furthermore, she kept the events of the last few hours in front of her eyes and even though she knew it was all meaningless now, she couldn't help wondering if things would have ended differently if Voight hadn't split her up with Jay after Adam and Kevin's argument. When Voight decided for her to go with him and Adam, without Jay, she felt a strange pressure in her stomach as if she expected something bad might have happened and if only she had listened to her instincts. Damn, why did it all seem so logical now, as if the flaps had fallen from her eyes, and now she could see more clearly. From the very beginning, Voight has been manipulating her and taking advantage of how she was treated by her own father. Did he treat Erin the same way? Was that the reason she left? Was everything that happened with Al those few years ago because of Voight? What about Antonio, was he manipulated by Voight too? What about Jay? Hailey has felt like she's in some kind of matrix ever since this happened, which has given her a headache.

- Goldilocks, what are you doing here? - She was pulled out of her thoughts by the voice of the Desk Sergeant.

- How is Serge? - Hailey asked, trying to keep her tone of voice normal.

- I could ask you the same thing. - The older woman sat down opposite Hailey and watched her carefully.

- I do not know what you are talking about, Trudy. I am doing my job, after all. - She really tried for an ordinary tone, and to confirm her words Hailey started to hit the keys, but for some reason her hands started to shake.

- Hailey, I've known you for a long time and I know that when something happens you run off to work, and you've been staring at the same page on the computer for 30 minutes. - Sergeant Pratt said with her usual omniscient tone. - Hailey, you're hiding it well, but I've got eyes. You've been acting strangely for the past few weeks. Your lover boy, too.

- How do you know? Since when did you know? - she looked surprised at the Sergeant, who was looking at her with satisfaction written all over her face. She was panicked because if Platt had guessed, then the rest of them probably already knew too. Damn. This wasn't how she wanted her friends to find out.

- I suspected right from the start, even when you were blindsided. Those looks in your eyes, the way you lost your head when Jay went missing those two years ago, Jay walking around like a kicked puppy left out in the rain when you left, and that horrified look on Jay's face when you got that package from the Feds. Luckily, you guys wised up, because it was really sad looking at you. - Seeing Hailey's surprised look, Trudy started to explain as if Jay and her were the most obvious thing in the world. - But rest assured, I only had confirmation when I saw you two at Kim's hospital last night. Jay was watching over you, more than an eye in your head. And the way he took you in his arms, if I had tears in my eyes I would cry - she finished ironically.

Hailey remembered as if through a haze what happened after she got home from what happened in that warehouse, and the hospital stay completely like a black hole.

- Listen carefully because I'm going to say this once and if anyone asks I'm going to deny everything, okay? - Hailey nodded, holding back a laugh. Because maybe knowing that someone knew about them was scary, the fact that the first person was Trudy wasn't so scary. Even Hailey had to admit to herself that she even enjoyed it a lot. The Sergeant had always been an authority figure to her. Thanks to her, she had become a police officer and whenever she had a confusion in her head Trudy appeared and everything seemed to make sense. Once, she even caught herself thinking that she would like to have a mother like Trudy, who is strong and doesn't allow herself to be blown away. She obviously loves her mother, but her relationship with her is complicated. The older woman has really been a bit like a mother to her, and therefore the fact that she knows about one of the most important things in her life is not even that scary.

- I don't know anyone who is more deserving of such love and happiness as the two of you.

- Thank you, Trudy - as if out of nowhere, they heard Jay's voice. Hailey turned and saw Jay leaning against the door frame watching them with a big smile. The blonde couldn't help but return the smile. How grateful she felt for her boyfriend and for the older woman who looked at them with pride was beyond description. Her family relationships were complicated and difficult to understand, even though she loved her mum, dad and brothers in their own way she had never felt so happy, loved as by this family she now had before her.

Jay walked over to Hailey and kissed the top of her head, making her cheeks redden, knowing that this time they were not alone in the room.

- Alright kids I'll leave you to it because it's getting too nice, and that doesn't bode well for my reputation for being stern and cold,' the Desk Sergeant stood up proudly and winked at both of them, to which the pair laughed. She stopped still at the door and turned to her charges. - If you want to talk about what happened in the evening you found Kim, because I know something happened, you know where to find me. - And with that she left the room.

- How does she know that? - asked a stunned Hailey, looking with wide eyes at the spot where the Sergeant had been standing just a moment ago.

- 'I don't know. She's Trudy Platt, after all, it's her job to know everything. - He shrugged his shoulders, stepping closer to his girlfriend. - Hey, don't worry, Platt won't say anything to anyone. - He assured, knowing that Hailey wasn't ready to go public with their relationship yet.

- I know, it's not about that. - She shook her head. Jay squatted down and waited for her to continue. He could see that Hailey was trying to find the right words, so he caught her hands with his, her palms, and used his thumbs to draw near indeterminate patterns to support her. - How does she know... Mmmm. Damn. - She snorted in exasperation.

- I mean, how does he know something happened then. - She mouthed so quietly that Jay, crouching close to her, had to really strain to hear what she was saying.

- Hey, Hailey, maybe the Sergeant didn't mean what happened in that warehouse - Jay immediately guessed what his girlfriend meant and lowered his voice, so no unwanted ears would hear. - Hey, take it easy, Honey. No one is going to find out about anything. I'm not gonna let Voight drag you down with him. You didn't do anything wrong, remember that, okay? - Hailey just nodded her head without conviction.

- Did you find out anything? - Changed the subject, Hailey, backing away from Jay. She knew she was acting out of character with her partner, but she needed something to occupy her head. The realization that someone might know something about what happened with Ray scared her more than the fact that they might know something about their relationship. She was afraid that Voight would plunge her down with himself and thus lose the two most important things in her life, Jay and her job, and without them, she didn't exist.

- Am. Nothing concrete. Serge gave me this temporary command - as usual, he understood her perfectly and knows exactly what she needs.

- So he will not be here today? - she asked close to tears and hope.

- Yes, you won't see him today - he said, and it didn't escape his notice that Hailey relaxed at once on this news.

- Christ, Jay, what are we going to do next? - she asked, close to tears again.

- Hailey,...

- I can't avoid him forever, they will find out sooner or later. - Tears were streaming down her cheeks now. When Jay wanted to grab Hailey's hands again, she broke free and stood up violently, thus pushing the man away. - I'm going to lose my job, do you understand? So many efforts, so many sleepless nights, so many sacrifices. So much to prove that I deserve to be a policewoman, to be here in this place - Hailey was already in hysterics, he had no control over what he was saying and thinking. Images of the warehouse where Roy was killed kept flying through his head and in front of his eyes. - Damn it, my father was right. I don't deserve anything. - and after those words, she ran out.

She had to get out of there, she couldn't stand to be around Jay any longer. She knew he wanted to help her, and she appreciated every second, every little bit of support she got from him, but she felt that if she stayed in that room a moment longer she would explode and do something she would regret. When she got to the bathroom she checked to make sure no one was inside and when she was sure she was alone she closed the door and let herself cry. She wanted it all to be over and back to normal. She didn't want to be afraid to come to work, didn't want her to have a panic attack every time she heard the Sergeant's name and voice. She wanted a normal life, with Jay.

Jay was concerned about the state Hailey was in, but he knew she needed to be alone right now to control her emotions, even though he was twisting to run after her and hold her in his arms and never let her go.

- Jay, we found something - Kevin appeared out of nowhere in the room.

- 'Okay, I'll be right up. - Jay wiped his face with his hand and looked at his friend. The detective hoped Kevin wouldn't see the tears that had come to Jay's eyes after Hailey had run out in despair, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

- Are you okay? - asked a worried Kev as he spotted his friend arriving.

- Mmm, yes - Jay tried to sound composed and confident. - What did you find? - he tried to focus on the case.

- Emmm - Kevin, concerned for his friend, had forgotten what he had come for, and it took him a moment to remember. - And that I found some similar cases, but I'll tell you all about it upstairs. And one more thing, Adam showed up, and so I led him into the case. - Kevin explained. Jay, who was walking next to him, just nodded his head.

Jay was unable to say anything, the only thing he could think about right now was Hailey. Where had she gone? Is she safe? Won't she do something to herself? Jay once again promised himself that if he saw Voight again today, he wouldn't be so nice this time. But he hoped he wouldn't see his Sergeant's face again today, at least.

When he and Kevin Jay entered the bullpen he didn't see Hailey anywhere and that seriously worried him, but while he felt like running immediately and looking for her, he had to take care of business now, and besides he felt that Hailey wanted to be alone right now.

- 'Okay gentlemen, what have you got? - he got straight to the point.

- Two bodies were found at the scene, one of which we've already identified. It's a Nathan Robertson. He's got a record. He did 3 years for battery, he's also got convictions for possession and drug dealing. He got out 3 months ago - Adam on the board showed a photo of the man in question - He was 25 years old. I called his family, but neither his mother nor father had been in contact with him for 2 years. - He continued. He looked for a moment for something in his briefcase, took out a piece of paper, and handed it to Jay. It was an abbreviated copy of the information he was now giving out loud. - As for the other, we still don't know who he is. We suspect he either has no record or is not from Chicago. Trudy is still looking in the missing person's database, maybe we can find something there,' Kevin added. Jay nodded, assimilating the information.

- 'Okay, so when did the shooting happen? Do we have any witnesses? Any word from the coroner yet? - Jay asked his colleagues.

- Neighbours heard two shots at 7am, which the coroner confirmed, but neither of them reported it, as they say it was none of their business, and they didn't want to get hit for reporting a crime. - People's disinterest kills police officers. If people weren't so afraid, if they weren't so indifferent to what was going on around them, this world would look completely different.

- As you can guess, there were not many witnesses. The only thing we know is that the day before, someone was hanging around this house. I haven't established the owners of the house yet. - Kevin said.

- I found similar 6 attacks in New York and 4 in Los Angeles. A year ago, LAPD arrested a man named Peter Allende. - He handed the tablet to Jay.

- And they connected these attacks to New York? - spoke up Hailey, who had now joined them imperceptibly. Jay looked at her carefully. It was obvious she had been crying, but she had put on a mask of professionalism, but Jay knew her too well and knew that these were just appearances in front of people not to ask questions.

It was tempting for the brunet to pull her close and hug her tightly, but they had work to do, and besides, one look was all it took for him to know that for a small moment Hailey wanted to feel normal and not think about what had happened. Jay respected that.

Hailey tried to pull herself together to focus on what was most important at the moment, which was the double murder case. And that was the only reason she was able to stand in front of her two colleagues and her boyfriend right now. She directed all the strength she still had in her to track down the criminal while she still had a chance, because there was no telling how long she would be a police officer. So she turned off every other thought, cut off everything that would distract her, and focused on this one task.

- No. Because, unlike the LA attacks, it involved one man with his nephew (who committed suicide, by the way, a few months after he was arrested), they attacked poor people's flats, and, most importantly, guns. Allende strangled the victims. - Kevin explained.

- So what's the connection to the NY case, LA and ours? - wondered Jay - Oh right this - for a moment Kevin clicked something on his tablet, then surrendered it to the detective.

Jay looked at three pictures of a packet of drugs with a flower stamp drawn on them, each flower was a different color, and then handed it to Hailey.

- The same marks on the drugs? - Jay remarked, and Kevin nodded in confirmation.

- Why didn't the LAPD pay attention to this earlier? Why didn't they connect it to those robberies in New York? - Asked Hailey, handing the tablet back to Atwater.

- Did you talk to Homicide? - Adam asked Jay.

- Yeah, but I didn't find out much. At this point, it was kind of the first attack in the Chicago area. - replied Jay, scratching the back of his neck.

- What about Voight? - Kev asked. Jay instinctively cast a worried glance at Hailey standing next to him. Hailey didn't let anyone notice her nervous swallowing of saliva and clenching of her hands into fists, but she knew that no matter how hard she tried, Jay would always notice any even minimal change in her behavior.

However, Hailey had promised herself that she wouldn't lose her cool again, at least not here at work, not in front of people, so she ignored Jay's worried look.

She can't let something like 30 minutes ago happen again.

- I don't know - the brunet shrugged his shoulders. - He gave me temporary command of the case. - Hailey looked at Jay surprised by the words, although earlier in the wire room he had already told her about it. - We're supposed to be working with Homicide, Sergeant Smith should be here any minute, with his men. - He said looking at his watch and as if on cue Trudy appeared, followed by two men.

- Detective Halstead, this is Sergeant Smith and Officer Wilson. - The Desk Sergeant introduced the guests. Jay nodded to her in acknowledgement and she left.

- 'Hello Sergeant. These are my colleagues, Officer Ruzek and Officer Atwater - he introduced - And this is my partner Detective Upton - he pointed to Hailey.

After introductions and a few kind words, the whole team moved on to the case.

- So to sum it up, Kevin said, "Two young guys decided to have some fun, so they got into possession of drugs, then someone came in and shot them. That's a bit of a stretch, don't you think?

- I think so too," said the still silent Hailey. - I'm just wondering where the drugs came from in that house, in New York and in Los Angeles.

- And why didn't LAPD link this to the New York case? - Jay added - Okay, we need to find out who the owner of this house is and identify the other boy, Adam will take care of that? - the man in question nodded and immediately started following instructions.

- Kevin if you could see if there are any amphetamines with that tag on them before and ask your CI if they know anything. I mean everything: about new dealers on the market, by the way, you know what I mean. - Jay told Kevin, who also rightly got to work. - 'Mr Sergeant and Officer Wilson, I'd like you to bring me all the files on fatal burglaries from the last two maybe three months,' he addressed Sergeant Smith and his colleague.

Hailey had a strange feeling that this Wilson was looking suspiciously too long at Jay, not that she was too jealous or anything, just a small remark like that.

- 'And Hailey and I will take care of talking to the NYPD and LAPD, okay? - Jay calmly said to the blonde.

- Okay, so what, I'm New York, and you're Los Angeles? - she allowed herself a little joke as the Homicide cops walked away.

- I don't know. - He pretended to think about it as he approached Hailey. - Don't you think it's too risky? - He scratched his chin, picking up on her game. Maybe they need at least a break from all this for a while.

- And why is that? - Hailey also approached Jay and asked in an innocent voice.

- They'll remember you and try to take you away from me again. - He turned around, checking that no one was around, and then touched his hand to Hailey's cheek, who closed her eyes. She wanted to tell him to back off because they were at work after all, but when she felt him touch her, she gave in to it.

Every time Jay touched her, all that other stuff stopped mattering, the only thing that mattered was that they were together, and the rest didn't matter.

- Hailey, look at me please - she slowly opened her eyes and was met with a loving and tender look that she always has reserved only for her and from which her heart beats 100 times more, he put his other hand on my other cheek. - I can't lose you anymore, Angel.

- Jay... - She wanted to interrupt him, but to poor effect.

- I love you so damn much - in Jay's eyes, Hailey noticed tears and panicky fear.

- And I love you, Jay - she whispered, watching her boyfriend vigilantly.

- 'Promise me that if it gets hard, that you feel it's too much, you'll tell me right away, okay?

- Mhmm, okay - Hailey didn't quite understand what Jay meant and wasn't sure if she would be able to tell him everything every time. She still has a lot of fear inside her, boundaries that she doesn't want to, and is actually afraid to reach with her thoughts, let alone say them. Even to him, the man she trusts most in the world. The biggest barrier he is afraid to cross is that if he knows everything about her, he will conclude that it wasn't worth fighting for and leave.

- I'm not going anywhere, I will never, ever leave you. - Jay as usual acts like he's reading her mind. - We'll deal with everything, sweetheart, I promise. - He pulled her close and hugged her tightly. Hailey knew they shouldn't be cuddling in the middle of the bullpen and maybe someone would come and see them soon, but she needed this. She needed those words, his touch and the sound of his heart. She needed him, and it hits her harder every time. The fact that this man loves her so much after what he has learned about her is something extraordinary.

When she put her arms around him tightly and heard his heartbeat, she closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and let it out. She drew that soothing scent of Jay that she associates with safety and love into her lungs and didn't want her to ever forget it. For the first time since crossing the threshold of this building, she could breathe freely.

She really hadn't expected how much she needed it and how much she needed the words that had just come out of Jay's mouth. Every time, she marvels at how Jay is able to read her mind and without any words knows what she needs. Maybe soul mates actually exist and Jay is hers, and she is his?

- We should probably get on with the job, don't you think? - She pulled away from him slightly, so she could look at him. She forced herself to get them both back down to earth, though this bubble they both created only lasted a few moments.

- Just don't fall for the NYPD's sweet talk - Jay nodded with a slight smile.

- I won't be so easily persuaded to change my mind, and besides, I'll be talking to the NYPD, not the FBI after all - Hailey remarked. Jay, still, kissed her on the top of her head and moved away from her.

- We should probably get on with the job, don't you think? - She moved slightly away from him, so she could look at him. She forced herself to get them both back down to earth, though this bubble they both created only lasted a few moments.

- Just don't fall for the NYPD's sweet talk - Jay nodded with a slight smile.

- Jay? - Hailey turned to look at Jay for a moment more before dialing a number. - I love you so damn much too. - She whispered so no one else could hear, but loud enough that Jay wouldn't have a problem with it.

Hailey felt that whatever got in their way whether it was Voight or her fears or whatever fate put in front of them, they would make it because they have each other, and they love each other very much.

Because Jay and Hailey are soul mates.

Because Jay is Hailey's safe haven, rock, anchor home and love of her life.

Because Hailey is Jay's safe haven, rock, anchor home and love of his life.

#Upstead #upstead fanfiction #upstead fic #jay x hailey #jay halstead #hailey upton

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mc-lukanette · 4 years ago

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Grade for Each Other (Part 8)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7]

Luka’d never had any sort of "fancy dinner experience," so seeing Tom and Sabine run around excitedly to prepare one was very new to him. His mother wasn't the type to follow any sort of schedule or pattern, which inevitably rubbed off on him and Juleka (for better or worse). Eating was something they just did, not something they planned for, often leading to any of them grabbing anything at any time so long as they were hungry.

It made him feel weirdly spoiled to have anything close to a "normal" family dinner. Having Marinette be part of the equation didn't help him feel otherwise, nor the way Tom and Sabine stared at him from across the table like they were his biggest fans.

He'd barely taken his first bite before Tom dropped his forearm casually onto the table and asked, "So, Luka, how's having our daughter in your class?"

"Papa!" Marinette rushed to scold him, mouth half-full as she pouted at Tom from across the table.

Luka chuckled, swallowing his bite of food before answering. He'd honestly expected something like this; after all, he was a boy spending a lot of one-on-one time with a girl, so suspicion - or excitement apparently, in Tom's case - was to be expected.

"It's alright," he assured Marinette. She gave him a confused look, but he merely turned his focus to Tom. "Marinette sits next to me in class. It's great."

"She sits next to you?" Sabine inquired, seemingly intrigued.

Marinette piped up, "Luka's a very good student and he doesn't get into trouble. The teacher thought it'd be best if I sit next to someone like him, and he was right."

She almost looked proud of that and Luka hid his smile behind his hand.

Tom picked up one of the rolls off to the side, offering it to Luka as he asked, "And you're in a band? You were here before Marinette skipped grades, weren't you?"

Luka nodded, taking the roll gratefully. "I play guitar for Kitty Section."

"He's really talented, Papa," Marinette cut in tersely. "He's going places, even if the rest of the band decides to quit."

Tom let out a laugh, waving at her dismissively. "I know, I know. We trust you."

Luka looked back and forth between the two, needing a moment to understand exactly what had just transpired. He'd spent so much of his life around his music-enthused mother that it hadn't occurred to him that people would question the life of a musician.

...Well, not to mention that Tom's wording made it seem largely like Luka himself was already dating Marinette, which had briefly thrown him off. Actually, Marinette's wording kind of implied that too and—

Luka nearly shoved the roll into his mouth to force himself not to think about it, only to then be blindsided by how good the bread was. He let out a pleased hum and Tom and Sabine's grins assured him that they got the message.

Sabine took a bite of her food, looking Luka up and down before asking, "You're passionate, right?"

"Yes, very," Luka assured. A moment then passed, with him trying not to let the realization show on his face that Sabine had meant music and not his relationship with Marinette when he'd been thinking about the latter just a few seconds ago.

At least his answer would've been the same regardless.

"See? That's the kind of spirit we like!" Tom exclaimed, throwing his hands up. When they enthusiastically slammed back down on the table, Luka saw his plate shake from the force. "Us Dupain and Chengs are all passionate about what we do! Why, the very start of our bakery was built on it, and—"

Luka welcomed the change in topic, nodding along as Tom rambled. It was clear who Marinette had gotten it from and Luka liked seeing how strongly people felt about the things they enjoyed. He supposed it was because the people he grew up with felt strongly about things in general, even if Juleka felt those things more internally.

The rest of dinner was spent in idle conversation, Luka answering the occasional probing question from either of Marinette's parents. He had nothing to hide and felt it important for them to know and trust him regardless of how close he was to Marinette. He'd already expected the food itself to be beyond what he was used to, given that he was dealing with bakers, but he was more thankful that the atmosphere they gave off - as weirdly overwhelming as it was - didn't make him feel judged or unwelcome.

All four of them were in the middle of cleaning up the plates, glasses, and cutlery when a sudden crack of thunder startled them. Luka glanced over at the window, seeing the raindrops that had gone unnoticed until now. He was surprised that such a storm would—

...Oh. He hadn't thought that his mother had meant it literally when she was talking about a storm. Or—maybe she didn't and it was just coincidence?

He was jarred out of his thoughts as Sabine took everything in his hands, stacking it on top of what she was already carrying. She frowned at the window, observing, "That would be dreadful to walk home in."

Luka managed a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about me. I’ve done it before, and rain isn't—"

"You can't do that!" Tom protested. "You're going to make these two meddlers feel guilty if you go running out in the middle of a storm!"

Huh. So they were at least admitting to their meddling.

Sabine sighed, turning away to head to the sink. "We're sorry about this, Luka. Will you stay for the night?"

"Maman," Marinette interrupted, passing over the dishes she was carrying to Tom, "please don't pressure Luka into staying if he doesn't want to."

"We wouldn't want to pressure him into anything!" Tom insisted.

Marinette gave him a flat look and vaguely gestured to the plates. He proceeded to ignore her.

"We're worried about him catching a cold out there! Who will sit next to you in class if he's not there?" he asked with dramatic flair.

"Papa—!" Marinette cut herself off with a huff, apparently resigning herself on the matter.

Luka chuckled. "I'd love to stay. It wouldn't be any trouble?"

"Not at all!" Sabine replied. "You'll just need a place to sleep!"

Once she'd gotten everything into the sink, she turned to Tom with an urgent look, the two seeming to communicate wordlessly before racing off together. Marinette must've noticed Luka’s confusion at it, what with how she abruptly explained, "We have spare pillows and blankets for stuff like this. They're probably going to get them."

Then, with a sigh, she added, "I really am sorry about them."

"It just means that they like me," he replied, "so I'm happy."

"Really? Wait—" She squinted. "Did you think you'd say something that'd make them not like you?"

He shook his head, though amused at how shocked she seemed by the concept. "They're really open, like my mom is, and they trust you and who you pick out for friends, right?"

"Yeah. Well, a lot more now, especially." She paused, thoughtful. "Are you really okay with staying? I-I know you have your hood that could’ve protected you in the rain."

"Why would I mind being here with you?" he asked in reply, enjoying the way her cheeks tinted pink. "And I wouldn't want your parents to feel bad. They were the ones who asked me to stay for dinner in the first place."

The talk of family reminded him of Juleka. Pulling his phone out, he went straight for his contacts so he could text her to let her know that he wouldn't be coming home that day, remaining short on the details as she probably didn't want to hear anything extensive about Marinette at the moment.

Just as he'd slipped his phone back into his pocket, Tom and Sabine came barreling through the door like a pair of superheroes, arms full of pillows and blankets. Had Luka not been so skilled with sounds, he might've mistaken the slamming of the door for another crack of thunder.

"Marinette!" Tom shouted urgently. "The couch!"

Marinette jerked up, pointing to herself. "Wha—the couch? ...Oh!"

Luka had to step back as she rushed past him, the family of three seeming to be in sync as they began sorting various blankets and pillows onto the couch. He almost felt overwhelmed trying to watch all of their movements; Tom was unfolding and laying out the blankets, Sabine was efficiently fluffing out the pillows, and Marinette apparently had a problem with the appearance, insisting that one color had to go above the other and that any level of comfort worked better that way anyway.

"Luka," Sabine called out, stopping mid-fluff to glance up at him, "how do you like to sleep?"

He blinked at her cluelessly, having never thought of alternative sleeping positions in his life.

Seeing that she wasn’t getting an answer, Sabine turned her gaze to Marinette instead. "He said he plays guitar, right?"

Marinette nodded.

"...Back support then," Sabine concluded, Luka feeling somewhat called out as she adjusted the pillows accordingly.

He was left awkwardly standing there, simply observing as the three finished what they'd defined as "the perfect bed." He couldn't lie, it did look really perfect, and now he was left feeling spoiled again.

"Alright!" Marinette shouted the second they were done, making gestures at her parents. "Now, both of you, shoo!"

Even though it wasn't late enough to exactly sleep, the two relented, probably still feeling bad about making Luka stay longer even if they couldn't have known about the weather. They both gave Marinette a simultaneous cheek kiss on opposite sides of her face, then patted Luka on the back on their way out.

It was strange how they'd patted him with the exact same pressure despite their height difference. Luka supposed that they were just that in sync.

When he looked back at Marinette, she was still making tiny adjustments to his bed, her inner organizer somehow not satisfied until everything was perfectly aligned. He approached and admired her, particularly how adorable her focused face was. Though he knew it'd be pointless to try and tell her, he nonetheless insisted, "You don't have to go through all this effort for me."

"What if I want to?" she challenged with a smile, not looking at him due to being preoccupied with the bed.

He feigned a sigh. "Then I guess I have no choice but to take it."

She hummed smugly, in the process of smoothing out the blankets as she asked, "So, Luka, what do you want for breakfast in the morning?"

He wasn’t expecting the question. "What?"

"I'm sure Maman's going to ask me about it, or she'll just ask you if I tell her that I don't know," she explained. "What do you like?"

"Oh, I’m not picky," he assured, "and I don't need anything anyway. I don't usually have breakfast."

Marinette stopped mid-smoothing, her head darting up and staring at nothing. Finally, she made eye contact, even gaping at him. "You don't? B-but it's important!"

He grew apologetic under the intensity of her gaze, resorting to looking at the wall. "I used to make it for Jule when we were younger, but we stopped once she started feeling like I was playing too many of her notes for her." He shrugged, showing that he wasn't bothered by Juleka’s choice. "Besides, I like taking my time walking to school."

"...Oh."

Her tone worried him. He looked back, confirming that she seemed discouraged. "Marinette—"

"That's okay!" she cut in, standing and holding her hands up. She clearly realized that she'd been showing too much emotion and he’d caught onto it. "I'm just so used to it here but it's fine if that's not what you're used to! I know my parents can be a lot and I don't really help and I wasn't thinking of you at all—"

He reached up, grabbing her hands and gently saying, "Marinette, stop."

She halted mid-sentence, her mouth still hanging open as she stared at him.

"It's... you're right, it is a lot, but not in a way that's distorting my sound," he corrected.

She tilted her head in response, not understanding what he meant.

He struggled to find the words. "Things are so much different on the Liberty. We all love each other but I'm the most physical one there. My mom's okay with whatever we want to do and Jule doesn't think of me as someone to worry about - neither do my friends - so I'm not used to people checking on me."

"Y-you mean fretting over you," Marinette gently cut in with a pout.

He squeezed her hands. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"But..." She sighed, staring at the floor. "s-still, you shouldn't have to worry about what I said. I was just... fantasizing about having breakfast with you without thinking about what you'd want. I know that your lifestyle doesn't match up with mine."

He smiled softly, bending over to be more level with her. "If it's you, I'd like to get used to it."

She looked at him questioningly, but he could see the glimmer of hope in her eyes now.

"It's how you show that you care, and I want to get used to being fretted over, especially if it's you doing it."

Her brows rose in surprise. She looked away sheepishly, but he gave her however much time she needed to respond, noting that she wasn't feeling anything negative.

"...How—" She peeked up at him, though not turning her head fully to face him. "How about a compromise?"

"Hm?"

"I can make something for you—for us?" She pulled her hands out of his just so she could grab his hands in return, rotating them so his palms were facing upwards. "Something portable? And then we can walk to school together and eat at the same time. We can still take our time but you get to eat too."

He considered telling her that the Liberty was farther away than the bakery from their school, but he imagined that she already knew that. Plus, his heart was focused on something else.

"You'd make breakfast for me?"

"Of course!" she exclaimed, as if it were obvious. "I can't let my parents outdo me all the time!"

He tried to contain it, but the laughter was too hard to hold in. He hunched over in his giggling fit, only glancing up at her to ensure that she wasn't taking it the wrong way.

Thankfully, she was smiling at him, thoroughly amused.

Even after he'd managed to compose himself, the warm, bubbly feeling wouldn't leave him. "You're an extraordinary girl, Marinette."

Her smile widened. She pulled his hands to her chest, clasping them in her own. "Clear as a music note, sincere as a melody?"

His gaze softened, his heart skipping a beat that she'd remembered what he’d said so exactly. "The song that's been stuck in my head since the day that we met."

The blush that had started small bloomed further to that happy red color he loved so dearly. She took a breath, dropping his hands and fiddling with the corners of her jacket.

"And...if the breakfast thing works out," she began, "if you wouldn't mind stopping by the bakery on your way to school—"

"I wouldn't," he immediately reassured.

"—then we could do it all the time?" she asked hopefully. "Walking to school together and eating breakfast?"

He chuckled. "You call it a compromise, Marinette, but I just feel spoiled right now."

She stared at the floor, shrugging shyly. "B-but it's still even at least?"

He let out a confused hum, sure that she heard it by the way her gaze flicked up to him.

She raised her head back up, actually daring to wink at him. "Because I feel spoiled with you too!"

He opened his mouth to respond, but his words left him. It apparently wouldn't have mattered if he’d had anything to say anyway, as Marinette suddenly got even redder than before.

"A-AH, ANYWAY, I need to get ready for bed, it's late!"

It was absolutely not late, but Luka didn't stop her from rushing past him to head up the stairs. He knew very well that they were both probably feeling too much to have a proper conversation.

After she'd shut the trapdoor, he could vaguely hear her shouting - panicked but happy - to her kwami about how she "couldn't believe she just did that."

As for himself, he was already taking off his hoodie and jacket combo, the room spontaneously feeling too warm. He threw it to the side of the couch that was devoid of blankets, then sunk down onto his bed.

That was definitely flirting; it was the most blatant she'd ever flirted with him. Her wink wasn't even perfect but—

He buried his face in his hands, feeling the heat of his own blush against his palms. He needed to rethink his approach with her before she caught him off-guard again.

Not that he technically minded, but still.

[Part 9] [Part 10]

#multi chapter: Grade for Each Other

167 notes · View notes

p-artsypants · 5 years ago

Text

Perfect, No Matter What

In which Gabriel sets the bar even lower for himself, a reveal happens because of pain medication, and the new guardian actually goes to Chloé for advice.

At least Adrien gets some kisses out of it.

I’ve been watching ‘Botched’ while I work remotely and it took me to dangerous places.

Ao3 | FF.net

—

You know the phrase, ‘beauty is pain’? Well, some people knew that better than others.

Especially Adrien Agreste.

Diets, rigorous exercise, intense skin care routine including microdermabrasion, UV treatment, and teeth whitening.

Perfection.

And he hated it.

At this point in his life, he feared that his slew of doctors thought he was horribly vain.

Really, he was just the victim of a highly critical father.

On a Friday, Adrien prepared for school as usual. He dressed casually, lightly styled his hair, and ate breakfast.

As he came back down the stairs after grabbing his bag, his father was waiting for him.

“Father?”

“Just here to see you off to school.”

That was new, and concerning, to say the least. “Oh…thanks?”

“Hmm,” Gabriel hummed, stepping into his personal space. Without another word, he hooked his thumb around Adrien’s chin, manipulating his head in different directions.

“What?”

“Hush.”

Adrien just waited in fear as his father examined him, turning his face this way and that, and a look of displeasure was growing on his face, stronger and stronger.

Finally, blessedly, he pulled away. “That will be all. Get off to school.”

“Uh…okay.”

With confusion and paranoia, Adrien went to school.

—

The day continued on as normal. No akumas, no unnecessary drama, easy homework, nothing to stress about.

And nothing to bring Adrien’s attention away from his father’s strange behavior this morning.

The class before lunch, his paranoia picked up when Nathalie interrupted the lesson.

“Pardon the intrusion, Adrien has a doctor’s appointment, and will be out for the rest of the day.”

This was news to him, and he could only gape.

“Come on Adrien, get your stuff. Is one of your friends willing to take notes?”

“Marinette will!” Alya volunteered.

“Y-yeah! Of course I will!”

“See to it that you drop it off at the mansion after school.”

“I have fencing after school, we have a tournament tomorrow.” Adrien pointed out, while still shoveling his books into his bag.

“I’m afraid you won’t be participating in the tournament, or any other weekend activities.”

“What? Why?”

“I’ll explain in the car, please now, hurry.”

Adrien did as told, not before casting a fearful look to his friends.

—

Marinette couldn’t stop thinking about Adrien.

Not that it was any different than usual, but that look on his face…

It was haunting.

The look of complete horror and loss. To be fair, if she had received the same news he had, she probably would have been blindsided as well.

The reaction at the house when she brought his homework wasn’t insightful either. Just like every time she brought something for him, the camera came out, the drawer opened, and that was it. No communication, no nothing.

“I don’t know Tikki, should I text him? Or would that be weird? Does he know I have his number?”

“Marinette, I’m sure he’d love to get a text from you. Just ask him if he got the notes.”

“Great idea! Simple! I can’t butcher it!” She took out her phone and read aloud as she typed. “Hey Adrien…it’s Marinette. Alya gave me your number…did you get the homework? Let me know if anything is unclear, or if you need anything else.”

“Good!”

“Would a heart be too much?”

“It might be a comfort for him? Sending him love in his isolation.”

“Okay. Heart. And send!” She hit the button and nearly threw her phone in anxiety.

Then she waited.

And waited.

An hour or so passed as she tapped her foot with tense energy.

“Whatever he was pulled for is probably still going on. I wouldn’t worry about it, Marinette. Adrien isn't the type to leave someone on read.”

Taking a calming breath, Marinette nodded in agreement. “You’re right, I’ll just suck it up! I might hear from him tonight.”

So she spent the day doing homework, and a bit of various projects to stay busy.

Nearing patrol time, Plagg showed up on her desk, spooking her. “Hey pigtails.”

“Ah! Plagg! What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Chat? It’s almost time for patrol.”

“Nah, not for him!”

“This is joint patrol. It’s Friday night.”

“Yeah, well I’m here to let you know that he won’t be joining you tonight, and I left him because I knew he was going to try to transform, and he’s in no shape to!”

“Is he sick? Injured?”

“Injured.” Plagg confirmed. “Not dire, and he’s already been treated…though there was no reason to be hurt in the first place.” He muttered that last part to himself.

“Is he okay?”

The little cat shrugged. “Eh, probably. Little trauma never hurt anyone. It’s over now.”

“What happened?”

“That, I can’t tell you. Though I’m sure you’ll see it eventually. I’d just prefer to let this play out naturally and see what happens.”

“You really are chaotic, aren’t you?”

He beamed. “Only the most chaotic. Well, I’m here to join you, so you aren’t patrolling alone. That way he’ll be happy, and you’ll be happy that he’s not out with an injury.”

“That’s bizarrely considerate of you.” She snorted.

“I know, aren’t I the best?”

She scratched him between the ears. “The best. Now let’s go!”

—

Monday morning finally came. Marinette had finally received a response from Adrien on Saturday, which was just ‘yes I did, thank you!’ with a little heart as well.

It melted her a little.

But Adrien didn’t elaborate any more. It was complete radio silence from him, both to her, and to Nino, who had also tried to reach out.

But now it was Monday, and hopefully he would be here.

“Chloe,” Nino asked. “Did you hear anything from Adrien this weekend?”

“No!” She exasperated. “I called him like nine times, and not once did he answer! Nathalie said he was sleeping when I called her. And Gabriel didn’t answer either. It was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!”

“He confirmed that he got my notes, but didn’t say anything else to me.” Marinette added. “I’m kinda worried.”

“Me too. He should be here by now.”

Luckily, the tension didn’t last long, as Adrien’s extremely tired voice spoke from the doorway. “Hi guys…”

Record scratch.

He looked hideous.

Both eyes were black, with huge purple swollen bags on each cheek. It was swollen so bad, his eyes were half shut. A thick bandage rested on the top of his nose, and over the nostrils, leaving just the little pink tip poking out.

“Dude!”

“Hey…” He couldn’t even smile, and looked to be in a lot of pain. He shuffled to his seat and sat down.

“What happened bro? You look like you got hit by a bus!”

“You really shouldn’t even be here.” Alya added. “That looks really bad.”

“My dad didn’t want me to come, but I begged him. I already missed half of Friday. I didn’t want to fall behind.”

“Yeah, but like, what happened?”

Adrien hesitated a moment, and then admitted, “I ran into a wall.”

Chloe scoffed, glaring at him with an absolutely disgusted look on her face. “Sure, right.”

“You broke your nose?”

“Yeah, really badly. Doctor got me all fixed up though. I’ll be fine!”

Marinette wasn’t convinced, however. It was weird that he had been pulled out of school for some sudden weekend event, only to show up on Monday with a broken nose.

Unless Adrien, in a desperate move to get out of the weekend plans, ran headfirst into a wall, which was admittedly kind of funny.

Or something more sinister was going on instead.

Nino and Alya continued to badger him about it, but Adrien just reassured them that he was fine.

But Marinette took notice of the bandage on the inside of his right ear too. How does one damage an ear when running headlong into a wall?

Marinette’s phone buzzed, a message from Chloe, of all people.

Chloe: I can see that look on your face. Adrien is lying. I want you to get the truth out of him.

That was surprising!

Marinette: What? Why me?

Chloe: Because if this is what I think it is, he’ll never admit it to me. And I need to know if I need to be disappointed in him or Gabriel.

Marinette: What are you talking about? And why me?

Chloe: It’s not my place to say, okay? You’re the class rep, and his friend. You’re good at coaxing people to open up. Do this for me and I’ll buy you some fabric or something. Don’t make me beg.

Marinette considered it. Seeing Adrien look like this quieted that part in her brain that just shouted ‘Adrien Adrien Adrien!’ And brought out ‘He’s hurt, he’s vulnerable, protect him!’

Marinette: You don’t need to buy me anything. I’ll try to talk to him, for his sake. I won’t mention you at all.

Chloe: Good. Let me know the details, alright? I’m very concerned.

Marinette: Obviously, if you’re asking for my help.

Chloe: Don’t get used to it.

Marinette: I won’t. :)

Turns out, Marinette didn’t even need to plan out how she was going to approach Adrien. He made it easy for her. At lunch, he approached her.

“Hey Marinette, can I talk to you for a sec?” His voice was nasally and groggy.

“Sure thing!” She chirped, leading him to a quiet corner. Her blood pressure spiked. Did he find out that Chloe had talked to her? Was he about to tell her to mind her own business??

“I have a really big favor to ask, and you can say no, but I just thought...”

“Whatever you need,” she laid a hand on his arm. “Just say the word.” Okay, maybe she was coming on too strong, but that nose…

He kind of smiled, though it looked painful. “Sorry, I’m not supposed to smile.”

“Gotcha. We’re serious here.” She steeled her mouth into a neutral grimace.

“I begged my dad to let me come back to school, but I didn’t realize how tired the...pain meds were making me. Do you think your parents would mind if I crashed on your couch until the end of the day? You’re just so close to school and—“

“I understand completely!” She smiled at him, only to make that neutral face a minute later. “I mean, yes. I’m sure it’ll be okay with them. You okay to come now?”

“Yeah, my chef sent me with some soup in a thermos.”

“Alright, then let’s go.”

Over at the bakery, which was blessedly not busy for lunchtime, Sabine noticed Adrien and gasped.

“Oh honey! What happened?!”

He winced. “I Uh...I ran into a wall.”

“He’s already been to the doctor.” Marinette clarified. “He was just wondering if he could nap on the couch for a few hours. The painkillers are making him groggy.”

Tom came into the room at his wife’s exclamation. “I bet it’s hard to sleep with that too.”

“Yes, exactly.” Adrien breathed.

“Of course you can nap upstairs. You’re always welcome whenever!”

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“You might be better off in Marinette’s room so we don’t disturb you.”

“Is that okay with you, Marinette?” He asked.

“Oh! Yes! Of course! Wherever you want! Umm I’ll show you upstairs!” And she gestured him onward.

In her room, Adrien looked around as he sat his bag down. “You still have the pictures of me.” He said fondly.

She had forgotten about them in her worry. “Oh! Yep! I like to look at them for inspiration, and to support you, you know?”

He walked over to her wall and stopped to look at one. “And...if I didn’t look like this anymore? Would you still like them? Like me?”

What an odd thing to wonder. “Of course. Are you worried that you’re going to look different now because you broke your nose?”

He was quiet for a moment, then admitted. “Yeah.”

“Don’t worry, Adrien. I’m sure it’ll heal just fine.”

“Yeah, I trust you.”

She awkwardly patted her hands against her thighs. “So...you can use my bed, or you can just use the chaise...”

“Can I steal that big cat pillow? I’m supposed to sleep sitting up.”

“Oh yes! Of course!” She scrambled up to grab it for him. “Anything else I can get you? Where’s your soup? I’ll warm it up for you.”

He gave her that warm and tender smile that made her heart swell. “You’re the best, Marinette.” He took out the thermos from his bag. “Could I also have some water? I’m going to take some more drugs.”

She giggled, “sure thing. I’ll be back in a sec.”

She took the soup downstairs and poured it into a bowl, then popped it in the microwave. Then she got a glass of water and a bag of frozen peas and went back upstairs.

Adrien was reclining on the chaise with his head back, resting.

“Here’s your water,” she announced, sitting by his side.

“Ugh, thank you. My face is killing me.”

She snickered at him. “There’s a mean joke here, but I won’t say it.”

“You’re not supposed to make me laugh, remember?”

“Oh right, sorry.”

He took the water and popped a few pills. “Fair warning, this medicine makes me a wee loopy, so...”

“Well, I’ll be going back after lunch, so you probably won’t embarrass yourself too badly.”

“Mmm, I trust you won’t tell anyone if I confess my undying love for fried chicken.”

“Your secrets are safe with me.”

The microwave dinged and she excused herself to get it. The bowl was too hot to take out, or even hold to eat out of. So she took the time to make a sandwich for her own lunch, and grabbed an extra slice of fresh bread for Adrien.

Returning upstairs, Adrien was reclined again, with the frozen peas on his face.

“Soups on.”

“Feed me...” he begged weakly.

She almost dropped the tray she was carrying. “What? I mean, are you sure? I uh...”

He made a grabby hand toward her. “Soup soup...”

“Oh,” she breathed out. “The medicine kicked in fast.”

“Me want soooooup.” He moaned, absolutely miserable.

Seeing him so vulnerable and slightly childish was so sad.

And kinda cute.

“Okay, I’ve got it, but you have to sit up first. I don’t want you to spill on yourself.”

He moaned and groaned as he shimmied up. “Otay?”

Marinette giggled, “Otay.” She set the tray on his lap. “I’m not used to high Adrien.”

“Hi Marinette.”

She giggled again, “no, I meant you’re being goofy.”

“H-yuck.”

She shook her head. “Eat your soup, Adrien.”

“Yes mom.” He slowly spooned up his soup. He was quiet as he did so, looking like he was focusing hard on it. His eyes blinked slowly, like he was going to fall asleep at any second. Finally, he pulled away a half empty bowl and held it out to her.

“You done?”

He nodded.

“Okay.” She placed the bowl on the tray and stood. “Let’s get you a blanket.”

His eyes closed as he settled back down.

She grabbed a fuzzy blanket from her bed and draped it over him, which he immediately snuggled into.

“Alright, you rest as long as you need to. I’ll rush back here at the end of school to wake you up.”

He took her hand. “Mari?”

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t run into a wall.” He confessed in a whisper, tears gathering in his eyes.

Immediately, she sat by his side and grasped his hand. “What happened?”

“I got a nose job.”

Her jaw dropped. She never imagined Adrien as a vain person, so unless this was for his health, it kind of changed her entire perception of him.

“I didn’t want to.” A tear streaked down his cheek. “My dad made me. He pulled me out of school and took me to the doctor. They said my cartilage was shattered, probably from all the hits I take as Chat Noir…”

“They said that?” Her mouth was dry.

“They don’t know I’m Chat…no one does. You won’t tell, right Mari? Fried chicken?”

She nodded fervently. “Of course Adrien. My lips are sealed.”

He nodded slowly, starting to relax more. “They had to rebuild my nose. They took cartilage from my rib, and skin from my ear. It hurts all over.”

“Even with the medication?”

“I’ll never be good enough.” Another tear rolled down his cheek. “Not for him, not for her…no one.”

Marinette was torn between the fear of him remembering and forgetting what she was about to do. Nonetheless, she cupped his very bruised cheek. “Adrien. Even if your nose fell right off your face, I…I love you. I think you’re perfect.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Remember when we first met? When I yelled at you over the gum?”

“Dumb gum…”

“Yeah, I thought you were just like Chloe. Just a spoiled, pretty, rich kid.”

“But I am, I’m such a brat.” He nuzzled his face gently into her hand.

“No you’re not. It was never your looks that made me like you. It was your kindness. Okay?”

He slowly blinked at her. “My face hurts.”

Very gently, she leaned in and kissed the very tip of his nose. “All better.”

“Mari lucky kiss. Just like lucky charm.” His eyes fell closed. “Don’t tell anyone about nose job, ‘kay? Dad’s not bad, he’s just grieving…”

Marinette gave a long exhale. Being distant and withdrawn from society? Grieving. Forcing his son to get a nose job at 15? Insane.

There was just a lot in this conversation that was too much to unpack in the first place.

File the whole ‘Adrien is Chat Noir’ thing away to freak out about later.

“I promised, I won’t tell a soul.” Except Chloe, because it seemed like she had guessed it already.

“Night night…” He mumbled, letting the drugs pass him into the world of slumber.

She petted his head. “Night kitty.”

He didn’t say anything else after that, so she safely assumed he finally fell asleep.

With the calmness that only comes to someone in shock, Marinette collected the dishes and took them downstairs, placing them in the sink.

Plagg and Tikki quietly followed behind, watching her with concern.

When the dishes were safe, she slowly turned around, spotting them floating there, gazing at her.

“I…” She began. “Where to start?”

“Well, for one thing,” Plagg began. “He hasn’t been that talkative to anyone else all weekend, so he must really trust you.”

“A nose job! A freaking—plastic surgery! He’s 15! What the hell—who does that!? To their kid!”

“Oh good,” said Plagg. “She’s not freaking out about the other thing yet.”

“I mean, if it was a medical thing, like a deviated septum or something, I’d understand, but it didn’t seem like that all! Was it like that? Is he just delusional? Tell me he’s delusional, Plagg.”

“Well…he is delusional. But his dad said his nose was developing an ‘unsightly hump’ to it.”

“A hump! A HUMP!!? What if this surgery is botched!? What then, Gabriel!?” She gasped and grabbed Plagg. “PLAGG!”

“Yes?”

“YOU’RE HERE!”

“Yes?”

“HE REALLY IS CHAT NOIR!?”

“Shout a little louder, I don’t think they heard you in Los Angeles.”

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod—“

Tikki flew up in front of her face. “Marinette, you’re the guardian now. You had to find out eventually.”

“Yeah, but not while he’s high on painkillers! He’s already had his nose ripped away from him! He didn’t need to lose his identity too!”

Plagg phased out of her hands. “Why don’t you take a nice calming breath.”

“I AM CALM!”

“Yeah, I like to scream when I’m calm too.”

She sunk to the floor, hyperventilating.

“What’s the big deal anyway?” Plagg asked, lounging on her thigh.

“What’s the big deal? What’s the big deal!?”

“Repeating my question is not an answer.”

“The ‘big deal’ is that Chat Noir and Adrien are the same person! The love of my life, and my partner! The same!”

“So this is a happy freak out?”

“No! Yes! I don’t know!” She slapped her hands over her face. “I’m confused.”

“Obviously.”

“Okay Plagg, lay off. This is a lot of information to deal with.” Tikki pacified. “It’s a good thing, Marinette. You know, it might be a good idea if he knows who you are. Once he feels better though.”

“I think my brain is about to explode.”

“Join the club. Man, you got a set of pipes.”

Marinette took a shaky breath. “Okay, okay, I’m calm. I’m cool! Just…I’ll worry about Chat Noir later. What should I do about Adrien?”

“Stutter like a moron?”

“Plagg, seriously, stop.”

“Killjoy.”

“What about Adrien?” Tikki urged.

“Should I call the police or something? Is it legal for a 15 year old to get a nose job?”

Plagg got up and started to float around the kitchen. “It is for the right price.”

“Chloe wanted to know who she was supposed to be disappointed with. Should I tell her? Do you think she would know what to do?”

“You really want to ask Chloe for advice?”

“This is so out of the realm of what I know!” She threw her hands up. “I know superhero and Miraculous stuff, and designing and fashion, and you know, normal teenage stuff! I don’t know anything about the legal ramifications about illegal nose jobs on minors!”

Tikki patted her hand. “I think you should talk it over with Chloe. I know you’re pretty disappointed in her because of Miracle Queen, but Adrien is really her only friend. She might be respectful of him. Either way, someone needs to know about it. It’s not okay.”

Marinette nodded. “Yeah, I suppose she is the best to talk to right now.” She winced. “I can’t believe I’m going to Chloe.”

“I’ll stay behind with Adrien,” Plagg assured. “Not that I’d want to be anywhere else.”

“I wouldn’t want you to be anywhere else either. Thankfully my parents are home. I’m sure they’ll check on him periodically.”

“Then all that’s left to do is to go back to school and act like you only got one piece of life changing information instead of two.” Tikki grinned.

“And who’s better at fibbing than me?” Marinette put her hands on her hips.

“Ummm, everyone else in the world? Is that a trick question?”

Marinette groaned. “Just get in the bag.”

—

Back at school, as soon as she walked in the door, Marinette was grabbed by the wrist and yanked off into a solitary corner. She had expected to be shanghaied by Chloe, but not quite so violently.

“Soooo?” She asked, once they were alone. “Where’s Adrien? I saw you guys leaving together!”

“Relax,” Marinette hushed. “He needed a place to lie down for a while and didn’t want to go home. Also, he didn’t want to go far.”

Chloe pursed her lips. “I suppose that makes sense. So? Did you get it out of him?”

“Look Chloe, he did tell me what happened, but he asked me not to tell anyone. So I will not confirm that his father made him get a nose job.”

Chloe grunted, balling up her fists. “That piece of—“ a string of swears came out of her mouth that were completely unladylike. “Alright, what are we going to do?”

“I was hoping you had something in mind. I’m not sure what we even can do.”

“I know Gabriel will weasel his way out of it if we go to the authorities. And even if we did, Adrien would hate us for getting his father in trouble.”

“Yeah...” Marinette sighed. “Is it Stockholm syndrome?”

“What?”

“When you’re locked up for so long you start to care for your warden instead of waiting to leave? Or else Gabriel is secretly affectionate and we never see it.”

“He changed a lot. He used to be...at least a little warmer. Gentler. But I’d never call him a good dad.”

Marinette frowned. “I...have an idea. It’s not a good idea. In fact, it’s a really really bad idea.”

“Let me hear it.”

“What if...” she scrunched her lips. “We’d have to convince Adrien, but what if we botched the surgery?”

Chloe’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“Like...we fiddled with the recovery, and made it look like the surgeon did a bad job? Then the surgeon who operated on a minor would get in trouble, and Gabriel would be forced to recognize that his meddling ruined Adrien’s nose.”

Chloe grimaced. “That’s pretty devious, even for you Dupain-Cheng.”

“It’s all I got at this very second.”

“Isn’t that dangerous too?”

“Look, I said it was a bad idea.”

“But...”

“But...?”

“It would get Adrikins out of modeling for a little while. At least until it heals. Then Gabriel will be forced to shell out more to get it properly fixed...”

“Forget it, this is a bad idea.”

“No no,” Chloe insisted, a malicious smile in her face that only came with her dastardly ideas. “This could work. You mention it to Adrien. Caution all the dangers and what not, but if you plant that seed in his head...we can go from there.”

“Why don’t you do it?”

“Because I’m not supposed to know about the nose job, duh!”

She had a point.

“Now let’s get to class before anyone thinks we’re friends or something.”

—

After school, Marinette rushed out of the building to get to Adrien before his driver came.

But it was no use, the Gorilla was already waiting in front of the school.

Dare she even attempt to sneak Adrien back over? Or should she just let the man in on the secret?

Believing that honesty was the best policy, Marinette approached the sedan and knocked on the window.

The gorilla rolled it down, giving her a patient look.

“Hi! Um, Adrien is at my house.” She pointed to the bakery. “At lunch, he got drowsy from the painkillers and asked if he could nap on my couch. I don’t think he wanted to go home—“

But the bodyguard understood, and beckoned her on, then started the car.

Marinette hurried back to the bakery. Inside, she greeted her mother with a kiss.

“I checked on him an hour ago,” said Sabine. “He was still sleeping.”

“Thanks Maman!” She called as she was already halfway up the stairs.

In the apartment, a little voice in her head reminded her gently, “Adrien is Chat Noir,” as she started up the stairs to her room.

She did a u-turn and came back down. “Oh I’m not ready...” she lamented.

“You don’t have to be right now,” Tikki provided. “You just have to wake him up so he goes home.”

“Yeah, yeah okay. I can...how am I supposed to wake him up?”

“With a kiss?” Tikki batted her eyes, mocking her.

“What! No! No I can’t!” She covered her red face. “I’ll just—shake him!”

And she trudged up the stairs.

Seeing sleeping Adrien, however, melted her heart. He was propped up, though slightly leaning towards the trap door. At some point during his nap, he (or Plagg) had snagged the Ladybug plush from the box in the corner, and he was now cuddling it. His mouth was open to breathe and he snored ever so gently.

He was precious.

Pushing away all hesitation, Marinette stepped forward and swept the bangs from his forehead. His eyes twitched at the touch, though he continued to sleep.

Daintily, she pressed a kiss to his forehead, lingering for just a moment.

“Wakey wakey, my Prince.” She said fondly.

Adrien’s face screwed up, and then he moaned in pain from moving his nose. “Huh?”

“Adrien?”

“My Lady?”

“It’s Marinette.”

He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly to focus them. “Oh…Marinette?”

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

“How long was I out?”

“Well, schools over. So about three hours.”

He shut his eyes. “It feels like it was only 15 minutes.”

“Well, I explained everything to your driver and he’s waiting outside. You can go home and go back to sleep.”

He opened his eyes again, and looked at her. “Not gonna lie, I really liked sleeping here. It was…warmer. Cozier.”

“Well, if you decide to try to go to school again tomorrow, you can nap here again…or anytime you’d like to. If you need to. You’re welcome whenever, that is.”

He sat up and stretched, his shirt riding up and revealing his tummy.

She did not look.

(Yes she did.)

“Hmm…I think I’ll try out your bed next.”

Her eyes blew wide. “Wh-what?”

“This was comfortable, don’t get me wrong. But the bed would probably be better.” Then his sleepy words finally clicked into place. “For a nap! By myself! But the chaise is fine! I should be lucky you let me over here at all! It’s the drugs!”

Seeing him flustered was new, but very fun. She smiled at him. “I know what you meant. I was just…not expecting it is all.”

“Right, so…”

“So…”

“I should probably get going…”

“Right. Don’t want to make your driver wait.”

“Right…” He rubbed his hands together, then fidgeted with his ring. “Listen, Marinette?”

“Yes Adrien?”

“Um…about earlier…when I told you I was Chat Noir?”

“You remember that? I thought you were completely strung out on meds.”

“I mean, I was, a little. It’s a little fuzzy, but still…can you keep that a secret?”

“What, that you said it in your pain med haze? Of course.”

“No I mean—“ He bit his lip, looking at her earnestly.

“Wait, are you really—?” She had given him an out, and he hadn’t taken it. He could still back track though!

“Marinette, I…” He closed his eyes, his brow furrowing in thought. Finally, he opened them again, tears gathering at the corners. He whispered, “Lying to you would just hurt worse. I can’t, not to you. I’m sick of lying. I’m sick of secrets. Please don’t tell…please don’t tell…”

“I won’t,” she assured. “I won’t.” Marinette rested a hand on his forehead, worried that he might be getting a fever by how vulnerable he was speaking.

He felt fine, but pressed his head into her hand, seeking out contact.

“I’m scared.” He whispered.

“Of what?”

“Of him…my father.” He drew a shaky breath. “I’ve been meaning to tell Ladybug…but I know how protective she is of our secret identities. She’s right, of course…but…”

“You should tell her anyway. Make her listen. If she cares about you, she will.” She hadn’t even noticed she was still touching his head until he leaned away. She lowered her hand, only for him to grasp both of hers.

“Thank you, everyday Ladybug. I owe you big time.”

She shrugged. “Just talk to Ladybug, and we’ll call it even.”

“Okay,” he smiled weakly and pulled her into a hug.

It was strong and firm, even a little painful with how tight he hugged her. A hug that drew strength, that was trying to savor a feeling.

That they both hoped would last.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” He asked when he finally pulled away.

“Sure. You know where I live. I’ll leave the trap door unlocked.”

He breathed a relieved sigh. “Just having the option is the best news I’ve gotten all day.” He stood. “I really do have to go now though. He’ll get suspicious. I’m not going to practice after all.”

“Go, I don’t want you to get in trouble. And make sure to talk to Ladybug at patrol tonight!”

“I will!” He assured, hooking his bag over his shoulder. “Thanks a ton, Marinette!”

It was only after he left that Marinette realized he had never told her he had patrol tonight.

Maybe he wouldn’t notice.

—

Marinette had the volume on her phone turned up all day. She didn’t want to miss anything from Adrien. Whether it was him noticing her slip up, or just needing someone to talk to.

She supposed, now that she knew how mischievous he could be, he might just drop in from the trap door.

But given the pain and exhaustion from his nose, he might not be so willing to transform.

After she had dinner, but still a few hours before patrol, her phone dinged.

She swiped it up.

Adrien: I was thinking about it all day. I’m really happy that you know my secret. Secrets are funner between two people. :3

Marinette: You mean three right? You’re going to tell Ladybug, right?

Adrien: Of course. I will tonight. But for right now, it’s just you and me. Adrienette secret.

Marinette: Are you high on meds again?

Adrien: No. I took some more after I came home, and then took another nap. Nathalie woke me for dinner. I think I’m going to stay awake and do some homework/look over your notes before patrol

Adrien: Why did you ask if I was high?

Marinette: I just thought you were being goofy

Adrien: That's my secret cap. I’m always goofy.

Marinette: XD

Marinette: hey does Kagami know?

Adrien: That I’m goofy?

Marinette: Lol no that you’re cat boy

She doubted it, since it had taken him getting high to admit it at all. But she did wonder where he drew the line. Chat was always more relaxed when it came to Identities. Did he want to tell Kagami? Should she tell him about Ryuko?

Adrien: no, why would she?

Marinette: she’s your girlfriend?

Adrien started and stopped typing a few times, the little bubbles popping up over and over.

Finally, he just called her.

Which was just great. She wanted to stutter like a moron today. She had missed not doing so earlier! “Adrien?”

“Hey, hi, sorry, umm...it's kinda complicated. So I didn’t want to text it out.”

“Oh, sure. I understand.”

“Are you busy?”

“No. Just sketching.”

“Do you mind if I rant a little?”

“My ears are yours.” What a weird thing to say. He was going to hang up now.

Or giggle, that was fine too. “So...Kagami and I never actually started dating. She thought we did, and when I said we weren’t she got really mad and we argued about semantics…She said I was leading her on, and I said I was just being nice, and she said I was being a people pleaser and fake…I said she was jumping to conclusions. She said it was implicit permission and I said I needed to give explicit permission…”

Marinette winced. “Yikes.”

“Yeah, um, don’t tell her I said this, but I’m pretty glad it didn’t work out.”

“Really?” She dared not to hope.

“Yeah. We both had expectations that the other couldn’t meet. I wanted someone who was willing to just listen to my problems and show me affection. Kagami grabs the bull by the horns and she’s not a hugger. She wanted me to solve her problems with her mom and to be an escape…but with my dad, it was the same exact problem.”

“Oh, I see what you mean. That is hard.”

“And also…being with her was…really boring.”

“Boring? Kagami?”

“We have the same life experiences. Allowed to watch the same movies, read the same books. There was nothing to add. We’re too alike.”

“Huh.”

“And truth be told…” he winced, hesitating, but then admitted, “I’m still desperately in love with Ladybug.”

Desperately. Desperately!

“I know she doesn’t feel the same way about me. So I tried to move on. I know it’s not healthy to date someone else to get over someone, but Kagami was just so…insistent. And I don’t know, it made me feel awkward.” He sighed. “I’m really tired of girls fighting for attention, when the one girl I want brushes me off.”

Marinette clenched her fists.

I have messed this all up.

Oblivious to her pain, he continued. “I wanted to give Kagami a chance because she’s my friend and she’s nice. Every other girl who’s wanted me has just wanted ‘Adrien, teen idol’ not ‘Adrien the boy with thoughts and feelings’. They just talk at me, and cling to me. Like Lila…and Chloe, unfortunately.”

“You deserve someone who listens to you.” She assured, swallowing her sorrows.

“That’s why I like hanging out with Ladybug. She’s so cool and kind! But we have some really deep conversations. As Chat Noir, I’m not ‘Adrien, teen idol.’ I’m just me. She sees me as an equal. She’s my best friend, Marinette. I can just talk to her, you know?”

“Yeah.” She whispered.

“I—I’m sorry.” He suddenly cut himself off. “It’s pretty unfair to you to hear my woes about my love life.”

“No, it’s okay. I promised to be a pair of ears to listen.”

“I know but…earlier today…” He paused. “Didn’t you say you loved me?”

Bad. Bad. Awkward. Oops oops. Abort!

“I—I did.”

“Did you mean it like…?”

“Like however hopes the most.”

“Uh huh. Please be honest with me, Marinette. Please.”

How to play this? He had just gotten over a rant about girls fawning over him. Wouldn’t it be awful to lump herself in with them?

Especially since she hadn’t revealed herself yet. What if she doomed herself now, and then later doomed Ladybug?

“I…I love you. Adrien. I enjoy spending time with you. I love your laugh, and my day is brighter with you in it. You’re my favorite person. It doesn’t have to be romantic. I just want you in my life.”

Marinette held her breath before a pleasant hum came from his side of the phone.

“Then I think…I love you too.”

She tried not to scream.

But she did mime the action to Tikki, who responded in kind.

“Would you still love me with my old janky nose?” The question was sad, but his tone was light.

“Your nose was perfect! I think your old man just needs new glasses!”

“No way, if he gets new glasses, he’ll just find something else to fix. ‘These cheekbones aren’t sharp enough! Nathalie, bring me the cheese grater!’”

“Nooo! Stay away from Adrien’s cherubic cheeks!”

“Cherubic?!”

“Like a newborn baby!”

His wonderful sunshine laughter burst from the speaker before it broke off in a moan. “Ughh you’re not supposed to make me laugh!”

“Oh, sorry. I forgot.”

“You just like to see me suffer.”

“Absolutely not, Adrien. You’re baby.”

“You heard it from her, folks. I’m baby.”

“And don’t forget it.”

They talked for a while longer before Adrien relented to do his homework.

“Are you going to try to come to school again tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I know I can crash at your place again, so I’ll try to make it through the morning classes.”

“Good. Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye Marinette, love you.”

“I love you too.”

And he hung up.

And Marinette fell off her chair with a scream. “Tikki! He loves me! He loves me! Both of me! He’s desperately in love with Ladybug! And he wants Marinette in his life! He loves me!!!”

“And you’re going to return the favor tonight during patrol?”

“Can I?”

“It’s up to you. There’s always the threat of secret identity mishaps, but personally, I think you’ll be stronger together if you reveal yourself. He obviously needs you. Especially if things like this nose job are going to become a recurring problem.”

“God, I hope not.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“Besides revealing myself? I don’t know. I still have that awful idea that Chloe and I had. I just worry about how deep that problem could become.”

“Well, you’ve got a little time before patrol starts.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ll brainstorm.”

—

Despite her best efforts, the only other options included calling in an adult. And if Gabriel was deranged enough to force a nose job on Adrien, then he would surely blame him for getting busted.

Maybe talking with Adrien would prove fruitful.

And with that, she left to meet with him.

Chat Noir, that is.

She arrived first. The high rooftop offered a full view of nighttime in Paris in all its splendor, without being visible to civilians.

A perfect meeting place if she said so herself.

The minutes ticked on, and Adrien was still AWOL. Was he that nervous? Or maybe he fell asleep. Or maybe his nose was hurting too much?

Would Plagg know where to find her?

She took out her yo-yo and flipped open the screen, his paw print appearing on the grid. He was transformed and out and about. She watched as the paw print bounced around from block to block. He was not heading towards her. What was he doing?

It took a while, but eventually he started making his way towards her. This gave her a few minutes to get her story straight.

Then he arrived, holding onto the top of the staff and riding it to the roof like an elevator.

“Evening my lady,” he greeted, lacking any flirtatious tone and scarily neutral. “Sorry I’m late...I needed to clear my head.”

“Hey kitty. How are you feeling?”

“Um...I’ve been better...” the mask formed over the bandages, but did nothing to hide the shape or the bandages over his nostrils.

“Broke your nose?”

“...yeah, something like that.”

She waited. Normally Ladybug would jump right into patrol, but she knew they had to talk. She was just trying to give him the right moment. “Do you...want to talk about it?”

He gripped his arm and looked away from her. He was still out of arm's reach and only felt farther as the time stretched on.

“I...something happened. And I need to tell you but...I don’t want you to be disappointed with me.”

She sat, leaning her back against the lip of the roof. “I could never be disappointed in you kitty. Let’s talk.”

He didn’t look so sure, but sat next to her regardless. He pulled up his legs and rested his forearms on his knees.

She waited.

“I um...I messed up. I told someone my identity.”

She kept her face neutral, allowing him to continue.

“I was really scared and in pain...she let me nap at her house and she made me feel safe. I had some pain meds, but I let it slip that I was Chat Noir. Later, she gave me an out, saying she assumed I was just loopy from the meds but I couldn’t deny it. I had to tell her the truth. She’s one of my best friends, and she’s so trustworthy! I’m so sorry Ladybug...I just...it just came out...” He trembled as a tear rolled down his cheek. “I don’t regret it. But...I know I have to give up my ring. I’m...I’m so sorry.” He covered his face with his hand. “I wanted to be there for you while you were the guardian, but I already blew it. I’m such a mess...”

Ladybug wrapped an arm around him and pulled him into a side hug. “Chat, I’m not going to take your ring. You’re still my partner, and I want no one else.”

Chat shuddered and began to cry in earnest, letting out all that he was trying to conceal.

Ladybug tried not to cry too. After all, there was more talking to be had. She rubbed his back and across his shoulders.

“Marinette told me everything.” She whispered.

Chat’s eyes blew wide as he whipped his head to look at her. “No...no no she promised...she promised she wouldn’t tell!”

“Shh, hey hey, it’s okay.”

“No! She gave me her word she wouldn’t tell! I told her everything! I trusted her!” The absolute betrayal in his voice broke her, and she found her eyes stinging with tears.

“Chat...she told me it was an accident. She begged me not to take your Miraculous away. She said you needed me. You needed a friend. She was concerned, Chat. She loves you.”

He hiccuped and sobbed.

“She told me about your injury, and that you don’t feel safe at home. She told me that you’re still in love with me...and she said she couldn’t ask for a more perfect partner.”

His haggard breathing stuttered at that. “W-what?”

“She said your puns are hilarious, just ill timed. Your fighting skills are second to none. And that despite all that you go through everyday, Adrien, that you still continue to be an encouraging anchor to her. And most importantly, as the guardian, she says she can not pick a better Chat Noir.”

He swallowed harshly. “My...my lady?”

“Yes kitty.”

“Marinette?”

She nodded. “I didn’t break my promise. Mums the word.”

The next moment, Ladybug was on her back, as Chat had thrown himself at her, his arms tightly wound around her. “My lady!” He sobbed. “My beautiful lady!”

Ladybug just patted his head and pressed a warm kiss to his forehead. “Yes kitty. I’m here. I’m here and you’re safe. I’ll keep you safe.”

“I knew it was you.” He breathed. He leaned away to look down at her, affection pouring from his eyes. “I don’t know how, but my heart knew. You wonderful girl. I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

“Chat...”

“I love you, Marinette. You’re everything I ever wanted.”

Her face burned as a few happy tears leaked out. “I love you so much Adrien...but...”

“But?” He asked, voice small.

“Don’t put me on a pedestal. I’m not perfect.”

He scoffed. “No one is. But you’re perfect to me.”

She smiled sadly. “I meant, there’s something else we need to talk about.”

“What? I get to stay Chat Noir, you love me, you’re the most amazing, kindest, sweetest, trustworthy girl—“

“I kept my mouth shut about nearly all your secrets. All but one.”

He furrowed his eyes. “Wait what? To who? Tikki? She doesn’t count!”

“No, not Tikki.” Ladybug pushed off the ground so they could sit and talk again. “Listen. Chloe cornered me when I came back to school. She already had a hunch, but...I confirmed the truth about your nose.”

Chat didn’t respond, just stared at her.

“I’m sorry. I know that was the thing you specifically told me not to tell about, but...it’s just not right, Adrien. This is wrong. Like, really really wrong.”

He frowned at her slightly and turned away. “I kind of figured Chloe had me figured out. She’s seen her mom get enough rhinoplasties to know what it looks like.” He scratched the back of his head. “But like...just because you’re not used to it doesn’t mean it’s wrong. My dad is just a little more critical of me. That’s our normal.”

“No no no no no! Bad kitty!” She grabbed his hand tightly. “Never ever, for any reason, is it okay for an adult to force their child to have elective surgery. You said you were scared earlier! Don’t try to justify that behavior!”

“Well...it’s not great, but he’s my dad and he’s grieving...”

“Adrien Arthur Alphonso Andrew Absolon Athanese Agreste, you know better than that.”

Chat gawked at her.

She held his cheeks in her hands and forced him to look at her. “This stopped being a grieving process. It’s abuse.”

“...I just didn’t want to have an abusive father.”

“No one does, kitty cat.” She whispered, rubbing her thumb over his cheek, careful not to bump his nose. “But justifying his behavior isn’t going to help. It’s just going to make it worse.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

Ladybug screwed up her lips. “Chloe and I...may have come up with a horrible idea. I wanted to talk to you about it to workshop it.”

“Okay. I’m listening.”

She bit her lip and answered haltingly. “We could...purposefully...botch your nose.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Botch my nose...? Why would we do that?”

“If your bandages come off and your nose is ‘worse’ than it was before, your dad will take it out on a doctor that was willing to operate on a minor, and your dad will have to realize it was his fault this happened.”

“You don’t think he’d suspect me of tampering with it?”

“Would he? Knowing that it’s your nose on your face that you’d have to live with?”

“I don’t know...”

“Like I said, it’s a terrible, awful idea. A huge risk. But it’s all I got right now.”

Chat frowned, bringing his hand to his chin. As he considered this, his brows twitched and his lips screwed up. Then, his whole face relaxed and a smile slowly overtook it. “The surgeon said it would take a few weeks for it to heal on the surface, but a year or two to heal on the inside before it would be safe to operate on it again. If it’s botched…I could get out of modeling for at least a year.”

“Is that what you want?”

“To not have to miss class for photoshoots? To not wake up early, or have my free days taken? To have to say no to hangouts? To not have a rigid diet? To not have my flaws pointed out by my father, makeup artists, and photographers? Gee, how will I survive?”

She smiled a little at that. “I can’t emphasize how dangerous messing with this is. You could have breathing problems, headaches…”

“With my crippling anxiety and self-doubt, I already have breathing problems.”

It probably meant it as a joke, since he said it so casually. But there was just so much weight to it that he couldn’t be lying.

“Adrien, do you need to see a therapist?”

“Eh, probably.”

“Did you see any therapists after your mom disappeared?”

“No, father said it wasn’t anyone’s business what happened to our family.”

“Christ on a motorbike…okay, once your nose gets revealed, I want you to act as traumatized as you can and demand that you see a therapist. I really think it’d be good for you. Does that sound fair?”

“Yeah…I think you’re right. It might be weird though…”

“Sure. But I just want you to be happy, okay?” She rested a hand on his cheek. “I’m asking you to do this not because it’s what I want. I’m asking you to put your mental health first.”

He shimmied over so he could hold her, and rest his head on her chest. “I believe you. I love you.”

“I love you too, Adrien.” She whispered, her lips caressing his forehead. “Oh should I say, ‘other boy’?”

He looked up at her. “Really? Me?”

“Since the moment you gave me your umbrella.”

“Aw Bugaboo! That was the day I fell in love with you too!”

For a long time, they stayed just like that. Embraced, safe, content, and basking in the affection they’d been denying for so long. Broken hearts mending, battered souls finding reprieve.

“So,” Chat began. “How are we going to bust my nose?”

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“Unfortunately, it makes a lot of sense.” He pulled away from her, begrudgingly, and stood. “I’ll stand here, and you go to the other end, and then just chuck your yo-yo at my face as hard as you can.”

“I can’t do that!”

“It’ll be fine, my lady.”

“No it won’t! There’s no way to control it! What if I cave your nose in completely!?”

“You won’t. I have silicone braces in the nostrils. If you shatter the cartilage, it should stay in place. The doctor took cartilage from my rib and rebuilt my nose. We need to break that.”

“Or just dislodge it.” She suggested. “Wait, I’ll try for a clean snap in the middle.”

“You can try,” he chuckled.

Ladybug hopped to her feet and took her place a good twenty feet away.

“I’m going to close my eyes. Don’t tell me when you’re throwing it so I won’t flinch.”

“Okay!”

Then silence.

He waited with bated breath, flexing his fingers.

Then there was a whistle and he turned his face reflexively, taking the impact to the side of his nose.

CRUNCH

And he hit the ground.

“Chat!” Ladybug rushed over to him.

He gave her a weak thumbs up.

“I’m so sorry! That looked so painful!”

“You held back.” He teased.

“Because I didn’t want to kill you! I know it was my idea, but that was terrible!”

The bandages under his nose were nearly soaked with blood already. “It didn’t hurt that badly…”

“Let’s take you home and redress your nose. Okay kitty?”

“Only if you do it for me, My Lady.”

“What do I look like, a nurse?”

“No, but you are the one that broke my nose.”

“Oh great. Now you’re going to lord that over me?”

“Always, my darling bug.”

—

Back at Adrien’s room, he dropped his transformation and turned to look at Ladybug.

“What’s with that look?”

“I just…it’s one thing to hear it, and another to see it.” She also dropped her mask.

“Oh…I see what you mean. Despite the pain in my nose, I’m just…really happy to see it’s you.”

Smiling gently, Marinette took his hand and guided him into the bathroom. “I’d say we’re pretty lucky.”

“Well, I hit the jackpot.” He joked. “I think you just got the consolation prize.”

“Nonsense. You’re the perfect trophy husband.” She reached up and gently removed the tape holding the bandage in place, and then eased it off.

Adrien watched her reaction, his heartbeat quickening when her eyes widened in horror and her jaw dropped.

“Is it bad?”

She nodded. “Can you breathe okay?”

“It’s hard with the splints, but it doesn’t feel any different from before.”

“Okay. Well, that’s...good? Um..go ahead and look.”

Adrien turned to face the mirror, and tears sprang to his eyes. His face, his nose, what he was familiar with, was wrong. The bridge was broken, and very visibly bent like a parenthesis mark. No doubt about it, the surgery was botched.

But he wasn’t expecting to be so startled by it.

Marinette’s arms wrapped around him from behind. “It’s okay kitty. It’s alright.”

Adrien nodded, his nose throbbing. “I should probably redress it.”

“Do you want help?”

“It’s alright my lady, I’ve been doing this all weekend.”

Very gently, she turned his face toward her. Then she kissed the corner of his lips to avoid bumping his nose. “Roman statue, Pinocchio, Jimmy Durante, no matter what your nose looks like, it’s perfect to me, and to Nino and Chloe and all of your friends. Because it’s yours.”

He embraced her, leaning his cheek on top of her head. “Thank you, Marinette. That means a lot to me.”

“Of course kitty. Anything for you.”

There was no talk of what came next for them. Adrien redressed his wounds and took some pain medication. Then Marinette tucked him into bed before transforming and going home to sleep herself.

—

The bruising was even worse the next day. He looked like he got stung by a bee, he was so swollen.

“Dude...” Nino whistled lowly.

But Adrien ignored him in favor of Marinette’s shoulder. He snuck up from behind and dropped his chin on her, embracing her around the waist at the same time.

“Oh! Adrien!” She squeaked, unprepared for the hug. “How do you feel today?”

“Like Ladybug hit me with her yo-yo.”

Marinette chuckled despite herself. “I’m sure she’d never do a thing like that. She’s far too nice, and I think she has a crush on you.”

“That’s good,” stated Nino, eavesdropping. “Adrien’s got a mongo crush on her too.”

“Hugh Mongo?”

“Hugmongus Dungous.”

Alya was alert the second Adrien dropped his chin on Marinette. “Okay, well for someone crushing on Ladybug and dating Kagami, you’re certainly chummy with Marinette.”

“Kagami and I aren’t dating. We never did. And Ladybug is better off with Chat Noir.”

Marinette patted his hands in mock consolation.

“That still doesn’t explain why you’ve decided to use Marinette as a pillow.”

“She let me crash on her couch yesterday at lunch. After she left, I found her diary and read the whole thing. I found out all about her gigantic crush on me.”

Nino let out a violent sigh of relief. “You mean we don’t have to hide it anymore?! Finally!! Dude, it was getting so embarrassing!”

“Completely unbearable!” Agreed Alya. “Did you see the calendar?”

“Calendar?”

“Alya...” Marinette warned, her face turning red.

“Yeah! She has your whole schedule written out! It’s adorable!” Then she added under her breath, “and borderline creepy.”

Adrien hummed and hugged Marinette a little tighter. “That’s nice. You’ll have to share that with me. I’m so bad at time management.”

Chloe had been listening for a while as well, but decided that this was a good time to interrupt. “Adrikins? Can I borrow Marinette for a moment please?” Her voice was so sickeningly sweet, as if she were asking daddy for a pony.

Adrien sighed and released Marinette. “Be nice,” he warned.

“Of course!” She beamed, before grabbing Marinette’s wrist and hauling her off to a corner of the courtyard again. “You two are awfully close this morning! What gives?”

“Well...last night he called me and we had a good talk. Then I told him of the idea we had. He wasn’t thrilled initially, but the more he thought about it, the more he came around. He eventually agreed.”

“And then?”

“And then I went to sit on my balcony, and saw Ladybug and Chat Noir patrolling. So I flagged them down and told them the whole sad story. As Adrien told me, they showed up at his house and Ladybug broke his nose with her yo-yo.”

Chloe screwed up her face. “Ladybug, Huh?”

It was obvious she was still having some reservations of the hero ever since Miracle Queen. Maybe Marinette shouldn’t have mentioned Ladybug in the first place.

“Did she mention me at all?” Chloé asked.

“I said you and I came up with the idea to botch Adrien’s surgery. She kind of laughed and said we were crazy, but she respected how much we both cared for Adrien.”

“She didn’t say she was disappointed with me?”

“No, should she?” After all, Marinette wasn’t supposed to know about Miracle Queen.

Chloe was quiet then shrugged. “Maybe. Not your business though.”

“That’s fair.” Marinette amended.

“So she broke his nose?”

“Yeah. But she said we’re not allowed to tell people she’s responsible for it. Adrien doesn’t even want people to know it was a nose job.”

“Here’s a bit of inside information from the world of the rich and famous. No one ever wants people to know they’ve gotten a rhinoplasty. If they have surgery, they disappear until it’s healed. Then they emerge and all the rich and famous friends so “oh wow, did you get a haircut?” But never, never, is it talked about with men. You see?”

“Huh. So if anyone notices he has a crooked nose?”

“Gabriel will probably make up a story about him being in an accident, to drive up the tragedy.”

“He’s a real piece of work.”

“That is something we can agree on.”

—

Adrien stayed until lunch again, before going to crash on Marinette’s bed. The next day was much the same, and the day after that. By Friday, the swelling had gone down significantly.

“I’m not going to have to crash at your place today, My Lady.” Adrien said by way of greeting.

“Oh, do you feel better now?”

“No, I have an appointment at lunch. One week post op. Fingers crossed.”

“Let me know how it goes, okay?”

“Absolutely!”

And so at lunch, he pressed a kiss to her cheek and left with his driver.

It was less than an hour later when her phone buzzed with a message from Adrien.

Adrien: going in. I’m about to destroy this man’s whole career

She burst out laughing, startling Alya and Nino who were eating lunch with her at her house.

About 15 minutes after that, her phone dinged again.

Adrien: where are you?

Marinette: At my house. Lunch is almost over. Why?

Adrien: we’re going to a different doctor and I need an ‘emotional support friend’ with me. Can we pick you up?

Marinette: Absolutely! I’ll be right down!

Marinette explained the situation to her parents, Alya, and Nino, and prepared to meet the sedan outside the bakery.

The car pulled up and she wasted no time getting inside and sliding right in beside Adrien.

“I apologize for asking you along on such short notice, Miss Dupain-Cheng.” Said Gabriel from the passenger seat. “The reveal of Adrien’s nose was understandably quite upsetting to him. It appears the doctor who did the first corrective surgery did so poorly, and Adrien’s nose is ruined. We will be going to a new doctor to see what our options are. He’s requested someone come along to comfort him. I don’t blame him, I’m extremely upset myself.”

Marinette turned her attention to Adrien, seeing his eyes red from tears. He may have gotten actually emotional, or just from watching his father get angry.

“I understand, Mr. Agreste. It’s really no problem. I want the best for Adrien.”

“You’re an artist with a keen eye. His nose is clearly crooked, right? That foolish quack had the audacity to say that it was fine! Swelling he said!”

Marinette turned Adrien’s face toward her to get a better look.

His nose was even worse, if that was possible. It might have been swelling, but no doubt about it, the bridge was pointing left.

“It’s...it’s a little off...” she said sheepishly.

Boy, she did a number on him.

Adrien simply took her hand and squeezed.

Soon they arrived at the new doctor’s office. A plastic surgeon, specializing in rhinoplasty. The office was emasculate, marble flooring, chandeliers, it looked more like a hotel than a doctor's office.

Gabriel strode right up to the front desk. “Gabriel Agreste. I called a little bit ago about an emergency consultation with Dr. Nosestiff for my son.”

Adrien and Marinette looked at each other. Nosestiff? There’s no way that was a real person.

“Of course. He was able to squeeze you in. He’ll be with you in a moment. Please take a seat.”

They sat down in the empty waiting room, Gabriel tapping his foot impatiently.

“I hope that the other doctor loses his license.” Said Gabriel, to no one in particular. “It was supposed to be a simple surgery. That’s what he promised. I paid 100,000 euros for my son to look like a boxer. Unbelievable.”

Adrien had not yet let go of Marinette’s hand, and he trembled at his father’s anger.

Marinette rubbed a hand down his arm soothingly. “It’s going to be alright.” She whispered.

“Alright? Alright?!” Gabriel barked at her. “No it’s not alright! Adrien’s future as a model is ruined! That’s not alright! And all because—“ he stopped and hung his head.

All because of me. Is what he didn’t say.

“Agreste?” Called the nurse.

The group was led back to an examination room where two doctors were waiting. Adrien was urged into a chair.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Nosestiff, and yes, that is my real name.” He shook everyone’s hands. “This is my colleague Dr. Zasio.”

“Gabriel Agreste. This is my son Adrien, and his friend Marinette.”

“From what I heard on the phone, Adrien has had...an accident?”

“As you can see,” Gabriel gestured to his face. “The doctor was supposed to be performing a rhinoplasty, but instead decided to turn my son into a rhino!”

Adrien turned his face from side to side.

“Yes, that is a severe complication. He still has a lot of bruising and swelling, did you just come from the other doctor?”

“The one week follow up, yes.”

“What doctor did you go to? Was it a plastic surgeon?”

“Yes, a cosmetic surgeon.”

“Well, a cosmetic surgeon and plastic surgeon are not the same thing. Cosmetics can do lip fillers, Botox, and rhinoplasties, but they should not be doing septoplasties, which obviously happened to Adrien. Rhinoplasty is surface level. Nostrils and the tip. But a septoplasty deals with the septum and the bridge. That doctor shouldn’t have even touched Adrien’s bridge.”

“He said his cartilage had been shattered and that it needed to be rebuilt.”

“Again, not in his area of expertise. Adrien, did you have some sort of face trauma?”

“Uh—“ Adrien started, but Gabriel interrupted.

“No. It must have happened when he was born. Adrien hasn’t even been in any situations where he could get hit in the face.”

The doctor frowned at this.

Dr. Zasio spoke up. “What was the goal of the first surgery? Surely you didn’t know about the shattered cartilage?”

“Adrien developed a bump on his nose that was unsightly and uneven. Here’s a photo from his last photoshoot.” He handed over his phone.

The doctors both stared at it in shock. “Oh my god!” Exclaimed Dr. Nosestiff.

“See? It’s quite distracting—“

“That’s a perfect nose! Absolutely gorgeous! People would pay millions of euros for this nose! Why on Earth did you want to change it?”

“I uh…” Started Adrien, yet again, Gabriel interrupted.

“This bump, right here.” He pointed to the screen.

Dr. Nosestiff pinched his own nose and frowned at Gabriel. “Look Mr. Agreste. I’m going to have to ask you to sit in the waiting room.”

“Excuse me?”

“It's obvious that you’re upset about this, rightfully so. But I need to speak to Adrien, and you haven’t let him have a word edgewise. I think you might be a little hysterical right now.”

No, that’s just how he always is, Adrien thought.

Gabriel balled up his fists and jutted out his jaw, the impending explosion gaining pressure. But instead he huffed and raised his chin. “Fine. I will go wait out in the lobby.” He snapped, and walked out.

Dr. Nosestiff exhaled once he left. “Wow.”

Adrien and Marinette exhaled too.

“So what’s really going on?” asked Dr. Zasio. “I’ve seen your ads. They’re everywhere. I’ve had patients bring in your picture asking for your nose. What gives man?”

Adrien swallowed. “I didn’t want surgery. I liked my nose. I didn’t know there was anything wrong with it.”

The two doctors sighed dejectedly. “Disgusting. your father put you up to this?”

“Yes.” He confessed, sheepishly.

“What did the doctor say to you at your consultation? Did he ask what you thought?”

“I never talked to the doctor before the surgery. I was pulled out of class without warning, driven to the operating room, and put to sleep. When I woke up, my face was totally swollen, and the nurse said I was ‘all better.’”

“Yeah, all better,” scoffed Dr. Zasio. “Who was this doctor? Picasso? No one should operate on a minor unless it’s an emergency. You weren’t having any difficulty breathing, were you?”

“No.”

“Thought so. Well, he messed you up real good.”

“Um,” Marinette spoke up for the first time. “There’s something else you should know.”

They both looked at her, listening.

“Adrien confessed to me what happened, and we…well, I had…a really terrible idea.”

“Which was…?”

“I’m the one that screwed up his nose. I hit him. We purposefully botched the surgery to make Gabriel feel guilty.”

Dr. Zasio buried his face in his hands as Dr. Nosestiff just stared.

After a long beat of silence, Dr. Zasio finally just chuckled. “I mean…I guess you accomplished your goal? Waste his money, and make him live with the fact that his risk put Adrien in jeopardy. Honestly, it’s better that you did that this time instead of seven surgeries down the line when he starts to look like a ken doll.”

“What you did was extremely stupid and risky.” Scolded Dr. Nosestiff. “But, it was clever. This isn’t the first time a narcissistic parent has forced cosmetic surgery on a child. But I have a feeling it will be the last for Adrien.”

Adrien smiled a little at that.

“Now, let’s talk about fixing that nose. How’s your breathing?”

“It doesn’t feel any worse than before.”

Dr. Nosestiff tilted his chin up and shined a line in his nasal cavity. He poked and prodded with a long q-tip. Then he gently felt the bridge of his nose.

Adrien winced.

“That hurt?”

“Yeah.”

“Still broken, of course. I’m actually optimistic about this. The skin of your nose is thick, so breaking the cartilage and resetting it should solve most of the problems. If the other doctor had to reconstruct it, that probably means he took out all the old cartilage to begin with. Now, the golden question: Are you planning on continuing whatever activity it is that shattered the cartilage in the first place?”

Adrien and Marinette shared a look.

“I kind of have too.”

“Okay. Well, try to be a little more careful?”

“I’ve been telling him that for a while.” Teased Marinette.

Adrien just fondly rolled his eyes.

“Now for the news that’s going to make your dad really mad. I don’t operate on minors without due cause. Since you can breathe fine, I don’t see a need to get you in here as soon as possible. How old are you?”

“I just turned sixteen.”

“Perfect. In two years, come back, and we’ll fix this. I’ll tell your father too. You need to fully heal before any more surgery happens. If anyone goes digging in there, the risky for a horrible, life threatening complication goes up. Gabriel Agreste will just have to deal with having an attractive son with a slightly bent nose, over having a son with no nose.”

Gabriel was brought back into the examination room to hear all this himself while Marinette and Adrien waited in the lobby.

Adrien just sat with a fond smile on his face. “You know what? I’m also okay with a slightly crooked nose.”

“I think it’s cute.”

“I think you’re cute.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Hey, I was thinking…next weekend, if you’re feeling better, do you want to go on a date with me? Maybe get some ice cream?”

“Oh my lady, I’d love to…but I have to check my schedule. I might have a photoshoot—JUST KIDDING I’M FREE!”

#miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrinette #ladynoir #chat noir #ladybug #gabriel agreste #identity reveal

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littlemissagrafina · 4 years ago

Text

Comfortember Day 2. First Day/Night + Day 24. Panic Attack

The Curtain of the Night (brings fear, not delight)

@comfortember

Read on AO3

Day and night were very different things for Peter.

During the day he could be happy, forget about his worries, his stress, and his fears. He could shove it aside and carry on with what he needed to do. School work, patrols, lab days, and days with May helping distract him.

On some days he could feel almost normal, almost like there wasn't a cloud hanging over his head bringing darkness, despair, and fear with it. On some days he could smile, and he could be happy, and he could forget the bad times. Forget the anxiety that was constantly nestled in his chest, and forget that it was waiting to tighten and constrict once again.

That couldn't happen at night. As darkness fell so did he, his thoughts drifting towards those of failure, of disappointment, of wrong. The thoughts that were him.

He didn't like those thoughts. They burned, twisted and warping as they wormed themselves into his head and heart. They brought his fears and his faults to life in the darkness.

Everyday when the sun fled, everyday that evening drew to a close, Peter would be filled with dread for the sleeplessness or the nightmares when he slept, the loneliness or the terror when he didn't (which was more often than he ever wanted to admit to.)

Peter would push his homework later and later, patrol for as long as he could, talk to Ned and MJ for as long as he could, all in a bid to stay awake just a bit longer. To stay safe and pretend as if his mind wasn't his enemy just a little more.

And most of the time he got away with late or even entirely sleepless nights because May wasn't always home, her shifts at the hospital running late, being a night shift, or the times she had to pull a double. Peter hated deceiving her, lying to her and pretending that he was okay and asleep when she did arrive home.

He hated it but he didn't know how else to cope because this was working. Maybe not in the best or most healthy way, but it was working.

Until he had to stay with Mr. Stark for a week while May was sent to help at an understaffed hospital a state or two away.

He hadn't even arrived at the compound but Peter knew what was happening, knew that Tony would notice and not let it continue but Peter didn't know whether to be angry or grateful for it.

His carefully broken system was being pushed and shattered but maybe he could hold the pieces together well enough to get through the week.

---

As it turns out, he couldn't. Tony had taken one look at him and immediately stated that they were skipping the lab that day and instead would be heading up to the living room to lounge and watch movies.

"You look like a racoon, kid." The man had poked his cheek near the corner of his eye playfully but Peter could hear the underlying concern in his voice.

"As if you look any better." Peter had sassed back, cringing inwardly at the obvious forced lightness to his voice.

Yeah, his charade wouldn't last a second around Tony.

The rest of the evening had passed with the two of them watching whatever shows they bounced between on Netflix and then eating the takeout that Tony had ordered, Pepper joining them just as it arrived.

Peter could almost forget that he had to sleep that night. He had tried to but the anxiety of staying at the tower with Tony and Pepper for the first time was weighing down on him. Okay, yeah, he'd stayed before but that was in the medbay after accidents on patrols, not a specific amount of time or reason like now. They'd also had many movie nights and lab days but he always went home.

Peter was jerked from his thoughts by Tony nudging his leg from where he sat on the other end of the couch. "You with me, kid?"

"Uh, ye- yeah, no, I'm here." Peter muttered as he tried to bring himself back to reality. "Sorry."

Tony looked at him, a slight frown creasing his forehead. "You feeling okay? You've been a bit more spacy than usual."

"Just tired. Sorry." Peter hummed absent-mindedly and Tony nudged him again.

"No needless apologies, kid." He reminded the teen. "We discussed it, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. I know, so– uhh… I know." Tony couldn't help the amusement that bubbled inside of him when Peter floundered with the almost apology.

Worry still grew inside of him too.

"You sure you're good though?" Tony asked again.

"Yes, Mr. Stark. I'm just tired."

"How about an early night, then?" Pepper's voice rang from her place in the kitchen as she made herself tea.

When did she go to the kitchen? Peter wondered to himself before realizing what the woman had said. Anxiety suddenly flooded him and his eyes widened, breath catching slightly.

No, I don't wanna go to bed. I can't.

Tony saw the way Peter's eyes widened before they went blank once again. He almost thought he was imagining it until he saw the tension in Peter's shoulders.

"Yeah, that uh– that sounds like it might be a good idea."

No it doesn't.

The thought of having to go and lay with his thoughts as company wasn't appealing to Peter but he didn't know how to get out of it now.

"Good." Pepper smiled at him. "Spider babies need their beauty sleep."

Peter only vaguely remembers his response as his mind drifted slightly more away.

"Are you sure it isn't Mr. Stark that needs his beauty rest?"

The following laughter from Pepper and sputtering from Tony is the last clear thing that Peter recalls until he suddenly found himself on the floor with his back up against the couch and his legs tangled in the blanket half falling off the cushions.

A hand gripped his shoulder and another one was holding his own against a firm chest. Following the line of the hand, Peter looked up into the worried eyes of Mr. Stark. The older man was saying something but it was too far away, too muffled, for Peter to decipher.

The teenager was distracted by a strange ache in his chest. It felt like there was something pushing against his ribs, the pressure building and flowing up to his head. His eyelids started to close when there was a sudden stinging in his cheek.

"Peter! You need to breathe, kid! You can't check out on us now." Tony's frantic voice sliced through the fog clouding Peter's brain and everything crumbled with it. Light, sound, and touch all flooded back and for those first moments Peter was blindsided by the input before it calmed.

"Peter!" That was Pepper from behind him to one side. "Breathe, Sweetheart. You need to breathe. Follow Tony, feel his chest as he breathes. You can do it."

That was when he realised that Tony holding his hand against his chest was to help him follow the exaggerated rhythm of the man's own breathing. Drawing in a breath was difficult, his lungs and chest fighting for relief but his brain not wanting to listen.

Choking in tiny mouthfuls was all that Peter could do in the next minutes until, finally, his chest started to loosen and he was able to gulp in more air.

Through it all Tony's hands never left his shoulder and where he was pressing their other hands to his chest. Tony knelt in front of him and Pepper sat near them, her calm and quiet presence helping in itself to calm Peter in turn.

They stayed that way until the only remnants of Peter's panic was a burning in his throat and shaking hands. The exhaustion started settling in and his head tilted forward, thudding against Tony's collar as the man moved his hands to cradle him closer.

"M'Sorry." Peter's voice was barely loud enough to hear.

Pepper ran her hand gently across Peter's back and he was reminded of May when she would help calm him during an attack. "You have nothing to be sorry for." Pepper said to him, and he felt Tony nod in agreement.

"You were dissociating and you started panicking. You back with us now, Bug?"

Peter only gave a weak shrug in answer.

"Okay." Tony murmured. "That's okay. Can you tell us what happened? What triggered this?"

Peter was silent for a moment, contemplating if he wanted to go into it now because he knew that Tony wouldn't let this slide completely and that even if he got out of it now, the man would question him in the morning again.

Eventually he nodded, his head never leaving Tony's chest.

Pepper and Tony stayed quiet, waiting for him to speak if he was ready to.

"Brain was loud, too much. Scary. Didn't wanna sleep, it doesn't let me sleep." Peter's abstractness worried Tony but he knew from his own experience that it was because of the exhaustion currently settling after the rush of panic.

And then Peter's words registered. Oh, Kid.

"Why didn't you say anything, Petey?" Pepper asked before Tony could.

"Cuz it was stupid. Shouldn'a let it affect me like that."

Tony spoke immediately, a vehemence in his voice Peter didn't often hear. "You and what you feel are never stupid, you hear me? You are valid, Bud, and so are your fears and troubles."

He didn't know why but hearing that brought tears to Peter's eyes. "I'm so tired!" He cried and it broke Tony and Pepper's hearts. "I just want to sleep and for it to be quiet!"

"Is there anything we can do?"

Peter hesitated and Pepper jumped on it. "We'll do whatever we can, okay?"

Shaking his head Peter muttered something. Tony nudged him slightly on the head with his chin.

"It's embarrassing!"

Tony pulled back and lifted Peter's chin to look him in the eyes. "I've done plenty of embarrassing things in my life, Peter. This can't be worse than even half of said things that I've done."

Peter was tempted to try and brush it off but the older man had called him by his name. He never did that. Only when I needed Peter to really listen, to realise just how important what he was saying was.

"I can't sleep alone after panic attacks." Peter admitted, his voice small, embarrassed. "I used to climb in with May and- with May, but I stopped cuz I'm too old."

"So what do you do then?"

"I can't sleep after them and if I do try I just get nightmares and more attacks so I stay awake."

The couple shared a glance over Peter's head. "Okay, that's not happening anymore." Pepper said before she continued, cutting off Peter's question before he could ask it. "What we're gonna do for now is get cleaned up and changed for bed, then we'll head to the movie room with the pillow floors and set up for the night there."

"That way you won't be alone and we'll all have enough space, okay?" Tony carried on.

One part of Peter wanted to fight it, to say that he didn't want to be a burden or an annoyance but the other just wanted to be loved, to be held and protected. He let the latter lead for once.

"Okay. But what about tomorrow? You said 'For now' so what's after?" Peter asked them nervously and this time it was Tony who answered.

"Tomorrow we're gonna call May and talk to her together after breakfast when her shift ends. I want to talk to her and you about setting up some meetings with a therapist or someone that can help more than all of us could. Is that alright with you?" Tony asked him gently. "Would you be willing to try that out?"

Peter was nervous of that particular idea but he knew that he couldn't carry on like this so he nodded his head in consent.

Seeing his nervousness at the idea Pepper cut in before it could build to something more stressful. "That's for tomorrow though. For now let's go and get changed and we can try and see about getting you some sleep." She slid up from the couch behind Tony and Peter before holding out her hands to help them up.

Before she could let go Peter surged forward and pulled her and Tony into a hug.

Thank you, it whispered to them without needing words.

You're welcome, they hugged him back.

---

Peter didn't sleep perfectly that night but his sleep was more rested and calm than he had in a long while. His mind almost quiet.

It wasn't much but it was a start. It would take a while and many setbacks, repetitions of being told he was loved, cared for, and not a burden, but one day he would reach an evening that didn't bring the darkness of his mind with the fading of the sun.

#irondad #spiderson #comfortember 2020 #peter parker #tony stark #ironman #spider-man #irondad fanfic #irondad fanfiction

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pops-and-kids · 4 years ago

Text

Heres a short fic for you guys! Not happy with it, but to be fair I’m rarely happy with any of my stuff. Also how the fuck do you format on this site. Its always painful when I have it how I want and tumblr goes “lol nah.” This is as good as it’s gonna get, I’m not tearing it apart again and restarting lmao

Whitebeard and Whitey Bay talk about something they should have settled a long time ago.

Pops smiled as he watched his children dance and laugh. A mingle of crews that hadn't seen each other in months. The energetic atmosphere that filled the ship was hard not to feel. His children yelled and drank; A friendly fight here, a splash of someone being thrown overboard there, the excitement that surrounded the Moby brought a small smile to the old man's face. Even with all the joy and laughter, however, there was a less exciting reason he had called them to the Moby.

“Good evening, my dear. Enjoying yourself?” He chuckled at his fellow captains unamused huff.

Whitey stared up at him, eyebrow quirked curoisly, “Hard to enjoy yourself when you don’t know why you were summoned. You never give a vague reason to visit, and I doubt it was just for a party.”

Pops’ smile remained, but his demeanor grew dispirited. To the crew this was nothing more than a gathering amongst family, but to the captains who organized the whole event over the den-den there was something more, even if the one did not know the whole story.

“Yes,” He said, “There is something we must discuss. Though...not here.”

This was to be a personal chat just between the two of them; a father and his daughter, not captains on unequal footing. As he stood up the crew briefly halted to look at their father figure. He simply gave a smile and wave, and just like that the party continued. Whitey followed him to back to his quarters, puffing her chest out proudly and her hands balled at her sides. He could feel her questioning gaze burning into his back the whole way.

He felt a glow of pride at how observant and unapologetic his first daughter was, calculated and cold. No matter what he heard uttered from smaller crews or the blasphemy from the marines, only the Whitebeards truly knew just how important and revered Whitey was. Pops was a truly lucky father, and yet...no matter how outspoken and confident he was, he felt he had done her a great disservice. He felt it was high time he addressed it, for both their sakes.

Once in his quarters he closed the door behind her and sat on the edge of the bed, offering a hand down to her. The confused and slightly disturbed expression on her face never changed as he gently scooped her up and placed her on his blankets. The two remained silent for some time, Pops formulating his words in his head and Whitey watching him with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow. It was hard to know where to start.

“So…” Whitey broke the awkward silence, “Is there a reason you’re being so unusually secretive? And not in the ‘all knowing father’ way.”

“Gurarara. Sharp-witted as always.”

Shifting to the side so they were facing each other he took a deep breath.

“I wanted to talk about something that has been on my mind. I should have called you much, much sooner about this, but I suppose now is better then never.”

Whitey frowned. She looked uneasy, crossing her legs and staring up at him.

“Oookay…..shoot.”

“Do you remember when we first met? Even though you are known as the ice witch your eyes burned like fire. You were ready to give hell to those who kept your island in a state of fear. No hesitation except with trusting us. You were, and still are, a frightening, cold force of nature, my daughter.”

He chuckled as the memories washed over him. Whitey quirked a small smile at his praises.

“I remember being so proud to have you. I couldn't stop smiling and laughing like the young fool I was. But we both know how arrogant I could be at times when blinded by my accomplishments. I was, and still am, a product of an old era no longer suited for this time.

“I know I have not been the best father to you, because I wouldn’t give you what you rightly deserved.”

Whiteys eyes widened with shock and even more confusion as he spoke. She leaned forward to yell something but was stopped by Pop raising his hand for silence.

“Please. Allow me to speak my peace.”

Her jaw clamped shut with an audible ‘click’ of her teeth, brows furrowed and body tense. She clearly did not agree with him and was questioning why he would say such a thing, but he did not call her to have her praise him for being something he did not feel he lived up to.

Pops closed his eyes and continued, “You were always just as capable as the men on our crew. Just as fierce, just as formidable an opponent. And yet I, ever a fool, never did offer you a commander's seat. You have always been worthy of one, from the day we met you I should have had you in mind. I’m sure you and Jiru could have worked in tandem as co-commanders seeing as you are both matched for skill. But never once did the idea occur to me. I was a fool who was so caught up in the wonder of having a daughter he did not bother to think of you as anything more than that. You were a daughter, a girl who should never be pushed to fight and care for her family.

“You are so much more. A warrior born from ice with the sharpest tongue and quickest wit, clever and proud. And I know that is why you decided to leave and make your own crew and instead ally with us; Because I did not treat you with the respect and honour you have earned and deserved for years, you felt you had to go out and gather it yourself. The feeling that I unintentionally pushed you away with my ignorance will always be one of my biggest regrets. I have always been proud of you for what you have accomplished, that will never change, but I cannot help but wonder what could have been if I hadn't been blindsided by old ideals that no longer hold water.”

Opening his eyes he met Whiteys cold, blue stare. Her mouth was ajar, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Pops….” Was all she managed to say, her tone was that of disbelief and softness.

“Whitey, my dear,” He leaned down, bowing his head to her slightly, “Please forgive this old man for his transgressions.”

Whitey and him stared at one another for what felt like an eternity. He did not make any moves to sit back up, instead showing the most respect a man of his caliber could by remaining in his gesture. Whitey still was at a loss for words, yet her hand reached up and gently pressed against his forehead as if to soothe an aching beast. A smile graced her cool, pale face and her eyes warmed.

“You’ve said you pride yourself on not hanging on to the past too much, and yet here you are. I already forgave you, Edward. A long time ago. All that was over a decade ago anyway, I’m a little insulted you didn’t bring this up earlier if it’s bothered you.” She lightly teased.

“Gurararara. Well when you get older you tend to do a lot of thinking.”

They smiled at one another in silence. It felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Knowing she didn't hold anything against him for his younger selves shortcomings made him feel at ease.

“I was mad at you at first, but those feelings never got so strong I wanted out. Yes, it’s true I left and made my own crew because I felt I was under-appreciated and my skills were brushed off. But I never regretted meeting you or felt I could do better without you, which is why I proposed allyship. I felt lucky you even allowed me to do that, you weren’t too keen on family leaving the ship.”

Pops hummed and nodded as she spoke her side of the situation. If he could go back in time he would have given her the okay to fight alongside her brothers more, her own division or co-commander status, whatever it was she felt she deserved he would have etched it into their dynamics. He would always be protective, but it was to a smothering fault when she was still among the crew on the Moby Dick. Though she would always heed his call as her captain, it was better this way. She was worthy of her title as captain, she didn’t need him to stand up for her to make that clear to any who mocked her.

“I have to say though, it’s nice to hear it from the old shipwrecker himself.” Whitey joked, gently hitting his chin.

Pops laughed as he sat up straight, readjusting his position to be leaning back against the headboard.

“Is that what people are calling me these days? ‘Shipwrecker’?”

The tense atmosphere had melted away as did the cold look in Whiteys eyes, a feeling of deep care and familial affection replacing it. The two captains talked late into the evening about small things, paperwork and territory discussions being forgotten for the time being. They talked about their ships, their family, silly or strange happenings that occurred for them both. When Thatch had come to warn them about the final call for booze they both agreed to a mug, much to his surprise.

Whitey wouldn’t rip him a new one for drinking himself stupid, just for tonight.

#*muffled screaming*#I hate how tumblr formats stuff #come on man I had it all nice and pretty and then I go to post it and you fuck it up #((TT_TT))#Im probably gonna notice a mistake after posting this and cry #haha #Pops : Whitebeard #Edward Newgate #Whitebeard #Whitebeard pirates #Whitey Bay #((short story))#Thatch #Briefly makes an appearance

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barisifictionarchive · 5 years ago

Text

MASTER LIST - suggested by the writers

The very talented creators were asked to name the favorite fics they’ve written themselves, so here’s the compiled list with our writers’ suggestions of their best works:

before the alarm. by vadaviita

(392 | General | Complete)

Sometimes, no matter how exhausted you are, you just so happen to wake up hours before you really need to; sometimes, for a moment, you're glad.

Turn the Lights Off, I'm in Love by egirldallon

(545 | Teen | Complete)

It's just Rafael and Sonny dancing. That's it.

Here, In Your Arms by Bicarisi

(626 | General | Complete)

Sonny Carisi has never felt this happy in his life.

Penis Fish, A Tale of Lost Love by rellkelltn87

(726 | Teen | Complete)

Barba is trapped on a beach with thousands of urechis unicinctus, the species of spoon worm colloquially known as the “penis fish." (Trust me, kids, you don't want to Google that.) This is basically a Twitter gag that went too far. Also, it's formatted as a TV script.

Probably don't read this if you're squeamish about weird-looking aquatic life forms.

I will escort myself out of the fandom now.

Discouraged by BarbaLovesCarisi (CaptainAmericasShield)

(1142 | Teen | Complete)

Carisi goes home to Barba after being blindsided in Arraignments. Again. He’s feeling discouraged and starts to question if he really is suited for being an ADA. Rafael comforts him and convinces him he’s wrong and things would get better.

all of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting by wayward13

(1392 | Teen | Complete)

"You grew a beard."

Rafael laughed and looked back and forth between the two of them.

"What is with you two? Does it look bad?" he asks with a smile bringing his hand up to rub his cheek briefly.

"No! You- uh you look really good, Barba," Sonny stammered, "I mean- happy. You look really happy."

"I am."

Good Thing Go by minnesotamemelord

(1501 | General | Complete)

Rafael Barba says his goodbyes.

finally safe to fall by adabarbacarisi

(1600 | Mature | Complete)

Rafael loved fiercely and deeply, when he fell for someone he was as passionate and intense with that love as he was in his work. It seemed it was in his nature to be a little too much, a little too bold, for a lot of people. He had accepted that perhaps that world-changing, earth-shattering, heart-soaring kind of mutual love wasn’t in the cards for him.

That is, until Sonny Carisi entered his life and changed everything.

Family by Ava_now

(1656 | General | Complete)

Happy Valentine's Day! Here, I got you a baby!

Harbor in the Storm by BarbaLovesCarisi (CaptainAmericasShield)

(1959 | Teen | Complete)

After the end of Sunk Cost Fallacy, Sonny Carisi needs help. Rafael Barba is the only one who can help him.

Only say my name, it will be held against you by Bicarisi

(2053 | Mature | Complete)

Sonny and Rafael had been friends with benefits for over a year. But what happens when it becomes something more?

Begin Again by glammetalkitten

(2389 | General | Complete)

The morning Sonny wakes up as an ADA and not an NYPD detective, he’s, you know, a little nervous. New job, life-changing kind of nervous.

Forgiven by BarbaLovesCarisi (CaptainAmericasShield)

(2476 | Teen | Complete)

When Rafael Barba shows up out of the blue after almost three years, Sonny doesn't know what to think. He wants to be upset, but Rafael makes it almost impossible. Rafael disappeared off the face of the earth and Sonny can't let himself forgive him that easy. With as sincere as Rafael seems, Sonny can't help but think maybe he was deserving of his forgiveness.

Where's the Love Without Remorse by girldallon

(2809 | Teen | Complete)

Some secrets are purposely kept, for a reason, good reasons.

You Raise Me Up by BarbaLovesCarisi (CaptainAmericasShield)

(3041 | Teen | Complete)

The Undiscovered Country never happened. Jack McCoy hired Sonny as an ADA then promptly retired, leaving room for Rafael Barba to become the new DA. He takes care of Sonny and supports him, even when no one else does.

White in Your Hair by FreckledSkittles

(3299 | Teen | Complete)

It's been too long since Sonny has seen Rafael. Things have changed, but it feels great.

Call by Coop_Scoop

(4119 | Explicit | Complete)

Rafael finally decides that living in Florida really isn't for him, he hasn't worked since he got there. But he needs to make a few calls to try and get back to where he wants to be and maybe get the person who has haunted his mind since he left.

he doesn't look a thing like jesus by hanzios

(5029 | Teen | Complete)

The first time he summoned the archangel, Sonny was on his couch, reading a Wikipedia page about translated Hebrew transcripts from the Old Testament.

He Who Can Endure It by abogadobarba (daltonfightclub)

(5478 | Teen | Complete)

They were always so close to the precipice of something more, but ever the pragmatists, were also privy to the many ways in which a whisper of impropriety could destroy a career such as theirs, cut down a man by half and leave him aching besides—and that’s before accounting for the scandal of it all.

But before all else, Sonny was a man of His word. So, he learned to endure it.

OR: The one in which Carisi is the new ADA and in a little bit over his head (with both the law AND Barba).

High School Barisi by icedcoffeebro

(8693 | General | WIP)

Sonny is part of the tech team in theatre, and Rafa is the understudy for the main role. They bump into each other more than once.

Taken from my brain during Stop-Motion class.

TW for mentions of parental abuse.

Do You Mind? by Larkin21

(11288 | Teen | Complete)

Pre-Barisi, set in early season 17. Barba's feelings toward Carisi grow beyond a grudging respect for a coworker, as told in missing moments from episodes 2-5.

This is the first part to a multi-part prequel for my story, Mind If I Drop Over? This part is Barba's POV and it's rated teen, mostly for language. All other parts of the series are (or will likely be) rated explicit.

Carisi's Goddamn Legs by juniperhoot

(11502 | Explicit | Complete)

Rafael Barba is obsessed with Sonny Carisi's legs. And the rest of him, come to think of it.

But damn, those legs.

Moments in Time by tobeconspicuous

(11640 | Teen | Complete)

When Catalina was a child she knew that there was something special about her. Her mother said magic flowed through their veins and that some people would never understand.

Catalina was unsure what her mother meant by that until one day when she was ten years old, she found a young boy in her backyard.

The truth within words by Subaruchan192

(11944 | Teen | Complete)

'Dear Rafael, You're gone. It's strange. It’s been a week since you left and yet I can still feel you here. I can feel your eyes on me, but when I turn no one is there. I hear your voice in the hall, but when I go around the corner it's someone else. You are gone, and it is strange, and it makes me sad every time.'

One week after Rafael Barba left without a word, Sonny can't stand all those words left unspoken anymore and decides to write a letter to express them. Along the journey, he discovers that he has been in love with Rafael for a long time only to realize that he is too late.

Or is he? Let's find out.

A Nice Young Man by Perpetual Motion (perpetfic)

(12767 | General | Complete)

After the events of episode 16.16 (Barba's grandmother passes) and 16.7 (Sonny's brother-in-law is assaulted by his female parole officer), Carisi reaches out to Barba because that's just his way. Barba is a bit confused about what to do about it all.

We're All Just Passing Through by nukablastr

(13790 | Teen | Complete)

After a series of disasters cause Rafael to miss the last train back to Boston, a chance encounter with a stranger may redefine what it means to go home.

Little One You Have To Take Better Care by MollyKillers

(19270 | General | Complete)

Everyone is born with a dragon inside them as a part of their soul.

Rafael believes because of the coldness in him his dragon is dead. However, when he meets Dominick (call me Sonny) Carisi something in him stirs.

Credo by snakeling

(19833 | Mature | Complete)

If a one night stand is the only way Sonny can have Rafael, he'll take it. But he wants so much more.

Catching Feelings by soul_writerr

(21034 | General | Complete)

Sonny and Rafael are such close friends that everyone around them thinks they're dating. They think that's hilarious, until Sonny starts dating someone else and Rafael realizes he made a huge mistake.

But now it's too late to fix it, so he tries to move on.

A Healing Year by adrianna_m_scovill

(24706 | Mature | Complete)

Rafael Barba learned how to protect his heart from the world, and he gave up on the hope of ever falling in love - until Sonny Carisi made him want all the things he'd accepted he would never have.

The Second Assistant by soul_writerr

(35357 | Teen | Complete)

Sonny is an idealistic, driven journalist who can't find a job. When he starts as Runway's Editor in Chief Rafael Barba's assistant, his life turns into a nightmare. Until it doesn't. And he gets better clothes out of it.

Devil Wears Prada AU.

#barisi #fic rec #themed list #master list #suggested by the creators #less than 1k #less thank 5k #less than 10k #10k to 25k #25k to 50k

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floralseokjin · 5 years ago

Text

the fragmented journey of a permanently broken heart

min yoongi x reader angst 3760 words

⇶ chapter index

Four years after the break up

“Oh. Shit. I thought this was the bathroom—sorry.” Yoongi apologised, internally kicking himself. Of course he’d got the wrong damn room. And of course it was you he ran into.

You lifted your head, from where you’d been stood near the bed, eyes a little wide from the shock of hearing his voice before you smiled softly and shook your head. “No worries.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed as he really took a look at you now. You weren’t just standing absentmindedly, you’d been pacing. One hand pressing into the small of your back, the other cradling the bump that protruded from your stomach.

“Hey. Are you okay?” He asked, tone coloured with concern.

“Mmhm,” you nodded, but you couldn’t hide the wince on your face. Not from him anyway.

“I’ll go and find Seokjin,” he replied immediately, turning to dart.

“No, no,” you called after him. “Yoongi, it’s fine. I’m fine!” At the sound of his name from your mouth, he rooted to the ground. Slowly he turned back, still eyeing you cautiously.

You sat down on the bottom of the bed, sounding mildly amused when you next spoke. “Trust Tae to organise a housewarming party two weeks before my due date.” Yoongi tried to laugh. It was just air exhaling from his nose. “I’ve been getting pains for a few days. Doctor just says it’s because I’m so close.”

“Oh.” He said lamely. “That can’t be fun.”

Fuck. What was wrong with him? Couldn’t he have a conversation like a normal human being? Not with you... He was on edge. Speech stunted and awkward. He knew you could sense it, but like you’d always done, you continued on cheerfully. Smile on your face.

“It’s not. But I’ll take it over the looming childbirth,” you laughed.

Yoongi’s heart flipped upside down at the sound. For a moment it took him back to the past. He watched you as he made sure to laugh along too. Your hair was two shades lighter than the wedding. Than it had ever been before. He was annoyed at himself that he’d noticed such a thing.

“Sorry. You wanted the bathroom? It’s the one next to this.”

Yoongi focused back to your voice, to you, realising he’d lost himself a little there. You were watching him with a more serious face now. A sad one.

“I..uh... Yeah, I’ll go. You probably came up here for some quiet time. My bad.” He turned to leave once more but you stopped him.

“It’s fine. You can stay if you want to.” He rooted once again. “Unless you’re desperate,” you added. Yoongi genuinely did laugh at that. He wasn’t, no. In all honesty the bathroom had been an excuse for a break from all the interaction downstairs. He thought you knew that too.

“Stay? Just for a bit,” you asked this time. “I only came in here for a breather.”

Yoongi found himself stepping closer to you. Further away from his exit out. “Sure you don’t want me to get Seokjin?” He still couldn’t get used to saying the other man’s name. Not that he did very often. This time it popped up an image of you and him downstairs, his hand on your back, rubbing it affectionately as you spoke to another couple Taehyung had invited tonight. It made Yoongi’s heart a little heavy. Not unbearable. Not like in the past. But something was there.

You shook your head. “He knows I’m up here. Sit,” you demanded playfully, tapping your hand on the mattress.

He did so, unintentionally keeping his distance. Your perfume hit him like a train anyway. Was still the same brand from when you’d been together. That annoyed him too. To know he still remembered.

“How are you?” You asked, a breeze to your voice that sounded a little forced. The history you shared still weighed heavily in the both of you. No matter how much time had passed. There were still so many things left unsaid. Yoongi suddenly had the urge to confess them all.

You spoke again before he could open his mouth. “It’s been a while. I’m always wondering.. Tae gives me little updates when I ask but you know how he is.” You gave a small shrug, a grin playing on your face.

Yoongi blinked, getting a hold of himself. There was no point raking up the past. Not now so much had changed. “I’m...good.” That word always sounded daunting to him. Like he’d curse himself if he used it. But maybe it was true this time. Life was good. “Started my own business. Did he tell you that?”

You smiled and nodded. “I always knew you should go it alone. It’s amazing.”

Yoongi chuckled. You sounded so pleased for him. It made him happy. Happier. It was true you’d planted the seed in his head about leaving the architecture company to go solo years ago. Only recently had he really listened. Too scared before.

“How are you besides the...uh, pregnancy?” It was still so strange to think you were pregnant. Expecting a baby. He wasn’t going to lie, the news had blindsided him when he’d first heard it. Now it was just surreal. Even with you sat next to him, hand patting your bump.

“Really anxious.” You tried to laugh, shaking your head. “Sorry. Ignore me.”

“It’s alright. It’s a scary time I’m sure.” He reassured you softly. This time words came a little more easily.

You smiled slightly in response. He hated that you were worried, wanted to say more, but hell, what did he know about pregnancy? Silence fell over you both after that. It wasn’t awkward by any means, strangely enough. It was actually pretty comforting. After all this time you were alone together again. Yoongi never thought he’d have this chance again. He really should say something.

But you beat him to it.

Glancing at him almost hesitantly, you parted your lips to speak. You weren’t as breezy as before, even though you tried. “I never got a chance to tell you how much I appreciated you coming to the wedding.”

Yoongi raised both eyebrows in surprise. Appreciated? In his eyes he’d pretty much crashed the thing... Often he wished that he’d never even gone, yet in a way, that had been the real turning point for him. Watching you officially become someone else’s was like a punch to the gut, but it was also a reality check.

“I know it sounds silly. Maybe selfish,” you continued, voice small, totally out of your comfort zone. “–but I really thought you hated me.”

“Hated you?” Yoongi puzzled. He couldn’t understand. He’d rather be painfully in love with you for the rest of his life than ever hate you.

“Things didn’t end well...” You tried to explain. That was an understatement. “I’m sorry for that. I just thought...” You broke off and sighed. “I don’t know. It’s in the past now but every time I see you I want to apologise–Not that I see you often.”

Apologise? Ludicrous. You had nothing to be sorry about. Nothing was your fault. “I could never hate you. Don’t ever feel bad over what happened. What you did was the only option.”

You looked at him sadly. It was like you were back in time. In the hallway of his place, breaking up. “I know. I just... It wasn’t supposed to end like that.”

“It wasn’t.” He agreed. Now was his chance. To say everything he’d always wanted to. “I um...” His voice broke and he coughed to clear his throat. You waited patiently. “I have a lot of stuff I wished I’d told you. Just know, it wasn’t you. It was all me, and I wish...” He stopped himself. He wished what? That he’d been brave enough back then? Brave enough to let himself feel and just enjoy it. Because he had deserved it. He’d deserved you once upon a time, and then he’d fucked it up.

He couldn’t unload all that onto you. Not when you were happily married, expecting a child... Not when he was... He shook his head, growing frustrated at himself. When that happened he clammed up.

“Is there any point in raking this all up?” He anguished, fighting through it, looking across at you.

Your eyes were glassy. He wasn’t imagining it. You smiled. Like you always did. Always smiling. That’s what he saw when he pictured you in his mind. “If it helps.”

“You’re married for fuck sakes.” He hated swearing in front of you. Always had. You were the complete opposite of him in ways. “You’re having a baby. You don’t need to hear about my shortcomings.”

His heart stopped when he felt your hand wrap around his. The tension stuck in his chest eased. “I’ll always listen. If it helps you.” There you went again. So selfless. “I don’t think we did much talking when we were together. Maybe we can start now?” You squeezed his hand supportively. “What do you want to say?”

He stared into your eyes, searching for something. He found it instantly. You wanted this as much as him. Some type of closure. Even if it was years late, there was still an ache in each of your hearts.

He took a deep breath, gearing himself up. He knew this would change nothing in the present but healing the past had to be done. He had come so far these past few months. He wasn’t a coward anymore. This could be his atonement. His resolution.

“You were wrong.” He murmured. It was painful to talk at any other level. There was a beat of silence. “I did love you back then.” He needed to look you in the eyes. It wouldn’t be right if he didn’t. “I was so in love with you it physically hurt.”

You exhaled, looking away, towards your lap, the shock sagging your shoulders, rendering you weak as his words took their time to sink in. You removed your hand from his. He was a little cold. “I...”

He should apologise for throwing this at you, but he couldn’t stop. He needed to continue because now he was finally confessing everything he’d always wanted to. Everything he’d dreamed of in the darkest of nights. Only now the reality was much different.

“I always hoped deep down you knew that. I’m not going to make excuses. I don’t think it could’ve ever worked out. I just... I loved you so much. Loved you for so long after.”

A hand lifted to your mouth, teeth picking at the skin around your thumb. An anxious habit. “How long?” You whispered.

“I was in love with you as I watched you walk down the aisle.” It was oddly freely to confess such a thing. His deepest of secrets, out in the open, as vulnerable as ever. Yet he didn’t care. “In some ways it was the first step to sorting my head out. I’d been living with it in the sand for so long.”

Silence swooped over you again. Yoongi didn’t dare speak again. There wasn’t much more to say. For one horrifying moment, he was worried he’d imposed too harshly. Who was he to rock up here and just dump something so shocking on your shoulders? Taint your special day like that. Maybe he would never be able to handle his selfishness, but then maybe, just maybe, you didn’t see it like that. You were happy and in love, and nothing he could ever say would change that. He knew that. He didn’t want to change that. Not anymore.

“I used to convince myself you were in love with me all the time.” Finally you spoke. It was meant for him, but not directed his way. You were staring unfocused at a painting on the wall. Hands now laced together, back sort of hunched. “I don’t know if I truly believed it. I just thought you weren’t the right guy to have something serious with. Some people aren’t, that’s okay.”

It hurt to know you had never suspected a thing. He’d known it already, you’d said something similar the night you’d ended things, it just squeezed at his chest to hear it out loud. Again.

“I needed to let you go though. I couldn’t carry on living like that.”

“I’m sorry.” There was nothing much else he could say or do. He was sorry for everything.

You finally turned to look at him again. That smile was back. Eyes shining with unshed tears. You shouldn’t cry over him. He wasn’t worth it. “Don’t be. Thank you for telling me, Yoongi.” He guessed in some ways, it relieved you. You hadn’t wasted near a year of your life on him. Not really. Your voice was thick with emotion. “All this time... I’m sorry. We should’ve talked more, I was just...scared.”

For a moment that made him wonder. About what could’ve been. It wasn’t the first time. That much was obvious. But before those thoughts used to be dangerous. Wallowing in self pity. Now it was almost a sort of comfort. Somewhere, in an alternative life, you were together and happy. In love. Yes. Somewhere.

It was his turn to reach for your hand now. He cherished the feeling. “I’m glad that you’re happy. Married, having a baby.” He meant every word. “You’ll be a wonderful mother, by the way. Don’t be worried,” he added with a chuckle.

You tried to join him but sniffed. A single tear ran down your cheek. “I loved you so much, Yoongi.” His throat tightened. He’d never heard you say it like that. In fact, he’d never heard you say it at all. You’d never confessed out loud. Too afraid. Until the final night. “It took me by surprise. I know we were fast and short lived but I...” You stopped yourself, as if you were contemplating going through with whatever it was you wanted to say. You slid your hand from under his and caressed your bump. “I really thought this would be us one day. I thought you’d be the one I’d marry.”

Yoongi felt sadness consume him whole for a split second, before he got a hold of himself. He let himself smile. It was okay to smile. “I would’ve loved that. In another lifetime.”

That was enough for the both of you. No what ifs, past that. Just content. Despite everything, Yoongi wouldn’t change a thing. It wasn’t meant to be, but that didn’t mean he wanted to eradicate everything you’d once had. He knew you felt the same way too. Mistakes were made, but it was the here and now that mattered. That’s what you were living. What he was living.

“You came with someone.” You said after a little while, breaking the comfortable silence. “Is this the same woman Taehyung told me about?”

Yoongi found himself instantly smiling like an idiot. He couldn’t help it. “Jian? Yeah, that’s her.”

You broke into your own grin as you noticed his reaction. “You’re happy. I like seeing that.”

“I am.”

You pointed your finger at him playfully. “Don’t mess it up.”

“I...” His chest constricted a little. Panic settling in. “I don’t know if it’s anything serious.”

“Stop. Don’t do that,” you whined a little. It was just like he remembered. “You really like her. I can tell. You have that big dopey smile on your face.” He couldn’t hide it if he tried. Just the thought of Jian made his cheeks ache. It was a feeling he’d thought he’d lost forever. But it came back more intense than ever.

“Yoongi, just let yourself feel, mm?” You hummed. “I know it’s scary. To be vulnerable like that but don’t ruin something good. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

It had been scary. Was still scary even now. He’d spent so long after the wedding facing his issues head on. Trying to understand why he was the way he was, and how he could get better. How he could learn to love himself. It was a process, he was still going through it when he fell for Jian.

He didn’t know when it happened. She started working at the company a while back. He saw her five days a week for nearly three years, but it wasn’t until he’d left and started his own business did he realise he’d missed her. It was an odd sensation. He tried to ignore it at first. Busying himself with work, but his mind always came back to her. Where it used to be you, it was her. You were a memory, but she was real.

For the first time in his life, he went after something off his own will, and by some grace of god, she liked him back. Enough to say yes to a drink. Enough to start dating him. Enough to understand his weird ways. It had been nearly five months already. Time really flew. But he was trying. He was really trying to be a better person. To learn from his past mistakes. Learn from you.

“It’s just strange...” Yoongi found himself admitting. “Feeling something for someone that isn’t you. Like I’m throwing away everything we had. Everything I‘ve been through.”

Maybe that was what was holding him back this time? He couldn’t shake the feeling. Everything was for nothing. He was slowly coming to terms with it, understanding he wasn’t in love with you anymore, but being here tonight just emphasised how mind-boggling that was. You had been his life for so long, even long after you left it, yet now you were just someone from his past. An ex lover. A friend of some sort. He hoped he was your friend.

“Do you want to know something?” You asked him. “I was wrong back then. I used to think we only had one soulmate. One person that we connected with and loved with all our heart.”

There was that word again. You had called him yours once upon a time. Called Seokjin it as you’d said yours vows at the alter. He remembered how much that had cut him up. You were supposed to be his soulmate. Now it was just a memory.

“But there’s more than that,” you continued, “I don’t know how many. Maybe hundreds, thousands.” You giggled, finding yourself silly, and Yoongi laughed along. God, he had missed you. But not in the way he used to. It was more like realising how much you’d missed an old friend after seeing them for the first time in forever. It spread warmth around his heart, not an ache.

“Just remember, it doesn’t belittle other relationships we had in the past. It doesn’t eradicate what we once had. The good, the bad, the ugly.” Yoongi nodded in acknowledgment. He thought what you were saying made sense. “Just because I’m in love with Seokjin doesn’t mean I loved you any less. Doesn’t mean I was mistaken. Yes, maybe we could’ve been together forever. Happy. Married. Children... but it didn’t work out like that for us. That’s just the way life goes sometimes.”

You finished with a little shrug, and Yoongi let himself imagine that reality. For one last time. You were right, life hadn’t worked out for you two like that. You reached for his hand again. “Don’t make the same mistakes twice, Yoongi. You’ll never forgive yourself.”

“Thank you,” he smiled.

“You’re welcome.”

You were right. Up until now, he still had doubts about his new relationship. There were still a lot of things needed to be said and confirmed but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Not until now. He knew a part of him had been scared he’d see you tonight and instantly realise he was still head over heels in love with you. He didn’t want to break Jian’s heart. Not like he’d broken yours… But it was okay. He’d been worried for nothing. The sadness he sometimes felt was down to everything he’d left unsaid four years ago. It was funny it happened tonight of all nights. Of all places. Funny it had happened at all… But now admitting everything to you and closed the book. No. Closed the chapter. You were a chapter in his life; a very prominent and important one, and now you had both gotten what you’d needed. A resolution.

Everything was not for nothing. It was a chance to change.

He thought of Jian downstairs. Her beautiful face, smile, laughter. Alone and forced to mingle, probably wondering where he was, because he’d become overwhelmed and spinelessly escaped in need of the “bathroom.” It wasn’t her fault. People just kept asking questions. Who’s the lady? I didn’t know you were in a relationship, Yoongi? How long have you been together? In truth, he hadn’t even suggested they make it serious yet. He had never called her his girlfriend, yet he wanted to so bad.

He needed to go find her so they could leave and he could ask her immediately. He felt the urge overcome him. He wanted to tell her a lot of things actually. About who he was. His hopes and dreams and fears... He wanted to tell her about you too. So she could understand that chapter in his life. She knew vaguely, but he’d never gone into detail. He wanted to let her in, like he’d let no one in before. She was special, and she was his. You were right, he couldn’t mess this up. Not when he’d come so far.

“So, you sure you’re not going to give birth in the middle of Taehyung’s housewarming party?” He joked, looking over at you once again.

You laughed loudly before sighing. “Lord. That would be a scene.”

Conversation was coming to an end; you were parting ways. It was time to leave. Yoongi understood. He watched you rub your bump lovingly, corners of his mouth twitching up into a smile. You really would be the best mother.

You glanced his way, catching him. “If I invite you to her christening will you come?”

“Of course.”

His reply left him easily. Maybe now you could be in one another’s lives a little more. Admiration still strong, a love that had eased, yet the memory still flickered away happily in your hearts. It would never die, and for that he was thankful.

You grinned, nudging him with your shoulder. “I’ll send you a plus one.”

It was goodbye in one way, but hello in another.

#yoongi fic #bts fic #yoongi angst #bts angst #floralseokjin:writings #fic:love yourself

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ckret2 · 5 years ago

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Okay so I got an ask like,

anonymous asked: whose ur favorite Hazbin character? Like your absolute #1 and why?

and technically my answer is Alastor, but Sir Pent is such a close second that I gave my reasons for him too in that ask, and now I’m making a second post about Alastor.

Reasons I really like Alastor but like, only slightly more than Sir Pent:

- Honestly “I can suck ya dick” *IMMEDIATE BRAIN BREAK FACE* is probably the moment I, like, mentally latched on to Alastor’s character, and at that point I don’t think I even knew yet that the creator had said he was ace. It just... I could feel the aceness in my soul. Like that thing where Jedi run into somebody and go “oh you’re strong in the Force, I can tell.” That was just such a perfect and succinct ace joke, and by that I mean like it feels like a joke from an ace perspective. Like it was so relatable.

- tbh half my reasons for liking Alastor are “oh that’s relatable,” which is hilarious, because like... I don’t like characters because I relate to them, ever, but because I think they’re interesting in their strange/different ways. Alastor is the sole exception I can think of where half the reasons I like him is because I look at him and go “oh big mood.” Other ace or aro characters I’ve seen in the past just make me go “oh... okay. cool. nice, representation for me” and then I don’t really care about them. Alastor, though, the SECOND I learned he was ace, something in my brain went “FUCK YES. ONE OF OURS.” I immediately sat down and started writing a character study fic about Alastor being ace/aro in the exact same precise way that I’m ace/aro, and that was even before we got confirmation that he was aro. I was ready to go all in on him anyway.

- Half the reason I like his ace/aro-ness when I don’t care about it as much on other characters is because like... usually, when you get an ace/aro character, it goes one of two ways:

1) their entire character is built around/“in tune with” their ace/aro-ness, in a way. Most obvious when you have the stereotypical “robot/alien that cannot love,” but also seen in “character that is naive and pure and innocent and lustless,” “character that acts like an actual literal child,” “character that acts like a bad autism cliche,” “character that’s too cold or cruel or emotionless to feel love,” etc. And that’s boring, when they’re only ace/aro because the writer cannot imagine a character Like That being any other way, or because the writer cannot imagine an ace/aro being Any Other Way.

Or, 2) they’re written as “too normal,” as in, like, NOTHING ABOUT THEIR PERSONALITY or life experiences or anything seems shaped AT ALL by the fact that they do not share an internal sense of lust and/or romance that most of the rest of the human species not only has, but also is obsessed with.

And Alastor falls in neither camp. He’s gregarious and talkative and puts on little performances wherever he goes, and he obnoxiously butts in on somebody else’s group project by begging for an opportunity to help out and then obnoxiously volunteers his friends who hate him to help with the group project, and he’s manipulative and dangerous and secretive and violent, and he hides his emotions and he disguises when he’s feeling weak... and also the quickest way to throw him off his game is to make a sexual pass at him because he’s blindsided so hard by it that it’s like for a moment there he forgot that sex exists.

And that’s what I want to see. A character whose personality isn’t based on/tied into his ace/aro-ness, BUT we can clearly see his character IS INFLUENCED by the fact that he views the world through a completely different lens from everyone else.

I can imagine that Alastor had to puzzle through What Is Love/What Is Desire, purely on a psychological “what’s going on inside other people’s heads?” level, as an outside observer incapable of participating it and trying to understand it based on anecdotes and fictionalized accounts and descriptions and conversations, comparing it to the emotions inside his own head and trying to go “so it’s kind of like this feeling plus that one and those, but More, and Different, and in that Other Direction.” I can imagine that as a kid Alastor “decided” to have crushes because he knew it was about that time it should be starting, and it hadn’t happened by then, so maybe what he needs to do is pick whoever he thinks is best-looking and get going with the crushing on them, right? I can imagine that Alastor spent his teen years waiting for his desires to “turn on” the way they did for everyone else, and being slightly puzzled when they took so long, but also okay with it because the more he thought about it the more it seemed like it was probably a nuisance—no one around him was someone he’d like to be attracted to—so he was fine with the fact it was taking so long, and he sort of assumed that it wasn’t because he didn’t have the capacity for desire but because none of his peers were desirable to him. I can imagine that he had his first kiss at like fifteen and thought it was horrible and gagged on it, and within an hour decided this was absolutely hilarious.

I can imagine Alastor having all these experiences—which are experiences I had. I’ve never seen another ace/aro character I can easily and naturally imagine having a single experience in common with me. Because no other ace/aro characters feel to me like ace/aro characters. They’re either characters with an ace/aro sticker arbitrarily and meaninglessly slapped on them, or they’re a walking stereotype about lovelessness.

- Besides Alastor’s spectacular Asexuelle Panique™ face, the other single line that made me latch onto him was “Why does anyone do anything? Sheer! Absolute! Boredom!” There are some very specific character types that I’m an absolute sucker for, and one of them is: extremely powerful character, at the top of their game, unstoppable and uncontrollable and unmatched, a loner who likes it that way, BUT they’re bored as hell, either because they’ve met all their goals or because they don’t know how to set any—and the boredom is eating them up inside, it’s driving them slowly mad, the sheer tedium of trying to fill one day after another with nothing to do is weighing down on them, if depression is usually compared to a heavy rain then this depression is like an endless empty waiting room, or depression like solitary confinement, or depression like an unmoving sun shining on an infinite flat desert, the depression of a completely empty hollow life leveled flat by infinite interminable boredom, a boredom they would do ANYTHING to get rid of, a boredom that’s like a withdrawal, a boredom that makes your hands shake and your pulse quicken with desperate need for the drug to stave off the withdrawal symptoms, but god, you don’t even know what the drug IS, you just know you NEED it, some form of stimulation, ANY stimulation, you’re going mad in this empty desert with your hands trembling and the withdrawal clouding your mind—

Have I mentioned that I have ADHD? Did you know that untreated ADHD can result in depression specifically due to chronic mental understimulation? I keep telling myself “bruh, don’t headcanon Alastor as having ADHD, you don’t even headcanon that he has any other traits that line up with ADHD symptoms,” but like. That one line. “Sheer! Absolute! Boredom!” I felt that in my very bones. There is desperation in that man. There is desperation in him that speaks to me like nothing else does. Like to the point that if it turns out that Alastor secretly DOES have a secret evil manipulative scheme going on I’m going to be annoyed/disappointed specifically because his driving motive isn’t boredom, lmao.

Anyway I feel for characters like that. I like to explore that desperate despairing boredom. I like to force them through that understimulation withdrawal, drive them to do stupid wild desperate things to try to get the stimulation they need. And then, when I’m feeling nice, I like to help them find a cure. Usually I imagine the cure is “dude, you’re such a loner that you’ve cut yourself off from the rest of the human race, you have NO human connections, even when you’re technically interacting with other people you’re still completely emotionally isolated inside your own shell. Make some goddamn friends and start to care about other people and their lives and you’ll find that the act of having other people exist in your world who matter to you will give you that stimulation you’re desperately missing.” Because these desperately bored characters are also desperately emotionally isolated. And they might be happy/content in their isolation—but they’re not doing anything to cure their own understimulation like that.

(“Hey OP is that how you cured your understimulation?” nah I got ADHD meds.)

- Remember everything that I just said about how much I love that Alastor is aro? Well forget everything I just said. Chuck it out the window. Bye.

So every once in a while I find a character that, for whatever reason, I really, really, really want to see pining. I want them to be in love, and I want it to be unrequited, and I want it to go on for years. I want them sobbing in private and then hiding it completely when they face anyone else. I want them to hurt so bad they feel like they can’t breathe. I want them unable to think about anything but their beloved. I want it festering inside them like an infected wound. I want it to hurt. Forever.

(“Hey OP do you uh, do you ever, yknow, want them to get their loved one?” yeah sure whatever)

For some reason, Alastor is one of those characters. Why? I dunno. I haven’t figured out my mental pattern on these ones yet. Maybe it’s specifically because it’s so incongruous with his outward appearance/and attitude. Maybe it’s because he’d do a really really good job at hiding it, but also I think he’s probably kind of a mess inside under his mask, and I think adding unrequited desire under that mask would mess him up anymore in really spectacular ways. Like a china cabinet that shifted in an earthquake so that if you open all the doors all the plates will fall out and break, except they’re already all broken inside of the china cabinet, but he’s in denial about that as long as he doesn’t open the door. I dunno, I’m speculating.

- On that note: I feel like he’s probably, like, hypercompetent and super powerful and super successful on the outside, but actually he’s a sort of screwed up dork who’s got no idea what he’s doing. (I present the furby organ as supporting evidence.) I like extremely powerful deeply feared dorks, ESPECIALLY when they have no idea what they’re doing.

- Also, affable villains. Totally friendly/sociable and totally evil.

- I dig his weird radio schtick. Like, Radio Stuff isn’t a thing I specifically like about characters, but on him I think it’s cool. Character gimmicks that can go a lot of ways and that you can do a lot of stuff with in character development are fun.

I think that covers all the important bases.

#alastor #hazbin hotel #meta #anonymous #ask

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haloud · 5 years ago

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many times, many ways

a malex christmas gift for christi @michaels-blackhat, who inspired me into holiday fluff and who spent this month writing wonderful gifts--I hope you enjoy this one in return! Happy holidays, everyone!

-- ao3 --

An unmarked package. An envelope, more accurately, hand-folded out of plain brown paper and left right in front of Alex’s front door. Buffy is sniffing at it before Alex can stop her; he snags her by the collar, heart in his throat, but she’s close enough to nudge it with her nose. Alex holds his breath, but she just lets out a soft boof, then loses interest and heads back inside. Alex, however, can’t be quite so cavalier. It may not have exploded when Buffy moved it, but there are ways other than explosives that a strange package can fuck you up. He fetches a pair of gloves and a particle mask before he even touches it. A small gesture toward security, maybe, but it makes him feel safe enough to work a pocketknife under the tape and slowly pull the paper apart.

Alex blinks twice at what’s inside. Pulls his mask off so it falls around his neck and blinks again. Reaches out to touch it.

It’s…a Christmas ornament. But not any, it’s—it’s light in his palm, a tiny thing, a miniature of a poster he had as a kid, the one Maria smuggled into his car after school and he hung up in the toolshed where no one would see it. Alex holds it up. Dangling from a scrap of black ribbon, the little orange rectangle catches the light, gleaming off the black enamel picking out the singer’s little face and the Danger! At the Picture Show lettering. It’s cold when he clenches it in his fist, heart pumping a hundred miles an hour.

For a second, he’s seventeen again, and he has to laugh at the memory of that kid he used to be, earbuds stuffed in his ears, knees jammed up against the desk waiting for the first period bell to ring. He grins despite himself, turning over the paper again, searching for any kind of note or indication who it’s from. Rosa, maybe? Secret presents are definitely her thing, and she was the one who gave him his first DatPS CD when he was fourteen. Maria is the other person who comes to mind, but Alex hopes she would just give it to him in person—he doesn’t like to think of her being too anxious to give him something like this face to face, what with all the mending fences going on.

He smooths his thumb over the ornament’s glossy surface one more time, then puts it on a shelf for safekeeping for lack of anywhere more festive to put it. He doesn’t really decorate for Christmas; the holidays were only ever more of the same when he was a kid, with a thin, grotesque veneer of family over the top of it.

Things get even more festive the next day, though, when he gets home from work and finds another package, in the same brown paper, sitting on the porch steps. It’s bigger this time, three dimensional, and after a moment of deliberation, Alex picks up the phone. Guerin might laugh at him, but that’s a price he has to be willing to pay.

He doesn’t laugh, though. He rolls up in his truck, that, despite the circumstances and the vaguely tipsy feeling of fear lurking in his blood, Alex has to laugh at—there’s a sprig of mistletoe wrapped in bright red ribbon hanging from the rearview mirror.

Michael bounds over to him and says, slightly breathless, “What did you need me to check out?”

Alex waves his hand in the direction of the stairs. “It’s probably nothing. I got something similar yesterday, and it was fine, I just—”

“Oh. Oh, yeah, I get it. Here, let me.” Michael squeezes Alex’s shoulder, a quick, warm, reassuring touch, then takes a step back. Focusing, he narrows his eyes at the little package, then wings it in an arc off into the empty desert.

A second passes. Nothing blows up. Michael pulls the package back in.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he says, “Sorry if whatever’s in there broke. But whoever sent it to you should have known better. Fucking idiot.”

Alex lets out a long breath, forcing his shoulders to drop and his brow to smooth. “No, it’s okay. ‘Tis the season, right? It could be from anyone.”

“Still.” Michael’s mouth curls downward, like he tastes something foul, like he tends to look whenever he tries to make nice with Kyle. It��s exasperating. It’s also a little sweet, in a twisted way.

The box has the same wrapping, same tape job as yesterday’s envelope. It comes apart easily, and inside is—Alex pulls it out, holds it up.

It’s. It’s an alien, full-on little green man alien, holding up its noodly little hands in two peace signs. Wearing a Santa hat. Covered in gaudy glitter. And still intact—only one piece has snapped off, a little piece of red molding clay that someone clearly fashioned so an ornament hook could go through it.

After a shocked second, Alex lets out a very uncharacteristic giggle; then, face burning, he drops the little alien back into the box and glances up at Michael, who’s watching him with his head tilted and a shy smile of his own on his pink mouth.

Their eyes meet for a long, breath-catching moment, a spark jumping through the cold, dry air from one body to the next. Then they both look away, clearing throats, shoving hands in pockets, and looking up at the sky instead of back at each other, each of them so large in the other’s sight to block out the sun.

“Secret Santa?” Michael says, voice cheerfully flippant. He’s still grinning somehow. Alex wants to wipe that look off his face. With his own face.

“Something like that.”

“Next time try to get someone who knows you better than to get that touristy shit.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Michael leaves after that, making it both easier and harder to breathe. Touristy shit aside, Alex puts the Santa alien on the shelf beside the first ornament, and later that night, after tossing and turning for a little while, he grabs his crutches, goes to the shelf, gropes in Jim’s old toolbox for a tube of superglue, and hunches over the coffee table to fix the clay part, making it an ornament once again.

One is an event. Two is a coincidence. Three ornaments in three days, and it’s a pattern.

No brown paper package shows up the third day; rather, he finds the ornament when he checks his mailbox in town. It’s a little laptop this time, nothing special, but it still brings a smile to his face when he holds it in his palm.

Who could the mystery sender be? It turns into something of an obsession over the next few days, which see him receiving a log cabin, a beagle, and a beautiful handmade silver and turquoise songbird. It’s clearly someone who knows him now, and someone who knows him well enough to know his home, his pet, what he does for a living…it’s a narrow field, to be sure—basically just Maria, Liz, Kyle, or Rosa. He rubs his thumb over the beagle’s little painted nose while Buffy shoots it a suspicious look from the couch as he considers his options.

Whoever it is, Guerin must know, because since the second day, the ornaments have arrived in his mailbox or on his porch unwrapped or in clear plastic wrap if it’s raining out.

Of course, all the evidence could point toward it being Guerin himself. But…somehow, Alex can’t bring himself to believe it, if only because the thought of Michael thinking of him like this, over time, with dedication, makes Alex’s chest ache with longing to see him, to hear him, to feel him. Better it be some scheme of Rosa’s. It’s just…better that way.

The gifts keep coming. Day seven, it’s the Air Force crest; on the eighth and ninth days, he finds a sunbathing alien and a bowl of ramen on his front step. They both go on the increasingly-crowded shelf, though he shoots the ramen a nasty look when he puts it in place. Another point in the Maria column, considering last time he went to one of her movie nights, he was asked to put pizza rolls in the oven and managed to burn them despite absolutely following the instructions on the package.

The tenth day’s ornament arrives in a blue Tupperware container, just translucent enough to see the ornament inside, but not so much he can tell what it is.

He opens it and finds a ball ornament wrapped in strips of paper cut from dictionaries in ten languages he can identify, including all six he speaks. It’s sturdy papier-mâché, but Alex still holds it like it might shatter if he breathes on it too hard. Every line defines things like family, like love, like forever. He returns it to its box and puts it on the shelf with the others, but his fingers linger over the lid, because there are lines he hasn’t traced with his fingertips yet, and he can hardly tear himself away.

He goes into town later that day on a grocery run with words still swimming in his mind and his mouth fixed shut because he’s not sure what might come out. But no level of distraction or concentration could keep him from being blindsided when he runs into Guerin outside the Crashdown, their bodies catching shoulder to shoulder, Guerin’s hand on his arm to steady him—their collision almost knocked a big box out of Guerin’s hands, but he steadies it with a little help from his powers until Alex has his balance back and he can take it in both hands again.

“Alex,” he breathes, then clears his throat. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I could say the same to you,” Alex manages.

Guerin shakes the box lightly. “Liz wants to surprise Arturo with the decorations this year, so I figured I’d offer my services. I’m the only one who can get tinsel into all the hard-to-reach places, after all.”

“Oh, that’s—that’s really nice.”

“Nah, I’m getting paid. Mostly in milkshakes and fries, but who’s complaining?”

They stare across the box. It’s been like this, lately, a small talk stiffness to their interactions, and Alex doesn’t know how to make it stop. But at the same time, he isn’t sure he wants to. It’s almost…nice. A couple weeks ago Alex drove by the junkyard just because he could, and Michael smelled like snow and pine and commented on the weather, and that brief exchange left the both of them grinning like idiots by the time Alex drove away. They aren’t lovers again, not yet. But they’re something. They’re getting there.

“Want some help? I’m free tonight,” Alex says, and Michael smiles at him, and that’s that. Alex comes back late, once the Crashdown is closed and Arturo is in bed. Liz and Rosa come downstairs to work on the decorations too, and more hands makes for light work, though Michael does most of the work without using his hands at all. They’re finished in no time. Alex plugs the lights in, flips the switch, and Rosa laughs, real and unrestrained and tugging Liz into the middle of the floor, dotted with multicolored puddles of light, twirling her in a circle. Sometime during the decorating, Rosa managed to stick Michael with a present ribbon, and it bobbles on top of his curls as he slinks over to Michael’s side to knock their shoulders together. Alex lets him, in the spirit of the season, and because every time Michael touches him his body goes weightless.

Now is as good a time to ask as any.

“So, Guerin,” he says, “I’m still getting ornaments every day. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that you haven’t told me, would you?”

Michael shrugs and grins that cowboy grin. “Looks to me like you’ve got yourself a secret admirer.”

“Secret, huh?”

“Looks that way.”

And before Alex can say another word, Michael is walking away to join Liz and Rosa dancing, whistling Let It Snow. He gets away from Alex that time, but before their little impromptu party is over, Alex manages to steal the bow from his hair, just glancing his fingers off those curls, so lightly Guerin doesn’t even seem to notice.

Whether he’s the ornament giver or not, Alex puts the bow on the shelf with the others. Just in case.

The next day, there’s no ornament when he leaves in the morning, and nothing in his mailbox when he checks it that evening, either. He’s—frustrated, okay, rather than sad, because what was the point? Stopping ten days in, what was even the point? It leaves him feeling untethered, without that tiny little thing to look forward to each and every day. Somehow, without even really noticing, he’d kind of gotten into the Christmas spirit. He even, feeling ridiculous the entire time, went to the pet store and bought a couple gifts for his dog, because he’s in a gift-giving mood even if he’s not sure he’s exchanging gifts with anyone else this year.

He shoulders his way out of the office, avoiding eye contact with the clerk, who’s surely noticed him coming in every single day, when he used to only check his mail once a week at best. Whatever. Now he has no reason to come back so often, and they’ve got plenty of time to forget him, like the way things should be.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he almost smacks Maria right in the face with the door as he leaves. She yelps, and he catches it at just the last second, tripping over apologies while she flaps her hand at him dismissively.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, Alex, really,” she laughs. Alex steadies her with his hands on her shoulders, and she tugs him to the side, out of the way of the sidewalk traffic. “I was hoping to run into you anyway. I have something for you.”

Oh shit. Anxiety spikes, and Alex blabbers, “Oh, shit, Maria, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know we were doing gifts this year—”

Great. Their friendship is finally finding even footing again, and Alex immediately puts himself in the red again by hitting her with a door and tells her straight up that he didn’t get her anything for Christmas. Batting a fuckin’ thousand, isn’t he. No wonder his secret admirer or whatever got bored of him.

“Alex, seriously, chill.” She tweaks his chin. “No presents is one hundred percent fine. You think I’m all about worshipping at the capitalist altar that is Christmas? Hell no. Buuut someone asked me for a favor, and it just so happened that I had something for you anyway, so here you go.”

She grabs his hand and presses into it a beautifully beaded eight-pointed star, red and white and gold. Alex gasps, and says, “This is—”

“One of Mom’s, yeah.” That wry, sad smile Maria gets when she talks about her mother curls up on her face. “She makes a lot of them on her good days, and her nurse says it’s good that she’s working with her hands. And Mom specifically said this one was for you.”

“God.” Alex swallows and grips the star as tightly as he can without crushing it. “Let me know next time you’re going to visit her, okay? So I can thank her in person?”

“Sure thing.”

Maria blinks rapidly for a moment, and Alex, understanding, doesn’t mention it. She composes herself quickly, and then Alex just has to ask:

“So it hasn’t been you the whole time, has it?”

“What, leaving you the ornaments? I am not that sappy.”

“Come on, there’s nothing wrong with being a little sentimental,” he teases.

“Uh huh. Sure. I forgot I was talking to the master of fuzzy feelings himself.”

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

Maria laughs at that and, hooking her arm through his, starts off down the street. “Now, we may not be exchanging presents this year, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make you help me with the rest of my shopping.”

The next day’s ornament is a classic Han Solo one, and if Alex lets out an undignified gasp when he sees it, Buffy is the only creature around to witness it. If he spends the rest of the day finding and watching the Star Wars Christmas Special, well, the same goes for that too, and his dignity is firmly intact.

The day after that, Liz texts him to come to the Crashdown, and since it’s a weekend he makes it there to meet her on her lunch break. The decorations look just as good in the daylight, if an inch or two less magical, and Alex has to duck his head to hide his grin when he remembers Michael very seriously placing a Santa hat on each individual alien in the place.

Liz beckons him over to a booth, two shakes and a plate of fries already in front of her. “Figured since I called you out, I could at least treat you,” she says. “On top of what I called you here for, which is….” She does a little drumroll on the table, then plonks an ornament box down on the table.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Alex bursts out.

“I know, right? I couldn’t believe it when I found it.”

Laughing and shaking his head, Alex picks it up. It’s a cat wearing an antenna headband so, so similar to the one perched on Liz’s head—the wrong shade of green, but still.

“I don’t suppose this is your way of telling me you’ve been leaving me ornaments all month, is it.”

“Pfft, no way.” Liz steals a fry from his tray and crunches it smugly. “Secret admirer, Manes. It’s supposed to be secret.”

Day fourteen is something delicate, so much so he’s a little scared to touch it. It’s thin glass, deep blue, and when it catches a light source it sends shimmering blue all around the room. It’s the day Alex stops trying to guess who his mystery gift-giver is, because now he’s been given light to hold in his hands, and it makes him feel—makes him—

Someone thought he was worthy of this. Someone wanted him to have it. Whether or not they ever tell him who they are, that means something.

His fifteenth ornament is the third one to come wrapped in a package, but this time it’s in an actual USPS shipping box, and it comes with a letter inside, in handwriting he recognizes.

Captain, it says, we got pressed into service again, and I was the unlucky bastard who drew the short straw, so I’m sending this to you, along with a warning that you fucking owe me…

The ornament is basic, a decently pretty white and silver snowflake. He puts the letter on the shelf with it. If the season is forcing everyone else into a sentimental mood, he might as well succumb to it too.

He wakes up on the sixteenth day with a bit of a sentiment hangover and lets himself lie in bed for a little while longer than usual, fondling Buffy’s soft ears and cradling this lovely, bittersweet feeling inside himself. If Christmas is the deadline for this whole ornament thing, he’s over halfway to the end. He takes the morning slowly, lingering over his coffee and over the view of the desert through his kitchen window, the high def white-gray limning of the world you get with a serious cold.

That day’s ornament doesn’t match Alex’s mood at all, but he still chuckles and shakes his head when he sees it. It’s another patch job like the Santa alien, but this time some sort of Valentines leftover—a traditional Roswell Gray holding a big red heart that says you’re out of this world!, with a handmade place for ornament hooks to go. It looks absurdly out of place next to everything else he’s accumulated, but he gives it its place of honor anyway.

He doesn’t expect his seventeenth ornament to arrive on the doorstep or in the mail, and sure enough, the pattern holds and it’s hand delivered at like ten o’clock that night. He almost doesn’t answer the door, but to be honest he’d left his leg on after work expecting just this.

“Ho ho ho,” an exhausted-looking Kyle says, shoving a box into Alex’s hands.

“Dude, did you drive all the way out here after your shift? It could have waited.”

“Nah, this is my one good deed for the year.”

“You’re literally a surgeon. Your job is good deeds.”

“Fine—my one act of charity.”

Alex bristles at that. “I don’t need—”

“Not for you.” Kyle punches him lightly on the shoulder.

Cryptic bastard.

“Go ahead and open it,” Kyle says, “My blood is eighty percent coffee right now, and I want to get home before I crash”

“You know you can stay if you need to.”

“Yeah, yeah. Open it.”

Alex’s eyebrows go straight up when he does and pulls out a shimmery white ball with the Buffy the Vampire Slayer logo on it. “You didn’t pick this out yourself. You asked me why I gave my dog a porn name the first time you met her.”

“Hey! I listened when you explained—” When Alex fixes him with a glare, Kyle gives in with a laugh. “Okay, okay, Rosa helped. Oh ye of little faith.”

Kyle leaves after that, with a quick hug and a Merry Christmas, and Alex goes to his shelf to put the ornament away. He hasn’t been keeping them in chronological order, more a sort of a…thematic grouping. The Buffy ball goes with Maria’s star, Liz’s alien cat, and the snowflake from his unit.

He looks up and turns away, casting his eyes all around the room to hide from no one the fact that he’s getting a little bit choked up.

Maybe he’ll buy some lights tomorrow. Or tinsel or something. No reason he can’t go in on the decorating, right? Why is he still holding himself back?

He doesn’t make it to the store the next day, or the two after that, three days that see him receiving a coffee mug, a UFO that’s supposed to light up when it’s plugged in, and a little truck hauling a Christmas tree.

He wonders if maybe that last one is a promise.

The pattern of hand deliveries every other day has been broken. But, in the spirit of the season—Alex doesn’t dwell on the fact that he never got one hand-delivered by Michael and instead chooses to think about the other thing that could mean.

On day twenty-one, he gets a glass teardrop that shimmers purple and golden, and on day twenty-two he gets a golden disc engraved with a tiny, perfect star chart.

The day before Christmas Eve, he opens the door to find an acoustic guitar.

As if he didn’t already know.

Christmas Eve dawns gray and dismal with the smell of snow in the air. Buffy trots around the yard in circles, lifting her nose every couple minutes to sniff the cold, and Alex cradles his coffee in both hands to keep them warm while he watches her, content. Part of him regrets that he never went and got more decorations, but it’s okay. This whole month—it’s been such an unexpected thing to be able to accept a simple joy into his life, to let himself expect a little, uncalled-for gift every day, that all he can feel at this point is just…peace. He couldn’t have asked for anything else. He didn’t.

Buffy barks, and Alex looks up just in time to see a familiar truck coming down the road, the bed covered with a tarp. Alex puts his mug down on the railing and regrets it instantly for want of something to do with his hands as Michael parks, opens the door, and jumps out of the car.

“Hey,” Alex says.

“Hey. Merry Christmas,” Michael says in return.

They just stare at each other for a moment, something that happens a lot when it’s just the two of them. Like they have to steel themselves to speak. Like they have to make sure that no, it’s not, it’s not the time to take that step forward and drown themselves in each other. It’s okay, yeah, it’s okay to just be here. Like this.

“Want some help with that?” Alex tilts his chin in the direction of the tarp.

“Y-yeah. Sure.” He stumbles over the word and ducks his head, rounding the truck to reveal what’s underneath.

It’s exactly what Alex expected, and everything he never did. His heart in his throat, he touches one of the branches on the tree, needles pricking his skin, sap sticky on his fingertips when he pulls them away.

“You get the other end,” Michael says, and they carry it inside together, a crate full of other decorations floating along behind them, Buffy pulling up the rear, eyeing it suspiciously. She settles in the corner to watch as Michael sets the tree up, hammers it into the stand, and positions it in the corner where it’ll be out of Alex’s way.

Alex hovers in the kitchen, making them both more coffee, hands shaking a little bit on the grounds, on the filter, on the carafe. The tree still takes up too much room. Michael takes up too much room. He always has. In this tiny house. In Alex’s heart and in his head and between his ribs. Michael pulls things out of the crate one by one and hangs them in the air around himself—bundles of lights, a skirt for the tree, multicolored balls and delicate paper snowflakes to fill all the spots left between the ornaments in Alex’s new collection.

Their fingers brush when Alex hands him a mug, and Alex lets the moment hang there. Skin on skin in the most casual, innocent way, but with Michael’s golden eyes so close it still manages to heat his blood, dry his mouth, cover him in yearning.

“Thanks,” Michael says hoarsely. He drags his index finger along Alex’s as he pulls his hand away, sending a shiver through the both of them.

Decorating for Christmas shouldn’t feel forbidden, but it does. It does, as they circle around each other, spiraling lights around the tree, eyes catching on every pass, Alex’s face so warm every time he sees Michael’s answering blush, on his cheeks, on his lips. Once the lights are on, they start in on the ornaments. Alex picks them off the shelf in chronological order, passing half of them to Michael, keeping half of them—like Mimi’s star, Han Solo, and the guitar—for himself.

“How did you manage it?” He asks eventually, fixing the teardrop to a high branch so Buffy doesn’t get any ideas.

“A friend who knows how to navigate Etsy, a sister with Amazon Prime, and a little bit of old-fashioned gumption.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Sure am.” Michael grins with satisfaction at the Valentines alien. Then he sobers a bit and says, “Hey, look, I’m sorry about the packaging the first couple days. I wanted to surprise you—I wasn’t thinking, and I should have.”

“It’s okay. You changed it up, and…yeah. It’s fine.”

“Thanks.”

A couple minutes pass in silence as Alex searches for what else to say. To ask. Why did he do it? When did he get the idea?

He asks, “What about the others? The ones you had Maria, Liz, Kyle, and the guys pick out? Red herrings, or did you just run out of ideas?”

“Oh, I had lots of ideas.” Michael presses his shoulder to Alex’s, coming in close to hang the star chart right beside the silver bird. Nudging him shyly, Michael says, “But my favorite one was the one where you got reminded how many people care about you.”

Alex almost drops the UFO at that, at Michael’s absurd honesty. He has nothing else to say, and they finish decorating the tree in peaceful silence. When they finish, Alex turns the lights off, and Michael plugs the tree in, and the gray day is dark enough that everything lights up bright like it would in the evening, all the colors of the rainbow.

“Fuck,” Alex breathes. It’s like a punch to the gut, happiness and disbelief and the unavoidable need to hoard this feeling, this moment, that comes on the heels of those feelings.

“So you like it?”

“Fuck,” Alex repeats, “Michael. I love it. It’s…I just…”

“Good.”

Michael, hesitating all the way, reaches out and takes Alex’s hand, sliding their fingers home together.

“I have one more ornament for you.” And he reaches into his pocket.

Alex makes a strangled noise when he sees it. Instinct tells him to rip his hand out of Michael’s and flee to the other side of the room to regroup, but he stays rooted in place, struggling, grasping for anything to say.

The console shard—because that’s what it has to be, just with gauzy ribbon looped and knotted carefully around one end so it dangles neatly from Michael’s fingers—shimmers in the soft rainbow light. Michael’s eyes shimmer along with it, equally as alien.

“I can’t,” Alex blurts. “I can’t take it. Michael. No. It’s—”

“No, no, listen, please.” Michael tugs on his hand like he wants to pull him closer, but Alex can’t—he just can’t—

He can’t be what ties Michael to Earth. He can’t be the sole tether that keeps him here, to the world that hurt him again and again, even if it’s the thing he wants most in the world, to protect, to hoard him like he hoards every sliver of a happy memory, where no one can take it away from him. That’s why he—months ago, when he most thought Michael was slipping through his hands, he gave him the console piece he found so he could go if he needed to. And now Michael tries to hand another piece back to him again?

“I can’t,” Alex says again, stuck on repeat.

“Hey, hey,” Michael fumbles for Alex’s other hand, and Alex lets him catch it, because with Michael holding him in place he doesn’t feel as cold. “It’s not what you think. I’m not asking you to keep me here, or anywhere, just.”

He swallows. He’s beautiful, in this light most of all. The most beautiful thing Alex has ever seen. Shining in every way, from the golden brushstrokes of his hair to the heart of him, who knew that Alex must never have had much of a holiday and decided to give him one.

Alex wants to kiss him. Wants to swallow whatever words Michael is going to say next and end the conversation there.

“Look.” Michael squeezes his hands. “When my mom—when she died. And after. Everything I worked for, everything I built the console for and devoted my life to, I thought it was over. Useless. But…you told me you were my family. And I know it took me too long to believe it, but I do now.

“I built the console because I was searching for my family. And now that it’s right in front of me, I want you to have a piece of it. Want us to have a piece of it.”

Alex searches Michael’s face, every earnest, open inch, until he can’t stand it anymore, until he drops Michael’s hands in favor of cradling his face, pulling him in, and taking his mouth in a slow, deep, careful kiss, tasting coffee on his tongue, drowning in the coming home of him, of his mouth on Alex’s, the rightness of having him in his arms. Michael responds with enthusiasm, stroking his back with his broad hands, making eager little noises into the kiss, going along with it until Alex pulls away to look at him again.

“You’re unbelievable,” Alex breathes.

“Thought it was the season for believing,” Michael replies, a little smile returning to his face.

“That’s what they tell me,” Alex says, and kisses him again.

Michael stays the night, wrapped up in Alex’s blankets, wrapped up in every inch of space Alex has ever thought was empty or cold. He doesn’t even need to set the heater that night, kept plenty warm by Michael’s body all along his back, holding him so close.

They wake up slow in the morning, but Alex earliest, because…

Well, even after everything Michael has done this month and everything he said the previous day, Alex is nervous about Michael’s Christmas present. He needs those extra minutes, watching him sleep peacefully, to steel himself.

But when he watches Michael wake up, sees how the first thing he does is look for Alex so he can smile at him, he isn’t so worried anymore.

They bring the blankets out into the sitting room, bundling up under the tree. Buffy leaves her bed to lie beside them instead, on top of the blankets, effectively pinning them in place, so Michael has to use his powers to get the wood and kindling set and strike a match and get a fire going in the fireplace.

The light flickers like something living off the console shard hanging from one of the uppermost branches. Heart in his throat, Alex pulls the envelope—the same one that held the ornament he got on December 1st—out of his pocket.

“I have something for you, too.”

Michael takes the envelope, eyes locked on Alex’s like he’s waiting for permission to open it. When Alex nods, he slips the tape open carefully, almost reverently. Like Alex, he’s never really gotten a gift before. Not one he thought meant anything. Not one he thought could stay.

He shakes the envelope, and a key falls into his hand.

“It’s to the front door,” Alex says to fill the silence.

Michael’s fist clamps around it with a familiar desperation, like someone might come out of nowhere to snatch it away. He blinks glossy eyes, wet lashes up at Alex, his mouth open, closed, throat bobbing as he swallows. Alex reaches out to stroke his closed fist.

“You’re my family. You’re my home. I don’t ever want to shut you out; I want you to be here. With me. Together. And I think you want that too.”

“Alex,” Michael chokes, and then he’s in Alex’s arms, wrapped around him in a hug.

He stays like that for most of the day, handsy and gentle, reaching out to touch him whenever they’re separated even for a moment. The next day passes much the same—then the next they both have to go back to work, live lives outside of their little holiday bubble.

Alex gets home first. He takes the dog out, gets dinner out of the freezer. Then about an hour later, he hears a car outside, footsteps on the stairs, then, after a minute’s pause, a key slots into the lock.

And Alex knows.

#malex #my fic #roswell new mexico #christmas fic #michael guerin #alex manes

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