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father-time-and-baby-new-year · 3 years ago

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M-more armin vs eren drabbles please

WC: 3.2k

Title: Melted Candles

Warnings: possessive behavior, cheating, armin x reader x eren, obsession, unhealthy relationships. manipulator armin & toxic eren.

You’re fidgeting with the hem of your short dress that your loving boyfriend bought you, nursing a drink, and half-heartedly scrolling through your phone.

Sitting on the olive couch alone as the musings of a party transpire, you eye the big and colorful banner sporting the words “Happy 20th Birthday Eren!”.

“It’s like Eren to be late to his own birthday party huh?”

A smooth, gentle voice breaks you out of your trance. You turn sideways to face Armin Arlert, a pretty boy with short-cropped blond hair and wide oceanic eyes. He’s all dressed up in a deep grey turtleneck, navy dress pants, and an expensive Omega watch on his wrist.

You must have looked frightened because he chuckles as he takes a seat next to you, a respectful distance away, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. Are you having fun?”

“Uh well it’s a surprise party, it’s not like Eren knows he’s supposed to be here.” You have an immediate desire to slap a hand over your mouth after the words spillover. You wince, not entirely in love with the fact that it was your first instinct to defend Eren.

If you had been more observant, you would have noticed the corners of his lips flick upwards in amusement. But Armin is observant enough for the both of you. He notes the color of embarrassment in your cheeks and continues the subject with ease.

“Ah, yeah. That’s right. Eren hates celebrating his birthday, but they're always a good excuse to get everyone together" He pauses before grinning so wide it doesn't look genuine, "-maybe this is more for us than him.”.

There’s an underlying tension in his words you can’t make heads and tails off. It reminds you of how truly little you knew of Eren's very own best friend.

You smile brightly, channeling all the optimism you could into changing the topic: “Everyone’s trying their best today! Sasha did all the catering and managed to leave the cake perfectly alone even though it’s her favorite flavor. She has the patience of a saint today.”

As if on cue, there’s a commotion in the background. Jean yells at Sasha, “Don’t finish all the lemon-pepper wings Potato Girl!”

Armin laughs and it's a pretty sound, a sound that reminds you of a bell chime. Unconsciously, he shifts closer to you, knees knocking into yours.

“Yeah, you’re right. Connie's even hosting it, and he let us decorate his man cave."

You look at the streamers and balloons, and Armin follows your eyes.

“You did a great job decorating.”

You blush, “It was honestly a team effort. Mikasa did way more, I promise.”

“So humble”, he teased. As he smooths his slacks, your eyes can’t help but fall on the shine of the silver band on his slender finger, an engagement ring.

“Annie couldn’t make it today?” There’s a flash of a grimace on his face but he schools his features right away.

“She doesn’t really like parties,” he laughs softly, “She’s like Eren in that way.”

“Oh,” you paused. He was clearly hiding something but it wasn’t in your place to pry. You didn’t know much about Annie. In fact, you were a little intimidated by her icy demeanor and arctic eyes. It amused you at first when you learned she was Armin’s partner.

Opposites must attract, because where Annie was the cold seeping into your bones, Armin was a furnace radiating warmth.

There wasn’t much more to say with the conversation heading to a peaceful silence, until his arms lightly touch yours, “I’m really glad you came.”

His fingertips graze the sleeve of your dress.

You flush, “Well, I wouldn’t be a very good girlfriend if I didn't come to his birthday party.”

The pretty blond clicks his tongue, “I suppose.” He inhales, thumbs swiping the rim of his glass, “You’re too good for him. Do you know that?”

To say you were surprised would be an understatement. You don’t have a response ready but Armin continues, “I love Eren of course. Been friends with him since we were children but-” Deep sigh, “I feel like I barely know him anymore. No one knows him anymore.”

In a small voice, you squeak “I do.” But the unsureness of your tone made your words seem like it was a question.

Armin smiles, one that’s filled with mirth.

Boldly, he squeezes your thigh, the flesh right below where your dress ends, “You deserve better.” His oceanic eyes seem darker under the dim lighting.

Why weren’t you moving away? Were you letting his hand itch closer to roaming the softness underneath silky fabric?

You swivel your head around, praying no one is seeing anything. Thankfully everyone was too swept up in their own conversations. As if to soothe you, his hands draw circles on the soft pliant skin, “Don’t worry, no one can see us.”

The ring glints harshly. Admittedly, Eren’s soft-spoken best friend is just a little attractive. You didn’t always think to see him this way, but Armin changed, and all the general anxiety he possessed matured into a quiet confidence.

He reminds you of Eren in that way. But still, you're at crossroads here. Is Armin making a move on you? Is he warning you? Should you even be here right n-

Your internal monologue is interrupted by Mikasa clapping her hands, and then putting a finger on her lips, “We’re going to turn off the lights, ok? They’ll be here in a few minutes. When Eren starts coming in, yell surprise.” Armin hand’s leave your legs, the warmth gone.

“Oy, oy, oy. Don’t we need a signal?” Connie asks, confusion apparent on his face.

“Jesus Connie, if you can’t even figure this out, what are we going to do with you?” quips Jean.

Mikasa shakes her head.

Sasha lightly punches her best friend, “It’s okay Coomer, just follow my lead.”

“How will that work since you’re stupider than me?” The hazel eyed boy asks, voice dripping in concern. “Eh?” Sasha replies with an equally concerned tone.

Mikasa pinches the bridge of her nose, “I’m going to turn the light off now.”

Eren would be here soon. You barely register Armin putting his arm around the couch, not around you per se, but the proximity was close enough to send your heart racing.

In the switch of a light, the room was engulfed in darkness and excited giggles that Mikasa promptly hushed. And then was just the sound of breathing. You could hear yours and you could hear Armin’s.

Softly, the blond uttered, “I’m going to do something I’ve always wanted to do.” You could feel featherlight fingers tilting your jaw, and capturing your pillowy lips.

The doorknob rattled. Soon after, light from the hallway trickled in. A still moment. As soon as the kiss started, it ended. A flash of light exploded before your eyes and a cacophony of people yelling Surprise! rang out.

At the center of attention was Eren Yeager, who...did not look surprised at all. His eyes were not even adjusting to the light the way yours was. A tall redhead accompanied him, someone who you vaguely recognize as Floch.

The birthday boy was clad in a white button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows and the top button was unfastened. His dress pants were slim-fitting and black.

The green-eyed boy’s face was devoid of expression. In comparison to his stoic nature, you thought your heart was going to explode.

Wryly Armin says, “Oh look, your boyfriend has arrived.” As if on cue, Eren’s eyes locked with yours.

At that moment, there were too many things to process.

Luckily, Eren was surrounded by a small crowd of his closest friends. You could hear Jean cackle, “Come on! You’re not even surprised.”

You turned your head to face the boy who took advantage of the darkness, a scarlet blush staining your face, “Why did you-?!”

He gazed at you with shining eyes like he had found clarity, not even bothering to feign guilt. With agility only he had, he took your palm in his, “I know you used to like me.”

Blood rushing in your ears, you tear your hands “What are you doing? Eren’s right there. Don’t touch me.” You hissed, scooting away for good measure.

“You didn’t deny what I said.” The blond pointed out calmly, “Yeager is no good for you. He keeps you in the dark about his life and he’s certainly not loyal..”

“I-I can’t deal with this. I never expected this from you Armin.” You shot up from the couch, trepidation filling your nerves, “Now if you excuse me, I’m going to greet my boyfriend.” You uttered the last word with as much hostility you could muster.

Mikasa had her arms wrapped around Eren. Which was fine. They’re best friends. They’ve known each other far longer than you knew him. He thinks of her as a sister.

He thinks of her as a sister.

You walked over, looming behind them. Most of the crowd had dispersed, with only Eren and the Ackerman girl lost in their own world.

What is wrong with you? You scold yourself. You didn’t usually think like this.

“[Y/N]”

Eren noticed you right away, and Mikasa turned around to face you.

“Sorry [y/n], didn’t mean to take so much of his time from you.” The dark-haired girl smiled apologetically.

You could feel guilt gnaw at you, how could you ever suspect her? She waved to Eren, and warmly thanked you, “You did so much of the planning. Thank you.” And before you could reply, she left.

That left you alone with the man himself. “Hi.” You said shyly. He smirked, “Hi babe. Long time no see huh.”

His viridian eyes slowly roamed your appearance, head to toe. You blushed under his stare as they paused longer than necessary on the dip of your neckline, and the expanse of legs not covered by the silk dress.

“So you did all this?” He teased, vaguely gesturing to the string lights, and hanging paper flowers.

He steps closer to you until he’s just a breath away. “Hardly. Just helped out wherever I could.” You whisper.

He hugs you, his tall frame enveloping yours. You feel so safe, pressed against his chest, as his arms compass the slight of your back.

His cologne is your favorite. Subtle, and intoxicating with thick notes of spice. You sniff something else, something overpoweringly distinct.

Still enclosed in his arms, you look up to him, “Did you drink?”

He takes a step back, still wrapping an arm to your waist, “I met up with Zeke. He offered me a drink.”

“Zeke?” You questioned, “You visited your brother?”

Eren was privy to sharing details about his life and you knew virtually next to nothing about Zeke, his half-brother he came recently in contact with.

He kisses the top of your head, and you can feel the loose strands that escaped his bun tickle your face, “It’s nothing to worry your pretty little head about.”

He keeps you in the dark about his life.

“You were cozying up with Armin on that couch, weren’t you?” His tone is light, containing a thinly veiled accusation.

You laugh it off, hoping he wouldn’t notice how tense you suddenly got, “No, no. We were just talking. I was sure I was going to kill myself out of boredom just waiting for you.”

Snuggling closer to him, you stand on your tippy-toes to kiss his jawline, trying to distract him from wavering thoughts.

“Oh?” He asked, “Armin wasn’t entertaining you well enough? Well, he does have a tendency to babble about nothing.”

As he talked, you had a feeling he wasn’t really looking at you, but rather peering straight behind you.

An uneasy feeling fills your lungs, “Um Eren, let’s head to the kitchen. I can fix you a plate. Niccolo did the catering so you know it’ll be really good-”

The tall boy waved your suggestion away, “Not hungry. In fact, why don’t we head over to my best friend? I haven’t talked to him in a while.” You didn't appreciate the mocking lilt in his tone.

Before you could dissuade him, he was already pulling your wrist so you could turn, hand placed on the small of your back, leading you somewhere you definitely did not want to go.

The charming blond was still situated on the couch but this time joined by a woman who was talking rather animatedly. You vaguely recognized her by her chin-length wavy ash-colored locks. Hitch.

“-Annie is so lucky! Jesus, I can’t believe you guys are engaged! And Marlowe still hasn’t worked up the nerve to-”

Eren coughed, asserting his presence. Two pairs of eyes flitted upwards. Hitch sighed dramatically, “Well if it isn’t the birthday boy. The big 2-0. You’re not a teen anymore Yeager. Think you’re ready for the adult world?”

Your boyfriend, who was never one for false pretenses and small talk, ignored her question entirely, “Hello Hitch. If you don’t mind, I would like to catch up with Armin here.”

The woman rolled her eyes, “Guess that’s my cue to leave.” As she stood up, she looked back and forth between the boys, noting the animosity that seemed to permeate the air as they burned holes into each other.

“Why are the vibes so tense? The energies you two are radiating...is reminiscent of a pissing contest”

Without really intending to, you let out a chuckle, attracting the attention of the three people around you.

Hitch’s eyes softened, “[Y/n], I haven’t seen you in a minute. Let’s go do shots with Mina and Hanna.”

Eren’s grip on you tightened, “She’s staying right here Hitch. Enjoy yourself though”

“Funny, I don’t recall asking you. Your girlfriend can’t speak for herself?”

“Uhm, thanks for the offer Hitch but no thank you, I’m not really in the mood to drink right now.” You chuckle nervously, flashing a big enough smile that will ascertain that everything is okay.

Hitch shrugs, “Suit yourself”, and proceeds to walk away.

“Well, I suppose I have to thank you for driving her away. She’s quite...talkative.” Armin breaks the silence. He addresses you both but his eyes are trained on you, “Back already [y/n]?” An easy smile spreads across his face.

You don't look at Eren’s face to gauge his reaction, but you notice how the hand around your waist squeezes almost painfully. The boys stand up to shake hands. Armin gestures for the two of you to sit but the dark-haired boy waves it away, “We prefer to stand.”

The blond gazes between the two of you questioningly but seemingly accept Eren’s response, “Okay then. Guess I’ll stand too.”

“Where’s Annie? Trouble brewing in paradise?”

Armin’s smile hardens, “Don’t know how you’d assume that. She’s just not here.”

Unease pinpricks at you. You could feel trepidation in the air.

“What a shame. Doesn’t Annie like me?” Eren taunts before delivering a line you didn’t expect, “I recall a time where she liked me much more than you actually.”

Surprise is an understatement for how you feel. You didn’t even want to register the implication of his statement. Did Eren and Annie have a past? You lightly touch Eren’s arm in a hint of a warning, “Eren-”

The blond shakes his head, “You’re really something else, you know? Talking about another woman so brazenly in front of your girlfriend? Are you projecting your insecurity onto me since you know” he tilts his head in your direction, “[y/n] liked me first?”

You fluster immediately, jaw-dropping slightly. It was true. You did have a rather big crush on the intelligent blond boy who sat next to you in a class that bored you to sleep. But there was nothing between you two beyond a handful of platonic study dates from when you were freshmen!

Too many moving variables. He was dating Annie and not being the homewrecker type, tried to squash the interest you had. Besides, you were planning to drop that class anyways, and in a twist of fate, it was Armin who had inadvertently introduced you to Eren.

Also, how did that damn Arlert know and why was he bringing it up today of all days?!

Your boyfriend sneers, “Does that really matter when she’s with me? When she’s dating me. And. Not. You.” He punctures the last words out.

“Uhm, I’m right here-” You finally find your voice, “And I’m not really comfortable with being discussed like this.”

Armin’s eyes find yours, “Of course. Sorry [Y/n]. It’s super disrespectful of me-”

Eren cuts in with words heavier than bullets, “Shut the fuck up. Always desperate to play the white knight in shining armor aren’t you? Your duplicity makes me sick.”

As if sensing an oncoming attack, Eren pivots away from you, creating some distance.

Armin closes the gap between himself and the dark-haired boy and bunches Eren’s collar in his fist, “You don’t know how to treat people, you know that? So full of yourself that you think basic decency has an ulterior motive.”

Eren’s eyes dance with mirth, “There’s always an ulterior motive with you, isn’t there though?”. He forcefully shoves his friend, sending Armin stumbling a few steps backward, “You really like pretending you’re one of the good guys when your hands are blood-stained like the rest of us.

You can hear the blood rushing in your ear and you attempt to get in the middle of the impending conflict but Eren grabs your arm with a painful force. He growls,“Step back”. You obey.

“Don’t touch her touch like that.” Armin snarls.

“She’s my fucking girlfriend. I’ll touch her however I want. By the way, just because your little fiance is giving you a hard time doesn’t give you the right to leer at what’s mine.”

At this point you realize you come to your senses, and you leave the area quickly to get help. You scan the area around looking for Mikasa. She’s reliable and always knows what to do. You try to calm your panicked heart.

Gaining speed, you nearly fall by running into someone in the long hallway. Thankfully, the good samaritan is able to catch you in time, holding your shoulders in a firm but comforting grip.

You look up, eager to thank the man who caught you. Mullet. Tall. Slight scruff at the chin. You recognize him right away.

“Woah y/n, what are you running for?” He asks in amusement but one look at your teary eyes has him instantly concerned, “Hey, hey. Are you okay?”

“I-uh,” You’re blubbering, “Armin and Eren are acting kinda strange--I think Mikasa should calm them down.”

Jean’s eyebrows are furrowed, “Strange how? She stepped out so she’s not here right now.” You bite your lips, wondering how you were going to explain the situation.

Jean grabs your shoulder, “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll settle this. Can you take me to them?”

You nod, supremely grateful to have Jean in your corner. As you guys take a turn to the living room, you hear the excruciating sound of glass breaking. “Shit!” Jean curses.

In the middle of the living room stood Eren and Armin like centerpieces, beating the ever-living shit out of each other. You couldn’t see much beyond the fact Armin was throwing punches left and right, landing some but Eren was able to dodge most.

As you move to run forward, Jean grabs you, “No. Stop. There’s glass everywhere. You’re going to get hurt.”

You’re incredulous, “I can’t just let them hurt each other!”

Jean merely looks at you with a look of pity,

#armin arlert fanfic #armin arlet x you #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x you #eren jeager x reader #armin and eren fight over you #attack on titan headcanons #attack on titan fanfiction #tw manipulation #tw gaslighting #tw fighting #manipulator armin

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xxiamtiebrousxx · 3 years ago

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Chapter 1 "Storms" (The Medizin | Medic x Reader)

A storm unlike any other raged over the small, desert town of Teufort, New Mexico. The rain poured down hard on the roof of the RED base. The news people warned the residents of a possible flash flood. All nine RED mercenaries were in the living room. Demoman, Spy, Scout and Heavy sat at the table, playing poker. Engineer and Pyro were working on a puzzle on the coffee table. Medic, Sniper and Soldier watched the news. “WHAT’S A FLASH FLOOD?” Soldier yelled. Medic pinched the bridge of his nose. Soldier was a very loud person and he didn’t know when to use his inside voice. “A flash flood is flooding of low-lying areas, like a desert,” Engineer explained. “What does it have to do with a flash?” Soldier asked, more quietly. “I dunno, to be honest,” Engineer answered. “Perhaps because it’z very sudden,” Medic said. Soldier shrugged and changed the channel. As night fell, all the men retreated to their rooms. Spy thought it best to put sandbags at the foot of every door so no water would seep in. Everyone slept peacefully as the storm raged on. The wind screeched and the thunder roared. This terrible storm should’ve kept the men awake, but it didn’t. The following morning everyone slept in, except for the doctor. Medic decided to get up early to make some coffee. He slipped on his bathrobe and slippers. He then headed downstairs. No water was to be found anywhere in the base. Archimedes was asleep, thankfully. That meant peace. Medic stared out the kitchen window. Most of the desert ground was still wet from last night. Nothing bad had happened. But something terrible had happened. Outside, something was wedged into the mud. Medic noticed this. Whatever it was, it seemed to be breathing. He squinted and got a better look at the mysterious figure. He dashed out the door. Stuck in the mud was an unconscious woman. She was still breathing, luckily, but the problem was that she was shivering. “Please be alive,” the doctor whispered. He pulled the woman out of the mud and held her. Medic carried her bridal style into the med bay where he put her in one of the beds. He then turned up the heater. “Doktor? Vhat’s going on?” Heavy called out from the living room. “I’ll be out there in a minute!” he yelled. He removed the wet clothes from the woman, but kept her undergarments on and replaced the clothes with his own. The woman stirred awake. “Where am I?” she murmured. “Good morning Frau,” he said. He brought over his cup of coffee he never touched. “What’s this?” she asked. “It’z a cup of coffee,” Medic replied. “You need to drink it.” she took the mug in her hands and blew gently. She gulped some of the coffee down and sat the mug down. “May I ask you a question?” she asked. “Ja, what is it?” “Who am I?” she asked. “Yo doc! Where are you?!?” Scout called out. “I’ll be right back,” Medic said. The woman nodded and continued to drink the coffee. Medic rushed out of the room. “Where were you?” Engineer asked. “I have something to tell you,” he answered. “While I was looking outside this morning, I found someone wedged in the mud from last night’s storm. I brought her in and now she is drinking coffee in ze med bay.” "You bought someone in?" Scout asked. Medic nodded. “Fricking unbelievable!” “So who is she?” Spy asked. “She asked me who she vas just moments ago,” he said. “When I brought her in, she was shivering. I haven’t yet taken her temperature, but in my opinion, I believe she has caught hypothermia.” “Mfh hudda mfh huddah hud mfh (That’s not good, right)?” Pyro asked, still wearing his balloon unicorn onesies. “It's bad. One of the symptoms can be memory loss,” Medic explained. “Why don’t you go check on her, we’ll prepare breakfast,” Spy said. The doctor nodded and went back inside the med bay. Archimedes rested on the shoulder of the woman as she sipped the coffee. “Oh you’re back!” she said with a smile. Medic’s heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t comfortable around people, but this woman made him feel different. “Are you feeling better, fraulein?” he asked. She nodded. “I give my

compliments to whoever made this delicious coffee,” she said. “Zhat would be me,” Medic said, sitting next to her on the bed. She smiled. “You're welcome,” she said. “So, mind asking where I am?” “You’re in the RED base, near the town of Teufort,” he replied. “Zis is my home. I live with eight other men. Demoman, Heavy, Soldier, Scout, Sniper, Spy, Pyro, and Engineer.” “Are they your friends?” the woman asked. Medic nodded. “Are they nice?” “Ja, all though Soldier, he can be a little rough sometimes,” Medic answered. “And Pyro loves to set things on fire.” “I’d like to meet these friends of yours, if I can,” she said. “You can, but first you need rest,” Medic replied. “I vill let you rest and then I vill come back to take you to breakfast.” “That sounds good,” she replied. “Wake me up in a bit then.” Medic left the room. “Oh before you go, I need to know your name,” she said. Medic popped his head back in. “It’s Ludwig,” he answered. “Ok Ludwig,” she said. “My name is Y/n, I think.” “Y/n, I vill see you soon,” he said. Ludwig closed the door quietly. “So what did she say?” Spy asked. “She told her name may be Y/n,” Ludwig replied. “She isn’t entirely confident.” “I see,” Spy answered. Moments later, the bacon and eggs were ready to be eaten. Ludwig returned to the med bay. He softly rubbed Y/n’s shoulders. “What is it?” she murmured softly. “Vake up Y/n, breakfast is ready,” Ludwig whispered. She opened her eyes. “Ludwig? Is it time?” she asked. “Ja, come along, Engineer had cooked some bacon for us.” Y/n got out of the bed. Her mud covered boots touched the ground as she stood up. With help from Ludwig, they were both able to get to the dining room. "That bacon smells good."

#romance #3rd person point of view #medic x reader #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 x reader #x reader #storms #fanfiction #fluff #Tf2 medic x reader

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marauderundercover · 3 years ago

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A Thousand Years: Ch. 2

AO3

Dick Grayson liked to think that he was capable of making good decisions. Decisions that were beneficial for both himself and the people around him. But as his almost eleven year old little brother stood glaring at him, Dick started to second guess his decisions.

"Richard, what were you thinking?" Damian snaps. Dick pinches the bridge of his nose, willing himself to remain patient.

"Little D, I can't fix what I messed up if you don't tell me what I messed up." He says calmly. Damian scoffs.

"As if you don't know." He says. Dick throws his hands up in the air.

"I don't! Damian, I really don't. And I'd appreciate it if you clued me in." Dick says with a sigh. Damian frowns.

"You looked up that woman." He says simply. Dick furrows his eyebrows.

"What?" He asks. Damian huffs.

"The woman from last night. I saw you looked up her social media." Damian says. Dick raises an eyebrow.

"Is that what this is all about?" Dick asks incredulously. Damian had been ignoring (or glaring) for the better part of the day.

"What more would it need to be, Richard? You don't have time to see some harlot." Damian says, jutting his chin out defiantly.

"What- Damian you can't just call her a harlot. Okay, we don't even know her." Dick says.

"Tt. That is the point." Damian says. Dick bites his tongue to keep from snapping at the kid. After all, he'd acted the same way to Bruce plenty of times when he was younger.

"I just wanted to get to know her, Dames." Dick says. Damian's eyes narrow. "Okay, okay. I won't go searching her out." Dick says. Damian relaxes slightly. "But! If we stumble across each other and I'm not in the suit, I'm gonna talk to her. At that point it's fate." Dick adds. Damian scowls, but doesn't say anything else. Just walks away. Dick sighs, shaking his head. Why couldn't anything be easy for once?

---

Marinette glares at the dozens of balloons that had infiltrated her apartment. For some reason, Jagged had decided that the best use of his spare key for her apartment was to sneak in while she was sleeping and decorate for her birthday. It’s not that she was upset at Jagged for it. She knew that he was just trying to be nice but- she really didn’t feel like celebrating her birthday this year. Not after everything that happened in Paris. Deciding that what she really needs is to clear her head, Marinette grabs her purse and rushes out of her apartment. Quickly locking her door, Marinette takes the stairs two at a time as she rushes out of her building. Sucking in a deep breath of air, she adjusts her purse on her shoulder before deciding to just walk. Maybe she’d find a coffee shop or an ice cream shop or something to stop at. Anything to take her mind off of the memories threatening to drown her. Getting lost in the architecture and hustle and bustle of the people around her, Marinette’s eyes lock on a small coffee shop. The sandwich board outside of it advertised coffee, pastries, and simple lunches. Opening the door, she starts to head towards the counter, but slips. Yelping slightly, she sticks out her arms to catch herself when suddenly, someone else is catching her. Eyes wide, Marinette blinks up at the person who caught her. Blue eyes stare back down at her and Marinette finds herself getting lost in them. Having blue eyes herself, they were never something that she’d found herself looking at often. But these eyes-

“Are you okay?” The man asks softly, looking a little surprised. Marinette feels her cheeks heat up as she stands back up, steadying herself and taking a small step away from the man.

“Yes, I am- um, thank you for helping me.” She says quietly. He grins, and Marinette swears her heart skips a beat.

“No problem. I’m Dick Grayson.” He introduces himself, sticking his hand out. Every possible warning she may have heard from Jagged about strangers in Gotham flies out the window as she places her hand in his and shakes it.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” She says, smiling up at him. Dick grins.

“I really hate to go, but my kid is waiting in the car, and I swear I don’t usually do this, but could I give you my number?” He rambles out. Marinette’s eyes widen slightly, but she passes her phone to him. His shoulders relax instantly as he takes her phone and quickly puts in his contact information. “I also sent myself a text so I could have your number, I hope that’s okay.” He says. Marinette nods.

“Of course. I’ll uh, I’ll call you?” She says, wincing slightly at how awkward she sounds. But either Dick doesn’t notice, or he doesn’t care, because his face lights up even more as he grins at her before rushing off. The second he’s gone, Marinette blinks. He has a kid?

---

Sliding into the car, Dick passes Damian’s coffee and lunch over to him before realization hits him and he slams his head against the steering wheel.

“Richard! What is the meaning of this?” Damian asks, a hint of concern clear in his voice. Dick groans.

“I may have just scared off Marinette.” He says.

“You saw her? How did you possibly plan that? Did you plant a tracker on her?” Damian rapid fires his questions, making Dick sit up and shake his head.

“No, no I didn’t do that. I told you I wouldn’t actively try to find her, and as much as I wanted to, I wouldn’t do something to lose your trust Dames. You know that, right?” Dick says, frowning slightly. Damian huffs.

“Then how did this happen? Gotham is not a small town.” He says. Dick shrugs.

“Honestly? I don’t know. But don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I scared her off.” Dick sighs, setting his own coffee down and pulling out of his parking spot.

“What, did you tell her about the time you had a mullet?” Damian snarks. Dick snorts, shaking his head.

“No- and mullets were cool. I looked awesome with that mullet.” He says.

“Tt. Keep on believing that.” Damian says, his lips quirked up. Dick just laughs, switching lanes as he drives towards the penthouse. “If it wasn’t your abysmal style choice from your youth, what was it?” Damian asks.

“I told her I had a kid. That scares girls away a lot of the time.” Dick says easily, tensing up as he realizes the implications of what he’d said. “I mean-”

“You think of me as your own?” Damian asks in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. Dick swiftly pulls into the parking garage, whipping into a spot and throwing the car into park. Taking a deep breath, he turns to Damian. To the kid he’d been raising for the past eight months.

“Damian, I know that I can’t replace Bruce. And I’m not trying to, I promise you.” Dick starts, searching his mind for the right words to say. Words he wished Bruce would’ve told him when he took him in. “But I do care about you, Damian. You’re my kid, even if you don’t think of me as your dad.” Dick’s heart breaks slightly as he watches the slight panic cross the kid’s face as he tries to figure out how to react.

“I-”

“You don’t have to say anything, Dames. I just wanted you to know that I care about you, more than just as Batman and Robin.” He says, squeezing Damian’s shoulder gently before turning the car off. “Now, let's go eat our lunch and you can work on some of that homework that I know you didn’t do last night.”

“Tt. It’s not as if I need to do the work. I already know it.” Damian argues. Dick snorts.

“I know, but surprisingly enough, your teachers don’t like that response when they ask me why I never make you do the work.” He says, ruffling Damian’s hair as they head for the elevator. Damian glares at him, but it lacks any actual heat. Dick smiles. If Marinette didn’t like the fact that he had a kid, then maybe it wasn’t meant to be. ‘Cause he wouldn’t leave Damian for anything. Not a thing.

---

Marinette stares down at her phone, her coffee and soup both sitting on her coffee table getting colder by the minute. After Dick had had to run out at the coffee shop, she’d ordered and then taken the order back to her apartment. Where she’d been seated for the last hour trying to decide how to start a conversation. Could she just start with “so, you have a kid?” Or should she be more subtle? Does she start right away asking him out on a date? Or just some getting to know you questions? She hadn’t been focused on dating for a long time. Ever since guardianship of the Miracle Box was first passed to her, Marinette had been busy. Far too busy to date. Or to even think about dating. Sure, she’d dated Adrien for a month after their identities were revealed. But by that point, they had realized that their feelings for each other were more platonic than anything else. And sure, she’d only met Dick once, but there was something about him. She wanted to get to know him. To know how he was able to light up a room so easily in such a dark and grim city. To be able to make him smile just how he’d smiled at her in the coffee shop. She felt like a crazy teenager again, but she liked it. She liked the possibilities that seemed to open up the second she thought of him.

“You gonna stop staring at your phone and actually do something?” Plagg asks with a huff as he appears in the room. Marinette sighs, flopping back down onto the couch.

“What am I supposed to say Plagg? I’m so out of touch when it comes to talking to people my age. Most of my conversations in the last six months have been you, or Jagged and Penny. I don’t- how do I even start a conversation? Do I just immediately ask him out?” Marinette rambles, her anxiety spiking. Plagg zips over and lands on her forehead, purring softly as he gently pats her head.

“It’s okay, Bug. Why don’t you just start with a ‘hi’. You can’t go wrong with that.” Plagg suggests. Marinette nods, letting out a shaky breath. Grabbing her phone again, she opens up Dick’s contact and sends a quick “Hey!”. The second she sends it, Marinette squeals and tosses her phone to the side.

“Okay, okay, I’m okay. This is okay. Okay.” She repeats, sitting up and shaking her hands to try and get some of the excess energy. Just as she thinks she’s calm, her phone chimes. “I can’t look!” She says, burrowing her face into the piles of throw pillows. Plagg sighs.

“He says ‘hi’ with a smiley face.” Plagg says flatly. Marinette sits up, smiling.

“Really?” She asks. Plagg rolls his eyes, but nods, gesturing towards the phone.

“See for yourself.” He says. Marinette lunges forward and grabs the phone, grinning at the simple message. She could do this.

---

After a few days of texting, Dick had asked her to go get dinner with him. Marinette was terrified. But also excited. Really, really excited. They’d spent almost their entire time texting as time to get to know each other. She’d told him about her love of fashion and that she’d moved here from Paris six months ago. He told her that he was raising his little brother after his adoptive father’s unexpected death eight months ago. She knew that he loved sweets, and he knew that she’d grown up in a bakery. And now they were about to go out to dinner together. And she was terrified that she’d do something to mess it up.

“Breathe, Pigtails. If he doesn’t like you for who you are, he’s not worth it.” Plagg says. Marinette nods, letting out a long breath.

“I know. I know.” She says, pausing as she glances at her reflection in the mirror. For the first time in a long time, it felt like she was missing something. “Do I need to wear the earrings?” She asks quietly, pushing her hair behind her ears.

“Only if you’re ready. If you’re not, bring the ring with you and I’ll stay in your purse. You’ll owe me some extra cheese, though.” Plagg offers. Marinette thinks, before shaking her head.

“I think it’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. It’s just dinner, what could possibly happen?” Marinette asks with a small laugh. After all, they were just going to a restaurant around the corner. Nothing too bad could happen, right?

Story tag list (open): @dickinette-february

Permanent tag list: @stainedglassm @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth @unoriginalmess @crazylittlemunchkin @buttercupsbitch @toodaloo-kangaroo @jayjayspixiepop

#dickinette #dickinette 2022 #dickinette feb #dickinette february #dickinette february 2022 #maribat dick grayson #maribat damian wayne #maribat marinette dupain cheng #mgi civil war #mgi civil war 2022 #mgicivilwar2022 #balloons #bad decisions

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

ok so firstly I love any loops and jules fic but secondly could we have one where jules is having a really tough time (either missing loops/ picked on etc. ) and then we see loops (not coops) surprise him and is just so protective - just sibling fluff that’s it

Oh Jules, I’m sorry I did this to you. What a wonderful prompt, though! I’m always down to write sibling fluff! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

TW for bullying (older kids picking on younger kids)

Contrary to popular belief, Jules didn’t brag about his brother every minute of every day. There was no point, and he wanted to be known for his own talents rather than living in Remus’ shadow for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, some people didn’t seem to understand that.

A balled of lined paper smacked into the back of his head. “Heads up, Loopy!”

Jules threw the ball back; it bounced off the end of the table and hit the ground pathetically. “Nice shot,” Aidan snorted as he passed, bumping his shoulder against Jules’ and making him stumble. Several people laughed. His face burned with embarrassment.

“Yeah, I bet your brother’s really proud of that,” Luke sneered. He was a big kid, far bigger than Jules both in height and muscle even though he was only a couple years older.

“Don’t talk about my brother,” Jules said, much quieter than intended.

Luke raised his eyebrows. “What’re you going do about it, Loopy?”

“Just shut up.”

“Who’s gonna stop me?” He leaned across the cafeteria table and Jules fought the urge to back away. “Huh? Your brother? He’s never around.”

“He’s busy.”

“He doesn’t want to be here.”

“He does,” Jules insisted, feeling his throat tighten. “He does, he just doesn’t have time—”

“He’s a celebrity, dude, no wonder he doesn’t want his tagalong brother around.”

It’s not true, Jules told himself. It’s not true. Time and time again, Remus had told him that hockey came second to family, but after months of not seeing him it was starting to feel false. “Shut up.”

Luke shifted in his seat and folded his hands. “Face it, Loopy: your brother’s not around because he’d rather spend time with his cool friends than an annoying little kid.”

“Leave me alone.” Jules’ voice cracked and Luke grinned.

“You’re gonna cry?” he asked, full of false sympathy. “Aw, poor baby.”

“It’s not true.” It was getting harder to believe the words. “He visits whenever he can.”

The lunch bell rang before Luke could retaliate; he ruffled Jules’ hair too hard to be comfortable and left, already laughing with his group of friends. What a dick, Jules thought as he swallowed down the tears.

He made it through the rest of his classes in a daze and walked home on muscle memory. It was a cold day for April, but maybe he could blame his red-rimmed eyes on the wind. Maybe Luke is right, part of him argued. There wasn’t a lot of evidence, but it was enough to make him want to throw up.

“Hey, baby, how was your day?” his mother called when he opened the door.

That was the tipping point, the tiny pebble that shattered the cracked glass dam holding back his tears. Jules sobbed once, dropped his backpack on the floor, and ran for the safety of his bedroom. “Jules—” The slam of his door cut his father’s concern short.

He grabbed the family picture off his wall and threw it across the room—there was no glass or frame, only tape, so seeing it flutter to the ground was far less satisfying than he had hoped. Remus had him on his shoulders for the picture; they all looked so happy. Jules sat down on the other side of his bed and buried his face in his arms, letting the emotions he had been holding in for three full hours flood out.

Deep down, he knew Luke was a liar and a bully with nothing better to do than pick on younger kids. That didn’t mean his words hurt any less.

A few minutes later, there was a gentle knock on the door. “Go away!”

There was a brief pause, then another knock.

“Just—just please give me a minute, mom!”

“I’m not mom.” Jules’ heart skipped a beat. “Can I come in?”

You’ve never been around to help me before. Anger reared up in his chest. “No!”

Remus hesitated for a moment. Jules hoped he was shocked, stunned, hurt. “Okay.”

There was a rustling noise; he looked around the foot of the bed to see a shadow in the crack beneath the door. “Are you—what are you doing?”

“Sitting down.”

“Go away.”

“No.”

“Mom, make him go away!”

“What did I do, Jules?” Remus sounded sad. There was none of his usual teasing in his tone. The anger twisted around in Jules and he scrubbed at the tears and snot on his face.

“When did you get here?” He knew he was being rude; his mother would have given him a pursed-lips look if he talked like that to anyone normally.

“A couple hours ago. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“It’s a terrible surprise. Go away.”

“Not until you tell me what I did.”

Jules took a few shallow breaths before answering. “You’re never here. Never.”

“I know. I’m s—”

“I hate you,” he sobbed, bringing his knees tighter to his chest. “I hate you so much.”

There was a long stretch of silence on the other side of the door, but the shadow remained. “That’s fair,” Remus said quietly.

“No, it’s not!” Jules clambered to his feet and stomped over to the door, wrenching it open. “It’s not fair! I shouldn’t hate you, this is your job! You should—you should—”

Remus looked up at him from his crosslegged seat on the carpet. “I should what?”

“You should yell at me. Or make me open the door, or do anything that makes me angry at you.” He sniffled and hugged himself.

“When have I ever yelled at you?”

“The rat. And the water balloons. And when I stole your sticks. And when I froze your underwear.”

Remus winced slightly. “Fair point. I don’t keep yelling once you’re in the room, though, right?”

Jules deflated. “No.”

“So I’m not going to yell at you. Also, your bedroom smells weird, so I don’t want to go in there unless I have to.”

A smile tried forcing its way out and Jules covered it with his best scowl. “My room doesn’t smell weird.”

Remus sniffed the air, then shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

“Why are you here?”

“Mom said she was getting ice cream.”

Jules perked up. “Did she?”

“No.” Remus held up the car keys. “We can fix that problem, though. Go get your shoes.”

“Can I drive?’

“If you can convince dad, sure.” Remus stood up and mussed his hair; his hand was gentle, though, unlike Luke’s. It was a welcome change.

He grabbed his sneakers from under his bed and hopped down the hall as he pulled them on. “Dad, can I drive?”

His father didn’t even look up from the paper. “When Hell freezes over, buddy.”

“Lyall,” his mother scolded from the kitchen, though her eyes crinkled at the edges. “Remus, remember not to swear around your brother!”

“I won’t, I won’t,” he said, holding the door open for Jules as he shrugged his coat on.

They drove in relative silence, save for the Top Rock Hits of the Eighties cassette that they had each heard half a billion times. Remus pulled into the Dairy Queen drive-thru and rattled off Jules’ favorite without even having to ask. Somehow, that both soothed him and upset him even more. He handed the cone over carefully, stuck his blizzard in the cupholder, and started driving in the opposite direction of the house.

“Are you kidnapping me?” Jules asked, licking a stray drip of vanilla off the cone.

“I don’t think I can, seeing as we’re related.”

“You can. You don’t have custody.”

“Why do you know that?”

“Why don’t you, Mr. Fancy Degree?”

“This might surprise you, but they don’t exactly cover the intricacies of kidnapping in PT school.”

“Shame.”

Remus made a noise of agreement around the straw of his Blizzard as they rolled to a stop at the red light. “So, are we going to talk?”

“We already are.”

“Dude.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He made a face when a chunk of Oreo got stuck the straw. “If you get that out before the next light, you can have a sip.”

Jules took it and squeezed the thin plastic. “Luke Sanders is an asshole.”

“Language.” The car stopped again and Jules showed off the unblocked straw. “Do continue, though.”

“You’ve hit every red light since we left the house. That’s got to be a curse.” He took a long sip, then handed it across the console. “You like hanging out with me, right?”

“Obviously. You’re, like, my favorite person.” Remus gave him a confused look.

“Okay, cool.” Jules felt his hands start to shake again, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t from his ice cream. Just hearing him say that made a tsunami of relief run through him. “Cool.”

“Did Luke Sanders tell you I didn’t?”

“He said a lot of stuff.”

Remus pulled into a parking lot, then took the key out and turned in his seat. “Like what?”

Jules shrugged one shoulder. “That you don’t want to be here.”

“And?” His voice had softened.

“And that it’s my fault, since I’m an annoying little tagalong.” Jules picked at the paper wrapper around his cone and didn’t look up. “He’s got a p—”

“If you say he’s got a point, all your underwear is going in the freezer.” All traces of gentleness were gone from his tone, leaving tightly-controlled fury in its place.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t—” Remus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t apologize, Jules.”

“You’re upset.”

“Yeah, because some little shit was picking on my brother and I wasn’t there to kick his ass.”

“I can handle it.”

If anything, that seemed to upset him even more. “Does this happen a lot?”

“Sometimes.”

“Have you told anyone?”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to be a tattletale.”

“Jules, there’s a difference between being a tattletale and reporting a bully.” Remus tipped his chin up. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Jules’ lower lip wobbled. “I missed you. I always miss you, but he’s been really awful recently and he keeps saying the same stupid stuff over and over.”

Remus’ nose and cheeks reddened. “I missed you, too. If I could be here all the time, I would.”

“I know it’s not your fault, and I know you’re busy.” He wiped away another tear and tried to pull himself together. “But it’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” Remus agreed. “It’s not fair that I’m gone nine months out of the year, and it’s not right that people are making fun of you for it. Hang on for a second, okay?”

Jules nodded, still drying his cheeks. Remus got out of the car and jogged to the other side, then opened the passenger door and gestured for him to get out; as soon as his sneakers touched the ground, he was lifted almost a foot into the air. “I’m sorry for yelling,” he managed, burying his face in his brother’s neck.

Remus kissed the side of his head and held him close. “I’m sorry I’m not around more.”

He hooked his chin over Remus’ shoulder. “Can you promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Will you be here whenever you can? I know that might not be often, but just…when you can.”

He felt Remus’ chest hitch against him. “Always,” he whispered. “Always.”

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buckysgoldenheart · 4 years ago

Text

The Reason You Cry

Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: So, it’s just angst, I guess. Relationship issues and vulnerability and stuff like that. Personally, I don’t think it ends on a bad note, but some of you might. But basically, you’ve been closed off for too long and Henry can’t take it anymore.

Notes: relationship issues/vulnerability. Cursing. Yelling. I don’t know why i’ve done this...I just did.

Words: 1194

He was yelling, loudly. Perhaps rightfully so. This unspoken tension between you had been escalating and it was bound to hit a breaking point sooner or later. He’d been putting himself on the line for you, walking around with his heart out for everyone to see, while yours stayed locked up tight.

So, you couldn’t blame him, really. Not for being angry. Not for being hurt. And not for every word he threw that stung you until you began to feel like a human pin cushion. He’d bottled up everything you never gave him the chance to express. Every concern or subject of discussion he brought forth you shut down before the discomfort could set in. When it came to such relationship issues you had the tendency to want to crawl into a hole and pull the hole in after you, because if you never let yourself acknowledge issues with Henry, then you didn’t have to worry about their consequences.

But the balloon popped. The geyser burst. The bombs timer had ticked down to zero. Henry had been pushed, pulled and stretched to his limit. So now he yelled. And you let it happen because, truthfully, you felt it only fair. He wasn’t being unreasonable, and he wasn’t going to let you hide. It was time to face the damn music.

“Fuck,” He shouted, tugging the strands of his dark hair with all ten fingers as he paced around the room, only stopping when he spoke directly to you. He’d speak and then pace, speak and then pace, never breaking that wild look in his eyes. “Fuck,” he said again. “Why do you have to make such a goddamn idiot out of me?”

You winced but kept yourself as steady as possible. This was different. Henry didn’t yell at you, ever, and you had a hard time keeping yourself together. You hated the anger spewing from his lips, and the fire in his eyes, and the stomp to his step, but you needed to feel the full force of his hurt. The pain was in front of you now and you had to greet it.

“I’m walking around telling everyone I care about--hell, everyone I know--that you’re my girlfriend and I’m in love with you; that you’re the one I want forever, and this whole fucking time you’ve been unhappy!”

“I’m not unhappy,” You said back, calmly as you could without seeming meek.

He scoffed. “Right, no, of course not. You just tell your friends you’re miserable being with me for, what, fun?”

You watched as he pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan, as if saying the words aloud made him relive the moment he walked into your bedroom after coming home to hear you venting to whoever was on the other end of the phone.

“I’m not miserable with you,” You said.

“Then what are you, Y/N? Hmm?” His eyebrows rose in challenge. “Because you clearly aren’t in this with me. I try and try, but you keep me miles away! You don’t let me inside that head of yours! I mean, why the fuck haven’t you just broken up with me if you don’t want me?”

“Henry—”

“How is it that I am crazy about you, absolutely crazy, and you don’t feel anything even remotely close to that for me?” His voice was turning shaky. It was still powerful, still loud enough to command a room, but the ends of his sentences wobbled. “How the fuck did that happen?”

“Stop it, Henry.”

He began his pacing again; not watching where he was going but still evading the crowded furniture in your living room with ease. It was impressive, really. In his shoes, you would have been a mess, tripping over your own feet, blinded by the tears in your eyes as you pathetically crawled around on your hands and knees.

“God, I can’t believe this,” He mostly mumbled, but knew you could hear. “Have I really been so desperate for what I want that I didn’t even see—”

“I’m just scared.” You tried the truth, which you’d never dared to give him in the past. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Bullshit!”

Your body jerked back from the slap of his pure rage. “You don’t believe me?”

“No.”

“Fine then.” You crossed your arms. “Tell me, what is it? What’s wrong with me, Henry? What’s wrong with us?”

“You don’t love me!” He pointed a long finger at you. “You just like to play games! That’s what’s fucking wrong!”

“I do love you!” You finally bit back, but then you took a breath and quickly wiped the tears threatening to dribble down to your chin. You looked at him, and the stunned expression on his face unsettled you. But, of course, he would be surprised. You’d never told him before.

You shook your head to yourself. “I’m not used to this love. I’m not used to someone loving me the way you do,” You said, testing the waters to see if he’d make waves, but when he stayed silent, you continued. “I told my friend that I wasn’t sure if I could be with you because I didn’t want you to have to love someone who might never be able to fully love you in return. I figured it wasn’t fair. Because no matter how much I love you, I will always be guarded; and I don’t know how long it will take me to learn to love without being cripplingly afraid of the pain you would cause if you left me.” You sniffled and cursed yourself for the tears that finally fell, but you didn’t wipe them away. He needed to see them. He needed to see how deeply you felt. “Trust me, you don’t want that burden, Henry. No one does.”

He stepped towards you, tentatively as if approaching a skittish rabbit. “Y/N—”

You shook your head again, effectively cutting him off. “I need to…” Swallowing, you rubbed at your forehead with shaking hands. “I need to go. I’m sorry. I know that’s selfish, but I—”

His large, rough hand gripped yours firmly and he looked at you pleadingly. “Y/N…please don’t leave. Let’s just talk.”

You glanced from his eyes to the hand surrounding yours and back. “Let me go, Henry.” Your tone was even, somehow relaxed despite your every nerve quivering beneath your skin. “I will come back later, I promise, but let me go now.”

“How much later?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” You said, opting for the honest, up-front answer again. “But I’ll come back.”

A beat passed, but then his tight hold slowly slackened until you were able to slip your hand out of his grasp. Without a look back, you turned and let yourself out your own front door.

---

@moonlightimagination @xceafh @meganwinchester1999 @agniavateira @forthebrokenheartedthings @summersong69 @starlite13 @mstgsmy @purplelove75 @defffcc @the-soot-sprite @kissthatlifeaway @atomicpaperhairdouniversity @aquariuslavenderhoney @harrysthiccthighss @the-problem-of-leisure @amberlokabrenna

#henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfics #henry cavill fics #henry cavill fic #henry cavill angst #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill imagines #henry

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cyraclove · 4 years ago

Note

“I hit you with my car and was the only one to visit you in the hospital” with modern BotW Zelink would be amazing :') (you can choose who gets hit and who visits! it works very well both ways)

Link stared into the windows of the flower display, his eyes traversing the plethora of multicolored blooms for the hundredth time. He’d been standing there for a solid ten or fifteen minutes, the tinny muzak of the hospital’s gift shop threatening to drive him out of his mind. The furled petals of a bouquet of yellow roses shook softly as the refrigerated case’s motor kicked on, looking almost as though they were laughing at him.

He decided against those.

Swallowing hard, he absentmindedly rubbed his palms together as he took stock of his ribbon-bound options yet again.

Sweaty. Why was he so sweaty?

Just pick some, you idiot, barked a voice in his head.

“Excuse me, sir,” said a foreign female voice that startled him from his thoughts, “Do you need some help?”

He turned to see an older, brunette woman with the roundest eyeglasses he had ever seen smiling pleasantly at him, her hands clasped behind her back. ‘Alma’, her nametag read.

He shook his head, scrambling for words. “Oh, uh…no, ma’am,” he stammered, attempting a sorry excuse for a smile, “I’m just…browsing.”

“Are you looking for something specific?” She asked, peering into the cooler. “We have flowers for just about any occasion. Flowers can say a lot just on their own, you know.”

How about some that say, ‘Sorry that I hit you with my car, complete stranger,’ he thought to himself. Link chuckled uncomfortably, knowing that he was definitely going to have to lie to this woman. “I’m here to visit my, er, friend. She was…in a car accident.”

Read on AO3

Alma nodded solemnly, clucking her tongue. “Oh, how terrible. I’m very sorry to hear that. People really can be such careless drivers these days, can’t they?”

“Yes,” he said through his teeth, “they certainly can be.” His eyes were drawn to a bunch of sickeningly pink ‘It’s A Girl!’ balloons, a nearby oscillating fan causing them to bob violently every minute or so. The screech of the colliding mylar made his stomach churn, and he silently wished for death.

“Well,” Alma began, a cool burst of air escaping the display when she opened the door, “I’m sure that we can pick something perfectly lovely that’ll have your friend feeling better in no time.”

The woman pursed her lips as she surveyed the case, humming thoughtfully. She eventually gathered up a bouquet of light blue lilies, their pointed petals tipped with white.

“What do you think of these?” she asked, “We just got them in from Necluda. This variety is called the ‘Silent Princess’, I believe.”

Before he could answer, Link’s phone began to ring, the shrill tone making him jump a bit. He grinned sheepishly at Alma as he fished it from his pocket, groaning inwardly as soon as he glimpsed the screen. Tapping his thumb on the red ‘ignore’ button, he tucked it away.

“Those are great,” he replied, “I’ll take them.”

Alma smiled brightly, motioning for him to follow her the checkout counter. “Excellent,” she chimed, “Can I put them in a vase for you?”

His phone rang again. Link felt his eye twitch.

“Uh, sure. I mean, yes, please.”

“Would you like to add anything else? We have these precious sand seal plushies that would be just ador—”

“Just the flowers will be fine, thank you,” he said, more hurriedly than he’d intended. Snatching his phone from his pocket, he turned away from the counter and held the cell to his ear.

“What do you want?” He hissed.

A jovial cackle came from the other end of the line.

“Well, if it isn’t CHU’s resident asshole.”

Link pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he inhaled deeply. This was, decidedly, the last thing he needed right now.

“You called me, Revali,” he snapped, “Do you actually need something, or did you just want to be a dick?”

“You wound me, Link,” the other young man drawled, “Oh, no—wait. I’m not the one who’s wounded, am I?”

Link clenched his jaw, the snip of Alma’s scissors on the flowers’ stems suddenly and inordinately loud. He glanced up at the woman only to have her swiftly look away, feigning focus on her task.

“You’re quite the hot topic on campus,” he heard Revali sigh, “I’m almost envious, what with the way everyone’s got your name in their mouths.”

“Who’s talking about it?”

“Who isn’t talking about it? Link, you hit a woman with your car. In the quad, for the love of Hylia. How’d you even manage that, anyway?”

“Okay, look,” he nearly seethed, “It was not in the quad, it was the intersection next to the quad. And it was an accident! I had the right of way, I didn’t see her, and the—the walk sign wasn’t even on!”

“Was she on the crosswalk?”

Link balked as he conjured up the memory from the other day. It had all happened so fast; one minute he was putting on his turn signal, and the next a young blonde woman was sprawled out on the road in front of his car. “I mean…well, yeah, she was on the crosswalk.”

“Then she had the right of way. Pedestrians always have the right of way, genius.”

“I’m hanging up now,” he muttered, disconnecting the call to the sound of Revali’s raucous laughter in the background. His near equal on the university archery team, Revali and Link were self-proclaimed rivals; well-known ‘frenemies’ to the rest of their teammates. While Link undeniably respected him for his skill, he could also be a real pain in the ass.

Releasing a weighty sigh, he faced the counter again, only to be met with a piercing glare of disapproval from the woman standing behind it. His blood ran cold as he and Alma locked eyes, hers narrowed in wordless acknowledgment of his sin. Approaching the register, Link flipped his wallet open and removed his credit card before sliding it toward her across the grey acrylic.

“Ring up the seal.”

The ride up the elevator was gruelingly slow, the jarring ding! of the door opening on what seemed like every damned floor made Link’s head throb. The air inside the garishly carpeted box was stuffy and stagnant, the scent of antiseptic stinging his lungs with each inhale. He looked down at the overpriced stuffed animal in his arms and frowned, its judgmental button eyes boring into him. The sluggish chug of the ancient machinery as it whined to a stop was nauseating, jostling him just enough to make him dizzy.

He finally stepped off and onto the tenth floor, referring to the clumsy, smeared numbers written on his palm in red pen. Link wandered down a white linoleum hallway, the idle hum of incandescent lights buzzing overhead as he peered at room numbers; the water in the vase sloshed softly as he went. With the plush tucked under one arm and the flowers cradled in the other, he raised his fist to knock tentatively on a door marked 1003.

“Come in,” responded a quiet voice from the other side. Link instinctively held his breath as he pressed down on the door handle, inching it open.

The room was cold and clinical, painted and furnished in subtle greens and dull blues. Aside from several dim wall sconces, a large westward-facing window adorned with heavy curtains was the only source of light. Pushed up against the center of the back wall was a slim hospital bed, and in it sat a woman that Link had seen only once before—unconscious on the asphalt in front of his sedan. Her eyes flickered up toward him as he entered, darkening with realization mere seconds afterward.

“What are you doing here?”

Link froze, his thoughts scrambling as both his legs and tongue refused to move. All he could do was stare at her, eyes trained on the clunky, neon-green cast that enveloped her left arm. A purply-green bruise around the size of golf ball sat just below one of her eyes, swallowing the tiny freckles that peppered her cheeks. Her bottom lip puffed out, an angry cut splitting it vertically down the middle.

She looked awful.

And she had somehow managed to be strikingly beautiful at the exact same time.

“Well, I came to, uh,” he started, his words leaving his mouth before he had time to appropriately process them, “I came to see…how you were feeling.”

The young woman scoffed, turning her head towards the window. It was then that Link noticed the sutures running along the underside of her collarbone. Guilt roiled in his stomach for the millionth time that day as she began to speak.

“Let’s see; I’ve got bruised ribs, a couple of chipped teeth, and a concussion. Oh—and my arm is broken,” she replied in a biting tone, “So, I’m not great. Thanks.”

After a moment, he took a few tentative steps nearer to her bedside. He watched her gaze gradually slide in his direction, meticulously studying his movement. Link sighed, looking down at his feet with a shake of his head. His chest felt suffocatingly tight, as though someone had his lungs trapped in an ever-tightening vise.

“Look, I know that nothing I say right now is going to make any of this less shitty,” he told her, “and I’m sure that I’m the last person that you wanted to see today. That being said, it would’ve been even shittier of me to not at least try and come apologize to you. Because I messed up, big time, and I’m really, really sorry.”

The young woman said nothing in response, absentmindedly picking at her fingernails as she considered his repentant declaration. Her brows knitted above her sea-like eyes, consternation marring her delicate features. Link’s resolve just about shattered when he saw the impending tears brimming at her waterline.

“And I brought you this seal,” he blurted out, placing the patchwork creature on the bed near her legs, “You just seemed like, uh…a seal person.”

To Link’s relieved surprise, the corner of her mouth quirked up as she looked at the stuffed animal. Picking it up and setting on her lap, a watery giggle burbled from her chest as tears slid down her cheeks. The chuckle soon morphed into a full-on laugh, a bright, contagious sound that filled the room. Unable to help himself, Link smiled, and was soon laughing with her despite not entirely knowing why.

“It’s cute,” she sniffled, wiping at her eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s really cute. Thank you.”

They smiled through the remnants of their laughter as it faded out, leaving the two in silence again. The setting sun bathed the room in rosy amber and cast fractured, pinkish shadows on the walls. Unsure of what else to do, Link set the bouquet on her curiously empty bedside table. It was then that he paused to take stock of the rest of the room, realizing that it did not resemble what he imagined the hospital room of someone who’d just been hit by a car to look like.

It was devoid of any other flowers save the ones that he had brought, and missing were cards and balloons from well-wishing friends. He furrowed his brow, and his heart sank when the most likely reason for the lack of gifts dawned on him. She must be in Central for school, he thought, and all of her friends and family were wherever home was. Or, even worse—they were around, but couldn’t be bothered to come and pay her a visit. Turning back to face her, he gestured to her plaster-clad arm.

“No one’s signed your cast,” he noted.

She gave him a queer look. “What do you mean?”

“Uh, that’s the thing to do isn’t it? Have your friends write their names on your cast? And put, uh, I don’t know…stickers on it.”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never broken an arm before,” she replied, shooting him a sly look. “I haven’t got many friends, either, I guess,” she added under her breath, face falling.

“Do you have a Sharpie?”

“Oh, um, I think I have a few in my backpack. It’s just over there, on that chair. Should be in the little side pocket.”

Link made his way over to a grey pleather armchair and unzipped the pocket in question, reaching inside to pull out several permanent markers. Returning to the bedside, he held them out to the blonde, presenting her with her choice of color; black, red, or blue. She looked up at him from beneath delicate lashes, grinning as she selected the blue one. She extended her arm, and he sat on the edge on the bed as he gingerly braced it with his free hand. After popping the cap off with his teeth, he scrawled his name on the lime-colored cast as gently as possible.

“Link,” she murmured when he’d finished, “I just realized that I didn’t even know your name until now.”

It was true. He knew her name, simply because he’d had to ask for it at the front desk, but they had never been properly introduced. Not surprising, considering the circumstances under which they came to know one another in the first place. He’d never seen her around campus before the other day, leading him to assume that they must not run in the same circles. That had to be the case, because hers was not a face that he would’ve forgotten.

“My name is Zelda,” she said, “Even though you probably know that already.”

“I do,” he admitted, “but it’s nice to officially meet you. Zelda.”

Her eyes crinkled at their corners when he reached out to lightly shake her fingers that poked out of the cast. He stood up from the bed, shooting her a quick smile before crossing the room to return the markers to her bag.

“Thank you for the flowers,” he heard her say from behind him, “Oh, and for my seal.”

“It’s the least I could do, I think,” he responded, “I mean, considering.”

“Still,” Zelda went on, “It was kind of you to come. I just…I appreciate the company. It was getting a bit lonely here.”

Link stilled at that. So, she really was alone. He almost didn’t want to believe that not even her own parents had bothered to stop by, that not a single friend had sent a card. It had to be a mistake; there was no way that such an enchanting person had no one to call on.

“The, uh, food here must not be very good, huh?” He tried.

She cocked a brow at him. “What?”

“Hospital food. It’s notoriously bad,” he clarified, attempting to mentally signal to her that he was, in fact, going somewhere with this. “If you want, I could bring you something. Later, I mean, for dinner. I think I probably owe you that, don’t you?”

It could have been the sunset, but Link swore that a blush darkened her cheeks ever so slightly when she smiled at him, nodding. “That sounds great, actually.”

“Alright, it’s a date, then,” he announced without thinking, wincing immediately afterward, “I mean, uh, sounds like a plan.”

“Here, let me put my number in your phone,” she offered, holding out her good hand. He fished it from his pocket and handed it to her, watching as she tapped in her contact info with her only her index finger. After a short discussion about what kind of food she’d like to have, they said their goodbyes with the promise of seeing one another later that evening. Link closed to door carefully behind him, glancing back into the narrow window to see Zelda admiring her flowers.

He shuffled into the elevator, wedging himself in between a group of nurses and weary-looking man with a fussy toddler on his hip. It was humid and it was loud, and anyone else might have wanted nothing more than to go home and go to bed. Link stared at Zelda’s name in his phone as the elevator made its agonizingly long descent back down to the lobby, already counting the minutes until he’d get to ride back up again.

I adored this prompt so much, I made it its own thing on AO3. Thank you for the ask! This was so much fun!

#zelink #zelink fic #zelink fanfiction #botw fanart #botw fanfiction #botw au #botw prompt #tloz botw #tloz fanfic #tloz fanart #link/zelda #legend of zelda #legend of zelda fanfiction #writers on tumblr #archive of our own #cyraclove #cyraclove writes #fanfiction #ao3 link

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chokemeanakin · 4 years ago

Note

idk if you do like song request sorta things, but could you do a fic based on the song "night bus" by gabrielle alpin? especially the "suddenly i know that i'm on my way home to you for the last time" part--maybe an angsty sort of thing where the reader and anakin's relationship gets discovered and she gets sent away or smth? idk i couldn't stop thinking ab it last night and i have no motivation to write it myself and i love your writing so maybe?? tysm!

Oh sis this was so much fun to write. Even though it is sad... idk i liked getting in the feels. Anyway I hope it meets your expectations. If it didn’t, well, pls write it yourself and tag me! I’d love to see what your vision was ❤️🤗

Masterlist

Read it on ao3

WC: 1.8k

Night Bus - Anakin x gn Reader angst

You swore this would never be you. You promised yourself it would last. If two people love each other, there should be no reason you couldn’t be together.

That’s childish thinking, you tugged your jacket tighter around you. Your boots dragged through the grey sludge of the sidewalk, remnants from a lazy downpour of wet snow a few hours before. Your mind whirled and stomach churned as the streetlights began blinking on one by one, the markets closing up for the night.

It should have been a peaceful thing, but you felt sick. With each step closer to your destination, you felt as though a current was dragging you back, the darkness closing in around you. You knew as soon as you reached him, it would be for the last time. Your fairytale would come to an end, and as you walked through the bitter streets of Coruscant on your way to the Jedi temple, you prepared yourself to say goodbye to your prince charming.

“It’s selfish, what you’re doing,” Master Windu had hissed at you. You were still reeling from his admittance that he knew about your and Anakin’s relationship. You had been so careful to keep it a secret, you had no idea how he found out.

“Obi-Wan told you,” your lips felt like rubber.

“He did not,” Mace leveled his gaze at you. “He knows, I’m sure of it. But he respects Anakin too much to give him away like that. A flaw on his part, which will be dealt with later.”

Your head was swimming. What did this mean for you? For Anakin? For the both of you together? Obviously you knew what was next, but your mind couldn’t wrap around it, couldn’t accept it.

“You need to let him go,” Mace declared, not a hint of mercy detected.

“I can’t.”

“Then he needs to let you go.”

“He won’t.”

“Then you will be the fall of the Jedi!” His sudden outburst made you flinch. Your heart beat fast, blood swishing in your ears. His body was still as a statue, but his eyes were wide and his chest was heaving with an anger that was barely under control. Master Windu was of the more… pessimistic Jedi, but you had never really seen him lose control so completely. Now, you could see he was overwhelmingly stressed. No, not stressed-- panicked.

“He needs me,” you replied shakily, unwilling to stand down. Anakin had made it clear over and over again that if you just said the word, he would leave the Order for you. The only reason he was still here was because you wouldn’t let him abandon his purpose for you. Windu may think you would be the downfall of the Jedi, but you were the reason it hadn’t completely fallen yet.

“You’re a poison to him.”

It looked like neither of you would be backing down. Windu saw this, and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he opened them, he strolled to his seat, and then motioned for you to take the one beside him.

“Let me explain myself,” his voice was much calmer now, but the hard look in his eyes remained. “Anakin is important. Not just to the Jedi, but to the balance of life itself.”

“He never asked for any of that.”

“But he still is,” Windu argued. “There’s no changing that fact. He is powerful. He has potential. And he’s unstable. He was before he met you, and he is now-- even more so.”

“Because of me?”

“Because of how he feels about you.”

You clenched your fists and glared at Windu. “How could being in love ever be a bad thing?”

“Love is an attachment. When one is attached to something, it can be taken away. When it is taken away, it breeds anger and hate and resentment, a path to the dar--”

“Oh, spare me the lecture,” you spit. “I know of your Jedi laws and morals. Now tell me why our love is so forbidden if all it’s bringing him is happiness and peace?”

“For now. It’s happiness and peace for now, because it’s new. I should have stepped in sooner, should have stopped it before it was too late. But with the start of the war, I lost sight of it, got too distracted…” Windu shook his head. “If you end it now, he’ll be able to move on. The damage won’t be permanent.”

“I don’t understand,” your chest stung.

��He loves you. Any Jedi can sense that. And you love him, too.” You couldn’t meet Windu’s gaze. “If something happens to you, and you are taken away from him, or-- Force forbid-- you die, it will break him. He will be consumed by anger and hatred and he will fall to the dark side. His emotions are strong, far too strong to be handled easily. If Anakin goes to the darkside, the Jedi will be no match for the Sith. We will perish, and the war will be lost, and so will any semblance of peace that exists in this life.”

Mace’s tone softened as he saw the tears build up in your eyes. “This path is inevitable, and it needs to be prevented. The only way we can be sure is to remove you from his life. It was a mistake letting you two get so close, and the Council takes full responsibility. But now, you must let him go.”

“How certain are you,” you forced the words from your aching throat. “How certain are you of this future?”

“Yoda had a vision.”

Your breath left you like a balloon deflating. You were glad you were sitting now, because you didn’t think your legs could handle the weight as you felt your world crumble around you. Anakin’s smiling face flashed through your mind, and a tear trailed down your face.

“You have until sunrise to leave Coruscant,” Mace’s tone was back to authoritative, formal and commanding, leaving no room for argument. “You can never return. Not as long as Anakin is here. You may never come in contact with him ever again.”

“And who’s going to stop me if I do? Who’s going to stop him?”

“If you have any respect for every innocent living being in this galaxy, you will do what needs to be done. Now go. You have a job to do.”

You swore you could hear your heart drop and shatter to the ground in a million tiny pieces as you stood from that chair and walked out of the council room. You spent the day mulling over your conversation, crying, pacing, and pulling at your hair. You tried to think of anything you could do to be with Anakin-- pretend to leave him and be even more secretive, get a different identity so you could stay on Coruscant, run away together. You knew he would if you asked.

But deep down, you knew Windu was right. The Jedi needed Anakin, and you were his weakness. If Anakin left, or fell to the dark side because of you, it would be the end of the galaxy. Just because it wasn’t a possibility now, doesn’t mean it wasn’t one in the future. Yoda had a vision, after all, and the fear in Windu’s eyes told you it was serious.

Now here you were, walking to Anakin’s place to spend one last night with him before you had to leave him. Forever. Your body ached from the cold, the grief, and from packing your belongings all afternoon. You could barely form words as you booked a ship off the planet for early next morning. Then, you had numbly pulled on your jacket and boots, and began your trek to Anakin one last time.

Cars whizzed overhead, the honking distant in your hollow ears. You were shaking, but not from the cold, as you caught sight of the Jedi temple ahead. The entrance was only a few feet away. You just had to walk through the door, sneak down the hallway, and you’d be there. He’d open the door, offer you a blinding smile, pull you inside, and warm you up with a drink and a kiss. You would put something on the holonet like you always did, just for background noise, and lay down on the bed and just be together. Talk, or kiss, or hold each other. Feel his laugh vibrate through your body because he was pressed so close to you, watch his curls bounce as he shook his head, listen to the soft sounds of him sleeping. The moonlight always made him look like some sort of space prince as it glistened off his cheekbones, painting him in a pale blue. You would trace your fingertips along his face, and he would pretend to still be asleep as he smiled and kissed your fingertips. So happy, so at peace, so in love--

You stopped in your tracks.

I can’t do this.

The pain was building up again. You thought your heart had already shattered, but the ghost of it kept cracking. Something awful was breaking in your chest with each breath, each second, each step toward your goodbye. There was no way you could face him and be okay tonight. The tears were already making an appearance.

“You need to let him go,” Windu’s voice battled your sorrow. “You will be the fall of the Jedi.”

The breath you took was like swallowing razor blades as the cold air filled your lungs. Steadying yourself on the wall of the temple, you pushed your way past the entrance and entered the main hall. The familiar smell worsened your nausea, and you kept your hood up and head down as you walked the familiar path down the hall, taking the elevator up, and then crossing the last hallway before you found his door.

You schooled your features and shoved down the swirling tempest threatening to spill out of you. Once your hands stopped trembling, you brought a fist up and knocked on the door.

Anakin opened the door. He was smiling brilliantly, blue eyes sparkling in the light. The image of his face falling, eyes clouding over in confusion and hurt as he searched for you the next morning and found you gone flashed through your mind. You knew he would never stop searching for you. This is not what he would have wanted. But Mace was right-- he would heal, in time, and he could live the life he was supposed to live; as a Jedi, a General, and the Chosen One.

“Anakin,” you forced yourself to smile. “Hi.”

His smile turned from charming to soft, hands immediately moving to pull you into his room for the last time. “You’re freezing, my love. Let’s get you warmed up, I already made you something to drink.”

#Anakin Skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin angst #anakin x reader angst #anakin fic #star wars prequels

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years ago

Text

No Cause For Alarm

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Loki blames himself when you get hurt on a mission. Thor is convinced that the only way to ease his guilt is for him to confess his feelings for you, so he and Peter hatch a plan to get Loki to do just that. Warnings: none I think; a little angst but mainly fluff

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki paced in the waiting area of the hospital wing, anxiously awaiting when the doctor would come out with some information on you. His heart was pounding in his chest, living in the moment of the accident. You’d been on a mission together, supposedly just for reconnaissance, but before long you had to engage in combat. Not that you hadn’t been prepared for things to go that way, per se; it was just overwhelming. Naturally, anytime one spends in the field should be trademarked by a preparedness for things to go south. It's just that your intel had been off, or else the enemy agents had been alerted you were coming. There was supposed to be five guys, max, and only two of them there for muscle. Instead, you were met with nearly thirty burly men, all armed with guns. Though you could protect yourself, you were terribly outnumbered. Loki had done his best to protect you against the impossible odds, but he had failed. And now you were hurt.

“How are they?” he asked as soon as the doctor appeared, fear creeping into his voice.

“They’re going to be fine. The left leg is broken,” they replied, showing Loki the x-ray. “It should heal in about two months.”

“With checkups, of course? To make sure it’s healing properly?” Loki questioned, concerned for your recovery, not even realizing how much he was overreacting.

“Yes. And as I’m sure you know, the Tower is fully handicap-accessible, so you don’t need to worry about them getting around.”

“Good. May I go in and see them?”

The doctor gave him the all clear and pointed in the direction of your room. He hesitated a second before knocking on the door, afraid you’d be angry or disappointed with him. Currently, he felt both of those things toward himself, and he certainly deserved that and much worse after what happened to you.

“Come in,” you called, voice muffled by the door.

“Hello,” he said in a soft voice after slowly pushing open the door. “I am certain I am the last person you want to see right now, but I have to tell you how sorry I am.”

“Loki,” you laughed, an amused smile making its way on your face, though you were trying hard to suppress it. “Cut the doom and gloom. I’m fine, it’s just a broken leg. I’ve been through worse.”

“That may very well be, but this is my fault.”

“No, it’s not. Don’t do that to yourself,” you argued, more distressed by his emotional conflict than your physical pain. “This was the fault of those Hydra agents, whose, I might add, asses we absolutely whooped!”

Loki couldn’t understand your upbeat attitude, but it gave him enough courage to go to your bedside rather than lurking by the door. He knelt down next to you and rested his head on the bed. You played with his hair as you waited for him to say that he forgives himself, ready to reassure him again that it wasn’t his fault. The way you were methodically braiding and unbraiding a few locks of his hair helped him focus on calming down.

“I should have protected you,” he whispered, unable to let the notion go.

“But you did protect me, Loki,” you responded gently, cupping his face. “You did.”

“Ok,” he said after a shaky breath. “If that is what you truly believe, then I will drop it.”

Though he relented, you could still see the remorse in his eyes. He knew you didn’t want him tearing himself apart over this, but he couldn’t help it.

“Good,” was all you whispered, not wanting to upset either of you any further.

Loki opened his mouth to say something else to you, but it was drowned out by Thor’s thundering voice as he burst into the room. Peter followed behind him and they were both carrying balloons and other get-well gifts for you.

“Greetings!” Thor boomed. “How are you feeling?”

Loki hurriedly stood up, not wanting to be caught in this intimate moment with you, regardless of the fact that his brother already knew how he felt. He’d done his best to hide it, but the God of Thunder noticed his longing glances sent your way. According to Thor, you felt the same way, but it was just based on observations he made. Without verbal confirmation from you, Loki would never believe it. After all, why would you like him of all people?

“Pretty good, all things considered,” you answered, shifting your position as much as you could.

“Make sure you take it easy, though,” Peter cautioned, knowing how hyper-active you could be. “You don't want to hurt it more.”

“I know, I know. Jeez, you all need to lighten up.”

You continued to talk with your new visitors and Loki snuck away as to avoid the bright atmosphere that clashed with his gloomy one. Thor noticed and followed him out, stopping him in the hall.

“Brother,” he asked, putting a hand on his shoulder, “what is the matter?”

“They will not admit it, but it is my fault that they are injured.”

“I have already read the mission report, and that is not what happened. You are just thinking this way because of your feelings for them.”

“Don’t patronize me, brother,” he said, jerking away. “You were not there. You do not know what happened.”

“Perhaps if you confessed your feelings, this guilt could clear up.”

“Enough, Thor. Please. Leave me alone.”

Loki stalked off to his room to brood in silence. How could everyone else be so flippant toward such a grave matter? Though, he supposed he did do everything in his power to keep you safe. Still, it wasn’t enough. He resolved to make it up to you any way you would allow. Later, he would go back to your room to take care of you, but right now he knew the best thing to do was stay away.

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

A little over a week later, Loki was still doting on you, though you had almost convinced him that your current predicament was not his fault in the slightest. To be honest, you were a little overwhelmed by the attention he was giving you and wished he’d ease up a little.

“Honestly, Loki, don’t worry. I can handle it,” you chided when he put his arms out as if to catch you when you’d barely even stumbled. “I have the hang of it.”

“I am sure that you do, but one can never be too careful,” Loki scolded right back.

Both of you glared at each other for a minute before laughing. You knew he meant well, and he was doing his best to relax a little, so you shrugged it off.

“I guess you’re right. And, it’s nice to know that if I do fall, you’ll be there to catch me.”

Then you took the weight off your crutches and tipped toward him. Immediately, his arms shot back out and encompassed your body, pressing you to his strong chest. You relaxed against him as he hugged your frame tightly.

Meanwhile, across the room, Thor was watching the scene with sorrow. He was about ready to punch a wall when you laughed at something his brother whispered in your ear. It frustrated him to no end that Loki would not admit how he truly felt. For the love of all things good, you could not have more obviously returned his affections.

“Mr. Thor, are you ok?” Peter asked, wondering why the blonde god was standing off to the side, clenching his fists and muttering to himself.

“No. Can you keep a secret, spiderchild?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, wide-eyed.

“See, it is about Loki,” Thor whispered, leaning in conspiratorially and nodding toward where he was standing with you. “Look over there. They are in love, but they will not admit it!”

“Well, what if we created a situation that brings them so close together, they have to?”

“An intriguing idea. But what situation would that be?”

Peter started racking his brain, casually leaning back to rest against the wall. The only problem was he misjudged the distance and ended up flailing for something to grab onto as he fell back. Thor went to help him, but moved too late, and Peter somehow managed to pull the fire alarm.

“Spiderchild you’re a genius!” Thor shouted over the blaring siren.

“Oh, yeah. I meant to do that,” Peter said with a nervous laugh.

Knowing there was no real danger, the pair stayed and watched as Loki scooped you up in his arms and took off towards the nearest exit. They followed him down the levels of the Tower, eventually being met with a mob of people trying to flee the building. About halfway down, Loki teleported to safety with you, nervous that there would be too many people to get you out in time. By the time Peter and Thor stepped outside, the alarms had been shut off and Tony was talking to you and Loki.

“Are you sure there’s no danger?” they heard you inquire as they neared the spot where you were standing.

“No fires detected,” F.R.I.D.A.Y responded through the tablet in Tony’s hand.

“No malfunctions either. Someone tripped it manually,” Tony added, pointing at the offending alarm on the system map he was looking at.

Thor and Peter halted their progress toward you, and began to turn around. Not before Loki had spotted them, though.

“Were not the two of you standing by this location?” he asked as everyone else was told it was safe to return to the building.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Peter faked, thinking quick. “That’s kind of a confusing map.”

Thor agreed with Peter and, when it was obvious they weren’t going to say anything else, Loki magicked the group back up to the spot where they had been. After setting you on a chair for a second, he went to retrieve your crutches, which you had abandoned during your escape.

“Oh, this alarm,” Peter said in his best shocked tone. “I guess we may have been in the general vicinity.”

“Yes, it really was very hard to tell on that tablet,” Thor added.

“Honestly tell me, did you guys set it off?” Tony interrogated them, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I need to know for safety reasons.”

“Yes,” they sighed, finally telling the truth.

“But it was by accident,” Peter added. “Kind of.”

“What do you mean ‘kind of’ spiderling?” Loki asked with growing suspicion.

And then Thor realized that the only situation that would make them own up to their feelings was to call them out on it. So, he told the story of how he and Peter were scheming and ended up triggering the alarm. Tony walked away, muttering about how he was the only sane one in the whole Tower. Loki, on the other hand, was partly furious, partly amused. You, however, were mainly just the latter.

“Listen, it’s a sweet gesture, but an unnecessary one,” you told them.

“It is true. You see, I have already confessed my love.”

Peter happily gasped and started clapping his hands while Thor’s jaw dropped. He stood there for a minute before Loki’s words sank in. Once the surprise wore off, he grabbed Loki in a bear-hug, then gave you a considerably gentler one, being mindful of your injury.

“This is wonderful news, brother! But why did you not tell me?” he asked with sad puppy-dog eyes.

“It is a recent development.”

“Yeah. We were going to tell everyone at dinner tomorrow,” you contributed.

“See Mr. Thor, it’s all good. And now we can celebrate.”

“Indeed! We can have a party tonight,” Thor excitedly said, already making preparations in his mind.

“Not so fast, Thor,” Loki interjected. “It is lovely that we are all happy, yes, but you must stop meddling in my personal life.”

Then he scooped you up and swept you away from the room before Thor had the chance to argue. He should have stuck around, though, because there was no one to stop Thor from beginning to plan your wedding.

263 notes · View notes

devilmeows · 3 years ago

Note

8. for both

thank you for enabling me kib :]]

8. "So you lied to me."

8. "Go on. Make a wish."

not beta read bc i like living Dangerously

8. “So you lied to me.”

Ari knew a lot of things about her girlfriend. Cadence was smart, she was funny, she always needed 8 hours of sleep to be functional, she was incredibly fast despite her short legs, and most importantly, her birthday was extremely important to her. If there was one good thing that she remembered from her horrible family, it was the birthday parties and the hype around that date. The inkling had once told her that she missed throwing herself big birthday parties: her apartment was far too small to host more than three people at once. And that day, as her girlfriend snored in her arms, Ari had grabbed her phone and created a new groupchat.

Cadence’s big 21.

Naturally, the first messages sent on that chat were memes, because Callie and Spencer always had to have a competition for who would send the best meme in any groupchat they were in. It was a weekly occurrence. They had three separate groupchats together. And now Ari had just added a fourth. I’ve made better decisions in my life, admittedly.

Ari - Please stop this or I will kick you out.

Spencer - :(((((

Callie - ok but one more? :D

Ari - No.

Callie - pweaaaaase?

Marie - say pwease again and i’ll throw my charger at you

Callie - pwease? :3

Callie - I DIDNT THINK YOU’D ACTUALLY DO IT

Spencer - marie is a woman of her word

Spencer - one time she said she’d toss me off a roof and then she did

Marie - lskfjgdfgkd

Marie - please stop bringing that up it was an accident

Ari - Is no one going to pay attention to the name of this groupchat?

Marie - no <3

Marie - jk but yeah cadence’s birthday /is/ coming up

Ari - Yes, it’s on February 12th. Aka next week.

Callie - ARE WE THROWING HER A BIRTHDAY PARTY

Ari - That is indeed what I was thinking of doing.

Callie - NICE

Spencer - NICE

Callie - GET YOUR OWN WORDS SPENCER

Spencer - YOU GET YOUR OWN WORDS

Spencer - i can make the food!!

Ari - Good, I was about to tell you to take care of that.

Marie - where are we having this party? if i recall correctly cadence and spencer’s apartments are too small, and our landlord would kill us if we had a party here

Callie - :eyes:

Marie - ?

Callie - so you admit you’ve been to spencer’s apartment before :eyes:

Callie - STOP THROWING SHIT AT ME

Ari - Pearl and Marina will be out of town for a few days, and they’ll only be back on the 13th. So we can have it at the mansion.

Spencer - WOOOO ITS A MANSION PARTY

Callie - OH HELL YEAH

Callie - can i take care of Decorating :D

Ari - So long as everything isn’t pink, yes you can.

Callie - :(

Ari - You can come to the mansion in the morning and we can set everything up together, and then I’ll go get Cadence.

Spencer - gotcha!

Spencer - whats marie in charge of?

Ari - Anything. I trust her.

Callie - ouch????

Spencer - yeah ouch ari

Marie - :)

----------

“This is a lot of pink.”

“It’s not all pink though!” Callie held up a string of orange fairy lights. “Look, this is orange!” With her other hand, she pointed at the army of balloons lying on the floor. “And those are blue and white!”

“Callie, there is a total of five blue and white balloons for twenty pink balloons in this room.”

The inkling stared at the balloons for a moment, as if she’d only just noticed that. Then she turned back to Ari with a wide smile.

“Oops. Sorry!”

She did not look sorry at all. Ari sighed, then pinched the bridge of her nose. Well, at least it’s not khaki. Cadence hates khaki. Do khaki-coloured balloons even exist? At least the rest of the room looked really nice, despite the overwhelming amount of pink. Granted, Ari wasn’t an expert on what birthday parties were supposed to look like, but in her humble opinion, Callie had done a good job. She had even gotten a giant Great Zapfish cutout that stood in a corner of the room, looking at her with its big goofy smile.

“Anyway,” Callie clapped her hands excitedly. “Wanna help me tie some balloons to the ceiling fan?”

“I would love to, but I have to check on how Spencer and Marie are doing. Just to make sure I don’t have to go to the supermarket before I go pick up Cadence.”

Callie smirked. Ari mirrored her smirk. They nodded, exactly as they had a few hours ago when Marie had innocently decided to help Spencer bake. The octoling left Callie to her work, and trotted down the stairs to the kitchen. She checked her phone: it was 12:31pm. She frowned. Hopefully baking was going okay, because she definitely wouldn’t have enough time to swing by the store before 1pm, the time she was supposed to go get her girlfriend. She pushed the door without looking up from her phone as she checked her texts, but a clanking noise did make her look up. Marie and Spencer were standing a strange distance away from each other, considering that their two bowls were sitting right next to each other on the counter. They also both looked the slightest bit flushed. Ari lifted a single eyebrow.

“We’re baking!” Spencer provided a bit too quickly for it to be natural, waving the whisk she was holding as a greeting. “Right?”

“Right!” Marie supplied helpfully. “Baking...food. Good food.”

“Uh-huh,” Ari pointed to her own nose as she looked at Marie. “You have batter on your nose.”

The white and green inkling quickly brought her hand to her nose, her face turning a darker shade of blue. She threw Spencer an accusatory but lighthearted glare, which made her chuckle, and she turned around to grab a paper towel to wipe it off. Ari walked up to her friend, looked at her bowl, then stared at her. Spencer stared back. She cocked her head to the side, as if asking her why she was staring.

“Useless lesbian.” Were they doing that thing they do in the movies where they flirt by tossing food at each other?

“I- What- You-” the orange inkling sputtered, then pointed at Marie, who still had her back turned. She’s right there! Spencer mouthed.

Ari snorted, then shrugged with a slightly smug smile. “Anyway, how is the baking going?”

“Pretty good! The coxinhas are ready to go in the oven, I’ll put them in later so that they can be warm when Cadence arrives.”

“And the cake is almost done,” Marie continued, now back with no batter on her nose. “It looks and smells amazing. Cadence better like it.”

“If she doesn’t, I’ll eat my spatula.”

“There’s no reason she won’t like it,” Ari said, turning around to look at the oven. Inside it sat a chocolate cake that gave off a decadently delicious smell. “This is her favourite. Is the...the thing already in it?”

“The brigadeiro?” Spencer asked. “Not yet. I’m just finishing up the kibes and then I’ll get to it.”

“Perfect.” I don’t need to go to the supermarket then. “In that case, I’ll leave you two to it, and I’m going to go pick up the birthday girl.”

Ari had never been more happy that she’d made a duplicate of Cadence’s keys: it was freezing cold and there was absolutely no way in hell that she’d wait for her girlfriend outside. She loved her very much, but there was only so much she could take in the name of love. And even in the hallway outside her door, with her scarf, Spencer’s old pilot hat, her two sweaters and her thick winter coat, she was still cold. She couldn’t wait to go back to the warmth of Pearl’s mansion. She took a deep breath, then knocked on the door.

“I’ll be there in a second!” Cadence’s voice echoed from inside her apartment.

There was some rattling, then a crashing sound followed by a loud “Fuck!”, then silence. Ari thought she heard the soft thump of something being tossed on top of a bed, and after some more shuffling, the door finally opened.

How is she allowed to look that cute.

Her girlfriend was wearing a fairly simple outfit: she recognised the pale purple dress Ari had bought for her a while ago, as well as the little paintbrush choker which also happened to be a gift from her. She was also wearing black tights and boots just a shade darker than her dress. And to complete the look, she had slung a long black coat over her shoulders. She looked adorable.

Cadence looked her up and down, and chuckled.

“What?” Ari asked with a little smile.

“You look funny,” she replied, pointing at the hat.

“It’s freezing, I don’t even know how you’re not cold right now.”

The inkling shrugged. “It’s only 16°C, it’s not that cold.” Then she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Ari’s waist. “Here, let me warm you up.”

The octoling smiled as her girlfriend kissed her. She’d never get tired of kissing Cadence. Or hugging her, or cuddling with her, or curling up in her arms as she slept.

“There you go!” Cadence said as they pulled away, face slightly flushed. “Feeling warmer?”

Ari nodded. “Definitely.”

“Alright, let’s go then!” The inkling bounced on her toes as she whirled around to lock her door. “Crêpe time, crêpe time, crêpe time!”

Ari felt something vibrate in her pocket. Making sure that her girlfriend wasn’t looking, she discreetly checked her phone, and smiled as she saw a thumbs-up emoji sent by Spencer. Nice. Let’s do this.

She gasped, which made Cadence jump and almost drop her keys.

“Sorry,” she apologised, “but I just realised that I forgot your gift at home. Do you mind if we stop by the mansion before we get our crêpes?”

“Oh! I thought this was way more serious,” Cadence laughed, her shoulders slumping with relief. “Yeah, no, sure, we can do that!”

“Great.”

Cadence pocketed her keys, then held out her hand and wiggled her fingers. Ari took her girlfriend’s warm hand in her own, and they set off towards the mansion.

Spencer - ari dont come to the kitchen

Callie - yeah dont

Marie - or if you really want to do that, do it later. way later. like 1am later

Ari’s excitement only grew as they neared the mansion. She’d felt her phone vibrate a few more times in her pocket, but hopefully it wasn’t anything important. At least no one had called her, which automatically meant everything was fine. Everything better be fine. The two cephalopods walked up to the large metal gate and Ari pressed the button to ring the bell and warn the other three that they were here. Cadence gave her a puzzled glance.

“Why are you doing that? Aren’t Pearl and Marina...not home?”

The octoling froze, hoping her look of realisation looked convincing enough. Without a word, she shoved her free hand in her pocket and pulled out her keys, which made Cadence laugh. She pointedly avoided her gaze and focused on the lock, feigning embarrassment, then pushed the door. Thankfully, she managed to keep her excited smile off her face. They were so close, there was no way she could fuck this up now.

The smell of cake still hung in the air faintly when they entered the mansion. Ari tensed. Hopefully, Cadence hadn’t noticed. She didn’t dare look at her to check. Instead, she simply pulled her girlfriend towards the stairs.

“Isn’t your room over there?” she asked, hopping up the carpeted stairs.

“It is, but your gift is in that room,” Ari responded, pointing towards said room.

She could feel her heartbeats racing as they stood in front of the door. Her hands felt clammy under her gloves, and slowly, she opened the door.

Instantly, three party poppers went off and a song in a language Ari didn’t understand started playing.

“Surprise!” Spencer, Callie and Marie shouted. “Happy birthday, Cadence!”

Now, Ari could smile. She looked back at her girlfriend, who was just standing there with her mouth hanging open in surprise. She still hadn’t let go of her hand, and her gaze flicked from Spencer, to Callie, to Marie, to the giant Zapfish cutout, to the balloons hanging from the ceiling fan, to the tables of snacks, back to Spencer, then to Callie and Marie again.

“So you lied to me.”

Ari froze. “What?”

Cadence turned to her girlfriend with the most adorable pout on her face. “We’re not getting crêpes?”

Ari opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. On the other side of the room, Spencer exploded with laughter, quickly followed by Callie and Marie.

“That’s what you’re-”

The short inkling cut her off by cupping her face and kissing her very gently. Ari felt herself melt, and when they pulled away - just a bit too soon, in her humble opinion - she felt her hearts fill with joy as she saw her girlfriend’s face. That smile, those shining eyes...I did it. Mission Cadence’s big 21 is a success.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.”

It was only later in the evening that Ari stumbled across the mess that was the kitchen. She simply stood there and stared at the carnage. Then she decided that cleaning up was a problem for future Ari to deal with. Right now, all she wanted was to get some water and get back to cuddling her birthday girlfriend.

8. “Go on. Make a wish.”

They’d never been more scared in his life. It came nowhere near close to when Reef had torn them to pieces, or when the alarms had blared the minute Agent 3 had appeared in front of Octavio. They were terrified, because they knew that if they got caught, they would not live to see another day.

The tunnel was dark, damp and suffocating. Not being able to see anything besides the faint glow of their freckles only exacerbated the loud clamor of the soldiers chasing them - and they were already so horribly sensitive to sound. The noise pricked at their skin and their head, and they had to pick between controlling the tears streaming down their face and stopping the pained whines from coming out their mouth. They chose the latter.

I never should’ve done this. I should’ve waited. I should’ve woken them up. They should’ve come with us. I can’t do this without them.

The person in front of them suddenly halted. She was saying something, but their brain couldn’t seem to process her words. They only tightened their grip on her wrist, which didn’t seem to help since they felt a nervous flick of tentacles against their arm. They tensed. If she didn’t know what to do, if she was as stressed as they were, if she was lost...then they were utterly lost. And to be fair, they couldn’t exactly blame her. They fought the urge to curl up on themself and cry. Was it possible to die from crying too much? Right at this moment, they was perfectly willing to try.

A cracking noise split the air. Before they had time to realise what was going on, they felt their companion shoving them to the side. And this time, they were able to hear her scream.

“Run!”

Their body reacted faster than their mind: running was a simple command, and obeying it was committed to muscle memory by now. Everything around them trembled. Where should they run? They had no idea. All they knew was that they had to run.

Behind them, something crashed to the ground with the loudest crack they’d ever heard. A thunderclap of pain coursed through their body, and this time they couldn’t contain their scream as they fell to their knees, hands clutching their head in a silent plea to make it stop.

And then it stopped.

Now all they could hear was their own laboured breathing.

What...happened?

For a moment, they didn’t dare move. Because maybe if they moved, the world would fall apart again, or they would be crushed by either rocks or a steel-toed heel. But nothing stirred as they gently let go of his head. The air around them was completely, entirely and utterly still. They uncurled themself extremely slowly, both out of wariness and because their body was shaking so violently that they were certain they’d fall back down if they moved too fast. When they were finally sitting up straight, they turned around. The faint glow of their freckles bounced off of a wall of freshly-fallen chunks of rocks.

The tunnel...caved in.

Tentatively, they reached out to touch the stones. They felt freezing to the touch, which sent a harsh shiver down their arm. Horrible, horrible feeling. Don’t know why I did that. They rubbed their arm to try and get rid of the awful sensation. The movement seemed to calm their trembling as well. The purple glow dimmed. And slowly, a feeling of dread and apprehension creeped in their gut.

“...Marina?”

Their voice echoed and bounced off the walls around him. No reply came.

Is she…

They refused to finish the thought. They refused to think about the possibility that the other octoling might be…

But she might as well be. Because there was no way they could get back to her now. their limbs were weakened from all the shaking so they couldn’t even think about lifting a single rock, and they weren't that strong to begin with. No matter what they did, they would not be able to find Marina again. They brought a hand to their face and took a trembling breath as they tried to stop the tears from falling again.

A breeze blew past them, making their tentacles twitch. A...breeze? It was cold, so cold, but it felt fresh, unlike the hot and heavy air of the domes. They turned around. It was still pitch black ahead, which terrified them, but...if the surface was beyond that darkness, maybe they could stress themself enough to make their freckles light the way. And maybe if they got to the surface...maybe then they would be able to feel something other than pain.

They got to their feet, and thankfully their legs did not give up on them. They still felt like they might fall over at any moment, and their muscles were screeching with pain, but at least they could stand. Progress. Now...walking. They took one tentative step. Then another. Then another. Then some more. Then they tripped. They managed to grip the wall next to them and prevent another fall, but they immediately regretted it: the earth was squishy and wet and disgusting. They hated it.

But they continued. They continued to walk. They occasionally tripped, which earned them some scratches. They could feel the blood trickling down their legs, but they couldn’t do anything about it, nor did they care. The more they walked, the colder they felt and the stronger the wind was. They knew they were getting closer. The surface was just beyond their reach. Soon, they would be able to call the domes a distant memory.

Somehow, all they could feel at that thought was dread.

Then, they noticed that the tunnel wasn’t as dark. They had to blink several times to notice the difference, but they noticed it. A rush of anxiety seized their chest. I’m so close, they thought, clenching their fists. I’m so close. I can do this. Soon the ground sloped upwards under their feet, and while the roof closed in on them as they progressed, the air only grew fresher. A small hole came into view. Their heartbeats quickened. They could no longer stand, so instead they crawled, ignoring the loud protesting of their entire body. The hole was now an arm’s length away from them. Slowly, very slowly, they inched closer to it. They stuck one arm out, then the other, and once they were sure that their grip on the outside of the hole was secure, they pulled themself out of the tunnel.

A violent shiver shook their body.

They had made it to the surface.

They stood in a large, grassy valley, dotted with the occasional bush and tree. They were blooming. But they didn’t care. Because above them, an indigo blue sky stretched out. It was huge. It looked like the sky they’d always seen on the domes’ monitors, but at the same time it didn’t look like it at all. They didn’t have the words to describe it, simply because it was beyond anything they’d ever known or imagined. It was...beautiful? Stunning? Breathtaking? Magical?

They fell to their knees.

Above them, the stars twinkled. They remembered that old inkling tradition they’d read in a book one of their sisters had stolen. The one about wishing upon stars. They’d promised each other that they would do that once- if they ever reached the surface.

Go on. Make a wish.

But they couldn’t.

They couldn’t bring themself to make a wish when this was how they had gotten here. Sure, they had escaped the domes, but...they were alone. They’d lost Marina during the escape, and most importantly, their sisters had not come with them. Their beloved sisters, the only octolings they knew they could trust with their life down there. The only people that had ever mattered to them. They were up here, while they were still stuck in hell.

They were completely alone.

I don’t deserve this.

This time, they didn’t try to stop the tears. The endless sky above them grew lighter with the sunrise as they sobbed on the cold, dewy grass.

#splatoon #kell.txt #kibbulation #i got the idea for the angsty one and i immediately started cackling like a disney villain #im more used to writing angst and it Shows

12 notes · View notes

xaphrin · 4 years ago

Text

Raven pitched forward, smirking as she took a sip of her wine. “Color me surprised, I didn’t know Damian Wayne had a sweet tooth.”

He lifted an eyebrow and shoved another bite of the chocolate torte in his mouth, never breaking eye-contact with her. Heat crawled up her neck, but she couldn’t look away from him. Raven tried not to focus on the way his tongue slid along his full lips, making sure he didn’t waste a crumb. It was a tease of power, and he knew it would burn her. Heat coiled in the pit of her stomach, and Raven tore her eyes away from him, giving him that small concession to save her sanity. The last thing she needed was to have inconvenient feelings for Damian Wayne.

“Jealous?” Damian picked up a bite of torte and held his fork out to her. “You can ask for some.”

Raven reached for the fork, but he pulled it out of her reach and leveled a stare at her. Oh. He… wanted to feed her? That was a step into an area she had never considered before. Raven glanced around the restaurant, realizing that there was more than one cell phone lifted, taking pictures of the two of them. One of the many hazards of being in public with a Wayne. Her stomach twisted and she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Finally, she leaned forward and opened her mouth.

Damian grinned and ate the bite himself, never looking away from her.

“Jerk.” She pursed her lips, but couldn’t stop the twitch of a smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. God, he was infuriating sometimes. With no decorum whatsoever, she reached across the table and grabbed the torte from in front of Damian, taking a bite herself.

He laughed and leaned back in his chair watching her as if she completely fascinated him. But, more likely, he was trying to find something to tease her about. A soft silence settled between them before he filled it, tapping his fingers on the tablecloth. “So… after dinner, did you want to walk down by the bay?”

Raven picked up her head, her fork hanging out of her mouth as she blinked. What? The soft, silky torte turned to ash in her mouth and she forced herself to swallow. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Take a walk by the bay together.” Damian shrugged and tried to look unaffected, but she swore she could see the tips of his ears turn pink. “We’re still on a date, and you paid a thousand dollars for this. So… you might as well take advantage of it. Get your money’s worth.”

“Oh. Ah… I… sure?” If he had asked her this same question yesterday, she would have pulled out a whole ledger filled with reasons why this wasn’t a date and why they shouldn’t do date things. But, right now, Raven couldn’t think of a reason not to walk with him. They were sort of friends, she didn’t have anything else to do tonight. And… she was finding she didn’t mind his company all that much. In fact, she might have actually started to like him a little. It only took four damn years. Her toes curled in Donna’s shoes and she shifted, taking another bite of the torte as she tried to look unaffected. “I guess. Sure. It’s a nice night for it.”

Damian motioned for the waiter and paid the bill, while Raven kept watching him from under her lowered lashes. Jesus, he was handsome. Although she would rather eat crow than admit that out loud. Candlelight slid over his olive skin, casting curious shadows bathing him in mystery. Her stomach twisted as her eyes traced the stern line of his jaw and his full, decadent lips. Lips she wouldn’t mind giving a test kiss too. Just to see if they were really as soft as they looked. Not because she liked him like that. No. Of course not. This was Damian Wayne, her arch rival for the better part of four years, not some boy she happened to have a crush on.

She left a few bites of the torte for him and pushed the plate back to his side of the table. “I’ll need to text Donna and let her know I’ll be a bit later than eleven.”

“Oh no.” He lifted an eyebrow. “We’re staying out past curfew. How will she manage the scandal?”

Raven offered a sardonic smile. “I just want to make sure that when my body inevitably goes missing, she knows to check the bay first.”

He just rolled his eyes, but didn’t stop smiling.

Raven reached for her purse on the back of her chair, but it slipped on the shiny wood and fell to the hardwood floor. With a sharp crash, the snap closure cracked open with the shock of the impact, spilling the contents of her purse. She sat there, in complete, silent horror, as no less than twenty brightly colored condoms scattered across the floor around their table like suggestive confetti. Oh, fuck. This night could not possibly get any worse.

Frozen in shock, she sat there, not exactly knowing what to do. It wasn’t like she could deny ownership of the condoms, they came from her purse. She could try to make a joke, or explain the water balloon contingency plan, but nothing came out. The table next to them snorted into their food, trying not to make eye contact with Raven or Damian, and that somehow made it worse.

Damian looked from the floor to her face and then back again. He cleared his throat and pressed his lips together. “Oh. Wow. You… seem prepared.”

“Donna. Water balloons. Not… mine?” Raven found herself stumbling through a series of weaker and weaker excuses, until she finally gathered enough of her wits to stoop down and shove the condoms back in her purse. She was going to murder Donna when she got back to their house. Murder her and bury her in the basement of their old house.

“You missed one.” Damian, lips pressed together as he obviously tried to stifle a laugh, reached across the table and handed it to her. “While I like to think my stamina is impressive, twenty times in one night seems a bit much.”

Raven snatched the condom from him and glared, pulling herself to her feet. “Let’s just go.”

She stormed out of the restaurant, trying to hide her shame as she stepped onto the street. Of all the things that could possibly go wrong on her not-date with Damian Wayne, an exploding purse full of condoms was somehow not on her list of worst-case scenarios. She stood in the streetlight, taking a deep breath of the air, tinged with moist heat of late-spring, and felt her embarrassment flood her. She buried her face in her hands and tried not to feel so utterly inept at this. How could she be so bad at just going on a date?

“So…” Damian wandered up behind her, his voice surprisingly casual. “I’m learning more and more about Gotham U’s resident hardass.”

Raven started to walk away from him, but Damian followed, his steps sound and sure as he caught up with her.

“One - she really likes kittens. Two - she makes me laugh more than I realized.”

Raven’s feet stopped at the subtle compliment and she turned around to look at him. He continued to walk up to her, his hands shoved in his pockets. How in the world did he make this look so easy? Like he knew what he was doing? Her stomach twisted painfully as he stopped in front of her, his eyes searching her face like he was admiring art. A smirk played on his lips, and his eyes turned dark as he pitched forward to look at her.

“Three - she apparently really likes to have sex.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Raven turned back around and started to move down the sidewalk, walking away from him as fast as shoe could. “Donna thought it would be funny.”

“Funny?” Damian fell into step next to her, still smirking. “Or, was she looking out for you?”

“Looking out for me?” Raven turned at him, leveling a flat stare. “Oh, please. As if we’d ever have sex.”

“Why’s that?” His face turned into an unreadable mask, and he lifted an eyebrow, questioning. He seemed genuinely surprised that sex was off limits, and Raven didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like they were actually involved. She wasn’t even sure if they tolerated each other, let alone liked each other.

“Damian.” She pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers and sighed in defeat. “You hate me. You’ve hated me since freshman year. You’ve done nothing but push me and tease me for the past four years. At what point do you think we are ever going to have sex?”

“I don’t hate you, Raven. I’ve never hated you. I… always thought we were kind of friends.”

She lifted her eyes and looked at him, blinking. “What?”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as if releasing a tension that had been building inside him for years. “All those times I pushed at you during school was because I knew you could do better than what you were giving yourself credit for. I fought you on everything because you were always ready to see things from different points of view - when you were challenged.” He shifted, his hands falling out of his pockets in a small show of vulnerability. “And I teased you because you were always so damn cute when you got angry. Plus, you gave as good as you got. I’ve been roasted by you enough times to know at least that.”

Raven allowed herself to feel at least a little pride at that.

“I’ve never hated you. Not once since I’ve met you. You’re smart - brilliant, actually - clever, witty, and…” He glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck as his cheeks flushed. “…beautiful.”

What.

Raven found herself unable to breathe. She stood there, staring at him as her mouth opened and closed several times, hunting for anything to say. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that he had to have heard it over the sounds of the city. It felt like her head was swimming and her insides were melting, and she couldn’t make heads or tales of anything. Damian Wayne not only complimented her, but he called her beautiful. The man who could date supermodels and royalty, thought she was beautiful. Something inside her twisted with joy and excitement, and she found herself trying to explain her emotions away, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t deny her own feelings anymore. After all this time together, maybe she really did like him.

Steeling her nerves, she stepped up to him and lifted her face to his. “Don’t think this compliment erases everything you’ve ever said to me, Dami.”

His lips twitched as he fought back a smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“And I’m still not planning on having sex with you tonight.”

He arched an eyebrow, and she heard his breath catch in his throat. Was he… excited? His tongue wet his lips and he spoke softly, as if unsure about what she was almost offering. “There seems to be a qualifier in that sentence.”

“I’m not planning on having sex with you tonight,” she repeated before turning back around towards the bay. Her heart was pounding, excitement and playfulness coursing through her. She felt nymph-like, leading him on a chase after her. If Damian wanted to consider her beautiful, then she would try to be as beautiful as humanly possibly. She lowered her voice to a sultry, flirtatious hum, knowing he could hear the suggestion in her tone. “But… it doesn’t mean I can’t change my mind in the future.”

With a teasing smile, she turned toward the marina entrance.

Missed a step in Donna’s too-big shoes.

And promptly fell down the stairs.

#damirae #demonbirds #just your daily update of these two idiots being idiots #in which Raven tries to flirt and it goes OH SO WRONG #thank you so much for allowing me this absolutely ridiculous au #because I'm having a stupid amount of fun #college au

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

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Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Chapter 6: Jesus Is My Homeboy Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Summary: Jake and Stella spend an afternoon looking for suitably embarrassing photos of Pooch to use on his Stag Party and when they find some older shots of themselves they take a trip down memory lane. But the trip is cut short when Evan arrives.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

A/N: So this chapter was written for For @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @sagechanoafterdark ‘s Winter/Holiday Challenge. Prompt- “That is the ugliest sweater I have ever seen.”

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 5

They were running low on time. There were so many things to do before Pooch’s stag party in four weeks that The Losers had all agreed they should split their forces to get everything ready for the weekend in New York. As such, Stella and Jensen had ended up pooling their resources and were currently browsing through pictures on Jake's laptop while Pooch was on his lunch break. Unfortunately, Cougar had the day off so he wouldn't be able to stall Pooch at the small café down the street but that would pose no problem if they hurried and got what they needed fast. Mind you, Jolene had done her fair share of work and had sent them a bunch of shaming Pooch pictures they could use for their ‘mission’ and picking the most embarrassing ones should surely be easy as pie.

The problem was, however, that Jensen was finding it hard to concentrate and keep his eyes and mind focused on the screen. In fact, hard didn’t even come close to describing. He was leaning so close to Stella as they studied his computer screen that he could smell her shower gel. A scent of vanilla and pumpkin which he could easily identify anywhere with his eyes closed. Not that he needed to keep his eyes open to smell something but he knew what he meant…

"Oh my god, Jake! Look at his fucking hair!" Stella suddenly shrieked before starting to howl, startling him and pulling him out of his useless wandering thoughts.

"What?" he asked looking at her before glancing back at the screen again as Stella grabbed the mouse and clicked on a picture to magnify it and show a young Pooch sporting an afro hairdo which made Jensen blink.

"Didn’t know Pooch was part of the Jackson 5" he laughed before he inhaled and looked at her “Oh my God, Stel, they were really the Jackson 6. Pooch is the missing link. Poor Pooch, abandoned after birth, discarded youngest son of an already overcrowded family." He sighed and Stella howled again, this time banging her hand on the desk.

"Did Jolene send you these?"

Jensen grinned, smug he was making Stella laugh hard at his wisecracks. "Yup."

"He is gonna kill you." Stella snorted as she shook her head.

"Nah, he will be too drunk to care, as we will all be." Jensen offered as he saved the picture into another folder, missing Stella wrinkling her nose, but hearing her sigh before speaking.

"I dunno if I'm going yet."

"What? Why?" Jensen inquired hastily, turning to look at her. "You have to come, Stel!"

"Yeah, but I’m not so sure. I mean it was nice of Pooch to count me in but..."

"He counted you in because he wants you there. You're a Loser." Jensen cut her off before she could even doubt her place in the tight group they all formed.

"Yes I know that and I want to spend a good time with you guys but…" she trailed off and at that Jensen inhaled and shuffled on his chair to sit facing her. She hadn't spent any decent time with them for the last month. Every time they organised something she ended up backing out as Agent Shithead happened to have booked them something to do, on the exact same night, always a coincidence.

Bullshit if you asked Jensen.

He was just pondering how exactly he could point that out to her, without pissing her off, when she continued talking.

"Ev was on about us going away that weekend. He's busy for the week or so after with stuff at home, so I won’t get to see him."

There it is, Jensen thought, but did his best to stay calm, even though he wanted nothing more than to scream at Stella that the guy was a jerk and it was clear he was doing this to keep her away from him. But Jensen knew he couldn't do that, not without ratting his nosy ass out for listening into their argument the other month, so instead he decided to keep it cool and play the role of the concerned, interested best friend and confidant.

"Oh, what's he got on at home?" he spoke, pleased to hear his voice sounded interested as opposed to prying. "His Auntie is moving house and he's helping. Then there’s like decorating and stuff so we won't see each other." Stella explained and Jensen could clearly see her frown burrow as she repeated what he suspected were the exact same words Shithead had told her, but the look on her face made it seem as if she was doubting them almost, now she was the one that was uttering them. Jensen felt a flicker of hope and sighed as he looked at her, pondering what to say. Don't jinx it now, Jensen.

"Don't sigh at me like that Jake." she pleaded, somewhat guiltily. "I was just thinking…good luck explaining to Pooch you’re not coming to New York with us because your boyfriend is busy the week after." he explained himself, almost spitting the word boyfriend, which he regretted the moment he did as he could see Stella's expression change from a concern to anger as he glared at him. "Don't start, Jensen." "I’m not starting anything, Stevenson." He declared, using her surname as well, making it clear her calling him by his hadn't gone unnoticed. "Just trying to make you see you’re missing Pooch’s Batchelor Party, which will only happen once in his life, so as not to make your boyfriend angry." "It's not about not making him angry, for fucks sake" Stella almost growled, visibly annoyed at his insinuation. "You sure about that? What would his reaction be if you told him you were coming with us?" Jensen pressed, ignoring all the red flags her tone and expression carried, in a desperate attempt to make her see for herself what, to him, was crystal clear.

Fuck it Stel, why can't you see it? "I don't know.” Stella said, somewhat exasperatedly as she gave a shrug “He wouldn't be mad, probably disappointed but..."

However, as she spoke there was something in her voice and Jensen squinted his eyes at her. He could tell she understood that to be not entirely truthful, as he knew she was well aware Evan had a temper. Stella herself had kicked him out of her apartment the very same day he had confessed to her he didn’t want her near her ex, and from what he had heard since about a few other arguments they had, it always ended the same. Him raising his voice and guilt tripping her into thinking she was to blame.

So, all things considered, Jensen decided to change strategy and go down the guilt trip road. "Ok. Whatever you wanna do. But remember, disappointment goes both ways Stel." he stated as he shrugged and focused his attention back on the screen. "What's that supposed to mean?" Stella asked, frowning. "Just that by not disappointing your boyfriend, you’re gonna end up disappointing Pooch. But I guess its fine, he still got the rest of us. I just hope it doesn’t bit you on the ass one day.” He insisted on making his point while flicking through the rest of the pictures. His eyes didn't leave the screen but he heard her groan besides him.

"You know what? I can't be bothered listening to you bitch." She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I’m not bitching Stel. Do whatever you think you should do. You already know my opinion, so that’s the last thing I’ll say on the topic." he said as he looked at her from the corner of his eye. "That'll be a first." Stella snorted, folding her arms over her chest. "Well if it has to be, so be it." Jensen shrugged again as if he couldn't care less, but he could feel her eyes on him and he fought to avoid turning his head to look at her.

"Just flip to the next photo JJ, before I smash your head through the desk."

Jensen was fuming now, but decided not to acknowledge that last comment, thinking instead when he finally unmasked Shithead, she’d be eating her words and apologising big time. Instead, he fought the anger down, took a deep breath and did as he had been told, flipping to the next picture which drew a smile to his face. It was a shot of all the Losers out at Christmas a few years back, five faces grinning into the camera while wearing tacky Christmas sweaters.

And, just as Jensen expected, Stella laughed heartily when her eyes spotted the one he had on and he grinned.

"You still have that sweater?" Stella chuckled, pointing at the item of clothing which depicted Jesus wearing a party hat whilst holding a balloon, with the words ‘BIRTHDAY BOY’ written underneath "Yup. Don’t know where though. Must be at my parents. That’s if Gracie hasn’t found it and decided it’s the coolest thing ever."

“No one would decide that’s the coolest thing ever.” Stella laughed again and then grabbed his arm. "Oooh! Do you still have the photo of the time we went out back home with them all on, the Christmas before we passed out of training?"

Jensen took his eyes off her hand that was still grabbing his arm and rubbed his beard while thinking about the system folder the picture may be in. "Yeah, I think it might be in one of these." he said as he clicked on one named ‘Good Times’. Stella could see a load of thumbnails as they popped up on the screen. They were mainly shots of his family, but there were also a few of her and him and a couple of him and Gracie. And she was just thinking about how he still had some of the pictures they had taken together all those years back, wondering to herself if that meant he still cared for her after everything that had happened between them or if he had simply forgotten they were there in the first place, when she heard him say "Yup. There it is."

"Oh my God, look at that Jakey!" she squealed, her gorgeous smile on her face again, as Jensen noticed she was back at Jakey. “We look so young.”

Jensen smiled broadly at her before turning to look at the picture again, taking every detail of it in. It was a picture of him, his dad, Rob and Stella all in horrific sweaters. Jake wore the aforementioned item bearing the large Jesus image, Rob’s was a Home Alone themed Sweater, featuring the infamous picture Kevin finds in his brother’s room along with the quote- ‘Buzz, your girlfriend…woof!’ John’s had a 3D elf attached to the bottom emblazoned with the slogan ‘When I think about you I touch my Elf’ and Stella’s was the classier of the four, a sparkly green Christmas tree effect, with baubles hanging all over it. The four of them were rosy cheeked from alcohol (well, mostly…) and smiling broadly, Stella stood next to Jake as his arm curled around her waist, John to her other side as his draped over her shoulder.

Happier, simpler times for them all.

"Remember that afternoon?" Jensen asked her, smiling softly at a grinning and younger Stel on the screen. "Yeah." Stella smiled at him. "It was the afternoon of our annual Secret Santa dinner night at your mom and dad’s." Jake then turned to look at her, grinning. "That’s not what I was asking, Stel." She chuckled and rolled her eyes. "You want me to say I remember our bunk up in the bathroom?" "Yup." he replied as he wriggled his eyebrows playfully at her. "My sweater was missing a few baubles when we made it back into the bar." "Yeah" he reminisced as he grinned wildly. "Birthday boy got his very own porn show.”

Stella snorted, slapping his arm. "We are so going to Hell for that."

"Well if that's what Hell is like baby, I don't wanna go to Heaven." he quipped cheekily, making Stella slap his arm again.

“Stop it, Jake!"

"Okay, okay, sorry..." he chuckled. But he wasn’t sorry in the slightest about bringing up that memory and as Stella turned her eyes back to the screen he found himself back in that bar, one Friday afternoon in December 2002. It was the day before Christmas Eve and he, his dad and Rob were out for drinks on what could have been deemed as a forced boys’ afternoon because his mom had kicked them out not long after lunch stating that she and Jane were doing dinner with Jules. Apparently they needed to get started like five fucking hours in advance for some reason and thus, all three men had found themselves at their local bar at four p.m. wearing their ugly Christmas sweaters as was the tradition on that day. What they hadn't counted on was having to go out in them, least of all to a bar where almost everyone knew them.

Stella was meeting her girlfriends for a shopping afternoon before they all met up for dinner and drinks and the annual "joke" Secret Santa. Only this year they were two down as Rey and Dick were in Florida visiting some of Dick's extended family, who knows who exactly, as Jake wasn't very fond of paying attention to details when Dick Fitzpatrick spoke. What he did know however, was that they would also be examining pretentious venues for their wedding the year after.

Fifteen minutes after their first round was served, Jensen was putting his empty beer down as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and John immediately nudged him. "Give it a rest son! You've been glued to that all afternoon."

"Yeah. What are you doing? Talking to someone?" Rob snorted, rolling his eyes. "I wonder who."

Jensen grinned. "Not my fault my girl can't stand not to message me for more than thirty minutes."

“Keep telling yourself that. It’s you who can’t stand not talking to her." Rob quipped as John chuckled and nodded in agreement.

"You saying I'm whipped Robert?" Jensen asked sternly, tilting his head to look at him before his face split into another huge grin. "Because you would be absolutely right and I'm not ashamed to admit it."

At that he waved at the bartender and ordered another round while John snorted and Rob shook his head.

"We’ve lost him, John." "We lost him a long time ago, Rob” John sniggered and Rob nodded seriously. "Yeah, so says Jane." He spoke as he leaned on the bar. "Shut up Robert, you're the one that drove two hundred miles home at like four a.m. because Jane was crying she had period cramps and you were away with work." Jensen jabbed at his brother in law.

"He got you there pal." John laughed loudly as Rob narrowed his eyes.

"How do you know that?"

Jensen just shrugged. "I’m her little brother, I know things."

Rule number two?... four?..., whatever, in military training; never reveal your sources or methods of information.

But Rob wasn't buying any of Jensen’s bullshit and narrowed his eyes again. "Jane told Stella, didn't she?"

"Maybe."

Maybe wasn't a yes, right?

Rob rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"You wanna make this a competition? Because Jake’s been like that for years now." John teased Rob.

“Oh, shut up dad." Jensen protested as he passed him one of the beers the bartender had just placed in front of them.

John laughed before raising his bottle "You already admitted you were whipped!" and Jensen groaned as his dad took a big gulp of his second beer. "You know, Son. I'm kinda offended you don't make me coffee and toast every morning."

"What?" Rob asked, spluttering beer all over the bar.

"Every time Stel stays over, he makes her coffee and toast in bed. Fuck the rest of us, like.."

Jensen grinned and cut his dad off straight away. "No. I don't fuck the rest of you, which is why I don’t make you breakfast."

At that some of the usual patrons turned to look at them as Rob started howling at John’s face. "He’s not wrong John."

"Guess I asked for that one." John mused before taking another sip of beer.

"You totally did, dad."

"Cheers to that." Rob quipped as he and Jensen clinked their bottles together.

"What is this, gang up on John day?"

"Come on old man. Don’t get angry and order another round for us." Jensen grinned, chugging his beer down and patting his dad's shoulder. So John did, and then when they finished that it was Rob’s turn to buy, and thus the cycle continued two hours later they were still perched at the same place at the bar, talking nonsense with alcohol running freely through their systems.

"Pity Rey and Dick are away this year because I had found the perfect shit Secret Santa gift for her." Rob whined and Jensen sniggered by his side. "A joke book?" "Nope. Her boyfriend is the joke." Rob quipped and both men started laughing until John corrected Rob.

"Ah ah ah, her fiancé." "Yup, right. Her fiancé." Rob repeated, raising his beer in a mock toast.

Jensen chuckled and leaned his head on his right arm where it was folded on the bar before speaking. "Fahk man. All she talks about is that fahkin’ wedding." "Well she's excited, son." John shrugged. "Too excited. She’s got Jane on the phone, all day." Rob complained and, at that, Jensen groaned raising his head again to look at Rob.

"And Stella, man. She’s dreading whatever bridesmaid dress Rey picks." Jensen paused, before grinning widely. "When me and Stel get married it's just gonna be one big party." John and Rob shared a glance. "Well, we’ll see if you stay true to your word when we come to it." John said simply, not knowing if it was drunken Jensen speaking or if his son was being serious about it. But Jensen's next comment left no room for doubt.

"We already talked about it. No fancy ass do just a simple set of I dos and a fuck load of fun." Jake stated seriously.

Rob shared another quick glance with John as he raised an eyebrow. "You two talked about it?"

"Yeah." Jensen nodded but then frowned, spotting the expression on his sister's boyfriend's face. "What's the issue?"

"What's the issue? For fucks sake, Jake. You're only twenty-one" Rob argued and Jensen was fast to cut him

"So what? When you know, you know Rob."

"And what can you possibly know at twenty-one?" Rob insisted.

Jake just shrugged, any possible concern on Rob's part falling on deaf ears, he just knew. "Never be another girl for me."

At that John decided to help his son out. "To be fair Rob, he's been in love with her for basically the last ten years. Was just too chicken to do anything about it until he was seventeen"

Rob snorted and shook his head as he raised his beer to Jake. "Cheers to that man. You're a goner." and then sipped from his bottle before continuing. "You wanna spend your life with Rey as a sister in law, be my guest."

Jake looked at him and then shrugged again. "Worth it."

"Well, I guess that speaks for itself." Rob finally conceded which put a big smile on Jensen's face before he made a confession.

"I'd ask her now but we got training to finish first, so..." and then Jake hiccuped before gulping down the rest of his beer.

When they all finished their drinks and another round was ordered the three men were in an inevitable semi-drunk state and, as was to be expected, started cracking jokes and, what was worse, singing out loud. After being told to quit their fourth rendition of ‘Oh, Christmas Tree!’ by the bar tender, they moved back to jokes, Rob and Jensen trying to out-do each other with the trusty old ‘Yo Momma jokes’.

Jensen nailed rob with the one about his momma being so stupid she stared at a cup of orange juice for twelve hours because it said concentrate, to which Rob responded that Jensen’s momma was so short you could see her feet on her driver’s license photo. They continued getting more and more insulting until Rob grinned and pointed his bottle at Jensen, smirking.

“Yo momma’s so ugly, she threw a boomerang and it refused to come back.”

"Hey!" John protested, suddenly zoning into the conversation, making the two younger men howl with laughter. He clutched his glass as he glared at Rob. "You're my least favourite son in law now, Danby." "I’m your only son in law John." "Yeah, and you're shit." John stated, tipping his bottle towards Rob, spilling a little of the pilsner he was drinking onto the bar surface. "I’ll tell Jane you said that." "Tell her whatever you want. I’m her favourite father." John shrugged, taking a large gulp of his beer. "As opposed to that other one who shows up on her birthday, Thanksgiving and Christmas?" Jensen quipped, grinning at his father. "What?" John asked, not understanding what shit his son was talking but then he realised what he had just said and snorted. "Oh God, I think I’m drunk. Your mother is so gonna kill me." "Just blame John. She can't shout at him." Jensen offered, trying to keep a straight face at his father's frown. "John? Who’s John?" Rob and Jensen started pissing themselves laughing at John's dumbfounded face. "John Jensen, best disgusting person." Jake shrugged. John frowned and suddenly realised "Oh, you mean me? Hey! Why am I disgusting?"

"Because we have pretty much finished our drinks, your lagging behind and you haven’t ordered a new round yet.” Jensen fired his shot.

"I bought the last one." John reminded his son.

"No, you didn’t. Rob did." Jensen quipped as he winked at Rob.

"Yeah, he's right John. I did." Rob played along.

John was about to tell them both to piss off as he wasn't that drunk when he spotted Stella and her friends entering the bar and decided to play his son, with his one and only weakness. "Tell you what. Whoever cracks a smile first buys the next round. If you can go for two minutes I’ll buy the next ones. Think you can keep a straight face boys?” he baited them. "You mean you want us to be grumpy like you old man?” Jensen arched an eyebrow as he hiccupped. “But it’s Christmas, what’s there to be grumpy about.”

"You chicken, Son?” John teased him and Rob whistled as Jensen stopped dead, his almost empty beer bottle poised at his mouth.

"You just call me a chicken?” he slammed the bottle down on the surface, wrinkling his nose as he waved his hand in the air “Whatever man, start the damned timer."

John did as told and put his phone at the centre of the table, so they could clearly see it counting upwards. The three men started looking at one another, examining each other’s faces for a flick of a smile as they tried to keep their own as straight as possible. And just as the two minutes were about to expire John tapped Jensen on his shoulder and nodded behind him.

Jake turned and just as he did a huge grin broke on his face as he spotted Stella, Then he realised, turning hastily to his dad with a groan. "Damned it!! You stitched me up."

John was already cackling as Rob banged on the bar, both men unable to hold back the tears of laughter.

"You know what, I don’t care. Here.” Jensen said as he slapped twenty bucks on the bar. "Imma go say hi to my Stelly." "Yeah, go Son. Say hi to your Stelly." John mocked him as he wiped the tears in his eyes. But before Jensen left, Rob nodded to the twenty bucks and looked at John.

“Another twenty say he doesn’t come back in the next fifteen minutes."

"You think it'll take him that long?" John scoffed, earning a glare from Jensen who then looked at Rob.

"You suck.” Jake hiccuped. "Talking about sucking, fifteen minutes Jake." Rob teased him, tapping at his wrist. "II only need ten.” Jensen shrugged.

At that Rob looked at John who shook his head with a smirk as he set the timer again. They then saw Jensen leave, crossing the room over to his girl.

As he approached, Jensen saw Stella's cheeks were pink most likely from a combination of alcohol and cold. As she spotted him, those cheeks raised showing off her dimples and her cute little nose wrinkled as she grinned hugely which Jensen loved. "Hi Jakey!"

"Hi, gorgeous." he greeted her back before kissing her and then grinned at her friends. "Ladies?"

They all murmured hi and Stella looked at him. "You gonna buy me a drink?"

"I’m buying you all a drink but you’re gonna have to help me bring them to the table, baby." Jensen offered, getting his plan rolling.

The girls all cheered Jensen and ‘complimented’ his sweater in return for the free drinks. "Jesus is my homeboy." he stated, seriously puffing out his chest causing Stella’s friends to laugh. "You’re so full of shit." she snorted.

"Rude, Stel."he narrowed his eyes playfully. "True." she admitted as she stood up patted Jesus's head. "Come on then, let's get these drinks. Be back in a moment girls."

"Yeah, sure." One of them spoke as the rest all giggled. "Don't make it too long guys."

Jake chuckled as he grabbed Stella’s hand and started leading her through the room.

"Jake, the bar is that way.” She started to protest. "Need a pit stop." He replied simply. "Right well you go pee and I'll meet you at the bar. Gimme your wallet." Stella ordered as she stopped in her tracks behind Jensen.

"Nope. You coming with me." he ignored her request, pulling her hand to keep her walking.

"What?"

Jensen didn't answer her but yanked her towards the men’s restroom. "Shhh..."

"I'm not going in there Jake!" Stella protested.

"All right. Ladies it is” Jensen quickly spun to the door next to the gent’s and Stella scoffed.

"Jake! No!" She stopped again and yanked on his arm hard enough to make him jerk back, turn and bump into her slightly. “What's up?” his hands fell to her hips as he began to walk them backwards into the ladies bathroom. As he pushed the door open he checked around to make sure they were alone and began to pull her further into the room, ignoring her protests. He dropped his head to whisper in her ear, stopping just outside an open cubicle “You losing your sense of adventure, baby?” he softly nipped at her neck and she shuddered “God, you’re a damn bastard, Jakey.” She whispered.

“Yeah but I’m your damn bastard, Stelly.” “Oh, shut up!” she mumbled, grabbing the front of his sweater and pulling him towards her for a ferocious kiss before she pushed him into the cubicle, his lips curling into a smirk against her mouth. Once inside he backed her up against the door, reaching round to lock it, before his large hands cupped her face, the kiss growing deeper as his tongue slid against hers, grazing the roof of her mouth as she fisted her hands in his sweater.

“Don’t pull Jesus’ hair too much.” He quipped and she grinned, her hands sliding up into his own short locks, giving a shark yank tipping his head back, bearing his neck to her.

“I’ll just pull yours instead.”

A low growl rumbled in his throat as his hand slid up her sweater, his leg moving forward as he planted his thigh in between hers. She let out a moan as he pushed up sharply, the harsh denim of both their jeans grinding on her spot. She was soaked already, and when his fingers started to undo the buttons of her pants she was relieved that he wasn’t wasting any time. He pulled them downwards and pulled off the boot on her left foot, allowing her to step one leg out of her jeans, freeing her legs slightly as he gripped her left thigh, hooking it over his hip. Planting one hand by the side of her head, his other shifted her panties to one side, and he grinned again, his lips hovering over hers.

“You know, for all your protests, you feel pretty ready, Darlin’”

“Shut up and fuck me Jake.” She mumbled as his lips caught the pulse point on her neck, her head banging against the cubicle door causing it to rattle as his fingers slid into her folds, one circling her clit.

“This what you want?” he asked, his breath was low.

“God, yes!” she muttered as his fingers picked up the pace. He inserted one inside, then another, and her head fell forward onto his shoulder as he curled it forward his digits forward against her spot, thumb circling her clit. Moving his other hand he slid it up her jumper and pulled down the cups of her bra freeing her breasts, gently rolling one nipple in between his fingers, his other hand still fucking her gently and she let out a gasp.

“Jakey for God’s Sake just fuck me already!” she repeated her demand and Jake grinned.

“I love it when you beg.”

“Prick.” She mumbled, as her hands flew to the buckle on his belt, opening it with a clink of metal before she easily undid his jeans, her fingers pushing them and his boxers down, allowing his hard cock to spring loose. Jensen hooked his hands under her knees and lifted her so her legs were round his waist, back pressed to the locked cubicle door. Once more he claimed her mouth with a heated kiss, swallowing the dirty groan she gave as he pushed into her.

Her walls gripped him with their familiar warmth and tightness and with a sigh he began to move, slowly at first, gently, her hands grasping at his shoulders as she tilted her hips towards him, her clit grinding against his pubic bone and it was then that one of the baubles on her jumper pinged loose and dropped to the floor with a soft chink.

“Shit.” She mumbled, but her word cut off as Jensen rotated his hips, pushing against her harder and she gasped as his hips quickened their pace, his ruts becoming deeper and faster. Soon the bathroom was filled with the filthy sound of skin on skin, moans and groans, punctuated by the odd soft clink as bauble after bauble worked itself free from Stella’s sweater. Her hands were everywhere-in his hair, up his back, under his top, nails biting at the skin as she hung onto him for dear life. Jensen continued to slam into her again and again, lips kissing down her jawline, neck, nipping and biting softly as he went.

“God I love you, Jakey” Stella gasped, her hands now on his face, bringing his mouth round to kiss hers again, the pads of her fingers digging into his short stubble.

“Love you too, my Stelly” he moaned into her mouth, the noise of the door behind continuing to rattle loudly as his pace didn’t falter in the slightest.

“Fuck…” she moaned, her nails sliding up into his hair and Jensen gave a gasp as he felt her tighten around him Her heels, one still wearing a boot, dug into his ass, her nails digging into his scalp as she groaned, her eyes wide. “Jakey, I’m…”

“You gonna come for me?” He asked as his mouth hovered over hers, eyes locked on hers, watching, and she nodded, a whimper escaping her throat, as her head banged back against the door.

“Shit, Jake, oh, oh…” and then her words and little noises died off, her mouth dropping open into a silent scream as she clamped around him, hard as her release took her away. Her entire body shook and Jensen gave a strangled groan that bubbled from the depths of this chest, and he clutched her to him, tightly, hips stuttering as he shuddered with the utter intensity of it all, before he too came hard with as surge that curled his toes.

Their chests heaved together as Stella clung to him, Jake’s head pressed into the crook of her shoulder as they both waited for the world to stop spinning around them. After a moment or two, Stella began to chuckle and Jake moved, pressing his forehead to hers, their noses bumping as he kissed her softly.

“You good?” he asked and she nodded.

“I am but I think poor Jesus will be scarred for life.” She grinned and Jake laughed, before he pulled out of her with a gentle sigh, setting her back on her feet. “Can we get that drink now?” she asked.

Jake laughed before he remembered what Rob and his dad had said to him and he quickly grabbed his phone, smirking.

9 minutes…

The memory faded away as Stella’s voice hit his ears and he turned to her “Sorry, what?”

She rolled her eyes. “I knew you weren't listening!”

“Sorry, was just thinking about that afternoon.” He grinned “Dad and Rob were highly amused we did the dirty with Jesus watching.”

“And whose fault was that?” Stella arched an eyebrow at him.

“I didn't hear you complaining. Well, not until after when you realised half the baubles were missing off your sweater.”

Stella snorted “My mom asked me what happened to it when we got back to yours. And your dad said…”

“Divine intervention!” they both spoke at the same time, laughing, only to be interrupted as Pooch walked into the office.

“Amen! What are you two up to?”

Stella wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes and looked round at him. “We were just looking at some photos and reminiscing.”

“Some photos?” Pooch asked as he approached Jensen’s desk. Jake turned the laptop for him to see and Pooch bent closer before he shook his head.

“Jensen, what the fuck are you wearing man?”

“Question should be who the fuck was I wearing Pooch.”

“Or why?” Pooch shot back and Jensen shrugged.

“It’s a Jensen-Stevenson family tradition buddy.” He leaned back in his chair, scratching his chest over his uniform. “Every year we have a dinner and a Secret Santa. Well, we used to anyway before...” at that he sat forward and cleared his throat, noticing Stella look away as he did so. He quickly recovered himself and smiled up at Pooch “Rule was the worst sweater won an extra prize.”

“Well you nailed it Jensen because frankly that is the ugliest sweater I have ever seen."

“You’re going to hell for saying that.” Jensen pointed at him.

“Yeah and we'll see him there after what poor Jesus saw that afternoon.” Stella snorted. Jensen smirked asas Pooch looked between them slightly confused.

“What do you...” he trailed off, groaning as he suddenly understood and then scoffed as they both started laughing again. “You guys are...were...” he pulled a face, “oh that’s nasty.”

“What’s nasty?” another voice spoke and all three of them turned to see Evan in the doorway. Jake shut his laptop violently, in a display of petulance more than anything. He was damned if he was letting that fucker into their private joke. Evan arched his eyebrow slightly before his attention turned to Stella as she explained.

“Oh we just found some old photos of us in horrific Christmas sweaters.”

“Found? On his laptop? By chance?” Evan’s tone was slightly accusing and Stella shrugged, missing the glare he shot at Jake.

“We were looking for something else and got side tracked.” Stella waved her hand “Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought you were in briefings till late?”

“I was but we finished earlier than expected and thought I could pick you up and maybe grab dinner at mine? I’ll cook.”

“Erm, sure.” Stella smiled “Sounds good.”

Pooch and Jensen exchanged a glance and Jensen merely rolled his eyes. Here she was again, backing out of a pre-arrange Losers social. But Jensen knew better than to raise that fact, certainly not in front of Evan.

As it happened though, Pooch didn’t.

“You not coming to the poker game then?” he asked and Stella blinked before she gave a groan.

“Shit. I forgot, erm…” she looked at Evan. “Roque’s organised a game.”

“Oh, okay.” Evan shrugged “I just thought we could spend the evening together. You never said anything about a poker game, Pumpkin, I wouldn’t have asked if I’d have known.”

At that Jensen rolled his eyes. The smell of bullshit was overwhelming.

“I must have forgotten.” Stella shrugged.

“Arty, you ain't been out with us for weeks.” Pooch pressed “Every time we organise something you’re busy. We got stag do planning to do!”

At that Jensen really did grimace given their earlier conversation. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

“I thought you weren't going to New York?” Evan spoke, his voice calm but Jensen spotted the nerve twitching in his jaw.

“What?” Pooch tuned to Stella and she groaned.

“Sorry.” Evan looked from her to Pooch, an innocent expression on his face and Jensen gripped the side of the desk firmly to stop himself doing something stupid. Like punching the fucker in the face “Did I put my foot in it?”

“What do you mean you're not coming?” Pooch completely ignored Evan, his eyes fixed on Stella as he waited for her to answer. She floundered for a moment, and Jensen sighed. He was torn, he felt sorry for Stella but on the other hand he really wanted Pooch to call her out and perhaps finally see what he had been saying for weeks- that Evan was a manipulative little shit.

“I haven't decided.” Stella shrugged, her voice quiet “I don't know what I'm doing.”

“You haven’t decided? What’s there to decide?” Pooch continued “You said you were coming Arty, I was counting you in”

“I know. I'm sorry, I just-“

“This is my fault.” Evan jumped in. “I'm busy for the week after helping my Aunt move house and I suggested we do something that weekend as we won't see each other. I booked us a hotel in Boston.”

“You did?” Stella frowned and Evan nodded before he took a deep breath and shook his head.

“I didn't know the dates clashed.”

“Sure you didn’t.” Jake mumbled to himself, turning back to the monitor which now showed nothing but the screensaver which was a picture of him, Stella and Gracie at her soccer game they had attended back home last year. Still, he pretended to be busy as Pooch and Evan stared at one another before Pooch shrugged, taking a deep breath.

“Whatever man.”

“I’m sorry Pooch I…” Stella started again and Pooch cut her off.

“No Arty, I’m the one who’s sorry.” His usually jovial tone was cold and Jensen saw Stella’s shoulders slump in the corner of his eye and wanted nothing more than to give her a hug.

“I think I’m gonna skip poker tonight.” She spoke softly and Jensen’s head whipped round to face her full on.

“What?”

“I’ll let Roque know you’re dropping out.” Pooch cut in.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” Evan looked at her “I don't mind if you wanna go, we can do something tomorrow instead.”

This time Jake’s scoff was loud enough for all three of them to hear and Evan turned to glare at him. Jensen held his stare, his hands clenching into fists under the table. He was just about ready to explode.

“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s fine.” Stella stood up “I’ll see you both later.”

With that she grabbed her jacket and left the room, Evan behind her, his hand planted in the small of her back. Pooch and Jake exchanged a glance, watching her go before Pooch crossed the room and closed the door, turning to Jensen.

“Dude. She’s not coming on my bachelor party? What the fuck?”

“I told you the guy is a manipulative bastard.” Jensen grit through his teeth. “She told me earlier she didn’t know if she could make it as he wanted to spend the weekend with her. He’s doing it deliberately to keep her away from me, or us, whatever.” He sighed, “And I’d bet my last dollar that, despite what she says, she’s offhandedly mentioned something about poker tonight and he’s shown up here now, on purpose, to guilt trip her into not going.” His fingers traced his goatee. “I don’t know what to do, Pooch.

“I tell you what I do know.” Pooch looked at Jensen. “We need to get rid of him. He has got to go, man!”

Jensen blinked, and then a broad grin spread across his face as Pooch’s words registered. Finally, he had an accomplice, someone else who had seen Shithead for what he was.

A shithead.

“Welcome aboard, Pooch.” Jensen leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head “Welcome aboard.”

**** Chapter 7 Part 1

#too loose and you'll lose it #jake jensen x ofc #jake jensen x original female character #jake jensen #ssholidaychallenge #the losers

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cartasmojadas · 4 years ago

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Dirk John HS Au part...4?

Dirk walks through the computer lab and towards the study table at the back of the quiet library. While it’s quiet most mornings, today it’s more so as most students are busy flooding the halls with oversized stuffed animals, balloons, and flowers.

Despite it being Valentine’s Day, Dirk is relieved to see that John hasn’t broken their routine of meeting in the library before class. He half expected John to be doe-eyed and cornered somewhere by some eager classmates as had been the case every Valentine’s Day since their early childhood. But there he is sitting across from Jane who looks up at Dirk with a gradual smile that makes him look around in case he’s being set up for a prank.

“You’re not wearing your glasses today?” Dirk slips into the chair next to John and takes out his workbook.

John blinks a few times, reminded of the reason he doesn’t usually wear contacts. They are dang uncomfortable but he knows that not wearing his glasses changes something about his demeanor— enough that Dirk’s gaze lingers on him for a little longer. It always causes hot waves of expectation to roll over John’s body.

He’s aiming for that feeling today.

“He got all dressed up,” Jane grins.

“I did not,” John narrows his eyes at Jane but adjusts his shirt nonetheless. She playfully sticks her tongue out at her little brother but he doesn’t miss the way her eyes dart between Dirk and John. He’s never been one to hide secrets from his sister but with everything so undefined between him and Dirk, he didn’t want to share anything that might make her meddle any more than his other friends already did…

John wouldn’t say he’s much of a planner but in this case— when it comes to Dirk— he wants to get things right.

He swallows hard and turns to look at Dirk. Unlike John who has to put in the work, Dirk looks effortlessly put together. He doesn’t doubt that there are probably a few people planning on confessing to him today. Dirk has always been pretty popular but now that he has brought himself back from the deep-end with praises for getting on the InventTeam, classmates see cold prince Dirk as attainable and within their romantic reach.

The thought burns like a mild acid in the pit of John’s stomach for the briefest of moments.

Jane adjusts her own glasses and leans forward. “Anyway, did either of you make up your mind about the dance tonight?”

Dirk fidgets with one of the studs on his ear lobe and shrugs. John feels warmth creep up his cheeks as he remembers the night he pierced Dirk’s ears.

“I think Kanaya and Rose are going. And since Dave is going to that teacher conference with Vantas I think I’m just going to hang out at home until Roxy drives down from campus.”

Jane sighs, “That sounds so boring. Are you sure you don’t want to go? You can be my date,” she teases. “Or you could take John? John, you’re going, right? For student leadership stuff?”

John steals a glance at Dirk who seems to suddenly find the problems in his textbook a lot more interesting than their conversation.

“Yeah, but I’m just doing set up. I don’t plan on staying and watching some guy shove his tongue down your throat.”

Jane yelps in offense and glares back at Dirk who has let out a quiet chuckle without looking up from his book.

“You’re both so crude!” She hisses, “As if you two haven’t been all up in each other’s business!”

Dirk flinches and his face turns bright red— enough to hide his freckles. He can’t help look at John from behind his shades and finds some comfort to see his face equally red. But unlike Dirk’s own internal meltdown at the realization that Jane is aware that they have started to teeter on the line that could be best described as doomed-friends-with-benefits; John’s jaw is clenched as if he is about to tear into an argument with his sister in the middle of the library.

“Oh come on, you were not being subtle,” Jane rolls her eyes.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Janey?” John’s voice is tense.

She gets up and waves him off, “Be nice to me, Johnny, You’re bound to need me to cover for you one of these days.”

Jane doesn’t wait for a response before picking up her bag and heading for the exit.

“Sorry,” John whispers, sheepish, in the way that Dirk finds endearing.

Dirk pinches the bridge of his nose, lifting his shades up just slightly. “It’s cool. You probably don’t want Jane to get the wrong idea, though. I’ll talk to her later and explain—”

John’s eye twitches and Dirk feels the anxiety in the pit of his stomach surge forward. As much as Dirk has tried not to read into the fact that he’s been making out with John on the regular, he can’t help the disappointed rejection that wells up whenever he sees John react to the possible implications.

“Fuck,” John groans.

Dirk tries to swallow and finds that his throat is suddenly painfully narrow.

“As I said, I’ll talk to her.”

John huffs and places a hand on Dirk’s shoulder sending a reactionary shiver down Dirk’s spine.

“Explain what, dumbass?” John blinks hard a couple of times.

“That you’re not gay that we’re just— hey, are you okay, man?”

John’s right eye stings. He tries to blink his contact back into place but his mind is simultaneously trying to sort out Dirk’s comment.

“I need a mirror.”

Dirk straightens up as misguided relief clicks. His mind doesn’t wander away from the fact that John hasn’t moved his hand away and is actually gripping him a little tighter in a way that is reminiscent of something John does when their make-out gets a little heated. Like he’s trying to make sure Dirk stays in place and won’t run away.

He hands John the old compact he stole from Roxy.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

“Why don’t you just wear your glasses?”

John looks at Dirk with one eye, “Because you like it when I wear contacts.”

The words (as often is the case for John when it comes to Dirk) simply roll out of his mouth of their own accord.

“Uh,” Dirk drawls. “No? I mean, what does that matter? When has wearing contacts gone well for you?”

John’s shoulders slump, foolishness, and embarrassment finally overcoming his earlier determination. He can’t bring himself to tell Dirk that he wanted to look good because it is Valentine’s day, and even though they don’t have any plans and aren’t actually dating, John wanted to do something to mark the occasion even if it was just getting Dirk to do that little thing where he stares at John for a little too long and licks his lips.

“Well, too freakin’ bad because I didn’t bring my spare glasses.” He is more annoyed at himself than anyone else.

Dirk doesn’t hold back a rare wide, closed-mouth smile. It makes him look more open like he used to be when they were younger and his life hadn’t gone bat-shit overnight.

John curses his predicament as he can only properly take in the sight through one eye.

He blinks hard and shakes his head until he finally feels his contact pop back into place. John makes a celebratory sound and gesture that pulls laughter out of Dirk.

Surprised, Dirk tries to hide his laughter behind his fist turning away with his shoulders shaking slightly.

Whatever embarrassment John was feeling before dissipates and is once more replaced by a small but hot flicker of determination. His goal suddenly clear before him.

He reaches over and pulls Dirk’s hand away from his face.

Dirk is startled only for a moment until he sees John’s bright blue eyes staring back at him along with his classically goofy grin.

The conflict between hope and regret stirs in Dirk’s chest as it always does whenever John looks at him like he can actually see Dirk. A tension of hot and cold stretches across his skin; the same tension he’s felt since they were kids and Dirk had already decided-- made peace with the fact that he’d never be anything more than John’s best friend.

Dirk hones in on the regret, reminding himself again, that to give in to the hope and delusion can only lead to a bad path. One where rejection is all-consuming and will inevitably taint their friendship all over again.

John, on the other hand, oblivious to Dirk’s struggle, leans in closer. His eyes are half-closed and he is still clutching onto Dirk’s hand as he lets their lips hover over each other.

Dirk doesn’t move. He stays still feeling the warmth of John’s breath as it hits his face.

He clutches onto his regret wrapped in fear and finds that he is actually holding onto delusion wrapped in anticipation.

He doesn’t pull away when John finally closes the small space between them and connects their lips.

John squeezes Dirk’s hand and holds it close to his chest. He keeps it there when he pulls back, making this kiss shared in the corner of the school library the most chaste of any of the kisses he’s shared with Dirk.

“Well, you’re definitely getting a lot more confident,” is the first thing to come out of Dirk’s mouth.

John’s face burns. He drops Dirk’s hand and covers his mouth and lets the mortification consume him. He almost expects regret to follow but when he looks up at Dirk who is looking away and rubbing the back of his flushed neck, John can’t find it. The only thing he feels is the now-familiar butterflies in his stomach that come to life whenever he’s with Dirk.

The first bell, reminding the student body to head to class, rings. Dirk clears his throat and starts to pack up his books, whatever homework he was trying to work on continues unfinished.

“You probably shouldn’t do that,” he doesn’t look at John while he speaks. “If someone sees they might get the wrong idea about you,” Dirk does his best to hide the bitterness in his voice.

John freezes.

“Wait, are you worried that people might think I’m gay?” John can’t help the gurgled laugh that escapes. Now that John thinks about it, this is the second time Dirk has brought the concern up in the past twenty minutes and if he really stops to consider it, Dirk has made similar comments in the past.

“Dude, at this point, I gotta admit that I’m a little gay, right? I don’t think it’s very hetero of me to make out with a guy on a regular basis.”

Dirk’s head twists to look at John with enough ferocity that his shades half fall off his face.

“Happy Valentine’s day, Dirk. I’m—I’m kinda gay.”

The admission comes out softer than intended. It is a surprise to both of them. For John it’s the ease with which the words manifest, and for Dirk, it’s hearing John come out as if he had never given him any indication (despite all of the kissing).

They stare at each other— John fidgets with his hands and Dirk is stiff as a board— until the librarian runs through yelling at them about being late.

“Set up for the dance ends pretty early right?” Dirk asks once they are standing outside of the library. The halls are full of shades of red. Hearts are plastered on nearly every available space that the already crowded walls of the school have to offer.

John bites down on his bottom lip and nods.

“Okay, Do you want to come over and watch a movie? Roxy won’t be back until late.”

John has to clamp down on his lip to keep from grinning. He manages an emphatic nod.

Dirk clears his throat. “Sweet. I’ll see you later then.”

#DirkJohn #my fic #Homestuck AU #John just casually comes out #which is kind of my favorite kind of coming out story #also i didn't write it because it requires some more plot that i'll include in the actual fic but my plan is for them to show up at home #and roxy is already there #and then nothing really happens other than Roxy takes the gang to go adopt a cat while Dave is gone #this is probably full of typos lmao #i'm on a zoom call

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unityghost · 3 years ago

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Masquerade

Oh look, I wrote part 29 of Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels.

Based on the following prompt from Archive of Our Own user PersonFace:

Gabe hides his true thoughts and pretends to make progress, and, to his surprise, he's good at it. Not, they let it go, not, they're not noticing, he's really good at hiding away, and putting on a face. Even Sam is fooled. Gabe is conflicted on how to feel about that.

I'll confess that some of this doesn't follow the prompt to the letter, but I did my very best. And of course I am sorry for how overdue it is.

“No,” said Sam.

“Yes,” said Gabriel.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “I told you, you’re not coming to fight.”

“I heard what you said, which is why I lied and agreed I’d lay low. Thing is, I don’t want to see you flop because you lacked the knowledge to keep from getting slaughtered.”

Sam’s face softened. “You gave us all the information you could.”

He and Gabriel stood alone in a motel room near the Uinta mountain ranges in Utah. It had been a long while since Gabriel had spent a significant amount of time out west, and indeed, they planned on being here for no longer than a few days. Dean had already left to start the car, and Sam was blocking the doorway so that Gabriel couldn’t accompany them.

Gabriel knew that Sam had a point: since healing an injury on Sam’s hand two weeks previously, after a witch and her miniscule but bloodthirsty familiar had attacked him, Gabriel had been exhausted.

Even so:

“You really don’t know much about these sons of bitches,” Gabriel reminded Sam, trying not to sound like he was pleading. “And I’ve seen them before; I would be able to take one on.”

But Sam held firm. “You’ve already done plenty to help us along, all right? You taught us more about the satori than Wikipedia and all the Japanese folklore books combined. We don’t need you to fight; we just needed that guidance. Okay? You really aren’t ready for this. And I’m not saying that to try and make you feel bad. When you’re stronger, I won’t make you stay put. Promise.”

“In other words, I’d slow you guys down.” Before Sam could protest, Gabriel added, “Fine. You’re hardly off the mark, so fine. I’ll entertain myself while you go hunt down your furry lunatic. Remember, get a good swing in, and if it doesn’t know what’s coming then you’ve got yourself an extra three seconds or so to avoid being eaten.”

Sam nodded, pretending Gabriel hadn’t told him this already. “Sure thing.”

“Did you meditate? Clear that noggin of yours? The satori feed on thoughts. Especially complex, contemplative thought.”

“Dean and I both meditated.”

“Like I said: complex and contemplative. I’m not as worried about Dean.”

Sam glanced down at his watch. “Gabriel, I’ve got to go. But while we’re gone, put your feet up. Let yourself relax for a while. I promise we’ll be okay.”

“Did I say you wouldn’t be?”

Sam smiled, and just missed the raised middle finger cast behind him on his way out the door.

Gabriel waited for the engine to fade before he checked his pocket to ensure the room key was there.

Yes, he was worn out; yes, he was low on grace; and yes - he had enough sense to understand that Sam had been generous in allowing Gabriel to come at all when he was sure to slow the others down. Nevertheless, it was true that Gabriel knew these creatures better than Sam did: he’d dealt with them more than once when they had free reign over the Central Pangean Mountains, long before humankind could take advantage of any opportunity to mess with them.

Gabriel was familiar with what scant literature was accessible to the public these days; and no matter how many times he insisted that not only were these monsters more cunning than the Winchesters’ average prey, but quicker and more ferocious, neither of them took the warnings seriously.

“I’m not questioning whether you can take them on,” Gabriel had told them. “I’m just trying to get you to believe me when I tell you that you gotta prepare for more than you’ve been able to read up on.”

“So tell us more,” Dean prodded, watching him in the rearview mirror.

“I told you all I know! It’s not like I’ve ever sat down to have lunch with one. But I’ve seen what they can do to humans, and …” Gabriel paused, remembering. “A couple of times I was able to chase them off.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “And the other times?”

Gabriel waved a dismissive hand. “Doesn’t matter.” He didn’t want to admit that the “other times” had seen him standing out of sight, watching the carnage and unwilling to get involved. “I just hope you had good reflexes in Little League.”

“We’ve got everything we need,” Sam assured him from the passenger seat. “Plenty of options in the trunk.”

“I’m not worried about what weapon you use. What matters is how fast you can swing it. The goal is to take the sucker off guard, not to destroy it.”

“Then what’s the point of this trip anyway?” Dean demanded.

“See, Sam? Your brother gets what I’m trying to say.”

“As long as we can chase it off,” Sam reminded them both. “Look, Gabriel - I hear you. We don’t know how to kill it. So we’re going to immobilize it.”

“Right.” Gabriel sat back and closed his eyes. He could feel a headache coming on. “With your fancy-pants spellwork.”

“Rowena told us - ”

“Rowena knows how to chase them into isolated sprawls of water. They can’t swim, and that’s all well and good, but what happens after that? Did she do a follow-up study? For all we know, this could be the same one she took down all those years ago. You want me to page the coral reefs, see if they found a mangy corpse over yonder?”

Sam sighed. “You’re just gonna have to trust us. We’re doing the best we can.”

“I know. That’s why I insisted on tagging along.”

Outside of the motel, Gabriel halted, breathing in the mountain air. Not for the first time, he was discombobulated at the subtleties his near-graceless body picked up in a way it never would have before: the way this oxygen was thinner than that of Kansas, the chilly tickle of fall as background noise in the latter half of summer. These minute changes affected him in strange ways, altering his heartbeat and sometimes making him feel as though he was surrounded by unfamiliar presences.

He began walking. It had been a long time since he’d set foot in the Uinta Mountain ranges. Memories flickered at the back of his mind - memories that might have taken place prehistorically or may have happened a mere few centuries before. It was hard to tell sometimes which memories fell where, considering that his time with Asmodeus was a history in itself that felt both very old and very fresh.

That’s how it works when there’s no end in sight, he thought, making his way down the road toward the mountains themselves, where he knew the monster would be lurking.

It was an hour before he got a text message from Sam. Nothing yet. Probably gonna be a few hours.

“Cool,” Gabriel said to the mountain air. “Because this won’t take me long at all. Good thing one of us knows what we’re doing.”

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been on rolling, open grass like this. Lebanon was beige; the mountain ranges were a pure, warm green.

He wished he could move positions the way he used to. It was conceivable that he might manage some distance should he attempt to fly, but there was no point in wasting his energy on that, especially since he wasn’t sure whether he had the grace he needed to take this creature down. He couldn’t remember having ever seen one killed another way; all that could be done, it seemed - at least for humankind - was to frighten the satori off with whatever object an unwitting traveler could swat at it.

What Gabriel had wanted to say to Sam, and hadn’t, was: “If it’s a choice between you getting clawed to death and turned into a meal and me taking myself out with a last gasp for grace, why are we even debating?”

How’s it going? Gabriel texted, and Sam wrote: I’ll let you know when we get rid of it.

That terse reply, indicative of irritation (although Gabriel, sensitive as he was these days, knew he wasn’t a good assessor of others’ emotions), was nothing compared to what he would face when Sam found out he’d tried to tackle the satori on his own. The real upside to Gabriel not making it through this in one piece was that he wouldn’t have to deal with punishment.

Sam’s not going to punish you, something inside of him retorted, but he focused on taking one step after another. He was tired, but he could feel that his grace was present. Maybe healing Sam’s hand had stimulated it.

Doesn’t matter. Just gotta get this done.

When he felt the satori, his neck prickled and his heartbeat sped up. It seemed that his ability to sense unwelcome supernatural presences had either never left or been reignited at some point in the recovery from his time in Hell.

Or perhaps he was attuned to predators lying in wait.

“Come on,” Gabriel called. “Eat me.”

All birdsong ceased as Gabriel turned around.

The creature stared at him and smiled.

“You’re gross,” Gabriel told it. “You look like if the offspring of Mr. Potato Head and an orangutan got its finger caught in an electric socket.”

The goblin-esque animal-thing only grinned wider. Its eye sockets were still and hollow in a furry face.

When it spoke, its voice was high and tight as if it had inhaled from a balloon, and the words came rapidly:

“The blackness thickens,” it said. “No one will be here for long; it’s all pretend. Not one of them wants you; not one of them cares. It’s a good thing you came along to destroy the enemy: make yourself useful and perhaps they’ll let you stay. Ask nicely and they’ll allow you to keep stealing from them.”

Gabriel’s skin crawled. “What are you doing, you mangy freak?”

“It has not been able to read your mind before,” the beast replied. Gabriel, who could only assume that “it” meant the satori itself, could no longer tell whether it was actually looking at him or whether those grotesque holes were sightless. The horrid animal looked dead. “You used to be an angel. When you were more than this, it couldn’t get into your head. But look: is this not proof of what you have become?”

“I’m here to - ”

“And yet if you use what little grace swims in your near-human flesh, what use will you be? Perhaps it is time; the hour has come to show that you’re a failure, and they’ll have the excuse they so sorely need to throw you away. It can eat you, too; if you are human, and it can read you, then it can swallow you as well.”

Gabriel stepped backward.

Chill out, he told himself. The son of a bitch is screwing with you.

“The son of a bitch is not screwing with you,” the creature said. “Your memories - I smell them on your breath.” The satori cackled - harsh, like retching. “You fear that he is still inside of you. Who would have thought that you, once so esteemed and powerful, might buckle? Paralysis maintains its grip upon the creature you once were.”

Paralysis indeed, Gabriel thought as he found himself struggling to respond with either speech or movement.

The creature gave its choking laugh again. “You see? You are frozen. It knows. It knows better than anyone.”

“Wrong.” Gabriel steeled himself for either overwhelming exhaustion or worse. He felt a pang of annoyance that he couldn’t do this the way he used to. “No one knows better than yours truly.”

The flash of grace hit the creature hard, and Gabriel felt some of it ricochet back to him. It hurt, but wasn’t enough to knock him over. That came only after he saw the satori crumple to the ground, its eye sockets just as lifeless as they had been a few seconds before.

Gabriel found his face pressed into the dirt. Every muscle ached in a peculiarly human manner.

He experimented with standing up and found that, although it was a sluggish process, it wasn’t impossible. He was dizzy but he could walk.

He took breaks here and there to lean against a tree and catch his breath. The birds had started singing again.

During one of these brief siestas, he sent a message to Sam:

I know you’ll hate me and I don’t blame you but I squashed the big furry toad thing.

A few moments later, Sam replied: Where are you???

Almost to the motel.

What were you thinking???

Gabriel didn’t reply. Sam sent another message only a few seconds after that: We can find you if you stay put. Don’t move.

I’m almost back; calm down.

He could picture Sam closing his eyes and inhaling, trying not to show that he was frustrated.

Are you sure? Sam asked.

Yes. Chill. I’ll meet you there.

He didn’t check the messages after that.

Gabriel arrived first. The motel room smelled like coarse carpeting and the salami sandwiches Dean had eaten in Gabriel and Sam’s room several hours before.

Gabriel groaned and lay down on one of the two beds. He wished he could fall asleep then and there, but he knew he was about to be in trouble.

“You didn’t even take a weapon?” Dean cried when the brothers returned. “You were just banking on being able to lasso him with possibly nonexistent angel milk?”

Sam strode over to the bed. “Did you really - ”

“I’m sorry. I know. I didn’t want you to get slaughtered by something I knew I could get rid of for you, okay? Sue me.”

Sam cupped his hands over his face and exhaled. “Did it do anything to you?”

“No.”

“It didn’t hurt you?”

“If it had, then my answer would’ve been yes. I’m fine, Sam. I’m good. And I knew you’d be upset with me, but I would rather you be mad than dead.”

“I’m not upset with you; I just - you should have told me you were going to risk your neck like that.”

“Well, I asked your permission to risk my neck and you said no! What was I supposed to do, Sam? What’s done is done and we’re all still freakin’ alive, so go shower and stop yelling at me.”

He knew that Sam wasn’t yelling, but to Gabriel it sounded dangerously close.

Sam glanced at Dean.

“He’s an idiot,” Dean announced.

“Come on,” Sam snapped. “That’s not helpful.”

“Neither was going after a monster without telling us first.” Dean glared at Gabriel before making his way to the exit and slamming the door behind him.

“He’s worried, that’s all,” Sam said.

“Yeah, he’s all in a tither over my safety. I could tell by the way he tried to disembowel me with his eyes.” Gabriel shoved his face into a pillow and groaned. “I know, okay? I do. I really - I mean - look, I’d be royally pissed too, but I was doing what I thought was best. I’m not sorry for that.”

“I …” Sam struggled for a moment, but all the fight seemed to have left him. “I’m glad you managed to pull it off. Just don’t do it again.”

With an effort, Gabriel sat up. “I’m not interested in standing by anymore.”

“We’ve had this talk already: you don’t owe us anything.”

“Fine.” Gabriel flopped back down. He hadn’t removed his shoes. “I just knew what had to be done in this instance. It can’t be taken back now and I’m glad you’re not dead.”

He shut his eyes, then felt the mattress sink under Sam’s weight.

“I’m sorry,” Sam told him. “It’s only that - ”

“Don’t be sorry.” Gabriel kept his eyes closed. “I knew the reaction I was in for. As if I didn’t run through this a thousand times in my head. You disowning me is more appealing than me having to dig your grave.”

“I wouldn’t disown you. You know that. I’m not mad, and if I was - ”

“You are mad. But frankly, I figured you’d be a lot worse than this.”

“You really don’t trust me, do you?”

Gabriel opened his eyes and squinted up at Sam. “I trust you. You obviously don’t have enough faith in me to help you when you need it, though.”

Sam stood up. “Maybe let’s have this conversation tomorrow.”

“No need. Go clean yourself up.”

“Take off your shoes.”

“Too tired. Not conscious.”

As he was drifting off, he felt Sam untying his sneakers.

There was little dialogue during the long trip home the following day. Dean was still tense, which surprised Gabriel, who had been ardently convinced that Sam would be furious and Dean would be relieved. Dean wasn’t worried about whether Gabriel lived or died, and someone had taken care of his dirty work for him.

There was, of course, the possibility that Dean was upset over being denied a triumphant capture. But Gabriel wasn’t particularly concerned about Dean’s feelings in this instance. What mattered was that he and Sam were both alive and well.

Gabriel slept most of the way home, and his dreams were full of eyeless beasts clawing at his face and digging soiled ape-like paws so harshly into his skull that the pressure became too much and he grew blind. In the nightmares, he tried to scream at them, but couldn’t make a sound.

There was nothing he could do, because they already knew he was afraid.

He was stiff and clammy when it was time to climb out of the car. During the extraordinarily long journey (probably not so extraordinary for them, Gabriel realized), Sam had taken Dean’s place at the wheel and Dean was staring sullenly out of the window.

“Okay back there?” Sam asked.

Gabriel nodded.

“Here - ” Sam made his way around back to open the door and help Gabriel out.

“I’m fine,” snapped Gabriel. “I can move on my own.”

He immediately felt guilty for his tone of voice, but the dreams wouldn’t leave him.

“What’s wrong?” asked Sam. “Hey, you’re all sweaty and shaky.”

“Tired from using up my grace. Think there’s probably none left.” Both halves of his explanation were true. There was no need to explain that the nightmares had made it worse.

He shoved himself out of the car and Sam reached out a hand to steady him. Gabriel stepped away before Sam could touch him.

“Gabe,” said Sam, “You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“I’m not.”

“I can tell when something’s wrong with you.”

Gabriel clenched his jaw. “Is that so?” He straightened himself and made a concerted effort to walk evenly and steadily up to the door and down the stairs into the bunker. He stumbled toward the bottom step and Sam grabbed his shoulder.

Gabriel wrenched himself away. “Jesus, Sam, I’ll tell you if something’s wrong!”

“Okay!” Sam looked alarmed. “I just - okay.”

Gabriel ignored the shame that accompanied his outburst. Sam didn’t deserve anybody shouting at him, but there could be no denying that he was right: Sam had seen Gabriel in various states of distress and knew what it looked like when he wasn’t well.

He turned away, making for his bedroom; then he paused and looked back at Sam.

“I just need a little rest,” he said. “That’s all it is. I’m on edge, all right? But I’ll be fine.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Go. Get some sleep. I’ll bring you something to eat later.”

“All right.” Gabriel wasn’t sure he would be able to eat, but there was no reason to make Sam more suspicious. “I’ll see you later.”

He didn’t look back this time.

That week, Gabriel made it a point to eat in front of them - especially Sam - at least once a day. He wasn’t unable to eat, and mostly it wasn’t a necessity; usually, however, he didn’t have any appetite. Besides that, hunger made him feel guilty, and sometimes he had a hard time eating without an immediate recollection of being held down and force-fed during his time with Asmodeus.

If Sam noticed that Gabriel was eating more, he didn’t say. Gabriel tried to let his mind go blank during mealtimes. Asmodeus often crept in, and he must have looked a certain way when that happened because Sam would frown.

Not one of them wants you; not one of them cares.

Gabriel forced himself to swallow, privately willing Sam to stop watching him, desperate for control over his own mind.

Is this not proof of what you have become?

Not even Sam ought to have access to his innermost thoughts and memories - not anymore.

Meanwhile, Dean’s behavior had settled into some semblance of normalcy. Gabriel had never been more thankful for his indifference; he had never taken such joy in the absence of intuitive empathy.

Then there was Castiel, who seemed mostly inclined to leave his brother alone. He sometimes looked puzzled - although that wasn’t unusual for him - but he didn’t say anything.

If Jack had any suspicions about Gabriel’s newfound stoicism, he didn’t let them show. He was cheerful and inquisitive as always, and yet - maybe from spending so much time with Cas, or perhaps because he had learned neither how to express his compassion nor how to block it - there were times he too appeared confused, not sure what to make of his uncle.

“Why are you looking at me like that, kid?” Gabriel asked him one evening.

Jack replied, “How am I looking at you?”

“Like I’m still brushing off loam from the uncanny valley.”

Jack didn’t know how to respond to that, and the subject didn’t come up again.

The four of them were sharing dinner one night when Gabriel made his decision.

“Hey,” he said to the others. “You guys all need to chill right the hell out, okay?”

Everyone turned to stare at him.

“Every time I take a bite,” Gabriel elaborated, “At least one of you watches me like you think I’m going to burst into flame. Or tears. Maybe that was warranted at one point, but I’m starting to feel like there’s something stuck in my teeth and nobody wants to tell me.”

“Your teeth look fine to me,” said Jack.

“Look,” Gabriel went on, “I get that I kind of wore myself out back in Utah, but can you fellas please stop watching my every move with those confused looks on your faces?”

Sam appeared taken aback. “Is that what we’re doing? I guess I was just …”

Slowly, looking him in the eye, Gabriel forced himself to take a bite of the pizza Dean had crafted. He had tasted it before, and although it was exceptionally good, Gabriel had a hard time with the richness of it. Had it been up to him, he would have steered clear of meals that were meant to make a person feel full. This was the first time in the last week that he had fully committed to this sort of sustenance; before that, he’d been able to get away with lighter fare.

The fact that Gabriel was able to dismiss the taste and weight of the food, that he was able to bring his mind elsewhere and ignore the spasm of nausea he had anticipated when he sat down, was encouraging.

“You were just what?” Gabriel asked when he’d swallowed.

“Uh …” Sam blinked. “Nothing. Sorry.”

“You’re used to me being a swooning maiden,” Gabriel countered. “Right now I feel fine, and your constant inspection is nothing short of creepy.”

Sam furrowed his brow, but nodded. “All right. Sorry, Gabriel. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Gabriel took another mouthful, swallowed, and said: “Who knows? Maybe using my grace to wipe out the monster was just the kick in the pants I needed to get up and running again. I mean, hey, if I have it in me to off a predator from Jim Henson’s fever-dream, maybe I’m not in for the permanent misery that seemed inevitable before he and I faced off.”

Sam smiled, looking more at ease. “Yeah. I guess that makes sense.”

“Hey,” Dean interrupted, “You including me in that accusation? You and I have been having a great time.”

“That’s true,” Castiel agreed. He hadn’t taken any pizza, but was enjoying the company. “I’ve never seen the two of you get along so well.”

“Right?” Gabriel sat back. “So what do you have to complain about, Sam?”

“I’m not complaining, Gabriel, really.”

“Good. Because if you’ve got something to say, you can say it to me.”

For a moment he was afraid Sam was going to shout at him, although Gabriel knew that when he’d dared use that tone with Asmodeus, he deserved whatever response came his way.

Instead, he saw Sam further relax. “All right. I will.”

Sam was watchful during the remainder of the meal, although it was possible that Gabriel was only imagining as much. Sometimes he thought he felt Sam’s eyes on him, but when he looked over, Sam was just enjoying the food.

After dinner, Dean crooked a finger at Gabriel. “C’mere a minute.”

Gabriel followed him into the hall.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked, which surprised Gabriel.

“Nothing,” he replied.

“Look, I’m not complaining. I like you like this. But last week, before we left for Utah, you were afraid to ask for a napkin - and that’s even if you took five minutes to eat without Sam practically forcing it down your throat. So what gives?”

“Nothing,” Gabriel said again, wishing Dean had used different hyperbole. “Why are you harassing me about this?”

“Well, maybe if I knew what I was harassing you about it, we wouldn’t need to have this conversation.”

Gabriel stiffened. He felt betrayed. He had trusted Dean to be ignorant and unconcerned.

“I don’t know what you think you’re seeing,” Gabriel told him. “All I know is it isn’t real.”

“Maybe Sam should be the one to decide that.”

“Oh please. What’s Sam got to do with anything?”

Dean remained stone-faced.

Gabriel hardened his voice. “No one’s bothering Sam about anything. What, have you consulted him how to fix whatever imaginary problem you’ve got keeping you up at night? Asked him how to rewire his favorite disaster?”

“No,” said Dean, “Because I’d never hear the end of it from this new version of you.”

“What ‘new version’ of me? I can’t figure out if I’m being insulted.”

“Look, all I know is people don’t change like this overnight. Not without a reason.”

“Good thing I’m not people, then,” Gabriel snapped.

Dean shook his head. “Like I said, man, I don’t know what’s going on with you. Maybe it’s none of my business; I just figure you should ask Sam for help if something isn’t right.”

“I - ” Gabriel faltered. “You don’t want me to bother Sam about this, do you? Not that there’s any - but if there were, if I was - look, no one’s asking Sam for anything, okay? There’s no need, and if something was wrong with me, then he doesn’t need to do anything. Poor sap’s done enough for every lifetime he’s been put through.”

“I think he’d wanna know.”

“What would he want to know? What do you think the issue is here?”

“Well, if I knew, I wouldn’t’ve thought to bug you about it. But fine. Maybe my intuition is off.” He turned to leave, but then paused and looked back at Gabriel. “Sam would never forgive himself if you felt like you couldn’t tell him something, though.”

Gabriel stared at him. Then, more timidly, he asked: “Are you sure you haven’t mentioned anything? About … about whatever you think you see?”

“No. Should I?”

Gabriel shook his head.

“Look, Gabe,” said Dean, “He worries, but at the same time, he really wants to see you get better. He might be pulling the wool over his own eyes about this. If something happens to you and he thinks he could’ve done something to stop it, neither of you is going to be okay.”

Gabriel didn’t respond.

“I’ll see you later, Gabe,” Dean said, and left him standing in the hall with his heart beating twice as fast as it had been during dinner.

With static humming in his mind, Gabriel went back to his own bedroom. He shut the door and lay down on the bed, puzzled and frustrated by the sudden tautness in his throat. He ignored it.

He felt as though he had just been scolded, although he was reasonably confident that no such event had taken place.

Paralysis maintains its grip upon the creature you once were.

It occurred to Gabriel then that even he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. He allowed himself a brief indulgence in the notion that Sam really was under the impression that, for the first time in months, nothing was so wrong with Gabriel as to require immediate attention. He wondered if they could be friends without the ongoing dynamic of victim and savior, although he knew Sam would have scoffed at such a description.

Then he considered the practical implications of remaining here when he had just taken such a hit to his grace supply. He had reason to believe that it would come back - he had been entirely without grace more than once, and it always came back - but the amount of time that would take couldn’t be predicted. If he was to stay here, in the bunker, he had to have grace sooner rather than later. He remembered being without grace in Hell, and wished he could forget the punishment for such a crime. Now, in the bunker, he might not be penalized so much as …

Well, uselessness was a punishment in itself.

The hour has come to show that you’re a failure.

Gabriel sighed and closed his eyes.

They’ll have the excuse they so sorely need to throw you away.

No dreams, no nightmares, no tossing and turning: this slumber was quiet and pure.

But the next thing Gabriel knew, there were two voices calling his name; one he recognized immediately as Sam’s, and the other took him a few seconds to identify as that of Castiel. He couldn’t make out the words, and then he realized he couldn’t fully open his eyes; they had grown too heavy.

Panic set in as someone lifted him upright. He didn’t even have the strength to go rigid, let alone any power to fight back.

“Gabriel.” Sam was speaking to him in a low, hurried voice. “We’re not going to hurt you. Just wake up, all right?”

Gabriel wrenched his eyes partway open. The room was hazy. He took shallow breaths.

“Geez,” Sam told him. “Gabe, buddy, we couldn’t get you to wake up.”

Gabriel tried to ask, Why? but couldn’t make himself speak.

“It’s almost two in the afternoon,” Sam told him, “And when I came in to check on you, you just …” He trailed off.

“Wouldn’t move,” Castiel finished.

Gabriel leaned back against Sam.

“What’s going on?” Sam pressed. “I’ve never seen that happen to you before.”

When Gabriel managed to reply, his voice was hoarse. “I’ve fainted plenty.”

“This is different. Hey, keep your eyes open for a minute; we thought - ” Sam paused. “We just didn’t know what was going on.”

“Tired,” Gabriel slurred.

“This goes beyond tired, Gabriel,” said Cas.

“My grace … it’s …”

“It’s what?” Sam prodded.

“Dunno. I …” Gabriel tried to ignore the pounding in his head. “Killing the monster, the satori - ”

Sam and Castiel waited for him to continue. When Gabriel’s breath began coming a little more easily, he finished, “Maybe took some fight out of me.”

“This is why I told you not to come.” Sam didn’t sound angry - just worried, even afraid. “I know you were trying to help, but Gabriel, you were the one who said how vicious those things are. You’re not ready for something like that.”

“Through no fault of your own,” Castiel added.

Gabriel tried to push himself off of Sam and found that he was too weak.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked him. “Does anything hurt?”

“Why?” The question emerged, at last, without Gabriel even thinking about it.

“What? Why what?”

“What good’re you gonna get out of knowing what’s the matter with me?”

Sam shifted so that Gabriel was lying with his head on Sam’s lap instead of bent at an angle against his chest.

Castiel spoke up: “I suspect that Sam is simply trying to remind you that you’ve become an important part of his life, and he doesn’t want to see you suffer.”

“Well, whoop-dee-doo.”

“Gabriel …” Sam checked for a fever, then pushed stray locks of hair from Gabriel’s eyes. “I don’t understand. You seemed okay last night.”

“I’m still okay.”

“That’s obviously not true,” said Cas.

“Can you try and sit up?” Sam asked.

“Maybe.” He let Sam shift away and prop him against the pillows. As he watched Sam step back, face pale with concern, he had a moment’s doubt about his own pride.

Sit back down, he wanted to say, or I wouldn’t want to touch me either.

He closed his eyes.

“No,” Sam commanded. “Gabriel, don’t. Not yet. I want you to stay awake for now.”

When, and how, had this suddenly become too much? He knew how to frolic in lies. He knew how to make personal falsehoods into very real truths; pretending until he was no longer play-acting was a familiar process.

Why now, then, did he feel his throat tighten as he stared down at the blankets?

He was committed this time, though. He was well-versed in the warning signals of a breakdown and understood that there was no benefit in acting like a child. Sam had seen and dealt with enough, and Gabriel had debased himself so often that he couldn’t imagine anyone harboring even a modicum of respect for him at this point.

That was fine. He needed to learn not to care so much about his reputation at the bunker.

“Cas,” Sam said, “Maybe …”

“Yes. Of course.” Gabriel felt his brother watching him. “If you need me, I’m nearby. Although I suspect you know what you’re doing, Sam.”

“Thanks. I think we’ll be okay.”

Gabriel heard the door close.

“All right,” Sam said, “I know you don’t like to be coerced into talking to me, and usually I’d let up a little, but if you’re sick you need to tell me.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what happened just now?”

“Beats me. But what do you expect?” Gabriel spoke more smoothly now, but directly to the blankets. “I used up all my grace on the satori. Can you blame me for being a little out of sorts?”

“No, of course I don’t blame you. But I’m not talking about your grace. Or at least I don’t think I am.”

“Yeah? What do you think we’re discussing here, then?”

“I don’t know.” Sam looked helpless. “You seemed fine yesterday, and now you’re - I mean, how did you go from that to this? This whole week you've been ... I mean ... I don't know. I thought ... ”

“Am I not an open book to you anymore? Good.”

“What?”

“There’s no reason for you to be inside my head. There’s no reason for you to - to know any more about me, or what happened to me, than you already do.”

Sam was silent.

“I see through your strategy, Sam,” Gabriel added, still staring at the blanket. “I - when you’re quiet, you want me to talk.”

“I’m just worried.”

“You’ve made that abundantly clear, and I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know what I can do to make you feel better about this whole thing.”

“About what whole thing? About you trying to get well?”

“Pal, if that’s what you’re looking for - for me to get back on my own two feet - then what are you complaining about? Obviously I’m better. I haven’t cried or thrown up once since we got back, and I don’t see how that’s a questionable development.”

“No, I mean, it’s not, but - ”

“But what, Sam?”

“It’s not. Really, it isn’t.”

In the moment of silence that followed, Gabriel felt such an urge to speak, to tell the truth and recount exactly what had happened in the mountains, that he tore his gaze away from the blankets and met Sam’s eyes. He now had a choice: he could say something about what had taken place, or he could lose control of himself altogether.

If there was a third option, Gabriel didn’t see it.

“I don’t want to give you a whole novel about this,” he said. “My head is killing me.”

Sam nodded.

Gabriel hesitated for a few moments longer. Then he took a deep breath and began: “When we were out in Utah, and I took down that creeptastic freakazoid, it - you know - it did what it does. It found some way into my brain, and yammered on and on about my every thought. Which wouldn’t have been a problem in and of itself if I hadn’t - if I wasn’t - well, before, when I faced one of them, it couldn’t read my mind. I was an angel and it couldn’t get in. So what does that tell you, Sam?”

Sam looked blankly at him.

“Come on, Mr. Ivy League,” Gabriel pressed. “This is measurable proof that right now, at least, I’m more human than anything else. Plus, I’ve already got one monster in my head. I don’t need another psychic bedfellow. You mean well, I know, but - but don’t you think, Sam, that you being the way you are to me might be holding me in one place? Or making me an easier target, instead of building me back up to what I used to be?”

“I’ve never thought that.”

“Well, does this change your mind? I just wrote you a whole thesis.”

“Gabriel, if you didn’t have any power then you wouldn’t have been able to take that thing down in the first place.”

“And look at how that turned out. I can barely move.”

“That’s because you haven’t given yourself a chance to recover.”

“How was I even supposed to know I needed it? I’ve been fine this last week.”

“Have you?”

“Yes!”

"I sort of wasn’t talking about the satori.”

“Oh for the love of all things holy and unholy, Sam, stop being so dramatic. I’ve had plenty of time to tunnel my way out of this.”

“Did you get through the whole week without a flashback or nightmare? You seemed like you felt pretty good. I … should I have checked?”

The guilt in Sam’s voice made Gabriel wish he’d stayed unconscious. “No.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I said no, Sam.”

“You’re not well.” There was horror and distress on Sam’s face now. “I thought - ”

“Christ, Sam, relax.”

“Why didn’t you - ”

“Because this is on me, Sam! It always has been. And that’s almost beside the point. Geez, you know - you really need to make up your mind. Am I meant to improve by eating more and learning to calm myself down, or am I supposed to hold you like a security blanket every time my engine misfires? Which is it, Sam? Should I be strengthening the muscles that Asmodeus deflated or should I keep letting you man the ship when a storm kicks in?”

“Gabriel …”

“Answer the question. I’m serious. I can’t solve this equation no matter how creative I get with it. What am I supposed to do? For me, for you, for everyone here? I need an answer and maybe you have it. I sure as all get-out have no idea what I’m supposed to do or where I’m supposed to go without messing something up.”

Gabriel thought Sam looked like he might cry. “I guess it depends.”

“No, see, that’s not how this works. Because if this was a case-by-case endeavor, one of us would have found the balance by now. No, Sam, I don’t feel good. Why’s that? I don’t feel good when I’m alone; I don’t feel good about how I act when you step in. There’s no winning for me, and for you there’s just constant sacrifice that never leads anywhere. There’s a right and a wrong answer here, and if neither of us can figure it out, then I don’t know what to do. Just stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop - stop trying to make me showcase my emotions. Maybe it works for you but it doesn’t lead to anything good for me; all it does is make me feel ashamed.”

Sam seemed at a loss for words. “I’m sorry,” he offered. “I’m not trying to make you do anything. Gabriel, I think you should just do what feels natural. If that means pretending everything’s okay, then - then fine, I guess, except I don’t think that’s what you really want.”

“Well, I don’t know what I want; as far as I’m concerned, I don’t want anything except to be more like an angel and less like a toddler.”

“I don’t think of you that way. You know that, Gabriel.”

“Sure, fine, but let’s not sugarcoat the fact that I am the way I am, and the responsibility is on me to change.”

Sam looked away, contemplating. Then he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me about what happened with the satori?”

“Because then I would’ve gotten worked up about it and so would you. You would’ve been worried about me.”

“I’m worried about you anyway.”

“Yup, I missed the mark on that one. What else is new?”

“So you think - ”

Gabriel shoved himself properly upright. “Stop it, Sam! For the love of every damn good thing left in this world, just stop it! Stop trying to coach me into a breakdown!”

Sam looked aghast. “I’m not!”

“So what are you after? You want to help? Do you want to keep me in one piece or break me into a thousand? I never know with you anymore; it - ” Gabriel took a shuddering breath and began to cry. “You know exactly what you’re doing. I’m not here for you to play with me, Sam!”

Sam stood up. “Gabriel - ”

“Is this what you want?” Gabriel raised his face so that Sam could see the tears. “You think that bullying me into showing my feelings is going to lead to success? I don’t like myself like this! I don’t want you to see and you keep on trying to open me up just like he did! Stop it, Sam! Stop it!”

“No, no - hey - ” Helplessly, Sam took his hand and Gabriel tore it away. “I - Gabriel - should I get Castiel?”

“No!”

“I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Neither do I!” Gabriel pounded the mattress with his fist. “So stay, because I need you here, and I hate you for that and I hate me for that too. I hate all of this!”

“I know you do.” Sam’s voice shook. “But you haven’t done anything wrong. Maybe I have; I don’t know. But none of this is your fault. I’m so sorry if I messed up.”

“You didn’t! I did! I don’t know! Stop it!” Gabriel took frantic breaths, tasting salt where the tears met his lips.

“You said I was like him.” Sam sounded weak. “If I ever made you feel that way, it was an accident.”

“You’re not like him; you - you’re trying to do something to me, and so was he, and I don’t know how to tell the difference between you pushing me to bleed out in front of you and him ripping me open with his bare hands!”

“I had no idea that’s what I was doing!”

“Because you’re - Sam, you’re - ” Gabriel found himself unable to breathe for a moment. When he managed it again, he said, “You’re not evil.”

That seemed to perplex Sam. “I hope not.”

“Of course you aren’t. But do you have any idea what that does to me?”

“I … no, I guess I don’t.”

Gabriel didn’t know either. He ground his teeth against the urge to scream.

No one will be here for long; it’s all pretend.

“I wasn’t like this before,” he said.

“That’s because you weren’t trapped in Hell before.”

“You’ve been trapped in Hell! And you’re nothing like this! Talk all day about how you need help, about how you have your bad dreams and your breakdowns - but you’re nothing like this, nothing like what I turned into.”

Not one of them wants you.

“That thing knew,” Gabriel wailed. “That thing knew exactly what I believe, exactly what I’m afraid of; that thing got into my head in a way even I can’t get into my head! I don’t have any control anymore, Sam - none.”

Not one of them wants you.

“That creature thought I was human, Sam,” Gabriel whispered. “Feeding on your kindness hasn’t done anything except squash me.”

Not one of them wants you.

“I know I can’t really understand what it’s like, exactly,” said Sam, “But what scares you so bad about being human? Especially if you know you aren’t, and your grace always comes back - even it’s on the slower side.”

Gabriel shook his head. “It’s not about the grace.” He swiped at his cheeks with his palms. “It’s about this.”

“About …”

Gabriel looked at him. “Do you know, and you’re just trying to get me to say it?”

“No! I’m not trying to make you say anything.”

Gabriel wasn’t sure he believed him, but lacked the energy to argue. “Well, then it’s about - it’s about the stuff in my head, and how I seem to be open season for anyone who wants a shot, for better or worse. In your case, it’s for the better; you don’t want to hurt me, or at least I don’t think you do. But you still know. You still see inside of me, and I’d give anything at all for a little emotional opacity. I’m weak, maybe as weak as I was in Hell.”

“No.”

“At least in my stupid cage I had a consistent idea of what the next day might bring. I anticipated chaos. He’d destroyed me, on purpose, for fun - so after a little while, I didn’t have to pretend I was holding myself together. Giving up the effort was easy enough; I had no choice. Well - no - unless I did have a choice, and made the wrong one. But he had power over me and I was used to being hurt. I didn’t have to play at not being vulnerable. It’s not like that anymore, Sam.”

“Shouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“You’d expect so, wouldn’t you? Me too. I’ve lost track of what’s good and what’s bad. So it’s not my grace I’m worried about. Or - no, that’s not true. I do worry about my grace, because I don’t know what the heck I’m supposed to be without it. It’s more like - it’s that worrying about my grace is almost a luxury right now. If I get to lose sleep over how much grace I have instead of how easily I get scared and lose control of myself, I count myself lucky.”

Sam frowned, trying to grasp what Gabriel was telling him.

Sometimes Sam understood, and sometimes he couldn’t relate. In this case, Gabriel suspected, Sam was at a loss because at no point in his life had he ever known genuine autonomy. With Gabriel, it was different: independence and secrecy were everything to him.

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel muttered. “I know I don’t make this easy for you.”

Sam was silent for a moment longer, then asked: “Can I tell you something?”

Gabriel froze. This wasn’t the first time he’d become immobile over the possibility of Sam explaining that no, he really couldn’t do this anymore. Perhaps this was the paralysis to which the satori had referred.

“It’s nothing bad,” Sam added hastily, in yet another demonstration of how naturally he could read Gabriel. “I just wanted to say that I don’t look down on you for being affected by your time with Asmodeus. Of course you freak out sometimes; who wouldn’t? And don’t say anything about me," he added as Gabriel opened his mouth. "I’ve been out of Hell a lot longer than you, and you were gone for so long … there’s a lot you didn’t see.” Bitterness crept into Sam’s voice. “Anyway, you can’t help what this has done to you. But hey, you know who would judge you for struggling? Asmodeus. Not me. Not any of us, but especially not me.”

Gabriel tried to respond, but there was no way to speak around the tightness in his throat and chest. The sincerity in Sam’s voice hurt him.

Finally, he managed: “You set that up to sound so dramatic.”

Sam smiled. “Sorry.”

Neither of them spoke for a while after that, although the break in conversation felt natural, not awkward.

Gabriel was fighting sleep when Sam broke the silence. “You’re convincing, you know that?”

“I’m what?”

“The way you just … slipped into your old role. I was surprised, but it didn’t seem forced. The way you spoke up for yourself at dinner last night was impressive. Normally you would’ve been scared of getting in trouble.”

“Hm.” Gabriel considered. “Well, I’ve said it before, Sam: I don’t know who or what I was before Asmodeus. Something changed; that’s all I can tell you.”

“And I was thinking - you know, even before we got back from the mountains, I saw something different. You pushed to come, and then you broke your promise about staying in the motel. I don’t know, maybe I’m off, but that’s a decision you might not have made before.”

“It was important. If something happened to you because I was too afraid to help, that would’ve been punishment on its own. It was a no-win situation so I took the option that I knew would keep you alive.”

“But you probably weren’t so sure about whether you would come out okay.” There was no accusation in Sam’s voice; he was merely making an observation.

“No,” Gabriel agreed, “I didn’t.”

Sam went on, “And it says something, doesn’t it, that you were able to put on such a good act? That’s an old talent that maybe you haven’t tapped into in a while.”

“It must not have been as good as you say, because your brother picked up on it somehow.”

Sam looked surprised. “When?”

“Last night he cornered me about how it isn’t standard to switch from empty to full in such a short span of time. Said I should go to you if I needed help.”

“Wow." Sam blinked. "I guess I don’t really know what to make of that.”

“Well, to me it means that some lucky winner always has access to my cesspit of a brain. Whether that’s you, or Dean, or Asmodeus, or a mountain-dwelling monster.”

“Oh geez, Gabriel …” Sam reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “It’s not like that, buddy.”

“Of course it is. Everybody gets a piece of me if they want it.” Gabriel turned his eyes to the sheets again, fighting tears. “And when I wasn’t whatever I am now, the satori couldn’t get into my head. Like I said - proof, Sam. Proof so concrete you could draw chalk around it. Proof.”

Sam shook his head, but didn’t seem to know what to say.

“I can’t stay awake,” Gabriel muttered, because it sounded more reasonable than When you look at me like that, you’re proving my point. “Can I rest a little bit?”

Sam hesitated. “Let me wake you up in twenty minutes. Just to make sure you’re not out cold again. Then, if you’re okay - another hour, and we can take it from there.”

“Fine.” Gabriel hated the idea of being shaken awake in such a short time, but hadn’t the stamina to argue.

Sam helped adjust Gabriel’s position so that he was lying down, then pulled the blankets around Gabriel’s shoulders. He didn’t move to leave.

If this was an instance of Sam being able to read him too easily, he didn’t want to know.

#Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels #PASF #Supernatural fanfiction #SPN fanfiction #Sabriel #Platonic #Friendship #Fanfic prompts #Do I regret my decision to forgo anonymity?#Sometimes #Too late now #Oh well #Gabriel #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Gabriel/Sam Winchester

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