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havenoffandoms · 3 years ago

Note

72 for Geralt/Jaskier?

I meant to post this a lot earlier... sorry about the wait, nonnie. I hope you like it anyway. I'm not sure how it came out in the end after I agonised over this for the past couple of days, but it was fun going back to my Geraskier roots.

Masterlist

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier

Prompt 72: Character A has a secret. Character B does whatever they can to find out what it is. When they find out, they wish they hadn't.

Warnings: brief angsty episode, mention of Geralt's traumatic childhood

Also, I love that art! Holy Shit!? So of course this had to feature before the fic <3

Travelling with Jaskier had its downfalls.

For one, the bard talks a lot. He never stops, not even in his sleep, and that would drive any man insane if you ask Geralt. He listens to Jaskier waffling about poetry all day, every day, he doesn’t have to endure a lecture on the benefits of iambic pentameters when he’s trying to fall asleep, thank you very much. Jaskier also likes to complain about every little thing that causes him discomfort, which when they’re on the path, ranges from fly bites all the way to sore feet. Travelling with a human also means that they travel considerably slower, unless they’re both riding on top of Roach, but Geralt doesn’t like putting his best girl under that kind of strain very often.

For all of Jaskier’s flaws, Geralt would hate to have to separate from his bard. At least, when Jaskier is close by, Geralt can keep an eye on him and make sure Jaskier doesn’t get himself into any unnecessary trouble. Having Jaskier travel with him gives Geralt peace of mind. He appreciates the singing as well, even if he could stand to tell Jaskier this a bit more often. Geralt deems that his bard’s ego is plenty inflated without Geralt making it worse. Not to mention that life always seems a little bit brighter when Jaskier is around, and the nights are a little less lonely as Geralt gets to pull his bard close and fall asleep to the sound of his beating heart. Knowing that Jaskier is safe is the only thing that lets Geralt sleep peacefully at night.

You’d think that after nearly two decades of knowing his bard, Geralt would have figured out Jaskier’s secret by now. Geralt is, of course, referring to Jaskier’s near supernatural ability to always come up with coin when he and Geralt need it most urgently. Geralt has no idea how the bard does it - his songs are popular, granted, and on a good night Jaskier makes enough to buy a nice room for the night and the better pieces of meat from the kitchen. Still, being a bard doesn’t pay that well, not even if you were as famous as Jaskier. Just last week, Geralt’s horse and most of his belonging were stolen by bandits, leaving Geralt travelling on foot and too poor to afford to buy a new horse. Two days later, Jaskier came trotting up to their camp atop a gorgeous mare, looking mighty pleased with himself but refusing to tell Geralt how he managed to afford to pay for the horse.

“Would you believe me if I told you I stole her, Geralt, my dear?”

“Not in a million years,” Geralt admitted deadpan, pulling an offended squawk from his songbird.

“Just because I’m a bard you don’t think I can steal a horse?”

“I don’t think you could ever steal a horse because you’re as stealthy as the proverbial bull in the porcelain shop.”

It’s not just the horse, though. Geralt’s armour needed replacing and good armour doesn’’t come cheaply. Geralt doesn’t hire the services of just any blacksmith or armourer to craft his weapons and protective gear. He has his regular suppliers, the ones he always goes back to because he knows that their work is reliable and of the highest quality. And even though these people know Geralt by now, even offer him a friends and family discount on occasion, their wares still come at a hefty price. Geralt, as it turns out, didn’t have the coin to replace his armour for a few months. He desperately needed new boots, though. A new pair of breeches wouldn’t hurt either, and his silver sword broke in half whilst fighting a particularly vicious griffin a few weeks back.

Geralt didn’t even mention all of this to Jaskier. That didn’t stop the bard from going ahead and commissioning a brand new suit of armour, new silver and steel swords, as well as a few casual clothes for Geralt to wear on the warmer summer days. All of this must have cost an arm, a leg and a fucking lung, and yet Jaskier acted like he didn’t just break the bank all for Geralt’s benefit. He didn’t even get anything for himself and that realisation had Geralt feeling slightly embarrassed about the gesture.

“You don’t have to buy me all this stuff, Jask.”

“I know that, dearest,” Jaskier assured him, eyes soft and an easy smile playing on his lips, “but I wanted to. Only the best for you, my sweet witcher.”

The mystery of where Jaskier managed to find the coin to pay for all this remains unsolved, despite Geralt’s questioning. Well, if Jaskier won’t outright tell him, then Geralt will just have to investigate the matter by himself.

"Where the fuck did you get your hand on all the coin to pay for all this?" Geralt asks one evening, blunt and straight to the point. There was probably a kinder and gentler way to ask this, but after spending weeks mulling over Jaskier's sudden new-found fortune, Geralt has lost the little patience he possessed in the matter. Jaskier, on the other hand, looks perfectly unperturbed.

"From the bank," he offers simply as he sprinkles expensive herbs over the hare Geralt caught earlier that evening, "you know, where people deposit their valuables? I know you witchers don't believe in bank accounts, savings and interests, but-"

"Where does the coin come from?" Geralt interrupts, hissing those words through clenched teeth.

"Why, my inheritance."

Geralt stares for a long while. It takes his brain several seconds to catch up to what Jaskier is telling him, and another few seconds to make sense of the words. Inheritance?

"What inheritance?"

"Well, when my father passed away he left me and my siblings a share of his wealth. That's how inheritance works. Say, pass me my satchel my dear, I think I have some more spices in there."

Geralt wordlessly hands Jaskier his satchel, still trying to process this new discovery. Come to think of it, Geralt knows precious little about Jaskier's family. Sure, that's probably on him for never asking, but Geralt has grown so used to Jaskier oversharing every aspect of his life that he never needed to ask his bard anything. Jaskier just… never talked about his family. Or his childhood, or his upbringing. His life story seems to always begin when he was a student at Oxenfurt.

Geralt is growing curiouser by the minute.

"When did your father pass?"

"Oh? Uh… good question. Maybe a few years after I went to Oxenfurt? I'm not sure. I received a letter from the bank notifying me that a share of my father's wealth was deposited in my account."

Geralt frowns. "You never went back to find out what happened?"

"No."

Well, that's an oddly abrupt response, and Jaskier doesn't seem like he's got anything to say on the matter. Which only makes Geralt feel more curious about the whole thing.

"Why not?"

"Geralt…" Jaskier heaves a sigh before putting on a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, too tense to be genuine. "My father and I didn't get along. I felt no need to go mourn him with the rest of my noble family in Lettenhove when he passed. That's it. That's all there's to it. I was not a good enough man to refuse my share of the inheritance, either, despite my non-existent relationship with him."

That's a lot to unpack. Geralt always assumed that Jaskier had a good childhood. Then again, he would think that, wouldn't he, considering Geralt spent his own childhood being tortured by magnanimous and sadistic mages. Where most children got to spend time outside helping out in the fields or playing with their friends, Geralt was put through drill after drill, after drill… until he was physically unable to walk so much his muscles hurt.

"Wait… did you say your noble family?"

"Hm?"

"In Lettenhove… there's nothing in Lettenhove. Only the Viscount and his family live there on a large esta-" Geralt's mouth clicks shut as realisation dawns on him. "Your father was the Viscount of Lettenhove?"

"Yes. And since I'm the oldest, after he died that title passed onto me. But I much prefer being a bard, so I graciously devolved my duties to my younger brother, who now manages the estate. Are we done with this conversation?"

"I didn't mean to make you mad…"

Geralt watches Jaskier stop dead in his tracks, his shoulders briefly tensing at those words, before exhaling loudly through his nose. Jaskier anxiously rubs the back of his neck as he straightens up and offers Geralt a sheepish smile, that one warmer and softer than the previous one.

"Sorry, dear heart. I didn't mean to be so short with you. It's just… well, there's a reason I don't bring up my family all that much."

"Hm." Geralt gently taps the spot next to him on his bedroll, and Jaskier doesn't have to be told twice. Soon, Geralt has one arm wound tightly around Jaskier's shoulders. Not quite a hug, but the intention is there all the same, and Jaskier eagerly melts in the embrace. "I shouldn't have insisted. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. You did nothing wrong." Jaskier nuzzles the crook of Geralt's neck sweetly before depositing a featherlight kiss just over his pulse point. "Do you want to ask me anything?"

Geralt ponders over that question far too long before whispering an answer in the air pocket between them.

"Did he hurt you?"

Jaskier hesitates.

"Not physically, no. He didn't approve of my aspirations and choices. He didn't support me. I suppose it hurt a little when he didn't see me away to Oxenfurt at the age of 15, but he never raised a hand on me."

"Hm." Good, Geralt thinks. No child should ever have to suffer at the hand of an adult. Geralt earned plenty a beating at Kaer Morhen, some justified and others not so much. Just because he went through this doesn't mean he condones it.

"At least I get to spend his money on someone I love," Jaskier offers softly, eyes as blue as the deepest ocean glancing up at Geralt through dark lashes, “That, at least, the old man can’t take away from me.”

A happy little rumble bubbles up Geralt's chest, despite the blush gracing his cheeks.

"I never thanked you for the gifts." Geralt blushes a deeper shade of red at the realisation. "Sorry. It's been a long year."

"Well, good thing we're heading North soon then, hm?" Jaskier straightens up so he can cradle Geralt's face in his lute-calloused hands. Their eyes meet then, amber seeking out blue, and Geralt thinks that he must be the luckiest son of a bitch in all the Continent.

"Yes," he agrees in a whisper, tilting his face to place a kiss on the inside of Jaskier's wrist, "good thing, indeed."

Request a prompt

#havenwrites #the witcher #wiedzmin #geralt of rivia #geralt z rivii #the witcher geralt #geralt #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #dandelion #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt/jaskier #jaskier/geralt #dandelion x geralt #geralt/dandelion #request open

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barbecuebabybackribs · 4 years ago

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Dating Rosalie Hale Would Include: (Male Reader)

It was a normal day for Rosalie

It felt like the millionth time she went to college, she couldn’t go to ivy league colleges every time- although she wished she could since now she was at an underfunded local college, she was just glad she didn’t need to suffer within the dorms which were- less then hygienic

She already had taken this course dozens of time so her mind was else where, that was until the smell hit her

Something so alluring, it almost drove her mad, suddenly an intense urge to go find something consumed her, she knew what this feeling was, she knew it was her mate- the stories the other told her about described this feeling- she was about to get up and follow it when the door creaked open.

She looked over and saw a young man walk into the room- he looked confused and somewhat embarrassed- it’s him, is all she thought.

Everything about her drew her in, she wanted to run up and embrace him that very second but she knew she couldn’t

She looked around the room, there were a few open chair around the room but most of them were around her- the other humans could instinctively tell something was off with her, that she was a predator even if they didn’t consciously know it- she prayed he would choose a seat next to her

As the younger boy gave a slip to the teacher and then made his way up the aisles to find a seat- they locked eyes for a moment.

Your entire face ran hot as you made eye contact with one of the most beautiful women you’d ever seen, she quite literally took your breath away

You saw nearly half the aisle she was in was empty.

You weren’t quite ballsy enough to sit right next to the beautiful girl in your class- this wasn’t some cheesy romance movie and you didn’t want to make it obvious

so you sat two chair away from her, your palms sweat slightly when she looked at you and smiled- something about her made you nervous but you still wanted to get to know her.

You spend the whole class trying your best to pay attention but being distracted by the fact that Rosalie keeps looking at you- looking strangely excited

Which was accurate, she was practically over the moon, you didn’t sit right next to her but you were close enough- for now.

She had been desperately searching for a mate for her entire life- even her human one.

She has so desperately wanted to be loved, she died because she trusted the wrong man with her love.

She just wanted to be held by someone she loved, to feel a loving embrace, to simply exist in the presence of someone who loves he unconditionally

That’s why she brought Emmett to Carlisle, she thought she finally found someone who would love her.

And Emmett did, but not the way she wanted. He loved her as a Sister, a Friend- but that wasn’t enough

She was so excited but also so terrified of messing up her one opportunity at love- she was ultimately going to leave it up to you whether or not you would date, she didn’t want to pressure you into anything because of how she felt.

So that’s how it went on for almost a week, casting a shy glance at Rosalie and meeting her sweet smile.

You laughed sometimes at how cold she looked whenever anyone else interacted with her but when you so much as looked at her she looked as if she couldn’t hurt a fly

You wanted to say hello but you were so terrified that you had misread the signs and she just wanted to be alone.

So you decided you would simply sit down in the seat next to her but not say anything- you’d leave that up to her

You nearly jumped out of your skin when she said hello.

You looked over and almost got lost in her strangely color honey eyes- they matched her hair, it was beautiful

“Hello!” You snapped out of it, “Uhm, I’m new, I don’t think we’ve ever actually talked.” You hadn’t that why you were so nervous and your heart was beating a mile a minute.

“I’m Rosalie,” She smiled, “And your Y/N, right?”

“Uhm yeah, how’d you know?”

“I heard you talking to the teacher once, don’t worry I’m not stalking you.” Which was true, she always looked down on how Edward would handle the situation with Bella, so she let you have your space

“Oh,” You said slightly embarrassed at how loud you must’ve been talking

“Well it’s nice meeting you Rosalie, we should talk more often, I don’t know many people around here.” You sucked in a nervous breath, almost dying on the spot when she didn’t respond immediately

“Oh, I’d love that.” Her voice was soft but sweet

From that day forward you two would chat before and after class- about everything.

Simple things like what your favorite things were, what things you disliked, to more complicated things like family. You both could talk about anything and everything and even if you disagreed it was okay, you both accepted it.

You found yourself constantly getting lost in her voice as she told you about her life, her family, literally anything and you were in-captured

You started hanging out, outside of school

First place you went was your favorite cafe- which she was reluctant by but agreed. She ordered a cappuccino

“Rose, you don’t need to drink it if you don’t like it”

“I’m not much of a... coffee person.”

“Then why did you- you know what it’s okay.” You laughed

You decided to find things other then cafe’s to go to

You go to the movies

To parks and just talk, or to goof around

She takes you shopping when your one jacket get’s damaged and she learns you can’t afford a new one with your student loans and student housing debt

Girl wants to cry when she learns how crappy your dorm room is- constantly has leaks from the rain, loud obnoxious dormmates, light’s that constantly flicker and give you headaches.

She makes a vow to try and make your college experience as pleasant as possible.

After a month she finally asks you out

You choke on you drink but manage to wheeze out a yes as she pats your back

She takes you to a cafe- opts to not order anything- and then to the park where she planned a cute little picnic

She’s been planning this for decades and she’d be damned if she didn’t spoil the hell out of you

She ends up rambling about cars when you compliment hers.

Is so happy when you respond with your rudimentary knowledge of cars

She’s so elated the entire day

She drives you to your dorm.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay getting home, Rose? It’s after dark and I wouldn’t mind taking you home.”

“I’ll be fine Y/N... thank you for worrying.”

“Alright... just please be safe alright?”

“Same goes for you.”

There’s a moment of pause and you work up the courage to halfly do what you’d been wanting to all day.

You kiss her cheek

Then rush inside as you almost hyperventilate- was dating supposed to be this nerve-wracking?

You almost don’t go to class the next day

She’s smiling ear to ear when she see’s you

“So about last night-”

“Uh- sorry i should’ve asked- I don’t know what I was thinking, heh, I understand if-”

“No, I liked it.”

“oh”

You blush for the rest of the class

Practically skip back to the dorms

She texts you later that day and asks if you’d want to come to her house during the weekend

You agree although nervous to meet her family so soon

She picks you up in her convertible.

You both find out you have similar taste in music- you sing the songs with her and both laugh at how poorly the both of your singing was

When you pull up you gawk at her house

“Rose your rich.”

“Only slightly.”

“Women- you have a mansion and a convertible- I have a whole in the wall and not even a tire to roll in.”

She laughs and leads you inside

“Y/N!” You almost get tackled by a small pixie like girl,

“Alice!” Rosalie practically hissed yanking her off you

“Uhm- It’s okay? Hi?” You were confused but didn’t want to hurt anyones feelings by being mean

“Sorry, Rosalie.” The pixie girl giggled as a blonde man appeared behind her- are all these people like insanely attractive?

“Y/N! I’m so glad to meet you, I know we’ll be great friends! This is my husband Jasper!” She gestured to the blonde man who smiled stiffly at you.

“Well, Hi. It’s nice meeting you finally, Rose told me a lot about you guys.”

“All good thing I hope,” A kind woman looking in her mid twenties called out from across the room, “Alice why don’t you let Y/N take two steps in the door before you nearly tackle him to the ground.”

You have an awkward but pleasant meeting with everyone before Rosalie swiftly drags you to her room- obviously embarrassed.

“So your family is nice- little odd but nice.” You say when you enter her room.

“Don’t tell them that, it’ll go straight to their heads.”

You end up inspecting her entire room, lots of books on cars- but a lot of other things as well, Medical books, mathematical books, Shakespeare, scientific books and collectibles

“Uhm Rose?”

“Yes?”

“Are you... a genius?”

“No, but I am smart.”

“Rose, your rich, pretty, nice, smart- why the hell are you seeing me?”

You said it in a joking manor but when you looked over you could tell she was taking it very seriously

“Don’t ever say that Y/N.”

“I’m sorry- I didn’t know it’d upset you.”

“It’s okay- just please don’t joke about that sort of thing, your the only person I want to be with.” She breathed out before putting a smile on her face, “Anyways, What do ya wanna do?”

You end up spending the day talking and she shows you around the house, then shows you the cars she’s working on- You also talk to her family some more- Alice and Esme adore you, so do the others they’re just more quiet about it

You end up staying way later then intended,

“I should probably go back to the dorms, I’d hate to keep you guys up to late.”

“Ah right.” Rosalie said awkwardly, “You’re probably tired.”

“Slightly but considering I always stay up to finish paper I’m fiii- Oh no.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I HAVE A PAPER DUE TOMORROW AND I HAVEN’T EVEN STARTED- I GOTTA GO.” You said practically sprinting out the house,

“Y/N- I drove you here!”

You turn around and grab her hand- not even thinking about being embarrassed- “We have to go!” You announced, hurrying out of the house.

You end up speeding home with her and she spends the night helping you with the paper- finding it cute how stressed you got over a relatively easy paper

She ends up spending the night- your dorm mates don’t mind since they’ve had done much more inappropriate things with women while you were in the room then sleep

Rosalie ends up pretending to sleep until you fall asleep, loving it when you- while still asleep- throw an arm around her and cuddle up to her

“I’m really glad I met you.” She said softly letting you sleep in her arms, knowing your safe helps her relax and she gets as close to sleep as a vampire can get

Loves how you look when you wake up- hair disheveled, cheeks flushed , eyes droopy.

“You’re so handsome.” She said kissing your nose- smiling when she hears your heart beat quicken.

“That’s rich coming from the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.”

“Would you guys stop it with that sappy shit!” Your dorm mate said throwing a shoe at you- Rosalie somehow cached it and chucked it back at him.

“Sorry about them.”

“It’s alright, it’s worth it to spend time with you.”

You guys are pretty sappy 94% percent of the time- the other 6% of the time you are on some crackhead shit

“Rose look at this!” “Y/N DON’T GO ON THE CHANDELIER--”

She basically is the only reason your alive

She loves when you pick her up- like loves it more then life itself

She finally gets the loving and comfortable embrace she’s been longing

Will leap into your arms so your guard is always up

Your first kiss is simple but amazing, she doesn’t want to stop but knows she has too

Once you share that first kiss the damn has been broken

Long make-out sessions, quick kisses goodbye, sloppy kisses, french kisses, Eskimo kisses, butterfly kisses- you guys do them all.

One time she bit your lip and pulled on it slightly- you let out a moan and that girl had to physically restrain herself from going further

When becoming more intimate comes up she decides to tell you

She just straight up comes up to you and says it

“Stop panicking-”

“I made out with a vampire- why don’t you have fangs?”

“That’s a myth.”

“Oh wow- that’s a myth but what about the blood thing- cause I love you but I don’t know if I’m into that.”

She explains everything to you calmly- answering all you questions

You end up getting pretty excited and rambling about all sorts of things

“Omg, can you turn into a bat because that’d be sick.”

“No- You’re taking this very well.”

“I’m dating a gorgeous, strong, vampire woman- I couldn’t be happier.”

Rosalie loves you so much

From that day forward there are no secrets

She tells you everything- even about Roy.

You hold her when she starts to get emotional, stroking her back softly

“Thank you for being... you.” She mumbles into you chest.

“It’s my pleasure.”

On a happier note, she loves kissing your neck

Kissing your nose

Kissing you just about everywhere

Holding your hand is a must everywhere

You watch her work on cars and talk to her

She teaches you a few things

Stroking your hair

She spoils you with gifts- you ask her to stop because it’s overwhelming you

You guys don’t wait to get intimate.

In her car or in your dorm is your go to places- the thought of her family or your roommates hearing you makes you skittish

All I’m gonna say is she like’s having power

She only turns you because you get sick- extremely sick.

Treatments aren’t working and Carlisle know’s you won’t make it

He pumps you full of drugs so you don’t feel as much of it as possible

Rosalie holds you and is on the verge of tears that won’t seem to spill

Want’s to take your pain away when you clutch at her blouse and plead with her to make it stop,

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. But I can’t loose you.”

She knew you wanted to be a vampire- she let you make the decision- and the pain was just taking over, but it still killed her

Hold’s you in her arms for day’s waiting for you to wake up

When you do she doesn’t let go

“Rose- Can I get up please?” You rasp out- your throat unbearable dry

“Oh of course.”

Rosalie can’t help but smile when she see’s you smiling at her

She’s about to speak when Alice bursts in the room carrying a mirror “Oh. Y/N you’re so handsome you must see!”

Everyone is somewhat sympathetic but also excited

Rosalie drags you away and swear she’ll be the only one who teaches you about being a vampire- and she does

You guys are an iconic and powerful duo

You insist on carrying her around bridal style since you obtained your newfound strength

She isn’t complaining

Speaking of bridal

You guys get married a few years after your turned

Alice want’s to plan it all and go all out- but you and Rosalie want to plan a smaller arrangement

It’s cute- Alice could’ve made it cuter but it was cute

Wanting to cry during the vows

You guys can break it down on that dance floor- she gave you lessons

You guys go to Paris for your honeymoon- and let’s just say the wedding night does not disappoint

Although the others in the hotel who wanted to sleep are disappointed

You guys are so unbelievably happy together

You’re so glad you found each other, so glad you got to be with the other.

You don’t know what the future holds but whatever happens you know you can get through it together because you have each other.

(Opinions? Also techinically I didn’t lie it did come out when I said it’s just kinda late lmao) @iiconicsfan25 i hope this was okay

#Rosalie hale #rosalie hale imagine #rosalie hale x reader #rosalie hale x male reader #rosalie cullen x reader #Rosalie cullen imagine #rosalie cullen x male reader #twilight x male reader #twilight x reader #twilight imagine #twilight #twilight fanfic #twilight fanficiotn #fanfic #fanficition #request #twilight request

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rosemaidenvixen · 4 years ago

Text

A Secret’s Worth

Chapter 12: Walter and Louis

Ao3

“Are you absolutely certain?”

“Ja,” Otto’s blue eyes sparkled from behind his glasses, telltale golden glimmer flickering just below the surface “I would not waste your time for anything less, Grand Commandant,”

Strickler detected the hint of a tease in Otto’s voice but chose to let it go, the square of vellum laid out on his desk occupying far more of his attention. Had he been a few centuries younger his hand might have shook as he traced the half faded lines of ink.

With this final piece; everything they’d been working for, himself, Otto, the entire order, was now within reach.

“Excellent,” he slid the vellum back towards Otto “I’ll need you on a plane to Mongolia immediately,”

Otto’s face fell, mouth shifting to form a protest.

“The eyestone is perhaps the most crucial piece of the bridge, I need someone I know is not only competent, but highly capable, to retrieve it. And you will have the full resources of the Janus order at your disposal,”

A touch thick with the flattery, and more than a little extravagant; but the order could afford it. Especially since if Otto’s information was true Kilahead would be complete in less than a year. And Strickler felt reasonably confident that there would be little use for company shares and bond holdings once Gunmar reclaimed the surface.

Otto sat back, mollified for now “I will fly out tonight, with any luck I should be able to rendezvous with the Ulaanbaatar branch tomorrow evening, of course planning the expedition will take time. We are certain of the eyestone’s presence, but narrowing down its precise location won’t be--”

“Mr. Strickler?”

Neither of them flinched, far too experienced in the game for that, merely turned and sculpted their features to show appropriate levels of surprise and curiosity while Otto discreetly slid the vellum off the desk and back into his bag.

Tobias Domzalski hesitantly peeked in through the office door “Sorry, am I interrupting? I can come back later,”

“Nein,” Otto got to his feet “I was just leaving,”

“Oh, uh...ok,”

Toby stepped aside and let Otto pass, turning to watch him retreat down the hall with a look of piqued interest on his face.

“Mr. Domzalski?”

The boy snapped back to attention “Oh, uh sorry…..was that a friend of yours?”

“Oh yes, Otto and I go way back,” Strickler gestured for Toby to take a seat at the piano stool across from his desk that Otto had been occupying until just recently “He was just dropping by before heading off to a dig overseas, now what was it you needed?”

Toby sunk onto the stool, face flushed crimson “...am I that obvious?”

Strickler made sure the smile he gave him was only slightly patronizing “When you’ve been doing this as long as I have you get good at spotting these things, but it does look like you have something on your mind. Now what can I do for you?”

“It’s not for me-- and I don’t mean it’s about a friend of a friend that’s secretly me, I mean--” he cut off his babbling with a sharp intake of breath “It’s about Jim,”

Strickler raised an eyebrow “I applaud you for looking out for your friend’s grade point average, but if Jim is struggling in class it would be better if he comes and sees me himself,”

“Not...not help like that,”

His curiosity about Toby’s presence deepened into concern as he saw him shrink further in on himself, a shadow of the outgoing, slightly foolhardy boy he was used to “Jim’s having problems at home,”

The tightening of his fingers around his fountain pen was the only outward sign of the profound shock Strickler felt at that moment.

Problems at home.

The words every teacher dreads hearing.

Strickler pulled himself up straighter and leaned forward ever so slightly, filing all thoughts of Kilahead into the back of his mind to focus entirely on the matter at hand “What sort of problems at home?”

“His mom-- his mom…” he choked, the words almost seeming to physically pain him.

Strickler sat at attention and said nothing, waiting patiently. It might be difficult for him to voice this knowledge, but Toby would unburden himself in his own time.

“His mom locks him in the basement,” Toby said at last, voice cracking towards the end.

For the first time this afternoon the surprise on Strickler’s face was more genuine than not “What?”

He’d been occupying his cover as an educator for a few centuries now, and was fully cognizant of the things that could happen to his students behind closed doors, but rarely was it brought up so bluntly.

“Throws him in the basement and ties the door shut,” his tone took on a heavy darkness “I know because Jim basically admitted it, plus there are the photos,”

“Photos?”

Wordlessly, Toby took out his phone and taped the screen a few times before holding it out towards Strickler. He took the offered device and started thumbing through the gallery.

What he saw painted a very grim picture indeed.

And being experienced as he was, Strickler had a good feeling that he already knew the answer to his next question, but he had to ask it all the same “I agree that these photos are rather...damning, but you also said Jim also admitted this was taking place, may I ask why you’re here and he is not?”

If Toby had been punched in the stomach at that exact moment his expression would have been identical “Because ten seconds after admitting it he started denying it,”

He suspected something like this might be the case, but that didn’t mean he was happy about being right.

Strickler netted his fingers and let out a measured sigh “I can see why this would be difficult for you,”

“I-- it’s just…we said we’d help him, and he has to know this isn’t ok, so why would he…” Toby trailed off, voice thick with emotion and the beginnings of tears.

He could quite keep the tired look off his face as he watched Toby hunch over and start to tremble, pondering the best way to respond.

There were dozens of potential answers to that question, none of them good. Fear of retaliation, misguided loyalty, twisted sense of familial obligation. Strickler settled on the one that would make the most sense given what he knew about the situation.

“Because it’s all he’s ever known,”

Toby looked up at him, eyes brimming.

Strickler leaned forward, voice as gentle as gauze “I don’t want to comment on something I know so little about, but when a person spends their whole life believing certain behaviors are normal, it can be difficult for them to recognize when they truly need help,”

“Yeah,” Toby said darkly “I can get that,”

It was at that moment Strickler remembered precisely how long Jim and Toby had known each other.

“Tobias, Jim’s situation is not your fault,”

“Oh yes it is!” Toby snapped at him with a surprising amount of force “I’ve known Jim for over a decade-- we’ve been in every class together since kindergarten! How could I not…”

He trailed off, last few words closer to sobs.

Strickler stood up from his desk and walked over to kneel down and look Toby in the eye “Because you were just a child yourself, because your friend’s safety should never have been your responsibility,”

“But it-- it--,” he hiccupped out the words, clearly trying desperately not to cry “It shouldn’t have taken me this long to notice!”

Tense silence filled Strickler’s office. He remained steadfast and unflinching from his position besides Toby for a few moments before speaking up again.

“Maybe the best time to come forward was ten years ago, but the second best time is now,”

Toby sniffled and raised his head to look him in the eye.

“It might have taken you a while to see these things, but the instant you realized what was going on with Jim you went to get him help. That’s all anyone can do, and is considerably more than what most chose to do,”

Strickler had been through this particular song and dance before, and he wasn’t so naive to believe that his words alone had the power to cure Toby of the raging storm of conflicted, contradictory emotions inside him, but seeing the boy wipe away his tears and hold himself just a little straighter, he knew that they’d helped somewhat.

Situation better in hand now, Strickler walked back around to sit at his desk “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, if you can email me those photos I will pass them, along with everything you’ve told me, down to the right people and make sure Jim’s situation is thoroughly investigated,”

He paused, debating whether this last inclusion would be welcome or not “If you want to help Jim in the meantime, the best way is to try to stay close to him. I know it might be hard, but he’s going to need a friend more than anything in the coming weeks,”

“Ok...I’ll try,”

“Now, are you alright to go to your next class or do you need a moment?”

“I’ll-- I’ll email you the pictures, then I think I’m gonna….take five...for a little bit,” Toby said while pulling up his phone and not so discreetly rubbing his eyes.

Strickler nodded at him in acknowledgement while pulling out his laptop and searching his contacts for an email address he only used in the most dire of circumstances.

This situation should be followed up to the letter. It would take up more of his time than he’d prefer while also supervising the acquisition of the last few bridge pieces, but he couldn’t afford to do anything less. Kilahead may be nearing completion, but that was no reason to let his cover slack. If anything now more than ever it was important to maintain the facade. This close to the end any slip ups could undo centuries of hard work.

When he heard Toby sniffle again, Strickler very deliberately did not look up.

And although he would never admit as much, Strickler did feel somewhat sentimental towards his students. He prefered that they be allowed to enjoy the last few months of the world as they knew it in as much safety and comfort as possible.

Once Gunmar returned, any semblance of safety and comfort would vanish from their lives.

Still...these types of investigation proved to be tedious and lengthy even at the best of times. Extending from now to the bridge’s completion was certainly a possibility

Perhaps if the situation was severe enough to warrant it he could arrange a late parent teacher conference on one of the nights Bular was due to pay him a visit….

Strickler had to stop a small chuckle from escaping his lips.

Pale lady forgive him, he really was going soft.

Louis muttered an ugly curse as his keys fell to the floor with a clatter. Dammit that was the third time this week he’d dropped his keychain while trying to hang it up. Were his reflexes starting to go or were the ten hour shifts just that draining?

Biting back a blue streak, he picked up and rehung his keys before slipping his shoes off and stepping into the front hall.

“Darci, you home?” he called out while continuing on to the living room “Dinner’s in the crockpot,”

Glancing around, Louis stopped in his tracks when he saw that Darci was indeed at home and sitting on the couch, her friends Mary and Claire sitting on either side of her. Normally this wouldn’t be any cause for concern, the three were practically joined at the hip, but their tensed shoulders and worried frowns told a different story.

“What happened, is everything ok?”

Darci briefly looked up and met his eyes, before tearing her gaze away with a grimace “No...not really,”

His hands tightened into fists “Who was it, who’s bothering you?” whatever punk out there that had dared upset his little girl was going to have Detective Louis Scott bring the wrath of god down on his scrawny--

“But not with me,” she looked from side to side “Or any of us,”

Just like that the wind was out of his sails “Oh,” calmer now, he stepped over and sank onto the easy chair across from them “Ok, then who?”

Her face twisted into a deep wince, Claire reaching up to put a comforting arm around her and picking up where she left off “You remember Jim, right Mr. Scott?”

Louis raised an eyebrow “Yes?”

He certainly remembered Darci and her friends spending a lot of time with two new boys almost immediately after starting high school. To say the least, he hadn’t exactly been thrilled, but didn’t try to interfere. Boys were a fact of life, and Darci was going to spend time with them whether he liked it or not. And he’d heard plenty of cautionary tales from other fathers about what happened when they hung on to their daughters too tightly. Besides, Darci had never given him any reason not to trust her judgement so Louis saw no reason to start now. So he made it his policy to let Darci spend her time how she wanted and with who she wanted, within reason of course. And on more than one occasion he had sat her down to discuss what kind of behaviors in other people were red flags and made it crystal clear that she could always go to him for advice and help. But for the most part he left her to her own devices, even when it set his nerves on edge to do so. After all, he very well couldn’t spend her whole life chasing away boys with a baseball bat.

But he’d be lying if he said the idea didn’t tempt him from time to time.

“Ok…What about Jim?”

Claire went gaunt and silent, Darci worked her jaw, struggling to get the words out “I-- it’s…”

“His mom locks him in the basement,” Mary blurted out for her.

For a moment Louis didn’t know how to react, as a member of law enforcement and a mandated reporter, he consciously knew that if any of his friends or acquaintances wanted to report abuse of any kind he’d be the first person they’d go to. Better to talk to someone they already knew and trusted than a faceless government entity that may or may not actually take them seriously.

But knowing didn’t prepare him for when it actually happened. When his daughter came to him and said one of her friends was in trouble. He’d met Jim on a few occasions, seen Dr. Lake in passing and spoken on the phone with her frequently. He seemed like an ok kid, she seemed like a nice enough woman, neither of them ever gave off any signs that something sinister was lurking beneath the surface.

Of course if this kind of thing was easy to spot there wouldn’t be a need for detectives in the world.

He started mentally filing through the policies and procedures drilled into his skull “Did Jim tell you this himself or did you see something?”

They all shared an uncertain look, the silence continuing on for a few seconds before Mary spoke up again.

“We...saw something,”

“What kind of something?”

Darci shook off her discomfort first and pulled out her phone “Here,” she tapped at the screen a few times and held it out to him “We took these at Jim’s house, it’s his basement door,”

Louis took the offered device and examined the screen. Going by the fact that they claimed Jim’s mother was locking him in the basement, and that Darci said these were pictures of his basement door...even before he’d looked at the photos, Louis already had a good idea of what he would see.

Unfortunately he was right.

He shut his eyes and pulled in a deep breath, using years of practice to compartmentalize the mental image of daughter’s friend and the pictures he’d just seen “You did the right thing by coming to me,” he opened his eyes and looked back towards her “Now do you have any reason to believe that Jim is in immediate danger?”

She shook her head “No,”

“Can you describe how Jim and his mother interact?”

The girls took a second to ponder over the question “We don’t really see much of Dr. Lake,” Claire admitted “She’s at work a lot, and we don’t really hang out at his house much,”

“They always seemed...normal,” Darci said slowly “But...there was that one time we were late coming back from the movies she was acting weird,”

He leaned forward ever so slightly “Weird how?”

“It was past Jim’s curfew and he panicked and rushed home really quick, when he got inside his mom wouldn’t let us come in and see him,”

Realization dawned on Mary’s face even before she spoke up “Wait a second, doesn’t she always chase us out the door pretty early on?”

“Yeah that’s right,” Claire said, Mary’s epiphany catching “She doesn’t like us hanging out there past his curfew,”

“Plus his curfew is crazy early,” Darci added “Like four o clock or something,”

“And he doesn’t do sleepovers, either going or having,” Mary added.

Sounds like Dr. Lake didn’t like Jim staying out and didn’t like his friends staying over. Could be run of the mill controlling or something worse. Too soon to tell.

“Aside from locking him in the basement, have any of you noticed any indication that his mother might be violent with him?”

“No,”

“Have any of you confirmed with Jim that he made these marks when he was locked in the basement and that they weren’t caused by something else?“

He saw the mixture of shock, hurt, and indignation fly across their faces and held up a hand “Not that I don’t believe you, I believe you girls one hundred percent, but when going forward into an investigation like this it’s important that all evidence is corroborated and accounted for,”

None of them responded right away. Darci and Claire looking flustered while Mary blushed scarlet before looking down and away.

Thanks to his experience in interrogations Louis had a pretty good idea why the three of them looked so guilty. They’d already tried confronting him and it had gone badly. Well nothing to do about that now.

“We...asked him,” Darci said at last “He didn’t say anything at first, but we could tell by the way he reacted that it was true,”

Louis nodded at that “Ok,”

“And then….” she swallowed deeply “I don’t think he meant to, but he said that his mom hasn’t put him down there since he was seven, and then he started saying that if we told anyone he would deny it,”

By the time she finished speaking her voice was tight and small.

Louis gripped the armrests to anchor himself, the fact that their friend was backpedalling to cover his mother and that he’d allegedly been locked in the basement since before he was seven years old weren’t the worst things he’d seen in his career, didn’t even make the top ten. But it was hard knowing that it had been his daughter’s friend, a boy he’d seen and spoken with on more than a few occasions, that stung.

And seven years old….Jesus, no kid deserved that.

“Thank you for coming to me with this girls, I’m going to pass this information along and make sure an investigation is started with CPS,”

Darci nodded “Thanks dad,”

He pushed himself up straighter “Now I know the way your friend acted must have seemed very confusing,”

The trio nodded.

“I don’t want to make any assumptions about his home life, but I do know that when someone grows up in an abusive household, it really skews what they consider normal. I’ve known a lot of people that grew up with in dysfunctional families but didn’t even realize it until they were in their forties,”

He had to be really careful not to put his foot in his mouth for this next part “And the relationship between a child an abusive family member can be...complicated,” he raised a hand to rub the bridge of his nose, trying to prevent the tension headache he felt coming on “Things with them are rarely all bad all the time, most often there’s just enough good to keep the victim coming back,”

Too close to assumption territory, needed to bring this back on track.

“Regardless of what’s going on at home, Jim might try to do everything he can to protect his mother, even when he shouldn’t,”

Now for the tricky part.

He leaned forward and placed his hands on his knees “But in the meantime, you’re still going to be seeing Jim at school, right?”

The trio shared uncertain looks before Darci turned back towards him “Yeah?”

“If you can it would be good to try and apologise for trying to force him to come forward so you can keep in communication,”

The three of them were stunned, as he’d expected, but this was something it looked like they’d have to learn sooner rather than later.

Darci was particularly taken aback “But we didn’t….”

Louis crossed his arms, raised an eyebrow, and gave her a look that he’d honed to perfection over fourteen years of parenting.

She trailed off, all of them fidgeting uncomfortably.

“I guess we were kind of...pushy,” Claire said while nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“It’s ok, you didn’t know any better,” he let out a deep breath “Once I make the call and get the ball rolling things are going to get pretty hectic for him,”

He slowly turned his head looking at each of them in turn “Going forward keeping the lines of communication open is important, especially if things start going south for him at home. The best way to help is to just continue being his friends and to stop trying to get him to turn on his mother,”

“So wait…” Mary sounded confused “You want us to just ignore the fact his mom locks him in the basement and pretend like everything’s normal?”

“Not….quite,” Louis sat back with a grimace “For whatever reason your friend clearly isn’t ready to come forward with this, so the best thing to do is be supportive in any other way you can,”

“Now,” he netted his hands together “You girls should not ignore any signs that further abuse is taking place, whether it’s something you see or something Jim says. But if he’s made it clear that he’s willing to outright lie, pushing him would do more harm than good. So if you ever do suspect anything else is happening, don’t confront him, but try and document it in any way you can and bring it to me,”

Louis let out a deep breath, knowing the worst part of this converstaion was about to come “In child abuse investigations not a lot happens right away. It often involves observing behavior patterns over a long period of time,” he steeled himself before he said the part he knew was going to break their hearts “And it’s more common than anyone would like to admit that not much comes of them,”

His chest tightened looking at their stricken faces, but he pushed forward.

“Which is why it’s so crucial to try and maintain your relationship with him, even if whatever investigation we start now doesn’t pan out to anything, if you stay on friendly terms, then you can still help him months, maybe even years down the line, do you understand all that?”

Darci’s looked crushed, expression barely concealing the horror he knew she must be feeling, and mirrored by both of her friends, but she responded all the same “Ok Dad,”

The other two girls forced themselves to reply as well.

“Got it,”

“Will do Mr. Scott,”

He looked over them carefully “So are you girls all doing ok?”

“Yep,”

“Yes,”

“Uh huh,”

“Good, and I promise I’m going to file all this first thing tomorrow,” he glanced at his watch “It’s getting late; Claire, Mary, we’re going to eat pretty soon, care to join us?”

Both girls shook their heads “No thanks,” Claire said “My mom’s expecting me back for dinner,”

“Do either of you need a ride?”

“It’s ok,” Mary added “We came here on our bikes so we can get home in plenty of time,”

“Alright, but don’t feel rushed, you two can stay here as long as you like,”

The two glanced at Darci, who gave her head a single shake.

“Actually we should really get going,” Claire stood up, pulling Mary up alongside her “Thanks again Mr. Scott,”

“Anytime girls, and I mean it,”

They turned back just long enough to wave and headed out the door, leaving just the two Scotts inside.

“You sure you’re doing ok pumpkin?”

“Dad I’m fine,” she forced the words out through one of the fakest smiled he’d ever seen “I’m just glad that Jim is going to get some help,”

“Well just remember, I’m always available whenever you aren’t fine. Even if you do something stupid like breaking and entering, I promise I’ll be more supportive than mad,”

She rolled her eyes “Da-ad! Just because you broke into the old vespa factory when you were in high school doesn’t mean everyone does!”

He chuckled “I know, but humor your old man, and go set the table while you’re at it, I’m getting hungry,”

Darci let out an impressively loud groan before getting up and obediently heading to the kitchen.

Louis watched her go, smile dropping off his face as she vanished from sight.

Part of him wanted to leap on what was clearly Darci pretending to be better than she felt, but he stopped himself. He had made it clear that he was available, now it was on her to reach out when she was ready.

He’d done his best to prepare her and her friends for some of the hard realities of this situation, but there were some things he hoped they never had to learn.

Louis had seen more than a few domestic abuse cases cross his desk. And on two occasions he had seen with his own two eyes just how ugly the endings to these cases could be.

He hoped to god this wasn’t going to turn into number three.

#tales of arcadia #Trollhunters #fanfic #A Secret's Worth #walter strickler #otto scaarbach #toby domzalski #detective scott #darci scott #claire nuñez #mary wang #rmvwrites

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dorizardthewizard · 4 years ago

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So I watched the Eurovision movie

Uh, I have a lot of thoughts because this is the closest we’re gonna get to the real thing this year ;^; First, the positives!

What they got right:

Overall, I like that it wasn’t really taking the piss out of the competition – whether you agree or not with how it was portrayed, the creators do have a lot of love for the show and that is reflected in how much it means to the characters. I think it was fitting to start with the kids watching and being inspired by ABBA’s win (I’m always up for showing people where the group’s fame started), and making it their life goal to perform in the contest. Just like Lars and Sigrit, many musicians in Europe grow up with Eurovision being an annual tradition and it’s their big dream to one day perform on that international stage, so yeah I think it decently showed how important ESC is here.

They got the overall vibe right too – most of the songs really felt like Eurovision songs (maybe a little dated but still), from the Viking-Europop opener to the Lordi-aesthetic one to whatever the hell Russia was doing. I don’t think Greece’s song was something they’d ever send though; it fits the character but not what the country typically sends. Then again, Estonia have sent an opera song in Italian and Romania sent yodel rap so actually, I take back that statement. They were missing a Balkan ballad though! Staging was on point – I think it was filmed at the Tel Aviv stage so that’s obviously a factor, but big angel wings and hamster wheels also bring a lot of familiarity :P No pianos being set on fire though, which, in a movie with so many on-stage disasters, is honestly surprising.

Of course there’s also the past contestant cameos, for that I’ll say one thing – needs more Verka. Maybe some contestants from earlier years would have been nice too, at least we did hear Céline Dion’s song in the song-along. Would also have been nice if the whole mashup was Eurovision songs, instead of throwing in some other ones just to make it more recognizable for non-Eurofans. Otherwise, the mashup was really seamless and sounded good.

Another thing the movie got right was European’s attitudes to Americans, not sure how I feel about it since the movie was made by Americans, but it’s self-aware and pretty funny :P There’s also the funny gag about countries not wanting to host because of how expensive it is, not sure why a guy working for the national broadcaster would care about that but looking at Iceland’s population size, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was also an economist for the government or something.

What they got wrong:

Of course, there were some things they didn’t quite get right. First of all, did the UK win for it to be hosted in Scotland??? Unless Australia won, or some other country that didn’t want to host or something. They actually made a joke about UK getting zero points, but they said it’s because no one likes us, when in reality we just send the blandest songs :/

There were also a whole lot of technical inaccuracies like Sweden breaking the rule on number of people allowed on stage, big five countries taking part in the semi-final (come on, how can you not get that right? Maybe they were afraid Americans wouldn’t recognise half the flags? :P), the contestants were just sitting by themselves in some room like it’s The Voice or something, their delegations nowhere to be seen, and then there’s the total lack of security or planning around the competition, with Lars just running around doing whatever. The countries presenting their votes in the semi-final stood out as well, but since we didn’t get to see the final I can brush over it, just so we experience the voting somewhere in the movie. Wonder why they didn’t use past contestants for the points announcements? They also had the French one speaking in English but you know what, they remembered to make sure he was standing in front of the Eiffel Tower so I’ll let them off :P

One thing that did bother me was how hard the movie tried to make us think the Icelandic song was a failure, except the song wasn’t even bad so they had to resort to all the incidents on stage. They even had that complete silence after the hamster wheel incident, and there is NO WAY that would ever happen – even the null points songs get cheers! In fact, people would cheer harder, and I don’t think Graham Norton, or anyone for that matter, would be that surprised that people remembered the song and actually gave it points (oh yeah, great to see him in this!).

Okay, some of those inaccuracies were nitpicks, but they’re just fun to point out. I don’t think they quite nailed the portrayal though, but more on that later.

The movie itself:

Judging the rest of the film, the humour really didn’t do it for me- it was just kind of jarring that one half of the movie felt like your usual light-hearted music contest film that was fairly rooted in reality, then the next there’s a dismembered ghost of Demi Lovato and a guy getting stabbed by Elves??? I know it’s classic Will Ferrel random comedy but honestly, those parts could have been cut out of the movie just fine, it’s like half an hour too long anyway and you can tell by the way the humour drags. It can basically be summarised by the ending scene where Lars is yelling at the Americans and then just keeps going, and I know that’s the joke in that scene but they do this throughout the whole movie – something will happen and the characters will keep reacting back and forth and it’s honestly exhausting. That might just be me though, maybe I’d prefer more witty and self-aware humour in a Eurovision movie but I guess non-fans wouldn’t get half the jokes so they went for over-the-top ridiculousness ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

As for the characters, Sigrit was great; she’s a good mix between cute and weird. Lars is… annoying tbh, maybe I just don’t care for Will Ferrel's character type but when Alexander asks Lars what he can possibly offer Sigrit I was like “yeah Lars, what CAN you offer?”. Their relationship was cute though and his arc about caring too much about winning was decent, it does kind of resonate with Eurovision because yeah, lots of countries will revamp their songs to have English lyrics and the style is increasingly converging to Americanized radio-friendly pop music. I do wish they’d focused more on this conflict, rather than bringing in a love square (?) with Alexander and Mita.

Speaking of Alexander, I actually liked how they portrayed the Russian character; he wasn’t a villain, he was fun to watch and was genuinely happy to see Sigrit succeed. I did not expect them to go there with the whole “there are no gays in Russia” thing – I laughed but also actually felt for the guy, and his friendship with Mita was peak mlm/wlw solidarity, it was sweet.

The ending:

For me, this is where it goes American Hollywood style and kinda reminds me of Madonna’s speech about everyone being winners. Felt like I was watching Camp Rock for a second then (which is funny since Demi is in this movie) – all the other acts are fun songs but we’ll just change ours to a ballad so it must be more heartfelt and resonate with the audience, as if a good chunk of ESC songs aren’t ballads already!! To be fair, they do well in having it be a personal song about her hometown and adding in parts in Icelandic (although I’ve heard it’s so butchered you can’t understand what’s being said), it’s a sweet ode to one of the best parts of Eurovision – celebrating where you’re from and making your country proud.

Wish they’d focused more on that tbh, we really could have done without Lars speaking to the audience – that’s the more Hollywood moment for me and kind of reminds me of acts that try to connect with the audience like it’s a concert. Sorry but we don’t do that here :P Instead of the “music is feeling”-like message, it would have been nice if the movie was more directed towards celebrating why the contest is so big and important even decades after it began, and how it literally brings an entire continent together for one night. This would have been nice especially because of all the cynicism towards ESC and its dismissal as just a dumb, campy event with no quality music whatsoever.

Huh, I just remembered there are no live instruments at Eurovision so how everyone can hear the piano at the end is beyond me, also the instrumental kicks in despite the fact that that song has never been recorded in a studio, let alone able to be played out loud onstage. But I’ll just imagine that’s for us to see, the audience actually just heard her singing and nothing else. I don’t think it would have been that impressive, so Iceland probably won everyone’s hearts through memes instead :’D

Overall, I don’t think the movie was terribly offensive or anything, just some silly fun that missed out on the potential of better portraying the Eurovision spirit. I might eventually watch it again, but with skipping out half the comedy :P

#eurovision #esc #eurovision movie #the story of fire saga #feel free to share thoughts if you were crazy enough to read all this!#my posts

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angsty-aliens · 5 years ago

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Truck Stop Knives And Other Accessories Of Childhood (3/3)

Final chapter of my inner child fic which was supposed to be a short little one shot and has evolved into a verse.

Alien tech has manifested an inner child for Michael. And that child has a knife.

Thank you again to the many people who helped beta and brainstorm, especially @jocarthage, @haloud, and @foramomentonly. You can read the whole fic on Ao3

***

Morning came earlier than Michael wanted. Apparently the downside to sharing a bed with Alex was Alex still operated on military time, and although he certainly tried to let Michael sleep in, by 7am he couldn’t resist tracing a finger across an eyebrow and down his cheek. Michael didn’t mind. There were worse ways to be woken up, then the gentle caress of Alex Manes touching his face.

At some point in the night, Alex ended up curled loosely against the curve of Michael’s back. He fit perfectly and it felt right. Michael could feel the swell of his cock slotted against the back of his boxer briefs, and he couldn’t help but arch back slightly, chasing the feeling. Alex chuckled, and tugged Michael flat on his back so he could peer down at him, propped up on an elbow.

“Hands above the waist?”

Michael leered with an exaggerated eyebrow waggle, “pretty sure your hands were above my waist.”

Alex laughed, “always gotta find the loophole, Guerin.”

They kissed softly, noses bumping together in their eagerness.

After a few minutes of lazy making out, Alex reluctantly separated. “Do we think Mikey is still asleep?”

Michael thunked his head back against the pillow with a sigh, “Mikey is definitely not still asleep. I never slept through the night in a new placement. Even though he should KNOW he’s safe here with me, I guarantee he’s been awake for hours.”

“Should I be worried about my cabin?”

“He’s not gonna burn down your cabin, Alex.”

Alex tried to sooth him, “I know that. I’m not worried about that.”

Michael grudgingly sat up and retrieved his pants from the floor. “Only one way to see…”

It took them a few minutes for Alex to attach his prosthetic and for them to get dressed. Alex tried to exit the bedroom quietly in case Michael was wrong about the boy sleeping, but sure enough, the kid was fully dressed and reassembling the toaster on his coffee table. The couch had been stripped of all bedding, and every quilt was folded neatly and tucked unobtrusively to the side. Alex’s laundry basket was full of neatly folded clothing. The boy obviously emptied the dryer when he woke up, and tried to tidy up on his own. He did a good job. A better job than Alex expected any eleven year old to do. He had practice at this.

Michael tousled the kid’s hair on the way to the kitchen, “do you want oatmeal for breakfast or pizza?”

The kid was focused on his task, and carefully screwed in part of the toaster, “pizza!”

Alex was distracted, “uh, oatmeal.” He looked around again, “thank you Mikey for cleaning up. You didn’t have to do that. I didn’t expect you to do that.”

The screwdriver hit the table as the boy looked up in alarm, “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have touched your stuff.”

“No, no it’s okay. I appreciate that you folded the laundry. You just didn’t NEED to do that. You’re a guest.” Alex tried to think of a way to salvage this exchange because the boy was definitely panicking, thinking he was in trouble. “If you want to help, we can give you chores. We can all share the chores. How does that sound?”

Mikey carefully picked the screwdriver back up again, “... I can do chores.”

Alex nodded solemnly at Mikey, a bargain struck, and he walked into the kitchen to kiss the back of Guerin’s neck, while hugging him from behind. “Why is he being a Stepford Wife?”

Michael continued to slowly move about the kitchen to heat up Alex’s oatmeal, while Alex held him like a limpet. “He promised to be nice to you.”

“Why is he tidier than you are? You leave your clothing everywhere and he’s cleaned everything up like I hired a maid service.”

Michael ran a soothing hand across Alex’s arms, locked tightly across his stomach. “Some houses liked that. Some houses required it. Religious freaks definitely required it. He’s just covering his bases. Don’t make it a big deal.”

Alex kissed his neck again and rubbed his cold nose into Michael’s curls, “I’m glad you leave messes. It drives me crazy sometimes, but I’m glad you’re comfortable enough to leave a mess.”

Michael pulled two cold slices of pizza out of the fridge and laughed, “thanks?”

Alex turned him in his arms so he was hugging him properly. Usually Michael was the clingy one, but the kid rattled him. Alex wanted affection dammit.

The two men stood in the middle of the kitchen, arms tight around each other when the kid waltzed in and grabbed his slice of cold pizza. The boy smirked at Michael, “good slumber party, huh?”

Michael raised a middle finger as the kid laughed.

Mikey smirked, “Just bros being bros! Totally platonic!”

And with his hands full of pizza, the boy disappeared back into the living room to finish working on the toaster.

With a sigh, Michael shrugged, “well he said he’d TRY to be nicer.”

***

Having an eleven year old alien around the house was both simpler and more complicated than Alex anticipated. The kid didn’t leave any big messes. He was actually obsessively clean. It was like there was no kid there at all. If Alex didn’t watch him sit at the coffee table, silently putting his toaster back together with the crust of cold pizza sticking out of the side of his mouth like a cigar, Alex could almost believe he was alone. Mikey was silent and contained. He hunched up small like he didn’t think he deserved to take up too much space. Apparently being ‘nice’ meant disappearing.

Guerin on the other hand left his boots kicked into a corner of his bedroom. His hat was on top of a lamp. His side of the bed was a rumpled mess. And he was currently humming a country song enthusiastically and off key. Alex had no question where Michael was at all times. He could close his eyes and still know, because Michael was an ever moving force of nature. Even when he tried to sit still, his knee bounced, his head swayed, his hands tapped out tunes on the arm rest. He was full of kinesthetic energy.

The complicated part of having an eleven year old alien in the house was Alex was pretty sure his couch cushions were hiding a myriad of snacks. The kid thought he was subtle, but he kept reaching between the seat cushions and nodding to himself with satisfaction. Michael insisted Alex leave it be. Apparently no conversations were needed about his couch becoming a vending machine.

The boy also didn’t have the habits most kids were taught at a very young age. Alex had to herd him into the bathroom to brush his teeth. And when Michael argued that tooth brushing was only required when his breath got nasty, Alex herded his boyfriend into the bathroom too. They could brush teeth together, like a family. A weird little Lilo and Stitch family.

Mikey had only been at the cabin for two days, but Alex couldn’t imagine a time when he didn’t exist. Isobel brought a bag of clothing and necessities from Walmart and he shrunk smaller and smaller every time she pulled out a new item, arms curled around his stomach. Like he was being buried under the invisible weight of the clothing. A new toothbrush made his shoulder hunch up to his ears, Star Wars themed pajamas had him hugging his knees to his chest, the new shoes made him tuck his chin into his arms and shrink. Michael had hugged his sister and ushered her out of the cabin before the kid could diminish any further.

Isobel meant well. “They’re Star Wars pajamas! The same design as Luke Skywalker’s flight suit! Because you always talked about wanting to see the stars.”

She meant so well.

Later Michael whispered that the kid was feeling the debt. He wasn’t used to people being nice to him without an ulterior motive. There was a currency to kindness and the boy wasn’t sure when the bill would come or what they’d ask of him. It reminded Alex of being seventeen in his father’s shed, handing Michael his brother’s guitar and watching his guard go up.

“Sometimes people can be nice for no reason.”

“Not in my experience.”

Things were clicking into place. An equation finally making sense. And all he could do was hug Michael a little tighter and hope he could give Mikey a better experience for as long as they had him.

The boy presented him with his toaster. Alex was positive the toaster was never really broken. The side was a bit dinged up from when it got knocked off the counter a few months ago. And the knob was stuck on 4, but Alex liked 4. It meant his toast was dark brown which was fine. It was perfectly adequate. He could live with 4. But now the knob turned freely, giving him every option of crispiness for his toast. And the ding had been buffed out. The kid made the toaster work like new. When Alex told him that, Mikey stood up straighter. The boy tried not to smile at the praise. In a fit of bravery, Alex reached out to toustle his hair like he watched Michael do, and the boy closed his eyes for a second and actually grinned. He could only bear Alex’s attention for a second before running off into the backyard. Like he wasn’t sure what to do with praise. It didn’t fit him comfortably, and he had to run away. Alex knew that feeling. Jesse Manes didn’t believe in praise either. Alex remembered the discomfort the first time a PE teacher congratulated him on his endurance. It felt like the comments had to be mocking. He was being made fun of. It took a long time to realize the coach was being genuine.

Michael sat next to him on the couch and kissed his cheek. “What are we doing, Alex?”

“I have no idea. I didn’t really write this into my planner. I guess we’re winging it.”

“Are we moving too fast? We went from not dating, to dating, to playing house with an eleven year old. I don’t want to ruin this.”

Alex covered Michael’s hand with his own, “We’ve been on and off for a decade. It’s not like we’re strangers. I think keeping things PG for a while between us is a good idea, but we can watch Mikey and it won’t ruin anything.”

The kid was running in circles in the backyard. If there was a game, Alex couldn’t figure it out. It just looked like circles for the sake of circles. Making himself dizzy enough to fall down.

Michael’s phone started to buzz. Who would call instead of text? The name “Liz Ortecho” flashed and he reluctantly swiped to answer.

Liz’s voice came out in a rush, “Don’t be mad.” “Elizabeth Ortecho, no good news ever came after the statement - don't be mad.”

Liz continued, “Okay I know we were going to wait to mess with the disk until we could be at the lab together, but I…”

Michael scrubbed a hand over his face, “Oh god Liz, what did you do?”

“It’s not bad! Hey, put me on speakerphone so I don’t have to repeat this to Alex later.”

Michael placed the phone between them and pushed a button.

“You’re on speaker,” Alex was puzzled but supportive, “Liz are you okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. I was pressing different glyphs on the disk and I think I may have accidentally accessed a user manual. Kind of. It sort of was like a psychic connection, either I accessed a user manual, or it caused me to have a psychotic break.”

“Liz.” Alex looked at Michael in alarm.

Her voice took on a higher pitch, “It’s fine! I took notes!”

Michael rolled his eyes, “THAT is not the part we’re worried about!”

Liz ignored them, “Okay so this is what I wrote down: the disk IS a therapy tool. Its intended purpose is to encourage the patient to reconnect with a difficult point in their life and by interacting with the construct the patient develops a healthier understanding of their past.”

Michael interrupted her, “Liz I hope this thing didn’t give you brain cancer.”

“Shut up.”

“Or worse, you could have accidentally triggered your own mini Ortecho.”

Irritation colored her voice, “Michael, let me finish. The connection wasn’t in English. It was all concepts, so I’m not sure I’m translating it right. Mikey is real. He’s a real kid and he’ll age like a real kid. You’ve gotta make peace with yourself, forgive yourself, and when you’re ready you both hold onto the disk and you meld back together. It doesn’t hurt him. He’s part of you. And if you never touch the disk again, Mikey stays. He’ll grow up like any normal child. We should probably run tests on both of you though, just to see. Kyle can give you both a physical.”

Michael shook his head, “The kid is NOT going to like Valenti.”

Liz insisted, “Kyle’s great with kids. It’ll be fine.”

“Your funeral.”

Alex elbowed Michael, “Okay so why didn’t the disk meld them back together when they both touched it a few days ago?”

Liz said, “It won’t work until Michael deals with his childhood trauma.”

Michael laughed, “Sure, I can just deal with my trauma. I’ll go see a therapist and talk about my abandonment issues that began when my family crash landed in Roswell in 1947. Easy.”

Alex put a comforting hand on his shoulder, “You could talk to a therapist and leave out the alien details. You were abandoned. Your siblings were adopted and you weren’t. You survived a string of abusive foster homes. These are all human problems.”

Michael shrugged, dislodging the hand, “Therapists are expensive. You can’t just go talk to one. It’s cheaper to drink beer.”

Liz’s voice piped up through the cell phone, “Super healthy coping mechanism, Michael.”

Michael deflected, “So ANYWAY, if we don’t touch the disk, Mikey stays? And if we do touch the disk after I sell an alien kidney to talk to a shrink, then Mikey gets sucked back into me?”

He could almost hear the grimace in her voice, “Gross way to put it, but yes.”

“Okay thanks Ortecho. Don’t push anymore buttons on the disk. Max would cry if your brain melted.” Michael hung up the phone, turned to Alex and interlaced their fingers, “I can always take him back to the airstream. We can get out of your hair. I don’t know how long he’ll be here. You don’t just get over a shitty childhood in a day and go eat ice cream.”

Alex squeezed his hand, “I want you to stay here. I want you both to stay here. We can always clean out the extra bedroom. Right now it’s full of boxes from when I packed up Jim’s stuff. I can ask Kyle to go through it and keep what he wants. It’d be easy to turn that back into a bedroom.”

“Not your creepy murder basement?”

“Definitely not the creepy murder basement.” Alex considered, “Although actually I could probably store the boxes in there!”

Alex nodded and continued, “If the kid is here for longer than a week, we can make long term plans. I can forge paperwork. Say you’re the father and you didn’t know about him. His mother moved out of Roswell and dropped him off out of the blue.”

“I would have been sixteen or seventeen when I slept with the mother. A teenage father, how scandalous… but sort of on brand for me.”

“Maybe she was a tourist? Not anyone any of the locals would remember.”

Michael laughed, “Okay so Mikey is the result of a hook up between teenage me, and an adult out of town tourist. Yeah, this is definitely sounding like something I’d do.”

Alex was starting to become more comfortable with this plan. He loved having a plan. “So we’d need a name. Michael is a super common name and maybe she liked you enough to give him your first name, but he’d need a new last name.”

“Truman. My mom’s name was Nora Truman. I don’t care what name his fake mom has, and I don’t really want people thinking I slept with someone named Nora Truman, but he could be Michael Truman. I could have been Michael Truman if my mom got me out of the pods.”

Alex watched the boy fall down and get back up to run even tighter circles. “Maybe we can let Mikey pick out his fake mom’s name. Let him have some sort of agency, and feel involved in these choices. Are you okay with me helping you?”

“Like am I okay with you co-parenting my weird alien inner child?” Michael raised an eyebrow, “This week is so weird. Yes. Please, please help me. I barely kept myself alive for twenty one years on my own. I don’t trust myself to watch TWO of me.”

Alex tugged him closer, “you did a great job on your own. And you’d do a great job now. You just shouldn’t have HAD to have done it alone as a kid, and I don’t want you to be alone now. I want to help. I don’t think we should enroll him in school anytime soon. We should try and figure out more. But I like having some sort of idea of where we’re going here.”

“You and me, and my feral little monster who has a knife”

“Wait, he has a knife?” Alex sat up.

“Oh yeah. I didn’t mention that? It’s a pocketknife. I gave it back to him because I knew he wouldn’t stab you, and you could disarm him if he tried.” Michael appeased, “Which he won’t. I promise he won’t stab you.”

“He’s not a little monster.” Michael seemed distracted so Alex tugged on a curl to get his attention and repeated, “He’s not a little monster. And YOU’RE not a little monster. He’s a kid and we’re gonna make sure he eats a vegetable every once in awhile, and goes to sleep at a decent hour. We can do this.”

“I mean we’re already doing a better job than any of my foster homes.”

“That bar is pretty low.”

“And yet it exists.”

They eased back on the couch and watched Mikey play.

***

Michael leaned against the backdoor watching his shrinky dink alien run. The kid was playing some sort of weird running game with rules only he knew, and that Michael definitely didn’t remember. One foot managed to get hooked behind the other and the kid landed hard on his ass. Michael winced in sympathy. “Is your butt okay?”

The kid retorted, “is your BRAIN okay?

Michael shrugged, “If your butt hurts we can get Max to heal it. We don’t let him use his powers much anymore since I turned him into a cyborg with an alien pacemaker, but he could heal your butt. You’d just end up with a shiny silver handprint… on your butt. And Max could spy on your feelings, and you’d get to wallow in his poetic angst and guilt.”

The kid narrowed his eyes, “I can’t even tell if you’re kidding. Is that real? Max can heal? But with a handprint and psychic link?”

“Yep.”

Mikey huffed in irritation, “Pretty sure you’re making stuff up, but whatever. What can Isobel do? Fly but she poops alien glitter as a side effect?”

“You should DEFINITELY tell Isobel your theories.” Michael laughed, “But no, she can get into people's brains and influence them.”

Mikey side eyed him, “does she do that to us?”

“No. She promised. Sometimes she can get inside my head but she promises she won’t try to influence us. I don’t even know if she can. She’s only tried the brain thing when she needed to tell me something she couldn’t say out loud.” Michael grimaced, “I didn’t like it. She doesn’t do it often. Apparently our brain is tough and she usually has to puke if she tries anything. SHE says it’s because we’re guarded and paranoid. I think it’s because we’re awesome.”

Michael offered up a hand to high five and the kid pushed past him to the kitchen instead. Ouch.

The kid was getting a glass of water and rummaging around the fridge which made Michael grin. It took awhile to get Mikey to stop asking permission for every single thing. But Michael remembered all the homes that had strict rules about the kitchen. The religious zealots had a lock on the fridge to discourage their charges from greed. Apparently a kid being hungry was the mortal sin of gluttony.

With his head still in the fridge the kid absentminded asked, “Max is a cyborg?”

“He ended up with a heart issue. Long story. I made him a pacemaker and he’s fine now.” Michael wrinkled his nose, “Mostly.”

Mikey kicked the door shut with his hands full of food. “That’s good. Isobel would miss him if something happened to him.”

Michael pulled down a plate to help the boy make a sandwich, “Yeah, Isobel would miss him.”

The two of them stood side by side making sandwiches. It was good. Eating when hungry. Michael had gotten so used to caregivers forgetting to feed him, that he trained himself to ignore hunger. Unless it was really bad, it didn’t bother him so much anymore. Grabbing a granola bar for breakfast and then working straight through until seven or eight pm wasn’t unusual. It just seemed like a waste of energy to worry about what was for lunch when for so many years there was no lunch. Michael grew up loving school. Not only was it a place he excelled, but he also got breakfast and lunch every day there. He never understood the jokes about how gross cafeteria food was. For him, it was the closest thing to a home cooked meal he was ever gonna get. A sloppy joe served by Mrs. Riley every wednesday at New Roswell High, was his version of a dinner cooked by mom. Summers and Winter break were hard. No school meant no little plastic trays with cartons of chocolate milk and plastic silverware. School was a good place. Michael had liked school.

He cut the sandwiches in half like he’d watched Alex do. It seemed nicer that way. The kid carefully took his plate with two hands. No danger of dropping it. And Michael grabbed plates for himself and Alex, and took them to the table. Lunch. Yet another new thing Michael was trying.

They’d have to figure out what to do the longer Mikey stayed. Michael and Alex both took the day off of work, but the kid would need to go somewhere during the day starting soon. Maybe Max or Isobel. Max was still doing night shifts at the Pony and Isobel was taking a sabbatical from her event planning business. If they went public with the story that Mikey was Michael’s son, he could hang out in the junkyard with him. Michael could fix cars and there were a thousand things the kid could play with. Most foster homes didn’t let Michael fiddle with things. But he loved taking stuff apart and putting it back together. A junkyard was a perfect playground for an engineering genius.

Mikey and Alex were having an animated conversation about the merits of Ninja Turtles. Apparently Alex thought Leonardo was the best because he was the leader and was the most focused. Mikey insisted it was Michelangelo because of… pizza. And honestly, Michael had to agree. Pizza always wins. He grinned at his boys and took another huge bite of his sandwich. Maybe this would work after all.

***

Sleeping in Alex’s bed was never going to get old. There was a Michael shaped divot on the right side of the mattress. Even when he got up, he could see the impression of his body. Alex insisted this meant the mattress was shitty and he needed a new one, but Michael liked the evidence he was there.

He curled up closer to Alex and let his hand rest on his hip, technically breaking the hands above the waist rule but so long as his hand didn’t move, it seemed safe enough. His thumb fit perfectly in the hollow of Alex’s hip. He had rubbed a gentle circle when the part of his brain connected to Mikey pinged a distress call again. With a sigh he climbed out of bed, and hoped he didn’t wake Alex as he left.

The kid was sitting up on the couch wrapped in a quilt. Mikey picked at a loose thread on the knee of his Star Wars pajamas. Michael sat next to him and let him lean his weight against his side.

“Bad dream?”

The kid shrugged and pulled his knees up to his chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Mikey shook his head. A few minutes later he blurted, “I heard you and Alex.”

“Heard us what?”

Mikey rocked a little in place, “Talking about how the disk works. How you gotta talk about your emotions so we meld together like a transformer, Mega-Michael, or you’re stuck with me.”

Michael protested, “I don’t have to talk about my emotions.”

“Sometimes you gotta share your fart with the world. You keep it all squeezed up in your butt and it gives you a stomach ache. You just gotta let it out to feel better.”

“My emotions aren’t farts.” Michael crossed his arms defensively.

“But your face is a fart,”

“We have the same face!”

The kid smirked, “Nah, I look awesome. You look constipated.”

Mikey became quiet and serious. He pressed his body against Michael’s side, trying to become a Mega-Michael without alien technology. “You gotta be okay with the bad stuff that happened to us. You’ve gotta… not blame me.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“You blame yourself. I blame me. Bad things happened everywhere we went. We were the only constant factor in the experiment, therefore we’re the variable at fault. It’s just science.”

Michael wrapped both arms around the kid, “I don’t blame you.”

The boy huffed, “You’re stuck with me for awhile. If we don’t touch the disk, you could be stuck with me forever.”

Michael rested his chin on the kid’s head, “That wouldn’t totally suck.”

Mikey closed his eyes, “Alex might not be a fan of this plan.”

“Alex likes this plan.” The Michaels looked up as Alex spoke with a smile. At some point he wandered into the hallway unnoticed. His shoulder was against the wall and he leaned heavily on his crutch. He had been eavesdropping.

The kid tried to push himself out of Michael’s hug, but Michael just squeezed him tighter.

Mikey insisted, “You won’t like me. I’m a mess.”

Alex sat on the other side of him and wrapped an arm around his boys, “I like messes.”

“No you don’t. You’re clean. You make your bed perfectly every morning and you always do your dishes. You’d get tired of me. I’m loud.”

“The cabin was too quiet anyway.”

“I’m… I’m mean. I’ll say mean things.”

Alex ran a hand through the boy’s curls, “It’s okay. You can say mean things and we’ll still like you. You can still stay here. We’re choosing you. We want you to stay.”

Mikey tried to push at the arms embracing him. He kicked at Michael as his eyes welled up, “I’m gonna break all the stuff you like!”

Michael winced as a bony heel caught his thigh, “Yeah but we can fix it. Anything you break we can fix together.”

It was like someone cut the strings of a dancing marionette. The kid lost all fight and fat tear drops streamed down his face to his horror. “You’re gonna change your mind.”

Michael looked at Alex, a silent conversation happening above the boy’s head. Michael wiped a glob of snot off the kid’s face with the hem of his shirt. “We’re picking you. On purpose. We want you to stay. Do you want to stay?”

Mikey took a great shuddering breath and nodded.

Alex thumbed away a tear, “Then as long as you want us, we want to keep you.”

It wasn’t a conventional family. It wasn’t something Michael ever thought he’d have. But Michael, Alex, and Mikey could pick each other. That was a thing they could do. And they’d be okay.

#my fic #inner child fic #rnm fic #michael guerin fic #michael guerin #alex manes #feral stabby baby #cw child abuse #tw child abuse #roswell new mexico fic #deaging #kind of #truck stop knives and other accessories of childhood

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thehunterwithanangel · 4 years ago

Text

Not Done Yet A Destiel One Shot for post 15x18 and what I want to happen (but probably wont)

Ship: Destiel (Dean Winchester/Castiel)

Word Count: 4,362

Written by: thehunterwithanangel

Notes/Warnings: Very angsty Dean but ends drowning in fluff, some language

The words played on a loop in Dean’s head for what felt like hours before he could process them, at least that’s how he felt; ‘I love you…’ ‘I love you…’ ‘I love you…’ over and over again.

For a brief moment Dean sat in total denial, there’s no way Cas, his Cas actually just said that, only he did and now he was gone. Dean started to cry, and not just a few tears, he started to sob; at first he told himself it was from the shock, but once that settled and he was still left feeling like somebody had just ripped his heart from his chest, he knew it was more. Dean shut down, as he always did when something highly emotional happened, and next thing he knew Sam and Jack were shaking him back to reality.

Dean wasn’t sure how long he’d been sat there but time was irrelevant to him the moment Cas disappeared into the empty; in fact, nothing at all mattered to him right then because all he could focus on was those three words, still on loop what must actually be hours later. Dean also wasn’t sure how he got back to the bunker, he guessed Sam drove Baby when he realised Dean was in no fit state to drive (he would have to argue with him about that some other time); but here he was, staring at his bedroom ceiling feeling so unfathomably empty, and not the fun ‘give zero fucks’ soulless way, in the way that makes you disconnect from your own body mentally because being in it is just too painful…

Three days went by with Dean staying much of the same way, only really talking to say ‘Cas is gone, the empty took him’ and multiple counts of ‘go away’ and ‘leave me alone’. Dean didn’t eat or drink, he barely even slept because every time he closed his eyes, there was Cas saying ‘I love you…’ all over again; the only time he ever got any sleep was after many hours of disassociating and silent sobbing...

The thing is, even though Dean was clearly devastated, he refused to admit to himself as to why. Why even though he’d lost Cas before, hell, had Cas die before, that this time was different; in the back of his mind he knew, of course he knew, but admitting to himself he knew only meant opening himself up to more pain right now and he just couldn’t do it, not now…

It had been a month since Cas had been gone, physically Dean was okay again, thanks to many, many, many, attempts to get him being a human again from Sam and Jack; Mentally though, he was still destroyed, still refusing to talk about Cas or anything that happened that day, and despite pushing him a couple times, the others knew it wasn’t going to work, he would talk when he was ready, if he was ever ready.

It had gotten to the point that the others wondered if Dean had completely repressed what had happened though, because his level of fine-ness was almost too much. Little did they know it was quite the opposite.

A normal day, normal routine, normal conversations, everything was normal to everyone, except Dean. Dean felt almost itchy as he could feel the pain clawing it’s way back to the surface, ready to ruin him again; and his time he didn’t know if he would survive it. So Dean made some excuse about needing pie and took off driving, maybe if he could distract himself with Baby long enough he could push away the hurt once more; at least that was his plan…

For a couple hours it worked. He kept his feelings at bay and enjoyed the road, but then it happened, an otherwise fun energetic song kicked up from his radio, a song he’d loved to annoy Sam with before, a song he played after they had a successful hunt for example; but now all it carried was pain because this wasn’t just his feel good song, it had become Cas’ too, and that hit way too close to home for Dean. In a split second he slammed on his breaks, shut off the radio, and froze, tears pouring down his face as his hands gripped tightly to the steering wheel, while he tried to hold on to his okay reality for just a little longer. It didn’t work.

Dean’s body was shaking so hard from the uncontrollable sobbing that every muscle hurt, he gasped for air as the sobs stole the air from his lungs, his vision so blurred from all the tears he wasn’t even sure if he was conscious anymore; and then he said it, the thing he’d been pushing away for weeks, even years if he was being totally honest with himself, out in fuck-knows-where USA, a complete and utter wreck, barely able to function let alone speak, but the words find their way out of his mouth regardless:

“I love you too Cas” Dean choked out, his voice ruined from all the crying. For a fleeting moment Dean hoped Cas could hear him, could know that even though he may be trapped in the empty, he is still so loved by Dean.

Dean cursed at himself once the words left his mouth, not because he regretted saying them, but because it had taken each of them so damn long to just say it! The truth was Dean always knew deep down but was so scared of losing what they had, he never said anything. ‘Chuck must be laughing at me right now’ he thought; I mean how ironic that he realised he didn’t say it as to not lose Cas after losing Cas…

Some time later Dean had recomposed himself and while he still felt shattered, that was accompanied with a new sense of determination.

“I love you Cas and somehow, some way, I’m gonna bring you home” Dean said assuredly to himself before shifting Baby into drive and speeding back to the bunker (probably much faster than was anywhere close to safe). He could do this.

Meanwhile at the bunker everyone was freaking out trying to find Dean; it had been about eight hours since he had ‘left to get pie’, he wasn’t answering his phone, which was going straight to voice-mail, no hints, no notes, nothing; and based on Dean’s current mental health everyone was on edge fearing he’d done something dumb and reckless.

Dean stopped off at a rest stop to get snacks when the thought crossed his mind he should probably turn his phone back on. He hadn’t meant to go MIA, he just had a lot on his mind and he needed one less thing to think about for a while, which accidentally turned into a long while. Once his phone was rebooted, a pang of guilt shot through him, he was greeted by missed calls from pretty much every single person he knew, and even a couple numbers he didn’t recognise; in total there were at least a couple hundred calls, though Dean didn’t bother to count after the first 50 or so, it was a lot regardless.

“Ah shit.” Dean muttered to himself as he walked back to his car “I should say something to Sam at least” Dean decided before sending a quick ‘I’m fine omw home now’ text to Sam. His chest tightened in fear, or joy, Dean wasn’t sure, at the thought of having to tell Sam what had happened with Cas and how Dean felt and how he had to get him back, yikes, definitely not something you say over text; Dean laughed at the thought of sending a text that was just ‘hey bro btw Cas said he loved me and I love him too so we’re getting him back’ and the chaotic side of him almost did it, but he knew it was going to be more complicated than that so thought better of it. Another thing that made him laugh was Sam’s text back

‘Good, when you’re back I’m going to kill you :)’

He wouldn’t actually kill him obviously but Dean could feel the passive aggressiveness though his phone and he knew Sam was pissed.

A few hours and Dean was pulling into the bunker and swinging open the door, very shortly followed by Sam slapping him across the back of the head.

“Do you have any idea--!” Sam began but to angry to finish “You couldn’t be bothered to turn your phone on sooner--!” He tried again “What the hell Dean!?” He yelled before pulling Dean into a tight hug.

“Sorry, lost track of time…” Dean said matter-of-factly

“Lost track of….Unbelievable” Sam muttered shaking his head in disbelief. The was a brief moment of pure silence and Dean held his breath, knowing Sam was about to lose it. “YOU DISAPPEAR FOR LIKE NINE HOURS AND ALL YOU CAN SAY IS YOU LOST TRACK OF TIME!? ARE YOU SERIOUS!? DID IT NOT OCCUR TO YOU THAT THE FACT YOU WERE DEPRESSED AFTER CAS AND THEN JUST VANISHED COULD BE WORRYING!?!?” Sam yelled; it wasn’t very often he was legitimately mad at Dean, but right now, he definitely was.

“I’m sorry! Look I’ll explain, but not until you agree to stop yelling” Dean pleaded; Sam took a deep breath.

“Okay okay I’m calm now what is it?” Sam asked

“I…” Dean started, his voice shaking “Okay uh, first I need whiskey.” He decided, heading to their bar area; he was going to need some liquid courage to say it to other people, hell, it took him over a decade to admit it to himself. “Okay I…” nope that wasn’t it, he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He could do this. He decided it was better to say it all at once because saying it was the hardest part. “When Cas got taken by the empty it wasn’t totally random apparently he made a deal to save Jack and this was his price only it wasn’t just about him being taken that I was freaking out” Dean explained pausing to breathe “Before it took him he had this big speech about how I’m the reason he cares about anyone, how saving me opened him up to being able to feel and how I’m a better person than I think I am” Dean continued, paraphrasing, because even though that whole speech was burned into his memory forever, that was a big deal for him and Cas and he wasn’t about to share every detail. There was one thing he had to tell them though, or they’d never understand why he acted the way he did. “…He also told me he loved me and it felt way more like an ‘I’m in love with you’ than not and so I was freaking out because holy shit what and then I froze” Dean paused as a lump formed in his throat and tears welled in his eyes as his heart filled with regret all over again. “I…I should’ve said something, done something, I shouldn’t have just stood there, especially because the next second he was pushing me out of the way of the empty…I should’ve saved him…” Dean rambled, choking back tears at the last phrase. A heavy silence hung in the air as neither Sam nor Jack knew if they should speak first or if Dean had more to share; eventually Sam spoke up.

“At least he’s gone knowing he saved Jack though right? And took out Billie” Sam pointed out trying to find the silver lining. Dean breathed out a laugh as few tears finally fell; his head falling into his hands.

“But I didn’t get to say it back” Dean said quietly, his head still pointed at the floor

“What?” Sam and Jack said in unison, Dean looked up at them, eyes still full of tears

“I didn’t get to say it back.” Dean repeated, louder this time, more sure of his words. “I wanted to say it back but he was gone before I could so I shut down” Dean added, his heart pounding because he actually did it, he told them; he watched them for a moment trying to gauge a reaction. For a while nothing happened and Dean wondered if he’d actually said it or not, but then Sam and Jack looked at each other, then began grinning and laughing lightly. Dean blinked a few times, confused.

“Well it’s about. damn. time.” Sam said shaking his head laughing

“W-What…?” Dean asked

“Dean we’ve known for years” Jack explained casually, Dean did a double take at that.

“And nobody thought to mention it!?”

“Well no…we figured you’d tell us you were together eventually…” Sam told him to which Dean’s mouth fell open.

“Well guess what I didn’t even realise how I felt until he was gone so thanks for that!” Dean informed them, his tone kind of harsh because he could’ve avoided a lot of pain if they had said something sooner.

“Oh…Oh no” Jack said, his hand moving swiftly to cover his mouth

“Oh we screwed up bad” Sam said, more to himself

“You can make up for it by helping me get him back” Dean told them bluntly

“Dean…how..? I mean every other time it was Chuck or Jack but Jack is powerless and Chuck definitely isn’t going to…” Sam pointed out

“I don’t know Sammy but after everything we’ve been though I have to try everything I can, he has to know I love him too” Dean replied frantically

“Dean…He knew. Even if he didn’t hear you say it, he knew” Jack assured him

“Even if he did I refuse to let the time I want him back the most to be the one time it doesn’t happen”

“Okay, where do we start?” Sam asked and with that they set about making a plan to bring Cas home.

They tried every lead, every contact, every spell, nothing worked. Dean was so defeated, this was so unfair. Jack also spiralled over how if it wasn’t for him Cas never would have made the deal to which Sam and Dean assured him that Cas would’ve made that choice for either of them too. Two months went by and it was time to focus on the bigger picture…

“If I can’t get Cas back I’m damn sure gonna rain hell upon Chuck at least!” Dean exclaimed confidently as he set another shotgun on the bunker tables.

“What is that now? Seventeen?” Sam questioned glancing over the arsenal Dean had gathered.

“Yup. And I got the flame thrower up and running again so I can watch him burn.” Dean confirmed. Sam would admit this side of Dean scared him a little but who can blame Dean after everything? So he let it go.

It was one hell of a fight but in the end they won! They may have had a few broken bones and definitely some new scars, but at least they made the son of a bitch pay.

Two days later and the boys were still riding the high of victory, drinking, laughing, generally having fun; and then Dean’s phone rang.

“Hello?” Dean picked up, puzzled, it was a number he didn’t recognise. The person on the other end spoke briefly and it made all the colour drain from Dean’s face.

“Dean?” Sam prompted with no response. Tears started pouring from Dean’s eyes and both Sam and Jack stood there bewildered

“Uh huh, yep, on our way” Dean told the person before hanging up, clearly not really registering what he was saying. After he hung up his phone dropped out of his hand and he fell to the floor sobbing.

“Dean!?” Sam repeated, more urgently this time; it took him a minute but Dean eventually replied.

“He’s back Sammy! He’s back!” Dean exclaimed between sobs

“Who…? Chuck!?” Sam asked suddenly panicked, relieved when Dean shook his head no

“Cas.” Dean told him simply

“WHAT!?” Sam and Jack both yelled

“How is that possible?!?!” Jack asked, still kind of yelling

“I don’t know but whatever the reason he said it makes his head hurt to think about so it was better in person” Dean informed them “So c’mon!” Dean added as he practically dragged them out of the bunker.

A few hours later and they were at the location Cas gave. Dean couldn’t believe they’d actually made it; the entire drive he was either hyperventilating or his heart was pounding or both; he had fully given up hope but there he was driving to Cas, his Cas. The three of them walked around the area Cas pointed them to, looking for him, and after a couple of minutes both Sam and Jack stopped walking and stood still which Dean looked perplexed at until he heard him and his heart stopped for a moment.

“Hello Dean.” A voice rang out over the cold winter wind. Dean whipped around sharply to see Cas looking warmly at him, without hesitation Dean ran to him, hugging him with so much force he nearly knocked them both over. “Dean I…” Cas began to say but Dean interrupted him.

“I love you” Dean told him, the words rolling off his tongue as if he’d said them a thousand times; which to be fair, he had in his head over the last few months. Cas stared at Dean dumbfounded and Dean laughed lightly because this must be how Cas felt after he told Dean he loved him. Dean decided that he needed to be stronger with his admission of love. He placed his hand on Cas’ cheek with his thumb under Cas’ chin, and tilted Cas’ head up slightly so that Cas was looking him in the eyes “I love you” Dean repeated, this time putting more emphasis on his words so that Cas knew he meant it.

“Really?” Cas asked as tears welled in his eyes, to which Dean nodded. “Are you sure you mean it the same way I do? Because I mean I get if you mean it in a family way I just…I don’t…” Cas rambled

“Cas” Dean prompted, startling Cas a little by how close he suddenly was, their foreheads touching, Dean’s hand still on Cas’ cheek. “I know…” Dean assured him, his voice barely a whisper, which made Cas’ breath hitch in his throat involuntarily. Dean smirked slightly which made Cas look down at Dean’s lips and Dean could almost hear Cas thinking ‘kiss me’ and so he did.

The first second or so Cas couldn’t move, completely shocked that Dean actually made the move, but after that he relaxed into it, savouring the moment he’d waited a lifetime (or in his case several lifetimes) for.

“I love you” Cas said softly after they pulled apart. Dean’s heart felt like it flipped at that moment, there was a time he thought he’d never hear those words, coming out of Cas’ mouth, again

“And I love you” Dean reiterated

They stood there hugging for a few minutes, oblivious to the world around them, before someone broke the silence

“Listen this is really sweet and everything but Dean you have the car keys and it is freezing out here can you at least toss them over so Jack and I don’t freeze to death!?” Sam called from back over by the car.

“Oh oops!” Dean said, mainly to Cas, before turning and throwing Sam the keys, feeling his back vibrate as Cas laughed against it.

“You know…we should probably get out of the cold too” Cas told Dean

“But I like our little warm bubble” Dean whined

“Don’t you wanna know how I’m back?” Cas asked, Dean inhaled sharply; in all the joy of Cas being back and getting to hold him and kiss him, Dean had completely forgotten about the how he ended up there “I’ll take that as a yes” Cas said, before he moved around Dean to head back to the car, only to be stopped a couple of steps after by Dean who took his hand. It was a small thing but Cas could swear if Dean hadn’t been holding onto him he would’ve melted. So many times Cas had wanted to do this, a simple touch, a brush of fingers; so small and yet so important. After so many years telling himself he can’t let himself crave connection like that, to finally to not only admit he wanted it, but to actually get it, felt incredible. He glanced at Dean who responded by holding his hand a little tighter as if to say ‘I know what I’m doing and I want to do it’ so Cas just smiled and they walked hand in hand back to the car where Sam and Jack were sat grinning at them from the back seat.

“Holy crap!” Dean exclaimed as the warm air from the Impala hit him, in that moment realising just how cold he’d become. After a few minutes regulating their body temperatures Dean was ready to know and Cas was ready to tell

“Okay so…The empty took me into oblivion as you know” Cas began, everyone else nodded “So I get there and I’m awake and so I think oh no not this again and sure enough the empty was pissed saying ‘why won’t you just die quietly!?’ and such and this went on for however long I was gone pretty much” Cas continued “and then one day I was being…dragged? Ejected? Out. It was very weird because it wasn’t like I was being carried out, it was like the empty was trying to push me out, kind of like last time only this time I remember it, as well as an overwhelming feeling of ‘you don’t belong here’ then I woke up and have been trying to find my way back to civilization since” Cas explained then looked at the boys expectantly.

“Cas, when did you come back?” Sam asked

“Two days ago, I remember hearing the radio of a car that drove past me and they said the date that was two days ago”

“What the…” Dean said, shocked

“...Cas, two days ago we took out Chuck.” Sam informed him

“Do you think it’s related?”

“You break out of angel/demon hell the same day we kill the most powerful being ever? Yes it’s related! I mean c’mon!” Dean insisted

“But how?” Jack added

They brainstormed for a while but every theory had some kind of fatal flaw and then it hit Jack like a lightning bolt

“Wait wait what if it’s not complicated at all? Cas went to the empty but the empty is for angels and demons who died”

“Right…�� the others agreed

“Well Cas didn’t die he was just kind of consumed by it. So what if killing Chuck was some kind of reset that every being in there that didn’t actually die, was thrown out??”

“That actually…makes sense…good job kid!” Dean praised

“But if that’s true what else got let out!?” Sam asked panicked, suddenly Cas froze.

“Billie.” Cas stated coldly

“Shit!” They all collectively yelled in unison. And just like that they all knew they’re not done yet…

Fade to black/credits etc...

#Destiel #destiel fanfic #ooh boy this is long #i had a lot of feelings #mine #text

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imaginesmai · 5 years ago

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Peter Parker-Finally

Plot: Peter’s strange behaviour hasn’t gone unnoticed by the people around him, but he has a very, very, good reason for it.

In which Peter and you plan a date for Friday’s night and he can’t stop thinking about it.

This is pure fluff.

MONDAY

Peter Parker was kind. When, in the school, someone needed anything, he was the first one to offer them it. Peter Parker was funny. If anyone was sad, a look towards the boy was enough to cheer them up. Peter Parker was cute. Most of the people who knew him agreed on that. And Peter Parker was, above all of that, distracted. The high schooler was always worrying about homework, missions or the latest memes, and his mind was always far away from where he stood.

But that wasn’t the actual case. Lately, he had been looking like he was in a lovestruck haze.

As the young boy swung into the living room after a quick tour around town, he whipped his mask off and urgently took his phone out of his suit to shoot off a rapid text. Peter almost stumbled as he tried to press the spider on his chest that let the suit loose and write at the same time. The answer to that text came immediately, as he smiled widely and walked out of the room hunched over his cell.

Aunt May and Happy, who had been watching him the entire time, followed his retreating form in silent horror and awe.

“Did I just imagine the kid not acknowledging our presences?” Happy blinked slowly. “Does he not care about us being together anymore?”

It wasn’t a secret anymore that he was dating May; and since the moment it had become ‘public’, Peter hadn’t stopped giving him death glares. Until that moment, where he hadn’t scoffed, complained or even pouted at his presence.

“Maybe he’s just talking to Ned” May shrugged. A few days ago Ned had bought some strange Lego thing and brought it to their apartment to build it with Peter. “But, hey! He didn’t growl at you this time!”

Happy rolled his eyes but gave her a sweet smile. He would find about the kid later.

TUESDAY

The next one to notice were Natasha and Clint. They had become suspicious of Peter’s behaviour the next afternoon, when all three of them were in the gym working out. One of the conditions of being an avenger was that Peter had to train at least once a week. Tony made sure to arrange everything so that he wouldn’t miss classes or homework.

Peter had quite literally begged them to train with him. He had already trained with Steve, Tony, Bucky and even Thor, but never with the two friends.

So there stood Natasha throwing knives into mannequins while Clint and Peter sparred on the mat, sweating and calculating each other’s moves. Soft music played in the background, helping them to concentrate. Until a certain loud song sounded and Peter became immobile.

His eyes widen and that’s all Clint needed to spring into action and rush towards his phone. Between the group of superheroes, pranks and jokes are nothing strange. Peter had seen Thor with a spoon glued to his hand and Natasha being thrown to the floor by transparent paper on the doors. Clint’s run towards his mobile would only give him mocking for a week, so Peter sprinted towards the arrow man and, with a somersault over him, took the phone out of his hands.

It stopped sounding just as Natasha appeared to see what was going on. Before she could open her mouth, it started sounding again.

“I, uh, thanks for the help today Mr. Hawkeye. B-But, I have to, I have things to do” Peter faked a yawn and gave a small smile. “Take a shower. Homework. And thanks to you too, Mrs. Romanoff! That really…tired me out. Bye!”

He proceeded to walk out of the gym too fast; but they didn’t miss how, when he pressed finally the phone against his ear, he smiled happily.

WEDNESDAY

The cafeteria was the worst place in the whole highschool. Full of people who Peter didn’t want to meet, stinking food and small chairs that made his back hurt. Usually, his safe boat were Ned and MJ. That day, Peter was shuffling his way through it tapping away on his phone. He had a cute and distracted look on his face, and he didn’t notice Ned calling him or MJ waving her hand.

“What’s wrong with him?” MJ frowned, looking at her friend. “He’s gonna crash into someone.”

“Oh, let him be” Ned laughed. “Love makes people blind.”

“Love? What are you talking about?” she turned to look at him. “Don’t tell me it’s that Liz again. I can’t stand her.”

“I can’t tell you anything” Ned shrugged. “Ask him yourself.”

They were interrupted by a group of students who came running to the cafeteria, probably to get the best place. Peter was so focused that he didn’t hear the wave of students coming his way.

Thanks to his spidey senses, he was able to avoid them all without crushing anyone, yet the last one made him fall to the ground. The tables who were closer to him turned their heads to see Flash on the ground with his face red of anger and Peter a few inches away still typing on his phone.

“Are you fucking blind?!” Flash shouted to his face. Finally, Peter looked up and noticed the angry boy.

“Oh, yeah, sorry Flash” he got up in a second.

“Sorry? That’s all you have to say?”

Peter just made a small sound as he walked away, his eyes once again fixed on the screen.

THRUSDAY

He was happy; finally, the week was coming to an end and Peter couldn’t be any more happy. He had woken up earlier than usual, made breakfast for him and aunt May; even added something more when he realised that Happy was there too. Usually, he would have shouted to hell and back, but that day he just smiled at him and offered him some coffee. In highschool, it had been great too. Too much homework that he had finished in his break, Flash being a dick but Peter not caring at all, Ned and MJ arguing over something and his heart jumping in joy.

It was after lunch when he went to the compound again. If that weekend was going to end well, he needed to make sure everything was planned. Peter bumbled into the small theatre room in hopes of finding the movie he wanted. It was probably the only place were he could find DVD still.

Too busy looking down to his phone, he didn’t notice Wanda and Vision in the room. He kept walking into the darkness until he heard a muffled laugh. He lifted his smiling face from the illuminated screen to see both of them cuddling in the couch.

“I-I’m sorry” Peter tried to look anywhere but their faces, as his cheeks were covered in red. His concern about interrupting something was cut short the a small ‘bling’ sounded and he was back to his screen.

They watched as Peter smiled again, pressing his thumbs into his phone with a speed that made Vision frown.

“Is that a girl you’re texting?”

Her voice was enough for him to chuck his phone into the air and squeal. So much for his spidey tingle. Wanda was looking at him with curious eyes, Vision looking down at her with love and adoration. It almost made him forget about the question, because he thought about how, in just two days, he would be doing the same with-

“Peter!” Wanda repeated.

“Why-Why would you even ask that? Of course it’s not! It’s-I’m just talking to Ned” the excuse sounded fake even to him. Wanda squeezed her eyes against him, as if she was trying to coerce him into the truth.

“That’s what humans call crush, isn’t it?” Vision asked. Wanda nearly choked with his own breath as Peter’s cheeks and neck became pink.

He opened his mouth and tried to explain it to him, but when the ‘bling’ sounded again, he was out of the room before Vision or Wanda could say anything about it.

FRIDAY

“Too risky?”

“Dude, not even my grandpa would wear that.” Ned scoffed from the bed.

Peter looked in the mirror again, his hands going instinctively to fix the hem of his jacket. He thought it was cool. Black leather jacket with white shirt, and brown jeans? That’s what the boys in the film wore when they wanted to get the girl.

“But aunt May told me-“

“No offense, but if you’re taking advice from your aunt I think we should abort the mission.”

Again, he watched his reflection in the mirror. Ned was sitting behind him, trying to finish his star wars puzzle in some pyjamas. The sight was almost comical; two teenagers who had never had a girlfriend before trying to find something cool between last-decade-clothes. And there were Star Wars t-shirts too, of course. Peter didn’t think they were the best option to impress someone.

He tossed the jacket aside without a second thought, the t-shirt and the jeans following close. If he could just wear the suit. It would make him look cool, interesting and would sweep the girl off her feet. Because that was what Spiderman did, not Peter Parker.

“Maybe I shouldn’t-“

“If I hear you say that you shouldn’t go, I’m dragging you there myself” Ned threatened. “You’ve been planning this for a week! What could go wrong?”

“A lot of things!”

Peter was staring to feel the anxiety filling his chest, a deep pressure on his chest that made him want to call and fake a headache. Maybe it was because of the excitement he felt about his first date since…always, but, honestly, it was making him feel sick. He breathed slowly and took a random shirt from the drawer.

“Okay. I got this.”

“Of course you got this!” Ned got up and stepped in front of him. “Who were you, again?”

“W-What?”

“You’re supposed to say Spiderman, dude” Ned sighed. “Once again. Who are you?”

“I’m Spiderman?” Peter said with a shaky voice.

“Yeah, that way you’re not even getting touched tonight. Who are you?!”

“I’m-I’m Spiderman” Peter half smiled. “I’m Spiderman, I can do it.”

“Of course you can do it!”

“I can do it!”

While Peter dressed up again for his date, both boys kept screaming encouragement words. He had it, he could do it and he would do it. He just needed a little encouragement, which was what Ned was doing in that moment. When he finally finished, Peter Parker was a bubble of excitement and energy that didn’t notice aunt May, Tony and Happy staring at him with their eyes wide open on his way out.

“And you want me to believe there is nothing wrong with that kid?” Tony whispered to May.

“Maybe he’s just-“

“Drugs” Happy’s eyes widened. “First it was porn, and now drugs.”

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

The night was colder than what he had anticipated, and he wished he would have listened to his inner voice the first time and brought that stupid black jacket. It was probably the most horrendous thing, but he wouldn’t be freezing his ass off.

Actually, he wouldn’t have wore it. Peter knew that, even if it would have been snowing, he wouldn’t have worn the stupid jacket. It would have been another excuse to touch you, dropping it over your shoulder and keeping his arm there.

Still, the night hadn’t gone bad.

Peter had arrived to your meeting place half an hour before the hour you had talked over the phone, and had felt the most ridiculous human being. People that had walked by his side had looked at him with a mixture of pity and curiosity, and he had felt every passing second deep in his chest. But he hadn’t waited for too long, because twenty minutes before the meeting hour he saw you with the jacket he loved so much. You were running while looking at your phone, and sometimes stealing a glace to your sides to make sure your father wasn’t behind you.

You had arrived where he was standing and greeted him with a shy kiss on the cheek, and he had almost fainted on the spot.

Then, his plan started; kissing Y/N Stark without making a fool of himself.

Some months ago, you had mentioned him how you would love to see one of those old movies in an old cinema. Those where people went with their cars or blankets and the film was played outside a building. Peter had looked everywhere until he found a small park that had in front of it an abandoned building. He bought the blanket, snacks and got the film, and asked you for a date a week ago. Technically, he didn’t ask you; Peter just stutter in front of you until you asked him if he wanted to invite you to a date. Blushing, he had nodded furiously and you had agreed gladly. Which lead to that moment at the park.

In the beginning, you had been on your side of the blanket and him on his. You had talked about school (you went to the same one), joked and laughed, and finally he had showed you his idea.

“What’s this?” you asked, looking at the object in front of you. It was a small box, with a big lens on the front.

“It’s-I got it for our date” Peter explained. “I saw it on Twitter, and I thought that you would like it.”

“But what is this? What’s inside?”

You tried to shake it from side to side, to listen if there was something in there. Peter looked at you with a small, and lovestruck, smile. For the daughter of Tony Stark, you knew nothing about the old technology.

“It’s a projector”

“What? Where are the cables?” you searched for them turning the object up and down a few times.

“No, it’s- give me that, you’re going to break it.” Peter took it swiftly from your hands and placed it on the ground.

“And why did you bring it?”

Well, that was the main question. Peter had thought about thousands of answer for it; because saying that he had been looking for it on amazon, e-bay and ali-express for months, just for you, seemed a little creepy. He cleared his throat and shifted on his place, focusing his attention on the DVD and the projector.

“I got it a few weeks ago. Y-You told me that you wanted to see a film with a blanket, and that shit, a-and your father doesn’t let you out too often. So I thought that… you might like this” Peter explained, blushing furiously.

You blinked as he continued talking about how he got it and why you shouldn’t think he was a stalker. Peter and you had met three years ago, when your father had finally let you go to a normal high school. Since the first moment, you had had a crush on the cute boy who went out of his way to make you happy. Each time he covered up for you in class because you had problems with your father, helped you with your homework or let you a place to stay, your heart beat a little faster for him.

“… so, yeah, that was my plan for tonight” he chuckled a bit. “But if you don’t-“

“That’s the most awesome thing someone have ever done for me” you cut him off with a small smile. “What are we watching?”

Peter put on quickly the DVD and watched as Pulp Fiction started to play on the wall in front of you. As he sat back on the blanket, your shoulders brushed slightly and the voice of actors started sounding. You watched as he fumbled a bit, his fingers shaking and the back of his ears as red as his suit.

The night was cold and the park was even colder, but you felt a comforting warmth filling your bones. If he had chosen the worst movie in the world, it wouldn’t have mattered. If he had chosen a stupid documentary, it wouldn’t have mattered. Or if you two would have been in the worst place in Earth, it wouldn’t have made a difference neither. Because you didn’t have your father behind your shoulder, watching every movement you made and keeping the spider boy away from you. That fact was making Peter feel more confident than even, so he dared to rest his hand on the top of you.

His shaky fingers crawled until he was covering your smaller hand with his, and his thumbs ran across your palm as a feather touch.

Peter was trying to seem focused on the film, but you could see how, with the corner of his eye, he was watching your reactions.

Before you really knew what you were doing, your body turned to the left and your lips were on his. It was a quick and probably a little sloppy, and at first all Peter did was lose the strength of his arms and fall against the blanket. You fell on top of him, surprised and kind of disappointed. As you were tearing away, ready to go back home and cry to your father to sleep, Peter lifted himself a little and caught again your lips with his, letting out a small smile.

His sureness encouraged you, and you sat slowly on his lap. Your hands landed on either side of his face, and your fingers found his soft, brown hair; the pressure they were doing against it enough to make Peter nearly lose the rhythm of the kiss.

He gripped your waist and his thumbs brushed the skin softly. And you swore you were dying right there from a heart attack. Eventually, you pulled away from his blushing and smiling face and rested your forehead on his, a stupid smile on your face.

You continued to thread your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly at the ends.

“That’s-not how I had planned things” he said. “Not that I’m complaining, but-“

“You don’t have to plan everything. I would have agreed to go with you to the worst burger in town.”

“I wanted to make something special” he shrugged lightly. “Y-You’re special enough, thought”

You let out a little giggle and kissed the tip of his nose. Then, pressed a kiss on the right side of his mouth, the left corner and finally crashed your lips together again.

As you kissed and laid on each other arms, the film played against the wall in front of you. All Peter Parker could think was

Finally.

Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!

#spiderman #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader #spiderman one shot #flu #imaginemai #peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker one shot #peter parker x reader #one shot #avengers #avengers imagine #avengers one shot #avengers x reader

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incomprehensiblelentils · 5 years ago

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I did not get around to this yesterday but, a short selection of fictional things that meant a lot to me over the last decade! ...it is going under a cut bc it is Too Long sorry lmao.

Books

Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng: this book came out in September 2017 and I have read it four times already. It’s the kind of book I want to write but I’m not sure I’m clever enough to: every event and every character is so purposeful and you won’t catch everything the first time through. Every time I reread it I find something new to marvel at. I hope the Hulu series is half as good

Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng: this was the first piece of fiction I ever found with a family with a Chinese father and a white mother. This family is a lot less functional than my family, but I've read this three times because that means the world to me.

Ash by Malinda Lo: I discovered this in 2011 and it was the first f/f novel I ever read, and as I would later learn, one of a handful with a happy ending at the time, particularly in YA fiction. For a long time, I reread it every time I felt hopeless. I just reread it again last month and it is still as beautiful and meaningful to me as in 2011.

Girls of Paper and Fire by Natasha Ngan: This is an Asian-inspired fantasy (becoming more common now, but still irritatingly rare) written by a queer Asian woman, with f/f. I think it is only the second one of these, after Ash? It is frustratingly rare, anyway. The worldbuilding is incredible also.

The Astonishing Color of After by Emily X.R. Pan: We are getting more stories about biracial Asians, but they are still pretty rare and I treasure every one. This one felt so real to me.

The Miseducation of Cameron Post by Emily M. Danforth: The first half of this book captures so beautifully what it’s like growing up queer in a religious environment when you don’t even have the words or self-awareness to know what you’re feeling. This was another one I read over and over again when I was feeling low.

The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater: this is just a book for horse girls. I don’t know how else to describe this lol. I also feel like the romance is super downplayed until the very end, and honestly barely feels like a romance to me, so that’s refreshing!

Movies:

Pacific Rim (2013): I remember having this weird feeling when asked to give my top 3 movies once in high school, like maybe my favorite movie hadn’t come out yet so I couldn’t answer properly. I was right; this is the movie I was waiting for. This is my favorite movie. The feelings this movie gives me is the standard I hold all movies to.

Terminator: Dark Fate (2019): but Megan, didn’t this just come out? Yes, and it’s my other favorite movie now. I love (almost) every second of this movie. This movie made me feel a way that I thought maybe I might never feel again, after a certain other franchise movie this year took a dump on my heart. I don’t care that we’re never getting a sequel, we got this and that’s enough for me.

Thor (2011): Those of you who have been around awhile know that I really love this movie. I loved it before we all jumped on the Thor train after Ragnarok and I will continue to love it probably my whole life. It just makes me happy.

Aquaman (2018): This is Thor but underwater and with a biracial hero. It made me cry in the theater and I do not want to hear any negative opinions about it, I find them personally wounding.

Belle (2013): The fact that Gugu Mbatha-Raw isn’t a superstar is tragic, and this movie is gorgeous and lovely and made me feel a lot of things as a biracial person.

Mad Max Fury Road (2015): I remember seeing the trailer for this in the theater and going “yikes that looks like a thing I would never watch.” Joke’s on you, past me!!!! I find this a deeply stressful but glorious film that I can only watch like, once or twice a year.

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (2010): I do not need or want to hear about how this movie is Problematic, I know all of its issues, and yet. It brings me joy and it was one of the first movies I saw when I was just starting to break out of my religious upbringing and I laugh until I cry every time I watch it.

Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015): I am starting to realize that I am not and never really was a Star Wars Fan, which is to say that like...I love this movie specifically, I love the characters, I love the interactions, I love the stuff that happens. I do not so much love Star Wars as a whole? I like it fine! But this movie is the only part of the franchise to really make me go “oh, I get it.”

Professor Marston and the Wonder Women (2017): This was a weird little movie that nobody saw and nobody talked about, but I adore it because it’s so gentle and romantic. I don’t know how accurate it is to history and frankly I do not really care.

Big Hero 6 (2014): are you tired of me mentioning I’m biracial yet? This movie has biracial protagonists and a cute squishy robot and no romance and superhero stuff and I love it so much.

F8: The Fate of the Furious (2017): I went to go see this on a whim with my wife and it was one of the most joyous theater experiences of my life. I don’t know, I just love everything about it.

TV shows:

Community: This only kind of counts because it started in 2009 but I started it mid-s2 so eh. Seasons 1-3 of this show are written on my heart, I can quote a ridiculous amount of dialogue from them and these characters will stay with me forever. Warts and all, this is my show.

Dollhouse: Another technicality but like, I met my wife because we both loved Bennett Halverson so I gotta put this on here. It’s pretty significantly affected my life! Also I find that it holds up fairly well, if you’re down for the admittedly iffy premise and an ending that’s a bit of a mess narratively due to sudden cancellation.

Agents of SHIELD: I would never claim that this show is “good” but I do think that it has mostly figured out what the hell it’s doing. And it has been a pretty significant part of my fandom life for the last 6 years, so to leave it off this list would feel wrong. It gave me Daisy Johnson, first canon biracial superhero as played by a biracial actor, and for that i will always be grateful.

Warehouse 13: I could not tell you why I fell so deeply in love with this dumb, badly written show that shit the bed in the final episode more spectacularly than I could have imagined, and yet I did! I think probably it is because I love found family so much, and also I find goofy camp charming more often than not. And of course, there is Bering and Wells, the femslash ship that fandom forgot. I will never be over how no one knows what we have suffered!!!!!

Runaways: wow was this a surprise! The Runaways comic is my favorite comic besides Marjorie Liu’s X-23 run, and this show has basically nothing to do with it, and normally that would piss me off but they got my kids’ personalities down so well and all of the actors are so perfect that I really can’t complain. And also, this show has canon f/f and neither of them die at the end! Which is...better than some other shows I could mention!

Doctor Who series 1 and 5: I had a very intense Doctor Who phase in college, and after all was said and done and I quit the show for a time, I realized that although I love a lot of the characters, and Thirteen’s run is pretty good so far, what I really loved was Nine’s run and Eleven’s first season. That is the show at its best to me. Eccleston is my Doctor and Amy is my favorite companion.

Legends of Tomorrow: Look, I am as shocked as anyone that this, the scrappy underdog of the DCTV lineup, is the one that’s most emotionally competent and has the best character arcs! But here we are. Season 4 was some of my favorite TV I’ve seen, uh, ever.

Albums

Dirty Computer by Janelle Monae: I listened to this for basically a year straight after it came out. It’s just ridiculously good.

Something Fierce by Marian Call: This was my on-repeat album in college. i drew a lot of strength from it, and I think that it’s still the best album to recommend to people who ask me about her.

Standing Stones by Marian Call: I heard most of these songs live at concerts before they were quite done yet, so it was really special to get to hear them all collected together like this. I’m going to get a tattoo with a lyric from one of these songs because no one’s quite been able to put my basic philosophy into words quite like Marian.

Heartthrob by Tegan and Sara: Hot Take, I know, because a lot of people hate this album, but it was so affirming to go out and buy A Lesbian Album from A Lesbian Band in 2013.

The Rent movie soundtrack: I know, I KNOW, but in my defense, my parents got me this for my birthday my first year of college and I needed it so desperately. I can definitely still do “La Vie Boheme” from the beginning and probably most of the other songs too.

In the Heights OBCR: I can only listen to this when I want to cry, but it’s my favorite musical. I got to see the show in 2018 and it was incredible. I think it’s better than Hamilton and I can’t wait for the movie to come out.

Trouble by Natalia Kills: this album is really great and also it says fuck a lot, which I used to be very nervous about hearing or saying, and this helped immensely!

#me

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asterinjapan · 5 years ago

Text

the end of a journey

And that wraps up my collection posts for this trip. How time has flown by…

As always, I like to do a final post in which I look back on my travelling, before I close this blog until my next trip. I am going to do that this time as well, but my reflections on Okinawa will be slightly different than expected, as in the early morning of October 31, the main buildings of Shuri Castle were destroyed in a fire. Thankfully there were no human casualties, but the loss of the castle cuts deep for Okinawa, and it would feel odd to just cheerily babble about visiting the castle without touching upon what happened a mere 4 weeks later (to the day, I now realize).

I uh, might have postponed this entry so that I could pretend I didn’t have to close the chapter of this trip, haha. But with my photo album done, all that’s left is my final words.

Now without further ado, the final post for Japan 2019!

One would think that after eight previous trips, another flight to Japan would feel like routine, but the start was already different since I needed a domestic flight transfer. However, being able to see the islands of Okinawa from the plane awed me, and definitely set the tone for my enjoyment of the main island. I arrived with fairly high expectations, and I got to say that Okinawa more than delivered. Although I confess it was slightly odd to stay along the Kokusaidori main street, as it’s so touristic and feels like a shopping street in Tokyo, but it still has its own Okinawan flavor. And I was so close to the ocean! I couldn’t believe how quickly I reached the shores, and even with a highway road above my head, it was great to trail through the water on my day of arrival.

Visiting Shuri Castle was on the top of my wish list, so I did that right on my first full day. Reading about the beautiful reconstructions and seeing the pictures definitely didn’t hold up to the real thing, and I could only admire the love and dedication that had gone into reconstructing this centuries old castle. It felt so completely different from the other Japanese castles, which it of course is, but I hadn’t expected to feel that so acutely. You could definitely tell how proud the people here were of the castle, and I can only hope that those whose livelihoods depended on the castle can get by now. It still feels surreal to think that the buildings are no longer there. There are logistical problems for rebuilding, although I don’t doubt they will get there in the end. It burnt down before, and rose from the most terrible of ashes. It will likely take decades, but considering how big a symbol this place is, there will definitely be something new. I do confess I kind of skipped war memorials during this trip to Okinawa, but the scars of the Battle of Okinawa was visible everywhere; and yet it was also noticeable how the people have come back from it. I can only hope their spirit will continue from hereon too and that this symbol will rise again.

Of course, I had no idea while I was there what would happen four weeks later, but I’m glad in retrospect that I took my time and uh, took as many pictures as I did. Nearby Tamaudun Mausoleum impressed me deeply as well, although I must confess that was due to the full package: the castle and the history and the mausoleum together, plus the pathway leading up to the building was short but absolutely lovely.

After that, I saw so many sights. I climbed the mountain to find Nakagukusu castle, where I had a blast feeling like I was in some weird limbo between a gothic European castle in ruins with crows flying by and, well, a subtropical island, with beautiful blue seas on both sides. Weirdly, it really looked like only the castle was clouded that day, as the sun was shining on both sea sides, but it just added to the atmosphere.

I went from super touristic but cheerful Okinawa World with its gorgeous caves to the genuine and wonderful museum, teaching me so much more about the islands, explored gorgeous gardens, and to top it all off, I got to spend a day on Tokashiki island, which really was the icing on an already delicious cake. The weather was lovelier than I could have even hoped for, the views were amazing, and I was honestly jealous of myself while I was there. This really was the picture perfect ‘tropical holidays’ right from the travel brochure, and although I think I’d get bored of it if I were to spend a whole week just chilling on the beach, it was an amazing way to end my week down south. Not to mention the submarine ride! I’m really glad I was tenacious and eventually lucked out and got on, because I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. It’s one thing to see coral reefs on tv or in an aquarium, but seeing them in the wild is awe inspiring. Luckily the Kerama Islands (which Tokashiki is the biggest of) are a national park and under protection, and I can only hope that we can all protect amazing sights like these all around the globe.

After a week of exploring something completely new, it was time to return to an old friend: Fukuoka, which I had stayed in for a week back in 2015. I had fond memories of staying there, and this week didn’t disappoint. The flight was so relaxed I would almost say I got rid of my fear of flying (not entirely, but it definitely diminished from here on), and then it was time to explore the places I had missed out on before! It was my first time seeing a typical conical and active volcano, and Sakurajima definitely didn’t disappoint. Karatsu had caught my eye in recent years, and I’m so happy I went there, because I had a delightful day and I was thoroughly charmed by this city. Beppu was highly touristic, but I had a good time exploring the hells anyway, and I’m easily amused, so getting to say ‘I went to hells and back’ won’t get old soon. The typhoon made me stay in Fukuoka for a day since I didn’t want to risk getting stranded, but I don’t regret it one bit as I finally got to see Kushida shrine in the sun and had a blast in Canal City. It was safe enough to go to Yoshinogari Historical Park next, and wow, there was so much to see and do that I definitely have to go back here sometime. And hey, I got to be crafty and made a mirror! I’m still unreasonably proud.

With the weather continuing to smile down on me, I hit Okayama next, where I finally got to dress up as a princess in the castle (I’m easily pleased) and saw the sights we sadly had to miss out on last year due to floods. Gorgeous sights and castles greeted me as I finally got to see more of Shikoku, and although I am definitely a bit weary of temples now (sorry, Onomichi), the views over the Inland Sea continue to impress. The weather was exceedingly kind to me and gave me blue skies over all castles, and so I happily checked off number 7 on the list of 12 original castle towers still remaining. Past the halfway point! I do love castles, haha.

My luck hadn’t run out yet as on my final day in Okayama, KOKIA was performing in Osaka. It was just an hour away from Okayama, the closest I was to Osaka the entire trip, so that left enough time to visit Universal Studios beforehand. And of course, seeing KOKIA live is always a magical experience (which is a nice bridge from the Wizarding World of Harry Potter I guess, haha). I’ve said it before, but even live recordings and DVDs can’t compare to the live experience, and I feel so privileged and blessed that this is my seventh time (!) getting to see her live. And this was my third time in a row getting to meet her for an autograph! I might get spoiled at this rate, haha. It was wonderful to hear songs from all those years ago as well as some newer favorites.

And although I hadn’t been looking forward to the long trip to Tokyo, this was in fact a very relaxed experience. I had so much leg space that my suitcase in front of me was no big bother, and the seats next to me stayed empty anyway. Getting back to Tokyo, and more specifically Ikebukuro, felt like coming home again, and I enjoyed soaking into the familiar sights (and uh, shopping, I have to admit).

This was the only part of my trip where I actually noticed the typhoons that had blown over or were on their way. Japan has taken quite the battering this year, with typhoons forming very late into the season, being more powerful than ever, with Hagibis being the tragic record. It had given me quite the scares, but all it really meant for me was a few windy days, two days of rain on 4 weeks total, and making it risky to leave Tokyo for the mountainous areas. The people here have suffered far more. I can only hope they recover well from this natural violence and that they can catch a break for a while.

Anyway, you can easily dump me in Tokyo for months on end and I will still have a great time. This city is so massive and there are plenty of places worth a second (or third, or ninth) visit, so it’s hard to imagine I’d ever get bored here. And since many of the series and games I like hail from Japan, I definitely took the chance to stock up on merchandise and go to cafés to let out my inner fangirl. Look, I grew up on Pokémon, I’m not gonna ignore the chance to have dinner with Pikachu. Rainy days aren’t so bad if you get to spend them in a museum so big that even a full day is barely enough to see everything, and I got to spend some extra days with my friend on top of it.

I have to admit I felt a bit bad about not using my JR pass much in that last week except for the Yamanote line, but that in no way diminished how much fun I had, and I confess to having cried a couple of times in my final days in Tokyo due to my impending return home. Of course, going on holidays is different from living somewhere, but I still feel like a piece of me was left behind in Japan way back in 2010, and so it hurts to part every time. That might sound dramatic, but that metaphor does explain why I feel so strongly about it.

The flight back gave me one last treat with the Fuji showing up through the clouds, marking the first time in all those flights when I actually got to see it from the plane. Sadly the picture I took on my phone isn’t super crisp, but it’s the best I could do at the moment, and really, there’s something about that mountain you can’t quite catch on camera anyway. The flight was calm and hardly affected my nerves, and though I didn’t sleep much, I managed to get home safe and sound without even falling asleep on the train or bus.

Of course, the jetlag was waiting for me with a big ol’ hammer, and it took a while for me to recover. A bit longer than expected, actually, although I suspect part of that was caused by just how much I’ve seen and done over those past 4 weeks. Look at how long this entry is getting, and I barely even touched on some days and impressions! I can’t believe I got to check off my entire list of places to visit until I got to Tokyo. I hadn’t thought my body could handle it, but I was pleasantly surprised, and I definitely feel in a better condition than ever. Seeing all these wonderful sights for sure invigorated me, so I don’t doubt it helped, but the relative ease with which I climbed those mountains also surprised me. Not that I’m complaining!

And that brings me back home. I’ve had two weeks to recover now, and I think my body has adjusted to being back in the Netherlands again. I’ve collected all my reports from this blog (and have apparently done NaNoWRiMo writing challenge a month early, as I surpassed 50,000 words written in a month, oops), my photos have been sorted out, I’ve put together a photo book for the collection, and… well, all that’s left is closing off this blog until the next trip. That won’t be this year anymore, haha, no more last-minute Christmas trips to Tokyo! Although I won’t deny it’s tempting, but I’d rather take the time to plan out my trip for next time.

I don’t know when that will be. Part of me really wants to see the cherry blossoms, but it’s a busy season, so I should be looking into flights and hotels already if I am set on doing so next year. Summer 2020 is out, though. I’d rather avoid the height of summer in Japan if at all possible, and well, with the Olympics and Paralympics next year, I think Japan really doesn’t need any more tourists in the mix, haha. So, who knows! I’ll have to wait and see where next year takes me, although I’d love to return to Japan as soon as possible. I still haven’t visited Hokkaido, after all, and I did plan out a lot of day trips from Tokyo that I didn’t get to do now.

I keep saying it, but I don’t think I’ll ever be done with Japan. Despite hardships, I am so happy I decided to study its language and culture, over a decade ago now. It really broadened my horizons, allowed me to meet new people, and introduced me to an immensely interesting country. Although I’m far from fluent (I really need to pick up my study books and at least increase my vocabulary, yikes), it still really helped finding my way here and getting in touch with people. Of course, I saw everything through a tourist’s eye, but I do my best to read up on the places I visit and get a better sense of the culture and history through first hand experience. Speaking the language to a degree definitely helps with that.

And so, I will now close this blog again until my next trip, which hopefully won’t take too long. Whether it’ll be a short hop over to Tokyo or a longer cross-country travel remains to be seen, but I can’t wait to find out!

Thank you for sticking with this blog and for reading all that in case you made it here, and see you soon!

#report #report: japan 2019 #japan 2019

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thelemonfam-blog · 6 years ago

Text

not ready to let go

Genre: Angst and fluff

Pairing: Yukhei x reader

Warnings: mention of death

Word count: 4.2k

Summary: Yukhei and you have been friends since you were just teenagers, you let him in but never told him one secret till you finally found the time to tell him after reading a book he recommend that brought you to shed a few tears. Otheringering thoughts at the back of the pair's heads to be confessed.

A/n: was low-key inspired by love that lets go as i was liste kng to it. A friends to lovers one shot, sorry for any mistakes and that it's bad whOoPS.

Admin L.

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Sitting at a cafe, skimming over the pages on the faded pages with stains of blank inked words filling up in lines of fiction, a drop of water was hit onto the page and made your head shake and eyes shut. The book was famous for making any person, no matter how cold and emotionless they were to shed a tear or too.

A sigh upon your lips left your mouth and you shut the book with speed, not wanting any more tears to fall and ruin your emotionless demeanour you seemed to have built up over the years.

A man sat down next to you, whom, you were lucky enough to call your best friend of Wong Yukhei or as others knew him by: Lucas.

His head tilted to the side a little as he pursed in his lips, seeing your cheeks were a little damp and put a hand on your shoulder. "You okay?" You just returned a small nod whilst sniffing and brought your head up to meet his eyes, "Yeah I'm fine Yukhei. You were right, this book can bring just about everyone to shed a few tears." You laughed, a whole pain of past and presence behind it which the raven coloured hair just rubbed your shoulder in understanding.

You'd never told your best friend of almost a decade as to why you would be so cold and reserved like this, sure Yukhei knew of your past but, not the one thing that brought the most painful of memories that you could never let go of, no matter how hard you tried.

He saw the look and hesitation in your eyes and cupped his cheeks into his large palms. "How about we go out for a drive after this and I'll drop you off at his thinking spot?" He questioned and knew that's where you needed to be.

You didn't know but Yukhei could read you that well; even when you had your guard fully up, you were an open book to him about nearly anything except, for your late teen years into adulthood was the biggest mystery to him.

You scrunched up your nose and gave a small smile and a couple seconds eye-contact to the tall male who was still cupping your face with his gigantic hands. "That would be great if you could... I want you to stay with me though thus time." Your small smile going weak as you placed your average hands on top of Yukhei's and brushing your thumb over his long fingers.

"Of course I will, you know I will do so for you." Yukhei returned the smile back, removing his hands from your face but holding them in his own. "You can talk to me about what's on your mind if you want, always remember that. I'm here for you just as you've always been there for me." His dark chocolate eyes looking into your crystal watery ones before you rolled your eyes at the male. "Yes I'm aware you big goof, why do you think I want you to stay?" You chuckled out, feeling glad to have his company with you just now.

"Becuase I am Wong Yukhei and you loveeeee me too much." He teased out which made you roll your eyes at your best friend and playfully smack his forearm. "Uh huh, sureeeee I do." Your tone being playful as you continued to laugh, your smile brightening and Yukhei's growing to see your mood picking back up.

"Its nice seeing you laugh and smile instead of wanting to kill somebody, it really suits you." The male confessed out which made your eyes gape wide and nearly spit the iced coffee at his face but managed to keep it in but joking as you swallowed and almost choked instead.

"D-damn Yukhei, who knew you could be so smooth with your words?" You played out smoothly as you coughed harshly a few times to prevent from choking further. "My ladys of course." He sent a playful yet friendly wink to you, your own eyes rolling to the back of your head again at the flirt your friend was. "Okay you big flirt, hakuna your matattas." Your eyebrows wiggling; the male scoffing the slightest whilst swinging on the stool he sat on, leaning forward to point his finger at you once on all four legs again.

"God sake you really wanna be the death of me one day don't you? Be lucky I love you bitch or I'd kick your arse." His threat being harmless to you just as harmless as he made it come across and for you to stick your tongue out at him. "Suck my big toe if you have a problem with me then." You spoke back.

The both of you now just staring at each other, a cafe worker who Yukhei and you were friends with noticing the scene between the pair sitting at the back of the cafe smirking to himself. 'One of those dumbasses has to confess soon.' Jungwoo thought to himself before going back to cleaning the dishes.

The time was now around mid afternoon just as the pair decided to head out and to your favourite thinking spot. Yukhei stopping to talk to Jungwoo as you headed on to the toilet for the longish drive ahead.

Once out sight, Jungwoo snapped his head to face the younger male and smacked his chest and slanted his eyes to him. "Alright mister, when you confessing to her, it's been about a half a year when you finally admitted your feelings about them to yourself and no movement forward?" Jungwoo spoke rather quickly making Yukhei take a few seconds longer to aboard and process what the light brown haired male was saying to him.

"I don't know when, I go to but then it always get interrupted by a specific someone with his boyfriend." Lucas said staring up and down at Jungwoo. "Or like, I dunno, it's just how to you go up the the person you like and be like.. yo I like the fuck out of you and wanna kiss your lips till they are swollen." Yukhei spoke out a little too loudly for comfort, Jungwoo grabbing his ear and lightly hitting the pack of his head. "You fucking twat, want the whole cafe to hear?" Jungwoo whispered shouted to him, Yukhei partly glaring back at him, "well least they would know I'd like them then."

"Like who?" You spoke out in confusion as to how Jungwoo was still holding onto his friends ear and caused you to furrow your eyebrows at the pair of them and to how much authorative and control Jungwoo held over Yukhei just now.

Yukhei pulled away from Jungwoo, looking down at you and just smiled, messing the crown of your hair up. "No one really important, just a fling I guess." His shoulders shrugging causing you to go back to an emotionless face and nod quickly a few times before speaking blankly: "Alright, well let's go and we'll see you later tonight Jungwoo and tell Doyoung I say hi." You gave a tiny smile and waved him goodbye whilst dragging your obnoxiously tall friend out the cafe, Jungwoo shouting bye to both and to have fun till later.

Reaching the car, yourself and Yukhei slipped into the seats, bulking up before he reversed out of the driving space, leaning back to look. Your heart racing as he looked more attractive than he already did by doing this and knew he was doing it to tease you as when he turned to face you, a smirk was plastered across his face and didn't look one bit remorseful. "Nice blushed cheeks you have there." He played out coolily, winking at you, making you slapped his defined bicep and look at the road. "Concentrate on driving instead of flirting dork." Your voice still being a blank and emotionless as it was in the cafe.

Yukhei just sighed, unable to get through to you at the current moment and drove onto the main road till a slip country road appeared and went off there.

The entire car journey was in a comfortable silence with some country music playing in the foreground as you stared out the window, enjoying seeing all the country side surrounding and let out a content sigh when society was getting further away. Yukhei glancing at you, a soft smile going onto his face.

He brought his hand to gently place where the knee meets the thigh, rubbing it slightly, feeling you tense for a moment before relaxing again, shifting in the seat indicating you were comfortable enough.

"Lucas, I'm uh- I'm glad you're in my life and that you have stuck by me even when I shut you out for a number of months." You quietly spoke up, turning to him to see that he was already looking at you, facing the road again once making eye-contact.

Yukhei was a bit taken-a-back since you use Lucas as a way to get a more serious or important note or message across to him, his hand rubbing on your knee for a few more seconds before going back onto the steering wheel.

"I don't see why I would have the right to just walk out your life when you needed time and space to think, you've been there for my worst moments so it's only right I do the same for my favourite human." His voice genuine and a happy grin going across his face as you continued to look at him and placed a hand on his thigh, feeling him tense up causing you to laugh a bit.

"Now that's the laugh I love to hear." Yukhei muttered out to himself, not knowing you had furrowed your brows at wanting to know what he had just said but left it anyways.

After the soft moment, it went silent in the car again, a childhood song coming onto play. 'Love that lets go' by Miley and Billy-ray Cyrus.

You deeply inhaled as this was a song that could easily bring you to tears as it's the one that got you through one of your many darkest times but definitely your most painful.

Saved by Yukhei taking a turn to a reserved area or rural forest that barley had source of human contact, he took the key out of ignition turning to see a worried look on your face and cupped your chin to look at him.

"Whatever is on your mind, you can tell me and I'll happily listen." His voice soft and comforting as it stroked your cheek; you biting down on your lip trying to hold back tears as he spoke and closed your eyes for a few seconds.

"I'll tell you but I need to be at the spot." You gave a smile to let him know you'll be okay and that you love him for what he's doing just now.

Getting out the cheap red corsa, Yukhei came by your side and took your hand into his, squeezing it as he did, letting you know it's okay to cry if you needed too. You squeezed back for two reasons: one because of how sweet it was; the second being it felt like being in a relationship with your best friend. Not that you would mind and wouldn't ruin the friendship you pair had, it was just waiting till one of you had the guts to as the other out in simplistic terms.

Nevertheless, Yukhei lead both of you to your spot, an open meadow with a couple boulders in the ground and a view of the mountain top to the left. Both took a seat on the boulder that was smooth and stable enough to sit on that had surrounding blue, red and purple wild rare flowers as well as the luscious green grass surrounding the dim glare object: kinda how Yukhei bright colour into your life.

Moments had passed and you were fidgeting with your hands, trying to word how you wanted to say something to him but him beating you too it. "If you just wanna stay silent and think out your thoughts, that's alright as I will too." This point you stared at him, Yukhei's eyes already looking into your broken yet life filled eyes and flashed a warm smile. "Your are far too good for me Wong Yukhei." You smiled out to him causing him to laugh and shake his head. "Says the most empathic and sympathetic person I know." A blush going across your face and giving him a light shove, Yukhei shoving you back till a small laughter emerged between the both of you and ended up in you resting your head on his broad shoulder.

"I- uhm, I think you should know the mystery you have wanted to know since we were seventeen." You confessed, Yukhei's eyes widening at what you were about to do; break down the last of your wall to him and show him the reason why you were so guarded but helpful to others all at once. The raven haired male only nodded and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pecking your forehead before looking down at you. "Only if you're comfortable and really sire you are ready too."

Your heads looking down and up at another, a new aura and tension slowly building the longer you lingered in each other's eyes and glanced at each other's lips every few seconds until Yukhei coughed and broke the contact.

An exhale exiting you as you gave a firm nod and stroked his cheek lovingly. "If I wasn't ready to tell you, I wouldn't have read the book or brought you here." Which Yukhei knew one was true. This hideout spot was your safe place that only he and you knew of. You showed him one day and times like these when you let him more into your life, you let him comfort you as he just listened intently and gave you big warm bear-like hugs.

Breaking the small silence between you that was forming and riddening of your shaky voice: you spoke up. "It was January time, not long before you were eighteen actually. Of course you know I went away around the second week on the Thursday and didn't come back till the Tuesday before your birthday." You took a pause, fiddling with your fingers and Yukhei just hugged you higher and rubbed the side of your shoulder.

"There was drama happening within my family but then my papa got sick, fast and went down-hill fast. He went to the doctors but was told to go to the hospital, after scans and being kept in over night for more scans, he was d-diagnosed with..." You paused quickly, letting tears drop from your burning eyes before continuing again, "He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. More tests were done and on the following Tuesday they said they found it in other places of his body, he wasn't able to get any form of chemotherapy as he was too sick and dying quicker than time was available." You choked out and let out a sob, burrying your face into Yukhei's comforting chest and cried hard for a few minutes before pulling away and looking at his damp shirt of your stained tears. "He died on the Friday whilst my gran was in the room with him and it tore the entire family apart... I became a introverted mess, worse than before, my mum and my uncle's were never the same again and my gran died not long after my papa passed as she grew depressed quickly and.." You broke down, unable to say anymore as tears streamed down your face like a rapid river and never seemed to end.

Yukhei kept himself from wanting to cry as to his broken you sounded. Yes he knew about both sides of your grandparents being dead but he also knew your papa meant a lot to you, especially with how close he was to you and how he was always there when you had swimming competitions he could visit along with your gran and how he would take you on long bike rides in the country and go horse riding once and nearly see you face plant the ground but stayed on fortunately.

Clenching your hands on his shirt as you cried more into his shirt if possible. "He died only after being five days diagnosed with the cancer and the last thing he said to me was thank you and I never knew why till my dad told me two an hour after he died. It hurt so much and it still does, no matter how hard I try to let everything go and just move on, it's impossible to do and I don't know why.."

More minutes were spent crying until they eventually simmered down and stopped going violently down your face, sniffling with a now heavily blocked nose. "And the book.. It was similar book my papa gave me, it was an old book and it was hard to read but I still read it anyways just kinda like that one expect new just covered in food and finger stains." The tiniest of chuckles leaving you. "It kinda showed me thay I've got to move on even if I am not ready and how I have made new chapters in my life, the best kind of love I can give to the past but still keep with me is the love that lets go." You finished speaking now, realising the mess you had made of Yukhei's shirt and gasped a little whilst patting at the soaked material.

His hand pressing onto yours, stopping your movements which made you look up at him to realise how he had also been crying the smallest bit, your hands reaching to cup his cheeks and sat up immediately sitting up and turning to face the sympathetic looking male. "I'm sorry I kinda ruined all of your shirt and made you cry, I didn't mean too."

He only let out a sigh, wiping away the last of your falling tears and out stared at you. "Of all the things you could say and just continue crying, you apologise, you're so cute and goofy I swear." Yukhei just said with so many hidden emotions and just was speechless for words. "You amaze me with just how strong you are and with how much you have lost in life you are still so considerate towards others despite the cold aura you bring about." Your own hands still cupping his cheeks as you just stared at his facial features, admiring the man you had fallen in love with and weren't sure as to how long you could keep it back but knew it wasn't the correct time after the emotions going around.

After mot replying, Yukhei just assumed you wanted time to think, as did he about his feelings for you and everything else.

Both now sat against the boulder as a warm cuddle was shared between the two of you that were needing it just now. A sigh left his lips, seeing the sun now setting into a deep orange-red colour and nudged your dozing off frame, softly whispering into your ear. "We gotta get back to reality now, hate to break it to you." Groaning as you lifted your head from Yukhei's lap to lean against the muscular shoulder instead. "Can't we just stay here forever and be shut out from the world?" You asked, knowing the answer already and Yukhei just laughed at your response.

After spending almost three hours at your favourite location, you drove back this time to Yukhei's and Jungwoo's apartment where you'd almost be met with a few more college friends. Just as you were pulling into the drive, the same song as earlier came on and you just sat telling Yukhei to go in and change, being in shortly behind him.

'I love you papa but I'm slowly ready to move on and let go and start more chapters just as you wished too but couldn't.' You thought to yourself, holding onto your heart shaped locket that held a framed picture of him inside of it; remembering the memory of when the picture was taken, feeling your heart-break but also get a source of closure you needed, feeling a chill go through you as you did.

It was then early into a Saturday morning and only Yukhei, Jungwoo, Doyoung and you remained left in the apartment cleaning up the small mess that was there. Doyoung and you cleaning up the living room area and kitchen as the other two males did the bedrooms.

"So when are you going to become mister wongs over there." Doyoung spoke shifting his head to the direction he was in. "How about when I feel like it and when I get the guts too." You sassed back at the normally sarcastic male. "Pleaseeee, anyone with eyes can see the pair of you practically droll over another, especially when you both do that weird eye-contact message thing." His sarcasm now starting to show which you clicked your tongue too as you were expecting that. "Fine, I'll do it when I next get the chance." You sighed, Doyoung grinning as he flashed a wink to Jungwoo who had entered the room, Yukhei entering after. "Guess that won't be long then." He whispered nudging your side.

Sitting in one of his oversized hoodies on a Wednesday night after your swim training hasn't long finished. A knock at your door was heard with a rather flustered and messy haired Yukhei. "Y-yukhei are you okay?" You spoke up, worried as he was panting heavily but nodded, making his way to your kitchen; you following in suit.

After having a drink and some toast to eat, sitting on the couch in the joined kitchen-living area, watching Moana with a more calm and relaxed Yukhei.

It was playing the scene of Moana seeing her grandma in spirit form on the boat when Yukhei shifted uncomfortably and clearly agitated about something. Poking his firm waist and looking with worried eyes you held his band, interlocking your fingers with his. "What's bothering you Yuk?"

"I just... look, you're wearing one of my hoodies that you kept months ago and it was that hoodie that made me realise the moment I let go of it for you to keep that I was in love with you, not just as your best friend but more, someone I want to keep by my side and love till the day we part another and just.. you've made me a better person and brought me out of phases I never thought I'd be able to get out of and never left my side no matter how horrible I was to you and I don't always understand why." Yukhei's cheeks burning hot from blushing and his eyes looking from you the hoodie you were in the back at you.

At the moment you only laughed and moved your hand around the flustered Yukhei once again and leaning in closer to him. "Maybe it's because along the way of our time together, I realised myself, that I was in love with you and would never leave you no matter the circumstances as I knew the you only needed space and time to realise the real you." You confessed back and Yukhei locking eyes with you.

You were getting lost in a addicting trance of his dark chocolate eyes as he was to your eyes, both of your moving your eyes to lips and back again before getting impatient and finding yourself leaning in too kiss Yukhei with a tender passionate kiss on the lips.

Staying like that for a few moments before moving his lips moving against yours in a gently motion, a smile and grin being felt on each other's faces before pulling away and pecking his lips one last time.

He pecked your forehead whilst smiling happily as you also showed it, a different alive look in your eyes as you rubbed the back of his neck with his thumb. "I love you Yukhei." "I love you too baby." Both speaking softly before pecking each other's lips and returning to watch the film.

You'd come a long way in your life now and with if not always being easy, you found the easiest love of letting go when ready and moving to new chapters, taking on the pain that never fades but only just use to as time goes on, taking chances and knowing you'd have Yukhei by your side along the way made your heart warm and race and you leaned into his chest, holding his hand for the long future road ahead.

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starlit-scifi · 6 years ago

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Chapter 2

First•Next

Ping.

Your headset rings through your dozy state and you realize you’re asleep at the desk in a study room. You pick yourself up and wipe the little bit of drool from the corner of your mouth. You were having such a nice dream...

Ping.

Who could be messaging you so urgently? You groggily bring up your mailbox to find five new messages from Lorina. That wakes you up, and you swipe them open.

-Just a reminder, assignment number five is due tomorrow.

-Also, do you have the data from yesterday? I accidentally deleted it.

-(Lorina E. has sent you an invitation to TWELFTH ANNUAL UNITY ACADEMY WELCOME BALL)

-Sorry! That was a mistake, please disregard it.

-Unless you wanted to go, of course.

Your heart is pounding, though that’s probably just because you were startled awake.

-Ice liver to bop

-What?

You cringe and pay more attention to your fingers as you pick out each letter individually.

-I’d love to go. Sorry, I just woke up!

-OK, when you’re more awake we can work out the details.

You have to be dreaming. You just have to. Things like this just don’t happen. You’re going to wake up and have to get back to studying any minute now.

But ten minutes later, when you’re sitting in your room with a steaming cup of inky caffeine-laced liquid that supposedly resembles coffee, the invitation still sits in your inbox, totally (well, virtually) real, fancy letterhead and all. You’re jittery, and you’re not quite sure if it’s the caffeine anymore.

-I’m ready.

It’s more to reassure yourself than to tell her. She pops online almost immediately and sends you her schedule for that evening. You don’t have anything to do then, since it’s a weekend and you’re not really into the whole “watch movies and gossip while under the influence of certain substances” scene that most of the rest of your peers take part in. Everything else you’d need seems in order: you have a dress from your secondary school senior ball that you'd packed on the off-chance that you'd go to another one. The dress certainly fits the occasion; whether it fits your slightly fuller curves is an important question. Otherwise, shoes, makeup, hair... There’s nothing stopping you.

You search around your cluttered desk for that half-finished package of crackers, because it’s definitely all that caffeine on an empty stomach that’s making your heart beat fast and your stomach uneasy. As you munch on a somewhat stale cracker, you confirm to her that you can attend the event.

-Great. So, that data?

---

The night of the ball rolls around. After a brief struggle, you manage to fit into your dress. Your makeup is passable, your hair cooperates for once, and your shoes don’t seem like they're going to completely destroy your feet… even after you spend ten minutes anxiously pacing around your dorm room, waiting for her.

Finally you give in and send her a message.

-Hey, are you ready yet?

-Almost. Sorry, my meeting ran late. Meet me in the main hall?

-Sure.

You spend another few minutes pacing anxiously in the hall, glancing up periodically as people trickle out of the dorms. You’re just about to send off another message when the elevator arrives.

There she is, gorgeous in her dress uniform, everything pressed into place and polished to shining, a scowl on her face that you’re pretty sure isn’t meant for you. She mutters something under her breath as she adjusts her collar.

“Hm?”

“This is not going to be fun,” she says bluntly. You almost want to ask why she offered to go in the first place, but she definitely seems to be in a bad mood.

“Well, there’ll be food, and what more can you ask?”

She exhales a laugh through her nose. “Let’s get going,” she says, and starts walking at a brisk pace. You scurry after her, balancing precariously in your seldom-worn heels. As you enter the central part of the ship, the clusters of mingling people pause their chatter as you walk past, and you’re intensely aware that those typical hushed comments are now also directed at you, and at the spectacle that is the both of you.

So of course you trip on a corner of the hastily-put-down carpet.

And of course she’s right there to catch you easily in one arm, pulling you in towards her. She’s so close you’re sure she can feel how fast your heart is pounding, and she stares at you intensely and says, barely above a breath:

“Fix your dress. It… slipped.”

You look down and turn beet red, and do your best to discreetly shove your boob back where it came from. Only then does she release you, and you stand there, reeling.

“You okay?” She asks softly.

You nod quickly, then reconsider and shake your head. “I’m going to go find a restroom,” you mumble.

There’s a bit of concern in her eyes. “Would you like me to come with you?”

“Uh. Yeah.” You clench your fists to stop from shaking, and the feeling of your nails digging into your own flesh starts to bring you back to reality. The nearest restroom is, blessedly, empty, and you dab cool water on your neck and decolletage, because no way in hell are you ruining your makeup. She rests against the wall and fiddles with her watch as you attempt to prod your hair back into place. After a while you notice she’s observing you curiously. You give her a questioning look and she shrugs. “I like what you did with your hair. It’s nice.”

“I can do yours sometime,” you offer impulsively, and you realize you really do wonder what she looks like with her hair down.

She smiles that one-sided smile but shakes her head. “It’s not a big deal. Don’t go out of your way.”

“You’re already going out of your way for me,” you point out. She shrugs.

“Not really. Besides, you having a chance to improve your networking skills is a good thing. You can do the networking for the both of us.”

“I thought we were mostly here for the food,” you joke back. At least, you think she was joking.

She chuckles. “Well, yes. But I’m almost positive it’s the same stuff from the dining hall, just actually cooked with care and on nicer plates.”

“Shh, you’ll ruin the moment.”

Now she really laughs, and it’s rich and warm and lovely.

“We just can’t miss out on that. Ready?”

You look back at the mirror, take one last poke at your curls, and decide this is the most composed you're going to get tonight. You give her your best attempt at a smile, and she returns her own, thin but genuine.

As you walk down the hall side by side for the second time, she prods you gently in the side with her elbow.

“What?”

“Put your arm in mine. It’s proper. Also, you need me for balance.”

You open your mouth to protest, but realize she’s half-joking and half just being nice. So you do, and as you get closer to the ballroom (well, the temporarily redecorated giant multipurpose room that usually serves as the gym) you notice her straighten her posture, lift her chin, her eyes growing colder and sharper with every glance and murmur from your classmates. You gently squeeze her tense bicep, and when she glances over at you, slightly alarmed, you smile, and mouth “breathe”.

She nods seriously and says in your ear, “I’m trying.”

Inside, soft music plays and most of the people in attendance are sitting around, chatting in tight groups and glancing around distrustfully at the other cliques that have formed. Really, any sort of social function in this place is sort of doomed: The cultures of Irthtu and the seven other human colonies are all too different from each other. Some, like you, who come from more cultured (well, affluent) backgrounds were taught the traditional formal dance styles of Old Earth, but family politics make it really difficult to socialize with the most of the Tusies, no matter how little you try to care about those decades-long feuds. Either way, it seems like Lori is heading straight for the nearest empty pair of chairs, which you gratefully accept. Your shoes aren’t that comfortable.

“Do you like to dance?” she asks, and it doesn't seem like just small talk, there’s genuine interest in her eyes.

You shrug. “Not like this. I’ve taken formal lessons, and I went to a few parties in secondary, but nobody my age actually dances like this.”

She nods. “I never took lessons, but I partied a bit… Actually, more than a bit, but we probably danced in a completely different style from you.”

“Show me?”

She shakes her head, a tiny wry smile on her lips. “This is way too formal. I couldn’t even move that way in these pants,” she adds, rolling her eyes. “How about you?”

"The music isn't really right, but maybe.” She’s watching you expectantly, so you do your best to shove away your insecurity… and to make sure the rest of you is shoved firmly into your dress. You get up and give yourself a little space, and nervously test out a few simple steps. You find yourself turning your feet and pointing your toes out of habit born from years of classes, and you relax a bit. Your hips and shoulders follow as you drop into the beat of the music. It’s a bit too slow, but you know how to move your body more fluidly now than you did at seventeen.

You turn and glance at her, and she smiles. You smile back and hold out a hand. She looks a bit nervous but takes it anyway. You take things slowly, doing your best to guide her. She’s not clumsy by any means, but you can tell that she’s focusing more on moving than just feeling. By the time the song hits the chorus again, though, she relaxes, and just by that measure she's one of the better people you've danced with.

People are starting to take notice. Some whisper and giggle like always, but others actually watch, and soon grab their own partners. Maybe they’re trying to outdo you, maybe they’re actually trying to have fun. You really don’t care, because you’re having fun.

And Lori’s having fun too, glowing under the soft multicolored lights. This is the happiest you’ve seen her, as much as she’s trying to hold up her facade of seriousness. Eventually, she lets it all go, and you’re struck by how pretty her smile is, and how smoothly you move together.

All too soon, the music ends and her hands float up. You follow her almost without thinking, and your fingertips land on hers, in a foreign but sweet gesture.

“Thank you for this dance,” she says with a soft intensity you’d never expected from her. It’s gratitude and joy and you realize this is the most you’ve seen her just be a girl.

“Thank you.” And it’s really just as genuine. You both stare into each other’s eyes, neither of you saying anything, not really knowing what there is to say as the lights come up. Her face is flushed and her hands drop stiffly, any trace of that smile gone. She turns her body and offers her arm again, and you take it as you go find new seats. You try to catch her eye again, but she’s back to being the same unresponsive impenetrable Lorina you’ve always known… Well, really, never known, you realize. Even with everything you’ve heard about her and all the time you spend studying together, you know you’re only scratching the surface of what’s behind those icy grey eyes.

There’s a speech, there’s some food, then everyone starts to dance again, seemingly emboldened by your brazen display of those easy steps from your secondary school graduation ball... and maybe a little wine. But Lori won’t go out on the floor again no matter how much you prod her, so you just leave her be. She’s your stern tall blue-suited shadow for the rest of the night as you force yourself to play good politician’s daughter with everyone who comes up to you.

Eventually you’re tired of socializing, dealing with politics, and the whole being awake thing, too. Lori’s sullen look has started to turn into a straight-up glower, and you decide it’s probably best to call it a night before one of you inadvertently starts some sort of stupid drama.

So she walks you back to your room, stiff and professional, and stands by the door as you unlock it.

You decide to give it one last try.

“Thanks for inviting me,” pause, smile. “I had a great time.”

Maybe it’s the lighting, or maybe you’re just tired, or maybe she is too, because her eyes look a little watery and her voice is rough and low when she says, “So did I.”

The silence between you grows thick. You take a deep breath.

“Goodnight,” You both say, to each other, at the same time. You try to laugh, but it doesn’t quite come out right. She gives a crisp nod and, without another word, turns and walks away.

In the quiet of your empty room you stand by the sink in nothing but your underclothes. You’ve ripped half of the bobby pins out of your hair before you realize you probably should’ve taken a picture while you were still all dressed up.

You probably should’ve taken a picture with her, too.

As if you’ll ever forget how she looked, brass and silver glinting in the light, sandy blonde hair pinned up sleek and perfect, the color of her uniform making the blue in those grey eyes bright and strong…

You take a deep breath and start to clean the makeup off your face.

First•Next

#starlitscifi #chapter #update #original fiction #fun times at space prom

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wee-chlo · 7 years ago

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Everything Is Going To Be Okay: A Villain AU AU, Part 1

Inspired by @im-fairly-whitty and @slusheeduck ‘s Villain AU, a heartwarming tale about family and love and- hahahaha I’m kidding, it’s tragedy.

When Miguel Rivera, the great-great-grandson of esteemed and beloved musician Héctor Rivera, was twelve, he was cursed and went to the Land of the Dead. There, he discovered the truth about his family’s bloody, crime-speckled past. Convincing Hector that he intended to keep the secret, he was sent home… and now, fifteen years later, he’s back.

This is a happy ending, but happy endings aren’t necessarily good ones.

Rated PG13 this particular chapter for mentions of suicidal ideation it’ll cool down to something closer to PG/G in coming chapters.

Miguel Rivera, great-great-grandson of the esteemed and beloved musician Héctor Rivera, died alone in his sleep when he was twenty-seven. He hadn’t been a public figure for nearly a decade and had been estranged from most of his family. Friends were relatively few, and so it took almost two days for his body to be discovered in his apartment in Monterrey, Mexico.

At first, the common theory was suicide. Rumors about what had happened to him on that Día de los Muertos fifteen years ago still churned and rumbled despite the family’s attempts to quiet lingering doubts about the official story. Word in the tabloids was that Miguel suffered from night terrors, panic attacks, and fits. There was a rumor that he was a paranoid schizophrenic, that he’d attacked his family and been disowned for it, that he was a dangerous predator that the family was trying to protect. No matter how many magazines and paparazzi were sued for libel and slander, another would crop up with something new, something even more salacious and hurtful.

Coco knew better.

She knew her brother, even if the calls had become more infrequent and the visits to the Rivera home had stopped when she was twelve. Her brother wasn’t dangerous, wasn’t crazy. Just… scared. She didn’t know why. He never talked about that night he disappeared and then reappeared at dawn, hysterical and sobbing. No matter how many therapists their parents had sent him to, no matter how many times the topic was broached, he remained tight-lipped about it, allowing people to come to their own dramatic conclusions.

He’d left home when he turned eighteen. Coco had been six, but had very dim, half-baked memories of her brother and parents arguing about it. He visited on her birthday, Christmas, and up until she was about twelve, he visited for Día de los Muertos. Then, one year, he said he wasn’t coming back.

The memory of that argument wasn’t vague or half-baked. Sometimes she thought her ears still rang with her Abuelita’s outraged yelling. The phone had been slammed down so hard it cracked and after that, Miguel was the black sheep. Coco, Mama and Papa had received calls, letters, emails, but no visits. Sometimes, he’d call the house and ask to speak to Abuelita, but she’d never take the call.

In the last year before his death, he, Coco, and his parents had engaged in a long and complicated game of phone tag. Instead of direct conversations, they’d leave messages to each other. Coco got the impression that Miguel did it on purpose, deliberately calling when he knew they wouldn’t be able to answer so that there wouldn’t need to be a conversation. In the weeks afterward, she listened to his last voicemail over and over and over.

Hey, sorry I missed you. Uh, everything’s fine up here. Keep an eye out in the mail, yeah? Your birthday present should be getting there soon. Tell Mama and Papa I love them, and, uh… tell Abuelita that too, okay? Love you. Bye.

When they first got the news that he was dead, it had sounded like a suicide note. Apparently, they’d found quite a few in his apartment from varying times. The autopsy said otherwise. Miguel had been on medications: Valium, Ambien, fentanyl, and lexapro. He’d had alcohol in his system, not a lot but enough to indicate that he’d drank some the night before. And he’d had a genetic heart condition. The mix of long-term anxiety and insomnia, combined with the medication and alcohol, had killed him silently and painlessly in the night. A freak accident. A tragedy.

The landlady had sent Miguel’s things to the Rivera household. Most of it would be given away or donated: clothing, bedding, kitchenware. But among the rubble of her brother’s life was a little box of evidence proving every stupid mumbler wrong: notebooks full of songs and music, old photos, a laptop with a family photo as the lock screen.

A shoebox filled with printouts and copies of every email and letter that the family had sent to them. Every Christmas card, every birthday letter. Clippings of the things that Rosa and Abel had been doing, the review of Rosa’s first play and Abel’s second album.

They hadn’t sent the suicide notes. Apparently, those were being kept until suicide could be officially ruled out. But buried in the box of letters sent to him was a letter he’d written but not yet sent. It made the bottom drop out of Coco’s stomach.

I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore, he wrote, his handwriting shaky and cramped. I feel like I’m just wasting time for nothing. I could be with you all, and instead, I’m doing this. And it’s pointless because I’m not even going to do anything with it.

Just destroy that stupid laptop, would you? Nothing in there worth talking about anyway.

Miguel Rivera woke up dead.

Slowly, things came into focus. He was warm, bundled up in soft blankets. He heard something very distantly: voices, muffled and soft as if through water at first, then crystallizing.

“Should it take this long? I feel like it shouldn’t take this long.”

“The doctor said it’s normal for people who die that way. Calm down, mi amor.”

The voices were familiar. One he’d only heard from video clips and old newsreels but the other…

Pepita? Take care of him, will you?

He jerked away with a gasp, the memory knocking him out of the in-between state and back to… back to…

Oh.

His brain seemed to work in sections, processing things bit by bit, clunky even after the sudden rush of emotion that had hit him like electricity. He was in bed that wasn’t his, in a room that wasn’t his. The walls were sage and pastel yellow, the decoration minimal and sterile. Sunlight flushed in from an open window to his left, and to his right were two well-dressed skeletons, greying dark hair immaculately styled, their clothing tasteful, their expressions equal parts concern and shock. One was a woman with long hair, dressed in elegant purple, who could only be Mama Imelda. Sitting next to her…

“Hola, Papa Héctor,” Miguel said, the words sounding thick and clumsy to his own… ears? “Been awhile.”

“Migue,” Papa Héctor said warmly, reaching out and taking Miguel’s hand in his. “Oh, m’ijo, it’s so good to see you. I wish you’d taken a bit longer though…” He sighed, giving Miguel’s hand a squeeze. The feel of it was strange, bone rubbing on bone. The sight made old memories dredge up again, and he had to fight down the urge to wrench his hand free.

“But you’re here,” Mama Imelda said, sitting on the bed next to him. “You’ve been here for almost a day now, recovering. And you’ll need to recover for a while longer still.”

“A day?” Miguel’s head felt like it was full of gauze and cotton, even as his thoughts began to move at a steadier pace.

“You died in your sleep, chamaco,” Papa Héctor said quietly, shaking his head and looking so sad, like his heart was breaking. “Ay, Migue… It’s good to see you, but it didn’t have to be like this. It didn’t have to be this soon.”

Miguel couldn’t bring himself to say anything. It was too surreal. Dying in your sleep is what old people did, people who’d lived until they were in their seventies, eighties, nineties. It’s how Mama Coco had died, and Papa Julio. You don’t die in your sleep before you’re thirty. That’s not how it works.

“We’ve been so worried about you, m’ijo,” Mama Imelda said, cutting through the fog of confusion. “You stopped coming home for Día de los Muertos, you didn’t have an ofrenda up. No one knew what was happening. There was talk about you hurting yourself. We didn’t know what you would do…” She trailed off, and when Miguel looked up, she was giving him a rather pointed look. It took a moment for Miguel to realize what she was getting at but when he did, he almost laughed in their faces, it was so ridiculous.

“Go ahead. Ask. I won’t get mad or anything,” he said.

Héctor and Imelda shared a glance, and then she said, “The book.”

The words fell between them with all the delicacy of a pair of rocks. Miguel gently pulled his hand free of Héctor’s and peered at it. Funny, the joints didn’t look like they did in the biology books.

“Wasn’t much of a book,” he said, his voice sounding funny and distant. “Mostly notes. Newspaper articles. I got a couple of autopsy reports, but I had to be careful, you know? I didn’t know how picky the curse was and if I popped up back here… might have been a little awkward.” He couldn’t make eye contact with them. He didn’t know what they’d do, or say, or think. He’d had this whole speech prepared for years, worked on it every single spare moment, but now here he was and instead of something mature and reasonable, words just came out like vomit.

“You were good, I’ll give you that. Damn good. I mean, once I knew what the thought process was, I could catch the names. But then it just opened this whole new thing. I mean, how many victims, for instance? Don’t even know. Depends on how generous you’re feeling, I guess. Might be ten. Might be dozens. Sure, you might not have killed every one of them but it’s not like people didn’t throw themselves off of bridges or drink themselves to death after you dragged their careers so far into the muck that they couldn’t break out.”

“Miguel-” Héctor’s tone was almost pleading, but Miguel had been waiting for this moment since he was twelve and no one was going to stop it now, not even Héctor Rivera. He still couldn’t look at them, but there wasn’t much else to look at. He flopped back onto the bed and focused on a crack in the ceiling.

“But you know, I could never prove anything. You were damn good. I could never prove a thing. I just… knew enough to keep me up at night. Enough to make me feel sick. I couldn’t stand to be there anymore, in that house. I had to get out of there, but hey, can’t say anything because if I do, poof,” he made a tiny explosion gesture with his hands, the bones clicking together. “Back here. With you. So what else was I supposed to do? What was I supposed to do? Just pretend I didn’t know and everything was fine? Pretend like Ernesto De La Cruz didn’t exist-”

“That bestia doesn’t deserve your pity, Miguel,” Imelda said firmly, standing up from the bed. “He’s gone and done with now, and the world is the better for it.”

“Maybe,” Miguel admitted. “I wish they were all like that, I really do. I wish it was all that easy, but they didn’t all have to die. It’s like you just… got used to it.”

“Miguel,” Héctor said, his voice quieter now but firmer. “We never did things like that lightly. It was never for lack of trying anything else or going different routes. We did what we had to do for our family, to keep our children and their children safe.” He sighed. “You said you understood that.”

“I was twelve,” Miguel snapped back at the ceiling. “And I’d just watched you gloat about murdering someone and then watched that some person get snatched by a giant glowing cat monster. I lied.”

The silence that followed was heavy and dark. Miguel didn’t know how a heart that didn’t exist could still be pounding but he could feel it rattling his ribcage, felt himself tremble despite the blankets tucked around him.

“Miguel, look at me.” Miguel gritted his teeth, gaze fixed upwards. “Miguel.” The note of warning reminded him so much of his own father that he turned instinctively.

Imelda was standing behind where Héctor stood, her hands resting on his shoulders. They made a striking pair, he had to admit. Like something out of a Gothic romance, stark and dark and resolute. Like a painting of a king and his queen standing in judgment.

“We need to know that you can be trusted, Miguel,” Héctor said, folding his hands in front of him. “You’ve… spent a lot of time on this. And we know you never said anything when you were alive. But we need to know that that’s going to continue.”

“And if it isn’t?” Miguel asked, knowing the answer, and knowing his own. Héctor sighed again, and Miguel thought he saw Imelda’s hands tighten their grip on his shoulders.

“Then it’s the same as before, Miguel. You stay with us and we keep an eye on you until we know you understand.” Miguel blinked. “We’re not going to hurt you, Miguel,” Héctor said, sounding absurdly exasperated, as if he wasn’t talking to someone who knew exactly what he was capable of. “You’re our family. We love you, and we want you to be happy. We want you to be here, with your family. We want you to come home. But we can’t let everything this family built-”

“I’m not going to say anything.”

Héctor stuttered to a stop.

“I’m not,” Miguel said again. “I wish I was lying. I really do. I wish I never met Ernesto De La Cruz. I wish I never knew anything about all the things you’ve done. I wish…” He felt a lump form in his throat, which was so stupid because he didn’t even have one anymore, and when he spoke again, it came out a cracking croak. “I wish I could love you the way everyone else does. I wish I was going to…” Miguel whispered. Before he couldn’t bring himself to look at Héctor, but now he couldn’t bring himself to look away. He wished it didn’t feel as good as it did to finally get to talk, because it was Héctor, but Miguel had been alone for so damn long…

“I wish I was going to say something. But I’m not. Because… because I don’t want anyone else to feel the way I do. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand how dirty I feel. I couldn’t do that to anyone else. I couldn’t. I’m not…” He closed his eyes, covered his face, blotted out the horror on Papa Héctor’s face, the grief on Mama Imelda’s. “I’m not strong enough.”

“No, no, Migue, no,” Papa Héctor said, all the sternness and firmness gone like fog to sunlight, and Miguel felt him slip an arm around to pull him up into a sitting position. Papa Héctor’s hand gripped Miguel’s shoulder, pulled him closer so that he was in a half-hug, and it was enough to make Miguel shatter like so much glass.

“I just wanna go home,” he sobbed, curling into a ball against Papa Héctor’s chest. “I don’t wanna do this anymore, I don’t, I don’t-”

“It’s okay, m’ijo,” Mama Imelda’s hand touched his back, ran up and down his spine soothingly. “You don’t have to. You’ve been so strong, Migue. This isn’t weakness. It’s the right thing. You’re protecting your family. You’re home now.”

Home. With family. People who cared. People who’d loved each other.

People who’d killed for each other.

“It’s over, Miguel,” Papa Héctor said, tucking Miguel under his chin. Miguel felt Mama Imelda press closer, wrapping her arms around him and Papa Héctor both, a secure embrace. “It’s done.”

There was a time when Miguel thought that those words would be a gavel coming down. He hadn’t expected them to be a promise, aching with apology and forgiveness and love.

Papa Héctor’s hand smoothed back his hair carefully, and Miguel felt a distinctly foreign sort of drowsiness fall over him like a blanket. He relaxed by inches until he was putty in their arms, listening to Papa Héctor hum something aimless and soothing.

He wished he was stronger. He wished he had more of a backbone, more guts. He wished he was strong enough to make the hard choice, the painful choice. But really, it had never been a choice at all.

“Get some rest, Miguel.” Mama Imelda’s voice was warm and loving. “We can talk more later.”

#pixar coco #villain!au

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thebluesideofmyworld · 7 years ago

Text

Emotions: Confusion - A Solangelo Fic

Summary: con·fu·sion (noun) 1. lack of understanding; uncertainty. 2. the state of being bewildered or unclear in one's mind about something.

Word Count: 2500 words || Rating: Teenage and Up Audience || Read on AO3

Nico looked away from where Will was sitting on a chair next to the cot. The way the sunlight fell on Will’s hair, making it aflame with golden light was way too distracting.

“So you’re born on 1924?”

That question usually irritating for Nico. But this time, it became slightly less irritating than usual. Probably because Will said it without sounding annoyingly curious. Just slightly curious. Slightly.

Or probably because Will was the one asking the question.

“Yeah,” Nico said, glancing at Will for a second. The head medic was still holding the board, scribbling something about it. Nico looked down to the mattress, his finger absently tracing imaginary pattern on the sheet.

“Cool,” Will said.

Nico’s head snapped to look at Will, eyes widened a bit.

What did he just say?

Will looked up from the board to Nico. “You’ve got to tell me about what kind of music that was popular in that time.”

Nico blinked. He stared at Will, not really sure what Will meant by that.

“Excuse me?”

Will put the board on the small nightstand next to the cot. He shrugged his shoulders.

“I mean, people always said that jazz and swings were quite popular in the 30s. So I thought it would be cool to hear how it really was.”

“You want to hear it. From me,” Nico said, as if saying it by himself would make it easier for him to believe it. It did not.

Will chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, leaning back on the chair as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Would be great to have a legit source of information about the music from that decade. And I bet Austin would have a bunch of questions to ask you.”

Nico did not know what to say to that.

He did not know how to feel about that.

But at the back of his mind, he started digging out some vague, hazy memories from his childhood. About the times when his Mama would hum along to the songs in the radio while she was sitting in the living room, flipping through the magazines. He vaguely remembered that one song about smokes on someone’s eyes. And that one song about the blue moon.

His Mama loved those songs.

“Anyway,” Will said as he stood up from the chair, cutting Nico’s train of thought. “Do you mind if I check your vitals?”

“Uh. Yeah, sure.” Nico said, shifting a bit on the cot.

“Uhm, Nico?”

Nico looked up at Will, who was looking at him expectantly. “Yeah?”

“I would need to,” he paused to clear his throat. “… Hold your wrist. And your arms. I mean, to check your pulse. Totally for medical purpose.”

“Oh,” Nico said, feeling heat creeping in slowly inside of him. “Okay,” he said, stretching out his left hand to Will.

Will took it and once their skin came in contact, strange electric sparks lit up in his vein.

Strange, but not unpleasant.

Nico managed not to flinch this time.

He strangely felt that Will’s hand on his skin was pleasantly warm.

Will’s eyes were on where his fingers were on Nico’s wrist. Nico stared at how his brows scrunched as Will was concentrating, some rebellious strands of sun-kissed blond hair falling over his forehead.

“Not so bad,” Will said as he let go of Nico’s hand. Nico blinked, feeling another rush of heat over his face when he realized that he has been staring at the healer.

“Your pulse is a bit…higher than normal, and so is your heart rate. But those are not something that I would really concern about,” he said as he reached out for the board. He sat on the chair next to the nightstand.

“How do you feel though? Feeling nauseous? Some body aches?” He asked Nico, glancing at him before scribbling something on the board.

Nico bit his lower lip as he pondered on the question.

“Not really,” he said and shrugged his shoulders. He did feel a bit exhausted, worn out. But after a war that he and the rest of the camp had gone through, wouldn’t everyone feel worn out too?

Then his conversation with Will just a few hours ago reeled back in his mind.

A conversation that he still didn’t get yet.

“I’ve been stuck in the infirmary for, like, two days. You don’t come by. You don’t offer to help”

Nico didn’t get why Will would want someone like him, the son of Hades around a healer like him.

“You don’t think I could stand to see a friendly face?”

Nico didn’t get why Will would describe him as someone with a friendly face. It just did not make any sense.

“Actually, I do feel kind of confused.”

That seemed to get Will’s attention, as his head quickly snapped back to Nico.

“You feel what? Confused?” He asked as he quickly stood up. With one wide step, he closed the distance between him and Nico. “Confused as in dizzy? Are you having a fever?”

This time, without a warning, he pressed his hand over Nico’s forehead, checking for his temperature.

Nico thought fleetingly that he did not really mind with Will touching him. Even without warning.

“No, Solace. Relax,” Nico said. He pulled Will’s hand away from his forehead. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh,” Will said, pulling his hand back to his side. He was probably blushing. It was a bit hard to tell with his tanned skin. Besides, there were some stupid butterflies that just decide to do some stupid dancing in his stomach now for Nico to really think about whether Will was blushing or no.

“What do you mean by confused, then?”

Nico steeled himself to hold his eyes right at Will’s blue eyes.

“What do you mean when you said a friendly face? Are you really talking about me?”

“Whom else I should be talking about?”

“Me? A friendly face, Solace? Me?”

“What? Now you would even deny the fact that I’ve known you since you were just that 10-year old boy, walking around with your pack of Mythomagic cards and talk about how many attack points that Apollo had was nothing compared to the protection level that Hades had?”

Nico blinked. It took him a full two second before he could reply.

“You… You remember me back then?”

Because really, with the kind of history that he had about the first time he came to the Camp, and how he never stayed for longer than a day or two in the camp, to have someone remember him was something that was just…unexpected, to say the least.

Will snorted. “Don’t tell me that you did not remember me, di Angelo.”

He said that with a slightly bickering tone. But Nico could see something fragile in his eyes. Like he hoped that Nico remembered him.

The thing was, Nico did remember him.

It was a hazy memory, of a blond tall kid, standing behind Michael Yew when Michael was checking for Nico’s vitals the first time Nico came to the camp.

It was a blurry memory, but Nico remembered the blond kid who sat next to him on the grass, by the strawberry field, nodding and asking him questions as Nico was showing him his Mythomagic card.

And of course, Nico remembered how Will running around, being one of the most needed ones to heal the demigod who were wounded during the Manhattan Battle.

He did.

Nico did remember him.

“Well, yeah. I do remember you.”

Nico might just have imagined it, but Will’s eyes looked twinkled just a bit brighter.

“So?” Will crossed his arms over his chest, arching an eyebrow at Nico. “What is wrong with saying that your face is one of the familiar faces that I have in mind?”

To be honest, this conversation did not make the whole thing become less confusing for Nico. In fact, it raised even more questions.

“I’m just…” Nico paused, but could not make himself look away from Will. “I just did not expect that anyone would…remember me. For so long.”

Will’s expression got softer. He looked down as he mumbled.

“I got my first pack that day.”

Nico furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “You got what?”

Will looked up again. “My first pack of Mythomagic card. I bought it from the camp store that day because… I want to play with you.”

He paused and looked away. For a second or two, there was a heavy silence.

“But then you’re… You’re just…gone.”

A cold pain from an old wound stabbed Nico. He remembered that day. The day when he got so mad at Percy, whom he thought he could trust. The day when he found out that he has lost the only one person that he had left with him.

Nico’s heart was in his throat.

“I… I am sorry,” he said, voice barely a whisper.

“Don’t be,” Will looked back at him. There was a small smile ghosting over his lips. “I mean… I… I can’t blame you. You lost your sister.”

Nico looked down at his lap, and gave a single nod.

Silence again.

Then Nico felt a hand over his shoulder. Warm and comforting. He looked up, finding Will staring at him with a gentle look in his eyes.

“It must be painful for you. Losing a sister.”

Nico bit his lip and nodded again.

“But you lost your brothers too.”

Something flashed in Will’s eyes. Something so akin to pain. It lasted for just a second, but Nico saw it, and it made his heart ache.

Nico wondered what he could do to soothe the pain. What he could do to show Will that he cared.

Will pulled his hand away from Nico and slid it into his pocket. He looked away, gazing to the window. But it was like his eyes were looking at something far away instead of just the green grass that they could see from the window.

Nico thought that it was the same longing look that he had himself whenever something reminded him of Bianca.

Nico watched Will’s chest raised up and down slowly, like he was trying to regain a normal breathing to calm himself.

“Anyway,” Will said a second later, turning his head back to Nico. A small smile curled up on his lips but his blue eyes were not as bright as they were a few minutes ago. “I still have it. The Mythomagic starter pack.”

Nico raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Will said, running his fingers through his messy curls of blond hair. “I don’t know why I still keep it.”

He sighed as he looked down for a second. When he looked back at Nico, there was a thin, stiff smile on his lips. “I don’t even know whether you still have yours.”

Nico shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t.”

He kept his eyes at Will’s when he added. “But I still remember how to play it, though.”

Will’s eyebrows shot up and the smile got just a bit, slightly wider. And this time, there was a spark of hope in his eyes.

“Really?”

Nico didn’t know why he smiled when he nodded at Will. “I can teach you how to play.”

“You can?”

“Of course.”

It was funny how a simple, almost childlike reason like a game of Mythomagic can make Will’s face lit up. And it was ridiculous how the way Will’s face lit up made Nico’s heart did a backflip.

“So it means…you’re really staying, right?”

Nico’s eyes widened, and he was too confused with the question to ponder why Will’s cheeks seemed to be in a shade of crimson.

“I am. I’ve told you. I am staying.”

“Oh,” Will said. Will looked away again, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just want to make sure. That this time you’re really staying.”

“Well,” Nico looked down because he could feel that his cheeks were also heating up. “I… Yeah. I am staying this time. For real.”

“Good to hear that.”

“Besides,” Nico looked up again at Will, slightly smiling. “I still have to tell you about what kind of music that we listened to in the 30’s, right?”

“Exactly,” Will said, beaming a smile that could light up the whole room.

The sound of the conch shell, signaling the time for lunch made the two of them looked to the window.

For a while, they said nothing, just watching the campers that were making their way to the dining pavilion.

For a while, it was just silence between them. But Nico realized that this was the kind of peaceful silence, the kind of silence where neither of them felt the need to say something, just for the sake of breaking an awkward silence.

It was Will who broke the silence first, though.

“Some of the nymphs will bring your lunch here.”

“Okay,” Nico nodded, trying to ignore the slight disappointment of having to eat lunch without Will alone.

“But you know what?” Will grinned at him.

Nico arched an eyebrow at Will. “What?”

“What about I go get something from the dining pavilion, then I’ll come back here so you can start telling me about that 30’s music?”

Nico could feel his heart did that stupid backflip again.

He could feel that he was smiling again.

To be honest? He found he didn’t really mind.

“Sounds good, Solace.”

“Cool!”

***

Like what he has promised, Will came back and they had lunch together. Nico told Will about how his Mamma listened and sang along to Blue Moon and Smoke Gets in Your Eyes. Will told Nico that Somewhere Over the Rainbow remained to be a popular song. They shared a plate of fruit together.

***

At dinner time, Will showed up again. This time he brought not only his dinner, but also his pack of Mythomagic card. Nico taught Will the basic rules. Will kept on asking questions. They shared a piece of cookies that Will brought with him as a dessert.

***

It was dark. Nico was about to fall asleep on his cot when he realized something. It has been so long, so very long, since the last time he had a light conversation like what he had with Will today. A conversation that flew easily. A conversation where Nico actually smiled and even laughed at some things that Will said.

And it was confusing.

Why, though?

Why Will? Why did he feel this way?

There were other questions that Nico had. But this time, the confusion did not freak him out, or make him anxious.

Maybe, not all things need an explanation anyway.

Maybe, there were things that Nico did not need to be confused about.

Maybe.

Nico fell asleep that night. A peaceful sleep, this time.

He did not know that when Will peeked at him from the light curtain that was drawn around his cot, the small soft smile on Will’s lips matched his own small smile.

***

Author’s Notes:

I know that there are so many stories already based on people's headcanon about how Will and Nico's relationship grew, and all of those stories are just so awesome and great, and with the level of insecurity that I have, this has been sitting in my draft for so long (almost as long as The Tale of Nico XD).

Anyway, since it's Valentine's Day which happens to be also my birthday, posting this fic is some sort of my way of #treatyourself2018 . I hope you enjoy it :). Comments and feedbacks are always highly appreciated!

#Solangelo #Solangelo oneshot #Solangelo one shot #Nico di Angelo #Will Solace #pjo #pjo fanfic #to my Slytherin girls whom I talked about my Musician Au #Sorry that I haven't done anything about that one yet XD #emotions

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the-raven-sisters · 7 years ago

Text

Chapter Thirteen

Title: Sugar, Spice, and Everyone Lies

Theme Song: Waves by Dean Lewis

Word Count: 7,908

Warnings: language, violence, angst

Characters: (OC) Harper Raven, (OC) Maisie Raven, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mary Winchester, Mick Davies, Arthur Ketch

A/N: this is our rendition of season 12 ep 14 (“The Raid”), so enjoy! When we first watched this, we talked about the episode afterwards and all we thought was, I can see the girls being a part of this episode, we need to write this… so finally, it is written (and it took forever cuz damn is does this episode have a lot of meat to it) -mara

Maisie takes a turn being salty instead of Harper lol -Hope

Read Chapter 12 and its mini-chapter here!

Chapter List | Extra Content | Character Roster

With Harper following, Sam pushes open the door to the bunker, a loud creak echoing throughout the war room below. Harper peers over Sam’s shoulder, glancing around and finding the room clear.

“Do you think it’s safe?” Harper whispers.

“Well, there was no sock on the doorknob,” Sam replies with a smirk, and Harper swats at his arm as they descend the stairs. “What? We both texted them, so they should know we were coming.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t respond. And I don’t really want to see… anything.”

Sam looks amused as he pushes further into the bunker, walking across the war room floor and into the library. “See? It’s fine.”

Maisie appears from the hallway, only wearing Dean’s shirt. “Oh, hey guys,” she greets as she walks past them, heading to the kitchen.

“Are you sure?” Harper turns dramatically to Sam, giving him a ‘I-told-you-so’ face.

“Sure about what?” Dean asks, surprising both Sam and Harper, as he stands in the doorway of the kitchen.

“And he’s shirtless,” Harper grumbles.

“Could be worse,” Sam replies with a shrug to her, before turning to Dean and Maisie. “Mom said she was going to be coming by at some point, so you might want to put some more clothes on.”

“And if not for her sake, then for mine,” Harper mumbles, earning an eye roll from Sam.

The bunker door opens for a second time that day while the brothers sit around the war room discussing a previous case. “Mom! Hey!” Sam greets cheerfully, glancing up at Mary climbing down the stairs.

“Well, well,” Dean starts. “It has been a while. A long, long, long, long, long, long while.”

“Yeah, all right. He’s dramatic, as you know,” Sam waves his brother off. “What he meant to say was, we missed you. Glad you’re back.” A big, goofy grin plays on Sam’s lips at the sight of their mother.

“Sam, help,” Harper shuffles into the room with Maisie trailing behind. “She won’t stop.” Both girls stop in their tracks upon seeing Mary, and Harper throws Maisie a conspiratorial look.

“I take it back, I’m sorry,” Maisie holds up her hands in surrender.

Harper glares at her briefly before making her way over to Sam, deciding to stand behind his chair. “What’s going on?” Sam asks, glancing up at his girlfriend.

“I’ll tell you later,” Harper mumbles.

“Nice to see you, Mary,” Maisie says a little too cheerfully, as she takes a seat around the war room table.

Mary gives her a smile and nod, before revealing the contents in her hands. “Burgers. Beer.” She places it on the table in front of her boys, who immediately make a grab for the food.

“Forgiven,” Dean smiles contently as he starts to open the to-go bag of food. Sam passes out the beers to the girls and then Dean. “Whatcha been up to?” Dean asks while they start dividing out the food.

“Oh,” Mary sighs as she tries to come up with a list; Dean takes a handful of fries out of the bag and into his mouth while she talks. “Jogging, tai chi, meditation.” Mary pauses, noting everyone’s expression as she regales the next item on the list. “Melting rugaru brains,” she adds dramatically, almost causing Harper to choke on her gulp of beer.

“Uh… melting rugaru brains?” Sam repeats curiously.

Everyone stares down Mary, waiting for an explanation, and after a second of silence, Mary decides to come out with it. “There’s no easy way to say it, so I’m just gonna say it. I have sort of been working with the British Men of Letters.”

Sam’s face immediately falls, a mix of sadness and confusion taking its place across his features. “You-- you... uh, you what?” Mary carefully watches her boys’ faces as they respond.

Dean tries to cover his hurt with anger. “Ah,” he breathes out, a tight-lipped expression settling on his face; he looks to his younger brother beside him, then to a stunned Harper, before his eyes fall on Maisie. He could practically see the anger building up behind her eyes as fast as his own anger.

“Mom,” Sam starts calmly. “We, um… have a-- a history with them.” Sam stutters out, trying to gauge if his mother truly understands the gravity of the situation.

“I know, Sam,” Mary replies, hoping she can make them understand where she is coming from. “And it was a hard decision, but they’re doing good work.” Dean looks unimpressed, his arms crossed over his torso as Mary continues. “I have helped them save people, a lot of people. We can learn from them.”

Sam’s eyes look glossy as he listens to his mother’s betrayal, hurt coursing through his shoulders; Harper notices him tensing up and places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Dean is wearing his typical pissed-off face, and Mary doesn’t look amused by it.

“Don’t give me the face,” she directs at her eldest son.

“What face?” Dean asks grumpily.

“You know the face.”

“There’s no face,” he shoots back.

“That’s the face,” Mary says, gesturing toward him. Dean looks away, poorly hiding his hurt and anger.

“Mom,” Sam interrupts, trying to reason with her, “we have our own tool kit, and it works just fine. And for obvious reasons, like broken ribs and burnt feet…” Sam pauses, composing himself, and Harper’s expression grows dark at the mention of his previous dealing with the British Men of Letters. “We don’t trust the Brits,” Sam finishes simply.

“So where does that leave us?” Dean asks, shoving a hand into the pocket of his jeans and glancing over at an angry Maisie.

Mary’s arms fold over her chest as she stares down Dean for a silent moment. “Same as always.” She glances down at Sam briefly. “Family.”

Dean looks away, trying not to roll his eyes by the looks of it, though Maisie outright scoffs. Sam simply stares at Mary with a hard-to-read expression.

“Just hear me out. Please.” Mary continues, pleading.

“Wow. Just wow,” Dean starts, pacing around his corner of the room.

“Dean…” Mary says, starting to sound a little exasperated. “What the British Men of Letters are doing, what we’re doing, it’s a better way. They...” Her sons’ physical response causes Mary’s sentence to fall away. Dean’s arms cross again, and Sam leans back in his chair, covering his face with his hands and bumps against Harper, who decides to take a seat beside him, her hand still on his shoulder.

“Look, I’m not blind to who they are, or what they’ve done, but…” Mary continues, until Sam interrupts with a question.

“When?” he asks, mumbling it into his hand, and when Mary gives him an uncertain look, he expands his original thought. “When? When did you start working with them?”

Mary starts nodding slowly. “Since… before the lake house. It wasn’t Wally. They brought me that case.”

“You were runnin’ an errand for the Brits. You kept it from us. Cas almost died,” Dean adds, frustration clean in his tone.

“Cas almost fucking died, because of you.” Maisie’s voice shakes with quiet anger.

“A hunter got killed,” Sam adds.

“Think I don’t know?” Mary replies, defensively. “I’m the one who burned his body. I’m the one who told his wife. I watch him die every night.”

“Good,” Maisie seethes. Dean nods in agreement, giving Mary a pointed look, before he takes a break from pacing and finds a spot closer to Maisie.

Mary turns to Maisie, clearly frustrated. “Look, this is between me and my family.”

Dean steps forward, placing his hands on the table as he stares down his mother. “Maisie is my family.” Maisie slides a hand forward to cover one of Dean’s own slightly trembling hands.

Mary lets out an exasperated sigh, looking between Dean and Maisie. “I’m doing this for you,” she directs toward her sons. “I’m playing three decades of catch up here.”

“And we’re not?” Dean fires back. “How do you think this has been for us? We’re your sons, and you’ve been gone. Our whole lives, you’ve been gone,” Dean adds, defiantly. “You said that you needed time. No, you said you needed space.” He points at her before moving his hands into surrender. “So we gave you your space, but you didn’t need just space,” he continues, as an underlying sadness creeps into his tone. “No, you needed space from us.”

“That’s not true,” Mary protests. “Dean, I’m trying--”

“How about for once, you just try to be a mom?” Dean replies loudly to cut off her sentence.

“I am your mother, but I am not ‘just a mom.’ And you are not a child.”

“I never was,” Dean says, deflated a bit. Maisie squeezes Dean’s hand before pushing away from the table, unable to reign in her anger.

“So stop scolding him like one and own up to your bullshit.” Maisie glares daggers at Mary as she storms out of the war room.

“So between us and them--” Dean starts.

“It’s not like that,” Mary tries to reason.

“Yeah, Mary, it is.” His stony face contrasts his glossy eyes. “And you made your choice. So, there’s the door,” Dean adds, pointing toward the exit above, before following Maisie deeper into the bunker.

Sam stands up, slowly stepping away from the table, and Harper stares up at him, wondering what he’s going to do or say.

“Sam…” Mary starts gently.

“You should go,” Sam says nodding, unshed tears in his eyes, before following his brother and Maisie.

An unsettled silence hangs in the air, Mary and Harper both contemplating what would come next. Suddenly, Mary makes a move to follow Sam, but Harper quickly stands up to cut her off.

“No, just leave. You’ve done enough,” Harper warns, stopping Mary in her stride. Mary nods dejectedly, turning back and making her way out of the bunker. “Hopefully it’ll take less than a month and five days for them to cool off…” Harper mumbles and she goes to follow Sam, finding him in his room.

As she steps closer to Sam sitting on the edge of his bed, Harper can see his shoulders shaking slightly, his head in his hands. Keeping a small distance between them and unsure of what she should say or do, Harper finds herself reaching out to gently pat Sam’s shoulder.

“There, there,” Harper tries her best to console.

Sam can’t help the small laugh that escapes through the tears. “Just, come here,” he says, reaching out and tugging on her arm; Harper complies, sitting down next to him. She wraps an arm around him as his head falls onto her shoulder.

Down the hall, Dean finds Maisie grabbing her few things from her designated drawer and shoving them in her bag. Dean quietly comes up behind her and rests his hand on hers, staying her frantic movement.

“I’m sorry, Dean, I know this isn’t about me but I can’t stay here with her. It’s not right the way she’s treated you and Sam. How could she abandon her only family and hide behind shitty lies. I just made peace with Harper over this kind of bullshit, I can’t- I don’t need this reminder.” She angrily wipes away a few stray tears with her free hand. Dean grabs both of Maisie’s shoulders, turning her to face him.

“I told her to leave. She’s not staying, but I need you,” Dean states, half in a whisper. Maisie studies Dean’s face before nodding her head, shaking another tear loose. Dean’s grip loosens and Maisie falls into his arms, holding him as tight as he holds her.

Three days later

Sam and Harper pull up to the location Mary sent Sam, assuming it to be the British Men of Letters bunker. Harper refused to let Sam go alone, so here they are, reluctantly meeting Mary only seventy-two hours after their falling out.

“Thanks for coming,” Mary starts out as Sam exits the truck, giving Harper a quick side-eye as she follows suit.

“What’s so urgent?” Sam tries to avoid eye contact. Mary sighs but tries to keep the conversation up.

“Sam… I messed up. I know I messed up. But what the British Men of Letters are doing, this is bigger than us, Sam. We’ve got a real shot here.”

“Shot at what?” Sam shakes his head still trying to understand.

“A world without monsters. A world where you and Dean don’t have to hunt, where you can have normal lives,” Mary still keeps trying to justify her actions. Harper is trying to lay low from beside Sam but she can’t help but scoff, knowing they’ve all tried that before.

“I chose this life,” Sam replies with a shrug.

“I know. But you were going to school, to college. And I get why you gave it up. But what if you didn’t have to? What if there was a different future for you, for us? That’s why I’m doing this. That’s what I’m fighting for.” Harper clenches her jaw, and Sam’s internal struggle is written all over his face.

“I’m not trying to recruit you,” Mary continues with her spiel. “But you need to know, things are changing. Please, just let me show you.” Mary backs up and opens the large, metal gate leading to the compound. Sam looks to Harper, holding out his hand. She threads her fingers with his, tamping down her own feelings to support Sam. Together, they cautiously follow Mary.

“It’s just in here,” Mary says, leading them into a large bunker, where possibly miles of large cargo compartments are set up and linked together, this way and that. Finally they arrive in what seems to be the command central; computers and surveillance screens set up all around the room. There’s a large conference table set up in the middle of the room, where a long haired man sits, as oblivious to their entry as the woman standing across from him at a dry erase board. On the far side of the room Sam spots Mick Davies in what must be his ‘office’.

Sam huffs a ‘wow’, though still seeming unconvinced. Mary nods. “Believe it or not, this is just their temporary base. The Brits talk like they’re roughing it.”

As they walk further into the room, Mick comes out of his small office space to meet them.

“Sam Winchester. You didn’t tell me your son was stopping by. And with a friend,” Mick spots Harper’s hand in Sam’s and looks her over before directing his last comment to Mary.

“Didn’t know I had to,” Mary challenges quietly. Mick gives a strained smile but offers his hand to Sam.

“Anyway, welcome.” Sam looks at his hand but makes no move to shake it, returning to observing the room. Mick takes this in stride, now turning to Harper, his hand still out.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you. I’m Mick Davies. And you must be one of the Raven sisters.” Mick tries politely. Harper, however, doesn’t even try to hide her distrust, glaring daggers at Mick.

“I know who you are and it’s not a pleasure.” Before Mick has time for a rebuttal, Sam decides he’s seen all he cares to.

“Yeah, um, you know, I really dig the whole low-budget Mission Impossible vibe, but we’re gonna head back.” Sam gives Mary a tight, unconvincing smile before tugging on Harper’s hand and turning to leave.

“You sure? You’re just in time for the briefing.” Mick baits. Mary says his name low, and with a warning, but Sam reluctantly turns back slightly, waiting for Mick to explain. “I mean, that is, if you wanna hear how we’re gonna exterminate every last vampire in America.” Mick continues, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Harper scoffs out loud, but Sam can’t help but listen.

Mick and his associate debate whether to wait for Ketch briefly, but decide against it due to his unknown whereabouts. Harper and Sam stand on the outskirts of the room, watching the British Men of Letters as Mick introduces everyone around the table. Mary sits down in one of the seats around the conference table, glancing up at her son and his girlfriend.

“Sam, Harper, please. Plenty of seats.” Mick offers.

Sam releases Harper’s hands and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I’m fine.” Harper glances at him, staying by his side.

“All right, then, let’s begin.” Mick takes a seat and his associate, Serena, takes the floor. She starts discussing their operation, exterminating the vampires in the midwest region of the United States.

“We’ve killed all…” She pauses, letting the information on the monitor behind her pop up. “But eleven.”

“Wait, what? Seriously? How?” Sam tries to keep his face impassive, but his confusion and curiosity is clear in his tone.

“You American hunters tend to see vampires as criminals, rogues. One gets out of line, you show up, lop off its head, and leave town.” Serena responds. “We treat them more like terrorists.”

The male associate with the long hair, Alton, clears his throat before speaking up. “Vampires may typically hunt alone, or in small nests. But scratch the surface, and they’re all connected, from the lowest drone all the way up the chain to the top.”

“To the Alpha?” Sam rephrases, and Alton nods in response.

“When we find a nest, we don’t just charge in a la John Wayne, guns a-blazing.” Mick says, glancing over to Sam. Harper crosses her arms over her chest, glaring down Mick. “We wait, we watch.”

“And more people die,” Harper accuses.

“We determine the size of the nest, its relationship to other vampire groups,” Serena rushes continue before Alton jumps back into the conversation.

“They tend to trade amongst themselves, information, victims,” He explains.

“We’re constantly expanding and refining our intelligence.” Serena’s eyes fall on Sam and Harper, still standing on the opposite side of the room from her. “And when we’ve learned all we can, we go, we assemble a team --”

“And wipe them out,” Mary finishes. Harper rolls her eyes seeing as everyone had chosen to ignore her comment on the obvious flaw in their plan.

“Now all the remaining vampires have bunkered up in an abandoned building near Wichita, the Morest Hotel. They think they’re safe.” Serena displays the location on the large monitor.

“We’ve got the AVD locked and loaded.” Mary says, confidently.

“AVD -- Anti-Vamp Device,” Alton explains, leaning back in his chair.

“The Anti- Von Vamp Device?” Harper tries to lighten Sam’s mood, and glances up to see his reaction, nudging him with her elbow and giving him a slight smile. All she gets in return is an unimpressed look from Sam and five pairs of confused eyes watching them. “Keep going,” Harper gestures for them to continue on like she hadn’t said anything.

Mick speaks up at the prompt. “Anyway, tomorrow, we ship out, raid the compound, terminate the colony, and, uh, complete Phase One.”

“And then we move on to the rest of the country,” Mary looks up at Sam and Harper. “By the time we’re done, there won’t be a single bloodsucker in America.”

Sam stares at the picture of the building, the Morest Hotel, processing all that had been said. Harper stands silently beside him, trying to provide some reassurance simply by being at his side. She tries process all this information as well, knowing Maisie wouldn’t be too happy to hear her father could be in danger in the near future.

Mary stands, taking a spot next to her son. “So--”

But before she can’t get out another word, Pierce, a hunter recruited by the British Men of Letters, comes strutting over with a greeting. “Damn. Sam Winchester. Rufus told me all about you. See, him and me worked a case together down the Atchafalaya.”

“I heard,” Sam responds to Pierce’s delight.

There’s an awkward pause before Pierce speaks up. “I tell ya, sure do miss that crotchety old son of a bitch.” Sam wears a polite smile at the response as Alton calls over Pierce and Mary.

“So, what are you thinking?” Harper asks now that they have a moment alone, her gaze searching his face for an honest answer.

“Took the words out of my mouth,” Mick interrupts, walking up to the couple as he buttons his jacket. “Thoughts on our operation?” Sam gives Mick a quick face shrug. “Mmhmm. And our team?”

Sam glances around the room. “Serena and Alton seem smart. Pierce… You know he calls himself, ‘The Hunter King of Baton Rouge,’ right?” Harper suppresses a smile at that bit of information she hadn’t known.

“I do. Unfortunately.” Mick looks at Sam with a small nod.

“A buddy of mine knew him,” Sam continues. “They worked together. Once.”

Mick lets out a sigh. “Right, you see, the truth is, your mother excepted, we’ve struggled to attract the, uh, top shelf of American Hunters. Like you two.”

“Real smooth,” Harper comments, unimpressed with Mick’s flattery tactics.

Sam makes eye contact with Mick for a brief moment before looking to Harper, who gives him a shrug. The rest of the team starts to assemble their equipment on the conference table, while Mary rejoins Sam and Harper, the three of them deciding to take peeks at the new items in the room.

“Sam, this is why I asked you to come. Even if you want no part of it, you needed to know,” Mary says finally explaining herself.

“So this wasn’t a sales pitch?” Sam scoffs. “‘Cause it was a good one.”

“Almost too damn good,” Harper mumbles under her breath; Sam looks to her, acknowledging he heard her concerns.

Meanwhile, after the thunderous knocks ring out through the bunker, Dean answers the door to an unfriendly face held at knifepoint by Maisie.

“Honey, I’m home,” Maisie says sweetly, but Dean knows the edge in her eyes.

“And you brought a visitor. Hope he brought a housewarming gift.” Dean eyes Ketch warily.

“I thought I’d give him the welcome he deserves.” Maisie digs the point of her knife deep enough to make it hard for him to swallow.

“Good idea, babe. Wanna give us one good reason we shouldn’t throw you out with the trash?” Dean crosses his arm, waiting for Ketch to make something up. Ketch simply holds up an expensive looking bottle of liquor.

“Housewarming gift?” He says tentatively. Maisie grabs the bottle before releasing her grip on Ketch.

“They didn’t have anything good at the store.” Maisie shrugs and hops down the stairs, seemingly in a better mood now that she’d gotten a hold of alcohol.

“Save some for me,” Dean calls after her as he grabs Ketch by the collar and shoves him after Maisie.

“You’re lucky I love you enough to share.” Maisie spins around to wink at Dean. “You, not so much. Sit.” Maisie scowls at Ketch and points at a chair.

Maisie grabs a tumbler from the liquor cart and pours a good helping for Dean. She then proceeds to take a drink for herself, no glass needed.

“No love for the bearer of gifts?” Ketch asks sarcastically, nodding towards the bottle.

“You heard her, sit your ass down.” Dean shoots back, sitting on the opposite side of the table from Ketch.

“Charming couple,” he quips, taking a seat before whatever welcome the alcohol had bought him wears out. “Nice place, too. Quaint, cosy.”

Dean doesn’t respond, simply savoring his drink. A damn good drink, though he’d never give Ketch the satisfaction.

“Not much for small talk, are we?” Ketch sighs.

“Nope.” The single syllable is the only indication Dean had heard Ketch.

“Well, surely you must have some questions; why I’m here for instance.” Ketch raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“You’re here to recruit us. You already got Mary playing your game. You want me. And Sam. And probably anyone else you can get your hands on.” Dean states.

“Hands off this asset,” Maisie chimes in from her perch on the table beside Dean. Nodding his agreement with a smirk, Dean absentmindedly rest his hand on Maisie’s leg. He’d like to see them make fools of themselves as they try to win Maisie over.

“Well, I don’t, but the old lads have taken quite a shine to you,” Ketch admits.

“Mm. Well, maybe they shouldn’t have sent some chick to try to kill us,” Dean grumbles.

“If you knew anything, you’d know that was a bad idea right off the bat,” Maisie laughs mirthlessly. She knew Dean wouldn’t hesitate to kill off Ketch the second he made a wrong move. Only because he worked with the people who tried to kill Sam.

“Yes-- Toni. No one predicted she would go rogue. No one but me. I had a sneak peek at what a neurotic, overreaching, time bomb she was… We used to date,” Ketch grunts in distaste.

“Huh. Yeah, I can see that.” Dean shakes his head.

“Dean, I don’t give a toss if you sign up. Honestly, I don’t care if you live or die. But since we’re such jolly good pals now--”

“Jolly good, huh?” Dean scoffs. Ketch continues to ignore Dean’s obvious hostility as he keeps going.

“Let me just say the the Men of Letters is an excellent fit for someone with our… Inclinations.” Ketch gives Dean a knowing look.

“Our? As in you and me?” Dean raises his eyebrows in skepticism.

“You’re a killer, Dean Winchester. And so am I,” Ketch answers smoothly, not aware he’d just made a wrong move in Maisie’s book. Before anyone takes their next breath, Maisie’s knife skims past Ketch’s head, barely missing his ear and thudding into the wall directly behind him.

“Dont. Call him. That. You don’t get to lump him in with you and your super shady organizations’ lackies. Dean Winchester is ten times the person you wish you could be,” Maisie warns; her voice is low but even Ketch can feel her anger from across the table. Dean doesn’t say anything. Looking up at Maisie in awe, he can’t help but feel a swell of gratitude. He may not agree with her, but he sure felt damn lucky to have her defending him.

Ketch glances back at her knife, imbedded handle-deep in the wall, then back to the look on Maisie’s face, putting his hands up in defeat.

“I don’t mean to offend--” Ketch tries to start again.

“Yeah, well your face kind of already does the trick for you, you useless paperclip,” Maisie snides. Ketch’s brow furrows in confusion at the odd insult but lets it go for fear of a knife-sized hole in his chest.

“I only mean that if we go too long without something to track or trap, or punch or gut, well, things get a bit… You get restless. Don’t you?” Ketch changes his wording at the last minute to be safe. Dean looks down at his drink, choosing to take a sip rather than answer.

“The Men of Letters keep me busy. They point me in a direction and bang; off to the races. It’s not a bad life. More of the gritty work, less mess of waiting around and looking for the right thing to kill.” Ketch shrugs, hoping nothing he said sets Maisie off again. When neither one of the couple have any comment, Ketch continues.

“Speaking of…” He stands. “Now that you’ve heard what I have to say, places to be, vampires to behead.” He concludes, looking ready to leave them be.

“You got a line on vamps?” Dean asks cautiously; he can feel Maisie tense up again, no doubt this time in fear, wondering if they could’ve caught wind of her dad.

“I do. Interested? Only a three hour drive to Wichita.” Ketch coaxes.

Dean looks to Maisie as she sighs in relief. “I don’t have any other plans,” she concedes.

They make it to Wichita in just over two hours and Dean parks Baby next to Ketch’s bike, outside a rundown hotel.

“What do we got?” Dean jumps straight to business.

“Ten bloodsuckers, give or take.” Ketch answers.

“Three against ten, I like those odds.” Dean swings the trunk open and pulls out a machete.

“The sun will be down in an hour, so we should move fast. Keep the rats from fleeing the ship,” Ketch observes as he pulls out his own weapon.

“Thanks for the pep-talk, Captain Obvious,” Maisie quips with smirk.

“Fancy.” Dean eyes Ketch’s rifle. Ketch stops fastening on the silencer and nods.

“You’re right, this is too easy. Got another of those?” Dean’s eyes search the trunk a moment before he spots another machete and fishes it out for Ketch.

“Ready?” Dean asks.

“Always,” Ketch answers.

Maisie and Dean give each other the ‘I’m rolling my eyes inside’ look.

Once inside, they slowly make their way down each hallway, but find no opposition.

“Place seems empty,” Dean finally notes.

“Yes. Curious.” Ketch comments in agreement. The three split up to cover more ground, but Dean and Maisie find nothing by the time they meet back on the ground floor. Ketch, however, comes back dragging in his find.

“I found her hiding in the basement with the corpses.” Ketch ignores her protests and growling, holding her at bay with his machete. “Where are your friends?”

“I don’t know,” the vamp grunts back. Ketch looks to Dean who shrugs, figuring they might as well off her even if she’s the only one they find. Dean watches, puzzled as Ketch calmly sets his machete aside. Instead, he tries to beat the answer out of the monster.

“Where are they? Tell. Me. Now.” Ketch lands blow after blow, seeming to enjoy the activity.

“Okay. Alright, that’s enough.” Finally, Dean intervenes, pushing Ketch off of the vampire.

“Enough? She’s a monster,”” Ketch sputters incredulously

“I know.” Dean doesn’t argue the point.

“But that doesn’t mean you have to stoop to their level,” Maisie chides, squatting down to look the vampire in the eyes. After reuniting with her dad, she can’t help but feel a sliver of sympathy for the creature. She probably didn’t have a choice in becoming a monster.

“Just tell us where your friends are,” Maisie prompts, her voice stern but not harsh.

“And you’ll let me go?” The vamp practically whimpers; Maisie shakes her head.

“I’ll make it quick,” Dean offers.

After a long pause, the vampire knows she’s doesn’t have any better options. “Hunting. They went hunting.”

“Hunting whom?” Ketch queries.

“The hunters.”

“Where’s McGillicuddy?” Serena asks as she sits down at the computer, showing the security footage on the main gate of the compound. The guard is missing. Everyone moves, surrounding the monitor and watching for movement. The guard’s bloody, dead body appears on screen suddenly, lifted up to the camera by a vampire, and Serena lets out a frightened squeak.

There’s a panicked look in Mick’s eyes when he looks to Sam. “What’s happening?”

“It’s the Morest vampires. They’re here.” Mary looks around the room. Sam has a worried expression on his face; Harper puts a hand on his back, feeling concerned as well. On screen, the vampires make their way through the gate.

“We gotta lock this place down, ASAP.” Sam starts making orders, deciding to take control of the situation. “Lock this place down now!” He repeats as he moves into action, grabbing his machete from the table. Harper follows suit.

Sam and Mary split off from Harper and the others, each group finding and locking down different sets of doors. Sam and Mary run into a few vampires, quickly taking them out. Sam attempts to lock the gate outside, but ends up having to rush due to the vampires charging toward them.

The vampire that Sam had knocked out starts to stir as they come back inside, and Sam stops Mary from killing him, to her confusion. “We can use him.” Mary nods.

Sam and Mary bring the creature back to the main room, where everyone had fallen back to, for safety. With doors locked and Alton’s eyes on the monitor, Sam and Mary shove the vampire into a chair.

“You okay?” Harper comes alongside Sam, her hand falling on his arm.

Sam nods. “And you?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“How’d they find us?” Mick asks finally, confusion and worry lacing his tone. “How do they even know who we are?”

The tied up vampire starts laughing. “He told us. He’s back to save us all. Our father.”

“Your father?” Sam repeats back, disbelief clear on his face. “The Alpha?”

“That’s impossible,” Serena pipes up. “Our intel has him in Morocco. He’s been there for at least a decade.”

“Wrong.” Sam glares down the vampire, before looking over to Mick. “I met him five years ago in Hoople, North Dakota.”

“You’re dead,” taunts the vampire. “You’re all dead.” He starts laughing again before growling at Mary as she swings her machete, slicing his head clean off.

Sam clenches his jaw and runs his fingers through his hair, trying to come up with any decent ideas. Beside him, Harper’s hands ball into fists. “Your extermination plan, did it have any contingencies for this?” Sam asks Mick, both clearly stressed about the situation.

“No.” Sam lets out a humorless laugh at Mick’s answer.

Serena tries to think of a way to get backup, but Sam, Mary, and Harper all know there is no time for that. Mary voices that truth.

“This place is not meant for defense, and those doors will not hold long.” Mary lets out a sigh. “Okay, who here has ever killed anything?” Pierce is the only one to raise his hand.

“That’s just fucking great,” Harper breathes out, venting her frustration slightly.

“All right, we gotta arm up,” Sam says, moving to a better position at the conference table. “Weapons on the table. Blades, guns, spells.” Everyone follows orders, placing all the weapons down, which isn’t much of any. “Is this it?”

“Yeah,” Mick responds, the panicking causing an eerie calmness to take over him.

“Most of our weapons are in the Armory, including the AVD,” Alton explains.

“We could set it off in the vents,” Mary offers as an idea. “Maximize coverage, use the gas like a bug bomb.”

“Will that kill the Alpha?” Mick asks, staring down at the table.

Sam scoffs. “Kill? Doubt it. Hurt? Maybe. You got anything stronger?”

Mary and Mick make eye contact at the question, a knowing look in both of their eyes. “Where is it?” Mary asks firmly.

Mick walks across the room, grabbing a black case and bringing it to the table. He shuffles weapons around to make room, and swings the case open to reveal the Colt. The surprise on Sam’s face turns to a subtle anger that Harper picks up on. Sam picks up the gun, examining it with a hurt look in his eyes.

“Where did you get this?” Sam turns to Mick, but Mary is the one who answers.

“I stole it. From Ramiel.”

Harper clenches her fists tightly, remembering back to when Mary revealed her betrayal a few days ago, and how there was that one case where Cas was almost killed. Ramiel was the one who had almost killed him. And it was all for this stupid gun.

Mick tries to distract from the betrayal. “Yeah, but it doesn’t work. We’ve no bullets.”

The hurt in Sam’s eyes almost makes Harper forget about how pissed off she is. Sam tries to compose himself before speaking up. “Right,” he says softly. Then with more force, he speaks up. “You’re right. Okay, we make some then. Got the recipe from my buddy.” Sam grabs a notepad and pen, and begins writing down the spell.

“Bobby Singer?” Mary asks, and Harper’s heart feels heavy at the name. It’s been awhile since she thought about him.

“Yep,” Sam responds. “All right, Mick, you’re gonna need holy oil, sage, and myrrh. You got that here?” Mick nods. “Okay, uh, make a tincture, coat a silver bullet, and use this spell. It’ll mimic the original etchings.”

“And that’ll work?” Mick sounds unsure.

“It better. If not, start praying, ‘cause we’ll need a miracle. Where’s the Armory?”

“I’ll take you,” Mary offers, and Pierce decides to come along as well.

“I’ll stay behind and help with the spell,” Harper looks to Sam. “And watch the Brits’ backs.” Sam nods, starting toward the door, but Harper pulls him aside for a moment. In a low voice, she asks, “You had the spell memorized?”

“I think so.”

Harper lets out a sigh. “Thanks for the reassurance that we aren’t going to die.”

Sam gives her a tense smile, before he gently places his hand on the back of her neck and slowly brings her forehead to his lips. “See you soon.” And with that, he is following Mary and Pierce out the door. Harper lets out another heavy sigh before joining everyone else at the table.

Mary leads the small group to a door that leads outside the main part of the compound, informing them that the Armory is outside these doors. They get into position before Sam unlocks and swings the door open. A vampire is immediately clawing at the open door. Sam tries to force the door closed again but the monster pushes back, making it impossible to close. Mary and Pierce decide to head back to a different door that will lead to the Armory, leaving Sam to fend off two vampires by himself.

To Mary’s surprise, Pierce knocks her out with a swift blow to the head once she grabs the AVD, which he destroys once it falls to the ground. Pierce runs back to the conference room, and knocks heavily on the door, calling out to the Brits and Harper to let him in.

Alton opens the door for him and gets pushed out of the way by Pierce. “What happened?” He asks frantically, leaving the door open behind him.

“It’s bad out there,” Pierce says, all eye focused on him. Harper’s eyes drift to the open door, and as she’s about to say something to the effect of ‘close the goddamn door,’ Alton is stabbed in the back, his body thumbing to the ground to reveal the Alpha vampire.

“Pretty bad in here, too, huh?” Pierce glances over to Mick with a menacing look.

Serena takes a knife and charges at the Alpha, before Harper can stop her. The Alpha easily kills her. In the shuffle, Harper closes the case to hide the Colt, while Mick grabs the bullets. They both turn back to the monster, hoping the Alpha didn’t notice as he rises to face them. Harper moves up to stand next to Mick, eyeing him as they stare down the Alpha and the traitorous hunter.

“What the fuck, Pierce,” Harper’s frustration seeps into her tone, as she clenches her fists at her sides.

“Pierce, you’re a hunter.” Mick’s surprise by the betrayal is clear in his shocked, panicked tone.

“Yes. My hunter,” the Alpha responds. “Pierce and I have an arrangement. He keeps me off the radar, and I pay him very, very well.” The Alpha walks closer and closer to Mick and Harper, who take slow steps away. “I’m old. I like living quietly. You’ve been making my life awfully noisy lately. You’ve killed so many of my children. I’ve seen your work.” The Alpha stares down a frightened Mick as he continues. “In England, I didn’t get involved because, well, it’s England. But America is my home. And it’s time that you… get. Off. My. Lawn.”

The Alpha pauses to compose himself. “Here’s what you’re going to do. We will bring your communications back online. You will make a call to your superiors in London. You’ll admit defeat. You will tell them to cancel this American incursion. Then they’ll watch as I devour you, live, on screen.” Sam and Mary manage to sneak in, the Alpha’s monologue keeping everyone’s rapt attention. Harper notices, sneaking a glance, but keeps her focus on the Alpha as not to give them away. “Hmm, yes, it’s a bit messy, but sometimes one does have to make a point.”

Sam quietly places his machete on the table and opens the Colt’s case, while Mary knocks Pierce out. The Alpha vampire slowly turns around, Mick and Harper dashing away from his reach and joining Mary on the other side of the table.

“Don’t,” Sam says, pointing the Colt at the Alpha from the other end of the conference table. Mary makes a move toward the Alpha, as if trying to round the table, but Harper grabs her wrist subtly, stopping her before she took more than one step. Mick shows her one of the bullets, and Mary backs off, an understanding dawning on her.

“Ah, my, my. The Colt. Powerful weapon. Sam, you are aware that there are five creatures on this Earth that gun cannot kill. I’m one of them.” The Alpha says smugly.

“If that were true, I’d be dead already,” Sam rebuttals.

“That gun can’t save all of you.” The Alpha tries a different tactic, glancing around the room. Sam looks over to the small group, his eyes find Harper’s for brief moment before landing on Mick.

“Who said I was here to save all of us?” Sam replies, his gaze returning to the Alpha. “My family and I, we kill vamps when they get out of line. And you’ve let us.”

“I have many children, Sam. What’s one, two, here or there?” The Alpha takes a few steps toward Sam.

“Exactly,” Sam shifts his weight between each leg.

“So?”

“Let my mom, my girlfriend, and me go. We’ll walk away, go back to the way things were, to way things are supposed to be. Hunters and vampires, cops and robbers, a fair fight.”

The Alpha looks amused by this. “And the Brit?”

“You can have him.”

“Sam,” Mary’s voice rings out, scolding her son. “What are you doing?”

“Picking a side,” Sam answers, looking to Harper for a moment, before focusing back on the Alpha.

“You bastard,” Mick says with quiet anger, as he lunges for Sam. They wrestle for a brief moment before Sam throws Mick off of him. Mary moves around to behind the vampire, while Harper steps closer to Sam. Mary swings her machete at his head, which he dodges easily, throwing her across the table. In that brief moment when the vampire was focused on Mary, Sam managed to slip the bullet, that Mick had slyly given him, into the Colt.

“Sam… you and I both know that gun isn’t loaded.”

“You sure?” Sam smirks slightly and watches as the Alpha realizes what had just happened.

“No… Clever, clever boy,” he says, staring down Sam when the triggered is pulled. Sparks flash from the Alpha slowly until his lifeless body falls to the ground.

“So, ‘went out, back later,’ huh?” Dean glances between Sam and Harper, referring to the note they left behind at the bunker. Harper wears a sheepish smile in return, while Sam retorts.

“Just getting a drink, huh?” A slight smirk settles on Sam’s face.

“We were with him when we heard this place was under attack,” Dean replies with a deadpan expression. “We drove like a bat out of hell.”

“How come?” Confusion falls over the younger Winchester’s expression. “I mean, you don’t care for these guys. You didn’t even know we were here.” Dean’s eyes fall on Mary, and it takes Sam a moment to realize his brother’s reason. “Right, of course.”

“When I thought something might’ve happened to you, nothin’ else mattered.” Dean confesses.

“Dean, the things I said--” Mary begins to apologize.

“No, Mom you were…” Dean shakes his head, searching for the right words. “It’s not your job to make my lunch and kiss me goodnight. It’s… We’re adults. You’re gonna make your own choices even if I don’t like ‘em. Even if I really, really, don’t like ‘em. That’s just something I’m gonna have to get used to. Okay, Mom?” He finishes, him and Mary silently coming to an agreement with their eyes. Mary gives him a small smile, happy to have her boy back.

The rattling of chains and heavy footsteps draw the attention of the group, all eyes falling on Ketch escorting a chained Pierce out of the makeshift base. “Where are you taking ‘em?” Sam asks, as they shuffle by the group.

Ketch tugs on Pierce’s arm as he stops walking to answer. “We have ways of dealing with hunters who go rogue. They aren’t pleasant.”

“Good,” Sam and Mary both comment.

“Good fucking riddance,” Harper speaks loudly as to make sure everyone hears.

Mick suddenly appears, making eye contact with Sam, then Harper. Sam gives his family a quick nod, before making his way over him, with Harper following. “Sam. Harper,” Mick says, as they reach him. “If you hadn’t been there tonight…” His voice trails off, as the idea of what could’ve happened was at the forefront of his mind.

“Yeah, we got the kill. That’s what matters,” Sam replies.

“Hardly an advertisement for the British Men of Letters, though. Or my leadership.”

Harper scoffs slightly. “You can say that again…” Sam sighs, glancing at Harper briefly.

“Caught unawares with our proverbial pants down,” Mick continues, decidedly ignoring Harper snide comment. “Believe it or not, Sam,” he starts, trying to pitch his crew as something worthwhile. “We’re not--”

Sam cuts him off. “I’m in.”

Mick looks genuinely surprised, while on the other hand, Harper’s expression is full of disbelief and a hint of frustration, clenching her fist and glaring down Sam. She doesn’t understand where he’s coming from with this sudden realization, and it’s not sitting well with her. Maybe that’s because he didn’t even think to discuss this with her before making a decision. After all, they’re supposed to be a team now, but it seems Sam made up his own mind.

“Look, tonight was bad, no doubt, ” Sam explains, pulling Harper from her thoughts. “But the Alpha Vampire is dead. You’re changing the world, and I wanna be a part of it.”

Mick is quiet for a moment. “And your brother?” He asks, looking over to Dean and Mary.

“Give me some time.”

Harper blows out a frustrated breath, deciding to walk away before she says something stupid; she notices Maisie, sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala, and makes her way over to her sister. “Hey,” she says lamely, as she leans against the car.

“Glad you’re not dead,” Maisie replies, giving her sister a strained smile.

“Still pissed?” Harper asks, glancing over to the Winchester’s.

“Yup. Have fun following Sam around like a puppy?” Maisie asks in return.

“It was fun while it lasted but I’m ready to jump on that ‘pissed at a Winchester’ bandwagon now,” Harper answers, shaking her head at Sam’s decision.

“Get a boyfriend they said. It’ll be fun they said. They didn’t say anything about getting dragged into the fucking family drama two months in,” Maisie quips bitterly.

“Hey, the bitter thing is my job. But you’re right, I thought the family drama waited until you were married.” Harper scoffs.

“Thinking about marrying Sam, are you?” Maisie’s lips slowly twist into a smirk.

“I- what! Maybe you… Shut up,” Harper finally spits out before she leaves her sister laughing and goes to find her own vehicular baby. Definitely not thinking about marrying Sam Winchester.

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