#but i did just finish watching a good one and maybe ill paint tomorrow

[dare-g]

3 am thoughts:

I want to paint more clowns

I want to watch more pornos

[icewindandboringhorror]

Daily Log 7

Trying out (probably just temporarily) making short daily-ish notes about things, in an attempt to see if it helps me be more reflective or productive lol.

Activities: Finished all of the little things I carved out of avocado pits, will maybe post pictures at some point? I painted some sections (like for the eye I carved, I made part of it white for contrast, etc.) and then generally glazed them with some shiny paint stuff. Now I really wish I had more avocado pits, I was unsure at first, but I have some new ideas.. I want to try inlaying stones like I've seen in some pictures, similar to the same ones I use for eyes in my sculptures. >:3 (random google image example of the stones inside, like this sort of thing V)

Low effort/small house cleaning tasks, did a few dishes, put up laundry, organized things, put up the recycling, paid bills, etc.

Still extremely sleepy and unfocused, it was hot last night and the cats woke me up multiple times so I only got a few hours of sleep and barely had any energy to do anything and also had a headache and back pain a lot of the day. ToT

Finally made an appointment I was supposed to make like 4 days ago lol..

Gave wet food to the cats (this is an ordeal because George eats way faster than Noodle, so I have to separate them and stand guard so George doesn't vacuum his up immediately then run over and try to eat all of his brothers food.. evil boy must be watched to prevent his crimes )

Edited videos for like.. 15 minutes but still have not been very productive on that front (or editing costume photos or anything) due to shoulder pain and stuff making it hard to type/use mouse much on the computer. grrbbb >:V

Spent 10 minutes looking up a weird pendant I had in my rock collection area and found out it's an old piece of costume jewelry from the 60s(?) and could be worth like $200 potentially, which is cool. I'm not sure if I'll sell it though because I do think it's quite unique and good for a prop when making wizard character inventories, etc, and I'd never be able to find anything like it again (it's this one below.. it's very weird.. looks like something a mage would have lol)

Translated the tapestry text for 5 minutes, and got out some tubs of clothes to start organizing them to sell outfits and stuff online, but then felt ill and had to go lay down so now the tubs are just sitting out on the floor ghgh..

Notable sights: It rained a bit and the sky was very pretty at one point. Didn't get to go outside today due to schedule/low energy, so no clovers or anything. Saw a fat squirrel out the window once though. Also when I was looking through my "rock collection" (which also includes marbles, dice, pieces of glass, stones, gems, rubber balls, seashells, smooth wood, jewelry scraps, etc. ggh.. really more "shiny things collection" but it's mostly rocks, so) for interesting stones to possibly put into avocado pits in the future, I saw a lot of pretty rocks I hadn't thought about in a while, so that was nice.

Goals moving forward: Focus on social activities, finding new friends in the places I want to move, communicating with ones I have. Physical therapy exercises. Finish and upload videos, edit costume pictures & etc. Do the new costumes I've planned. MAKE SCULPTURES at some point, I miss them.

Notable foods: Nothing really.. but it's an asparagus day tomorrow I think so.. >:)c hehehehe... Oh, I did try a bite of corn, which I really really love corn but am not supposed to have it on my diet. The miniscule morsel was sufficiently cherished. Still craving hearty stuff despite resuming my iron supplements lol..

[kinetic-elaboration]

March 11: Today's Writing and Excerpt

I wrote about 2400 words in the course of about 2 hours, which is pretty good, though right now I feel exhausted and full of second-guesses, rather than accomplished or happy. I also did not finish the scene, because it's such a long fucking scene. Feels like I'll never get it done. Most annoyingly, I just... feel like I have no idea if it's good or not or if it's capturing what I want to capture or not. I'm in too deep with this fic, I think. I just don't have the ability to judge it with any objectivity.

That's part of why it's going to go in the vault when I finally finish the draft. I need to get some distance.

This monster is also 1200 words currently and it sill has 3.5 scenes left ughhhhh.

Anyway. I wish I felt better about it but I'm just not going to think about it any more right now. I kept going as long as I possibly could before I felt the whole thing falling apart around me and now I think a rest is fair. Maybe I'll write more tomorrow or this week? We'll see.

Here is an excerpt:

There's not much to see over in this part of the room, but he thinks Raven and Lincoln have the right idea, feigning infinite fascination in a single shelf of unpacked books, a small, abstract painting, and four photographs in a 2x2 frame.

He recognizes every single one of the books from Clarke's collection, the favorites she took from her childhood bedroom and kept in their apartment, the ones she packed up again and left at her mom's before she took off. The art work, though, he's never seen before. He wonders for a moment if it's hers, if she's gone in for a new style, but Lincoln tells him that she and Finn acquired it in France. "I think it's beautiful," he adds. "I didn't know Clarke was into abstract stuff."

"Maybe it's Finn's," Raven answers, tipping back her drink to hide her smile. "An indication he actually has taste."

Lincoln snorts. "Yeah. Sure." 

He continues on, pointing out the mastery of the brush strokes and color choices, while Raven nods along and Bellamy tunes out. Every moment in this house makes his lungs feel too small and his skin ill-fitting and itchy over muscle and bone. Like he's all the wrong sizes at once. Clarke's home, half-lived in, that she's building up from scratch with someone who isn't him. He can't stop looking at the photographs placed so neatly in their frame. Four scenes from London, which he recognizes only from books and TV, photos Clarke must have taken herself and then had printed and set out on display. Photos that for her call back specifics of memory, like a breeze perhaps over the water of the Thames, or a particular shade of the light in the hour before sunset. Some terrible swell of emotion as she realized where she was and what she was seeing, right there with her own eyes, the moments she needed so desperately to capture, even though they could never be shared.

He doesn't recognize any of the photos from Instagram. He thought he'd been watching her whole life, that if what he saw was shallow, that's because it was all there was left of her to see.

He sees now a glimpse of the rest of it: how far she's gone, that he wasn't able to follow.

All of a sudden, he realizes that for some time now, she's been absent from the room. When he asks, Raven points over his shoulder with the pinkie finger of the hand still holding her glass. "I think she said she was going to the kitchen for a drink."

"Twenty minutes ago," Lincoln adds with a roll of his eyes.

"Can't believe she'd want to run away from this raucous time," Raven murmurs, and then, as Bellamy heads off without another word, "See you later, I guess."

[reinerispretty]

rotations. (zuko x f!reader) pt 25

hellO!! thank you so much for reading :) sadly we’re nearing the end, but it is okay!!

pt1

pt24

pt26

He put two scrolls into her hands. When she unraveled the first one, it was a painting of the two of them as children. They couldn’t have been older than twelve and eleven. Zuko’s arms were wrapped around her shoulders, their faces squished together as they smiled. She remembered when this photo was painted. It had been at one of their summers at Ember Island. Zuko had never been a fan of family photos, but (Y/N) had been able to convince him to get one painted with her. She had forgotten all about it. 

The messenger hawk arrived late in the day, after (Y/N) and Zuko had finished dinner. They lay on the chaise in Zuko’s room that overlooked the balcony. His head rested in her lap as she ran her fingers through his black hair. It had been a long day, just like every other day for the two of them, and (Y/N) felt her eyes becoming heavy. She tried her best to stifle a yawn. 

“You should sleep here tonight,” Zuko said quietly, turning over to make himself more comfortable. (Y/N) chuckled. 

“In your dreams.” 

“You’re right, almost every night.” He gave her a big smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. (Y/N) punched him gently. 

“I’ve seen you sleep in a sleeping bag. You kick all over the place.” Zuko sat up, propping himself up on his elbows. 

“I was sleeping on the hard ground! And I had to be prepared to fight in case someone wanted to attack me in my sleep.” A knock came to the door before she could defend herself. “Come in!” Zuko called out, sitting up fully. A servant entered his bedroom, carrying a scroll on a platter. He offered it to Zuko before hurrying out of the room. (Y/N) scrutinized the scroll. 

“Is that a Water Tribe insignia?” Zuko nodded as he unrolled it. She looked over his shoulder as he read. 

“Hakoda is asking me to come to the Southern Water Tribe to discuss reconstruction.” 

(Y/N) couldn’t help but sigh. Throughout his time as Fire Lord, Zuko had left to go on many different trips, whether that be for personal reasons or political. She always missed him when he left, but now that they were together, the pit that formed in her stomach at the thought of him leaving became much bigger. It was exhausting, not only being apart from him but running the country in his stead. 

“When will you leave?” She asked, her voice quiet. She fiddled with the sleeves of her robes. 

“Tomorrow.” She cleared her throat and stood. 

“I’ll have the servants start making preparations.” Zuko grabbed her hand before she could walk out. 

“Come with me.” 

“Zuko...” 

“Please? All of our friends will be there!” 

“Who’s going to watch the Fire Nation?” 

“Any other advisor I trust.” He stroked her hand with his thumb. “You’ve stayed home every other time I’ve left. You haven’t given yourself a break.” 

“I take breaks!” 

“Sitting by the turtle duck pond isn’t a break.” She pursed her lips. “I want you to come with me.” 

While it made her nervous to leave the Fire Nation unattended by her, she knew that Zuko was right. She hadn’t gone anywhere in over two years and her visits with her friends were few and far in between. It would be a nice break from the monotony of everyday life. 

“Okay,” She conceded. The smile on Zuko’s face lit up the whole room. He pulled her close to him and kissed every inch of her face. 

“Thank you!” Zuko cheered, planting a final kiss on her lips. (Y/N) smiled brightly. 

“That means that we have to get rest.” She slipped her hand out of his as he gave a pout.

“Stay here tonight?” He looked into her eyes, and how could she say no? Zuko was her one weakness and sometimes she thought that he knew that. She let out an exaggerated sigh before nodding. “I promise I won’t kick.” 

---

(Y/N) was falling asleep as she sat next to Zuko on the air balloon. They had to leave early in the day, before the sun had even risen, and neither of them had gotten much sleep the night before. They had both enjoyed each other’s company perhaps a bit too much, and had only fallen asleep a few hours before they were supposed to be up. So as hard as she tried not to, she was still finding herself resting her head on Zuko’s shoulder. 

“You can go lay down for a bit,” He said quietly as he kissed the crown of her head. “We won’t be there for a while.” She shook her head, wrapping her arms around his. 

“I’ve never been to the Southern Water Tribe,” (Y/N) said. “It was the one place we never went back to when I was traveling with my friends.” 

“It’s not much,” Zuko said. “A few igloos and huts here and there.” 

“I’m excited to see it regardless. It’s where Sokka and Katara grew up.” She smiled up at Zuko. She realized that she had been doing that a lot more lately: smiling. 

“It’ll be nice to see them again.” 

The trip was long, but they made it to the Southern Water Tribe around lunch time. (Y/N) made sure to put on a big, fluffy coat, as the last time she had been in the Northern Water Tribe, she had been ill-prepared for just how cold it was. She offered a coat to Zuko, but he shook his head. 

“My firebending will keep me warm,” He said. 

“It didn’t keep you warm when you got stuck in that blizzard,” She mumbled. Zuko gave her a playful glare before taking her hand and walking off the the air balloon. 

Almost as soon as (Y/N) set foot in the snow, she was knocked over backwards. She let out a warbled scream as her back hit the ground. When she opened her eyes, they were met with Katara’s bright blue ones. She let out a squeal and tried her best to hug her friend through their thick coats. Katara laughed and helped (Y/N) back up to her feet. 

“We had no idea you were coming!” Katara exclaimed. Soon Sokka and Aang joined them and squeezed (Y/N) in their arms. 

“We only received your father’s invitation yesterday, and me joining was a last minute decision.” 

“We’ve missed you,” Aang said. (Y/N) smiled at him. 

“I’ve missed you guys too, like crazy. We have a lot to catch up on!” 

“GranGran is making lunch if you and Zuko want to join us.” (Y/N) nodded eagerly, but exchanged a look of disgust with Aang. She walked over to Zuko and invited him to lunch, but he shook his head. 

“I have some things to discuss with the Earth King and Chief Hakoda.” 

“Oh, do you want me to come with you?” Zuko shook his head. 

“You go to lunch, I’ll see you in a bit.” They exchanged a kiss before (Y/N) rejoined her friends. 

“What was that?” Sokka asked, absolutely shocked. (Y/N) felt her face get hot. 

“Like I said, a lot to catch up on.” 

Over lunch, (Y/N) told her friends what had happened in her and Zuko’s lives since he returned from finding his mother. They were shocked at the ups and downs, but overall were very happy when she confirmed that she and Zuko were finally together. 

“I’m not one to say I told you so,” Sokka started, and the entire group groaned. 

“Finally, one thing Sokka was right about,” Katara joked. 

“Where’s Toph?” (Y/N) asked. 

“She didn’t want to come,” Aang said. “It’s all snow and ice, so she wouldn’t be able to see.” 

“She’s back in the Earth Kingdom, training others on how to metalbend,” Katara said. (Y/N) smiled. 

“Good for her! I wish I could’ve seen her, but I know she would’ve hated it here.” She ate a small bit of her sea prunes and tried to hide the gag that formed. “Are we too old to go penguin sledding?” 

“You’re never too old to go penguin sledding!” Aang cheered. He grabbed (Y/N) by the hand and dragged her out of the hut, Sokka and Katara following closely behind. They ran to where the penguins were, and spent the rest of the day penguin sledding and playing in the snow. When she had visited the North Pole, they hadn’t had time to enjoy themselves. Life had always been very serious for the four of them. Sokka and Katara had to grow up quickly after the death of their mother. Aang was forced out of childhood and into his Avatar training as soon as he was freed from the iceberg. And (Y/N) had grown up with a life full of expectations and standards that she had to strictly adhere to. So it was fun to be kids, just for a little while. 

When (Y/N) returned to Zuko, her cheeks were rosy from the chilled wind of the South Pole. A big smile was plastered on her face as she walked back to him with her friends at her side. 

“Did you guys have fun?” Zuko asked, wrapping his arm around her as soon as she was at his side. (Y/N) nodded eagerly. 

“We went penguin sledding and built huge ice sculptures! Sokka’s was the worst.” 

“I resent that!” Sokka grumbled. 

(Y/N) and Zuko only spent a few more days in the Southern Water Tribe before they had to return to the Fire Nation. As she hugged her friends goodbye, she felt the tears welling behind her eyes, but wouldn’t let them escape. Part of her wanted to remain strong, but she also feared that they would freeze on her face.

They boarded the air balloon and traveled back home. (Y/N) stared out the window sadly as her friends grew smaller and smaller. Zuko came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. 

“We’ll see them again soon,” He said. (Y/N) nodded. 

“Maybe sooner rather than later.” 

“Do you get lonely, being in the palace?” She turned to look at him. His face looked sad. She kissed his cheek and shook her head. 

“As long as I have you, I’m never lonely. I just miss our friends.” 

Zuko knew she was lying, but he didn’t say anything. (Y/N) spent every day showing Zuko how much she cared about him. She took on extra work that he didn’t have time for, ensured that he ate all of his meals, and even scheduled breaks for him when he became to enthralled in his work. She was a selfless person, so he decided that he needed to show her just how much she meant to him as well. 

When they returned, unbeknownst to (Y/N), Zuko began the preparations for her eighteenth birthday celebration. The past two years he had let her birthday fall under the rug, but he wouldn’t do that again. He wrote letters to their closest friends from across the globe, instructing them to come to the Fire Nation for her. Her birthday was only in a few days, so their travels would have to be swift, but he hoped that at least some of their friends could make it. 

---

On the day of her eighteenth birthday, (Y/N) woke up to find Zuko standing at the foot of her bed. She jumped, holding a hand to her chest. “Were you watching me sleep?” 

“Only for a few minutes!” Zuko defended himself. He held his hands behind his back, an eager smile etched across his features. She sat up in her bed and rubbed at her eyes. Zuko sat at the side of her bed and held out a small box in his palm. “Happy birthday!” 

She smiled and took the box. Inside was a fresh fruit tart. (Y/N) laughed, immediately taking a bite from the sweet treat. She laughed. “Thank you,” She gave him a kiss. 

“That’s not the only gift I got you,” He said. (Y/N) raised an eyebrow as she ate her fruit tart. “It’s waiting outside.” She jumped out of bed and threw on a pair of flowy maroon pants and her long-sleeved maroon crop top. It wasn’t often that she was able to dress so casually at the palace, but it was her birthday and she was dating the Fire Lord, so she figured she could do whatever she wanted. 

She and Zuko walked to the front of the palace hand-in-hand. Right before they stepped outside, he covered her eyes with a blindfold and let her carefully into the courtyard. “Are you ready?” He asked. (Y/N) nodded eagerly. He pulled the blindfold off, revealing Aang, Toph, Katara, Sokka, Suki, and Ty Lee.

(Y/N) gasped, running into the throng of her friends. She wrapped as many as she could into a hug and squeezed them as tightly as she could. “What are you guys doing here?” 

“Zuko invited us!” Suki said. (Y/N) turned around to smile at Zuko. 

The day was everything that she could have ever wanted. She spent it laughing with her friends and enjoying herself. This was the first time that they had all been together in years and she was enjoying catching up with them. She was especially happy to see Toph, as it had been the longest since she had seen her. The small girl was as feisty as ever, but still hugged (Y/N) every chance she got. 

She was happy to find that her friends would be staying the next few days in the Fire Nation. Once they had all been shown to their rooms, Zuko pulled (Y/N) in the opposite direction of yours. “I have one more surprise for you,” He said as he tugged her to his room. 

He put two scrolls into her hands. When she unraveled the first one, it was a painting of the two of them as children. They couldn’t have been older than twelve and eleven. Zuko’s arms were wrapped around her shoulders, their faces squished together as they smiled. She remembered when this photo was painted. It had been at one of their summers at Ember Island. Zuko had never been a fan of family photos, but (Y/N) had been able to convince him to get one painted with her. She had forgotten all about it. 

The second scroll was a more serious painting, of the two of them as teenagers. Zuko wore his traditional Fire Lord outfit and (Y/N) stood at his side. Both wore bright smiles on their faces. This had been painted a while ago, right when they had begun rebuilding the Fire Nation. 

She looked up at Zuko, the smile on her face as sunny as the ones in the paintings. “Thank you,” She said before kissing him. “Thank you for today. And everything, always. I love you.” 

Zuko hugged her tightly. “I love you too.” They remained like that for a few moments, before he spoke again. “Remember when we were kids and our parents had arranged for us to get married when we got older?” 

(Y/N) nodded as her head rested against his chest. 

“Would you still want to do that?” She pulled away, furrowing her brows. 

“What?” 

“Will you marry me?” 

---

Tag List! 

@afxndommess , @xapham , @thanosismybitxh , @outerxorbit , @thenerdiverse , @himawarichild , @welovediaaxx , @justahockeylover , @loganrwebb , @awesomelupe , @cirtruss , @eridanuswave , @aroyaldarknessblr , @theinfernalmemes , @akariblue , @julietvsanchez05 , @harryisthesunshine , @prospekt-42 , @kindxrjcy , @lunariasilver , @lovepsychicbitch , @mcallmestiles, @simply-stanning , @helbreajs , @shephard17895 , @astroninaaa , @leiaofthestars , @miskwaadesiwag , @art-flirt , @musicalkeys , @aangsty-sokkasm , @we-lucky-few , @vgirl-10123 , @ella-solei , @davnwillcome , @valiantprincessthea , @errrrca , @hahaimstoopid, @kamahriii , @michelletc , @unseasoned-emo-bitch , @maybe-a-fangurl , @niramoon , @hyluas , @youneedmemanidonotneedyou , @luleck , @toasted-crispy-emo27 , @lolaywrites , @swagdaddycam , @itsivyberry , @royahllty , @ramen-hair-denki , @bucky-blogs , @damianwaynerocks , @beew , @lozzybowe , @anonymousbambi , @duh-dobrik , @beifongsss , @lammello

[ladynestaarcheron]

Fears All the Way Down - Chapter Five

ao3 - masterpost

hello, my dears. here's chapter five, without too much fanfare. enjoy<3

---

The morning of her first self-defense lesson with Cassian, Nesta awakes to a cool breeze blowing in the scent of roses from her open window.

"Good morning," Nesta says, smiling slightly. "I guess you liked my gift."

She had finished it yesterday, in the jewelry-making session. It had taken her the better part of the day. A sort of cover for the cracked, broken part of the walls the Illyrians had destroyed. Golden and gleaming and prettier than the beige paint around it, but complementing all the same.

And now the House, apparently, is showing her affection for it: a new rose bush outside of her room, fat flowers dangling down over the top of her window. A very pretty frame for her already spectacular view of the city.

The House gives her different clothes today, too. A fitted shirt, and a knee-length loose skirt, with leggings underneath. As close to pants as she'll wear. By Cassian's slight approving nod when she meets him after breakfast, he approves.

"We'll be starting on the roof," he says, in lieu of a greeting.

She nods once. She remembers hearing him, back in that awful first week here-goodness, but it's not yet been a full month since then, and it feels so long ago-hearing him up there, throwing knives around or whatever it was he did. She guesses she'll soon find out.

The crispness of the morning mountain air hits her in full force, but Cassian doesn't act like it fazes him at all. In fact, judging by the way his wings spread slightly wider, he likes it.

"All right," he says. "Let's begin."

The hour ticks by, slowing and speeding up depending on moments when Cassian touches her. There's none of his usual chatter or teasing; he's serious and unsmiling. The training ring is probably sacred to him.

Serious and unsmiling, but not discouraging. He's generous with his praise when she achieves his simple tasks-too generous, she thinks, but perhaps he has some ulterior motive.

Or perhaps, a small voice inside her head says, he's relieved you'll finally know how to defend yourself, and he means it.

It's not as daunting as it had seemed at first, this self defense. He's good for their agreement; this isn't training. He takes all her weaknesses and her proposed attacker's strengths into consideration and shows her how to maneuver past it all. How to cause an assailant-even one as big and strong as he is-to let her go when they grab her arms tightly in front, how to move her legs when she's caught in a chokehold, and how to break free when someone grabs her from behind.

"I guess no one will be able to pull onto your hair, though," he muses, more to himself than to her. "Keep your arms at your sides; you don't want them to get in the way of this one," he adds, mercifully changing the subject too quickly before he can notice her expression.

No one can pull on her hair now, that's the whole point. But they had, they had, rough enough that strands came out and she had no way to escape. What if she had known these tricks then? Would she have had a prayer? Would she still be human? Elain? And what of Father, would he still be alive? Or would it not have mattered; only delayed her certain torture and death, because she had been human, and they had been Fae, and in the end, that was all-

"Arms like this, Nesta," Cassian says, switching from mock-assailant to instructor as he gently tucks her arms against her sides, and drawing her out of her head to the sound of his voice and the feel of his hands on hers, his body behind her. His wings block out the wind, and she can feel the warmth radiating from him to her core. "Because you don't want them to get in the way of when you break out...and why else?"

"So I don't use them to hurt myself," she says, repeating his words from earlier.

"Right...good. Let's do this one again. One last time."

She takes a deep breath.

"Ready?"

"Yes." She doesn't hesitate. She doesn't need to. He doesn't let her feel trapped.

"All right, I'm grabbing you now-good!"

For she is ready for him, this time. He wraps his arms around her from behind, his arms trapping hers at her elbows, and she instantly draws them in like he instructed. Without waiting for his prompting, she gathers her strength and throws her head upwards and backwards, like he had shown her, and then leaps away as his arms fly open.

"Good, Nesta!" he says, eyes shining as she turns around. He isn't hurt; he keeps moving away for this one so she doesn't do any real damage. "You would've hit his neck there...normally, I'd say go for the chin, but neck's really good...at that speed, with that force, really good..." He grins broadly at her, his first smile of the morning, and after an hour of being in instructor-Cassian's presence, she blinks at the easy switch.

"You did really well," he says, after handing her a glass of water. "Did you...how was it for you?"

She shrugs slightly. "All right." It wasn't fun. But it was hardly suffering. And the movements, following Cassian's instructions...a good way to keep herself focused.

"Would you...do you want to continue?" His voice is casual, but from the careful way he does not meet her eyes, she can tell he is tense.

"Yes," she says, trying to keep her voice casual too.

He brightens, and something inside her dims automatically. His...elation, relief, whatever this spark is, at seeing her agree to do this...it feels, somehow, as though she is doing something wrong. She is cheating or lying. She does not deserve this, is not worthy of his joy. Of him.

"It's not healthy to do workouts every day," he says, "especially...when you're in recovery."

When you're weak, he means. When one is ill and emaciated-even if she is getting better, and trying, it's not going to be enough-never enough-

"So I think...Mondays and Tuesdays...and Thursdays and Fridays? If you'd like to do this long term, I mean."

Nesta blinks. "How long-term?"

He shrugs. "Till you want to stop, I guess."

She purses her lips slightly. "Don't you have...I mean, will you be able to do this four times a week, indefinitely? Don't you have..." An occupation, she wants to say. Running the strongest military on their island, maybe one of the strongest in the world. "You don't have the time," she decides on instead.

He does it again. His deep hazel eyes latch onto hers and don't let her go. She doesn't have a prayer of looking away until he lets her. There's not enough self-defense lessons in the world for her to be strong enough to fight this off.

"I always have time for you, Nesta."

She shivers, and it doesn't have anything to do with the crisp wind under the weak October sun.

He moves his head, and lets her go.

"So tomorrow, then," he says.

"Tomorrow," she echoes. She doesn't stay to watch him fly off.

---

Nesta had done incredibly well. Spectacularly. And she had looked even better.

He had stayed up half the night before, wondering if she was going to show up in pants. She hadn't, but the skirt she had worn had gone only to her knees. The shortest he'd seen her in by far. And her black top...like a second skin. A healthier skin, almost normal. Not translucent any longer. Covering a softer body. More curves, like she used to have. Bones not protruding so much. Golden hair shining in the dim light, coiled and braided like a princess', like a queen's. She even has it up when she goes to sleep, he'd learned during her first week here. Does she ever wear it down? Only to bathe, probably. And what does she look like then, with this slight new weight, this perfect skin, this beautiful hair reaching he doesn't even know how far down...He'd only allowed himself a few moments of ogling her before violently shoving out all thoughts anywhere near the realm of lust from his mind. The training ring was not for this.

Feyre and Elain are beside themselves with happiness, as he knew they would be, when he tells them how it went.

"She agreed to more lessons," Feyre says in wonderment.

"It can only be a good thing," Elain says, tugging on a stray lock of hair.

"Yes," Feyre agrees. "But...maybe, considering...you know. Your history." She shoots him an apologetic look. "Maybe it'd be best if..."

Cassian's heart rate picks up. "You think someone else should teach her?" No, his instincts tell him. She had asked him. She wants him to do it.

But he knows he'll give in. If her sisters think it would be better...because it's her that matters. Not what he wants. What matters is her getting better.

Oh, but he knows he can be the person to help her. Or one of the people, at least. If she just lets him.

Mercifully, Feyre says, "No, no, not that. Just...maybe you could do with a chaperone? Azriel or-well, no, not Rhys. But maybe it would be good for Az to drop by occasionally...what do you think?"

"That's not a bad idea," he admits. A buffer. He could do with one.

"So, what are you teaching her, exactly?" Elain asks.

"Just some self defense. Breaking away from an assailant, today." But maybe, in time, he can convince her to do more. More general exercise, maybe even some offensive techniques. "There was something at the House," he adds. "On the wall where the Illyrians attacked."

"What?"

"This gold...thing. Covering the damage the Illyrians did to it." He clenches his jaw at the memory.

"I thought the House was magic now," Elain says. "Couldn't it have fixed itself up."

"Nesta made it," he says. "She told it she was going to fix it, so..."

The wall had been as fine as any other in the House, in any one of Rhys' homes, before the attack. Painted well, a warm beige, and decorated with any number of ornate pictures and mirrors and shelves for vases and whatnot. But now, the wall was white and bare but for the swirling metal covering the cracks and craters.

Cassian understands. If Nesta had made something for him, he'd want it to be the only thing people saw when they looked at him.

"She made something?" Feyre asks, eyes widening slightly.

"She did say she had that jewelery thing...she said she liked it."

"I never thought of Nesta as an artist before," Feyre says, quieter. "She never had any patience for painting when I showed her."

"Well, I'm sure she doesn't think of herself as an artist...I got the impression she liked it as a way to calm herself down."

"Do you think? What does she need calming down from? Is she-is she angry, do you think?"

Feyre and Elain continue to discuss Nesta and guess at her thoughts and motives while Cassian sits and desperately wishes he could only ask her.

---

Thalia asks to see her as soon as she's available, so Nesta tells Gwyn she'll see her after lunch and heads down to her office.

"Good morning," Thalia says, smiling up at her from her couch.

Nesta sits opposite her. "Hello."

"You're looking refreshed."

"I started...some self-defense. Just a little. With, um, Cassian." Does she know Cassian, Nesta wonders. Probably. He's the kind of person everyone knows.

"Really?" Thalia says, sounding impressed. "How wonderful!"

Nesta shrugs a little.

"Well, I think that comes at a perfect time, actually."

Nesta's eyes shoot up. "Why?" she asks, wary.

"I think I've settled on an idea to help you tackle your goals. I wanted to know what you think."

"All right," Nesta says, after a beat. "What is it?"

Thalia tilts her head back slightly, chin set. Oh, this should be good. "What do you think about keeping a log and schedule of trying new things?"

She sucks in her bottom lip before saying, "Trying new things? How does that help me with my goals?" It seems like Thalia is trying to push her own agenda over actually helping Nesta achieve hers.

"It'll get you in the habit of doing things you aren't used to," Thalia says, patient. "It'll keep you focused on something. It might bring new joys or interests into your life, perhaps personally, or perhaps by bonding with others. And it'll greatly increase your confidence and self-esteem."

Nesta blinks. "That's not one of my goals."

"I know, dear. It's one of mine."

Nesta looks down. "It's..." She forces herself to say the words she would normally just drown in inside her own mind. "Just hard to remember sometimes."

"What's hard to remember?" Gentle, not prodding.

She swallows hard. It sounds so stupid inside her head. How will it sound out loud? "That I'm actually supposed to...get better. Sometimes it feels like that's the wrong thing to do." She bites her tongue-she hadn't meant for that part to come out.

But Thalia never acts like what she's saying is pathetic, even if it is.

"How does it feel wrong?"

Nesta sighs. Not out of irritation over the question, just because she isn't quite sure how to answer. "It's...I don't know. Sometimes one just knows a thing is wrong."

"Hm," Thalia says. Considering, thoughtful. "Well, at any rate, your self-defense lesson today can count as your new thing for the day."

"Well-wait, for the day? You want me to do one new thing per day?"

Thalia's lip quirk. "How often did you think I was asking you?"

"I don't know. A week, maybe."

"I don't think so. Once a day, please. Don't forget to track them all. Write them down. Run along, now, Nesta, and if you could take these books with you? Thank you."

Gwyn finds her putting Thalia's books back on the fifth level. "So, how did it go with Thalia? And with your training session with Lord Cassian?"

Lord Cassian. She'll never get used to that. "News travels fast, I see," she says primly.

"You know it does. How did it go?"

"It went...all right."

"Which one?" Gwyn takes a book from Nesta's hands and puts it on a shelf over her head.

"Both of them. Actually, I think the lesson with Cassian went better," she says in surprise, after reflecting. "And it wasn't training. It was just some self-defense."

"Same difference. What happened with Thalia?"

"She's making me try one new thing a day."

"One per day? Every day?" Gwyn shudders. "I can't believe you go along with everything she says. All her meetings and exercises and now this self-defense...You must be four times as brave as I am, at least."

Nesta winces.

"What are you going to do?" Gwyn continues, either not noticing Nesta's discomfort or respectfully ignoring it. "For your new things, I mean."

"I don't know," Nesta says, weighing two books, as if debating between her options for tomorrow and all the tomorrows after. "I guess...try every fruit I haven't?" Gwyn laughs. "I don't know what she expects me to do."

"I'm sure you'll think of things. You're...you'll do better than the rest of us. You do better than the rest of us. It's so obvious, how much you want to live." She says it confidently, assuredly, her teal eyes set.

Nesta bites her lip. "I did really want to live," she says quietly. That night in Hybern. She had fought with everything she had. The whole way to the Cauldron, and even after, inside it. She hadn't stopped. "I...can't..."

"I know," Gwyn says, voice soft as Nesta's. "You can't remember why. It's all right. You will. I can tell."

Nesta blinks rapidly. She's not about to cry. She's not. She just...she doesn't know what she is.

"I can't believe it's not even noon," she mumbles.

Gwyn chuckles. "Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your day's hardly going to be a quiet one. Calliope wants you all afternoon."

She likes Calliope, generally, so that's not so awful. "For what?"

Gwyn shrugs. "Sorting through her papers, probably. Maybe she wants you as an assistant."

If Nesta gets assigned to a High Priestess, than she doesn't have to do these menial tasks anymore. Of course, there's no promise that the priestess she'll be assisting won't have her own miserable things for her to do...Merrill, Gwyn's priestess, is a royal pain, Nesta knows...

"So I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then," Gwyn says. "Wearing your dress backwards or eating starfruit."

"Ha," Nesta says flatly.

Gwyn laughs once more before going, unbound copper hair flowing behind her.

She's wrong, Nesta knows, about her being braver than anyone else. About her being brave at all. All she's doing now is what other people are telling her. Go see Calliope in her office, Nesta. Come sit with Thalia on the third level, Nesta. Tell Clotho if you liked Daphne's lecture, Nesta. Simple motions, simple movements. Nothing brave about it.

"Now again on the left, Nesta. Good. Good."

It's Thursday morning, and Cassian is the one ordering her about. Sometimes she thinks he sounds like any one of the priestess, with how he talks to her in these lessons, which makes her feel...she isn't sure. It's odd, certainly. Considering all the ways they used to talk to each other. Barbed insults, right in the House, to the other end of the spectrum. The words that cycle in her head some nights, the newest among them being I always have time for you, Nesta...and, of course, intermittent praises from when she does well.

"Excellent. Keep your torso just like that...now with your arms just as I-yes!"

There's really not any bravery required, Nesta decides. Not when the priestesses are all eager to do anything that encourages the girls to, well, do anything, and not when Cassian is...himself. Even now that Azriel, the member of her sister's circle Nesta is wont to consider her favorite if only because he never talks to her, has started showing up for a few minutes every session. Even he, with his face more closed off than Amren's (back when they were on speaking terms), and those dark shadows of his...even he does not discourage her.

Their hour ends, and he watches her drink two glasses of water-discreetly, drinking some himself, too-before turning to leave.

"Um," she says, voice slightly louder than it needs to be.

He pauses. Turns. Waits.

She can't look away again-his eyes-but she has to say something, doesn't she? What was it she was going to say?

"I seem to be doing well," she blurts out. Then flushes crimson.

He grins. "You're doing very well, Nesta."

She smooths her skirt, as if that'll somehow help her regain composure. "What I mean is," she says, voice hopefully not wobbly, "these...lessons...seem to be doing me good."

His grin gets smaller, but his eyes grow soft. "I...am very glad to hear that."

"I mean they help me feel...better. I feel better. Stronger. And I don't get so distracted all the time. And I...don't think about drinking so much." That's true, she realizes. In fact, she hasn't wanted a drink since...Monday? Sunday? She can't even be sure.

Cassian inhales sharply. "Good," he says, rather faint. "That's...that's so good, Nesta."

"So I was wondering if maybe you thought that...because I thought...well, I-I don't know, but maybe..." Stammering, tripping over her own words, it's just-

I have never in my life thought you were pathetic.

She nearly gasps, the words playing in her mind so clear in his eyes it's almost as though she can hear him saying them aloud.

"I thought maybe some other girls would like to join. If you don't mind. Having some more of us."

Cassian blinks. "I...I don't. I don't mind at all. I think that's a great idea, actually."

"Well, I also thought," Nesta starts, encouraged, "that since, you know, you've wanted that female Illyrian legion for so long-" he blinks again, evidently unaware that she knows that-"maybe you could also see if some Illyrian girls wanted to join. Just to see if they have a taste for...any of this."

Cassian's mouth falls open slightly and his hand goes to his forehead. "I...can't believe I never thought of this myself, actually," he admits. "Self-defense as a sort of gateway...that's actually really fucking brilliant, Nesta."

She huffs a sound of amusement at his swearing; it's been so long since she's heard any curse, as the priestesses are all so pious and proper. He starts at the sound.

"Well," she says, ducking her head to busy herself with her skirt so he doesn't see her color again. "I have to go bathe and..."

"Oh, yeah. All right. Well...so Monday? With some other girls?"

"If they want," Nesta says. "I don't know if anyone will want..."

"Well, you just let them know. Maybe ask Clotho..."

"I will. And...will you go to that camp? Windhaven?"

"Windhaven?" he asks.

"I met a shopkeeper..."

"Emerie?"

"Oh," she says. "You know her."

"She's the only female shopkeeper," he says. "We've met."

"I talked to her a little. I think she might be interested. I think she has some friends who might like it, too."

"Oh," he says, surprised. "I didn't know...I assumed-well, never mind. All right, Nesta. Goodbye, then. And great idea, really. And..." he trails off. She looks up to see him smiling. "You did really well. I mean it."

She nods, just once. But then she says, "Thank you."

She can't quite believe she said that. But judging by the way his grin widens enough to show all his teeth, it's something he's been waiting a while to hear.

[upthenorthmountain]

Thaw - Part 2

This is another thing I found in my Google Drive half-written, and managed to finish it up. It’s a sequel to Thaw so if you haven’t read that you should read it first. Thank you to @karis-the-fangirl as always x

Thaw - Part 2

“Mother, there’s a man!”

Anna carefully finishes the last flourish on a flower, and starts the next. “If it’s Mr Olsen, tell him he’ll have it this afternoon,” she calls back through to the front of the shop.

“It’s not Mr Olsen,” Greta says, leaning on the doorway into the workshop. “It’s a man in uniform. He asked for you.”

“Uniform?”

“I think.”

Anna puts down her brush and wipes her hands on her apron. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“No.” 

She doesn’t know the man, has never seen him before, but his appearance stops her in the doorway for a moment. He wears green, with the symbol of the crocus. Greta didn’t recognise it but there was no reason why she would.

“Can I help you?” she says to him, walking forward.

“Mrs Bjorgman? Mrs Anna Bjorgman?”

“Yes. You’ve come from Arendelle.” The word sounds strange on her tongue. Nearly twenty years since they left. Where does the time go?

“Yes, ma’am. The Prince Consort has sent us to fetch you.”

“Not the Queen?” As she says it she knows what he will say.

“The Queen is unwell, ma’am, and the Prince thought you might wish to see her, before...”

“You don’t have to call me ma’am,” Anna says, but her mind is already spinning. She hasn’t finished painting the table for Mr Larsen, but her son Nils can do it, no one will notice the difference. Mrs Andersen will help with the children. She hasn’t quite finished sewing the hem on her new dress but it will do. “Greta, go find your father, please. Quickly.”

-----

Anna remembers it as a two day journey from Arendelle but after leaving home at sun-up they arrive at the castle well before dusk. The road has been improved in the intervening years and the carriage wheels roll smoothly - the horses of the Royal Guard, also, lift their hooves much more swiftly than dear old Sven ever did.

They’ve sent a coach, just for her, with two white horses and a driver and two guards, and they keep calling her ma’am so after a while she lets them and tries to remember what she knows about Elsa’s new family. The Prince Consort is a Prince Gustav, she knows that, but for the life of her she can’t remember where he’s from. Somewhere advantageous, she’s sure. And there is a boy and a girl, an heir and a spare. Elsa always took her responsibilities very seriously.

Of course she had thought of her sister a great deal. More at first; when she and her husband had remained in Arendelle those first few months, with everyone watching them and talking behind their hands. Less after they had left for a new start somewhere else. Kristoff had talked himself into an apprenticeship with a carpenter - Mr Andersen’s last apprentice had run off to sea just short of completing his training, and he grudgingly agreed that a man with a family to support might be a little steadier and inclined to work hard to prove his worth - and Anna’s painting, that had been indulged in the castle as a hobby suitable for a noblewoman, was suddenly a useful skill.

No one knew where they were from. Not explicitly. Perhaps there were a few rumours, but it didn’t take many miles for the grand scandal in Arendelle to have faded away to nothing. The other women in the town quickly deduced that Anna was of noble birth and had married beneath her and had no idea how to run a home. Most were kind but a few were not and sometimes at the market she could hear them talking about her behind their hands. She thinks love is all you need but she’ll soon find it’s not that easy. A home and family is hard work. She’s got a lot to learn.

They were right, she had a lot to learn; a lot to learn, and she learnt it all. She learnt how to cook dinner, and then she learnt how to cook dinner holding a baby, or with a toddler pulling at her skirts. She learnt how easily everything got dirty and how to clean it. She learnt how hard you can pray over an ill child in the dark corners of the night, and she learnt how that same child can drive you to distraction when recovered two days later.

She cleaned and she mended and she cooked, and she painted crockery and tables and chairs and shelves, often with a baby next to her in a basket or a child playing at her feet. No one was going to be able to say she couldn’t take care of her family. No one was going to call her a bad wife, a bad mother. She was going to build this life for herself.

Mr Andersen had retired, officially, five years ago. The sign on the front of the workshop had been repainted - Bjorgman Family Carpentry and Coachworks - but Mr Andersen still comes by every day to sit in his corner and drink the coffee Anna makes him and talks to the children. Mrs Andersen stops by to fetch him home for his dinner, and she always comes nice and early to make sure she has time to sit for a while herself. The children adore them both and they are family, now. You can find family, and you can make it. That has been the best thing Anna has learnt, by far.

-----

Anna worries, on the journey back to Arendelle, that someone will insist she stays in her old bedroom, but when she arrives the housekeeper - a new one, a woman younger than herself that Anna doesn’t know - immediately apologises and says that won’t be possible. 

“That is now Princess Ulrika’s room,” she says, “But we have another prepared for you.”

“Can I see my sister today? The Queen, may I see her?”

The housekeeper shakes her head. “I’m sorry. She’s asleep. She doesn’t wake often, these days, but I’m sure you’ll have a chance to speak to her.”

-----

It’s nearly a week before she does. Her sister is iller than Anna had imagined. It is so strange, to be back in the castle, to be alone and occupation-less, wandering the halls by herself. So much is the same, but so much has changed. A few pictures have been rearranged. Some rooms have different purposes. But then she’ll turn a corner and everything will be so exactly as it always was that it sends a shiver down her spine and she has to remind herself firmly of her husband and children, waiting for her; her friends and work back home. She isn’t that girl any more and soon she’ll go back to her real life.

Maybe she’d just buried her childhood, buried it under layers of paint and dishes and kisses and laundry. With all that lifted away, there was still a raw place that hurt when prodded, and the strangest things would set it off. The smell of the sheets on her bed - they must still use the same kind of soap. The smooth wood of the handrail on the stairs - at home no one has time to polish a handrail to a shine. The shape of the light through the diamond-shaped panes. 

Prince Gustav is a pleasant man, and under normal circumstances Anna thinks she would like him very much. Ulrika and Henrik are delightful children, though of course somewhat subdued. Ulrika sees Anna drawing one afternoon and begs her to draw her portrait, which she does, and she is then obliged to draw Henrik and Gustav and Ulrika’s pet cat, as well as copy the sketches of her own children that she had brought with her. Elsa’s children are fascinated by the thought of their cousins and Anna has to tell all about them and promise she will pass on any letters they want her to take back.

Her niece and nephew are clearly close, and are often together, talking or reading or sometimes playing, although they are a little old for games. It makes Anna glad, especially as she knows that they will soon lose their mother. They have each other, as well as their father, just as her own children will have each other through whatever life will bring them. This too is healing. 

-----

Finally, late morning on the sixth day of her visit, a nurse finds Anna and leads her to her sister’s bedroom. Elsa is lying in her centre of the large bed, propped up slightly on some cushions. She’s pale - but she was always pale, wasn’t she? - and although Anna knows of course that twenty years have passed and she herself has aged, it’s still a shock to see the faint lines on her sister’s face. 

“She might not know you,” the nurse says quietly. “This is the most lucid she’s been for days, but - she doesn’t have long now.”

Anna nods, and approaches the bed. Elsa moves her head slightly, and turns her ice-blue eyes to her sister. They can still make Anna flinch. As soon as I came back here I became a child again, she thinks. Straight after this I will leave. Or tomorrow, at any rate. I can’t stand it.

Elsa says nothing, but her gaze is even and clear. Anna feels herself start to quail, and then she remembers - you have no power over me now. There is nothing Elsa has that Anna wants. There is nothing Anna wants that Elsa has the power to deny her. I wish we could have met a year ago, when you were well, as adults, Anna thinks. I wonder what that would have been like. But it’s too late, now. Too late for a lot of things. The years have passed - but Anna feels like she made good use of them. The best use she could have done. She hopes, here and now, that Elsa feels the same way about her own life. That is all she wants for her sister.

-----

Anna doesn’t stay for the funeral. All the fuss and bother, all the pageantry, all the people wanting to catch a glimpse of her - she doesn’t need it. Let Arendelle say goodbye to its queen how it pleases. Anna takes her seat on the mail coach home and ponders her sister’s final words.

“Anna,” she’d said, at the last. “Anna, I need to say something to you.”

“It’s alright, Elsa,” Anna had said, leaning over her sister, taking her hand. “It’s alright. I forgive you.”

And Elsa had looked at her, confused, not understanding.

And then, so softly, half to herself. “For what?”

[vesuvian-american-fics]

better with time. Ch 8

two steps back.

If you're going to be staying at with the Survey Corps for the time being, you're going to be put to hard labor. Under Captain Levi's supervision, no less. (AO3)

Words: 1,940

The harsh clatter of rusty keys snapped you out of your slumber. Groggily you struggled to allow your eyes to adjust to the early morning light seeping into the room from your dusty window. The window that was strategically nailed shut the night prior by Levi.  

Wearily you propped yourself up on your elbows to eye whoever was coming to wake you at such an hour. As if you didn’t already know who.

Without warning, Levi stepped into the room and kicked your bed with such force you would have fallen out of it if you weren’t already anticipating his actions. Levi’s eyes scanned your face, sleepy bags under your squinted eyes, dried drool across your cheek, that mop of messy hair flying in every direction. What a sorry sight.

“Get dressed and meet me in the hall. You've got five minutes to fix all of... that.” He ordered, his hand lazily gesturing at all of you. You only groaned in response and muttered curses under your breath as he shut the door.

In ten minutes, you were out the door and found Levi waiting for you, arms crossed and an impatient and unimpressed scowl donning his features.  

“I doubled your work load since you decided to take double the time to get out here.” He said, before leaving you in his dust. Your mouth dropped open at his words.  

“What work?” You asked, running to catch up with the man.  

“You’re going to be put to work, you’re no guest here if that wasn’t obvious.” He said plainly, at the end of the hallway Levi opened a heavy door that led into a closet filled to the brim with cleaning supplies. Mops, brooms, and chemicals galore.  

When he turned around, he shoved a broom, duster, mop, and a rusty bucket into your chest. You fumbled to hold everything as he closed the door and walked back towards your bedroom. You clumsily followed after him, tripping over your own two feet on the way.  

Back at your room you were pushed inside by Levi’s hand. Before slamming the door in your face, he said you have but one hour to clean your place up to his standards and that he’ll have you cleaning until sunrise tomorrow if you mess up.  

“Bu–” You voice was cut off by the heavy wood coming mere centimeters from your nose. You jumped back, dropping your cleaning supplies in the process and listened in disbelief at the jingle of those rusty keys locking you inside.  

Really? Really?

You hadn’t the slightest clue how clean he wanted this place but to reach his standards, which you imagined were high, in just an hour sounded impossible. However, you knew his threats weren’t to be taken lightly. He didn’t seem like the type of guy to get much sleep so you can bet he wouldn’t bat his lashes at the idea of making you clean under his supervision into the late hours of the night.

You groaned dramatically, before snatching up your broom and taking out your anger on the germs and muck caked to the creaking floor boards. On the other side of the door Levi heaved a long-suffering sigh before quietly crossing the hall to complete some paper work in the meantime.

After the hour was up, Levi wasted no time in letting himself into your room to inspect your work.  

There he found you atop a stool wiping mindlessly at the window to clean it the best you good. He watched as you smeared the dust and ick from the glass around in messy circles leaving behind a disgusting streak of dirt in your wake. You’ll definitely be cleaning that again, later.

Levi scowled before snapping at you to stop. His upper lip permanently pulled up in a disgusted grimace. He swiped his slender fingers underneath the table in the corner of your room, scoffing at the dust that dirtied his fingers. He did a few laps around the room, making sure to not touch anything this time.  

He sighed as he wiped away dust on his fingers as he leveled you down with a cold, bored glare.  

“Try again.” He said, once again locking you inside. Clenching your fists and accepting defeat you tried again as told. This time, after your hour was up, Levi didn’t both checking your work. He was sure to be disappointed yet again if he did.  

“Follow me.” He said coldly.

Walking down the halls you passed by a number of scouts, they all look strong though you can recall Levi complaining about a certain few whom you could recognize now.  

Armin, he said was too kind but he complimented his intelligence. Jean had potential but he’d hesitate at times, most likely fear. Mikasa was the strongest and fastest, but when it came to Eren, she was reckless. He failed to discuss Sasha and Connie’s skills on the battlefield and instead complained about their childish antics at the base. Bertholdt and Reiner were inseparable and weird. That’s all he said about them... odd.  

Before you could recall anything else you found yourself bumping into the Captain’s back as he stopped abruptly in front of you. He clicked his tongue at the contact, before looking back at you over his shoulder.  

“Clean the kitchen good enough and maybe I’ll let you eat lunch in the canteen with everybody else.” He led you inside the large canteen and through the double doors to the back. You gasped at the sight before you, it looked as if a titan ran through here on a rampage. Your shoulders slumped at the sight and Levi hid his smug look from your view.  

Before leaving he listed off your duties and gave you three hours to complete the job. As he left you could hear him telling some scouts that they were free from the morning duty of cleaning the kitchens. A muffled “yay” was all you could hear as the doors swung shut leaving you to your own devices and chores.  

...

As the hours dragged on you found yourself growing more drained. Your body was sore, your hands ached and there were blisters forming from the strenuous work you hadn’t yet grown accustomed to.  

“This is shitty...” You whined, blowing out a puff of air to toss a few stray hairs out of your face.

“Your cleaning job? Yeah, it is pretty shitty.” Levi commented. You felt as if you had jumped four feet into the air, how long was he standing there? You frowned before whipping your head around to face him

“Leave me alone...” You mumbled as you got back to mopping the floors.

“And here I was about to let you off the hook five minutes early. Never mind then.” He said, shrugging his shoulders before making his way over to the tea cabinet and grabbing two bags. You huffed before scrubbing harder, in your mind you imagined it was his face that was on the end of this mop receiving your fury.  

Five minutes passed before Levi reappeared with two steaming cups of warm jasmine tea.  

“You can stop that now, you’re about to mop through the wood itself.” He said before nodding his head towards the canteen. You dropped the mop without looking back. Levi decided to ignore your ill manners, giving you a break from his strict rules just this once.  

He sat at one of the long tables and you apprehensively did the same, taking your seat right across from him. He slid across your cup of tea and you eyed it warily.

“I didn’t poison it, drink up.” He said before beginning to sip his drink, holding the cup in that odd way he always did. You sighed before gently grasping the cup, the movement was painful for your blisters but you desperately needed this drink. The two of you drank in an awkward silence before Levi decided to comment on your ever-present pout.

“What is wrong with your face?” He asked between sips.

“Nothing.” You said, staring down at the steam floating away from your tea.  

“Something. The tea tastes fine, so what is it?” He said, sounding a bit sterner this time, demanding an answer.

Without verbally replying you simply showed the man the red angry blisters that littered your palm. He sucked his teeth disappointedly before leaving you alone in the canteen for a moment. You rolled your neck to ease the pain that resided there before hearing the canteen doors swing open again.  

Levi sat once more in his seat as he set down a healing salve and bandages for your hands. He opened and closed his hand a few times to ask you to offer him one of yours so he could wrap it. Relenting to him you gave him your hand and found he was surprisingly gentle as he bandaged you up.

Levi dunked two of his slender fingers into the salve and massaged it carefully into your palm, the feeling was soothing enough for you to hum in pleasure. His eyebrow twitched at the sound before glancing up to see that embarrassed flush paint your cheeks. Finishing up his work on that hand Levi turned it this way and that to check for any missed spots.  

He wrapped your hand delicately with the bandages, but tight enough for it to be effective in the healing process. As he began to work on your other hand you decided to fill the silence.

“One moment your insufferable and the next you’re nice to me. I don’t get you.” You said, eyes looking intently at his work. You doubt he’ll offer to wrap them up again for you tonight.  

“Mhm... Don’t try to get me, it's pointless.” He said, noncommittedly, and again the silence was almost painful.

“Thanks.” Was all you could think to say, afraid that if you try too hard to prod into the inner machinations of his mind, you’d strike a nerve.  

“Don’t thank me. I’m only doing this so you don’t wind up back in the infirmary and I can’t work you tomorrow.” He said, tying a knot on the bandages and securing them. You found yourself giggling at the comment before you could think better of yourself. A ghost of a smile lined Levi’s lips before falling back into a thin line. You decided to play like you hadn’t seen that.  

After that, the two of you finished your tea in relative silence. Levi stood and removed both of the tea cups and dropped them off in the kitchen’s sink.

“Lunch is in half an hour. Go rest.” He said as he left from the canteen. You sat for a moment before lifting yourself onto your feet and doing as you were told without complaint.  

“He’s confusing,” you thought. The hallways were empty on your way back to your bedroom, you were practically dragging your feet the whole way. As you stood between your bedroom and Levi’s office you could hear him milling about in there.  

Light footsteps, shuffling papers, and quiet commentary on what he had to take care of for the day. Most likely talking to himself and taking metal notes. You sighed before slinking off to your bed and throwing yourself onto it, eliciting another coughing fit. Even after changing the sheets there was entirely too much dust seeped into the mattress.

In Levi’s office he heard the raging coughs coming from your room. He chuckled inwardly before clearing his throat to stifle the sound. He frowned at himself before getting back to his work to rid you from his mind.  

“Troublesome girl.”

[melofanish]

Drunk In This Love They Have

@carlosreyesweek Day 7: Writer’s Choice

Summary: Owen wakes up with a start. He's not sure what exactly roused him, but he's awake now. He rubs his eyes, taking a moment to stretch out on the bed. The flicker of the clock attracts his vision, and he reads the blue "1:23 AM" with a frown. Why did he wake up after midnight?!

The lights inside turn on, and the door finally closes. Owen takes a few moments sitting in the car alone, in the dark. He supposes he should feel some loneliness, but he doesn’t. All he feels is happiness and giddiness for his son, amusement regarding the entire situation, and hope for the future that TK and Carlos will be sharing together.

Tags: Carlos Reyes, TK Strand, Owen Strand, Established Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Soft Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Sweet Carlos Reyes (9-1-1 Lone Star), Drunk Carlos Reyes, Good Parent Owen Strand.

Warnings: Drunk flirting and awkward dad existence. 

This is such a crack, dumbass fic but I love it so much. It has just been finished too. I have two settings apparently. Finish a fic a month before the event, or three hours before the end of the event.

This idea came from the  "Mi Amor Tarlos" discord server. Major kudos to Kate <3

As usual, @lire-casander is the best human to ever exist. I am, once again, writing this as she goes over the final edit of the fic. She's beauty, she's grace, she's right about the best thing I've gotten out of this fandom <3

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters depicted, they belong to their creators. I'm writing just for the fun

Read on AO3.

---

Owen wakes up with a start. He's not sure what exactly roused him, but he's awake now. He rubs his eyes, taking a moment to stretch out on the bed. The flicker of the clock attracts his vision, and he reads the blue "1:23 AM" with a frown. Why did he wake up after midnight?!

He turns to a side, pulling his blanket up around his shoulder and trying to find a position that'll send him back to slumber when his phone pings. He decides to ignore it, the edges of sleep tickling his consciousness when it pings again, and again.

With a sigh, he reaches forward and grabs his phone, the glare of the screen blinding him for a moment until he turns on the bedside table. He looks back at the phone, finding five messages from Carlos.

A chill runs through Owen. For a moment he thinks something happened with TK. But then he remembers that they're both off for the next day, and he knows that TK is asleep in his room down the hall. He relaxes immediately, only to frown again when his phone pings with yet another message. He opens the thread.

Carlos Reyes: HIIIIIII TJ

Carlos Reyes: TL***

Carlos Reyes: TK********

Carlos Reyes: i drank sooo mucj

Carlos Reyes: i am frunk

Carlos Reyes: i lobe yoi sooo muvj

Owen stares at his phone, blinking in confusion. Carlos is… drunk, that much he's sure of. And he loves his son, which he's glad about. But he also seems to think that Owen is actually TK. Which is unfortunate. He's about to reply with a clarification when he gets four new messages in quick succession.

Carlos Reyes: i niss tou too

Carlos Reyes: van i see yiu when I het hone?

Carlos Reyes: i wamma cuffle

Carlos Reyes: cuddle

He can't help the smile that graces his face. Seeing how Carlos still thinks about his son, even in a drunk state, warms a deep corner of his soul. It's the kind of love he's always hoped for his son.

Carlos Reyes: amd kiss tou

Carlos Reyes: ans fuck yoi

And then it's no longer wholesome. He groans, dropping the phone and covering his face, as if that'll somehow erase the image that's been painted in his mind. He moves his phone away, putting it down on the table when it pings again, and again, and again.

He groans out loud again, reaching for the phone as he takes a deep breath. Two more pings come in during the time it takes him to do that. He turns the screen on, bringing the thread back up.

Carlos Reyes: uoire thw best thinj to eber hapoen to me

Carlos Reyes: i wanma lobe yoi forevr

Carlos Reyes: ill dhow yoi wiyh endless kissed

Owen glares at the phone, as if it can travel through the phone and reach Carlos. He sees the three dots bubbling about and he makes a decision, bringing up his own keyboard to type a reply.

Owen Strand: Carlos, this is Owen. You're texting the wrong Strand.

The bubbles pause for a moment, and Owen thinks he's going to get an apology text, or maybe even he'll get ignored and that will be tomorrow's problem. But they come back on the screen three seconds later and then he's getting a message.

Carlos Reyes: anf lobing sex

Carlos Reyes: yoi shoufl pivk me up do we cab habe s fucj

In a decision made over a split second, Owen is getting out of bed and marching down the hall to TK's room. He pauses at the door, straining to listen for movement. When he doesn't hear anything he softly knocks on the door. He gets a soft "hmm" almost immediately. So he swings the door open.

He finds TK in bed, blanket crowded at his feet and a book in his hands, eyes wide and awake. He pauses for a second, he was sure TK would be asleep. They did just return from a twenty-four-hour shift a few hours ago. He’s about to ask when TK beats him to it.

"You okay?" TK asks, looking at the clock on his bedside table. "It's almost one-thirty, dad. Why are you still awake?"

Owen sighs, remembering the reason he came in search of TK in the first place. There's a lot of things he would have seen himself telling his son, his own blood and flesh, at an hour after midnight. This is not one of them. And yet.

"Your boyfriend is drunk and wants to have sex with you," he says, going straight to the point.

TK stares at him, head turning to a side in pure confusion as his forehead creases into a frown. "My what? What?!"

"Your. Boyfriend. Is. Drunk. And. Wants. To. Have. Sex. With. You," he repeats.

"Wait, how do you know, what are you talking about?!" He asks, putting the book down and coming to a weird half-seated position where he has one leg half bent out in front of him and the other is tucked underneath him.

As if on cue, Owen's phone pings two more times. He brings the phone up, reading the messages quickly and then he's stepping into TK's room, scrolling up to the beginning of the messages and handing the phone over.

Carlos Reyes: r u oivking me uo?

Carlos Reyes: ill oay you eith sex

He watches as TK's eyes move from one side to the other on the screen, smiling at parts and then eyes widening at others, before he ends with a hand to his face, hiding away behind his palms.

"Oh, god," he groans. "He's so drunk."

Owen can't help the snort that rises through his throat, shaking in head in amusement. "Yes, that's an understatement."

The phone rings again in TK's hand. They share a look before TK turns the screen on and reads the messages. Owen doesn't want to know what the contents are when they're the cause of a bright red flush that takes over TK's face and neck. Still, he can't resist when the opportunity presents itself like this.

"What's he saying?"

TK stutters, looking up at Owen then down at the phone. "He's asking if I'm picking him up. The designated driver is drunk too."

Owen might have not been there for the large part of his kid's life, but he still knows when he's hiding something. And right now, TK is hiding something. But he understands; he knows his relationship with TK isn't usual, he knows that they are way too comfortable discussing their sex lives, but Carlos isn't. And Owen can't do much more than nod in acceptance when his son is trying to protect and respect his boyfriend's dignity.

"Okay, get dressed. Be at the door in ten minutes," he gets off the bed, heading to the door.

"Wait, wait, what?" TK calls. "Where are we going?"

Owen turns around slowly, facing TK, as if the answer wasn't obvious. "We're going to pick him up. You don't have a license yet, so I'm driving," he explains. "So let's go, your man is waiting."

It takes TK a moment, but then he’s getting on his feet and moving around the bed into his closet. Owen closes the door and walks to his own room, changing his pyjama pants to sweatpants and slipping into a pair of sneakers. He’s at the front door in minutes, keys and wallet in hand. TK comes barrelling through the house behind him in seconds.

They’re in the car, Owen turning the ignition on, when a quick succession of four or five messages ping through. TK glances at him out of the corner of his eye before he focuses back on his hands and turns the screen on. Owen catches the edge of a picture, and, from what he could tell, it’s just a selfie of Carlos and his partner, Jack. He decides to focus on the task in hand, asking TK for the location of the bar and swerving out of their driveway.

The drive isn’t that long, the bar a mere fifteen minutes away from their home. They spend the ride singing along to the music coming from the Bluetooth speakers, until a few messages ping through, at which point TK would stop singing, pull up the messages, type something in reply, and then get back to the singing.

They’re about half-way there when the ringing sounds around the entire car. Owen recognises the call notification and presses on the reply button a little too fast for his brain to remember that Carlos is texting him right now, and this is probably Carlos calling, and the phone is connected to the car’s Bluetooth system.

“HIIIIIIIIIII!” Carlos’ loud, clearly drunk and slurring voice fills the car a bare second after he’s pressed the button on his steering wheel, his tone so high-pitched Owen finds himself wincing.

“Hi! Hi, baby, hi,” TK is already screaming in reply, bringing the phone to his mouth only to pull it away when he realises it’s all around him, and then just saying it into the void. “Are you okay? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything is perfecto,” Carlos answers with a sigh, his voice muffled and mixing with the bar around him now that he isn’t screaming. “I just miss you, so, so, so much. And I’m sad.”

Owen glances at TK, the look of worry on his face mirrored on TK’s.

“Why are you sad? Is everything okay?”

“Jack is hugging and kissing Alana, and I’m here, alone and lonely,” Carlos replies in a tone that makes Owen right about a hundred percent sure that he’s pouting. He shakes his head as TK chuckles.

“You’re not lonely baby, you’re there with your friends,” he reminds Carlos.

“But my friends are kissing each other and making out and I think Alana has her hand in Jack’s pants and I’m here without your hands in my pa-”

The rest of his sentence is cut by a short scream from TK as he fumbles with the phone, finally pressing the button that disconnects the Bluetooth. Owen manages to resist laughing out loud but he has no power against the grin that splits his face wide. He feigns ignorance as he listens to TK whispering his replies. Somehow, even through the phone and the distance, he still hears Carlos, loud, loveable and oh so drunk.

A few minutes later and they’re finally pulling up the bar, pulling into the parking lot. Owen finds the closest free spot, putting the car in park and turning to face TK, who has his head down, the phone still pressed to his ear. He seems to have not even realised that they’ve arrived at their destination.

“Hey,” he nudges TK, nodding towards the bar when TK looks up at him. “Go get him.”

TK smiles at Owen, opening the door and dropping his phone into the seat. “I’ll call you if I need anything?” he asks, closing the door and moving towards the bar when Owen nods.

He follows TK until he disappears into the threshold of the bar, then closes his eyes and rests his head on the backrest of his seat as he sighs. He isn’t sure how his night came to this end, but here he is. He’s also sure he would have never done the same for any of TK’s previous boyfriends. But Carlos isn’t any boyfriend. Carlos is… Carlos is good. Carlos is a different type of man than the ones TK has been with. Carlos is nice, and respectful, and sweet. Carlos loves his son.

He supposes that’s what this all comes down to. The fact that he knows that Carlos loves his son, the way he always knew TK deserves to be loved. And he knows that TK loves Carlos, too. It’s the love that he’s only ever dreamt of TK having, a dream that seemed to get farther and farther away with every new man TK introduced him to. Until Carlos walked into TK’s life. He doesn’t want to undermine TK’s own work and tribulations to make himself better, but Carlos has no doubt been a large part of the support system he’s had during that time.

And so, if Owen has to wake up at one-thirty in the morning to drive his son to a bar so he can pick up said son’s drunk boyfriend, he’s willing to do that in a heartbeat.

A dull crash against the side of the car has Owen opening his eyes in alarm and looking at the side-mirrors of the car. He doesn’t see anything in the driver’s side of the car, but when he looks towards the passenger’s side, well, he sees TK, back pressed to the side of the car. And he sees Carlos, hovering over TK. And he sees two tongues fighting in the middle of the space between them before their mouths slam back together. And then, through the car, he hears the loud, unmistakable moan.

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” he groans, looking back in front of him. It’s one thing for him to read what Carlos wants to do to his son, it’s a completely different thing for him to see it starting to happen. He takes a few deep breaths, glancing at the mirror every few moments. When he sees that they’re still in the same position, he leans over the console, knocking on the window until TK breaks the kiss and turns around.

His eyes widen when he sees Owen, hands coming up from wherever they are to hold Carlos around the shoulders. TK might have seen Owen, but Carlos seems to still be in his own fairyland; he trails kisses down TK’s neck until he gets to a spot and then his head stops in there. Owen doesn’t need to guess what Carlos is doing right now, the way TK’s eyes flutter shut tell him all he needs to know.

But no, this is too much. He leans over, knocking on the window again until TK’s eyes open and takes a deep breath, hands tightening around Carlos’ shoulders as he slowly pulls him away. Owen did not need to see the line of saliva connecting Carlos’ lips to TK’s neck.

He hears them exchange a few sentences, voice low and sultry, if he has to guess. Carlos’ eyes are blown wide, a smile permanently glued on his face, even as he nods and shakes his head in reply to whatever TK is saying. He hears Carlos giggle one last time and then TK is moving them back enough to open the back door.

“Hello, Mister Strand,” Carlos greets him the moment the door is open, words slurred, smile wide and eyes bright. “How ya doin?”

“I’m all good, Carlos, how are you?” he asks, chuckling as TK helps Carlos settle in.

“I’m fantastic! Did you know that TK came to pick me up because I asked him to?!”

This time Owen really can’t help the laugh that booms out of his chest. He hears TK snicker as well, Carlos joining in at the end. “Did he now?”

“Yes, yes, he did,” he nods his head almost aggressively. “He’s the bestest ever. I love him so much.”

“I love you too, baby,” TK replies, kissing Carlos softly on the lips as he finally finishes securing the seatbelt. Owen turns around, focusing on turning on the car -as if it takes that much concentration- to give them a moment alone. He hears them exchange “I love you’s” a few times and then TK retreats, closing the back door and opening the front one to get his own self into the car.

TK is barely a foot into the car when Carlos calls from the backseat. “TK?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” he asks, turning around in his seat to look at Carlos.

“Why are you so far away? How am I supposed to hold you?” Carlos speaks in the same tone as earlier, the one Owen thought was coming from a pouting face. Looking at the rearview mirror, he sees that there is indeed a pout on Carlos.

“I’m right here, baby,” TK answers, extending an arm to rub at Carlos’ curls.

“But, you’re so far away. I’m all alone in this big seat! You should sit here! With me! You can even sit on m-”

“OKAY!!!!” TK interrupts yet again. “Let’s not do that, baby. We need to be safe.”

Owen hears a sigh and then Carlos is mumbling his approval. He waits until TK is twisted back in his seat and has put his seatbelt on before he starts the journey back.

It’s only then that he realises they haven’t discussed where they would be driving back to.

“Where are we going, TK?”

“TO SEX LAND!” Carlos screams, and a perfectly coordinated groan leaves both the Strand men.

“Carlos, no!” TK retorts.

“Carlos, YES!” Carlos says back.

Owen sees TK opening his mouth from the corner of his eye, but Carlos evidently isn’t finished speaking.

“Hey, Owen, you should take us to my house, that way we can make as much noise as we want,” he says, much to the dismay of everyone that isn’t Carlos. He doesn’t seem to realise what’s wrong with what he’s saying, he just keeps talking. “TK gets really loud at times, and I do too to be honest, and it’s so hard to stay quiet when we are in your house, so we should go to my house.”

As funny as this entire situation is, the conviction with which Carlos says it leaves Owen no choice but to respect him, even as TK tries to sink deeper into his seat in an attempt to blend with the upholstery.

“Okay, Carlos, I’ll take you guys to your house,” Owen says, shaking his head at both Carlos and TK’s shenanigans.

“Thank yooou, Owen,” Carlos says. Owen is about to focus back on the street when Carlos gasps, and the sound of skin hitting skin echoes around in the car.

Owen looks through the rearview mirror, finding Carlos with his hands covering his mouth, and eyes wide, as if he just saw something from his nightmares. The empty streets make it easy for Owen to cross two lanes and stop in the sideway, both Strands turning around to face a now teary-eyed Carlos.

Owen turns on the overhead lights as TK fumbles with his seatbelt, trying to get it undone, even as he keeps his eyes on Carlos, asking him what’s wrong. It’s only when he’s in the backseat with him that Carlos unclutches his face and wipes his tears.

“I was rude to your dad, TK. I was so rude to your dad, my mom is going to be so mad at me,” he whispers. “I didn’t say mister, TK.”

Owen feels the concern -so thick a moment ago- melt and dissolve into nothing. He sinks into his seat, turning to sit straight. TK stays back with Carlos, wiping his tears and whispering sweet nothings as he assures him that his mother would not be mad at him. Carlos tries to fight him on it, saying that she most definitely would be, but he stops pretty quick once TK asks if he trusts him.

He uses the distraction to grab his phone from the glove compartment, where TK disposed of it earlier. He brings up the camera, making sure that the flash is off, and presses on record.

He can’t see the screen and what he’s filming, but through the rearview mirror, he sees TK wiping Carlos’ tears, forehead leaning on him as he presses kisses to his temple in between whispers and smiles. He sees Carlos hold onto TK’s arm, looking up at him with a soft smile and wet tears. A few moments later Carlos giggles and TK smiles at him, pressing a final kiss to his forehead before he straightens up and buckles himself next to Carlos.

He’s about to turn off the camera when Carlos presses a kiss to TK’s shoulder and lays his head onto it. His hand runs along TK’s arm, intertwining their fingers. “I love you,” he whispers.

TK takes a breath, a soft smile gracing his face as he turns his face to another kiss atop Carlos’ curls.

Owen turns off the screen, putting the phone away and switching off the light. He turns on the car, focusing back on the journey.

By the time he’s pulling up into Carlos’ driveway, the back seat is quiet. He switches the car off, looking back to find Carlos -head still on TK’s shoulder- with his eyes closed and mouth open in soft, almost inaudible snores. TK has the fondest expression on his face as he looks down at Carlos, a hand wrapped around his, the other sweeping around Carlos’ head, playing with his curls.

He almost regrets bursting their bubble, but he doesn’t think the car is the most comfortable place for them all to be right now. So he lays a hand on TK’s knee, waiting until he looks up at him, looking almost dazed. “We’re here,” he whispers.

TK looks out of the window, recognition dawning on him. He nods in reply before he focuses down on Carlos, whispering to him softly as his eyes flutter open and he slowly rouses from his doze.

Carlos looks up at TK, a brief moment of a smile coming onto him before he stretches his limbs out as much as the car allows and then he curls back into his place, mumbling incoherence.

“Come on, baby, we’re here,” TK whispers. “Let’s go inside.”

Carlos opens his eyes at that, staring up at TK. “We gon’ cuddle?” he asks.

TK chuckles, shaking his head, the loving look never leaving his face. “Yeah, let’s go cuddle.”

Owen watches as TK helps himself and then Carlos out of the car, and then holds Carlos around the waist as they walk up the porch. TK takes a moment to slip his hand into Carlos’ front pocket, producing a set of keys that he inserts into the front door lock.

As they move into the house, TK turns and nods at Owen, and he returns it. When Carlos looks at him though and turns to do the same, with much more enthusiasm, waving at him, face scrunched with a wide grin, Owen can’t help but repeat it to him, waving back at the giant dork.

The lights inside the house turn on, and the door finally closes. Owen takes a few moments sitting in the car alone, in the dark. He supposes he should feel some loneliness, but he doesn’t. All he feels is happiness and giddiness for his son, amusement regarding the entire situation, and hope for the future that TK and Carlos will be sharing together.

[orwocolor]

Love Thy Neighbour - Chapter Seven

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Cursing

Summary: Gwilym shows up in your bookstore to apologise but there still might be more obstacles on your way to happiness.

Author’s Note: And another sprinkle of angst so that chapter six doesn’t feel so lonely. Only one more chapter and an epilogue remain, so keep an eye out for those! Comments and reblogs are always very appreciated :) Check my masterlist to read the previous chapters. Dedicated to my sweetie @justgwilym​.

Dragging your feet, you crash on your sofa, a floral pattern of one of the walls spinning around you. You squeeze your eyes shut, but as you lose the point of focus, you sense a rise of, so far, the most powerful wave of nausea. You fight the feeling and instead fix your gaze on one of the paintings decorating the living room.

Breathe in.

And breathe out.

You should not have drunk that much. But Jane and Charlotte were unstoppable and admittedly, you needed it. After a couple of drinks, you actually started having fun. Daniel turned out to be a very pleasant companion with a taste for slightly dry humour that, partially due to your inebriated state, made you burst in laughter multiple times during the party.

Oh god, you are going to hate yourself so much tomorrow.

Once it seems the whole world will not tilt again and toss you on your side, you brave a few steps into the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water. Gulping it down, you can already feel its beneficial effects, which are further enhanced when you press the cold glass against your forehead. You serve yourself another drink and with each sip, you begin to trust your legs again.

You release a content sigh as a soft breeze and smell of rain touch your cheeks when you open the windows; it truly does a world of good. Grabbing yourself two slices of toast bread, you settle onto the sofa, open your laptop and click on a random video for you to watch while you wait to get better before you go to bed. If you lay down right now, you’re sure you would throw up.

With an occasional chuckle leaving your lips as you listen rather than watch a stand-up show, you almost miss a soft, hesitant knock on your door. Almost. Your fingers hover above the keyboard as you contemplate pausing the video. If you press the space key right now, there will be no doubt you’ve heard the knocking.

Slowly retracting your hand back to your side, you let the comedian continue in her sketch and you just wait. It probably takes only a minute, but for you, it’s an eternity before you can hear Gwil shut the door to his flat behind him.

You release a breath you have not realised you were holding and hide your face in your palms.

You are not in a state to face him right now. You need some time. And most importantly, you need to put some space between you, otherwise you’re going to care way too much, and you are not in the position of allowing yourself feelings of that sort.

~

“I’m sorry, sir, I’ll be back in a minute, just let me attend to this young lady,” you throw behind your shoulder as you rush to the cash desk and leave a customer in the historical section.

“Maybe I can be of service,” Mr Dean appears next to the customer’s shoulder, who jumps a bit, not expecting someone else, and you send a grateful glance to your friend. You knew you could count on him. Whenever he’s in a good mood, he loves to entertain people in the bookshop and no matter the topic or genre they’re looking for, he turns into an expert, gladly offering recommendations.

You hide a smile when you notice Mr Dean’s eyes sparkling as the man mentions the French revolution and he starts guiding him to the needed section.

“Here you go,” you hand the young woman her bag and say your goodbyes, a shrilling sound of chimes hanging at the entrance door announcing her departure.

While you bend down and disappear behind the till to throw away the receipt the woman didn’t want, the chimes sound again, and you emerge from behind the cash desk.

No.

He’s there, right in front of you, the surprise written in his face matching yours.

“Hello,” Gwil says softly and for a split of a second, you forget to breathe.

You’ve managed to avoid him the whole weekend by some miracle, although, admittedly, on one occasion, when you were forced out of your flat to do grocery shopping, you spotted him at the entrance door when you made a turn to your street. At that moment, you remembered you wanted to check something on your phone, and after fiddling with it long enough for Gwil to get home, you plucked up the courage to do the same.

You assured yourself you just needed some time and space and by the time you would meet him, you would have known what to tell him.

Well, your past self can go screw herself because here you are with your tongue tied.

“Hi, Y/N!” Ben is on Gwil’s tail and greets you cheerfully, his hand raised in a wave.

“Hi,” you manage to blurt out, quite happy with yourself for not butchering the single syllable. It’s all about little victories, right?

“So, uh, I’ll go check some books I guess,” Ben breaks the silence when neither you nor Gwil seems to do so, and scurries farther into the store.

“I am so, so sorry, Y/N,” Gwil eventually breathes out and raises his lowered eyes. “I wish I could have a good reason for not showing up the other day and for copping out on you like that, but I just don’t. I…”

He looks around and bites his lips, looking for a way of how to finish his sentence in books-filled shelves.

You wait patiently because you have the feeling that there is something he needs to say, and it would be ill-advised to interrupt his thoughts.

“Okay, I’m probably already not in your good books, so why not make even a bigger twat of myself, eh.”

“Ha, in the good books. Get it? You’re in a bookshop,” you chuckle, your voice not as strong as you would like it to be.

“Yeah,” he replies, and the corners of his lips rise up slightly. Soon, his voice turns serious again. “Well, I went to that stupid audition and I just fucked it up. Yeah, there’s no better word for that. I fucked it up, big time. I tried to persuade them to give me another chance, I said I would do anything, and the production assistant surprised me. She promised me another audition if I went for a drink with her afterwards, and I… didn’t refuse.” He takes a deep, shaky breath, presumably the first one since he started explaining what had happened. “I wasn’t thinking, and when I realised I was supposed to be with you, it was too late.”

“You could have called me,” you say slowly, daring to meet his gaze.

“My phone was dead. I was fiddling with it so much while I was waiting for the audition. Was driving Ben absolutely crazy.”

“Can confirm!” Ben’s head peeps out from behind a shelf and quickly hides again when he spots both your and Gwil’s not so amused expressions.

“Still,” you start and shake away the trembling feeling that is creeping to your voice, “You could have come by later and explain all of that to me that night.”

By some miracle, it’s as if he senses the direction of your thoughts, and rushes to set the record straight, offering the absolution you haven’t, until now, realised you desperately craved.

“The moment it dawned on me what a jerk I was, I said my goodbyes and left. But it was too late, and I felt like such a prick, so I actually dropped in another pub and drank some more. Was so shit-faced I stayed at my brother’s ‘cause he lives in that area.”

A great weight is lifted from your shoulders and you can finally take a deep and long breath. You feel a smile tugging at the corners of your lips but Gwilym does not see it; he is avoiding your eyes, as mortification keeps surrounding his whole person.

“I am so, so sorry,” he repeats once again and the moment the words leave his lips, you forgive him.

Actually, you already have.

You are just about to tell him so when he finally finds the courage to look into your eyes as he reaches out and gently grasps your hands that have been resting on the counter.

“Please, can you forgive me?”

His thumbs are lightly stroking your skin and you cannot tear away your gaze from his beautiful blue eyes.

“Sir, I must ask you to leave right now!”

Wait, what?

It takes you a moment to become aware of where you are and what is happening. The bookshop, right. And as for what is going on…

“Sir, I won’t repeat myself, leave this building immediately!” Peter’s voice reaches such volume that every customer stops in their tracks, their curiosity taking the better of themselves.  

“I was only showing this young lad the historic section. I don’t reckon it’s a crime,” Mr Dean responds in his defence, which only infuriates Peter some more.

“You’re always just helping other customers, or browsing, or, God forbid, reading our books without paying a single penny for them. I want you gone. This is not a library!”

“Peter,” you say weakly, not capable of wrapping your head around it. He isn’t supposed to be here, otherwise you would have warned Mr Dean beforehand.

“Is that the Mr Dean you told me about?” Gwil whispers and it is only then when you notice your hands are still placed in his and his face is much closer to yours than you remember.

“Yes, I’m–” you start but Gwilym won’t let you finish the sentence.

“Trust me, darling. I’ll stop by at your place at around seven, okay?” he hastily says and places a soft kiss to your cheek before leaving you at the till dumbfounded.

“Grandpa!” he greets joyfully and rushes to Mr Dean to give him a proper hug. “Have you found the book you told me about?”

Mr Dean shoots a glance your way before he replies. “Ah, I… Yes. Yes, yes, I did, give me a second.” You’re taken aback by his quick reaction because you have not moved from your spot, your jaw down, and you are pretty sure your arms are still stretched in front of you although Gwilym’s warm palms are no longer holding them. You fix your posture in an instant and clear your throat, at least trying to give the impression of having everything under control.

Although you are not particularly proud of yourself, you’re still doing better than Peter. He is just standing there, opening his mouth like fish as no words are leaving his lips.

Gwilym pretends he has only just noticed him and raises his eyebrows in make-believe innocence. “Is there any problem here?”

It takes a couple of moments before Peter gathers his bearings.

“I’m sorry, but this is your grandfather?” he finally finds his voice and points an accusatory finger at your dear friend.

“Yeah! He’s been wearing my ear off about this wonderful book he discovered here, so I’m here to get it for him. For his birthday, you know? Which is coming soon, isn’t that right, grandpa?”

“In a couple of days, actually,” Mr Dean confirms and nods his head seriously as if contemplating the fleetingness of time and existence.

“Urgh, I’m the worst grandson ever, really, looking for gifts this late, I should be ashamed of myself.” You are fascinated by Gwil’s acting; he doesn’t miss a beat and comes up with lies so quickly, all you can do is stare in astonishment. It’s not like anyone needs you right now because all customers are watching the scene unfold.

“Ah, got it!” The victorious announcement of Mr Dean makes Gwil turn on his heel and leave Peter behind.

“Wow, that’s really pretty! You weren’t lying about the photographs.” Gwil expertly inspects the pictures of various relics and nods, approvement and appreciation readable from his pursed lips. “Excellent! We’ll take it.” He closes the book in one swift motion and heads to your cash desk.

By this time, you have composed yourself enough to remember all the common niceties, and you are quite proud of your performance as you easily scan the book that you’ve seen cradled in Mr Dean’s palms many afternoons and punch the price into the card reader so that Gwil can pay.

“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” you do not forget to ask and when your gaze meets Gwil, your heart starts beating so fast you almost can’t hear the answer.

“Oh yes, please, that is if we’re not bothering you.” Gwil’s smile lights up his whole face.

“No bother at all,” the corners of your lips rise in a matching smile and you procced to neatly wrap the book in a piece of brown paper, taking extra care to tie a dark blue ribbon around the package.

“Thank you so much, have a lovely day!” Gwilym places the book under his arm and leaves the shop, Mr Dean on his tail offers a wave and a wink that, hopefully, Peter cannot see.

Through the display window, you almost miss Gwil turning around and mouthing ‘see you tonight’ before he and Mr Dean disappear behind the corner. You almost burst into laughter when Ben suddenly emerges from behind the bookshelves and dashes after them.

You have got the feeling that Peter is mumbling something, but all you can think about is your lovely neighbour and the kiss he ever so gently placed on your cheek.

You resist the temptation to touch your face, wondering whether the imprint of Gwil’s lips can be found there, or whether the gesture is forever inscribed into your mind only.

But then, you finally register Peter’s words...

“I can’t believe it! And of all days he’s got to pick today and embarrass me in front of the buyers. God damn it!”

… and your smile freezes.

~

Buyers.

The sequence of syllables still sounds foreign and dangerous to your ears.

Buyers.

No matter how many times it rolls off your tongue, the word remains the same.

So that’s it. Peter’s made up his mind and he is going to sell the bookshop. And that leaves so many questions unanswered. The new owners, are they going to keep the staff, or do they plan to hire a new bunch of people? Is there even some certainty that they will not rebrand and establish a branch of a fast-food chain? It’s not like the city is flooded with them, right.

You feel the dizziness creeping up your neck as those thoughts swirl in your head, not permitting you a moment of peace. You almost crash into a passer-by, but thankfully you manage to keep yourself upright and the take-out bag with your late lunch intact in your hold.

Once you finally arrive home, you heat up the food you have brought with you and open your favourite book in a desperate attempt to diverge the direction of your thoughts.

You are torn between biting your nails from the uncertainty of your future career and halting in the story and daydreaming about Gwilym’s visit tonight. And with that mindset, you go about your day while you clean up, water plants, and dust your flat; you have been putting it off for ages.

Emerged in thoughts, you almost mishear the buzzing sound of the bell. You are wearing baggy trousers and an old t-shirt with stains God-knows from what. You have reckoned you’ve still got time to change before Gwil’s visit. Oh well, he has seen you at your worse.

However, your brows furrow as you step into the hall and catch a glimpse of the digital clock.

5.40 p.m.

Swinging the door open, you are met with no one. Another sound of the bell and the line on your forehead deepens.

“Hello,” you mutter when you press the intercom, and the static comes through.

“Y/N! Hi! Ready to go out and grab coffee with me?”

It takes a moment before the dots connect.

“Oh, Daniel, hi! I… erm… can you give me ten minutes?”

“Sure thing!”

The dash across your flat, from the door to the dresser, then to the bathroom and back to the hall could be considered a match to any Olympian’s winning sprint race, but it is too early after your accident and your ankle makes itself known. You grit your teeth and grab a purse, leaving your flat and hoping no appliances have stayed turned on.

How could you have forgotten?! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“Hi!” you greet breathlessly when you fly from the entrance door, and Daniel gives you a lopsided smile.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” No matter how hard you try not to give anything away, the blush on your cheeks betrays you. “Oh my God, you did!” Barking out a laugh, he lets you take a couple of deep breaths before you start walking down the street. “Maybe it should be you who’s gonna buy the coffee today.”

“Gladly,” you smile and spot a cosy café. For a split second, you consider taking him to Hazel’s, but then you imagine the soft hues of brown and gold against black and white background of your most beloved café. Your mind goes straight to the day you bumped into Gwil and Ben in there and you do not wish to stain that memory. Besides, this café is right behind the corner of your block of flats, which means you shouldn’t get stuck at some far-off place. “Actually, I owe you ‘cos I’ve got some plans at seven and I need to get home by then.”

“Oh, okay,” he replies hesitantly, and you bite your lips, feeling like an arse. Well, you can make it up for him by paying for the coffee, right?

~

You are trying. You are really, truly trying. Daniel is nice. Funny, smart, and knows all the iconic movie lines off pat, however, the moment you look into his eyes, you feel nothing, there is no bated breath, no heart beating fast. Nothing. And honestly, it seems you are not making a particularly good impression either. He takes notice of your constant checking the time on your phone, and when you catch yourself doing it for an umpteenth time, you roll your eyes at yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter after a moment of silence, which you wish were a companionable one, but you are too fidgety.

“It’s fine, I get it,” Dan offers a sheepish smile, which you return. “Let’s get you back home, okay?”

The wind is chilling and light drizzle lands on your hair. As you walk down the street, you notice that Daniel is trying to gently hold your hand. It starts with your fingers brushing and you would dismiss it as an accidental touch but when his fingertips graze the back of your palm, you sense the intention in the gesture. You bring your hand up, brushing off a damp strand of hair and scratching the back of your neck so as not to give him another opportunity for touch.

Hoping this debacle is behind you now, you say your goodbyes and grab the door handle to your building. Oh, how foolish!

“I know you’re lost in thought today but it was a nice date and honestly, I’m not ready for it to end.” He gives you a smile and his eyes sparkle when you stop in your tracks and turn your head to face him.

His gaze drops down to your lips and you are (literally) taken aback by the movement to such extent that your body shoots away. In the process, you press your back to the doorbell panel and jump a bit, not expecting that kind of contact.

“Careful.” Daniel’s fingers find your waist to keep you upright. “I realise I might not be the man of your dreams, but I hope we can go for dinner next time.”

“I…” you start, unable to find the words that would not hurt him.

“No, don’t say anything,” he whispers, and it is only then when you realise his face has inched closer to yours. And then he presses his lips to yours, and you freeze at the spot.

Your eyelids do not tremble with emotion, neither do you melt into his touch. You just stand there, barely moving your lips and thinking that this guy just cannot take a hint. You might have been waving the ‘I am not interested’ flag right in front of his face and he still would be none the wiser.

When he finally lets go, your gaze is still fixed forward and you suck in your lips in a subconscious effort to prevent him from another attempt of a kiss. However, you catch a flicker of light in the corner of your eyes and without giving it a second thought you twist your neck, and your gaze falls into the entrance hall. The windowpane which reflected two figures kissing a moment ago turns transparent and reveals a figure standing inside.

He’s there, at the top of the staircase, taking you by surprise for a second time this day.

But this time, his eyes are hurt behind his glasses, a deep line is forming on his forehead, and it seems as if he’s rooted to the cold stone floor. Your heart is breaking at the sight of him and you know you must do anything within your power to atone for this moment because you never ever want to see such pain written in his face.

“Gwil,” you breathe out softly and bend down to escape Daniel’s embrace. Pushing the main door, you rush to your neighbour, your friend, your… “Gwil, this means nothing, I’m not –”

“My doorbell rang, and I was foolish enough to think you couldn’t wait until seven. I…” He is avoiding your gaze, his eyes roving round the hall. He brings his hands to his sides, but quickly finds out there are no pockets in his soft camel pleated trousers and so he clasps them together. When he bites his trembling lips, it is almost unbearable to keep your eyes on him, but you cannot look away either.

Then, his features harden, and it is probably worse than before as your stomach tightens.

“Goodbye.”

You almost miss the sound, his voice barely above a whisper. Tears threaten to fall down your cheeks, but Gwilym is already gone, his moccasins tapping against the cold tiles of the stairs. You fight the urge to wrap your arms around yourself and have a breakdown right here and now. All you do is simply turn around, every movement calculated so as not to make an unnecessary one. Daniel is still standing at the entrance, his eyebrows raised in the piqued curiosity of what has just occurred.

“I can’t go for another date with you. I’m sorry.”

But you don’t feel sorry at all, well, not sorry for him at least. Your thoughts have turned into a tangled ball of turmoil and indescribable emotions, which are hard to make sense of.

When you reach your floor, you stop in your tracks to your flat. You have thought you lost all the courage, but you muster some from deep inside and cross the hall to knock on his door with determination.

God knows how long you are standing there, you knock again, and again.

Nothing.

Not even a sign of hope.

Your heart skips a beat when you finally hear the creak of a door being open, but a lump forms in your throat instead when it dawns on you that it is not Gwil’s door but Mrs Thompson’s.

“Hello Mrs Thompson,” you greet meekly the slightly open door of the 3A flat and drag your feet to your home.

You do not bother taking off your shoes or clothes. Crushing straight into your bed, you finally give yourself the permission to let your emotions flow and cry yourself to sleep.

~

Taglist: @lv7867​, @spacedustmazzello​, @queenwouldyourathers​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @fairestkillerqueenofall​, @supernaturalee​, @queenlover05​, @geek-and-proud​, @chlobo6​, @mrsmazzello​, @timeandpixiedust​, @kerouacsroad​, @gwilsmainhoe​​

[yuulina-vre]

Gifting you a new life

Not as planned

Pairing: Steve x Bucky, Reader insert

Warnings: slight angst

Word count: 4589 words

Part: nine

Summary: Y/N won't let her own misery be the reason Steve misses his date with Bucky.

Masterlist

* * *

Y/N runs around wildly, head full of stuff that needs to be done, things that need to get sorted, and a million other things. Though it's hectic right now, Y/N has to admit that work has actually made fun the past week. The kids have written all their assignments, now glad to be finished for the year. They drop jokes and the playful banter gives Y/N some sort of content she hasn’t had in a while. That she didn’t get another letter helps, too. Tony had made sure that not a single one caught her sight and she was grateful for it. There’s still some strain left in her. Each morning she’s afraid to find him near or even in front of her school, to see him on her way home or in the grocery store. Some days she even worries that he found her home and would come. Steve had noticed that and does everything he can to get her calm and distract her. Y/N still tries not to show her anxiety too much and spends more energy in getting him to meet up with bucky. They have seen each other just once after the incident last Wednesday. She’s grateful that there’s a week of school left, after Friday she can force him on as many dates as he needs until he finally admits that he’s head over heels for the brunette soldier.

Now she stops for a second, watching Steve how he nervously runs his hand through his hair, looking through the window every few seconds. She can’t exactly figure out why he’s so nervous. He got KISSED from Bucky! And of course, Y/N knows but only because she snacked Steve’s phone while he was showering two days ago and rang Bucky to squeeze every detail of their date out of him that Steve wouldn’t budge to tell. “Steve! Get dressed, he’ll be here in no time!” The blonde man flinches a little, then turns back to her with a pout. He looks down on himself and back up at her. “I don’t understand why this isn’t nice.” He gestures with his hands down on himself. Y/N can only shake her head. He’s going to meet up with the love of his life and can’t even care to look nice. “Steve.” She pinches the bridge of her nose before she looks back up at him. “Your shirt has paint all over it, your jeans scream work clothes, and you smell. Not the good kind I might add. Hurry the fuck up and go shower. I have put some nice clothes on your bed.” She closes the door behind Steve and smiles softly. Somehow, she feels just as excited. Like she would go on a date herself. While gazing at his bed and the clothes she had put out for him, she mumbles about going shopping with him to actually get some new clothes. Then she leaves his room to get the last things sorted for tomorrow. It’s not like she has some plan for the kids. She probably ends up eating breakfast with them and watching movies… like each year. But still, if someone asks, she has done some slight planning.

The doorbell rings and she hears a curse from Steve’s room. “Shit. No fucking- Ow!”

“Steve!” She walks out of her room, shaking her head as she passes Steve’s door. “Relax, Stevie. He’s early. Take your time and make sure you look nice. I’ll distract him and make sure he knows every painful embarrassing thing about you.” She runs down the stairs Still laughing at the strings of course that followed her threat. She slows down to a walk as she reaches the entrance door and opens it to reveal Bucky. And he looks nice, like, really nice. His hair is wrapped into a bun, he wears a red shirt with a black leather jacket and black jeans, his beard is neatly trimmed. He looks happy. And he wears his prosthetic but it doesn’t seem to bother him today. She whistles appreciatively looking him up and down. “Man, you cleaned up nicely Buck. Wow.” The man blushes a little but smiles. “Thank you.” He looks back behind himself before he clears his throat. “I’m a bit early, sorry.”

“Meh.” She waves him off with a smile, gesturing for him to step inside. “Gives me more time to tell you embarrassing things about or blonde gorgeous myth upstairs.” She hears him chuckle behind her as she leads him into the Livingroom. “Take a seat. You want something to drink?”

“Oh, ehh… water is fine. Thank you.” He flashes a smile at her and Y/N nods. “Water coming right up.” She walks to the kitchen, filling a glass with water, and goes back to pass it to Bucky. “Thanks.” He smiles again, takes a sip before setting the glass down. “I saw he hung up the picture.” Y/N turns to the wall of pictures, humming.”

“Yes, he did.” She smiles at the memory. Steve came rushing in the next morning practically jumping on her bed like a little kid, bouncing up and down and showing the picture in her face. She wasn’t ever really awake at the time, hasn’t even opened his eyes. But he didn’t care. He started rambling for hours on end. It had been a long while that she has seen him talking that happy about his father. Y/N turns back to bucky with a warm smile. “You know, he was very glad he had the picture, rambled for hours about him and how wonderful you are for bringing it back to him.” She sighs slightly, looking at the photo and back at Bucky. “It was the last day he saw him. Shortly before his dad had to leave Steve fell ill and was brought to the hospital. He got that sick that he had to get help breathing. He hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye. And though he knows he’s not at fault for what happened, he regrets that since then. Somehow blaming himself. He told me once that he believed, if he hadn’t fallen ill, if he would have said goodbye, giving him the hugs and kisses he always gave him when he was sent overseas, then he would be still alive. It’s what kids do. Blaming themselves. It took me years to get the idea out of his head but I know that he’s still thinking it now and then.” Y/N leans back against the couch. “He doesn’t want to hear that anymore, though. I think that, when you gave him the photo, you gave him… I think it felt like he could say goodbye now.” Bucky stares at her and nods slowly. Y/N suspects that Steve hadn’t told him about that. And she can see that Bucky knows the weight of what she told him. Of what Steve takes as a burden. “So, thank you, bucky. For saving him.” She smiles at him again, this time placing her hand on his arm and squeezing it lightly. All buck does is nod and swallow. They are silent for a moment, listening to the birds outside and the water in the shower to shut off. They can hear Steve’s footsteps as he hastily runs around his room to get dressed. Some loud bangs let Y/N confirm that he got himself hurt more than once. Probably stumbling around with his pants half on and trying to get his massive dumb head through his shirt. “Ah… Y/N, can Steve… I mean… Can he drive a motorcycle?”

“I think so, he had one back in the days.”

“Thank god.” Bucky lets out a sigh of relief, followed by a nervous giggle and Y/N watches him curiously. She leans a little to the side and looks behind him, out of the window. There’s a motorcycle. Not any but a Harley-Davidson. She smiles at Bucky. “I think he gladly drives with you, Bucky.” The man smiles back at her before his face goes slack. Y/N frowns for a second before she turns around. There is Steve, dressed in the clothes Y/N had laid out and hair neatly styled. Y/N winks at Steve and steps away, leaving the two men to greet each other. She steps into the kitchen as her phone rings on the counter. She smiles, still looking at the boys that are hugging now, and takes the call without looking at the screen. “Hello?”

“It’s nice to finally hear your voice again.” Y/N feels how all color drains from her face and her smile vanishes her body runs cold instantly and her hands start to get sweaty. She knows the voice and she hoped she would never hear it again. “How did you get this number?” Her voice is shaky, maybe even a little too loud. Quickly, she looks back at Steve and Bucky, but they seem not to notice her. Stepping out of the kitchen she passes them to walk into the hall, closing the door behind her. “I have my ways. You didn’t forget that, did you?” Rumlow laughs and a shudder runs over Y/N’s back. Pictures and flashes of old times show up in her head. Times she tried so hard to forget. “What do you want?” her voice sound sold and deep, unfamiliar and scary to herself. Rumlow was always good at making her scared of herself. “I want to see you.”

“No!” Her answer comes fast and straight, without any hesitation but still a little shaky. “Aw, Y/N. are you still mad after all this time?”

“Go to hell! Let me be. Don’t call again.” She hangs up and stares at the black screen. She feels shaky all over, takes a few deep breathes, and tries to calm herself down. She hadn’t thought she would hear his voice ever again, and she hadn’t thought it would affect her that much. She was doing so well. She walks back into the living room after feeling calm enough, forcing a smile on her face as Steve turns around. If he notices that her smile isn’t honest then he doesn’t say anything about it. “Are you two ready?”

“Yeah. Y/N, I’m going to ride a motorcycle again.” Y/N can see his excitement. It has been years after all and he loved driving his old motorcycle until it got victim of an accident, luckily without Steve on it. “I know.” Her smile widens just as her phone rings again. She briefly looks down but turns the call down. She has just enough time to look up as it rings again. She doesn’t take it. Steve frowns a little. Y/N gets rarely any call. The ones she gets are usually from him, Tony, Pepper, or her friend Sharon. Though, it’s not unusual at all that she turns down calls. Sometimes he has to call her four times until she will pick up. Y/N always claims that she does it so he doesn’t get used to her jumping every time he says to hop. The truth is she hates talking on the phone.

“What are you two going to do?” She tries to change the focus away from her phone, which starts ringing again.

“I thought about the aquarium, dinner, and then maybe a movie?” Bucky looks at Steve with an unsure expression but the blonde smiles and nods. “Sounds great.”

“Do you have your briefcase, Stevie?”

“Ah, damn it. I’ll be right back.” Steve turns and quickly runs up the stairs. Y/N laughs and looks at Bucky. “He was really nervous all day.”

“I can relate to that, me too.” Y/N rolls her eyes. “You two do really fit.” Her phone rings again. She closes her eyes and lets out a defeated sigh as Steve comes back down. “Excuse me for a sec.” She really doesn’t want to take the call. She doesn’t want to talk to him now or never again. She wants him gone. To leave her finally alone after all these years. But she knows he won’t stop until he gets what he wants. “What do you want!” She whispers aggressively, sounding braver than she feels. “Oh Y/N, look at you. You sound so brave, wholly different than back then.”

“I dare you. Leave me alone.”

“Y/N, come on. I know you miss me. Listen-”

“No! You listen. I told you I don’t want to hear from you! Leave me alone, asshole!” She shouts and disconnects the call. A rush of anger overcomes her and before she really can compensate what she’s doing she throws her phone on the ground with full force. After staring at it for a second, she instantly regrets it. The screen is wrecked. Little glass shards have flown out of the display and lie on the ground now. She takes some deep breathes and closes her eyes, trying to get her trembling under control. “Y/N?” She hears Bucky’s worried voice, takes a last shaky breath, and turns around to look at Steve and Bucky, who stand in the doorway, both with shocked faces. Her eyes stop at Steve’s and suddenly she bursts into tears. “Shit.” Steve curses and instantly rushes forward to embrace her quickly into a comforting hug, probably guessing what just happened. “H-he…”

“I know. I know.” Steve rubs his hands over her back as she fists hers into his shirt. She feels helpless. What is she going to do? How can she get rid of him? Why can’t he just leave her be? “I-I was d-doing so w-well.”

“I know, it’s okay. You’ll be okay.” Steve rocks a little with her, running his hand through her hair. Bucky still stands in the entrance, looking really uncomfortable. He takes one step to get closer but stops again, staying quiet. Y/N calms painfully slowly. She feels tired and exhausted. Feelings having drained her and thought running wild in her head. Steve’s hand waving through her hair helps, though. It takes her a few minutes until she can muster up the energy to lean out of Steve’s embrace. She rubs her eyes and looks at Bucky, his face twisted in something like concern and uneasiness. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hold you guys back.”

“Y/N, don’t apologize because of that asshole.” Steve still rubs her back a little. “I don’t know how he got your number, but I swear, as soon as I find out where he is, I’ll make him pay for making you feel miserable again.” She‘s already shaking her head, mouth open to reply something as Bucky speaks up. “M-Maybe we should reschedule, Steve. I should probably go.”

“N-no. It’s okay Bucky.” She gifts him a watery smile, wiping the last of her tears away. “I’m good now.”

“Don’t leave, Buck. We could watch a movie here, order some takeout.”

“No, Steve. You were both looking forward to today. You should still go out.”

“I’m not leaving you alone right now.” Steve turns to her but Y/N shakes her head. “And I won’t let you stay here and ruin a perfect date with Bucky.” They both glare at each other until Steve sighs unsure. He looks over at Bucky before he reluctantly steps back. “You’re calling me the instant he bugs you again.”

“He won’t. My phone broke.” Y/N looks down at what’s left of her phone. “Still. Y/N, I mean it. The instant something’s off!”

“Yes, Steve. I promise.” She looks him straight into the eyes and for a second, they only stare at each other. She can see in Steve’s eyes that she looks confident and sure in her decision because his shoulders drop and he sighs. He slings an arm around her shoulders, kissing her forehead. “Okay. We’ll be back by ten.”

“Have fun.” She smiles and kisses his cheek, walking both men to the door. They still look unsure of the situation but neither of them argues with her. She waves after them until they vanish behind a corner. Just as she closes the door she slides down to the ground. New tears spill from her eyes. She doesn’t feel confident at all. And she’s scared. Scared for her life.

* * *

“Steve! Steve look!” Bucky pats Steve’s arm excitedly and Steve feels like he’s running around with a child. A child that he really likes. “What?” He smiles at Bucky’s wide grin. “They’re feeding the dolphins! Come on.” Bucky grabs Steve’s hand and Steve feels a blush creep upon him as he’s pulled around the halls, past actual kids and their parents. They walk outside and reach the dolphins all too soon. To Steve’s surprise, Bucky doesn’t let go of his hand. He just keeps holding it while he waves them through the people to find a good spot to watch the feeding. Steve doesn’t look at the big tank with the animals already swimming around. Instead, he looks down at their intervened hands. A warms tingle runs through his whole body, settling in his stomach with a feeling of war content. Just at this moment, in this tiny flick of a few seconds, he feels happy genially happy, like he hasn’t felt in years. All because a man that he likes does like him back. In a bold moment, Steve squeezes Bucky’s hand lightly Grinning dumbly at the brunette as he turns around to look at him, matching grin on his face. Though Steve can’t tell for sure if it's because he's excited for the dolphins or just realized how much he has fallen already. Four more feet in front are two free seats and Bucky nearly sprints to them, flopping down, only to fidget around on it. “You love dolphins, huh?”

“No, but their sounds are funny.” Bucky still beams and Steve laughs. “Right.”

“they are! Did you ever just listen to the sound without looking at them?”

“No, I think I never did.”

“You should. My nephew and I have laughed for hours.” Bucky’s grin only widens. The happiness and amusement are written clearly on his face. Once again Steve is reminded how much the man means to him already. Then a thought crosses his mind. Should he be worried? He has fallen fast and hard. He really likes Bucky and he only knows him for about two weeks! It’s going pretty fast and if… If Bucky doesn’t like him as he does, it would… it would hurt. A lot. “Hey. What’s with this face?” The brunette's face pops up in Steve’s view, concern written all over his features. The man squeezes his hand lightly, placing his prosthetic on his thigh. “Steve? Everything alright? We don’t need to watch the feeding if you don’t like it. We could just go-”

“No! No, I’m good just… just was thinking…” He tries a sincere smile and hopes that it doesn’t come off as creepy. Bucky seems to consider it before he slowly nods. “okay. Then… stop thinking. If it makes you look like that. I don’t like that look on your face.”

“Alright.” His hand gets squeezed again.

They watch as a woman steps out to the big tank and talks through a microphone, explaining some things about the animals, stating facts, and starting a small show. Bucky shuffles happily in his seat, jumping in excitement and laughing at any sound. He oohhhh’s and ahhhh’s like the kids do and Steve feels himself painfully reminded how childlike the man is.

After the feeding Steve lets Bucky pull him through the whole building, still acting more as a child than an adult but Steve likes it. He thinks Bucky is cute like this and he never met a man that can be this excited about some fishes AND show it. He hasn’t forgotten about Y/N, though. Now and then his thoughts run back to her and worry creeps up in his mind. He gets fidgety but a look of curiosity from Bucky in his direction helps him to concentrate back on him. He doesn’t want to ruin anything.

They’re through the aquarium all too soon, having seen everything there is, and eaten a small lunch. Bucky drives them then to a nearby restaurant. They get a table in a quiet corner, able to oversee the whole room. Steve pulls out his phone and places it on the table after checking the display. There are still no calls or texts from Y/N and somehow, the lack of any of it makes him more nervous than before. The blonde knows that Bucky notices him staring at his phone. He rubs a hand over his face, feeling like he’s already ruining their day with his worry so he sighs. “I’m just calling her real quick.” He looks apologetic at Bucky and takes the phone to dial the number. It rings and rings and rings. He can see Bucky frowning and feels like copying it. The mailbox turns on and Steve hangs up, immediately calling once more. It rings again until the mailbox answers. “Hey Y/N. It’s me. I just want to check up on you. Are you there? Could you pick up?” He waits for a little until the mailbox shuts down. He frowns at his phone and looks at Bucky. “Something’s not right.”

“Why?” Bucky looks a little worried too, seemingly half up and out of his chair. “She’s not picking up. She always picks up the house phone.”

“Maybe she went out, too? With some friends?”

“Maybe but… No. She wanted to grade the exams the kids wrote. She won’t go out.”

“She could have changed her mind.” Bucky settles back down, shrugs again and places his hand on Steve’s. “She’ll be okay.” Steve sighs again, still frowning at Bucky but then he nods and slips his phone into his jacket, leaving the volume on high to make sure he really hears it when it goes off.

They still decide to quit the movie. Steve’s worry increases after Y/N doesn’t pick up the third time, he called either and Bucky seems to get a little worried, too. So, he drives them home and walks in behind Steve. “Y/N?”

“Stevie!” Y/N shouts and comes running up to him. She almost stumbles but catches herself on Steve’s shoulder with some sort of strange giggling. “Were you drinking?” Steve raises his eyebrows confused and shoves Y/N into the living room. Bucky is already ahead of them. “Jus’ a teeny-tiny bit.” She tries to show it with her fingers but they’re touching and Steve knows that he had more to drink than nothing. Her giggling is just one indication. “A teeny-tiny bit, huh.” Bucky laughs and points at the empty campaign bottle on the coffee table. “Oh dear…” Steve cringes a little and looks Y/N up and down who clings to him like an octopus, still smiling and seemingly happy. “Come on doll. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Nooo…” Y/N whines and bobs a little up and down. Another child. How does he manage to find people like that? Steve sighs and directs a stern disappointed-dad look at her. “You’re going to bed, young lady.” She pouts at him but stretches her arms out. “Carry me.” Bucky snorts at that but Steve picks her up like a child, she wraps her legs around him and cuddles into his shoulder until his eyes meet Bucky. “Ohh…. Pshhh, Bucky. Come, come.” She waves him over with a big smile and Bucky curiously does close the distance. Steve eyes her closely, at least what he can see of her. “What is it?” Bucky whispers just as loud as Y/N does. “Stevie’s in love with you.” She giggles a little more but presses her pointy finger on her lips. “Pshh, you can’t tell him I told you.” She giggles some more and Bucky smiles at her. “I promise.” His eyes meet Steve’s who feels his face burning with embarrassment. “I’ll be right back.”

“No Stevie! I want to talk to Bucky.”

“NO, you’re going to bed.” He starts climbing the stairs, happy that she stopped fidgeting in his arms. “Hmm… You’re so cuddly and warm. Like a bear.” She starts giggling again, leaning backward to look at him. Though she’s so fast that she almost doesn’t catch herself and send them both to topple over. Almost. “Careful!”

“You’re a bear! My Stevie bear!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve lets a small smile slip, seemingly enough for Y/N to giggles into a sigh, and slings her arms back around his neck, cuddling close. “I love you.” It’s whispered and silent but full of her emotions. Steve squeezes her a little tighter, placing a kiss on her temple. “I love you, too.” He walks into her room, settling her on the bed, shuffling a bit until he manages to get her under her covers. He presses the last kiss to her forehead. “Good night, Y/N.”

“No, Stevie. Stay.”

“Y/N, Buck is waiting.” He looks at her and back to the door, unsure of what to do. His fatal mistake is made as he gazes back at her, seeing her lower lip wobbling and her eyes starting to water. “O-Okay. Okay, but just a few minutes.” He watches her nod numbly, scooting over and rubbing her eyes. The moment he lies down beside her she drapes herself around him, clinging to him like a small koala. Steve embraces her, kisses her a few times on the head, and running his hands over her back and arm. “Stevie?”

“Yeah?”

“You won’t let him get me, right?” Her voice is shaky again, inducing Steve to stretch his neck to get a better look at her. He brings one hand up to cup her cheek. “Y/N. I will do my very best. He won’t get near you. I promise.” She stares at his eyes for a moment before she nods and settles down again, finally closing her eyes.

It takes nearly twenty minutes to get her to sleep. By the time he manages to detangle himself from her, he’s afraid that Bucky had left. So, he’s surprised to find him sitting on the couch, still waiting. “You’re still here!” Bucky jumps a little in his seat and turns around. “Of course, I’m here. Where should I have gone to?”

“’Dunno.” Steve feels a blush creep on his face and starts rubbing his neck in embarrassment. Bucky snorts but pets the free place beside him. “That was something, huh?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Steve blushes, again, before he walks over to the brunette and flops down beside him. The other man smiles at him and crosses his arms. “So, you love me?” Steve’s blush deepens and he starts sputtering for words. “I- She- I mean I… Yeah.” He settles with a sigh, swallowing thickly. “Yeah, I like you. Like, really, really like you.” Bucky’s smile widens, turning into a bright grin, and he scoots closer to Steve. “That’s good because I like you, too.” He grabs Steve’s arms and leans in, Steve meeting him half the way. They kiss softly but lovingly. Steve slings his arms around Bucky’s waist with a hum. His brain shuts off, only having the decency to get swallowed up by the feel of Bucky’s soft lips once again on his. A small mona slips out of him as he feels Bucky’s tongue slide against his lips. Bucky breaks the kiss and leans a little away to look at Steve. “Should I leave?”

“No.” Steve’s voice is soft and fond, whispered. “Stay. We can watch a movie here. Get some more food.” Bucky’s smile widens and he kisses Steve briefly again. “Sounds good.”

Previous Part / Next Part

[ikeromantic]

Shingen Vignettes

This post is for @thesirenwashere who requested some scenes from Shingen’s route that might happen if he seduced MC in Chapter 8 - I didn’t realize that when I replied privately the ask would disappear xD

I hope you like this - it’s my first try at writing Shingen!

4 vignettes - approx 1500 words, fluff, some angst.

The Morning After

Yukimura stood outside the dining room. His arms were crossed, and his frown furrowed deep lines across his forehead. Sasuke approached, his lord Kenshin in tow. The ninja looked tired, and perhaps, a little hungover. Uesugi looked the way he always did, cold and imperious.

Soft laughter came from the room beyond Yuki, and the clatter of plates.

“Don’t go in there.”

Sasuke stopped, his flat expression conveying a lack of interest to any but the most discerning friend. Only the slight twitch of his brows gave away his curiosity.

Kenshin’s expression of distaste didn’t shift either, but he did stop. “Why?”

“It’s . . . disgusting.” Yuki took a deep breath. “If we wait, I’m sure they’ll finish. Then we can eat in peace.”

“I’m hungry now.” Kenshin started to push past, but Sasuke grabbed his arm.

The ninja caught on a little faster than his lord. “Why don’t we train first? I remember hearing it’s more effective to do so first thing in the morning.”

Yukimura nodded. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’d rather go practice with you two than to go back - in there.” He glanced at the closed door, the opaque rice paper looked golden in the morning light, as if only good things lay past it.

Kenshin considered this offer. He almost looked swayed, but then he shook his head. “No. Let go of me.” He pulled his arm from Sasuke’s grasp and began to slide the door open.

Beyond it, in a world of sunlight and drifting blossoms, Shingen and his angel were having breakfast together. The warlord was dressed in his nightrobe, bare legs sticking out under the table. And the girl’s clothes were disheveled. Her kimono hung half off her shoulder, revealing the tender curve of her collarbone, the beginning swell of a breast.

“Is he . . . eating a strawberry off her neck?” Sasuke’s voice sounded strangled.

“No. Just licking the juices,” Yuki groaned, shutting his eyes.

Kenshin slid the panel closed. “I want to go train. Now.”

~

Goodbye to My Angel

Yukimura brought his lord another bottle of sake. He knelt beside the table and poured them both a full cup. He sat down across from Shingen and watched him toss back the cloudy drink in one gulp. 

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough tonight? You aren’t trying to match Kenshin are you?” Yuki frowned as Shingen held his cup out for a refill. 

His lord said nothing, just held the cup out.

“You could at least wait until I have a chance to drink too,” Yukimura grumbled.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t wait?” 

Shingen filled his own cup. “No. I can’t . . .” His mouth twisted, his eyes closed with sudden pain.

Yuki was to his feet in a heartbeat. “Is it - is it your illness?”

“No. Sit down, Yukimura.” Shingen turned his face away, taking several breaths to bring his emotions back under control.

They were a frightening several moments for Yuki. Though he teased his lord about his various indulgences, he’d never seen him lose control of himself for even a moment. Takeda was a fortress - unassailable. But the walls of his heart were breached, and it showed.

When Shingen turned back, he wore a grim smile. “I am considering our plan. There has to be another way - a better way.”

“Better than what?” Yukimura drained his own cup quickly, hiding his discomfort.

“I can’t just send my angel back to the devil king.”

“Is that what this is about? The girl?”

Shingen’s eyes flashed in the lamplight. “Goddess. Angel. Not a mere ‘girl’ Yukimura.”

“Yes, my lord,” he answered, almost automatically. “But - didn’t she want to go back?”

Shingen sighed, looking down again. “She asked to see them.”

“Then let her.” Those three words gave voice to a thousand concerns. All of the talks they shared about the future of the Kai. Shingen’s illness. The possibilities inherent in victory or defeat. 

“I can’t.” The pain in Shingen’s voice hurt Yuki to hear. 

With all the compassion he could manage, Yukimura replied. “You must. For her sake.” His lord did not reply.

~

Princess of the Oda

Mitsuhide and Masamune sat at the campfire. Their chatelaine was in the nearest tent, where Kojuro and Kyubei sat watch.

“Glad to have the lass back.” Masamune poked the fire with a stick. 

Mitsuhide nodded. “As am I, for however brief the visit.”

“Brief?”

A new voice interrupted before Mitsuhide could reply. “My luck charm will stay here until I decide otherwise.” Nobunaga’s jaw was firm, his mouth drawn in a frown, but his eyes laughed.

Mitsuhide gave a half bow from where he sat. “As you say, my lord. I’m sure she’ll be obedient to your will.”

“She couldn’t be obedient if her life depended on it.” This, from Ieyasu, as he sat down beside Masamune.

Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow. “I imagine she’s quite biddable. For some.” 

This comment earned him a laugh from Masamune and a smile from Nobunaga. 

“What does that mean?” Mitsunari’s innocent question floated out of the nearby darkness. “I was going to my tent, but I heard you talking about the chatelaine.” He looked from Mitsuhide to Masamune for an answer.

Ieyasu scowled. “It doesn’t mean anything. Go to bed.”

“It means the lass has been compromised. I suppose she admires something other than Takeda’s tactics or his horsemanship.” Firelight reflected from Masamune’s eyepatch, giving it a red glow. It was quite menacing, with that wild smile he wore.

“Oh, I’m sure she’s a fan of his riding skills,” Mitsuhide disagreed.

Mitsunari smiled. “Oh? Do you think she’s learned how to ride during her time in Kasugayama?”

“I’m sure she has,” Nobunaga answered. 

“That’s wonderful. Maybe she and I can ride to Sawayama together one day.” Mitsunari glanced toward her tent. “She would like it there, I think.”

Masamune laughed so hard his eye teared up. Even Mitsuhide could not hide a wide smile.

“You are disgusting.” Ieyasu huffed. “Come on, Mitsunari. We need to rest for tomorrow. Let’s go.” He stood and grabbed his friend’s arm. 

“Riding skills,” Nobunaga shook his head. 

Mitsuhide shrugged. “Should I put a watch on her during the battle tomorrow?”

Nobunaga considered this. His carnelian eyes were opaque, impossible to guess what thoughts he had in those moments of silence. “No,” he said finally. “I think I will let her have her head. And I think . . . if you force a luck charm, it will only break.”

“That’s right. You have to win them over. Another reason to challenge Takeda. I can’t wait!” Masamune’s fierce excitement made his lord smile.

“Good luck with that,” Mitsuhide replied.

~

Medicine

Shingen’s throat still held the stitches from his surgery. He touched them with a fingertip.

“What are you thinking about?” His angel rolled over to look at him. Her face was framed by loose hair, her eyes half-lidded and sleepy.

Shingen could not help but brush a kiss to her lips. “I was thinking I needed to hear my goddess before I sleep tonight.” 

She shivered, and that half lidded gaze suddenly looked a lot less sleepy. “How do you do that?”

“Mmmm?” He pulled her close and stroked her side lightly, enjoying her curves, even through the fabric of her night robe.

His angel snuggled closer to his chest. “Distract me with . . . mmm, just a kiss. You’re a dangerous man, Mr. Takeda.” She laughed softly, her breath ticking the sensitive skin of his chest.

“I could ask you the same.” He looked down at the top of her head. “You asked what I was thinking. Just, that I came so close to losing my goddess. I still can’t believe I - I let you get away from me. Twice. And yet, you came back to me.”

She nodded, settling an arm against his side. “I knew that we would find each other again.”

Her simple faith and unwavering trust made his heart pound. She really was an angel, he thought. 

Moonlight streamed through the curtains, painting the bed in its silver glow. “Just like that first night.” Shingen smiled. His hand slid under her gown to caress skin.

“You’re supposed to be resting.” That’s what she said, but her hand made its way down to his hip, where she drew lazy circles with her fingertips.

“Love restores us.”

His angel laughed. She looked up and kissed him as he rolled her onto her back. “Shingen . . . what about your stitches? And - “

She didn’t have any other words as he began to kiss her belly. He loved the taste of her. And the sounds she made when he gave her pleasure. That was all the medicine a man needed. 

[stusbunker]

AGA: Cornered

A Supernatural AU Series

Featuring: Dean Winchester/ Benny LaFitte​

Other Characters: Sam, Bobby, Mick, Ash, Castiel

Written for: @thoughtslikeaminefield​

Word Count: ~2700

A/N: No kink square this chapter, just backstory and bowling. Mention of drug use. General flirty banter. xoxo

    The crack and rumble of balls striking pins rang throughout the bowling alley; the consistent soundtrack of Dean’s Wednesday nights. He had gotten there early, just after six, to claim their alley and get himself dinner before the rest of the team arrived. Dean shrugged into the simple black and red collared Singer’s Slingers bowling shirt with his name on his left pec. As he sipped his beer and waited for his burger basket, he wondered how late Sam would be this week.

    Ash and Bobby showed up just as Dean had a greasy mouthful. He managed to murmur his greetings as they bypassed the bar for the row of vinyl chairs, changing out of their street shoes. They were followed shortly by Mick, who always seemed to swagger in, no matter how ill fitted his bowling shirt. Dean continued to devour his burger and fries as the team ordered their drinks one after the other. It was 6:25 and the other team were toweling off their balls, eyeing them while glancing at their watches. 

    “C’mon Sam,” Dean urged under his breath.

    “Sam, I expect, but where the hell is Cas?” Bobby wondered, squinting towards the entrance.

    “Told you, you should have asked someone else to take the old man’s spot,” Dean smiled smugly, before popping another fry in his mouth.

    “Yeah, well, most my friends are too old or too tired for this shit. Can you imagine Rufus out here each week?” Bobby sighed, shaking his head before taking a sip of his whiskey.

    “Bobby, can I ask you something?” Dean started. “Are you still bowling because you enjoy it or because it’s a night out of the house?”

    “You work with your wife for twenty years and tell me if you wouldn’t be out here every chance you got.” Bobby eyed Dean like he was slow. A burning grin pulled across Dean’s face, he almost choked on his last bite he was laughing so hard. Dean took a swig of his beer and Bobby rolled his eyes.

     “Singer! Let’s go!” Roy Wilkinson called from down on the lane.

     “What a jackass,” Bobby whispered to Dean, before turning to the opposing team’s captain. “Yeah, I’m getting there.”

     It was 6:31.

      Dean had learned by now to place Sam last in the line up, but Cas usually went second. With a quick scramble, Dean adjusted their bowling order and sent Cas and Sam their own personalized texts of annoyance. It shouldn’t be that much of a deal, but he was embarrassed. Plus, Dean didn’t want to see Bobby continue to take shit for their tardiness.

    At 6:44, a sheepish Castiel and an annoyed Sam walked into the alley together. Sam still had his suit on, his bowling bag slung over his shoulder. 

    “Dude, what the hell?” Dean asked once his brother sat down to swap shoes.

    “The hoopty bit it, Cas called me because he figured I was closest,” Sam explained, knowing that would have been Dean’s next question.

    “Did he hit anybody or did it just die?” Dean asked, eyes raking over Cas’s body for signs of injury.

    “It killed while he was driving. Not sure if it’s electrical or if he just ran out of fucking gas,” Sam whispered, frustration evident.

    “Well, you guys missed the first frame, but you got yourself a hot minute to catch your breath and grab a beer,” Ash butt in. Mick came back from picking up a spare and the story got told all over again.

    “I’m really sorry, Bobby,” Cas explained.

    “You bowl for a mechanic’s team, boy. You shouldn’t have let it get that bad in the first place,” Bobby dismissed the clueless man as he made his way to the ball return.

    “Dean?” Cas asked, leaning over Dean’s shoulder at the now useless scorer keeper’s spot.

    “Yeah?” Dean replied.

    “Do you think, could you give me a ride to the bar? And home after I do my nightly paperwork?” Cas explained, his blue eyes beseeching and all too familiar.

    Dean groaned and closed his eyes. “How late? I’ve got a day job I need to be at, too, man.”

    “Wednesday’s are Ladies’ Night, so it could be awhile,” Cas pondered aloud. “But you don’t have to stay, I can ask at the bar, maybe Ana wouldn’t mind.”

    Dean’s stomach instantly knotted with guilt, knowing how the waitress would feel to be trapped with Cas duty after a long shift. He shouldn’t have been so short with him, his car problems probably weren’t his fault. 

    “Nah, man, I got you. Let’s just bowl, get out of here as soon as possible,” Dean suggested, chin jutting out toward the lanes. Cas was up.

    “You’re a lifesaver,” Cas grinned in relief. Dean swallowed and nodded, biting back the smile that crept up whenever Cas looked at him like that. A sour taste settled in the back of his throat as he watched Cas barely clip the 6 and 10 pins. Ignoring the rest of the frame, Dean went back for another drink before it was his turn.

    Losing the first game was inevitable, but the Winchester brothers had a reputation to uphold and they rallied the team for the final two games. Together, they gave the opposing team some much deserved karma. Dean racked seven strikes in a row, but missed the 7 pin on his last ball. Sam, looking utterly ridiculous in his dress shirt and bowling shoes, followed up his tenth frame with a shaky spare. Then he pulled a strike out of thin air with the third ball.

    The lane erupted.

     Mick and Ash hooted and bumped chests. Dean jumped at his brother, nearly tackling him, before lifting him off the floor by his waist in celebration. Bobby, proud as ever, gave everyone a high five before he shook hands with the now salty Roy. Then Bobby ensured his team followed suit, as a sign of good sportsmanship, even if their faces didn’t hide the smugness of victory.

    The champion’s high was short lived for Dean, because reality reared its ugly head when Cas awkwardly started to shadow him as they cleaned up their equipment. Dean towelled off his ball and slipped it into his bag, trying not to let the disappointment of missing out on a drink with the team to cart Cas’s ass across town show. Or the phantom nervousness of being alone with him that Dean had to tell himself to shake.

    Cas was just his friend. He had only ever been his friend. No matter how many times Dean craved to be alone with him, it had never meant anything more than friendship to Cas.

    Dean had nothing to feel guilty about. But when Cas dropped onto the bench seat beside him in the impala, Dean’s heart started to race. He felt like he was walking a dangerous line between ambiguity and cheating.

    “Thanks again, Dean,” Cas’s deep voice croaked.

    Plastering on a company smile, Dean brushed him off. “It was only a matter of time for that jalopy anyway, now if you just trust me and sell the damned thing, maybe you could get a reliable set of wheels.”

    “Ash says he can have it at the shop by tomorrow afternoon,” Cas threw out there tentatively. 

    Dean gave Cas the side eye. “You’re calling Ellen first thing and BEGGING her to work you in, cuz I am no good at weaseling somebody onto the schedule.”

    “I know, Bobby warned me. And Ash.”Cas squinted in thought. “And Mick, now that I think about it.” 

     Dean told himself to keep his eyes on the road. And to ignore the suddenly crushing weight of his phone against his thigh. He felt like he should be letting Benny know what he was doing, somehow. Like if he didn’t tell Benny where he was and with who, then he was asking to get dumped. 

    Dean, no stranger to self-sabotage, overthought until his head hurt. He couldn’t cheat if they weren’t dating. Driving a friend home wasn’t cheating. It didn’t matter that he had had feelings for Cas for as long as he could remember. Benny wasn’t his boyfriend. Officially. Right?

    Cas turned to look at Dean. “You’re awfully quiet tonight.”

    Again with the inopportune observations.

    “Just got a lot on my mind,” Dean dismissed Cas’s concern and leaned over to turn on the radio, close enough that Dean got a whiff of Cas’s familiar cologne. The scent flooded Dean’s senses with bittersweet memories and he had to clear his throat to clear the haze of desire that was always associated with it, with Cas himself. Dean drummed his thumb against the steering wheel and held onto the music for as long as he could.

    They arrived at The Pearly Gates just before ten, cars and suvs filled the small parking lot and spilled over onto the narrow side street. Dean cursed and backed into the narrow alley, unwilling to risk his paint job among the other vehicles.    

    “Alright, I’ll wait here, go do your busy work.” Dean cranked the car into park.

    Cas gave Dean a cautious look before he crawled out of the passenger seat, mindful of the space between the building and his door. Dean didn’t want to think about whatever Cas thought was going on with him. And Dean really didn’t need him prying all of the sudden.

    Dean thought about how oblivious Cas used to be and how much he had changed since they’d been friends. He was still Cas, but he wasn’t the same.

    They’d met at a party on campus, which Dean always seemed to find despite not attending. A very drunk Cas had been locked out of his house by his asshole roommates, which were mostly his brother Gabe’s friends. Dean sat on a half-broken picnic table in the backyard toking, as Cas yelled to be let in. It was barely above freezing, but Dean didn’t want to share with the asshole college crowd he’d seen so far.

     Cas was in black jeans and a tee shirt, shivering.

    “Hey buddy?” Dean called out. “Look, give me a sec and I’ll pick the lock for ya, alright? Cool it.”

    “What?” Cas looked at him like he had three heads.

    Dean chuckled. “Stop yelling. I’ll get you in. Just let me finish my joint.”

    Cas walked over, rubbing his arms with his hands before he started blowing on his hands. Dean had stared, the buzz slowed his thoughts. He just took in the details of Cas’s hands and the way his meaty lips probably looked as the hot air left them. 

    “You want a hit before I pinch it off?” Dean offered, hand extended in selfish offering.

    “I’m good.” Cas waved him off, smiling without teeth. A good kid, Dean thought, or a dweeb.

    Dean sucked in the last puff of smoke and carried it in his chest as he crossed the lawn to the backdoor. As he squatted, he exhaled, letting himself completely relax before he dug for his small set of tools. 

    “I’m sorry, but my roommates are---,” Cas started.

    “Dicks?” Dean guessed.

    Cas sighed in agreement, and that moment Dean probably will never forget as long as he lives. Dean looked up to see Cas in the yellow glow from the porch light, his blue eyes distinguishable for the first time.

    “Uh?” Cas squinted in confusion.

    “Right.” Dean sighed and shook his head, fitting the pick into the lock.

    “You’re sure you can do this?” Cas continued, disbelief clung to every syllable.

    But Dean didn’t have to answer, because just then Dean cackled in triumph, “Yahtzee!” and the door swung open. 

    Cas marched past him and into the warmth of the overpacked house. He turned just before he got swallowed by the crowd and nodded his thanks, eyes deep enough for Dean to get lost in.

    Dean couldn’t remember much else from that specific party, but meeting Cas. They weren’t friends until a few more chance encounters and a flat tire, but it was their beginning. 

     Dean hadn’t told Benny about Cas, other than he was a friend that he helped out. He didn’t have labels for what Cas meant to him, he’d never let it solidify from thought and feeling into word or definition. There had been something there and if he wasn’t careful, Dean could get lost in the familiarity, the lingering hope of perpetual possibility.

     Dean probably should say something, eventually.

     The car had gotten cold while he waited for Cas to finish the deposit. Dean had turned off the engine to save the gas, but was starting to regret it when his phone rang. 

     “Heya, gorgeous, how’d ya bowl?” Benny drawled before Dean could finish his greeting.

    “Alright, just around my average, but I tanked the last game. You off work already?” Dean asked, knowing Benny usually worked well past mall hours if he was in the middle of something. 

    “Yeah, leaving it for another day. You at home?” Benny continued.

    “No, at the bar, killing time,” Dean inaccurately summarized. “Why? You miss me?”

    “Well not if you’re gonna be like that, I don’t,” Benny teased.

    “What days are you off again?” Dean sidestepped.

    “Tomorrow and Sunday. You wanna come over?” Benny asked.

    “I do, but I can’t, I’m wiped. Six am is early enough on a good night,” Dean apologized. “I can roll in after my shift at the bar on Saturday though, if you don’t mind me showing up close to three.”

    “That could work. I’ve gotta be somewhere at eleven, but you’re welcome to join me,” Benny offered.

    “That depends, is it a church service? I need to prepare myself for the smiting showing up after a night with you,” Dean countered.

    Benny laughed, “Not a’tall. Me and some buddies do brunch every week.”

    Dean sobered up, but he couldn’t stop the snark. “You do brunch?”

    “Yeah?” Benny replied, not giving Dean anything more. Dean licked his lips and gaped at the offer. Benny wanted to introduce him to his friends. “You alright, cher?”

    “Yeah, just got distracted, sorry,” Dean lied horribly. “I don’t want to crash your plans. We’ll see, alright?”

    Benny inhaled audibly. “Yeah, I understand. You’ll still stay over though?”

    “Yeah, I’ll be there.” Dean agreed.

    “Hey, maybe, if you don’t mind I could slip in for a drink after my shift Friday?” Benny suggested.

    Dean smiled. “That’d be great. Gives me something to look forward to on a double shift.”

    “You alright?” Benny almost whispered.

    “Yeah, just tired, sorry, not my usual charismatic self,” Dean huffed.

    “Nothing to be sorry for, sugar. Just checkin’ in on ya,” Benny soothed. Dean closed his eyes and relished in the sound of Benny’s calming voice.

    “Tell me something,” Dean asked, not wanting to end the conversation.

    “What do you want to know?” Benny chuckled, deep and genuine.

    “I don’t know, just keep talking. What were you working on tonight?” Dean said.

    “A pair of saddle bags for a custom bike,” Benny started. “Real nice ones too. Sturdy, but soft. Got some staining to do then the branding. But I got everything cut and measured for now. You ride?”

     Dean hummed, then remembered he was asked a question. “Sorry, on occasion, I don’t have a bike of my own anymore. Do you?”

     “Well, they don’t call me a leather daddy just for my outfits, cher,” Benny teased. “Before it snows, I’ll see if we can get the bike out for a spin.”

     “Now I’ve got that visual burning through my thoughts,” Dean murmured suggestively. 

     “Happy to oblige,” Benny goads. 

     “I’m sure you would,” Dean huffs. “Thanks, it was just nice to hear your voice.”

     “Anytime, Dean, all you have to do is call. You know that right?” Benny pressed.

     “Yeah, I know, I know.” Dean agreed, when an extra blast of cold air hit his side. Cas was back. “I better go. I’ll see you soon.”

      “Dean?” Cas interrupted.

      “Okay, well, enjoy the bar,” Benny sounded like he’d heard Cas. “Bye, darlin’.”

     “Night,” Dean ended the call.

     “Who was that?” Cas asked, tugging at his trenchcoat to get the seatbelt on.

Tagging: @flamencodiva​​ @dolphincliffs​​ @dontshootmespence​​​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​​​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ @dawnie1988​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​​​ @cosicas-cuquis​​​ @foxyjwls007​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @wingedcatninja​​​ @defenderrosetyler​​​ @ericaprice2008​  @crashdevlin​​  @mylovelydame21 @cajunquandary​ @itmighthavebeenintentional

Tell me what you think?

Series Masterlist

2020 Kink Bingo Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Awesome bowling logo made by @there-must-be-a-lock​

Part 6: Loose Lips Sink Ships

[klariwitch]

All You Ever Were was One’s and Zero’s

There was some sort of light above them. It casted long shadows among their noses, their bodies that pressed tightly against one another’s and even the little lilies scattered by the pond nearby. Was it the sun? Sure. Could be, if you were to look past the science fiction side of it. So, maybe it was a laser, or not, either way he found himself completely distracted from all the possible ill intent it held. He didn’t care. No, not when he had all this.

Conner was with him. Right there. Holding him oh so tightly. It was the way they were always supposed to be. His do-over.

The grass scratched at their legs below. It was nice at first, but now just annoying and itchy. He’d most certainly puff right up tomorrow but what did he care? Hell, he’d  choose to sniffle and sneeze all week if he had to.

They probably should have gotten up earlier, time passed so much quicker on the screen. Almost like, a movie you really like? One you’d never wish to end. Well, the credits were well past rolling. It was the kryptonian that kept him there. Tied him down like an anchor. It was okay, though. All is well in pure bliss. 

Kon huffed. He nudged his side slightly. “Hey,” he chuckled. What a fucking angel, “I know that look,” he nodded, brain doing small turns and twists. “Care to share what’s gotcha so stuck in that big brain of yours, wonder boy?” His voice. Oh god his voice. It rasped so heavenly and choked him into lust. Tim slid into his lap. They sat against the old barn, the rusty red paint properly poisonous, chipped and splintered from wear. 

They were indeed where they belonged. Not, in the city. Sure, that’s where they hung out most often and where they were to reside, but really they could only truly thrive out in the country. There, it would be quiet, peaceful, and…happy?

read the rest on ao3

Tim rolled his eyes in a playful manner. He tilted his head to stare at Kon, he could so easily lose himself in the depths of his eyes. Like some sort of romantic maze of one's and zero's.

He tangled his fingers in the inky curls. “Just that, I like this,” the boy shrugged, lips pursed. His voice kept quiet, almost like a hushed whisper with his mind preoccupied.

“You like this?” Kon chuckled, raising his eyebrow. Tim hummed a soft agreement as he felt large hands slip up his waist. “Care to be more specific?”

The robin tilted his head back, giving a soft sigh and hopefully the sudden sort of ability to quickly hide a blush. When he turned back, he held on to Kon’s face, fingers balancing below his jaw. Leaning slightly, he craned his head to dip in for a kiss. One, that would only last a split second before he pulled back away.

“Well, lets see,” Tim started, resting one hand on Kon’s chest and the other still gripping the black locks. “I missed that,” he gave his lips a glance, “I missed this, I missed you. I missed your touch, I missed your laugh, I missed your dumb jokes and your little rants and your cockiness and your smile and god, I missed your charm,” Tim groaned, looking away now.

Kon rested his head against the old boards of the barn. His fingers inched up his lover’s hip, and the other caressed the small muscles in his arm. He brought his palm in for a kiss, then set it down on his heart. His beating heart. “Fuck, Tim,” he bit his lip. “You didn’t lose me. You didn’t lose any of that,” Tim could hear the sigh escape his lips. If he were to sink any closer he could feel the hot breath on his neck.

The only problem was, he did lose him. Very much so. The Superboy died nearly a year ago and he hasn’t came back till now. Maybe that’s why it felt off. Why was he here again? Come to think of it, none of this was right. The blue sky tended to glitch around them, and he was pretty sure the original spot they had settled in was in the field. They had held hands and kissed in the dirt whilst flooded in nothing other than wheat. He remembered thinking that the sun didn’t hurt his eyes no more. No, not as it did before, not while Kon was huddled over him, kissing his-

No. He wasn’t to look far enough into it. He held on to Kon, in the now instead. This was better. This would be safer.

“Can you just kiss me?” He muttered, voice shaky and eyes tired.

Kon groaned. He'd never looked at him with such sad eyes before.“Tim, look-"

He kissed him. Kissed him because he didn’t want to fucking talk he just wanted to be held. With Conner, he felt completed. Obviously this was something he wouldn’t so easily let go of. The clone played along too, giving into the simulation in every way possible.

Then, a single tear came between them, and when Kon jolted away Tim watched his own tear stream down Kon’s cheek. How lovely was that? Anyway, the water flooded his eyes now and would have flowed over if it wasn’t for the thankful barriers.

Yet, they broke. Harshly, too. Like a dam ready to burst. Hot tears flooded down his cheeks and dripped from his chin. Besides all that, the boy managed to remain almost completely emotionless and dull. What a scary look.

“Jesus,” Kon swore. “Tim? Love, you didn’t lose me. I'm right here. I promise,” he pleaded, holding his darling oh so very close. He lifted his chin, turning him face to face.

Tim held his expressionless disarray.

“What can I do to help? Whatever it may be,” Kon asked, too sweet for his own good.

His muscles stiffened. Any sort of way that could keep him from touching him, really. Why did he feel so nauseous?

It was all fake. All artificial and false and any other sort of synonym to describe the true alarm of the situation

A sob developed in his throat. “Can you just talk? I don’t care about what I just…” Tim looked him in the eye, “my head is so loud.” His request was obviously simple enough, because he heard a small ‘of course’ in return.

Kon pondered for a moment, it wasn’t everyday someone was to encourage him to talk. “Y’know, now that you ask me to its like my mind is just drawing blanks?” That earned a soft laugh. When Tim opened his eyes, it was just as before only this time, he was looking directly up at blue skies. He was laying on his back, not one cloud in sight.

“Lets see, well, one time I sunk a tractor?” Kon offered. His story continued on too, but to Tim it all sounded like babbles, getting drowned out by inaudible sound.

He realized then his full surroundings—some sort of strawberry field, with everything around them so overgrown and the light dimming that suggested evening. His head still was placed on Kon’s lap, of course he’d only notice that when he felt familiar fingers twirling his hair.

Something about this was nostalgic, like some sort of odd case of deja vu.

“We moved,” Tim stated duly. His doll eyes stared up at Kon with such curiosity, and his arm reached to caress the side of his cheek. Solid. Real. Even when all he really was-

“Hm. Yeah, I guess we did, didn’t we?” The meta glanced around. He picked one little white flower from the strawberry bush, tucking it neatly into Tim's hair. What an angel. His ttk seemed to be present as well, Tim found himself shuddering as the imaginary compression of hands snaked down his body and scrapped against his collarbones. “Malfunction?”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Tim nodded, swallowing his gasp.

“C’mon, let's get out of here,” Kon finally announced. He stood then, bringing his lover up with him.

“What?” The Robin asked shockingly. On his feet now, he could feel the soft flower buds tickling up the ends of his jeans as he was lead out of the small field.

“I want to show you something,” Kon insisted, bringing him further along.

“Kon,” Tim halted. The air between them felt almost toxic and unwelcoming.

“What it is?”

“We uh,” the boy started, looking around for some help. “I mean, I don’t think we can..” Why couldn’t he finish? This was all so wrong, so incorrect and not to mention horrible for his health. The world quite literally felt like it was going to crash, how were they to surpass this? Who were they to decide to keep going? The system had already been running for so long…well he wasn’t quite sure how much longer it could go.

“Why do you only ever care when it's getting good?” Kon asked him harshly. That was sure to break his trance.

“What?” Tim shot back in shock. He was still holding his hand, only now Tim could feel his grip getting tighter. Bone crushing.

“Kon,” he gasped, eyes wide, “you’re hurting me,”

“Oh,” was all the superboy said in return. He loosened his grip and smiled, “shall we continue on?”

Tim just nodded. What else was he supposed to do? His hand throbbed, heart matching the same. He wanted again to ask where they would even go, but who knew what the computer would throw at him this time. Or, maybe it was his subconscious begging him to stay.

****

It didn’t take long for the pair to reach the car. It was of course the Kent’s old truck, parked in the midst of the driveway. The one that seemed to go on for miles. Maybe it did.

****

       He’d never seen so many trees in his life. It was like, being in a forest when really they were just driving down a dirt road. The trees seemed to change colors as they drove on, from darker greens to lightened ones and then fading into dead yellows and…reds? Fall.

The system was crashing, time speeding up far faster than could be contained. He’d have to leave this soon.

Somewhere along the way, Kon’s hand found his thigh. Tim looked up when he noticed, only to see his lover smiling at their surroundings. He placed his hand to overlap Kon’s.

He wanted to ask, ‘are we there yet?’ Like some sort of impatient child, but before he even had the chance to, the engine roared to a stop.

“Well?” Kon turned for his reaction.

All around them sat more trees, which didn’t appear to be much till he spotted the red fruit. An apple orchard.

In the center was nothing but a red checkered blanket and a bottle of white wine, accompanied by two tall glasses.

“You, Conner Kent, have truly outdone yourself,” Tim smiled, looking over his shoulder from the landscape, to his loving boyfriend.

It wasn’t so sad anymore, all the glitches. After all, he was sure the system could hold on just a tad longer, right?

“There it is,” Kon sighed a bit of joking relief, “there’s that famous Timothy Drake smile,”

He rolled his eyes at the tease, of course the never could have a sweet moment with the reminder of being best friends.

“Zip it,” Tim hissed, pulling his boyfriend in for a kiss. It was all too familiar, lips pressed together softly with some sort of rhythm going. Maybe he was just that lucky, too, because suddenly the car had no middle compartment he remembered, making it easier to slip into his lap.

Just like magic, he had Kon’s hands holding him steady at the hips and his own bringing him closer with his fingers intertwined with untamed curls.

They smiled, heads tilting and breaths quickening. If they were to have done this back at Gotham they’d have the paparazzi all over, the media would annoyingly wonder, “who is Gotham’s youngest bachelor dating?” But, without all that they could give less than one fuck.

It was only, when he felt strong hands slip up his shirt did it get interesting. Then feeling of warm fingertips against his cold back was something ethereal, like something could just possess him and ask for Kon to never stop.

Within enough time there was something new to drive him crazy—that being the trailing of kisses down his own jaw and down to his neck. This time, Tim allowed a few soft sounds to escape his lips, ones that bounced their way around the small roof of the old truck.

He thought, maybe he’d tell him he loved him, that he never wanted to leave this place and that he would promise to make it happen.

His knuckles went white when he gripped the seat, he could feel all sorts of emotions flooding his brain, all as kon slipped his way up-

The soft cushion of his lap turned to concrete. The fastest it ever had before.

It was numbing, really, the way his elbow hit the ground.

Tim cried out.

“Kon?” He called, sitting up in almost an instant.

He wasn’t there, though. He wouldn’t be there to lift him up off the ground.

“I wasn’t finished..” He whispered, tears welling in his eyes.

Above him, he stared. The blackened lens of the projector stared back at him, evilly.

“I said,” Tim spat, standing up to get a better look at the mindless machine. “I wasn’t finished!” He yelled at it. “I wasn’t ready yet!” The robin screamed at the projector, he’d probably hit it down if he was close enough.

It was times like this, where he couldn’t think. He couldn’t breath or speak. All he was left with was the ability to scream. To cry. To throw himself against the hard walls and punch the stone till the skin over his knuckles turned raw and sensitive.

He would look at the controls. Begging and praying to no god to bring his beloved superboy back.

Screaming and crying doesn’t help, though. Even with voice control. The audio constantly insisted on being fried whilst the robin barked back for it to all start up.

“System overload,” the robotic voice reported.

The creator sat slumped over in the corner. His eyes were bright red and puffy, cheeks flushed and hands torn to shreds. “Please..” He would beg the system, the one that didn’t understand that sort of command. “I love him, you know that?”

Still, the computer didn’t budge.

His chest felt heavy, hot and overemotional. It was fake but it still hurt. He lost Kon. Again. He wasn’t able to decide when he wanted to leave before the system shut down itself. But, who could blame it, really? That was sure to happen when you stay in for an almost forty-eight hour period. It was fried. Overworked, just as Tim was. Now he had no choice but to let the system to rest.

How had he almost forgotten he was there? Like some sort of magic wooed him into confusing tech and reality. Almost like some sort of alluring way of putting him to shame.

From then, he’d get to work. The next week or so he would simply spend his time hunched over a small computer screen, eyes wearing from overloading amounts of one’s and zero’s.

In no time, he spotted the hundred of bugs, that and the needed storage.

“That explains the teleportation and seasonal jumps,” he’d talk to himself aloud, anything to reassure the idea of losing his love.

He got to work immediately.

[seokiloquy]

That One Time - Iwaizumi Hajime

AU: Soulmate/Body Swap

Requested

Warning/Tags: Depictions of harassment, It’s not too explicit but even so be cautious, established relationship, It’s a short one this time

Word Count: 2k+

“(Y/N), would you mind being home a bit early today, we have to go visit your grandmother.” Your mother ran around the kitchen as she tried to get a handle on organizing the dozens of ingredients she had laid out to bake for your aforementioned grandmother.

Licking your lips, you looked out the nearest window to the sunrise that was just hovering over the houses and trees that hid the horizon. You let out a slow sigh, biting into your cheek. “Can’t I just stay at school for a while longer? Or maybe just not even go? It’s not like she’ll remember me anyway with the way her memory is going.”

Your mother gave you an unimpressed look, immediately pulling down the corners of your strained smile. She blinked slowly and let the bottom row of her teeth poke out like a bulldog. “Funny,” she said, grabbing the large bag of flour. “I’ll call you when I want you to come back from school.”

Clicking your tongue you looked away from her gaze and grabbed your bag, hopping a little you get your shoulder underneath the arm strap. “Alright, I’m going!” you called behind you as you forced your shoes on.

“Stay safe!”

You scoffed.

The walk to and from school had never been a totally welcoming one. Living in the crowded part of town where people were often found late at night, you’d often have your fair share of run-ins with rowdy characters that likely let go of their inhibitions. 

The scuttling of rats could be heard in the hidden corners of every alley. Trash rolled over the ground with every gust of wind. You sighed, now wishing you had chosen to go to that boarding school on the clean side of town. At least that way you wouldn’t need to walk through a dumpster fire.

You adjusted the tuck of your shirt into the waistband of your uniform uncomfortably as you felt the stares of loitering groups as you walked by the various bar windows. Hearing a quick whistle behind you, you sneered but continued forward. Not sparing them a glance and you stomped your shoes into the concrete.

“Hope those aren’t law books you're carrying!” another slurred. You could hear them trip over their untied, ill-fitting shoes and oversized pants. An involuntary gag slithered its way to the back of your tongue

The stares seemed to continue burning the back of your neck until you turned the next corner. Not even another step was taken before you blinked your eyes at the fluorescent lighting that suddenly glared at you.

“Iwa! That hurt!”

You sighed internally as you stared at the taller, but hunched over, brunet as he rubbed the back of his head with a clenched fist. A ball bounced off to the side before rolling away. The tension in your shoulders faded as you took in the familiar surroundings.

“You know if you stopped acting like that he wouldn’t throw balls at you as much,” you said, stumbling slightly as you adjusted to the change in your center of gravity while walking over to pick up the colourful ball. 

Oikawa huffed, dropping his arms to rise to his normal height before turning your way. “At least it’s you now, (L/N). I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

You raised the brow on Iwaizumi’s face. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Tooru. I’m gonna go sit down, being in Hajime’s body feels weird.”

Attending Hajime's practices was a frequent occurrence, typically falling in the evening, after school when you were finished with your own club activities. You could spend that time walking home before it got too dark out for rats to be able to hide in the shadows, but instead, you would wait. Hands clammy as you thought of taking a step on the crowded streets.

Hajime showed up 5 minutes before practice finished, thumbs hooked around the shoulder straps of your backpack. The tired smile painted on your face was definitely a reflection of your poor sleep schedule instead of his current mood, as came to your side, slipping your arm into his and pulling you out of the gym and towards your classes.

You stumbled over his feet again, tripping over his ankles as you tried desperately to keep up with his quick steps.

“Oikawa, I can’t really play right now.”

Hajime sat with you on the metal bench that was pushed tightly against the gym’s wall, kicking his — your— legs out comfortably. You sat next to your body’s slumped form, picking at Hajime’s dirty, unclean nails. 

Oikawa continued to whine from the middle of the court, ball in hand as he waited for his teammate to join him in warm-ups. Hajime made your body stand, shoulders hunched forward as he stalked to the wavy-haired brunette, ripping the ball from his hands to smack it against his forehead.

Oikawa’s whining was overshadowed by a combination of the coaches rattling and your phone vibrating irritatingly in your bag’s side pocket. Trying to balance Hajime’s torso correctly, you leaned over, reaching for your pocket.

Home, Now

You groaned, flipping the phone off and sucking harshly at your teeth as you turned to see your body, under Hajime’s control, attempting to get a skype over the net. 

“Hajime!” you called, packing your back up. “My mom wants me home.”

Spinning around he walked our way, taking your bag out of your hold and swinging it over your body’s shoulder. 

“Grandma’s?”

“Yup.”

You watched your head lull backwards with a half-lidded eye-roll. “Why today of all days?”

A shrug pushed at your shoulders. Off to the side, you could see Oikawa’s form yawn before looking around tiredly giving you a confused look. “I don’t know. But you better get going, my mom will freak if you don’t get there.”

“It just had to be when we switched, huh.”

You chuckled, feeling Hajime’s familiar laugh ripple through his chest. “We’ve been like this all day, we’re bound to switch back soon.”

Oikawa’s soulmate, quite visibly hunching in the volleyball players form, came up to your side, another yawn pouring out of their mouth as they swung Oikawa’s arm onto your shoulder. “Looks like all of us are swapped. So what’s happening?”

“Hajime has to walk my body home.” You smiled at yourself. “Keep it safe okay, I have to live in that body.”

Hajime hopped, adjusting the bag’s straps again as he pivoted his way to the exit of the gym, ready for the trek to your home. “So do I! I’ll see you tomorrow!” he waved, as he turned out of view on the doorframe.

You and Oikawa’s soulmate spoke in hushed voices as you tried not to disrupt the rest of Aoba Josai’s team silently trying to figure out how each player did their job in a unique fashion.

A groan escaped you as a welt of pain clawed into the back of your head.

“You good there?”

You took Hajime’s hand and rubbed the back of your head, fingers weaving through his spiky black hair. “Don’t know, but I’m about to find out.”

Three blinks were all it took for you to be mentally thrown back into your body, though the movement you were thrown into was not one of your own.

Arm swinging forward, fist clenched tightly in a grip you didn’t know you had the power to do, your largest two knuckles met the nose of a dishevelled man whose body heat was radiating off him, too close for comfort. Your opposite shoulder screamed in pain as it twisted uncomfortably, wrist scraping against the concrete wall as it remained pinned in place, unmoving even with the man staggering from the sudden blow taken to the cartilage in his nose.

For fuck’s sake. Today?! Of all days?!

You were subconsciously aware of your school bag and all its contents strewn across the dirty alleyway floor. Along the line of your spine and back of your head, you could feel the bruising quickly growing under your skin. The uniform tie that always hugged your neck in a neat knot was tightened beyond conceivable measure, irritating the skin of your neck. Along with the shortness of breath, you could feel the outside air run against the skin of your collarbone, buttons of your uniform torn away at the top.

The man, despite his drunken stupor, was quick to recover, snatching your free wrist from the air and dragging it against the cold stone wall. Dragging it down the rough stone to leave a stinging mark.

You kicked a leg out, desperate to get some leverage as you tried to shimmy out of the man’s hold.

He pushed closer to you, forcing your head back against the harsh stone as you tried to lean away. His breath permeated the breathable air, creating a musky fog of putrid smells that stung your nostrils. His voice was hoarse and speech was slurred as he spoke. “Awwe, what happened to all the fight in you earlier? Finally giving up?”

His head lobbed closer to your shoulder, making his ruff stubble stick harshly into your skin. You squirmed curling away from his insistent pushing. 

As another breath escaped him, you let out a strangled scream, shutting your eyes and curling in on yourself as much as possible. His breath stopped, choking on air. You shivered as his grip loosened, fingers dancing along the coat of your uniform as the limply trailed downward. All his heat fell away with a loud thump, leaving only the sound of your desperate breaths for air. 

Eyes still closed, you reached for your tie, pulling off the snake-like hold it had on your neck.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here sooner.”

Delicately touching the back of your wrists, you opened your eyes to Hajime’s arched form, hands on his knees as he breathed in deeply a large textbook dropped to his feet next to the knocked out man’s head that faced the back of the alley.

Hajime took a hesitant step closer, careful not to crowd your form against the wall as he kneeled down in front of you. He reached out slowly, aware of your narrowed, hesitant gaze as he reached for your hands looking at the scrapes that decorated your skin like refined jewellery.

You let out a non-committal laugh. “What a time to switch back right?”

He gave you a kind but worried smile in return, gradually coming back to his feet. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you laughed to yourself. “But I’ll be okay. I am going to hit my mom though. Just had to make me leave your practice early.”

Hajime shook his head, letting out a chuckle of his own. “No need for that. Come on, let’s get you home. Maybe your mom will give you the night off.”

Your mother was reluctant to let you stay home, even becoming remorseful when she had to leave herself. Hajime was quick to reassure her, gilding her out the door with a confident smile and wave as you curled underneath a thick blanket of the couch. A movie played on the tv screen, creating a calm atmosphere with its familiar ambient noise.

Your eyes seemed glossed over, reflecting the light of the screen as you stared into it blankly. A gentle hum escaped you as Hajime paced over to sit by your feet, gently grabbing your ankles to let you stretch over his lap. He massaged your shin gently. “Feeling okay.”

Looking over your shoulder, you gave him a slight shrug with pinched lips, unable to get any words out comfortably. You curled further into the blanket.

He let his shoulders slump slightly, watching as you pulled the edge of the blanket closer to your face. Mental curses ran through his brain, wishing he could’ve been in your place for even a second longer to relieve you of the stress. He watched the screen but paid the story no mind as he replayed his actions over in his mind, searching for something he could’ve done better.

“Thank you, Hajime.”

Head tucked in the crook between the three walls of the couch, you stared directly at him, completely focused. That kind, thankful expression was all that he needed.

Brain tired, no thoughts - Bacon

Posted: 11/10/2020

[klovenhooves]

Johnny Lawrence and the Five Love Languages, Chapter Five: Words of Affirmation

Johnny yanked open his closet door, eyes searching the sparse offerings, brow furrowed. Behind him, Miguel shifted his weight onto his other foot, face similarly focused, eyes critically searching the clothes.

 “He knows what kind of clothes you wear, Sensei,” he started hopefully. “I don’t think you need to –”

 “So you’re just going to wear whatever, then?” he asked, his tone vaguely snappy, and Miguel pursed his lips. “You and I are both under the microscope, Diaz,” he said, turning back to the closet. “And I am always worse upon closer inspection.”

 “Sensei, don’t be ridiculous,” Miguel reassured, dropping a hand to Johnny’s shoulder. “He wouldn’t have invited you if he didn’t like you.”

Which, fine, Johnny could accept that idea, but that didn’t make him feel any less nervous. It certainly didn’t answer the question of what he should wear to this ill-advised get together that he’d been invited to. He was reminded, far too often, of his first date with Ali, where they spent the whole night dancing around the idea of their first kiss, only to chicken out and then not, ultimately ruining the romance the first kiss deserved.

 In the months following, they laughed about that story like it was charming, but it always seemed weird to Johnny. Even now, years later, that was still an indicator of what overthinking could do, and now that he and LaRusso had been interrupted not once but twice, he had to wonder if the actual act would live up to the anticipation.

 “You and Miguel should come to dinner at my place,” Daniel had said over the phone, the tone of his voice alone telling Johnny that he was smiling. “Robby, Sam, and Anthony will be here.”

 “What, like a –” he caught himself before the word ‘date’ could come out, but the silence on the other end of the line told him that Daniel was waiting for him to finish the sentence. Stubbornly, he stayed quiet, Miguel, on his couch, looked at him in confusion.

 “Who is it?” he had mouthed, waving his arms to get Johnny’s attention.

 “It can be whatever you want it to be, John,” Daniel said into the silence that showed no signs of abating. “Will you come?”

 Johnny snapped his jaw shut where it had fallen open against his will. He wasn’t sure when he started to notice the innuendo in some of the things Daniel said, but now that he was aware of it, talking to the man was far more difficult.

 “Johnny?”

 “Sensei, why is your face red?”

 “When?” he asked into the phone, noticing as he spoke how rough his voice sounded. He cleared his throat.

 He could hear Daniel smiling again. “Tomorrow? 7.”

 “You free tomorrow at 7?” he asked Miguel, who looked at him with wide, confused eyes.

 “We’ll be there,” he said, shushing Miguel with a hand, eyes on the coffee table, listening for Daniel’s response.

 “Good,” Daniel said, satisfied. “It’s a date.”

 He hung up before Johnny could respond, but he kept the phone to his ear, spluttering, while Miguel stared at him with a half-smile.

 And now they were here, Johnny quickly realizing that he was probably going to need a beer before he even got to LaRusso’s place if he wanted to keep his cool. Miguel impatiently nudged him out of the way and started flicking through the shirts, making noises under his breath that he couldn’t decipher. Most of them seemed confused, but there were a few scoffs of disbelief in there, too.

 Maybe Johnny should go into his closet and do the same thing, see how the little twerp liked it.

 “Here, wear this one,” Miguel finally said, pulling a baby blue shirt out of the back of Johnny’s closet, so old he’d forgotten it was even there. “It’ll bring out your eyes.”

 “What am I, a girl?” Johnny asked, taking the hanger anyway.

 Miguel chuckled. “No, but you’re in looooooooove,” he drew the word out, dodging the shirt that Johnny threw at him, trotting down the hallway back to the living room.

 “Get out of my house, Diaz,” Johnny called after him, the boy’s laughter as good a response as he was going to get.

 ***

 “Dad, I made you some tea,” Sam gently set the cup on the edge of the coffee table, catching Daniel’s eyes on her way back up. “Chamomile.”

 He smiled at his daughter and took the cup. “That’s so nice, sweetie, you didn’t have to do that,” he said, taking a shallow sip of the still-too-hot tea.

 “I did,” she laughed. “You’ve been staring into space for like…half an hour. Figured you needed something to calm you down.”

 “Calm me down?” he asked. “I am calm!”

 She raised her eyebrows. “Sure, and your leg is tapping like that because…?”

 He looked down at his jumping leg and put a hand over it. “Habit,” he said with a shrug.

 “Dad,” she took the tea cup from his hands and sat on the edge of the coffee table. “Sensei Lawrence is coming here. For a date.”

 He laughed nervously. “It’s not a –”

 “I can literally hear all of your phone conversations,” she interrupted with a stern look that reminded him so much of himself. “You’re allowed to be nervous.”

 “Did I tell you that I invited Miguel, too?” he asked.

 “No!” she jumped up from her spot. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 “I forgot!”

 “I’m going on a double date with my dad and his arch nemesis,” she buried her face in her hands. “I can’t believe this.” She snatched his cup of tea off the table. “I need this more than you do now,” she said firmly, taking a long drink before stalking off, shutting her bedroom door solidly behind her.

 Daniel understood how she felt. Was it good to be nervous? Was that a bad sign? He couldn’t figure it out, and the longer he sat there, thinking about it, the closer the clock inched toward 7. He thought about Johnny, leaning on him on the surfboard in the middle of the night, head cradled by his arm. He thought about Robby, excited about the possibility of living with his father after sixteen years without him.

 He thought about Johnny under the stream of the shower, chest rising and falling under his hand, eyes clouded, deep in thought.

 They’d almost kissed twice – why was he nervous about the idea of a date?

 “Dad, I’m hungry,” Anthony whined, his voice shocking Daniel violently out of his thoughts.

 “I’m cooking dinner,” Daniel called out, knowing that his son was going to grab some junk food out of the pantry anyway and stalk back up to his room. Amanda was the one who was better at curbing Anthony’s impulsive choices – Amanda, who was in Malibu visiting her parents to tell them about their divorce.

 “Sensei Lawrence is coming to dinner, right?” Anthony asked from behind him, his mouth full. Daniel struggled not to roll his eyes. Trust his son to be predictable.

 “Yes, he is,” he answered, turning in his seat to see his son completely. “Be nice.”

 “I’m always nice.”

 “I seem to remember you telling Johnny that I would kill him,” Daniel recounted. Anthony grinned.

 “That was me being nice,” he said, rummaging in the bag of cheese puffs. “It was a warning.”

 “Be nicer, please,” Daniel pleaded, but he was almost smiling.

 Anthony shrugged. “I’m just trying to protect you, Dad. What if he takes your heart and karate chops it into little pieces?”

 Daniel squinted at him, suspicious. “Quit watching CW shows on Netflix.”

 “Tell Sam to stop watching Riverdale,” Anthony said, still unbothered.

 “Leave the cheese puffs in the kitchen, please,” he called, but Anthony was already halfway up the stairs, the cheese puffs still clutched in his fist.

 ***

 “If you’re worried about the first kiss, why don’t you just get it over with?” Miguel asked, safely buckled into the front seat of Johnny’s Challenger, flipping through Johnny’s tapes. “Do it first thing.”

 “I didn’t – I didn’t say I was,” Johnny stammered, hands white on the steering wheel. “You said I was.”

 Miguel shrugged. “You’re easy to read, Sensei.”

 “Shut up, no I’m not.”

 Miguel didn’t look up from the tapes, his finger tapping on top of Guns ‘n’ Roses. “Then why is your face red?”

 “Are you going to play music or are we going to talk about our girly feelings for the whole drive?”

 Miguel pulled free the tape and turned up the volume, leaving Johnny to marinate in his thoughts. As much as he wished he didn’t, Miguel had a point. Would he be able to sit through an entire dinner while he overthought everything that would come after? Would he be able to make the same mistake he made with Ali?

 He was still thinking about it when they pulled up to Daniel’s house and turned off the car. Miguel led the way to the front door, but Johnny could see the lights sparkling on the terrace, near the pool. The table was set and ready for them, the lighting dark and romantic. It seemed almost too pristine for something that was supposed to include him.

 Miguel looked back at him, almost on the doorstep.

 “You alright?” he asked, and Johnny so clearly saw himself, a teenager again, standing on Ali’s doorstep, nervously waiting to be scrutinized by her rich parents, all the while knowing they thought he was more like them than he could ever be. Yet here was Miguel, standing bravely on the doorstep, in a red flannel shirt and jeans, asking if the grown man was okay.

 “I’m fine, Diaz,” he choked out, and Miguel raised his eyebrows at him like he didn’t really believe it and rang the doorbell.

 Sam answered the door, in a yellow dress that Miguel immediately complimented, slipping an arm around her shoulders for a sneaky hug that he managed to get away with before Daniel appeared beside her, sleeves rolled up toward his elbows, a smile already on his face.

 He stepped aside to let Miguel through, offering him a hand to shake that Miguel took easily, and damn, when did that kid get so comfortable in his own skin? Johnny envied him – he wished he didn’t feel like such a kid when Daniel was around.

 “Johnny?” He pulled himself out of his thoughts to find Daniel looking at him curiously, the light of his home behind him illuminating him around the edges. Johnny felt curiously like he was looking at a painting from a museum he’d never think to go into. “Are you coming inside?”

 Why don’t you just get it over with?

 He reached out for Daniel, pleased when the man offered his hand without question, and yanked him out the front door and onto the porch.

 “What the hell –”

 He stumbled farther than Johnny imagined he would, and he caught him against his chest, one hand steadying Daniel around the waist. When Daniel looked up at him, confused and indignant, Johnny slipped his other hand around the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss that no one had enough time to interrupt because if someone interrupted him a third time, he was going to have to throw all of their children and surrogate children into the pool.

 Daniel made a confused sound against his lips, but his hands were clenched tightly in the fabric of Johnny’s shirt, pliant in his arms. Johnny pulled away long enough to see Miguel walking by, who gave him a wide-eyed thumbs up as he eased the front door closed. He rolled his eyes and let Daniel pull him in for another kiss, this one breathless and desperate and not at all like a first kiss.

 He had to force himself to pull away because he was maddeningly aware that the longer they were gone, the more likely it was that they would be interrupted. Daniel was grinning when he pulled back, all teeth and Jersey pomp, his eyes still closed, and Johnny wished he had done this thirty years ago instead of knocking the kid into the sand. They could have had thirty more years.

 “Does that mean you’re coming inside?” Daniel asked, his voice so soft it didn’t even sound like him, and Johnny tilted his head back to plant a kiss on his throat, backing him up so he was against the wall, the mostly closed front door on his left, the light from the kitchen barely illuminating them, the sound of their children a delicate soundtrack.

 “In a minute,” Johnny said, lips still on Daniel’s neck, and Daniel exhaled a shaky breath, dropping one of his hands to Johnny’s forearm, like he needed to be stabilized.

 “Take your time,” Daniel replied, head tilted back to the wall, eyes closed. Johnny pulled back for a moment to take him in, still perfect hair, slightly darker lips, face arranged in an expression he never thought he’d get to see, dazed and happy.

 He pulled him back in, taking great care to run his fingers through Daniel’s hair, feeling rather than seeing the mess of it he was making, Daniel groaning against his lips, thoroughly distracted. Johnny could get used to this – kissing the man to distraction. He made a brief mental note to thank Diaz for the idea later.

And then Daniel was turning him around so he was pressed to the brick instead and all thoughts of Miguel went out of the window.

 ***

 “Where did my dad go?” Sam asked, her eyes searching the empty kitchen. “He never leaves the kitchen while he’s cooking.”

 Miguel watched her eyes go to the slightly open front door and linger. He could see the wheels turning there. After a moment’s awkward silence, she gasped.

 “No way.”

 “Maybe don’t go out there looking for him,” Miguel said with a laugh, slipping his arm around her shoulders while he could.

 “Oh my god,” he thought she was angry for a moment, and then he looked down at her, and they both started giggling. “Thank God that finally happened.”

“Thank God what finally happened?” Robby asked, offering a fist for Miguel to bump.

 “My dad and your dad are totally making out outside,” Sam said, loud enough that Anthony, sitting in front of the television, turned around to join the conversation.

 “Ugh, Sam, too much information,” Robby groaned, but he grinned anyway. “So which one of us wins the bet?”

 “Bet?” Miguel asked, looking between them.

 “Well, I bet that they would avoid their feelings forever,” Sam said, counting them off on her fingers, “Robby bet that they were already hooking up, which, gross,” Robby shrugged. “And Anthony bet –”

 “I bet they’d do some dramatic confessing after dinner,” Anthony grumbled. “So none of us win.”

 “If I’m the one who told Sensei Lawrence to do…” Miguel faltered, trying to find the right word, “what he’s doing…does that mean I win?”

 Sam gaped at him, eyes wide. “Wh – what? What did you do?”

 He shrugged. “I gave him some advice. You know, strike first or whatever,” Miguel laughed.

 “He doesn’t win!” Anthony whined. “He didn’t bet!”

 “Didn’t bet what?”

 All four kids went still, frozen like they’d been doing something far worse than having a conversation. Miguel was the first one of them to turn around, trying to keep the smile off his face. Johnny’s barely concealed smirk told him he wasn’t being as sneaky as he thought he was.

 “Nothing, Sensei,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

 “Are you kids gambling?” Daniel asked, his voice teasing.

 “If I say yes will you fix your hair, please?” Sam asked, hiding a laugh behind her hand.

 “What’s wrong with my hair?” Daniel asked, a hand already rising to smooth it back down.

 “Nothing,” Johnny said hurriedly, biting back a grin. “Nothing, it’s fine.”

 “It looks like sex hair,” Anthony half-shouted from his place on the couch.

 The room went silent. Johnny looked over to Daniel, who looked momentarily horrified before he just closed his eyes and started laughing. The rest of the room looked at each other, Johnny trying to hide a self-satisfied smirk before Daniel shoved him, playful and embarrassed, and everyone else started laughing.

 ***

 Dinner started out surprisingly successful – Daniel had always expected this dinner to be awkward, with Miguel and Robby at the same table, himself and Johnny watching their kids stumble through conversation, Anthony being antagonistic, as only he could be.

 But Miguel and Robby were fine, chatting amiably while Sam sat between them, happy and at ease. Anthony had his own comments to make, but Johnny handled him nicely, and even he had to admit that he was amused by Johnny’s newest nemesis. When he realized he was losing whatever conversational battle he and Johnny were currently entangled in, he switched to his usual home run shot:

 “My dad could kill you,” he said, but it didn’t have the venom it usually did, when he was saying it to people who might actually believe him.

 Johnny rolled his eyes. “Your dad is too much of a good guy to actually kill me.”

 Anthony shook his head. “He could still do it. He was a Cobra Kai once.”

 “Anthony!” Sam admonished from across the table. Daniel felt his limbs go numb.

 “No he wasn’t,” Johnny laughed, his eyes sliding from Daniel’s son to Daniel himself. Daniel, who felt the blood drain from his face the longer Johnny looked at him. Johnny stared, mouth slightly open. “You weren’t. Right?”

 “Maybe we should go –” Sam was halfway out of her chair already.

 “No, Sam, it’s fine,” Daniel reassured her. “It’s – it wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t join Cobra Kai, I trained for a little bit with one of Cobra Kai’s…senseis.”

 “So you joined Cobra Kai,” Johnny finished. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 “Cobra Kai wasn’t around at the time,” Daniel pointed out. “The guy told me he was Kreese’s sensei, that Kreese was dead, all of that nonsense, and I needed someone to train with for the ’85 All Valley, so –”

 “What about –”

 “Mr. Miyagi didn’t want me to compete. But I was…” he struggled to find the right word.

 “Blackmailed,” Sam supplied helpfully. “He was blackmailed into competing. Some guy threatened to beat him within an inch of his life every day if he didn’t.”

 “And I needed a trainer,” Daniel finished with a heavy sigh, his eyes on the table.

“You didn’t tell me you were blackmailed,” Anthony piped up indignantly from the other end of the table.

 “Anthony only thinks Dad joined Cobra Kai because he found the gi in a box one day,” Sam added, eyes on Johnny. “Dad doesn’t…” she looked over at her dad, and then back to him. “Dad doesn’t like to talk about it.”

 Johnny nodded, tightening his jaw. Daniel could see him trying to decide what to do, how to move forward with their kids watching.

 “Then we won’t talk about it,” he said firmly, turning back to his food. He caught Daniel’s gaze and gave him a wan smile. Daniel didn’t know what to make of it.

 He still wasn’t sure what to make of it when dinner was done, and Sam met him at the counter with dishes, muttering that she was going to take Robby, Miguel, and Anthony to Golf ‘n’ Stuff for a little while, knowing that she was trying to give him the privacy to talk to Johnny without any interruptions. He thought about telling her not to; he didn’t want to tell the story, definitely didn’t want to see Johnny’s reaction. Having the kids as a buffer might be good.

 “If you really like him, you’re going to have to tell him eventually,” she said when he didn’t answer, clasping his arm for a moment before ushering everyone outside and into her car.

 He didn’t have to listen hard to hear Johnny’s careful approach. He didn’t have to look to know what he was doing – leaning against the counter, hands in his pockets, eyes on his feet.

 “We still don’t have to talk about it,” he said, and Daniel felt a surge of affection for him that almost knocked him off balance.

 “But you want to know,” Daniel said wearily, grabbing a kitchen towel to dry his hands, turning around to see Johnny completely. He could still see the wrinkles in his shirt where his hands had been clenched earlier.

 “Of course I do, LaRusso,” Johnny said. “But I’m not going to force you to tell me.”

 Daniel shrugged. “You already know most of it. Kreese told Terry Silver to make me bleed, to make me suffer for ruining Cobra Kai. And then Kreese appeared, back from the dead, and,” he shrugged, trying to fight the urge to turn away from Johnny’s horrified gaze, “tried to kill me. Typical Kreese.”

 “He made you bleed.” It wasn’t a question.

 Daniel held out his hands, knuckles marred with thin scars from the wood. “He succeeded.”

 Johnny took his hands in his own, eyes on the scars. Daniel could feel him shaking with anger. He looked up to his face, tight and stern, the very image of a terrifying fighter. “I know where he lives,” he said, his eyes rising to find Daniel’s. “Kreese.”

 “John, don’t,” Daniel pulled his hands back. “It’s not worth it.”

 Johnny scoffed, pushing himself off from the counter, where he was still leaning, to cage Daniel in with his arms. “It is worth it,” he insisted. “He shouldn’t have blamed you because we left.”

 Daniel shrugged, and Johnny made a disapproving noise.

 “That’s why you hated Cobra Kai so much when I brought it back,” Johnny said thoughtfully. He paused, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “I don’t blame you.” He brought one hand up to gently trace the line of Daniel’s jaw. “You didn’t need Terry Silver,” he said. “You’ve always been a great fighter.”

 Daniel stared at him, trying to think of something to say, coming up empty.

 “Terry and Kreese might have made you bleed, but they couldn’t really break you,” he continued, surveying Daniel’s face while still managing to avoid eye contact. “You’re too stubborn for that.”

 Daniel managed a weak laugh, the sound of which relaxed the tense lines of Johnny’s face. “Jersey tough,” he said quietly, and Johnny finally met his gaze, blue eyes full of something Daniel couldn’t really identify. It was painfully soft, overwhelming to look at for too long.

 “Yeah you are,” Johnny said softly.

 He pulled him in for a kiss instead of saying something else, frustrated with his son for making tonight too serious, wishing fervently that he could go back to the front step, before they had to discuss their pasts, before Johnny had to fluster him with pretty words.

 Johnny lifted him, like he weighed nothing, onto the counter, and dropped his hands to Daniel’s thighs, clearly deciding that he was going to kiss all of his seriousness away. Daniel let him, content to be pulled along by the sensation of his hands, of his lips. But this was unhurried, unlike their time outside the front door, exploratory, a different kind of intoxicating.

 Johnny pulled back, just far enough that Daniel became aware that he was taller than him this way, blue eyes gazing up at him, sparkling in the light.

 And then he sighed, almost like he was exasperated, even while he still looked at him with a fond smile, and pulled him back to his mouth.

 “I love you,” he said against Daniel’s lips, so quiet that Daniel could almost pretend he hadn’t said it at all.

 But he clutched him tighter, holding onto him fiercely, just in case he was thinking of backing away, of hiding. He could feel Johnny laugh against his mouth, the laugh almost a sob, and kissed him deeper, communicating what he was always too afraid to say.

 “I love you too.”

[pbandjesse]

I was feeling a lot better today until my allergies hit me like a truck a few hours ago. Like Im still miserable but at least I have slept well. Im trying to not feel so upset. But today was hard. Its hard to get out of the house. I just want to be here. 

I fell asleep easy last night. Staying asleep was a little hard, but it was still good sleep. I woke up when James was getting ready to leave. Got a hug. And then woke up for real at 9. 

I did not feel happy though. Like I stood on my bed in my pjs and just said outloud. I hate my job. I dont want to go anywhere. It sucks. I shouldnt feel like this. But I also feel like I have to stick it out. I feel to much guilt leaving the kids. I basically told Jess that I will put in notice if I get called in the office again. Because I have worked a lot of jobs, and I have never been pulled in the office like I have been here. Never. Ships wasnt even this bad about making me feel like Im bad at my job constantly. And if youve been reading this for a long time I hated my manager at ships. 

So I had a nice morning but it was tainted by my anxiety about work. I had a donut for breakfast. And played a few minutes of animal crossing but my heart wasnt in it. 

Instead I worked in the studio. I finished sanding my bears and got them spray painted. I did like 4 layers so its nice and plasticy. A good surface to paint on. I know I am going to make one clown and one that looks like the actual bear. But Im not sure what the others will be. Maybe Ill make a poll on my instagram. I might have time to start painting tomorrow but well see. 

I would make myself a nice lunch. And just as I was starting to eat James got home. It was nice to see them. I was like, wildly sad inside, but James came in telling me how pretty I was and how cute and how great my outfit was. Just made me feel good. 

So we sat and talked for a bit. Until I had to go. I did not want to. But I got my stuff together and off I went. 

And like. It wasnt a bad day. But I could feel my sadness. It was just under teh surface. I tried to be happy with the kids though. Got a bunch of hugs. We had two new students, siblings, that were very different but very nice. I enjoyed having two rooms of 5 kids instead of all 10 in one room. It made it easier. And it let me read and finish my book mom got me for christmas. It almost made me cry a few times. I am really glad I got to have some time to finish it. 

We did a mosaic with beans today. Which was very silly but worked out pretty well. And then we went to the gym. I stayed behind to clean. And then came up stairs and played catch with a few of the kids. It was nice. 

We went up to watch a movie and have free time but then all of a sudden our manager was back and apparently there was a tour coming so we painted instead. We talked about how to use watercolors best and painted the things we like to do in the spring. Seeing rainbows, nature, and pool parties were the biggest things. It was a stressful hour though. And so once we finished the project Travis brought them back upstairs to run around and play ball. 

I recleaned the room before I joined the kids. I did some ballet at the barre with one of the little girls and helped walk the kids down to the first floor. But I also just told Travis I was upset and if I get a talking to about today I will probably quit. Well see. 

I have my interview in the morning with the place Jess works. So it might give me some space to just. Work on my own time. Well see. 

Once the last kids were done I headed home. James and me were going to have a picnic. They had made pasta and fruits and things. We went out to the gardens with the flowers and set up a lovely dinner as the sun started going down. 

We ate and talked and it was really nice. I was starting to not feel well but I was happy. And thats all that mattered. 

Once we finished eating we headed home and decorated cookies. That was lots of laughs and while the cookies were very silly looking, they tasted good. 

I hung out with sweetP for a while, and James played a game with Evan (using our new modem which has made our internet so much faster!). I just got out of the shower and now Im just ready to go to sleep. 

I hope tomorrow is good. For you as well. Goodnight everyone. Take care of yourselves.