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tsukkiseasalt · 3 years

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Eyes That Won’t Wonder

description: after the death of your former patient you are assigned to Mr. Wakatoshi, a quiet, handsome, older gentleman who quite frankly doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself or his dick in his pants.

warning this story will contain: smut, smut & more smut. specifically breeding, anal, dirty talk, friends fucking, camboy bokuto, himbo bokuto, &so much more!

“Is this what you wanted, to be bent over in a filthy public bathroom and used as a human cum disposal?” He grunted into your ear, voice thick and full with lust.

This isn't what you had at all expected when you had gotten assigned to him, and in all honesty you didn’t even think you’d like him; nonetheless, you agreed with him. “Y-yes sir.”

“Who would have ever thought the sweet girl that I met not even five months would be so fucking eager to get fucked and filled in such a place like this?” His words caused your head to spin. An array of struggled moans slipped past his thick fingers which he had shoved between your puffy red pout and down your throat which had previously been occupied by his cock.

“It’s ok though doll, I’ve wanted this too.” He groaned, snapping his hips forward.

His free hand that was knotted into your hair yanked you up and forced you to look in the mirror in front of you. You didn't even recognize yourself like this, but this is what you wanted after all right.

↺

The morning sun that filtered through the curtains danced on your cheeks while you scrolled aimlessly on your phone.

“Hey, hey, hey.!.” You heard as the door opened revealing your bubbly bright eyed roommate. A small smile graced your face as he laid down beside you wrapping a thick arm around you.

“Hey.” You said putting your phone down looking down at him.

“You ready for today?” He asked rubbing circles on your thighs, fingertips rough on your skin.

You shrugged as you watched him, “I guess so, it's been kinda hard since Washijō passed.”

Bokuoto’s usual smile turned into a slight frown as you mentioned your old patient turned friend. “He’s not suffering anymore.” He said quietly, trying to comfort you.

“ I know, I just miss the old geezer sometimes.” You mumble letting your fingers glide through his two-toned locks. “But the report says that the new guy, Ushi-something, is only in his late 50’s.”

Bokuto now wore a puzzled expression on his face. “That’s not exactly old.”

“I know, but hey at least he’s not on his deathbed.” You say knocking on your wooden nightstand.

He laughed at the gesture and rolled off you. “It’s almost 7, so you should probably start getting ready if you're gonna be there by 7:30.”

“I know but the bed is so comfortable.” You whined stretching out over the entirety of the space.

“I bet it won't be so comfortable after your in it everyday when you get fired for missing your first day back in three weeks.” He sassed hands on his hips.

“Shouldn’t you be getting fucked in the ass or something?” You questioned whipping your head around to look at him.

He gasped and threw a shirt that was on the floor at you. “I do the fucking thank you very much!” He exclaimed dramatically as he sauntered out of your room.

“Tell that lie to someone who’s going to believe you miss butt-plug.” You yelled rolling off the bed and onto the floor with a thump. “Ow.”

“I hate you!” He screamed. “I’m getting a new roommate!”

“ Good luck finding someone who will disinfect your toys while you're at the gym.” You retaliate, digging through your dresser to find your scrubs.

“You did that out of your own free will.” He said, popping his head into your door throwing something at you. Your scrubs.

“Thanks love.” You smile.

“Still hate you.” He says crossing his arms in your doorway. You amble over to him and get on your tiptoes planting a wet kiss on his cheek. “Still hate me now.”

“Y-yes, what the fuck was that supposed to do?” He asked, wiping his cheek.

“I dunno, worked in highschool.” You shrugged, pulling your shirt off revealing your chest along with the rest of your unclothed body.

“Getting naked won't work either.”

“Why? Am I not sexy anymore?” You fake pouted, pulling your bra on along with your top.

“No, still very sexy, I've just developed an immunity for it.” He said matter of factly.

“Hmmm.” You mumbled pulling up your pants. “Guess i'll just have to find a new way to get you to love me.” You mumbled purposely grazing his cock as you pushed past him to get to the bathroom. “But if I do say so myself, it doesn't feel like you’ve developed an immunity. Felt hard as a rock to me.”

“Hey hey hey, don’t get me all worked up just to leave for work.” He mumbled, reaching a long arm out to pull you to him by your waist. You could feel his breath against your lips as his skilled fingers worked into your waistband and started to knead your ass like it was bread dough.

“No no, you hate me, remember.” You say reaching around grabbing his hand and forcing him to stop.

“I was just kidding bro, please don’t do this. I haven’t gotten to touch you in forever please mamas.” He pleaded, emphasizing the last word, seeing as to how he knew it was your weakness.

“Don’t you have a boyfriend.” You mumbled tilting your head back ever so slightly so he could plant light kisses in all the places he knew you liked them most.

“Open relationship.” He mumbled into your skin. “And kaashi specifically said i can have you whenever i pleased.”

“Oh really.” You moaned as he sucked on the flesh just beneath your earlobe.

“Yep, he actually wanted you to shoot a scene with us.” He groaned, grinding his length into your stomach.

“Fuck, Bo, I’m gonna be late.” You moaned as he rubbed around your tight pucker before pushing past the tight muscles.

“No you're not, I can do this while you get ready.” He whispered lowly in your ear.

“Fuck, fine.” You moan, hands grabbing at his hair. He lifts you and takes you to the bathroom placing you down in front of the sink. You moan as he pulls your pants down immediately falling to his knees, tongue darting out to lap your hole. “Oh my fuck.” You whine, grabbing your toothbrush. You have to really focus and resist the urge to spread your cheeks so he could have better access to you in order to put the toothpaste on the toothbrush.

“Yum.” He groans and brings his hands to spread you out almost as though he had read your mind. You shove your hips back further into his face as you brush your teeth, struggling to keep your head up.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.” He says getting up and grabbing the bottle of lube off the counter. He squirts some on his fingers and massages it into your hole and pulls his sweats down to lather the remainder of it onto his cock. You spit as he pushes into you. Slowly but surely he thrusts into you, hands harshly gripping your ass.

“Fuck.” You whine, hands gripping the edge of this sink as you struggle to keep you composure.

“That’s what I'm doing.” He mumbles wickedly in your ear. You cry out as he begins hitting your g-spot repeatedly.

“Gunna, c-cum.” You manage your head falling onto the countertop. He speeds up his thrust and you can feel him begin to twitch in you motioning that he’s now chasing his own release.

“Fuckkkk!” You exclaim legs quivering as you squirt all onto your bottoms and the floor beneath you.

“Shit.” He groans slamming into you one final time before he pulls out and finishes on your ass.

You both huff as you catch your breath.

“Dammit now I gotta change, and I still havent done my makeup.” You sigh pulling your head off the cool porcelain.

“Here.” He says handing you a moist towel. “You clean yourself up and I'll go get your other scrubs.”

You nod to him kinda as a silent thank you and then he disappears to get your other uniform. You step out of your drenched bottoms and pull your top over your head tossing them in the basket in the corner. You gently wipe the remaining lube from your ass and your juices from your legs before tossing the towel in the basket as well.

“Here.” He says handing you an identical uniform to the one you just took off. You hurriedly slide them on and rush back to your room to get your phone.

“Have you seen my bag…” You trail off as you see him standing with it in hand beside the door.

“Thanks.”You say, grabbing it. “And do the laundry.”

“You can't ask nicely?” He huffs causing you to roll your eyes.

“Do the fucking laudry or ill shove that so far down your fucking throat itll come out of that pretty plump little behind of yours.” You say sweetly pointing at that large purple dildo sitting on the couch.

“You think my ass is plump huh?” He smirks, leaning against the door.

“Laundry.” You say sternly.

“Fine.” He mumbles now rolling his eyes. He opens the door allowing you out.

“Be safe.” He waves as you open your car door.

“Kk, don’t burn the house down.” You wave back.

“No promises.” He says smiling innocently before slamming the door.

Shaking your head you get in and set off in the direction that the GPS instructs.

“Nice, made it in time and with time to spare.” You mumble to yourself sliding your watch onto your wrist. You pulled up to the gate, typed in the numbers that were scribbled at the bottom of the paper, and thankfully it opened without a struggle. You slowly drove up the long driveway admiring the array of greenery that was along the path.

“Goodness.” You gawked once you caught sight of the house. It was huge. “Who the hell even is this guy?” You mumble parking in front. You pull out the paper and scan over it. There isn’t much beside the fact that he had back surgery two years back. That was odd, he was only 59, and only had one major issue. Usually the company wouldn't even send someone out unless that patient was in their late 60’s and had major health issues- Washijō for example, he was 83, had two bum knees as well as a new hip. Compared to him this new guy- Ushijima Wakatoshi- was a spring chicken in your eyes.

Shrugging you grabbed your bag and headed for the front door, again admiring the beauty of the home. You grab the knocker and give it two big hits and wait. Moments later you hear the lock on the other side turning. The door opens revealing a handsome man with golden eyes, olive hair and a tall build.

“You must be Mr. Wakatoshi’s son, I hope I'm not pronouncing that incorrectly, I’m his new home health aid” You smile, eyes wandering down to his bare chest. He’s almost in as great shape as Bo & he’s probably twice his age. You think to yourself, eyes glancing at his biceps before making eye contact with him again.

He lets out a sound that resembles a cough and you realize that's his laugh. “You pronounced it just fine, and no, I’m Mr. Wakatoshi.” If not for the words you would have been drooling at the low rasp that was his voice.

“What, what!” You shriek.

i was really hornknee when i came up with this concept. lets see where it gets me :)

#ushiwaka #ushijima #wakatoshi ushijima #ushijima x reader #ushijima smut #ushijima headcanons #himbo bokuto #camboy bokuto #bokuto x akaashi #bokuto x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyu headcanons #haikyuu smut #bokuto imagine #bokuto #anime smut #eyesthatwontwonder

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spacexcowgirl · 4 years

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I Think He Knows - F.W.

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Y/N gets drunk, and decides there's no better time to tell her boyfriend she loves him than the present.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Alcohol usage/intoxication!! There’s a make out scene. Also food. Otherwise mainly just fluff!

A/N: This is my first fic I’ve ever posted on here and the inspiration for it was born out of a drunken anon ask to @lumosandnoxwriting sooo here it is. I’ll probably end up writing another part about the next day and them recouping, but who knows. Totally open to any critiques/criticism/help anyone has to offer! Pictures are taken from Pinterest.

The flashing lights were bright and the music far too loud, but you didn’t care. You had liquid courage flowing through your veins and it was making it increasingly easier to lose yourself on the dance floor. Typically, you weren’t much of a dancer, but several shots of some pink liquid you had forgotten the name of had you abandoning all traces of your usual self. You swayed your hips to the rhythm of a song you didn’t know, giggling every time you made eye contact with Alicia or Angelina.

As the song playing came to an end, you gripped your best friends’ forearms and dragged them from the dance floor before another could start. You briefly heard their groans of protests but couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“I want another drink!” You shouted over the music, pulling them towards the bar.

“We don’t need another.” Alicia pointed out, but she was now following you on her own accord, which told you she wouldn’t be protesting too much.

At the bar, you ordered another round of shots for the three of you—asking specifically for ‘whatever the pink one is called.’ The three of you clinked the small glasses together before raising them to your lips and throwing your heads back, allowing the liquid to leave a burning trail down your throat.

“I’m going to call him.” You announced brightly, slamming your glass down on the bar.

“Y/N, we talked about this!” Angelina whined. “Tonight is supposed to be girl’s night. Plus, Fred’s out with his friends. You should give him his space.”

“Oh please, you act like that boy wouldn’t drop everything to rush over here and be with her.” Alicia rolled her eyes lightly, a knowing smile lighting up her face.

Her words caused you to blush furiously, which you attempted to hide by sliding your cellphone out of your back pocket and bringing it to your face. The screen was too bright, but as you fumbled around with trying to turn it down, you came to realize just how drunk you really were. You quickly gave up on trying to turn down the brightness and instead opened up the call app, clicking at the button that read ‘Recents’ before tapping the name right at the top. You barely registered Angelina’s disappointed groan as you brought the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Freddie!” You called out, a sweet giggle leaving your lips. You were filled with the most wonderful elation at speaking to your boyfriend, sending a flutter of butterflies alive through your stomach.

“Oh, hello, Y/N.” The voice chuckled. “This isn’t—”

“Where are you?” You interrupted him, rocking slightly on your heels. Angelina was people watching those out on the dance floor, while Alicia had taken up flirting with some bloke next to her.

“We’re still at Lee’s flat.” There was a pause, then he continued. “Y/N, this is George you called. How drunk are you?”

“I don’t think I’m that drunk. Let me ask Angie.” You paused, putting the phone on speaker so your friend could answer for you. “Ang, how drunk am I?”

“Very.” Angelina answered over the music, earning a laugh from George on the other end of the line. “’s that George? Lemme talk to him.”

Angelina took the phone from your hand, ignoring your pout as she did so, and switched it off of speaker mode. At first, you had tried to listen in on the conversation she was having with George, but you quickly got distracted. You hoisted yourself up into one of the bar seats, kicking your legs back and forth as you gazed around. After a few minutes, you were pulled from your drunken thoughts when Angelina nudged you with your phone.

“He hung up?” You pouted as you looked at the black screen. “Are they coming here?”

“No, they’re staying at Lee’s.” Angelina shook her head. “But they said they’d meet us back at your flat when we leave here.”

“Well, let’s go!” You quickly went to jump down from the stool, only for Angelina to place her hands on your shoulders and hold you in place.

“Uh uh, we’re gonna let you sober up a bit first.” She shook her head. “Don’t want you doing something you’ll regret tomorrow.”

“Especially when we know you’ll blame us.” Alicia now joined in, evidently blowing off the guy she had been flirting with only moments before.

Perhaps if you were even a little less drunk, you would have been annoyed by their statements. But currently, you were in a state of almost childlike happiness and wonder. You couldn’t help but let your mind wander to thoughts of your boyfriend, causing a cheesy grin to rise to your face. The past 6 months together had been some of the best of your life, and you often found yourself wondering why you two hadn’t gotten together sooner. You had always been friends during your Hogwarts years, but neither of you ever attempted to take that next step in your relationship until years after graduation. Now, you couldn’t be more thankful with the change.

“I’m going to tell him I love him.” You declared, saying the words out loud as more of a way to convince yourself than to inform them.

“What?” Alicia sputtered, shooting a worried glance to Angelina. “You mean, tonight?”

“I don’t see why not.” You shrugged. “I mean, I do love him. Why shouldn’t I tell him?”

“Y/N/N, don’t you think maybe you should wait until you’re sober?” Angelina looked at you hesitantly. “I mean, that’s kind of a big step.”

“You guys don’t get it,” You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest like a child being scolded. In your drunken mind, you knew that they would never understand the ins and outs of your relationship with Fred. The two of you had never put pressure on things that others deemed ‘the big stuff.’ Everything always had just come so naturally between you two, and you were convinced this should be no different. A small voice in the back of your head told you that the sober version of you would disagree, but you pushed it away. Your decision was made.

“This is like, exactly what we mean by you doing something you’ll regret and blaming us.” Alicia sighed. “So, you better not be mad at us tomorrow.”

“I won’t be, promise.” You affirmed.

How could this possibly go wrong?

About an hour later, Angelina and Alicia had enough of the club environment and had decided you were sober enough that they could safely walk you back to your flat. The three of you gathered your things and your excitement bubbled inside of you at the prospect of finally getting to see Fred. You nearly skipped out of the club, Alicia and Angelina trailing close behind you, and into the cool night air. Almost immediately, your eyes were drawn to two heads of red hair, backs to you, talking at the edge of the sidewalk. Although they were nearly identical, there was something about one of their postures and energy, and you just knew that it was Fred. Before Angelina or Alicia could stop you, you were running and jumping on your boyfriend’s back, nearly sending him tumbling over.

“Freddie!” You squealed, attaching your arms firmly around his middle as your feet replanted on the ground. He swiveled in your hold, a bout of laughter leaving his lips, as he took in your presence.

“’s good to see you too, love.” He slurred, bending down at a slightly awkward angle to pepper your face with kisses. You giggled at the tickling feeling his lips left behind.

“Thought we were meeting you guys back at her flat?” Angelina questioned as she approached the three of you.

“That was the plan, but Freddie here has had one too many glasses of firewhisky and decided he couldn’t wait that long.” George rolled his eyes. “Said he’d go with or without me to find you guys, so we’ve just been waiting out here.”

“Great, so they’re both drunk off their asses.” Alicia feigned annoyance, but the small smile on her face as she gazed at her two friends public displays of affection showed that she wasn’t truly bothered.

“Alright, love birds, it’s bloody freezing out.” George clapped a hand down on Fred’s shoulder, pulling the older twin’s attention away from you for the first time. “Let’s get going, yeah?”

Fred nodded and held out his hand for you to take, which you happily accepted. The two of you lead the others, swinging your hands between you as you walked down the sidewalk. The entire time, you whispered and giggled back and forth, finding anything and everything to be the funniest thing you ever heard.

“Your hand is so tiny.” Fred giggled, halting your swinging motion to bring your interlaced fingers up and examine them.

“Is not.” You pouted. You attempted to pull your hand from his, but his grip on you was firm. He used your conjoined hands to pull you closer to him, causing you to stumble slightly, which of course resulted in both of you giggling even more. Fred placed a kiss on each of your knuckles before letting both of your hands fall comfortably between you again.

“It is, but it’s cute.” He looked down at you dreamily, as if you were the most perfect thing he had ever laid his eyes on. In an instant, all of his drunk giddiness seemed to fade and he became uncharacteristically serious. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Hm.” You pretended to ponder the question, bringing your free hand up to tap your chin. “Dunno. I still think you must have me under some spell or potion.”

“Oh, right, how could I forget?” He grinned. “That reminds me, I’ve gotta make another batch of love potion before this one wears off and you leave me.”

“Wouldn’t want that, would we?” You teased back, knocking your shoulder into his.

“Never.” And you could tell, he was serious.

Up ahead you could see the familiar outline of your building. You hadn’t realized just how tired your feet were from walking in your heels, and you longed for nothing more than to slip them off and lie in Fred’s arms for the rest of the night. Nerves began to bubble in your stomach the closer you got, because you knew that meant you were just another step closer to finally telling him. While you hadn’t faltered in your decision, as you began to sober up slightly, you couldn’t help but be anxious for how he would respond.

“Do we need to help you two get in?” George questioned once you finally were outside your building.

“We’ll be okay.” Fred shook his head. You cuddled into his side for warmth, causing him to raise your entangled hands and wrap his arm around your shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, causing a dopey smile to rise onto your face.

“You’re sure?” Angelina looked between the two of you with raised brows. In response, you simply nodded. “Okay, well, call me tomorrow, alright?”

Both Alicia and Angelina sent you one last glance, one that you knew communicated how they didn’t encourage what you had told them earlier, before they all nodded and offered goodbyes, carrying on their way. Fred untangled your hands and removed his arm from your shoulder to open the door, dramatically bowing forward and extending an arm to allow you to enter first.

“After you, m’lady.”

You giggled loudly at his antics, skipping into the building and beginning towards the stairs. Fred was hot on your heels, causing you to quicken your pace and run ahead of him, his laughter ringing out behind you as he tried to catch up to you. Just as you turned on the first landing to continue up the steps, Fred’s hands caught your waist and began ticking your sides, causing your laughter to increase. You did your best to wriggle out of his grasp, which was much easier to do in his drunken state, and continued up the steps. Once on your floor, you quickly turned the corner and found the way to your flat, fumbling with your keys to get in before Fred caught up.

Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t seem to find the right key let alone slide it in to unlock the door, so Fred was able to catch up as you fumbled. You forgot your efforts and instead turned around and blocked the door, a drunken smirk on your face as you gazed up at your boyfriend.

“Sorry, you’re not allowed in.” You teased, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’re really going to leave your sweet, loving boyfriend out in the hall, after he went out of his way to safely walk you back from the club?”

“Mhm.” You nodded. “That is, unless you can tell me the password.”

Fred pretended to think for a moment, before he swooped his head down and pressed your lips together in a kiss. It was clumsy, both of your mouths seeming just a bit off center, but it was clear that neither of you cared. You tangled your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as possible, as he pressed your back against the door. He pulled back first, leaving you in lovesick bliss.

“Did you kiss the fat lady like that every time you forgot the password?” You teased once you were able to find your voice.

“Only sometimes.” Fred teased back.

You rolled your eyes playfully before unwinding your hands from behind his head and finally, successfully unlocking your front door. You pulled Fred into the flat by his collar, dragging him all the way to your living room before dropping down onto the couch and shuffling to let him cuddle up behind you.

For a few moments, you both laid tangled in each other’s arms, listening to nothing but his heartbeat. The sound was rhythmic, and you knew if you didn’t speak up soon you’d fall asleep any minute. But, you weren’t ready to fall asleep yet. You wanted to stay up, to talk to him, to tell him exactly what was on your mind. So, you shifted awkwardly and held yourself up on your forearms to gaze at him.

“‘m hungry.” You declared, your bottom lip jutting out into a pout as you put on your best puppy dog eyes.

“’s too late to order something.” Fred sighed. “Lemme go look at what you have in your fridge.”

You sat up to let him get up, resisting the urge to sigh at his absence. From the kitchen, you could hear the familiar clatter as he riffled through your pots and pans and opened and closed various cupboards. Somehow the sound was like the sweetest melody. It was like a soundtrack of pure bliss, a reminder that he was there, with you, and that you were happy. In the simplest terms.

You shifted to lay down on your back and stare up at your ceiling, breathing in what you could only describe as domestic bliss. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear him re-enter the room, your focus only being drawn away when the couch shifted from his weight. He lifted your legs to rest in his lap, his hand lightly rubbing up and down your ankle at a soothing rhythm.

“Got a quesadilla cooking.” He declared, his eyes tracing up and down your figure as you moved to sit up and look at him.

“Couldn’t stay away from me long enough to watch it?” You teased lightly.

“Can you blame me?” Fred grinned at you, giving your ankle a light squeeze.

You giggled at the contact before sitting up further, swinging your legs around to straddle his waist. You let your arms rest around his neck, a dopey smile on your face as you fiddled with the short hairs there. Fred leaned forward and nuzzled his nose against yours, causing you both to giggle further.

“You’re my favorite person in the world, you know that?” Fred breathed out, bringing your foreheads to rest together.

His words caused the familiar butterflies to erupt in your stomach, your smile widening even further. Some part of you knew this would be the perfect moment to tell him exactly how you felt. To tell him that your days are just a bit darker when he’s not around, and how he can make you laugh even when you want nothing more than to cry. You wanted to tell him how whenever he was gone on business trips, you could only fall asleep if you were wearing one of the old t-shirts he had left at your flat, or how you always seem to find something that made you think of him no matter where you were. But, your drunken brain was far from articulate, and your nerves seemed to have a firm grasp on your tongue, so instead, you simply pressed your lips to his.

Fred kissed you back passionately, and it was clear that neither of you minded that both of your mouths held the aftertastes of different alcohols. His lip glided along your bottom lip as his hands found your hips, steadying your movements. When you knocked your teeth together in the drunken kiss, you both pulled back for a moment to giggle, before the passion resumed.

Things seemed to carry on like that for several minutes, wanting nothing more than to be close to one another in every way possible, to be tangled up in anyway that you could, but having to pause every little bit to let out drunken giggles at the situation. You were certain no one had ever gotten you the way Fred Weasley got you, that no one could make you feel so comfortable, and that you were irrevocably in love with him.

Your sweet moment together was brought to a halt by the sound of a loud screeching coming from the kitchen. It took a moment for your brain to recognize it as the sound of your smoke alarm, but once it did you both were to your feet and rushing into the kitchen. Fred cursed under his breath at the clouds of smoke rising from the skillet and quickly set to turn off the burner. You grabbed a drying towel from the counter and began to wave it by the alarm, attempting to cease the godawful beeping it was letting out. After a few minutes, the sound did cease and the smoke cleared, allowing you to breathe a sigh of relief.

“It’s burnt.” Fred pouted, lifting the skillet to show you the blackened quesadilla.

You weren’t sure if it was the childlike expression on his face or the fact that you both had entirely forgotten about it in the first place, but you couldn’t help but erupt into a fit of laughter. Fred looked at you for a moment as if he were offended by your giggling, before turning his attention the burnt quesadilla, then back to you, and beginning to laugh as well. It was all so absurd and truthfully far from funny, but in that moment, nothing could make you laugh harder.

Fred slid the quesadilla in the garbage before placing the skillet in the sink, resigning to washing it later. In the meantime, you had grabbed the bag of shredded cheese and hoisted yourself up on the counter, swinging your legs as you scooped out a handful of the cheese and began to eat it.

Fred turned and smiled fondly at your actions, crossing the kitchen to settle himself between your legs. He opened his mouth and you wordlessly registered what he was requesting, leaning forward to drop some of the cheese into his mouth. Both of you continued to giggle lightly, feeling nothing but elation as you remained in each other’s presence.

You raised your hand to offer Fred a bit more of the cheese, smiling warmly when he opened his mouth to accept some. The two of you weren’t as in sync as you might normally be, considering your varying levels of intoxication, and as you dropped some of the cheese onto his tongue you were too slow to remove your hand and he was too quick to bite down, causing him to nip your finger lightly.

You pulled your hand back hastily and Fred’s eyes widened as if he had just mortally wounded you. He swallowed the remaining cheese in his mouth before speaking up, taking your hand in his to examine it.

“Did I hurt you? Are you okay? Merlin, I am so sorry. Are you bleeding? You must be bleeding.”

You weren’t.

His rambling and concern for you caused you to tilt your head back and let out a loud bout of laughter.

“‘m fine, Freddie.” You assured, leaning forward to press your lips to his and squash his worries.

Fred brought your hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to the finger he had just bit, nodding to himself after as if to convince himself that now you were fine. Truly, it was just about the cutest thing you had ever seen.

You spent the next few moments polishing off the bag of shredded cheese, Fred abundantly more careful not to nip your fingers anymore. You chatted lightly, talking about every drunk thing that crossed your mind. Once the cheese was gone Fred poured the both of you a glass of water, sloshing it around slightly as he tried to balance them both in one hand and extend the other to you. You hopped down from the counter and accepted his hand, allowing him to guide you back to your bedroom. He spilled nearly half of each water on the way, mostly on himself, but neither of you could find it in you to care.

Once inside, you threw yourself down into the center of your bed, extending your hands out in a grabbing motion as Fred set the glasses on your nightstand. Neither of you could be bothered to change into pajamas, so you settled by kicking off your shoes and doing your best to get comfortable in the dress you sported.

Fred kicked off his shoes as well before crawling over to you and collapsing nearly entirely on you. He laid on his stomach and wound his arms around your waist, his head finding the crook of your neck and pressing a few soft kisses there. You wound your arms around his neck, your legs tangling together. Truthfully, it wasn’t exactly comfortable, but you had him close, and that was all that mattered.

You listened to the sound of his breathing as he slowly drifted off to sleep. Your mind was screaming at you to say the words that had been plaguing you almost all night, before it was too late. Now was your chance.

But, then, you noticed that Fred’s breathing had shallowed significantly and light snores had begun to leave his lips. You breathed out a sigh of disappointment from missing your opportunity, mentally cursing yourself and your nerves.

As if the sleeping boy in your arms could read your thoughts, his grip around you tightened, holding onto you as if his life depended on it. The small action brought a smile to your lips as your eyes fluttered shut.

Perhaps you could wait to tell him that you loved him until the morning. Besides, some part of you was aware that he already knew.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #weasley twins #Fred Weasley fanfic #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

Text

Kool-Aid Man’s Wacky-Zany Video! Review (Comisson for Emma Fici)

Hello all you happy people. I”m Jake and I do reviews and analysis of pop culture. And today we’re taking a look at something downright weird, a small sliver of pop culture history courtesy of one of my best friends and patreons, Emma Fici.

This also came about because I had a missing spot in the schedule. See I was going to review Season 1 of Legend of Vox Machina, and still plan to find some way to review the series at some point... but after doing the incredibly exausting days long look at Venture Bros Season 3 (which at this point has gotten exactly one like “sigh”), I really coudln’t cover another series and emma was happy to fill the spot once she figured out something.. and what stygian void of madness she pulled this out of I don’t know but I went from planning to review the most promising show of the year... to a kool-aid man vhs tape from the 90s.

Anyways this tape was apparently part of the Kool-Aid points program, basically you got points off every packet of Kool-Aid and got stuff for them. By the time I was a kid I only remmeber seeing them noted on the packages.. and not really getting the point and throwing the packets out. Could’ve gotten a tote bag or maybe a pitcher with kool aid man’s face but with the horrifying implication this one’s a quadruple amputee. I dunno. I wasn’t with it.

This tape was also partnered with KB Toys.. and I know all 2 of you reading this who didn’t actively pay me to write about this are probably asking what KB Toys is.. well it was essentially ToysRUs but.. it died first. I didn’t see them oftne, but I still have fond memories of seeing them as they were so rare by the time I was a kid it was like finding some hidden treasure of a store you never knew about and only heard of in some legend... that legend being a catalogue that got mailed to your house but a legend all the same.

So what happens when two companies who are now dead and past their prime respectively combine their powers into a VHS tape? Find out under the cut!

So we open with a commerical for Kool-Aid... that I will try to describe to the best of my ablities despite the fact it’ll defintely make me look crazier than I already am. So a bunch of kids run around with sonic the hedgehog wheel feet, have bugged out expressions and distorted visuals, while Kool Aid man bursts in to quell their ravenous hoards. This is the FIRST THING I saw in the video

Things do not get more sane from there as we cut into a rap from the Kool Aid Man set to a video that I’m sure is what being on cocaine feels like. We get FOUR of these things and their all a generic rap about Kool-Aid and this wacky video set to whatever public domain footage the makers of this tape had access too and out of context clips of Kool-Aid commericals. At various points I saw him as a rock star, a superhero and jesus christ. And you can’t tell me if I saw that last one for sure there was a lot going into my brain at once.

So then we get a commerical about hunting hedgehogs set to black and white public domain footage.. and at this point it became very apparent just how.. cheap the film’s budge it is. The ONLY new things are the audio and some of the graphics, some of which were probably native to the editing stuff they used. Everything is either is transparently public domain or old Kool Aid Man Commericals. This may be the cheapest thing i’ve ever seen and i’ve watched 1313 haunted frat aka a film that was marketed as a cheap horror movie.. and is even cheaper than it seems as 90% of it is just one chissled guy wondering around the director’s house in his underwear. But at least that guy needed to hire an actor, hire more actors so he could put in scenes to make it technically not count as softcore porn, and hire catering and all that. I’ve seen all of Doug Walker’s movies. Nuff said there. And this is still cheaper as they clearly just had whoever made this dub over clips. They MAYBE had to hire a guy to do the raps, and given it wasn’t the kool aid man’s va even that I question. Kool-Aid and KB put no budget into this and just wanted to fart something out to give to kids. I mean.. you have the commericals.. just.. put those together on a tape. At worst you have to pay residuals to the kid actors. Or just have kool aid man stumble around whoevers house was free that weekend for a half an hour. There were better options than “stuff whatever we can into half an hour and hope it’s good.” Kids saved up their hard earned kool aid pouches for this you dicks.

That said while I condemn Kool-Aid and KB for cheaping out, i’ll give credit to whoever they forced to make this as despite being cheap as all hell.. they tried. They tried to put some effort and creativity into padding the shit out of this. The ways they pad out the film that aren’t rap or public domain short films, we’ll get to the latter, are at least attempts at humor. Most don’t, but they might for a kid. The target audience was obviously not 30 year old hairy goblins. I still think when making media for kids you shoudln’t talk down to them or pander, but for a vhs meant to sell kool-aid it works.

The next bit shows that: going mental, which has the voice overs explained as aliens from the planet lip synch who demonstrate the technique lip unsynch. This one , using stock footage of course, has the viewer play a game where they move around squares. It’s goofy, impractical as you’d have been touching the tv (I was on my phone so it was easier) but the neat trick of always ending up on the kool-aid square is inspired. No matter what you do according to the tape it’ll always end up that way and I’m inclined to belivie it as it was clearly rigged that way and I guessed it would be... but to most kids, especially to me if I had seen it as a kid, it would be fucking cool. Even if it’s hoaky, I can still respect they know kids well enough to play them like this.

Next is the first of three segments with a man trying to get a newspaper out of the.. newspaper dispenser thing... and everyone around him thinking he’s nuts while the thing is clearly haunted and ends up manically laughing at him after the police cart him away at the end.. DESPITE SEEING IT LAUGH AT HIM. So they know it’s cursed they just don’t care. It’s not terrible stuff, but it does feel mean spirited as the guy gets arrested.. just for wanting a paper and wanting to beat up a newspaper machine for actively fucking with him. The guy did nothing wrong. He just wanted a fucknig paper. He was quick to cane the machine sure but given it’s sentient, i’m inclined to agree with him on killing the bastard.

We then get my faviorit ebit, a fairy tail.. it’s wonderfully goofy as it’s the story of wilbur, a chimp who sabotages plains to fuck with the pilot, pilot bob, overdubbing an old 20′s theatrical short clearly but to great effect. The punchline though is great as a “little girl” (clealry a grown woman but clearly part of the joke) promises if she’s lying may an airplane crash in. It’s funny, goofy and uses the stock footage well. Good stuff.

Our final segment is Dog News Tonight, which is also pretty endearing. It’s what you’d expect, news from a dog’s perspective, such as a dog trying to teach it’s master the trick to jump or “saving” a hanglider without understanding what they were doing. It’s good stuff. It also leads to the second and final interactive bit, a trick I recongized as they had me do it in school to show off division. Whatever you start with you end with 2. So while I recognized it it’s still neat.

And after one final rap, the tape ends with a KB Toys advertisment.

Final Thoughts: This video is stupid.. but it is enjoyable. It’s just so weirdly constructed, so cheap and such a product of it’s early 90′s time that it’s fun to look at. Will I watch it again? Probably not. Was it fun to peak at at least once? hell yeah.

#kool-aid #kb toys #90s kid #retro #weird shit

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cultgambles · 4 years

Text

Is Your Boyfriend Jealous Yet?

Hawks likes putting on a show, can you blame him?

I was on GWA and this girl had a nice fun plot and audio and I was really feeling it in the moment hehe...so largely inspired by that!

Contains: nsfw, car sex, reader cheats, cunnilingus, exhibition, fandom hawks behavior

Also: wrap it before you tap it

Word Count: 2118

Masterlist | Requests? open

“So there I was, staring this villain down at the end of the street, and then he just appeared! My idol!”

“Endeavor? What did he do?”

“Of course he didn’t waste any time taking em down, it was cool and all to see it but he really took the spotlight, ya know?”

“Oh please, as if you need to be loved by the public anymore.”

“I do! That’s who I am!”

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“Who’s that chick staring at you?”

Hawks turns, looking over his shoulder, “I dunno, a fan maybe? She’s coming over!”

“Act natural!”

“I am a natural. All nat-ur-ral.” He smooths down his silky burgundy button up shirt.

“Hey! Hawks?”

“The one and only!” Hawks gives a dazzling style, saluting towards you.

“I just wanted to say how cool you are, every time you employ your Quirk I’m amazed! And you’re not too bad to look at either!” you giggle.

“Thanks, kid,” he smiles, a real one. “People like you are the ones that make hero work worth it.”

“Yeah? Do you have time to chat? My name’s [Y/N], by the way. Are your wings okay? They look a little sparse.”

“‘Course I have time to chat. You wanna drink? Hey! One Lemon Drop for the lady, if you will!”

“Coming right up!”

“My most recent showdown against a villain. No biggie, they’ll grow back in a couple days.” Hawks turns a little so you can see the appendages where his feathers would usually be. There’s little small ones beginning to peek through.

“Wow! I don’t think I saw that fight on the news or anything,” you murmur.

“I’m okay with doin’ it in silence, as long as it gets done, you know?

It’s nice knowing people are safe and that there’s one less piece of shit on the street. But it’s also hard work” he continued.

“The man who’s just a bit too fast, huh? You ever get tired?” you query. “Thanks for the drink, by the way.”

“No problem! And yeah, it’s hard to slow down, and I know I need to; but I always feel like I’m bein’ too lazy when I could be out there in the field.”

Hawks is surprised, he’s never been this forward and vulnerable. Especially to a complete stranger. Maybe it was that gin and tonic he had earlier.

Your mouth opens, but before you can say anything, a booming voice cuts through the crowd.

“[Y/N] What the hell are you doing! Get over here!” Your face falls slightly, and Hawks notices with a curious, but watchful gaze.

“I just saw Hawks here! I’ve never been this close to a pro hero before, and I wanted to say my thanks,” you mumble.

“Well I don’t like my girlfriend wandering off and talking to other guys, regardless if they’re a hero or not. Come on, we’re leaving!”

“But we just got here!” you protest.

“Now, [Y/N],” he growls, shoving you away from the pro hero, and towards the door.

“Hey, buddy,” Hawks clamps a hand on your boyfriend’s shoulder, holding him in place. “Don’t go pushing women around.”

“This isn’t even your problem, man.”

“I’m going to make it my problem.” Hawks is deadly, intimidating. Even though you’re a little scared, you’re a bit turned on, to be honest. He’s got this air of danger around him, his eyes slit to pinpricks.

Before your boyfriend can get another word out, one of the club bouncers steps up, towering over the three of you. “Problem here? Or am I going to have to escort you out?”

“Nah, man, we’ll take it outside. Don’t worry about us,” Hawks shrugs. Your boyfriend tugs you along, seething behind Hawks.

“This isn’t over, Hawks. And you, don’t you EVER cause a scene like that, you hear?”

You sniff. “I just wanted to say my thanks…”

“She was doin’ nothin’, that was all you man.” Hawks shakes his head. “I’d even say she was more into me than she has been in a while. I mean, the way you shouted at her was pretty scary,” he says, popping the ‘p.’

You look at Hawks under your lashes.

“No she wasn’t!” your boyfriend drops your arm, marching right up to the pro hero.

Hawks leans around him and nods his head at you. “Why don’t we show him a thing or two?” You give him a puzzled look. “My car’s right there if you know what I mean.”

“Hold on, you have a car? How would you even fit your wings in.”

“Baby, you’re ruining the moment,” Hawks laughs, stepping in next to you. “I just take my car for a spin when I can’t fly. Not a walking type of guy, really.”

“So let me get this straight, you wanna fuck me? In your car? For why?”

“Give a little show to your asshole of a boyfriend. So he can see how to really treat a woman, hm?”

“Don’t you go with him, [Y/N]! I will literally kill you.”

“Is that really the smartest thing to say right next to a pro hero? Okay, Hawks, what that tongue do?” You purr.

“I’ll show you,” Hawks’ car’s doors unlock with a click. “Get in the back.”

Your boyfriend outside looks right mad, shouting and screaming at you. You swear a crowd has formed.

Hawks lays down and motions a finger for you. You shut the door behind you, and it’s just you two in this moment, boyfriend be damned.

“Hold onto the headrests, okay, baby?” Hawks asks as you situate yourself above his mouth.

“Lucky for me, you’re just wearing that cute little skirt and skimpy top. What, did you want every guy to turn heads for you?” Hawks grips your plush thighs, digging his nose to your panties. “All that from earlier really got you goin’, huh? Look how wet you are for me.” He kisses your clothed sex before pulling your underwear to the side. A long, languid lick all the way up to your clit has you shivering with pleasure, begging for more.

You’re grinding down on Hawks’ tongue, he’s just that fucking good. You briefly wonder how many other people have experienced this ecstasy. At least you have him for this moment.

Breathy squeaks leave your mouth as his mouth catches on particular spots.

“Let it out, I wanna hear you. I want him to hear what I’m doing to you.” Locking eyes with your boyfriend outside the car sends you over the edge, his face as bright as the heels on your feet. His eyes dim slightly just as yours slip closed, mouth agape. Hawks continues to pleasure you as you come down from your high.

Carefully, he lifts you up to sit you on his lap. A little cramped, but worth it. Your wetness glistens along Hawks’ jawline, and you lean in to kiss him, tasting yourself and him.

“That’s cute,” he whispers, bringing his hands up to knead at your breasts slightly. His gold eyes shimmer as you rub against his cock.

“Gonna show me your cute dick next?” you ask.

“It’s cute, like, big, not cute as in small. Just so you know. How about you lay down, baby,” he turns towards you slightly, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his black trousers. His cock is nice. As nice as one can be. It’s a little thicker, curved to the left a bit. He’s trimmed. He strokes it a couple times, dragging his precum along the shaft. You flick your panties off and they land on his head.

“Impatient, are we?” he grins.

“Just a bit,” you smile, reaching between your legs to spread yourself open a bit for him to see.

“Pretty pussy for a pretty girl,” he leans over, hand guiding to your quivering sex. He pushes in slowly, letting out a deep moan be swallowed up by your kiss. “You’re so tight around me.”

He lets you adjust, and not long after, you’re clawing at him to start moving. “Feels so good, you fill me up so good, Hawks.”

“They’re all watching us now, hummingbird. I bet they’re jealous at how good I’m fucking you,” he says over his grunts.

You’re bleary-eyed and blissed out, barely registering his words. “Who...Who’re they?”

“Seems like your little boyfriend’s screaming match has attracted quite a crowd.”

“O-oh? How big?”

“Enough.”

“You wanna get out, don’t you.”

“Maybe.”

“Yeah okay, whatever you want, Hawks. Who am I to deny a pro hero what he wants? Just keep fucking me, please.”

Hawks’ eyes flash, hand scrambling for the door handle and pulling you out into the brisk air. “Really? Whatever I want? How about I just bend you over the trunk of my car and rail you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow?”

“Then I guess you’re stuck with me for a lil while longer.” Hawks pushes your head down almost gently as he presses into you against the cool metal. You sigh as he slips back inside of you. Then he’s pulling your top down to your waist, your breasts squishing against the dirt and dust. A few people whoop. Somehow, you don’t care that everyone can see, or that camera flashes are blinding your vision. The way he drills into you makes you even forget how you even got into this situation to begin with.

“What about the--” you moan “--press?”

“Don’t give a fuck about them, none at all. My PR team could probably cover it up, I don’t know. Don’t wanna think about that. Y’all see this? Her nasty ass boyfriend was fuckin’ rippin’ on her, treating her like shit on a stick. No one should treat a woman like that, ya hear?” he’s loud, addressing the people around you. “Well, I guess ex boyfriend would be appropriate. What do you think, [Y/N]?”

“Y-yeah You’re right! Oh! OH! Hawks.”

“C’mon songbird, sing me that song,” he says right next to your ear, sucking a hickey into your neck.

“[Y/N], baby, how could you do this to me?” your boyfriend pleads. Ex-boyfriend, you mean.

“That’s what you get for being a shit. And you’re not even that mad, you’re enjoying yourself too,” you moan to him. “Hawks is technically police, you don’t want him to throw you in jail, now do you?”

“He wouldn’t, he can’t! I didn’t really do anything.”

“I can and I will,” Hawks growls.

“You’re just using your privilege!”

“Yeah,” Hawks agrees. “But then again, I’m sure I could find some dirt on you.”

“Haw--”

“Yes baby?” his attention snaps to you.

Your ex was never this attentive. It gave you butterflies. You swallowed them to let him know you were close.

If he had his feathers, they would surely flush out.

“Come on, birdie, cream on my cock, I know you can do it.” He reaches around your waist to swipe at your clit.

“Nnnggft,” you moan, your cunt seizing up, the pressure building. It explodes, sending a chill down your spine.

“Yes baby, keep up for me, I’m right behind ya...” Hawks thrusts impossibly faster, chasing his own climax, loving the way your sex flutters around him.

“[Y/N] I’m--” Hawks’ voice dies out as he shoots thick ropes of cum in you, white seed painting your insides.

The both of you struggle to catch your breaths. Hawks leans over you, massaging your hips. “Why don’t we take this back to your place and finish up?”

“Why not yours?” You laugh, running a hand over his sweat sheened forehead and into his unruly blonde hair.

“Security? At least take me on a date,” he laughs.

You sigh with contempt. “Okay, Hawks. Okay.” He nuzzles your neck slightly, pulling out of you.

Hawks tucks himself back in his trousers and pulls up your top. “Let’s get outta here, then. Hey! I got it, don’t worry,” he says, pulling the passenger door open.

“Where’s my underwear?”

“Dunno.”

“I’m gonna leave a wet spot.”

“I don’t mind,” he says nonchalantly before hopping into the driver’s seat next to you. The ignition rolls over and Hawks backs out of the parking space. His hand rests on the inside of your thigh, rubbing in slow circles.

You notice his nails are black, and curved a bit like talons.

Pretty.

“Okay hummingbird, lead the way,” he says, giving you a soft smile.

#hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x you #takami keigo x reader #bnha #bnha fanfiction #mha #lemon #smut #my hero academia #fanfic

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fishmongeringstudies · 3 years

Text

scene four: tongues

one time someone asked me to say sorry.

'huh?' the asparagus clamped between my chopsticks began to slide towards the bottom of my lunch box, forgotten. i frowned. 'did i do something wrong?'

'no,' he said, laughing. 'i just want to hear how you pronounce it.'

'so i'm saying it wrong.'

'that's not what i mean.'

'then what do you mean?'

'i mean i'm curious.'

i stared at him. 'no.' i picked up my asparagus. he poked at his biscuits with his fork. time passed, birds sang overhead, snow fell outside the window.

'you know-' he started.

the asparagus on sundays sucks. on weekdays they roast it but on sundays they boil it in a huge pot of water in that grim, white-tiled kitchen that i've only gotten a few glimpses of and then it's a straight path to the metal pans that appear behind the glass when you step into the dining hall, hoping someone will betray your well-set expectations and for once, the 'fish' will be 'salted'. i didn't know why i'd asked for it to begin with. last week i hadn't. this week i had brought what i hoped would become a friend with me, though he was, by all accounts, still a stranger.

'what.'

'the way you say sorry feels kinda canadian to me,' he said thoughtfully. 'not justin bieber-canadian, but, like, old-fashioned canadian. see? like this.' he puckered his lips. 'sooh-ree.' he nodded to himself like he'd just accomplished an incredibly impressive feat. 'the way you emphasize the 'oooh' sound. no one says it like that here.'

when i was ten i had a weird phineas and ferb phase. we didn't have cable tv so i'd look up the episodes on youtube in splintered halves and thirds, watch whatever i could find in 240p and look up the plot synopsis for the bits i couldn't. perry the platypus was my favorite character at first, because he was turquoise (turquoise was my favorite color when i was ten) and he had a cool hat and he had a knack for appearing in places that one typically didn't expect a platypus to appear in, which both resonated with and annoyed me, but eventually i lost interest because perry the platypus didn't have a voice. he was a platypus, after all.

'huh.' there were still two spears of asparagus left in my box but i didn't feel like eating them anymore.

he leaned over the table, his eyes bright and searching, like a child's.

'am i right?'

when i was ten i sounded sort-of-american for a few months. i remember even my mom picked up on it after a while, commenting mildly over dinner that i was speaking differently wasn't i, i almost sounded like i did when i went to the international school, and i remember flushing with pride, choking on my rice, having to excuse myself to the bathroom immediately afterwards to hack it all up in the sink. after all, i'd been practising. if perry the platypus had had a voice, i would've practised his lines too. but he didn't. so i practised with the others. i hit pause and play and pause and play, repeating things out loud, sounding out the vowels, trying to nail each word to the wall on the other side of my room like i was holding a pistol in a gunfight, not my heart.

the first time i went outside in america we were in washington dc and my friend took me to target. it took everything in me to say thank you to the lady behind the counter. i don't know if she heard me.

am i right?

i shrugged. 'i dunno.'

'admit it,' he said smugly, which i thought was quite bold of him seeing how all i really wanted to do right then was punch a hole through the wooden floorboards and drop into the freezer section of the cafe below like a cannonball, killing myself and everyone in a fifteen-mile radius around me instantly. 'i got it right.'

there were a lot of things i could've said to him in that moment. i could've said i was born in texas nineteen years ago to parents from fifteen other parts of the world, or i could've told him about the dream i'd had last night where i was stuck in a supermarket and someone had ripped my vocal chords out but left every other part of me intact, or i could've told him about how there are between nine and ten thousand species of birds on earth and all of them are pretty cool, what do you think of birds, dude, what do you think of this country? did you know? most americans don't think they speak with an accent. to them the american accent is the default, is the way english should be spoken, is the thing they'll stick in the dictionary that the martians will discover thousands of years from now when humanity finally wipes itself out and the trees are left to retrieve their hands from their coffins. when you're american you're always right. the rest of us are deviations from the norm. aberrations. mistakes.

the first time i saw asparagus in america i was getting dinner in the dining hall and it was monday, so the asparagus was roasted, not boiled. 'can i get the asparagus?' i asked. the lady behind the counter looked at me for a moment, expressionless, then pointed at the stalks of green vegetables in the metal tray to her right. 'you mean the asparagus?' i nodded.

in the spring i took a class called intro to linguistics, taught by a kind, square-shaped man with round glasses and minecraft stans for kids who told us on the first day of class, his green beatles background flickering awkwardly behind him, that there is no such thing as bad english. i didn't believe him at first the way i am inclined not to believe anything i'm told without being slapped in the face with it a few times in times of dire need, but eventually i came around. 'i feel like every time i open my mouth i am standing on a big empty stage with a microphone in one hand and everyone is waiting for me to speak,' i wrote in my first assignment for that class. what i meant was: i am scared to death of being heard. what i meant was: i do not feel like a person here.

did you know? as far as we're aware, humans are the only species on this planet that uses words. we built this damn thing out of sawdust and sadness, pouring centuries of sound and sight and sensation into a system that's so fucked up, your only options are either to be born in it or to force your way in with a chainsaw. every day some guy in the youtube comments section of your favorite video, you know the vine where the kid smiles into the camera like she's just shaken hands with god and then points at the field of ducks behind her and goes, 'look at all those chickens!', every day some guy goes to that exact video and replies to some stranger's comment to let them know it's 'you're' not 'your'. every day someone derails a discussion about bitcoin on reddit with a well-placed apostrophe. every day someone laughs at a friend and says they sound a little old-fashioned, a little canadian, none of the kids say it like that anymore, you know? it's weird. you're weird.

so be weird. be a public riot. be that one guy who goes into the dining hall every day and mispronounces half the words on the board, because who the fuck learns how to pronounce asparagus in history class? english literature? i don't even LIKE asparagus. i'm just trying to eat my fucking vegetables, for fuck's sake. i'm just trying to make sure that every once in a while when i open my mouth and something climbs out, someone else catches it. like maybe one day it'll be something beautiful. like maybe one day it'll be a star.

and if you're ever trying to eat your fucking vegetables and someone tells you you're speaking funny, breathing funny, shaking your left leg under the table funny, and if ever you find yourself far from home and struggling to make the words look less like monsters and more like symbols for sadness and someone laughs at that, someone thinks your pain is amusing, then you know what? eat them too. and don't you even think of saying sorry.

in the remastered version of this scene he asks me am i right and i say no, you're a dick, and then i leave.

05.24.21

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arcticfox007 · 4 years

Text

The Wych Elm and the Cemetery

Happy Christmas @aibari! I’m you’re secret santa and I hope you enjoy your gift!

Thanks to @destielsecretsanta2020 for putting all of this together :)

Wishlist fulfilled: Angst with a Happy Ending, Case Fic, Weird Small Towns (well city in this case), Weird Angel Lore, Hand holding, and Americana (I tried to work in as much as I could) – if you want specific info on all of the Americana I tied in, check out my endnotes on AO3 😊 Also, @aibari I’m happy to list you as the giftee on AO3 if you have a name over there.

The is roughly set during early Season 12, but I’m not married to canon or anything.

***

Dean wasn’t easily impressed these days, but even he had to admit that the tree growing out of the grave was unlike anything he’d come across before. The historic cemetery in the middle of Missouri had its fair share of trees, but they had come here for this one. Cas stood next to him looking like he was attempting to interrogate the tree with his mind. For a moment Dean was distracted by the angel, smiling a bit at the memory of the time Cas had insisted on interrogating a cat. Luckily, Cas had gotten better at blending in, so at least he wasn’t actively asking the tree questions. There was the sound of someone clearing their throat to Dean’s other side and Dean directed his attention back to the cemetery’s caretaker, Mrs. Paige.

“I’m not sure why the FBI would be interested in something like this.” The older woman sniffed and looked at both Cas and Dean suspiciously. Dean turned on the charm and gave her a warm smile.

“Unfortunately, we aren’t at liberty to discuss the details of the case, but we’d appreciate anything you can tell us about this tree Mrs. Paige, or the woman who was killed, Louisa Abbot.”

We’d also like any information you might have on the person who was buried here,” Castiel interrupted. “Most of the marker seems to be missing, perhaps destroyed by the sudden growth of this tree.”

“Well, I can certainly get you the information on who was buried here, this was one of our more famous gravesites. The man buried here died in the early 1800s, he is one of two Revolutionary War veterans laid to rest in the cemetery, his name was William Abbot. I believe he held the rank of Captain. The Boone Historical Society may have more information about him, but he is one of the earliest burials in the cemetery and a lot of those records have been lost over the years.” Mrs. Paige chewed on her lower lip for a moment, staring along with Dean at the tree once again. “The tree will have to be removed to restore Captain Abbot’s grave.”

“Was Captain Abbot an ancestor of the victim?” Cas’ question caught Dean off guard. There was something strangely mesmerizing about the massive twisting trunk rising out of the ground exactly where the remains of Captain Abbot would have been. Dean registered that Cas and the caretaker were continuing to talk, but Dean stepped away to examine the tree more carefully. It’s roots, on the surface at least, didn’t seem to spread out much. Rather they seemed to go straight down into the Earth. Its trunk was thick enough to have been there for hundreds of years despite having only appeared a few days ago. The tree itself was knotted in appearance, with ugly, twisted branches shooting out in all directions. For some reason it occurred to Dean that the tree looked like it was screaming in pain. Dean jumped when he suddenly felt Cas’ hand on his shoulder.

“Dean. Are you listening?” Dean pulled his eyes away from the tree and turned towards Cas who continued to keep his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Ah, no, sorry. This,” Dean waved vaguely at the impressive scene before them, “is kind of distracting.” Cas nodded seriously. Dean noticed that the caretaker had left, but was distracted again by Cas pulling his hand back. They always touched a bit longer than was probably normal, but Dean still regretted the loss of the warmth on his shoulder.

“Mrs. Paige said that the victim may have been a descendant of Captain Abbot, but she wasn’t sure. She suggested the Historical Society again, if we needed further information. She did say that she knew Louisa Abbot when she was a teenager. She was one of several teenagers she used to call the police on for breaking into the cemetery after hours to party. Mrs. Paige said she hadn’t really seen her in more recent years.

“Is there any way to tell if the good Captain is still here?” Dean waved towards the roots of the tree. Cas shook his head. “Ah well, I’d be surprised if they were still here. I guess we better find out what exactly Louisa Abbot was into.” They started walking back towards the car.

“I agree. I’d also like more information on the tree. I know it’s a type of elm, but I’m not sure of the significance, if there is any.”

“Call Sam and get him to work on it.” Cas let out an exasperated huff in response to Dean’s delegation of research to his brother.

“Dean. The entire reason we are here without Sam is so he can rest. He needs to sleep to get over the flu, especially since he refused to let me heal him. I am more than capable of finding the information, perhaps while you visit the historical society.”

“Alright. You want me to drop you off at the library?”

“That would be acceptable.” Cas paused to look out over the cemetery again before opening the passenger side door of the Impala. Dean noticed the angel’s hesitation.

“Everything okay man?” Castiel turned towards Dean upon hearing his words and Dean notices the sadness that ghosts across the angel’s face. “Seriously, Cas, what’s going on with you? You seem more, I dunno, out of it than usual.”

“I – this place is a lot like the cemetery where Mary was originally buried. I don’t like the memory of you leaving to die.” Cas looks away abruptly and climbs into the passenger seat. Dean is at a loss for words, so he doesn’t say anything at all. He drops Cas off at the library with all the things left unsaid hanging between them.

***

It’s off season for the small college town, most of the students having gone home for winter break, so the hunters end up with better than normal accommodations. Dean is more than happy to discover a decent grill-themed restaurant practically in the parking lot of their hotel, and Cas is happy to wait until his companion is content with food before telling him what he’d found during his time in the library. Dean talks ideally about the pie store the server had told him about, wondering if they’ll have time to check it out before they leave. Cas lets Dean talk, he finds himself still grateful that he can have these moments, he truly thought he was going to lose him in the attempt to destroy Amara.

Ever since Castiel’s brief time as a human he’s found that the emotions he’d been slowly acquiring over the years have amplified at a rate that he has had difficulty adjusting to. He’d hoped at the beginning that regaining his grace would have given him back some of the control that had spiraled away from him, but he can’t help but dwell on almost losing Dean.

When they reach their room, Dean opts to take a shower before swapping case notes so Cas tries to take that time to compose himself. When given moments away from Dean, where there is a chance for quiet, the angel forces himself to let the feelings he has for the infuriating man wash over him. He lets himself feel the pain at having to let him go up against Amara alone. He lets himself feel the overwhelming joy at seeing him alive once again. He lets himself feel how much he’s fallen in love with the beautiful human being. He recalls talking to Anna at the beginning of what would become his fall, her telling him it only gets worse. He has no doubt now that she wasn’t just referring to his struggle with doubt. An angel that can feel things akin to a human can easily become overwhelmed. They were not built for these sensations, and so, every time Castiel lets go to indulge in the wash of his emotions he pulls on his grace and works to reign them in one at a time. By the time Dean emerges from the shower Castiel has regained some semblance of stoicism.

“So, this lady at the historical society was great. She apparently teaches genealogy classes for free to the public or something, so she was able to pull up the victim’s ancestry pretty fast. Captain Abbot was her ancestor all right, so at least we have that connection. Couldn’t find much out about the family besides that, so we should talk to Louisa’s next of kin tomorrow. I think the police report said she had a sister locally.” Castiel agrees to the plan and pulls out some information he had printed at the library.

“The tree is called a ‘Wych Elm’ and is a common wood used to build coffins, which may explain it’s presence. It’s possible, if Captain Abbot’s coffin was made from this wood, that whatever spell was cast had the side effect of growing a new tree from the wood.” Dean raises his eyebrows skeptically when Cas shares this information.

“It’s called a witch elm Cas; do you really think it’s there because of the coffin wood?” Castiel rolls his eyes at his companion.

“W-Y-C-H Dean, not witch. It means pliable, it’s named for the characteristic of the wood. But no, to answer your question. I doubt it has anything to do with the coffin wood. It’s not a tree common to this area.” Dean waves his hand to indicate Castiel should continue. “You are not the only one to mistake the name of the tree for something else. More recent lore does associate the tree with actual witches as many of them seem to like these trees as ritualistic sites. The rest of the lore associates them with melancholy and death, especially because the trees are known for unexpectedly dropping branches and injuring the unsuspecting people standing below them.”

“Yeah, okay. Does that mean that Louisa was some sort of witch, and grew the tree there on purpose?” Cas thinks about Dean’s suggestion for a few moments.

“Possibly. The other thing these trees are known for is guarding the entrance to Hades, so it may also be a result of an attempt to raise the dead. I cannot be certain as this seems unlike any other necromantic ritual I’ve heard of. I am also uncertain at to the motivation of raising someone who died over two centuries ago, as the more recent dead are usually preferrable to necromancers.”

“Alright, well there’s not much more we can do tonight.” Castiel nods and watches Dean dig through his bag. Dean hesitates for a moment and Castiel begins to wonder if he forgot something at the bunker. Dean shakes his head and pulls a bundle out of his bag, tossing it to Castiel.

“Here, I forgot I brought this for you.” Dean looks expectantly at the angel as Cas looks at the material in his hands.

“Clothing? Dean, I have no need to change clothes.” Castiel’s confusion is evident on his face. Dean sighs rubs the back of his neck.

“I know man. Just try though, you’re more human-like than before with Heaven losing power. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I noticed that you eat more often, and even sleep sometimes. I think you’ll actually appreciate relaxing in something that isn’t a suit and trench coat.” Cas looks at the clothing in his hands, dismayed that Dean has seen the weakening of his connection to Heaven. He hadn’t wanted Dean to think him less capable but at the same time he’s touched by the thought the man had put into the angel’s situation.

“Thank you, Dean. I will try.” Castiel goes into the bathroom to change and when he emerges, he finds Dean sitting on one of the beds flipping through TV channels. Dean slides over, indicating that Cas should sit down as the TV is only visible from the one bed. Dean complains that the only thing on is a Law & Order marathon because the hotel doesn’t have a streaming service on the TV. Cas doesn’t mind though, sharing the bed to watch television gives him an excuse to watch over Dean as he sleeps without Dean complaining about it. Even nicer is how Dean falls asleep gradually in the middle of an episode and doesn’t seem to notice how he curls into Cas’ side as he does it. Cas smiles and allows his feelings to wash over him again as he thinks about how the softer PJs must be more comfortable for Dean to lay on.

***

The following evening found the hunter and the angel at a place called Warm Springs Ranch. When they called Louisa’s sister, she told them she could talk during her break. The ranch ran some sort of Christmas event and Janice Abbot was one of the people in charge of it. Dean tried to play it cool, but he couldn’t help getting a bit excited over the chance to see the Budweiser Clydesdales. He did remind Cas that interrogating the horses was unnecessary to which he had received one of the angel’s full body eyerolls. Dean would never admit it out loud, but he really enjoyed Cas’ sarcasm. He thought the eyerolling was kind of adorable.

Dean hadn’t meant to spend last night half snuggling with his best friend, but Cas didn’t seem to mind so he wasn’t going to worry about it. Dean figured his secret crush on the guy was his problem, not the angel’s – as long as it didn’t mess up their friendship it wasn’t worth agonizing over.

They had unexpectedly spent the morning at the morgue. There was another strange death last night, something had eaten the victim’s spleen. They’d only received a call about it because the original victim, Louisa, had also been missing her spleen along with several other organs and most of her blood. If it was the same creature it certainly seemed to enjoy the bloodier organs of the body. The only other thing the victims had in common was proximity to the cemetery. The most recent victim had visited the cemetery the previous day according to her wife.

After that trip, they had gotten access to Louisa’s duplex and were now in agreement that she had been a practicing witch dabbling in necromancy. Cas had been on the phone with Rowena during the drive to the ranch giving her a rundown on the information they had in the hopes that she could help then understand more of what was going on. Eventually Cas had given in and called Sam, admitting that the younger Winchester had a much easier time getting Rowena’s cooperation.

When they finally arrived at the front of the line of cars entering the ranch, Dean began to understand why there was a crowd. The lights draped everywhere were impressive and Dean was happy to note that Cas seemed taken in by the display. It always cheered Dean up to see Castiel happy, it felt like those instances were all too rare in their line of work. Dean and Cas showed their badges at the entrance and asked where they could find Janice. They were directed to a side road for staff and Dean noticed the small frown of Cas’ face.

“Hey, want to ask if we can drive through the light display if we have time before we leave? It looks kinda awesome.” Castiel didn’t exactly smile but Dean could tell the suggestion pleased him. Dean wasn’t always sure why, but he was much better at reading Castiel than anyone else. Dean drove around to the back to park his car in what he assumed was the employee parking lot. They made their way through the staff entrance and asked around until they found Louisa’s sister.

“I honestly don’t know what I can tell you guys that I haven’t already told the other cops. I’m sorry she’s dead but Louisa and I were not close. She and I have barely spoken since we were kids. She was friends with some really weird people and did a lot of drugs when we were younger. I’m really not surprised she ended up dead in a cemetery.” Janice was clearly frustrated at her sister’s death and the notoriety it had brought with it. They did manage to find out the names of some of the ‘weird’ friends Louisa hung out with but beyond that she had been more than happy to offer them free access to the Christmas event just to be rid of them.

Dean was fairly certain the interview had been a dead end outside of assuring himself the sister wasn’t also a witch, but he didn’t feel their time had been wasted as he watched Cas roam through the stables. Cas attracted the few colts in residence leading to the kids in attendance following him around so they could see the young horses up close. Dean felt a soft warmth spread out from his chest as he watched his best friend talk with both the children and the colts. The children didn’t think anything of Cas having conversations with horses.

They eventually made their way back to the car and drove through the light display. Maybe they should have talked about the case, but Dean didn’t want to ruin the moment. Cas gazed out at the decorations with a look of quiet contentment on his face and Dean reached for the angel’s hand without thinking about it. Cas threaded his fingers through Dean’s without even turning away from the window.

Later that night, after grabbing burgers at a drive thru, they poured through the case notes together hoping to find something they had been missing. Dean didn’t even remember falling asleep until he woke up to Cas rolling him onto a pillow and laying a blanket on him. He mumbled a drowsy thank you and sunk into a dreamless slumber.

***

Cas thought that maybe it was a mistake, but after last night he didn’t want to be away from Dean. Once he had pulled a blanket over his exhausted friend, Cas changed into the pajamas Dean had given him again and laid down beside him. He stayed above the covers and just watched Dean sleep. He didn’t tell Dean anymore that he’d watch over him as he didn’t enjoy being called creepy. Dean didn’t seem to understand that watching was part of who Castiel was as an angel. While he had rebelled and fallen it didn’t change his need to watch over the man he pulled out of hell. It would be like going to long without air for a human. Cas needed to watch Dean, to protect him, to assure himself that he was safe.

He noticed Dean shivering despite the blanket draped over him and Castiel found himself giving into another impulse that he wasn’t sure Dean would appreciate. He pulled on the smallest amount of his grace to give some substance to his wings and dropped one of them on top of the man he loved. They were broken and battered, but over the years they had healed enough to fill out a bit. Dean quieted as he felt the weight of the wing, and Cas saw a small smile ripple across his face. The angel would just have to pull his wings back from the physical realm before Dean woke up, but it was worth the grace to keep Dean more comfortable as he slept.

***

Dean opened his eyes in the morning to find a sleeping angel next to him. He froze as soon as he saw Cas there, more worried that the angel had fallen asleep than about the fact that Dean was all to happy to wake up to his best friend lying beside him. He reached over to see if he could wake Cas up and ran into – feathers? Dean quickly rubbed his hands over his face and woke up more definitively. Yup, those were feathers. Large, gorgeous, black feathers that shimmered like obsidian in the sunlight. It was as if every color that had ever existed had come together to create the shimmering black of Castiel’s wings. While concerned about why Cas was sleeping and why his wings were manifested when Dean had only ever seen shadows, Dean couldn’t help but be enthralled with the things. His hand reached out to pet the one blanketing him before he actually thought about it. He had just enough time to appreciate how amazingly soft they felt before Castiel awoke with a gasp. The wing pulled back suddenly and Cas was sitting up staring at Dean in shock.

“Sorry, sorry! Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean anything by it, they were just so amazing… I’m so sorry Cas!” Dean held up his hands trying to placate the angel as he also sat up. Cas looked at his wings as if he had just realized they were physically present. Surprise travelled over his features and with a roll of Cas’ shoulders the wings disappeared. Dean tried not to look as disappointed as he felt. Cas turned back to Dean and briefly touched his jaw.

“It’s alright Dean. I was just surprised. They were manifested more than I intended and the sensation of you touching them was unexpected.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, like I said it was just unexpected, not harmful. I apologize, I didn’t mean for them to be out for so long.” Dean was surprised to note that Cas looked embarrassed.

“I – I’m glad I got to see them. They’re fucking awesome Cas, the shadows were badass enough, but wow. If I had known you could manifest them like that, I’d have been begging you to show me for years.” Cas laughed and the tension between them evaporated. Dean got ready in the bathroom and found Cas back in his regular clothing hanging up the phone when he’d finished brushing his teeth.

“Rowena thinks she knows what happened, or at least some of it. She’s not completely sure about the role of the Wych Elm, but she did say that it’s likely we will need to use wood from the tree to kill the creature that was raised.”

“Did she say what it is?” Cas nodded in response to Dean’s question.

“She thinks Louisa was trying to make her own vampire. Ties of blood are necessary for control and the age of the corpse increases the power of the risen dead in a ritual like this. Rowena said that no one tries this type of thing though, because the amount of power and control needed are astronomical. She said she wouldn’t try it herself, that there are easier ways to get a loyal servant. Then she said something about how maybe Louisa didn’t have the ‘assets’ Rowena had?” Dean broke into laughter and Cas tilted his head in puzzlement. Dean always enjoyed Cas’ air quotes.

“Don’t worry about it, Cas. Okay, so Louisa was trying to make her own breed of vampire.”

“It would seem so. Obviously, she wasn’t successful, and not just in regards to her lack of control. Whatever the creature technically is, it’s not just drinking blood.” Dean chewed over Cas’ words as the angel did something on the laptop. All Dean could think is that this thing seemed to be some sort of zombie vampire. It didn’t really make a difference though, as long as they had a way to kill it. Or re-kill it as it were.

“So, Rowena said we can use the Wych Elm wood to kill the thing?” Cas didn’t even look up from the screen to answer Dean’s question.

“Not exactly. She said it had to be the specific tree that grew out of the grave. She also said it wouldn’t be enough by itself. I’m looking at the spell now.” Dean decided to leave Cas to it and work on getting their gear together. It was still a vampire after all, even if it was some sort of mutant version.

“Dean. I think this will work. Dead man’s blood should still help to incapacitate it. We also need the ashes of it’s creator and the blessing of the divine.” Dean widened his eyes at that list, but he supposed it was doable. They could steal Louisa’s body from the morgue if necessary. “We use the spell to seal the ingredients into the wood of the elm. Then we have to stab the creature with the elm wood through its heart.”

“So, we have to stake the vampire? Seriously?” Dean was amused at the idea of staking a vampire actually working.

“Yes, Dean. Afterwards I’d still suggest decapitation and burning whatever is left, just to make sure it stays dead.” Cas closed the laptop and pushed it aside.

“Sure. You have a plan for blessing of the divine?” Cas smiled at Dean.

“That’s easy enough.” Cas didn’t even warn Dean, one moment he’s standing there looking at the angel expectantly, the next he has a faceful of feathers.

“Um, I thought you didn’t want me touching them.” Dean couldn’t see Castiel, but he could hear him snickering. Dean pushed the wing away from his eyes in time to see Cas laughing at him.

“I said it was unexpected, not that I minded you touching. Anyway, this will work.” Dean watches as Cas runs his finger through the feathers and finds one that comes loose. In between one blink and the next the wings are hidden once again. Cas hold a single feather in his hand, the echo of his earlier laughter still present in his smile.

“What about the ashes? Do we need to break into the morgue?”

“We don’t need a specified amount; we can get away with most anything. Maybe just hair or something small, we needn’t steal an entire corpse.” Dean sighs in relief, that’s one less complication.

“Well let’s head out then, I’d like this taken care of before sunset. Wait, how are we going to find the thing anyway? You think it’s prowling around the cemetery?” Cas nods.

“Yes, Dean. Rowena seems to think it’s probably tied to the elm and with the other victim also being close to the area I’m inclined to agree with her. Using the tree for the spell may even be enough to draw it to us. If you want to drop me off at the cemetery, I can start preparing everything while you get the ashes.” Dean agrees and grabs his keys.

***

Cas is somewhat relieved to be dropped off at the cemetery. While Dean hadn’t reacted poorly to being draped in an angel wing this morning, or the fact that Cas was asleep in the same bed, he couldn’t help feeling that he had been pushing things too far. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep while also solidifying his wings. He needed to conserve his grace for more important tasks. While Castiel was truly content to just be a part of Dean’s life it was difficult to remind himself that he could not have more, especially with his poor control over the very human-like emotions he now experienced. What was really tipping him over the edge though, was how Dean kept reacting. Dean did not react with anger or defensiveness when he found himself in situations that hinted of a more intimate relationship with Cas. He acted as if it were normal and even welcome. It surprised Cas, but it also gave him some of the hope that he had never really allowed himself to have. It was distracting, which made it all the better that he would be prepping the spell by himself.

Cas collected a branch from the Wych Elm growing out of Captain Abbot’s grave, mindful of the tree’s reputation for dropping branches on unsuspecting passersby. Then Cas took a few moments to make sure the caretaker knew that he and his partner may be around afterhours because of the attack yesterday and was happy to find out that she had already decided to stay with a friend until she felt safer. Cas made quick work of the elm branch, pleased with how easy it was to shape into a stake. The sun would set soon so Castiel got to work engraving the sigil they would need directly into the tree trunk. Once Dean brought the last ingredient it should only take them a few minutes to complete everything. With any luck the vampire would come to them.

He was so absorbed in creating the sigil that he almost didn’t hear the movement behind him in time.

***

As usual, things had not gone according to plan. Dean had arrived to see Cas holding the mutant-vamp at bay, but clearly struggling to gain an upper hand over the creature they didn’t yet have the means to kill. Dean knew better than to jump into the middle of that fight, it was more important to finish Rowena’s spell. He dumped the ashes in with the rest of the material. Luckily Cas had left a copy of the actual spell out by the bowl with all the ingredients. The incantation was pretty straightforward and Dean quickly scooped up the resulting concoction on two fingers and began filling in the sigil carved into the tree. Dean picked up the branch Cas had sharpened into a stake and touched it to the sigil, running through the incantation one more time. In a brief flash of light, the sigil was absorbed into the stake.

“Cas!” Dean threw the stake towards the angel who managed to catch it neatly without even looking. Ducking down as the creature threw itself towards him, Cas pushed the stake up and underneath the monster’s rib cage with more force than a normal human could have managed. Dean breathed a sigh of relief too early, the vamp surged back up and made another run at the rapidly tiring angel.

“Rowena may have overlooked something.” Cas sounded remarkably composed considering how ragged he looked. Dean looked around them desperately for something they had missed. Then he saw how the tree was shivering and pulsing as if trying to reach out to the vampire. Of course!

“Hey asshole, leave my goddamn angel alone!” Dean knew the shotgun wouldn’t work against the creature but it got his attention, and with the impact to its shoulder and the stake still protruding from its ribcage the monster snarled as it barreled towards Dean. Dean was backed up against the tree as Cas turned on him with a horrified look on his face.

“DEAN!” Cas sounded both angry and devastated as he chased after the vampire, but Dean just yelled out instructions, all too aware what this probably looked like from Cas’ point of view.

“Stake it to the tree!” Cas caught on quick and as Dean threw himself out of the way Cas leapt after the thing that had once been Captain Abbot. Cas reached down to where the stake was sticking out and wrenched until the creature’s back was on the trunk of the Wych Elm. Pushing off from the ground Cas slammed the stake further in, until the vampire was stuck to the tree. It screeched as light pulsed from the stake into the tree. The Wych Elm seemed to come to life as it collapsed in on itself, dragging the mutant-vamp back to wherever the tree had come from. Within moments all that was left was a broken gravestone.

“Huh. Guess we don’t have to worry about burning it,” Dean quipped. Castiel rounded on him, clearly not feeling amused.

“What were you thinking? What if I hadn’t been fast enough?” Dean let Castiel rant at him for a few moments, standing up and dusting off the dirt from the back of his jeans.

“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t want to tip it off.”

“So instead, you made it look like you were drawing it away from me? Getting yourself killed for me!?” Castiel’s eyes flashed dangerously blue.

“Yeah, and it worked. For the record, I’d have done that even if it wasn’t to trick the thing though. Better me than you.” Dean was maybe angrier than he expected. He realized he’d been worried about how long Cas would last against that thing as he noted cuts that weren’t healing and the way the angel was swaying as he tried to hold himself upright. He also noticed that the blue in Cas’ eyes was in no way diminishing as he glowered at Dean.

“You. Are. Absurd. You are worth everything to me.” Then, rather abruptly, Cas fell over. Dean’s heart was pounding in his ears, both from what the angel had said and the sudden alarm he felt at a cosmic being fainting. He pulled Cas up into his arms, and damn, he was heavier than Dean had expected. Not just the muscle that Dean could feel, but he idlily wondered if the wings somehow added weight. Either way, Dean eventually made it back to their hotel room, although his back wouldn’t thank him for it later.

***

Cas woke up in the pajamas Dean had given him with an arm thrown over his chest. Confused, Cas turned slowly and realized that they were back in the hotel and Dean was asleep beside him, curled around the angel’s torso. As small rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains Cas could see his normal clothing folded nearby on a chair. He noticed that the wounds his grace hadn’t healed yet had been cleaned and bandaged, and that the blanket was pulled up around both him and Dean. As Dean let out a contented sigh in his sleep and burrowed closer, Castiel thought that perhaps he too was worth everything to someone. Smiling the angel allowed himself to drift back to sleep, happily thinking about how Dean had told the vampire to stay away from “his” angel.

***

@destielsecretsanta2020, @aibari

#destiel secret santa #destiel december #destiel #casefic #case fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #castiel #castiel with wings #dean winchester #sam winchester #rowena macleod #monster of the week #christmas #spn #arcticfox007writes

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cloudshapedpatch · 4 years

Note

Alyadrien + "I can't believe we are doing this"

hello anon! thank you so much for this prompt, i love alyadrien! 💚🌸✨

Late Night Escapades

If there was one sure way to cheer up a chipper, it was raisin bread. And no, not just because Kronk said so, but Alya had found the best way to make someone’s day was to cook for them. So cinnamon-raisin bread in hand, she stood outside Adrien’s apartment building, hidden by the shadows.

As usual, at exactly midnight, Chat Noir jumped out a third story window to Alya’s side, already reaching for the foil-wrapped treat.

“Hey now, not even a greeting?”

“Nope. Only food.”

“You’re ridiculous. Hurry up, the bread’ll get cold.”

Chat slung her over his shoulder (much to her dismay) and leapt away from the scene.

“Wow, I sure do like the view from behind. It certainly isn’t nicer than seeing where we’re going.” Alya mumbled, knowing well he could hear her just fine.

“Well, okay then!”

The last thing Alya expected was for him to toss her in the air like pizza dough. A small scream forced its way from her lungs as she twirled in the air, almost letting go of the bread. And then she was in his arms, the way one would carry a bride.

“I hate you.” She rasped as soon as she caught her breath. The smug look on his face was all the answer she needed.

Soon enough he stopped on a slanted rooftop and set her down, letting her get settled before he transformed lest she fall.

“I will never get used to that.” Alya said with a grin while the magic light faded and left plain Adrien in its absence.

“Then get over it! What’s in the foil?”

“Really? Not even a ‘please’?”

Adrien pouted and made a grabby gesture. “Gimme.”

Alya laughed and unwrapped the bread, giving a pre-sliced piece to him. He promptly shoved it in his mouth eagerly.

“Pig.”

“I owe you one.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full!”

Adrien quietly laughed, the shoulder-shaking kind that made everyone else laugh too.

“Great weather we’re having.”

Alya scoffed. “That the best you can do?”

“If you can do so much better, than be my guest!”

“How… how was work today?”

“Terrible. You’re an awful conversationalist.”

“Oh, surely Mister Model Man didn’t have any issues at all, did he?” Alya leaned back on her palms, having finished her slice of bread and placed the rest of the loaf beside her.

He sighed, and Alya knew instantly it was going to be one of those nights. “Well, been kind of distracted lately. You know how it is.”

“Do I ever.”

An awkward silence fell over them. Pleading with herself to please, say something didn’t help, so she just sat next to him, looking at the lights, and honestly, feeling quite pitiful.

“Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if Nino and Marinette had finished their date that day?”

The question slapped Alya across the face. “What?”

“That day at the zoo, the first year I went to school. I don’t know if you knew this, but I was hiding in the bushes, talking to Nino through an earpiece trying to give him pointers.”

“No way. I was doing the same for Marinette!”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. That’s hilarious. Crazy the way things turned out.”

“Yeah.”

Alya took his silence to think about his question. Would things have been different? Possibly, but there was no way to know for sure.

“Sometimes,” she started, trying to find the right words to say, “Sometimes I think about what it would have been like if Nino and Marinette had gotten together. What would have changed. What would have stayed the same. You think we would have still been friends?”

“Of course. Nino dating you didn’t take away from our friendship, and you and Mariette stayed friends. I think it wouldn’t have affected us.”

Yes. When Nino was hers. Another silence fell over them, but this time, it almost caused her physical pain. They were not ending the night off like this. They needed a happy ending, even just a small one.

“Let’s go do something stupid.”

Adrien choked a little over his bread. “Like what?”

“I dunno. Go spraypaint an abandoned building or something.”

“Sure.”

“Wait really? That’s it? Mister Hero doesn’t have anything to say?”

“Nah. I played the good guy for far too many years. A little vandalism won’t hurt.”

He stood and called for his transformation, holding his hand out for her to take. The glint in his too-green eyes hinted at something that Alya couldn’t name.

“Alright, antihero. Let’s get to it.” Her smile didn’t fade even as he hoisted her onto his back and jumped off the roof, waiting until the last second to extend his staff.

This is what she lived for. Nights out with Adrien, the wind carrying away all her worries.

After the spray paint was retrieved (half-used art supplies always littered the alley behind Alix’s art studio) and the location chosen, Alya was ready.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Don’t get cold feet now, kitten. C’mon, lift me up. I’ve got a great idea.”

Once he had secured his arms around her knees, she started to paint. She called out colors and he tossed them up to her, helping her create her masterpiece.

“There. Be honest, am I the next Van Gogh?”

“I’m thinking more like Picasso.”

The art was awful. A poorly drawn Hawkmoth with comically thick eyebrows mutely shouted at them as they took a step back.

“Oh, the longer I look, the worse it gets.”

Alya laughed, shoving the black paint can into his hands. “Here, go add something.”

He spoke aloud as he sprayed the words to the right of the picture. “Fuck. You. Hawk. Daddy.”

A large swell of pride filled her chest, thinking of all his accomplishments and tribulations. The reveal and defeat of Hawkmoth took a lot of courage. “Nice play on words.”

“You're the only person who would get the joke.”

“It’s our public inside joke.”

“I love it!”

Chat picked her up in a hug and spun her around, eliciting the first real laugh Alya had in a while. And when he joined in her glee, a small but prominent tingle went up her spine, rousing the hairs on the back of her neck.

She would ignore that for now. What mattered at the moment was her precious time spent with Adrien, and the vain hope that she’d get to hear him laugh again soon.

#a hint of angst i’m sorry it just happened #but mostly fluff!#alyadrien #that was very sexy of you anon #ask n answer #my writing #ml #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #mlb #not baseball #chat noir #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #cat noir #writing prompt

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 5 years

Photo

U N P L A N N E D, part two

“Hi, uh, Y/N? It’s Harry.”

You shut the bathroom door behind you like you had a few days earlier. This time, at least, you knew what you were getting yourself into.

“Hey, hi, how are you?”

“I’m good--how are you?”

You took a breath, one that might have been too obvious. “I’m good. I’m sorry to just--ramble on your voicemail. I just, you know, hadn’t heard from you.”

Did you expect to? No. Maybe. You didn’t know. You felt stupid and embarrassed that the words had tumbled out of your mouth.

“Yeah--I know, m’sorry about that. I actually, uh, got sick actually after I saw you last, so I was out of commission for a minute. Been busy but, yeah, I’d love to see you if you’re around.”

“I am, yeah, I’m around.”

Thank god--the last thing you needed was for him to let you down easy, be too nice to say that he didn’t have any interest in seeing you again. You’d prepared for that somewhat, worried that you were just another girl he’d slept with some random night, meaningless and casual.

Maybe it was that--maybe he thought that buying you a nice dinner one night would be enough to put this in the past. A pang of guilt when you realized that might never be possible.

You didn’t wait for him to offer a time or date. “Are you around this weekend?”

“Uh, yeah, I am.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t mean this in a presumptuous way, but, do you want to come to mine? I know that’s not, like, a date--but, it can be nicer to do something quiet, sometimes.”

You knew what he meant--you knew enough from Glenne to know that if he was seen out in public with you there’d be all sorts of whispers about what it was and what it meant. You didn’t tell him, but you figured somewhere private was a better place to have the conversation you had to have.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Uh, tomorrow? Sunday?”

“Tomorrow’s good--if that works.”

“Sure,” he said. “I can text you my address. Do you want to say around seven?”

“Sure. Yeah, okay. I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah, looking forward to it, Y/N, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You hung up, wiped at the sweat that had formed on your forehead, and stared in the mirror. It wasn’t terrible. It was awkward, sure, but he didn’t say no and he didn’t seem to think you were crazy or weird or totally out of line asking to see him again.

You composed a message to Lexi and Glenne.

Y/N L/N (2:31pm): I’m seeing him tomorrow.

Glenne Christiaansen (2:34pm): Thank god. I seriously felt like Jeff could tell something was up this morning.

Y/N L/N (2:35pm): Well don’t be weird with him!

Lexi MacMillan (2:37pm): Glenne if you fuck anything up so help me god.

Glenne Christiaansen (2:39pm): I’m not going to! I’m a bad liar so I would appreciate it if we could get this out in the open asap.

Lexi MacMillan (2:39pm): Glenne...not really about you 🙄

Glenne Christiaansen (2:39pm): I’m not trying to rush you, I just feel bad knowing!

Y/N L/N (2:40pm): I know. I’m telling him tomorrow.

Y/N L/N (2:41pm): He said I could come to his house. So, we’ll see. I’ll keep you updated.

It wasn’t as far of a drive as you remembered. Maybe the high levels of cortisol coursing through you sped things up, or maybe it was the adrenaline of having just hung up with your mom.

She knew something was up--she always knew. She called you in the morning and you couldn’t do it, you pretended all was fine and you told her that you were about to head to the grocery store. She didn’t really buy it but she let you go.

And when you got in the car around 6:15 and found yourself with enough traffic on Santa Monica Boulevard, the guilt started to creep in again. So you dialed her number, put the phone on speaker, and made her promise to not freak out.

She’d always been the type of mom who could keep a straight face--one who played it cool even when you told her you got detention or pricey parking ticket. She raised you by herself after she split with your dad, a guy who lived somewhere outside of Las Vegas with a new wife and a new daughter.

She was quiet when you said it. A few seconds ticked by before she spoke. Are you sure? You took a test? Who’s the father?

You know my friend Glenne? You know how her boyfriend is also in the music business?

She couldn’t believe it at first--a name she’d heard a few times on TV or even from you. She asked the inevitable: what are you going to do?

You told her you didn’t know. You swore you’d think it all through and keep her updated, talked her down and convinced her she didn’t need to drive down to LA from the sleepy town of Santa Paula, where you grew up on bicycles and with books in your small bedroom, reaching for a future that was always bigger than your small town.

So sure, maybe you had a plan. As a kid you always thought about being an adult--the steps in the following order: college, job, husband, promotion, kids. Scattered in between there was the possibility of a pet, maybe even relocating outside of the city--a house with a pool, for sure.

None of it included an unplanned pregnancy fathered by someone like him. It hadn’t ever crossed your mind.

You cried a bit more after you hung up--your mom reminded you that you didn’t have to keep a brave face for her, but after all this time, you were used to it.

So at least, when you pressed the button on the gate that somehow paged him inside, you felt a bit more confident about your ability to spit out the words without throwing up or crying. That was a win.

“Hey--it should open now,” his voice was muffled through the speaker, the gate started to hum before it separated, revealing a white house tucked in the hills, a smooth driveway and a view of the city.

He greeted you at the front door, a smile on his face when you lifted your sunglasses.

“Hi,” he said. “Find your way okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, a nod. “It vaguely felt familiar, I definitely remember drunkenly looking out the windows on the ride home.”

He laughed--apparently comfortable enough to skip over the whole awkward we slept together phase. He stepped aside and held the door open, allowing you to step into the main foyer.

That’s when it came back--laughing as you followed him up the stairs and down the hall, a drink in your hand. The view is priceless, he said. He showed you his bedroom, the twinkly lights of Los Angeles looked like snowflakes when you blurred your eyes, he joked that maybe you both drank too much.

You sat beside him on the bed, told him about the time Glenne came to visit in college and you realized that there was someone who could put Lexi in her place.

Before you knew it his hands were on your skin, your fingers fumbling with the button of his pants. You told him he didn’t have to, insecurity washed through you when you realized this type of event was probably usually reserved for models or actresses. Shouldn’t it be Lexi in your place? Someone taller and thinner and prettier and richer?

“I’d give you a tour,” he said, pulling you back to the present, “but you’ve already seen it.”

You held back a smile. “I remember it all from, you know, sneaking out in the middle of the night.”

“Right, very rude of you, really,” he smiled, crossed his arms over his chest. An awkward pause. “I would have reached out, but, I dunno--I guess I thought you didn’t want me to since you left.”

You opened your mouth to speak but then licked your lips. “No--I was just, I didn’t want to impose.”

“Well, you missed what would have been a delicious breakfast.”

Quiet for a second, you were glad he was playful, friendly, flirty, even. You knew you were about to kill any sort of mood there might be.

“Listen--uh, I actually have something to tell you.”

He tilted his head to the side, a curious smile on his face, just like when you told Glenne. He watched you, dimpled cheeks, as if you were about to admit you’d been thinking about him, wishing he’d call, hoping to see him again.

For a second you wondered if it was the right move, telling him at all. Maybe it wasn’t his problem. Maybe he’d hate you and be angry or maybe he’d think you did it on purpose, a claim to fame or a 401k cash in. Maybe you were better off navigating the waters of motherhood alone. Alternatively, maybe you took the other path. Easier for everyone, right?

But he looked too curious, too innocent, too pure. He noticed the emotion on your face, the water that had pooled in your eyes. His expression changed, furrowed brows and a twitch in his lips before you spit it out.

“I’m pregnant.”

Again. Quiet--the typical response at this point. Something you were used to. You could see a plane in the distance, on final approach to LAX. Somewhere in the world there were people laughing and hugging and somewhere there were scenes much happier than this one.

“Uh--I--,” he shook his head, blinked a few times, almost like he didn’t quite understand. “Because of us?”

A nod. You didn’t feel like divulging the same information about how there was no other possibility, especially to someone like him--someone who was surely much more sexually active than you were.

“You’re sure?”

Another nod. You reached into your purse and pulled out the papers you had printed that afternoon. The results from Dr. Weston’s office. Numbers and words you didn’t really understand. “Here--I, uh, I have these.”

He blinked again, took them in his hands and looked down at them. He licked his lips and then rubbed at his neck. “What’s all this mean?”

“It’s just the test results. I did two myself, you know, the pee on a stick ones. Then a urine sample at the doctor and a blood test, too. Four positive results.”

He was quiet, the lack of noise and words seemed to spike emotion in you, more water in your eyes became tears on your cheeks. He still stared at the paper.

A part of you wanted to turn around, leave, drive back to your house and climb into bed. Maybe then it would feel like none of this was happening. But you were frozen, feet stuck on the floor in his foyer, staring at the stubble on his chin and the necklace that hung around his neck.

A shaky breath. “I’m sorry--I was--we used a condom, I don’t know how it happened.”

He looked up at you quickly, the rawness of your voice and cracks between words seemed to grab his attention. “Will you, uh, take a test in front of me?”

That made you stop crying really quick. “W-what?” A sniffle when you wiped at your face.

“It’s just, to be sure. I don’t--sometimes people do this to people like me, and--”

“Are you insinuating that I’m--” you looked around, not even sure what to call it. “Making this up?”

“It’s not you--I would ask that of anyone.”

Your lips parted, you stared past his shoulder and into the living room.

Let me give you a tour, he’d said, dimples on his cheeks when he looked down at you that night. Sat on the edge of the couch, he stood above you, handed Lexi another drink before he introduced himself.

We’ve already met, you teased. You recounted your first meeting, jogged his memory by describing the dress you wore, the restaurant you went to. It had been six months earlier. I’m Y/N, you said. Your name brought it all back for him.

Back in the room, he shifted his weight on his feet. You thought on it for a second. You’d expected him to be shocked and surprised--even angry or disinterested would have been understandable. You didn’t, for a second, think that he might not believe you.

It made sense, as much as you hated to admit it. You were sure that somewhere out there was a person who would make this type of thing up--news outlets covered stories like that all the time.

But this--the upheaval of everything you’d come to know--you wished you were making it up. You weren’t someone he met in some hotel bar with something to gain. You were a friend of a friend, wrong place, wrong time.

“Look--someone will make us do that anyway. Jeff or someone would insist that I have more proof. And I can’t just tell them I took your word for it.”

Another reminder of the distance between you. The fact that Harry drove a Tesla and you had a Honda. The fact that now they were his friends and you were the outsider--the one screwing it all up. And now your friends had to choose sides, and apparently, Jeff was already on Harry’s before he even knew about it.

“I mean--fine, I can show you the two I already took. I’ll take another, and you can see it, if you want.”

He nodded. “Yeah, m’sorry, that’s just probably for the best.”

He offered to drive--promised your car would be safe in his driveway until you could come back for it. So you endured the nearly forty minute drive back to your house in quasi-silence, save for the voices from the radio that didn’t break the tension.

He asked about work, you pretended to be interested in the upcoming release of his music. But the long pauses and sideways glances made it feel like you both knew the questions were obligatory and forced and surface, a lazy attempt at ignoring the obvious.

You pointed out a spot for him to park near the sidewalk, beneath the willow tree across the street that always left pollen on your windshield. He followed you across the road, up to the front door in your snug residential neighborhood.

“Hi,” you called into the living room, knowing that Lexi had the day off from filming. With your luck at this point, she’d probably be naked (or halfway there) in the kitchen. High as a kite or asleep on the couch.

“Hey! How’d it--oh.”

She appeared from her bedroom, eyes wide when she took in the sight of Harry trailing behind you. You ignored the flush on his cheeks and the shy smile he threw in her direction.

It must have hit him--Lexi knew. Lexi--who Harry had known for at least three or four years now--offered a wave in his direction and tried to play it cool.

“Hi Lexi.”

“He wants me to pee on a stick again,” you said flatly.

She pulled her head back, a smirk on her face when she turned to Harry. “Really?”

He let out a sigh and shrugged his shoulders. “Do you want to know what could happen if I believed every woman who’s ever said that to me?”

“There’s been multiple?” Lexi looked at him like he was crazy.

“Well--like, two. But they were both absolutely mental.”

You walked into the bathroom and knelt down, digging through the cabinet below the sink for another test. After you took the first you bought another box--two inside.

You grabbed it and stood, going to shut the door. “Well, I’ll be back.”

“Wait,” he said, shoving his hands in the pocket of his pants. “Can I--uh--come in?”

Lexi’s face twisted. “You wanna watch?”

“Well, how do I know that you’re not pregnant and she’s using your, you know, sample?”

Lexi looked over at you and raised her eyebrows, some type of this is unreal look on her face.

“Fine,” you said, defeated. “Come over here.”

He stepped into the bathroom beside you and offered an uncomfortable smile, squeezing by you when you shut the door. He sat on the edge of the bathtub and stared at his hands. You pulled down your pants, sat, and then waited.

He looked up quickly, then back down at the floor. Then back up. “Well--are you gonna go?”

“I need a second,” you said. “I’m not used to peeing in front of strangers.”

“M’not a stranger,” he made a face as if it hurt his feelings. You weren’t about to fight with him--now didn’t seem like a good time to define the relationship. “Here,” he reached up to twist the faucet, a stream of water fell into the sink.

That helped. You held the stick in place and capped it when you were done, placing it on the sink. You flushed and stood up as if this was all in a day’s work.

“Now we wait?”

You leaned forward to wash your hands. “Doesn’t take long--apparently I’m super pregnant.”

He let out a bit of a laugh at that, a tension breaking chuckle before he picked it up. He pushed out his lips, staring down at it as if it wasn’t as threatening as you’d always felt.

“Plus sign,” he flipped it towards you, offering you a view.

You nodded.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

He was quiet, staring at the plastic in his hands before he put it back down.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “We used a condom.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to--we didn’t mean to. Aren’t you on birth control?”

You nodded. “I was switching to a new one around then--but my doctor said it should be just as effective,” the anxiety grew with each word, the scenarios ran through your head, what you could have done differently, if you should have left right after, cursing yourself for enjoying the sex even though it resulted in this.

“I don’t know what to do,” you said, wiping at your cheeks to hide the evidence of the tears. You hardly knew him--crying in what suddenly felt like the world’s smallest bathroom didn’t seem like a great get to know you exercise.

He seemed alarmed by the emotion again, a look of uncertainty crossed his face. “Me neither--I mean, I’m supposed to put out this album and then go on tour and I’ve never--”

A knock on the door, Lexi pushed it open, an inquisitive look on her face. “Everything okay?”

“No,” you both spoke at the same time.

“Oh good,” Lexi said sarcastically to him, “you’re losing your shit over it too!”

“S’not exactly the best timing, right now, Lexi.” He stepped past you on the white tile, slipping out of the bathroom and making his way for the living room.

You followed behind him. “It’s not good timing for me either, if you were wondering!”

He turned around quickly. “I know--I didn’t mean it like that, I just--you’ve had a few days to sit with this, right? M’just finding out now so excuse the panic.”

You took a breath, watched as he paced on the carpet and ran a hand through his hair. He stopped suddenly, looked up to Lexi.

“Does Glenne know?”

She looked over to you, your call, Harry did the same.

“Great--so Jeff knows! Is that why he hasn’t returned my phone calls?”

“Jeff doesn’t know,” you said quickly. “She promised not to tell him until I talked to you.”

“And you believed her?! She can have quite the mouth, for fuck’s sake!”

“She didn’t say anything, relax,” Lexi tried to settle him, her voice more collected than yours had been all week. “I talked to her a while ago. She’s freaking out, too.”

He flopped down on the couch, a big sigh before he looked up at you again. “Are you--do you want to keep it?”

“I don’t know.”

He nodded, almost like he expected the answer.

“I wanted to talk to you first.”

He nodded again, eyes still wide. “Okay.”

“Can you just breathe, with me, for a second?” You moved to sit beside him, body angled towards his so he could watch you. In and out, in and out.

It already felt like you were ruining his life, the last thing you needed was for him to have a heart attack on your sofa.

He settled a bit at that, another nod to reassure you that he was getting enough air. “Sorry--I just, this is big.”

“I know,” you said. “For me too.”

“Yeah.”

Lexi was still stood in the center of the room, watching the scene unfold. When you looked up at her, she tilted her head. “I was gonna order a pizza--are you guys hungry?”

When Harry left the house that night he promised he’d see you the next day. Not only did you need your car, but you figured it’d be easier to actually talk some things through after a good night of sleep and some time to think.

There was a part of you that wondered if he’d actually follow through--show up at your house at 10am like he said he would. Maybe he’d catch the soonest flight back to London and change his number, barring Jeff and Glenne from ever speaking to you again.

The pizza was a good call on Lexi’s part. It turned out that when he had some food in him, he was remarkably less anxious. See? You’ll be fine. He’s just like a toddler! Lexi teased after he left.

She sat on your bed with you that night and just listened. First you told her about the way he looked when you first said it, the blinking and the staring and the shuffling of his feet. Then about the car ride and the radio and the way you pretended that you didn’t notice how often he tried to look over at you on the freeway.

You had no idea where he was at--you had no idea what he was thinking or what type of person he was. He was a stranger, really, someone who sometimes happened to run in the same circle as you and someone who now had a good reason to never want to see you again.

Lexi said she was glad that he wanted to talk again in the morning, glad that he knew and agreed that it would be best for him to tell Jeff in a few days, once the two of you had more time to talk.

You were glad, too.

“I think he’s here,” she peered out the window, the Saturday sun fought its way through early morning fog.

Your phone started buzzing in your hand--a call, not a text. You answered it. “Hello?”

“Hey--s’me. I’m outside.”

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll be right out.”

“Don’t be too long,” Lexi said, watching as you reached for the denim jacket on the back of the door. “Are we still watching SNL tonight?”

“Yeah--yeah, we will.”

“Okay,” she seemed to eye you suspiciously. “Call me if he’s being a fucking asshole, okay?”

“Okay.”

She waved you out the door, watched as you climbed inside the dark black car that was parked at the end of the walkway.

“Hi--oh, hi,” the seatbelt seemed to lurch forward on it’s own, making it easier to grab hold of once you sat down. “Glenne’s doesn’t do this.”

“S’the newer model.”

Of course it was.

“Are you hungry? I know you need your car, but I figured we could grab something to eat.”

You nodded, pushing sunglasses down to cover your eyes. “Sure, yeah.”

He accelerated, the car whirred, electric, and he adjusted a few buttons in the front. “Are you feeling alright?”

“What do you mean?”

He stole another sideways glance in your direction. “Like--you’re not nauseous yet, are you?”

“Oh--” you stopped to think about it. “No. But food tastes funny--kind of metallic, almost? I don’t know if that’s related. I’m only four weeks at this point, that’s what the email from Dr. Weston said.”

“Dr. Weston?”

“My OBGYN.”

“Right. When did you see her?”

“Wednesday.”

A left turn out of your neighborhood. You’d caught him up on all of that the night before. The appointment, telling your mom--he listened with wide eyes, pizza in hand.

“When do you go again?”

“Next week. She said we can talk about options.”

“Oh--should I, maybe, come to that?”

You hadn’t thought about that. It certainly was too early to do an ultrasound, you figured the appointment was a nice way for Dr. Weston to let you know the options for termination, if that’s what you wanted. A shift in your seat, a nervousness when you looked over at him. “If you want, yeah.”

He nodded, quiet for a little as he drove. He was heading for closer to Santa Monica, you didn’t ask where and you figured it didn’t matter. Breakfast sounded nice.

He eventually turned into a parking lot for a small cafe--one that you heard Jeff mention in the past--with ivy running up the outside trellis that provided some patio shade from the mid-May sun. “The scones here are really good.”

You tried not to laugh. “Scones are probably the worst breakfast pastry.”

“What?” His voice went all high as if you’d said something truly offensive. He pulled out his chair and sat, a casual outfit of athletic shorts and a sweatshirt. Sunglasses--presumably for disguise.

“Yeah,” you said, a bored shrug. “Too dry. Muffins are much better.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he looked over the menu that the hostess had dropped off, took a sip of his water before looking up at you.

“Look, I want to just tell you I’m sorry for freaking out last night. I know this isn’t easy for you, either.”

You nodded. “It’s not ideal for either of us, I guess.”

He nodded. Fumbled with the straw wrapped between his fingers. “What are your thoughts on--” he paused, seemingly uncomfortable. “Ending it?”

You shrugged, feeling mostly disconnected from whatever bundle of cells had implanted on your uterine lining. “I don’t know--it would probably be easier.”

He watched you, an unreadable look on his face. He rubbed at his lips and nodded. “You don’t have to. That’s a big decision. I just didn’t know what your thoughts were--in general.”

“I don’t really know what they are. What are yours?”

He laughed a little. “I don’t know. I’ve never had to think much about it.”

The waitress appeared, a look of shock when he smiled up at her, the realization spread over her face before she scribbled down your orders.

Pink on his cheeks when she left. “Sorry.”

You smiled. “I’m surprised you can be in the sunlight without people following you around.”

He rolled his eyes, let out a playful sigh. “Some days are better than others. This spot is typically safe, though.”

The waitress came back quick with coffees--you were sure to not confuse her eagerness to be near him as prompt service.

“So--who have you told, again?”

“Just Lexi and Glenne. And my mom.”

“No one else?”

“No. Have you told anyone?”

He pushed the tiny boat of coffee creamer towards you. “No. I just went to bed last night and tried to sleep.”

Another wave of guilt. You were sure he had better things to do than stare at the ceiling thinking about abortion or full term or the possibility that something would go wrong.

“They say you’re not supposed to tell people, you know--before it’s too soon.”

“Right, what is it? Three months?”

“Yeah--twelve weeks. That’s when something is likely to happen. But, look--I get it, if you can’t do this. No matter what I end up doing, I won’t be mad if you’re not able to be around.”

The words came out more quickly than you expected, as if saying them would prevent the damage from spreading. Like a bandaid, pulled off quickly, you placed the proposition on the table.

He made a face at that, looked down, twisted the rings on his fingers and then sighed. “I wouldn’t do that--I don’t want to.”

“Yeah, but, come on. I mean--you’re busy and this doesn’t really align with your lifestyle.”

He quirked an eyebrow, almost challenging you with a smirk. “And what do you know about my lifestyle?”

You picked up a spoon and stirred the coffee in front of you. “Well--I don’t know. I just, I don’t want you to feel like this means you’re, you know, trapped.”

He nodded, thinking. He licked his lips and pushed his mouth to one side. “I appreciate that.”

He asked where you were when you found out. You told him about the tiled floor of the bathroom at work, the way it cooled your hot skin when you were sure you’d pass out. You told him about the second test, the one you’d taken at home with Lexi, and the ice cream cone you had after you went to the doctor.

He asked where you were from, said he’d never heard of Santa Paula. He told you that he had fun with you that night, said that he thought about calling you after you left, decided he didn’t want to scare you off.

He drove you back to his house and pointed out the window, showing you a hiking trail nearby that he liked. He laughed when you made a joke--strapping a ten pound baby to your chest would level up any workout.

So you got your car and left, he didn’t hug you goodbye in the driveway and he said he’d call you--right after he figured out what he was going to tell his parents and his manager. You were about to the shut the door of your Honda when he jogged over to the driver’s side window.

“When was that appointment again? With Dr. Westfield?”

“Weston,” you corrected. “Thursday, 4pm, I think.”

He nodded, his hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. “Okay--I’ll come.”

table of contents | talk to me + join the tag list

author’s note: woohooo! alright, well, there’s that!!!! so excited to share the rest with you all!

tag list: @stepping-into-the-light @thurhomish @afterstylesmadeit @iconicharry @stylesfics-xx @harryspirate @mellamolayla @harryinsweatersandbandanas @stylesfantasy @clorenafila @mell-love @anssu-amry @yelllowgrass @bullseyeskay @littlesoldierelleora @styles217 @rachkon @c-h-e-r-r-y-y @myhat @rosegoldbel @passionate-dreamerr @grammyforstyles @dontgiveupthedayjob @ursamajor603 @craic-head-horan @heavenspidey @talk-british-2-me-britbritharry @blackxxmagicc @winter-soldier-007 @ssllbb @wanderlustiing @jdcharliewhiskey

#unplanned #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles story #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles drabble #one direction fan fiction #1dff

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nightklok · 3 years

Text

Why hello it's time for me to be a nuisance and post my detailed Picklegail manifesto after a year of keeping this hidden underground, now it will be raised upground as part of my revenge plan-Under the cut is how I would've wanted their relationship to progress throughout the series-I converted a twitter thread i had into something readable so apologies if some things still don't make sense sdflkj

I like the challenge of trying to keep key elements of the show the same so Abigail won't be introduced until season 4 because I am like this. However, she would be mentioned in passing throughout the series by Pickles. The scene where Nathan mentions wanting to be a regular jackoff in Dethdoubles would probably have a few more lines by Pickles about 'settling down with that nice person you still think about' though the rest of the guys would think it's weird to think that. This would officially start in Snakes N' Barrels Part 2, the scene where Pickles began describing LA.

"Oh yeah, here's where I hosted my first concert in this small club. Got to meet a lot of fans and stuff. Especially this one girl, shit, wonder where she's at now."

This would also kinda explain why Pickles never even seemed to show interest in finding romantic partners throughout the series; almost everyone had an episode where they had a crush on someone even if it never went anywhere in the end. Pickles just never bothered dating because he knew that finding someone genuine as a celebrity was tough and he knew he wouldn't be connected as well as he did with that girl he met back in the 80s. There might also be a scene in Rehabklok where the doctors mention 'letting go of the past', which could also mean both letting go of his trauma from his family and letting go of the idea that he will get the relationship he really missed.

Season 4 comes around and now they all meet. Nathan notices how Pickles looked at Abigail like you would with trying to figure out if you recognize someone.

Nathan: "oh hey was she the chick you went out with back in the 80s?" Pickles: "Ehhh I dunno she is familiar though"

Will it get addressed by the characters? Probably not. Will it instead be painfully dragged out long because the readers will know? Yes, as per the MTL way :D

The two do eventually get some alone time. Abigail interacts with Nathan, Skwisgaar, and him one on one since they're the brains of the band and she wants to get through to them to help get progress on the album. Pickles and Abigail would get more one-on-one time; he especially becomes her translator when it comes to trying to understand what the boys are talking about when brainstorming.

They end up warming up to each other, making jokes, and probably the first time they really did comfy with each other was when Abigail asked Pickles to read the sheet music and he says seriously “I can’t read music”. she laughs thinking it’s a joke (he’s really not)

Abigail: “You know, I met someone back in the 80s who wanted to be a musician but didn’t know how to read music.”

Pickles: “Really? That’s crazy haha wonder if I met em too”

(this is in fact to piss readers off. There will be more dialogue to describe how oblivious the two really are.)

In the background of this, Nathan would be trying to impress Abigail. Her mistake would be beating around the bush instead of telling him upfront, causing very minor miscommunication.

But overall, the progress in the album is coming faster than ever thanks to Abigail's efforts. Though once again Nathan gets the dreams telling him the album isn't ready.

Pickles and Abigail pull an all-nighter to finish one of the last tracks. They get to talking a lot more about their personal lives, finding themselves having quite a bit in common. Abigail mentions meeting a singer back in the 80s who had inspired her to take up music production. After all, it would've been very hard for her to go to college at the time but the man had his own secrets too (being LGBT+ in the 80s) and he somehow managed to be successful. They don't kiss despite the tension but they do fall asleep on the couch together. Nathan sneaks into the recording studio while they're asleep and assumes they're dating which made him quickly back off on trying to flirt with Abigail. It would also make Nathan feel guilty as he realizes that Pickles is still mad at him if he won't tell him about his relationship. However, he wasn't there for that.

He catches the glow of the monitor and sees the album is almost finished. It isn't ready. He quietly attempts to delete it but the light of the monitor changing for him to delete the files slowly wakes Pickles up. He is groggy but then he realizes what's going on and attempts to stop Nathan but once again he's too late.

Abigail wakes up and quickly snaps out of her grogginess when Pickles explains frantically what happened. They both yell at Nathan for destroying their months of progress but Nathan only says, “it’s not ready. We need a better album. Trust me.” But since he doesn’t give a thorough explanation it’s hard to trust him.

Now is Going Downklok. They are in the submarine, Nathan is trying to fix things between him and Pickles but Pickles won’t have it. So he decides instead to let Abigail and him have as much free time as possible.

Nathan just talks about how great Pickles is to Abigail, accidentally dropping hints that she may have known him as the guy from before. And he does the same to pickles though he doesn’t talk to him much anymore and ignores him.

Pickles and Abigail are once again alone at the recording studio, both ranting their frustrations over working with the album once again. Eventually, it carried over to their own personal lives. And finally, they have the braincells to realize that maybe they did meet so many years ago. The room is so stuffy it feels like a sauna and only adds to the growing tension between. It only increased when they tried to leave the studio to remain as professional as possible but one of them instead locks the door. They both end up making out and eventually having sex in the recording studio.

Years of pent-up frustration, loneliness, and overall everything that had led up to the moment washed over. They decide to keep a secret relationship afterward because even though they did find each other, much like in the past, they found each other at the wrong time.

The dinner scene comes up. The two sit feet apart just to make sure no one would be suspicious. Nathan is at his height of frustration because he knows he had to delete the album but everyone is mad at him. He gets a little too drunk, and like the friend he is, outs their Relationship like a drunken wedding speech. Pickles quickly refutes that, instead he screamed at him over broken trust, deleting the second album that Charles had made sure the public wasn't aware and finally decided to quit the band. The news spreads like wildfire.

Abigail is quickly put to blame however it lasted very short since there became other conspiracies surrounding it. Nathan did say quite a lot after all to the point where it’s clear Abigail wasn’t part of the equation. But of course, some people blame her still and she decides to lay low. Pickles has to deal with his own consequences too so he decides to stay at her parents’ place with her as they wait for the news to blow over. While he’s happy to finally be with her, he does miss music terribly. Specifically, he misses playing with Dethklok.

She reminds him he can always talk to Nathan to sort things out but he knows Nathan isn't the type to apologize. The day of the concert comes, things happen as expected in the show. He doesn’t come home because they are in the submarine and he has to explain everything to her through a phone call where he’s beginning to break down, saying he has a terrible feeling that things will never be the same. She tries to calm him down but given how Selacia’s appearance is all over the news, she has the same feeling. They reunite briefly before the funeral.

I haven’t decided on the official ending so here’s ending one:

Toki offers to give up his seat so Pickles can sit next to her. He accepts as he doesn’t want to sit anywhere near Nathan. Magnus seems bothered but doesn’t say anything. There would be a funny scene of them just recreating 'Hello Magnus' 'Hello Pickles' once again.

But Magnus' tension quickly dies down when he hears them whisper to each other. He sees them hold hands discreetly and relaxes.

Magnus: "So I see the rumors are true between you two?"

Pickles: "I-yeah. What are you gonna fuckin' do about it?"

Magnus: "Nah, nothing. Just happy for you, is all."

Magnus does gain Pickles' trust enough to let his guard down by just sharing small talk. When the service begins, MMA texts Magnus over why Toki is sitting so far and how the plan is ruined. Magnus is hesitant to respond for a few moments (regret over what's to come, perhaps?) but he goes through and texts back that there is a change of plans but this plan would be better.

Well, couples would do anything to make sure the other is safe in such extreme circumstances.This plan could be much better, after all.

Ending two: pretty much exactly as canon. Pickles probably a lot more emotional- The end :D

#metalocalypse #pickles the drummer #abigail remeltindtdrinc #picklegail #my writing #I am surprised i managed to get this down #was it wise to post this when the big talk is the movie?#maybe but its part of the plan I think fskjl #gonna @ this to brendon small as my cover letter to let me be a writer just wait fdjld

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jumukus · 4 years

Text

A3! Translation: A3! Anime Blu-Ray & DVD Volume 3′s Drama CD Bonus “SEASON SUMMER EXTRA EPISODE vol.01″

Tenma goes on a journey to look for grape juice after losing a game with Yuki. (Thank you to @bishounenpalace for sharing the audio files with me!)

You can buy the item here.

Yuki: Good work today~. *sighs* It's finally over.

Muku: Nice work, guys. Today's rehearsal was pretty tiring, huh, there's a lot of things we need to remember.

Tenma: Hey, why did you sound so defeated over this much? Will you be okay?

Listen, since our show is fast approaching, we've gotta--.

Yuki: Yeah, yeah. Just save the rest for the theater troupe's blog.

Tenma: What did you say--.

Kazunari: Good work, Tenten!

Tenma: Urgh...! Don't hug me, Miyoshi!

Misumi: Kazunari and Tenma get along so well~! Lemme join too!

Tenma: Argh, stop it! That's enough!

Muku: I'm sorry!

Yuki: Why are you apologizing?

Muku: It's because I made complaints soon after our rehearsal… I truly am just a weak, useless, slow and stupid bird…

Tenma and Yuki: No one said that.

Kazunari: Now, now, guys. It's also thanks to Director-chan's strict coaching that we've all improved this much.

Misumi: Yup, yup! We've got a full triangle score for today's rehearsal~.

Yuki: What kind of score is that?

Tenma: Ugh… I'm going back first.

Muku: Where are you going, Tenma-kun?

Tenma: Huh? I'm just returning to my own room. You have any problems with that?

Yuki: You're heading to the entrance, though.

Tenma: Ugh…! I-I know that much…!

Kazunari: Don't tell me you're…

Tenma: No! I just had something to do at the entrance.

Yuki: Hmm? Elaborate please.

Tenma: Huh? Uhh… That's… I wanted to make sure the door was locked...and our shoes… In any case, I have a lot to do!

*steps away*

Misumi: *sighs* He's gone~.

Muku: It's kind of surprising.

Kazunari: Tenten is so cwutee!

Yuki: What is that hack doin' trying to look cool like that?

***

Tenma: 62...63...64…

Yuki: Hey.

Tenma: 65… What?

Yuki: I don't mind you doing sit-ups here, but… Don't put your legs on my side.

Tenma: Huuh? It's not like I can't help it, y'know? Our room is small. And it's not like I can have my own room.

Yuki: All I'm saying is you need to be mindful of your surroundings a little bit more, hack.

Tenma: The he… Which part of me is a hack!?

Yuki: It's the fact that you can't read the mood, you don't have common sense… and the fact that you're de…

Tenma: Enough! In that case, I'll prove to you that you're wrong.

Yuki: Hmmm? Shall we have a Shiritori game to see how much common sense you have?

Tenma: Shiritori? That's easy.

Yuki: Easy? Since you say so, can I decide on the theme? If you lose, you've gotta bring some juice at the kitchen here.

Tenma: Fine. Got it.

Yuki: Alright. Let's go with needlework as the theme.

Tenma: Needlework? ...F-Fine.

Yuki: I'm going first. Pattern paper. (Katagami)

Tenma: Pattern paper? Mi… Mi…

Yuki: What? Losing already? It's the one you use when you make clothes.

Tenma: Oh, I get it! Hmph, I knew it. This is so easy! Sewing machine! (Misin)

***

Yuki: Get me grape juice. The one with some soda in it.

Tenma: Why are you treating me like a gofer…

Yuki: You lost the game. I'm thirsty, so hurry up.

Tenma: Urgh…!

*slams door*

***

Muku: Ahh… the weather is nice outside~. Even the sky looks pretty. ...Hm?

Tenma: The kitchen… should be here… right?

Muku: Tenma-kun?

Tenma: …! Huh, it's just you, Sakisaka.

Muku: What are you doing in front of the bathroom? I don't think the water is warm enough around this time.

Tenma: Bathroom? What are you saying? This is…

*door opens*

Tenma: A bathroom.

Muku: Oh. Are you perhaps… lost?

Tenma: WHAAT!? N-No! There's...There's no way I'll get lost in the dorm, you know!

Muku: Y-You have a point! U-Umm… So what are you doing, Tenma-kun?

Tenma: I'm just… grabbing some juice.

Muku: Uhh… In the bathroom?

Tenma: U-ugh… There are some, you know! I saw it when I was filming a scene in a public bathhouse late at night!

Muku: W-Well, I do think there are juices in the public bathhouse, but… Shall we go together to the kitchen, then? I also want to go grab some drinks.

Tenma: I… I'll tag along if you say so.

Muku: Okay!

***

Muku: Hmm… Guess I'll drink the barley tea. How about you, Tenma-kun?

Tenma: Grape juice, with some soda in it.

Muku: Do we have that here… Umm, nope. Do you want any other juice instead?

Tenma: No.

Muku: But the other juices are just as delicious…

Tenma: I've made a promise with Rurikawa, more or less.

Muku: Oh, I see. It's for Yuki-kun. You're so kind, Tenma-kun.

Tenma: You've got it wrong! It's because I lo… No, I mean, things happened. Why should I willingly do something for Rurikawa, anyway?

Muku: You two are close, huh. I'm jealous.

Tenma: HUUH!? H-How!? Why should I get along with him when we don't even click? We just happened to be joining the same theater troupe and aiming to make this play a success.

Muku: You see, I'll be so happy if all of us in the Summer Troupe can spend joyful and sad time together.

Tenma: Rather than us as a group… we should be working hard on our own, you know. No one will save you if you fail on the stage.

Muku: You have a point, but…

Tenma: Hmph. I'm going out for a bit, then.

Muku: Huh? Where are you going?

Tenma: Buying the grape juice, of course. We don't have it here.

Muku: He should be fine with other drinks, though.

Tenma: No. A promise is a promise. Besides, I'm just going to a convenience store nearby.

Muku: Do you know where it is?

Tenma: Of course I do! I've seen it countless times when Igawa takes me around by car.

Muku: Umm… In that case, it should be alright… I guess.

Tenma: Hmph. Of course.

***

Tenma: Hmm, it's farther than I thought.

Kazunari: Ooooh! I found Tenten!

Tenma: Oh, hey, Miyoshi. What are you doing at such a place?

Kazunari: Such a place… This is near our dorm, you know?

Tenma: What!? No way! It's been around an hour since I left the dorm!

Kazunari: Look behind you, Tenten.

Tenma: Huh? Behind me?

Kazunari: Can you see Sumi's big triangle roof right there?

Tenma: Y-Yeah. Hey, what's happening here!?

Kazunari: Umm.. Maybe you're going the same way over and over again? Where are you heading, anyway?

Tenma: I just want to go to the nearby convenience store…

Kazunari: Let's go together, then! Going to a convenience store with a celeb is surely something else!

Tenma: Ugh… I've told you, don't hug me! You can just tell me the way--.

Kazunari: But we're friends, right!? Don't say such a thing! Let's go together!

Tenma: Ugh… Fine, fine! Get off me!

***

Yuki: *sighs* I got so thirsty because of that hack.

Muku: What's wrong, Yuki-kun?

Yuki: I wanna drink some juice since it's hot.

Muku: Hmm? How about Tenma-kun?

Yuki: I should be the one asking that here. I told him to bring me some juice but he hasn't come back ever since.

Muku: Huh? Tenma-kun is not back yet?

Yuki: I should have expected the oh-so-great Tenma would not keep his promise.

Muku: I don't think that's the case…

Yuki: I dunno about that. Maybe his pride is just so high he can't forgive the fact that he lost a game.

Muku: But Tenma-kun said, "A promise is a promise." Maybe he's still looking for your grape juice outside.

Yuki: What? He can just take any juice. I get tired of waiting.

Muku: Let's try waiting a little bit longer.

Yuki: I'm thirsty, though, and I want to drink this juice.

Muku: I’m begging you, Yuki-kun! Believe in Tenma-kun!

Yuki: *sighs*... Why do I have to go along with that hack… Fine, I'll just have to wait, right?

Muku: Thank you, Yuki-kun!

***

Kazunari: As expected of Tenma! Celeb sure is different, huh~. They got so excited when they saw your face!

Tenma: *sighs* I usually wear sunglasses, though.

Kazunari: Why aren't you wearing it, then?

Tenma: It's because I left in a hurry. I even forgot to bring my phone.

Kazunari: Lemme give you nose glasses to help you disguise yourself next time!

Tenma: Don’t! ..But thanks for today.

Kazunari: Don't mind it! We're fellow Summer Troupe members, after all! We're friends!

Tenma: We're not friends! Fellow troupe members…well…

Misumi: Whoah! Kazu and Tenma!

Kazunari: Sumi! What are you doing?

Misumi: Looking for triangles~. Look look, this is the eldest of three triangle brothers!

Tenma: Ugh…! Where did you find those dolls!?

Misumi: They gave me these since I kept staring at them~.

Kazunari: Whoaah, that's so cool! Which one is the second son? It must be the one that… Hey, Tenten, where are you going?

Tenma: Dorm. I got what I find.

Kazunari: Huh, but…

Misumi: The dorm is this way, not that way.

Tenma: I just made a lil bit mistake! I'm going home!

Kazunari: Hold on, hold on! Let's go home together!

Misumi: Me too~.

Tenma: Do as you like.

Misumi: Oh, right! Lemme tell you something great~. You won't get lost if you make triangle clouds sign on your way. Triangle~ Triangle~.

Tenma: I-Is that so?

Kazunari: Tenten… So you really have a bad sense of direction?

Tenma: …! N-Not really. I just can't remember direction quickly. I’ve always had people take me around since childhood, so I don't have much chance to go out by myself.

Kazunari: Well, it can't be helped. Your parents are actors, after all. I'm sure you'll get used to it soon enough.

Misumi: Ah! See, if you follow this triangle cloud, you can see our triangle roof!

Tenma: …! I have no idea the convenience store is this close…

Kazunari: You might be bad at it right now, but I'm sure you'll be fine once you remember the direction little by little. We're also with you, after all.

Misumi: Yup! We're all friends~.

Tenma: Ugh… Well, you're right.

***

Kazunari: We're home~!

Misumi: We're home~.

Tenma: We're back.

Muku: Ah…! Welcome back, guys! Yuki-kun, Tenma-kun is home.

Yuki: I can't believe it took you this long… You really are a hack.

Tenma: Hey.

Yuki: What? Do you have anything you wanna say?

Tenma: Here, your grape juice, with some soda in it.

Yuki: ….

Tenma: Hmm? What now? Complaining again?

Yuki: Yeah, yeah, thanks.

Tenma: I've gone to the trouble to buy the juice--what's with that response!?

Yuki: Huuh? Do you know how long I wait for you? Besides, I've never told you to bring the exact juice I want.

Tenma: …! I-In that case, let's have another game! And then we'll settle…

Yuki: I refuse.

Tenma: But why!?

Yuki: Because you're annoying, and a hack.

Tenma: Which part of me is annoying!? And I'm not a hack!

Kazunari: You two sure are close!

Tenma and Yuki: In what way!?

Kazunari: See? You're in sync!

Muku: Ahaha.

Misumi: Tenma and Yuki are close!

Tenma and Yuki: We're not!

Kazunari: See!? Hahaha.

#a3!#a3! translation #summer troupe #tenma sumeragi #yuki rurikawa #muku sakisaka #misumi ikaruga #kazunari miyoshi

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aellynera · 4 years

Text

Don’t Forget the Napkins (Llewyn Davis x Reader)

DON’T FORGET THE NAPKINS

Word count: 2733(ish)

Warnings: Just a little bit of language, really (I mean, it’s Llewyn, so...) Like one sentence about Pappi’s creepy tendencies.

(with prompts: “Call me now, it’s urgent”; “Have you lost your mind”; and “So...can we go eat?”)

Another Saturday night at the Gaslight. There was nothing odd about that, it was where you spent pretty much every Saturday night for the past year and half, working behind the bar and waiting on the tables out by the stage when needed. Sure, it was dark, smoky, and kind of dingy, but it helped make ends meet and you got to listen to music for free.

The music is what you had first come to the Gaslight for, right after you graduated from college and moved to the big city. You loved the music and started coming in every chance you got, no matter who was on stage, just to sit in the room in the moment and experience the music. Pappi had taken a shine to you, said you reminded him of his little sister. You had no idea if he really had a sister, nor did you care, but it was certainly less creepy than Pappi telling you it was because he wanted to fuck you, so you let it slide. You had heard him make the latter suggestion to more performers than you cared to admit, but he was a decent boss and you got on well at the job, so it all worked out.

You had majored in English and wanted to be a famous writer, maybe even write some songs that people would talk about and still sing years from now, so where else would you go other than New York City? That’s where the culture was. That’s where the art scene was. That’s where the nightlife and bright lights and intellectuals were. And that’s also where Llewyn Davis was.

Llewyn. Now there was a riddle wrapped in an enigma inside a mystery.

You had seen him perform quite a few times at the Gaslight, and even bought his record when it came out. You talked to him just about every time he was there, because he always sat at the bar both before and after he performed. He had seemed quiet at first; well, he still did, really, but by now you knew the right combination of idle chit-chat, soft smiles, and whiskey straight up to get him to drop the first line of defense. Once that happened, he would talk to you all night. And if you weren’t busy, you’d let him. At some point, you had told him about your dreams of writing and creating songs that people wanted to sing (there was no way you were going to sing them yourself, at least not in public; your stage fright was too monumental and soul crushing). He had just looked at you thoughtfully for a moment, pushing one of his perfect dark curls off his face, then finished his drink and went up on the stage. When he came back, he ordered another drink and started up random conversation again. Then the night was over.

And that was his mystery - he spoke of many things, but he never really told you anything. You had an easy back and forth, a friendship even, but it felt like he never let on more than the bare minimum.

But the night after you had told him about the songwriting, you had come in to work and there was a note for you behind the bar. Two lines, scribbled on a napkin. You read them a few times and realized it was maybe the beginning of a poem...or lyrics. So you quickly wrote two more lines, and when Llewyn came in that night, you walked up to him and stuck the folded napkin in his pocket. He looked surprised, but you caught the slight upturn of his lips a few minutes later when he took it out, looked at it, and then carefully put it back in his pocket.

The next night, the napkin was back. Two more lines. So you added two more. The same thing the next day. And the next, and the day after that. It kind of became your thing, without anything else ever being said about it. Sometimes there was a whole verse written out and you would start a chorus, and vice versa. Once it was one word at a time and that had honestly gone off the rails pretty quickly, but it was fun.

And it had been going on for just about a year. You saw it as a mental game to keep your writing sharp and your brain engaged and your friend entertained. He certainly did more than his fair share in entertainment from his stool on the stage.

So when you got to work that night, it wasn’t a surprise to find another napkin meticulously folded and placed behind the bar where you normally stowed your pocketbook and keys. The place was more packed than usual, but there was some new guy named Dylan or something that was playing and there was a lot of buzz around him. So that was normal too. Smiling to yourself, you picked up the napkin and read the familiar scrawl.

Call me now, it’s urgent.

That was..not normal. Your face scrunched up in confusion, you quickly looked up and caught the mop of dark curls hunched over at the end of the bar. Grabbing a clean bar towel and the bottle of his favorite whiskey, you made your way over.

“Oh...good, you got my message,” he said, raising his eyes ever so slightly to meet yours over the rim of his tumbler. They were (beautiful and dark and compelling and soft and…) sort of glassy and red around the edges and maybe a little bloodshot? And was that a smirk inching its way onto his lips? You sighed.

“You’re sitting right here, Llewyn,” you said, taking the glass from his hand and refilling it without him asking. You pushed it back to him. “So thank you for saving me the dime.”

He snorted. “Come on, it was...a little funny, right?”

You shook your head, but you couldn’t keep your own small smile off your face. Did he realize the irony that you wouldn’t have been able to call him anyway, since you never really knew where he would be staying? “And you’re a little pissed already, huh? Isn’t it a bit early for that?”

“Nah, not really. And I’m not drunk. I am alcoholically reinforced,” he took another sip of his drink.

“...what does that even mean?”

He shook his head, that one particular curl flopping over his forehead and into (those beautiful, soulful, deep, enchanting…) his eyes. He totally ignored your question. “So, uh, look,” he started, suddenly seeming a bit more unsure of himself. “I really wanted to ask you, if…”

“No, you cannot borrow my couch tonight, Llewyn. My sister is in town.” You idly wiped at the bar top with your towel, raising an eyebrow at him.

For a split second he looked offended, but it was so brief you almost missed it. “What? No, no, I don’t need a place to...look, I just needed to tell you...well, ask you really, but also tell you…”

“Hey, Llewyn!” Pappi’s voice suddenly boomed from the other side of the room. “Lay off the help and get your ass up on stage! You’re not gettin’ half the basket just to sit here and drink all my booze!”

Llewyn sighed. “Yeah, yeah, all right,” he yelled back. His attention turned back to you. “So, listen, really though I need to…”

You swatted at him with the towel. “You need to finish that glass and get up there before we both get in trouble, is what you need to do. It looks like it’s gonna be a crazy night, I’ll catch you after, yeah? We’ll go grab a burger at that place down the block, my treat.” You flashed him a grin as you walked away before he could say anything else. And by say anything else, you really meant say no, because that man needed to eat a good, hot meal. As usual.

Llewyn watched you walk off and start tending to other patrons, then threw back the rest of his glass in one gulp. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath as he walked to the stage. “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me…”

As Llewyn picked up his guitar and got himself situated, you filled drink orders and watched him as you did so. It was getting harder to deny that he was the most beautiful man you had ever seen, especially when he was up there, under the single spotlight and surrounded by the smoky haze of the crowd and his own cigarette smoke. There was just something about him. But the puzzle and mystery and enigma hung over everything and you were fairly certain you’d never crack the actual code, so you just let your crush be a crush. It was part of what made the Gaslight worth it, after all.

The night went on, busy and loud and musical. This particular crowd was really getting into his set and you couldn’t help but feel proud of him. He deserved the attention, and you knew he wanted it, even if he liked to pretend he didn’t. After a few songs, you took a pint glass of water up to the stage. It was something you always did for performers, but especially for Llewyn (since he tended to drink more than his fair share of whiskey in the meantime). You were about halfway to the stage when he strummed a few notes and started to introduce his next song.

“So, uh...well, this is a new song for me,” he started, noticing you coming his way. “And I didn’t really plan on doing this until maybe about an hour or so ago, but well...I dunno, sometimes when something just feels right, it’s right, you know?” His eyes meet yours as you set the glass on the small table next to him on the stage, and he momentarily seems to search for the next words.

“Y’know I usually work alone, but, uh, I wrote this next song with a friend. A good friend. Someone who is really talented and good with words, better with words than I am. And...and she doesn’t know I’m doing this but I’ll ask for forgiveness later.” He chuckled and the crowd did too in response.

Llewyn cleared his throat. “So, yeah. This is a song I wrote with the help of a lovely lady you probably all know. If you do, ask her to make you a drink, and if you don’t, well, go back to the bar and introduce yourself.”

You were almost to the back of the room, back to said bar, when your eyes shot wide and you spun on your heel to face the stage. Oh no, he did not just...did he? It’s kind of hard to clearly see his face from back here with the light and the glare in the smoke but you could swear that jerk is grinning, like full on guilty smiling, and in that instant you swore if you weren’t working and there weren’t so many people shoved into this space you might go up there and actually punch him. Your face was on fire and your stomach felt like it was going to drop out the bottoms of your feet. Your mouth dropped open before you could stop it.

Every pair of eyes in the room suddenly turned on you. There were maybe a hundred people there? Around that many. A hundred people times two and that’s how many eyes were suddenly staring right at you. There was only one pair of eyes you really cared about, though.

You managed to catch Llewyn’s eyes for a moment and you mouthed at him - Have you lost your mind? He shrugged slightly, closed his eyes, and started playing his...your...song.

It was beautiful. From the second line you recognized the napkin it had come from, one that got passed back and forth about four months ago, during a particularly cold week when it didn’t quite snow but the rain was still frozen. It was a back and forth about two people realizing they were in love but being too afraid and preoccupied and aloof to do or say anything about it. Typical unrequited love stuff. But oh, suddenly, oh now it had much more meaning. You listened, and watched, from the corner behind the bar, transfixed and unable to look away as every emotion you knew and some you never knew existed washed over you in time with the notes from the guitar and Llewyn’s gorgeous voice.

Once the song ended, you somewhat got your bearings and turned back to the bar. People were already coming over to tell you how beautiful the song was, ask if you really wrote it with Llewyn Davis, tell you how much they enjoyed it, ask if you had written any others...you were only vaguely aware of most of it and managed to pour some drinks and answered things as best you could, until finally one voice broke through all the others.

“So. Um. Did you like it?”

You closed your eyes for a minute, biting your lip. “Llewyn...I...what just happened?”

He looked down for a second, then reached over and took the glass you were holding and the bar towel out of your hands. He gently wrapped his fingers around yours, giving you a light squeeze. He didn’t say anything for a few more seconds, but when you didn’t pull away, he continued, “I tried to tell you...shit, I kept every single one of those napkins since we started doing that, and I turned some of ‘em into a song and wanted to play it tonight. I tried, but...well...fuck, you’re not mad at me are you?”

You weren’t mad. God, you were anything but mad at this man. Stunned, and surprised, yes, but definitely not mad. He kept all those napkins? You’d always half-wondered what happened to them, but never really gave it much thought, but you hadn’t really expected that to be the answer. Your brain still couldn’t quite process your own words correctly, so you just shook your head no and squeezed his hands in return.

Llewyn let out a huge sigh of relief. “Oh, thank fuck. For a few minutes there I thought I really fucked things up.”

You finally got your head back straight and laughed. “No, you didn’t,” you smiled. You cocked your head to the side and studied his face for a moment. “I still can’t quite figure you out, but you definitely did not fuck anything up.”

“Good,” he nodded. He lifted your fingers to his lips and brushed his lips along your knuckles, suddenly pulling away when Pappi snorted from his corner of the bar. You both turned to him, scowls on your faces, and Llewyn whipped the bar towel at Pappi’s head.

“So...can we go eat?” Llewyn asked, turning his attention back to you and ignoring Pappi’s continued string of bemused and somewhat lewd sounds.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Eat. Y’know, burgers? At that joint down the street? You said something earlier about buying me dinner?” Llewyn asked dryly.

You rolled your eyes. “Seriously? You sing me a song that I helped you write, and then you expect me to buy you dinner.”

“Well, you did offer.”

You bit your lip again as your smile grew wider and a blush crept further up your face. “Okay. But make sure you don’t lose these, we’re going to need them.” You grabbed a few pens from underneath the bar before coming around to his side and shoving them in Llewyn’s coat pocket.

“Okay, sure? But what are those for?” he asked, slipping and arm around your waist and leading you to the door.

“Because,” you replied, your tone implying that he should already know, “there are a lot of napkins floating around that place.”

Llewyn pulled you a little closer and you smiled into his embrace. “Ohhhhh.”

“And Llewyn?”

“Yeah?”

“I wasn’t kidding about the couch, my sister really is in town. But I’ve got a much more comfortable place you can stay tonight.”

~end~

#oscar isaac #inside llewyn davis #llewyn davis #llewyn davis x reader #llewyn davis x you #prompt fic #fluff

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 years

Text

Offenderman x Reader || Oneshot

Title: When You Start Living Your Life- That’s Where You’ll Find The One Who’s Meant For You

Notes:

This is like a baby Offender x Reader since its been a while I’ve written anything for him and I’m slowly dipping myself back, haha. Possibly a Part 2 in the works, with more of the man himself.

Kinda based off ‘You Can Do Better Than Him’ from Bonnie and Clyde

Plot: A run-in with your ex-husband (Jeff The Killer’s son, for no apparent reason except so that he knows about Offender) causes a revalation between you and your lover.

Warnings: Some talk about sex, but its not explicit. Also, divorce.

~~~

I see him before he sees me, and I try to make an escape. Started gathering up my things and putting them away in my bag for departure, but... goddamn it, he sees me. “Y/N! Didn’t see you there! Man- its good to see you. Its been a bit, hasn’t it?” Nick puts his hands nervously in his pants pockets, ducking his head like the cute, awkward duckling that he is.

I plaster a smile onto my face, looking up at him from the grass. Jesus Christ, this is a ridiculous position. He’s like 7000 feet tall, my neck is going to start hurting any minute now. “Hi, Nick. Yeah, it has been a while! I haven’t seen you around since, a-ah… “I seal my lips firmly together, trying to be content in just avoiding eye contact with him instead of ending that sentence. Don’t say it. Don’t say it, don’t- “The divorce!”

“Aha,” He ducks glances up at me, and his smile is bright like it always has been, since we started dating. The smile I fell in love with, and used to make me feel on top of the world- capable. Like everything was going to be okay and I could accomplish any and all of my dreams.

Of course, one of those dreams was him… I think. That didn’t work out so great…

“Yeah. First meeting since the divorce, huh? Not so bad.”

That really does probe a grin from me. How does he say that while not making eye contact with m- Oh, oh, he is making eye contact! Oh, lord. This is hard. “Hah, no! Guess not… “After flashing another, little smile, I tuck in the last of my things to my satchel and close it. Then I struggle to my feet. God, how long have a been sitting there? I look back at the spot of ground that I had been lounging on, and see the grass still completely flat…

Before I make it all the way up or fall -whichever happened first,- , Nick takes my right forearm in his hand and puts his other on my waist, helping me up the rest of the way… which puts me at an uncomfortably close distance to him. Laughing nervously, I step back and occupy myself by patting dirt and grass off the back of my pants. “Um- how have you been? Uh,” I must have some information about him… didn’t Fran tell me something a month ago at our spa weekend? … Ah! “Fran said you got promoted at work?”

“Yeah!” Nick gets an excited glitter to him as he starts to talk about that, animating immediately and putting his hands on his hips- a huge beam stretches across his gentle, handsome features. Of course, the sun makes fluffy blonde hair look radiant like a fabric softener commercial. Reminds me of why I loved him.

I was determined not to fall in with a bad boy and get my heartbroken like all the girls on TV.

Turns out, it hurts just as much when you lose a good boy.

Its been a long time though, now. Half a year- and another half a year since we split up in the first place to get the divorce that became official 6 months ago. So, as he talks, I find a genuine smile come to my lips. I am, truly, glad that he’s doing well.

Of course, he never did anything, to me. The divorce was my fault.

When he’s finished talking about his job at the Oil and Gas company -Yeah, he’s a manager there. An awesome job, for the perfect guy. He was quite a catch before I ruined it, -, he asks me how I’d been… and if I’m still with… him. Nick’s pale blue eyes go dark, an obvious hatred deepens the creases in his face.

I wish he wouldn’t bring that up. We were having such a nice moment!

“Uh,” I seem to be doing a lot of ‘Uhhhh’s and ‘Ummm’s, here. Stop it, Y/N. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess?” He smirks, and I go pink in embarrassment.

“Well, uh- Well. I’m focusing on my own shit.” I strain the words ‘my own’. Truthfully, I wouldn’t know how to describe my relationship with… the ‘him’, that Nick refers to. Offender. And the thing is, I don’t really want to. I like the way things are. I don’t need a boyfriend, tying me down to one place, one job, one life. In fact, that was a huge problem with me and Nick. He was my first boyfriend and became my husband.

I was Y/N Woods for 3 whole years, and they were some of the most miserable of my life- and the thing is, I’m only starting to realise that, now. I didn’t know how profoundly unhappy I was during that time, when I was living it. But I know now, because when I’m with Offender I feel something dark, but good, that I never allowed myself to experimented with before, and when I’m not with him I can do whatever the hell I want. I have love, and sex, and freedom. That’s priceless.

“Right. You still think… “Nick, to his credit, does look regretful for what’s about to come out of his mouth and how. “You really think, that Offenderman, can actually care about you?”

I shrug. I have no reservations for saying what I do next. I have it lined up and ready. “I dunno, Nick. But I’m happy.”

Its that simple.

“Y/N, he’s awful.”

“I-I know… “In this moment though, all I can remember is him telling me that I own the earth I step on, and how he kisses me.

“You deserve someone better.”

My mind’s fuzzy with pictures of nights at my apartment, now. Me wearing a shirt that’s too big for me and not being self-conscious of my legs - the complete opposite, actually, - and him raiding my kitchen. Somehow his kiss still always tastes good, though. No matter what he eats. Bates Motel plays on the TV.

If a scene comes on the TV that looks good, its not out of the ordinary to replicate it- because we just can. Whether that be a recipe, trip, or something to do with sex. I hadn’t even realised you could just do things like that, before he showed me. Now it seems simple, of course…

And god fucking damn it. The sex, in the first place is better. And I’m fiucking allowed to acknowledge that. I like sex. There is nothing wrong with that. With Nick, it was planned. It was orderly, and status quo. Now sexual tension’s back in style for me, for the first time since Nick and I had our first time together and I am not giving that up.

Better than that, Nick??

“I tried that.” I snap, spine breaking finally. Is he really going to do this? Bring all this back? Glancing momentarily to set a stony look on his eyes, I pull my back up from the floor and place the strap heavily on my shoulder. He presses his lisp firmly together. “Didn’t turn out so good.”

“W- well, that was before. I’m different now, we would be happy.” My throat goes dry at Nicks words. Isn’t he over me yet? Over this? All we do is go around and around in circles. I need something else, and so does he. Why doesn’t he see that? Goddamnit… “I get that you needed- “I flash him a stern look. “Need. You need your space. I understand now, I like it to. But you’re going to have to settle down with someone eventually- and you know it should be me.”

“Nick… no.”

“No, I have to- “

“Nick!”

“You want kids, I know you do. I know you. I’ve known you since we were six. You’ve always been sweet, and bright, and gentle. I remember you drawing picture, after picture, after picture of that big blue house with a picket fence and remember the talks we had when we were older about the kids we would have. You think he’ll give you these things??” Nicks facial expression right now, is that of a desperate man. He gathers my hands into his and holds them close to his body. “He won’t.”

“I know that.” I tear my hands out from between his and speak slowly, so he gets it. “And I’m not that little girl anymore, Nick!”

Jesus Christ, this has gone south fast. I need to go.

Adjusting the bag strap over my shoulder, I make like I’m going to leave but Nick speaks up again before I can step off. “It’s a phase! -“

“Nick, goddamnit! I’m 29 years old! Get the fuck away from me with this phase, shit. I’m a grown woman. Now… “I glare at him, stepping by him. “It was nice seeing you. Bye.”

Walking off, I put my hands on my face and take a deep breath of the parks fresh air. I can still feel his gaze on me, and it doesn’t feel good.

But standing up to him, did.

Freedom.

Stopping by the bathrooms before my car, I fix my hair and look in the mirror. I can’t come back to this park, now! I’m going to need to find a new hang out spot… Pouting, I fix the strap once again over my shoulder and briefly think about whether Nick will be waiting outside - He knows what my car looks like! And the number plate, probably! – and worry, but then out of nowhere hands wrench me around and press me into the bathroom wall.

Its Offender, so I don’t panic except take a deeeeeep breath from being taken by surprise and look up at him sternly. Good god.

“Don’t underestimate me, Y/N.”

Oop, he sounds… moderately to extremely less chill then usual.

“… huh?” I’m confused. What’s going on?

“The park. In the park. What happened in the park- What the smile child’s idiot son said.”

I could not be more lost right now… The absurdity of this situation - after just having a run-in with my ex-husband who I left for the uncomfortably intimidating man who’s cornered me into a wall in a public bathroom,- mixed with the lack of context he’s giving me causes the most sincere look of confusion I have possibly ever made. “Which… Which part?”

He speaks in a voice that is somehow spot on, a carbon copy of Nick’s and for a second I’m starstruck about that until I realise Offender was listening somewhere to what was going on between Nick and I- and now he’s pissed. “’You really think, that Offenderman, can actually care about you?’, ‘You think he’ll give you these things? He won’t.’. Y/N, don’t underestimate me.”

“So… what does that mean?”

A dangerous grin tears across his sharp, wicked mouth. “I care a lot about you, kid.”

#Offenderman x Reader #Oneshot #Jeff The Killer #Offenderman #Offenderman x Reader Oneshot

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teacupfulofstarshine · 4 years

Text

pattonella part 10: in which the author cannot write a fight scene to save her life but attempts to do so anyway

cw: cartoon/fantasy violence, injury, passing out, death of unnamed background villains, swearing

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5 // part 6 // part 7 // part 8 // part 9 // read it on ao3!

in the end, it’s patton who stays behind.

“you don’t have any battle experience,” virgil says.

“you don’t either!”

“i’ve been trained in self-defense my whole life,” virgil says. “i used to have to spar against dorian when he was learning. and i have magic to compensate for when my skills fail me. you don’t have either of those things.”

“not to mention, roman will become distracted enough when he sees us ride to his rescue,” logan says. “if he realizes you are there as well, his distraction will be heightened, and the likelihood of his injury will increase.”

virgil watches patton open his mouth to argue, tense his shoulders, and bow his head. “you’re right,” he says. “but - but roman is my - my - i care about him, and i care about you too, logan, and - and virge, you’re my brother! what if something happens?”

“nothing is gonna happen to us, pat.” virgil holds his hand out, and a shimmering purple hexagon appears over his palm. “i’ve got magic to shield us and keep us safe. logan and i will come home safe, and we’ll bring roman back to you alive. i promise.”

patton wrings his hands anxiously, reaching forward and making small grabby hands at his brother. virgil surges forward and pulls him into a hug, wrapping one hand tightly around patton’s waist and letting the other one weave up into his hair. “it’s okay, pat. just wait here with nate, and i promise we’ll bring roman back.”

“i trust you,” patton says. “i always trust you, you know that. i just - i’m -”

“hey, you’re talking to the living embodiment of anxiety,” virgil jokes. patton laughs wetly into his shoulder. virgil leans back and presses his forehead to patton’s. it’s the most intimate display of love and trust between family, one that had taken virgil years to be fully comfortable with. patton exhales shakily.

“i trust you,” patton says, softer this time, he kisses virgil’s forehead and smiles, eyes watering. “come home safe, okay vee?”

“of course, pat.”

“i love you.”

“i love you too, pat.”

patton looks to the doorway, where nate is waiting. virgil smiles when he sees patton’s family crest sewn over nate’s heart. patton squeezes virgil’s hand before following nate out of the armory. virgil exhales and turns to look at logan. the second prince has a crossbow strapped to his arm, two quivers slung over his shoulders, a box of crossbow bolts on each hip, and a proper bow in his hand.

“that’s a lot of weaponry.”

“these are the weapons in which i am most proficient,” logan says. “do you have a weapon of choice?”

virgil looks at all the weapons hanging on the walls. there are halberds bigger than he is, morning stars so heavy he doubts he could lift them, battle axes with blades thicker than his arm. he carefully selects a slender basket-hilted sword and straps the belt around his waist. he also pulls a few daggers off the wall and tucks them into the straps on his belt.

“an interesting choice of weaponry,” logan says. “knives take a great deal of speed and skill to use properly in battle.”

“you’ve got one, don’t you?”

“my weapons are primarily long-range,” logan says. “they are fired from horseback. i do not engage in direct combat if i can help it. that is not my area, not like it is roman’s. i do far better with the strategy of war than the actual fighting.”

“bet that’s why you’re so good at chess, huh?” virgil teases. logan smiles and steps forward.

“i find that i would very much like to kiss you now, virgil.”

“i think that’s acceptable,” virgil says. logan gently holds his face with one hand, and virgil leans into logan’s long, cool fingers. his thumb strokes gently beneath virgil’s eye, and then logan leans in and kisses him. their noses bump together, and when virgil loops his arms around logan’s neck his fingers brush the fletching of the arrows.

“nothing is going to happen to roman,” virgil says. “nothing is going to happen to you. i won’t let it. i’ll die before i let that happen.”

“please do not die,” logan says, voice strangled.

“i don’t plan to.” logan looks like he wants to argue more, but virgil kisses the words right out of his mouth.

*~*~*~*~*

thomas comes down to see them go.

he watches logan saddle up his dappled grey horse, watches virgil tentatively pat the nose of his black horse, watches them load up saddlebags of supplies. logan is wearing chainmail, leather gloves, and leather arm guards, but virgil doesn’t have any armor on.

“is that wise?” thomas asks. logan turns to face him.

“virgil insisted that he did not want to be weighed down with armor.”

“i notice your armor is fairly light as well.” thomas tries not to sound disapproving. judging by logan’s facial expression, he has not succeeded.

“virgil has layered additional protection spells on both of us. heavy armor will only slow me down.”

“patton is not with you.”

“he has less combat experience than we do, so he is staying in the castle.” logan’s face darkens with emotion so quickly that thomas can’t pinpoint what exactly he’s feeling. “thomas . . . please keep an eye on him?”

“of course, lo.” thomas wants to hug him tightly, wants to press his face into logan’s hair and beg his little brother to come home safely, but they are in the very public courtyard and he thinks it unwise. instead, he grips logan’s shoulder and squeezes just a touch too tightly. “be careful.”

“i always am,” logan says softly.

thomas watches logan mount his horse, taking the reins with an expert hand. virgil takes a few more tries to get onto his horse, gripping the reins a little more tightly than logan does. he wathes them kick their horses into action and canter out of the castle courtyard.

he curls his fingers tightly in the hem of his shirt and exhales a short, sharp prayer to whatever god may be listening. please, let them come home safe. all of them.

*~*~*~*~*

the village roman left to defend is roughly a day or two’s ride away from the castle at a measured pace. when they break at noon for lunch, logan spreads a map out and weighs it down with two rocks and curses. “this is nowhere near enough progress,” he curses.

virgil looks up at him, and logan tries to release some of the stress from his tone. there’s no point in taking out his frustration on virgil; it isn’t his fault. “i know that there is no way for us to know when your vision will occur, but the sooner we can get to roman, the sooner we can protect him. what if we get there, and your vision has already transpired?”

he kicks angrily at the grass, and virgil sets down the bread he’d been eating. logan feels a hand on his and a head leaning against his shoulder, and he exhales slowly. “roman is my baby brother,” he says softly. “even though he is the captain of the guard and he is the knight, i have always seen it as my responsibility to care for him and keep him safe. when - when our mother -”

logan cuts off, swallowing once, twice to control his emotions. “when our mother passed on, roman was . . . too young, really, to remember her. but thomas and i, we remember. we were there, shortly before the illness took her, and she made thomas promise to take care of me, and she made me promise to take care of roman. i take that very seriously.”

“i get it,” virgil says. “i take care of patton, even though he’s older than me.”

“he is my brother,” logan repeats. he feels stupid for not being able to articulate his feelings more clearly, but virgil nods against his shoulder.

“i understand.”

he gently kisses logan’s neck, which makes logan shiver, and steps away. “maybe i can help.”

“what do you mean?”

“i’m magic, l.” virgil carefully approaches the horses and lifts his hands. purple light begins to swirl around him, escaping in wisps from his fingertips and shining from every lock of his hair, which ruffles in some nonexistent wind. the horses toss their heads nervously, but virgil speaks a single word in that ancient, lost-to-time magical language, and they calm almost instantly.

virgil lifts his hands, and he speaks.

logan has studied many languages extensively. his role in life has always been perfectly clear: thomas is the crown prince, destined to be the next king; roman is the knight, the protector; logan is the diplomat, the lawmaker. even if he cannot speak a language, he can usually understand or at least recognize it.

he doesn’t think anyone has ever heard the language virgil speaks to use magic. he doesn’t even know if virgil is consciously aware of the fact that he is speaking another language. logan can’t tell a noun from a verb from an adjective when virgil speaks, but he usually gets so enthralled in the way all of virgil’s speech flows together seamlessly to look for individual words.

logan is not prone to figurative language. however, he thinks that if he had to assign a simile to his feelings when he listens to virgil speak magic, he would probably compare it to an orchestra. he could listen to pick out each instrument and its contribution to the whole, but it disrupts the collective genius of the whole. for once in his life, logan closes his eyes and stops trying to actively examine every single piece of the input he’s receiving.

he just listens as virgil speaks.

virgil finishes the spell with a flick of his wrists. purple magic speeds out from each hand and coils around the hooves of the horses before dissipating into sparkles. “what was that?” logan asks.

virgil’s hair settles around his face, and when he turns to look at logan his irises gleam with the faintest spark of purple. “a speed spell, with any luck. i never really had any formal magic training, so for the most part i just kind of guess? i dunno, i concentrate really hard on the effect i wanna have and then the words just . . . come to me.”

logan means to ask virgil if he can run some tests on this phenomenon once they have rescued roman and returned home safely. what comes out of his mouth is, “you are the single most fascinating creature on this planet.”

virgil’s pale skin flushes pink to red to scarlet, and he rubs the back of his neck. “oh - geez, l, i - uh - really?”

“i would not say it if i did not mean it,” logan says earnestly. virgil’s eyes skitter from his shoulder to his ear to his face, and logan steps forward to kiss him gently.

“we - we should finish eating,” virgil says. “and we should get going.”

“i agree.”

*~*~*~*~*

virgil breathes a quiet sigh of relief when he realizes that his speed spell works. the countryside passes them by in streaks of blurred color, even though their horses don’t appear to be moving any faster than a normal canter to either him or logan. when they dismount outside the village, virgil feels faintly dizzy, but logan is right there with a steadying hand on his elbow.

“do you hear that?” he whispers.

virgil does not, but logan slides his bow off his shoulder and grips it tightly. “distant fighting. i do not see any signs of conflict in the village, which means it must be elsewhere.” his hands shake ever so slightly, and virgil reaches up and takes logan’s free hand in his before he knows what he’s doing.

“it’s okay,” he says. “we’re here. we’ll find ro, we’ll keep him safe, we’ll bring him home, okay?”

logan lets out a long, controlled exhale. “okay. you are right, of course, my love.” virgil feels a pleasant fire curl in his chest at the nickname. “is the speed spell still on the horses?”

“no, it dissolved when we got here. i could try and put it back on?”

logan shakes his head. “conserve your magical energy for the fight. if we can hear the battle, they cannot have gotten too far from us. we will lead the horses into town and ask if anyone has seen the prince.”

virgil takes his horse’s reins in his hand and walks beside logan. as they enter the village, logan’s entire demeanor changes. he pushes his shoulders back, lifts his head, sets his jaw; his eyes become hard and focused. he looks less like logan, virgil’s . . . boyfriend? fiancé? partner? . . . and more like the kingdom’s second prince.

a young woman looks up from sweeping the street in front of her house, catches sight of logan, and immediately drops into a deep curtsy. “your highness!” logan lifts a hand in greeting.

“rise,” he tells her. “this is my consort, virgil. we are looking for my brother, his highness prince roman, who was dispatched here with some knights eight days ago to resolve a bandit situation.”

“his highness lead the knights and some of our able-bodied villagers into the woods to ambush the bandits,” she tells them. “we hear the distant fighting, but we have no news. they left mid-morning.”

logan nods. “thank you.” she curtsies again as logan swings up onto his horse. virgil grips his saddle and pulls himself up onto his own horse as best he can. “virgil, we must hurry.”

“yeah.”

they follow the path into the woods, hearing the sound of battle grow louder and louder. logan stops abruptly, dismounting and tying his horse up to a nearby tree. “we will be faster and less conspicuous on foot,” he whispers. virgil quickly dismounts and ties his own mount next to logan’s. he draws his sword, flexing his fingers around the hilt; logan pulls an arrow from one of his quivers and notches the arrow.

virgil listens to the battle grow louder and louder and prays that they aren’t too late.

*~*~*~*~*

dodge, roll, parry parry thrust slash shield up and block , spin and counter, thrust forward and bash and bring your sword up and then down, flat on your back with the wind knocked out of you, no time to recover bring your sword up now and block the strike, kick out and knock him down, spring up, sword down -

roman loses himself to the rhythm of the fight. he can feel claire at his back, feel the adrenaline singing in his veins. these are his people; he swore an oath to defend them. he cannot let them down. he will not allow himself to be defeated.

in the corner of his eye, he sees movement behind him. there is movement all around him in the chaotic ocean of battle, and he has to focus on the three bandits bearing down on him from the front. he has no time to turn and look behind him, and then -

an arrow sprouts out of the neck of the largest bandit. he gasps, chokes, drops his weapon and fumbles for his throat as he drops to his knees. roman is confused. he doesn’t remember bringing any archers in his encampment. he squints at the arrow and realizes that it’s fletched with dark blue.

only one archer in the kingdom uses such arrows.

the other two bandits grip their weapons more tightly. roman lifts his sword, and then -

“roman, get down, NOW!”

roman whirls around in time to see an enemy archer in the trees. they fire, and he freezes; he can’t get out of the way in time, he won’t make it -

the arrow strikes a shimmering purple hexagon and drops harmlessly to the forest floor. behind him, roman hears a dull metallic thunk, spinning on his heel to see the weapons of the remaining bandits hit a wall of purple hexagons. two more dark-blue-fletched arrows sprout from their necks, and they drop like flies.

logan is nowhere to be seen, but the enemy archer falls out of the tree with a cluster of arrows in her chest. virgil bursts into the clearing, hands glowing bright purple. he draws the sword hanging at his hip, and purple light spirals down the blade. “come and get me, motherfuckers!” he shrieks, head wreathed in purple fire, eyes glowing.

bandit after bandit falls to logan’s arrows, but none of them can seem to find where, exactly, the second prince is. virgil is swarmed by bandits, but he stabs his sword into the ground and produces a shockwave of purple magic that sends them all flying. the wounds he leaves glow with purple light, and any bandits bearing such wounds stagger to an unconscious halt within minutes, no matter how slight the wound.

virgil slashes his way across the battlefield. his hair whips around him, and a string of rotating purple hexagons swirl around his body. whenever an attack comes towards him, whether it be an arrow or a sword or a fist, a hexagon detaches from the string and grows and blocks the attack. roman can feel himself beginning to flag, but he finds himself face to face with virgil. he lifts his glowing sword and touches the tip to roman’s chest.

roman inhales sharply as strength and vigor begin to flood into him. “i have dispatched the enemy,” virgil rumbles. “take their energy and drive them out.” roman connects the power in hie veins to the comatose bandits on the forest floor and grins. virgil smiles back at him, feral and unhinged, and whirls around to bring his sword crashing down on the head of a bandit attempting to sneak up behind him.

another arrow blooms from the shoulder of a nearby bandit, and roman raises his sword.

*~*~*~*~*

the battle goes swiftly with virgil and logan’s assistance.

roman hoists his sword high over the clearing as the last of the bandits flee and fall beneath his forces. “victory!” he cries. the rest of his knights lift their weapons and echo his sentiment. he sees claire across the battlefield, wincing as she makes her way over to him.

“are you injured?”

“a few cuts, probably a mild sprain. i’ll be alright, your highness. you?”

roman looks down at his arms and inhales shakily. there are a few small cuts littering his hands and forearms, but as he watches purple light travels across them and leaves clean, unbroken skin in its wake. he looks up to see virgil, still glowing with an almost unholy light, sword almost too bright to look at.

“i have more energy than i can contain,” virgil says. his eyes are solid purple, glowing as he stares at roman. “if his highness permits it, i will heal his knights.”

“will it hurt you?” roman asks.

“i have the energy to spare.”

roman looks at claire, then back to virgil, and nods. “do it.”

virgil nods. “as you wish.” he turns his back to logan, heaves his sword up with two hands, and drives the blade into the earth. another shockwave of purple magic ripples out over the battlefield. instead of damge, however, this one bathes roman’s knights and the villagers who’d accompanied them in soft purple light. gasps of shock echo across the battlefield as tendrils of magic wrap around any injuries sustained in battle and carefully heal them.

“roman!”

roman whirls around to see logan drop from a tree and sprint across the battlefield. he’s breathing heavily; there’s a slice on his cheek from where his bowstring must have rebounded, and his fingers are bruised and rubbed raw. logan drops his bow and grips roman’s shoulders.

“are you alright?! have you sustained any serious injury?!”

“what are you doing here?” roman asks.

“virgil had a vision,” logan says. “you were struck by an arrow and killed in battle. we could not let that happen, roman, i -”

roman drops his sword, decorum be damned, and throws himself forward to hug his brother. logan stiffens at the sudden contact, but quickly melts to hold him tightly. “i was so scared,” logan murmurs. “i know you are a competent swordsman, but when virgil told me you were fated to die, i -”

“i know,” roman murmurs. he pushes his face into logan’s neck; his brother is sweaty and too-warm, but roman refuses to let go. “i know, but i’m here. i’m okay.”

logan pulls back and studies him critically. “are you injured?”

“i was.”

“what do you mean, wa - virgil?!”

virgil slowly approaches them, still surrounded by ethereal purple light. “beloved,” he says. logan swallows, hard. “you are injured. allow me to help you.” he steps forward, brings his glowing hands up, and pulls logan into a deep kiss. logan’s eyes widen in shock before slipping shut. virgil supports logan as he dips him backwards, and purple light travels through logan. roman watches his cuts seal up and his injuries heal themselves.

logan brings a hand up to touch his lips when virgil finally breaks the kiss. “i . . . you . . . wh . . .”

virgil smiles. it’s different than the feral grin he’d had in the heat of battle; this one is soft and loving. “beloved,” he says again. virgil blinks, and the purple light dissipates from him all at once. he sways on his feet, looking completely and utterly exhausted, and pitches forward into logan’s arms.

“virgil!” logan gasps, catching him and slowly lowering them to the ground.

“shit, is he -”

logan already has two fingers on his neck looking for a pulse. “his pulse is weaker than i would like, but he is breathing. i suspect he overexerted himself during that fight. i have never seen him use that much magic at once.”

“the doc will be able to help him, right?”

“most assuredly,” logan says. he looks up at roman and sighs. “would you care to return home, roman?”

roman thinks of patton, bright and smiling, running to greet him in the courtyard. he pictures sweeping patton off his feet and spinning him around and showering his round face in kisses before connecting their mouths and thoroughly reacquainting himself with the taste of his beloved.

“yeah, lo. let’s go home.

#starshinewrites #sanders sides cinderella!au #pattonella!au #romantic analogical #romantic royality #platonic TLAMP

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