#for a 'fake' confession he sure has a lot of certainties

[yeo-rims]

Can you throw that ball only to me? I'm very confident that I can catch it well. Even if I get hit by the ball because you threw it carelessly, I'll be fine. I'm confident that I won't lose the ball even if I'm in pain. I know I won't let anyone take it from me, and I'm confident I'd get it back even if I were to lose it. So can you throw it only to me?

[annarellix]

The Inmate by Sebastian Fitzek

A missing child. A desperate father. A terrible secret.

Guido T has already confessed to two horrific child murders and led Berlin police to the bodies. The police are sure he is also the kidnapper and murderer of six-year-old Max, who disappeared without trace a year ago. But now the killer is staying silent. The investigators have no reliable evidence, so Max's parents have no certainty and are unable to say goodbye to their son. Everything changes when one investigator makes an unbelievable offer: he can have Max's father placed in the psychiatric prison hospital where Guido T is imprisoned - as a fake patient. Max's father agrees. He plans to force the child killer into a confession. Because nothing is worse than uncertainty.

Or so he thinks. Until he, as an inmate, learns the gruesome truth...

My Review: Sebastian Fitzek’s novels are borderline horror and psychological thriller, they request some suspension of belief but they keept you turning pages and it’s always hard to to stop. I wouldn’t advise to read them at night-time as they’re not the most relaxing read and could cause some nightmare. This one is tightly knitted, fast paced, and a nightmare travel into mental illness and close environment of a clinic for mental illness. It talks about children abuse, mental illness and there’s a lot of psychological violence. It brought me to very dark place and sometimes I didn’t want to visualize certain parts. The suspension of belief is requested but you will keep on reading as you want to know. It’s not a slasher horror, it’s not a classic psychological thriller, there’s some echo of Lovecraft due to the mental heal issues. I recommend it if you wan to read a fast paced and gripping story. Recommended. Many thanks to the publisher for this arc, all opinions are mine

The Author: Sebastian Fitzek is one of Europe's most successful authors of psychological thrillers. His books have sold 13 million copies, been translated into more than twenty-four languages and are the basis for international cinema and theatre adaptations. Sebastian Fitzek was the first German author to be awarded the European Prize for Criminal Literature. He lives with his family in Berlin.

Pre-order link : Amazon: https://geni.us/blogtour

AUTHOR Social Handles Twitter: @SebastianFitzek Instagram: @sebastianfitzek Facebook: Sebastian Fitzek Website: https://sebastianfitzek.com/

Aries/Head of Zeus Social Handles Twitter: @AriesFiction Facebook: Aries Fiction Instagram: @headofzeus TikTok: @headofzeus Website: http://www.headofzeus.com

[darkcircles4lyfe]

Death to All Might, Rebirth to Yagi Toshinori

So about All Might. I’ve been extremely wary of talking about what could happen to him because straight up saying “I don’t think he’s gonna die” is asking the universe to spite me. Plus it also feels like a room full of people turning to stare at me as if I said the Sun isn’t a star. Man has death flags everywhere, I know. 

But, okay, *Bill Nye voice* consider the following:

Mr. Yagi here, if he overheard everything, just received the final nail in the coffin on his career. His time as the symbol of peace is not only over, it was in fact partially responsible for the current state of things, since he once did so much on his own that his absence now makes heroes and civilians alike ill-prepared to cope. I think it was very apt for that one guy to be wearing an All Might shirt--he was acting as a mouthpiece for the latent societal problems embedded in All Might’s legacy. 

We know already that he’s been feeling useless. I love this scene and although I’m not gonna talk about it right this second, remember what Aizawa says about just “being here” being enough:

And we know from conversations with Inko that Toshinori is also reframed his purpose around looking after Izuku. But in the end, Izuku rejected his help, and it was his classmates instead who were able to save him. Now the very progress of humanity is rejecting him too. You may me wondering how on Earth I don’t see the logical conclusion of all this being his death. Hold on. It actually has a lot to do with the fact that we’re all expecting it. Nighteye himself saw it, and despite any contrary convictions anyone might have, the plot doesn’t seem to be veering away from that end. All Might Is Gonna Die, says absolutely everything. 

It’s occurring to me that I have previous experience with this kind of plotline that probably little to no one else in this fandom shares, being that I’ve read a certain book series in which the main character is told in no uncertain terms that he will die (no, I’m not talking about hp). The series in question is T*e Und*rland Chronicl*s (censoring so it doesn’t get put in their side of tumblr) and I’m sorry but I’m about to go on a shameless tangent about it and spoil the ending for you.

So in this series there is a prophecy in every book, each one having something to do with war and conflict, and so far all of them have been right. In the last book [mc] finds out that it’s prophesied that he will be killed. Lots of the things in the prophecies are convoluted and metaphorical, but no, this one literally says “when the [mc’s title] has been killed.” He spends the whole book coming to terms with this, and he gives into it, only to find himself waking up in the hospital instead. “Wow, plot twist. /s” you may be thinking, and yeah sure, the mc in a kids book survived, big shocker. But it doesn't end there. After the war, there are peace talks, but they escalate until the two sides are on the verge of declaring war again. And [mc], bless him, has just been caught in the middle of all of this the entire time. He’s sick as shit of fighting, of watching the suffering and death of people he cares about. He draws his sword against both of them angrily, gives a speech saying he won’t take a side, and then promptly breaks his sword across his knee: “There. [mc’s title in the prophecies] is dead. I killed him.” He’s giving a huge middle finger to everyone there, to the man who wrote the prophecies, to the entire fucked up culture of it all. And so something that was taken literally turns out to be metaphorical. That is, if you still believe in the prophecies at all.

Hopefully you’re catching my drift here. What I’m saying is, even though this other series has nothing to do with bnha, it goes to show sometimes it’s the most absolute certainties that are red herrings, and a “death” can consequently be a symbolic one. In All Might’s case, it could be the death of hero society and a rejection of his own past. In other words, character development for Toshinori himself that reflects on the way the world is changing, too. Also there’s the fact that the mc from that other series I’m trying not to name has an honorary title, and I’m imagining that role he occupied “dying” could correspond to something that amounts to, “All Might is dead. I (Yagi Toshinori) killed him.” 

And here’s another thing: we also have to ask ourselves what good a dead Toshinori is to Izuku, narratively speaking. Yes, Izuku has spent his whole life idolizing even the more toxic parts of All Might, and his idealized vision of his hero does need to “die.” But how about Toshinori as a father figure?  Izuku regretting that his last interaction with Toshinori was to reject his help may drive home the fact that he shouldn’t go off on his own, but at this point it’s kinda redundant. If anything it would negate some of the progress that was just made because it’d make him extra paranoid about losing other people too. To be honest, the whole “Uncle Ben” trope, the mentor/father figure who dies and gives the mc a reason to do better, is so tired. Experiencing the death of a loved one really doesn’t deserve to be romanticized like that. I might as well admit that I’m speaking from experience, and let me tell you, losing someone you love suddenly, when you weren’t around, and with unfinished business--it makes you paranoid as hell that it will happen again. It literally gives me nightmares. Y’all, I cannot stress enough that trauma does not equal character development. Granted, just because I know this doesn’t mean Horikoshi does, but in general he does seem to lead his characters toward healing.

Okay, back to the present. Toshinori is turning away from UA. He likely feels useless and rejected. We can infer that what happens next will involve Stain, and we have a couple of extra clues to go with it: Stain considers All Might a true hero, and has stated that he would let All Might kill him. And since Horikoshi loves his parallels, we also have this fight between Endeavor and this random villain who admires him so much that he wants to die by Endeavor’s hand:

This suggests a confrontation in which Stain challenges All Might to live up to himself as he once was, so that as a hero he can vanquish Stain and symbolically overcome society's perversion of that role. But based on what All Might has learned about the system he upheld, Stain is wrong. All Might is not a “true hero” in the sense that the societal issues Stain witnessed exist not in spite of All Might, but (in part) because of him, because he took too much of the responsibility for himself.

Stain probably had no idea about the personal cost of All Might’s lonely burden until after the fact. Maybe he’s seeing it now. So then perhaps the confrontation would be more about Stain claiming he’s just as fake as the rest. Either way, Toshinori has the opportunity to denounce himself and be rid of “All Might,”  to stop living in his own shadow. Nighteye’s vision has been defied before, and I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if the combination of society shifting + Toshinori’s own conviction is enough to do it again and work fate in his favor.

He is not All Might. He is Yagi Toshinori: quirkless, worn down, and directionless except for his dedication to Izuku. If he survives his interaction with Stain, he can resolve his imperfect mentorship by confessing about his shortcomings and simply supporting Izuku as a part of his family, not as his teacher (as Aizawa said, just “being there”). And that’s how you really get character development, for both of them. I mean, shit, imagine Toshinori straight up telling Izuku to stop calling him All Might.

[riotwritesthings]

One Shots - WinterIron Pt.1

All the WinterIron one shots I’ve written conveniently in one place! Part 1 of 2, because DANG were there a lot!

I did by best to sort them by rating and length, but plz know I rate with my rate and little logic lol. Also I tried to include links to any art relating to the fics, but if I missed any please let me know!

Canon/Canon-adjacent

Rated G

Icy Blue - G, 200 - poem-type thing,

Hiccups - G, 200 - Fluff, early morning softness

Soft Cuddles - G, 250 - Fluff, the fluffiest domestic fluff

The Proper Size - G, 300 - Fluff, grumpy Bucky doing his best "Knowing each other’s clothing/shoe sizes"

Starmakers - G, 300 - Fluff, ficlet, art, space jellyfish, heart eyes Tony just wants to enjoy a day off with his boyfriend, but apparently there's something they need to do first.

the icarus to your certainty - G, 400 - Fluff and Feels, sugary fluff

A First Time for Everything - G, 550 - Fluff, pillow forts, unapologetic sap

Petrichor and Petcare - G, 500 - Fluff, ficlet, art, heart eyes, established relationship, shmoop It shouldn't even be possible for Bucky to fall further in love, but walking through the city on a rainy Wednesday he somehow manages it

to change this lonely life - G, 650 - Fluff, Foreigner lyrics, extreme softness Loud music means Tony is in a good mood, which is one of Bucky’s favorite things. He’s still not prepared for the sight that greets him when he walks into the lab.

Rated T

Just Don’t Bite Me, Okay? - T, 404 - vaguely post-AoU, moodboard and tiny fic, non-graphic injury, animal transformation, Bucky Barnes on the run, Tony Stark has always been a cat but now it’s official Tony hates magic. He hates it for a lot of reasons, not least of all his current predicament. Bucky on the other hand is much too busy struggling to stay alive to worry about anything else, much less magic. Right up until he finds an injured cat in an alley.

The New Game - T, 550 - Fluff, Humor, established relationship, avengers game night “They hate us because we’re in love.”

sick fic - T, 600 - Fluff, fluff, and more fluff

I know your weakness (it’s kisses) - T, 650 - Fluff, pining, dumb boys Bucky isn’t pining. Because if he was, he’d be in trouble.

Brain Freeze - T, 700 - Humor, pre-relationship, banter, Avengers family game night They might be on the run, but there is always time for ice cream.

Could be Life and Death - T, 700 - Humor, Pining morons, Bucky and the Very Bad Date, Tony to the rescue ‘Any chance you can fake an Avengers emergency and get me out of here?’

Normal Business Hours - T, 700 - Humor, banter, implied graverobbing, just a necromancer and his zombie assistant Tony and his newest assistant have a mission to accomplish, but first they have to contend with a locked gate.

But With Fewer Minotaurs - T, 1k - Avengers Academy, Fluff, pillowforts, pre-relationship "Uh, am I interrupting something?” Bucky asks, freezing just outside the elevator on the top floor of Stark Tower. The entire large, open floor penthouse has been completely taken up by walls upon walls of blankets, draped over furniture and hanging from the ceiling.

eyeshadow of seduction - T, 1k - Avengers Academy, humor, pining morons and medling friends

I get angry (and then sad) - T, 1k - Humor, you know I got that happy ending Tony wakes up in the hospital. He’s not quite sure how he got here, but he knows there’s a very disturbing news report playing on the TV.

it don’t take a word - T, 1k - Crack, first kiss Tony is getting another lecture from Steve. Not unusual. The topic is new though, and if Bucky had just noticed that Tony’s been flirting with him like crazy, they wouldn’t be in this mess.

Timing Isn’t Everything - T, 1k - Humor, Love Confession SFW Sunday: Word, Dialogue

you are building a house - T, 1.1k - poem-type thing, Angst, Implied period-typical homophobia, bonding, happy ending, hurt/comfort You have always lived behind a wall built of the things you can’t say And then there’s him With his tower of walls built up into the sky

The Flirt - T, 1.1k - Crack, Humor, established relationship, Tony the Flirt, Bucky is amused, strong confident relationships, Avengers family shenanigans, team as family, teasing, banter Bucky's not one for jealousy, which is good, because he is dating possibly the biggest flirt on the planet. Mostly he finds it hilarious

Rats and Bats and Possums - T, 1.2k - Humor, fluff, Humor, fluff, pining Bucky and Tony are trying to find ghosts. Mostly this means they trudge around broken down houses getting attacked by vermin, but Bucky isn’t actually complaining. (ART)

love's gonna find me out - T, 1.3k - Fluff and Feels, Hidden Injury, Established Relationship, fluffier than it sounds After yet another long, dangerous mission with the Avengers, Bucky wants nothing more than a quick shower and to collapse into bed. With that in mind he’s already stripping off his shirt as soon as he’s through the door to the bedroom, and Bucky only remembers why that’s a bad idea when Tony sucks in a sharp breath behind him.

can’t start a fire (without a spark) - T, 2.4k - Humor, pining, denial Tony is forced to stay home while the rest of team is away on a mission, and finds out that being left out isn’t actually the part he hates the most.

When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it) (Chapter 2) - T, 2.5k - Humor, non-graphic injury and violence Now with chapter 2, because no bed sharing fic is truly complete until they’re home.)

I had no choice (but baby to get it right) - T, 2.5k - Soulmate AU, That awkward moment where you meet your soulmate mid-fist fight After all those years of furtively dreaming about it, reading everything from scientific papers to romance novels, after all the times he told himself not to but still hoped, Tony thought he knew what to expect if this day ever came. Finally, after all this time, all the worrying and wondering and telling himself to just give up already, he finally meets his soulmate and finds out what all the hype is about, and it has to be like this. It just has to be Barnes.

When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it) - T, 2.7k - Crack, crack, bedsharing, pining There’s a tiny safe house, with one tiny window and one tiny couch. And one tiny little bed.

Hero is a Relative Term - T, 3k - Humor, established relationship Another day, another kidnapping, and Tony’s biggest concern is that he’s never going to live this down.

Show Tunes and Extra Sauce - T, 4.5k - Post IM1 AU, Fluff, Humor, modern!bodyguard!Bucky, pining, snark So maybe three years in Bucky is completely in love, and this might be his first bodyguard gig but he's pretty sure that's breaking Rule One. It's definitely one of the top five rules, at the very least. He can't even be surprised with himself either, not when it's Tony. Bucky’s job is basically to hang out with his crush all the time, and sure sometimes he gets shot or stabbed or has to physically drag Tony out of his lab when he starts sleep-deprived-rambling about building some piece of tech from a scifi movie, but most days Bucky doesn't have a single thing to complain about. And then there's Valentine's Day.

Rated M

A Monster - M, 150 - poem-type thing,

Early Mornings - M, 200 - Fluff, ultimate softness "Tracing each other’s faces in the early morning light."

In a Fight - M, 300 - poem-type thing, angst, fluff

Cat and Mouse - M, 300 - Winter Soldier / Superior Iron Man, violence as a form of flirting

INTENSLY - M, 300 - Crack, Bucky is going to horny jail “I’m gonna turn the hose on you.”

Not the Expected Confession - M, 850 - Humor, mutual pining, truth serum gone awry “A truth serum?” Tony demands with a scoff, “are we in a terrible spy movie!? Will that even work on you?” He addresses the last part to Bucky directly, completely ignoring their captor, who lets out an annoyed huff.

Broken Promises - M, 1.4k - Humor, Established Relationship, Secret Sex, not so secret sex It shouldn’t be that hard to keep their hands off each other while trapped in a tiny safe house with their teammates, right? Right?!

Ode to Yoga Pants - M, 2.2k - Humor, Mutually pining morons OR the continued terrible mating dance of Bucky and Tony, AKA when betting on your friends stops being fun

Making Sacrifices - M, 2.2k - PWP, Established Relationship, werewolf!Bucky, Dirty Talk, Breeding Kink It happens often enough that when Tony texts him for help with something vague Bucky doesn’t think anything of it, just cuts his workout short and heads up to their bedroom. He’s not at all prepared for what he finds waiting for him, but Bucky is nothing if not adaptable.

Rated E

Metal - E, 500 - PWP, unabashed metal arm porn

Missed Seeing You - E, 500 - PWP, Webcam/Video Chat Sex “Are... are you talking to my butt?”

The Dangers of Lace - E, 1.3k - PWP, Established Relationship, Lace Panties, Dry Humping, Anal Fingering Tony really needs to stop wearing ill-fitting pants around the workshop, or Bucky can’t be held responsible for his actions.

Feel Something Real - E, 1.5k - Avengers Academy, PWP, Spanking Bucky doesn't regret that he and Tony decided to take it slow when they started dating, but he is a little disappointed that he’s just now learning all sorts of fun things.

The Three Step Plan - E, 1.8k - PWP, Massage, Anal Fingering Bucky has a plan for getting Tony to relax after a long week. Step one involves getting his fingers on Tony and working out all those knots from his muscles. Step two involves getting his fingers in Tony.

No Patience and Minimal Planning - E, 2.4k - Winter Soldier / Superior Iron Man, PWP, Dub-con, enemies with benefits, power bottom, dirty talk, bondage, breathplay, powerplay Tony Stark is the Superior Iron Man, and he always gets what he wants. Especially when what he wants is six feet of deadly muscle with a gorgeous metal arm, standing orders to kill him on sight be damned.

Location Matters - E, 2.6k - PWP, semi-public sex, anal fingering, begging, dirty talk, edging, orgasm delay Pantries have never been on the list of ‘sexy’ places for Tony, but god, they might be now.

Only a Phone Call Away (part 2) - E, 3.2k - PWP, teasing, phone sex, marathon sex, orgasm denial Tony is across the country for work, and then Bucky is across the world for a mission, but they always find a way to keep in touch. Even when Bucky would rather be without the distraction. (Now with chapter 2, featuring Bucky getting his Revenge)

For Science - E, 6k - PWP, with feelings, size kink Tony makes a very important discovery. In Bucky’s pants. Further investigation is needed.

Baby Crazy - E, 8k - Crack, Humor, crack For some reason, the children of New York love Bucky Barnes. It’s heartwarming to witness, and it’s making it really hard for Tony to ignore his gigantic crush on the man. Especially because Tony can’t stop suggesting they maybe have a baby together. The rest of the Avengers just want a vacation. (ART)

Melt into Me (Your Words Are My Own) - E, 18k - Humor, Angst, Smut, Heavy casual praise kink, pining, non-graphic injury, self care is big sexy Bucky has a new strategy for getting Tony to take proper human care of himself. Tony has never been so well fed, hydrated, thoroughly rested, and confused in all his life. That doesn’t mean he wants it to stop, and it’s amazing how many boring adult things Bucky can get him to do just by patting his head and calling him ‘good boy’. Right up until Tony possibly ruins everything. (ART) (ART)

Road Hazards - E, 45k - Humor, Smut, Road Trip, Developing Relationship, lots of banter Steve and Bucky's BFF road trip is not going well. For starters, Steve couldn't even make it, and for some bizarre reason asked Tony to take his place. The fact that it’s only a couple days before someone is trying to kill them isn’t nearly as stressful as the fact that Bucky and Tony have never really had an actual conversation. It’s hard to avoid someone when stuck in a car with them though, and if they manage to stay alive they just might learn a thing or two.

[thefanficmonster]

You Call It A Mess, We Call It Baking

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Tons of fluff

Summary: A friendly argument via Discord leads to a baking session. Said baking session leads to a kitchen looking like it was the victim of a tornado. The lesson here is: don’t leave Corpse and Y/N in the kitchen together.

Requested by Anon, thank you so much for your request, hope I captured what you wanted well and I hope you enjoy reading it.

Corpse’s POV

I’ve been sitting in a Discord call with Y/N for about three years now, keeping her company as she’s editing some footage Sean sent her earlier. In the meantime, I’m reviewing the recently submitted stories by my viewers, reading some lines I find funny or downright terrifying to her.

“When I went in the kitchen to check on the cake, it was already out of the oven, a sticky note next to it on the counter that read: ‘smells nice’. My blood ran cold.“ I read the eerie sentence that is suggesting one of my most frightening scenarios - a stalker getting inside your house. I get chills just imagining what was probably going on in the sender’s head when they saw that.

“Jeez, it’s been so long since I’ve cooked something other than omelet.“ I hear Y/N reply absentmindedly, completely neglecting the fear factor of what’s going on in the story.

“Good job missing the point.” I chuckle, my eyes continuing to scan the email until my brain actually comprehends what she said, “Wait, you mean to tell me you have baked anything ever?! No offense, Y/N, but I was honestly doubting your ability to make an omelet as well. In all the years we’ve been friends I can’t remember you ever not saying ‘I hade takeout’ when I asked you what you had for dinner.” 

The scoff that comes through my headphones is the most adorable thing ever. She’s one to easily take a joke and never get offended by anything, but I know how heated she can get with her sarcasm. If I’m being honest, I’m always here for it. 

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Corpsy. A girl’s gotta have some aces up her sleeve.“ I can just imagine the narrowing of here eyes and the tilting of her head as she says that. She has a very specific way of expressing her thoughts. When we first met I accidentally made the comparison to one of those children’s books that have pictures, stories and small buttons for audio. That comparison has stuck with me and I look back at it very often. To fully catch her point, you don’t just listen to her. No, no, no. You focus on every change in her face and body. The way she looks away during certain parts of her speech, the way her voice plays with several different tones at once. Her posture while speaking. Just like those books - you don’t just listen to the audio, you look at the pictures and read the text.

“Well you know how much I like playing poker, why don’t you come over and throw those aces down.“ The last thing you should ever give Y/N is a challenge. She won’t only homerun it, but will never let you forget it either. When we met she was a girl with self esteem in the negatives, so seeing her brag about her achievements to me always brings me joy.

The details I’ve listed are pretty in-depth, aren’t they? That’s because I don’t want to let anything slip when it comes to her. This realization hit me early in our friendship and it was only like two years in that I finally connected the dots - this investment in her of mine was not simple nor platonic. Come to think of it, I reckon it never was.

“No way, I’m not changing out of my pajamas just to come to your house.” She laughs, once again making me picture her full body reaction to her statement.

I smirk, knowing I’m about to bring out my main weapon, “Oh come on, I’ve seen you in pajamas countless times. You can just admit you don’t wanna embarrass yourself. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

I can sense her fuming even though she’s like two miles away. “I’ll be there in 15.”

She hangs up before getting the chance to hear me lose control of the laughter I’ve been suppressing. 

Man, I love this girl.

Y/N’s POV 

“It’s on.“ I say as soon as the door in front of me swings open to reveal the smug smirking face of my bestfriend. The foundation of my tough, unbothered act is shaken up by the outburst of butterflies in my stomach which occurs every time I see him. I can never look at this man and not turn at least a little red in the cheeks. 

It’s been long since I self-diagnosed with the malicious ‘falling for someone who would never reciprocate my feelings’ illness. I’ve been living with it for a while. What medication do I take? Dating other guys. One bad relationship after another, scolding myself that every one of them has been a desperate attempt to get him to change his gaze on me from ‘best friend’ to something more. Hell, I don’t even know how to define that ‘something more’. I once even tried to admit my feelings, but I was so vague and so incoherent that I didn’t understand myself, so how was he supposed to grasp my downright sad excuse of a confession. 

“No ‘hello’, no nothing?“ He moves aside to let me in. I walk right past him with a sassy flip of my hair to mask the nervousness of being aware that his eyes were on me, “Rude.“ He murmured with an obvious smile in his tone.

He looks as cute as ever, black sweatpants and a black tee, hair messy as though he has just rolled out of bed. I can say with the upmost certainty that he’s the only one who can pull of that hairstyle.

I hide mine as I throw on the apron that’s hanging by his fridge, ready to take over his kitchen and put those aces of mine to use. I can’t help but furrow my brows when I see him enter the kitchen behind me and lean against the counter. That’s when I notice the counter is lined with all the ingredients I’ll need for the cake I had in mind. 

“OK, what do we do first?“ he claps his hands together, straightening his posture as he gives me a expectant look.

It takes all my brain cells to prevent me from freezing up completely. I’m not usually like this, mind you, I’m a lot better at keeping what’s going on inside my head camouflaged. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I don’t have much time to dwell on that. If I do, he’ll pick up on it right away.

“Um, we are not gonna do anything. I will be here baking, and you will remain outside the kitchen until I’m done. If you need something, ask and I’ll bring it to you. I can’t have you sabotaging my project, impostor.” I narrow my eyes at him like he’s the most dangerous of threats. And he is, for my mental sanity.

He fakes a hurt expression, clearly fighting to the best of his ability to hide how much he’s enjoying messing with me. “We’ve known each other for five years, Y/N. Don’t you trust me?”

I lean over the counter to where we’re about two feet apart and whisper, “Not. Even. A. Little. Bit.”

He smiles, “You’re just trying to get away with making this cake by watching a YouTube tutorial. Admit it, you can’t even crack an egg properly.” His eyes are now as narrowed as mine as we stare each other down at a proximity that’s rapidly raising my body temperature and heartbeat. It’s not fair. I’m a mess around him so he automatically has the upper hand.

As expected, I give in, “You better not mess around though.”

After I force him to give me several different oaths, we start. I’m working on the batter, he’s working on the frosting. We decided to decorate it with crimson and dark purple frosting. We’re both really pick about the color shades so he’s currently struggling to get the crimson perfect. 

“Let’s make it a layer cake.“ He suggests out of the blue, “Two layers, nothing crazy.“

I think it over for a moment or two before shrugging, “OK, but then you better grab a bowl and help me with the second layer. You know how to make the batter, right?”

He confirms that he does and walks out of my line of sight. I hear him open the fridge as I whisk the eggs I have cracked with the sugar. 

“You want something to drink?“ He asks while rummaging through the fridge.

I decline, try to focus on the recipe that I have somehow memorized to the smallest of details. As I’m reciting the it silently to make sure I didn’t skip any steps with the batter, I feel something cold run down my back causing me to scream.

“What the fuck was that?!“ I turn around and glare at him just as the ice cube slips out from under my hoodie and falls to the floor. The fucker’s laughing whole heartedly, not giving a damn that he just gave me a mini heart attack. Mainly cause I thought it was a roach or something, and he know I hate bugs.

“You do realize how boiling red you are, right? You look like a lobster. I thought you needed something to cool you down.“

Instead of being annoyed, I do a full 180 and decide to play his game, “Yeah, I know...” I trail off, reaching my hand back towards the bowl of flour. Grabbing a a handful of the white powder I throw it at him before he can even catch on. Needless, to say, his outfit and hair aren’t so black anymore. “Ah, I knew your hair would look good with snowflakes in it, but you can never be too sure.”

“This means war, Y/N.” His smile is borderline malicious, getting me excited for what’s to come. 

Him and I have always had these so called wars, but never like you’d imagine. We are silent, strategic, subtle. Neither of us knows when the other will attack until it’s too late. That’s why instead of going for a counter-attack right away, he heads to complete his mission of making the batter for the second layer.

All is quiet except the noises of the utensils clinking together every now and then. I keep a close watch on him out of the corner of my eye and I notice no sus behavior. That is until I see him take a spoonful of his batter and eat it. I whirl around at the speed of a gust of wind, eyes wide, “Do you want to fuck up your guts.” He ignores me as he takes another spoonful, bringing it close to his mouth. This time, I grab onto his arm causing the contents of the spoon to spill on my hoodie.

I roll my eyes, unbothered by the brown stain that by some miracle missed the apron and fell on my grey hoodie, “Don’t. Eat. The. Batter. Copy?“

“Paste.“ He nods, smirking with pride as he puts the spoon aside.

I sigh and return to my side of the kitchen, focusing on the next task: poring the batter into the circular baking tray which he, for some reason, has two of. He repeats the task soon after me and we put the two trays in the oven. I help him with the frosting, getting the shades close enough to what we had in mind. 

After about five minutes of the crusts baking, a wonderful smell spreads throughout the kitchen. At this point, all we have to do is wait for the oven to signal that our cinnamon crust is ready to be taken out, wait for it to cool down and then frost the cake.

“It smells really good.“ He comments, turning his head to look at me.

I’m sitting atop the kitchen counter and Corpse is standing next to me. This is the only time him and I are at approximately the same height. The realization brings a thought to my mind, one that makes me feel like an evil mastermind.

“Hey, remember earlier when you said I couldn’t crack an egg properly?“ He hums affirmatively, “Well...“

The carton of eggs is within arm’s reach. I grab an egg, chip it off the side of the counter and crack it apart above his head, its contents coating his hair. “How’s that for a proper egg crack?” I ask victoriously.

He lets out a surprised sound, something between a gasp and a laugh. Shaking his head to get the yoke to fall down, he says amusedly: “I don’t know...you tell me.”

Too late for me to do anything. There’s milk all over me.

The malicious smile on his face is replicated on mine and now it’s really on. However, as we reach for the items meant to be out weapons, the oven dings.

Frosting the cake goes about as well as you expect: there’s more frosting on us than the cake itself.

“Let’s make amends, please. I’m so not looking forward to taking three showers tonight.“ I say, raising a white napkin and waving it around.

“Fair enough.“ He shrugs and we shake hands.

As I’m about to pull my hand back, he holds onto it, making me look up at him. Our eyes lock and I suddenly regain that same shakiness and vulnerability I always have around him. It never leaves me, I just manage to ignore it. The sound of my panic is muffled by the sound of my heart thumping the loudest it has ever. 

Expectedly, he is the bold one who makes the first and final move. The move to end one era of us and start another. His lips touch mine and all fades. It’s just him and I. The friends who were never just friends. The cowards who suck at dealing with emotions. The fearful little kids that are afraid of rejection because we both mean so much to each other, to the point of suffering to prevent the possibility of losing one another.

We embrace who we are, finally admitting that friends is not what we are meant to remain forever.

The kiss might’ve been brief, but the meaning it carries makes it the most valuable moment of my life. One I’ll cherish forever. Something in his eyes tells me he will too. That’s all I need. That’s all we need. No words are necessary.

Suddenly, our bubble bursts as a result of his ringing phone. He lets go of one of my hands and takes his phone from the counter.

“It’s Dave”, he smiles, picking up the call and turning to get me in the camera frame. “Hey Dave, look who’s here with me.“

I wave at the camera and at the baffled face of Dave. “Hi!”

“What, in the name of God, is that mess?“ He raises both his eyebrows as his eyes scan us and the kitchen behind us.

“You call it a mess, we call it baking.“ Corpse and I look at each other and smile, blushing as red as the streak in Dave’s hair.

“Am I missing something here? Did I call at a bad time?“ He asks, still struggling to rationalize what he is seeing.

“Yeah, you actually did. I’ll call you back.“ Corpse dead-ass hangs up on him, putting his phone away before turning to me, “We have more important matters at the moment.“

He kisses me again, this time more confidently. His arms wrap around me and prep me up on the counter, insinuating that this kiss won’t be as short as the last.

[volleychumps]

hello! first of all i want to say that your writing is really good and its the only thing that makes me keep going rn 🤡 can i please request yamaguchi, hinata and kenma with a male (i dont know if you do male reader, if you dont it can be female or gn too, however u want 😌) reader that is vv handsome (/beautiful) and always gets confessed by people? thank you sm and stay safe! 🌺

I love that this request singled out our soft boys, I hope you enjoy!

S/O Who Gets Confessed to Often w/ Yamaguchi, Hinata, and Kenma

WordCount: 1336

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

Yamaguchi

- honestly baby Tadashi is probably the most insecure out of everyone when it comes to you, meaning he’s constantly wondering why someone like you would choose someone like him

- “How’s my most talented boy doing?” “S-Stop...” 

- “I’m doing great-” “Shut the hell up Kei.” 

-literally knows how absolutely drop-dead goregous you are, but secretly feels the insecurity increase sharply whenever someone new seems to confess to you almost weekly

- “Y/N! Please date me!....what? You have a boyfriend? Since when?

- feels like you could do even better than him, and seems to distance himself with every new person that approaches you

- “Huh? That freckled kid in our year?...who?” 

- doesn’t feel any better when they claim to not have known, thinking he isn’t doing enough to prove his worth 

- “Yamaguchi! I missed you-” “Um, I’ve got class, Y/N, I’ll see you later.” 

- it breaks his heart when he sees your face fall before a fake smile crosses your features, waving at him as he rushes off, thinking if he pushes you away, you could be happier with someone new 

- “Grow a pair, Yamaguchi.” “I have a pair, Tsukki!” “Doesn’t look like it to me.” 

- until he sees you genuinely laughing with another guy, and seems to have his heart shatter in his chest at the sight of you with someone else

- as Tsukki knowingly shrugs on the sidelines with a told you so, look

- that is until you see him in the background with a hurt puppy expression, causing him to run away and making you chase after him 

- “Tadashi!” “G-Go away, Y/N!” 

- when you hear the crack in his voice, you don’t, and chase him all the way into a deserted hallway before he hears you sniffle, eyes shining with tears when he turns and stops running

- “W-Why are you crying?” “Why do you think, asshole? The boy I love doesn’t even want to be with me...” 

- feels immediately guilty, not realizing how much of an emotional toll he had caused before taking a shaky breath and your hands in his 

- “Are you sure about this?” “Why wouldn’t I be, Yama?” “There are so many other options...” 

- all doubt seems to disappear when you brush your lips softly against his quickly, knowing anymore would have your gentle boy trembling as you press your forehead against his, holding him by the back of his neck 

- “I don’t care about other options, you’re the one I want Tadashi.” 

- pulls you into a tight hug, his chin resting atop your head as you feel the certainty in his hold, no longer doubting himself 

- “If you say so, Y/N...” as his embrace tightens just a little more before you smile softly, running your fingers through his hair

- “I know so. Now stop avoiding the person who loves you, alright?” “I-I love you too, Y/N...probably even more.”

Hinata

- “Er...you don’t get annoyed, Boke?” “Why should I, Trashyama?”

 -this hyper-active tangerine would honestly take it as a compliment the first few times it happens, feeling pride swell in his chest that his partner was so desired by others

- “You’re dating Y/N?” “Hell yeah I am, what of it?” 

- until the whole confessing thing becomes a common occurence, causing Hinata to become a little clingy at times when people call you out of your classroom

- “Love-” “I’ve gotta protect you, Y/N! What if someone steals you away from me one day?” as he follows you out into the various places people ask you to meet at 

- lowkey makes the whole confession awkward as your boyfriend impatiently waits from a short distance, grinning and kissing your cheeks after you kindly reject them, making a show out of it 

- probably childishly sticks his tongue out at the confessor behind your back

- defintely makes a point to show a lot of PDA when around your peers, holding your bag for you and your hand until you actually have to sit him down and tell it to him straight that he has nothing to worry about 

- “Shouyou, do you trust me?” “Wha-?! Why would you even ask that, Y/N? You know I do.” 

- pouts adorably when you bite back a laugh at the jealous actions of your cute boyfriend before you cup his cheeks with both hands

- “Then show it. Know that I’m not leaving you for someone new, okay? The whole school pretty much knows you’ve marked your territory.” 

- “Say that to all those guys who literally ogle you, you’re way too beautiful Y/N.”

- “Alright Mr. Wingspiker known for making it to Nationals, don’t pretend other girls don’t confess to you on the daily or at least blush when you talk to them.” 

- “Wait...they do?” 

- at your deadpan stare, Hinata grins before grabbing both of your wrists that were being used to cup his cheeks, closing the proximity between you two until your noses brush 

- “I hardly notice when I’ve got you by my side, Y/N!” 

Kenma

- this introverted boy would be the type to act like he really could care less, waving you off and shrugging when you tell him you had come back from rejecting another confession

- “Mm. Third time this week?” “Yep!” “Cool.” 

- awkwardly waves to every new guy that comes your way after each let-down, not feeling the need of having to prove himself to anybody as they shove past Kenma in their emotional tantrum of not getting what they want 

- Doesn’t really think much about it until he’s peacefully waiting for you to deliver another rejection, flicking away at the joysticks on on his handheld until the guy huffs, catching his attention from his place outside the empty classroom 

- “Why Kenma Kozume, Y/N? You’re beautiful and funny, but he obviously can’t appreciate you the way I can. He’s not very sociable, and he can’t show your beauty anyone else would be able to.” 

- fingers on joysticks stop moving at his words, Kenma blinking once, then twice as he feels his heart pound at what your response would be 

- did...he really not appreciate you? Or at least not show it? 

- “I really really like Kenma, Hatori.  He doesn’t pressure me into being anything I don’t want to be, you know? He could show me off to the whole school and brag about having me on his arm, but he doesn’t because he knows it would make me uncomfortable. I...” 

- feels his chest swell at your words, wondering why he ever doubted you in the first place 

- “I’m pretty sure I’d rather be with someone who puts my well being first than show me off like some trophy, so thanks, but no thanks.” 

- awkwardly pretends to go back to playing his game when you come out of the classroom, causing you to jump and blush at Kenma’s equally blushy figure 

- “uh...you heard everything, didn’t you?” “....no. I just got here.”

- tries not to smile at the gullible, relieved sigh that slips your lips before offering you his hand, looking off to the side a bit timidly as you gape

- “Do you want to come help me practice my setting?” “But you hate doing that.” 

- “But you said you like watching me practice...so I don’t mind.” 

- swallows back the lump in his throat and ignoring the heat in his cheeks when your goregous grin lights up your features, increasing your pretiness by tenfold

- “Yeah. I’d like that.” 

- stops suddenly to give you a tight hug that held some kind of hidden meaning before walking again as if nothing had happened 

- “Hey Y/N?” “Y-yes?” 

- “Thank you for being with me. I know I don’t really show it a lot.” 

- his pace increases, practically speed walking away from you when realization dawns onto your features

- “Kenma, you were listening!” “I’m more worried about the fact that you believed I wasn’t.” 

[thewritingstar]

Holding You Close

Im so excited to show my piece for the Fairy Tail Reverse Big Bang 2020!! It was hosted by @ftguildevents​ My amazing partner @lissy-doodly​ drew this piece  which inspired my fic!! I had a lot of fun and its cool seeing all of the art and pics being made! Enjoy!!

Pairing: Lucy x Juvia 

--

Juvia had thought it was a good idea at the beginning. Lucy had suggested a movie night after a very long week’s worth of missions. And Juvia was thankful that she did. Although she loved going on quests with Gajeel, sometimes she needed a well deserved break. After getting stuck in a magical void, being burned with steam and even being covered in a slime mages goop, all she wanted to do now was crash on the couch with her girlfriend and hold her close.

Even Lucy herself didn’t have the easiest week either. Erza had dragged her on some long mission that resulted in the celestial mage being sore in every place and a long lecture from spirits about her over use of magic. Not to mention a sparring match with Natsu that left both of their heads spinning and seeing stars.

The moment Juvia’s train had stopped at the station, she wasted no time getting to Lucy’s apartment. The water mage didn’t bother to stop at Fairy Hills and would rather see Lucy sooner than later.

Three fast knocks sounded on the apartment doors and in a flash the door opened to reveal Lucy standing in her fuzzy pink pjs even though it was just approaching dinner time. Juvia had assumed that she had gotten home early that morning and couldn’t be bothered to change into other clothes, and she couldn’t blame her.

“Lucy-sama!” Juvia said as she took the blonde by storm and hugged her dearly, feeling the others arms come around her soundly. She always loved to hug her. It was a feeling of certainty and comfort that made her heart beat a million miles a minute and she wouldn’t give it up for anything.

“Hey babe.” Lucy said and Juvia could sense the smile on her lips. She wasted no time leaning forehead and capturing Juvia’s lips softly.

Juvia’s tense shoulders relaxed and for a moment she felt like she could breath and take it easy. She placed a hand on Lucy’s cheek, deepening the kiss before pulling away and peaking her cheek softly.

“I missed you.” Lucy whispered as she nuzzled her nose against hers.

“Juvia missed you more.”

“Come on, it's cold outside.” Lucy smiled before grabbing her hand and picked up her bag.

The moment they stepped into her house, the smell of homemade pizza filled the air making Juvia’s mouth water. It reminded her of a small village they had traveled to on a mission, where they shared their first date at a small pizzeria. Juvia smiled at the memory of how Lucy had confessed her feelings and she wasted no time pulling her into a long awaited kiss.

Juvia shook her head and pulled away from her thoughts. “Lucy-sama, that smells divine!”

A small blush instantly blossomed to Lucy's face. “Thank you. You can go upstairs and take a shower and by the time you're done, dinner should be ready and then we can start the movie.”

“Sounds good to me.” Juvia said as she gave her girlfriend another peak on the cheek and found her way upstairs.

--

The water mage came back down stairs, now in her own blue pjs that had a cute little heart on the front. She smelled of freshly scrubbed lavender and vanilla and appreciated Lucy’s assortment of lotions and scrubs.

Lucy was still in the kitchen, oven mitts on and pulling out the small wooden boards that held the pizza.

“How was your mission?” Lucy asked.

“Juvia had a good time, some rough patches but overall, Gajeel and I succeeded.”

Lucy laughed. “Of course you did, you’re a Fairy Tail wizard! At least you came back in one piece. I was certain Aquarius was going to scold me into next year from using up too much magic.” She rubbed the back of her neck as Juvia giggled.

“I’m sure it was fine. You never back down from a fight so they should be used to that.” Juvia said as she looked outside and noticed a few droplets of rain coming down. “Oh, Juvia didn’t know it was going to rain.”

“You know they say there's supposed to be a thunderstorm.” Lucy said as she took out a cutter and sliced the pizzas.

Juvia grabbed some sliced fruit from the fridge. “Oh. Well I’m sure it won’t be too bad.” She looked to see Lucy frowning slightly. A small smile came to her lips as she hugged the blonde from behind. “Hey, it's going to be okay my love. I’m here to protect you.” She kissed just under her ear.

Lucy turned and angled her head to kiss her softly. “I know.” She smiled even though she dreaded thunderstorms. Ever since she was little, the dark clouds above that echoed with a loud bang, had startled her and she hated how she never grew out of her childhood fear.

“Why don’t you choose the movie, love?” Juvia said as she brought the plates over to the couch. “Anything you want.”

“Anything?” Lucy quipped and Juvia narrowed her eyes at her.

“Yes.” She said with uncertainty. It was as if a lightbulb sprang into Lucy’s head as she came over to the couch and put all the food down. A blanket was pulled from the armchair and soon the pair sat on the couch.

They started with a comedy movie as they ate. Giggles and random bursts of laughing filled the apartment as the plates laid empty on the coffee table. The credits rolled and Juvia hid her yawn as Lucy got up to change the disk.

“Another?” Lucy asked even as she selected the next film and Juvia shrugged as the blonde joined her back under the blanket. “Have I ever told you that I love you?” Lucy asked and Juvia met her eyes.

“Many times, yes. And I also love you.” Juvia smiled back but something about the way Lucy was looking at her, put her on edge. “Lucy?” She narrowed her eyes at her but the blonde only kissed the pout on her lips before quickly returning her attention to the screen.

“Such a tease.” Juvia whispered before leaning against her.

The opening scene started to play and Juvia’s eyes widened at the title.

“The killer mage?” She read and stared at Lucy. “A horror movie?” Juvia gasped.

“You said I could pick.” Lucy shrugged.

Usually the water mage never minded what Lucy picked, always enjoying her company, that would usually end up with one pressed against the other and soft kisses.

However, the water mage was not a fan of scary movies. She was known to have a killer stare and maybe she had been a part of Phantom Lord, but other than that, scary movies were a no go. No, Juvia preferred the happy endings and fluffy romance, not the blood and gore.

The past few movie nights, Lucy had been asking for something from the horror genre. Each time the thought of playing it would make Juvia's spine tingle and she would respectively decline. But even Lucy deserved to have her pick.

“Ready?” Lucy asked in a cheerful voice. Juvia only nodded as the play button was pressed and Lucy leaned back before throwing her arm around her shoulders.

Juvia hummed as she watched the movie play. She was a badass wizard who has faced harsh situations many times. She had been turned into a constellation, chained in a battle to the death with a friend and has even felt the chill of death in her system. She could handle a silly little movie. It was all fake anyways. Fake blood and props. The plot could even be considered boring.

At first the movie started with the happy plot. A couple of friends had been at a party on Halloween and decided to take up the dare to visit the so-called “haunted house” that was at the edge of the town. One character ranted about how an evil mage who killed those who didn’t possess magic lived there and another person just rolled their eyes and said they were being weak.

Another boring scene rolled on and Juvia was wondering if this could even be considered horror. But then they got to the house. The music shifted and by the time they walked through the door, a creepy doll was shown and Juvia’s stomach twisted.

Her eyes widened as she watched the main characters walk through the haunted house. The music turned mysterious and dark as the light to the lantern was blown out. A small gasp escaped the water mage's lips and she felt the arm around her pull her closer, a signal to let her know that Lucy was there.

“It’s okay.” She heard Lucy whisper. Juvia nodded before taking a breath and relaxing. Lucy’s fingers danced on her arm in a soothing way as a blanket was pulled on to them. “We can turn it off-”

“NO!” Juvia said quickly. She adjusted the blanket and leaned against Lucy, her head on her shoulder. “Juvia is fine, let’s keep watching.”

A small laugh came from Lucy as she kissed the side of Juvia’s head and put her eyes back to the screen.

How is she not afraid? Juvia thought to herself. This whole time a small smile was on her lips yet Juvia was practically shaking from a dog left out in the rain. She didn’t understand.

The music changed again and Juvia was priding herself for keeping her eyes glued to the movie. A close up of the main character, Rex was his name, came into view. Juvia thought he would be smart, she was rooting for him even though she knew how these things ended, everyone always loses no matter how hard or fast you run and try.

He had lost his friends a few minutes ago and was now climbing the stairs to a different part of the house. He tiptoed slowly, pushing a door open. The camera began moving to examine the empty room. It panned back to Rex who was looking pale as a piece of fresh paper. In a flash the killer jumped out from behind the wall causing a loud scream to erupt from Juvia.

“Look out!” Juvia cried before turning away, she couldn’t even tell if Lucy had screamed. Her voice over shadowed any other noise, even the sound coming from the tv.

She felt a cold chill run through her body as the blanket came to shield her eyes and her lips began to tremble. Instead of another scream, she only heard the slight giggle of Lucy. She didn’t dare to look up, too terrified to continue to watch and buried her head into her girlfriends chest. She felt fingers thread through her hair and more fits of laughter.

“This isn’t a comedy Lucy-sama!” Juvia whined but it was slightly muffled by her face being pressed against her. The laughing did die down and her fists tightened the sheets. “Lucy.” She complained again but the vibration of laughing still rang against Juvia’s head.

The water mage furrowed her eyebrows before pushing up and coming nose to nose with Lucy. The blonde bit her lips as she faced Juvia whose lips were in a pout and cheeks puffed out.

Juvia let out a huff. “Lucy!” Suddenly her face was held between soft hands.

“Im sorry Juv, you’re just so cute I could handle it.” She finally spoke with a bright smile. “We can turn it off, I just liked holding you close.” She gave her a wink.

Juvia sat staring at her still well in her hold. Her pout slightly curled up as she gazed into the celestial mages eyes.

--

Many people in movies and books talked about seeing stars in others eyes. They would say that constellations would dance around the iris, filling in as the color for the world to see.

“Juvia one day you will see the light and the stars in the sky. Dark clouds won’t be found when love enters your heart.” Juvia’s mother said years ago when she was little.

Over the years Juvia had stored away those sayings, never truly believing the words.

Until now.

--

The dark blue eyes rivaled the sparkle of green as Lucy's smile continued to be plastered on her lips.

A small laugh came from Juvia as she leaned and tapped her nose against Lucy’s.

“Lucy-sama, has anyone ever told you that your eyes are more enchanting than the galaxy?” She hummed and watched with pure amusement as the green eyes widened and the smile turned to a small effortless gasp.

“N-no.” Spoke the flustered girl and it was now Juvia’s turn to laugh as she placed her lips against hers.

“Well they should.” She whispered. All of a sudden a huge boom of thunder rolled from the sky above.

A high pitch scream left Lucy’s mouth and now it was Juvia’s turn to comfort her.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” Juvia hugged her tight.

“This is like a real horror movie.” Lucy whined as another roll of thunder came from above.

Juvia kissed her head and got out of the blanket, ignoring the protest from Lucy. She leaned down and took out the terrible thing people called a movie and popped in another one.

“There.” Juvia smiled. She came back to the blanket and Lucy rested against her as she turned the volume up to help mask the sound of rain and thunder.

The movie began to play and this time it was a story of a princess and prince, one of Juvia’s favorite films. She felt Lucy slightly shake like that of a lost dog in the rain and only tightened her hold and ran slow fingers through her blonde hair.

Even with the movie playing, Lucy was still on edge. Juvia lifted the remote and paused it and turned towards her.

“Juvia used to be afraid of thunder too.” She said. “But Juvia’s mother would tell her that thunder was just the sky’s way of letting out its worry before the rain would come and replenish the earth.” She held out her palm and formed a little water cloud.

“It’s pretty.” Lucy whispered as she stared at the small cloud and how a spark of lighting danced in her palm.

“You’re kinda like Juvia’s lighting. Pretty and bright, always lighting up the room you go in. Thunderous and bold, never backing down from a fight. Not to mention golden and beautiful.” Juvia said and a soft blush came to Lucy’s face.

The sky roared again and this time, Lucy shook less. It didn’t scare her as much as before because she was enchanted by the clouds and the way Juvia spoke. She leaned and kissed her softly.

“Thanks Juvia.”

“Of course my love.” She turned and resumed the movie. Lucy resting her head on her shoulder and becoming more relaxed as the story continued.

By the time the movie ended, Lucy had fallen asleep on top of Juvia, chest rising and falling peacefully as the storm danced above.

--

Hope you enjoyed!

[all1e23]

Astrophile [Pt.10]

Chapter:  Moonbeams & Starlight

Summary:  It’s Orion’s 5th birthday!

Warnings:  FLUFF

A/N: It’s  May29th! That means it’s Ori’s birthday! So what’s a better way to celebrate than reading about her birthday party!! Send me love because I’m needy, okay?!  Plus all your comments make my day. Beta’d by the beautiful and talented @wintersxsoul I love you 3000.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed! Thanks!**

It’s incredible how fast things get done when someone knows the important people and knows exactly what to say to light a fire under the right asses. Y/n’s apartment was cleaned up in record time, and thankfully, the leak hadn’t caused any damage to her furniture or any of the things her grandparents left her. There are still boxes of personal items to be put away, and everything in the bottom drawers of her wardrobe and kitchen cabinets had to be taken out to avoid any potential damage, but other than that everything was back to normal.

Thanks to Tony’s quick thinking and actions, nothing was severely damaged and she will be forever grateful. 

After their sunset confession, Bucky and Y/n made sure to keep in touch every single day and most days they ended their nights with a video chat – to talk about Ori’s party of course. It did not have anything to do with the fact that they hated being this far apart from each other.

Why anyone would think that is completely absurd if you ask Bucky.

By the day of the party, Y/n is practically vibrating out of her skin from her excitement. She’s naturally excited for Ori to see all the work that was put into the shop– it was a lot of effort on everyone’s part. They moved all the shelves to the outer walls of the shop and filled the middle with every space themed treat she could come up with, Tony had her favorite restaurant cater, floating stars (both lit and glittered), a fake shuttle, and every chair had its own pair of rocket boosters. Tony’s balcony is going to be permanently stained from all the silver and red spray paint used to make those jetpacks.  As excited as she was to see Ori’s reaction, she is just as excited to give that sweet girl a hug and laying eyes on her dad wouldn’t be the worst thing.

She just hopes It’s everything Ori’s has pictured.

“Oh. My. Stars!” Ori squeals and runs full force towards Y/n who turns around just in time to catch the little girl and hugs her as tight as she can without hurting her, “This is already the best party ever! Thank you, Y/n! Thank you!”

Okay, maybe this is a big, big win.

“You’re welcome, sweet girl,” Y/n whispers and kisses her head. “Wanna check it all out?”

Steve smirks and looks over at Bucky as they all slowly make their way into the small bookstore, "Where did she get ‘oh my stars’ from?”

“Y/n says that. I guess she’s picking up a few things,” Bucky says, smiling at Y/n and Ori, eyes sparkling as he watches the two of them moving about the store.

Steve whistles lowely and shakes his head, “Better be careful. You’ve got stars in your eyes, Buck.”

Y/n hoists Ori up on her hip so she can try to touch all the stars hanging from the ceiling.  Ori stretches her arm up high enough to catch two of the gold glittering stars and giggles when Y/n attaches it to her pigtails. Bucky doesn’t think he minds having stars in his eyes as long as they lead him to her.

-------

To say the party was a huge success would be putting it mildly.

Not that Bucky had any doubts with Y/n planning it. There is no way she would let Ori be disappointed on a typical day, so there is zero chance this was going to be some sloppily thrown together mess.It’s her birthday and he could hear Y/n’s voice in his head, she’s special on every day, but she should get to be extra special. Even knowing all that, Bucky is blown away by the thought she put into every single detail – even the food.

There are star and mood shaped Rice Crispy Treats, moon cake pops, and star-shaped pizza – that Bucky is sure Tony paid an arm and a leg for. The cake is two-tier covered in tiny stars, fondant planets, a space shuttle with ‘Orion’ iced on the front to look like a constellation. Bucky wanted to get her alone to talk from the moment he arrived, it’s been over a week since he’s laid eyes on her in the flesh, but Ori has held her attention from git-go.

That is until now.

Steve and Sam have Ori playing inside the bright silver shuttle Y/n spent all week crafting from cardboard, paint, tulle, and glitter. Bucky scans the small group of people and spots Y/n leaning against the back wall of books, a huge smile on her face as she watches Ori playing. He tucks his hands in his pockets and makes his way over to her, his nerves starting to pick up the closer he gets. Y/n’s gaze was steadfast on Ori, but she looks up the moment he stops in front of her, and everything about her glows– all because of him.

Three or four sentences start and die on his tongue before he finally gives her a lopsided smile and offers a soft but heartfelt compliment, “Not a bad party, Beck.”

“Thanks,” she beams in response. “I had a pretty important little girl to impress.”

“Trust me. You’ve been her favorite for months now, but I think this secured it for the rest of your life,” Bucky says, earnestly but there is something in her eyes he can’t place – something that resembles worry, genuine happiness quickly overtakes the concern and he can’t help but grin.

"So Stark did all this?” He asks, leaning against the wall next to her, but his eyes stay on Ori. He doesn’t think he can look at Y/n right now, not when she’s going to talk about how great Tony is.

“You can call him Tony, you know,” she retorts, smiling.

“So Stark did all this?” Bucky repeats, grinning widely.

Y/n rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest, still smiling. 

“Yes. Tony did all the organizing and helped with my apartment. I picked everything out, and he helped me get everything set up so the two of you could be surprised. He’s not that bad.”  

“Never said he was.”

“Why don’t you like him?” Y/n asks, honestly curious and maybe a little worried she overstepped. “It is because we went on a few dates? Are you upset that he’s dating me?”

“I never said that I didn’t like the two of you together.  I don’t– He’s not right for you. He’s not the one,” Bucky says with such conviction, such certainty it’s as if he’s privy to some secret she doesn’t know. It’s as if he has an in with Fate or God or whoever binds soulmates names in the stars.

“Then who is, huh?” Y/n asks, slight teasing in her voice surprising even her. “Care to share with the class?”     

Bucky locks eyes with her, his mouth dry, and his heart hammering against his chest – it’s pounding so hard he can feel it in his ears. He swallows the lump in his throat and shakes his head, breaking their eye contact.

“Not him, Y/n,” He says, barely above a whisper. “Not him.”

Tony watches as Bucky walks away leaving Y/n confused and slightly flustered. He spent the majority of the party just watching. As far as kids go, Ori is pretty great, and it is fun to watch her roast her dad and uncles, but what is most interesting out of everything, Bucky and Y/n. Every time Y/n is distracted by setting out food or decorations, organizing games, or playing with Ori, Bucky follows her like he’s unable to look away. Anytime Bucky says anything to Y/n, she shines brighter than the pre-light stars hanging from the ceiling.

It doesn’t take a genius to see what’s happening, but he’s known something was up since their first date. The way she says his name was a dead give away and it’s easy to spot once you know the signs. Tony knows every sign from personal experience. He never did manage to work up the nerve to say something and probably never will.

If any good is going to come out of his colossal screw-up, this was it. Tony can help keep Y/n from repeating his mistakes.

“Hey,” Y/n leans against the wall next to him and slips her hand into his. “What are you doing hiding over here? Without you, I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this, you should be enjoying all your  hard work.”

“No big deal,’ Tony shrugs, carefree and easy.  “Just made a few calls.”

History doesn’t have to repeat itself, Tony reminds himself

“So tell me something,” He nods towards Bucky and turns to face her. “When are you going to admit you have feelings for Bucko boy over there?” 

Y/n chokes, gasping on whatever she is drinking from her cosmic colored paper cup, making Tony grin as he pats her back in the most unhelpful way possible.

“I’m not – I don’t – I’m here with you. I don’t– we are just friends,” Y/n sputters.

“Right. That’s why you both keep stealing glances at each other when you’re not looking? And when he says anything at all to you, your face lights up like you just discovered a new constellation?  And it doesn’t matter what you say, every time you speak Bucko gets that dumb dreamy look on his face like you’re the most the amazing thing he’s ever seen in his life.”

“He doesn’t look at me like that,” she admonishes, quietly, letting her eyes drop to the ground.

“He does, Y/n.”

Tony gives her hand a gentle tug coaxing her to look up when she does he tilts his head towards Bucky, and she catches the brunette staring. Even from across the room, she can see his cheeks pink, and he quickly looks down to hide his face, but she can spot that smile from a block away.

“It’s okay, you know? We can still be friends. I mean, the fooling around has been great so if you want to continue that–” Y/n’s head whips back around towards him and playfully punches him in the stomach. Tony groans, fighting off his laughter, “Don’t be an idiot is all I’m saying. You’re going to end up like me and miss out on what’s right in front of you.”

“Pepper?” She asks, her eyes soften, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah, Pepper,” he forces a smile, the one he uses for press and interviews she come to learn, and kisses her forehead. 

“Alright, this is getting gross. I’m feeling sick to my stomach with all this lovey-dovey talk. I want you to know I meant what I said, but…” Tony flashes a genuine grin and wiggles his brows. “if you wanna go back to my place and work out your feelings? All night. I’m here for whatever you need. I can be that friend for you.”

She rolls her eyes and presses a light kiss to his cheek. A loud rueful laugh and a tiny giggle fill the air, and she turns to find the owners, warmth spreading through her chest when she spots Bucky tickling Ori – she knows where she wants to be tonight.

“I think I’m gonna help Bucky get Ori home.”

“Yeah,” Tony smirks. “I thought you would. Just don’t wait to tell him, okay?”

“You tell Pepper first,” Y/n counters, grinning smugly.

“Good God,” Tony groans. “Remind me again why I dated you?”

“Because I’m out of this world!”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

Bucky didn’t have another chance to talk Y/n after their awkward moment, he hasn’t been the best at talking to her lately. It didn’t matter anyway, right after their chat they went straight into cake and gifts, and now Ori is fast asleep in his arms. He doubts he’s going to have a moment alone with Y/n before she heads home with Tony. Steve is just finishing loading the last of the presents in his car when Bucky spots Y/n walking over with a bag and he assumes it’s to spend the night with Tony, but he frowns as she walks up to him instead and wonders aloud, “What are you doing? I thought you were going home with Tony.”  

She smiles and shakes her head, wiping a bit of icing off Ori’s cheek once she is within reach. Ori wrinkles her nose and nuzzles her face into Bucky’s shoulder,  “I’m going home with you. If that’s okay. My apartment is still a bit of a mess.”

Not a total lie, not the whole truth either.

“Of course, it’s okay,” Bucky assures her. 

“Everything alright? I saw your talk before… I’ll kick his ass if I have to. I’ve been waiting for an excuse to kick his ass actually. For years.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll be fine.” She replies with amusement and fond exasperation.  “No ass kicking needed. Sometimes your heart does its own thing, and you don’t know where it’s leading you until it’s standing right in front of you.”

“If this is about what I said earlier–”

Y/n presses her fingers to his lips and shakes her head. 

“It’s not. Well, it is, but it’s not because you said it. You were right, though.”

“I was?” Bucky mumbles around her fingers, making her giggle and causing her to drop her fingers from his lips – much to his displeasure.

“Yeah, you were, Buck.”

-------

Y/n tucks Ori’s blanket around her and secures her canopy behind her headboard while the little girl gets comfortable. She flicks her Frozen night light on and sets her stuffed animals around her in bed, intent on heading back downstairs, but a sweet, soft voice stops her, “Y/n?”

“Yeah, starlight?” Y/n answers, already walking back to her bed.

“Can you stay with me for a minute?”

Y/n smiles as Ori raises the end of her pink blanket enough for Y/n to climb into bed next to Ori. She immediately wraps herself around Y/n, and Y/n returns the gesture pulling her as close as she can.

“Story?”

“A story?” Y/n repeats. “I don’t think I know any off the top of my head.”

“Make one up?” She mumbles, still half dazed from falling asleep on her dad’s shoulder – sugar crash might have had a hand in that as well. “You work with books. You have to know all the stories.”

“I guess you are right about that,” Y/n chuckles and closes her eyes, running her fingers through the little girl’s curls as she frantically tries to come up with a story. Then it hits her like a meteor.

 “Okay. Here we go. It’s a story about–”

“Love?”

“Well, yes – I guess it is.”

Ori smiles and snuggles closer to Y/n, “I like this kind of story.”

“Me too,” Y/n smiles and kisses the top of her head. 

“Okay. One day, a young princess brought her daddy, the king, into one of the village shops. A young, peasant girl worked there. The moment the shopkeeper laid eyes on them, she knew her life would never be the same…”

It takes bucky thirty freaking minutes to get all of her gifts inside the house. Tony bought her a mountain of gifts, and he’s pretty sure none are acceptable for a five-year-old. Combine all of those with all the presents Steve and Nat got her, Ori is going to need a room just for her toys. That, or he’s going to need a second living room because she’s slowly taking over the only one they have.

He sets the last of the gifts down next to the couch and closes the front door. It was oddly quiet for two rowdy rascals. He wanders through the house, softly calling out for Y/n, but there’s no answer. She’s not in the kitchen or living room, and the bathroom downstairs is empty – no sign of the girls on the bottom floor at all. He slowly ascends the stairs and stops when he reaches the doorway of Ori’s bedroom.

“So, that’s where you got to,” Bucky mumbles softly, staring at Y/n fast asleep on the little girl’s bed and Ori snoozing on top of Y/n with her head on Y/n’s chest.

Bucky leans against the door and smiles at the sight before him. He knows he should wake Y/n up, Bucky’s fallen asleep in that bed more times than he can count, and it never ends up well, but he can’t bring himself to ruin this moment. Y/n snuggles Ori, and her head drops onto Ori’s, letting her cheek get lost in Ori's curls. Bucky smiles at the sight. There is a warmness in his heart despite the way his stomach is flipping, and his skin feels tingly. 

“Shit,” Bucky whispers, softly, careful of the girls sleeping only a few feet away from him. He forces himself to take a deep, stuttering breath, but no matter how much air he gulps into his lungs, it’s not enough. He fumbles as he pulls his phone out of the pocket and shuffles downstairs, calling the only person that can help.

“James?” Natasha murmurs softly. “What’s wrong? Is Ori okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. I need to ask you somethin’,” Bucky mutters quietly and peeks back up the stairs to make sure everyone is right where he left them – they are by some small miracle. 

“What, uh, what do you feel when you look at Clint?”

There is a long pause, and Bucky can hear shuffling, he assumes she is climbing out of bed and walking in another room where she can talk freely– he’s so grateful for that. Clint is a loud mouth, and he can’t keep a secret to save his life.

“Okay,” Nat says, clearly confused. “What?”

Bucky blows out a breath and collapses back onto the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. It shouldn’t be this hard to explain, and yet, here he is, floundering like a teenage boy with a crush.

“Okay, so, when Clint is… doing Clint things,” He groans, exasperated and slightly embarrassed at himself. “You know, eating two slices of pizza at once, sleeping on the couch with his mouth open, being a pain in my ass– You look at him when he does all that, what does it feel like? In your chest, I mean.“

“James. What the hell are you talking about?” Natasha begs, her voice full of annoyance.

Great, now he’s managed to annoy the only person that can help him. He closes his eyes and sighs. It’s now or never and the prospect of never making him sick to his stomach. Here goes nothing.  

“I’m talking about Y/n. I think, what I feel for her, it’s more than I thought and a hell of a lot more than just friends.”

Previous // Next

[justkindaoverhereobsessing]

the words you drown (3/3)

season 11 fix-it fic

Read the first chapter on tumblr, AO3, or ff

Read the second chapter on tumblr, AO3, or ff

Read this chapter on AO3 or ff

_____________________

Throughout the course of Ziva’s visit, something seems to be… building. Everyone is happy for her and happy for Tony—they all say they’re not surprised—but the question of what now? sits unspoken in the back of each person’s throat. Tony and Ziva hardly have any answers to give, and though they’re both aware of the gossip going on all around them, there’s little they can say… so they try their best to ignore it.

Instead, Tony tries to go about life as usual and Ziva attempts to make time for everyone she has missed in the last few months. In between, she shoves aside the tension she feels lurking between herself and Tony because they’ve decided so little in the way of logistics; she’s not sure when that tension will reach a boiling point, but it will be soon, she’s sure.

It’s only a matter of time.

_____________________

With a few days left of Ziva’s trip, she meets Ellie for lunch like she promised earlier in the week.

She settles uncomfortably into a booth at a little cafe near the navy yard, rubbing her aching back. Her hotel room doesn’t have the most comfortable bed she’s ever slept in; though several of her NCIS friends offered to host her, appalled to know that she’s staying alone when she could be catching up with family, she said no to them all, and now she’s paying the price for her stubbornness. 

Truth be told, while being back here and seeing her loved ones is undeniably sweet, the dark cloud that led her back to Israel in the first place is still hovering above her. She’s not confident anymore on how to interact with the people who matter most, and, avoiding awkward moments, she holds onto the solitude of her hotel room as a safe place in case she needs to escape.

She’s interrupted from her musings about it all by the arrival of Ellie Bishop, a sunny smile on her pretty face. “Hi, Ziva!” she chirps, sliding into the booth across from the former agent. 

“Good afternoon, Ellie,” Ziva greets; her smile is smaller than the blonde’s, but it’s no less warm. 

“How are things going? Is it nice to be back?” Ellie wants to know. She picks up the menu in front of her and idly scans the first page, making her tone light as if she’s not burning with curiosity.

Ziva catches on anyway, and she keeps the little smile on her face, shrugging. “It is… mixed, yes?”

“Now that is something I understand,” Ellie agrees softly. 

They’re interrupted briefly by a waitress who arrives to take their orders, and it gives Ziva a little time to think. By the time she’s given her order—tea and toast and nutella and eggs, a particular craving today—she has settled on just how open she wants to be.

“I am sure you are curious,” she starts after the waitress departs. “Do you have questions?”

It has been a long time since she’s had many female friends, and this new agent comes across as entirely trustworthy. If nothing else, Ziva could use an impartial confidant.

“It doesn’t bother you to talk about… everything?”

Ziva shrugs noncommittally. Some things still bother her, but she’s trying to be better about not keeping everything to herself. She’ll never heal if she doesn’t process things.

“Alright,” Ellie says, raising her eyebrows but not arguing. “I do have questions, if you really don’t mind.”

“Fire ahead.”

Ellie grins, suppressing the urge to correct Ziva’s English—she’s pretty sure the other woman meant ‘fire away’—and she nods. “So, you and Tony, were you always…?”

Ziva chuckles. “You are not the first person to ask, and the answer is… complicated. Tony and I have cared deeply about one another for many years now, and that is all I can say with certainty.”

Ellie nods, accepting this and comparing it to her own experiences in seeing the team as it still grieved her predecessor. “Tony, he… he missed you a lot.” She’s uncertain whether she’s betraying Tony by sharing, but she saw him in the weeks and months after Ziva’s departure. She knows how much it hurt him—how much it probably still hurts him, though he’s gotten better at hiding it. 

“I know he did.” Ziva’s voice is soft, maybe a little apologetic. “He has been the hardest part of all of this.”

“Are you going to… or is he going to…?”

Despite the questions being incomplete, Ziva gets what Ellie is asking. “We have not figured it out yet,” she admits. “When I return to Israel, Tony will prepare to take an extended trip to Tel Aviv, too. He will fly out shortly before my due date and stay with me for at least a few weeks after Tali’s birth… at least until we make more permanent decisions.”

The thought makes Ellie smile. “That’s in, what… a month or two?”

“Six weeks, if my due date is accurate,” Ziva confirms.

“He’s going to make a good dad, isn’t he?”

“The best.”

Ellie considers the other woman, hesitating. 

“What is it going to do to him when you leave again?”

Ziva shakes her head; that very question has been troubling her. “I do not know,” she confesses.

_____________________

Ziva is awoken shortly after two in the morning her last night in Washington by a knock on the door of her hotel room. Instantly alert and suspicious, she creeps out of bed—a knife held loosely at her side—and peers through the peephole in the door. The knocker is Tony, standing out in the hall and looking kind of… wild.

Bewildered, Ziva opens the door. “Tony, what are you doing here?—it is very late, yes?”

“How’s this going to work?” he asks, ignoring her question and brushing past her into the room without waiting to be admitted. 

“I already said that I do not—”

“I know, I know, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Should I move to Israel? Should I quit my job? I mean, I’ve got a kid coming. I’ve got a kid coming in six weeks. I’m going to be so bad at this! There’s a lot to—”

“Slow down,” Ziva interrupts gently, getting over her mild surprise and closing the door. She gestures to the bed, trying to get him to sit, but he seems to have worked himself up... he completely ignores her; instead of sitting, he starts to pace. 

The boiling point has been reached, apparently.

“There’s no time to slow down, Ziva!” Tony informs her, shoving a hand through his hair as his feet wear a hole in the carpet. “I don’t know the first thing about babies. I have so much to learn. How do you change a diaper? How much do they eat? How often do they eat? How do you know what they want if all they can do is cry to tell you—”

Seeing that the gentle approach will not work for now, Ziva interrupts again, this time by standing directly in Tony’s path and placing her hands firmly on her shoulders. “Stop walking and stop talking,” she commands authoritatively. 

Maybe remembering that he’s talking to a real human and not to himself, Tony does stop, and something in him seems to relax a smidge when he meets Ziva’s steady gaze. “Now that I have your attention,” she starts, a smile appearing on her face that’s a touch too amused for Tony’s liking, “I have some things to say. Sit first, however. Please.”

This time, he does sit, perching on the edge of the bed, and Ziva sits beside him. She’s had some of the same fears about herself. “You are not the first new parent to feel unprepared,” she promises her old partner kindly, empathetic, “and you will not be the last. Do you want to know what I think?”

Tony considers her for a moment and then nods.

“I think that you will be a wonderful father. The fact that you are worrying so much… well, that only means you care, and caring is the most important thing you can do.” They both know that her own father didn’t care nearly as much as he should have, the repercussions of which they’re still dealing with to this day. “You are right to feel a little anxious—it is a big responsibility that we are taking on—but I am not at all worried about your ability to parent.”

“You’re not?”

Ziva finds herself growing tender, believing her own words even more as she speaks them aloud. “If I could choose anyone in the world to be Tali’s second parent, it would be you.”

A bit of a smile turns up the corners of Tony’s lips, something like budding pride and maybe hope growing in his expression. Ziva can see at once that her confidence in him is precisely what he needed—as much as he may put on an arrogant front about most things, this is something he can’t fake. “You mean that?”

“More than you will ever understand, I do.”

She thinks back to the years they’ve known one another—how many times has he rushed selflessly to her aid without a thought to the consequences? How many times has he stood up for her, believed in her, staunchly disagreed with anyone who questioned her? How many times has he challenged her when she was bullheaded, how many times has he pushed her to be a better version of herself?

It would be impossible to add up, but the math is clear: Tony DiNozzo is a man capable of great love and loyalty, and there’s not a doubt in Ziva’s mind that he will adore and protect their daughter with every bit of strength he possesses. The rest is just… details. 

“Thanks, Ziva.” Tony pauses and then takes Ziva’s hand, threading their fingers together and squeezing. 

She squeezes back and—after a slight hesitation of her own—she leans in to kiss his cheek. He smiles at her, and his expression becomes a little sheepish. “I still don’t know how to change a diaper, though,” he admits.

Ziva can’t help it—she giggles. “I can teach you,” she promises.

_____________________

Half an hour later, they’re at the nearest 24-hour Walmart, slap-happy with sleeplessness as they roam the aisles looking for something. 

“What are we here for?” Tony asks for the third time, greatly amused by the single-minded way Ziva is searching.

“You will understand in a moment,” she dismisses, perusing the toy section.

“I thought you were going to teach me to change a diaper.”

“I am.”

“I know you’ve been out of the country a while, Ziva, but kidnapping is still frowned upon.”

“Hush, Tony.”

“Hushing.”

Less than a minute later, she’s handing him a Cabbage Patch doll. “Hold this,” she says imperiously.

“Why?”

“Because I said so.” Then she’s marching off again—waddling, really, though Tony knows better than to say that word out loud.

“Is that your mom voice?” Tony wonders aloud, trailing after her.

“Maybe.” That makes her grin.

Tony finally understands what Ziva is going for when they arrive at the baby section; they’re going to buy diapers, and she’s going to use the doll to teach him what to do with a real baby. When he figures it out, he laughs. “So…” he glances at the ‘birth certificate’ visible in the box, “Shelby Noelle is going to be a stand in for Tali?”

“That is the plan, yes.”

“Innovative,” Tony compliments, amused. 

“I have been known to come up with good ideas every now and later.” She grins back and ushers him to check out.

“Now and then.”

_____________________

As it turns out, changing diapers is a fairly straightforward process, and it only takes Tony a few tries to get it down once they start practicing back in Ziva’s hotel room. Ziva does it once first and then stands over his shoulder, barking orders like a pregnant drill sergeant and making Tony laugh as he learns the proper way to do what he’ll be doing regularly in a few short weeks.

Ziva watches his progress and gravitates closer once he’s done. “See? Easy queasy.”

“Easy peasy.”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course.” Tony laughs and Ziva shakes her head. 

“Easy peasy, then. This hurdle was a small one, but you managed it with no issues, yes?”

“I guess that’s true.”

“You will handle the rest with just as much aplomb, I am sure of it.”

Before Tony can respond to this, he catches sight of Ziva wincing and sees her hands moving to her abdomen. “What? What is it, what’s wrong?”

She laughs, though the expression on her face is still slightly pained. “Tali kicked me. Of course, she kicks often, but this time, it was rather forceful.”

Though he feels for Ziva, Tony has to grin. “She’s strong. She’s a DiNozzo.”

“That she is, and a David, too,” Ziva agrees, though she sounds a little put out about it, making Tony chuckle. 

“What does it feel like?”

“Like…” Ziva screws up her face, trying to think of the right way to describe the sensation, but she comes up short. It’s very late—or early, depending on how she looks at it. It’s nearly five in the morning and she didn’t get much sleep before he interrupted. “I cannot find the words to tell you. Here, you can feel.”

“Wait, really?”

Ziva laughs and grabs his hand, using it to tug him closer so he can lay his palm flat against the left side of her belly, right where Tali is still kicking on and off. “I don’t feel anything.”

“That is because she is not moving. It is not constant. Give her a moment to decide to kick again, yes?”

They wait another few beats, but Tali has gone curiously still. Tony opens his mouth to ask a question, but Ziva cuts him off. “Remember what I said she likes?”

“Voices?”

“Precisely. Talk to her and she may very well move for you.”

“What should I say?”

Ziva laughs. “I have never known you to struggle for words, Tony. Just say whatever comes to mind.”

“Okay.” Tony looks glances from Ziva’s belly to her face with a little hesitation, but then he seems to decide something to himself and he nods resolutely. “Okay,” he repeats. “Hi, Tali. This is your dad. I know we haven’t, like, met or anything yet, but… I can’t wait to get to know you. You’re half me, which is crazy—I’m afraid to see what you’re going to inherit from my side of the family. I just know that given who your mother is, I’ll have to be careful not to piss you off, little lady. You’re going to be a force to be reckoned with.”

Ziva’s chin starts to tremble—for some reason, hearing Tony talk to their baby girl is giving her a surge of emotions that she wasn’t expecting. It’s going to be so damn hard to leave him again.

Fortunately, Tali seems moved by his words as well, because as he finishes, she gives one hard kick in the direction of Tony’s hand. His eyes widen and he immediately looks up at Ziva, floored. “I felt it!” he cries, an expression of almost childlike excitement appearing on his face. “She kicked me!”

Ziva’s answering laugh is shaky but quietly happy all the same. “That she did,” she agrees warmly, looking down at her bump. “I think she may be saying that she is excited to know you, too.” Then she looks back at Tony, and he’s close to her and he’s so clearly thrilled and he has her heart.

It’s so natural to lean in and kiss him.

It’s hesitant but sweet, and he kisses her back with exactly the same pressure. After a moment, he breaks away a little. “Is this a bad idea?” he asks. 

“Maybe,” Ziva concurs cautiously, but it’s as if the last seven and a half months of longing have built something up inside of her; suddenly, she wants him very badly.

She can see in his eyes that he feels the same way. “Maybe not, though,” he hazards.

“Maybe not.”

Then he’s the one kissing her and she’s sighing into his lips and his hands are falling naturally to her sides and the bump between them is strange but more than good... It’s wonderful. For the first time in many months, all Ziva feels is peace and desire.

That’s true until Tony breaks the kiss and leaves her side, though, picking up the Cabbage Patch doll and leaving to put it in the bathroom. As he comes back, he very seriously says “Shelby Noelle does not get to watch.”

Then all Ziva feels is peace and desire and the strong desire to laugh at the ridiculous man who still has her love after everything they’ve been through.

When they kiss for the third time tonight, she lets go of all her worries and starts unbuttoning her shirt.

_____________________

The sense of deja vu when Tony takes Ziva to the airport a few short hours later is so strong, sudden, and painful that it takes Ziva’s breath away. Her hands fall to her belly, and she drops her gaze to the ground in front of her, avoiding letting Tony see the way her eyes have filled with tears. She feels an exceedingly gentle hand land on top of hers, though, and she knows that he knows anyway. 

Kindly, he doesn’t say anything, instead simply leaning in to kiss her temple.

After a moment, Ziva’s emotions settle out, and she takes a deep breath. “Thank you for, um…” her voice dies for a moment before she finds it again. “Thank you for driving me to the airport. Again.”

She knows that she’s not the only one remembering other airport scenes.

“Any time,” Tony answers firmly, a promise in his voice—he absolutely means what he’s saying, and it isn’t limited to airport runs… whatever she needs, day or night, here or in Israel… he has her back.

It’s something of a pity that though he has her heart, too, she’s still getting on a plane to leave him yet again.

“I will see you in—”

“Six weeks, give or take,” he finishes for her.

She nods, looks up at him and then away again. Saying goodbye feels daunting, especially after all the progress that they made last night. Tony seems to feel the same way, because he doesn’t interrupt her thoughts with chattering like he might any other time. 

“I will call you if anything happens,” Ziva promises finally. 

“You’d better call me regardless,” Tony teases. “I let you go once, okay? You’re not getting away from me that easily again.”

“I will call often,” Ziva corrects herself dutifully, drawn to smiling despite herself. 

“Good. Well, you have a plane to catch, right?”

There’s something in Tony’s voice that Ziva can’t quite decipher, but she can guess nonetheless—he’s not happy that she’s leaving. Frankly, she’s not thrilled, either, but though her heart wants to stay, the darkness still swirling in the back of her mind reminds her to go. “I do,” she agrees softly.

“Then you’d better get going.”

“I should.”

Still, neither of them moves for a long moment. Then, ever-so-gently, Tony catches Ziva’s chin in one hand and brings her face up to meet his own, giving her a soft kiss. This is less fierce than their last kiss in Israel as he left to get on a plane, less… questioning. He’s accepting her departure, she realizes. He’s giving her permission to go, letting her do what she needs to do.

Somehow, that breaks her heart more than when he begged her so many months ago to come home again.

“Bye, Ziva,” Tony murmurs. His voice breaks a little, but there’s no hesitation in his words. “See you soon.”

“Bye, Tony.”

Tony’s other hand, still resting on Ziva’s on her belly, gives one last caress and falls away. “Bye, Tali,” he adds.

Ziva gives him a shaky smile, equal parts affectionate and pained, and turns to go before she can change her mind. It’s now or never.

“One, two, three, four—”

She turns back, only a few steps away, to see Tony counting and grinning at her. “What are you doing?” she asks, frowning.

“Counting to a million, of course. Figured it would make the next six weeks pass quicker.”

Her mind flashes back, just as she’s sure Tony meant for it to. Count to a million. I’m on my way. It was texted to her right before he spent months tracking her down, following her all around the Middle East as she tried to resolve the pain and self-doubt that had plagued her for months. 

“What am I doing?” she murmurs to herself, shaking her head.

“What was that?” Tony questions, looking mildly confused. It’s only then that Ziva realizes she was speaking to herself both out loud and in Hebrew.

“I just said…” she pauses. “What am I doing?”

“Getting on a plane?”

“Leaving you.”

A little surprise registers on Tony’s face, afraid to hope. “Not so sure you want to go?”

“Tony,” Ziva answers softly, “I have never been sure.”

“But you—”

“I am sure of what I need, but I am not sure how to obtain it.”

“What is it you need, then?”

“I need… peace. I need space to figure out what is happening in my head. I need to find a way of life for myself that does not involve taking the lives of others.”

Tony opens his mouth to speak, but Ziva raises a hand to silence him. “Just… a moment, please, Tony,” she requests quietly.

She knows what he wants to say—why can’t she have those things here? He tried so hard back when Tali was conceived to convince her that she could, to convince her that no matter what, she was better off at home. 

After a week here, she realizes quite suddenly that some of the tension she’s been feeling is internal—it’s a nagging sense that he might be right. 

In many ways, Ziva is better here amongst those she loves; the solitude of the past months has been wonderful, and she has certainly made some steps in the right direction, but here… here, she would be pushed to grow. She’d be gently nagged into going to therapy, into talking it out, into not becoming a recluse who was fearful of the world around her. 

Maybe Israel was where she needed to be then, but maybe Washington, D.C. is where she needs to be now.

And Tali? 

Tali already seems to love the sound of her father’s voice. She kicks more when he’s around and talking than Ziva has known her to do for the rest of the pregnancy, and Ziva has no doubt that she’ll be wrapped around his little finger as soon as she’s born. Tali deserves to have her father around, even if Ziva is afraid of staying.

Honestly, what is she doing?

Before she can stop herself, she’s pulling her flight ticket from her bag and tearing it into shreds.

“Ziva?”

“I am not going. I cannot go. I cannot leave you, not again.”

The look on Tony’s face says he’s not sure he believes her, and without another word, she drops her bag carelessly to the ground and crosses the short distance between them. Then she’s standing on her tiptoes and putting a hand on the back of his head to pull his face down toward hers, and she’s kissing him.

She doesn’t know how it’ll work. She’s not even sure it will work. But one way or another…

They’ll figure it out together.

fin.

[artbymesa]

Unforeseen Consequences

Admiral ZEX, The Captain, Dax

Suggestive themes but no “details”. (Not my kind of writing lol)

I’m really. not sure why my brain fixated on writing this. I was introduced to Star Control and Admiral ZEX by @zarla-s​ (hopefully this tag isn’t bothersome?). I was in the process of introducing him to some friends and it spurred the thought: Would ZEX even expect a human to respond positively to his advances? He’s probably gotten pretty articulate with deflecting rejection and criticism and judgement, but what if that wasn’t the case for once? How well would he handle it?

I apologize for however out of character or Not Canon this may be, but it was a thought that wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote it down. And then after I started it, it got away from me. Its been a long, long time since I’ve wrote a fanfic whoo boy

I think I wrote this with the presumption of how it would take place if you could romance him in the game, and the consequences (for everyone) of that XD

“The scope of our relationship can grow as close as you wish.” Zex said with a foreign body language of bravado.

The Captain regarded him for a moment before leaning forward into the Admiral’s personal space, a grin pulling at the corner of their lips. “Oh? Close…how~….?”

Zex sputtered, caught off guard and overwhelmed by the human’s sudden, unexpected close proximity. A human had never so much as dared to tread within a couple feet of him, much less ever enough to feel their breath. He had grown rather bold with this certainty. Perhaps a measure of that was his own doing–  intentionally or not, his forthright tendencies wedging itself in between any opportunity. Being turned away, shrugged off or kept at a distance was the standard order of things. It was easy. It was predictable. And it had been so long, he never really expected that standard to be challenged. Needless to say, this threw him off.

Even still, he may have been a hopeless romantic, but he was no fool. He was aware of what the human stood to gain by winning him over. Manipulating him just to secure his military genius was low– but with a suspicious lack of human behavior like this ever before– not unheard of. He regained a brittle amount of composure, steeling over his words to obscure it. “Captain. If you intend to taunt me please do so in the way I am accustomed. I’ve hardened to the ridicule of my countrymen but faking interest in me is a different manner of cruel. If all you wish is for an alliance I am happy to oblige without the exploitation of my…weakness.”

The Captain challenged his words and moved a little closer, resting a relaxed arm on the admiral’s desk and shrugged. “I’m not faking, Zex.”

The admiral stared at it, then up at the captain when they said his name informally. Anyone else he may have corrected, but there was a warmth to it from the human that he so badly wanted to indulge. He had to confess, he had fantasized about similar circumstances and how he would conduct himself, but now that it was actual happening, he froze. He was usually so articulate but words escaped him, he was usually so well composed but this human had a way with disrupting it like a house of cards. As much as it currently worked against him, it was new to him. Exciting.

Reality began to sink in when the human didn’t recoil their appendage away, instead looked at him expectantly for a response. The gesture wasn’t an error. It was intentional. Even despite their lack of tendrils, humans had such a way with expressing emotion. It was one of the things he loved most about them. This one was a challenge to read, but everything he could gather from them seemed genuine. Which meant…

He struggled for a moment, realizing the position he had put himself in before laughing nervously. “Would you look at this? The first time a human reciprocates interest and even I succumb to a measure of my people’s distrust. You must forgive me, Captain. It has been a long time…” The admiral seemed to fight with some kind of internal conflict for a moment before the human settled it for him.

They reached out, dexterous fingers closing over his arm tendril in a comforting gesture. Their hand was warm, far warmer to the touch than he anticipated.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

Before the admiral could speak, the human was standing. And before he could ask if he had done something wrong, they were on his side of the desk.

A lot of things began to happen at once, and he opposed none of them.

-

“Zex?” The human asked, pulling on their robes not a moment before the admiral could take in one last look at their beautifully crafted anatomy akin to a living, breathing sculpture. They truly were a unique work of art forged from the galaxy and experiencing them so up close was a privilege.  The captain’s question was what pulled him out of his trance.

“Mmm?”The human studied the quiet planet outside from the window. Pensive observation stirred a thought that pricked the edge of their brow. They had such a world of emotion hidden behind subtle changes in their features. But interpretation was a different story.

“How much do you actually know about humans?”

It was a good thing VUX couldn’t blush.

“Admittedly, Captain, much more now than I did an hour ago.”

The human gave a kind but cheeky grin, looking down as if it helped them compose their words differently. Their “smile” as it were, had been toothy and startling when he first witnessed it. It contradicted what he otherwise should have interpreted as some kind of feral threat display. This was so very different. It was tender and warm, and it melted a part of him he didn’t know existed. Since then, he had been compelled to incite it as often as he could. They seemed to respond best with his banter and advances, which was a pleasure in and of its own.

“I’m serious. Be honest.”

The admiral thought for a moment.

“I know that your people are beautiful. And very clever. And resourceful. I know you are a uniquely hardy species. I’ve heard the stories of your people surviving conditions that would have easily killed others by shock alone. As I’m sure you know by now, my countrymen do not share my appreciation. They think you grotesque.”

“What else have they said about us?”

“They may have mentioned that you are stubborn. And reckless.”

“Do you believe them?”

“….I am beginning to consider it.”

“Perhaps you should.”

There was a pause.

“Why do you ask me this now?”

The Captain was quiet momentarily, but returned to Zex. Perhaps it was touch starvation, but he hadn’t realized how much he craved it until the captain returned to settling a hand against what equated to his own. They didn’t make eye contact just yet.

“The Ur Quan enslaved my people. What’s left of them.”

“Oh. Oh, dear. I was not aware. I am sorry, perhaps I’ve lived in isolation longer than I thought. I suppose that explains the lack of human visitors.” The gears began to turn. “But you arrived here in an armed starship. You weren’t given clearance to leave either, were you? You cannot be planning what I think you are planning. Captain, resisting the Ur Quan is madness.”

“And my visit here is a direct violation to your people’s alliance with the Ur Quan. I suppose if nothing else, reputation is accurate.” The human sighed. “You mentioned an alliance but I can’t expect that of you. You would be labeled a traitor. Your people already have enough reason to kill you without my interference as it is.”

“I am not attached to this planet, Captain. Nor interaction with my people, unfortunately.”

“If you think VUX are bigoted, you’ve not met enough humans.”

“How do you mean?”

“My peoples’ entire history is built on conflict and persecution. Our biggest challenge has always been coexisting with eachother. It’s a harsh lense to see it through, but that in mind it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to come with me either. Even if we do win the war, your help or not, life on Earth afterward would never be peaceful. They’ve done far more to their own people over far less. They’d tear you apart.”

“You’re suggesting this shouldn’t last.”

“I’m suggesting that we consider everything involved before this gets complicated.”

The admiral was quiet for a moment in thought. The human brought up a lot of good points, much to his displeasure. But that wasn’t going to deter him so easily.

“While I must commend the forethought, you are forgetting that tactical improvisation in dangerous situations is my specialty. Besides, this planet has always been more of a prison than a place of retirement—no matter how they attempted to sell it me. I saw through it. The whole reason I am here, Captain, is because I refused to be someone I am not. I can assure you. I would rather pursue an opportunity for a life worth living and the one that I want, however that is defined, than to live out my days rotting on this planet in fear. It would simply go against everything I stand for. I would join you on your travels… if you’d have me.”

The human sighed realizing he likely wasn’t going to let it go— not after making a conclusion like that. Not that they truly wanted to refuse him anyway.

That smile returned—quieter, more subtle this time. Almost somber. They reached over to the side of his face and stroked with the back of their hand. His eye closed, leaning into the touch with some measure of tension fading from his posture.

“I suppose it makes it easier when we’re not investing in another bunk on board.” The human teased. “And after all this is over, Alpha Cerenkov I can’t be the only one of its kind in the galaxy.”

The admiral’s shoulders relaxed, and an arm curled around the captain’s.

“We have some time to prepare.  My countrymen visit occasionally to exchange supplies and resources but they’ve been scarce lately and I do not think they know you are here. Fortunately the others that live here permanently are—“

“Sir, I didn’t hear the human’s departure and it’s been awfully quiet, are you o-.OHMY-“ After entering through the door, Dax dropped and shattered what seemed to previously be some kind of beverage he was holding before scrambling to shield his eye.

“Dax!? Have you no sense to knock?!”

“I did NOT see what I think I just saw.“ He nearly pleaded. "Tell me that isn’t what’s going on here. Admiral, I swear to–”

“Who is—?“

“My sub commander.” Zex retrieved and put on a robe of his own irritably before standing. “Who very rudely barged in unannounced, I might add.”

Dax carefully peeked open his eye, as if unsure if it was alright to look. “Excuse me sir, but the very last thing I expected to walk in on was—…“ Something like a grimace contorted Dax’s features.

“I do not need your approval, Dax. Besides, I thought you more open-minded than this.”

“So this is what I think it is. You have to be joking.” He finally looked, though now had a somewhat exasperated and heated posture. “Sure, maybe I don’t hate humans but to be involving yourself with—…“ his eye swiveled from the bed to the human, then back to Zex with a more bitter grimace. “What will the council think?”

“The council will not think anything if they don’t hear of it.”

"With all due respect sir, this– this had gone way too far. This is going to get you killed!”

“Mind. Your. Place. Dax.”

The sub commander’s posture recoiled slightly. His superior may have been reckless, blinded, mad and a hedonist, but he was also well respected and rightly earned it. Dax was as loyal as they came, even if the admiral absolutely exhausted him at times. This was easily in the top three of those.

“…I’m sorry, sir. I understand the council put you here to pursue your…‘lifestyle’–.”

“That’s what I’m doing, aren’t I?”

Dax laughed, uneasy. “Sure, but I highly doubt they expected it possible for you to ever actually–”

Zex sighed stubbornly and looked off, the sub commander’s words stinging a bit. It gave Dax pause to reword, but Zex spoke before he could.

“Please excuse me, captain. I’ll take care of this.”

The two of them left the room and shut the door behind them.

“Sir…even if they don’t find out which they obviously will, how do you expect to keep this up? If this gets back to our home planet they’ll make an example of you. They’ve been placated this long knowing you’re not influencing the public but as soon as it starts to get out of their hands it could cause an uprising. How long has this been going on?”

“If you must pry, I’ve spoken with them on recent occasions but this was the first time we–”

“Eugh. No. Stop. That’s enough.” He winced and interrupted. “So you’re telling me you don’t even know this human very well. You don’t know if they have an ulterior motive for all of this.”

“Actually, Dax, the human initially agreed with you. They were ready to leave for the sake of my safety and that would have been that. But I was who convinced them otherwise. They wouldn’t have initiated what they did or gone as far as they did if their intentions were to take advantage of me. If you were violently repulsed by the very appearance of an alien, don’t you think having sex with them would be a last resort? ”

“Sir, please—“Dax cringed, waving his arms to stop him but Zex continued.

“And if you must insist on doing this now—“ He huffed and straightened himself. “I’ve decided to join them. I’m leaving Alpha Cerenkov. The human plans to resist the Ur Quan.”

“Have you gone completely mad?! What about the fleet? I hope you realize the position you’re putting them in if they question them. If they question me. They’ll suspect us traitors. I didn’t swear an oath to your loyalty with the intention of breaking it. If I refuse to give them what they want…”

“If you and the rest of the fleet do not intend to join us, then perhaps the less you know the better.” The admiral turned back to the door, but Dax stopped him. There was a pause.

“I hope you’re sure about this…”

“There are few things I’ve been surer of.”

Dax sighed deeply.

“Just…wait. Don’t do anything reckless. I’ll talk with the fleet.”

[nancywheelxr]

Best timeline where bill gets paranoid about Eddie and Stan (like “stand here and we will cluster around you while we cross the street but only after no cars have passed for at least five min” kind of paranoid) and finds excuses to touch them (like clap on the shoulder or something) to convince himself they are still alive

Okay, I have to admit, these It prompts are by far my favorites to write! And, as always, you can find more of this AU here.

*

“Wait,” Bill says, momentarily seized with too much desperate panic not to freeze up. For a second, he forgets what’s dream and what’s memory and what’s now. He reacts before he thinks, hands like a vice on Eddie’s wrist and Stan’s elbow. 

In front of them, traffic keeps on like usual. “Sorry, I thought– n-nevermind.”

“Are you alright?” Bev asks carefully, trading a guarded look with Mike that Bill knows means he lost his cool one too many times now. Of course everyone’s noticing. 

“F-Fine,” he mutters, letting go abruptly and stuffing his hands on the pockets of his jacket, tucked away safely not to make another scene. His nightmares are his own, Bill doesn’t need them spreading into reality, into anyone else’s mind. “Just thought I’d seen a c-car.”

It’s a flimsy excuse and he knows no one’s buying it, but he must look really pitiful if even Richie’s unwilling to call him on his bullshit. But Bill can’t help it, really. There’s this awful itch on his mind, this feeling every time he thinks about that nightmare– sometimes, it feels like they’re just living on borrowed time, like the universe might realize its mistake and come collect Eddie and Stan away. 

So Bill worries.

He checks the street a dozen times before crossing and he walks close enough that his shoulders brush Stan’s. He tells Richie to keep an eye on Eddie and he keeps an eye on Stan himself. Sometimes, the light hits Stan’s wrists in an angle and Bill thinks he sees scars there, violently red, and he has to deliberately stop himself from checking.

The others have all noticed by now. Paranoia isn’t a strange look on him, Bill remembers that now, but it’s never skyrocketed like this. They probably think it’s concerning because they’re adults now and they can’t say shit like Bill’s going batshit crazy anymore.

Not that– Bill’s not sure that would be too far from the truth.

“You okay, man?” Stan asks after they’ve crossed the street and he’s politely not rubbing at his arm, where Bill had probably bruised him, like Eddie’s doing a few feet away. “You look– tired.”

Bill can’t help snorting. “Thanks, that’s g-generous.”

“I’m a generous person,” he replies mildly, expression still blandly devoid of anything that might’ve tipped off Bill to what he’s thinking. “But seriously, are you okay?”

Lying is a possibility here. Bill could look at Stan in the eye and tell him everything’s fine, he could, he already did it once, he told Audra everything was fine, he just had to go back home. He told her he’d be back soon. So yes, Bill could lie, but– it doesn’t sit right with him. Aren’t they all here because of him? In the end, it all boils down to: if Bill hadn’t faked being sick that one morning 28 years ago, things would have turned out very differently.

“Hey, stop that,” Stan shakes him a little and there it is again, the light glinting off imaginary wounds, and Bill is really this close to sitting him down and wrapping him in gauze just in case. “You’ve got your guilty face on, it’s worse than your I haven’t slept in a week one and that’s saying a lot.”

“Jeez, w-what happened to being generous?” Bill jokes weakly, knows it’s falling flat at their feet, and drags a hand over his face. “Nothing’s wrong,” he finally settles on, not a lie, not the whole truth.

Stan studies him carefully– everyone’s always a shade of careful with him lately. “But?”

“But my nightmare feels a bit t-too real sometimes,” he admits, the words leaving him like air out of a balloon, and Bill exhales, deflates, lets Stan bump against him as if that is the only thing keeping him upright. “I’m sorry.”

Neither of them says anything else as Stan mulls over his confession, face scrunched in concentration. This time, when sunlight hits, there’s just Stan, no shimmering images overlapping. “Don’t be,” he tells him with surprising certainty, “it’s not your fault.”

And goddamn, that’s such a broad expression but the way he says it sounds like he means it that way, broadly. An encompassing statement that’s supposed to take up all the space between them. It shouldn’t help, by all means, Bill is made of half grief and half guilt, and yet.

And yet, here Bill is, breathing. 

“T-thanks,” he swallows thickly, vividly aware his hands are shaking in his pockets.

Stan claps a hand on his shoulder, warm and alive, heartbeat pulsing under his skin. “I mean it, Bill. You should talk to someone about this, it doesn’t have to be me, but I’d listen.”

Somewhere between the hardware store and crossing into Main Street, they’ve fallen behind, the others walking nearly half a block ahead, and Bill finds he doesn’t mind this. It’s nice, glancing up and seeing all of them there, together– Richie with his arms slung over both Eddie and Bev, Ben holding her hand, Mike laughing, head thrown back. And Stan there, at his side. 

There’s safety in numbers, yes, but in Bill’s experience, there’s peace.

He smiles. “I think I’d like that.”

[salmonthestoryteller]

...And Never What We Deserve

Animal Kingdom Fanfic (s4e08 Coda) Adrian’s side of the bed was cold when Deran woke up.  The fact that he checked to see if his stuff was still in their dresser before he checked the kitchen said a lot about the current state of their relationship. He wasn't in the kitchen but there was a pot of coffee still on the warmer.

He found Adrian on the deck with a blanket around his shoulders - watching the ocean. His coffee sat half drunk beside him. "What are you doing up?" The question sounded more accusatory than he meant it to. Adrian tensed at it, and Deran hated that too.

"Couldn't sleep."

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"Figured you could use the rest. You're pretty beaten up."

"Had worse." He shrugged. Actually, he was pretty sure this was the worst he could list. Plus, he felt even worse than he had the previous evening - not that he was planning on admitting that.

"Yah, name it." Adrian shot back, and for a moment it felt so normal. Then Adrian quickly dropped his eyes and looked away. "Sorry, if you say you're fine, you're fine."

Deran wondered who he was angrier at. Adrian for putting them in this position? Jack for offering Adrian the job in the first place? Himself for not looking into things sooner even when he felt something was off?

"This what it's going to be like from now on? Us walking on eggshells around each other? Watching our every word?"

Adrian curled his fingers into the blanket, then sighed. "No.  No, we can't go on like this."

"So look at me already."

Adrian didn't just look up, he stood and turned to face him.  His eyebrows drew into a worried V and he reached out a hand to trace the cut on his nose. "Shit, you really did a number on yourself."

"What? I don't pull off ruggedly handsome well?"

"Ruggedly handsome, huh?"

"Yah, like one of those douches on TV who get paid to look hot with fake blood and shit."

Adrian laughed, letting his arms fall around shoulders. "Yah, sorry, you're not looking like some hot tv star from a fake action movie right now. More like I should tuck you into bed and bring you meds and jello."

"Oh, yah?" Deran felt his lips curve into a smirk, and he placed his hands on Adrian's hips. "You gonna play nurse for me? I would enjoy that."

"Oh, keep dreaming." Adrian returned.

This was them. This was what he needed, and he felt his grip on Adrian's hips tighten. This was what he couldn't give up. No matter what it took to keep it.

"We need to talk."

He frowned, studying Adrian's face - he was worried again. "Inside."

Adrian nodded, and drew away to grab the coffee cup to take back to the kitchen. Deran sat himself down at their table to watch him place it in the sink. Adrian didn't return to his side - he seemed to be gearing himself up to speak. "I've been thinking about it all night and I… I just can't go through with this thing with Livengood."

"I'm not expecting you to be involved in the next part. No offense, but you're not very intimidating."

"No, I mean I don't want you to go through with it either."

Deran snorted at that. "Yah, sure. I'll just let you go to prison instead."

"If that's how the trial goes, yes. If we plea down to possession instead of trafficking I might still get probation. At the very least a reduced sentence-"

"Not happening."  The idea of Adrian in prison? Of what the guards, let alone the other prisoners, would do to him? Yah, no way Deran was letting that happen.

"This is my mess. Okay? I don't have the right to come begging to you to fix it for me."

"You didn't. You damn well should have - months ago. But you didn't. This is me choosing to fix this."

"You aren't the kind of guy who threatens someone's kid, Deran."

"I'm the same guy who had your would be boyfriend tossed in the ocean in a fit of jealousy, so…". He shrugged.  He didn't want to admit that the idea of threatening someone's kid left a sour taste in his mouth. But he didn't actually have to hurt the kid - just make Livengood believe he would.

"You aren't that guy anymore."

"Aren't I?"

Adrian approached him then, and reached out a hand to touch his face. "You aren't." He said with certainty. "I know you and you aren't. I don't want to be the reason you do something like that."

"And I can't watch you go to prison. So where does that leave us?"

"I'm the one who screwed up and worked for Jack when I should have known better. Whatever ruling I get, I deserve."

"Screw that!"  Deran shot to his feet. "May we get what we want, and never what we deserve." He quoted, reaching out to grip his arms.  He’d been saying the phrase all his life - but he wasn’t certain he’d ever felt the words more strongly than he did now.  “That has always been my family's motto. You need to embrace it now."

“I can’t.” Adrian pulled away.

“You have been on the fringes of this stuff all our lives.  Not even because of me.  I didn’t introduce you to Jack.  I didn’t tell you to be friends with Ox or…”  He couldn’t say Colby’s name right now, couldn't even think it, “Or any of the other people in our lives. And I sure as hell didn’t ask you to get involved with Jack’s drug trade. You jumped head first into that all on your own.”

“I know that.”

“I’ve tried to keep you out of this shit, but you’re in it now.  And you going to prison isn’t a solution - it’s a death sentence.  This Livengood asshole knows it - he just doesn’t care.  You weren’t supposed to go to trial originally, right?"

“No, I was supposed to be exempt from prosecution.” Adrian admitted.

“Exactly.  He played you, threatened you; went back on his word. You have no reason to lose sleep over this jackass.”

Why was he so worried about going after the guy who was to blame for putting them in this position? Who was the one who had broken his deal, and targeted them?

“It’s not about him!  It’s about us! I don’t want to do this. I don’t want you to do this. I don’t want to be the one that makes you cross a line you can’t come back from.”

“There is no line I wouldn’t cross to keep you safe!”

“I’d rather die in prison than have you do that to yourself!”

Silence settled between them for a moment. Deran stepped back, running a hand over his face. After a moment he spoke, slowly.  “...If you die in prison, I’ll kill every one of the fuckers involved. Starting with this Livengood asshole.”

Adrian froze, eyes wide.  “Don’t say that.”

“I wouldn’t stop until I killed every one. I swear I wouldn’t.”

“Deran, no.”  He stepped forward, reaching out to him, but hesitating.  “You don't mean that."

"I wouldn't care anymore. Not without you. I just wouldn't." He confessed, and reached out to take ahold of his wrists - worried he'd pull away. Adrian made no move to, and he stepped closer.   “May we get what we want, and never what we deserve. Say. It.”

Adrian’s eyes were haunted as they met his.  Was this what his eyes had looked like? Years ago, when he’d first begun to work the family business?  When he’d first understood what it all meant? “May we get what we want, and never what we deserve.” Adrian repeated the words slowly.

Deran kissed him, and Adrian surrendered to the kiss.  A part of him felt like he was manipulating him into this, but he hadn’t been lying.  He may never be able to actually hurt a kid - but Livengood himself? If he got Adrian killed in prison because of refusing to stick to the original deal?  He wouldn’t have any problem pulling that trigger. He knew that for a fact now.

Fini

[pengychan]

[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt. 13

Title: Nuestra Iglesia Summary: Fake Priest AU. In the midst of the Mexican Revolution, Santa Cecilia is still a relatively safe place; all a young orphan named Miguel has to worry about is how to get novices Héctor and Imelda to switch their religious vows for wedding vows before it’s too late. He’s not having much success until he finds an unlikely ally in their new parish priest, who just arrived from out of town. Fine, so Padre Ernesto is a really odd priest. He’s probably not even a real priest, and the army-issued pistol he carries is more than slightly worrying. But he agrees that Héctor and Imelda would be wasted on religious life, and Miguel will take all the help he can get. It’s either the best idea he’s ever had, or the worst. Characters: Miguel Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Chicharrón, Óscar and Felipe Rivera, OCs. Imector. Rating: T 

[Tag with all chapters up here.] [Also on Ao3]

A/N: Well, after so much time listening to confessions, it was about time Ernesto gave one of his own. Also, some history happens.

***

“... And you promise to keep this a secret, right?”

Miguel had spoken with the utmost certainty of a child who knows, beyond the slightest shadow of doubt, that the promise will be kept. And why wouldn’t he? He always trusted Héctor with everything. Nearly everything - clearly there was something big he’d kept hidden for a time - but now he’d come clean and expected Héctor to have his back. To keep his promise.

If only he could do that. He’d known, even as he promised to tell no one, that it wasn’t an option. He wouldn’t go yelling it in the streets, but someone should know; a soldier of the Federal army hiding among them under a false identity wasn’t something he could keep quiet about.

There was a war going on, and there could be no sticking his head under the sand and pretending not to know. It was too risky, too much going on, too much at stake - too dangerous to ignore. And, really, almost too unbelievable to believe.

“Are you sure Miguel didn’t make it up?” Imelda asked, skin ashen and sounding nothing short of stunned. Héctor had approached her and Sofía before they went to collect the offerings for the week, and taken them someplace quiet to listen. Her expression had gone from confusion to surprise to utter astonishment.

Héctor shook his head. “Why tell a lie like that?” he asked. Miguel wouldn’t, and Imelda knew it.

“Well, not tell a lie, but… maybe imagined it.”

“It would be a weirdly specific thing to imagine.”

Standing before Imelda and biting lightly on her thumb, as she often did when thoughtful, Sofía frowned. “... In retrospect, a few things would definitely make more sense if it’s true.”

“Such as…?”

“Lax morals, for one.”

“You have lax morals too, and you are a nun.”

Sofía shrugged. “Eh. Fair,” she conceded. “But at least I never got anyone pregnant.”

“Wait-- what?” Héctor nearly screeched. He was… unsure how many blows his mind could take that day. “You and him-- he got you--!”

A roll of her eyes. “Not me, pendejo,” Sofía muttered, flicking his nose. “I am careful, unlike people I shall not name. Tell the sin, not the sinner, no?”

Imelda cleared her throat. “While reprehensible, that is not our main concern. We need to know who he is. We’ll be searching his room. And if we find anything that proves he’s a Federale--”

“Miguel says he deserted,” Héctor said quickly. “So maybe we should give him the benefit of--”

“That’s what he told Miguel, Héctor,” Imelda cut him off. Her astonishment was quickly turning into something closer to anger. “He lied about everything else. Why not this?”

“O-of course, but…” Héctor dropped his shoulders. However much he wanted to believe what Miguel had said - “He ran off, he’s not one of them anymore!” - he knew Imelda had a point.

“Let’s go search the room, I know it well,” Sofía was saying, and proceeded to entirely ignore Imelda’s raised eyebrow. “And he’ll be off in the confessional for another while.”

“I’ll come with yo--”

“No,” Imelda stopped him. “You’re supposed to be teaching Latin to the kids some… probably ten minutes ago, really. Best not to let him notice anything out of the ordinary. Just go-- we’ll see what we can find and let you know.”

“... All right,” Héctor muttered, and watched them walk off quickly, his mind still reeling, trying to keep thinking the best of a man he’d come to think of as a friend.

***

“Is that--”

“A pistol, yes,” Imelda said, letting the mattress drop. Sofía to rolled her eyes. 

“Oh, and here I thought it was a funny-shaped communion pyx. Is it army-issued?”

Imelda turned it over in her hands, looking closely - yes, it looked everything like the sort of pistols Federales would carry. She opened it. “... Loaded,” she muttered, and closed it again with a click. “I’m sure we’ll find more bullets if we look--”

“Wha-- Sofía? What is it, wasn’t Sister Antonia in the moo-- er. Imeld-- Sister Gise-- agh!”

As Imelda turned, pistol held up and finger on the trigger, she saw the imposter’s confusion turning into terror, and oh was it satisfying: he deserved it, for lying to all of them and… whatever else he had done. Which she would find out all about in moments, she was sure. 

People get very talkative with a gun to their head.

“Don’t even think of running,” Imelda hissed. “Close the door and put your hands up. You have five seconds.”

“H-hey, now--”

“Four, three…”

“A-all right! All right!”

As Padre Ernesto shut the door and held up his hands, skin pale as ash, Sofía clicked her tongue in disapproval. “A pistol, really,” she sighed, resting a dramatic hand over her heart. “And all along, I thought you were happy to see me.”

The man’s eyes flickered towards her, and the terror on his face faded slightly in a smile that was almost cocky. “I’m happy to see you now,” he said, and looked over at Imelda. “Would be happy to see you both in different circumstances,” he added, his voice remarkably firm for a man with the mouth of a loaded gun pointed at his head. “Actually, since you went through the trouble of getting in my room, if you put down that pistol I can explain everything and make this situation a whole lot more pleasant for all of u--”

Imelda rolled her eyes, and the gun’s aim moved down from his head to his groin. 

“Wait-- wait!” he almost shrieked, all cockiness gone. His hands went to cover his crotch. “I can explain! Honest!”

“Then do it,” Imelda said curtly. 

“O-of course. But can you point that pistol... somewhere else?”

“Like your head again?”

“That would be preferable.” 

Ay, men. With a sigh, Imelda pointed the gun back at his head. His hands went up again, a bit slowly. “Explain,” she ordered. “Who are you, really?”

“Well… not a priest.”

“I think we established that. Were you sent here to spy on us?”

“Wha-- no!” he protested. Beside Imelda, Sofía hummed. 

“Too much of an idiot to be a spy,” she muttered, gaining herself an unimpressed look. 

“Gracias,” he said drily.

“Anytime, but it’s her you need to convince,” Sofía replied, tilting her head towards Imelda, who still had the pistol up. That caused him to pause and swallow again before he spoke.

“... Right. My name is Ernesto de la Cruz. I am--”

“A soldier of the Federal army.”

“No!” he snapped, and something about that outburst did more to convince Imelda of his sincerity than any of his bright smiles and calming words. “I was drafted-- I deserted. I’m not with them anymore. I’m--”

“On the run?” It matched Miguel's tale, but for all she knew he may have lied to him too.

“... Sí.”

Not a surprise, if true. Federales showed no mercy to deserters; if caught again, it was said, they wouldn’t even waste a bullet on them. They'd hang them, and leave them up for the vultures. That he’d hide made sense… but this charade? Not so much. 

“We were expecting a parish priest, from Oaxaca,” she said slowly, narrowing her eyes. “And you show up instead, dressed for the part. What happened to the real priest?”

Something crossed the man’s face - a clenching of the jaw, a faraway look. “He died.”

“By your hand?” she pressed on. She expected a denial, whether sincere or not, and instead he nodded, lips pulled in a tight line.

“He asked me to. I made it quick.”

A murderer, she was standing in front of a murderer capable of killing an unarmed, defenseless man of God. By her side. Sofía had gone very still. “Asked you?” Imelda spat. “Suicide is a sin and so is asking for someone to pull the trigger. Am I supposed to believe that? That a man of God--”

“After being tied under the sun for days without water or food in the middle of a desert, with a couple of rotting corpses hanging over his head, a man of God is just a man,” Ernesto de la Cruz snapped back. His features twisted in anger and something else, a desperate need to be believed. “He was dying when I found him. Getting him help would have taken days - he wouldn’t have made it. He knew it and decided that Hell would probably be a nice vacation from what he’d just lived through. So he asked me to finish him. And I did. Once out of his misery, he had no need for his cassock anymore.”

Imelda blinked, and exchanged a quick glance with Sofía. She looked somewhat pale, but when she spoke again her voice was firm. “And how had he come to be tied in a desert like that?”

Federales, Imelda thought, of course. There was no love lost between the Catholic Church and Victoriano Huerta; it was not uncommon for them to target churches and priests to take what they could from them. Still standing in the same spot, but hands no longer up in the air, Ernesto de la Cruz spoke again. 

“Revolutionaries were about to hang two Federales - they probably found them scouting. Maybe they were looking for me, who knows. The priest was on his way here when he spotted them, and asked to take their final confession. Instead they hung the men and then tied him--”

No. No, that wasn’t right. Most people in the Revolution came from poor families, with an utmost respect for men of God. It couldn’t be. “Liar,” Imelda snapped, causing him to recoil and, after a moment’s hesitation, to put his hands up again. Her grip on the pistol tightened. “They would never. Federales like you are the ones with no mercy--”

“There is no mercy in war,” de la Cruz snarled. “They die or you do. On and on, day after day, until you forget you’re looking at humans because it gets easier if you get that detail out of your mind. Enough men die around you for you to hate the enemy, and it doesn’t matter if at first you were forced to join, if you had no reason to hate them before. You hate them  now. For all you know, it was the ones before you to shoot your comrades. Probably not. But you still hate them.”

“That is not-- a priest, there was no reason--”

“They were angry men at war, about to hang the enemy, and the priest stepped between them. A stupid idea.”

“He was doing his duty. Not that a deserter would know a thing about it,” Imelda said coldly, gaining herself an equally cold glare.

“Oh, now it’s a bad thing that I left the Federal Army behind? Of course. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”

A scoff. “You don’t get to play the victim after lying to us all,” Imelda pointed out, and de la Cruz scoffed right back… but he seemed to hesitate before speaking again.

“... Whatever. Either way, what the priest did was useless as it was stupid. You don’t step between a jaguar and a deer.”

“Those were men, not animals.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew the first thing about this war.”

Imelda narrowed her eyes. “I might just know more than you believe.”

“All right, all right, all right. No need to overshare now,” Sofía spoke up quickly, putting an arm on Imelda’s arm and giving it a light squeeze. She was right, of course: letting him guess that they had ties to revolutionaries, if he hadn’t guessed already, simply wouldn’t be wise. Imelda drew in a deep breath, nodded at her, and turned back to de la Cruz. 

“... So. You finished him, and came here to hide.”

“Yes.”

“Was this seriously your plan In the long term?”

De la Cruz seemed to hesitate, and his eyes shifted to Sofía. She shrugged. “Tell her the truth, and she might go easy on you.”

As if, Imelda thought, but she said nothing. In the end, the man she’d believed to be their parish priest sighed. “No. My idea was to stay for a few days, rest my horse, eat a few decent meals--”

“And then run off again?”

“Yes.”

“With the money offers of the church, I bet.”

He clearly saw no point in lying there. “Of course.”

“... And how, exactly, did that change into staying to keep up the charade and raising money for food supplies?” she asked, rather puzzled. On one hand it would be easy to believe he was raising that money for himself… if not for the fact that most of it had already been spent on food. 

The question caused him to hesitate and he seemed… vaguely surprised, like he hadn’t stopped to think about it all that well himself. “I-- er--” he stammered a moment, and Imelda lowered the gun just a fraction. In the end, he dropped his shoulders. “I don’t know. Guess I liked it here.”

Imelda raised an eyebrow. He shifted, and he looked… embarrassed, really. “Look, I’ve been in the army for almost a year and it was no fun, let me tell you. People don’t care if you’ve been forced into it. They see the uniform and hate you for it.”

For good reason, Imelda almost said, but held back. She thought of her brothers, how gutted she’d be if they were ever taken by the army, and how they would have to face hatred for a uniform they had never chosen to wear. 

There is no mercy in war, he’d said. You forget you’re looking at humans. You hate them.

Imelda refused to say a single word that may prove him right. 

“I haven’t seen my town since I was drafted. I don’t even know if my parents are alive and I sure can’t risk going back, but being on the run is no fun either, and staying here was... better.”

“Told you, Imelda, I’m that good in bed,” Sofía muttered, causing Imelda to roll her eyes - she did not need the mental image - and de la Cruz to… well, it did look the closest to a smile a guy at gunpoint can muster. 

“That was a good perk,” he muttered.

“As was bestowing blessings on marital beds.”

“... Wait a moment, what--”

“Nothing!” de la Cruz exclaimed quickly, causing Imelda’s head to whip back towards him. “Look, it was just… nice to be somewhere without anyone looking at me like they wished I’d burst in flames - except the gringo, I mean. But he looks everyone like that.”

Sofía raised an eyebrow. “Yes, about the gringo--”

“One problem at a time,” Imelda cut her off; last thing she needed right now was dealing with the gringo’s ongoing crisis. Slowly, she lowered the pistol. She was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, if anything because Miguel had known from the start and despite several chances to silence him - it chilled her to think of it now, just in how many occasions Miguel had been alone with him - Ernesto de la Cruz had never done anything to him. 

“We’ll talk this through with Héctor as well,” she finally said. “You’re going to stay here, for now.”

“And where would I go?” de la Cruz muttered, his voice bitter. Imelda made herself ignore that, and the faint traces of fear in his gaze before he spoke again. “Are you going to tell everyone?”

“... No. The town doesn’t need to know for now - if word gets out and Federales so much suspect we kept you hidden knowingly, it would be… bad. So keep up the act for another while.”

“And your rebel friends?”

Imelda narrowed her eyes. “How would you know about that?”

“You… kinda made it obvious,” he muttered and, well… she probably had, fair enough. 

“Fine. They will be informed discreetly, but--”

“They’ll see me hang,” de la Cruz spoke up, a hint of panic in his voice. That wasn’t good - a panicking man stops thinking. A panicking men can do impulsive things.

“They won’t.”

“I was a soldier of the Federal army. Of course they want me dead.”

“You left the army,” Sofía spoke up. His gaze moved between them like that of a trapped animal.

“Look at me and guarantee that is enough to save my neck,” he snapped, and Imelda… couldn’t do that. She was reasonably sure they could put in a good word or him, so that they wouldn’t use him for target practice, but she had no way to be certain it would work.

No mercy. Forget you’re looking at humans. Hate them.

Imelda chased away the thought. “... We’ll talk it over. We’re keeping the gun as insurance.”

While he seemed relieved to no longer be held at gunpoint, he still shot her a very annoyed look. “I’m not going to do anything,” he protested.

“Then you won’t mind if we keep it.”

For a moment he gave her a look so dark, Imelda was very glad she was the on with the gun in her hands; then it faded in an expression that seemed lost - somewhat scared - and he eventually dropped his shoulders. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice distant. “Fine.”

***

“... So Miguel blabbed, huh?”

Should have known. Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.

Mercifully unaware of his thoughts - which, truth be told, Ernesto himself was doing his best to keep out of his head - Héctor shrugged. “He’s a kid,” he pointed out, as though Ernesto wasn’t perfectly aware of that detail. “You shouldn’t have burdened him with a secret like that.”

“I didn’t exactly choose to do it. He found me out. Which raises the question, really - if a nine year old altar boy could find me out in less than twenty-four hours, why didn’t you?”

All right, so maybe making them mad wasn’t the brightest idea, but at the moment Ernesto figured it was either that, or letting them see he was scared shitless. Because he was scared, both of what could happen to him now and… of what he might have done if the pistol was still in his possession. 

Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead. Four, if three are dead.

A thought tried to worm its way into his mind, the faint memory of something Gustavo might have said at one point about something they had in storage, but before he could remember Héctor spoke up. He seemed stunned, but at least he didn’t look like he was one wrong word away from tearing Ernesto’s throat out. Imelda seemed to be still mulling over it.

“All right, all right,” he muttered, passing a hand over his eyes. “So-- you’re not a priest.”

Ernesto glanced sideways to Imelda and Sofía, who looked back at him, at each other, and then at Héctor again. “Yes,” Imelda said a bit slowly. “I think we’re all on that page.”

“Right. Not a priest. I-- ay, I thought that maybe Miguel’s imagination had been running wild.” He made a face. “The chamaco is better at keeping a secret than I gave him credit for.”

Still not good enough.

“He made me promise I wouldn’t tell anyone-- and wouldn’t tell you that I knew,” Héctor added.

Ernesto raised an eyebrow. “Amazing job there.”

“Thanks. I mean-- agh!” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You know I had no choice. With all that’s going on - you wouldn’t have kept quiet either in my shoes. Too much at stake.”

“... Fair enough.” Ernesto sighed, leaning back against his chair. “Well, now you know. How long before you sign my death sentence?” he added. Héctor was… softer than either Imelda or Sofía, and he might just be his best chance to keep his secret, if not a secret, at least restricted. 

“Huh?”

“That’s what going to happen when your amigos out there on the hills find out.”

That caused Héctor to pale a little. “They’re not going-- I mean, there is no need for them to know,” he muttered, glancing over at Imelda. “We know the truth now, and-- everything is fine.”

Imelda’s expression stayed stony, but she seemed to hesitate a moment or two before replying. 

“We’d be expected to report this.”

“He doesn’t pose a risk,” Héctor argued. “And-- if the men the Federales took from here ever deserted and came back, we’d protect them.”

“Of course we would. We protect our own.”

“He is one of--”

“He lied to us.”

Oh, for fuck's sake. "What was I supposed to do?" Ernesto snapped. "Saunter here, telling everyone I was in the Federal army until the previous week, and see how well that turned out?"

“You could have joined the resistance,” Imelda retorted. “There are many who desert to embrace the cause--”

“No.” Ernesto’s voice shook a moment and oh, he hated that. He shook his head and cleared his throat, hoping against hope that she hadn’t noticed… but of course, they all had. He could see that in the quick glance they had just exchanged. “No. I’m through with this damn war. I won’t pick up a rifle again.”

“And yet you kept a pistol.”

“To use in case Federales found me.”

“What, you thought you could down every soldier in your way--”

“Or put a bullet in my own brain before they got their hands on me,” Ernesto retorted, and he only realized the truth of it only as it left his lips. He’d never consciously thought about it, but now he knew-- yes, that had been in the back of his mind all along. He’d take a quick death over whatever would be done to him before he was allowed to hang.

A brief silence followed, broken by Héctor’s voice. He sounded almost pleading. “He’s been helping out the town, too.”

“And he came with you to demolish a wife beater,” Sofía muttered. 

Ernesto raised an eyebrow at her. “We did no such thing, remember?”

“... Let me rephrase. He was with you to witness the awful string of bad luck that befell el señor Rodríguez.”

“That is entirely unrelated to this,” Imelda pointed out, but something had shifted in her expression - the tiniest movement around the corners of her lips. Her gaze shifted between Ernesto and Héctor, then back to Ernesto. “... I supposed that, for now, they have no need to know,” she conceded.

Ernesto stared, and let out a long breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding in. When he spoke it was quietly, and without thinking. “Gracias.”

A sigh. “Don’t make me regret it,” she finally murmured. “We have to go back to our duties before anyone notices we’re gone. Are you good to stay with him?”

Héctor laughed a little. “If Miguel was always safe, so am I,” he said, causing something in the pit of Ernesto’s stomach to clench. 

Ah, but was he?

He tried not to let the thought show, and he probably did a good job, because Imelda and Sofía left - why did Sofía keep looking at her as though there was something funny going on he hadn’t caught on with yet? - and he did find himself alone with Héctor.

Who, on his part, seemed just a smidge awkward. 

“I think she likes you.”

‘Well, she didn’t mind me in bed.”

“... I mean Imelda.”

“I am fairly sure she wanted me dead.”

“But you’re not dead, so I think she likes you. You won by points helping us beat up Rodríguez.”

“Heh. A good deed if there ever was one.”

“Right. By the way, uh… Miguel kinda made me promise to tell no one, but… I couldn't not tell them, you understand."

A sigh. "I do."

"Right. So I would be really grateful if you didn't tell him that I told them what he told me. And that I told you that he told me."

"You're giving me a headache here, but fine."

There was laughter, a bit uncertain. "Gracias. So, uh...you've had an interesting life.”

“... I guess I did.” Ernesto braced himself for questions about army life, the war, what he had seen and done. 

He was already starting to feel sick - the civilians they had to shoot, those haunted him the most - but when the question came it wasn't about any of that. It was about before.

"So, what did you do? Before being drafted?"

Not the question Ernesto had expected but oh, was it a relief to hear it - to be able to reply honestly, and aloud. “I was-- I am a musician.”

“Wha-- oh! Now that makes a lot of sense! You’re so good at--” he mimicked playing a guitar. “And good voice, too.”

Ernesto found himself smiling. “I can dance as well. Just… not in a cassock.”

“Hah! Once this war is over with, maybe?”

“Maybe,” Ernesto muttered, unable to admit he could barely imagine an end to it. “You’re pretty good yourself. You sure I’m the only musician masquerading as a priest here? I won’t tell.”

It made Héctor laugh, showing off the empty space in his front teeth. “Haha! I wanted to be one when I was little. Cheech taught me how to play and read music, then I began writing my own.”

“Then why aren’t you a musician?”

“Ah, it just-- wasn’t meant to be.”

“Not if you don’t try, it isn’t. I can’t figure out why anyone would rather choose to be a priest.”

Héctor raised an eyebrow at him. Ernesto rolled his eyes. “For real, I mean.”

“Heh. I guess… well, I don’t think I have what it takes.”

“Are you serious? Your songs are good, Héctor. Professional opinion here - we could make a good team. And even if it really isn’t to be… priesthood, really?”

“Ay, you sound like Cheech now,” Héctor muttered. “I couldn’t think of anything else I would be good for, I wanted to give something back to the church. They took me in and all.”

“You’re still on time to back off. You and Imelda both. Just in case you’re both deaf and blind, she is interested,” he added. His words had the interesting effect of turning Héctor’s face a deep shade of red; the laugh that followed wasn’t enough to hide the embarrassment.

“You sound awfully invested. Did you take a bet or what?”

Ernesto grinned. “Well, amigo, since we’re now being perfectly honest, getting the two of you together was Miguel’s request in exchange for keeping the secret.”

“... What?”

“And help me out with Latin bullshit.”

“What!”

“If it helps, I did end up getting sort of invested.” Partly to spite the gringo, really, but he wasn’t going to admit that. It wasn’t even half the reason, truth be told. And plus, Father Johnson was… extra headache he didn’t need to think about right now. Sofía was checking on him now. 

“Ay, that-- that--” Héctor sputtered. “When I see him, I’ll--”

“You’ll do precisely nothing because you don’t want him to know that you know, because that means I told you and thus he’d know that you told me you know.”

Héctor gave him a very unimpressed look. “Are you trying to make my head hurt now?”

“Maybe,” Ernesto laughed. “But the niño is right, you know? You two are so into each other it’s more than slightly ridiculous. And now that I can speak freely, let me tell you - I’m pretty sure neither of you got the call to clergy life any more than I did.”

Héctor shifted on his seat. “It’s not that easy,” he muttered. “Imelda’s family wouldn’t want her to marry some nobody out of the orphanage.”

“What, are they sitting on a gold mine?”

“Well-- no, they’re not rich. But they have some standing in town-- you know that, you met them. Imelda could do better, they wanted her to do better. There was a guy--”

“And she’d rather be a nun than do as they ask?”

“... Apparently.” His frown turned into a fond smile. “She can be strong headed.”

“You don’t say,” Ernesto droned, and stood to fetch them a drink. That something Gustavo had said at some point almost made it back to his mind, but not quite, and a minute later he was filling two glasses, no longer thinking of it. If he couldn’t remember it, then it couldn’t be anything important. 

“Listen, from what I gathered from the Bobos--”

“The Bobos?”

“Her brothers, I’m not even going to bother trying to guess who’s who each time. According to them, their parents are not huge fans of Imelda becoming a nun, either. That being the alternative, maybe they’ll even settle for you.”

“... You sure know how to make a guy feel great about himself,” Héctor muttered, but he took his glass with a laugh, and he raised it for a toast. “Es un placer conocerte, Ernesto.”

Ernesto stared at him for a moment, blinking, then he smiled. Tempted as he was to give Miguel a piece of his mind, maybe - just maybe - the muchacho hadn’t been entirely wrong.

Maybe it wouldn’t get you killed. Héctor would never. He’d help you.

“Nice to meet you too, Héctor,” Ernesto said, and raised his own glass.

In the shed at the end of the churchyard, right next to several barrels of wine meant for the Holy Mass, large amounts of tightly-packed rat poison kept collecting dust.

*** 

“Not very talkative these days, are you?”

“I am trying to write,” John droned. He was on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, writing a letter to his old archdioceses in the States on a sheet of paper, with the Bible beneath it as support. A letter about the wonders of faith in that small village, a plea for help, and the images to make it all the more compelling. 

That ought to be enough to get Santa Cecilia some help; in any case, it was the most he could do. He’d have that letter sent, and then write another to be sent to Oaxaca - to let them know there was no more need of him there, and that he would move on to the next village in need-- 

A sting in his back - there was the rubbing alcohol - caused him to recoil slightly, letting out a hiss. While the wounds were closing, it still caused some discomfort. The nun clicked her tongue. “You should be resting.”

“Writing is hardly heavy work,” he replied. As the nun - Sister Sophie, was it? - fell silent, tending to the healing wounds on his back, John did his best to ignore her presence. Despite the sense of humiliation for needing someone to help him like this, there was relief as well: relief that no one had come in his room with a disgusted scowl, because it meant that Father Ernest had told no one his shameful, dark secret.

He hadn’t shown himself since the truth had come out, and it was… for the best. In the first place, John might just die of shame if he had to look at him in the eye. Secondly… well, if he stayed away from him, his virtue would be safe; however tolerant he may be, he had to be disgusted now that he knew he was, himself, the object of his unholy desire. Surely his… suggestion on how to cure his affliction had been made in jest. It had to be. 

John did his best to ignore the painful twinge in his chest. 

It’s for the best. I couldn’t stand seeing disgust on his face.

“... All done.” Sister Sophie finished cleaning his wounds, wiped his back lightly with a clean piece of linen, and stood. “I’ll leave you the food. You should eat something.”

“As soon as I am done with the letter,” John said, avoiding to look up. Those days he felt as though he would corrupt whoever came near him if he looked at them in the eye. Or that they’d somehow read his shame in his gaze. “It is the best I can do to get your village some aid. I will need someone to ensure the envelope is sent out as soon as possible tomorrow morning.”

“Of course. I’ll tell Padre Ernesto to remember that when he comes in tomorrow at lunch.”

John’s pen froze in mid-air, his heart skipping a beat. “Wha-- I mean-- he’s a busy man,” he stammered before he managed to steady his voice. “He doesn’t need to bother with--”

“Oh, I’m sure he won’t mind! He knows tomorrow is food distribution day, so we’re going to be busy,” Sister Sophie said lightly. 

“No, it isn’t necessary-- I believe anyone else--”

“He’ll be glad to get a chance to catch up - he’s been asking about you,” the nun added in the same light tone. John’s heart jumped somewhere in his throat. 

“He-- did he?”

“Of course. He’s pretty concerned, only that he’s been so busy - I’m sure he’ll be relieved to see how much better you’re doing,” she added. Her voice was sweet, almost too sweet, and John would have known if he’d bothered to get to know her past a superficial level. But he hadn’t, and he didn’t. He didn’t even notice the spring in her step as she left: all he could focus on was his own beating heart, how his face felt as though he’d set it aflame. He drew in deep breaths, tried to calm himself - to empty his mind and think no more of it. 

He went back to writing the letter, ending with a passionate plea for the aid of devout Catholics who strive endlessly to better themselves before out Lord, and put the pen away with a sigh, on the small nightstand next to the bed.

He put the letter down, to let the ink dry, and turned to something else - the small heap of photos. Some he’d developed himself before his collapse, others had been developed by Héctor following his written instructions, with… mixed results. But it would be all right: there were plenty of images to pick from. He simply had to choose the ones that best represented his work there, the merits and faith of the people of Santa Cecilia, and he would do just that… possibly avoiding to look too hard at any photograph with Father Ernest in it. 

Which was to say, a lot of them. Most of them, truth be told, but it only made sense the parish priest would feature often. John would simply need to look at them with the detached eye of a photographer, not that of some… some unholy sodomite. And he tried to, he really did.

Even so, he stared at the photographs for a very long time in the flickering light of a lone candle.

***

“So we’re dock workers now? Amazing. Absolutely what I signed up for.”

“We’re not unloading anything, are we? Just watching so that operations do smoothly.”

“Truly the most suitable job for the glorious 19th Infantry Battalion,” Santiago muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm as he wiped some sweat off his forehead. “I knew coming to Veracruz would only be a waste of time.”

His words caused Nando to sigh. He did that an awful lot with him, like he was dealing with an especially impatient child, and it was starting to get on Santiago’s nerves. “It’s weapons and you know it, pendejo,” Nando muttered, rolling his eyes. “So keep those eyes peeled.”

“Yes, yes.” Santiago rolled said eyes, and glanced at the SS Ypiranga again. He waited, cursing the sun in his eyes, until man aboard waved at him with both arms, letting him know the entire cargo meant for them had been unloaded. Santiago lifted an arm to wave in response, and turned to the men loading the crates on carts. “Well, we’re done here.”

“Not yet. We need to see these off and escort the carts back to--”

“... What ship is that?”

“Not one of ours?”

“That flag--”

Some voices rose up, curiosity turning into concern and then some alarm. Both Santiago and Nando turned to see that there was a ship approaching the harbor, and that it didn’t seem one of theirs at all. Nando frowned. 

“Maybe it’s just--” he began, but Santiago didn’t listen, a gut feeling telling him it was more than ‘just’. He turned to a man next to him, who was pulling an old pair of binoculars. He snatched it, causing some protests he paid absolutely no mind to, and looked through it. 

It was more than one ship now, he could see it now. He could read the names, too - USS Prairie, USS Florida, USS Utah - and see all of them were flying the same flag. 

Americans, heading straight to their harbor. Normally, it might have seemed like nothing much, if a bit unusual. American ships were often seen in Veracruz, which was home to a good number of American citizens; there could be several good explanation for the presence of those ships.

Except that those were war ships. Except that they were coming just as they were finishing unloading weapons from the Ypiranga. 

Except that relations with the United States had been strained since that stupid, stupid  incident in Tampico, when a bunch of American sailors got their asses arrested and their commander demanded apologies, a 21-gun salute and possibly a kiss on the ass while they were at it. They got the apology but not the rest, but surely-- come on, it couldn't be that, could it?

Maybe they only needed an excuse. And they got it.

Slowly, as a curious crowd gathered to watch the approaching ships - Mexicans and Americans, none of them scared yet - Santiago turned to Nando. He hadn’t seen the ships, but the look on Santiago’s face was probably enough for him to guess something was very wrong, if the way he paled was anything to go by. “General Maass must be warned at on--” Santiago began, but before he could move someone grasped his shoulder - one of the men from his battalion. 

“Here you are! Get the weapons away from the harbor, quick. We’ll need them all. The General has been mobilizing both 18th and 19th Battalion to resist - you have to come.”

Oh, of course, and all while the two of them were standing uselessly on the docks. Trying to ignore a pang of almost childish annoyance, Santiago scowled. “So it is an attack.”

“Yes. Canada told the General that they were coming earlier--"

Nando blinked. “What, are Canadians in this, too?”

“The American Consul, cabrón! William or Wilbur or whatever weird name he’s got. He told Maass not to resist and just surrender.”

Santiago scoffed, lips curling in what was almost a grin. The prospect of a fight warmed something in his blood, the frustration of being idle for so long beginning to melt away into the familiar, euphotic rush. He’d been afraid of it, after his first few battles, of what he may turn into. Now it was a relief. “Idiota,” he muttered. “We won’t surrender.”

“Of course not. We’ll be calling for civilians to fight, too. And Commodore Azueta is gathering up the cadets of the Naval Academy.”

It didn’t bode well - a couple of battalions, some cadets and civilians against American forces - but Santiago found that it didn’t scare him. Blood pumping, ears buzzing, he left Nando to deal with the cargo and ran to report, to prepare for battle. Part of him was already spoiling for it.

Life was about to become much, much harder for American citizens on Mexican soil, including the ones watching the events unfolding on that very harbor. Only about a year and yet a lifetime ago, Santiago might have felt sorry for the innocent men and women who’d be caught in the power games between countries… but not anymore. They were the enemy now; hating them by extension was easier, with no questioning or double-guessing. A relief, in a way.

Most of his hatred was still for one man and one man only - the coward who’d shot his best friend in the back to run off in the desert - and for the rebels and those who aided them... but oh, now gringos were a close third, and that was fine. 

There was enough fury in him for all of them to have a piece. 

*** 

“Give me one good reason why I should be the one looking after the gringo.”

“Food distribution day. The sisters and I are busy, and Héctor is still off to make sure the letter is sent. By the way, Padre Juan also wanted a second letter posted - this one to our very own arquidiócesis de Antequera,” Sofía added lightly, and pulled out the letter in question - the envelope, of course, no longer sealed. “He actually praises you-- I’m impressed. But I suspect the guys in Oaxaca would mainly be confused. Unless it turns out the other priest’s name was also Ernesto, but what are the odds?”

Padre Ernesto seemed to pale a little, then he recovered. “But it wasn’t sent.”

“No. But he might write them again, from someplace where we can’t intercept his mail - and mention you. A small risk, but…” she let the sentence fade, but of course he got her point perfectly: a small risk is still a risk. If he so much mentioned him…

“Well, what am I supposed to do? Shoot him?” Ernesto snapped. “You took my pistol, and--”

“And it’s best not to risk drawing attention with a missing gringo. His dioceses in the States will know he was here last, now. So, next best thing,” Sofía grinned, holding out the basket with the food and medication, “is convincing him to stay here for as long as possible.”

A grunt. “So much for getting rid of him,” Ernesto muttered, but he did take the basked. “And what makes you think I’d be able to make him change his mind?”

“Well, you’ve got something he wants,” Sofía said lightly, and walked out. She didn’t quite grasp the insults Ernesto was mumbling in her general direction, but she probably guess a few.

After all, Ernesto de la  Cruz - fake priest, real idiot - was about as creative as she was subtle.

***

[Back to Part 12]

[On to Part 14]

[skrivarmelodi]

Best Boyfriend - Gladnisweeks Day 4

@gladnis2018​

Day 4: Fake Dating

Rating: G

Words: 3800~

Summary: Gladio is in love with Ignis for two years, but he is scared to confess. When Ignis asked him to be his fake boyfriend, Gladio tries to be the best boyfriend.

Also on AO3

Love was a weird thing.

Gladio knew and had heard from the people around him and read in the books he swallowed each evening, even though he didn't look like a bookworm, as some of his friends said.

He never questioned that saying, not once, because he himself had been a victim of that for two years now. Well, he could pinpoint the extant moment when love started to become something he labeled as weird, and that was on the day when his eyes laid on Ignis Scientia.

It happened on his first day of university, when he and Noctis went through the list of possible clubs they could join. Noctis, obviously, had no interest in literature and decided to join the nerd club, which Gladio didn't mind at all. After the welcome ceremony Gladio made his way to the room for the literature club and that's where he met Ignis for the first time and it was, as cliche as it sounded in his own ears, love at first sight.

First it was the way Ignis looked. Tall, slender, eyes green and sharp, hair colored like sand and his smile, rare but oh, so beautiful. Then it was the way Ignis talked and his accent that sounded like music to Gladio, as if Ignis was some sort of beautiful novel himself.

He himself was a rather straightforward person but he loved poetry, and that was Ignis voice to him.  

Two years later he was still in love, still in the literature club and never found the courage to confess his feelings. Why? Well, Gladio was pretty certain that he was not Ignis’ type and he tried to forget him by meeting other people, but no one touched his heart in the same way.

Noctis knew about his feelings and didn't understand either how someone like Gladio, who usually spoke his mind, couldn't confess.

So Gladio spend those two years secretly watching the person he loved and went through all sorts of emotions. Happiness, when Ignis talked to him, sadness, when the feelings of this unrequited love became too much, jealousy, when other people got too close to him. Sometimes it was too much, sometimes enough when Ignis talked to him, and not to mention the countless nights he escaped into his fantasies about how it would be like to love Ignis.

Gladio was certain he would be a good boyfriend, the best even, because he would do anything to make Ignis happy.

The fact that they became friends at some point was a miracle for Gladio, and yet, Ignis was so distant, and he made that line pretty clear, never really talking about himself.

But this distance broke when Ignis asked if they could meet privately because there was something he needed to ask him, and Gladio agreed without hesitation.

The moment Gladio was back in his apartment, he kicked Noctis and Prompto out - who liked to use his living room to play video games since his TV was bigger - and began to clean. Books visible and neat in their shelves, laundry hidden under his bed, trash out, and then he stopped and wondered if he should wear something nice. But this was not a date and Ignis was too smart to not notice Gladio's change in style. No, he needed to be the same person he always was.

Ignis arrived exactly at the time he said he would be and Gladio opened the door, after he took a deep breath in and out.

“Good evening, Gladio,” Ignis said, dressed in a fine coat, with a beautiful bright scarf and hands covered by black gloves. It should have been forbidden to look as good as he did, Gladio thought.

“Hey, come in,” Gladio spoke and let Ignis inside. “Do you want something to drink?”

“I wouldn't say no to coffee.”

Gladio nodded and guided Ignis through the house, showing him the bathroom and guiding him to the living room and kitchen, which were one open space. His apartment wasn't too big, but it was enough. Ignis waited on the couch as Gladio prepared the coffee and soon joined him.

“You have a lot of books,” Ignis remarked. “I'm actually surprised I've never been here even though we have known each other for two years now.”

“Well, I don't really invite people here. Noctis and Prompto are the only ones that I allow to be here.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Nothing special. I guess I just don't want to let any person inside my private life.”

Gladio noticed the little spark in Ignis’ eyes and for a moment he wanted to give it a deeper meaning but he didn't want to get his hopes up for something that hadn't happened in the past two years.

“I suppose I should feel honored,” Ignis said with a smile and took a sip from the coffee. “Huh, it's not bad,” Ignis didn't hide how surprised he was and Gladio felt proud of himself since he knew how much Ignis liked coffee.

“You wanted to ask me something.”

“Yes, indeed. Though it's sort of a childish request and I understand if you'd say no.”

“Let me hear it first and then I'll decide,” Gladio said but Ignis seemed to be embarrassed - which was something Gladio hadn't seen before.

“Then I'll be blunt. There is a guy who's been stalking me. Or at least it feels like that. He asked me out multiple times and I told him that I have no interest but he just won't listen. It has reached a level where I can't predict the outcome of it.”

Gladio felt jealousy but mostly anger rising inside him that someone had the audacity to go so far and make another person, especially the person he loved, so uncomfortable. Then, though, Gladio wondered who it was because he witnessed a lot of people asking Ignis out and him letting them down every single time. Gladio witnessed such moments more than one time and he admired the people who had the courage, but also learned that he, most likely, was not Ignis’ type.

“And you want me to call him out?” Gladio asked, unsure why Ignis was telling him all of this. Sure, Gladio was big and strong, a sports man who loved literature, but it didn't make sense.

“Not exactly. I was wondering if you'd be my boyfriend for a while. What do you call it? Fake dating, I think.”

“I...what?”

Ignis’ boyfriend? Hell yeah he had wanted to be his boyfriend for two years but he wanted to be a real boyfriend!

“As I said it's a quite childish request but I don't know what to do anymore.”

“Why don't you find a real boyfriend though?” Gladio asked.

His sanity told him to not do it otherwise his heart would break if he got a little taste of something he would never have. But he also felt like he had the right to ask more questions since Ignis request wasn't something small. Fake Dating meant they'd have to be affectionate in public and not just fool one person but everyone. Then when Ignis finally was free of this person, they'd break up? No, it wasn't that easy, Gladio thought, rumors would spread fast, bad and good and he wasn't sure if he wanted that, added to a coming heart break.

“I don't want to be together with just anyone. If my heart doesn't react, I don't want to be with them. It would be pointless and unfair towards the person who has honest feelings, you know?”

Oh yes, Gladio knew and he wished for a second that he would have confessed and then they wouldn't be in this situation. But then he thought about it a bit more and recalled if Ignis even spent time with anyone more than necessary. He was, after all, a person who didn't let people close easily and Gladio was probably the only person he spent most of his time with or he would stay by himself.

“Yeah, I understand,” Gladio said and came to a decision.

Perhaps this was his chance to get closer to Ignis and show him that he was a person who would love him unconditionally. If he got to know Gladio a bit better, could he fall in love with him? Somehow he felt an unfamiliar certainty that yes, Ignis could, and the fact that he asked Gladio something intimate meant he, at least, trusted him on some level.  

Besides he'd probably do anything for Ignis so he wouldn't look so miserable as he did now.

“Okay, I'll do it.”

“What? For real?”

“Yes. But what do you imagine as fake dating? Are there rules?”

“I did think about it,” of course he did, Gladio thought, he knew Ignis and that he would never do something without thinking it through. “But I'm not an expert so I'm afraid my rules and ideas might take away the authenticity.”

“You've never been in a relationship before?”

“I was but… it never worked out. That's why I would leave it to you. You are… better with people than I am.”

Gladio smiled and thanked the Gods for finally having mercy on him.

“You can trust me. I'll be the best boyfriend.”

*

Technically, Gladio knew he couldn't just follow his heart and attack Ignis in the many ways he dreamed about. So he decided to take it slow by spending more time with him, buying him coffee, listening to him and talking about everything and nothing, and keeping just enough distance so Ignis wouldn't feel physically uncomfortable, but close enough for other people to wonder if they were just really close friends or something more. During the first couple of days they only met at university and Gladio asked at the end of the day if Ignis felt okay. His answer was a yes every time.

On the fifth day he became a bit more bold and when no one was looking he eventually found the courage - while freaking out inward - to take Ignis’ hand. He felt how Ignis froze and that he didn't expect that to happen, but Gladio smiled not getting closer but just holding his hand and burning that feeling into his memory. Slender, soft fingers and skin, warm and smaller than his own. It was one of the best feelings accompanied by the beating of his heart which finally was allowed to connect with the person it had chosen to belong to.

“Is that okay?”

He watched Ignis’ breath visibly leaving his body a bit faster but he nodded and didn't take his hand away.

After that, they held hands in public more often and those who saw gave them questioning looks or didn't care at all. While Gladio only had eyes for Ignis, he watched their environment too, since he still didn't know who was after Ignis.

And it had been his own wish to not know otherwise he would probably get pissed and become possessive.

They went from hand holding, to visiting several Cafés together, to spending the evening at Gladio's place reading parts from their favorite books and laughing about funny things they found in the internet. Ignis even cooked for them, and it was the best thing Gladio had ever eaten.

This fake dating felt less and less like a fake relationship and Gladio tried his best to not fall into this illusion and constantly reminded himself that all of this would be over sooner or later. But that didn't stop him from enjoying every moment and trying his best to still win Ignis’ heart.

One day though, when Ignis came to their literature club, he looked tired and pale, which Gladio noticed right away since he was allowed to be close and study Ignis’ face. He waited until Ignis sat down next to him - it was only the two of them - before he asked what happened.

“How do you know something happened?” Ignis asked with a tired smile.

“Well… I'm good at reading people. Besides I've been at your side for the past month so I noticed it.”

Ignis rarely took the initiative but this time he did by leaning his head against Gladio's shoulder and taking his hand to find comfort, Gladio at least told that himself.

“He appeared at my place yesterday. He was upset… and asked me what is happening between you and me. I told him it's none of his business and that he should leave me alone. I thought he'd attack me by how angry he looked. He didn't and left but I couldn't get any sleep after that encounter.”

Gladio listened and all sorts of pictures flew through his mind about what could have happened instead. Yet he managed to swallow his own anger and returned his focus on the now, on Ignis, who was still leaning against Gladio's body and seeking his comfort. For a second Gladio wondered if Ignis forgot that their relationship was just and act, an illusion they created together because what he wanted to do was definitely not something a person did while fake dating. At least Gladio wouldn't, but his feelings were real and it hurt him to see the person he loved in such a tired state.

He stopped thinking for a while and leaned his head down to place a kiss on Ignis’ hair before he wrapped his arms around his shoulder to keep him there and hide his blushing face for as long as he could in Ignis’ hair.

“I can go to your place if you want to. Just in case he appears again.”

There was a long silence before Ignis answered.

“Then I could show you my book collection. We've never been to my place after all.”

Gladio knew that if that person would appear tonight, it would ultimately be the end of their fake dating. Because he knew he wouldn't hold back and give that person what he deserved and, as Noctis told him many times, Gladio could be threatening and scare people if he wanted to.

There was no doubt that he would succeed but he wasn't ready to let Ignis go.

*

Ignis place was like his, but less personal. He didn't have as many pictures of his family and even less of friends framed up in his walls. He didn't have any funny figures or cards nor was it decorated as an apartment to invite people. The only thing they both had were books, lots of it, but Gladio admitted that Ignis’ collection was bigger than his own. If they were a real couple they could spend countless evenings reading together on his couch, cooking together, cuddling, kissing, all the things Gladio dreamed about and all those things broke his heart whenever he realized it was just happening in his head.

Now he wished they would have come here sooner, that they could have more time and get closer. He wished that this guy wouldn't appear but his wish vanished when someone knocked against Ignis’ front door. By the way Ignis sighed and left his kitchen, Gladio knew it could only be him. He exchanged a look with Ignis and followed him to the corridor waiting and leaving the situation to Ignis first since he was a grown man, strong and confident and not some weak maiden who needed a knight in shining armor.

“Good evening, Ignis,” Gladio heard the guy speaking but it was an unfamiliar voice, and even when he got a glimpse of him, it was a person he didn't know.

“Sinclair… I told you to leave me alone, didn't I?”

“But I love you, Ignis. I've loved you for so long and I'm just asking for a chance.”

“And I told you no and my answer will always be a no. Please don't bother me anymore or I'll call the police. Besides, I have a boyfriend and I'm not planning on breaking up with him.”

Gods, Gladio wished that those words held any sort of truth but his thoughts got interrupted before he could dwell in them. There was a loud noise and Gladio jumped, ready to act. No one got hurt, the guy simply kicked the wall but didn't move more than that.

“And you think he'll love you more than me? Better than I would? I've been in love with you for months and you two have been together for just a couple of weeks.”

“Let me go!” Ignis hissed and Gladio didn't see how the other guy grabbed him but it was enough reason for him to interfere even though Ignis managed to free himself without much struggle.

“Hey, are you deaf? He told you to leave” Gladio growled, voice becoming deeper, threatening in such a primal way but Gladio had had enough. This was the person he loved and his heart belonged to. He would move mountains and water to protect him.

Apparently his appearance made the other man speechless since he moved his mouth but nothing came out and all color left his face.

“You should leave and, please, don't come back,” Ignis spoke and Gladio didn't look away but did his best to threaten him with his presence alone.

The guy left and didn't turn back. Both waited for a couple of seconds as they both relaxed and closed the front door to avoid curious neighbors. Wordlessly, they walked back to the kitchen and sighed in unison when they sat down around the small kitchen table.

It was over, it was done, Gladio was certain of it, and now he would enjoy their dinner no longer as a partner but as a friend. No more hand holding, no more unnecessary touches, no more romantic like meetings and looks. Perhaps a couple of days more just to be sure and then Ignis would announce the end of it.

He would, right? Or did Gladio manage to win his heart?

He looked up from the table to see Ignis’ expression and was surprised to see that Ignis was looking at him, a soft smile on his lips.

“You can be quite threatening, you know?”

Gladio didn't know what to say and even less if this was something good or bad.

“I hope he'll leave you alone from now on,” Gladio said, smiling even though he didn't feel like it. “And I hope I didn't scare you. Noctis constantly tells me that I can be scary, so I know.”

Ignis still smiled and Gladio's heart did a painful jump when he thought about how he wouldn't be allowed to see this smile from close up. He needed to confess, perhaps it would change something if Ignis knew about his feelings but then he wondered if he was no different than the stalker guy. No, he didn't force Ignis and he never did anything that Ignis wasn't comfortable with, and Gladio never would.

As he took a deep breath and summoned all the courage he could find in the depths of his soul, Ignis touched his hand and held it with shaking fingers.

“You can be threatening but… you're even more gentle,” Ignis said and made Gladio speechless, immovable. With one warm look from his eyes, with the movements of his hands, hesitating as he stood up to gently frame Gladio's face and their eyes connected once more, asking for whatever permission before Gladio felt the lips he had been wanting to feel for so long, in its own.

It felt like an eternity before he fully understood what was happening and then it was the best feeling ever. A simple press of lips but oh, so sweet and healing the wounds his heart had been marked with for the past two years. His hands found their way to Ignis’ face, holding it in the most gentle way possible and pulled him closer, and Ignis followed his silent plea and sat down on Gladio's lap, never breaking the kiss.

It was like they both were thirsty and finally found the water they needed. Gladio wanted more, so much more, but Ignis broke the kiss and perhaps that was the right thing to do before Gladio would forget himself. He didn't ask for more, didn't move, and let Ignis fully in control of this moment as he bathed in a happiness he never experienced before.

“I…” Ignis started and took Gladio's hands into his, holding them between their chests. “I don't want to end it here. I want to… date you a bit longer but from now on… as a real couple.”

“Because?” Gladio whispered. He needed to hear it, needed to know why and what Ignis felt.

“Because… I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you for some time now.”

The sigh that left Gladio's mouth came from the deepest parts of his being. A sigh that had waited two years to leave his body and create the space Gladio needed to take in all the love he hoped to get from Ignis one day.

He wrapped his arms around Ignis’ body and pressed his face against his chest, listening to the fast beating of his heart which sounded just like his. It was like Ignis said, if his heart didn't react, he wouldn't want to be with just anyone.

“I've been in love with you for the past two years.”

It felt so good to finally say it.

“What?”

“It's true. And when you asked me to become your fake boyfriend I wanted to say no but… i thought that this was my chance to get closer to you and perhaps you would fall for me too.”

Ignis moved his hands and held Gladio's face again to guide it away from his chest so their eyes could meet.

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because you have all these walls around you and I believed I wasn't your type. I didn't want to force myself on you.”

Gladio thought that it would scare Ignis or remind him of the experience he just made with another person. But nothing of that showed on his face. All Gladio could see was a warmth and love he hadn't seen before and he felt gentle fingers running through his hair.

“I do have walls around me, that's true. Considering the experience I had it's not that surprising. But you broke them, one after the other, without doing anything, just by being you. And the thought that… I couldn't be close to you anymore hurts so bad. I didn't know that love could hurt.”

“It hurts, a lot. The more it hurts the deeper it is, or so I've read.”

Ignis smiled as if he was apologizing but then it changed into a happy one and Gladio chuckled after he heard Ignis saying: “So, do you want to date me and be my boyfriend?”

“Fuck yeah, I want to,” Gladio beamed at him like it was the best thing ever.

And being allowed to hold and kiss Ignis was the best thing he had ever felt.

[cutegirlmayra]

Here's a sad Sonamy AU: Years later, Amy has move on from Sonic and only sees him as a close friend. While he just does his own thing, he ends up falling for her, but nobody knows this and he fakes his way through. He helps Amy and she ends up marrying, He's sad but still can pull off a smile. She asks him to dance but he despises slow dances, she offers to teach him and he gives up. Some blushy moments later and he accidently confesses his love for her. What's next is up to you. ;) (Not Boom)

(x) Thank you to @mangaanonymous for her amazing preview image! :D You are amazing! And a great friend :’)

AU Prompt:

It all started when she turned 18…

I was off doing my own thing, you know, fighting Eggman’s old butt-tastic schemes again, only to notice her face on billboards and signs a lot.

That was the first time I found out she was the ‘logo girl’ for some candy brand.

I wasn’t much into sweets, but I found myself buying some anyway. I don’t know, support her maybe?

Then she wrote a book. A pretty decent book too, I might add. I don’t really know where it started, but while reading the book, I tended to find myself buying more candy.

Amy wanted to see me a lot, but I never knew how to make time for her. I wasn’t that I couldn’t, I just didn’t know if I should…

She started seeing him around a year later…

I felt awkward being around her after that. We had one smoothie and admired an old favorite spot of ours together- One where we first hung out so many years ago.

But then… her smile started to change. She was less girly and more womanly. I didn’t like that, the change anyway. But Amy was Amy, and as long as she was happy with whatever his face was, then so be-

Then I heard he proposed.

I think that’s when I started seeing her more. I couldn’t help it. I got… jumpy? I followed her to work, talked with her down the avenue of the rich places she was staying at for some signing deals. You know, the fancy gigs where people come and want your autograph? I wasn’t sure why. How big was Amy at that point?

Then she called. I kinda was thrilled, to be honest… Tails said this was my last chance, whatever that means. She had told the guy to wait on her, that she needed to think about it… I wasn’t gonna let her think long.

She wanted to write a biography of my life. What?

I thought you were gonna confess you’re undying devotion to me… I didn’t want to sound arrogant, but I guess I did. I was expecting her to want me back or something.

That whole interview, I was… well… salty.

I crossed my arms, my legs, even my teeth crossed the other in agitation at her strictly focusing on the details of my life.

Then it hit me.

“..Um.. this is where I come into your life… isn’t it?”

It was almost sweet the way she paused.

My eyes widened, and I straightened up, looking up as I began to think it through. “Oh, yeah..” I had no idea where we were in the conversation, too fixated on the picture of her and this new guy she’d been seeing. “I guess it was.”

“Ehem.” she fidgeted, moving her tight pencil skirt to the side along with her long legs over like a professional. What happened to her acting like a princess?

“I.. I would understand if you don’t want to answer this.”

“I’ll answer it.” I really wanted too.

“Do.. excuse me, but-”

“Not so formal, Amy. Geez.” I slightly mocked her, starting to relax more.

This was my last chance.

Tails’s words never rang so profoundly deep in me before, but I was trying to relax back in the chair, play it off that I wasn’t nervous.

“Well,… could you recount that time? What impact my friendship had on your life?”

That night I was tossing and turning, hitting barks of trees and scaring little critters from their homes. I couldn’t help it. I knew I blew it. I acted cool. I tried to be smooth- but the second I tried to go deeper… tell her how I was feeling about then to now… I just choked.

I… I let her go.

She was married the following May. What’s with May? Spring is always a good time for anything, but she had constantly- no, BEGGED me for a June wedding. Something about June making you a bride forever or something.

Did she not want to be a bride forever now?

Now I can’t help but smile at her picture on streets or postboards. Can’t help but grin at seeing her in her first movie. Can’t but let the sweet sorrow sink in when I see a robot wielding a hammer and know that Eggman misses her a bit too, in his own way.

Knuckles constantly says he misses her energy, that it’s too quiet now that she never visits him or the chao with picnics. I remember spontaneous picnics… Amy would try to hand feed me, and it always made me uncomfortable. But for some reason, I wouldn’t mind her hand lifting up with her mouth slightly dropping in hopes I would let her do something for me. That makes a sad smile too.

Or when Tails mentions Amy hasn’t spoken to him for a while, but he still gets a new book edition free from her agency. He told me the romantic scenes made him laugh, cause he knew she still pined for me. I didn’t know if he said that to trigger me out of my fake persona or was trying to make me feel better, knowing I would fake-it-till-I-made-it everytime someone mentioned her name.

What really bites is that I can’t seem to help but want to run out and still fight for her.

But what’s left to fight for? That rich dude’s got spontaneous picnics, hugs, affection 24/7. He’s living a life with what most would suggest is the perfect wife. But the second a news channel mentioned a possible baby I smashed Tails’s t.v… I never really knew why I spin-dashed so hard into it.

Tails says it could be that I don’t want it to be permanent. And a baby would mean Amy isn’t coming back to me. To me?

I just wanted Amy back. Whether this was love or not, I wondered if I should have bought that first candy. I wonder if it would have made a difference to tear down all the billboards, all the posters, smack any man that looked at her funny from the signs, but that really would be crazy.

I wondered if I was going crazy…

Missing Amy Rose…

I missed her so much.

It’s like that feeling when something in your life goes off course, makes you stumble, almost unable to fully remain calm anymore. A nagging in the back of your mind that things could be better if you had that one thing…

Tails says If there is a baby, I needed to really step away.

Tails says a lot of things.

Can you really miss someone so much that your dreams start replaying the past?

But I acted differently in my dreams. I held her back. I put my arm around her more. I was confident when alone, and strode with a proud look of certainty when she came running for me… and I went to her.

I hated sleeping.

That wasn’t normal.

Hehe, who knew, eh?

The one girl that was always a no-brainer, a dead give away, would end up falling out of orbit and running off to do her own thing… and leave me behind.

Destiny, she called it.

Was that what this was? I felt guilty for some reason. And… strangely upset.

I tried to not go into town anymore, Eggman said I needed to chin-up, whatever that means. But it worried me that he could tell something was off with me too…

Maybe it was the lack of sleep.

Then I get a call from Vanilla, telling me Amy has invited everyone to a big ball event for some red carpet treat.

How big was Amy again?

Her husba-…ugh.

Her dude friend was paying all expenses, and apparently, leaving for some hotshot gig somewhere fancy.

Amy wanted me to come.

I came.

With the most itchiest and tight suit that Tails could find for me. Rented. Of course, it was rented. I wasn’t gonna take any money from Mr. Fancypants, that’s for sure.

Then I saw her.

Beneath the sweat from my new clothes, and the warmth of the lights, the intoxicating aroma of high-society, Amy walked in with a bright pink dress, sparkly and addicting.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her and mentally cursed for myself for not being able to.

Amy was a woman now, years had gone by and she had transformed herself into something jaw-dropping. But my mouth remained shut as Fort Knox.

Amy…

I gazed at her while I strode aimlessly through the crowd of dancers.

Amy…

She would float along the crowd, a beautiful smile, but not her true smile, I knew better. She was wearing her ‘enjoying but mellow about it’ smile… not my favorite, but a pleasant one at most.

Her eyes were bright with the glasses of drinks all toasting up around her, teeth as white as snow, and her dress flaring up at the ends as she pranced up to her friends and would gently touch their arms in welcome.

Then she turned to see me, and the world shut us out.

Sounds were cut from their strings.

Time halted and stepped back to let her through.

I even saw light pause to admire her before trailing on in its course.

My dreams were flooding the gates of my emerald eyes, and memories of a small, pretty young girl jumping into my arms flinched an impulse to catch her before she fell.

But she wasn’t running to embrace me.

Not this time…

“Sonic!”

Her voice!

Good heaven! Did she swallow an angel’s music box!?

What happened to squeaky and high-pitched?

Chaos, help me. I thought the movies exaggerated it.

It was deeper, fully matured, and rolled with a tumble that caught the ears of men into an endless loop as it repeated slower and slower in their minds…

“I’m so happy you finally made it!” she grinned, there it was… a smile I’d missed so much. But it faded when I didn’t reply fast enough.

Did she take my silence the wrong way?

“I-um…” to be honest, I didn’t know what to say.

I dream of you! I don’t buy your candy anymore! Or your books!

That wasn’t really what you should say in moments like these…

Besides..

I already lost my last chance.

I looked away then, I hadn’t fully realized till she was standing right in front of me but…

I had lost everything.

Even my fame was fleeting.

She looked longingly sorrowful to me, as if worried before she turned to the music and instinctively smiled, getting a crazy idea.

That was the face anyway… for crazy ideas…

“Come dance with me!” she giggled, though, with a voice like that, it sounded flirtatious.

She wouldn’t be flirting with me anymore...

She swayed her body back and forth, before extending her arm out, pressuring me on.

I stared… wanting too.

“I don’t do slow dances.” but I only folded my arms when another thought came to mind. “And besides… You’re a married woman now.”

“He knows I’m asking you to dance right now,” she stated, her head held high. “I told him specifically that at the stroke of midnight, the second slow dance, I was going to the dance with you.”

I didn’t know how to take this.

But my eyes shot down to her hands and my arms immediately unfolded.

“Just one?” I couldn’t believe what was happening…

“Em-hmm.” She nodded, pursing her lips in.

I took her hand,… and she led me to the dancing peacocks all in their colorful and silly arrays.

I felt awkward, but this meant I could…

I could hold her again.

We did dance, although with great difficulty as I knew nothing of dancing this waltz nonsense. But it was fun to twirl her, fun to hear her laughter again, and even better when she got dizzy and had to sit down once I picked up the dance move better.

“Haha! I figured I had to lead for a while but you pick up fast! haha!” We escaped to the balcony for fresh air.

I was enthralled. Not only was the fresh, cool air of the night now loosening my constricted muscles and lungs, but I had my old self back.

Amy just made me feel younger, I guess. More myself. My real heroic self again.

I wanted to do something crazy and stupid, tell her to come away with me, fly off into the night while I stole Knuckles’s emeralds, one more adventure.. just one more...

But I realized that wasn’t enough, I wanted more, and I wanted her to know what I was feeling.

Then, as I pivoted to say something stupid in the moment, I saw her grip her head.. and then her stomach.

My entire flighty being was silently resolved. My foolish, youthful smile faded. The red in my cheeks from the heat of the party was now cooled with the air of reality.

I looked away, “Sorry... I didn’t realize… I should have been more careful.”

“Huh?” She looked up, as if unsure of what I was referring too.

“…I mean, it’s been a while..” I kicked the sleek balcony floor beneath me, not wanting to talk about this further. “Congratulations… Amy.” I looked out spitefully into the darkness.

That’s when her smile faded and she stood up. “I’m not pregnant,” she concluded.

My head bounced on my shoulders, eyebrows rising.

“…We… we tried but…” she looked away, “I don’t think he can medically… I would have to use other means and… And I’m scared of that.” Amy held her sides with her arms, and I suddenly scolded myself for letting newscasters get the better of me.

“You’re not..?” I turned around, it was more tender than I wanted it to be, but she seemed thankful of that.

She shook her head to me, “No. I’m not.”

“…Ever?” I moved a little closer… something sparked. My face burned again, my arms twitched for her, and I couldn’t help but breath and think fast.

She seemed a little uncertain by my response and looked down and away. “Not by natural means… I don’t think so. He can’t. Anyway…”

I got excited! I couldn’t tell why!

“Amy!” my body moved on its own, right up next to her, my hands only seconds away from being able to hold her again… this time… maybe for longer.

“I… The answer! The real answer is-!”

“H-huh?”

“I-!!! That first time… you entered my life, I-!”

I … I had too.

“I was conflicted!” I gripped my chest, my heart was out of control. Something about this all seemed plausible, like Destiny was still on our side, although… I wasn’t sure if Amy saw it that way anymore or not.

“Becuase I didn’t know what it meant. I liked you, but I didn’t feel anything for you. Then I met you again and again. You caught me in your killer-hugs and chased me no matter where I went! I… I fell for that… Amy… and I felt betrayed when you left me for him.”

I ducked my head, eyes turning to coal, and mouth being locked in my swallow.

Her eyes shook, and I knew what I did was wrong.

“…Left you?” she gasped out.

I turned away, “Sorry. Forgive me. I didn’t mean to-”

She grabbed my hand, “You left first! You never were around anymore! I got so popular, thinking you would like someone who had the same fame as you. Someone who was a woman, not a child! I thought that I could all these things, make you notice me, forced to see me everywhere you went! You still never came… you still didn’t seem to care… so I … I found someone. I wanted you to tell me to stay, not to get married, not to be famous anymore! But you were happy... you said you were happy for me!”

I stopped her, gripping her arm and pulling myself towards her. “I never… said that.” My eyes showed the serious sincerity of that.

She started to tear up, dropping a little as her knees seemed to be giving out.

“You… You never said anything against it!”

“I never said anything at all!”

“Exactly!”

“Because I thought you wanted to live this way! You wanted to be rid of me! Of the way I lived my life!”

We both were a mess, falling to the ground and holding one another. Amy sobbed while I scanned the skies.

How could a miscommunication get this bad?

“…Do you love him?”

She gripped my shoulder and nodded as she squinted her eyes as shut as she could manage.

“…Do you still love me?”

She wept loudly.

The divorce never happened.

Because Amy’s husband never came back.

There was an accident and Amy was left with no explanation to why the limo driver pulled him off at a drug dealer’s mafia site.

Amy remarried though.

She had a couple of kids.

Never seemed to complain.

And honestly?

Neither did I.

[journalxxx]

Awesome And Emotional Multichapter Fics That I Will Never Write - 4

This is a very messy and sloppy patchwork of a Discord convo, I hope it's somehow understandable. 

AU where, after Bill's demise, one of the Fords still roaming the universe finally manages to make his way back to his own universe. In a Gravity Falls where Stan has given up working on the portal a decade or so ago. Imagine Stan's surprise when, one foggy evening like any other, someone knocks on the door and interrupts his The Duchess Approves marathon. Guess who's the untimely visitor.

Now there's a funny idea... Bill getting in touch with Stan to get him to fix and reactivate the portal. He speaks with him only in dreams, obviously, but never reveals himself: he always takes the shape of Ford, taking advantage of Stan's guilt to make him work without questions. At some point though, Stan realizes the portal is Bad and stops working on it. Needless to say, it ends up with Bill/Ford screaming in his face how much of a useless, incompetent, straight-up murderous fuck-up he is and blaming him for letting his own brother to rot where he pushed him. It simply kills Stan to admit it, but it's obvious that the Ford giving him instructions is insane or positively evil, so he stops working on the portal.

Did I mention that Bill/Ford didn't just order Stan around and guilted him into doing stuff, but also straight up seduced him and gave him plenty of dreamscape sex as a further encouragement

"Wait, that wasn't you?" "I've never had the means to contact anyone telepathically through dimensions. They were likely just dreams." "...........................Oh..............." Imagine all the passionate dream sex, the heartfelt declarations of love and forgiveness, crowned by a warm "I trust you, Stanley. Get me out of here. I know you can do it." Imagine the memory of this leaving Stan positively gutted as he decides to seal the portal Together with the mandatory backlash of Bill hauting his dreams for the weeks to come, taking the shape of a fuming, looming, nightmarish Ford vomiting insults and accusations on him until he ultimately gets bored of it all So when Stan finds an angry Ford on his doorstep, his first thought is Shit, how did he come back?? The second ...Fuck, he's going to kill me. It doesn't help that Ford greets him with a deadpan "Long time no see", gun in hand out of habit/precautions, unadvertedly channeling all the right Professional Killer aesthetics. when ford asks for an explanation, stan just. lets his second nature kick in and maybe exaggerates a lil bit when talking about the blind eye, how they wanted to erase his memories, how he pretended to know nothing and turned ford's life upside down to throw them off completely while ALSO having the chance of working on the portal but then things happened so he was forced to chose between his brother in the portal or the crazy one in his dreams ford is glad that stan made the right choice (Probably throws in a curt "Mph. Could have thrown the towel much sooner, it would have spared you a lot of fruitless efforts. It's not like you had any hopes to make it work to begin with.") i kinda see..........stan...................................packing and leaving himself with no prompting from ford i hope wendy tied ford up to a tree trunk and she and soos questioned him for 47 hours straight soos KNEW there was a reason why stan didnt celebrate his hecking birthday or why on the winter nights he slept over snowed in, stan disappeared in the basement and looked like he hadnt slept in the morning Meanwhile, Stan has packed his stuff on the car, left, and parked less than two kilometres away because his eyes were too teary to see the fucking street. And then he fell asleep in his car, crying, like in the good old days How about bad stuff but with a good outcome. For example, Stan did get a bit too careless around toxic waste and inks and got cancer in the latest years. No one knows, obviously, thanks to the fact that he got a relatively tame and slow case in regards to symptoms, but a terminal one nonetheless. He doesn't really put up a fight when Ford kicks him out because it's not like he was going to spend much more time in that house anyway. Ford realizes only one or two weeks later, when he gets a call from the doctor asking why he didn't show up for the usual therapy. He finally has the common decency to start looking for his brother Eh, he's probably staying in the cheapest motel around, whiling his days away with pug trafficking and small jobs like that. Ford does find him and is not impressed, and Stan gets immediately defensive when he's asked about his illness. Turns out Ford has a cure for the thing (a sample and its formula snatched from a very polluted and irradiated dimension where tumors are just as common and manageable as the flu), and that he would gladly drop the stuff there and "fuck off" as Stan suggests - if it wasn't obvious that Stan can't even be trusted to follow simple therapies and instructions like the missed appointment with the doctor proved that's probably when Stan punches him it surely leaves him winded enough for Stan to grab him by his lapels and bodily hurl him out of the room. Barking insults at him and calling him a hypocrite and a coward, because he's obviously come simply to clear his own conscience for throwing him out while he's sick. Just remove the sickness and bam, problem solved, he's done his good, charitable deed for his idiotic brother, he can resume treating him like trash now. He can keep his bogus scifi meds for all Stan cares, he'd rather die out of stupidity than live out of fake pity. He wouldn't obtain anything that day, no amount of knocking or calling or talking at the door would get Stan to answer. But in the following days, he probably rummages around the house enough to find old and recent medical reports about Stan's health, which prove the problem does need to be addressed in a timely fashion. He finally finds Stan's notes about the portal too, and the instructions the fake Ford gave him to fix it and adjust it - and just by looking at the math, Ford can tell with certainty it was Bill, rather Stan's misguided subconscious. Knowing that he inadvertedly dragged Stan into the mess to the point of exposing him to Bill's dirty mind tricks is quite a blow to Ford. That's on him, 100% Stan keeps not answering for a few subsequent visits, but in the end he gives up and opens the door. Ford looks uncharacteristically subdued and, much to Stan's surprise, he asks him to come back home, at least for a while. Stan's ready to throw the invitation back in his face because he doesn't feel like playing the poor invalid patient to appease his brother's fleeting sense of charity, but Ford tells him that he wants to talk about a few things. Calmly and in due time, not as a hurried and snappy back and forth in a shadowy motel in the middle of nowhere. Stan hates himself for it (nothing new about that), but of course he lets himself be convinced

Turns out Stan's just as lonely as in the motel for the first days. Ford is constantly buried in the basement (turns out this dimension doesn't have the technology to produce certain components of the medicine, so Ford has to piece together the necessary machinery first, and then he can make the medicine itself, so he's always busy busy busy) and whatever he wanted to discuss with Stan isn't urgent, apparently. They barely cross paths in the kitchen and the bathroom, and they exchange no more words than strictly necessary. Anyway, after a few days of mandatory emotional constipation, Ford emerges from the basement to find weary post-chemo Stan tiredly dragging himself to the bedroom. Perfect occasion for a good old heart-to-heart, right? After the first assurances that Ford's medicine will be ready shortly and the following deafening silence, Ford finally starts talking. Stan isn't exactly in a conversational mood at the moment, but the stuff Ford's saying is pretty interesting, so he listens. He learns about Bill and his persuasive lies, of the actual dangers of the portal and of the possible consequences of its use. Although he can't remember for sure if he's ever shaken the fake Ford's hand or worded any sort of pact with him, it seems it doesn't really matter any more, since the bastard's dead. Ford's heard about it from other dimensional travellers, of how a human by the name of Stan Pines from the Earth had tricked the trickster. Until then, Ford confesses, he had believed there had been a slight misinformation spreading around, that another Ford had accomplished the goal, finished his gun and got close enough to Bill to use it. But maybe not. Maybe - considering how Ford had fallen for Bill's flattery hook, line and sinker, while Stan had seen through his lies before any damage could be done -maybe the stories were more accurate than he thought. Who knows. Stan doesn't contribute much to the conversation, partly because he doesn't really know what to make of it, partly because he feels about to puke his guts at any moment, and eventually Ford leaves him to rest. The next days are slightly less tense. Finally Ford can have Stan answer the phone, avoiding an impending house invasion by very concerned Dipper and Mabel. Soos and Wendy also drop by and Stan bullshits his way out of their questions (the Shack is closed for renovations, that weirdo who looks like him is an old relative visiting him, yada yada), just like he knows how to. Surprise surprise, Ford realizes it's the first time he's seen Stan smile since... he doesn't even remember. He does smile on the phone and with his employees - actually, his whole demeanour changes with them, he's more open, more boisterous and chatty. Until Ford enters his field of vision, that is. Then he's back to monosyllabic replies, ill-concealed hostility and reserve. Ford wonders which one of the two attitudes is a charade, or if neither of them is, and if Stan's even aware of his own bizarre behaviour. Eventually, the cure is ready, and Stan accepts to take it with a passiveness that confuses Ford. Truth to be told, Stan isn't very convinced it'll work. It's not like he doesn't trust Ford's knowledge, but he kind of expects some unforeseen problem to come up and screw him over. You don't go through all the stages of grief and acceptance of your own mortality just  to start hoping for miracles from dubious pseudo-scientific sources. The real shocker comes after one week of his new therapy, when he goes to the hospital for a check-up and the exams show that the mass has reduced by like 70%. Ford gets called by the doctors, has to take a taxi, retrieve the car and drive a slightly unhinged Stan home. "I told you I could come with you, but 'No Stanford, I'm not an invalid' -" "YOU COULD HAVE TOLD ME IT WAS GOING TO FUCKING DISAPPEAR OUT OF FUCKING NOWHERE" "I wasn't sure it would! Sometimes it takes a while to start working, it depends on the kind of tumor, the general health of the person-" "YOU'RE THE WORST SHITHEAD THAT EVER LIVED-" Bickering aside, Stan's not dying anymore. Would you look at that. At the current pace, he's going to be fully recovered very, very quickly. Then what? When Ford decides they've talked enough about whatever they need to talk about, then what, back to the motel and out of his life? Just beautiful. Before long, Ford corners him while giving him another injection and drops another bomb on him. Apparently, the nosy bastard has found some old notes detailing some of Stan's... less scientifically-oriented dreams. (Stan calls bullshit on that. Surely he never wrote that stuff down. Surely. Probably. Did he? Sure, he used to immediately jot down everything he dreamt about as soon as he woke up, to make sure he didn't forget or misremember any of Ford's instruction, but he wouldn't... not those... right...?) By whatever freaky means, Ford has a general idea of the methods Bill used to ensure Stan's cooperation, and he's oddly concerned about them. Oddly as in, not freaked out because of the obvious problem of Stan repeatedly dreaming about banging his own brother, which would be perfectly understandable. The curious thing is that his questions seem to imply that he thinks Stan might have found those dreams unpleasant or even hurtful, as if Bill might have twisted Stan's desires unnaturally, as if they hadn't been lingering in Stan's mind since way earlier than that. Which is such a laughable idea that Stan starts laughing in Ford's face. He could have seized the occasion to deny everything and preserve some dignity, but to what end, really? And uhm... as much as I want this to end in a heap of love, mush, forgiveness and cuddles, as usual my brain gets stuck when it comes to actually build a believable way to make that happen, so... yeah, eventually they talk about everything, somehow fall for each other deeply and sincerely, have lot of very passionate and very cathartic intimate moments. You know they do. The end :)