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averytiredfanfictionwriter · 3 years

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I’ll Be There When Your Reality Drowns (Ranboo x platonic!Reader)

Based very loosely off the song ‘Siren’ by Kailee Morgue. Content Warnings- character death, some weird stuff, i don’t know how to warn for it so just be careful it shouldn’t be bad though A03 link- wow. Word Count- 2,121

I said that there would be another fic. Well, enjoy! And reblogs are very much welcome as well as likes. I appreciate every like that I get, and it makes me happy when I see that people liked what I wrote.

It starts normally like always. Ranboo’s just walking aimlessly around an unknown village when he spots her. He doesn’t know why she’s always there, or why he feels an immediate pull towards her, but nonetheless it’s there. His attempts to get to her always fail and he wakes up feeling severely disappointed and depressed.

“Hey, Ranboo, are you okay?” Tubbo asks as he gives Micheal a golden apple.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired. Didn’t sleep too well last night.” It’s the same reason he’s given everyone whenever they ask about his abnormal silence and slight air of sadness that follows him recently.

“Okay. If you want to talk about it I’m always here.” He offers and Ranboo nods.

With everything else going on, these dreams are just the tip of the iceberg. How does he tell his husband that he stole Tommy’s disk, helped blow up L’Manberg, and worked with Dream to do god knows what else? Tubbo wouldn’t handle it well, not in the slightest. And there’s no reason to anger the man who currently possesses nukes. There’s no one he can tell now.

Ranboo completes his jobs for the day and finds himself wandering around the SMP, hoping that maybe today the woman from his dreams will be here and he’ll be able to get some answers as to why he feels like a planet being sucked into the sun in his dreams whenever he sees her. But she’s not there. She’s only in his dreams to torment him, maybe something that Dream is making him see.

Dejected, he returns to Snowchester and the mansion where he finds Tubbo playing with Micheal outside in the snow.

“Hey, come play with us,” Tubbo says.

Ranboo thinks about it for a moment. “Okay.”

The three spend the rest of the day outside, only coming back inside when the sun starts setting. Their nightly routine drags by as Ranboo waits in anticipation for when he can fall asleep and see the woman again. If that’s the only place he can see her, then so be it.

After taking showers, brushing teeth, and getting changed into pajamas, everyone’s finally in bed with Tubbo bidding Ranboo goodnight and going to his own room. They found out the hard way that Ranboo is not a nice bedmate most nights and spends the entire time kicking hard enough to leave bruises for weeks.

Ranboo settles in between the blankets and closes his eyes. Just for a moment, he thinks he sees something in the corner of the room, but by then it’s too late to think about it. He’s already asleep. And this goes on for weeks. The same routine, never changing except for when either he or Tubbo have something super important to attend to. The same dream every night and the same waking fear that he’s never going to meet the woman. Until one day, it all seems to come crashing down on him.

Ranboo steps onto the path leading into the village and looks around slowly. He spots her quickly, standing next to the same building that she always is. Her black wings seem to glitter in the sunlight while also soaking up all the light that hits them like a black hole.

“Hello?” This is the first time he’s tried calling out to her, and she makes no movement to indicate that she’d heard.

Ranboo steps forward until he’s next to her and she turns around to look behind her, but the look isn’t one that might appear when seeing a stranger. Rather, it was one that you might get when seeing a friend again for the first time in a while.

“Hey… it’s been a while.” She walks over and hugs him.

“Uh yeah. My name’s Ranboo. I keep seeing you in my dreams and I don’t know why.” He says bluntly and she laughs loudly.

“I know who you are, silly. You’re my son. How have you been?” She says with a smile.

“Uh… I’ve been good. I’ve been having some really weird dreams lately though…” he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“Oh what about?” She asks and he struggles with what to tell her.

“Well, this one for starters. But the others I’ve seen you in I’ve never been able to talk to you like I am now.” Ranboo mutters and she nods, the smile never dropping from her face.

“Well, that’s because you needed to talk to me silly. Don’t you remember the past few times we’ve talked?” She asks and Ranboo feels the color drain from his face.

“What do you mean we’ve talked before? Is my memory that bad? Did I do more than what I can remember?” He mutters quickly, looking down at his hands.

“No no no no no. You can’t remember because I didn’t want you to remember. I’ve been unable to leave the end dimension and I didn’t want to cause you any unnecessary stress or pain or fear or anything. The only reason you couldn’t talk to me recently was that I was escaping. You’re going to see me very soon, don’t worry. You need to go now. It’s not safe to stay here for long.” The woman pulls Ranboo in for a quick hug.

“Wait! No!” Ranboo sits up in the bed, the sunlight streaming in from outside.

“What’s wrong?” Tubbo bursts into the room quickly, worried that something’s happening to his husband.

“Nothing. Just a weird dream.” Ranboo shakes his head.

“The same one?”

“No, a different one this time. Well, a little different. Not sure why though.” It’s not entirely a lie. She told him why, but why did he need to talk to her?

“Okay. I’m gonna take Michael out for a walk. You have to go meet Tommy in the SMP.” Ranboo nods, getting ready for the day before leaving to get on with everything.

Before he can meet with Tommy though, his worst fear comes to pass.

“Wilbur,” Ranboo says slowly.

“Hello, Ranboo. We need to have a chat.” Wilbur's sickeningly sweet smile is enough to put Ranboo on edge.

“About what?” The fear creeps into the young man's voice against his will.

“You know what. And I’ll make you a deal right now. Help me, and I don’t tell anyone what you’ve done. Your secret stays with me. Your precious husband and Tommy will never hear that you helped Dream blow up their country, nor will they find out that you had his disc all along. So, what do you say?” Wilbur says happily, bouncing around energetically while he speaks.

“Go to hell.” Ranboo seethes, a faint static noise starting to come from him.

¨Already been there. It’s not as fun as you’d think. But if that’s what you want then so be it. I just wonder what everyone’s going to say.” Wilbur practically prances off and the realization of the consequences fully hits him.

“Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I’ve got to get to Tubbo.” He mumbles before running off to Snowchester where his husband is currently.

Tubbo isn’t there when he gets back and he feels the panic set in. Surely Wilbur can’t possibly tell everyone in the time it takes him to get back to the SMP, right? But he did. And that lands Ranboo where he is now.

“You helped Dream!? You stole my disc and helped blow up L’Manberg!?” Tommy screams at the taller man and he holds up his hands in surrender.

“I didn’t know what I was doing! I-” Ranboo tries to defend himself against the onslaught of words from the crowd of people surrounding him but it’s no use.

“You knew damn well what you were doing! You knew who Dream was- knew what he’d done- and yet you still helped him!” Tommy is livid. No one’s ever seen the kid as angry as he was now. Not even when Wilbur and Techno betrayed him in the first destruction of L’Manberg.

“I trusted you, Ranboo. You know what he’s done to Tommy… to me… and you still helped him. I can’t believe you.” Tubbo mumbles and that hurts more than the words that Tommy’s screaming.

“Tubbo I-” Ranboo is cut off from speaking again and tries to curl up as small as he can. The crowd closes in on him, swords and axes in hand.

“You belong in the prison with Dream.”

“You’re just as bad as him. “

“Why shouldn’t we put you in there with him?”

The voices overlap each other- loud, accusing voices.

“Stop!” Someone says, landing in front of the boy and holding their wings out to shield him from the sight of the group of people in front of him.

“And who are you?” Sam asks angrily, eyes red and holding a sword out in preparation to take Ranboo into custody.

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re not going to touch him. Ever. And if any of you do, I will take all of your remaining lives and then display your bodies outside my house for the rest of my life. And I’m immortal. But don’t worry. He’s coming with me.” Her black scaly wings look familiar, and it takes him a moment before he places where he’s seen them before.

“And why should we give him to you?” Sam asks.

“He needs to be put in prison. He’s not going anywhere with you!” Tommy screams out and runs towards the woman with his sword raised.

She uses her wing to knock Tommy to the ground and looks Sam in the eyes.

“As his mother, I’ve decided to take him with me. You do not get to tell me what I can and can’t do with my son. Last I checked, you aren’t his parent.” The purple glow of her eyes seems to get brighter as she speaks.

“Give him to us or we’ll kill him and you right now.” Someone shouts from the crowd and the rest of them shout words of agreement.

“Is that a threat?” She asks head cocked slightly to the side.

“No. It’s a promise.” The same voice shouts and Ranboo identifies it as Sapnap.

“Well, in that case, come on then. I don’t have all day.” She smiles sweetly.

Sapnap steps forward and draws his axe. Y/n pulls her sword from the scabbard at her hip and the crowd eyes it wearily. The enchantments on it are evident in the runes etched into the blade, and a lot of them are ones that not even Philza recognizes. A slight haze surrounds the metal in the sunlight and Sapnap gulps but doesn’t retreat.

The crowd backs away and Ranboo does the same.

“Get ready to die,” Sapnap says before charging at Y/n.

She steps back, dodging his lunge and making one of her own, at the same time sweeping her leg under his. Sapnap jumps and swipes at her with his blade. She dodges under it, coming up behind him and wrapping hers around his neck. The blade touches his skin and he feels a hot and cold sensation spread through his body, the freezing effect doing nothing to cool the burning that it follows.

“Are you done?” She asks and Sapnap’s breath catches in his throat.

“Never.” He tries to stab behind her but gets nothing but air.

“Your choice.” She mutters before sliding her sword across his neck.

The crowd gasps and screams as they watch the wound on his neck that was just made heal and his body contort and elongate. His screams die out as the fire engulfs his body, disappearing as the blue frost follows it leaving a pure black color in its wake. Not a moment later, he stands back up, but it’s not him. It’s something else. The black figure towers over everyone, giving them a quick look before teleporting away.

Someone screams, and then it’s chaos. Most of the group scatters with Bad simply staring at the spot where Sapnap’s body was.

“No…” he whispers and he feels his heartbreak.

“He’s not dead. He should be back wherever he spawns. You don’t have to worry.” She says, and Bad looks up before taking off to see if she’s telling the truth.

When the area is clear of people, she turns around to look at Ranboo.

“Let’s go. You have a lot to learn.” She says with a gentle smile and places a hand on his shoulder. “And don’t worry about your friends. They’ll come around eventually. Trust me. Everything’s going to work itself out in the end.”

He nods and smiles at her in return. She leads him out of the SMP, one wing wrapped protectively around him.

#dsmp x reader #ranboo x platonic!reader #ranboo x reader #ranboo x y/n #ranboo x mom!reader #this poor boy #he just needs a mom #and a hug #like #someone just come give him a hug already #lizzy writes

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colormeyondublue · 3 years

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Chapter 5: The Data Drive

Chapter 4 Here - Chapter 6 Here

The next morning you awake with the sound of your alarm. You get ready and walk happily toward the mess dressed in your usual leathers. You see Yondu and Kraglin up front seated at the officer’s table. They have piles of holo pads surrounding them, meticulously studying their target and plans for their heist later that night. You grab something to eat and make your way over to your usual spot. The light from the moon drifts into the viewport and you enjoy your breakfast in peace. Just as you finish your last bite, you begin to stand and hear heavy footsteps approaching. You look over to see Yondu approaching you, holo pads in hand.

“Hey y/n, just wanted to run some info by ya before we head out tonight. Kraglin and I plan to take our team out around 21:00 hours. Here is some information I’ll need ya to log before we leave. There is a backup plan in there too just in case things get hairy.” “Sounds good. I can get started on this now. So, this job…is it…dangerous?” You ask. You know Yondu and the crew are extremely good at what they do, but you find yourself worrying more than usual. Yondu grins down at you, clearly understanding where you are going with this. “I’ll be safe darlin’, promise. This job is simple, but there’s a lotta details that need to be arranged. I’ll be back before ya know it.” “I know, I know. But I worry about you sometimes. What exactly will you be doing?” You ask. “Remember when we was walkin’ around during our date, and we was lookin’ at all those fancy shops?” “Yeah…why?” “Well, there’s a new jewelry store down there with really lax security and a lot of rare gems…loads of rare metals too. That’s where we’s headed. Kraglin was there last night scoping the place out. Figure if we can get a clean sweep, we can sell our take for about half a million units. It’ll be a nice score.” Yondu beams. “Wow. Well, sounds like it’s something you can handle no problem.” You smile at him. “But, still…you better get back here in one piece.” You playfully nudge him with your shoulder. Yondu chuckles a this, and you swear you see a slight blush come to his cheeks. “Promise ya I’ll be just fine. ‘Sides, I got more plans for you and me. Gotta come back all in one piece to take ya out again don’t I?” He finishes that last sentence with a wink and turns to head back toward Kraglin.

The evening drags on, but you find out pretty quickly that this heist goes perfectly, and the crew comes away with every single item out of that jewelry store. They boys are thrilled, and there’s cheers all around the ship that night. You are just finishing up with your work, having logged that information Yondu asked you to enter in the system earlier that morning. You close up your office and turn to walk back to your cabin. As you make your way there, you see Yondu waiting for you at your cabin door.

“Well, hello Captain.” You say in curious voice. “What brings you all the way down here?” You laugh. Yondu shifts on his heels for a moment before pushing his hand out toward you. “Here, I set this aside for ya. Didn’t want one of the boys to snatch it. I saw it at that store, and I thought ya might really like it.” You look down at his palm and see a stunning silver bracelet with intricate designs carved into the metal. There is small, round, sapphires set into the edges on both sides. The center is decorated with large, oval, white opals around the entire thing. With a small gasp, you slowly reach for it. “Yondu, this is gorgeous. I don’t know what to say!” You put the bracelet on your wrist. It fits perfectly, and it is very comfortable. You stare down at your wrist and your mind draws a complete blank as you marvel at the jewels. “Glad you like it. The stones, from what I saw on the sign at the store, are from Terra. Figured ya might like to have a little piece of home here with ya.” “Yes, oh my gosh, yes. This is just perfect. Thank you…thank you so much.” Without thinking twice, you step forward and wrap your arms around him in a quick, but close, embrace. You could feel him tense a little from your quick movement, but soon you feel his arms close around your back for a moment. You both let go at the same time and you blush. “Uh…sorry. I just, I can’t thank you enough. I doubt I’ll ever want to take it off.” You laugh sheepishly. He smiles at the comment. “Well, it’s been a long night. I think I’m gonna turn in.” “Yeah, of course! I should too…” “Kraglin is overseeing departure shortly. Wanna git outta here before anyone discovers that place we hit it totally empty.” He laughs. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Well, goodnight Yondu.” “Sweet dreams, darlin’.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~

About a week goes by, and the ship is headed for Knowhere so Yondu and Kraglin can meet up with the buyer for the jewelry heist the crew pulled off. You continue your work as usual; helping out Kraglin where needed, and keeping everything up to date. For some reason, a thought hit you. We have so much information logged in the ship’s system, should we have a backup drive? Data theft back home was a common issue, could it happen out here? With that thought, you decide to make a backup of all the vital information and you saved it to a separate drive. Feeling satisfied with yourself, you head out of your office and down to the mess for a quick bite. You just want to grab a snack and head back to your office. The peacefulness and privacy of your office was something you loved, so you grab something light to take back with you. As you headed back toward your office with food in hand, you heard your name called behind you. “Y/n!” Kraglin called. “Hey Kraglin, need any more help with anything?” “No, I’m good…thanks though. Here, I’ve got something for you.” He handed you a small chip, no bigger than your thumb. “What’s this?” You ask. “It’s some terran music. I was able to pull some from radio frequencies I caught when we passed near your solar system a few days ago. It was no biggie. Quill always was so obsessed with terran music. Thought you might like some of these songs.” He says happily. “Oh my gosh Kraglin, thank you so much! I miss music from back home. This is awesome! I’m gonna go download these now. I can’t wait to see what you picked up!” You say with a big smile. Kraglin nods politely, “Well, I’m gonna get back to it. See ya round.” With that, he heads out the door. You hastily head back to your office and get straight to checking out the chip Kraglin gave you. You find that there are a few songs that are from different countries, and you’ve never heard them before. A few from India, some Kpop, and a few hits you recognize from the UK. But then, comes something you remember from the United States. “No way!” You squeal. The song “Clearly” by Grace VanderWaal came blasting over the speakers. “I haven’t heard her in forever!” You say aloud. You remember every single word. I can see clearly now

The rain has gone

I accept all the things that I cannot change

Gone are the dark clouds

The dawn has come

It's gonna be a bright, bright sunshiny day ~ There's a world outside my door I forced my feet down to the floor I'm gonna make it out I'm gonna make it out Take a breath and say a prayer Find the strength in my despair It's not gonna take me down It's not gonna take me down As you whole heartedly sing the words at your desk, you hear a knock at your door. You turn down your music and open the door to see Yondu. “Hi!” You say, a little more chipper than usual. Not only was the most handsome man alive at your door, but your mood was uplifted by some of your favorite music from back home. Yondu was a little surprised at your greeting. “Well, hey there darlin’.” He smiles. “What’s got you in such a good mood?” “Kraglin got me some music from back home, and I found some songs I remember. Not only that, but I found a song from one of my favorite artists!” “Well, that was awful nice of him…but we got a problem.” His tone changes pretty quickly. “What? What’s going on?” You say, concerned. “Kraglin just found that someone, we don’t know who, but someone managed to get into our files remotely and steal information on some of our most lucrative clients. Contact information, frequencies, ‘n stuff like that. Now, I have no idea what we’s gonna do, because the buyer in Knowhere is a new client! I can’t remember their frequency off the top of my head!” He huffed as he dropped down onto the couch against the wall, his large hand rubbing his temple. “Remind me to get new security software.” “Well, I don’t know who might have done it, but I do have some good news on that.” You smiled proudly. He glanced up at you from under his hand, his face clearly painted with a stressful expression. “Whassat?” You go over to your desk drawer, and pull out a small black drive. You walk over to Yondu and drop it into his hand. “What’s this?” He asks with one eyebrow raised. “That, is a data drive.” You point to his hand. “It contains every bit of info on every client we have. Including their contact information, frequencies, and our mission and heist details. Oh, and all of our crew’s personal info too. I backed up our all of our data and files onto a separate drive for just such an incident. Did it this morning actually!” You feel a prideful grin come across your face. Oh yeah, you were definitely the hero this time. It didn’t happen often, and you were feeling great about yourself for once. “See, on Earth, uh – Terra, data theft is a pretty common occurrence. Backup drives are a total necessity. So, naturally, I figured I should have one for us too. I planned on making it a part of my daily routine around here – backing up our files and data onto separate drives every day. I'd like to get a couple more. Gotta cover all the bases, ya know?” Yondu is speechless for a moment. He just sits there and stares at you. He breaks out of his trance and jumps to his feet. You feel his strong arms wrap around you and he spins you both around, his laughter echoing around the small room. “Y/n, yer incredible! I could just kiss you!” As he sets you back down on your feet, he continues to hold you close. The realization of his words hits him like tidal wave. He looks down at you and sees your nervous expression. “Can I?” He asks quietly, inching closer to you. This is so strange for him. Anytime he’s wanted something from a woman before, he would just take it. Coercion was the typical occurrence. He is basically a pirate after all. He rarely cared how the woman felt about it – which is why he usually stuck with love bots. They didn’t say no, they didn’t reject him, they didn’t care about his past or what he looked like. This, however, was different. It was way outside his comfort zone. You looked up at him, and nod ever so slightly. Your body erupts with goosebumps as he moves a warm, large, hand up your back and toward the back of your head. You move closer as he guides you toward him. Your eyes begin to close, and you can feel his lips barely brush against yours. His breath is warm and inviting. Your heart is pounding against your sternum, and the feeling of his hands on your body causes your mind to go blank. Suddenly, a rapid knock at your door causes you to gasp and jump back a little. Yondu pulls away with a sigh and reaches toward the door, letting go of you. He rips the door open in frustration, and see’s Kraglin’s face. “What?!” Yondu snaps. Kraglin, surprised at how quickly the door opens, stands there with his fingers still curled into a fist from where he was knocking. “Uh – apologies cap’n. We’re nearing Yuna’s atmosphere. Thought you’d wanna know.” Yondu’s expression changes from annoyed, to a little excited. He turns to you and says “Hey, remember that planet was tellin’ ya about a few weeks ago? Well, we’re almost there.” “What?! Are you serious?” You beam at him. “This is so exciting! I didn’t think we would go so soon!” “Yeah, it’s nothin’ really.” He smiles at you. “It’s kinda on the way to Knowhere, and we’ve got time to stop anyhow. Figured now would be a great time to show you around down there. Plus, I hear there’s some rare minerals on that planet we can get a few units fer. I’ll send some of the boys after ‘em.” “How long until we can take some M-ships down?” You ask. “About a half hour.” Kraglin chimes in. “Great! Yondu, I’ll meet you down at the docking bay when we get close enough to head down there!” You laugh and jump past the two aliens, darting down the hall to your quarters. You could not wait to see what the planet was like.

#Yondu and The Secretary #Yondu Udonta #yondu x reader #gotg #ravager #pirates #space pirates #Kraglin #kraglin obfonteri #reader #fanfic #marvel

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zeppelin-and-unicorns · 3 years

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So, as I said in a previous post, I spent the whole night yesterday making picrews, and I thought: “Why not make picrews of the fictional family that I love more than everything in this world?”

Anyway, here they are! This is a close representation of how I picture the Hyde family whenever I think about the TSG universe (I am going to come up with a different name for this universe one day I promise). I am also going to give you guys some glimpses about their quirks and their personalities, so, click on the thingy if you’re interested on reading that.

Unfortunaly, it was impossible to make Jackie and Gracie’s eyes the way I picture them (mismatched, lol. I know this is a controversial topic but every single time I see the show I notice how Jackie’s eyes are different colors and I add that to every single one of my fics. It’s one of her little flaws that only makes her more perfect). So just pretend that one of their eyes is blue-ish, and the other one is green-ish.

Oh, and as I post more and more picrews, you might notice that out of all the adults characters from the TSG universe, Jackie’s the only one who doesn’t have any wrinkles. Years of a very strict skincare routine payed off really well for her.

Hyde grew his beard back, mostly because I always picture him with a beard when he’s older. Oh, and sorry for the lack of sunglasses, he stopped wearing them everyday when Dylan was a baby (he kept taking them off his face and throwing them at the ground lol).

On the left, we see Layla, the eldest and the wisest from all the three kids. The age gap between her and her siblings is big, so they always run to her when they need advice about something.

Layla’s a lot like Jackie, she cares about her looks, she’s a social butterfly, and she’s probably the most popular girl in school. She’s not shallow though, nor does she have the superiority complex Jackie had in the first few seasons of the show, Hyde and Jackie made sure to raise her well.

Layla’s also a bookworm, and a big romantic at heart. One of her dreams is to publish an epic romance novel, and writing is probably one of her favorite things in the entire world. She has this little red notebook filled with heart stickers in the cover where she often writes poems -- and Jackie is the only person allowed to read said poems.

Her hair is naturally wavy (as showed in the picture), but she starts to straighten it when she’s older. She grew up in the 90s after all.

Then there’s Dylan, or as I like to call him, the Hyde’s little evil spawn.

Don’t get me wrong here, Dylan is literally so sweet, and he cares about his family more than anything in the world. He’s a sucker for his mom’s hugs and he wants to be like Hyde in the future, but he also has a lot of pent up energy, which tends to put him into some pretty funny situations.

Dylan has a partner in crime, his name’s Jordan and he’s Fez and Laurie’s son (I’ll post a picrew of him later too). I’ve based Dylan and Jordan’s friendship on the Weasley twins from Harry Potter, they are natural pranksters and they drive Laurie and Jackie insane. Red helps the duo out with their pranks sometimes, claiming it’s “payback” for all the years he had to tolerate his son and his dumbasses friends mooching off him and making his life “miserable”. Dylan and Red also have a cute bond, we’ll see more of that in the sequel.

As he grows older, Dylan gets tall. Like, Jackie’s a midget next to him, guys (that doesn’t stop her from coddling him though). No one knows where he’s got that height from, and he uses that to his advantage (by placing Jackie and Layla’s Pop music CDs on high places that they couldn’t possibly reach just to mess with them. Oh, and he also joins the basketball team lol).

He’s very protective of his family, like, really protective, and he doesn’t take shit from anyone. He has a special soft spot for Hannah (Eric and Donna’s younger daughter). Hannah is a year older than him, and she’s hearing impaired. One day a guy from school stole her hearing aid to mess with her, and he got the beating of a lifetime. Dylan was suspended and Jackie went to the school to yell at the principal and defend her son, because she’s that kind of mom.

Don’t get any wrong ideas about Dylan and Hannah though, they were raised like siblings.

Dylan’s very into cars (another thing in common he has with Red), and when Hyde finally gives him the Camino, he babies the fuck out of it.

And last but not least... Gracie. Or Erica, as Eric likes to remind everyone about it.

Gracie will only be three years old in the sequel, so we won’t see a lot of her personality, but as I said many times, I do plan on writing one-shots about the kids when they’re older once the sequel is done, so...

Hyde has a special nickname for her, he calls her his little “Goldilocks” because her hair is curly and it’s almost a golden color. She’s a very smart kid and she’s always drawing.

Seriously, Jackie and Hyde’s fridge is filled with Gracie’s drawings, it’s the sweetest thing. They never threw a single drawing of her away, they always keep them, and they incentivize her as much as possible when she’s growing up.

She grows up to be an artsy person, and she’s very talented. She’s not a social butterfly like Layla, nor is she a “badass” like Dylan, she’s an introvert, she likes to stay home with her parents (she loves her parents so much) and have movie marathons with them on the weekends instead of going out to party.

She hangs out a lot with Katie (Fez and Laurie’s youngest daughter), who’s her best friend and her complete opposite, they have a bunch of sleepovers where they watch a ton of horror movies together and stuff their faces with ice cream. Their friendship is really something else, and she’s the first person Gracie comes out to (yup, Gracie’s a lesbian).

Gracie and Eric are very close, and she gets him very into Harry Potter. It’s funny, because Eric insists that he’s a Gryffindor, and Gracie tells him he’s totally a Hufflepuff, which makes him mad and they end up bickering because of it. But overall, they love each other a lot, and Eric’s a father figure to her.

Her relationship with Jackie and Hyde is beautiful. She’s not afraid of asking them for cuddles when she’s feeling down, and they are literally her biggest supporters. When Layla moves out for good (insert very sad Jackie and Hyde noises), they turn her room into a mini art studio for Gracie, and she spends most of her days there, listening to music and painting whatever comes to her mind.

Wow, I got really excited and I ended up talking waaay too much, but well... I love this family so much, I couldn’t help myself.

If you have any questions about the TSG sequel or about the characters in general, please feel free to send them to me!

Posting picrews of the Forman family next!

#the sweetest gifts #picrews #jackie burkhart #steven hyde #layla hyde #dylan hyde #gracie hyde

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prose-for-hire · 4 years

Text

So wrong it’s right

Part 2 // Part 3

Pairing: Angel x vamp!reader

Request: (Sorry if I make a mistake, English is my second language) Will you make a story with a somewhat villain reader (but shes not exactly evil) that keeps helping Angel out because she likes him and in the start he wont trust her but one day they kiss and Angel becomes confused about how he feels? I hope that makes sense. If I didn’t explain it well please don't feel you need to write it you can ignore this.

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Violence/fighting. Swearing.

A/N: This is the kind of fic I LOVE to write. I enjoyed myself with this one !! 💜

You weren’t well-liked in LA. The ‘good guys’ hated you, trying to stake you at any second and the ‘bad guys’ despised you. Both felt this for the way that you made decisions based on how you felt. No allegiance to good or evil. No atonement or evil plotting. You served neither the powers or dark forces. This was a fluid and extremely ambiguous way to live, which brought suspicion with you wherever you went. But you were nothing if not authentic to your beliefs. You just weren’t really sure what those beliefs were yet.

In any case, you didn’t much care for world domination nor did you hang out in particularly damp underground hovels that you wouldn’t even bury your dog in, let alone spend precious years of your un-life.

LA had a certain draw to you, it was a hub. A beating heart of life that helped you thrive in a way you had only dreamed of when you really were alive. But most importantly, it wasn’t a backwater little town. The type that always seemed to harbour Hellmouths. They seemed a little boring to you anyway.

Yeah, it holds all the supernatural power hotspots you could wish for, but at what cost? Everyone knew everyone’s business and there was such a large amount of demons concentrated in one area it was hard to navigate without bumping into several ex-lovers. Not to mention there was a higher chance of a Slayer on your back.

Now, just because you weren’t ‘evil’, that wasn’t to say you lived in the light. For one, you couldn’t. You would die… again. But also, you weren’t exactly chafing at the bit to do as the powers said. They couldn’t simultaneously damn you to hell when you got dusted whilst enticing you with some long-winded and ultimately unnecessary prophecy that gave you the one thing you were scared of. Hope.

You didn’t have a soul, and you didn’t care for gaining one. Not through a curse and even less through fighting for one yourself. This is why one vampire didn’t like you. He didn’t trust you and definitely never cut you a break.

The fact was, he barely looked your way. Unless you were stood in his path. And you had, a few times. He was convinced you had some ulterior motive but had little time for you until you turned into a bigger threat.

That was, up until the last few months. You had started to catch his attention more and more. You had been fighting, again. In the back room of some seedy bar. Trading blows, neither of you holding back. The real threat long since dusted. It was just gone three in the morning, a time you liked to be home. Just in case of a freak early sunrise (you had heard horrible things of whole towns of vampires wiped out suddenly).

You were fighting, hard. He never left it. He just couldn’t walk away. You were after the same stupid vampire. Yes, you had been after him because he owed you a large sum of money and around five Siamese cats, but the end was the same. You twisted from his firm grasp, throwing him over your head. He landed but didn’t stay down. He ran at you, pushing you back and slamming you against the door. Almost through it. He grabbed a stake and flipped it up in the air before expertly catching it, looking back in your eyes.

There was almost a flicker of danger. A flicker of all the stories you had heard of Angelus. There was something there, some kind of feeling and it got you excited. Up until this point, his face had been pretty unmoving every time you saw him. The stake dug into your chest, directly over your unbeating heart. You couldn’t help but enjoy the way his eyes scanned your face. Moving from your lips to your eyes and back again. He was so close you could just lean in and… no. Eye on the prize, you tell yourself. You would settle for a quip charged with at least a little sexual tension. On your end, at least.

“You gonna keep waving that thing around or are you going to actually do something with it?” You bite, breathing heavily a smile on your face. You didn’t need to breathe but it was still a habit.

“Why’re you here, huh? Why are you always around when something bad happens?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Now I’m never getting those fucking Siamese” You muttered as he scowled at you. You were going to threaten him one more time before staking him. He rolled his eyes, you were worse than spike. At least he had a soul. Wanted one. You were content with your lot and it bugged him to no end.

“You know, I think I might enjoy this” Angel said stoically.

“Watch out, you don’t want to get too happy” You teased with a smile, everyone knew about Angel – word travels fast even here, “Or maybe you do. You might be more fun, to be honest”

These was the last words he expected to hear from you, you were younger than him by a mile. He was used to vampires pretty easily going down. He moved his arm back, directing the wooden stake straight for your heart. In the same second, you changed into your vamp face and propelled your head forwards. Your hand twisted his wrist trying to knock the stake from his hand as you propelled your ridged forehead towards him. Headbutting him with all of your strength.

The stake pierced your skin, but luckily (or unluckily it still hurt like anything) it was stabbed into your left arm which made you yelp. You yelped almost as much as Angel in his surprise as his nose started to bleed. It was enough to stun him, letting you run off with the stake still sticking out of your arm as you took a short cut to your destination.

Angel walked back to the hotel slowly, pinching his nose and wiping the blood on his sleeve. He took the long route back, not wanting to have to tell the others that he had lost in a fight with a vampire who was probably half his age. When he returned Cordelia rushed over to him, helping him to sit down. The entire team was there, waiting up for him. Fantastic, now he would have to tell them.

“Oh, uh, Angel?” Fred asked softly, “This was left for you – on your desk”

He turned and there it was. The stake that had been embedded in your arm the last he saw you. You must have travelled fast to get there before he did. He took it as an act of aggression, especially when he read the note attached.

‘Until we meet again, sweet Angel’

“Is this your slayer friend?” Fred asked, looking down at the floor. She had taken somewhat of a shine to Angel and may have been a little jealous. She had just learned what a slayer was.

“She’s a little more dramatic, a little less with the subtle” Cordelia stated, knowing for sure that the person that brought it was not Buffy. Not at all.

“Yes, I recall the young woman is about as subtle as a brick” Wes chuckled softly, reminiscing over his brief stint as a watcher.

“No. it wasn’t her” Angel confirmed, turning and scowling, “Wes, I need everything you can find on a vamp. Name’s y/n”

“Y/n? Are you sure it is wise to, um, shake the hornets nest so to speak. They’ve done little to actively harm-” Wesley said quickly. A slightly sheepish look on his face. You had met him and helped him out several times. You often crossed paths late night at the occult book store. You weren’t afraid of losing your credibility over a little light reading.

Your intelligence was often what gave you the upper hand over many demons you came up against. Wesley was strangely fond of you, although he knew from word on the street you could be mean if something was in the way of what you wanted. He was pleasant enough although spending too long with him gave you an Englishman-induced headache. He does prattle on so. And, that phrase had been unfortunately transferred into your brain from listening to him for too long.

“Apart from, that they’re a vampire who brutally kills to eat and always seems to be in every bad situation we’ve been in recently” Angel snapped, “I want everything. By tomorrow night”

“What are you going to do?”

“Kill them”

It had been several more months and Angel had seen you several times in that period. He had yet to make good on his promise. The tension mounted, peaking every time you became close. Your back and forth riling you up, making you begin to pine for his attention.

He had noted that you had common goals, evil tended to get mowed down in your wake. Which, he couldn’t exactly complain about except that your personality was simultaneously infuriating and intriguing.

But he maintained that he didn’t like you. The way you danced through life, with no guilt. Very little self-reflection. You wouldn’t join him and that was enough, in his eyes for you to be against him.

This evening finds you on the hunt for a backstreet dealer, one that could find you an item that was particularly hard to find. Especially now Angel had a snitch on the inside, the deliveries were starting to slow. Dust couldn’t drive trucks.

You arrived at the meeting place, a dingy alleyway despite you specifically asking to meet somewhere that didn’t smell like something had died there. You had a very sensitive sense of smell.

“You got the stuff?” You asked, gesturing with your head for the demon to open the briefcase. But he snatched it from your grasp and the boss stepped from the shadows. This meant something more sinister.

“You helped him. We saw you” The scaly man with an impressively tailored suit accused.

“What?”

“Angel” He confirmed. Bad things happened to people who didn’t side with the boss. You knew this.

“I don’t pick allegiances, I told you. I’m just me” You assured them, eyes on the briefcase.

“You’re with us or you’re with him. Choose.”

“Fine.” You shrugged, the man nodded approvingly. It had been easier than he thought.

“Good, glad that you’re-” You spun into a kick, hitting his jaw which made him shut up. You hated people who gave you an ultimatum. You, for this very moment only, were on Angel’s side. Fists flying, feet connecting with hard bodies. You fought against them, hard.

More of them started to turn up. As if there had been a call. They started to surround you. You were strong, but not that strong. Your un-life flashed before your eyes. There was so much you had left to do. I mean, you had never even been to a virgin sacrifice. Never properly feasted on St Vigeous. You hadn’t even found your anti-soulmate.

You were almost ready to give up. And then he turned up. Your guardian angel.

Angel assessed the fight, realising you had been caught up. Not realising why it broke out. You fought beside each other, but traded insults with your ally. You found yourself waiting for these interactions with him. It made you smirk. This was the way you flirted.

You enjoyed this back and forth. He was starting to make you feel alive again. Begin to… hope.

The fight was finished and now all you both were was surrounded by dust. You took a breath. In name, not in action, recovering from the fight.

But he grabbed you by your shoulders, you had taken your guard down. He slammed you into the brick wall. The contact almost made you shiver as you smiled wide. You opened your mouth to speak, he was expecting it and spoke first.

“Don’t” He warned, frustrated at the way your eyes danced despite his threat.

“I’ve been waiting for this for months” You smirked, leaning closer to his face. There was barely an inch between you.

“Huh. Your death?”

“We’re already dead, baby, I’m looking more for the spice of life” You teased before leaning in and finally catching your lips with his. This had been all you had been thinking since you had first met him. The tension had reached its crescendo and you had to act.

It was an urgent kiss, you were willing him to reciprocate. His action beforehand made the adrenaline pump around your body harder. Want him more. There was danger harboured deep below the soul he cared for so deeply and it called to you like a moth to a flame.

You wanted him. You enjoyed every side you had seen so far. You didn’t understand why he was so reluctant to admit the tension in the air when you were around each other.

His lips didn’t move at first for those agonising moments. And then they did. All at once. His lips moving and fiery against yours, now fighting you for dominance. You tasted so good to him. A hand gripping your upper arm tightly with the other sliding up the curvature of your neck.

You slid your hands between the fabric of his shirt and his leather jacket, grasping at him. Your fingers snaked around him, exploring unchartered territory. He felt so good, you wanted him closer.

You found yourself almost preferring the feel of this more amiable touch to the harsh blows you had exchanged previously. He pressed you further into the wall, wanting more.

But all too quickly, his lips started to falter and you felt him start to pull away. He started to think too much into it. Comprehending the implications. You felt too good to him. You were a distraction, a sinful figure that strayed him from the power’s path. You almost whined as he pulled himself from where he had been pressed flush against you. He had to fight himself to remove his hands from you.

Your hands slid sadly from where they had been exploring his lean form. You felt yourself pouting slightly, which is a feat when you have fangs like you did.

His face had changed during your kiss, as had yours. Your vampire forms released as the tension did. Your more animalistic forms finding each other so appealing. The kiss a revelation, in some sense a curse. But again, he was used to that.

He pulled back, his face the picture of shock. It was the most emotion he had allowed you to see. So many contradictory emotions flashing behind his eyes. It had felt wrong, but oh so right to kiss you that way. He wanted more. He wanted to get as far away from you as possible.

You watched him in his turmoil, not able to hide the way you enjoyed seeing his face this way. You reached with your hand to trail along the distinctive bumps of his forehead. You couldn’t help it, you had suddenly begun to soften for him. Against your will. You wanted him to want you deeper than you had realised.

He realised that his vampire face was showing. He winced away from you, and you scanned over his face. He switched back immediately. Masking it.

He was ashamed. You frowned, your own vamp face still there. You embraced all that you were. You scanned his face, trying to show him that he could be himself with you. But he didn’t read that from your face.

He stepped back, all contact with him now gone. His eyes still trapped in yours for a moment. Your back was still pressed against the rough brick, your arm still outstretched for him.

But he just ran, jacket whipping around him as he kicked up his dust on way out of the alleyway. As if a magician through a puff of smoke, he was gone.

You eventually moved yourself from the wall, leaning to take the briefcase. You shrugged, dusting it off from the ash that had been left from the fight.

You walked slowly with your items, thoughts beginning to spin. Finding yourself lacking something deep inside that you had not realised you had been missing for so long.

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dyns33 · 4 years

Text

The horsemen, the Queen and the Antichrist

So, a story based on this idea. It’s not great but I hope you will like it.

I’m tagging some people who seemed interested by it, won’t tag again promise : @mikhalxngdon @sexwon131 @jimmason @thewarriorprincessxo @littlegirlsdontplaynice

Since birth, (Y/N) had nightmares. Nothing abnormal in itself, since everyone had nightmares. But, in her dreams, (Y/N) saw the end of time. The world was on fire, living things were suffocating, the sea was turning black and as she stood in the midst of the ruins an evil being slowly approached her. Despite his long cloak, she could see his face better and better after several years. It was not a human face. Four fuzzy shapes followed him, and every time he reached out to grab her, (Y/N) would wake up.

She didn't think her parents would worry so much when she decided to tell them about it. Some dreams were recurring. They could mean something other than what they seemed to say. Maybe she was just nervous, not knowing why. They still preferred that she tell a doctor about it. Everything was fine, until she admitted that sometimes she wondered if these were not premonitory dreams.

"Do you... think you see the future in your dreams ?"

"I do not know, maybe ?" she said timidly.

"And do they often prevent you from sleeping ?"

“Every night I wake up around 3 am. Sometimes I'm so scared that I have a hard time falling back to sleep. Sometimes I can.”

"I see."

Another doctor might have laughed hearing this premonition story, just giving her sleeping pills to fix the problem, but like her parents, he took her case very seriously and advised them to intern her. At least until she started sleeping normally again and realized that dreams were just dreams.

The first few days were difficult for (Y/N), who was lucky enough to meet friends in this awful place. Four boys, interned like her. Crying most of the time, she didn't feel like talking with the others, who kept asking her why she was there, standing very close to her and refusing to leave. Until a book landed hard on their heads.

"Can't you see she wants you to shut up ?! Parasites ! Assholes ! Leave her the fuck alone !"

"Ah, the traitor, flee !" they shouted, running.

"The traitor is fucking you!"

The boy, who looked a bit older than everyone else here, turned to (Y/N) with a grimace that she couldn't make out.

"Sorry about those idiots. They pissed us off when we got there too. They don't understand that not all of us want to talk about our problems."

"Us ?" asked (Y/N).

"Yeah. If you don't want to be alone, but also don't want embarrassing questions asked, you can come with Jim, Richard, Xavier and me. I'm Duncan. But you don't have to. Just know that the others will leave you if you're with us. They don't like us too much. Oh, of course, if you come, avoid the questions too. Especially with Xavier, and don't stare at him."

He was probably saying this because of the burns on Xavier's face, who seemed to appreciate that (Y/N) didn't look at him too long, nor ask him how it happened. She also didn't ask Richard to take off his headphones or show her his drawings, as she let Jim talk to her about the ocean for almost an hour without interrupting. Very quickly, she was adopted by the group. Without her needing to ask, after some weeks, they told her their stories.

“My parents…” Jim muttered. “They wanted us to move out and soon after they got divorced. My dad left, my mom went mad, my sister didn't want to help… I really tried to be brave. I took... stuff that I shouldn't have taken. It was stronger than me, I needed it, to keep going. And it's this shit that has almost killed me. They say it's too dangerous if I stay outside until I'm better. I don't see how I could be better, my family is destroyed, I have no diploma, everyone knows that I'm a drug addict who..."

"Jimmy, calm down." Duncan said, stroking his back. "Only the people of Palos Verdes know that. Look at me, the whole country knows my name. Duncan Shepherd, the traitor who plotted against the president. Even if it was bullshit, I'm screwed. My dear mother who isn't really my mom abandoned me after Bill died. She sent me here, supposedly to cure my alcoholism, but saying it was to punish me for what I had done. I would have preferred to go in jail, but she didn't want to. It's better if everyone think I lost my mind."

"At least you two don't look like a pizza that's been in the oven for too long."

"Xavier..."

"That asshole disfigured me ! I can't go anywhere without someone looking at me like a monster ! I should never have gone to this fucking camp ! Okay, I survived, not like some of my friends , but it's not easy... I'm responsible for their deaths, that was my idea ! And that face reminds me of it every day... I'll never be an actor..."

"Are you having trouble sleeping too ?" Richard then asked (Y/N), without looking at her and without looking at the other boys who were trying to comfort each other, all the while appearing to be having a contest over who was more to be pitied.

"How do you know ?"

"We all have problems sleeping here. Jim has seizures from the drug withdrawal, Duncan drinks too much coffee to relax, Xavier jumps at the slightest noise."

"And... uh ... nothing."

"Me ? It's complicated. Tell me first."

"I dream of the end of the world."

"Ah. Shadows come to attack me while I sleep."

"Looks like you have the most worries."

"Yes, but unlike them, I'm not complaining, I'm used to it." Richard smiled as he continued to draw.

"It's the first time he's said why he's here." Xavier announced, visibly surprised, stopping bickering with the others.

"And that he talks so much." Jim added.

"That must mean he likes you." Duncan sneered.

Richard just blushed, hiding behind his notebook, which made everyone laugh. With them (Y/N) felt good, and they felt better too. More serene. Whenever they could, they were all together in the common room. Then Jim and Richard would go to their bedroom, Duncan and Xavier to their, and (Y/N) was left alone with her nightmares.

They didn't stop, on the contrary. More violent, more detailed, the screams of the victims echoing in (Y/N)'s head, she could see balls of fire falling from the sky, and the man with the demonic face was still there, smiling. His lips were moving, he was saying something, but she couldn't hear him. Or she didn't understand. It was like whispering, in a language she didn't know. And those four shapes behind him were becoming more threatening. (Y/N) would wake up screaming, which annoyed other patients and nurses. A little for fun, a little seriously, Xavier asked her if she wanted to sleep with them.

"Quietly you come to one of our rooms and share one of our beds. No weird stuff, I promise ! But, since Jim is already sleeping with Richard, you..."

"Shut up !" Jim growled. "We don't sleep together ! I scare the shadows, that's all !"

"Yeah yeah Jimmy, if you say so."

"It's nice, but I don't want us to get in trouble if someone sees me." said (Y/N). "I will come if something is wrong..."

"Do you have a premonition ?" Richard asked very seriously, looking at her.

"I… I don't know. He's getting closer and closer. I feel like he's very close now."

"If anyone tries to hurt you, we'll protect you." Duncan promised her.

It happened faster than they thought. On a stormy night, (Y/N) had the same dream again, but when she opened her eyes to escape the man, she found him in front of her, by her bed. He wasn't wearing his cloak, his face looked human, but she knew it was him. Screaming, she threw her blankets at him before fleeing down the hall, calling for help. No one answered. Arrived in the boys' quarters, Jim and Richard heard her, coming out of their room to see what was going on.

"He's here ! He's here !"

"What ? Who ?"

"The demon is here ! He... He is going to..."

"Breathe."

"What is happening ?!" Duncan asked as he opened his door, Xavier standing behind him.

"The creature of her dreams is here."

"Shit. Come inside ! Quick !" Xavier ordered.

He knew how to escape killers. He'd been through it before, even if he hadn't done very well. Quickly, he put their beds in front of the door, along with a chair, so no one could enter. The window was always closed, no one could pass through. He then asked everyone to stay in a corner, quietly. He jumped anyway when someone tried to open the door. This lasted until Jim started to cry as he hugged (Y/N), Richard taking them both in his arms, while Duncan and Xavier stood in front of them, ready to fight. The silence was worse. They didn't know what to expect. The improvised barricade suddenly moved, as if by magic, across the room and the door opened.

"Good evening." the man said calmly. "Sorry for scaring you. I'm coming for my queen."

"If you get close, I'll kick your ass !" Duncan threatened him.

"You won't touch her ! We won't let you hurt her."

"War, Pestilence, calm down." the man purred, raising his hands. "I'm not here to hurt anyone. On the opposite. I'm coming to fix everything."

"Pestilence ?! Are you calling me that ? Are you making fun of me because of my burns ?!"

"Not at all my valiant horseman. I find you very beautiful, you fully assume your true form. You display your bad luck on your face. But reassure yourself, you will not suffer anymore, it will be the others who will suffer your revenge."

"Fuck you. He's trying to coax us so we'll let him go near (Y/N)."

"You say that because of this man, aren't you ?" sang the demon. "Blake ? He's dead but he still haunts you, like those shadows that haunt Death every night. If it's any comfort to you, he's stranded in Redwood where he will stay until the end, then my Father will take care of him personally for what he did to you. He will take care of Madam Shepherd, who locked my poor War in this place. He will punish those who have harmed my sweet Famine. Don't cry dear little horseman. Do not be afraid. You're protecting your queen, I understand, but she like you have nothing to fear from me."

What he said didn't make sense to them, but the voices whispered to (Y/N) to trust him. In her nightmares, he killed everyone, but not her. And the four forms...

"You are the Antichrist." she said slowly.

"Yes my Queen. You can call me Michael. It's time. I need you to fulfill my destiny. We will be happy together and no more bad dreams will come to torture you."

"You won't take her from us !" Jim shouted then, sticking to her. "Don't let him come near !"

"We don't really have a choice. He's powerful."

The boys looked at Richard, who was staring at the ceiling. The shadows were there, shaking, watching Michael in dread. They were afraid of him and Richard understood that if he wanted to be free, to be at peace, he had to follow this man. If they all wanted to live, again, they all had to follow him.

"I won't force you, my horsemen, but you know deep down that's what you have to do."

"If I understand everything..." Duncan said. "We have to help you destroy the world. Then what ? What happens to us ? What are you doing to do to (Y/N) ? You say she's your queen, does that mean we can't see her anymore ? Are you going to kill us ?"

"Ah War, I love your passion. After the Apocalypse, we will all live in a safe and wonderful place. The Sanctuary. You can do whatever you want. Of course you can also see (Y/N)."

"Not the jealous type ?" Xavier sneered.

"No. You are all a part of me. I belong to my queen and therefore you belong to her too. She is free to do whatever she wants. (Y/N) ? What do you think ? Do you want to us ?"

Slowly, as in her dream, Michael approached her, holding out his hand, waiting for her to take it. The four boys were also waiting, not knowing what they wanted her to do. They would follow her no matter what. (Y/N) wasn't sure she wanted the end of the world. But she had always dreamed of it, it seemed inevitable. She was happy to know that she wasn't crazy, as everyone thought. She didn't want to stay in this asylum, let alone have her friends stay there because of her. So she took the hand of the Antichrist and the nightmare finally ended.

#american horror story apocalypse #house of cards #The Tribes of Palos Verdes #ahs 1984 #the last time i saw richard #michael langdon #Duncan Shepherd #Jim Mason #xavier plympton #richard #michael langdon fanfiction #duncan shepherd fanfiction #jim mason fanfiction #xavier plympton fanfiction

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percywinchester27 · 4 years

Text

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-7)

Word count: 5K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: fluff, feels... like a lot of them ;)

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23 You da best <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

14th August 2008

It was the third time you were looking into the mirror, straightening the pleats of your dress and smoothening your hair. It absolutely refused to behave today.

“Y/N!” Jo yelled from downstairs. “Sam’s here!”

Your heart beat reacted to the news before the rest of your body. You stared numbly at the reflection in the mirror and it stared back at you stupidly.

Sighing, you picked up the coat which you had washed and pressed, and folded it on your arm.

Sam met you at the base of the staircase just like the last time.

“You-” he started to say; in your nervousness you cut him off. “I’m just gonna tell aunt El and Jo that we’re heading out.”

Your aunt was at the table chopping onions and Jo was grinning at you widely over the top of her book.

Ellen smiled, “Have a great time,” she said, then a little louder. “You have her home by ten, Samuel.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam made a big deal out of bowing.

Jo winked at him and mouthed ‘hot stuff,’ which you weren’t supposed to see but did anyway and blushed.

“Where are we going?” You questioned, as Sam opened the door to his brother’s car for you.

“There’s really only one good place in the town,” he said apologetically. “Dean felt so bad about it that he even lent me the Impala. That way I can at least notch up some impression.”

You laughed and he gave you a winning look. The sort of look one would have on their face if they came across a twenty dollar bill out of the blue.

“How’re you holding up?” He asked, averting his eyes from the road just for a bit to look at you.

“I’m okay,” you answered, honestly. “I miss her awfully, and I feel lost sometimes, though the more I think about it, the more I feel relieved that she passed away peacefully and painlessly.”

She had been happy till the last day of her life, and you were trying to draw some peace out of that. Gran would have wanted you to.

“Here,” You handed him his coat, as you stepped out of the car in front of the restaurant. It was the same one that he had offered you on the day of the average birthday. You had never gotten around to return it.

Sam didn’t take it. “You hold on to it a little longer for me,” he said with a cryptic smile.

The restaurant was crowded, as was expected out of a Saturday night. The hostess met you at the door and when Sam gave her his name, she led you to a corner table. Sam pulled your chair for you like a true gentleman and then nudged the menu towards you.

You took a look at it, ordering the first thing that appeared familiar; some type of red sauce pasta. The table had lovely roses in a vase, with water sprinkled on them like dews. Underneath the vase and over the table was an expensive looking lace tablecloth.

“You’re very quiet,” Sam said after a while. “What’re you thinking?”

“This,” you gestured towards the table in front of you and the restaurant in general. “I’ve never done this before.”

He looked confused. “What do you mean?”

He really didn’t know. “I come from a small town, Sam. We didn’t have fancy restaurants there. Just one crappy diner and few take outs, and I’ve lived there all my life. In fact, the only few times I went to a city was to Topeka; once with Aunt El when I was thirteen and then a couple of times with a neighbour, to help my Gran with some bakery stuff. I’ve just never been to a fancy restaurant before.”

It baffled you that Sam even wanted to date someone like you who knew so little about the world, when he had been to Stanford and then to Yale and New York. What could he possibly hope to find in common with you?

You were expecting him to look at you funnily. Instead, you found wonder in his eyes.

“Yet, you wanted to apply to universities so far away?”

You looked down at where his hands lay on the table, and nervously placed yours over his. At first his hand jerked, as if he hadn’t expected it, but then flattened against the table top, allowing you to cover it with yours.

“My dad was a lawyer,” you said. “First person from that town to ever actually get out and get a degree, and Gran was so proud of him. I don’t remember much, but I remember him getting smartly dressed in the morning and mom picking a tie for him and tying it around his neck. Every morning she would do that, and every morning he would swoop her in his arms and kiss her.”

The waiter arrived with your food, and you quickly jerked your hand back. Sam looked bereft at the loss of contact. He didn’t press you for conversation though.

The spaghetti was good; mouthwateringly so and you worried about how much it cost. You wanted to split for the dinner, and there was just so much money you had. You were hoping that the food wasn’t so expensive that you wouldn’t be able to pay. Sam had ordered what looked like a somewhat unappealing salad. You wanted to offer him your spaghetti but weren’t sure if that was against the etiquette.

Uhhggg curses to the small town upbringing. You knew nothing about this sort of thing, or even how to talk to boys. Maybe telling them on the first date about how woefully limited your knowledge was of the world was actually a bad idea.

You were hell-bent on making it worse.

“When I said I’ve never done this before,” you said slowly, rolling the fork in your spaghetti. “I also meant that I’ve never been on a date before.”

“What?” His fork clattered into the bowl, the shock clear on his face.

Maybe now you had done it. You still wanted to clear it up. “I just- I don’t want you to think I’m super cool or something, when I’m not,” you stressed. “I don’t want you to have any expectations from me that I won’t be able to live up to.”

“Y/N,” he said. “It’s not like that. I’m just surprised that I’m lucky enough to be the first person who had actually managed to convince you into going out with him. Can’t say I’m feeling too sorry about all the poor souls who didn’t get the chance.” He grinned.

He was just so good with words. It did relieve you of some of your worry.

“Seriously,” he insisted. “Please don’t think that. All week I was worrying if you had changed your mind.”

How could you not think like that? He was the male model adonis type, from the big city and you were just so inexperienced. Sure a couple of guys in high school had asked you out, but no one had ever appealed to you the way Sam had. There was just something about him that was reassuring, like he would never break your heart. Like nothing could ever go wrong when he was around. When he was gone, however, the worry that he didn’t feel the same way about you started to seep in.

You ate the rest of your dinner quietly, feeling a bit stupid. Way to ruin your first date.

Afterwards, Sam absolutely denied splitting the bill even when you insisted. You noticed that he also tipped the waiter well.

You were upset with yourself as you walked out of the restaurant. After dreaming for days about how amazing it would be to finally go out with Sam, you had gone ahead and made a mess of it. Worrying about what must be going on in his mind, you turned towards the parking lot.

“Hey, you mind if we walk back?” Sam asked in an unsure voice. “Dean’s close-by and he always keeps a set of keys, he’ll drive the car back home.”

“Sure.”

It was cold outside, and the thin-strapped dress you were wearing was not helping with the wind at all. So you unrolled Sam’s coat and pulled it over, regretting that unlike the last time, it wasn’t smelling like him. He saw you rolling the sleeves up and smirked.

As you stepped onto the pavement, Sam offered you his hand and you took it gladly. Maybe the whole evening wasn’t ruined.

“Sorry I’m making you walk,” Sam confessed. “I didn’t want the night to end just yet. I feel like I’ve been a terrible date tonight.”

What?

“I had a great time!” You protested.

“Did you? Really?” He looked chagrined. “I am still being terrible. I wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked the moment I saw you on the stairs; I didn’t. In fact you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. I didn’t tell you that, either.”

You bit your lip, unsure of what to say. This felt unreal… not just because of his words, but because of how dazed he sounded.

“That’s not the only reason why I like you though,” Sam said hurriedly, as if he was scared of offending you. “It’s because you are one of the bravest people I know. Seeing you hold yourself at your Grandmother’s funeral, after losing everything… It was the hardest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.”

You had stopped walking. The two of you were simply standing in the middle of the sidewalk, hands interlocked.

“And you’re so bright, so ambitious. Despite every shit hand that you’ve been dealt, you want to make something of your life. You have goals and a desire to prove yourself. How could I not want to be with you?” His eyes were melting, and so were you inside.

“Beyond that, you are kind and patient,” he said. “And I never told you any of it. I thought of it, over and over and yet I never said a word. So of course I’m a bad date.”

He was standing so close now, close enough that you could feel his warm breath on your face. You moved closer still and closed your eyes.

“What is it?” He asked softly. “Is it something I did? What aren’t you telling me?”

You placed your hands on his arms, more to steady yourself than anything. “I’ve never felt this way before, Sam,” you admitted. “I think of you all the time when I’m not with you, and when I’m with you, I feel giddy with happiness. I guess, I’m just scared that one day you’ll wake up and not find me interesting anymore.”

“Have you considered for a second that maybe I’m scared, too?” He asked. You opened your eyes and looked directly into his unearthly ones. They were reflecting the same need you felt, a strange and unknown hunger to touch, lean in just a bit closer and…

You gave in to that instinct just as he did, your lips colliding with each other’s. Sam was gentle at first, hesitant as he pressed his full lips against your bottom lip, drawing out the moment, but there was something desperate within you. You raised your hands and snaked your fingers through Sam’s hair- they were just as soft as you had imagined them to be- and dragged your teeth along his lower lip. Sam moaned into your mouth and his whole body shuddered. His muscled arms wrapped around your waist hoisting you up and he gave up on all attempts to be gentle, following your lead.

This was happening, you were actually kissing Sam. A giggled escaped you, and Sam pulled back, reluctance clear on his face.

“What?” He asked, face flushed, lips parted. You didn’t answer him, diving right into another kiss.

“One other thing,” Sam mumbled against your lips. “Of all the things that I should have said already, and I didn’t, I’m not going to hold back this one. It could be years and years from now, but I would never not find you interesting. I’ll never not want to just keep looking at you.”

*****************************************

Sam’s POV:

“What the hell are you still doing here?” Jody asked, coming to stop over him.

“I ask myself that question everyday,” Sam said, without looking up from his laptop.

He could feel Jody roll her eyes. “Stop being a smartass. I meant aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

Sam read through the last line and closed the file. In fact, he took his time to push away the laptop, then remove his glasses, clean them with the tip of his tie, before looking at his now colleague. Jody had been a new addition to the faculty when Sam had been a student here. She had been one of his favourite professors then. Now, she was staring down at him with amusement in her eyes.

“I don’t have to go in today,” Sam said. “Chase said he’ll fill in at the hearing. I can just look over the papers from here.”

“If I didn’t know better,” she said sitting down next to him. “I’d think you were finding reasons for sticking around.”

Sam did a double take, “What? What makes you say that?” Surely she didn’t mean it.

Jody laughed. “I’m kidding. What’s got your panties in a twist? Loosen up.”

“It’s just that I’m not used to being alone. And I worry about him all the time,” he sighed.

“You know what you need?” She said, “You need alcohol in your life! Make the most of the alone time. He’s a good kid, you know that. He can take care of himself.”

“I know,” Sam said, feeling lame.

“Seriously, what’re you doing Friday evening?”

Sam didn’t even pretend to consider. He didn’t have a social life. “Nothing much.”

“We’re getting you that alcohol.”

“Sure.”

“If you’re sticking around,” she said too nicely, “Why don’t you help me grade the assignments?”

“Yeah, no thank you,” Sam said firmly. “I got enough of my own and you’re not dragging me into your bundle.”

Jody tried to smack him, but Sam ducked to the side, grinning.

“Eh, it’s not that bad,” she waved her hand. “The fresh batch is actually pretty impressive. I heard you let them off easy with just a case brief for an assignment.”

“I figured with you guys setting up the heavy essays, I’d let it slide this time.” He stood up to gather his files.

“It’s not the only thing I heard,” Jody said, eyes on the papers in her hand. “Your TA, Paul, said you were particularly happy about one girl’s brief. What was her name again?”

Sam swore internally. “Y/N. Her name’s Y/N Y/L/N.”

She turned around to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “You remember the names already.”

He gave a noncommittal shrug. She didn’t press. “I actually checked through my stack for her essay, and what do you know! She’s actually gifted.”

Sam already knew that. He tried his best to not show it by attempting to look busy with his bag.

“It’s really funny,” Jody continued, looking at him curiously. “You know who her writing reminded me of?

“Who?” He asked, already dreading the answer.

“You.”

“Really?” Sam said hurriedly packing his things.

“It’s actually quite weird,” Jody mused. “The same style of paraphrasing. And I’d know. You were one of my first students, and good, too.”

All packed, Sam turned and smiled tightly at her. “I’m still your favourite, though.”

“That you are, Winchester,” she winked. “Heading to the library again?”

“Yeah, I gotta return a book,” he said grimly.

Thankfully, it was only 4:30 and Molly was at the desk. It would be another hour and a half before her shift ended. She gave him a bright smile as he placed the book on the desk. “I need a huge favour,” he said urgently. “Can you quickly pull out the Development Control and Promotion regulations for San Jose? I need a specific hard copy. There are yellow tags on the pages.”

“Right up.”

Molly disappeared into the shelves and Sam congratulated himself on finding a quiet place to go through the references for the case he was working on, where no would quiz him about his past life. The solution for the case was in semantics, he knew that. It was still a lot of research and he needed to verify what his junior had sent him.

“Here you go,” Molly handed him the exact copy he had been working out of on Friday. “I don’t know why the hell you’re still living in the 90’s with paper tags, but to each his own.”

“Molly, you’re a lifesaver!”

She blew him a kiss and he went off to the farthest corner of the library. Sam had discovered this spot when he was a student here. No one ventured this far back, and it was well hidden from view.

He set up his laptop and got to work. It was all there. In bits and parts he put together a pretty good defense for his client. It did help that the client was wrongly accused of property damage to begin with, and the timeline of how things had gone down worked in his favour. Before he knew it, he had a rejoinder of his own ready to go for the next hearing.

Sam stretched his arms, and looked up to see that it was dark outside. Already?

He flicked his wrist to look at the watch. It was quarter past 7. Where had the time flown?

Sam craned his neck sideways to look at the librarians desk and there she was in front of the computer, looking intently into the screen. From here, Sam couldn’t see Y/N’s face. Just her profile. She wore a pale grey t-shirt and jeans underneath, not what she had worn to class today morning. Sam hated the fact that he noticed as well as remembered what she was wearing each day. He forced himself to look down and concentrate on the work at hand. He just had to phrase the concluding statements and it would be done. However, all the force that had been driving him for the past few hours seemed to disappear just like that. Try as he may, he got stuck on simple words. Soon he had read the same line five times. It didn’t help that he kept stealing glances at her.

This wasn’t like class, where he had so many eyes trained on him, where he was obligated to deliver a perfect lecture. No one was watching him now, which made it thousand times harder to keep his eyes off her.

She was busy working, completely unaware of his presence. Hadn’t she spent the past years like that? Completely unaware of what was happening with him. Anger burned bright and new within him. When he had read the brief about the Weather man case, he was already impressed before seeing who had written it. It had to be her! Sam had fought with himself over announcing her name in front of the whole class. But if it had been any other student, he’d have praised them, right? So he had to be fair and praise her, too. Never-mind that the words would burn on their way out. He had swallowed his feelings and done what was right.

Every little thing about her, may it be those cookies, or running into her in the corridors affected him to the point where it was all he could think about for the rest of the day. So had he been under the wrong impression all this time? Had he not moved on at all?

Y/N was still engrossed in her work, but as Sam looked closely, he soon realised that she was rubbing the nails of her hands against each other. Her feet were drawn up on the chair, under her legs and her shoulders were hunched. He squinted and could make out the slight shivering of her frame. She was cold.

He looked away. It wasn’t his problem. Y/N was hypersensitive to cold. She knew that very well, and made it a point to carry sweaters. If she was indeed that cold, she could just pull on one.

Sam went back to his rejoinder, typing out two more sentences of the conclusion. However, his eyes kept flitting towards her, as she rubbed her hands. Y/N smiled at the people who came by, asking for books. By this point it wasn’t hard to see that her lips were quivering, maybe her teeth were chattering, too. There was no sweater nearby.

There were so many reasons that stopped him from helping her. So many. And for all his anger and seething, all Sam wanted to do was go over and hug her so tight that she would stop shaking. He couldn’t. It wasn’t his place to do that anymore.

Sam’s fingers balled into fists in frustration and helplessness, nails digging into the flesh of his palms painfully.

Just then a girl came wandering over. She looked in her teens and Sam wondered what she was doing here.

“Are you from the college?” Sam asked her, certain that he had never seen her before.

The girl gawked at him. “I’m seventeen, dude!”

Sam didn’t care what she was doing here, but the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. “Hey, if it’s not too much to ask, please could you help me with something?”

Reader’s POV:

It had been a slow morning and an even slower afternoon. After Professor Mcleod’s class, the last one for the day ended, you decided to duck back to the apartment for a while. Madison asked you to hang out with her afterwards, but the thought of hanging out with Brad and the rest of that girl gang, didn’t appeal to you much. You had thought that you’d get over their raving about Sam, but the more you listened the harder it got. Neither could you say anything. You didn’t own Sam. So it was better to avoid them as much as you could for the sake of your own mental peace.

Since it was only two, you could actually catch some sleep before heading for the night shift which started at 6 pm and ended at 2 am. Usually everyone emptied out the library by then. You could clock in an extra hour if someone wanted to stay back. There was a Librarian’s room which you could use to catch your sleep, but from having worked two nights, you figured it was better to walk back home and grab a few hours in your own bed before classes. What was the point of living so close if you weren’t going to make the most of it?

The apartment building was too quiet and empty at this hour on a Tuesday. The only other people were Pam and Cas, both knocked out after the night shift. Even Kevin had to show up at work today. You contemplated whether to start reading for college but decided against it and headed to bed instead.

It turned out to be a bad idea, because given your track record of not waking up to the alarm lately, you slept on till the front door banged open. You sat up straight, disoriented.

“Y/N?” Meg called, uncertainly. “You’re home?”

“Sure am,” you answered through a thick throat. Like an idiot you had fallen asleep in your morning clothes and were sweaty and icky now.

Meg appeared at the door of your room. “Whoa, you’re sleeping! I thought you’d be at work.”

“Why would I be at work,” you said, sleepily, turning to the clock. “It’s only- 5:45! Shit!”

You jumped out of the bed and ran straight for the shower.

“Doesn’t your shift start at 6?” Meg shouted from outside. She sounded amused and it only worked you up as you stripped at a super speed and got into the shower. The water was cold and it was all you could do to not yelp at the sting of it on your skin. Thankfully, Meg hadn’t stuck around in the living room, when five minutes later you made a beeline for your room wrapped in just one towel. At least you didn’t have to worry about what to wear this time. A pair of jeans and any top would do. On your way out, you grabbed your bag, laptop and keys.

“Meg, I’m so sorry I didn’t cook. I was just so tired, I fell asleep.”

Meg, who was filling her nails with what looked like a pen knife, gave you an incredulous look.

“Y/N, fuck dinner! I might just go out anyway,” she said, shaking her head. “You go go go!”

You muttered a thanks and then sprinted at full speed, coming to stop seven minutes later in front of the library.

Molly was fixing the slips for the day.

“Molly, I’m so sorry- “

“Save it,” Molly waved her hand. “It’s just 6 o five.”

“Yeah okay,” you sat down, catching your breath.

“Hey listen,” Molly said, “There’s a few kinds from Palo Alto high school. They’re visiting with their teacher. That woman you see-” she pointed towards a middle aged woman who was breathing down a teenage boy's neck- “that’s her. The kids are well behaved, but they’ll stick around till dinner. You think you can manage?”

“Sure, I can do that!”

“Good luck,” she gave you a thumbs up before leaving.

As had become your unwitting habit lately, the moment you were free of a conscious thought, your mind went to Sam. He had been so frequent to the library before- Molly had been clear about that- but since your joining, he had not shown up once. Maybe your face was still that repulsive to him.

Feeling dejected, you slid your bag under the table, plugged your laptop on charging and settled into the seat, ready to go through the night’s tasks. It didn’t take you longer than five minutes to figure out that you had left your sweater at home in all the hurry to get here. Suddenly, the conditioned air in the room felt ten times colder and you grabbed your arms, hugging yourself. Oh, this was going to be a terrible evening. You briefly contemplated calling Meg, then remembered that she might have gone out for dinner, and both Kevin and Jack were out. Even Pam and Cas would have returned to their night shifts by now.

You would have to sit through this.

The high school teacher came over and introduced herself, then pointed at the seven kids she had brought with her. You barely managed to listen to what she was saying though, trying your best to warm yourself by chaffing your hands against your arms.

“Hey, you think you can grab a copy of Lord of the rings for me?” One of the kids asked, coming up to you.

You forced a smile. “I’ll have to check if we have that one. We d-don’t stock too much fiction here. You would find multiple editions of it in the Central Librar-ry th-though.”

You typed in Tolkien in the catalogue. Somehow one copy was still there.

Shivering, you turned back to look at the boy. “We have t-two towers. If you’ll give me a minute, I can get it for you.”

Breathing in and out of your mouth, you walked to the shelf and retrieved the book for him.

“Here you go,” you said. “Be sure you h-hand it in b-before you go.”

Maybe you should call Meg anyway, you thought. There was no way you could get through the night like this with nails turning blue and your teeth chattering.

“Hey!”

One of the school girls was standing before you with a blank expression on her face. “Here.” She put down bunched up fabric in front of you.

Thoughtlessly you took it, unfolding it to realise that it was, in fact, a grey coat. The sort that was part of a three piece suit. You ran your fingers over the fabric. It was soft and expensive, but felt so warm.

“Put it on!” The girl said. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

You held up the coat. “W-Who gave this to you?”

“That dude sitting at the back,” she said. “He asked me to give this to you. That’s all I know.”

You twisted your torso to glance at the table the girl had pointed to. It was empty.

Strange.

You put on the coat nevertheless, shivering violently as the fabric began to contain the body heat. Soon enough you stopped shaking completely, the warmth reminding you of happier, easier times. You walked around the corner to see who it was, but there was no one there. Shrugging you pulled the coat closer around, inhaling deeply. The scent of his cologne hit you like a ton of bricks.

It couldn’t be.

You took a look at the coat again, remembering what Sam had been wearing in the morning. It was a grey suit- in fact, this very grey. Without thinking, you rushed back to the very end, looking for him, but he was most definitely gone, leaving you with his borrowed warmth. You sank in your chairs, tears blurring your vision.

Sam was here… and he still cared.

*******************************

A/N 2: Aaaaahhhh so what do y’all think??? I mean the reader will have to do something with the coat, right? Do you think it will finally make them talk? ;)

I’m beyond grateful for all the feedback. YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME!

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vegalocity · 4 years

Note

7/46 for Spicynoodleshipping, before Red disappears for four months while getting ready to leave his parents?

Prompt meme

7. French kisses where they trace every tooth with their tongues as though trying to memorize them. // 46.A lingering kiss before a long trip apart.

I think this one just came out cheesy, I think it’s like 90% cheese so like... not for those with a dairy allergy

Xiaotian had thankfully not blown their secret prematurely when he'd saved him from his parent's ex-ally, he'd done enough Nominal Goody Two-Shoes things over the years that his parents hadn't thought twice about him hugging Red Son for almost dying. And He'd made his own 'stance' clear that he was simply proving a point TO his parents and saving Xiaotian from their supposed Ally was simply means to an end. To show that he and his were more than willing to go back on their agreement now that they'd had his tech and no longer needed them. Even going on later to say that he'd overheard their actual plans but he knew the two of them weren't going to listen without any proof, so... he had to take matters into his own hands.

His mother both berated him for taking risks like that and lightly chided for being so weak that a hit like that had stunned him for long enough he'd needed to be saved. His father as usual, had nothing to add. Xiaotian when they'd seen each other that night had received his own berating FROM Red Son about risking everything they'd arranged because he wasn't thinking. To which Xiaotian responded with his own rant about Red Son acting just as thoughtlessly by taking the hit for him in the first place.

When Xiaotian finished his rant he was holding back tears, brokenly finishing that he wouldn't have any idea what to do with himself if Red Son had died to save him. He'd tried to remind him that something like that couldn't do him in so easily, but it hadn't helped. He could only submit to his fretting, especially because he couldn't apologize, even if it were just for making Xiaotian so upset, nor could he promise he wouldn't do it again. But he could hold Xiaotian as he continued to grumble about how badly Red Son had scared him.

He'd meant it when he'd told him he'd do it again a million times over, and it was like something had loosened in his chest after their 'activities' that night. He found himself far less worried over accidentally falling asleep, found his tongue looser and relishing in the pretty blush his passion driven words would bring to Xiaotian's cheeks, and when he returned home found himself looking over exit strategies.

Whether he'd been cognizant of it at the time or not, that day saving Xiaotian had been a watershed in his life, and he'd... he'd made his choice.

And he picked Xiaotian.

And sure his parents didn't know that that was what had happened, but he did. And he'd never not know who he'd pick again; because there was no guarantee that that fool of a clan leader wouldn't kill him, wouldn't rip his head right off before anyone could have stopped him, he knew that, that was why he'd been so afraid for Xiaotian: his only thought was to get him out of there and didn't spare a second one for himself. Just because he was made of sturdier stuff than a mortal didn't mean he couldn't have died in that fight, and he'd come to terms with it in those split seconds, if it meant Xiaotian didn't die instead he’d accept it.

Though at first the change was just... noticing things he'd been pointedly ignoring. It was HIS tech that had been used against them, against the city they wanted to RULE not DESTROY, and not a single scrap of some of his most advanced work was even saved and tossed back at him nonchalantly, every scrap of metal bent into disuse as his parents took their dissolution of allyship out on the former clan leader's men.

He was gonna need more time for those upgrades to father's armor because he was mostly working on THAT OTHER project they'd tasked him with, He'd need to redraft that ENTIRE machine from scratch and he was ALREADY in the prototype phase if they wanted those changes.

And he'd started daydreaming. He'd been daydreaming about Xiaotian ever since they started their Arrangement, but those domestics that would occupy his mind in the middle of the menial parts of putting together machinery felt... different... than they used to.

He used to fantasize about bringing Xiaotian with him to his own home, usually heading back to the Firey Mountains, though sometimes other family homes would show up, and the two of them would...simply be. But those had become few and far between lately, what had occupied his mind as of late was a... more humble dream.

A medium-ish sized apartment in the city, near the noodle shop so Xiaotian could continue to work without too many commute related worries. He'd have a proper drawing easel in the living space, preferably by the window in the 'guest room' so he'd have a nice view. And though Red Son probably would keep most of his own projects in that 'base' Xiaotian had told him his friend had constructed he would have his own worktable for minor tinkering and blueprint drafting. They were both only 'perfectly okay' as cooks, so they'd generally decide who would make dinner depending on who got home first.

Red Son would likely wake up first every morning and get to finally see Xiaotian when he's so deep asleep he's just a limp noodle sprawled across the bed—and the bed was big enough for the both of them and then some, so no one would fall off. And as he'd put together his morning routines he'd realize he hadn't been this content in actual centuries and-

and he had to come to terms with the fact that a future with Xiaotian meant one without his parents, because there was no intersection of the two. Being Xiaotian's partner meant turning against his parents, and being a dutiful son meant being complicit when his father struck down his revenge and slaughtered Xiaotian.

And as he'd so recently come to terms with, that was unacceptable. He could live without his parents as he'd done it before, it would be difficult, and terrifying, and he knew he'd probably need to battle himself relentlessly for it, but now that he knew on a bone deep level that Xiaotian was not allowed to perish, he couldn't wait for the eventuality and hope he could swoop in then.

No. He couldn't chance that.

He needed to move out.

And if he was going to do this he had to do it right. He had to make his break as clean as possible, so there was no doubt on whether he was doing this of his own will or not. So he'd need some time staying back home, to ensure if things got out they were on no one's terms but his.

He'd of course been telling Xiaotian everything, and he was well aware of his plan. And now...

Now was the last night he could spare before he would make his leave and had to disappear for a time.

Their activities had gone on long into the night, savoring every moan and sigh and shiver because heavens knew how long it would be until either of them saw the other again, and Red Son found a particular joy in the act of memorizing every inch of Xiaotian's body that he possibly could branding every dip and curve and hardened muscle and gnarled scar into his mind so he'd have vivid memories to keep him company until he returned.

He didn't have to map out Xiaotian's mouth so intricately, he'd been kissing it for nearing on two and a half years now, he knew the shape and feel, the exact heat of his mouth and the slide of his tongue against his own, but Red Son found it would not be complete without it. So when allowed to plunder Xiaotian's mouth he worked slowly, moving across the entire area, and brushing playfully against every molar and sharpened canine (Xiaotian insisted he was still mostly human but the monkey magic was starting to seep in, eventually he'd sprout a tail and Red Son hoped he could see that when it happened) until the taste and feel were so deeply understood they'd be forever scorched across his heart.

“I will come back.” He whispered, “I swear I will return.” He reiterated for the... had to at least be the tenth time that night. The very last thing he wanted was Xiaotian doubting him for how long it might take or what may happen in the interim.

But now he had to go. He wanted to linger for longer, he could tell Xiaotian wanted him to linger for longer, but if he started out this whole thing with his parents already suspicious of where he'd been it would make things considerably harder. So he slipped back into his street clothes, maybe a little slower than his usual speed, and watched Xiaotian slip into his pajamas out of the corner of his eye. But by then, he was dressed and had no further excuses to stay.

Except maybe...

He cleared the short distance between the two of them and kissed Xiaotian one last time, a kiss that was eagerly returned. Not to memorize, just to savor. Full of longing instead of heat.

“I will return.”

“I know you will.”

send me stuff!

#spicynoodleshipping #letters to vega #vega writes stories too #Anonymous #The Arrangement AU

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monchikyun · 4 years

Text

XVIII. bury a friend

It has been awfully quiet for about an hour now. As Connor ended his story with horrible dejection written all over his face, he turned around and initiated his stasis, refusing any and all comfort Gavin has been more than willing to provide. He did expect it to be something twisted and tragic like that, even imagined the worst possible scenario before being told how it really went down, just to be safe. If he’s honest with himself, the reality isn't very far from the most fucked up course of events his mind has been able to cook up. Still, it has been able to freeze the blood in his veins, which has paralysed his brain for the amount of time it took Connor to withdraw to his simulated sleep.

Gavin has already cursed himself for being so goddamn incompetent when it comes to emotional issues, blamed himself for the cold shoulder he didn't even have the chance to receive. He still does, as he lies glued to the bed, counting the cracks in the ceiling. His nicotine addiction is begging him to go into the cold and give it what it needs to survive, but the warmth of his current company is impossible to leave. His hand aches for the smallest touch, for some confirmation that Connor is still here with him. So he directs his sight to the body next to him, letting himself be mesmerised by the constellations of freckles decorating the android's bare arm. It's a painful view, knowing that he still doesn't have the right to connect those dots with his own defects, to interpose himself with this amazing, flawed being who has carved a hole in his chest and invaded his heart.

He remembers how the android was back when he found him on the roof, finally realising the enormous difference created by the months they’ve spent together. Last spring he dreaded going to work, feared that Connor just wouldn’t show up one day and he wouldn’t be able to see him ever again. Or worse, all that would remain of him would be the empty vessel that used to house his colourful soul, something that would kill his last hopes. He was tempted to become a well-meaning stalker then, to always be near for when a potential threat arrives, but that idea was too exhausting for him in the end, and so he left his worries to a silent prayer which guided him all through to summer.

With the warmth came the first smile and a myriad of gratitudes for his uncharacteristic kindness. That’s when they started having casual conversations, a big leap from the uncomfortable silences that filled their shared hours in the previous season. It was somewhere in July when he first regarded Connor as his friend, without his vigilant denial disagreeing that fact. Gavin has always found the android very attractive, like an eye candy specifically developed for his torment, but knowing there was a whole, unpolished person behind that plastic perfection has made his partner so much more appealing. He simply couldn’t stop himself getting drawn to him, despite all the countless attempts to emotionally distance himself from the one who lived inside his dreams. It was either letting himself be eaten by the monsters living in his past, or inviting in the one person who has the power to push them away from his corrupted mind.

For the longest time, he did neither. Though his inability to act on his feelings was due to more than just the inherent fragility of their source, he was simply afraid like he has always been when it comes to things that have the potential to hurt him. He'd rather be thrown in a paper shredder than to have his soul bruised again. Physical pain is easy to understand, straightforward in its healing. Time usually takes care of what needs to be done, but when it comes to the mind, sometimes even passing years will have little to no effect on the waste that has accumulated in someone’s innermost core. And Gavin didn't want to add onto the rotting pile of mess that has already been too much to bear as it is. But that was months ago, and as the earth was becoming colder, the warmth that had started budding inside of him turned into sweltering heat.

When autumn was nearing its end, he understood that he would soon burn up if he didn’t begin dealing with his problem. Maybe that’s how they got here, to a place where he doesn’t have to call his feelings inconvenience anymore, having breached the border that has kept them apart all these months. He wants to stop fighting it for good. This truth is sent to him from above as he puts his fingers on Connor's bare temple, tracing the ghost of the LED that used to signify his nature.

He'd like to say that the fact that one of them isn't human is what prevented them from giving into their hearts' desires, but that is far from the truth. Life is much more complicated than that, not as black and white as he wants it to be.

Gavin wishes their relationship was defined, so he could casually take the android in his arms and hold him away from the evil of the world, just for a short while, just so he can expand his collection of irreplaceable moments that he doesn't ever want to forget.

He considers getting just a bit closer, weighing all the pros and cons that ultimately mean nothing because deep down he recognises that their sentiments are shared. So he lowers his steadying hand down from Connor’s temple, ready to enfold everything his partner represents. But fortune isn’t on his side tonight, because as soon as he begins his movement, Connor wakes up with a jerk that betrays confusion lined up with its best friend, unease.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Gavin is more than familiar with the concept of being tortured by his own psyche as he lays it to rest, so he's aware of just how disorienting such illusions can be, how unrelentingly cruel and merciless they often are.

"No, no... I-... androids can't normally dream. I wasn't really sleeping, just… thinking. More than I should."

Gavin scoots over so their shoulders are just about touching, a decision his conscious mind has had no say in.

"Do you wanna talk 'bout it?" A quiet, tentative question just barely escapes his lips for fear he gets denied entrance into Connor's trove of dark secrets.

There is a short, excruciating period of silence before he gets his answer.

"You know how I can preconstruct any future scenario based on the information available to me?"

"Yeah? I mean… sorta. Can't really wrap my mind around your technical stuff most of the time." That's only partially a lie. He ought to tell him that he doesn't want to picture his inner workings because they kind of scare him, but maybe that would be too inappropriate given the frailty of this moment.

"Well… I saw you get buried…,” the android breathes out for reasons Gavin can only guess, “after you died, naturally."

"Naturally."

Why doesn't this even surprise him anymore. Of course Connor would paint himself the grimmest image possible, these are just his default settings. Give him the brightest colours and he'd draw you the darkest sky without a single star in sight.

"That's not… I'm sorry I,... I didn't mean to… I just couldn't stop it since it went that way and…"

"Hey, it's okay.” It hurts seeing Connor get like that, losing most of his coherency and feeling like he should apologise for it.

“How…," Gavin takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts down. Connor was the one who saw his funeral, not him, yet he feels like he’s been there already, among the dirt, not far from other decaying corpses. It’s an uncanny sensation. Not one he’ll be chasing any time soon.

"How did it make you feel?" A stupid question, really, and yet the best his brain has to offer.

"How do you think?" Gavin never knew that tears could fit an incredulous look, but the welling in Connor's eyes combined with the exasperation written all over his face is proof enough. Laughable, frankly, but he wouldn't dare. Not now, anyway.

"Guess it sucked then."

"That's putting it mildly." The android shakes his head and rubs his eyes before they have the chance to leak his sorrow.

"I… I don't ever want to go through that again,” he says, desperation piercing his voice through and through. It would be easy to dismiss these ungrounded worries if it wasn’t for the two flaming brown lights probing his own mossy pools like they intend to hypnotise them and seize control over his soul.

"You know that no one can force you to… be there... when it happens."

"You don’t get it! That's not the point. I don't want to live in a world where two of my best friends are nothing but a memory. I realise that’s selfish, but… "

Gavin does, by all means, get it, he just tried to help, somehow.

Connor’s eyes are turning into glass, threatening to melt again, so he closes his because God knows he does not possess the strength to witness it, not tonight at least.

"Maybe you should just relax Con, the future will come no matter what, but we still have the might to shape it as we like. To some extent. Anyway,... I promise…," he cuts the sentence midway to inhale a big gulp of oxygen, an action which results in a minor coughing fit.

"I promise to try my best to stay by your side as long as physically possible. " A statement which makes him want to cry instead.

"Does it mean you’ll stop smoking then?"

Oh, that devious android, of course this conversation would lead here, why wouldn't it. He glances at his nightstand, checking if the half-full box of cigarettes is still there, waiting for him to take its lethal fruit. Come to think about it, ever since their little trip his taste for cigarettes has somewhat diminished. Could be the fresher air just outside these thin walls, or the fact that Connor’s presence stimulates him enough already, so the need for nicotine is not as great as it is when he has to spend his time alone or surrounded by people who hold little to no significance to him, pretending like he doesn't crave something beyond the drug his body could very well function without.

"Yeah..., yeah, okay." Gavin buries his face in his hands, disbelieving his consent.

As he puts them away and folds them in his lap, he scroungers up a lazy smile meant to lighten up the heavy mood, to maybe clear Connor’s stormy sky a little.

"But only if you promise to try to be more optimistic… just a smidge.., " he makes a gesture with his two fingers to show how small of an effort would suffice.

Then he gives Connor a friendly pat on his thigh, after which he realises that he doesn't have to limit his displays of affection anymore, not after all the intimacy they have been willing to submit themselves to already.

So he lets his palm linger, allowing himself to rub gentle circles into the clothed skin. He doesn't have to be cautious with Connor, for the android isn't burdened with any biological organs that would make this situation uncomfortable for both parties.

"Life isn't all bad, I’m sure you came across that particular information at least once during your time on this Earth. Experienced it, even. No?"

"You're right."

A trace of a hesitant smile on Connor’s lips is all that it takes for Gavin to heave a sigh of relief. He’s too tired to think beyond that feeling. Everything inside of him, all the emotions and memories blend into a blurry mixture as he starts losing the ground under his feet.

But he must fight it, his friend still needs him awake...

"Let's go to sleep," Connor whispers, tugging him into a tender embrace. It’s warm and safe and he can't concentrate on anything but the wave of love pulling him under to the sweet slumber he’s always yearned for.

Indeed, life can be ever so wonderful sometimes.

@a-convin-new-year

#aconvinnewyear #convin #low-temperature burn #this one is long... comparably #also sorry it took forever to post #im trying my good

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mae-gi-writes · 4 years

Text

Halloween Escapade | Jacob (The Boyz)

You and Jacob both dislike parties, so why not ditch it to get Mcdonald’s?

Genre: fluff

A/N: I KNOW I’M ONE MONTH LATE FOR HALLOWEEN But I saved this in my drafts and forgot to post it. Nothing too intense, just a little cute Jacob. Enjoy <3

-----

“You mind doing my makeup?" Looking up from your makeup palette, your heart does a little stutter at the sight of a dishevelled-looking Jacob decked in what seems to be a skeleton-themed shirt and pants. On the occasion of Halloween, the office had decided to close its doors early to celebrate. It was also a good excuse to order some good assortments of finger-picking foods and expensive cake. Being the artist that you were, you had brought along your entire makeup collection, ready to help out anyone in need of paint or decoration on their face.

But you had not expected Jacob, of all people, to be standing before you while shuffling his feet like a shy little schoolboy. He is obviously of a higher status than you are in the office, one of the Directors that has a certain percentage of shares, no doubt. You as a mere office worker that looked up to him in admiration, and had to admit that you had developed a little crush throughout the months of noticing his gentle and kind demeanour. "Uh--sure," you quickly stutter out before gesturing towards the seat, "you can sit here." He does so without complaint as you ask, "what kind of makeup do you want?" "Could you do a skull?" "Uhm--" that takes a long time, your brain screams out at you, "s--sure. No promises, though." "That's alright. The uglier the better anyway," he pauses, "not that your drawings are ugly, I--that's not what I meant." You chuckle softly signalling to him that it's all good. Opening up your palette and dabbing your sponge with white powder, you hesitate slightly before you start covering his face; his eyebrows, over his eyes, down the slope of his nose. He's gorgeous, you think to yourself while trying not to giggle at the thought of you two being so close in physical proximity. You hope that he can't hear the way your heart practically beats out of your chest, an excited hummingbird bursting out through your ribcage. "So...did you learn that yourself?" Jacob asks after a bout of silence. "Mostly. But I was always comfortable with painting and all that stuff," you start contouring his face with gray and silently appreciate the flawless texture of his skin, "I used to do makeup for halloween every year when I was still in school." "That's so cool. I wish I could paint like that," his eyes flutter open to momentarily gaze into your eyes, "the only thing I'm good at are numbers." "Well you know, I grew up wishing I was good at numbers." 'We always want something we can't have." "True," you start blending the black with the white, the makeup taking on a grey tone to create a shadow, "but if it makes you feel better, most people admire the ones who know their numbers well." "You sound like you know something about that." You just smile faintly, "I hope I don't sound too whiny. That wasn't my intention." "No, your honesty is...refreshing," he mumbles through closed lips as you brush over his face with the blender, "I mean, I don't really know how it feels because I'ver never faced this kind of problem. But I can understand how frustrating that might be, for people to judge someone based on their jobs." His compliment throws you off, so much so that you can't help the heat from spreading over your cheeks, "oh--uh, I hope that wasn't too rude. I wasn't trying to offend you or anything--" "No no, not offended," Jacob raises his hands in mock surrender, "I'd be frustrated too, in your place." His blunt sweetness makes your heart flutter and it makes you glad that his eyes are closed at this very moment, for it would've probably made you even more embarrassed to be looking at him face to face. Clearing your throat, you move to his eyes, applying soft dark smudges over his lids as he asks,"so, how do you find life here?" That's how it goes, with him sitting patiently and as still as a statue, and you painting the contours of his face while trying your best not to admire the beauty of the man sitting before you, a work of art you simply can't take your eyes off of. But the more you converse, the more you realize how much you have in common. And the result is astounding, to say the least. For starters, you would never have known that your superior hates socials the most, or that despite people at the office drinking their coffee black, Jacob prefers his coffee with lots of milk and sugar that is enough to cause him diabetes. Not that he's proud of it, mind you. It's not until someone coughs loudly behind Jacob that you realize he's been sitting there a lot longer than he's supposed to, jumping before quickly noticing the growing line of impatient people waiting for their makeup. "Oh sorry sorry!" He jumps up, as though startled he's stayed that long, "I'll leave you to it then, Y/N. Thank you so much for the makeup." "Oh no worries," your heart drops slightly at the thought that you'll never get the chance to talk to him like this again. But before you have time to dwell on that fact, another colleague is asking for a vampire kind of look. You lose sight of Jacob for most of the night, though small glimpses of his handsome figure is enough to entertain your little fantasy. You try not to feel so disheartened, knowing full well that there's not even a single strand of hope that he'll even look at you that way. Hell, he doesn' t even look at you. Stop being stupid, you tell yourself sharply. Nothing's never going to happen. He's probably already taken, idiot. "I'm going home," you mutter to your colleague as another song blasts through the stereo hall. The group protests but you shake your head and quietly slip out to leave all the noise behind, the night air welcoming you with its fresh chilly air. A soft sigh falls from your lips when you close your eyes for a brief moment. A car honks in the distance, you pay no mind. Let's go home, you think to yourself, body turning towards the subway station. You walk a few steps, only to hear another honk, closer this time. You stop and turn, a frown stitching your eyebrows together upon noticing a car pull up next to you. You're surprised to see Jacob's face greet you when the window rolls down. You blink at him. "Need a ride?" --------- That is how you find yourself sitting in Mcdonald's parking lot a few minutes later with warm food takeaways in your lap and the smell of fries wafting through the air, chatting with a man whom you'd deemed unapproachable for the past few months and realizing that there is so much more to what you see to him on a daily basis. You'd be lying to say that you don't feel your heart staggering every time he looks at you with those beautiful mahogany orbs that seem to hold galaxies. "I never used to celebrate Halloween," Jacob is saying as he pops a chip into his mouth, "my mother hates it, says it's useless to be celebrating an event that rouses the dead." "Technically, she's right." "Yeah, my five year old self didn't think so though." "You managed to celebrate in college?" He nods before pulling a face, "first and last time I drank till I puked." "That sounds fun," sarcasm drips from your voice before you laugh softly at the tongue he pulls out sat you. It's so easy to talk to him, too easy. It scares you, this foreign uninvited sensation of something fluttering through your ribcage as if you're constantly sitting on a swing that is going too fast for you. You talk about school, about where you come from, about how you sometimes miss your parents dearly and how hard it was at first, to be away from home for so long. And then he tells you about growing up, about his childhood dream of becoming a basketball player, one that broke the moment he realized it'd be much harder to actually get into the professional league. And then it quickly drifts to the troubles of life itself, to the nostalgia of losing friends when you grow up, to discussing multiple theories about what the future holds. "Woah, it's late," Your eyes widen in realization when you spot the time upon his dashboard. 3:30.a.m. "Oh," his own eyes go round, "shit I'm sorry. I didn't want to keep yo--" "No no, it's okay. I had fun," you smile softly at him while recalling yiur conversation, "I'm glad we got to talk." Relief breaks out as a sigh through of his lips, "that's good to know," his eyes find yours then, bathed in the reflection of the cheap streetlight hanging over your car, but you realise that it doesn't matter, for Jacob is ephemerally beautiful and carries that around with him wherever he goes. Your heart tugs when you realise that the night will have to end at some point, watching him pull out of the parking lot while asking you for directions to your house. The night started out with no expectations, with the sense that you can't breathe around the people you're surrounded with. Yet, this moment feels like a gust of oxygen bursting through your lungs. "Can I say something?" Jacob's voice pulls you out of your reverie as he turns onto your street, glancing over at you out of the corner of his eye. You hum for him to continue. He does after a few beats of hesitation. "You know you can talk to me, even if we're at the office," his murmur is so soft you barely catch it. You look at him in surprise, not expecting such words to fall from his lips. But the look he gives you is one that makes heat spread throughout your chest in parallel to the heat covering your cheeks. He continues, "I know that a lot of people are scared of me, because of what they think I might do considering my privileges. But take that title away and I'm just like everyone else." At this point, his vehicle wheels to a stop right before your front door and he turns his head so that your gazes clash, dark obsidian filled with a gentleness that you can't quite explain, though it causes your heartbeat to stutter. You gaze back though, trying to decipher the way his face softens and the tender way his lips are curved into a half-smile, as if you're sharing a private joke. "Well," you clear your throat, head whipping towards your door and hand finding the car handle, "I guess that's my stop." Biting your lip and debating whether to follow through with the aftermath of his words haunting your ears, you quickly turn back to him, "I don't think you're that kind of person. I don't think you could ever go behind someone's back just for the sheer fun of it," you see his gaze widen with surprise, "So don't worry about that." Jacob just stares at you in the pause that follows. You stare back, mentally debating whether you should just throw yourself out of the window for being so stupid or whether to ask the said man himself to run you over, so mortified at the prospect of having said such a thing that your orbs immediately drop to your lap. "I ...thank you," comes Jacob's whisper, "that...nobody has ever said that before." "A--Anyway, I should probably go--" you quickly scramble to open the car door only to be stopped by his hand swinging out to grab yours. "Wait," he says breathlessly, "I--Do you want to--you know maybe do this again? Sometime? I--" a shy smile dances across his lips, "I had fun, Y/N." Your heart swells. Your neck flushes with heat as your eyes drop to the ground, "I had fun too," you mumble, allowing his hand to slide down your arm until it reaches yours. His fingers, as soft as a dove's touch, gently twine around yours like vines and a breath catches in your throat. Jesus, he's perfect. "Yeah," your murmur, "I'd like to do this again." You don't want to look at him. You can't look at him, for you know that once you do there'll be no mistaking the blatant effect he has on you, and that is something you wish to keep to yourself a little longer. But that thought flies out of the window the moment you feel the softest of caresses upon your knuckles. Head shooting up to catch Jacob's lips skimming over the back of your head, a shiver runs through your spine the moment your eyes lock with all the feelings you've been attempting to cast aside for most of the night. "Great," he grins against your hand, "I'll pick you up at seven tomorrow?"

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yourcoffindoor · 5 years

Text

Bulletproof Heart Pt. 1

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Prompt: Request from Anon- “ could you write one where the reader is a rock singer and they and mcr are on warped tour together, and they both lowkey like each other but think they’re both out of each other’s league, and find out that they’re both secretly into nerdy stuff + maybe getting together? thank you so much xxx”

AN: This is a multi-part series--I couldn’t help myself! Also, I based this fic around something Gerard said in a Rolling Stone interview:

Hope its ok Anon! enjoy!

You had dreamed of this moment since you first picked up a guitar. Back then it felt like an impossible fantasy, being on stage with your band, playing in front of a crowd of screaming fans; which is why it felt so surreal when your manager Tim told you that your band, The Violent Delights, had booked Warped Tour.

"June 18th," he told you with a satisfied grin, "you're in for the long haul, kids."

Your band-mates let out a collective shriek of joy, while you planted a grateful kiss on Tim's cheek.

"You're an OK manager, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah," he said, dramatically wiping his cheek where your lips had been. "Now you guys better get practicing. This is a good opportunity to really get your name out there. Plus you got some real popular acts to compete with."

Your interest was peaked. "Oh yeah? Like who?"

"Off the top of my head? Fall Out Boy, Dropkick Murphys, and I think a band called My Chemical Romance."

"Oh shit, My Chem?" your bassist, Gavin, piped up excitedly. "That's the band I'm always trying to get Y/N to listen to."

"I'll have to finally borrow their last album," you replied, "gotta scope out the competition after all." Gavin rolled his eyes while you laughed.

Your manager got serious. "It's three months on the road, and its gonna take a lot of energy and hard work. Quite frankly, it ain't glamorous."

"Tim, when have we ever been glamorous? I wouldn't care if it were a 12 month tour," you declared, "I wouldn't miss this opportunity for the world." Liz, your drummer, nodded in agreement beside you.

"You might be singing a different tune when you haven't had a shower in three days."

"As long as I'm singing it in front of an audience, we'll be fine."

* * *

Back at your apartment you marked June 18th on your calendar with a star, feeling invigorated with excitement all over again. This was it, you thought, the next level for our band. You were determined to give it your very best, outperforming every other band there.

After all, you had worked so hard to get to this point. Starting in friend's basements and tiny cafes, the band had slowly built up a sizable following of loyal fans. You were no longer the opening act, drawing sell out crowds more often than not. You made a promise to yourself that the band wasn't going to lose this momentum. There would be no distractions for you on this tour, just hard work and the thrill of performing. That meant no parties, and absolutely no boys. You weren't ready for another relationship, you told yourself, especially since the last one ended in disaster.

Yes, this was the moment the band had been waiting for. You let the warm excitement that this knowledge brought envelope you, and you lay your head down on your pillow, falling asleep to fantasies of what lay ahead.

* * *

Its a long road from Maryland to Ohio. Columbus was the first stop of the tour, which meant your band had 6 and a half hours to go over the set-list, make adjustments discuss their hopes and fears for the three month experience. Gavin gave you a few CDs to listen too, including My Chemical Romance's Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge. You had heard their first album ages ago and enjoyed it, but there was something incandescent to the music you were hearing now. It stirred a whirlwind of heavy emotion, and you were enthralled from beginning to end. You made a mental note to see them perform at Warped as soon as possible.

When your bus arrived at its destination, you felt the unwelcome buzz of nerves building in your stomach. This was real, you thought, this was happening. You were used to performing at this point, but it was the amount of people you'd be performing for that was nerve-wracking. Not to mention the fellow artists who may be watching and judging your sound. You breathed deep and tried to push past the nervous thoughts that hummed incessantly around your head like insects.

Your band-mates were buzzing about with excitement, but you needed to distract yourself. Fresh air always helped settle you, so you grabbed your shoes and decided to go for a walk around the venue.

It looked almost like a circus with all the trailers and tents that had quickly populated the surrounding area. Merch stands and catering tents were being organizes as dozens upon dozens of vans and trailers pulled in. There were already a few fans camped outside of the chain-link fence that surrounded the area, eagerly awaiting a glimpse of their favorite artists.

You kept wandering, and you saw that a band was being interviewed in the media tent. There were five of them, each holding a microphone; but one member, a dark haired boy, was doing most of the talking. He was cute, you thought, and your stomach did little flips watching him respond to the questions that were being asked.

You watched a little bit longer from a distance, until you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned to see Gavin and Liz, who had been doing a bit of exploring as well.

"Hey, there you are! I was talking to a few people by the catering tent. They said some bands are having a party on their buses later tonight, we should check it out." Gavin informed you excitedly.

You hesitated. No parties. "I dunno, I want us to be in good condition to perform tomorrow."

Liz chimed in. "All work and no play, Y/N. C'mon, it'll be a great chance to make some connections with other bands."

"If you don't come with us," Gavin pronounced dramatically, "we'll be far too devastated to perform tomorrow." His hand went to his forehead, as though he was about to faint.

"Somehow I doubt that."

"Pretty please?" Liz stuck her lower lip out pathetically.

"With sugar on top?" Gavin added.

You glanced at the black haired boy in the distance. Maybe he'd be there, a small voice in your head piped up.

"Ugh Fine! But I'll only stay for a little bit."

Satisfied, the pair stopped harassing you, and left you to continue wandering, promising to meet up with them later.

* * *

People spilled out from open trailers as music blared from an unknown source in the background. Some were already far gone, stumbling from place to place, or lying on the ground blacked out.

You followed Gavin inside one of the trailers. You watched as he interacted with the strangers inside with ease, a trait you envied. He managed to find you both drinks, and you grabbed the mystery beverage, sculling it in hopes that it would numb your nervousness. You may have been a great performer onstage, but offstage it was easy for your social anxiety to take the wheel.

Gavin began to walk away, ignoring your whispered pleas not to leave you. Fuck. It always felt awkward to not know anyone at a party. You clutched your red cup like a life jacket keeping you afloat in a sea of drunken strangers.

A man approached you out of nowhere, the smell of alcohol emanating from every pore on his body.

"You look lonely." He leered at you expectantly.

"Then it seems like you need glasses. I'm just fine on my own."

He laughed. "Ooo! I like you. You've got spunk. Name's Brent, guitarist from Midnite Heist."

"Can't say I've heard of you guys."

Brent was either oblivious to your indifference, or just chose to ignore it. "So how'd you end up at this party?"

"I'm in a band on the tour too. Lead singer actually."

"No way! That's awesome, we need more talented eye candy on this tour."

You screamed internally while he droned on, tuning him out as you continued to sip from your fast emptying cup.

You scanned the room, watching people laugh and dance. Your stomach suddenly flipped again as you noticed the black haired boy from this afternoon, solemn faced and quiet, silently nursing a diet coke in his hands. He was clearly not having a good time. The guitarist who had been talking you up soon saw you looking at the sullen figure and turned his attention towards him, his eyes lighting up with recognition.

"Gerard fucking Way!" he bellowed, carelessly sloshing his drink as he waved him over, causing a stream of alcohol to fall to the floor below.

Gerard seemed to hesitate before walking over. "It's been awhile man," he said softly. His eyes, a warm hazel, flicked to you repeatedly as he spoke. "you here for the whole tour this time?"

Brent laughed, his sobriety dangling by a thread. "Yeah, but still not up on the main stage, unlike you big-shots." he said, punching Gerard in the arm. Gerard offered a crooked smirk in return, his patience already wearing thin. Brent nudged you in the arm. "This is Y/N, her band is new to Warped. I told her I'd show her the ropes." He grinned at you. Ugh.

Gerard seemed to sense your discomfort. "Welcome, nice to see a new face around."

Brent interrupted before you could respond. "How come you're wasting time with a coke? I would've expected you to be the first one wasted here."

Gerard's jaw clenched, and you cringed internally at the sheer awkwardness of the encounter. "I'm sober now," he informed Brent, "I don't touch that shit anymore."

Brent laughed dismissively. "Dude, you? Do you even remember the last Warped tour? I'll give it 2 days before you're lying face down in the bushes again." he laughed as if he had just said something hilarious.

You were livid, and Gerard was on edge. You decided to step in when you noticed his knuckles turn white from clenching his coke can.

You moved slightly, ready to get between them. "Hey you know what? I'd really love a coke right now too. Mind showing me where they are?" you looked pleadingly at Gerard. He took the hint.

"Follow me."

You gave a curt wave to Brent, who looked on in confusion before continuing his drinking binge.

You stepped outside, and the sounds from the party behind you became a faint, thumping buzz in the background. You were both silent for a moment before you decided to break the ice.

"So that guy was a dick."

Gerard's scowl turned into a thin, lopsided smirk. Your heart melted a bit. "Yeah. I just realized some of these people are only tolerable when I'm drunk."

Stop. Move away. You don't need a distraction like this. You tried to scold yourself but words kept escaping from your lips, prolonging the encounter.

"This is my first time doing Warped Tour, but I'm assuming these parties are pretty much never-ending?"

Gerard pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "Oh yeah, its every night for some of these bands. You're in for an interesting experience." You looked at him for a moment, perhaps for a bit too long. You had never seen anyone look so beautiful while surrounded by clouds of smoke.

"Yoohoooo! Y/N!" you heard the hollering of a clearly tipsy Gavin call from the doorway of the next trailer. "Where'd you go? The night is young! Get back here!"

You sighed. "That's my cue. Well actually that's my bassist, but he'll never let me live it down if I don't go back in there."

Gerard turned his head to the side and exhaled. "Catch you around. Next time you need rescuing from a douche-bag just light the bat signal."

You gave him a soft smile, forcing yourself to turn away and walk back to the trailer. As you did, you whispered aloud to yourself as a reminder:

"No distractions. No boys."

#gerard way x reader #gerard way fanfic #my chemical romance fanfiction #fanfic

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neerasrealm · 4 years

Text

Stories

In which Doby and Toby talk to Tim about their time with The Operator. Set shortly after the war with Zalgo Word count: 1302

The room was big. Bigger than he expected, and very comfy. The carpet was soft and he could sink his feet right into it. There was a large window to his left that let him see the woods outside. The walls were a soft cream colour, or rather, they might have been. A lot of the wall was covered with painted murals. Murals of calming landscapes that were so skillfully painted you'd think they were photos. The furniture was comfy too. They were sat on a plush leather couch, though there was a soft armchair sitting empty across from them. There were also bean bag chairs, and a one armed couch made to lay on. There were also shelves with plastic bins on them, each labelled with its contents. "Drawing supplies", "stress balls", "slime", "stim toys". They'd already raided the shelf for things to entertain them while they waited.

For the better part of fifteen minutes Toby had been toying with some slime he'd taken from one of the bins. It was thick and a pleasing blue colour, like a tropical sea. Toby would pull it apart then squish the slime together again. Neither of them really spoke, they didn't know what to talk about after- well, everything...so they just sat there, listening to the soft clicks coming from the infinity cube Doby was toying with.

A knock on the door made them look up and it was pushed open. A man stepped into the room and looked them over. He was somewhat short, and stocky. His hand was bandaged up, and he had a few random bruises and still-healing cuts across his body. He wore a red and black flannel shirt that was rolled up to his elbows. Under it, he wore a grey t-shirt and blue jeans. "Hey," he greeted after a couple seconds of the three of them staring at each other. "I uh- I'm supposed to talk to you guys." He said as he walked over to the chair across from them. "That okay?"

Doby gave a nod. Toby finally looked up from his slime and gave an enthusiastic nod too. "Sure thing." He replied, as chipper as always. Tim smiled a bit.

"Good, good." He shifted where he sat. "So...how about you guys tell me about yourselves?" He gave them both a half smile. The three of them knew each other, but not well. A couple conversations while the three of them were trying to heal up, but Tim had been discharged from the medbay fairly quickly. Amazingly, he hadn't been injured badly. How he managed to fight off The Operator and win with only minor injuries was a mystery. Tim was a tank, and it was both admirable and scary.

Doby glanced to his left, realising Toby was probably waiting for him to go first. Introductions were probably one of Toby's least favorite things. He couldn't blame him. Doby wasn't a huge fan either.

"Well uh- my name's Doby. I'm nineteen, I love- third base- baseball and horror movies and uhh...I dunno...just- hanging out, I guess?" He said, tapping his wrists together a few times. Tim nodded and looked at Toby.

"And you?"

Toby cleared his throat. "Uh- well uhm-" he clicked his tongue a couple times. "I'm Toby. I'm- nineteen too I uh- I like...I dunno…" he shrugged.

"You like birds." Doby suggested. Toby looked confused for a moment like he wasn't sure if he liked birds or not.

"Uh- yeah! I do and um- just- animals in general-" he paused to whistle. "I also like uh...watching TV and er- oh! I uh- I do wood carving. It's not great but- it's fun." He fiddled with his hands and forced a small smile. Tim nodded and gave Toby a supportive smile.

"Nice, nice." He replied. "Well- I'm Tim. I'm thirty two, I uhh- well I play guitar, or at least I used to, heh, uh- I like animals too! They seem to just...gravitate to me, dunno why and uh- yeah." He shrugged and gave them a slight smile. He shifted in his seat. ‘’So...I should probably explain why it’s me talking to you two, right?’’ he asked. The two of them nodded. ‘’Well...Slender thought you two would need someone to talk to about- well, everything, and he already knows you two are scared of him so...he asked me to do it instead.’’ Tim shrugged and scratched at the back of his neck, glancing aside for a second. ‘’I’m not gonna force you guys to talk about the operator right away if you don’t wanna. I know it’s probably a lot, and I don’t want you guys to feel like you gotta relive all of that stuff just for me.’’

It was silent for a long few moments, the two of them unsure of how to respond. Surprisingly, it was Toby who broke the silence. "It made me kill my dad." He said.

"Jeez kid I'm- I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," Toby picked at his fingers, pulling off loose skin around his nails. "He was an abusive asshole anyways…" he added with a click of his tongue.

"I see." Tim shifted in his seat. "So...living with the operator, how was that compared to home…?"

"...I got hit less." Toby shrugged. "But I...still got picked on a lot...it liked to-" he paused, his neck abruptly snapping to the side. "Liked to torment me- little shit- because I was the weakest."

Doby frowned, reaching over and grabbing his friend's hand. "You weren't the weakest." He said gently. "You stood up for yourself. I'd say you were probably the strongest out of all of us for doing that."

"Mmm…"

‘’Toby,’’ Tim said. ‘’You were able to fight back against that thing. That’s more than a lot of people were able to do.’’ he looked Toby dead in the eyes ‘’My friend Alex? He was way older than you when that thing went after him and he wasn’t able to fight back. It drove him insane. He had a stable childhood, he was way older than you, but he still couldn’t fight it off.’’ Toby stared at him. ‘’You’re strong as hell, kid. Don’t even say you’re not.’’

Toby blinked, staring at Tim in surprise. "...really?"

Tim nodded. "Really." He said. "And brave as hell too." He added. Toby smiled a bit and leaned back in his seat. He glanced at Doby, who looked over at Tim. "What about you?"

"It made me- well, no it-" Doby frowned for a second, trying to think of how to explain his story. It was something he'd never really known how to explain. To Toby it was easy, Toby knew him and had been through that too, but to Tim, or his friend Jay? Not so much. He tapped his wrists together about five times before talking. "...it all started with my older brother. His name was John, he lived with my mom- my parents divorced- balk- after I came out as trans," he looked at Tim to make sure he was following. "John killed himself, and I- I was so mad, it was mom's- fucker- fault that he did it. She never cared about him enough."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Tim murmured. Toby patted his shoulder reassuringly.

"It's fine." Doby replied. "After he died...I started having weird dreams, with John, and eventually I found...it." Doby chewed his lip for a second. "I thought it was gonna bring me back to him...I just- needed to kill her first." His voice was soft, feeble. "...I don't feel bad about it."

Tim nodded. "It has a habit of making false promises." He murmured. ‘’And stuff you do while it’s pushing you? It- makes it hard to feel guilty.’‘ Tim shifted, like he was avoiding saying something.

"What'd it do to you?" Toby asked. Tim looked at them both for a long moment. He sighed gently.

"...that's a long story, kids."

#not my best work but whatever i wanna post this #creepypasta #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta fanfiction #marble hornets #tim wright #tim mh #mh tim #ticci toby #toby rogers #doby doggers #third base #third base creepypasta #writing #lore

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beca-mitchell · 4 years

Text

a twist, a tale, a rip through my sail (1/1)

Summary: Beca goes to visit Chloe in Atlanta.

Word Count: 2,266

Part of now i see daylight—an au series that was created alongside @asimplefavors and explores beca and chloe’s lives together as if they had been childhood friends.

Warnings for references to sex. And angst, unfortunately.

Read below or on AO3.

Age: 19 Atlanta, GA August

* * * * *

“Hey Bec, I think I must have just missed you...call me back when you can.”

“Hi Beca, I just wanted to call to say that I missed you. And I love you. Hope we can talk soon.”

“You just got back on the plane, but I miss you already, Chloe.”

“Bec, I don’t think I can swing coming to L.A. this weekend...it’s a lot of money. Call me back?”

“I’m trying not to be jealous of dumb tabloid stuff, I really am, but...just call me back, Beca.”

“Chlo, I know you said you were busy with school, but please let me know if you can give this song a listen. I think you’ll really like it. Love you.”

“I had a dream about you. Felt like you were right there. I miss you so much.”

* * * * *

What do endings feel like?

Beca feels it in the air between them the moment she comes face to face with Chloe at the airport. All the usual happiness upon seeing her girlfriend is still there, but God, it’s all the other things she feels—the intense foreboding, the anxiety, the dread—that make her slow her steps as she nears Chloe who is leaning against a pole, evidently watching something on her phone.

She had felt it while she had been on the plane, but now, standing on the ground next to her girlfriend of three and a half years, she knows it is real.

“Hi,” Beca greets quietly, smiling nonetheless when she sees Chloe’s eyes lift and brighten upon catching sight of her.

Chloe immediately wraps her in a hug, nothing new. Beca squeezes back, sighing happily at the warmth Chloe brings to her immediately. She feels Chloe tighten her hold similarly.

Everything is so familiar.

Chloe pulls back. “Hi,” she greets back, finally. She cups Beca’s cheek, leaning in to kiss her gently. “I missed you.”

Beca smiles despite the sensation in her stomach. “I missed you too,” she mumbles, eagerly leaning up to ignite another kiss.

Everything is fine.

* * * * *

It had started with a few missed dates. Many missed dates. Angry voice mails.

Beca recalls each one now that she sits next to Chloe in the passenger seat of her car—a familiar car with many memories—and with each memory, anxiety gnaws at the back of her mind.

She resists the urge to reach across the console to place her hand on Chloe’s thigh even though she longs desperately for that closeness.

Chloe doesn’t look at her once the whole drive home.

* * * * *

It feels so routine—everything is routine, right down to Beca dropping her bag just inside the door to Chloe’s room, kicking the door closed with her heel, and immediately being pulled into Chloe’s arms for a deep, messy kiss. The kind of kiss that still makes Beca’s stomach twist in anticipation even after so many similar kisses.

Sex is routine now, especially with how little they see each other. Beca barely gets her shirt off before Chloe is pulling her jeans down, pulling her underwear down and licking through her folds like no tomorrow. It makes Beca gasp and moan and make every sound imaginable. That is a skill only Chloe possesses, the skill to be able to draw those sounds out of Beca like art.

Beca grasps Chloe’s hair forcefully, keeping her girlfriend’s face between her legs as she rides out her orgasm, grunting as she does so. Vaguely she realizes that Chloe’s clothes are still on, even as Chloe carries her to the bed and spreads her legs once more, her fingers doing the work this time.

“I missed you so much,” Chloe rasps into Beca’s ear. Beca’s hands grab at the fabric of Chloe’s shirt. “I missed you,” Chloe repeats, breath hot against Beca’s ear.

Eyes falling shut at the sensation of Chloe’s lips trailing along her ear and her fingers curling into her aching cunt, Beca tells herself that it means I love you. Beca tries to tell herself that all of this means I love you. I want to be with you. I love you.

I love you.

“I missed you too,” she mumbles, eyes slipping shut at the sensation of Chloe adding another finger.

She feels full.

Almost complete.

* * * * *

Chloe’s arm curls over her waist in the middle of the night. They sleep, pressed closely together. Like two peas in a pod, Chloe used to joke.

Beca breathes in deeply, holding Chloe’s arm against her in fear that she might let go. She wonders if Chloe has already let go, somehow. In the same ways Beca feels herself floundering.

But being in Chloe’s arms feels so right—feels like everything that Beca has ever been missing is right…there.

She presses Chloe’s arm tighter against herself, maneuvering it so she can clutch Chloe’s hand close to her chest.

Chloe mumbles in her sleep and presses closer, bare skin sticking to Beca’s. It is not uncomfortable. Rather, it is quite the opposite. It makes her feel whole, like a reminder that Chloe is there—that Chloe has always been there.

Emotion swells in Beca’s chest as her mind betrays her once more, playing back every last argument and fight they’ve had over the past little while.

To Beca, it had seemed like they recovered each time, but the scars would always remain.

Don’t let go, Beca thinks. Please.

To her credit, Chloe doesn’t. Not immediately, at least. She holds Beca close like she always has, lips pressed loosely against Beca’s shoulder, her neck. Breath hot against her neck. Even in sleep, Chloe had always managed to make Beca feel whole.

Don’t let go, she thinks again. Nearly begging.

Chloe does eventually. She lets go, early in the morning as Beca blinks awake, wondering if she got any sleep at all. She yawns, stretches, turning onto her back.

Beca immediately follows, rolling over to face Chloe to surprise her with a morning kiss.

Silently, Chloe responds, pulling Beca closer in the warmth of her dorm-sanctioned bed. Chloe’s lips part. Hot, wanting breath against Beca’s mouth.

She could say it, Beca thinks. Either of them could.

It just feels so much easier to pull Chloe on top of her. It just feels easier to have Chloe want her like this.

Simple.

* * * * *

It feels like a normal weekend. In fact, it should be a normal weekend. Beca is free from the confines of Los Angeles and happy to face relative anonymity in the sprawling spaces of Atlanta and Barden University. But the heavy weight of the turmoil clouding their relationship becomes near unbearable to Beca even as she nestles comfortably into Chloe’s side.

Chloe says nothing—it occurs to Beca that Chloe has said very little all weekend—and simply wraps her arm around Beca, like it is so natural.

Like it’s a habit.

“Are we okay?” Beca finally asks when her heart and mind can no longer take it. It is late on Saturday night and she is pressed closely to Chloe while they quietly watch a random Netflix show.

Watch is a loose term. Beca feels like she has been gazing despondently at the screen for the better part of the hour and based on the stiffness of Chloe’s arm around her, she figures Chloe is more or less the same.

She regrets asking immediately. She almost wishes she had kept her mouth shut just to pretend a few moments longer. She could just take it back, she could just let it all go. Just clamp her mouth shut and forget it all. But the regret is so heavy because now she knows. It is so different from mere belief or mere speculation. Knowledge, ever powerful, is her undoing.

She regrets it because Chloe hesitates. Chloe has never hesitated or been less than forthcoming in her responses to Beca. Beca cannot recall a time when Chloe’s blunt honesty hadn’t played a role in some part of their interactions with each other.

But now, Chloe hesitates and her body seems to stiffen even more. There is pain in that hesitation, enough pain for the both of them.

That hesitation is enough. It is enough to make the anvil finally sink in Beca’s stomach.

And finally, because Chloe has always been honest with her no matter the circumstance, she opens her mouth and breathes out the simple syllables of Beca’s name. Like it might be the last time ever.

This is the end. This is what it feels like.

* * * * *

The end goes something like this:

“Stop,” Beca says immediately, regretting everything from the beginning to the end. “Wait, I didn’t—”

“Beca,” Chloe repeats, sounding even more pained than before. “This isn’t working, you know it isn’t.”

“It is,” Beca insists. She refuses to cry. “I’m just tired, I just—I didn’t mean it—”

“Beca, stop,” Chloe murmurs.

“You stop,” Beca mumbles back, losing some of the fight in her when Chloe reaches for her hands. She marvels at how soft and warm Chloe’s hands are, wondering when the last time was that she had felt—really, truly felt—the warmth of Chloe’s hands wrapped around her own. “Stop,” she repeats quietly.

“I’m not doing anything,” Chloe promises.

“You’re breaking up with me,” Beca says, finally putting the words out there in the open. “You’ve been breaking up with me for a while.”

At that, Chloe flinches and draws back. Beca forces her body to remain still. “I haven’t been doing that. That’s not fair. We both know this hasn’t been working for a while, but we both tried, Beca. I know we did.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are we...doing this?” The 'we' slips out. Beca doesn't even correct herself because she recognizes the lack of fight in her own emotions.

“It hurts so much being apart from you,” Chloe whispers. “And even having you here, it’s not like you’re here at all." Chloe is quiet for a moment. "...and I think we just need some space to—”

Beca squeezes her eyes shut and barely refrains from putting her hands over her ears to block out the sounds Chloe is making. It sounds like a distant roaring in her ears, but she knows better: it is the sound of her world crumbling down around her.

To her credit, Chloe doesn’t finish her sentence. Beca doesn't know what to do. Chloe is crying, but so gently and softly that Beca's arms feel too leaden to be worthy of reaching up to brush her tears away. The truth of the situation is that Chloe likely has no idea what to say either; she likely is hurting as much as Beca is, but she has always been the strong one.

It feels like a disservice to Chloe if Beca didn’t begrudgingly admit that Chloe is probably right for initiating this conversation now. It doesn’t hurt any less—it doesn’t make Beca feel any less of a failure despite Chloe’s reassurance that it was both of them who needed space.

It hurts the most that Chloe is right.

Chloe is still speaking, a quiet, gentle tone for Beca’s benefit. Beca simply nods, too numb to do much else. Chloe speaks of Beca's immeasurable talent, her growing fame, all the ways Beca needs to grow without Chloe.

A part of Beca wants to laugh at that because she has spent her entire life growing with Chloe. It seems kind of a waste to just...not do that anymore.

The other part thinks maybe there is some truth in the things Chloe is saying (and maybe in the things Chloe isn't explicitly saying). That's the part that had seen this coming. Beca should have listened.

Somewhere along the line, she reaches out to hold Chloe’s hand for what she’s sure will be her last time.

Somewhere along the line, Chloe tells her she loves her. That she’s in love with her.

Beca finds it in her to speak, forcing away the memories of her own parents’ divorce. Of the pain and loneliness. “I love you too,” she murmurs.

It is still the easiest and most honest thing to say.

* * * * *

Ultimately, it wasn’t the end that crept up on Beca. Not entirely.

It is the loneliness that sneaks up on her. It had crept up on her, unbidden, then latched itself somewhere in the back of her mind without her knowledge. Somewhere between Chloe saying “I think we should break up” and the airport and the car ride home, loneliness had crept into every available space in her body.

She doesn’t realize it until she reaches home and drops her bag heavily by the door in an almost exact mirror of how she had dropped her bag in Chloe’s room a mere three days ago. Or had it been two?

Beca supposes that it doesn’t matter.

Her apartment air feels stale. She takes in a deep breath, wondering if it had always been like that or if she had only thought nothing of it because she had lived in a world where she had a Chloe Beale to eventually return to.

Now, there’s just this.

With a shaking hand, she reaches for her phone and presses her mother’s contact on impulse. It feels like something she ought to do—something that a child should do when she’s been devastated by incomparable heartbreak.

Her mother will know what to do, her mother can help, her mother can—

“Hi, you’ve reached Diane. Unfortunately I can’t—”

She isn’t sure what she expected, but she isn’t even surprised.

Beca finally lets herself cry.

fin.

*see more of this universe—now i see daylight.*

#bechloe #fanfiction #pitch perfect #now i see daylight #mine #my fanfic #queue

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lu-undy · 4 years

Note

Hello again! Hehe another, I was wondering that sniper has also a talent for being uh, artist too. He wants to surprise spy's birthday then he decided to draw his lover. It would be much appreciated or something😉😉😉?

Here it is, shy Sniper with a sketchbook! I hope you’ll enjoy ;)

Sniper woke up in his van as usual but the first thing that crossed his mind was, on the other hand, far from ordinary.

He thought about the previous night.

It wasn't everyday that he managed to have enough social energy to stick around the same person, but somehow, with Spy, it didn't feel exhausting at all. Nah, the man was really easy to talk to and spend some time with, oddly enough.

Sniper slid his hand out of his bed and caught his sketchbook and pencil. He needed to pour his thoughts out of his mind and he had found over the years that drawing what his mind contained was very soothing to his nerves.

The pencil scratched the paper as the Aussie let his thoughts roam free.

Spy and him had chatted for a good deal of the night, perched on the van's rooftop, looking at the sky.

"You know a lot about stars, Bushman."

"Well, I see them every night. Talk to them almost more than folks."

"What do you tell them?"

Spy was naturally and professionally curious.

"I don't know, depends. Sometimes it's just how the day's been, sometimes I'm pissed off so I just tell them about it."

The Frenchman chuckled.

"What?" Sniper asked. "Why're you laughin'?"

"I can hardly imagine you pissed off, as you say."

"Well I am sometimes. Y'know when that bastard in a suit likes my back a bit too much… It's tirin'!"

"Ah, is that how you see us, hm? Bastards in suits?"

"No offense, Spook."

"None taken, I am just trying to understand the mind of the man who talks to the stars like friends."

Sniper smiled.

"There isn't much to understand. I just have barely anyone to talk to and when the day of work's done, I look up and they're always up here."

"They look down at you with their million curious eyes as you tell them about the torments of your soul."

"Almost sound like a poet, Spook."

"Sometimes, I do."

Both looked up at the sky.

"May I try?"

"What?"

"Talking to the stars?"

"Yeah, mate, the sky doesn't belong to me, eh."

"It could, but thanks. In that case…" Spy cleared his throat and as Sniper recalled the events from the next morning, the streaks of lead calmed down on the paper.

"I would like to tell you, beautiful night suns, about something tonight, if you would be so kind as to lend me your ear. You see, the man who usually talks to you thinks, in his solitude, that he is the only one addressing you when you grace us with your presence. Shall we tell him together that he is mistaken?"

Sniper remembered how beautiful Spy's voice was. Unlike his usual contemptful and arrogant self, the Frenchman showed softness and gentleness, which caught the hunter sat next to him off guard.

"Shall we tell him that I too do share my worries and my thoughts with you because I cannot with anybody else? Because sometimes, the only one who can hear me, is you? Because, as most people forget, there is a man made of flesh, blood and emotions behind the mask?"

He sighed albeit with a smile.

"Non, my distant bright ones, I think he has locked himself up so long and so hard that he has forgotten what it feels like."

"What?" Sniper asked.

Spy turned his fair eyes to him.

"To be accompanied."

Sniper's lips had parted and a new kind of heat was coiling up inside of him. Spy's eyes went back to the stars and the Aussie did as much, as soon, he felt some velvet between his fingers. Intrigued, he looked down at his hand and saw a thinner gloved one slide in gently.

"Oh…"

There was a second of doubt, a double take and a million questions before he closed his hand and held the velvet one in his.

That was what he had been drawing: him and the man his heart felt warm for, sketched on his book as beautifully as it was carved in his white marble memory.

He sighed and smiled before shutting the sketch book and getting out of bed. He needed a cup of coffee. Sniper dressed up and headed for the base. He took his sketchbook with him. He was used to being the first one up and enjoy his breakfasts alone and undisturbed so he usually took advantage of the situation to draw some more.

He entered the kitchen and shut the door behind him. The Aussie made himself a mug of coffee and sat down. He flipped the pages of his sketchbook until he uncovered a blank page. The pencil came to his fingers naturally and worked between his sips.

Sniper had dived in the paper and his own mind such that even if an earthquake shattered the world, he would still be at the table drawing and ignoring it all. He filled another page and then yet another one. The sketches filled the book as his mind whirled around one thought…

"Bonjour."

"Huh?!"

At the sound of the voice with the French accent, the Australian got startled and flipped the book shut. The voice had torn him out of his almost trance and he realised that Spy was sitting in front of him with a cup of coffee. How long had the man been there? God only knew. It might have been seconds, or hours.

"You scared me, Spook…"

He said, catching his breath and calming his heartbeat down with a hand on his chest.

"My apologies, that was never my intention."

"How long have you been sittin' here?"

"You don't know?" Spy asked and Sniper lowered his head before gulping down more of his coffee with a grumble. The Frenchman chuckled softly.

"A few minutes, maybe longer." The Frenchman finally said.

"So you saw my…?"

"Your sketches? Non. I was more interested in the artist himself, but if he is willing to share his work, I would be delighted to have a look."

"I-I don't know…"

"It is fine." Spy raised his hand. "Far from me the will to push you."

When it landed back on the table, his hand went to the middle of the table, half-way to Sniper, palm facing up. He was asking something without any words. The Aussie's eyes went to his friend's eyes down along his arm to his open palm. He instinctively put his own hand in and Spy smiled, especially when he saw Sniper blush.

"I-I can show you my stuff but… Please don't laugh."

"I will not."

Sniper raised his eyebrows as if to insist.

"I promise." Spy added.

"Roight."

He pushed his sketchbook to the Frenchman and put his hands nervously on his mug.

"I got it when we first joined Mann Co."

"I see…"

Spy opened it and took his time on each double page before turning to the next. Sniper's eyes were stuck on the Frenchman to try and see his reactions. Spy looked focused, his brow furrowed and his eyes keenly observing, flying from one sketch to the next. Sniper felt very nervous. Since he had arrived at Mann Co. one man had caught his eye more than the rest. Of course he would! He was very elegant, classy, his voice was a symphony and he had the most beautiful eyes God had ever graced anyone with.

Even though the sketchbook also had other things here and there, the main model for the hunter, was his masked colleague. Unbeknownst to him, Spy had been drawn at the very least once or twice per page. The poses were different too…

It seemed that the mute hunter used his eyes very keenly even though he never said it or showed it.

Suddenly Sniper saw Spy take the pencil and scratch a few things. It intrigued him as he saw him use the rubber at the back of it first before actually drawing. The Aussie tried to see what he was doing but Spy blocked his view with his arm. It lasted for long minutes and Sniper didn't dare interrupt his friend. Finally, he closed the sketchbook and gave it back to the Aussie.

"You are quite talented." He simply said.

"I just draw a lot… C-can I see?"

"But of course."

Sniper eagerly opened the sketchbook and flipped the pages until the last. He frowned. He remembered having drawn Spy there, his face and shoulders in his usual suit and balaclava but now the drawing was different. The balaclava was gone, the Frenchman had hair, and he looked so handsome with it! The front tuft seemed lighter, like the temples, but he truly looked more like a dream than an actual living man. Sniper's jaw dropped in awe.

"Is..? Is that you without the…?"

"Oui."

Spy stood up and bent over the table. He put a hand behind Sniper's neck and pulled him in. All the Australian saw was the Frenchman's eyes slowly close before he shut his own eyelids. What he felt after, he couldn't describe. Neither could he draw it.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy

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kingreywrites · 4 years

Text

Ideal

Fandom: Tangled

Words count: 1555

New Dream Appreciation Week Day Two: Vacation

Summary: Thinking that she was focused on her sand castle, Eugene didn't bother to hide his wince, or the pain lines surrounding his eyes, as his right hand slowly made circles above his knee to try and relieve the ache. Rapunzel frowned, before getting up in a quick movement.

When she looked straight at him, all traces of pain had been smoothed out of his body language as he offered her an innocent smile.

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@our-newdream

Rapunzel was halfway through a beautiful sand rendering of the castle when she noticed it. She moved her head to the side very slowly, trying hard to be subtle because she knew that if he noticed, he would hide what she saw - but, there it was. Thinking that she was focused on her sand castle, Eugene didn't bother to hide his wince, or the pain lines surrounding his eyes, as his right hand slowly made circles above his knee to try and relieve the ache. Rapunzel frowned, before getting up in a quick movement.

When she looked straight at him, all traces of pain had been smoothed out of his body language as he offered her an innocent smile.

"Yes?" he asked politely, a picture perfect representation of the ideal husband - and, as Rapunzel knew, still a skilled liar.

"Eugene," Rapunzel answered sweetly, "you would tell me if you were in pain, right? Like you promised you would?"

He gulped audibly and Rapunzel's smile grew, knowing that he wouldn't lie now that she evoked the promise. He knew how she felt about them, and he hated lying to her anyway, even by omission. To be fair, Eugene was the ideal husband - Rapunzel's ideal husband - he just wasn't the ideal caretaker for himself.

He sighed, resigned. "I may have not mentioned that my leg was hurting again. A little!" he added, waving his hands in front of his face. "I can stay here more, there's no reason to worry yet!"

And yet, Rapunzel was already packing her stuff, meticulously folding her beach towel and gathering the tools that helped her build her half-finished sand castle. She heard Eugene grumble behind her, but she was frustrated with him, so she didn't try to listen and understand. Which didn't stop him from protesting again when she got up ready to go.

"We don't have to leave because of me Sunshine, I swear!"

"Your leg is hurting," Rapunzel tried to reason calmly, "we've been here for two hours already, and a broken bone needs rest."

"Then I'll get rest! And you can stay here and enjoy the beach more, since you don't have a broken leg!"

Eugene smiled, eyes warm and honest, and Rapunzel softened immediately - because that was the heart of the matter, wasn't it? Eugene didn't hide his pain to frustrate her, she knew, he was only feeling guilty to cut her enjoyment short. They had planned this vacation for weeks, trying to find a perfect opportunity that worked for all of them - Lance, the girls and Varian's schedules hadn't been too hard to coordinate, but finding a free spot for both the Princess and the Captain of the Guard? It was a nightmare nobody wanted to live through again, least of all Rapunzel and Eugene.

Then, three days before their long awaited trip to the beach, Eugene broke his leg. More exactly, a criminal broke Eugene's lower leg trying to escape, to her husband's ever-growing despair.

He had argued again and again with Rapunzel against her idea to just cancel the trip, and went to great lengths to prove to her that he could be more or less independent. However, with his cast, he couldn't do much more than sit on the beach - water was definitely prohibited, and crutches were not that useful on sand. And he kept insisting that Rapunzel didn't have to stay with him, that she should enjoy her well deserved vacation as much as she could - he would enjoy by proxy, he had assured her.

She had spent exactly five minutes in the water with the others before going back to sit with Eugene - but he still hadn't gotten the message.

Abandoning her recently gathered stuff, Rapunzel carefully climbed over Eugene's lap, getting close enough for their noses to touch as she took his cheeks in her hands. Any protest he might have died on his tongue, and she was proud to see the slightly flustered - if definitely interested - look on his face. Her hair fell a little over his face, blocking out the sun and giving them a frail impression of privacy, while also tickling him.

"Eugene Fitzherbert," she whispered, revelling in his little exhale as his eyes seemed unable to leave hers, "I wanted this vacation because I wanted to spend my time with you. I don't care about the sea. I don't care if we go on adventures for a week straight or if we stay playing scrabble in your room all day long-"

"You do love scrabble," Eugene interrupted with a grin, and Rapunzel laughed, her forehead finally touching his.

"Yes, I love scrabble. And I love you," she added, not to be distracted from her original point, "so let's go back to our room together, because I won't like my time off if you're in pain during it."

Eugene sighed, but his smile betrayed the fact that Rapunzel's words worked. His hand went to put a strand of Rapunzel's hair behind her ear gently, taking the chance to slowly stroke her cheek and guide her to his mouth. Her lips brushed his softly and, as always, she couldn't contain the surge of warmth lighting up her heart - she pressed forward, her fingers passing through his locks to bring him even closer. She shifted and he gasped, but she recognised immediately that it wasn't from enjoyment.

"Oh!" She jumped off his lap in one swift movement, Eugene too taken by surprise to keep her there. "Your leg!"

"My leg," Eugene echoed with a pout - he was starting to grow tired of his damn broken leg, especially if it got in between his kisses. He had to admit that it was hurting more and more as time went by though - and Rapunzel could clearly see the little clues of his pain escaping his notice.

She put her beach bag on her left shoulder and offered her right hand to Eugene, helping him get up. They had foregone the crutches because they did little in the sand, so Eugene had to hobble unsteadily back to the cabin Rapunzel's parents had lent them - which, thankfully, wasn't too far, because he was already leaning heavily on his wife when they finally reached the deck.

It took some more manhandling - and a quite awkward if sexy shower - before they were both sitting on the bed, as sand-free as one could get. Eugene, who had insisted on taking the shower before he took any of the plant based remedies the castle doctors had given him, didn't exactly regret his decision, but he certainly felt its consequences fully. Even sitting wasn't comfortable, right now.

"Ready!" Rapunzel exclaimed, her still wet hair clinging to her head as she extended the weird and smelly plant concoction Eugene was supposed to drink. She had taken a special interest in medicine these last months, delighted to be able to combine both her cooking skills and her science skills, while experiencing healing in an another form than magical abilities.

"Ugh," Eugene groaned, taking the bowl in his hands, "I hate this."

"It's good for you."

"Doesn't smell like it."

"It'll make the pain better!"

"And then it'll put me to sleep, so I won't even enjoy the pain-free time," he retorted, before meeting her pleading eyes. "Okay, okay, here goes."

Rapunzel tried not to laugh at the funny faces Eugene was pulling, but it was hard. She felt bad, sure, and she hated seeing him in pain, but she knew that this particular medicine wasn't as disgusting as her husband made it out to be. She took the bowl once he finished and, after some coaxing, she managed to convince him to lie down completely on the bed with her.

"That's unfair," he breathed as she leant over him, "you know that this will make me fall asleep for sure."

She hummed, and settled back on the arm he had extended toward her, not afraid to snuggle him since his broken leg was on his other side. "Maybe my ideal vacation is taking a nap with you."

"Don't lie, your ideal vacation is going to see the glowing ice caves in Arendelle."

"Alright, you got me, that still sound like the coolest thing ever!" Rapunzel gushed, drawing a tired laugh from Eugene. "But I still want to do it with you. My ideal vacation is you, Eugene Fitzherbert" she said, bopping his nose to support her argument.

He smiled, and a comfortable silence settled between them. From her position, Rapunzel could hear the steady and reassuring beating of his heart and could feel the rising and falling of his chest - getting slower and slower as the medicine took fully effect and made him groggy enough to fall asleep at four in the afternoon. Watching him at his most relaxed, his most peaceful, knowing that he was trusting her fully to be open and vulnerable with her - that was still the best sight she could ever imagine, better than Arendelle's glowing caves or even the lanterns.

"You're my ideal vacation too," he mumbled suddenly, with his eyes still closed and his body still completely limp - and Rapunzel knew it wasn't an afterthought, but a sign that she was always his last thought at night and his first in the morning.

Rapunzel smiled against his neck and quickly followed him into slumber.

#I quite like this one actually!#So I hope you'll like it too!!#there's a tiny bit of hurt and a LOT of comfort #tangled #New Dream Appreciation Week #new dream #Eugene Fitzherbert #Rapunzel

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