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babesonly · 4 years ago

Text

fic recs 2.0!

hello kings (gn) ive got significantly more fic than last time which means this is gonna be a little more organized than the last post bc it is much longer <3 categories in order are non casefic canonverse, casefic/roadtrip fic, finale fixits, endverse, non supernatural aus, and then non destiel ones. titles will be in bold for my favs! also within each category they’re in order from shortest to longest

Canonverse

I’m a tulip in a cup by godtiering (1.2k)

I worry that I never really came back from hell. I wonder why, if I got remade by heaven, I’m still the same screwed up kid that I always was.

Sometimes I worry I’m not into women at all.

"Guess not,” he looks at his shoes.

a REALLY good fic that’s basically just a look inside dean’s head during my bloody valentine do not read this looking for a fun time but please do read it

on vessels by flightsofangels (1.9k)

“You know,” Cas mutters into Dean’s bare skin. “When I was still… an angel, I used to dream that I would take you as my vessel.”

hello consumehimnatural fans!!!!! read newt’s fic right now its incredible

dean winchester is not a nicholas sparks protagonist by microcomets (1.9k)

Dean fell in love with Cas the way you fall asleep--slowly, and then all at once. Or some other hackneyed and trite bullshit. God, this is embarrassing.

dean is in LOVE. he’s also a disaster who keeps staring at cas’ hands. sigh

Stay by aeli_kindara (2.5k)

Coda to 13.06 (Tombstone). In which Castiel reckons with the aftermath of Dean's grief.

hello fellow widow arc fans <3 click here to see cas find out abt the events of advanced thanatology !

walking on a string by swordfishtrombones (2.7k)

Between the doomed offensive at the Firmament and the impending retreat from the ravaged northeast border, Castiel left camp long enough to answer one of Dean Winchester's prayers.

S6 DEAN IS A WAR WIFE. been really into early seasons deancas lately and this one is very good. god

the flesh of the mighty by Mudprophet (2.7k)

Ezekiel 39:17 "you shall eat the flesh of the mighty and drink the blood of the princes of the earth."

MY GOD. anyone who saw the @autisticandroids purgatory cannibalism talk and was interested read this right now. also anyone who enjoyed nbc hannibal OR raw (2016). if romantic cannibalism is remotely aligned with your interests read this right now. god

Sam Winchester, Ally At Law by alittleduck (3.3k)

Sam was pretty sure he could read every single gay friendly guide to coming out or supporting queer family members ever written and literally none of them would even imply that arguing with gay people that they were actually just homophobic constituted as "ally behavior". However, Sam was equally sure that none of those book authors had found themselves accidentally watching their brother get pounded by an Angel of the Lord at 9 am on Tuesday, so Sam was pretty sure he might actually still have the higher ground. Now, if only Jack would stop trying to bond with Dean using gay slurs long enough for Sam to convince everyone of that, he might just be able to cobble together some remnant of sanity or, failing that, dignity.

Or, the one where Sam desperately wants to invent PFLAG but Dean won't stop teaching Jack gay slurs

JACK VOICE HEY COCKSUCKERS.

hummed low by microcomets (3.3k)

Dean pulls the Impala over at a cider barn about thirty miles out; doesn't really think about it, just sees the hokey orange lettering off the roadside and lets his hands guide the Impala off the interstate with gravel spitting under the wheels.

they get a nice day out together and dean has a gay crisis and it’s written beautifully mwah

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit by pyrebi (3.9k)

In which angelic marriage bonds are apparently stupidly easy to trigger, Cas wages multidimensional war in Heaven, Dean can't catch a break like ever, Sam rather enjoys being a dick, love saves the day, and nobody consummates anything.

sometimes i think about this fic and it hits that at this point dean and cas would have been married for more than a year. cas my beloved...

an exploration of gender; angelic by sometimeswelose (4k)

Castiel's true form is made of electromagnetic radiation. He has spent the majority of his life, if you really want to add it all up and average the whole thing out, as a wavelength of celestial intent.

The thing about being made of light: it's light in the physics sense of the word. Castiel's waves are gamma, x-ray, micro, and radio. He's visible light too, of course, a visible light so intense that it is blinding to most humans.

hello trans cas community <3 he’s literally trans he was assigned genderless and then went hm actually i will be a man! love of my life

Some Boys are Sleeping Alone by prosopopeya (4.2k)

This isn't something that's okay, not for him, but it chases him through the years until it turns into something he can't -- doesn't want to deny.

ohhh deans tenuous relationship with his sexuality my beloved...

love. worship. consummation. consumption. by redeyedwrath (4.3k)

ConsumehimNatural (copyright marcusantonius) the Series!

These are all snapshots centered around the idea of you know. Hunger in Supernatural. Both carnal hunger and other kinds. Fics are shown in semi-chronological order but this series is generally nebulously early seasons.

for ANYONE who is a consumehimnaturual this is required reading it is INCREDIBLE and gorgeous and very visceral and i am so very obsessed with it. thank you redeyedwrath for enabling my brainrot

the reach of human sense by perilously (4.5k)

“You know what Jimmy Novak looked like. You think he was beautiful—gorgeous, hot, all of it. It’s him. Not me. This isn’t my face.”

“But,” Dean says. He doesn’t know where he’s going with it. Just that Cas’ face is right there, brows drawn together and cheekbones gleaming in the lamplight. It’s a face that’s made his heart skip probably a couple hundred beats collectively since they met.

And it used to belong to someone else.

this one is just very nice <3 cas gets uncomfortable w dean calling him attractive since dean has never seen his trueform and they work it out

Down in the River by Ias (4.7k)

Alone in Purgatory and hunted by Leviathans, Castiel finds himself praying to the one person who can't hear him.

cas i love you <3 cas alone in purgatory praying to dean bc dean is the only thing he still worships i love you so much

Creature of Habit by trinityofone (5.1k)

The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them. Or: How Cas developed some bad habits, and Dean coped surprisingly well.

written in s5 when cas was depowered and completely nails the later seasons bitchy husbands dynamic it’s very good and fun <3

sink by crackers4jenn (5.4k)

"Where to?" A 9.06 coda.

very bittersweet very well written and also canon compliant so do not go into this one looking for a happy ending but i DO recommend it it’s very good

Sensational by castiowl (6.1k)

“When I first came to earth, it was advised that we temper the senses bound to our vessels. They were a distraction, we were told. An antiquated form of experiencing existence that would hinder our ability to complete our missions, whatever that may be. My true form can better facilitate these experiences. What you would recognize as heightened senses of sight and sound, among other things.”

Or, how Dean helps Cas experience all five human senses for the first time in one night.

early seasons deancas man. i love the sound part i love dean being so worried about doing a good job with this. god. read this please

Something to Protect by Sass_Master (6.2k)

Dean’s violent reaction to being unexpectedly woken has become something of a running joke among them, but Castiel can’t help but look past it to the underlying cause. It makes him ache to think that Dean feels so unsafe, so persecuted, before he’s even fully conscious.

Secretly, Castiel has been determined to work on that, to ease Dean into awareness in a less jarring way, smooth away one of the many stresses that follow him even in sleep. Now’s as good a time as any to try.

oh to sleep more soundly in the presence of someone you love...this fic is very nice i enjoyed it a lot

all this and heaven too by ftmsteverogers (7k)

“Hey,” Dean said. “I’m not ashamed of you, okay?”

Cas raised skeptical eyes to meet his.

“I mean it,” Dean insisted.

“I understand you mean it,” Cas said. “But I don’t think it’s any better if you’re only ashamed of yourself.”

hello trans dean community here is 7k of trans dean having to deal with his internalized homophobia now that he’s sleeping with cas <3 it is SO good

The wilderness. by orange_crushed (8k)

He takes a shower and the pressure is not especially good, but it doesn’t matter. It’s warm and he stands under the spray a long time. Human skin, he knows, constantly renews itself, shedding the dead cells of the epidermis. He wonders how long it will take until he is an entirely new person, until every cell on his surface is a new one. He looks at his hands under the water. It might take less than a month.

this might be the only post 9x03 fic on here with a happy ending actually? plenty of good melancholy leading up to it though <3 canon divergent after 9x03 though which means no 9x06 fanfiction gap but it is absolutely worth reading

till the juice runs by deathbanjo (8.4k)

Apparently whoever drew up the venn diagram of Dean’s sex life decided the circle labelled ‘good sex’ and the one labelled ‘sex with men’ should be kept far apart.

hello this one is SO funny dean finally gets comfortable enough with his bisexuality to start having sex with men and it goes so very bad every time so sorry about your shitty choices beloved </3

First Date by aeli_kindara (8.9k)

“We should go on a date. You and me.”

Castiel wishes he could see Dean’s face. He wishes he had any idea what to say.

“I’m asking you out, Cas.”

this one is very sweet i liked it a lot <3 good refreshing little fic where they just get to have a nice evening together

Entertaining Strangers by cadignan (9k)

Dean settles on to his side, lying in the bed facing Castiel. “So you had sex without me and you bit all my moves. I think I deserve to hear about it, at least. What was her name?”

op im in love with you. premise is established relationship deancas and cas mentions he did have sex before dean and not only that it was a threesome. good for him <3 this fic is cas describing the story of what led up to the threesome and what happened during it while dean interrupts regularly. incredible

the shape you take by noviembre (10k)

“What?” Dean says, fake-offended. “I’d be hot as a girl, you know I would.”

And this is when he really, really should have stopped talking. When he shouldn't have whipped back around and asked, “Cas, if I was a woman, you’d fuck me, right?”

Because if he hadn’t said that, then he wouldn’t have had to deal with this:

Cas, meeting his eyes, forehead wrinkles all smoothed out like there’s nothing to be confused about anymore. Cas with something at the corner of his mouth that might barely be called a smile.

Cas saying, calmly and without hesitation, “Yes, Dean.”

Dean Winchester fucks around and, with the inadvertent help of some witches, Finds Out.

dean winchester your gender is diabolical. this fic is insane and its the only thing that matters actually. dean fully convinced its normal and straight to think about being a woman so you can fuck your male friend. incredible. op im proposing to you

Sinnerman by a_good_soldier (10k)

Dean listens to Nina Simone, reads Anne Carson, and makes out with a dude (sort of).

yall want to read about dean realizing he’s in love with a man as a direct result of learning to better respect women right?

you’re fooling yourself by cowboydeanwinchester (13k)

Dean Winchester and Castiel retire from hunting to raise baby Jack. Dean struggles to allow himself the things he truly wants.

Jack is two, Castiel and Dean are idiots, and Sam's gotta solve everyone's problems.

love a married couple who doesn’t know they’re married <3 everyone say thank you sam for bullying dean

The Girlfriend Experience by rageprufrock (15k)

While it's not like Dean hasn't had a couple of truly regrettable hit-and-runs in his sexual history, this is probably the saddest fucking thing that has ever happened to him.

a classic for good fucking reason. we’ve all talked about dean thinking holding hands is too gay after having just had gay sex but my personal favorite was sam accusing dean of cheating on cas because dean bought condoms. incredible

No Kingdom To Come by domesticadventures (16k)

“We should fuck,” Dean says.

Cas looks up from where he sits on his bed, hair still damp from the shower, frowning as he places a finger on the page of his book to mark where he left off.

There are a million things Cas could say here; Dean has rehearsed them. After lunch, his restlessness had given way to a vague panic, a dread that matched his every step and crept along with him from room to room. Eventually, he had returned to his bedroom and spent the rest of the afternoon pacing back and forth, playing out all the possible scenarios. When Cas asks him Why? or Are you being serious? or when he sighs and says, in that way he has, Dean, he knows exactly what he’s going to do. He’s going to shrug casually, like he isn’t invested in the answer, like he isn’t desperate for an outlet, and say, Why not? He’s going to raise an eyebrow and say, What, are you not interested? He’s going to crowd into Cas’ personal space, he’s going to shove himself right up in there and whisper Cas against his ear.

Instead, Cas says, carefully, “Okay.”

literally the only quarantine fic i’ve ever bothered to read in any fandom and completely worth it it’s SO good. they become fwb and dean has an existential crisis and he keeps bringing up meaninglessness and death during sex

Bodies by Speary (18k)

It was a secret they never acknowledged even with each other. It would change everything, end everything if either of them ever dropped the act. So they became very good at acting, at keeping up the lie that gave them what they wanted. Even if that lie involved constantly seeking out temporary, consenting female vessels, Cas would do it. He told himself it was worth it for Dean. He just hoped that he could stop wanting more, or maybe one day Dean might stop pretending that he wasn't really sleeping with Cas every time.

i don’t even have anything to add tbh if that summary did not immediately make you click we are very different this fic is incredible. god. fellas do you ever make yourself a woman so you can fuck the man you love without him having to talk about it or confront his sexuality

it’s such a mystery (the way you know me) by fleeceframe (20k)

So the man crouching in front of Castiel is named Dean. He wonders if that’s supposed to mean something to him.

“Cas must’ve got hit with something earlier. He just dropped like a sack of fucking potatoes a minute ago. By the time I was checking on him, he had already woken up again, but now he doesn’t fucking know who we are.”

“I’m right here you know,” Castiel says testily.

Sam’s eyes are wide even as his eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks between Dean and Castiel again.

“What do you remember, Cas?”

“Firstly, that I’m not Cas. I don’t know who Cas is, but it’s not me. I don’t know who either of you are, either."

or the one where castiel is hit with a memory curse that makes him forget the winchester brothers and is stunned to find out he has a family... also why can't he stop thinking about dean?

BEST amnesia fic oh my god. cas my beloved you deserve the world. everyone read this that is not a request.

More Than Ever by Sass_Master (20k)

Dean’s getting some pancakes together for breakfast when Cas saunters in after a run.

He’s trying to focus on whisking batter, unfairly distracted by Cas a few feet away, breathing heavily and shining with perspiration. Dean’s been painfully aware for a long time that Cas is pretty easy on the eyes, but he’s used to seeing Cas buttoned-up and unflappable, looking straight-laced in a stiff oxford and an unflattering trenchcoat.

Now Cas is sweating, Dean’s borrowed t-shirt clinging to his skin, flushed from exertion and Dean really can’t deal with that in his kitchen right now.

this entire series is really good i enjoyed it a lot, i’m just putting this one specifically on the list bc the rest of the series is very explicit and this is really good as a standalone for anyone who wouldn’t be into the rest of the series!!

Being Dean Winchester by Anonymous (20k)

"You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of hell. I can throw you back in."

Who the fuck was this bitchy "warrior of God" doing talking to him like that? Fuck Cas-tee-el and his dumbass trench coat and abrasive motherfucking attitude.

Dean was done with this shit.

***

Wherein a monster of the week steals the essence of Castiel's vessel, so he must use Dean, recently raised from hell, as a vessel instead.

it is at this point i realize that there are more fics than i expected there to be on this list that involves a threesome with only two people/using the presence of a female body to act like what’s happening is heterosexual. deangirlism is a disease

I Shall Not Want by domesticadventures (20k)

His grace is burning out, and the wasteland it leaves inside him becomes an echo chamber for all the memories, all the fear and doubt and self-loathing he's collected over the years. Things said and done hound him on endless repeat until he's convinced they’ll break through his skin and fill the silence of the bunker.

His head is killing him, and he sits hunched over an open book, not really reading, just digging his fingers into his skull and praying nothing slips through the cracks.

this one is GORGEOUS i love it so so much. dean and cas are both struggling so much to get by and they’re trying to support each other but fucking it up and they have to grow together and learn to cope with the fact that this is where their lives are and they fall in love i need everyone to read this

To Boldly Go by 8daysuntiltheapocalypseiguess (24k)

Title: Just One of Those Things Author: Impala67 Series: TOS Rating: M Summary: Four years into their five-year mission, and all the planets start to look the same.

In which Dean is not Gene Roddenberry, but he does write Star Trek fanfiction.

mx winchester writing star trek fanfiction to process his own trauma <3 this is a wip but it’s SO good and i also have not consumed a single piece of star trek media so it IS definitely readable to anyone who isn’t a star trek fan. please read this

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo (30k)

“Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.”

this is on here just for the 1.5 people who were putting off this one like i did for no reason. it’s extremely good and it is just gentle. i enjoyed it a lot

Heroes for Ghosts by pantheon_of_discord (42k)

After Sam and Dean are arrested, Castiel is left alone and scrambling to find them. He knows they’re locked away in a government facility, and he’s still able to hear their prayers, but no matter how he tries Castiel can’t seem to track them. He chases leads and even attempts to hunt on his own, but Mary is AWOL, Crowley refuses to help, and Castiel’s options are running out.

Weeks pass, Castiel’s hope dwindles, and through it all Dean prays, keeping them connected. His voice is comforting, frustrating, and occasionally annoying, but in his solitude Castiel comes to cherish it. But then one day, without warning, Dean stops praying, and Castiel is forced to confront some uncomfortable truths about his feelings.

yall ever wonder what it would’ve been like if the sam and dean arrest storyline in s12 was interesting? yeah <3

Teaching Poetry to Fish by aeli_kindara (52k)

In which Castiel teaches poetry to fish. Also, himself. Also, eventually, Dean.

(A series-long story, diverging slightly from canon after S14.)

cas learning about humanity through poetry before dean and thats what led to him developing enough emotion to be lobotomized....cas i love you so much

Emergence by ellispark (58k)

Something’s been missing from Dean’s life for the past three years, a void left after a hunt gone terribly wrong. He often feels a sense of longing with no discernible cause, a need to talk to someone who isn’t there.

A call from an acquaintance leads Dean to James Novak, a man who disappeared more than a decade ago, and suddenly Dean gets the feeling he’s found what he’s been missing. But James isn’t really James — he’s the angel Castiel, who’s wanted by angels, demons and hunters alike. And he may be at the center of the storm that wrecked Dean’s life all those years ago.

another cool amnesia fic!! for unknown reasons everyone forgot cas three years ago but cas didn’t forget anything. cas deserves so much love and support. god

a turn of the earth by microcomets (95k)

Dean’s your typical half-orphaned, monster-killing 22-year-old until a trenchcoated stranger crashes into his back windshield one September night, claiming he’s an angel that knows him from the future and that he’s on the run.

Frigging fantastic.

(Or, in which Castiel gets stuck in Dean’s timeline preseries and Dean kind of hates it—until he doesn’t.)

cas getting to meet and fall in love with pre hell dean just as much as he loves the dean he already knows oh my GOD. i love this fic so much. turn of the earth my beloved

Crossing Lines by sometimeswelose (122k)

Two Deans, one Cas - it's not as sexy as it sounds

An ethics lesson from Hell

The one where Dean from the past meets Dean in the present. They're not sure they like each other very much.

deans intense self hatred vs cas’ unwavering love for every version of dean oh my GOD also this is a wip fair warning but it’s so worth waiting for updates i’m having such a great time with this one i cannot wait to see how it gets ended

Plot Holes by saltyfeathers (160k)

Of course it wasn’t over after the apocalypse.

There was season six. Then there was season seven. Against all expectations, there was season eight. There were the alphas and purgatory, and then the Leviathans, and then the angels fell. Enter season nine. Loose threads Metatron, Abaddon, and Crowley have to be tied up. Sam, Dean, and Cas have to try to tie them while at the same time dealing with their evolving relationships and newfound graceless states.

Amidst all the chaos, someone has started publishing the Supernatural novels again. Convinced there’s something amiss in the pages, Charlie starts her own quest to suss out the truth behind the Winchester Gospels.

With the help of various faces, old and new, they must now not only deal with the typical runs of demons and recently fallen angels, but also reconcile the battles raging inside themselves, as the fate of the world, once again, quite literally lays in the palm of their hands.

saltyfeathers said i WILL make the plot holes in this show mean something because the showrunners are sure as shit never gonna adress them ! and i thank them for it bc this was a really cool read

Casefic/Roadtrip Fic

Deprived Of Every Planet by KelpietheThundergod (9k)

Dean's breathing is audible in the scant space between them, irregular. The motel room is dark, pale blue shadows falling in through the gaps in the blinds. Throwing a pattern of uneven white stripes over the bunched up covers. Over Dean's fingers twisted in the sheets. One half of him in shadow, softened by the dark. The heat of his skin. The tremble of him under Castiel's touch.

He caresses a hand over Dean's chest, slowly. Dean's mouth falls open, his body arching into Castiel's touch. Castiel stops over Dean's heart. Through the fever of his desire, he rejoices about the wonder of experiencing another's heartbeat through one's own senses.

Dean gasps, but then he turns his face away and towards the dark. Eyes closed tight and brows furrowed like something is hurting him.

Castiel stills.

“Dean?”

the case is background on this one but it Does take place over the course of a case so im putting it here. god touchstarved dean trying so hard to work through his shit for cas head in my hands i love this fic so much

before and after breakfast by spocklee (10k)

The monster of the week is a ghost who hates meat, alcohol, and feeling yourself. Guess who it is during the commercials.

chapter 2 of this one.....god. dean and cas you are both so unwell <3 i love everything abt this fic everyone read it now

we shovel all the ashes out by xylodemon (15k)

Dean’s always known things were headed this way. He just figured getting dragged under would be cleaner and easier than jumping in feet-first.

fics that make you go Oh they love each other...also there’s lesbians in it literally what else could you want.

thunder road by dothraki_shieldmaiden (20k)

After Chuck is defeated and the Winchesters settle into life without God, Dean Winchester is bored.

OR: Dean and Cas take a road trip and figure out some stuff along the way.

this fic is just like. it’s kind! this fic is kind it’s just a pleasant experience and i enjoyed it thoroughly. they’re in love and it’s good

Suck It, Judy Garland by GlitterDwarf, midrashic (20k)

It had to be St. Louis. Or, the one where Sam and Cas get fake married for a case, and Dean loses his mind.

actually im gonna defend dean here imagine youre dean and cas gives what definitely sounded like a deathbed love confession while making eye contact with you and then immediately afterwards fake dates your brother. who among us would not have been a bitch about this

best friends without benefits by lizbobjones (20k)

It’s nearing three a.m. and they’ve been on the road a long time. Sam’s been asleep in the back seat since eleven. Giving up and handing the wheel over to Cas and letting the guy who doesn’t sleep drive had seemed like a good idea.

the premise of this fic is so funny. cas voice dean you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid. everyone read this

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo (22k)

This is what Cas gave up Heaven for: greasy diner food, shitty motel rooms with even shittier cable, long car rides spent in complete silence except for the same six tapes playing over and over again, and a burnt-out husk of a man who can barely hold a conversation anymore.

alt version of getting rid of the mark of cain, the darkness never happens. this one is VERY heavy but it’s so good and it has a hopeful ending. ive read this one twice and loved it both times

Someone Who’s Feeling For Me by ellispark (45k)

Dean sees her for the first time in nearly six years in some no-name town in Idaho, and it's panic at first sight.

Lisa Braeden, the one woman Dean ever actually had a shot at a real life with, back from where he buried her in his mind. And her hand is on Cas's arm like it's no big deal, like it belongs there. Cas, Dean's dorky, sweet, badass, angelic best friend, and he's just standing there next to Lisa and not moving her hand away.

Dean feels the jealousy rising, and it's not directed where he expected it to be. Because it takes this exact moment for Dean to realize he's in love with his best friend. He's in love with his best friend, and Lisa is looking at Cas like he's the best thing since automatic rifles, and Dean is utterly fucked.

hello op please contact me. please contact me and let me see the inside of your brain. this fic was an unparalleled experience and everyone should also go through it. i love it so very much

Bumper Cars by mansikka (111k)

Two teenagers are missing from an abandoned carnival, and there’s enough to raise suspicion that their disappearance involves a ghost. Dean, Sam, and Cas arrive in town to investigate, though what they find leads them away from those teenagers, and on the trail of a ghost story that churns up things from their past.

Can newly-human Cas, and Dean, with the help of shipper!Sam, work out the mystery behind the abandoned carnival and its ghost, and along the way, figure out the riddle that is them?

one of my absolute fav case fics it forces dean to confront some aspects of johns parenting and work through some shit and also him and cas fall in love and it’s really well done. love this one a lot <3

Finale Fix-its/Finale Denial

Sorry Jimmy by K_K_TiBal (2.1k)

Based on the tumblr textpost:

jellydeans: so are cas and jimmy novak just up in heaven existing at the same time katebushstandean: #jimmy moves to heaven timbuku so that dean stops trying to make out with him every time they run into each other at the heaven grocery store

this one is just extremely funny. local midwestern heterosexual man is forced to play relationship counselor to the dumbest gay people in existence because one of them wore his face

Dean Winchester Really Needs To Make Some Gay Friends by AreYouReady (2.2k)

“Like, I’m trying to think if I’ve had, I don’t know, crushes. If I ever had a gay thing before you came along and just didn’t notice,” Dean said.

Cas suddenly looked down, and away from Dean. If Dean didn’t know better, he would swear Cas looked guilty.

“What is it, Cas?”

“You have had several… gay things before.” Cas still wouldn’t look at him.

“What? When? How come you know this better than I do?”

There was no way the answer to this question wasn’t funny as hell.

dean learning about gay ppl via the memories of dean smith...incredible.

tiny difference (between ending and starting to begin) by sunforgrace (2.4k)

Sometimes Dean catches Cas staring at the sky.

It doesn’t happen often. Not when Dean’s around to tell, anyway. But often enough that he starts to notice.

Eventually Dean starts to recognize the pattern.

Cas just doesn’t watch the sky. He watches the birds.

Chuck is gone, Cas is human, and the world is safe. In the quiet aftermath Dean and Castiel find each other again.

i really don’t have much to say abt this one it is just very good and they love each other so much

Bring Home by cenotaphy (3.8k)

Dean's phone doesn't ring on the drive back to the Bunker, but that's okay. Because—well, maybe Cas lost his cell, what with getting shuffled back and forth between a cosmic void dimension and all. And anyway, Dean doesn't want this conversation to happen over the phone, he wants to—he wants to talk to Cas face-to-face. They should talk face-to-face.

Dean will tell him—

Dean doesn't know what he'll tell Cas. Dean is, in fact, terrified by how utterly and completely he does not know what he'll say to Cas.

cas being forced to face the consequences of sending the risky text that was despair <3

dean’s coworkers vs the heteronormative agenda by cowboydeanwinchester (4.1k)

Dean started working at a local auto repair shop in Lebanon, Kansas about a year ago. His coworkers don't know much about him. Except that he has a wife. Or maybe he doesn't. But he has a kid. Who is either a toddler or a high schooler. Who is either named Jack or Sammy. He also might have a best friend named Cas, but that also might be his wife.

Truth is nobody knows what to make of Dean.

obsessed w people not knowing a single fucking thing about dean because he talks so much and never explains anything. this fic is SO funny

Enhanced Extraction Techniques by goldenraeofsun (5.8k)

The Empty takes Meg’s shape, Samandriel’s, Duma’s, every one of the thousands of angels Cas killed up in heaven. But in the middle of lecturing Cas in the form of Balthazar, it explodes in a burst of light and sound.

Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

the empty playing mind games on an awake cas bc it can’t put him to sleep is a thing i like a lot and this is very very good

Speak Silence No More by rea_sunshine (8.1k)

When Dean imagined this moment, it went like this:

Dean bursts into the Empty—guns blazing, chin high, righteous anger coursing through him. No matter what form his plans and fantasies and whiskey-drunk-whispered-promises took, he is always, always successful. When he imagined it, he was finally the hero Cas deserved.

The reality of the moment is this:

It’s fucking cold.

dean and cas STILL managing to not communicate with each other properly after the confession is so funny to me and this fic does it really well. also i like that a human being in the empty, where humans do NOT belong, had some like. consequences

my heart is a compass by lagaudiere (10k)

“There you are,” the Empty says, in Dean’s voice. It’s cold, like Dean’s eyes are cold, his expression set in contempt. It’s the expression Cas feared, he realizes, all the times he thought about saying it. Revulsion. It makes him feel sick in the way that goes beyond physical, here where there is nothing physical left.

The moment before it happened had been so sweet it covered up all the hurt. For years, Cas had been holding back those words, biting down on his tongue to keep from saying them. And now he had said it, and he knew that it was good, knew that it was worth it. But on the other side there is only this.

In the Empty, Cas dreams of his regrets, until someone comes looking for him.

one of thee best dean rescues cas from the empty fics out there i love the way his memories are written i love how many of them were ones that this fic came up with to give me new things to have brainworms over instead of just making me more fixated on He Watched Him Rake Leaves than i already am

killing time by orestespdf (11k)

It's been four years since Dean saved Cas from the Empty and confessed his feelings in return, and in their Vermont lakehouse, the retired couple is now learning how to heal. One morning, Dean gives Cas a haircut.

(A character study of Castiel.)

perfect fic perfect fic no notes no complaints they love each other so much and now dean is giving cas a haircut and they’re spending the day together. god.

and every time we kiss, i swear i can fly by knameless (14k)

Every time, Dean tells himself it’s the last.

aka, twelve times dean and cas kiss.

a just boy best friends kiss for every season <3 mwah

for which no words exist by MediaWhore (14k)

'a prayer for which no words exist' // richard siken

"Dear Cas who art in my bathtub, give me the strength to be honest about how I feel. For your sake and for mine. Forgive me all the times I wasn’t in the past, all the words I should have said but didn’t. And please stay. Please stay with me when all is said and done. Amen. "

Dean rescues a newly human Cas from the Empty. That's the easy step.

mediawhore i am in LOVE with you oh my god this fic. this fic. dean taking care of cas after rescuing him dean wrapping cas in a blanket oh my GOD

swimming with the fish pond fish by februyuri (17k)

Some time between Dean bleeding out on a makeshift hook in a barn in Ohio and Sam making marshmallows on his funeral pyre, Dean was brought back to life. By Castiel. Again. Dean agreed to it if only to give Jack time to work out the glitches up top. So, now Dean’s back in the land of the living and things are ... actually good, for once.

Or, as good as they can be when demons are attacking Earth, Dean’s failing to get over why he died in the first place, and Cas is suddenly, inexplicably taking every opportunity to casually tell Dean that he loves him.

this is a wip! but it is so good and so worth the read i love it a lot and am very excited for the last chapter. it IS pretty heavy though dean has a LOT to work through

looking like a true survivor (feeling like a little kid) by courfeyrac (20k)

"Jack’s a clever kid—has been ever since he was born, maybe even before that—but Dean’s pretty sure he hasn’t figured out where they’re going yet. And Dean’s… Dean’s excited about it. He remembers planning surprises for Sammy when they were little—saving up quarters and sneaking off to the arcade the year he turned seven, or slipping a book Dean had seen Sammy admiring into his jacket before sprinting out of the store the year he turned twelve. There was only so much Dean could give him back then, hindered by lack of finances and transportation and a father who paid attention. Now, though, Dean’s got a wallet full of cash, a tank full of gas, and the freedom to give his kid the kind of birthday he deserves."

Or, it's Jack's fourth birthday, and the kid wants to go to Build-A-Bear.

EVERYONE READ THIS RIGHT NOW. that is not a request this fic undid me. oh my god. oh my god. they’re a family and they’re going to build a bear and they love each other. oh my god. also no it isn’t a baby jack fic he is 4 and he is also alcal

what’s missing is found (our souls can exhale now) by sobsicles (27k)

It's not the first time Claire has ever gone missing. It is, however, the first time Kaia panics about it. Dean's dragged into the mess, but he soon finds that it's the best thing that could have happened to him.

~~~

"But have you ever just met someone and maybe it wasn't from the first moment, maybe it was after all these other moments that meant more than you ever expected them to, and it seems like your soul just—just—" Kaia makes a helpless gesture with her hands, pushing out, and she breathes out loudly. "Like it can finally exhale. And that person isn't guaranteed to make you happy, but they're—they're important. You just know it, you can't even escape it, you can't let them go. Ever met someone like that, Dean?"

"I—" Dean halts, his mouth hanging open. He's looking at Kaia, who's looking at him, and his heart is fluttering in his throat like a caged bird aching to soar again. His mind threatens to spiral out of control, but he focuses, swallowing hard. "Yeah. Um. I—yeah, I have."

deancas AND dreamhunter we love to see it also dean DOES smoke weed with kaia and apologizes for pulling a gun on her what more could you want in a fic

Command Me To Be Well by prospopeya (28k)

Dean did a lot of thinking about when and how he would get Cas back. Months of it, actually, stretching into a year, because while Sam and Eileen were settling into their new lives, Dean was stuck. He was stuck in a faraway corner of the bunker, dark and empty and hollow, ringing with the sound of a vibrating phone.

So when he falls to his knees in that same room, exhausted, hurting, breathless, and he feels a hand on his shoulder and looks up to see Cas, he realizes that he doesn't have a single clue about what to do now. Getting Cas out had been easy--actually, it'd been the opposite of that--but the planning of it, the methodical desperation of one attempt after the other had been a familiar rhythm. It'd been soothing almost, solid, something to focus on that wasn't Cas's eyes, watery and jubilant in a way Dean hadn't ever seen that up close on anyone, let alone Cas.

And now Cas is pulling him to his feet, and Dean's stumbling, and he instinctually grabs Cas's arm, and his hand lights up with a fire that he isn't prepared for.

"Hello, Dean."

oh post despair lack of communication....oh dean refusing to work through his feelings...this fic is incredible i love it everyone who enjoys dean doing everything in his power to avoid talking about feelings up to and including having sex with the guy who’s in love with him multiple times should read this

break the skin (to break the barriers) by sobsicles (29k)

The first time she meets him, he's nothing more than an almost-missed appointment.

SOBSICLES TATTOO FIC MY BELOVED. dean grieving and getting tattoos and it turns into tattoo therapy. im SO in love with mitzi it’s insane. requires some suspension of disbelief for how long a tattoo takes but it’s an incredible fic and an unparalleled experience. sobsicles does not miss

ascend by quiettewandering (53k)

Something in the world is wrong.

Demon activity is rising where mysterious black substance oozes and unusual ecological events are shaking the world. Dean, grief hanging on his shoulders, restlessly searches for answers that might lead him to the Empty… and to Cas.

But what Chuck wrote can’t be undone. The narrative thread pulls Dean along, forcing him to comply. Because once a story already has an ending, it can’t be rewritten.

Or can it?

SUPER cool concept i liked this a lot i’m pretty sure everyone’s read it already but just in case someone hasn’t you absolutely should

oh sooner or later it all comes down to faith by sobsicles (62k)

Getting used to Heaven is something of a marvel. It ain't perfect, and Dean thinks he'd hate it if it was, which is probably why it isn't.

~~~

"You don't understand," Dean whispers, exhaling shakily. "I know you don't, because even I don't. The instant you were gone, I wanted you back. Cas, I wanted you back. I wanted—I wanted—"

Cas stares at him, searching his face. After a moment, his own face falls slack, eyes widening just so. "Oh," he breathes out.

Dean wants to be furious that Cas has figured it out before he has—whatever it is—but he's not even that surprised. Cas knows him too well, always has, even more than Dean knows himself. He's been kicking Dean in the goddamn teeth with how deeply he understands him, even about the things Dean doesn't, ever since they first met. You don't think you deserve to be saved, that's what Cas had said. All bundled up in impossibilities and power, this being that looked at Dean Winchester and knew every single inch of him, as if he had a right to each part.

"What?" Dean grits out.

"I love you, too."

the ONLY heaven fic. i do not read heaven fics bc i refuse to budge in my finale denialism i refuse to read fic where it is accepted that dean dies. i was hesitant to read this but god im glad i did it was so good. literally the best possible outcome of dean dying

Endverse

final fantasy. by orange_crushed (1.9k)

“If I’d actually been born human, would I have gotten sick like everyone else? Would I be running around gnawing on the neighbors?” Castiel tilts his head up and even from here Dean can see the black ring of his pupils, wide and dark as dead stars. He’s high as fuck and he’s been loading the guns for forty-five minutes. He stares into the space where Dean is. He smiles and shows his teeth. “Maybe you’d have already put a bullet in my head.”

"This is why you don’t lead storytime anymore," Dean says. "This kind of shit."

endverse last night on earth fics are something that can be so personal actually. god

The Last Song by Moorishflower (3.5k)

The very last song is the Song of Solomon, and Castiel sings it only for Dean. Set in "The End."

this is like. pre endverse and the tone is so like. wistful? is the best word ive got? it’s gorgeous i love it but fair warning there is graphic description of like. viscera and infected wounds

to think that we could stay the same by cipherwriter (6.5k)

cas has all he needs; himself, his creation, and enough power to continue this cycle for a long time. he's fine. dean wants to take care of him anyway.

oh my GOD this one is good it’s based off the thing of how originally endverse cas was supposed to be just sitting in a room killing and resurrecting the same cockroach over and over. very bittersweet at some points i love it a lot, do not read it if youre looking for something happy though lmao

the first church at the end of the world by withbloodstainedclothingon (11k)

The angels don’t eat the brain. Only Croats do that.

this one is fucked but it’s incredible it contains very heavy and violent subject matter and cas is an Actual cult leader he doesn’t just have orgies it is SO well done and i had a great time reading it i recommend it very highly if the warnings sound like something you can stomach

Down to Agincourt by seperis (1.1 million. i know. yes it’s a wip)

There is no such thing as a guarantee when it comes to war.

The outcome's known. Why try? Return your rusty sword to battered sheath, bow your head and bend your stubborn knee. Why take the field when you cannot win the war? But Harry -- he went down to Agincourt.

PLEASE. i know the length is intimidating i KNOW it’s a very long fic but please. please read down to agincourt i am begging you. head in my HANDS this series is incredible.

Non Supernatural AUS

Long-Term Relationship by bendingsignpost (2.7k)

Castiel says, budging over to make room for Dean on the couch, “I thought we should have a serious talk about our relationship.”

Reflexively, Dean laughs.

Castiel does not.

“Uh, Cas... you know we’re not dating, right?”

look man it’s bendingsignpost okay. it’s bendingsignpost it’s good and it’s sweet and you should read it

One White Lie by komodobits (11k)

Castiel takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell. He doesn’t need to run through what he’s going to say – he’s already planned and edited and rehearsed it a thousand times. He is going to ask Dean Winchester out to dinner. If it’s not too forward, he’ll say, perfectly charming. You see, I’ve seen you around the neighbourhood and you always seem so earnest and I’d really like to get to know you bette— The door swings open, and Castiel panics.

He intends to excuse himself. He means to apologise and come back some other time. However, in a moment of blind fear, what comes out of his mouth instead are the words, “Could you spare a moment for Jesus Christ?”

do you ever pretend to be a jehovahs witness for months to hang out with the guy you like because you fucked up asking him out? yeah.

separate ways and sleeping dogs by sobsicles (53k)

Dean is three years sober when Cas comes back into town.

~~~

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Dean, once again, has to swallow the urge to offer to swallow something else. It's very hard to resist the gut-wrenching pull of want that hooks in his chest whenever he looks at Cas. And to think, he used to have him, used to be able to act on that want.

God, he's so fucking stupid.

Well, there's no point in kicking himself three years later for shit he can't change. He'll just sit right here and pretend that his fingers aren't twitching with the urge to reach out and touch. He can't do that anymore, and it's his own damn fault.

"Three years ago," Cas prompts.

Dean huffs a weak laugh. "Yeah. Eventful."

this fic hit me SO hard emotionally oh my god. don’t have much to say bc most of my thoughts on this fic are very personal but my god read this please

Everyone’s a Critic by Englandwouldfall (109k)

The one where uninspired chef Dean Winchester has a one night stand with the male (!) food critic who described the flavour of his garlic bread as 'closeted' and accidentally ends up dating him to try and prove that he's a kick ass chef, thank you very much.

(He may have a point about the 'closeted' thing).

this one is SO fun. dating the food critic who called your garlic bread closeted and lying about your career because you’re embarrassed and you want to redeem your food in his eyes but then you fall in love with him

Non Destiel Centric

gender? you mean that thing i have that pisses people off? by bigender dean winchester (homosexualitie) (946 words)

sam and dean paint each other's nails and dean abuses the technicalities of her gender. what more could you want?

HELLO HE/SHE DEAN COMMUNITY oh my god the pure rush of euphoria reading this. oh my god. oh my god.

the quiet road to a distant city by rottingbrains (1.2k)

Sam stares out the windshield again. They’re approaching a city, and she can see the lights in the distance. She’s past the danger zone, and she feels like the world around her reflects that in some way she can’t put into words- as if God is telling her that it’s okay. She did the right thing, and soon she will be past the lonely unknown and into the warm, forgiving light of acceptance. Or something. Come to think of it, the lights only look warm from far away, and she knows that the actual city will seem far less welcoming. Still. Best not to imagine the worst when it’s already going well.

required reading for transfem lesbian sam fans. fics that live in your ribcage to make your heart feel good

Four People Ruby Seduced & One She Actually Fell For (Or: Ruby's Epic Love Affair with Humanity in General and Sam in Specific) by tuesday (3.7k)

In which Ruby has a lot of sex, is not any kind of therapist that would be legal, and helps a few people out for her own reasons. (S4/S5 AU)

for everyone out there who enjoys ruby being a girlboss <3

Fractured Link by Trell (orphan_account) (5.5k)

Meg goes on, resolute despite the way Dean flinches, "He likes me. He likes me a lot, and I like him back, and that's probably good enough for both of us. But fuck me for saying so, Dean-o, he loves you, probably more than anything else on his daddy's green Earth, and you need to man up and give back what Clarence over there has been devoting to you for years."

this is meg/dean/cas which is not smth i really seek out but this was extremely good. set in s7 so it’s meg and dean and honey cas and it’s a lot of dean figuring his shit out and trying to forgive cas and i love meg a lot in this

#spn #supernatural #destiel #deancas #mine

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nevertheless-moving · 4 years ago

Text

Suicidal Misunderstanding AU Part V (SW Time Travel AU #27)

Part I - - - - - Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV

After a meandering walk through what felt like every path the hanging gardens and marsh pools had to offer, Obi-Wan stopped to lean against a stone wall.

“Obi-Wan? Are you ready to stop and eat something? As nice as this has been, I’m getting hungry and I’m guessing you are too.”

Anakin was only being a little sarcastic. It had genuinely been nice to peacefully spend the day with Obi-Wan like this- they hadn’t been to the marsh habitats since the war started. He had resigned himself to watching Obi-Wan enthusiastically greet every wandering knight, master, and elder who they passed.

It was actually starting to become impressive- Anakin never realized how many members of the Order his Master was friendly with- no wonder he was given a seat on the high council! But after the last heartfelt clasping of hands with a completely unfamiliar Bothan (thankfully for Anakin’s petty jealousy, Obi-Wan wasn’t hugging everyone), Anakin had asked who the knight was.

Obi Wan frowned. “No idea. But I suppose I must have seen him somewhere.”

Anakin was no longer feeling impressed.

When a group of crechelings wandered by, Obi-Wan appeared briefly overwhelmed with emotion. His shields (apparently even better drunken than sober) didn’t let anything specific slip. But he knew Obi-Wan was feeling something intensely. Bizarrely, instead of saying hello, Obi-Wan hurried out and away with Anakin dragged behind, bringing them back to the stone wall and their skipped breakfast.

“Not yet.” Obi-Wan responded hoarsely. “I want to visit the Room of A Thousand Fountains first, and say a few more goodbyes.”

“Goodbyes?” Anakin asked, a slight chill running down his back. “We’re not shipping back out until the end of the week. Do you always say goodbye to everyone this thoroughly before redeployment?”

“No. Do you think I should have?” Obi-Wan frowned. “I feel like that would have been more upsetting than anything else.”

“Ok then, why are you saying goodbye now? To the whole order?”

Obi-Wan didn’t reply, he just pushed off the wall to continue on his quest to apparently visit every corner of the temple.

“Master, please, you’re worrying me. If you won’t eat, then let me take you to the Healing Halls so they can check you over for drugs. We can visit the fountains after.”

Obi-Wan finally paused, thinking that over. “I would like to see Bant. She should be there, right?”

Bant did end up being there, and was more touched than disturbed by Obi-Wan’s sincere joy to see her. While Obi-Wan wandered the halls greeting injured Knights, she ran several tests.

“As far as I can tell, all you had last night was human-appropriate alcohol. No force-user specific drug interactions, and no traces of Spice. It’s possible there’s something I missed, but your force presence doesn’t feel off balance in the manner I specifically associate with drug-induced altered perception. Your blood sugar is a little low and you’re somewhat dehydrated, especially considering you’re in the temple, not out on a mission.”

“I’ll take care of my physical needs after I visit the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Just because a vision isn’t purely induced by the force doesn’t mean I can’t draw meaning from it. I do appreciate how you always looked out for me though, Bant. I’ve missed your fussing.” Obi-Wan smiled, clasping one of her hands in his.

Bant sighed, “If Master Yoda wasn’t off world I’d urge you to talk to him. I haven’t seen you this shaken by a vision since we were younglings. Even if you do seem to be handling it fairly... calmly.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “I’ll tell him you said that someday. I might be wrong, but I think he’ll be happy to learn about-” Obi-Wan gestured around vaguely, “all this. I’ll talk to him at some point. I’m sure of it.”

She glanced over at Anakin, who had been a quietly looming shadow the whole visit. He seemed both relieved by the diagnosis as well as bewildered. “Can I speak to you privately?”

Obi-Wan nodded and Anakin stalked out of the test room.

She scrutinized him, worry more obvious now, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you slipping tenses this whole time. You’re still not sure where your vision ends and reality begins, are you? Do you even know when you are?”

Obi-Wan looked down. “I know what’s real and what’s not. I’m just...enjoying not fully living in the moment. I have every intention of waking up.”

“Yeah, that’s a BIG red flag, Obi-Wan. Force.” She tilted her head back and forth, examining him with obvious concern. “I am scheduling an appointment for a soul healer and you are going to go, understand?” She demanded.

Obi-Wan agreed far too easily. She reluctantly let him leave with an earnest promise to eat something real.

Obi-Wan came outside to find Anakin pacing.

“I’m glad you’re still here,” he told his former Padawan, ignoring the ache in his chest.

“Of course Ori’vod,” Anakin said, ducking his head with a shy smile. “What did Bant say?”

“She wants me to eat something real and visit a soul healer.” Obi-Wan sighed. “Well, I can do at least one of those things.”

“A soul healer! She thinks you’re crazy?” Anakin asked offended.

“First of all, you don’t have to be unstable to visit a soul healer. I’ve seen them in the past, when there wasn’t as much wrong with me. I’m sorry if I led you to believe you couldn’t seek out help for your problems.” Obi-Wan said. Another mistake.

“I-I know that. I just thought, you know, Jedi can be judgmental of that sort of thing. A good Jedi is supposed to be able to just, meditate stuff away.” Anakin said bitterly.

Obi-Wan thought furiously. Was this why he had been so blindsided by Anakin’s fall? Had his padawan been so afraid of judgement that he hid all of the warning sides of his struggles with darkness? Maybe he could ask Owen for some sort of petty assistance when he brought over bantha milk next time, to demonstrate to young Luke that it was ok to ask for help. No, he was probably still too young for those sorts of lessons to have much meaning. The insight would require meditation, when he was more sober.

Unsure how ‘Anakin’ would respond, Obi-Wan tentatively said, “You’re right, that some Jedi might judge for seeking such aid. But I think in the last years of the war, that sort of opinion became less and less common. After all, an ideal Jedi shouldn’t be leading an army. I don’t know if anyone can be perfect during war, let alone a peacekeeper.”

When that failed to garner positive or negative reply, Obi-Wan let out a breath. “It hardly matters, since I can’t exactly visit a therapist, let alone a soul healer, given my present living conditions.”

Anakin seemed to process that, giving Obi-Wan a long, searching look. “What’s your next point?”

“Hmm?”

“You said first of all, and I think that was all one thing, so what’s your second point?”

“Not exactly being able to visit a soul healer regularly doesn’t count as a separate retort?”

“I guess? I’m just trying to understand what you’re trying to tell me” A twinge of frustration crept into Anakin’s otherwise level tone.

"I appreciate that, truly, and I regret the number of hurtful miscommunications that sprung up from me failing to do just that. Well, I suppose, by most reasonable standards, I am ‘crazy.’ Getting some help with unraveling my mind would probably be best, if it were an option, but it isn’t so...” Obi-Wan shrugged.

Before any followup questions could be asked, they finally arrived at the main entrance to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. The archway was stunning, water flowing upwards along the stone in intricate, shifting tessellations. When they stepped through, Obi-Wan was delighted to see Mace Windu sitting on a bench by the entrance.

“Mace! I was hoping to see you.”

Mace looked at him. He seemed at first, to be utterly unsurprised by the duo’s arrival. But the longer he stared, the more visible shock overtook his features. “Master Koon recommended I look for you...force what happened.”

Obi-Wan just chuckled. “Oh you know. What didn’t happen.”

“What’s wrong?” Anakin asked urgently. “What do you see, Master Windu?”

Obi-Wan tried to wave them both off, laugh a little more forced. “Please, I came here to relax. I’m sure it would be easier to say what’s not wrong with-”

“Kark it, Obi-Wan this isn’t a joking matter.” Master Windu’s voice was calm, but insistent. He slowly started approaching Obi-Wan as though the fellow council member were a feral loth-cat.

“You look as if...nearly every shatter point around you has broken open. Force, I think you’ve been carrying some of these with you since you were a child. Usually when things that deep break...And some of these- some of these are too big to have just affected you.” Mace hesitantly reached forward, brushing against something invisible.

A chill ran down Anakin’s spine, again. What the kriff did Obi-Wan see in his vision? Last night he mentioned the temple burning, their rooms turned to ash, and Anakin had just...let that go in favor of greedily spending time with this addictively affectionate version of Obi-Wan.

“Mace...” Obi-Wan groaned. “I had been wondering what you might say to me but this is...please, can’t you just give me a hug and let me enjoy the peace for one more hour.”

“Master Kenobi,” Mace said, seeming to revert to an even more serious version of himself. “What I see cracked open around you is bigger than the reemergence of the Sith on Naboo, bigger than the first battle of Genosis. Whatever has happened, you cannot possibly keep it to yourself, practically or morally.”

To the shock of both Windu and Skywalker, Obi-Wan actually rolled his eyes at that. “Mace. You are not telling me anything I do not already know. And I am choosing to spend a little longer enjoying the unique joys of the Temple before dealing with the harshness of reality. Haven’t I earned a small break? I’m not abandoning my duty, but if I don’t take care of myself where I can I’ll go madder than I already have.”

At no point did Obi-Wan’s voice get whiny or upset, he just calmly dropped a series of bombshells like he was repeating an argument.

Mace and Anakin exchanged glances, but if Mace was trying to communicate something, it was utterly lost on Anakin.

“Alright, Master Kenobi. I trust your judgement.”

And, to Anakin’s shock, Mace pulled Obi-Wan for a tight hug. “And I care about you, Obi-Wan.”

For a brief, hysterical moment, Anakin Skywalker wondered if he was about to witness his Master break down crying on the shoulder of Mace Windu the Master of the Jedi Order.

But Obi-Wan just let out a slow breath and returned the embrace before bowing deeply in Respect. Windu returned the bow with a placid expression.

“If you’ll excuse me...I think I’d like to stand by the waterfall alone for a moment.” He paused, turning to address Anakin. “If you’re willing to wait for me, I’ll happily rejoin you by the glowing mushrooms.” Anakin nodded silently and Obi-Wan beamed before leaving the two alone together.

Mace turned to the young knight in a silent demand for answers, and, for once, Anakin was eager to share what he was dealing with. “He came back drunk last night, talking about the temple burning down, and being well-”

“Unusually emotionally expressive?” Mace offered.

Anakin nodded. “Took a blood sample to analyze in the morning. He woke determined to hug every sentient being in the temple. I actually managed to get him to the halls just before we came here; Master Eerin said there was nothing in his system and...I just don’t know. He’s been off today, but not in a bad way, exactly. Could a vision have caused the shattering you saw?

Mace furrowed his brow. “Not any vision like I’ve ever seen but...these are dark times. And Master Kenobi has had historically bad luck. If some new cataclysm is coming for us- I absolutely believe he’d be the first of us to stumble into it. Something terrible and extraordinary must have happened in the 24 hours since I last saw him in person.”

A beat passed.

“I should go to the mushrooms before I lose track of him,” Anakin said quietly.

Mace nodded. “Skywalker, if you need assistance dragging him back to the healers for whatever reason, comm me, understood?”

“Understood. Master Koon said the same.” the Knight replied, heart pounding.

The Windu clasped him on the shoulder firmly, "I’m going to check in with Master Eerin. It’s possible she has some suspicions that my observations will help her confirm. Until then...”

“I’ll look out for him.” Anakin promised.

Part VI

#star wars #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au no 27 #my au #sw #time travel #obi wan kenobi needs a hug #oh boy we are BUILDING towards the #angst #it 1am #lol im supposed to work tomorrow but ive said that before #thank you everyone for being supportive im glad youre all hyperventilating with me over this sad boy

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passable-talent · 5 years ago

Note

part 4 was so so good!!!!! can you make a part 5? i’m in love with your writing and that series!!! you’re feeding my need for zuko content and i love u for that.

it literally took exactly 19 minutes to get a request for part 5

THANK U THO SHDBCNDGS IM HAPPY YOURE ENJOYING WHAT I DO

been excited to get back to this one, y’all aren’t ready 😏

OKAY I SAID YALL WERENT READY BEFORE I EVEN WROTE IT BUT NOW IVE WRITTEN IT AND LET ME FUCKING REITERATE: YALL ARE NOT F U C K I N G R E A D Y

For chapter five, and my five hundred follower special, we will go back to spring of the year 100 AG, right before Azula’s coup succeeded in their destruction of Ba Sing Se . . .

“So what’s happening?” You asked Mushi as the two of you hurried through the streets of the upper ring.

“Come close,” Mushi answered, and your footsteps brought you beside him.

“My nephew and I are more than refugees,” he began, “my name is Iroh, and I am the brother of the Fire Lord. My nephew, Zuko, is the banished prince of the Fire Nation. I’m sorry we lied to you, but we needed to, in order to stay in Ba Sing Se where we were safe from our family.” Your head reeled, but you kept beside him, because still you trusted this man. You were trained to react and to think, thanks to the Dai Li, so you analyzed his words.

“Were?” you questioned, wondering why he seemed to suggest that he was no longer safe.

“My niece, Princess Azula, has infiltrated the city. She tried to capture me- she did capture Zuko.” Your eyes widened, and your speed increased beside Iroh. “I need your help to retrieve him, and the Avatar’s. That’s where we’re headed.” You looked up at the house you were approaching, half caved in from some sort of destruction. What had happened here?

“The Avatar?” you asked, and Iroh nodded, pausing in front of the door to knock politely. You waited beside him, but held your forehead- you were so shocked about everything you were finding out.

Zuko- not Lee. The banished prince of the Fire Nation. You hadn’t even known that the prince of the Fire Nation had been banished! What else didn’t you know about the other nations of the world beyond the walls of Ba Sing Se?

Why had this information been kept from you? You were training to be in the Dai Li, one of the best and most important police forces of the Earth Kingdom, shouldn’t this information be privy to you? Why wasn’t it?

You were pulled from your thoughts as a girl opened the door, and regarded Iroh with friendliness.

“I need your help,” he began, and you watched the reactions of the other two at the door. They seemed frightened by Iroh- what kind of history had they that you weren’t aware of?

Why were you kept in the dark about everything?

“You guys know each other?” demanded the boy you had to assume was the avatar, who didn’t seem much concerned with your presence. Maybe it was the earth kingdom robes?

“I met him in the woods once, and knocked him down,” answered the girl, and with her gaze that didn’t seem focused on the avatar you wondered if maybe she was blind. She, however, seemed like a strong earthbender. It was one of the things you were trained to pick up on in the Dai Li, and relied entirely on how a person carried herself. “Then he gave me tea and some very good advice.”

“May we come in?” Iroh asked sheepishly, and you wondered why there wasn’t more urgency to his tone.

“Who’s your friend?” the clearly water tribe boy demanded, and you lifted your chin, being acknowledged.

“I’m Y/N, a soon-to-be member of the Dai Li,” you answered, “You can trust me.”

“The Dai Li?” Avatar Aang responded, more shock in his face than before.

“That makes us even less likely to trust you!!” the water tribe boy shouted, and your eyebrows knitted together.

“The Dai Li are the protectors of the city!” you said, though you felt doubt gnaw at your spine- they had kept so much from you, their own cadet.

Iroh turned his eyes to you, and something in his gaze told you to hush up.

“Princess Azula is here, in Ba Sing Se,” Iroh told them, his tone stern and serious.

“She must have Katara!” Aang said, and you looked to Iroh. You didn’t know these people- but that Azula would capture both Zuko and a friend of the avatar meant that she was one of two things: insanely brave or insanely stupid.

“She has captured my nephew, as well,” Iroh said.

“Then we’ll work together to fight Azula, and save Katara and Zuko,” the avatar said, and you felt a little lightness crawl into your heart. You’d be able to help save Zuko, and a friend of the avatar? You were about to go on a crazy adventure.

“Whoa there,” said the water tribe boy, walking back into the conversation, “you lost me at ‘Zuko.’ “

“I know how you must feel about my nephew,” Iroh began, and your expression softened. There was definitely history here, and you’d be interested to learn it. “But believe me when I tell you, there is good inside him.” You brought your eyes to the avatar’s, and nodded, trying to fathom something to say that they’d believe. They didn’t know you, didn’t know what you stood for, and it seemed that you didn’t know much of that yourself.

“I’ve known Zuko for a while,” you said, “and he’s never been anything other than a scared and polite refugee.”

“Good inside him isn’t enough!” The water tribe boy insisted, “Why don’t you come back when it’s outside him too, okay?” Your chest deflated further, and you had to wonder: what had Zuko done, what had Zuko been, that they had this strong of a hatred for him?

Did you want to know?

“Katara’s in trouble,” Aang said to his friend, “All of Ba Sing Se’s in trouble. Working together is our best chance.”

On the way toward the catacombs of the city underneath the palace, you learned Sokka and Toph’s names, as well as the true treachery of the Dai Lee. You learned about the war with the Fire Nation, and had a smile on your face as you took in how lucky you were that the two firebenders whom you had come to love were the only two on the right side of this war.

“Well, whaddaya know, there is an ancient city down there,” Toph said, her hand pressed to the stone courtyard, “but it’s deep.” She opened up a large hole in the stone, heading downward.

“How can you tell?” You asked, and she cracked her knuckles in your direction.

“Right, you’re classically trained,” she mocked with a rude laugh, which made you smile. “I can sense seismic activity through stone. Maybe I’ll teach you, when this is over.” You nodded, intrigued, before Sokka grabbed your attention.

“We should split up. Aang, you go with Iroh and Y/N to look for Katara and the angry jerk,” he said. “No offense,” he added in Iroh’s direction, and once again you found yourself confused on the nature of their shared past when Iroh said “none taken.”

“And I’ll go with Toph to warn the Earth King about Azula’s Coup.”

Aang, Iroh, and you began heading down into the tunnel, Iroh holding up fire for light while you and Aang took turns lengthening the tunnel downwards.

“So, Toph thinks you give pretty good advice,” Aang said, seeming to try to make conversation. “And great tea.” A smile came to your face- Iroh’s tea was the reason that you were, apparently, romantically involved with the prince of the Fire Nation.

Imagine that.

“The key to both is proper aging,” Iroh said, and you laughed under your breath. “What’s on your mind?” Aang paused, and took his turn lengthening the tunnel.

“Well, I met with this guru who was supposed to help me master the avatar state and control this great power.” You turned to look at the avatar as you walked, amazed at both his story and his mere stature. You never thought that you’d get to meet the avatar.

“But to do it, I had to let go of someone I love, and I just couldn’t.” You reached the end of the tunnel, and took stance beside Iroh to take your turn lengthening it. However, Iroh began speaking, and you figured it rude to interrupt him.

“Perfection and power are overrated. I think you are very wise to choose happiness, and love.” With a smile on your face you earthbent and opened up the tunnel further, deciding then and there that you would stick with Iroh. Surely you weren’t to stay and train with the Dai Li, and as it seemed he was teaming up with the avatar, maybe you’d get to help fight in the war!

“But what happens if we can’t save everyone and beat Azula?” You didn’t answer, and let Iroh, both because you didn’t know the answer, and because you felt that the scope of your knowledge and importance wasn’t what it needed to be to even participate in this conversation.

“Without the avatar state, what if I’m not powerful enough?”

“I don’t know the answer,” Iroh said, making you gaze to the side at him. “Sometimes life is like this dark tunnel. You can’t always see the light at the end of the tunnel, but if you just keep moving...” Iroh paused as Aang took his turn to break through the stone in front of you, revealing light and a wide open new space, “...you will come to a better place.” You paused, standing on the edge of a cliff, to look out over the ancient city. There was a fountain in front of you, making the air smell fresh even though you were so far below ground. It was amazing, and part of you wished you could have stayed. However, you knew that there was much more pressing matters, and so you quickly moved along with Iroh and Aang into another chamber to hopefully find the prisoners you were looking for.

Aang burst through another wall of stone, and quickly disappeared through the hole as you and Iroh followed.

“Aang!” A girl shouted before embracing him, and you barely put it together that this must be ‘Katara’ before your feet had carried you to Zuko, and hugged him tightly. You yielded this, however, to Iroh, who hugged him with just as much relief as you felt in your heart.

“Uncle, I don’t understand,” Zuko said, a malice you didn’t recognize glinting in his eyes. “What are you doing with the avatar?”

“Saving you, that’s what,” Aang said, and Zuko began to lunge before Iroh caught his chest. You flinched- this wasn’t the boy you knew at all.

“Zuko, it’s time we talked,” Iroh told him, then looking at Aang and Katara. “Go help your other friends. We’ll catch up with you.” Aang and Katara turned away while you stood still, but Iroh turned to you. “You as well. It’ll be alright.” You nodded, and raced down the tunnel after Katara.

“We’ve gotta find Sokka and Toph!” Katara shouted, but you couldn’t answer her before you heard roaring behind you. You didn’t recognize the sound, but when you turned and saw blue fire, nothing could’ve prepared you.

This wasn’t in your training. It wasn’t in your index of attacks to react to. You had no idea what to do- if it wasn’t for Aang and the wall that he raised, you would’ve surely been charred on the spot.

You didn’t recognize the girl that had shot it, but you felt that it was safe to assume it must’ve been Azula.

Katara raced around the wall and picked up water, revealing herself as a powerful water bender before your eyes. The fight between her and Azula created a cloud of steam, and you staggered back even further from Aang’s wall, your chest rising and falling quickly.

You were panicking.

All of that training, everything that your instructors had ever done to harden your will and sharpen your reaction time, it stood nothing against this. This, with the sister of the guy you were crushing on shooting blue fire at the avatar, and you weren’t even sure who’s side you should be on.

That was stupid, of course you knew you should be on the avatar’s side. But something in your head whispered doubts- she was Zuko’s sister. She was the leader of the Dai Li, who you belonged to.

Azula appeared from the steam and shot two fireballs at Aang and Katara, who were forty or so feet in front of you. You just watched, dumbfounded, and realized quickly that she wasn’t aiming at you. She wasn’t targeting you at all.

She landed on a column, which Aang rocked beneath her, and she fell down to stand between Aang and Katara, her back to you. She kept her hands pointed at both of them, but suddenly, her attention turned toward you.

“You’re Y/N, right?” She asked, and your eyes widened. “I remember you. You’re a very impressive cadet, you could be an asset to me. I control the Dai Li, now, and so your allegiance is to me.”

Just for a moment, Katara’s gaze turned to you, wondering if there was any truth to that statement.

Was there?

A fireball impacted the ground between Aang and Azula and you staggered backward, looking up for the source of the flame.

Zuko. Relief filled your chest- at least you knew for sure you were on his side.

As though time was frozen, you watched as he turned his ready stance from aiming at Aang, to aiming at Azula, and your tension melted away. You could fight beside Zuko and the avatar and Katara, and surely between the four of you the princess would be defeated.

Then, from your position fifty feet behind Aang, you saw Zuko’s eyes land on the avatar.

The calmness drifted away, and all you saw was rage.

Fire blasted toward Aang, and he couldn’t avoid the plume, his air bending keeping him from harm but also sending him back beside you. Zuko’s fire kept coming, and you threw up a wall in front of you, turning to the side with your body made into a smaller target out of pure fear.

Zuko had turned on Aang. He’d shot fire at Aang- he’d shot fire at you.

Aang leapt away to continue his battle, which left you behind your wall of stone, paralyzed with fear and indecision and betrayal and anger and sadness.

Didn’t you know Zuko at all? That look in his eye... you had never seen that before. There was pure rage inside him, and you couldn’t understand it, you couldn’t comprehend how this was the boy you’d cared for.

You heard fire roaring throughout the cave, and the whooshing of the wind that Aang sent back. Rocks clattered to the floor and water shot around the cavern, and it was all too much, the sounds of martial arts and groaning and impacts, you couldn’t get a clear thought through your mind.

“I thought you had changed!” Katara’s yell echoed off the rocks, and just for a moment your hands lifted from your temple. Was she talking to Zuko?

“I have changed,” he answered, and it was in the silence that followed that you made up your mind, finally.

Zuko was on the wrong side of this war. Not as you’d thought.

You heard a yelp from Katara and brought up a hunk of earth underneath you, launching you across the cave and into a defensive position in front of her with a battle cry. Both Azula and Zuko seemed surprised by this decision, but before any of you could react, the rumbling of Aang’s reemergence interrupted the fight. They turned their attention to him, which gave you the moment to send a hunk of stone into both of their abdomens, knocking them backward. However, your eyes turned up with the sound of Dai Li stone chains, and you couldn’t pull your limbs in tight enough to avoid their sudden grip on you.

“No,” you snarled as Katara woke, and brought a ring of water around the both of you. You stood back to back with her, small finger movements slowly dissembling the stone chains around your wrists so you could help her in the fight.

But there were too many agents- you knew you couldn’t take them all on. Not even with a master waterbender at your back.

A gust of wind surprised you, and you broke free in time to see Aang rise from shattered crystal inside a beam of light. It was amazing- and you were stunned into awe.

Lightning struck the avatar.

Katara nearly drowned you in the wave she created, but you pulled up a slab of stone just in time to surf on it behind her, just like you had on summer days in Lake Laogai. Mowing down Dai Li agents, and the royal siblings, the two of you raced toward the falling avatar, before he was caught by Katara. Soaked, exhausted, and tears blurring your vision, you stood between her and the siblings, who walked toward her, as though they were predators, and she an easy meal.

Though you knew you should be watching them both, your eyes were on Zuko. Maybe, there was some of Lee left in him, and seeing you would bring it back. But his eyes were firmly on the dead-or-dying avatar, hungry, predatory, and your heart shattered.

Fire cut off their path and you looked up to see Iroh, who leapt down in front of even you.

“You’ve got to get out of here!” He shouted, looking back at you. “I’ll hold them off for as long as I can!” Katara stood and you joined her on Aang’s other side, carrying the avatar toward a waterfall, the sound of fire roaring behind you.

It was terrifying.

“Hold onto him!” Katara shouted, her grip tight on the avatar as she used her other hand to bend an upward spiral around the three of you.

You watched Iroh face Zuko until the rock covered your vision, and you closed your eyes.

Back on Appa, you kneeled behind Sokka, one eye keeping a watch on Katara as she attempted to heal Aang. But mostly, you gripped Appa’s fur, and cried.

The Dai Li had lied to you. Zuko and Iroh had lied to you. The Dia Li turned on you. Zuko turned on you. Zuko turned on Iroh, Azula killed the avatar. Everything was so messed up, beyond proportion, skewed beyond belief. The boy you thought you might’ve loved...

He’d never existed in the first place.

And though the avatar lived, you laid your forehead to the bison’s back, and sobbed.

tag list for this series- @furblrwurblr @eridanuswave

oh yeah request for pt 6 /// already been requested y’all are fine

edit: | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 |

-🦌 Roe

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chocoholicannanymous · 3 years ago

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If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Pt XVIII

This is the last part of this. Of a story that I was pretty certain I wouldn’t finish and just posted the bit I had in my scraps and snippets tag for a lark. You read that, and you liked it, and your response made me want to try and finish it. And so here we are, ~29k finished fic.

Thank you for the support.

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, pt VI, pt VII, pt VIII, pt IX, pt X, pt XI, pt XII, pt XIII, pt XIV, pt XV, pt XVI and pt XVII.

New York is big and loud and filthy and expensive.

Kurt's first apartment had been an absolute rathole. He'd shared it with four others, and his “room” had been a repurposed coatroom. There had been just enough place for a bed and a tiny table instead of a desk. He'd only brought the most necessary in way of clothing, and with the exception of two shirts hanging from a nail in the wall he'd been forced to keep everything in a suitcase under the bed.

He'd moved out after a month, tired of never being able to keep food in the kitchen, weary of the nicks surrounding the lock on his door – he'd replaced the old one day 1, but even the best of locks only went so far – and fed up with having to carry all his valuables with him at all times.

Luckily the Warbler network had activated and Trent's older brother had offered up his guest room (and if that wasn't a sign of wealth, a student in New York with a guest room, then Kurt didn't know what was) for the rest of the year provided Kurt find someplace else to spend the night on those occasions it was needed. During the fall it'd mostly been solved by Sebastian coming to visit and the two sharing a cheap hotel room, and during the fall by Kurt spending the night at Sebastian's apartment. It had been tempting to move in with Sebastian then, but Kurt had resisted and they both agreed they'd become stronger for it.

Living together had been tough, especially since Sebastian had a lot more money available than Kurt. They'd managed to find a balance though and looking back Kurt feels proud of the work they'd put in to make it work. Three years (and counting) together and these days Kurt is willing to proclaim that Sebastian is as much of a perfect boyfriend as it's possible to be.

Yes, New York is still loud and filthy and big, but it's also full of light and laughter and love. Kurt's learned to find his way around both city and school, and he's on track for graduation with excellent prospects. Life is good.

Of course, that kind of means he's overdue for a cold shower and unfortunately it comes as cold and icy as is possible.

“Blaine. I guess I should have known you'd turn up.”

Like a bad penny, Kurt thinks. His ex-boyfriend just smiles wider at the words, clearly not picking up on the undertones.

“Yes! I'll always come back to you, Kurt. We're meant to be – you're my soulmate.”

Kurt shudders. All these years, and he still haven't gotten over his negative reaction to those words.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure you and I have different interpretations of what those things mean. Personally I can't see how someone who walked out of my life without a word years ago could be considered my 'soulmate', but that's me.”

“That's not fair! I never wanted to leave you, but my parents made me.”

Blaine does this thing with his face that resembles what Kurt remembers of Blaine's “I've apologized, sort of, and you should forgive me now” expression and Kurt thinks that if Blaine could see himself he'd never ever do it again. It's not pretty. It kind of looks like he's about to shit his pants, frankly.

“Right. Your parents. And why, exactly, were they so determined to get you out of Lima without saying goodbye?”

Blaine flinches, and Kurt can see the realization hit him. Strange. It's as if he never even thought about the possibility that Kurt would know about the lies Blaine had told. Emotions run across Blaine's eyes and face, one after the other, and Kurt just waits without even trying to figure out what's going through his ex's mind. He's beyond caring.

“Kurt, I... I, I have a confession to make. When I got home that last night, my parents, they were waiting up for me. They made assumptions, and I, I let them.”

Blaine's face twists, and a couple of tears start falling. Kurt would be touched, really he would, except he happens to know that Blaine can cry on command.

“I know I shouldn't have, I know it was wrong, I was just so afraid! I thought they'd throw me out, and so I kept quiet and did what they wanted. I'm so sorry I did that to you.

“I love you, Kurt!”

The thing is, he can remember when those words from Blaine's lips would make him melt. That's no longer true. Now he listens to them like he would a performance, and he finds them lacking. He should have gone for soft instead of intense, a hint of tears maybe, not volume and anger.

This isn't school though, even though it very much is a performance, nor is it worth critiquing. It's not worth anything, really. Kurt sighs a little, just wanting all of it to be over and Blaine to be gone.

“Here's the thing. I understand, I guess. In your shoes I would have been worried to tell my dad the truth too. I think just about every teenager out there would be at least a little afraid to tell their parents they got drunk and stupid.

“But I also think that just about every teenager out there knows that there's some kind of middle-ground between 'I got drunk and tried to rape my boyfriend' and 'my boyfriend drugged me and tried to rape me'. Except apparently you didn't. You just went with what would get you of the hook the fastest and easiest.”

“Hey! That's not fair!”

“Oh, it isn't? You doing what you did is okay, but me calling it what it was is unfair? Now, why am I not the least bit surprised that that's how you feel?

“You know, at first I didn't understand how you could do it. How you could say you loved me and then not just leave me, but let your parents believe that I would do something like that to you. Well, that you could let anyone think I'd do that to anyone.

“But as I said, I understand why you did it.”

A triumphant look flash up in Blaine's eyes. Oh, he's doing a pretty good job at hiding it – much better than he would have been able to as a teenager – but Kurt knows him, and he's looking for it.

“You threw me under the bus because you knew it'd be an easy out. You could have told your parents something else, anything else, but you chose the worst possible lie – one you had to have known would get me in trouble. You did it because it was easy, and it would get you of the hook – maybe even get you some sympathy instead of the punishment you deserved – and you did it because that was all you cared about. You.

“I always knew you were a bit self-involved, but I told myself it was just part of you being a performer. A healthy ego's pretty much a must, and I used to think that was it. Except it turned out you were so focused on you, and your needs and wants, that nothing else mattered. Certainly not me.

“It took me a while to accept, but I know now that regardless of what you said you didn't love me. Not really. You might have thought you did, but Blaine? Love means that the other person's just as important to you as you yourself are. And I never was that to you.”

He ignores Blaine's protests and just continues, projecting his voice to be heard over the barely restrained excuses and lies.

“The truth is that your lack of empathy and care for other people borders on Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and quite frankly I am better off for not having you remain in my life. Just don't expect me to thank you for it though.

“No one else will either. Do you realize how many people you worried with your little disappearing act? There was quite a few at Dalton who were convinced that your parents had shipped you off to conversion camp. They were counting down until your 18th birthday and from what I heard there was even the beginning of a fund to pay your way at Dalton if you escaped and were disowned.”

There's a triumphant gleam in Blaine's eyes. Clearly he's pleased about his friends being so worried about him and so ready to help him out. Kurt just wants to stomp that light out. Violently.

“Then when you didn't resurface after your birthday a few started worrying that your parents had you in a mental hospital, and there was talk of trying to stage some kind of rescue. That only lasted so long, of course.

“You see, somehow it's hard to convince anyone that their friend is practically jailed and in need of a rescue when they're seen out and about clubbing in L.A.. After all, these days everyone carries a phone, so the idea that you were unable to contact someone – anyone – and ask for help went up in flames pretty quick after that.”

Thad had been so angry that he'd made sure every single Dalton student that had ever know Blaine found out, and even the boy's most die-hard supporters had given up then and there.

They'd all understood not wanting to getting into a conflict with your family, especially when said family usually paid for college and any possible trust funds tended to be under the family's control for a while longer. What they hadn't understood was Blaine's total lack of communication. Email telling them that Blaine was okay but under orders not to contact anyone from Ohio would have gone a long way to ease worries, and was, they felt, the very least he owed them.

“Funny thing about you showing up here now? I can't help but remember that you turned 21 a couple of weeks ago. You didn't happen to get access to a trust fund then did you? Not that I actually care, but there are some old bets to settle.”

There wasn't, not really, but enough Warbler had warned Kurt about this very scenario with an added “I bet he shows up afterwards, thinking you'll take him back” for it to not quite be a lie.

Blaine splutters before launching into a long row of “explanations”, one more shitty than the other. It's obvious that he didn't expect Kurt to be angry with him, but instead to be welcomed with open arms. It's even sounding as if Blaine expected Kurt to take him back and just let him slide back into his life as if nothing had happened. Kurt isn't quite sure if Blaine intended for him to move in with Kurt and start a new life in New York, or if the idea was for Kurt to give up everything and follow Blaine back to L.A., but both options are equally ridiculous.

“Stop. Just, stop. I told you, I don't care. If you want to get in touch with any of your old friends from Dalton and McKinley and explain all of it to them, do so. But you don't need to explain anything to me. I don't want to hear it. Your window for explaining yourself to me closed years ago. It closed after you let your parents walk into a police station ready to have me charged with rape.

“Nothing you can say will ever make that okay. Nothing you say can make me forgive you.”

Kurt stops himself and takes a deep breath. There's so much he could say, so many accusations that could be made, so much hatred to be poured out.

Blaine's actions had gotten Kurt into trouble, and could have landed him in jails. They'd been what had stopped Burt Hummel from running from reelection after being asked – while nothing had come from the Andersons' accusations there had still been enough people who had known about it for it to leak and ruin a political career. After all, who cared if it was true when it made for a good weapon? And “local congressman buries son's rape charge” made for a great weapon.

Kurt had been willing to risk it, but his dad hadn't wanted to. Had it leaked the only way to prove Kurt's innocence would have been to make the video of Blaine trying to assault Kurt public. No good parent does that to their kid had been Burt's position, and Kurt had been grateful.

That didn't mean he wasn't aware of exactly how much that had cost not just his dad but the whole state. The man who'd replaced his dad had been the kind of bigot that wasn't good for anyone, not even his followers.

Kurt still blames Blaine for that, and even if he'd been insane enough to consider forgiving everything else he's never forgiving that. The chance of making Blaine understand any of that is minuscule though. The chance of him caring is even less.

There is, simply put, no point in spending even another second on trying to get through to him.

“You're not welcome here. Please leave. Goodbye Blaine.”

Once the door is closed and locked behind Blaine Kurt finally relaxes. He's closing the door on Blaine in more than one way, finally able to truly do that – because regardless of what he's hoped he's always known that one day his former boyfriend would pop up again.

“If he comes back you're filing for a restraining order.”

“He won't come back, Sebastian.”

“You don't know that. He did today, didn't he?”

It's obvious that Sebastian is coming from a place of care and worry, and Kurt feels himself soften. Blaine hasn't just been the monster under Kurt's bed during all of these years.

“Yes, he did, and no, I guess I can't really know. But honey, I really don't think he will. Blaine was reminded today that actions have consequences, and he found out I have the means to ensure said consequences. Coming after me and trying to change my mind is more work than he's ever shown himself willing to put in.

“After all, he's not the kind to stick around when the spit hits the fan.”

Luckily Sebastian is.

~ The end ~

#chocoholic fics #kurt fic #kurt hummel #sebastian smythe #kurtbastian #itshtf

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yesimwriting · 3 years ago

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Anastasia (prologue)

A/n ive been talking about my Anastasia x SOC story for awhile and im finally ready to post the prequel,, ive also been working on some requests and thinking about my next multi-part fic (ive made some posts about it lol)

things to know before reading: i tend to like to make up my own countries when writing these type of politically/plot driven fics that revolve around a royal family bc i think it makes it not only easier to write but less confusing bc it takes out the issue of potentially conflicting with canon, so i made up the country ‘Anastasia’ is from,, this also follows the musical Anastasia a little more bc i feel like that version of the story is more mature and easier to write for SOC (the only difference is that not everyone is happy that Anastasia is alive and someone tries to kill her bc they hate the royal family)

Series Summary: y/n makes an unconventional deal with Kaz to save the life of her best friend. No one’s ever made a deal with the infamous Dirtyhands that resulted in them shedding the title of orphan from a revolution-torn country that can’t remember her life before the orphanage and taking on the title of Princess Anastasia. As time progresses, things are made more complicated as y/n has to deal with royals, revolutionaries, a grisha general who has a lot to gain from an alliance with a princess that doesn’t know what she’s doing, and potential feelings for a conflicted Kaz Brekker that has more to do with Anastasia’s disappearance than he’s ever admitted.

The world seems to be made up impossible things. Each day, people defy odds, strangers fall in love, the universe expands, and the Saints watch it all. I am not the kind of person to sneer at a miracle, to try to explain it away instead of acknowledging it for what it is.

But what this stranger is proposing is laughable.

I lean more into the chair, doing all I can to get away from the desk that he sits at. A nervous kind of giggle threatens to escape me, a laugh at the expense of the foolishness of the situation. If his demeanor was any less brooding, I would have already laughed at the irony. Kaz Brekker, the Dirtyhands, creating a ploy so colored by the fairytale notions of dreamers.

The longer I go without reacting, the worse this situation becomes. I haven’t seen Verne since Brekker and his people separated us. I can see the world of torment my eldest friend must be experiencing at this very moment while I sit at this desk.

“Me?” I’m the most ridiculous part of his plan. He said the only reason me and my partner are still alive is because I fit the general description of the kind of person he needs, and if I’m blackmailed into it he won’t need to waste kruge paying me. “A princess?”

He blinks, as uninterested and stoic as he’s been since he first ordered me into his office. “A pretend one,” his correction feels like a slight, “a surrogate one.”

My eyebrows furrow together. “But what--I know the odds of the real Anastasia coming back are beyond slim, but if we’re caught in a lie the Dowager Duchess of Avila will have all of us killed. She may be in Ravka now, and her title nothing more than decorative due to the revolution, but she still has people loyal to her.”

“Anastasia can’t come back.” The graveness of his voice is so certain a part of me has to wonder if he could have anything to do with her death. I dismiss the thought almost immediately, I don’t know his exact age, but he doesn’t look much older than me. He couldn’t have been more than two or three years older than Anastasia when she died, and she was a child at the time. “No one remains missing that long unless they’re dead.”

I awkwardly scratch the back of my wrist, “You’re the expert here.” No--I did not just say that out loud. “Sorry--I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Not that thinking it makes it any better, but at least then you wouldn’t know and I’d seem like less of an idiot and I wouldn’t be talking about it right now, and just rambling at a really inconvenient time for me to just...” I cringe slightly, opting to stare at his desk instead of meeting his judgmental gaze. “Sorry, again. Normally Verne is here, and he just kicks me in the shin or something to shut me up.”

“If you’d like to see what apparently is your only source of impulse control alive and in decent enough condition to kick anything ever again, you’ll agree to what I’m proposing.”

I straighten my posture slightly, nerves and guilt twisting in my stomach. “I’m going to be as transparent as physically possible.” The warning is for both of us, the urge to hide all my weaknesses bubbling in my chest. “Mr. Brekker.” That’s awkward--what am I supposed to call him? “I’m a university student that’s only in Ketterdam because of an academic scholarship. I’m from somewhere average--I’m not from a place nice enough to give me the manners I’d need to pass as a girl who spent her fundamental years growing up in luxury and I’m not from a place grimy enough to make me a quick enough liar to make up for what I don’t know.” I inhale slowly, ignoring the sting of the flaws I laid out for a cruel stranger. “I’m not particularly graceful or sly or talented in any field that someone like you would value. The closest thing I have to talent involves things that can be tracked on paper. I wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight, I was just doing a friend a favor.”

“You claim that you’re not a decent liar or a thief and yet your closest friend is one who believed himself talented enough to challenge me?”

I resist the urge to shrink back into my seat. “This is Ketterdam, you try finding someone that doesn’t dabble in crime and ambition.” He does’t reply to my retort, which I think means I won. “Cards on the table, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to save Verne, but you don’t want me for something like this.”

He pauses, jaw locked and eyes too stony for me to interpret. “Every flaw you just pointed out, every reason you think makes you unfit for this job, is exactly the reason I’m offering you this.” I keep a thousand questions to myself as I wait for him to continue. “Those used to lying lack the warmth that will be needed to sell this. The Dowager Duchess is a grandmother first when it comes to Anastasia, that’s why she’s offering so much gold. She, and the rest of the royals that desire to know what happened to Anastasia, want to believe the story I’m telling. If you present yourself as someone real and warm and you understand table manners enough to not disturb the serene picture they want, they’ll squint at ugly details until they disappear.”

Wow. I know that he’s intelligent, but what he’s constructing is so much more bullet proof than I thought it’d be. “I’ll admit you’ve constructed an airtight narrative.”

I know my approval means nothing to him, but it’s the most agreeable I’m willing to be. “A narrative the background you told me of fits perfectly.” I shouldn’t have answered all those questions he asked me earlier so honestly. “A child born in Avila who was sent to a Kerch orphanage due to a war-relief effort during the revolution. A faceless orphan who was found during the height of the revolution with no memory of anything before the morning she woke up in a hospital cot.”

I say nothing. My skin burns in protest of someone knowing so much about me. He must take my silence as a sign of me teetering the line away from what he wants, because he then says, “your friend is fortunate, if things aligned a little less perfectly he’d be dead already.”

Dead already. The words elate my heart in a way that pinches. He’s still alive. Verne is alive. “If I agree, you let me see him and then you let him go.”

“If you need a contract to believe me, I can have that arranged.” The words have an almost mocking edge. I guess it’d be a little ridiculous to get an official contract drawn up for something so small. “If you at any point change your mind, I’ll do the same.”

The threat is clear. I back out and Verne pays for it in blood. Verne’s safety is once again in my hand. This situation is much more precarious than Kaz Brekker wants it to seem. “You need me to do something that will literally last the rest of my life. Tiaras aren’t something you can slip in and out of.”

“Yes, I’m forcing you to give up a life in the slums for a palace for your friend’s life. This must be a difficult choice for you.”

I look down to avoid rolling my eyes. “It’s still permanent, and it’s large because at any point I could reveal the truth and take you down with me.”

“Remember who you speak to.” His voice has turned to pure darkness.

Don’t wince. Don’t wince. Don’t wince. “All I’m saying is that you’ve offered Verne’s life to buy my cooperation, but you have yet to mention the cost of my silence.”

His expression is sharp enough to draw blood. “The Dowager Duchess is old and sick, wait at most two years and you’ll have more gold than you could ever spend. The revolution took that family’s power, not the wealth the Duchess took with her to Ravka the night of the massacre.”

I shift awkwardly. “I’m not trying to get kruge from you for me.” I fold my hands neatly on my lap to avoid fidgeting. “Verne--he’s beyond desperate for kruge, that’s why he risked angering you.” The urge to shy away threatens to break my resolve. I think of all the times Verne has saved me. “Let him keep what he tried to take.” The request is awkward from my lips. I’m asking for more when I should should be grateful any type of mercy came from him. Any type of offer. “Half. Let him keep half.”

He’s silent for a long moment, weighing the implications of loss. “You’re already entitled enough to pass for royalty.” I don’t let myself shrink. “Deal, but not because you threatened me--try that again and you’ll find yourself wishing you had never left the orphanage you came from.” The relief is practically crushing. Verne is going to be okay. He’s going to live and my resistance earned him enough kruge to have a week or two without worry as he plans what he’ll do in my absence. “You better be as good a study as you made yourself seem to be.”

I don’t understand the second threat. “Studying?”

“You didn’t think you could wander into the Dowager Duchess’s home, use the excuse of amnesia to explain why you don’t even know your own mother’s name, and expect them to think you more than an Avilan orphan with a desire for wealth.”

“I actually don’t know my own mother’s name because of amnesia.”

He’s in no mood to be contradicted, glowering sharply, “not anymore, anything that doesn’t fit the narrative I’m constructing is no longer true.” He straightens slightly as he begins to pace away from me. “You’ll have five minutes with your friend and then we’ll see where your table manners are at. I know someone who knows enough to correct you.”

I try to picture where someone like him would meet someone that knows about etiquette. My mind provides nothing useful, but it doesn’t matter--I’ve agreed. It can’t be undone, not without having the blood of my dearest friend on my hands.

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maccreadysimp · 4 years ago

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breaking down this anti-ian article bc it bothers me ( from the child of a bipolar mother and a male teen with same sex attraction ) while also providing valid reasons ian sucks ( from someone who likes ian )

ive had this drafted for a while so i dont think i cover anything from season 11

tw for i^cest and r^pe

he was with a married man

in this point it points out that he was with kash and he continued his relationship with kash even after linda put cameras in the store

“Ian didn't seem to care about how wrong his affair with Kash was or how much it could hurt Kash's wife Linda, whom he saw at the store regularly. “

that is a quote from that part.

ian gallagher was fifteen in season one, kash was an older man who bought him gifts and payed attention to ian ,, that was not on ian , none of that was ian fault because he was a child

ian wasnt open with lip

“ Ian didn't tell Lip about his preferences and forced Lip to figure it out on his own. Lip was instantly accepting of his brother's truth and even offered to help him figure out any confusion he might be harboring, so it's really strange that Ian wasn't just upfront with his closest confidant from the start.”

no , lip wasnt forced to figure it out on his own and he also wasn’t instantly accepting.

in this point it mentions that ‘they’re extremely close ( bestfriends and brothers ) so its strange ian didnt tell him’

like point 1 , ian is a fifteen year old boy, growing up on the southside , and thoughout the show it has mentioned multiple times that the southside isnt that accepting

back to lip -- lip wasnt accepting, sure he was fine but ‘helping your younger brother figure it out’ by having a (female) classmate give him a blowjob isnt helping

he secretly dated his best friends brother

“Most friends have an unspoken rule about not dating each other's siblings, but Ian broke this rule by secretly entering into a relationship with Mandy's closeted brother Mickey.”

the only thing i have to say about this is , he was still with kash and mickey was a boy in his age group who was gay , growing up in the southside ian probably thought he was the token gay so of course hes going to chase after mickey

he stood by as kash attacked mickey

“Ian didn't do anything to stop Kash from shooting his new lover, and didn't even tell the police about his boss' over-the-top display of jealous action so proper justice could be served.”

okay. because two men he had fallen for had gotten into a fight, there was a gun involved and he panicked, in the end after mickey got shot he went to him

now to address the quote, he didnt say anything to the police because he probably knew that that would bring shame onto kash and his family, along with mickey and his family who are very homophobic

oh yeah and it was like 2011 and cops suck and THEY LIVE ON THE SOUTHSIDE

he and lip tried framing terry milkovich

oh the homophobic and racist dad of his boyfriend and bestfriend who tried to kill him and r*ped his daughter ?

yeah , shit man , that was real bad they shouldn’t have done that /s

he dated jimmy-steves married father

“Ian didn't bother telling Jimmy the truth about his father and didn't end his relationship with Lloyd upon finding out that he had a secret wife and family, either.”

at this point ian is probably sixteen but that doesnt matter bc i wont even address that

he met him at a club and then used his relationship with ned to make mickey jealous which was one of the reasons he kept seeing him, he didnt tell jimmy-steve about the relationship or his father bc he shouldnt find out from him he should find out from his father , again like kash, ned was an older man who payed attention to ian and ned later did develop feelings feelings for ian

he stole lips identity to enlist in the army

he enlisted because he didnt know what to do with himself, its implied/stated that the army timeline was the start of his bipolar

“While impersonating Lip, Ian had tried to steal a helicopter and then proceeded to go AWOL.”

this is because of the bipolar he suffers from, it is referenced later in the series after he gets back and hes manic

ian refused to accept being bipolar

of course he didnt accept it, it is made very clear that his family thinks lowly of monica so of course if hes the lucky duck to get what his siblings demonize her for, of course he’ll not want to be it

“He refused to take medications that could alter his personality or mood.”

okay. this is why im making this whole post, this goes along with part 15 ( or so idk ) ,,

my mother , my dear mother, who is bipolar and doesnt take her meds because they are mood altering , my mom doesnt take med because she told me once that they make her feel like shit, she told me that a little after i was born she started taking them but realized she felt nothing, she felt nothing for my dad or for i ( making her numb )

she told me anti deppresents dont help either because when shes on them and manic it pushes her past productive and into angry

my dad told me that when my mom was on bi polar medication she would seem angry most of the time

he wasnt faitful to mickey

“Ian's bipolar disorder made him very reckless and impulsive and led him to be unfaithful.”

lets break that down.

ians. bipolar. disorder.

this plot point i actually didnt like, mainly bc ian never addresses it so ill give the article a point. but then i take away 2 because they have more of a problem with his bipolar messing with him rather than the fact he never apologized and they never worked it out

ian stole yevgeny

before i start quoting i should mention because his boyfriend, who has supported and helped him is suddenly telling him he needs help, he was helping raise yev so he’ll see yev as his own

“Ian failed to recognize just how crazy he was acting...”

cuting you off right there , he was in a bipolar state, he wasnt ‘crazy’ and isnt ‘crazy’

he cant even keep count of his number of partners

just slutshaming i see

he helped throw frank off a bridge

“His relationship with Frank was understandably never the same after that, as Frank struggled to get over this act of betrayal and cruelty.”

‘was never the same after that’ frank never liked ian, ian was probably his least favorite and that point is very apparent

also , it wasnt just ian , his siblings and his boyfriend caleb

he left a healthy relationship to be with mickey

he fell in love with mickey at 15 , mickey was a comfort and always someone to fall back on, when mickey was taken away and no longer in the picture his heart still obviously was with mickey and when mickey came back he didnt know what to do

he told mickey he had a boyfriend but because mickey has been such a constant in his life he finally has back of course he couldnt resist

he liked trevor, i could tell he did but trevor wasnt the one he watched get r^ped by a russian prostitute, he wasnt the one ian was secretly dating bc it would be a death wish other wise, he wasnt the one there when ian was manic or depressive ( at the start )

he tried blackmailing an old client for money

“Instead of raising the money in an honest manner, Ian chose to visit an old client from his time working at the Fairy Tail and blackmail him into funding the shelter.”

because he felt indebted to trevor and wanted to make it up to him, it would have taken longer to do it in ‘an honest manner’ when his sister would have gotten it instead, he knew how much gay youths like he once was needed a safe place

“He grew up wanting to be nothing like his father, but this whole money-making scheme was straight out of the Frank playbook”

because thats all he knows, he grew up with that ‘playbook’ so of course hes going to take a page out of it, he is nothing like frank , franks money making schemes are selfish and for his own greed while ian wanted the money to help build a safe space for lgbt youth

he let fame inflate his ego

of course he did, hes a southside kid who was destined to fail

also it is very apparent that during the gay jesus era he went off his medication which didnt help

“Before long, he just completely forgot about his ex and focused solely on being a deity”

as much as yes, he did let it mess with his head, he was trying to still help lgbt youth and was going against anti gay churchs , in the end it didnt work out for him because he was off his meds and went over board

he stopped taking his meds

see previous point and ‘ian refused to accept being bipolar’

he actually wanted to stay in prison

because he was doing good in there

ian was helping others and was spreading awareness about lgbt with in the prison , and as him and jail scenes go , we can see people were listening to him and he was trying to make it safe sane and consensual

he let down his army of followers

“Ian admitted that most of his actions were completely irrational and the mere results of his bipolar disorder.”

he didnt want to, we can see this, because he knew he would let down everyone, his family were the only ones to ever ground him and they knew it would be the best option for his own mental health

during the gallavich wedding we can see that a lot of his supporters still have his back because they must know how hard it was for him to put all of that success on something he can’t control

he constantly wasted his potential

this is actually the only point in this article i actually agree with , so only 1/20 i agree with

his relationship with mickey wasn’t actually great

“Mickey spent the first several years of their relationship denying his feelings for Ian.”

he was raised by a homophobic and racist father who he knew would react the way he did when terry had caught the two that one day

“Even after he finally embraced his true self, Ian's bipolar disorder kept them from becoming truly happy together.”

yes but mickey was there for him the entire time and helped him through it, he told him he loved him which was really big for him and did his best to care for him

“They couldn't seem to remain faithful to each other for more than a few weeks.”

back to the point about ians bipolar but for mickey he wanted monogamy , now that scene in s11 may say otherwise but it is very clear that he wants a monogamous relationship with ian and ian ( after getting help ) wants one too, and in the later seasons they are monogamous

“When Mickey asked Ian to run away to Mexico with him, Ian refused.”

he wanted to, it’s obvious, but ian has his family and didnt want to abandon them again, i think part of him knew he would see mickey again because they always find eachother, he gave mickey all of his money and wanted mickey to have a good life

“Their relationship was simply never healthy.”

no it wasnt, but thats why the ship is great in its own way, the gay closet kid raised by a homophobic man is obviously going to have a lot of baggage , and ian who is bipolar and struggling with himself will also have a lot of baggage , but in the end they love eachother and that really shows in season five and season seven specifically

that is all lol ,,, this is long sorry

now, i am not a ian apologist , i love ian but hes a dumbass sometimes

actual valid reasons ian sucks

genuinely believes frank is worse than terry

yes frank was definitely abusive but terry is definitely worse ,,

mentally/physically/sexually abusive , the whole nine yards

terry hired a prostitute to r^pe his son , threatened to kill him and ian on multiple occasions , r^ped his daughter who ended up pregnant and is actively racist

frank on the other hand will make gay jokes but in the end doesnt give enough of a shit , he has attacked his children on multiple occasions but not to the brutality that terry has ( this isnt me excusing it )

sorry ian , terry is worse

never apologized

he never apologized for all the shit he put mickey and his family through, never apologized to mickey for cheating on him , never apologized for all the manic and depressive episodes mickey endured with him

never apologized for walking away when he couldn’t handle it, in hall of shame mickey actually acknowledges this saying ‘its youre whole MO’

debbies sexuality

he has constantly made statements saying debbie isnt gay and that bothers me because , why does it care ? as a gay man and as a gay man who soent time with a lot of lgbt youth wouldnt he support his sister even if shes just ‘experimenting’?

in the recent season he doesnt seem to care and doesn’t say anything but it still bothers me

mickey only getting like 80% of his heart

okay look , i get what ian means when he says this , everyones hes been with has made him who he is but fucking hell dude ,, shut up , thats your husband , thats the love of your life you shouldnt be saying shit like that , especially to him

and then this man had the audacity to say mickey probably feels the same about past flings when he knows that ian is the only one hes probably ever been with/serious about

obviously there is probably more but those are the main ones that come to mind

—

before anyone brings up the trans or bi thing im going to explain my thought process for him

like ive probably mentioned multiple times he grew up southside and obviously only ever grew up with lgb and not t ,, trevor did inform him a lot and ian became supre accepting of everyone,, sexual preference isnt transphobic but i do think he approached the matter badly

now the bi thing , legit all i think is that he doesnt hate bisexual people its just that the man he really liked slept with a woman and never expressed any heterosexual attraction so it probably just suprised him and pissed him off because caleb did cheat on ian

—

if you read this far HOLY SHIT THANKS LOL ,, im not adding things that i think are pro about ian this was just me breaking down that article and giving my two cents :)

feel free to message me and talk to me or send me articles like this about any other character/relationship and i will totally break that one down too lol

thanks for letting me rant

#mine #shameless #ian gallgher #gallavich #mickey milkovich #text post

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gale-gentlepenguin · 4 years ago

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ML Fic: Nathalie’s Gift Part 1

She sat up in the middle of the night.

She took a moment to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. She knew it was late, likely an hour or two away from sunrise.

She examined her surroundings until she saw him. There he was, sleeping in the chair at the end of the room. Gabriel Agreste, her boss, her ally, and the one she had fallen for, was asleep in a chair several feet away.

Ever since the defeat of the guardian and the plan to use Chloé to get the miraculous, she had been far too weak to be as mobile as she was in the past. Gabriel had set her up in his quarters, despite the mansion having dozens of rooms. He had reasoned that Adrien would never walk into his room without permission, so that it would never become apparent how her condition was deteriorating.

His logic wasn't entirely unfounded. She was constantly teetering towards the brink. Overuse of the once broken peacock miraculous has left her bedridden most days. Despite the miraculous no longer having such a negative effect now, she knew the damage was already done.

Yet he hasn't discarded her, was it out of loyalty that he felt the need to care for her despite being more of a burden? Did he perhaps start to feel something more for her as this whole debacle went on.

The later of which was unlikely, she knew better than anyone that Gabriel was far too loyal to his wife to entertain such a notion. So long as he believed there was a chance of bringing her back, he wont stop. She could never be Emilie Agreste, the love of his life and mother of Adrien. She was Nathalie Sancoeur, trusted assistant, and partner in crime.

She forced herself out of bed. Moving quietly as to not awaken the sleeping mogul.

She snagged her tablet, and the peacock miraculous that was next to it.

She moved to the office and sat in the office chair. Perhaps she could get some work done while she was awake. And should she feel the need to speak to someone, the blue bird Kwami would be a fitting companion.

She started looking through work but her mind kept wandering to one thought

So long as Emilie could be brought back, he could never love me. I could never replace her.

She coughed.

“Not that it matters, I am on borrowed time as it is.” She commented to herself.

She stopped herself as she let her own comment sink in.

She was on borrowed time.

With how she was now, how much time did she have, a few months? A year? Maybe a decade if she really tried to take care of herself. But it wasn't like she was sick with a normal illness. But would Gabriel be able to get the miraculous? Even with everything they had, Ladybug and Chat noir always seemed to best them at every turn. At the rate things were going, she would likely end up in a glass coffin as well, and if Gabriel fails...

In that moment of worry. An idea that could fix everything slipped into her brain.

It was a long shot sure, there was a possibility that everything will backfire. But she needed to do it.

She exited out of her work and went into the security feed using her tablet. She disabled the secret camera hidden in the lair below.

She started making a few preparations.

_______________________________________________________________________

Gabriel awoke to his phone’s sudden vibrating.

He quickly shook himself and looked at his phone.

“The alarm was tripped. Someone damaged Emilie’s chamber!”

The fashion mogul rushed out of the room. His thoughts were firing through his brain a mile a minute.

Who found the lair? Was it one of the heroes? A spy? Who would dare desecrate my beloved wife’s container?

The fashion mogul made his way to the secret elevator.

A purple Kwami emerged from the pocket of the rushing fashion designer.

“Is something wrong master?”

“It appears there is an intruder in the secret sanctum.”

“What are you planning to do?”

“Im going to show them the error of their ways. Nooru, Dark wings rise.”

Gabriel transformed into the villainous hawkmoth, His face covered by a silver mask, and is candy cane color scheme replaced with a purple suit.

He was armed and ready to fight should.

As the elevator reaches the bottom. Hawkmoth dashes out as soon as it opens.

He would strike quick, and take care of the intruder before they realized who they were facing.

As he approached, he stopped dead in his tracks. As he noticed someone standing infront of the Glass container.

“Hello?” The figure called out. Her voice having a familiar tone that caught the butterfly villain off guard.

As his rage diminished, he felt his vision clear and noticed the shattered glass on the floor, along with the glass container that was now broken.

“It... It can't be...” Hawkmoth’s words escaped as he realized who was standing in front of him.

“Can you tell me where I am? I woke up in this... thing over hear. Im not entirely sure what’s going on.”

“Emilie... is that you?” Hawkmoth questioned, unsure if this was a dream, or if by some miracle the love of his life was indeed back from the abyss.

“How do you know my name Mr. Masked man?”

“Nooru, dark wings fall.”

The blond woman watched as the costumed stranger revealed himself.

“Gabriel? Is that you?”

A tear spilled from his eyes as he rushed to her.

“You're here. How is... How is this possible?”

“I... I dont...” She started to stumble as she walked towards him. Her vision was starting to fade and the world was spinning.

Gabriel quickly moved to catch her as she suddenly fell.

He felt his heart panic, but he could hear her breathing. She was simply sleeping.

“Perhaps it would be best to take her out of her.”

Gabriel walked to the elevator, his wife in his arms, asleep yet very alive.

His mind had 1000 questions, but in this moment, he didn't care. He was holding the woman he loved in his arms again, and thats all that mattered.

___________________________________________________________________

“Gabriel!” She cried out as she woke up.

Sunlight was beaming from the window, it was clear it had been bright out for sometime.

She felt sheets underneath her. What she expected was a hard floor in a weird sanctum but now she felt the comfort of a room that felt familiar.

She heard the door open and looked to see her husband carrying a tray.

“Oh good, you're awake.” He spoke with soft relief.

She looked at the tray.

“Are those.”

“Lemon tea cookies. Your favorite.”

She smiled at him as he brought the tray to her bedside. Allowing her to snag a bite of one of them.

“So good!” She said as she finished her first cookie. “I feel like I haven't eaten in years!”

Gabriel’s expression faltered. She could see the pained expression as she said that.

“Gabriel... how long was I gone?” Her question verbally stabbed him.

He took a moment to process the curious expression on his wife’s face as she continued eating the tray of treats.

He looked down at his hands.

“A year and 6 months.”

She gulped down her cookie hard at the revelation.

“Wow... I've been gone for so long... Adrien must be taller then... ADRIEN!”

Emilie grabbed her husband by the collar.

“Where is Adrien?!”

“He’s at school” Gabriel answered.

Emilie blinked.

“School? You mean he is no longer being homeschooled?”

“He still has some lessons, but he was insistent on trying to go to school like other children his age. It was more ideal for him to go out than for him to be stuck here most hours of the day.”

Emilie processed that information.

“I see, I am surprised you said yes. You always said you hated public schooling.”

“I still believe the school systems are... inferior, but Adrien’s grades haven't faltered according to Nathalie. So I don't bother intervening.”

“My boy has grown up so much since Ive been gone. Wait, is he dating yet? Please tell me I didn’t miss his first crush!”

“Emilie, I am sure that you didnt miss anything. You and Adrien can catch up once you are rested and he is back from school.”

Emilie took a deep breathe.

“Okay, You're right. It will be nice to hear everything from him.”

She looked around the room a bit and noticed the vase full of roses.

“Oh, fresh roses. Gabe-y you cheesy romantic.”

Gabriel felt his cheeks go pink.

“It was... the room needed some color in it.”

“Much like those red pants you insist on wearing.”

“They are fashionable.”

“If you were in charge of candyland perhaps.”

Emilie loved to tease him about is fashion calls.

“Who is the fashion designer here?” He said with a mock stern tone.

“Speaking of fashion, that costume that you were wearing. That didn’t look like the peacock miraculous.”

Gabriel’s tone shifted to genuinely serious. He figured the time would come to answer that question.

“It is the butterfly miraculous. After your...departure. Nathalie and I investigated the temple where you and I had found the peacock miraculous. We discovered a new miraculous, one that wasn't damaged.”

Gabriel felt a twinge mentioning Nathalie. When he had rushed to bring Emilie up here, he felt guilt and relief that his assistant wasn't in the bed. He would have quite a difficult time explaining that one, even if nothing happened.

“So with that miraculous you were trying to find a way to bring me back.”

“It was a means to an end.”

Emilie processed the information she was told.

“Gabriel, I want you to do something for me.”

“Anything.”

“No more miraculous. None.”

Gabriel blinked.

“But...”

“Those jewels are nothing but trouble. It has only caused our family suffering and pain.”

Gabriel was surprised by the claim, but he knew she was correct. The miraculous have been quite the curse on the family, despite the powers they gave.

“It will take time for me to stop using it outright, there is a... situation with how I’ve been using it. Your sudden appearance and the disappearance of Hawkmoth might be suspicious.”

Emilie looked at Gabriel intensely.

“Hawkmoth? Gabriel what did you do?”

“Well... in order to try an bring you back, the butterfly miraculous wasn't going to be able to accomplish that goal. So the only way I could bring you back with certainty was to attain the ladybug and Cat miraculous.”

The former actress listened as her husband explained how he became a super villain for the sake of getting the jewels.

“Unbelievable.”

“I admit, explaining it makes it sound a lot worse than it actually is. I planned to fix any damage caused once I got the jewels”

“And what if people found out your identity!? You would have been thrown in prison and left our son an Orphan!” Emilie pointed her finger in his chest.

“It was the only way I could think of to attain the miraculous. How else would I have been able to confirm the miraculous were in Paris?”

Emilie was ready to let him have it. But she felt herself calm down. She had to admit, in a weird way, it was quite romantic. Something out of a tragic romance novel.

“I should be angrier with you, but I know if the situation was reversed and I had a way of bringing you back, I would have likely tried the same thing, albeit in a smarter way.”

Gabriel felt a bit of relief seeing his wife not so cross with him.

“So we figure out how to orchestrate your ‘Defeat’ and then we say good bye to the miraculous for good.”

“We will plan it out when you are completely better. Though this does raise the question. How are you back?”

Emilie pauses, she tries to think back.

Protect the Agreste family... no matter what.

She heard that phrase echoing in her head. But she couldn't figure out why. Who said that to her. Why is everything so fuzzy?

“I don't know... I remember hearing glass shatter, and a flash of blue. But the next thing I remember was... seeing you.

Gabriel looks at her, he could tell from her eyes she was telling the truth.

“I will look into that later. In the meantime, you should rest. I will check on you in a few hours.”

He moves the empty tray from the bed.

“Wait.”

Gabriel stopped.

“Get Adrien here. I want to see him now.”

“Dear, he is in school. It will dismiss in a few hours. Besides you should rest.”

Emilie got up from the bed.

“Nonsense. Ive been resting long enough. I am sure Adrien can miss a few hours of school. I want to see my baby boy.”

Gabriel wanted to find some way to dismiss her request, but he knew he couldn't say no to her. She was far to headstrong and determined... and man did he miss her.

“Okay, I will have his driver go an pick him up.”

“You aren't going to pick him up yourself?”

“Emilie I have work to do. Besides that is why we have...”

“You can take some time off to bond with your son. Seriously, you need to stop putting up walls Gabe-y.”

Gabriel took a calming breath to compose himself.

“Very well. But do use this time to rest.”

She moves to kiss her husband.

“I promise.”

Gabriel’s expression turned into a soft smile.

“I will be back with our son shortly.”

Gabriel left the room to go pick up Adrien.

Emilie smiled as she moved to vase of roses. She picked on up and sniffed it.

The rose in her hand began wilting and shriveled up.

She looked in the mirror.

“Everything went perfectly.”

______________________________________________________________________

End of part one

(Should I continue? Let me know your thoughts)

#nathalie sancoeur #ml #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #miraculous fanficiton #Gabriel agreste #emilie agreste #ml angst #hawkmoth #adrien agreste #Nathalie's gift #Nathalie's gift au

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hellowkatey · 4 years ago

Text

Febuwhump Day 17

Prompt: truth serum (alternate prompt 1)

Read on AO3

Unpleasant Truths

Anakin opens his mouth to say something but is immediately interrupted.

"Nope," Obi-Wan says with a swift shake of the head that makes a tendril of hair fall into his face. "Not a word, Anakin."

"Oh come on, Master."

"Not. A. Word."

"Do we have anything better to do?"

"Well, no," Obi-Wan says, and then cringes. Anakin has a feeling that wasn't the answer he wanted to give.

Anakin and Obi-Wan sit in adjacent beds of the med bay aboard The Resolute. There was only one private exam room left for them to take up, so they opted to share. While they aren't particularly hurt-- no more than any usual battle-- they were captured and exposed to a particularly potent truth serum. Nobody is really sure what to do with them. Least of all, one another. Anakin supposes his former master figured the lesser evil was to lock them in a room together-- no secrets accidentally being revealed to those without clearance.

However, they don't know how long this serum is supposed to last. They're waiting for Kix to come back with bloodwork.

"How will we know when it's worn off if we don't ask questions?" Anakin suggests. Obi-Wan doesn't look in the least bit amused.

"Because I know you. You're going to ask about things that amuse you or that you want to be nosy about," he raises an eyebrow. "Isn't that right?"

The knight swallows hard, the truth on the tip of his tongue. Of course, he is powerless in preventing it from slipping.

"Yes," he mutters.

"So no talking. We will wait for labs."

"You're no fun," Anakin lays back on the bed and points over at him. "And you know I'm telling the truth about that."

They sit in the prescribed silence for an hour or so before the door opens and Kix comes strolling in with a datapad and a set of IVs.

"Hello generals, how are we doing?"

"Not ideal," Obi-Wan says.

"Bored," Anakin chimes in. Kix looks a tad caught off guard-- maybe not used to them answering so truthfully about their condition. His brown eyes flicker between them before he decides to just give them the report.

"So the good news is the serum appears to be non-lethal. We just have to wait for it to filter out of your systems."

"I assume there is bad news then?" Obi-Wan asks.

"Well... the problem is, it embeds itself into the brain and spinal fluid. I have no way of knowing how long it will be in effect without doing an unnecessarily invasive procedure."

"Well that's..." Obi-Wan trails off, glancing at Anakin. "disappointing."

"Do you have a guess on how long, Kix?"

He seems to wager this in his head. "Six hours? More or less."

Great. There goes my afternoon.

Kix excuses himself, promises to return if they learn anymore. As soon as he's out the door, Obi-Wan lays back, letting his head fall against the pillow, and lets out an exacerbated sigh. Anakin can feel him in the beginnings of meditation, the Force around them drawing into his presence and making it shine like a beacon. And then it releases, and Obi-Wan groans again.

"What's wrong?"

"This blasted drug is muddying up the Force. I can't concentrate."

"Oh no, you might have to spend the next six hours actually conscious," Anakin rolls his eyes.

"Meditating passes the time."

"Talking passes the time."

"Anakin," he sighs.

"Oh yes, what a tragedy to spend time with me."

The Jedi Master looks at him now, his eyebrows knit together. "I like spending time with you, Anakin. Do you think I don't?"

"Well... yeah."

"What could make you think that?"

He bites on his tongue, knowing fully well it won't help a thing. "You... dismiss me. Or seem annoyed by me. Or... I don't know... treat me like I'm still a little kid."

The truth falls heavy between them, and suddenly Anakin wishes they'd stuck to the code of silence. Obi-Wan's face shifts into something that he can only categorize as devastation. Even though it's true that he feels that sometimes his master wants nothing to do with him, he never wanted him to know that.

"Anakin... I'm sorry," he says softly, his eyes trained intensely on him. "I didn't realize..."

"Obi-Wan, don't apologize. I guess... I wanted what you and Qui-Gon had." He remembers fondly the brief memories of a young padawan Obi-Wan and his master. The little looks they had that meant more than they seemed. The inside jokes and synergy when they fought alongside one another. Anakin thinks he and Obi-Wan have some of that. They are two parts of a deadly machine on the battlefield, and they share their own little jokes but sometimes there's just this disconnect. Like he trusts him with his life, but not with the secret of his wife. He doesn't think it's supposed to be this way.

But surprisingly, Obi-Wan stiffens at his comment. Anakin wonders if the serum also makes his body language more readable because he's never seen his master so expressive. "What Qui-Gon and I... Anakin when you told me you thought I didn't like spending time with you, it made me worried that I had grown to be too much like Qui-Gon."

"What do you mean?"

He stares off into space a moment. Obviously fighting against the serum, which only makes Anakin more worried about his answer. Never has he ever heard a bad word about Master Jinn, so he isn't sure what it could have been.

"Qui-Gon and I... had a rocky relationship. He didn't want another padawan, but Yoda was quite insistent. He took me, it was a long time before he accepted me."

"Then... how did you become his padawan?"

"I... well to make a long story short I was willing to detonate a bomb that would kill me but save the agricorps settlement, and I suppose he took that as reassurance I wouldn't let him down," Obi-Wan presses his lips together. "Too bad he was wrong about that."

Now Anakin is sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at his master with confusion. "What do you mean he was wrong?"

"Well, I did leave the order shortly after, which thoroughly shattered his expectations."

"Wait, what?" There is just... so much to unpack in the few things he just revealed. But Obi-Wan looks at him with a face that pleas him to stop. So Anakin relaxes, holding in the urge to ask more questions. "Will you tell me about this when we aren't under truth serum?"

"Yes," he answers. Definitively. Without hesitation. So Anakin nods and sits back on the bed, his head still whirring with questions.

"Can I... ask why you felt Qui-Gon didn't like you? I always thought-- I don't know, that you guys were a team."

He crosses his arms over his chest, focusing on an invisible spot on the ceiling. "We had different ideas of how to do things. That's why Yoda wanted us together. I was an angry and headstrong youngling, and he was a rebel the council needed to find a way to reel in."

Anakin scoffs. "You? Angry?"

A small smile appears on his face. "I packed a nasty right hook in my initiate days. So when I was faced with a Master who disregarded the rules, I assumed the role of the logical rule follower."

"And then you never gave up that role."

"I had punk for a padawan, what else was I to do?"

Anakin looks down at his lap, a small smile on his face.

"Is this why you don't talk about your padawan years very often?"

"The memory of Qui-Gon is... painful. As are many of the experiences I had as a child," he winces.

Well, this is depressing, Anakin thinks, wishing he could ask more but he knows it would be wrong to do so. The mystery of Obi-Wan's past has suddenly been blown right open and he isn't quite sure what to make of it. Left the order? Denied by Qui-Gon? In his head, he had this image of his tiny master, fresh-faced and spouting off Jedi Code at every chance.

"Why does nobody ever talk about that stuff?" Anakin asks, wondering how he's gone over a decade as a Jedi without hearing a word about his master's unusual apprenticeship.

"It wasn't widely known. The council and a few others," Obi-wan stares at him, sadness in his eyes. "But there is no honor in tainting the reputation of the dead."

"But you..." Anakin lets out a shaky breath. "I talked about him all the time. And you never told me?"

"Qui-Gon... was your hero. He saved you, and I- I didn't want that to change for you," he pauses, his face paler now. "Anakin, he wasn't a bad man. He was great Jedi, deeply caring for others and a fantastic master-- I have no doubt had he lived, you two would have made a powerful... and troublesome pair."

Anakin isn't sure what to say about it. He is ashamed of the number of times he was mad at his master and wished a different reality for himself. He doesn't even know the entire extent of whatever Obi-Wan is referring to, but somehow he just... knows.

He's heard rumors before. The story of the Jedi Master who gave up his padawan to train a new initiate he thought was promising. The padawans considered it a horror story to tell when they snuck out of their rooms at night to walk the darkened halls. It took Anakin longer than he's willing to admit to realize the story was about him and Master Jinn's dismissal of Obi-Wan. The way Anakin remembered it was he declared Obi-Wan ready to be a knight and that he would then be free to take Anakin.

Apparently, that wasn't the case. He didn't understand the gravity of the gesture then, and never really thought about it too hard after.

But now... now he thinks about that story again-- that apparently Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had issues in the past-- and maybe there was a lot more there than he even knows.

"When this is over, will you tell me everything, Master?"

"No," he says. No hesitation or waver in his voice.

"No?"

"There are some things I can't tell you."

"But why?"

To Anakin's surprise, he chuckles. "I am allowed my secrets, just as you are allowed yours."

This, of course, sends Anakin into a bit of internal panic. Is he just assuming I also have secrets or... does he know?

"I guess... that's fair."

"When this is over we will rest, and then I will tell you some things about my apprenticeship. And you may ask whatever questions you have then."

He supposes that's good enough. The nice thing about truth serum is he knows Obi-Wan isn't making empty promises. They leave things there for a while, Anakin falling asleep for a bit, and when he awakes, it's Obi-Wan who is surprisingly dozing off. Five hours pass. Anakin has moved to the end of Obi-Wan's bed to lay diagonally across it on his stomach, and Obi-Wan sits cross-legged against the headboard.

"Have you ever been in love, Master?" Anakin asks, looking up expecting a slap to the back of the head for such a question, but instead Obi-Wan smiles a little bit.

"Would it surprise you if I said yes?"

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes, it is."

Anakin blinks. He had his suspicions, but to hear it aloud...

"The Duchess?"

"Yes."

"And others?"

"A few."

"A few?"

He chuckles.

"To love is not prohibited, it is to put such love ahead of one's duty."

He's never thought about it like that.

"Have you been in love, Anakin?"

"Yes," he says. I'm in love, he thinks to himself.

Obi-Wan hesitates a moment, looking down at him with uncertainty that Anakin thinks he knows the source of. He supposes it's only fair, he's dug into his past relentlessly the past few hours but... his wife isn't just his past, she's his present. His future. Though a part of him wants to tell Obi-Wan about her more than anything, a part of him also knows that his knowing will put him in a horrible position with the council. The secret will undoubtedly come out, and he will be expelled from the Order or be forced to give her up. And nothing can make him give Padmé up.

"Padmé?"

Anakin looks at him. The neutrality of his face just makes him more nervous. He looks his former master dead in the eye.

"Padmé and I... are only close friends, Master."

Obi-Wan nods. Anakin hides his stress by burying his face in the comforter.

Well... looks like the serum has worn off.

Anakin decides to wait another half an hour before he lets Obi-Wan know that, though. Just to be safe.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday17 #truth serum #oh look im catching up #or trying #anakin and obi-wan try to talk about things

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mearcatsreturns · 3 years ago

Note

15 for Abby/Luka

For reasons ;)

Under a cut because it's long.

July 2003

To: Luka Kovac <“[email protected]”>

From: Abby Lockhart <“[email protected]”>

Subject: I’m drowning and praying ghosts are real

Dear Luka,

Something about knowing that I’ll never talk to you again is just unbearable. I’ll never laugh at your malapropisms, look into your beautiful eyes, feel your strong hands holding mine, or make love to you again. There won’t be any more jokes about jam and cheese on toast, or you teasing me for my weak but constant supply of coffee. I’ll never hear your amazing, deranged laughter after you prank someone again. No more of your hugs—which are somehow the best hugs in the world. Because you’re gone.

It’s been three days since we got the call telling us you died thousands of miles from home, whether that’s here in Chicago or in Croatia. I didn’t know your dad’s name, Luka. We needed to call him, and I didn’t know. How did I not know? And now I can’t. I mean, L’Alliance told us his name, but the fact that I’ll never learn pieces of your history, of the wonderful man you are, FROM you...how am I supposed to go on and live my life?

For years, I’ve thought medicine was my great thwarted love. I’ve wanted to be a doctor for so long, and I thought I was bitter about having to let go of that dream. Now I wonder. I let obstacles get in the way of pursuing medicine, and it’s made me...well, it’s part of why I was so unhappy. But that makes me think about how I also let obstacles get in the way of us. I was happy with you, you know, until I let fear and my mother and Carter get in the way. God, I wish I could do that over again. We could have had everything, and if I hadn’t gotten in my own way, I’d be happy. I think maybe I could have made you happy, too.

It’s funny. I knew things with Carter weren’t working, and he implied you were part of it. I said it wasn’t, but then five minutes later, I found out you were—are—dead. And I realized you were the reason, or one of the big ones. As soon as Chuny told me, I knew I loved you and had loved you for years. Yeah. Great timing, isn’t it? I keep thinking that maybe I could have kept you from going if I had known or if I had told you. I didn’t want you to go when I thought you were my very attractive friend and ex that I still was fond of. Knowing that I love you—how do I move past that? Knowing that I lost you, first to my stupidity and then to death?

I just...I miss you, and I don’t when I’ll stop, or how to. Susan caught me crying on my last shift, and I didn’t even know what to say. I feel like I’ve been crying or standing still, brittle and stuck in time, since I heard the news. I can’t, Luka. I know I have to keep on moving, and I thought maybe writing you would help. I know you’ll never see this, never have a chance to respond. But the idea that some fragments of your soul linger and can maybe sense...I don’t know. That I’m writing? What I’m feeling? Jesus, this is crazy.

All my love,

Abby

Abby angrily swipes the tears from her eyes. God, what’s the point of writing this? He’ll never see hsi email or her again. Just...without Luka, how can the world be anything but grim and sad and pointless?

She laughs mirthlessly. Maybe it doesn’t matter. No, she knows it doesn’t. Because Abby knows the futility of it, aches with the meaninglessness, she presses send without another thought.

&&&

Three days after that, a miracle occurs. Luka, the Lazarus of this new millennium, comes back from the dead. He’s never been dead, and maybe, Abby thinks, there’s a God above after all. So many people wish for this exact boon, and she—they, the world—gets it. Some higher power believes this planet is a better place with Luka Kovac in it, and Abby is ecstatic.

Until she remembers the email and that they can’t be unsent.

It’s fine. She’ll be fine. Luka is coming back, apparently with a French nurse. Maybe he’ll just delete it without reading it. Maybe it didn’t go through—how does email work for the dead, and how quickly is all that processed?

Abby shakes her head. It doesn’t matter; Luka is alive and returning to them. She can handle a little awkwardness in the face of the sheer joy of knowing the world is a brighter, kinder place. He’s coming back, and that’s what’s important.

&&&

August 2003

It takes Luka almost a week after returning to Chicago to convince Kerry and the other staff to let him go back to his apartment. Even so, they only agree when Gillian assures them she’ll see to his every need.

Abby winces when she hears that, and it makes something flutter in Luka’s chest. Which probably isn’t good for his malaria, but the hope...that is.

It’s another two days of lying in bed before he has the energy to ask Gillian to bring him his laptop. At this point, it’s been months since he’s checked his email, and Luka grimaces at the undoubtedly horrible state of his inbox. He briefly considers never checking again and just getting a new one, but he knows his father struggled to add him to his contacts once already. To expect it of him again would be absurd.

With a sigh, Luka opens his email. It’s just as bad as he feared. He snorts at the myriad messages about Viagra, Nigerian princes, and Russian brides, deleting them without thought. He saves a couple from his dad. He slowly whittles down his inbox, but he freezes when he gets to one email in particular, sent about a month ago.

It’s from Abby, during the time everyone thought he was dead.

Luka considers calling and asking her if someone hacked her email or is sending spam from her account, but the subject line...it looks real. And Abby’s been odd around him lately, seeming both deliriously happy to see him and awkwardly nervous.

His heart pounds, and he clicks to open it. If this is a spammer, they’re probably about to get whatever they want.

&&&

Abby pours herself another coffee, internally swearing as she prepares for the last two hours of her shift. Deciding to go back to school is great; having to coordinate all the details is less thrilling and leaves her tired and cranky.

Frank ducks his head into the lounge, beady eyes narrowing on her. “Hey, Abby. The Croat is on the phone for you. Line 2. Try to get back out there as fast as you can, Weaver’s yelling at the med students about IVs.”

“Okay, Frank,” Abby says, though she flushes and her palms start to sweat. It’s fine. She can always hide the panic and butterflies in her stomach with sarcasm. It has yet to fail her.

Frank gives her one last suspicious look, then nods and heads back to Admit.

Abby takes a deep breath, then picks up the phone. “Hey, Luka?”

“It’s me. Glad I could reach you. How are you?” He sounds...ugh. So good. And eager and happy, and her heart could leap right out of her chest.

“Doing all right. I just have a couple hours left on this shift, and it hasn’t been too awful today. Only one MVA. How about you? You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Recovering. Listen, did you want to come over for dinner?”

“Please tell me you’re not trying to cook.”

“What? I’m a good cook, even if you don’t appreciate wonderful, traditional Croatian dishes,” he says with a chuckle.

“Luka, you just got out of the hospital five days ago. You still need to be resting.”

“Abby, don’t worry so much. I was just kidding. I have some sandwiches from Manny’s, and Anna sent me home with lots of matzo ball soup too.”

Abby bites her lip. Of course she wants to go. But the prospect of spending the evening with Gillian cooing over Luka, knowing that she shares a bed with him, is decidedly less appealing. And there’s the email she sent, which Luka hasn’t acknowledged. He might well have deleted it, or he’s giving her a gracious out.

Her conscience twinges as soon as she thinks about bailing, though. Didn’t she promise herself she wouldn’t take life for granted anymore? She’ll go back to med school, she’ll have dinner with Luka when he asks.

“Abby?”

She starts, realizing she needs to respond. “Yeah, sorry. Yeah, I can do that. I can be there an hour after my shift, if that’s okay.”

“Sounds great. Looking forward to seeing you.”

“Me too.” He has no idea how much, even if she wishes she knew for sure that he’d deleted the email.

&&&

Abby rings Luka’s doorbell three and a half hours later. She’d meant to come straight from work, but after a patient vomited on her, she decided to head home, shower, and splurge on a taxi to Luka’s. The poor man is recovering from being deathly ill and doesn’t need County’s fumes making things worse.

There’s the sound of the deadbolt sliding, and Luka answers the door, grinning happily at her. “Good, you made it! Come on in!”

“I did. Sorry it took me longer than expected.” Abby steps into his apartment, looking around. It’s been such a long time since she’s been here, and she notes the subtle changes in the art and decor.

“No worries. I know how it goes.” He places a hand at the small of her back, guiding her inside.

Abby stiffens for a second at how his touch burns even through the layers of her shirt and light jacket, but she relaxes, enjoying the feel while she waits for Gillian to appear and end the fleeting joy.

Luka is unfazed. “Now, of course we can just eat the sandwiches, but if you want to heat up the matzo ball soup, you can. Since you don’t want me standing,” he says with a wink.

Abby smiles back, shaking her head. “Oh, I see how it is. Make the woman who worked all day do more household work when she gets ho—wait, where’s Gillian? Isn’t she supposed to be taking care of you?”

“She’s not here,” he says simply.

Going to the fridge and taking out the containers of soup, Abby places them in the microwave. Is Gillian out for the evening, or is she gone gone? “Shouldn’t you be with her? Or her here with you, whatever.”

Luka is quiet for a long minute, and Abby wonders if he intends to answer. Finally, he breaks the silence. “I asked her to leave.”

Abby’s pulse speeds up. “What? Why?”

Luka takes a deep breath, clearly ready to respond, and—

The microwave dings, and they both jump. Exchanging a sheepish look, they laugh.

“Look, let’s get some food, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Abby dishes up their soup and sandwiches, preparing trays so they can sit on the couch. Luka turns on the television, and Abby’s heart rate comes back under control. They sit together in companionable silence while they eat and watch Thom and Jai and the rest of the Fab 5 whip some hapless lawyer’s life into order. When they finish their meal, Abby cleans up, taking the trays back to the kitchen.

She heads back to the couch at the opposite end from Luka, not daring to get closer when she really has no idea what’s going on.

Luka clears his throat and mutes the TV. “So, yeah. I asked Gillian to leave.”

“Oh. So, um, did you break up?”

“She was never my girlfriend, really. She has a boyfriend back in Montreal, they just…” Luka shrugs and runs a hand through his hair.

Abby is more lost than ever. “Ah.”

Taking a deep breath, Luka continues, finally looking over at her. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful she helped me get here and took care of me, but we were never serious.”

Something starts to tug at Abby’s heart, squeezing and twisting and kicking to get free. Is it...hope? “Well, I’m glad she got you here safe, but you should have someone staying with you while you recover, Luka. Malaria is dangerous.”

He gives her a look. “I know how dangerous malaria is. I’m getting better. And besides, it wouldn’t have been fair for me to ask her to stay when things are over because I’m in love with someone else.”

Her heart leaps into her throat. “Someone else?” she squeaks.

Luka nods, swallowing. “Yeah. And I have a reason to think she might be in love with me too.” He slides over to her side of the couch, reaching for her hand.

Abby meets his eyes—those beautiful green eyes that are the best color in the world—and squeezes his hand, incapable of words. Does he mean…?

With his other hand, Luka reaches up and cups her cheek, running his thumb along the subtle arch of her cheekbone. “Abby, if you’ve changed your mind since you sent that email, please tell me to shut up.”

That stupid, ridiculous email might be the best thing she’s ever done in her life. She leans into his hand, licking her lips as she shakes her head slightly. “I haven’t changed my mind. I didn’t mean for you to see it and hoped I could learn how to hack computers and delete it but—”

Luka cuts her off. “I would never forgive you if you managed to delete it. You wouldn’t believe how much faster I healed after that.”

Abby leans forward, sliding into Luka’s waiting arms. “Then maybe I’ll write you some more emails.”

“Emails aren’t what I want right now,” Luka says.

Funny, Abby doesn’t either. Then his lips brush hers, and all her worries and fears fade away. She knows she has to tell him about med school and he needs to finish recuperating, but when Luka deepens their kiss and pulls her closer, Abby ceases to think at all.

She has Luka back, and now they have each other again.

#er #nbc er #er ff #luby #luby ff #abby lockhart #luka kovac #<3 #my fanfic

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flymyhp · 4 years ago

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Birds to Spellbooks Pt. 3

Pairing: George Weasley x Hufflepuff!reader

Summary: George and y/n spend the Yule Ball together, as friends. At first.

Words: 3,288

Warnings: Muggle song, yikes!! Same as last time, so much fluff it makes me sick. Enjoy!!

A/N: (Weird writing a character in who’s name is hannah when that’s my name) Sorry this has taken so long, ive been dealing with a lot. But here’s the last part! I made it a little longer than the first two as an apology.

Tags: @wintrrrsoldier

The day of the Yule Ball, y/n was lying in bed staring up at the yellow fabric above the bed. Every other Hufflepuff in her year had already left for breakfast. She couldn’t get her legs to move. Nerves upset her stomach and overcrowded her thoughts. Of course she’d been comfortable around George last night, but being dressed up had her worried that he wouldn’t see her the same as he did last night. She didn’t want him to think any less of her.

Breakfast would be half over by now and she knew people would be asking where she was. Since she was seen with George so often now people had finally stopped teasing her and actually apologized. She had a decent group of friends. That is except for a couple of Slytherins, and a few people from other houses. But it didn’t bother her too much and she now had people that would stick up for her instead of joining in.

George had met her after their classes apart and walked her to her next, and they’d spent the afternoons together. But today was different. She forced her legs to move and set off to her wardrobe to fetch her robes. She sighed and took out her dress she was sent by her parents. An off the shoulder, off white long party gown, with dark gold accents. It fit her well, but her stomach did flips as she looked at it. Would it be enough?

She put the dress back and grabbed her jumper. Straightening up her tie, she made her way to the great hall. The nerves in her stomach heightened when she saw him sitting at the Gryffindor table. They settled down a bit when she sat down with her friends.

“Y/n! Finally out of bed, are we?” Cedric Diggory exclaimed, offering her a plate. She took it with a kind smile and picked out a very small breakfast, she wasn’t sure if her stomach would allow her to eat. Cedric gave her a smile and nodded over to Cho.

“Aren’t you guys nervous?” Y/n started, picking her food apart with her fork.

“A little bit,” Hannah Abbott started. “I’m mostly just excited, didn't get much sleep last night. I was looking at my gown. I can’t believe we’re having a dance, I thought only muggles got those.” She kept looking over her shoulder at Seamus and giggling.

Y/n couldn’t turn around to look at George. She wasn’t sure if he even knew that she was here yet.

Just then, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to face Ginny standing behind her, smirking. “For you.” She handed her a parcel, attached to it was a note.

Happy Holidays, bird! Decided to wait until the ball to see you, as is tradition. That’s a wedding tradition, but all the same, I didn’t want you to be worried that I don’t come around today so that’s why I sent this. I hope you like it. I’m excited to see you. You don’t have to write back or anything I just wanted to let you know.

All my love, Georgie.

Her cheeks lit up along with her smile. A little embarrassed, she took the wrapping off of the parcel. Inside she found a flower bud. She picked it up, a faint ringing noise came from it and it shook in her hand. It grew in her palm into a yellow rose.

“Isn’t it just so cute?” Ginny sat down next to her.

She held the rose in her hand, admiring it. It had also sprouted a pin on the back of it for her dress. Turning her head to find George, his face lit up when their eyes met. She smiled shyly at him and he winked at her.

Leaning in to make sure no one heard, Ginny began, “I shouldn’t spoil it, but apparently he has something else planned.” Y/n’s heart raced with the same feeling she got when he first asked her, thinking it was a joke.

“Like what?”

“Well, I didn’t hear all of it, but you won’t be spending the night in your dorm after the ball.” She raised her eyebrows at y/n. Y/n furrowed hers. “That’s all I know, it’ll be wonderful though. I’m going with Neville.”

With a breath of relief, breakfast was over. The rest of the day for Y/n and her friends was spent in the common room,

“This is going to be perfect!” Hannah clapped from outside the girls dorm, the girls were showing off their gowns for a before-the-ball get together. Y/n was the last to be changed. She wasn’t as nervous showing her friends as she was seeing George. She opened the door, Hannah and Susan Bones turned to face her. Hannah’s hands went to her mouth and she bounced up and down on her toes, Susan gasped.

“That’s absolutely gorgeous! That must’ve cost loads!” Susan gushed, feeling the fabric in admiration.

Y/n looked down. “It’s a hand-me-down. My mother’s.”

“It’s perfect. George won’t be able to stand when he sees you.” Hannah said, a proud smile on her face.

The three linked arms and strutted their way to the common room. The boys began clapping and howling at them jokingly. The girls laughed and unlinked their arms, striking poses.

“Lucky guys, those three are.” Cedric admitted, chuckling and offering them sparkling water.

The next hour was spent joking around and dancing to music in preparation for the night. With only an hour left, the girls went back to their dorms to do their hair and makeup.

They all went with a very natural makeup look. Hannah put her hair half up half down, Susan tied hers in a bun with a braid. Y/n let the girls do her hair.

“I’m thinking curls, Susan?” Hannah started. Susan agreed. Y/n prepared herself for whatever they decided looked best. After a long 20 minutes, “Ta-da!” y/n was able to turn herself towards the mirror and look.

Her hair was curled, the sides pinned in the back with a diamond pin. The last thing y/n had to do was put her rose on her dress. She smiled looking down at it.

The girls didn’t want to be late, so they rushed toward the common room where the guys were waiting to head to the great hall. They all set off in a group. Y/n’s nerves settled in her stomach as they drew nearer. Turning the final corner where everyone was entering, Cedric nodded towards them and joined Cho. Susan also set off to the dance to find Seamus. Hannah and Y/n, with their arms linked, began down the staircase.

Fred and George were standing with Angelina, who mid-laugh caught y/n’s eye and nudged George with her elbow and nodded up to her. Y/n’s heart raced in her chest, she focused on the steps and Hannah’s arm steadying her.

“Confidence.” Hannah whispered to her. She watched as George turned to face the stairs and looked up at her, his mouth hung open slightly.

Fred laughed at George’s expression, but George couldn’t take his eyes off of her. “Gorgeous.” She couldn’t hear his whisper. She did her best to keep her eyes off of him, she didn’t want to fall. Or him see how red her cheeks were.

Chin held high as Hannah told her, they stopped at the last step right above the twins and Angelina. George offered his hand to y/n, she bowed slightly and turned her head to Hannah. “Don’t have too much fun.” Hannah said with a wink and went to find Seamus.

Y/n took George’s hand, who kissed it and helped her down the last step. He put his hands on her waist and looked over her face. “Hello, beautiful.”

“Hello.” She said shyly. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered looking at him. “I like your outfit, Georgie.” She took in his gold vest that he matched with Fred.

“Thank you, darling. But I must say, it doesn’t compare to you.” His hand found his rose on her dress and he smiled. “Do you like it? The yellow is for friendship, did you know?”

“It’s beautiful. I didn’t know, but it fits, considering we haven’t made anything official.” She looked down at it.

He unpinned it from her dress. “I know, but I figured tonight would be a good transition.”

She furrowed her eyebrows slightly at his words. “To what?”

He held it in his hands and smiled. “You should know, at least since last night by the lake.” He waited to see the look on her face. Her eyes lit up slightly, her chest rose faster and she smiled. He covered the rose in his hands, and opened them back up. The rose was a deep red now.

“George-”

“I’m sure you know, a red rose symbolizes love.” He held the rose in his hand. “But I should ask you formally.” Her eyes grew wider, she didn’t know what to do with herself. She knew at this point that George Weasley loved her. He’d never said it verbally but she knew. “Y/n. Will you be my girlfriend? Officially.”

She nodded before she could get any words out. “Oh George, you know I will.” He pinned the rose back on her dress and cupped her face in his hands, bringing her into a kiss.

When they pulled back, he held his arm out for her to take. They entered the great hall together, where everyone was awaiting the champions and their partners. They stood next to Fred and Angelina.

“You look beautiful, y/n” Angelina leaned over to tell her through the noise of everyone talking.

“Thank you! You look gorgeous as well.” She gave her a bright smile.

“Finally did it, huh George?” Fred threw at his brother.

George knocked his shoulder to Freds. “Been waiting a long time, couldn’t pass up the opportunity.” He replied.

Y/n smiled to herself at their conversation.

Soft music played over the crowd of students as the champions entered with their partners, arm in arm. Shouts and claps towards the champions grew louder than the music. They were the first to dance as tradition. Harry was the only one who seemed slightly out of place. Y/n felt bad for him, being only fourteen and having his name pulled from the goblet of fire. She knew from the very beginning he didn’t put it in, just based on how he acted when it happened.

The champions danced first, other couples joined in once some of the professors began dancing.

“May I have this dance, love?” George asked, offering his hand again.

“Always.” She replied, taking his hand.

He led her closer to the side of the floor. They’d been taught the dance so they didn’t have to worry about not being able to. George had his hand on her waist as they were supposed to, only he was holding her tighter and closer to him than recommended. He couldn’t help it, he wanted her as close to him as possible now that they were together. She didn’t mind in the slightest, she enjoyed it.

He spinned her and watched her skirt and hair twirl with her, her smile made his heart leap. Lifting her into the air in sync with everyone else, she laughed. Everything was perfect.

The dance ended and they were left to get drinks or food if they wished, or keep dancing.

“I need something to drink, and then we can continue.” Y/n started off towards the tables and George caught up to her and grabbed her hand to walk with her.

They met Harry and Ron with their dates, looking dreadful.

“Aren’t you two going to dance?” Y/n asked them, her hand wrapped tightly around George’s arm.

Harry looked up at her and then to Ron. Ron shook his head.

“C’mon Ronnie, won't you waltz with me?” George pretended to dance to pick on his little brother. He laughed and y/n pulled on his arm.

Ron looked threateningly at his brother. “Piss off.”

“Sorry guys, I’ll see you later on.” She gently shoved George off in the direction of the drinks. She leant down slightly to them. “Loosen up guys, it’s a dance. Don’t leave the girls hanging.” She winked to the four of them and started off towards George as the three-excluding ron-gave her a small smile.

George was standing with Fred as she approached the two of them. He had a cup of water in his hand and a cup of what looked like blue fruit punch in the other, but who knew at Hogwarts.

“I didn’t know which you’d prefer, so I got you both, I’ll drink whichever you don’t.” He held out the two cups.

“If I don’t like the blue one can I have the water? If you don’t mind drinking after me.” She asked.

“Not at all, here, love.” He handed the drink to her.

It tasted like raspberries and blueberries, it sparkled under the bright lights. “ It’s wonderful, have you tried it?”

She handed it to him and he tried it, he decided he’d throw the water away and get more punch.

“Where’s Angelina?” Y/n asked Fred.

“Gone to the bathroom, should be out soon.” He responded.

George took a sip of his drink and wrapped an arm around y/n’s waist. “They’re not actually dating, just friends.”

Y/n stuck out her bottom lip. “Shame, they’re cute together. But I guess we did come as friends to begin with.”

“And we’re definitely cute together.” He chuckled. Angelina came back and the two of them decided to sit for a couple of minutes after the four of them chatted a bit more. “Ready?” George asked y/n.

“Away we go, prince charming.” She laughed and the two of them walked back to the center of the hall to dance. As they got there though, Baby I’m Yours by Arctic Monkeys began playing.

It wasn’t as slow as some of the others, but George held her and spinned her nonetheless. Strangely, he knew every word. Even stranger, he could sing, and he sang to her as he held her close and kissed her.

“I’ve said this before, but I don’t want this to end, Georgie.” She mumbled into his chest, his hands wrapped tightly around her waist.

He kissed the top of her head before replying. “I don’t either, bird. And I’ve said this before, but things will be better now. This won’t be the last time I dance with you, and it won’t be the last night we spend together. I’m sure Ginny’s already told you, but we aren’t going back to the dorms, me and you.”

“Is it a surprise, or can I know now?” She lifted her head up to look at him.

He kissed her and replied, “Surprise.”

She smiled and grabbed his hands as they swayed. He lifted his arm and spun her once more. The night went on and they continued to dance, barely stopping. When most everyone had cleared out they were in the back still swaying to the last slow songs.

“I don’t want to be kicked out, so I think we should go.” George started, that wasn’t the biggest reason though. He was mostly excited for the rest of the night.

They led themselves out of the great hall, they didn’t want to leave but George firmly believed that their next destination would be even better.

He helped her up the staircases, leading her to what looked like the highest point of the castle. Thankfully, the staff was still in the great hall supervising the remaining students.

“The astronomy tower?” She gazed at the view as they made it up to the very top.

“You can see the lake from here, too. I saw how you looked out into it.” He told her, leading her to the edge.

Her eyes couldn’t decide what to focus on, they landed up at the stars. “It’s absolutely perfect.”

He watched her as she watched the sky, admiring every feature she possessed. “You’re absolutely perfect.”

“That makes two of us.” Her hand on her chin, she gave him a grin. They stood like that for a little while longer until she broke the silence. “George?”

He didn’t care that she knew he was staring at her, he felt comfortable around her. “Love?”

“I’d like that confession now.”

Finally, his head hung slightly and his cheeks glowed in the moonlight. His hair covered his eyes slightly, so she moved it from his face and brought his chin up to look at her.

“I was hoping you’d want to hear it, I’ve been dying keeping it from you.” He began. “For years, and especially recently, thoughts of you play in my head. Over and over, from holding you, to kissing you, to nights like these. I’ve beat myself up over you for so long and now I have you. It’s hard to wrap my head around.” Her eyes got lost in his and his voice. “I’ve never felt like this. And I believe you’re the only person I’ll ever feel this way about. I don’t care that we’re seventeen, we’re young and stupid, but you’re my person. I pray you always will be. I’ll do everything in my power to keep you, and to keep you safe and happy. You do enough to make me happy just by smiling. It lights every part of me up and my heart can’t take it. This past month, you’ve been everything to me, you’ve kept my world turning and you always will, darling.” He paused for a moment. “And,” His hand went to his pocket. “I have something else for you.”

She was, once again, rendered speechless. She couldn’t find the words to say.

Out of his pocket, he pulled a necklace. A copper chain with a ‘G’ charm.

“It’s not exactly a promise ring, but we can call it a promise necklace.” He held it in his hand in front of her. “I hope it’s not too soon. I’ve been in love with you since the first time I saw you smile. Even if it wasn’t because of me. I hope from now on it will be.”

All she could do was look from the necklace to him. Once she took everything in, she reached up to his face and kissed him, with everything she had she poured her heart into it as he had just done.

“You are everything to me in this moment, George, since last night, you’re the only thing I’ve wanted. You’re right, darling, you were right last night. Things will be better. On my darkest days, you’ll be my light. On the best days it will be because of you. It’s soon for all of this, of course. It’s sudden, but that’s why it’s called falling. I fell in love with you last night, George. When I smile, it’s because of you.” She picked the necklace up from his palm, and looked at the ‘G’.

He moved her hair out of the way and hooked the chain around her neck.

“Even better.” He smiled at her. “I can’t wait for the rest of my life, as long as you’re in it.”

She agreed, grabbing his hands and putting them around her and placed her head on his chest with tears in her eyes. Now she knew what above the bare minimum was, George had set the bar higher than she knew to be possible. He’d never settle for anything less and neither would she.

#harry potter #harry potter imagines #hp #hp imagine #weasley twins #fred and george #george weasley #george weasley imagine #george wealsey x reader #george weasley x you #hufflepuff #gryffindor #yule ball #gred and forge

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hockeyboistrash · 4 years ago

Text

my boo | t.j

summary: 4 times you should’ve told him. 1 time you did.

You and Tyson have been friends since his rookie year. It happened over a menial thing, about the coffee at the same coffee shop you go to. You then kept bumping into each other, even at a random bar, and the two of you thought it was meant to be, the friendship that is. He started inviting you out after wins and to home games and soon enough you were a regular fixture in each other’s lives. It was strictly as friends although you’d be lying if you say you haven’t developed a slight crush on him that then went onto full blown feelings. Tyson didn’t know and you made sure to keep it that way. Others have a different idea though.

Even though music was playing and there was a big crowd you could still hear Tyson's laugh. You watched as he threw his head back at something someone said. You didn’t miss the way your breath hitched as your eyes gazed over him. He definitely looked good tonight not that he doesn’t look good every night. Its just something different about tonight. "You really need to have sex." Mel giggled. That was it. "You’re basically undressing him with your eyes."

"No I’m not." You scoffed, taking a sip of your drink. You stared ahead so your lingering gaze wouldn’t get spotted. That was the last thing you needed, everyone including Tyson knowing the feelings you were harbouring. Mel only knew after some deducing.

"Let me run my fingers through your curls." She said, putting on a deeper and sexier voice, clearly trying to imitate the thoughts you were having.

"Stop." You hissed trying to be annoyed but the giggles betrayed you.

"You should just tell him, Y/N." Mel said. This time more serious. She wanted you to tell him, confident that Tyson would feel the same. You didn’t believe her or at least you didn’t want to believe her, scared that it could ruin your friendship.

You were about to tell your friend why it was a bad idea, again, when you were interrupted by Tyson's impeccable timing. "Tell who what?" He asked, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and bringing you in close for a side hug. His cheeks were pink, a sign of him being pass tipsy. That and the way he wanted you close, not that you were complaining.

"That we should tell Gabe that Dancing Queen is the best ABBA song." Tyson looked at you unsure at the lie you just said but went along with it anyway. Mel didn’t though. While he was going on about something JT did Mel shook her head as she took a sip of her own drink. It may have been missed by Tyson but not by you.

ii.

You sat in the stands, your hands shoved in your pockets as you watched the kids skate around with their parents closely behind. It was the family skate, which you were reluctant to go because a) you weren’t good at skating and b) you were only Tyson's friend. You felt like this type of thing should be reserved for someone he was dating or his family. He begged you to come though, stating you owed him one. You were sure that you didn’t yet you still agreed to come after seeing how excited he was.

The excitement followed to today as Tyson was playing with the kids and messing about with his teammates, the weight of the game off his shoulders even if it was just for a few hours. He caught you looking over at him and skated over to the barrier between you wearing a huge grin. "You coming out?" He asked, gesturing to the ice behind him.

"Nope." You shook your head.

"Come on, you can’t come to a family skate and not skate." Tyson said, pouting slightly now. You mumbled something but he didn’t hear you. "What was that?"

"I can’t skate." You huffed.

"You’re friends with professional ice hockey players and you can’t skate?" He did try his hardest not to laugh. It didn’t work though as the playful glare you sent him made it hard to keep the laughter in. "I’m sorry." Tyson said between laughs as he tried to calm down. "Let me teach you."

You looked out at the rink and bit your lip slightly. You saw how close everyone was, how intimate it could be. Maybe you were overthinking it though. You also saw how Tyson's eyes lit up in excitement when he suggested it. "Fine." You conceded and he let out a little cheer. "But don’t you dare let me fall."

"I won’t. I promise." He assured you before going to help you to put the skates on.

Once you had them on, Tyson led you on to the ice holding your hand the entire time. Your other hand was clutching the barrier causing him to give you an exasperated look. "I’m going to fall." Your voice no longer had a hint of humour.

"I told you I won’t let you fall, okay?" Tyson said, using his other hand to guide your eyes up so you were looking at him as apposed to being glued on your skates. "Take my other hand, skates shoulder width apart, and knees slightly bent."

You followed his instructions and let him pull you along as he skated backwards with ease. Tyson was patient with you which you were grateful for. The progress was slow but you managed to skate a little, even if you were still glued to Tyson.

"Four more lessons and I’m sure you won’t need me anymore." He grinned at you as you both leaned against the barrier, taking a break from the skating lessons.

"Then I’ll be as good as Tessa?" You asked, in a playful tone.

"Eh I’d say that’s at least five." Tyson joked, laughing along with you.

After the laughter died down, the two of you stayed there in silence, enjoying each other’s company. That silence was short as one of his teammates shouted for him to come over. Tyson sent you an apologetic smile telling you he'll be right back. The empty space was soon filled by Mel who had swooped as soon as Tyson had left. "You two seem very cosy." She said, nudging you slightly. You rolled your eyes expecting nothing less from your friend though.

"He’s just teaching me how to skate." You told her even though you didn’t really need to explain yourself.

"Interesting." She hummed but before you could ask what she meant by that she continued. "You should really tell him."

"I’m not-." You started only to get interrupted by Gabe.

"Are you finally telling Josty you’re in love with him?" He asked and your eyes widened. You opened your mouth and then closed it again, trying to figure out what to say to that outrageous accusation that came out of nowhere. You instead settled on glaring at your friend who had shrunk a little beside her husband.

"I didn’t say anything I swear."

"She didn’t. It’s written all over your face." Gabe grinned, clearly enjoying your embarrassment.

"I’m going to go." You mumbled, wanting to get out of there before Tyson got back so you started skating forgetting for a moment that you can’t in fact skate well yet. You clung to the sides as both Gabe and Mel watched on in amusement.

"They’ll figure it out soon." Gabe said, pressing a kiss onto the side of Mel's head, his arm wrapped around her.

iii.

When the text came through you didn’t hesitate to drop everything for Tyson. It wasn’t like you were doing anything particularly important you were just channel surfing until you landed on a show you’ve watched a bunch of times before. He needed you to get some more pasta and a sauce which meant that he must be trying to cook. As you stood in the elevator taking you up to his floor you braced yourself for the state his kitchen must be in.

You lightly knocked on the door before walking into his apartment, something you do all the time. This time you wished you didn’t just barge in as an older gentleman was sat on the couch, clearly Tyson’s company. "I’m so sorry for interrupting." You apologised but the man didn’t seem bothered by it, smiling brightly at you. "I’ve got the ingredients!" You shouted out to Tyson, wanting to get out there quickly so you weren’t interrupting anymore than you already have done.

"You’re the best." He grinned at you, the same one as the man's. "How much do I owe you?"

"Don’t worry about it." You brushed him off. "It’s just pasta and sauce although if you burn it again I will take you up on that. I mean how does one burn pasta? It’s the easiest thing to make." You chirped him earning a hearty laugh from the couch and a groan from Tyson.

"I don’t even know." He swore he followed the instructions yet the mess in the sink suggests otherwise.

"Here let me." You lightly hip-bumped Tyson out of the way. "Go spend time with your guest."

"I can’t ask you to do that." He said lowly so only you would hear.

"You’re not asking, I’m offering. Besides I think it’s best for everyone’s health and the Denver fire department that I cook this dinner for you." You teased, this time earning a laugh from Tyson. "It’s fine. I’ve got nothing going on except a date with my tv."

While you made dinner you watched on as Tyson and his grandpa, who you had finally been introduced to, caught up. It made your heart full seeing how much love they had for each other and how this weekend meant so much for both of them. You served two plates up and set them in the dining room, leaving the left overs to cool down.

"Aren’t you staying?" Tyson asked when he only saw the two plates.

"I don’t want to intrude anymore than I already have." You said, feeling like you’re already overstaying your welcome even though Tyson would insist you could never do that.

"Nonsense. Come and take a seat. Tyson will get your plate." His grandpa said. You couldn’t say no now that both men insisted on you staying so you took a seat at an empty spot at the table. Tyson’s face lit up when you sat down and didn’t hesitate to get you a plate. While he was gone his grandpa turned to you and leaned in. "He’s a smart boy. He’ll figure it out soon."

He settled back into his seat when Tyson had returned like he hadn’t just said anything to you. You were confused as to what he meant but you didn’t miss the look in his eyes, it’s the same one that Mel has whenever she talks about your, apparently blatant, feelings for Tyson.

iv.

You had no right to be jealous yet the feeling was bubbling inside of you, seeing some girl all over Tyson. You downed your drink hoping that it would help somehow. It didn’t. If anything the more you drank the more you felt the jealousy. You weren’t hiding it well either as JT came over making a joke about it. The guys had won their game tonight so a good majority of them were on their way to being drunk.

"Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, Y/N." He said but you ignored me, opting to glare across the bar to Tyson, more importantly the girls hand on his thigh.

"I’m not jealous." You insisted but it was futile as JT gave you a pointed look.

"You should just tell him." Your eyes widened when he said that.

"H-How did you know?" You asked, your voice hushed so Tyson wouldn’t hear even though he was across the room and music was playing.

"Everyone knows. Well everyone except Josty apparently." JT couldn’t help but let out a laugh at that.

"I’m not telling him." You grumbled, picking your drink up to have another sip only for it to be empty.

"Why not?" It was like a switch had flipped at his question. Having had enough of everyone asking you the same question paired with the alcohol you’ve drank you finally let it all go.

"Because I don’t want to ruin our friendship, okay?! Besides it’s none of your damn business." You exclaimed earning a few looks including Tyson’s, not that you noticed. "I decide whether I want to tell him or not and at this time I don’t. I care about him too much that I don’t want to risk losing him and if that means staying friends then so be it." Everyone from the team, who was still at the club, had moved closer to the booth you and JT were sat at. You felt the heat rose to your cheeks from embarrassment, wanting nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole. Especially when your eyes landed on Tyson's, a look of concern on his face.

"Y/N..." He started but you shook your head mumbling that you needed to go.

+ 1

You weren’t sure how much Tyson had heard, if any of it. That didn’t stop the thoughts of moving state or even country and changing your name from running through your mind. You wrapped your arms around you as you took a seat on the curb away from the club as you waited for your Uber. You couldn’t bring yourself to go back inside of the club so you settled on waiting outside in the cold Denver night.

Shuffling next to you meant that someone must have followed you outside and you didn’t need to look over to see who it was. Tyson sat down next to you, leaving a little gap between you. Before he wouldn’t have hesitated to wrap his arm around you which meant he must have heard something.

You watched as the time on the app went down. Neither of you had spoken yet although you could tell Tyson wanted to, he just didn’t know what to say. After flipping back and forth between options of what he could start off with he finally spoke up. "Are you okay?"

You looked up at him, the buzz from your phone letting you know the car was here just as one pulled up. "My ride is here." You told him, standing up and gesturing to the black car. Tyson wordlessly followed you to the car and got in the other side. You didn’t stop him. You knew you would have to have a conversation about it, whether it was tonight or not. You also knew that he would want to make sure you got home safely.

The ride was silent and you watched as the Denver streets passed by, your worries forgotten momentarily. The silence followed all the way up to your apartment and into your bedroom. You did you night routine as Tyson stood there, leaning against the doorframe, fighting with himself on whether he would stay or not. The t-shirt and pants you gave him answered that question for him.

"Please stay." You said, barely above a whisper, as you reached out when he made a move to go to the couch. "Can we just pretend that nothing has changed tonight?"

Tyson nodded. He got changed into the clothes you gave him and climbed into your bed. You snuggled into to him, his arms wrapped around you. The worry no longer there, at least for tonight.

The morning came and you were already up when Tyson came shuffling into the kitchen. You needed a breather before your world could possibly come crashing down. "Morning." He greeted, his voice deep and coated in sleep making your stomach do flips.

"Morning." You mumbled into your drink.

"We should probably talk about last night." He sighed once he had his coffee in his hand. You bit your lip and nodded, putting your drink down on the side. You hated how awkward it felt between you. Normally neither of you would shut up, always having something to say to each other.

"I’m sorry."

"So what’s going on between you and JT?" Tyson asked as you apologised at the same time. You gave him a confused look letting him continue. "It’s just- you looked upset and I only heard bits of what you were saying but you said something about not wanting to ruin your friendship."

"I wasn’t talking about JT. I was talking about you." You told him, looking away not wanting to see his reaction. You thought it would be best to rip the metaphorical bandaid off and squash his assumption about his teammate. Tyson let out a little 'oh' so you continued, wanting to get everything out before he said anything else. "I like you, Tys, as in I fell for you and it’s totally okay if you don’t feel the same way. I won’t hold that against you. I just-"

"I fell for you too." He interrupted your rambling and you looked up, seeing a look of adoration. "It’s always been you since we met but I’ve been too chicken to tell you. I was pissed when I thought JT stole my girl."

"Your girl?" You said, blush creeping on his cheeks as you did. "I like the sound of that." You grinned, pressing a soft kiss on his lips.

#tyson jost imagine #tyson jost x reader #tyson jost #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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certifiedceraunophile · 4 years ago

Text

DISCLAIMER :

SMUT SMUT SMUT and FLUFF. (NSFW)

It’s basically a 5k porn smut-shot about dimples and dick. Mostly dimples but there’s gratuitous dicking too, because of course my brain saw a gif set of Mr. Klaus Forbes flashing his dimples and thought PORN.

ALSO,

Nominated for Best Smut Oneshot in the 2020 KC awards

(I mean I have been called an excellent homoerotic muse so I shoulda seen this coming)

Tags:

D/s undertones,

Dominant Caroline

somewhat bregrudgingly submissive Klaus.

——————————————————————————

TREAT AT MY BEHEST

The conversation was flowing smoothly, a little too smoothly, it truly was a sight to behold,

She doesn't find awkward bumps that the participants uncomfortably had to step over stilling the flow, no problematic cracks people either ignored or tried to tear open with their teeth, no blunt blows to the back off the head, or venom tipped words sharper than the fangs the Mikaelson family sported, Hell, even Kol kept his sexual innuendos count to an all time low of two per sentence, and it wasn’t tedious either, it was sunny honest conversation one that flowed and ebbed in tranquil warmth enveloping all those who took part in it.

But of course, the insufferable bastard she’s been calling her husband for the last handful of decades, and her last love for two centuries now, decides he’ll singlehandedly throw all progress out the backdoor.

Her husband, and his freaking audacity to flash those dimples, in that exact way, throw all progress out the backdoor if she’s being more accurate.

God he’ll be the end of her.

It’s no grand truth, that she’s very very closely acquainted with his dimples, and she means, ‘lick a sweet path from dimple to lip as per her wish’ closely acquainted, those perfect indents on his cheeks, make no mistake, they are hers for the taking,

But she admits, she has her preferences, she’s a bit finicky with her interests,

She’s not too fond of his shit eating ‘Yet again I’ve bested you, my love.’ dimples, or any other variant of that he flashes in the rare case he has the upper hand between the two of them.

She’s quite partial to the one sided dimpling the evil villain smirk has to offer, one she’s privy to during their hunts, or the ‘Ive got one word for you: run.’ smirk he displays before transforming into a walking talking guillotine, those are quite entertaining to watch bloom, and the customary thorough debauching of her body that follows any such murder work out is nothing dismissible.

Now the almost bashful and youthfully eager ones he shows her when he talks about his place in the world as an artist, when for once his hand can create instead of destroy, those are entirely just for her, that sit there pretty on his cheeks in the privacy of his studio, where they continue to relive a thousand different times in a thousand different places including Rome, Paris and Tokyo, that one day, when he thanked her for the first of many things he feels gratitude for, her honesty,

He still remembers it as the day he allowed the truth to be something he didn't particularly like for the first time in a long time, she however still remembers the day by the absolute fishing he did, standing there in his studio as he introduced his passions to her, patiently waiting in silent humility for her to notice these paintings were his and compliment him.

He still doesn't allow this truth to remain, she of course always knows better.

Then again she also loves the shy soft little ones he offers her and only her, the ones he gently picks from the buried bounded depths of his heart and places in her hand with such care, as he sweetly leans into her palm, moist plump lips pressed against her pulse. When he is so beautifully hers that the hybrid gold of his eyes is the sun and when directed at her is as warm and sweet as golden honey. Or when he nuzzles his nose into the curve of her neck, the swell of her breast, half laying on top of her, when he gathers her close pauses and then closer, as if he finds the flesh separating them offending, as though his very existence is meant to directly infect her soul unimpeded by skin and bone, as if he means to exist in her and through her, and live only within her.

He’s a bit pretentious with his love.

But she’s told him

‘Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup.’

His simple response was to pull her to him and offer his neck,

“Drink.”

She’s never brought it up again,

His devotion for her, his raw thirst for her, it unnerved her at first when she finally decided after

The numerous ‘Sweetheart, they were not bloody staged’ run-ins in every continent she dared to set foot on,

The two times she needed his blood in the century she spent on her own,

The one night she needed his arms and scent to engulf her and his dead heartbeat to soothe her when Elizabeth Forbes passed at age ninety four,

The one time when she realised somewhere along the way between the sporadic meets and witch hunts, the werewolf venom and death counts, the art and music and culture their souls burgeoned to connect, the great cities they carved into their own stars, the languid conversation as they winded through both cobblestones and pink sands, underneath both fluttering snow of and steady stars, the silent moments of equal awe they both shared between the most downtrodden godforsaken places of hunger and poverty and the most lavish heavens, between all the beauty and filth in the world when they only had eyes for each other, amongst the scent of both death and life when they only inhaled a shared breath so sacred they locked it in and never let it out, when seas and continents and words couldn’t keep them apart, when neither his ego nor her stubbornness could count for any importance in the face of each other, when the one time she realised immortality for her wasn't the ungodly number of years she’s left behind still apple cheeked and smooth as milk, but was the ungodly amount of years still ahead of her that somehow always evinced his hand in hers,

When she finally, one balmy faultless Sunday afternoon, in the thick of Thanjavur’s humidity in India, sitting barefoot as per the town’s religious customs on the ground, sprawled carefully in the warm green grass that precedes the entrance of the glorious Brihadeeswarar Temple, that is almost as old as the man occupying her thoughts,

She finally finds her deviously elusive,

Oh.

moment, proceeded by the

Oh fuck.

Moment,

Realisation hits her with the weight of immortality and her acceptance that there was no other possibility but this, that this has been inevitable for the better half of the last century, carries the weight forward into her heart and fills it with such indisputable finality, that Klaus’s place is by her side and hers alone.

And after that, well, what else was there to do?

After all of that, it’s one knock on his door, and,

“Alright, apparently However long it takes only lasted a total of 113 years, 6 months and 25 days. I thought I’d last longer, but I’m not as stubborn as I wished I was.”

That night was the first time she realised it wasn’t the first time they’ve made love, slow and sweet and beautiful, But it was the first time Klaus with all the vulnerability of a little boy back in Mygradrir who wore a sterling around his neck tight as a noose because his mother loved him so much, asked, mouth against her skin, face hidden in her neck, a whisper that shook in the middle and dissipated at the edges,

“You’ll stay, not just tomorrow, but after?”

“Yes, yes I will.”

That was about two centuries ago, and apparently after did not mean the day after tomorrow.

But she hasn't had too many complaints, she admits the novelty of him has worn off, he’s a bit grating on the edges, the sides and the middle, he’s entirely too insufferable to put up with for an extended period of time, definitely is only enjoyable in moderation and bite sized doses,

But she did let him put a ring on her finger, and also stood there holding his hand as they were bound by a witch in supernatural matrimony, so she can’t really tell it’s wholly his fault, but she apparently likes him too, in addition to loving him, so she’ll stay.

But she digressed a whole lot,

Where was she again?

Yes, his dimples.

Correction, her dimples

Their appearances are continual and each unique situation had one kind assigned to it, but that does not mean they are repetitive, Klaus is many things but least of all predictable, So he presents her with new ones every now and then, dimples she’d like to kiss till they imprint on her lips,

She knows that even if she goes on to live twice the millennium Her husband experienced, and even if every glittering rarity becomes a hackneyed iteration, and every resounding wave of novelty is a mere echo she’s experienced a thousand times, even if there is nothing new as she leads time through this carousel world as the closest thing to omniscient, then she’ll at least know her husband’s smile will always catch her a tiny bit off guard. That she will always take a second to touch it and see it widen even further when she does.

But there was this one single type of smile he flashed from time to time, a rarity in its own right, that one smile basically threw all progress out the backdoor,

The smile is always characterised by the fact that it’s not for her, or for his siblings, or his enemies, it’s for the world, it’s a smile that he never intended to give but slipped out of his hand anyway, and somehow ends up smiling with his entire body, but he’s done that countless times for her, smile with his whole being, she’d say at least twice everyday, usually more, but when he does it for the world, she’s a bit unprepared,

She knows his hostility against the way of the world all too well, it’s why he’s so adamant on dictating it, she knows the millennium of undead life under Mikael’s hatred left him with a tight grip on the world but only because he was hanging on to the edge of it with both hands, his legs dangling, but he doesn’t show it that way, instead phrases it as ‘I had the world at my finger tips, Now I have it beneath my feet.’

He’s a bit flashy with his pretty words, that total honesty to this man is as difficult as love will never surprise her, but the fact that this same honesty sometimes slips out so easily, unfettered and ensconced in peace and content, that does surprise her, like for instance, right now, He’s sitting there ankle over knee, occupying an entire settee with the way he’s sprawled because of course he has to be the biggest being in the room, he needs to know his ego easily accomplishes that for him, holding in his hand one of the thousand sketchpads he’s still kept after paper was no more the norm nor necessity but became a relic of bygone ages for centuries now, and as he sits there sketching god knows what, in the same room as his siblings, their chatter as perfectly idle as a family’s,

He’s smiling, not at her, not to his siblings, hell not even at his drawing, she knows he’s not listening to the conversation, so it’s not something Kol said or Rebekah whined, he’s perfectly uninterrupted in his smile that just bloomed on his face with no given reason, and there as he bows his head a little closer to the page, not because he wants to hide the smile but because he simply wants to see the sketch closer, she knows he doesn't even know he’s smiling, but he is.

So wide and beautiful and honest, and just because, a smile directed at the world, and to think he doesn’t even notice, to know that it’s so whole and full, that there isn’t a place left in his heart or mind to remind him to restrain it.

She knows she’s smiling just as wide too.

God, the things this man does to her heart,

And not just her heart, apparently her body too if the heady arousal that rushed straight to her clit as if a phantom hand rubbed it is anything to go by, because of course, she’s never so aroused by him as she is when he dimples.

TO CONTINUE READING

AO3

ff.net

If you find this plotless 5k smutshot of my infernal sub Klaus fantasies doing things to you that are best not done in a church parking lot, please feel free to vote for it in the upcoming KCAWARDS under the BEST SMUT ONESHOT category.

Much love and peace

Srishti🤍

#my works #my edits #klaroline smut #KC awards #klaus x caroline #klaroline fanfic #klaroline edits #d/s smut #caroline forbes #kc fandom #klaroline #kc edits #klaroline drabble #klaroline fanfiction #klaus mikaelson #otp: i shot him and now he thinks we’re engaged #otp: caroline i’m not you’re british muffin #otp: caroline my love

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ccelinewritess · 4 years ago

Text

dancing on my own- cd.

pairing- cedric diggory x reader, unspecified man x reader

word count- 941 (smol bean) warnings- curse words likely and not heavily revised

a/n- hi. im sorry this is kind of sad. lyrics are from the songs ‘dancing on my own’ by calum scott and ‘marry me’ by thomas rhett and are bold and flashbacks are in italics. if you’ve ever watched obx i picture the wedding to look like the midsummers episode kind of?

of all the things things cedric was hoping to do this summer, watching y/n marry someone else, was unsurprisingly, not on the list.

‘do you think we’ll ever get married’ he paused for a second ‘not to eachother ofcourse’ he meant it, he didn’t want to marry y/n, or maybe he did, he didn’t know. his heart and head were in a desperate battle for dominance as he fell deeper and deeper in love with his oblivious bestfriend.

her hair blew softly in the breeze, tongue falling out of her mouth in concentration

‘haha yeah, not us together but i think so, why do you ask’ she took her eyes off her homework to look back at him

‘just curious.’

yeah she wanna get married, but she don’t wanna marry me

he apparated into a field he didn’t recognize, a big white house in front of him. the ceremony was about to begin, maybe he should’ve stayed home. yes he definetly should have stayed home.

as much as he hated to admit, the backyard was decorated very nicely, rows of chairs, white magnolias hanging overhead, a small platform that elevated the minster, and her soon to be husband. he hid in the corner of the wide deck, acting as casual as possible, leaning against the rail. he was fine, and was going to be fine, right? he thought so, until the music started, and the girl walked out the door he entered through only moments before. he had to keep his mouth from falling open, but she looked utterly beautiful. her dress flowing behind her, the back fairly open, and lacy sleeves long. the veil covering curled hair. he took a sip from his flask, the whiskey failing to heal a broken heart, but he could still try to numb the pain.

i remember the night when i almost kissed her, yeah i kind of freaked out, we’d been friends for forever, and i always wondered if she felt the same way

the yule ball was underway, and the first dance belonged to the champions and their dates.

‘your fine, i swear. im here, i won’t let you fall, ive got you’ he said calmingly to a disgruntled and nervous y/n. he was right, the whole night he never left her side, holding her close to his chest when dancing smelling her strawberry shampoo. struggling to avoiding the urge to kiss his friend of as far back as his memory could go.

the feelings were rushing up, every memory, every late night in the kitchen, or the common room. seeing her cheering from the stands while he played quidditch. every embrace, her touch, even a brush of her fingers on his arm. his head in her lap while she brushed the hair of his forehead. throwing random ingredients in potions to see how high it could bubble. her soft voice while she played the piano. even after they left hogwarts, their desks close in the ministry office, sending random notes to cheer him up, and always succeeding.

and i know her daddies been dreading this day, oh, but he ain’t the only one giving her away

a tear slipped from his eye. get it together- he told himself. he hated to admit that only hours ago he was planning on telling her how he felt, on her wedding day, who was he becoming? was he that selfish? he couldn’t now, now that he saw her face, a smile plastered on it as tears of her own ran down.

‘and y/n l/n do you take this man to be your husband’ the minister said

‘i do’ her voice was as sweet as it had always been, but his heart shattered, and he could feel himself sweating under the black suit. she was really gone.

‘you may kiss the bride’

the painful evening continued slowly, and time seemed to stand still. just when he thought it wouldn’t get worse, the newly weds started dancing about. the small lights that illuminated the backyard now that the sky had fallen blue, bouncing off the couples face. he wished he were the man holding her, kissing her, but he wasn’t, not in the slightest, he was just alone, swaying in the corner.

and im in the corner, watching you kiss her, oh

im right over here why can’t you see me

im not the guy your taking home, ooh

but i keep dancing on my own

he headed to the front to apparate out, when he heard footsteps behind him.

‘cedric, wait up’ her voice rang in his ears

high heels and gravel didn’t mix to well. when she started to wobble he sturdied y/n before she fell.

‘y/n! congratulations, you look lovely’ looking down at the front of her dress now, and it was just as beautiful as the back, jems lining the cut nearing her breasts.

before he could protest she pulled him into a warm hug and for a moment he forgot that he had just watched her get married.

‘thank you for coming, going home are you?’ she asked

‘thank you for inviting me, yeah, ill see you at work though’ he said reassuringly

‘oh yes, big case’ a small silence fell ‘well ill see you then?’

‘yes, enjoy your night’

he apparated out with an pop, cedric knew he couldn’t stay any longer. when he wished so badly to be her husband. he was right back into his lonely flat. tears began to fall down his face again, one after the other. he ripped off his jacket and tried to wash his face with cold water, but it didn’t change the fact he missed his chance, and so many of them. twenty three years worth of chances. but she was happy, and that’s all he could ask.

hope you enjoyed!

please lmk what you think

#cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory fluff #cedric diggory fanfiction #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory #harry potter imagine

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

Text

Who do you save, John? (Bit 9)

Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5a | Bit 5b | Bit 6 | Bit 7 | Bit 8 | Bit 9

Back at work, so no piccy today, but lots of Jeff and Gordon, though :D

For @5hadow-alpha cos they wanted Shopping and a Tracy brother. They got more than one, and I got more than I expected.

-o-o-o-

Dear Lucy.

I don’t know where to start.

Perhaps a thank you is in order. Thank you for turning our boy around and marching him back here. I don’t think I could handle losing any of them. Not now.

Not ever.

But we’ve discussed that before.

You would have been so proud. I know I’ve mentioned how they’ve grown, but in the worst of circumstances…

Our littlest, honey…he is so strong. Even injured, he fought for Virgil with everything he had.

He reminded me of you.

But then they all do.

Gordy continues to surprise me. I know he has experienced more than I would ever have wished on anyone, but there was a fire in our little fish today. I don’t know how to classify him anymore. He is a scientist and an athlete, but this time he was a soldier.

I would never have suspected, Luce. He was always such a happy boy. But life, I guess.

John. Quiet, genius John. Life has taken a toll on all our boys, but the strength I saw in Johnny...god, Luce, I wish you could see them all. I know I’m proud enough for the both of us, but it’s so unfair that we have such worthy sons and you can’t see the men they have become.

I miss you.

God, I miss you.

Did you see Virgil? Did you speak to him? I like to think that for all the pain our son went through that you would have received at least a glimpse.

He reminds me so much of you, every day. He has your kind eyes.

But you know that.

It bears repeating.

It was so close and he has a long road ahead of him, but he is still with me. Thank you, love, thank you, thank you, thank you.

I’ll listen to his nagging, I promise. He means well.

I guess now I get to nag him in return.

Luce.

God.

Our Scotty. You said it when he was born. You said he was going to change the world.

He has.

He does.

Love, I couldn’t ask for more.

Jeff paused, the stylus hovering above his tablet. Scott was sleeping in the chair between the two beds despite the regular beeping from the monitors.

Or perhaps because of that regular beat.

The tablet was having trouble with Jeff’s scrawly handwriting. Usually he dictated these letters in the privacy of his own rooms, but that wasn’t happening today.

And he had so much to tell Lucy.

Virgil was pale and breathing quietly on the bed beside him. Various monitors and IVs were strapped to him, but after some serious surgery, he was breathing on his own and, bar complications, on the mend.

Jeff sighed and shifted in his seat.

He glanced at his medic son almost expecting him to wake up and ask after his father’s health.

He would welcome it.

Virgil’s eyes stayed closed.

Jeff let his shoulders drop.

Luce, I am so proud of them, my heart is fit to burst out of my chest.

On the far side of Scott, Alan also lay sleeping, his arm wrapped in bandages and his own set of IVs replenishing his deprived systems.

Not for the first time in his years of parenthood, he wanted to be in more than one place at a time. But as always, he was outnumbered by his sons.

Scott had managed to solve a good chunk of the problem by paying the hospital so they could have both Virgil and Alan in the same room. If there was one advantage to having money, it was that.

Virgil still needed intensive care. Consequently, there was a nurse in the room at all times. She sat now in the half twilight reading notes in the corner.

Kayo had gone feral with security. She was horrified by Eos’ report on Anthony Simes. Apparently, the man had been found unconscious outside the main doors.

Why he was unconscious was yet to be explained. Kayo had appropriated the video recordings from the foyer. They simply showed him collapsing where he stood.

John had frowned when Kayo mentioned it and Jeff hadn’t seen him since. Scott said something about his brother connecting with Thunderbird Five.

Jeff just hoped his mother was making sure he was getting some sleep at the hotel. Mom had discovered ways to get his boys to behave that were still a mystery to him.

Alan muttered something in his sleep.

Putting aside his tablet, Jeff grabbed his cane and pushed himself to his feet. Everything ached. Neither his bones or his muscles had appreciated all the crawling around on the floor. Scott had been concerned enough to order in another bed in the hospital room.

Jeff hadn’t used it.

As for Scott, his son hadn’t left the hospital since they arrived here. Scott was exhausted. Between the kick to his abdomen and the strain of all those chest compressions, his eldest son’s body had declared enough and shut him down not long after he finally sat in that chair.

Jeff had no wish to disturb him.

Shuffling across the room, he made his way around Alan’s bed to the other side where another couple of chairs sat waiting for him. Jeff held in the groan as he folded himself with a creak.

His body was frustration itself.

Alan muttered something unintelligible and tossed his head on the pillow.

He was dreaming.

Without hesitation, Jeff leant over and touched his fingers to his son’s pale cheek.

Alan stilled immediately, his frown relaxing. His lips formed mumbled words as he leant into Jeff’s touch.

Ever so quiet, soft and...trusting. “Scott.”

Jeff’s eyes darted to his eldest, still sleeping between the beds.

How many times had Scott sat watch over his brothers like this?

Jeff’s heart clenched as his eyes traced the grey hairs on his son’s temples.

Alan rolled over towards Jeff, dragging his bandaged arm and tangling his IV. He didn’t wake, but appeared to be seeking comfort, his cheek cupping into Jeff’s palm.

Alan’s hand caught at his forearm attempting to pull him closer.

Jeff had the urge to lift him up and curl around him. But Alan was eighteen. No longer the eleven year old he so often pictured when he thought of his youngest.

Instead, he stood up and, leaning against the bed, reached over to untangle the tubing.

It was awkward with one hand.

“Let me get that.” A soft voice and a pair of tanned arms reached in and unsnagged the IV.

Jeff turned to find Gordon beside him. The aquanaut half smiled, dark eyes twinkling in the poor light despite the bruising on his face.

“Sit down, Dad.”

A blink and Jeff did as he was told, his eyes caught between his youngest and the apparition of his older brother. “What are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Snuck out. Figured you would still be here.”

The nurse at her station glanced up at them and Jeff felt suitably admonished. He pulled Gordon into one of the empty chairs beside him. “You need rest.”

“Yeah, well, rest is optional apparently.” A glance in Scott’s direction. “He looks down for the count.”

“He’s exhausted.”

“The fact we’re talking and he is still asleep is proof of that. Virgil would be dragging him to bed.”

There was no question of that. A glance over at his second injured son.

Still still.

Still quiet.

Virgil, please wake up.

“Any sign?” Gordon’s voice was tentative.

“No.”

“Doctors have anything to say?”

“He will wake in his own time. It’s early yet.”

Neither of them wanted to acknowledge the possibility of brain damage.

That way lay terror.

“Virg is always a snooze hound.”

They fell quiet for a moment. Jeff’s hand was still wrapped up in his youngest’s fingers and he had no issue about leaving it there. It brought up memories of the toddler who clung to him all those years ago.

He’d lost his mother before he even knew her.

Luce, you would be so, so proud.

He was thinking that a lot lately.

“How are you feeling, Dad?”

The question was inevitable, even if Virgil wasn’t awake. “I’m getting there. How about you?” It was dim lighting, but not enough to hide the doozy of a shiner his son was sporting.

Gordon snorted. “Same.”

“Dreams?” It was one word with so much terror behind it and they both knew it.

Gordon sighed. “Yeah, but I’ll get over it.”

The fact his son said that with so much experience, just hurt.

“You?”

Jeff arched an eyebrow. “Filling in for Virgil?”

“You asked me first.”

“My prerogative as a parent.”

“My prerogative as your son.”

“You have been taking notes off Virgil.”

“Who do you think corrals Scott when Virgil is down for the count? I’m back-up and you’re avoiding the question.”

His sons were definitely a team effort. “Dreams, yes, but they are nothing to worry about.” Dreams had kept him company for many years.

“They are going to be okay.”

“I know that Gordon. And so do you.”

Another sigh. “Yes, Dad.”

Alan muttered against his palm. “I’m sleeping here. Go get a room.”

“Allie?”

The fingers wrapped around his tightened momentarily before a pair of blue eyes peeked out from behind heavy eyelids. “What?”

“You okay?”

They closed again and Alan’s brow crinkled into a frown. “I’m fine, Scott. Lemme sleep.”

Alan was still clinging to his father’s arm.

Jeff blinked a moment. Ever so quiet. “Sleep, Allie.”

He paid no attention to the hand that landed on his shoulder and squeezed just a little.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Jeff Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #Alan Tracy #nuttys fandomversary

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randomoranges · 4 years ago

Text

good god almighty. here is part 4. somehow longer than the other parts. somehow with more Emotions. i decided to not be vague and call the spades spades. this one is more nsfw because of things étienne mentions.

again, minor character death and lots of introspection ha ha .

ive been working on the beast for like almost a month now. part 5 aint even done. im so glad i hacked it up in the end.

PART IV

“The 60s were good with that – for forgetting and moving on. There was – or seemed to be this renewed sense of freedom, as if the people were finding their true purpose in the city. A great big curtain was being pulled back and we were given the opportunity to redefine ourselves. It felt like hope, in a way and with the distance put with the church, I felt I could breathe a little more and I was able to find myself. By the time Expo rolled around, it gave me purpose – something to do. The energy in the city was astounding. The projects people were coming up with – the possibilities they were unveiling – I had never felt something like that. I thought for sure this energy would see us through the next one hundred years; we’d be feeding off of it and returning to it for years to come. It would be our source of creation. Everyone seemed to be excited; the world was literally in our backyard and it felt good to bask in the attention.”

It made sense for Étienne to have Expo, considering how good he was at catering to others – at giving them the good time they wanted. He thrived in giant crowds and lived for the attention. Plus, at the time, Montreal really did feel as though it was the center of Canada. It still felt like an other-worldly experience and there were still times when Edward wasn’t convinced Expo hadn’t been one massive hallucination. And he’d only been a small part of it, unlike Étienne who had lived every stage of it.

“With the change of decade, going into the 70s, I expected much of the same – moving forward, the endless possibilities of the future and such. For the first time in a long time, I was actually looking forward to having more time – to being immortal and being able to experience every change. To make new connections. Expand and broaden the horizons and such.”

“And then it all went to shit, starting with the October crisis. There was a lot that happened in the 70’s and not everything was bad, but for me, personally, it was a series of euphoric highs and devastating lows. In the same breath of the Crisis there would be a Cup win, then there was the Exodus, the language debacles and it never seemed to end. Up and down and up and down. One giant roller coaster that never gave me a chance to catch my breath. It was hard to feel anything let alone make it constant. It took a toll – added up and left me reeling in ways I had never thought possible. I couldn’t finish celebrating the Cup that I would get notified that something terrible had just happened. I would be relishing in disco and there’d be a murder. It was too fucking much. I couldn’t take it anymore. Everything I had worked so hard to build was slowly being torn from my hands and what was left didn’t seem to matter enough. The proverbial carpet had been yanked from under my feet and no matter how many times I tried to get up, I just kept falling and falling and falling... there was no end in sight.”

Their correspondence at that time had petered off, somewhat. They’d both ended up in unpleasant situations and the last thing Edward had wanted to do was to take a pen and write to his friend to let him know how miserable he was. There’d been times when he’d wondered if his friend hadn’t found out about his fate and had left him for dead as well and it had only been later – much later – that he’d found out through Étienne exactly why he hadn’t written as often, if at all, for a few years.

“I’m not exactly proud of what I ended up doing, but it seemed like the right solution at the time. I was a mess. I needed help but I didn’t realise it and I wasn’t sure there even was such help for such a lost cause. Working the streets and the clubs were as much self-punishment as they were the only place I felt I could succeed. It was easy to spread my legs to let some random guy fuck me in an alley. It was easy to pretend to be someone else. It was easy to get down on my knees and suck them off. It was easy to let others use me as they wanted and write it off as being unworthy of anything else. This was where I belonged – with the outcasts and the has beens.”

There’s a shuddering breath that’s released and Edward has no idea if it’s his or Étienne’s. He’s astounded his boyfriend is willingly talking of this chapter of his life. It had taken years for Étienne to even speak of it to him and the confession had been a quiet halting thing that had taken him a while to piece together.

Yet, despite finding out, it hadn’t changed Edward’s opinion of him. If anything, he had found Étienne brave and courageous for telling him about it and his heart had ached for him even more. Étienne was worthy. Étienne wasn’t a failure and he succeeded at so many other wonderful things. In his opinion, he was still as relevant as before and had never been an outcast or a has been. He was still a leader and trail blazer in his own right, even if Étienne himself didn’t always realise it.

“When they gave me the Olympics,” Étienne goes on, once more showing that he is brave and more than the terrible things that he had gone through, “I hoped this would be the shot I needed – that it would be as wonderful as Expo had. If anything, it would be on a smaller scale than Expo. It would be a piece of cake, I figured. At least, they’d given me the Olympics in a timely way and not last minute. Therefore, there would be no excuses to fail. but for as much as Expo felt like a fever dream doused with magic, the Olympics were harder to get going. There were so many things that went wrong. So many strikes. So much corruption. The magic was gone. It was the opposite of what I needed and it just drove me further down my own spiral.

“So I went for the drugs and the sex. One made me feel when I was numb, one numbed everything when I felt too much. And the sex was as much a means to an end as what seemed to be the only thing I could properly deliver. So I stuck to it. Went in and out of these phases. Went on the biggest of benders, woke up in places I had no recollection of going to and such. Drove Élyse nuts. But it didn’t matter to me; I’d still be alive, so who cared what I put myself through?”

Edward wants to say that there were many who cared, but he knows that it would fall on deaf ears. He gets what Étienne means by it, but it still hurts him that his boyfriend had had to go through all of this. He gives his hand another squeeze and if anything, Étienne offers him a small smile, acknowledging the gesture.

“I was all over the place and when I finally met Koffey, shortly after the Olympics, it was quite by accident and he took me by surprise.”

“Everything about our relationship was different than the others I’d been in up until then. For starters, it didn’t happen the way the others had. It wasn’t the usual meet, sex and eventually develop feelings. He’d been living in the city for a few years when we met. He’d immigrated here, in search for a new adventure – ahead of the wave that would come later on. He’d decided to open up a restaurant, bringing us the local flavors of his own country. I stumbled there, quite by accident and I was most likely high and not even fully coherent. To be honest, I can’t even say I remember that day; he’s the one who told me later on.”

“I ended up returning. Later. On a better day. I think I was convinced it was my first time here, but Koffey was a little wary of seeing me again. Apparently, I had been a little rowdy on my first visit... Yet, he still gave me a chance and was still very polite while he served me, if a little guarded. I felt bad, so I returned and the more I went back, the more I was drawn – by him, his cuisine, and his quiet sense of humour and intelligence.”

“He eventually realised I wasn’t a complete asshole and he’d start coming to talk to me when the restaurant was quiet. He was – a breath of fresh air, really and at the time the one good thing I had going on. It felt like being thrown a lifeboat – something to hang on to while I tried not to drown – by my thoughts, my life, the shit-show burning around me. A beacon of hope and light I clung to desperately.”

“I honestly didn’t even think Koffey was interested in men. It surprised me, when one day, I hung around until the restaurant closed. I waited for him out in the back, not wanting to go home just yet. I also didn’t think going home just yet would be wise. I was still all over the place and I knew that if I went home I’d end up using or doing something even stupider. Having a friend helped keeping my thoughts on track. Koffey, without knowing what was going on in my head, helped keep my mind quiet. I wanted to know more about him and his life, so I focused on that. Anyways, it’d been a quiet night and we’d been having a grand old time chatting. I thought maybe we could walk around and bum out in a park. Summer was starting to settle in for good and it was a perfect night out. Warm and this side of humid, with a gentle breeze to make it pleasant.”

Edward has his own thoughts and ideas about the description of the weather, but he schools his face in a neutral expression and listens on.

“He was surprised to see me out back, but pleased and we picked up our conversation from where we’d left off. We ended up taking the long way back to his. I didn’t mind having to walk back to mine after and the extra detour would do me some good. However, he invited me in for a beer and I obviously said yes. He was my friend, after all and the thought of a cold beer to end the night sounded great.”

“We must have spent a few more hours drinking beer and talking and somewhere along the line, he leaned in and kissed me. Completely unprompted. I was shocked and surprised and at first he thought I wasn’t interested, since I hadn’t kissed him back. He must have apologised at least a dozen times. It was quite funny, really. I’d keep trying to tell him that it was fine, but he wouldn’t listen. And the more he went on, the more afraid he was that I’d do something to him – which was quite sobering, let me tell you. I finally took matters in my own hands and kissed him myself. We’d been hanging around together for months, by then and had I known, I would have put a move on him sooner, maybe. The kiss finally got him to stop apologising and for a moment after that all we did was make-out on his couch like all the terrible clichés in movies.” He laughs at that, fond, as he twiddles with an unlit cigarette. “It was so different, though – soft and tender. Nicholas had been very forward with his kissing that first time. I knew we would end up in his bed the moment he kissed me, whereas with Koffey – it almost felt hesitant and cautious and I thought that was lovely.”

“He still asked afterwards if I was that way, which I thought was both endearing and silly – considering I had just kissed him and wouldn’t have minded him kissing him some more. I assured him that I was and to prove my point, I kissed him again. I recall teasing him about it later, asking him if he needed another kiss to be sure I was into men. He thought I was being ridiculous, which was saying something.”

There’s a gentle, soft smile that graces Étienne’s features, not for the first time during their talk, and Edward wonders what memories his boyfriend is reliving – what images his brain has conjured for him to revisit. He’s glad, though, that despite the heartache that Étienne still has fond memories of Koffey to go back to.

“I wasn’t in love with him – not at that point, but I was certainly drawn to him. He was – beautiful. On the outside as much as on the inside; a gentle soul, really. I would have willingly gone to bed with him that night, but he insisted we wait a little and take things slow. This had never really happened and even though I was a little annoyed, I didn’t push the issue and floated back home after one last kiss.”

“He actually – I swear, the next time I went to see him, he actually asked me out on a proper date. He was too much! And I couldn’t believe that a man like Koffey, sweet and gentle and kind, would want to date me who felt broken and used and soiled in so many ways. But he saw beyond that and insisted we go on a proper date before we went to bed together and so I said yes; because I did really want him and I loved his company.”

“Our first date was nothing extraordinary, but it was nice – to be taken out – to feel as though I was worthy of someone’s attention and affection again. It was almost as good as a high. He took me out to dinner and then insisted we go to a movie and he was so gallant about the whole thing. He paid for the meal and for the ticket and don’t ask me how the movie ended, because halfway through we started making-out in the back and before the movie ended we left to go back to his.”

“Koffey was – so very sweet to me. Our first time together felt like something out of a romance movie. There was no frenetic urgency to it. It wasn’t just sex because he wanted a fast way to get to his release. He made love to me. Me! It boggled my mind. He kissed and caressed every bit of me that felt broken and used. It was – wonderful and too much and I tried changing the pace to something that felt less consuming ‘cause I couldn’t handle so much love being given to me, but he kept on finding ways to make it less about the sex and more about us and I couldn’t take it. I eventually broke down in tears.”

“And get this – he thought he, of all people, had done something wrong to me – that he’d hurt me in some way. I came clean to him. Told him everything. As much as I could. The drugs, the streets – the fall from grace. Every last ugly truth came out as he held me in his arms and made sure I understood I was someone worthy of love again. I felt stupid for breaking down and felt even worse for needing him to comfort me. And despite that, there were still things I couldn’t tell him. He tried asking about what was bothering me – because he could tell. Even when I lied – he could always tell when there was more – when everything in my head was too loud, but it was hard to explain. I couldn’t just say oh by the way, I’m semi-immortal and I represent a city. Yeah, fucked up I know, but I swear that’s not the acid talking.”

“It wasn’t stupid,” Edward breaks. He knows Étienne is in a better place now, but he also knows his boyfriend is still prone to great bouts of self-doubt that do more harm than good to him. He’d hate to think that Étienne still feels that way.

“I know,” Étienne responds quickly. Edward wonders if he isn’t deflecting, but he figures Étienne’s heart has been scorched raw enough for the day that he can let it slide for this time.

“You’ve always been worthy of love,” He adds softly and Étienne stills for a moment.

“I know.” He says again, but it sounds different this time around; a little more vulnerable and fragile. Edward wants to gather him in his own arms and hold him tightly, but instead he keeps hold of his hand and lets Étienne carry on with his story.

“I made it up to him, later, once the storm had passed. I didn’t want him to think that I would be some emotional weight to him. He’d wanted sex so I made sure to deliver. He was still very sweet and loving with me and I tried to ignore it. I focused on making it good for him so that he wouldn’t toss me to the side and in my mind it worked. Yet, thinking back, there were still times when I felt like he was onto me. Like he knew when I was faking it for both our benefits, but he let me be.”

“Still, for as much as Koffey was good for me and to me, he wasn’t a cure to all my problems. It would’ve been too easy. He helped – more than he probably ever realised, but I was still reckless and I still fluctuated. Bad days and worse days. On those, he’d simply hold me in his arms and let me cry in them.

Sometimes there’d be an okay day. He made it tolerable. To be alive. Made the sharp edges rounder. Made me feel like I could hang on another day. And there were those times when I felt like I genuinely wanted to be around – for him. I wanted to take him somewhere or kiss him again. I wanted to tell him some funny story I had heard or simply go to bed with him one more time. So I stuck it out and tried to survive.”

“He was so kind and patient with me. He loved me, despite what I was and how I was. He loved me even when I couldn’t love myself. God, I never deserved him. He was too good for me and to me. And somehow, I repaid his kindness by making him sick and killing him!”

“You don’t know that for sure.” Edward replies quickly, without thinking.

He remembers the visit. Remembers finding out about the real significance of Koffey. Of going over to visit Étienne and finding him distraught and broken hearted. Of Étienne bringing him to the cemetery. The breakdown and the tears. The trembling murmured admissions of guilt. The dawning connection he’d made.

Edward had been in his own headspace at the time and their correspondence had petered out, hence his grasp of Koffey’s role in Étienne’s life had been lacking in some regards. But standing by that grave, with his friend opening up about him and telling him what had happened had marked Edward.

“I may as well have, Edward.” Étienne snaps. He lights up the cigarette he’d been previously playing with and takes a long drag from it. “He died and it was all my fault. I couldn’t even – I wasn’t even there when he died. I was too afraid. And ashamed. I was a coward. He’d chosen me and I may as well have tossed him out.” He flicks the ash with more force than necessary and when Edward spares him a glance, he sees the storm of hate and shame fight in Étienne’s eyes through his unshed tears. “He deserved better – after everything he did for me and I repaid his kindness by being a coward.”

Edward knows that there’s no sense in telling Étienne that it’s not his fault. His boyfriend will keep berating himself until he runs out of steam and he supposes that it’s best to let him be and wait it out. Yet, it doesn’t sit well with him to have Étienne react this way. Sure, he could have been responsible for Koffey getting sick, but at the same time, there was no actual proof. He hates that it still eats Étienne alive and part of him wants to take him by the shoulders, shake him, and tell him to convince himself otherwise. Especially if it’ll help him move on. But – he’s known Étienne for too long and knows that such actions will do him no good.

Instead, he waits and starts to itch for a cigarette of his own. He settles instead for a deep breath and then another. He thinks back to his own response to the crises. To the way he’d taken action. The misery and heartache he’d seen and lived. The friends he’d lost. The ones he’d buried. He thinks of running to Montreal to get away from it all and leaning on Étienne for a chance to forget and leave it all behind. There’s an irony here he still hasn’t fully grasped but it’s a reflection for a different day. There’s already enough that’s been looked over for one day.

“I don’t think he would have wanted you to beat yourself over it,” He offers instead. Étienne sniffs loudly and doesn’t give him an answer. Instead, he remains quiet, fighting with his own demons.

“You never did tell me why you called him Koffey,” Edward tries again, minutes later, when he feels that the mood has shifted once more and that Étienne has calmed down some. Perhaps this approach will work better, he thinks.

Étienne sniffles and rubs at his eyes, “Oh,” He starts and a small smile deigns to make an appearance on his face, which Edward is thankful for. “Apparently, his regular customers used to call him that. He thought it was hysterical and he never really liked his own name. I never questioned it beyond that and it stuck.”

Étienne grows silent after that and turns reflective. Even Mercury seems to sense the shift in mood and nuzzles her way up to his arms for cuddles. The distraction serves its purpose and Étienne focuses on her for a while, caressing her fur and scratching her behind the ears, which she seems to enjoy, if Edward is to judge by the wagging of her tail. He watches and lets them be for a while, glad the dog can help where he can’t.

“You would’ve liked him,” Étienne quietly says after a while. He’s not looking at him, hands still buried deep in Mercury’s dark coat, but Edward doesn’t mind.

“I’m sure I would have – he sounds like a great guy.”

“The greatest.”

Not for the first time, Edward wonders if Étienne’s feelings hadn’t become tainted with guilt over the years. He doesn’t question Étienne’s love for Koffey, but he wonders if the circumstances of his death haven’t left a lasting grip on him that wouldn’t have otherwise been there if the man had died of natural causes at a ripe old age. The wounds are still too raw and fresh to ask, so he lets the matter rest and figures that there will be other occasions to ask.

They fall silent after that, both lost again in their own thoughts. He hears the occasional snuffle from Mercury and sends out a silent prayer of thanks to whatever higher power there might be out there for her presence in Étienne’s life. In the few years Étienne has had her, he already sees the difference and impact she’s made in his life.

Eventually, Mercury settles back on Étienne’s side and his friend leaves a hand around her neck, absent-mindedly stroking her dark coat, while he reaches out for Edward’s own hand with his other. Edward is a little surprised, but he doesn’t mind and let’s Étienne play with his fingers. He traces the lines on his hand with the edge of a nail and draws loops with it afterwards. Edward watches the movement carefully with his eyes and finds it oddly grounding in a way. He hadn’t realised he’d felt a little unmoored by these tales and he wonders, not for the first time, just how attuned to him Étienne really is.

They settle around each other, the breeze gently ruffling their hair and Edward takes a deep breath to process some of what he’s just heard.

“And shortly after Koffey died, while I was still mourning him and hating myself for everything I had done, you came along at both the best and worst moment of my life.”

Part III Part V

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #fic #projocanondoko

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