#listen........i know the prompt implies angst but i just want my boy to be happy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

faggotmox · 2 years ago

Note

I'm cheating at the enemies to lovers prompts: i want mox bridging the gap between Eddie and Bryan (or Claudio) where both Eddie and Bryan are pissed but Moxy just wants his boys all together: of course you do

meme i lost || @philosophyofhedonism

this is the closest thing to a madmox break up i will ever write. feel like this is set up a bit to make eddie the bad guy but i wanna be clear that’s def not what im trying to imply. this would be after many conversations, & shit. like this is the result of eddie continuing to hurt mox by being a bitch about bryan & claudio even though he pretty much knows he’s doing it. but eddie’s insecure & needed it pointed out. this ones got a little lost in the sauce & im not happy with the ending. here ya go lmao. this leads to the bridge being built.

#. Of course you do. [Mox/Eddie, Mox/Bryan/Claudio]

warnings: angst, so much angst, kind of a breakup fic, cursing, two people struggling lol

"I gotta problem with them! You know that!" Eddie growled, loud and over infused with anger. As always with this fight.

"Of course you do!" Mox was ready to rip his hair out, his hand anxiously running through his hair. "Of fucking course you do!"

"You know damn well anyone else wouldn'--"

"Shut the fuck up, Eddie!" Mox snapped. Finally fucking snapped. "Of fucking course you gotta problem with Bryan. He's a dick. He judges people. So do fuckin' you. You're a huge asshole, you judge everyone you see. And what happened with you and Claudio is so fuckin' old I don't even know if I was an adult when y'all had your falling out! He's changed. He's grown the fuck up and he regrets leaving you like that, man, but he can't fucking do shit about it because you're a fucking asshole. Of course you have a problem. Of course you do. You're made of god damn problems, Eddie! I love you. I love you more than I love anything else, Eddie, I swear to god. I swear on my mother, Eddie. But this bullshit...I can't keep doing it."

Eddie watched Mox pop off. Normally he would interject, stop Mox when he called him a dick or something. But there was a look on Mox's face that said if Eddie interrupted then it could be a heavier straw than either thought. Instead Eddie watched Mox frantically get the words out, like he couldn't breathe with them still in his chest. Like this was a long time coming and Eddie should have known, should have seen that he was suffocating Mox.

"You said--" Mox threw his hands up. "You said, Eddie. You agreed to this. When we got back together you were cool with me dating other people, having more relationships. But the second I'm with someone you have a distaste for I'm left-- I'm left--" Mox shakes his head, trying to get himself on track. "I love Bryan, man. I love the way he wrestles, the way he cooks dinner like he's building a fucking bomb, the way he holds me from behind and sticks his head under my arm. He fucking figured out some soap that doesn't give me dry skin. He listens to me when I can't put things into words. Eddie, I love him like I love you and that's why you fucking hate him." Mox finally stopped moving and was looking at Eddie with hard eyes. It wasn't normal for them to call each other on the deep bullshit. They had their walls and guards up for reasons. Mox understood that but he couldn't keep it up anymore. His walls came down and he had to break some of Eddie's too. "And you know how easy it is to fall for Claudio, huh? Don’t ya? So you're mad that I'm gonna love him too."

"Mox, look, I'm sorry I--" Eddie started to step forward but Mox stepped back quicker.

"Nah, man. You're scared, and you're being a bitch about it. You could just tell me, talk to me! You're insecure and you think I'm gonna leave you because Bryan and Claudio are something you're not." Mox growled. "I can't do it. If you don't want me dating them then we have to have to a serious fucking conversation about our boundaries, and I fucking hate you for making me have to talk like some fucking asshole. Boundaries." Mox scoffed at himself. "We've always been straight up with each other, man. That's what I expect from you. You just hide behind your fucking quips, and make snide remarks about a dude I love. That ain't fair to me, Eddie. You lied when you told me you were cool with this."

"...You're right." Eddie nodded, his eyes on his boots as he stood with the weight of it on his shoulders. He fucked up. "You're fuckin' right."

"Hey." Mox was suddenly very close, his hand on Eddie's shoulder then sliding to rest on the back of Eddie's neck. "Need you to look at me, Bear." Mox whispered, his private nickname for Eddie never sounded so sad.

"Don't call me that right now, Moxie." Eddie looked up, meeting eyes with his partner to the harsh reality he knew was coming his way. "Not right now. Fuck."

"You know I love you right, Bear? I need to know that you know." Mox had water obscuring his blue eyes, threatening to become tears. "I love you."

"You love me, Jon. Of course you do." Eddie nodded. Their foreheads met and Eddie just knew the next words out of Mox's mouth would destroy his entire world and he would just have to accept it.

"I need a break from this, Bear." Mox finally said it and Eddie felt like he'd shatter. No one had that power over him but Mox. "I need a break from you."

"Of course you do..." Eddie nodded, and slowly started to untangle himself from Mox.

Mox tried to hold on but Eddie pushed until they parted. It stung more knowing Mox didn't want to let go. They both learned a long time ago about take care of themselves first, setting boundaries and walking away from the people that fucked them up the most. Eddie could still remember watching Mox chase after Rollins, the unhealthy obsession that Mox couldn't stop. Rollins was when Mox learned to step away, to pull himself back and make himself off limits to another person. Eddie had learned the same lesson from Claudio, but under different circumstances.

It all hit home when Mox's phone went off and Eddie could see the text from Bryan asking if Mox was okay. Why did Eddie hate Bryan so much? Why did he still hate Claudio? That was something he had to figure out because Mox couldn't take being the center of a war that wasn't even about him. Eddie couldn't be an island anymore. It wasn't fair to Mox, and slowly as he gathered his bags he realized it wasn't fair to himself either. This had him twisted up, torturing himself like this wasn't it.

"We ain't breaking up." Mox's voice didn't sound as steady as he wanted it to sound. "I'd sooner lose everything else then lose you again, Bear."

"I know, sweetheart. We ain't breaking up." Eddie wanted to reassure Mox. "I'm not that easy to get rid of." Eddie winked and pretended he didn't feel a tear slip out.

"Of course you're not." Mox laughed harshly, shaking his head a little as Eddie was heading towards the door. There was something on Mox’s face, a fleeting look on his face that made Eddie smile a little.

“What?” Eddie stopped to watch Mox come a little closer.

“Want a kiss before you go, Bear.” Mox admitted as they stepped a little closer to each other.

“Of course you do.” Eddie laughed a little as they got close enough.

They shared a soft kiss before Eddie had to peel himself away again. This time he got himself out before he could look at Mox again. It wasn’t their end, it couldn’t be, but Eddie was sore. He was hurt for the first time in a way that didn’t let him scorch the earth, even if it was his fault or not. Not only was this his own making but he had every tool to fix it. No drinking it away, no sleeping with whoever to get over Mox, no bullshit. Eddie had to figure his own shit out.

#we dont proof #i dont even know what i wrote tbh #jon moxley #Eddie Kingston #jon moxley x eddie kingston #jon moxley x bryan danielson #claudio castagnoli x jon moxley #wrestling fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #angst

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ptergwen · 4 years ago

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Hi val! Got a request, it's okay if you don't wanna write it, but can you write about peter telling the reader he's going on a huge mission and he's excited about it but the reader is so worried they end up arguing? But when peter gets back from mission all bruised, the reader is still upset but dresses his wound anyway and it ends up with fluff??

abort mission

w/c: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of blood, swearing, and angst

a/n: woah woah woah i ended up writing way more than i expected but i loved this request so much :,) i hope you do too

“we’re staying in this, like, super fancy castle while we’re there. it’s gonna be awesome,” peter rambles to you. he takes all the clean shirts in his drawer and throws them into a suitcase.

he’s packing for a mission in europe with the avengers, and you’re here to say goodbye. you’ve been pretty quiet while peter gives you as many details as he’s allowed to. it’s always an honor when the team invites him on. he gets so stoked about it. you’re happy he’s happy and gets to pursue his passion, but you’ve noticed a pattern.

every time peter leaves the country with earth’s mightiest heroes, he comes back in worse condition than the last. it seems like they protect everyone except peter. he’s oblivious to the fact that the end result is always his suffering. he’s just glad to be there. really, he gets nothing in return except scars that never heal, not even a permanent spot on the team.

so, you’re not thrilled he agreed to go.

“plus, i get to miss two weeks of school.” peter beams, getting onto his knees to zip the suitcase. “feels like a vacation almost.” “you like school, though,” you remind him. you’re sat at the edge of his bed while you watch, rather than help. he hops up again with a shrug. “i like vacations more.” “it’s not a vacation,” you mutter to yourself, then speak up.

“how are you gonna catch up? that’s a lot of missing assignments.” with that same innocent smile, peter walks over to you. he grabs both your hands and laces your fingers together. “i’m a fast learner. besides, ned said he’d help me.” you sigh, looking down at the floor so you don’t have to look at peter. “or, you could. make it into a little study date when i get back,” he suggests while playing with your fingers.

“i don’t even want you to go,” you finally admit and meet his sparkling eyes. nothing could ever dull them. “why not? you’re gonna miss me?” peter teases, pressing a couple of kisses to your palm. “you don’t have to. i’m pretty sure france has wifi.” he wiggles his eyebrows. “oui oui, mademoiselle, eh?” despite yourself, you giggle at his french accent and tug on his hands. he sits down next to you with a chuckle.

“nat has been giving me lessons,” peter explains, you quirking an eyebrow. “she speaks french?” “she speaks a lot of languages, actually. she’s so cool.” peter scoots closer to you and sets his hands on your waist, his voice dropping. “you’d love her.” your face twists up in confusion at the idea.

you don’t have anything against the avengers, obviously. they’re good people. you’re just not the biggest fan of them at the moment, considering the circumstances they’ve put peter under.

“peter, i don’t want you to go,” you repeat more seriously than before. your teeth sink into your lower lip. “and, it’s not because i’ll miss you.” “none taken,” peter jokes, implying there should’ve been a no offense. he then realizes how distressed you look, so he cuts it out. “sorry, sorry. i’m done now. how come?”

you take his hand again and hold it tight. “what if you get hurt?” you ask in the nicest way possible, out of care. “i don’t wanna see you hurting, pete. this mission sounds really... dangerous.” he runs his thumb over the back of your hand, his grin faltering a bit. “it is, but i’m ready for it. i’ll be fine.”

you’re not convinced yet. that line he likes to overuse isn’t enough to do the trick.

his eyes searching for yours, peter brushes a piece of your hair back. “have a little faith in me, babe.” “no, i... i do. i have the most faith in you, peter.” you find yourself frowning as he twirls your locks around his finger. “that’s not the problem.” peter’s voice becomes a whisper. “what is it, then? talk to me.”

you do the opposite because you’re afraid you’ll upset him further, which is the last thing he needs right now. your silence prompts peter to fill it. “would it make you feel better if i say mr. stark is keeping an eye on me?” he’s smiling sheepishly, you scoffing. “oh, like he kept an eye on you in amsterdam?”

the only eye related activity that happened there was peter almost losing one of his. he’d come back with an eyepatch and couldn’t see out of it for over a month. to this day, there’s still a bit of blood in it when you look close enough.

“i already told you, that was my fault,” peter grumbles, turning so he faces forward. “i didn’t listen to him-“ “who gives a shit? he’s the one who put you in that situation!” you blurt out. you’ve been way too patient this whole time, and now you’re reaching your breaking point. “you say that like i didn’t wanna be there.” peter clenches his jaw, still mostly calm.

“either way, mr. stark,” you mock what peter always calls him, “was supposed to keep you safe, and he didn’t. i’m scared it’s gonna happen again.” letting out a noise close to a growl, peter stands up from the bed. “you’re not listening to me, y/n. everything was fine. i just-“ you’re not in the mood to hear him make excuses, so you interrupt.

“do you know any other sixteen year olds who fight literal terrorists on their free time?” you rhetorically ask and get to your own feet. peter tries to walk away from you, only you follow him. “you’re a kid, peter, in case you forgot.” he spins around to give you a nasty look. “do you know any other sixteen year olds who stick to fucking walls?”

your heart starts to race from his sudden outburst. he’s scary when he’s mad, and he almost never gets mad at you. all you can do is blink dumbly. “didn’t think so,” peter spits. “this is what i’m supposed to do, help people. is that so wrong?” his breathing becomes ragged as his anger grows.

“what about you? are you helping yourself?” you speak softly, expecting an answer this time. “you’re not my fucking therapist, y/n,” he deflects the question. “i am your girlfriend, though. i care about you so much, you know that.” eyebrows furrowed in concern, you reach out for peter. he takes a step back. it doesn’t take long for tears to cloud your vision.

“i was excited to share this with you, and i thought you’d be happy for me.” peter balls his hands into fists at his sides. his voice stays low. “instead, you made it all about yourself. you can never let me enjoy team stuff.” you’re speechless, peter nodding as he lets his words sit. “thanks for the support.”

“you’re an asshole,” you laugh out bitterly and wipe under your eyes.

he didn’t mean to make you cry. he was so caught up in himself, he didn’t realize you were.

peter’s whole demeanor changes. “y/n, baby...” he attempts to put a hand on your cheek, but you hit it away. “get off of me. what did i just say?” you sniffle, your tone harsh in contrast. “you’re an asshole, peter.” he changes his mind about feeling bad. you’ve berated him way more than he did you, anyway.

“you should go. i have to be up early,” peter decides, even though he’d said you could stay the night. whatever, you don’t want to anymore. “fine,” you agree shortly. “i’m leaving.” he stands there while you collect your things, shoving them into your bag. you’re going slow enough so he has a chance to stop you. he doesn’t.

you pass by him on your way to his door, sucking in a breath. here’s your official goodbye. “see you later, peter. don’t die.” “mhm, i won’t,” he replies, his tongue poking at his cheek. with one more shared look between you two, you make your grand exit, no doubt informing may of her nephew’s behavior before you’re gone.

peter immediately regrets the way he talked to you, and that you’re leaving things like this. you were only trying to protect him. you’ll never be able to save the city like he does, so this is how you do it. he truly is an asshole for not seeing that.

frustration consuming him, peter kicks over his fully stuffed suitcase, its contents spilling out. he grits his teeth.

“fan-fucking-tastic.”

you don’t talk to peter the whole two weeks he’s gone except for some are you alive and yes texts. he’d called you quite a few times, and was sent to voicemail for all of them. he gave you the benefit of the doubt because of timezones.

it was actually because you declined, which peter knew deep down was the real reason.

he’s coming home from his mission today. you’re not sure when or if he plans on dropping by. you’re not sure you’d like him to, either. you don’t really get a choice in the end.

there’s a series of knocks at your window, at some ungodly time in the night. you’re all too familiar with this routine. it’s peter.

you slip out from under your covers, a scowl already painting your face as you go to the window. surely enough, peter is perched in front of it, clad in red and black. the suit must be new because you’ve never seen it. you push up the window and step aside so he can get through.

“thanks,” peter mumbles, climbing into your room less gracefully than usual. he’s sort of wobbly when he lands. “yeah,” you dully acknowledge. “how was france?” “uh, good. you know, lots of cheese and all that.” his voice is muffled from his mask, since he hasn’t taken it off yet. that’s odd. “i was talking about the mission, but cool,” you almost laugh back.

“the mission was... fine,” peter clarifies and scratches the back of his neck. he never describes something as simply being ‘fine.’ when the boy talks, he lectures. you’re starting to get worried. “that’s good. at least you didn’t die, right?” you say to lighten the mood. peter awkwardly chuckles. “haha, yeah. thank god for that.”

you hum and walk over to sit on your bed, peter staying where he is. “what time did you get back?” you wonder, a completely harmless question. “um, this morning,” he says in response, raising your suspicions. “why’re you still in the suit, then?” you squint at him. “i like it, by the way.” “thanks, y/n/n. i, uh,” peter trails off, no good explanations coming to mind.

you’re quickly developing a hunch for what what down. you wordlessly get up again, meeting peter by your window. he’s nervous to see what happens next. peter’s shoulders slump when your fingers land on his mask. you carefully lift it, revealing his face to you. his banged up, bloody face.

“surprise.” peter musters up a grin, you tossing the mask at his chest. you’re beyond angry now. it’s not at him, athough it is at his injuries. “please don’t be mad,” he nearly begs, you shaking your head. you go to leave your room for some space. peter’s fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you back. “i should’ve listened to you, okay? i’m sorry,” he genuinely apologizes.

you still don’t say anything while you look over his beaten body. there’s a gash with stitches in it on his chin, a deep slice across the bridge of his nose, cuts littering his cheeks. he’s even got a busted lip for good measure. this might be the worst condition he’s let you see him in.

“you were right, y/n. i think... i think i’m gonna sit the next one out. it’s too much for me, clearly,” peter continues, fingers sliding down to lock with yours. “you should say you told me so.” “how... how did this happen?” you manage to get out instead. “the bad guy fought me,” he says with the hint of a smirk. “i won, though.”

it’s a relief that he’s handling this so well, even earning a laugh from you. that puts you more at ease.

“this is probably a dumb question, but are you okay?” you brush your thumb over peter’s cheekbone gently, avoiding his scratches. “not really. my face hurts a lot, and flash is gonna tease the hell out of me on monday.” his lips form a line, arms looping around your waist. it’s very much welcomed by you.

“you just spent two weeks trying not to die, and you’re worried about flash?” you snicker and draw a heart on his skin. peter shrugs a shoulder. “he’s so mean to me.” he brings you in closer to him. “besides, this is the normal kid stuff i should be focusing on.” you’re glad he finally came to terms with that. you’ve been saying it for the longest time.

you smile wickedly at him. “exactly. so is all that homework you have to make up.” peter lets out a breathy laugh, you laying your head on his chest. “i missed you,” he tells you quietly. “really wish i could kiss you right now.” “i missed you too, pete. so much,” you murmur into him. your hands settle on his biceps. “and, i forgive you.” “thanks, baby,” peter exhales.

“of course. once your lips are healed,” you pull back from his chest, making a kissing noise. “pucker up, lover- oh my god.” you’re looking up at him with wild eyes. peter gets reasonably startled from it. “what? what’s wrong?” “you... you’re bleeding!” you point at his stitches. he winces, touching the spot. there’s blood, alright.

“crap. do you have a bandaid or something?” peter gives you an apologetic smile. “mr. stark said i should cover them when this happens.” maybe, tony isn’t so bad after all. you nod and take him by his hand. “yeah, in the bathroom. come with me.”

peter sits on the edge of your bathtub while you patch up his chin. he tells you more about the fun parts of his mission, you placing the cinderella bandaid over his gash. you have those from a while ago and also regular ones. however, he preferred the princess design.

“you saw the real mona lisa? like, in person? that’s insane.” you grin, smoothing down peter’s bandaid one last time. “yeah, she’s even prettier up close.” peter returns the smile. “thanks for taking care of me, y/n. i swear i don’t deserve you sometimes.” now pouting at him, you crouch down so you’re at his level. “it’s the other way around, peter.”

“let’s just agree to disagree,” he concludes and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “i love you, okay?” “i love you, too.” you press a light kiss to his bandaid, getting a giggle from peter.

yeah, it’s going to be hell finding replacements for his lips.

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years ago

Text

Black

Prompts: After POF, Roman takes over the abandoned color black. He becomes the hated side that Virgil used to be. By most, anyway. Janus and Virgil are concered. Patton chooses to ignore it. Romans room is really cold? and boy is he touch starved - anon

(Sanders sides Prompt) Any one of the sides is touch starved. fluff. (You dont have to do this just thought I might ask) - anon

Hello there!! I just wanna say that I love your work and I think you’re such a talented writer. Idk if this is a weird ask but would you consider writing Roman angst with the song “it’s OK I wouldn’t remember me either” by crywank as like inspiration? Thank you so much <3 -anon

buckel up babes this one's a doozy

Read on Ao3

Warnings: implied/reference self-harm by way of self-negligence, pretty intense self-hatred and neglect that could verge on suicidal, but NO ONE DIES, everyone's fine at the end, we don't break shit and not fix it in my house

Pairings: it is platonic found family hours

Word Count: 5697

Do you know what no one ever tells you about the color black?

It’s seamless.

There are no cracks, no tears, no imperfections, because everything’s so dark you can’t tell what’s a trick of the light and what isn’t. Everything blends together. At first, second, even third glance, it’s perfect. Pristine, even. It hides absolutely everything. It’s intimidating, honestly, that level of deception. The way it can make anything look like it’s meant to be there, as if to live the colorless and lightless life is all it was ever destined for.

Darkness has always found a way of feeling like home, even to the ones who are afraid of it.

You either die the hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

Roman hadn’t wanted to go to the wedding. He didn’t want to go, but it’s what Patton wanted. It’s what Thomas would’ve wanted. If Roman hadn’t been so loud. But it hurt, it did, when they said that they shouldn’t go to the callback because there was such a slim likelihood of Thomas winning. Because Roman couldn’t win. But Roman wasn’t supposed to be the villain and do something bad so he sent Thomas to the wedding.

Bruises were supposed to be yellow, or green, or purple, not black.

But if he had yellow, green, or purple bruises, he would’ve blamed a yellow, green, or purple Side. And that was bad.

So he hid them, because as he learned, no one was looking for them anyway. Patton cared when he didn’t show up to the video and then he was there and oh, having someone there, even if they only cared a little, was like rainfall in a desert, it was wonderful, Roman would’ve sung if he thought it wouldn’t make everything worse. But Roman was good, so he never complained, and he did his job to the best of his ability.

But what if his job was bad?

But there are two Creativities, a Roman and a Remus. And no one else liked Remus, because Remus was bad and Roman was good. But Remus isn’t bad, he’s just the opposite of Roman. And Roman didn’t want to be Remus because Remus was bad. But Remus isn’t bad.

Creativity isn’t bad.

Bruises aren’t supposed to be black but they can’t be red.

Roman isn’t supposed to be the villain but what else do you call someone who laughs at vulnerability, who scorns people’s earnest attempts to help, who single-handedly ruins someone’s life?

Roman isn’t supposed to be the villain, but bruises aren’t supposed to cover every inch of his skin unless he deserves it.

His skin burns. It crawls and aches and screams and darkens into bruises. His throat aches from the wordless screams and the horrible things he’s said to everyone. He’s been so selfish, he’s tried to make everything go his way, tried to make it about him, not about Thomas, because everything they do is supposed to help Thomas, help Thomas, that’s what they’re supposed to do, they’re supposed to help Thomas, not themselves, why is he doing this, why is he doing this?

Because he’s the villain.

Roman cries.

What else is he supposed to do?

He cries until the tears grow thick, sluggish, oozing out of his eyes until he can’t see anything but them, until his breath grows thick and his chest heavy. He cries until he has to struggle to open his eyes because of how swollen they are, how globulous the tears have become on the ends of his lashes. He cries until his head splits and his chest wails from the pain he isn’t supposed to have but deserves, deserves every little bit. He cries until his body is consumed by the bruises.

His costume is a straightjacket. He needs it off. The white hurts now, it burns his arms and cuffs his wrists. He doesn’t deserve it so he rips it off. Every seam that he ruins is another bruise. The rips are so loud they burrow into some soft part of his brain and live there. The white is still imperfect because it’s on him.

Only when his costume lies in tatters around him, his sash torn off and thrown away, far away, does the white look pure.

He cries himself to sleep with a smile on his face.

Far, far away, a black hoodie is tugged back into the Conscious Mindscape.

When Roman wakes, his head is full of static.

His lungs inflate and collapse on autopilot, driven by the merciless pump of some distant machine, turning the crank to draw air in and out, in and out.

His hands are numb, fingertips rubbed raw and inflamed from tearing relentlessly at fabric. He turns them slowly and it’s like watching himself in a video game.

His face is cold. He paws at his cheeks and feels sticky residue, etched into his skin. His eyes stick slightly when he blinks and he doesn’t know if that’s just his face or if there’s something else.

He is swathed in black fabric, an old threadbare hoodie that has gone years unloved, untouched, unseen. It’s selfishness that makes him tug it closer, feel a faint bubble of pressure on his screaming body.

He should get up, he should go make sure he hasn’t hurt anyone else with his tantrum again, he should apologize.

But…what would be the point?

Like Patton asked, does there come a point when someone keeps apologizing so much that you just have to admit they’re bad?

Roman isn’t good. Has he ever been?

Something interrupts the pleasant numbness and it shoots from his chest to the soft points at the base of his wrists, making his hands tingle. He decides he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want it. He wants everything to stop.

He’s selfish, they all know that, he’s just going to end up hurting them anyway, so why bother trying to fix it?

Apathy, his tired brain supplies when he lies there, unmoving, on the ground, for hours and hours and hours, unwilling and uncaring to fix things.

But that can’t be right. Roman is here because he cared too much, he did too much, he was too much. How can he now be the epitome of not caring at all?

If only he never cared, if only he wasn’t so attached, if only.

If only he had been Apathy, maybe he wouldn’t have been so hurt.

His pride got him here. His pride, his wants, his his his. He wanted everything and burned down the things that would’ve helped him get there because he couldn’t do it right. He is the villain and villains always have too much pride.

Pride. Apathy.

Prapathy.

Apride.

I’m not Creativity anymore, he thinks to himself as he lies there, still on the floor as his chest aches and his eyes sting and the sticky residue drips down his cheeks onto the bruises. He stares and stares and stares at the wall and a faint part of his mind that exists outside of the static realizes he never did get around to fixing that crack in the baseboard.

Pride, apathy. It doesn’t matter. There’s a much easier word that he can use to describe both of them.

Wrong.

—————————————————————

“I don’t know, Thomas,” Logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I don’t think that’s a valid solution either.”

“But it makes sense,” Virgil protests, shoving his hands into his pockets, “all we have to do is not talk to anybody else—“

“But that will hurt their feelings!”

“But we won’t hurt ourselves.”

Janus and Patton look at each other for a moment before Patton sighs and scratches the back of his head.

“I—I don’t know, this…this feels weird.”

“None of us are happy about this, Padre,” Virgil mutters, “but it’s the best solution we’ve got.”

“Real high bar we’re setting there, isn’t it?”

“Listen, Snake Face, if you’ve got a better idea—“

“Virgil, enough.” Logan shakes his head. “We need to keep thinking.”

“We’ve been at this for an hour, Logan,” Thomas says cautiously, “I don’t know what else you think we’re gonna get to.”

“We’ve already passed the optimal point for productivity, yes.”

“Oh, well, we can’t just give up now!” Patton puts his hands on his hips. “I’m sure if we just keep at it for a little longer—“

“You said that half an hour ago, Patton.”

“And I’ll say it again!”

“Because that’s going to make everything go much easier.”

Thomas sighs as the Sides fall back into bickering. Normally, this wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary—pretty much all they do is argue back and forth—but Logan’s right. They’ve made almost no progress. He finds himself staring at the TV.

Why is he staring at the TV?

He frowns, tilting his head. It’s literally just his TV. Why is he so fixated on it right now? It’s not like it’s gone anywhere, it’s sitting right where it always is. He stares at it most of the day, why is it so weird that he’s looking at it now?

Wait—

“Guys,” he interrupts, still staring at the thing he’s not supposed to be able to see like this, “where’s Roman?”

The room pauses. Then Logan sighs.

“Oh, of course, that’s why we’ve been having such a hard time coming up with solutions, we don’t have Roman.”

At Virgil’s side-eye, he glances around to see similar looks of disbelief on the other’s faces.

“What?”

“Did you…did you just admit we need Roman?”

“He is Creativity, it makes sense that if we are struggling to be creative, he isn’t here.”

“Okay, that makes more sense.” Virgil shakes his head. “Thought you were admitting he was important or something.”

“Please, his head is big enough as it is.”

Janus hides a snort.

“Why didn’t he show up earlier,” Thomas asks, “he’s normally one of the first of you to get here.”

Virgil shrugs. “I dunno, I haven’t seen that much of him lately.”

“Is he…okay?”

“Who the hell knows, he’s Roman.”

“My guess is he’s been in his room,” Logan says, glancing at Roman’s usual spot, “I haven’t seen him either.”

Thomas doesn’t miss the way Janus and Patton glance at each other. “If you two have information now might be the time to share it.”

“Roman…hasn’t come out of his room,” Patton says after a beat, “not since…”

“Wait, he hasn’t come out since the wedding?”

Janus shakes his head. “I’ve barely seen him open his door.”

“That doesn’t…normally happen, does it?”

“No,” Patton says, “and, uh, he doesn’t normally ignore us either.”

“Ignore you?”

“We’ve tried knocking. It doesn’t work.”

“Perhaps Thomas can summon him,” Logan offers, “you have more power than any of us do, he’d have to answer you.”

“Well, here goes nothing. Creativity!”

Someone pops up in front of the TV.

Someone in a white costume with green embellishments and a mustache.

“Remus?”

Remus glares at them, his Morningstar at his side, his costume white, pristine, and light.

“What the fuck have you done with my brother?”

—————————————————————

It’s been weeks.

The fans have accepted Remus as Creativity. They think that the videos are better than ever. They think this was Thomas’s plan from the beginning.

There is one end card where the Sides are watching a movie and some of them spot a dark figure in the corner. Who could this be? Is this the mysterious orange Side everyone has been waiting for? Is this the Side that’s been hurting Thomas so much?

Zoom and enhance. It’s Virgil’s old hoodie. They’re sitting where Remus used to sit. They’re not staring at the screen, they’re looking at the others. What could this mean?

Someone spots the faint outline of a tiny crown perched atop the figure’s head.

And then, well, then it all makes sense.

There was always one Side that messed up everything, that made everything more complicated. There was always one Side that, if you thought about it, you could trace everything back to. There was always one Side that was told he was making the bad choice and yet, never seemed to learn.

They start to put together timelines, evidence, essay-length meta posts on how of course, this is the plan, why didn’t they see it before? Those that had disliked him from the start crow about how they were right, how everyone doubted them but look who’s laughing now. They point out how he’s become a Dark Side, maybe he was always a Dark Side, and how incredible would that storytelling be? To warn against the pressures of society’s expectations, the idea of good versus bad, or authentic versus forced. How of course, they’re wearing Virgil’s old hoodie because they’re the hated Side now. How they’re not looking at the screen because that’s not what they want, they want to be a part of the famILY.

Vitriolic rants. Accusations. Vent fics. The unsympathetic tag is overflowing.

Because who else could the villain be?

—————————————————————

Roman lives in the cold now.

His fireplace isn’t lit anymore. The door to the Imagination doesn’t work anymore. The blankets on his bed aren’t thick enough anymore. He drifts through a haze where only the emergency systems in his brain are online, where only the awareness needed to sleep, breathe, and move the little bits he needs to move are present.

He doesn’t know that there’s nothing behind the red door anymore, that when Janus and Virgil come to knock on it, worried, or when Remus storms through the Imagination and tries to knock it down by force, there’s nothing for them to find.

He doesn’t know that a new door, a black door, leads from his room to the hallway, far away from any of the other rooms. He doesn’t know that it’s so dark back here that no one would be able to tell there was a door if they didn’t put their nose right up against it.

He doesn’t know and he doesn’t care.

A new kind of ache settles in his bones now. Pain is an old friend, but he’s yet to give suffering a proper handshake.

He misses when he could go and ask someone for help.

He misses when Patton would turn to him without any judgment in his eyes, without any ‘well, you know, kiddo—‘, without any ‘let’s start off with—‘, just the soft words of I’m here, I’ll help you. He misses being able to walk up to Patton’s door and knock on it and know that he would be safe on the other side.

Patton would open the door and soften, his mouth curling up into a small smile as he says hey, kiddo, come in. He would sit Roman down on the bed and press a glass of water into his hands. He would rub his back as he drank, taking the empty glass gently and cupping Roman’s face in his hands. He would ask what’s wrong, sweetheart, what can I do? And Roman would say he just wants a hug, he just wants to not be alone for a bit. And Patton would smile and coo about how Roman was always welcome here, sweetheart, I’m right here, I’ll take care of you. And Roman could fall asleep with his head on Patton’s chest and believe that everything was okay.

He misses when he could walk up to Logan and ask for help and he wouldn’t be scoffed at or turned away, he wouldn’t be looked at suspiciously and asked what he really wanted. He misses when Logan could come to him too and just spend time together.

Logan would knock on his door and ask if you have a moment, would you like to walk with me? And Roman would smile and say, of course, he always has time for Logan, and they could go somewhere in the Imagination and just talk. And Logan would say that’s an interesting idea, I wonder if—and they would walk and talk for hours. And Roman could bustle up to Logan’s door and say I’ve just thought of something, and Logan would open his door and be happy to talk with Roman and it would be okay.

Roman curls up tighter and feels nothing.

He wishes he could have something to miss for Virgil. He wishes they could have bonded over their love of Disney, their want to talk about the things they’re interested in, or even the need to just have someone else in the room with them for a bit. He wishes their relationship wasn’t just spitting barbs at each other, each hoping to hit the bullseye first and knock the other one out of the race. He wishes he could’ve done better.

He wishes he could have something to miss for Janus. He wishes they could’ve done this right, that they could’ve bonded over the want to keep Thomas safe but also have him be himself. He wishes that he hadn’t laughed, hadn’t scorned, hadn’t fallen back on his pride to keep himself safe at the expense of Thomas. He wishes that maybe, just maybe, if he had been a better puppet, then he wouldn’t have been dropped so suddenly.

But as it stands now, more than anything he wishes he could hear them when they say the things they say about him because then he could figure out which bruises were theirs and take comfort in knowing that they still touch him in some way.

The bruises are a constant now. From the online hate to the casual remarks from the others to the way that Patton hasn’t even tried to come find him anymore—he can hear that, you know—he can’t turn over without landing on a new smattering of bruises. The hoodie helps to cushion the blow a little bit.

He misses Remus.

Remus was…

…Remus was everything.

Roman misses his other half. Roman misses his brother. Roman misses his Creativity.

When they were small they would curl around each other as if they could fuse if they focused hard enough. They would wrap their arms around each other so tightly that it would be a pleasant ache when they woke, never minding because they were tighter. Remus was always so warm and Roman hoarded every single bit he could get.

Roman was cruel to push his brother away and now he understands how it feels.

He misses Thomas.

He misses when he was allowed to go and see Thomas. When he could talk to Thomas. When his presence was celebrated or at the very least, tolerated. He misses it. He misses helping.

But he’s helping now, by staying away.

He’s cold.

He’s so cold.

—————————————————————

do you remember what it felt like

to be touched?

press of fingertips against shoulders

bump of a forehead against yours

palms meeting and parting a mere second later

in days gone by

do you remember

warm?

humans thrive off physical contact,

we’re not built to hold each other

at arms’ length.

infants will die

if they aren’t held enough.

and I am so

cold

—————————————————————

Something is wrong and even Patton can’t ignore it anymore.

The Sides shuffle uneasily in front of the red door until Remus raises his hand to knock against it.

“Roman?”

Silence.

“Roman, please, please, just—just say something.”

Silence.

“Where the fuck are you, Roman?”

“Don’t yell,” Logan mumbles, “you’ll make him think we’re angry at him.”

Remus takes a deep breath.

“We’re not angry, Ro-bro, we’re just—just please make some noise.”

Silence.

“…we’re coming in, Roman.”

But they can’t. Because as Remus turns the knob on the door, it falls forward. The entire door comes off just to reveal—

A blank wall. With no sign that there was ever a room behind it.

Thomas can hear the scream.

—————————————————————

Roman hears the scream and can’t move. But he can close his eyes and reach out and see what’s going on. After all, he hasn’t done anything, so something must be wrong if someone else is screaming.

He feels something in his chest twist and snap.

“Re?”

Across the Mindscape, Remus’s head jerks up.

“Ro,” he breathes, getting to his feet and rushing off down the hall as the others hurry after him, “Ro!”

“Remus, what’s going on?”

“Why isn’t Roman’s room there anymore?”

“Where are you going?”

They barrel into the hallway and smack into a black door. Logan’s eyes widen as he realizes what’s happened.

“Roman’s become a Dark Side,” he says, fingers scrabbling where the door meets the wall, “he’s—he’s really hurt, we have to help—“

“Move, L, I’m gonna break the door down.”

“You’re not gonna do it without me.”

“Roman!”

Roman turns his head to look at the door. Are they…here? The hoodie rasps against his undead skin and he winces. There are still bruises.

“Roman!”

The door shudders its frame. He could open it. He could. He just has to reach out and—

“Ro!”

Remus.

The door unlatches and his brother pours into the room, letting out a wail when he spots Roman in the bed.

Janus hisses as soon as he crosses the threshold, this room is freezing. It feels as if no one’s moved for years inside, as if the heat has been sucked out entirely. His gaze flies to Remus, who’s over on the bed, his hands scrabbling at something in black material.

Roman.

“Oh, little prince,” he whispers, horrified, “no, no, no—“

“We have to get him out,” Logan orders, startling Remus into action as he scoops Roman into his arms, “we have to get him warm. His core temperature is too low.”

“Shower? Bath?”

“No, if we shock his system we could make it worse. Janus, I need your heating pads, Patton, something warm to drink.”

Janus and Patton vanish.

“Virgil, weighted blankets, Remus—“

“I’m here.” As Virgil ducks away as well, Remus helps Logan cradle the limp and freezing form of his brother in their arms as they begin to rush out of that horrible, horrible room. “You thinking bathroom?”

“Get him to Janus’s, that’ll be the safest place.”

“Got it.”

Sure enough, Janus has no objection and sweeps them inside, setting down the heating pads as Patton bustles in with two thermos flasks and a mug. Virgil pops back with thick blankets as they lay the cold form on the ground. Roman’s eyes blink sluggishly as he stares up at Remus.

“...Re?”

“Yeah, Roro, it’s me, I’m right here, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here faster.”

“What’s…wha’s going on?”

“You’re too cold, Roman,” Logan says gently, “we need to get you warmed up.”

“Oh…”

“It will be easier if we take a few of the layers off,” he explains, still careful to keep his voice low and even as the others scurry around, “is that alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to unzip the hoodie.” Logan works slowly, patiently, stopping when any flicker crosses Roman’s face. “That’s it, you’re doing very well, I’m almost done.”

By the time he’s coaxed the hoodie off of Roman’s shoulders, there’s a little bit of color back in his cheeks.

“Very good, Roman, you did well. Virgil’s brought a few warm blankets and Janus has heating pads for you, do you think you can sit up?”

“Don’t know.”

“That’s alright, you’re doing alright.” Logan glances up at Janus.

“Little prince,” Janus murmurs, sitting by Roman’s head, “if you can sit up, I can sit behind you and help warm you up, does that sound alright?”

“Okay.”

“Thank you, sweetie, we’re going to sit you up now.”

Logan and Janus sit Roman up slowly, only to pause when the long sleeves of his shirt fall down.

“Roman,” Logan asks, trying frantically to keep his voice calm, “are you hurt?”

“Mhm.”

He bites back the fearful response and patiently asks where, how bad, can he see?

“Everywhere.” Roman lifts his arms weakly. “’S all bruises.”

“…can we see?”

“Okay.”

Logan’s hands begin to tremble as he works the shirt over Roman’s head. He wasn’t kidding when he said everywhere.

There’s barely an inch of skin that doesn’t look bruised black and blue. Patton stifles a cry as he drops to his knees next to them, looking at Roman like he’s never seen it this bad before.

Oh, Roman, how did they not know? How could he just ignore him like that?

“Get him covered,” comes Virgil’s voice, “he’s still too cold.”

Janus grabs one of the blankets and wraps it carefully around Roman’s form. It should help distribute whatever pressure they apply so it won’t aggravate his injuries too severely. He takes one heating pad and scoots forward, bracketing Roman’s legs with his own and wrapping one pair of arms around him to press the pad to his chest.

“Can you feel that, sweetie,” he asks softly, “is that too warm?”

“No.”

“Good, good, little prince, you’re being very brave.” He turns away to reach for another and so misses the little shudder that goes through Roman. “Do you think you can handle another if I press it to the back of your neck?”

“Mm.”

“Let’s try, little prince, and if it’s too much, I’ll stop.”

“Okay.”

“Here we go, sweetie—“ Janus presses it carefully to the base of Roman’s skull, just at the edge of the blanket— “there, does that feel okay?”

“Mm.”

“Good, sweetie, you’re doing so well, so good for us, that’s it, you relax now.”

Roman starts to tremble.

“That’s alright,” Logan soothes, “you’re warming up, it means you’re going to shiver a little more, you’re alright, Roman, you’re safe. You’re doing well.”

It certainly doesn’t seem that way once Roman’s breath starts to come in gasps. Virgil nudges Patton out of the way and sits, gently calling Roman’s name until his gaze snaps to Virgil’s.

“Hey, Princey,” Virgil says slowly, “you gotta stay with me now, okay? We’re right here, no one’s angry, nothing’s going to hurt you. Just focus on me.”

He ignores the startled noises when Roman starts to cry thick, black tears.

“Eyes on me, Princey, that’s it, stay here. We’re just gonna sit here and breathe for a moment, okay?” Roman nods and Virgil starts to take big, exaggerated breaths. “Good. That’s it, Princey, you focus on me and you breathe. It’s okay. You’re doing great. Just stay here.”

When the viscous black liquid slows, Virgil reaches out and begins to tuck Roman’s hair back. A moment longer and he pauses, noting how the scratch on Roman’s face is covered in the thick black tears.

“Princey, can I clean your face off for you? You’re doing really well at breathing, I’m proud of you. Can I help you with the rest of it?”

“O-okay.”

There’s a bottle of micellar water and a pack of cotton circles pressed into his hands. He moves in slow, careful strokes, changing out the circles as often as he needs to. A pile of them grows beside him as he works, doing his best to get all the black off of Roman’s face. Roman just cries.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Patton murmurs when Roman’s cry gives way to a wail, “it’s okay, you cry all you need to, we’re not going anywhere, it’ll be alright.”

“We have you, sweetie,” Janus says against Roman’s neck, “we’re here.”

Remus lets out a broken noise.

“Oh, Roman, you didn’t…”

Logan’s head whips sharply around to scold Remus only for his mouth to fall open in shock.

Remus’s costume is bleeding too. The same black that drips down Roman’s face is slowly coloring Remus’s costume again, back to what it normally looks like. Remus’s mouth is agape, staring horrified at Roman.

“Oh, Ro—“

“What’s going on?”

“Check the bruises on his neck,” Remus orders as Janus pulls back the blanket, “are they still there?”

“They’re here, but they’re…lighter, how is that—?”

“Roman is the Ego,” Patton mumbles, “he gets bruised when—when—“

“Oh, shit,” Virgil curses, before quickly hushing Roman’s discontented mumble, “and with all the hate that’s been gunning for him—“

“Oh, sweetheart—“

Roman lets out another sob and the tears run clear.

“The Ego is kept healthy by positive attention,” Logan says softly, scooting closer and rubbing Roman’s shoulder through the blanket, “you’ve been starving, haven’t you?”

“He’s not cold because he’s hypothermic,” Remus blusters, “he’s touch starved.”

“It’s still not safe to introduce him to direct contact all at once,” Logan warns when Patton and Remus look like they want to rip the blanket off, “we have to take it slow.”

“So what do we do?”

Janus just leans down and presses a kiss to Roman’s temple. “You’re so brave, sweetie, you’ve been so strong.”

They watch as Roman’s tears begin to wash away the black.

“We love you, sweetheart, you’re so important to us.”

“Stay with us, Princey, we need you.”

“You’re doing very well, Roman, we’re very proud of you.”

Roman cries, ducking his head into Virgil’s waiting hands as Remus’s costume colors itself black again.

After a long while, when Remus looks like he normally does, Roman shakes his head and looks up at them.

“Where am I,” and he sounds like Roman again, “what’s happened?”

“You were starving, sweetheart,” Patton mumbles, “and we didn’t notice until it was too late.”

“O-oh,” Roman blinks, “is that…is that why I’m so cold?”

“You’re touch starved too,” Virgil adds, “and we, uh, L said it wasn’t a good idea to try and shock you out of it.”

“Try and drink something,” Logan says quickly as Patton reaches for the mug, “you’ve been crying for a while and you’re dehydrated.”

“Is that…hot chocolate?”

“Your favorite, kiddo.”

Remus sits down at Roman’s side as he drinks, staring at him like he’s not seen him in ages. Which, well, none of them have, really.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Roman repeats, looking sheepishly at all of them, “I, uh, well, the last video I messed up a lot. I, uh, I shouldn’t have laughed at your name, Jan—where are you?”

“Right here,” Janus mumbles, giving him a gentle squeeze, “and you’re forgiven.”

“Oh. Uh, that was easy…are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Yes, it wasn’t great of you to do, but I’m not exactly blameless either and…”

He squeezes him again.

“…you’ve been hurting enough.”

“Logan, you too, I—I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Roman, but I agree. It’s alright.”

“Why are you all forgiving me so fast?”

“Because,” Remus mumbles, cupping Roman’s head and resting their foreheads together, “this happened.”

They all watch as Roman shudders as Remus shows him what happened.

“Oh—oh—I—oh no—“

“It’s over now, sweetie,” Janus reassures, “we’ve got you. You’re okay, you’re safe.”

“C-can I have a hug?”

“Of course, honey, come here—“

“Let’s get the blanket out of the way, L, is he—“

“It should be safe now, yes.”

“Remus, I—oof!”

“I gotcha, Ro-Bro.”

“It’s still—I’m still—“

“Patton, grab that end of the blanket.”

“This one?”

“That’s it, yes.”

The Sides end up swaddled in the blanket, their heads poking out, as each of them pulls a little bit of Roman into their arms to warm up. Janus and Remus wrap around his upper body, mindful of the few bruises that haven’t been healed yet. His legs are in Patton’s lap, as Logan and Virgil each hold on to his hands. The poor thing is still shivering, still shaking, still a little overwhelmed.

But Janus coos into his ear as his head lolls back, Remus holding him tightly. Logan’s thumb strokes over his palm as Virgil lets him squeeze as tight as he needs to. Patton makes sure he’s off the cold tile and he’s warm.

They’re going to have to work out what to do about the fans, about the videos, but right now they need to worry about Roman.

Speaking of Roman—

“I—I need to apologize to Thomas.”

A cry goes up as he says so, Patton reaching up to pat his knee. “You don’t have to do that right now, sweetheart, rest, it’s okay—“

“I won’t—he won’t be able to rest until he knows what’s happened.”

As if he can hear them, they feel the familiar tug of one of them being summoned. A quick glance around shows that if one of them is going, all of them are, so they appear on the floor of the living room, swaddled in the blanket.

Thomas’s mouth drops open and he rushes to their side.

“I was gonna ask if you found Roman, but I—Roman, buddy, are you okay?”

“I…I don’t know,” Roman mumbles, “but I’m sorry.”

“For what, buddy?”

As Roman begins to apologize, for being away, for hurting Thomas, for being selfish, Thomas just shakes his head.

“No, buddy, that’s not all on you. You—yeah, okay, some things happened, but it’s not entirely your fault. You don’t need to think of it like that.”

“Well said,” Logan mutters, “now help us get Roman to rest.”

“So what Disney movie are we watching and how many pillows do we need?”

A lot, as it turns out, is the answer. And they have to bite back laughs at the way Thomas makes a noise when he’s swept into the blanket too. But Thomas is warm and Roman is still cold and the movie plays on the screen.

“Hey, Roman?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re my hero.”

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188 notes · View notes

mego42 · 4 years ago

Note

Hi, since you seem more positive/excited about the triangle possibility than a fair amount of people, can you talk more about why? I fall into "the not thrilled about the possibility, but have a little hope it could result in some good moments" group and would love some more reasons to not dread it. Thanks! And love your writing and love reading your tags :)

hey anon!! i am v sorry you are not thrilled and am always happy to shriek nonsense about why i’m excited (though idk how much it will help bc the tl;dr is more or less i’m hype for a triangle bc i am an incredibly messy bench who lives for drama and if you are not a similarly messy bench, ymmv)

don’t get me wrong, i super understand the trepidation, pop culture is LITTERED with absolute shite examples of love triangles but here is an incomplete list of reasons i personally think beth and rio are the perfect kind of disaster to set up a spectacular love triangle:

the existence of a triangle implies there are FEELINGS at the various points

the use of the descriptor "romantic" applied to said triangle implies ROMANTIC feelings

i am a simple woman and my pulse has already picked up

one of my absolute most favorite things about the toxic stew that is beth and rio is how completely balls to the wall obsessed they are with having and holding each other’s attention and focus

like straight up possessive nightmare people

now imagine wedging an actual rival for one or the other’s attention between the two of them

(something we have not reeeeeally seen before, 206 withstanding and i’ll come back to that, bc lbr beth doesn’t give a fck about dean and rio’s known that for sure ever since he walked LITERALLY RIGHT PAST THE GUY to rail his wife in a public bathroom at her invitation)

(the 204 proximity point has nothing to do with this list it’s just a source of endless delight and that was enough for me to justify adding it)

where was i

mmmmm feelings, possessive nightmares, OH RIGHT

they are also nightmares in the sense that it appears to be physically impossible for them to use their words with each other unless it’s like, ripped out of them which means they’re sitting on ALL THE BAGGAGE between them and it’s just stewing and boiling and

wait, let me back up

look, i want brio sex as bad as the next person

but even more than brio sex? i want them to fight

i mean like, Fight fight

i want the kind of knockdown drag-out brawl that brings Stuff to the surface and leaves them with a bunch of nasty, ragged, pieces dragged out into the light bc lbr they’ve both done some incredibly awful things to each other

(kind of like what 213 was looking like before it all went to shit tbh)

(i’m just saying, beth saying you put it all on me with that kind of jagged, disbelieving betrayal behind it? my catnip)

(it’s up there with rio at the picnic table in 306 telling her that ship sailed when she put three slugs in him)

i live for them being raw and honest and emotional okay

IF ONLY THEY COULD BOTH DO IT AT THE SAME TIME

bc here’s the thing, for the magnitude of horrifying shit between the two of them? i (personally) think that they like it because they are so! twisted! when it comes to each other and i love that for me, specifically

like no seriously a huge part of what i love about the ship is that whole i see your monster and it looks like mine thing they’ve got going on when they let themselves and i am full on foaming at the mouth feral at the thought of them leaning into that

i’m sorry i’ve lost the thread again

wait no that was the thread

okay so basically they’re both ticking time bombs of smothered angst and rage who are absolutely incapable of being normal about each other but are also keeping all of that locked tf down and the only time we ever really see it come out is when one o them is too emotionally overwhelmed to keep their iron grip

you know what brings emotions to the surface?

TRIANGLES!!!!!!!!!!!!

CAN YOU IMAGINE THE SEETHING MESS OF EMOTION THAT HAS THE POTENTIAL TO BRING TO THE SURFACE??????

AND HOW UTTERLY UNEQUIPPED EITHER ONE OF THEM WOULD BE TO DEAL WITH ANY OF IT????????

AND HOW SIDEWAYS IT COULD EXPLODE???????????

like don’t get me wrong there is absolutely no way it’s gonna be pretty but i didn’t get on this busted ass carnival ride expecting nice things, i am in this to feEl stuFf and nothing makes me feel stuff more than seeing the two of them feel stuff and this is perfect set up for that

you know how they say the opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference?

you know what’s not indifference? big messy emotions

but okay okay okay i am icarus and the sun looms large, lets say they don’t fight, that doesn’t mean they’re not gonna feEl stuFf on their own

do you remember beth’s face in the van when rio hugged dylan??? do you?????

and what did she do after that? went out and robbed him blind and held his shit hostage until he caved in what is one of my top 10 of all of their scenes

and god, idk if we’ve really seen rio really get jealous of attention lavished on beth yet but when i think about it i want it so bad my teeth hurt

and i know i’m not alone here bc i have i think 3 jealous!rio prompts in my inbox rn

(i’m not saying i’m working on it but i’m also not not saying it)

god i just

can you imagine how much fun it could be to watch rio seethe over having to watch someone else be into beth

WHAT WOULD HE DO?????????

ESP IF HE COULDNT DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT DIRECTLY BC ITS SOMEONE HE CAN’T INTERFERE WITH

oh christ and if beth responded to it??????????

oh gOD thE mESS

idk even if it doesn’t lead to a confrontation (but i feel like??? it would have to????) just the idea of the kinds of feelings they’d have to grapple with and confront within themselves is D E L I C I O U S

also, to jump back to an earlier point: brio sex

i know some people are feeling like the sexy chemistry between beth and rio is lacking this season

you know what’s great for chemistry? fuel

you know what provides great fuel? messy emotional situations that tug at intimate connections and make people feel out of control

you know what’s a messy emotional situation that tugs at intimate connections and make people feel out of control?

you probably guessed it

A TRIANGLE

(and we know that neither of them does well with feeling out of control period at all even without the intimate emotional stuff mixed in so like oh boy)

listen i am just saying given where they’re currently at with each other i cannot think of any situation more ripe for an explosive hook up than one or both of them feeling driven to reassert their claim/mark on the other

would it be nice? no, probably not

would i care? not even a little bit

(don’t you judge like any of y’all are any better than me)

look. to quote marie kondo horrifically out of context: i love mess and the mess potential in a romantic love triangle with beth and rio as two of the three points is stratospherically high.

#i hope this helps! or makes sense!#beth x rio #nbc good girls #in defense of love triangles #(a thing i never thought i'd tag tbh)#also while this is probs not a popular stance and debatably helpful #it's worth mentioning that the stakes of this are at the end of the day not very high #it's a tv show #i'm here to enjoy myself and when i stop enjoying myself i'll walk away #i'd be sad sure #but life's too short to put this much energy into something that does not spark joy #so idk remembering that makes it easier to not get that worked up #i lean into what i love and know that i can bounce if it doesn't deliver #shut up meg #anon

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buckupbuttercup · 3 years ago

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Wow guys! Touch prompts was amazing. Thank you so much to everyone who sent in a prompt. That was a much needed writing (and serotonin) boost. I officially wrote over 12K words in 8 days (edited and posted in ten!) which is a lot for me. Lately I’ve been struggling to write so this really lit a fire under me. And I had so much fun doing it! Once Big Bang is over (and I go through the rest of the prompts in my inbox, I promise you guys I see them!) I will definitely do something like this again.

Touch Prompt Master List

A Gentle Touch (T; 596 words; hurt/comfort, TW for implied domestic violence) @fleurdebeton requested (2) running fingers through hair and (20) bandaging/stitching up an injury

Everything looks worse in the harsh, bright lights of the bathroom and this is no exception. The cut slicing through Buck’s eyebrow is still weeping blood, a trail of rust stained into his skin from the corner of his eye down across his temple and along his jaw. Already the red, irritated skin is darkening with the promise of a bruise that will no doubt crawl up the side of his forehead by the morning.

The Cadence of Beating Hearts (T; 758 words; Buddie emotional hurt/comfort, angst) @fleurdebeton requested (9) listening to the other’s heartbeat & (36) lifting the other one up

The house is quiet as the first light of morning filters in through the curtains. Just the soft hum of the ceiling fan spinning above the bed and the quiet shuffle of sheets as the body next to him shifts. It’s in moments like this, where the world is standing still, that Buck can give in. His worn out heart can unclench in his chest and he can finally breathe, knowing that they’re all safely tucked away in this bubble. Even if it’s only for a little while.

The Girl on the Ledge (T; 994 words; emotional hurt/comfort, TW for suicide) Anonymous requested (8) shielding the other one with their body

It happens so fast. One second she’s there and the next second she’s … gone. Just gone.

When they arrive on scene, she is already out over the ledge, barefoot and emotionless as she stands on the steel crossbeam of the bridge. The salty sea breeze whips her blonde hair up into a tangle, white sundress billowing around her knees. Her eyes though, bloodshot and haunted, paint the picture of desperation that will never leave their minds.

Kisses Interrupted (T; 1199 words; Buddie; fluff, slice of life, two tired dads) Anonymous requested (44) sitting in the other's lap

He scoots around Eddie to place the leftovers in the fridge and pulls out two beers. It might be a school night for Chris, but neither of them have shift tomorrow. He doubts they’ll stay up much longer than an episode of True Crime and a beer, but it’s worth a shot. They haven’t spent any time together in … weeks it feels like. And as lame as it sounds, he wants nothing more than to snuggle on the couch, wrapped up in Eddie’s arms. Or …

Dinner Plans (T; 1140 words; Buddie; domestic fluff, Eddie cooks!) Anonymous requested (27) pulling the other towards them

Buck eyes Eddie, and the disaster he’s making in his kitchen, with no small amount of suspicion. It’s not that he doesn’t trust the man, because he does. Every day on shift he puts his life in his partner’s hands when they run into burning buildings or scale down a cliff with nothing but a rope keeping him from plummeting to the rocks below. He trusts Eddie with his life and, more recently, with his heart. He just doesn’t trust the man with his stove.

More Than A Jeep (G; 1281 words; Buddie; mild hurt/comfort, car accidents) Anonymous requested (1) touching foreheads, (2) running fingers through hair, (3) hiding face in neck, and (21) kissing the other’s brow

A gunmetal grey Jeep sits in the middle of the intersection surrounded by skid marks. The back is smashed in from a pick-up truck rear ending it, but the worst of the damage is on the driver’s side. It’s crumbled in from a second impact, frame of the Jeep bowing inward, part of the roof and door cutaway. Just seeing the damage makes Eddie’s stomach twist into knots. Officer Williams’s eyes go wide in understanding, fingers releasing their grip. Eddie only spares a moment to nod a thanks in his direction before he’s sprinting away.

Shout It From The Rooftops (G; 661 words; Buddie; fluff, idiots in love, relationship reveal) @221bsunsettowers requested (14) putting an arm around the other’s waist & (44) sitting on the other’s lap

It’s not that he’s ashamed, because he’s most definitely not. Eddie loves Buck, that is a sure fact. Loves the man with every fibre of his being. And if he were a ‘shout it from the rooftops’ kind of guy, he would scale the highest mountain just so everyone would know.

Eddie Diaz, Terrible Patient (T; 1248 words; Buddie; sick fic, mild hurt/comfort) Anonymous requested (17) holding the other’s chin up & (45) feeling their temperature

Eddie is a pretty awful patient.

There is only a small window of time, twenty minutes to be exact, where he’s left unsupervised from the time Carla leaves the house with Chris in the morning until when Buck gets home from shift. Twenty minutes in the early morning in which most sick people would just stay curled up in bed. Not Eddie. No, instead Buck finds him hunched over in the kitchen wheezing through congested lungs as he tries to empty the dishwasher. Hence, terrible patient.

They Left A Scar (G; 771 words; Buddie; emotional hurt/comfort) Anonymous requested (17) holding the other’s chin up

Buck’s past lives in him like a knot of scar tissue, harmless and unnoticeable most of the time. Talking with his parents, though, is like poking and prodding at it until it strikes a nerve. Then they just seem to press all their weight against the tender flesh until Buck is crumbling under the pressure, body rocked with phantom pains that echo for days after.

Miles From Okay (G; 1120 words; Buddie; angst; hurt/comfort) @stellarm requested (28) feeling for each other in the dark

It takes a monumental amount of effort, but Buck’s able to move his arm, the one not pinned under his body and raging in agony. He slides it slowly across the floor in front of him as far as he can reach, fingers scrambling in the darkness in hopes of finding his missing partner.

“Eddie,” he moans to the shadows.

Scrapes and Bruises (T; 1387 words; Buddie; mild hurt/comfort) Anonymous requested 20) bandaging/stitching up an injury & (22) falling asleep on the other’s shoulder

“Any headache?”

“Other than the one you’re giving me?” Buck quips back.

Eddie cuts him a stern glare to which Buck just groans.

“No headache. No nausea. Never lost consciousness,” Buck tells him, monotone. “I’m painfully aware of every embarrassing second, thanks so much.”

Code Word: Penguin (G; 1458 words; Buddie; fluff, boys in love, marriage proposal) @buddiextarlos requested (2) running fingers through hair & (38) stroking their leg

And he knew, on a lazy Sunday morning with the early rays of dawn streaming in through the bedroom window, just the two of them tangled beneath the sheets in a quiet house, that he loved Buck. He had opened his eyes to see Buck’s face smushed into his pillow, blonde curls sticking up in all directions, lips parted as he snored away, and felt the world shift into focus once again. This is what he wanted forever.

Thank you all so much! Happy reading!

#911 fanfic #911 fic #touch prompts #buddie

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generallynerdy · 4 years ago

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One life, I thought—a thousand deaths (Jon Antilles & Fay)

Summary: On Queyta, Obi-Wan Kenobi is not the only one to escape Durge and Ventress. One of the four legendary Masters, Jon Antilles, emerges from a lava stream despite knowing he’s going to die. He’s so sure of it that he crawls his way to Fay’s side, wanting to spend his last moments with the woman who he considers his Master. But she has other plans. Plans to make certain that Jon Antilles lives past today.

Warnings: Angst, Character Death, On-Screen Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, there’s both sorry, Self-Sacrifice, The Curse of Immortality, holy shit i made myself sad dude Word Count: 2,191

Prompt: Angstpril Day 2 - Sole Survivor

Author’s Note: listen I know nobody knows about these characters that are in literally one comic but I have FEELINGS about them okay?? Jon is meant to be a badass mysterious enigma but he screams sad boi and Fay is like...the greatest cryptid Jedi ever, I love her. So, of course, I decided to make them and Knol and Nico suffer. (Also I know Obi-Wan survived the mission but the Sole Survivor still applies because Jon is the sole survivor of the four legendary Masters, just in case that wasn’t clear.) I just finished this today, so the editing is minimal.

Read on AO3

Using the Force as a shield is, in theory, one of the easier skills a Jedi utilizes. That is assuming, of course, that the Jedi in question is in good health, a decent mental state, and isn’t under a severe amount of stress. If said Jedi is, say, three feet into a pool of lava, already bearing grievous injuries and the weight of the deaths of two close companions, and feeling the fading life of another, the simple task, understandably, becomes something of a problem.

Jon has finally managed to pull the Force around him like a blanket. It protects him from the bubbling lake around him now, but the first few seconds he couldn’t pull it off were torture.

As it turns out, lava burns. It burns like shame, like failure, like the nightmares Jon used to have about his Master abandoning him on a planet in Hutt space for getting just a little too mouthy. And it hurts nearly as much.

“Fuck,” he hisses. He makes a rule of not cursing, but right now feels like an appropriate time to break it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He claws at the charred remains of his robes. Contrary to popular belief, lava doesn’t melt initially, as Jon now knows. Instead of melting, he burst into flames for the few seconds it took to pull himself together, though they felt like an eternity. Red, throbbing burns litter his entire body, his hair singed but miraculously intact thanks to his hood, which is entirely ashes now. The pain consumes his thoughts, making his shielding start to flicker in and out.

And then, through the debilitating agony, a touch of something familiar.

Jon’s eyes fly open. “Fay,” he whispers.

Her light is dimmer than it should be, not flickering in and out mischievously like it usually does. But still, she makes an effort to reach out, to check on him. It sends a sob up his throat.

“Hold on, Fay, hold on.”

Clenching his fists, he opens himself up to the Force. His actions are ones of faith, not of desperation, and he lets it flow through him as he takes a deep breath. The idea of using one of his Master’s abilities would normally make him nauseous, but the disgust doesn’t even cross his mind this time as he prepares to teleport. He thinks of that open, flat space of rock that Obi-Wan and Fay ran to, their enemies close behind. Focusing fiercely on that distant image, he pulls on the Force and folds the two points—

Jon collapses on solid ground with a heaving gasp.

Every inch of his body protests the change, especially his knees, which burn when they make contact with the ground, but somehow he manages to ignore his own complaints.

Fay isn’t far, or she shouldn’t be, at least. The distance between them seems gaping when he tries to move.

Still, her light is fading fast. And he wants to be by her side.

So, Jon Antilles crawls on hands and knees, dragging his body across sharp stones and past bubbling streams of lava. He aches with each movement and cries out when it becomes too much, but he persists regardless. Something in him knows it may be the last thing he ever does.

Finally, he sees her.

She’s sprawled out, her chest hardly moving as her breathing becomes shallow. Her near-golden hair is filthy with ash and her eyes are dim. She’s hardly herself, Jon thinks, and feels his stomach sink.

Hundreds of years the great Master Fay has lived and breathed. Hundreds of years and he’s going to watch her die today.

“Jon,” she calls out weakly.

He pulls himself to her side, grabbing her hand with his own shaky ones. “I’m here, Master.”

They only met when he was a teenager, but he feels as if he’s known her all his life. They’ve travelled the Outer Rim together, following the Force, for decades now and he’s never regretted a second of it. In all but title, Fay is his Master. She was always better than Dark Woman, even when the bar was six feet under. The only record with both their names will be at the Temple, where the dead are listed, a handful of mission reports with other Jedi, and the stories the younglings share of the 4 legendary, nomadic Masters.

“Knol and Nico,” Fay breathes out, “they’re one with the Force.”

Jon grimaces. “Yes. And the Force is with us.”

She laughs, breathy and half-choked. It’s an old lesson, familiar and grounding. “And so too are they,” she adds.

“Where’s Obi-Wan?”

“Gone, with the cure.” She smiles just a little. “The Republic fights another day.”

Suddenly grim, he squeezes her hand. “But not us.”

A pause.

“But not us.”

The silence overwhelms them. The wind whistles in the distance, carrying with it nothing but smoke and ashes. Queyta isn’t the best place to die, Jon thinks absently. He would rather it have been someplace with flowers.

“I wish it could’ve been Jedha.”

He almost jumps at her voice, but her words jarr a surprised laugh from his sore lungs. “Jedha? I thought you hated cold planets.”

“Oh, yes, but not that one. Force, I should have taken you. The Force there is so...so strong, so pure, you can feel the kyber from the surface,” she explains, staring straight up at him. If anyone else were to gaze so intensely at his scars, he’d be uncomfortable, but she’s safe. She’s family. “And the Guardians of the Whills are so kind. I met a young one of theirs some decades ago. You two would’ve gotten along.”

Jon laughs a little. “You’re always looking to find me friends, Fay.”

Her smile turns sad and she lifts a hand to his face, letting it rest on his cheek. “You’re so young,” she whispers. “Too young to be so lonely, Jon.”

He shuts his eyes, lets himself be comforted by her touch. When he opens them again, she still has that gut-wrenching look on her face. He places his hand on top of hers, unsurprised at how cold they are despite the blistering heat.

“I’m not lonely,” he promises.

Jon doesn’t say that it’s because of her, Knol, and Nico, but Fay picks up the thought anyway. Her eyes fill with tears.

“I have watched so many I love die.” Fay’s voice wavers as she says it. He realises that it’s the first time he’s ever heard it do that. To be honest, he’d thought it was impossible. “Taken by age, by Darkness, by foolishness. Never have I met a soul as good as yours, Jon. And never a Jedi so worthy of love.”

“Fay…”

She shakes her head. “Your Master did not deserve you. The galaxy did not deserve you.”

Pulling her hand away from him, Jon squeezes it. “You did,” he says firmly, though his voice cracks.

“I hope so,” she admits with a rueful laugh. “I hope so.”

He smiles weakly. “I wish you’d found me first. But I thin-I think the Force knew when I needed you to save me. Because you did save me, Master. I could never thank you enough.”

She takes his word silently, holding his hand even tighter. “You never needed to.”

“Thank you,” he says now, even though it’s useless.

Fay’s grey eyes meet his pale ones and suddenly, she’s distressed. “You’re so young,” she repeats.

But Jon can see that she means something else this time.

“Not too young to do my duty.”

“Too young to die doing it.”

Jon thinks of Tan Yuster, one of four Padawans to die on Geonosis. The Jedi have experienced great loss these past months since the beginning of the war and so many so much younger than Jon have died in battle, the clones included. Of course, to Fay, they all may as well be children.

“I will go proudly into the Force,” he promises her. At your side.

Fay’s expression twists. “No.”

He scoffs. “I don’t think we have a say in it.”

“The Force let me live this long,” she says suddenly, as if it’s a realisation, “longer than I should have. Obi-Wan is gone, I’ve done what good I can, except...you’re here. Why are we here?”

“To say goodbye,” Jon offers.

She shakes her head, then tries to sit up, struggling until her would-be Padawan helps pull her up. “I’m done with goodbyes.”

“What are you—?”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his question. Fay presses their foreheads together and grabs his hands with a newfound energy that terrifies him. Chills go up his spine when her presence in the Force covers him like a blanket. Warmth climbs up his hands, then his arms, and with a glance down he finds that his skin is healing.

“Fay, no!” he cries, trying to shove her away.

She only tightens her grip. “Stay still, Jon.”

She sounds more like herself, certain and unwavering. Jon would be happy-crying if he weren’t horrified. He tries to drag himself out of her grip, but she’s impossibly strong. Her healing creeps up his entire body, soothing his burns, though scars remain behind.

“No, no, no—FAY! Fay, stop it!” His screams turn to sobs. “You’ll die, stop—!”

“I already am,” she says, just as certain in her abilities as her fate. “But you don’t have to.”

Trembling, his attempts are weaker now but still there. “Please, please,” he begs. “Not without you!”

Tears stream down her cheeks. She allows herself a moment of weakness; she opens her eyes and meets his tearful gaze, remembering the teenager she first met. He was so scared and so brave. And for a moment, she’d thought he must be a ghost. But no, he was just a boy. For the first time in a long time, she had let herself build a bridge between them, like Knol and Nico before him, even knowing she would have to watch him die one day.

Now, she thinks with fierce stubbornness, she won’t have to.

It feels like her life is leaving her for him, though she knows it’s just fading into the Force. It’s to it that she speaks, the cosmic energy she’s dedicated her long, long life to.

“If anyone is deserving of the time you’ve given me,” she gasps out, “it is Jon Antilles.”

She doesn’t see the horror in Jon’s face, but she can feel it in his quiet Force-presence, so subdued. He hides himself on purpose and it truly breaks her heart. His light is so strong. The galaxy is all the better for his existence.

“I don’t want this! Fay, I don’t—let me die, please—”

Fay only lifts her head and kisses his forehead, the sort of gentle gesture a mother might give her son. “One day,” she promises. It rings with truth, with the strength of the Force behind it. “But not today.”

Jon cries out and tries to rip himself away, but freezes when pure light washes over him. The warmth he’s always associated with Fay soaks into him, healing all his wounds in an instant and rejuvenating his fading energy. Stars burst before his eyes, like he’s seeing into the very universe beyond Queyta, beyond what he’s meant to see with his petty Human eyes. In another instant, it’s gone and Fay is slumping over.

She falls to the ground with a thump, a noise that jolts Jon back into focus.

“Master!” he sobs.

He pulls her up from the ground with the sickening realisation that she’s a complete deadweight. She’s limp in his arms, already paling. Desperate, Jon pushes her hair out of her face and finds...nothing. Her eyes are dull. With his fingers on her wrist, he can’t feel a pulse.

“Fay?”

The steady beat of her Force-presence is gone, a gaping hole in his universe. Their bond, one strong enough to resemble a training bond, is shattered, a physical pain that throbs in his skull.

Jon begins to hyperventilate, his sudden gasps for breath burning his now-perfect lungs.

“Come back,” he begs Fay’s corpse. “Fuck, please. Please, come back.”

He pulls her into his lap, clutching her robes like a child being left behind for the first time. It doesn’t hurt to move anymore and, thank the Force for it because his entire body shakes with the force of his cries.

Overwhelmed with grief he’s never experienced, Jon wails into Fay’s shoulder, rocking back and forth. The agonizing sound rings across the valley, a noise like torture.

It’s only now that he feels the frayed edges of his bonds with Knol and Nico.

He screams again, his vocal cords protesting it sharply.

The last time Jon was this alone, he was a child. And now, he’s right back where he was before he met his three closest companions. Except now, now, he knows what it means to love and to lose. It aches. It aches like nothing he’s ever felt.

“Please,” he whispers hoarsely. “I can’t—I need you. What do I do? What am I supposed to do?”

He never gets an answer.

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

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jj-ktae · 4 years ago

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·41/45· Intoxicated - Prompt Game -

Title : Intoxicated Pairing : Park Jinyoung x Fem!reader Genre : Angst, Fluff, romance Words : 2060 Summary : Breaking up with Jinyoung was already complicated, yet he came, drunk and desperate, at 4 in the morning. Prompts : N° 41 : “Do you remember our first kiss?” N° 45 : “I don’t want you to stop.”

Prompt Game - Masterlist -

Intoxicated

Your sofa is not comfortable. You never noticed how hard it feels against your back as you try to find a better position while watching questionable videos at 4 in the morning.

It doesn’t matter, rest is for people who can turn shut their brain off. You can’t. It’s been a month. A whole thirty-one days of going back to a life made of instant noodles and drooling on your favourite fluffy pillow.

Today is Friday and after numerous rejections, your friends gave up and stopped forcing you to join them into some fancy bar. It doesn’t feel right to be partying like this, especially when you feel like rolling yourself into your blanket like a burrito.

Which is already done.

It’s not like you’re depressed; you’re the one who broke up with your boyfriend because of event you were not sure you could get out of.

Jinyoung is a man of high standards. He was raised in a wealthy family where everyone has their own role and future traced from the crib. He followed his parents’ choices without rebelling once.

Except one time, two months ago.

You had been dating for almost a year when his parents found him a spouse. She was the daughter of a man everyone wanted on their side and his family couldn’t say no when the promise of a profitable alliance appeared in their household.

Only then you saw how unflappable Jinyoung could be. He would reject day after day, not bothered when his parents used the word disown as a weapon. Jinyoung didn’t even flinch and was ready to pack and move in with you.

Poor boy would hate spending all his evenings on your sofa.

It became too big for you to handle. There was nothing you could do except break up with him so before he could run away from his luxury you left, lying about not loving him, using the word mistake like it meant nothing.

Jinyoung had told you though. Trust me, he always said.

There was nothing to trust. Jinyoung would have never been able to find another job if these two companies were to team against him. It is true that he is a simple man, but you couldn’t live with the idea of being what destroyed his life.

So you walked away, isolating yourself and ruining your health at work. It’s been a month and you feel as empty, the feeling of being the one responsible for your own misery distilling hate into your whole existence.

There is no turning back now. Jinyoung must get married and become what he is destined to be.

You’re clicking on this documentary about salmon trout and their reproduction cycle when heavy knocking on your door startles you.

Your neighbours are probably going to complain about non-existent noises because that’s what they do.

You check your pyjamas - shrugging when you notice a stain a ketchup from your precious fries session.

But it’s not the old neighbour you find behind the door.

“You opened the door…” Jinyoung’s smug smile makes you take a step back. He is leaning against the doorway, head restless. “I thought you wouldn’t…”

“What are you doing here? Why are you drunk?” You inquire before checking the hall.

Jinyoung laughs, his head raising in evident distress. “I am not drunk! Come on!” His voice dies when you pull on his arm to force him inside.

Damn him for showing up completely drunk.

“Oh so I can come in” Jinyoung mumbles, letting his plastic bag fall on the floor with a loud thud before attempting to untie his shoes.

“It’s just until you sober up.” You scold, blaming your soft side for giving in so quickly. You didn’t have a choice; your building is filled with people who abuse the police’s phone number daily.

Jinyoung snorts, grabbing his bag again and aiming for your sofa where he lets himself fall. “I brought wine. You love wine.” His voice becomes sad as unwraps the bottle.

You sigh, reaching his side and taking the bottle. “Thank you. Now rest and leave when you feel better. You know where everything is.”

It’s too much work. Dealing with a drunk Jinyoung is usually funny; he becomes a mess of clumsy and cute and oh god he becomes so luscious as soon as music starts.

“I didn’t come all the way here to sleep on a sofa!” He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why did you come then?” You turn around to put the bottle on the dining table before gasping. “Holy shit Jinyoung, this is a Domaine de la Romanée Conti! Take it with you, it’s expensive!”

Jinyoung snickers, his lazy hand brushing your words off. “Do I look like I care about this…”

“Listen,” You walk back to the sofa, stopping when Jinyoung leans over his knees to bury his head into his hands. “I’ll put the bottle back into the bag. Rest for now and you can leave whenever you want. “

“How is it so easy for you?” His question breaks you out of your monologue. “How is it so easy to speak like this?”

“Jinyoung, I don’t think it’s a good-”

“A good idea?” He asks, raising his head and revealing moist eyes. “All of this was a very bad idea, right? Because it was a mistake?” His head seems clearer suddenly. “Do you even think I believed you for one second?”

You raise a hand and shake your head. “No Jinyoung. You won’t make me say what you want to hear. You’re drunk, stop this.”

“Of course I am drunk!” He speaks louder, annoyance tainting his vocal cords. “I am wasted because it’s all I can do! Breaking news: not everyone is as heartless as you.”

It stings. No matter how this is what you wanted, hearing his pain can only make you regret.

“It’s better this way. Look around you! How would you have lived? Jobless? Disowned?” He doesn’t understand. Life is not a soap opera; love is not always the answer to everything.

“I told you to trust me! I told you I would sort this out! You didn’t listen, you freaked out and left, even though I told you to stay with me, no matter how I begged! How cruel is that?” Jinyoung gets up, ignoring his spinning head and contracting stomach. Rage is blurring his vision and the memories haunting.

You don’t know what to answer. As much as you want to think you are right, it is cruel. Jinyoung didn’t go against his parents to get dumped.

“I don’t know what to say...all I did was for your happiness. You can’t risk everything for me.” You explain, eyes now equally watery.

Jinyoung nods, eyes closing painfully. He goes to the windows; the place he loves the most in your whole flat. “Do you remember our first kiss?” he asks, not even turning around. “It was right here.”

You smile, that night still printed into your brain. Jinyoung confessed a day after you both met.

His smile was wide and hopeful that day; nothing seemed to stop him as he explained his attraction to you and how he loved the way you dismissed him when he showed up at your desk and explained he had to see your boss for and important matter.

He had left his number on his way back with a wink while your boss yelled at you for not letting the son of an important business man see him.

Stupid, you thought, as you still dialled his number to complain.

He asked you out and a day later you were kissing, his hands on your hips and yours in his hair.

Now he looks pitiful, abandoned and disturbed.

“I remember.”

He finally turns around, his last attempt at making you come back to him hanging on his lips.

“I made it clear that no one else but you are going to be in my heart.” He raises said hand, a single tear falling on his cheeks and he must be pretty drunk to openly cry like that in front of you. “Did you really think I was going to get married to someone else but you? This is ridiculous, you don’t marry people you don’t love.” he walks away, pacing weirdly and even bumping into your lamp.

“What have you been telling your parents?” Jinyoung is stubborn, you don’t know why but he cannot let things go. “What are you going to do if they ever-”

“If they can’t understand something as simple as their only son’s well-being, there is nothing I can do.” Jinyoung concludes, looking hurt both because of your rejection and his parents’ inability to let him do what he wants. “I will not stay around people who want me miserable, but I can stick to those who make me feel loved and understood.”

“I’m sure it can’t be that bad to get married to a rich and pretty girl.”

Jinyoung stops walking, looking dumbfounded. “Do you even hear yourself? It can’t be that bad?”

“I mean, your career is your future. Your family is important, too! What is so special about me that you’re willing to risk everything even after I broke up with you?!” You yell, hating both yourself and him for being in such a situation.

“I don’t know, you tell me. Why are you wearing stained pyjamas on a Friday night while watching stupid videos? Why aren’t you enjoying your single life as you should?” Jinyoung hits jackpot as easy as he used to. He knows you; you’re not the type of person who watches questionable videos, anyways.

“I was tired.” Is all you say, your drained face giving away your current mind-set.

“Please,” Jinyoung rubs his forehead, completely done with your behaviour. “You’re not happy. You think you made the right decision but you didn’t. You’re fooling yourself and trying to be an altruist by ‘saving my life’ yet you’re stomping on me again and again. So what if I have to work shitty jobs and sleep here? Are you scared that you might not take advantage of my bank account? Is me being poor so bad that you want me out of your life?”

It triggers you, it triggers you so much that you start crying. “Stop!” You shake your head, your heart clenching. “I’m warning you, never imply, ever again, that I was after your money.” you want to sound threatening but you must look ridiculous. “Do you think it’s easy for me? Do you think I can spit venom and feel nothing? I didn’t want you to suffer because of me, I want you to be happy and live the life you should be living. I’m literally forcing myself to stop loving you, Jinyoung.”

“You don’t understand, I don’t want you to stop.” Jinyoung breathes, his feet aiming for your trembling figure. His tone softens when he sees you crying. He doesn’t think he will ever be able to handle such a view. “What I’m trying to say is that no matter the amount of wealth and the number of connections, you make me happy and you’re the life I should be living. If you take that away from me, I’m done for.”

You sob harder, his words buzzing and more comforting than ever.

He brushes your arm silently, his head dipping to take a good look at your bloodshot eyes. “Can you please stop trying to take all the decisions and believe me? It’s been a month and now I need you to come back to me.”

He doesn’t give you a choice; but you don’t need to ponder.

“Are you really not going to regret this?” You try one last time, your eyes searching for his but his drunk face shows no concern, no sign of doubt, no hint of hesitation.

“All I’m regretting is that I didn’t come sooner.” He concludes, his arms spreading to signal he needs a hug.

You carefully envelop him, his scent hinting he has been drinking a lot of liquor. “Promise me you’ll try to convince your parents some more.”

You hear him chuckle, his arms rubbing your back. “I promise.”

“I actually missed you a lot.”

Jinyoung can only inhale, his arms tightening and head finding shelter in the crook of your neck.

“Welcome back, baby.”

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wreath-of-laurels · 3 years ago

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Todoroki/Iida - Iida becomes a villain

So @doomsdaybeamxd prompted me with

Pairing: Todoiida AU: Iida falls in with the villains. Big Angst Time

I’d normally write a mini fic as is proper but my brain has too many ideas for this. So here’s a general idea of how I think it goes as if I actually tried to write a tiny bit, it wouldn’t stay a tiny bit.

As it is, I’m writing at least some of this in Variations on a Theme. How much I’ll do, I don’t know.

Childhood friends

Shouto and Tenya met shortly after Rei was put in the mental hospital.

This happened because Enji was feeling guilty over Rei and seeing Shouto being lonely so was for once in his life was trying to be a semi-decent father and decided to arrange regular playdates.

No, Enji never considered to let Natsuo or Fuyumi play with Shouto. If he thought about it, he'd have reasons but they'd all suck.

Shouto was lonely and so was Tenya as he got bullied for being ‘weird’ and bit by bit they established a friendship.

There may or may not be mutual puppy crushes involved.

Enji after gaining a +1 in parenting points, loses 10,000 by saying that Tenya is the sort of good, loyal son that he’d be proud of, and accidentally implying that Tenya is there to change Shouto into a version of him.

This makes Shouto hate Tenya, assuming that he was in on it, and he refuses to spend anymore time with him. This upsets Tenya and baffles Enji. Enji doesn’t even consider the possibility that it was his fault.

Years pass.

They meet again at UA

Years past and Tenya is really looking forward to seeing Shouto again. Elementary and middle school were not fun and he got bullied a lot. Surely Shouto has forgiven him for whatever he did!

Nope.

If anything Shouto’s angrier as he still has feelings for Tenya and he wants them gone. Shouto won’t even tell him why they’re no longer friends. Just that it’s Tenya’s fault.

The sports festival goes about the same as before except that Tenya gets the call about Tensei just before his fight with Shouto.

Stain killed Tensei instead of crippled. His mother lets this drop on the phone.

Tenya instead of going home seeks out Shouto. Shouto’s older brother died. While he never talked about it, surely Shouto knows what it is like, maybe even knows how to cope.

Endeavor has just been blabbing away at Shouto. So Shouto is angry and totally avoids looking at Tenya or paying much attention at all, missing all the absolute BLATANT hints that Tenya needs help.

Shouto misconstrues Tenya’s disjointed ask for help and bitterly says that the normal thing is that the weak are ‘thrown out’ and the strong survive. Shouto has no clue that Tensei is dead.

Whoops.

Tenya and Shouto have their match because the teachers haven’t heard about Tensei yet. It is a lot more brutal than the canon one. Shouto even loses himself for a while and uses his flame.

Tenya loses. Now he’s angry at Shouto too.

Shouto later has the chat with Midoriya, they have their match and Shouto starts thinking over things.

The next day Tenya refuses to talk about anything. None of the students have a clue what happened to Tensei.

The teachers do. Aizawa, Mic and Midnight went to school with Tensei. They try to be comforting. Tenya is super polite while raging inside that when Oboro died and Tensei was upset, they weren’t around.

To be fair to the teachers, while Oboro and Tensei were close friends, Tensei wasn’t with the rest of them. Everyone was trying to keep Aizawa from falling apart at the time.

Tenya is NOT in his happy place.

Tenya goes after Stain

Tenya is a whole lot less patient at this point than his canon self. He doesn’t wait to go after Stain at this point. As his armour is at school, he uses his brother’s access cards and such to steal Villain stuff from his agency.

The one-on-one battle of Tenya against Stain goes initially better. He gets a few good hits in. Stain is ranting about Tensei was a fake hero. He eventually takes Tenya down but fail-safes in the villain gear kick in and electrocute Stain.

When Tenya gets a hold of himself, Stain is ranting about all the Iidas being false heroes that need to be cleansed.

Tenya does not take this well.

At all.

And he has one of Stain’s knives.

Tenya finds himself wondering why his clothes are soaking wet. And red.

He then notices a few things (a) Stain is dead, probably has been for a while, (b) there’s a hero in the alley who apparently Stain attacked before Tenya showed up, (c) the hero is dead because they bled out, just like Tensei did, because Tenya was obsessed with killing Stain and (d) his parents and Aizawa have tracked him down and are watching in absolute shock.

Tenya runs. Aizawa recovers first and erases his Quirk, but Tenya runs all the time and even without it he is very, very fast. By the time, the Iida parents recover, Tenya has apparently disappeared into thin air.

This is because he kind of has. The League thought Tenya was Stain and Kurogiri warped him out of there.

Shouto finds out

Over at the Todoroki house, Fuyumi asks about how Tenya is doing, what with the death of his older brother.

Shouto didn’t know but rolls his eyes. Though after some thought and after learning from Midoriya, it occurs to him that perhaps Endeavor doesn’t own Tenya. So maybe his actions had nothing to do with what Enji wanted.

Also if there’s one thing he knows about Tenya is his older brother is his world.

And that expression on Tenya’s face during their match looked a lot like the nastier ones that Shouto himself has worn.

Shouto still has Tenya’s number from childhood and vice versa. He considered deleting it but at the time he was using it to remember just how much he hated Endeavor.

Tenya apparently sent some angry messages.

“Oh no.”

Tenya is with the League

Tenya is so exhausted and upset about what he did and what his parents saw that he’s oddly accepting of being trussed up.

Tomura after some initial ranting about killing the kid who ruined the USJ (even though he didn’t), listens to the news, some police and hero chatter then puts his thinking cap on.

Hero kid killed Stain. He is oh-so miserable about Stain being killed. I mean look at all the tears on his face . . . Good riddance.

Hero kid killed Stain when he was already out of the fight. Then kept on standing for the lolz. Nice. This could be interesting and Sensei is apparently all for it.

As Tenya is pretty much a Sim with its free will setting off at this point, Tomura instructs him through things, plants some ideas in his head and basically treats him like a very dumb pet.

Not much happens until Stain’s diary is published and copycats start showing up. Tenya starts to wake up at this and it is not pleasant (though Tomura loves it).

Tomura pretty much points some out and lets Tenya loose and eventually Tenya comes back with a sword.

RIP Spinner.

Awwww... Tomura always wanted a little brother.

Well, no he didn’t, but now he does.

Shouto and His Newly Reinvigorated Guilt Complex

Everyone is freaking out, trying to track down Tenya.

While they acknowledge that Tenya killed Stain, Shouto’s the only one who thinks that the Hero Killer Killer is the one responsible for killing an increasing number of Stain followers. The Iidas can’t believe that of their little boy, the teachers are letting their guilt taint their opinions and Midoriya and Uraraka are, at the end of the day, idealists.

Shouto knows what it is like to have your hatred of someone turn your life into a tunnel vision. If his father had killed his mother, Shouto has a very good idea of what would happen.

As it was, Shouto seriously considered killing his father when he was younger. At the time, he only didn’t try to do it because it would hurt Fuyumi and he has a very hard time picturing Endeavor being able to die.

He honestly didn’t take into account that his mother wouldn’t want him to be a killer.

He still doesn’t take that into account because Shouto, the idiot, hasn’t visited his mother because of everything that has happened. The guilt of not helping Tenya makes him ashamed and he doesn’t think he’s worthy of her.

Shouto, you complete and utter idiot.

So he’s collecting (stealing) money from home, dyes his hair black and is going undercover to try to track Tenya down.

He’s really bad at the undercover bit (rich kid clothes) and his scar is very distinctive. Plus UA and Endeavor are tearing up the landscape to find him and he doesn’t have a magic portal man to transport him.

He’s all set to get caught when a mysterious burned man offers to show him the ways of the underworld for a price.

From here on?

I really don’t know but I don’t see the internship or summer camp arcs going the same way, if they happen at all.

#iida/todoroki #iida & todoroki friendship #my hero academia fic #ask game #prompt fills

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jaydicksummerexchange · 4 years ago

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[ ❤ Works posted so far! ❤ ]

TODAY IS THE DAY!

We have reached 118 Exchange works for 2020! Thank you, thank you to all our fabulous artists and writers who tapped that creative well and let JayDick rain down upon us. And thank you to everyone who has clicked on the link and left kudos and comments for our participants. They worked, so, so hard y’all!

We’ll reveal all of our participants tomorrow, September 5, so get your score cards ready and see how many of your guesses were right!

Here are today’s releases!

A Kiss and a Kingdom by anonymous for TheWayneManner [Fic, Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/ Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fae, Fae & Fairies, Fae!Dick, Shade!Jason, Alternate Universe - Magic, Prince!Dick, Assassination Attempt(s), Diplomacy

Summary: The Fae Kingdom must work together to help their human brethren when a border conflict arises. Fae Prince Dick Grayson chooses Knight Jason Todd to be a human representative for the negotiations because something about Jason draws him in. Little does he know, he and Jason are spinning a spiderweb around themselves filled with romance, intrigue, and enemies.

The Blud is no Haven by anonymous for Fancy_Dragonqueen [ART, Mature, No Warnings Apply, JayDick]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Mafia Dick Grayson, Mob Boss Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson is Not Nightwing, Jason Todd is Not Red Hood, Hooker Jason Todd, Fanart

Summary: Dick Grayson is a policeman. Dick Grayson is a community hero. Dick Grayson has never, in fact, been on the right side of the law.

That one Mafia AU where Dick is Bludhaven's biggest mob boss and Jason is his right-hand (in more ways than one).

Gotham City Pride by anonymous for epistemology [ART, General Audiences, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Digital Art, Fanart, Pride Parades, Asexual Character, Pansexual Character, Is this an AU? Who knows., JayDick Summer Exchange

Summary: ♫ Just two boys, hugging during pride month 'cause they're both gay. ♫

My Thoughts on You by anonymous for Morimaitar [FIC, Teen, No Warnings, JayDick]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Secret Crush, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, First Dates, First Kiss, Dick Grayson Has Issues, Alternate Universe - College/University

Summary: Left alone for the holidays, grumpy and a bit sad, all Dick Grayson wanted was to get a hot drink from his favourite coffee shop near campus. But little did he know that his life would take a much-needed turn when Jason Todd, his longtime crush, starts working as a barista there.

lit the fuse and missed the candle (i love you and despise you) by anonymous for Airdanteine [Fic, Explicit, Creator Chose Not to Use Warnings, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dick Grayson is Catlad | Stray, Break Up, Post-Break Up, Love/Hate, Love to hate to love, Hate SexAvoiding Sex Scenes with Violence and Intimacy Issues Is My Kink, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Past Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Past Dick Grayson/Rose Wilson, Past Dick Grayson/Harley Quinn, Jealous Jason Todd, Slut Shaming

Summary: “You are nothing,” Stray hisses, slashing Jason’s face with his unoccupied hand.

Jason lets him, smiling as the blood drips down his cheek.

“Oh baby,” he says, all low timbre and heat, “I’m everything to you.”

Spyral Teens by anonymous for ZeroMonster [ART, Gen, No Warnings, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: young spies, Brothers, Big Brother Dick, Little Wing - Freeform, Little Brother Jason, Spyral (DCU), AU, Dick Grayson is Agent 37, Batfamily (DCU), Jason in the 1st Dick's outfit for Spyral, sidekick's sidekick

Summary: They are spies. Little spies. Meet Grayson-Lad and Kid Todd!

We Might Fall by anonymous for empires [FIC, Mature, No Warnings, Dick Grayson/ Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Batman Beyond - Freeform, Angst, Difficult Decisions, Retirement, Confessions, Non-Explicit Sex, Post-Break Up, Moving On, Developing Relationship, Getting to Know Each Other, Getting Together, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, how to tag

Summary: Dick and Jason are together but they're not. They love each other but they won't ever admit it. There's too much history. Too much pain. Ideals that could never match. Choices that could only end with them hating one another. But as Jason makes a life-changing decision, Dick is forced to look back on his own life, the events that led him to become who he is today. He is forced to finally look at Jason in a whole new light.

Once Upon a Time.... by anonymous for naol [ART, Teen, No Warnings, JayDick]

Additional Tags: Digital Art, Little Red Riding Hood AU, Kemonomimi

Summary: "What pretty eyes you have.”, This was a fic prompt but a Red Riding Hood AU was too cute not to draw as a treat <3

will i change for good? by Anonymous for 3isme and TheWayneManner [Mature, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Fae, Curses, Curse Breaking, Beastmen - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, mysterious magical stranger dick grayson, jason todd is not a changeling, Dick Grayson is a Talon

Summary:

PROMPT 3 for 3isme - Jason runs from the villagers that have hated him his whole life. They think he's a changeling. A child of the fae swapped with a human baby during infancy. He's not. Despite all the odd things that make him different from the others, he knows he's not. But They don't, and they will kill him if

PROMPT 1 for TheWayneManner - A Dark!Au of some sort. Horror and/or gothic elements. Heavy angst. Eerie vibes. NO Rape NO Underage.

Ideas: DarkFae!Dick, Mobster AU, Demon/Angel AU, Siren!Dick AU, Gothic/Horror AU, Dystopian AU, Vampire AU, Prostitute AU, Prison AU, Asylum AU... Really anything that has a dark twist to it, the boys struggling with their inner demons. BONUS: It would be awesome if the fic contained an element of forbidden love with it. Boys against the world kind of vibe.

Ambiguous or sad ending is welcome.

Favored to Win by anonymous for Fancy_Dragonqueen [Explicit, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Knifeplay, Porn With Plot, Alternate Universe - Mob, Bottom Jason Todd, Top Dick Grayson, Begging

Summary: When Jason agreed to throw fights or the mob, he was not expecting this. Jason had definitely Not had 'ass in the air, face on the floor' on tonight's bingo card. But he's not exactly complaining either...

All Washed Out by anonymous for stribirdf (timidGoddes)[FIC, Mature, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Battle for the Cowl, Batkids Age Reversal, Angst and Feels, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Difficult Decisions, Confessions, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Omega Dick Grayson, Alpha Jason Todd, True Mates,

Summary: Batman is dead. He is dead and everything is about to change. Still grieving for his father, Jason Todd, his son and first sidekick, has no choice but to take up the mantle his alpha left behind, continuing the legacy so that the streets of Gotham are always safe. Estranged from the family, Dick Grayson, the son who died, the son who came back all wrong, has decisions to make, ones that could change everything forever. A fire has been struck, one that is bound to spread and no one can

False Alarm by anonymous for Nottak [Teen, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Married LifeSome Humorno capes AU

Summary: One day in the life of Jason Todd, former crime boss, current house husband.

Hush Hush (Don’t Give It Away) by anonymous for solomonara [Mature, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Fluff and Humor, Writer's Block, Author Jason Todd, Secret Identity, Secret Crush, Awkwardness, Walking In On Someone, Realization, Love Confessions

Summary: ‘He was a skater boi. He said 'I'll write a fic for your later boi.'

In which, Dick Grayson really loves reading romantic stories written by a best-selling author who just turns out to be Jason Todd. Awkwardness ensues.

There are a hundred reasons why I'll run (but for you I'll stay) by anonymous for Hedgebelle (Ahaanzel) [Explicit, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Light Angst, First Meetings, Love at First Sight, First Kiss, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Time, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Happy Ending

Summary: Jason, the god of the underworld, cannot stand the Olympians who constantly keep making bets about his love life. His only desire is to stay away from everyone and mind his own business. That is, until, one day, Dick walks into his life.

a keeper of secrets for me by Anonymous for anoncitomikolino [Explicit, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dimension Travel, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, intersex omega, Alpha Jason Todd, Omega Dick Grayson, in this universe….

Summary: You can have all your dreams if you really believe in something that's true

The Bees - Listening Man

#2020 jaydick exchange #jaydick exchange #jaydick #dickjay

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supernaturallyobsessedchic · 4 years ago

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A Death Sentence

[Credit gif by @rainbow-motors ]

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Implied smut

Prompts: “I don’t owe you an explanation,” “Loving me is a death sentence.”

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,201

Summary: Dean and the Reader have a fight after a hunt. Nothing even went wrong, but feelings are realized.

Mobile Masterlist

a/n: I couldn’t, for the life of me figure out a title. But this is for @supernatural-jackles SPN Bi-Weekly/Monthly writing challenge and these are the prompts I picked. I picked monthly but, I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m just going with it.

“Anything?” Dean asks. Sam, him and Y/N search the warehouse for the vampires that had made headlines for killing so many people in a short period of time. Now they’re here to put a stop to it.

Latest victim was a college student, out of state, moved here to go to school. Classmates said she was on edge, anxious all the time and just figured it was because she was far from home. Seemed logical.

“Nothing.” Sam shouts from his spot on the higher levels, coming out into the open in the main most center spot of the warehouse.

“Clear from where I am.” She says, coming into the main area from the lower levels.

“Damn, did we lose them?” Dean asks.

“Maybe.” Sam says, coming down the stairs to meet with Dean. Y/N doing the same, ascending the stairs to meet with the boys.

Sam and Dean were close, Y/N still had a few feet before she was with them and she noticed a few dark figures closing in on her friends.

“Behind you!” she shouts, running in to fight off the three vamps that snuck behind them.

One lunged at Dean knocking him onto his back, another swung at Sam flinging him a few feet from where he stood. And another side tackled Y/N to the ground.

She took the momentum of her roll to her advantage, pushing herself up in one motion from the fall. The vamp trying to close in, but Y/N swung her machete cutting the head off in one swift motion.

Sam managed to fight off his attacker, slicing the head off in an upward swing as the female vamp charged.

Dean struggled with his attacker. He must have knocked Dean’s machete out of his hand when he landed on the floor. The vamp managed to get a hand at Dean’s throat forcing him to expose his neck to the vamp.

“Hey!” Y/N shouts. “It’s me you want!” she says.

With blood lust eyes, the vampire looked up at Y/N.

“Y/N! No, don’t play hero!” Sam shouted.

“Bute Montana, that was your allied nest. Not very big, believe your mate was Wynonna, she took a bite at me, but things didn’t pan out for her.” She says.

The vamp rose, taking long strides over to Y/N. She readied her machete. “She spoke about you, Kyle.” She says.

He growled at her. Taking a swing, but Y/N ducks to avoid it. And when she tried to swing her machete at him, he blocked and knocked it out of her hand. She saw Dean behind him, machete in hand, readies a swing.

“She always said you were easy to fool.” Y/N adds with a smirk.

Before he could turn around to attack Dean, Dean swung the machete. Ending the killings in Columbus Ohio.

She released a sigh in relief, but Dean just glared at her.

Y/N rolls her eyes. Oh, get over yourself, he was going to kill you. I had to do something. She thought.

The ride back to the motel was a quiet one, but the tension was there. You could even cut it with a knife.

Everyone though knew Dean was pissed when he slams the car door shut, even the trunk door when he grabbed his duffle.

They got one room available, thankfully with two beds. But no so much for Y/N. Dean was pissed and it’s always the same thing. And it just made her feel like no matter what she did, even if the hunt ended great with no one hurt, like she wasn’t good enough.

“The fuck were you thinking!” Dean yelled, when Sam entered behind Y/N, shutting the door behind them.

“I don’t know why you’re so mad!” Y/N shouted. “I saved you, no one got hurt. What’s the big deal?” she asked.

“The big deal is, you risked your life when you didn’t have to.” Dean shouted. “Why do you always do that?” he adds. Growling in frustration.

“I don’t owe you an explanation.” She snaps.

“I think you do; he would have killed you if I hadn’t had him.” Dean says.

“No, I don’t owe you anything. I saved you, you still got to kill the vamp. No one got hurt. Happy ending. Now let’s just get over it.” She says.

“No, I’m not getting over this. In fact, I’m benching you. This is the third time a monster nearly has our asses, you do this. It’s like you’re asking for it.” Dean says.

“I’m not, I’m using it as a distraction, and it works.” She argues.

“Well it’s a shit idea, oldest play in the play book. No wonder you’re a shit hunter.” Dean says.

“Dean!” Sam shouts.

But the damage was done. The words cut like knifes at her heart. Hunting was something she loved to do. Something close to making a difference in this dark world she lived in.

“Well if I’m being such a pain, I’ll just leave.” She says. Picking up her back up and storms out of the room.

“Way to go dick.” Sam scoffs.

“Whatever, she’ll be back. Let’s get some sleep.” Dean says.

She never did. She kept walking down the street until she got to a bar in town.

I need a drink. She thought. Finding a spot at the bar, waving down a bartender.

“What can I get you little lady?” he says. A sweet southern accent to his tone.

“Whisky, neat.” She says.

“Coming right up,” he says, getting her glass and giving her somewhat of a generous amount of whiskey. “Rough night?” he asks.

“You have no idea.” She says, throwing back the drink. Welcoming the burn, it caused going down her throat.

“Let me know if you need anything darlin’.” He says, tending to the other patrons of the bar. Leaving her the bottle of whisky.

She gives herself another glass full.

“Hey beautiful.” A deep voice said behind her. Her back tensed. His voice gave her the creeps.

“Not interested, back off.” She says.

“Oh, feisty. I like that.” He says. “I’m Jason.” He introduces.

“Jason, you’re going to be introduced to my knee to your groin if you don’t back off.” She says glaring at him.

“A ball of spitfire at that. Bet your just as amazing in bed as you are at making friends.” He says.

“Worst. Pick up line. Ever.” She says with a groan. Getting frustrated and annoyed.

He places a hand on her shoulder. She shrugs him off harshly.

“I don’t recall saying you can touch.” She shouts.

“I always get what I want, and I say, I want you and I’ll fucking get you.” He says aggressively. His hand having a death grip on her bicep.

Fucking fuck, I’m fucked. She thought.

Her knee found its way to his groin, and he went down fast and hard.

She took her duffle and went into the women’s restroom, locking up behind her.

She can’t run, the duffle not only slows her down, but she doesn’t have a vehicle to get away.

She grabs her cellphone, calling the one number she doesn’t want to call right now. But she needs him to rescue her.

“Hello?” Dean answers after a few rings.

“Dean.” She says, coming out a whimper.

“Y/N? What is it? Are you okay?” He’s already concerned.

“I need you. I’m at a bar up the main road, not far from the motel. There’s this guy, he’s trying to…” she trails as sobs begin to erupt.

“It’s okay sweetheart, I’m coming now. Just stay where you are.” Dean says.

“I’m in the women’s restroom. I’ll wait for you.” She says. Hanging up.

She sits in the corner stall, sitting on the stool with knees up to her chest. The always tough and badass hunter scared out of her wits.

It didn’t take long, roughly ten minutes after hanging up from Dean, there was a knock at the door.

“Sweetheart, it’s me, Dean.” She heard.

She hurries to the door. Unlocking it to reveal Dean, concern etched all over. Replaced the anger she saw earlier.

“Where is this dick?” he asks when he sees her with puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks.

“The bar, tall muscular build. He’s about Sam’s size but more muscular.” She says.

Dean turned his head to the side to see from the corner of his eye this asshole.

She could see Dean tense up, wanting to just make the dude pay for hurting her.

“Dean, I just want to get out of here. Please.” She pleads.

“Alright, stay close sweetheart.” He says, taking her hand.

Her bag still in hand, she takes Dean’s, he pulls her close to his side. As he walks with her to navigate out, Jason approached.

“Hey, come on darlin’, you don’t need this shorty here.” He slurs.

“Dude, I told you I’m not interested. Now leave me alone.” She tells him.

“Come on baby, I’ll make you feel so good.” He continues.

“Pal, she said to lay off.” Dean says, putting his hand out to tell Jason to keep his distance. If he’d listen to him.

“Kiss my ass pretty boy.” Jason insults, shoving Dean’s hand out of the way.

“Okay.” Dean goes. Mildly annoyed and frustrated. He gets himself between Y/N and the dick. And reels his fist back and punches Jason, knocking him out cold. “There.” Dean goes, taking Y/N back into his side, keeping her safe.

The drive back the motel was a quiet one, but Dean didn’t show that he was upset. And Dean could read her as well and he didn’t want to upset her any more than she was.

Once back, she had seen Sam was sound asleep in one of the beds. Dean quietly shutting the door behind him.

“Why don’t you take a hot shower, relax a little bit.” Dean suggests.

She agrees silently. Taking her clothes from her duffle she heads to the bathroom, and silently takes a shower.

She exits the shower, more relaxed but still a feeling of not being good enough was eating at her.

Dean was already down in the other bed. She settled with sleeping on the couch.

“Sweetheart, you need a bed to sleep in. I won’t bite.” Dean whispers.

“I don’t want to right now.” She says.

“Then do you want to talk about our fight from earlier?” Dean says. She stays silent. He could see her curl up inside of herself. She doesn’t want to.

“Sweetheart, I didn’t mean it. You’re not a shit hunter. I just said that because I was mad. You’re an excellent hunter. I just don’t like it that you put yourself in danger like that.” He adds.

“I just can’t stand to see you get hurt when I could do something to prevent it. So, I act. Anything I can do to help protect the man I love.” She whispers.

“You don’t wanna let yourself love me sweetheart, loving me is like a death sentence. Everyone I ever loved has either left me or died.” Dean says quietly.

“Too late Dean, I love you and you can’t make me stop.” She says.

“You’re right. Because I love you to sweetheart. And it scares me when you do stuff like that.” Dean admits.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to scare you.” She says softly.

“Can you come here now, so I can hold you.” Dean says, making room for her in the bed with him.

She doesn’t hesitate. She gets up, and crawls in, curling up into Dean. Snuggling her face his chest.

Dean laid on his side, he works his arms around her to hold her close. She snuggles more into him. And she lets her walls break down, and she lets go of the stress of the night.

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m right here. Let it all out.” Dean whispers, as he draws soothing circles in her back.

She calmed down a bit before looking up at Dean, in the dark, moonlit room.

She could see the softness in his face. She felt him dip his head down, giving her a soft, gentle kiss on her lips.

It took her a moment to kiss him back once she registered in her brain that Dean Winchester just kissed her. And now she was kissing him back. It was better than she had imagined.

The kiss growing into something deeper and hungrier as they discarded their clothes, Dean showing just how much he loves his girl.

The next morning Sam was the first up and at ‘em, once he enters the room after a morning run to find them full dressed and decent, he was actually relieved that she was back and happy.

“Glad to see things are okay again.” He says as he sees Dean kiss Y/N on the cheek while they make breakfast in the kitchenette. “But please, next time you guys do make up sex…try to wait until we get home.” He says. His face disgusted by the sounds he heard last night.

The statement made Y/N laugh, giving the younger Winchester an apologetic smile. “Sorry Sam.” She says.

“Yeah, sorry Sammy. We’ll keep that in mind next time.” Dean says. Kissing Y/N on the mouth, passionately. Earning a groan from Sam.

Y/N and Dean smiling against their kiss. Oh, this is going to be fun.

Tags:

@supernatural-jackles - for the writing challenge

@pandazombie69

@luci-in-trenchcoats

@becs-bunker

@winchesters-favorite-girl

@mlovesstories

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 09/16/2020

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simsadventures · 5 years ago

Text

Little Children (Bucky Barnes Oneshot)

Summary: Bucky plays PlayStation with the boys, and as the loser has to steal your most praised possession. You are not too happy about it, and Bucky tries to make it up to you.

Warnings: fluff, dares, stealing, swearing, little angst (I guess), kissing, implied smut Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader Word Count: 2383 A/N: This story was requested through Followers Appreciation Challenge I did a while ago, the prompt being A: But he told me to do it B: And if he told you to jump out of the window, would you do it too? (it will be in bold in the text). Hope the anon who requested this will enjoy it, as well as the rest of you guys. xx

Edit: You can find the sequel to this story, here, Joke’s on You.

Masterlist

Your heart was beating like crazy. You woke up after almost 24 hours of sleep because your last mission took a toll on you. You were sent to Japan to help to stop a gang terrorising Tokyo for the past few months. It was a relatively easy mission, mainly because you had Iron Man behind your back. You were typically sent to a mission with your Alpha, Bucky, and the Captain, but you all thought it was only good for the team to split up the usual partners.

Even though it was nothing you two, alongside with Clint, couldn’t handle, but you couldn’t sleep for three days. Running around the city, and getting to the gang’s boss took more time than you expected.

You didn’t even come too hurt. You had few bruises, here and there, and one probably broken rib, but other than that, you were perfectly fine. So the sleep was the only thing you were really missing.

Bucky was worried, as always, when you went on a mission without him. It was his Alpha nature. He hated to be separated from you, and even more so if it meant you had to go to a mission without him right there to kill anyone who even tries to look at you the wrong way. He saw how tired the whole team came, but calmed a little, when he saw you came in one piece, still smelling like his beloved Omega.

He fell asleep with you, but after 8 hours, the sleepiness was gone, and after another 4 he decided that he didn’t need to watch you sleep for God knows how long. He made you a little sandwich, knowing you would wake up starving.

He then went to the common room, chat with Sam, or maybe play something on PlayStation with the kid. Peter showed him a few good games, and they played FIFA or Grand Theft Auto from time to time.

That afternoon was one of them, so they paired up, leaving Bucky with Sam, while Steve got Peter. They always made their playing interesting, somehow. This particular afternoon, they agreed that the losing team would have to steal something off of someone. The someone would be chosen according to the losing side.

Suffice to say, it wasn’t Bucky’s luckiest afternoon, and even if he and Sam tried to do whatever it took (even pushing Peter from the sofa, or attacking Steve when he wanted to shoot), they still lost. They both hoped they would have to steal Tony’s mask or something like that, but Steve wanted them to suffer a little more.

“Nope, no stealing from Tony this time, punk. You will steal from your Omega.” Bucky’s jaw dropped. He wanted to oppose but knew that Steve wouldn’t budge. He didn’t want to steal anything of yours.

First and foremost, he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of your rage. He always laughed at the people who had to face you when angry. Even though you were smaller than most of the people in the compound, nobody was scarier mad than you. Steve knew that because he got his ass beaten many times by you.

“Can I like, bring you her toothbrush or something? That it?” He tried to stay hopeful, but the look on Steve’s face told him that he should lose all his hope altogether.

“Haha, no! I want you to bring me the necklace her mother gave her. She can have it back, of course, but I want you to bring it to me.”

The look of pure horror on Bucky’s face made Steve laugh out loud for real. He loved how his friend was scared of his Omega. Hell, Steve was scared of you, but that wasn’t the point. You were always so nice to Bucky, and he always got away with everything, and Steve was tired of it. He wanted to see Bucky squirm under your gaze, just like the rest of the team.

“Punk, you can’t be serious! She will bite my fucking head off if she wakes up without the necklace on her neck!”

“Oh, please. She is your Omega, have a little faith.”

“I have all the faith in the world in her, in this particular moment that she’ll fucking eat me alive, pal. And what about Sam, huh? How come he doesn’t have to do anything?”

Sam was trying to blend in with the wall behind him because he really didn’t want to go and steal anything from you. He liked himself too much for that.

“It’s a dare for the both of you, but I don’t think you would want another Alpha ogling your sleeping Omega,” Bucky growled involuntarily at the image, and let his head fall onto his chest. He was screwed. So fucking screwed.

—-

Bucky sneaked into your shared room, only to smile, seeing your still sleeping body. He loved to watch you when you slept. The slightly opened mouth, completely relaxed face, because unlike him, your sleep was calm and actually provided you with an escape. Your body would always try to find his while you were sleeping, if not pushing against him completely, then at least putting an arm around his chest, or crossing your legs so that one of them was touching him.

You were on your side, which suited Bucky’s plan. He needed to get down the necklace, run to Steve, show it to him and return to you before you wake up. Easy-peasy. He just had to make sure you wouldn’t wake up due to him touching you. And as you were super sensitive to his touch, that could pose as a problem in his plan.

You were now cuddling Bucky’s pillow, pressing it against for face and chest, inhaling his scent. It made Bucky’s heart swell knowing his Omega tried to be close to him even if he wasn’t there. He tiptoed towards the bed, and very slowly dipped his knee on it, checking if you were still asleep. When you didn’t move, he put both his knees on the bed and bent down right behind you. You stirred a little, probably sensing the body heat coming off of your Alpha, and you unconsciously tried to get closer.

He lightly touched your neck, and a low moan sounded from your lips. He had to take a deep breath and try and not think about your body being so close to his and the noises coming from you.

He managed to get the necklace off of your neck, but even then, couldn’t move from his almost spooning position. He wanted to be near his Omega, but a dare was a dare, so he pressed a light kiss on the back of your neck, quickly stood up and all but ran out of the room, trying not to change his mind.

He ran across the compound towards the common room, where all the other three were waiting on him. There was a smile plastered across Bucky’s face because he couldn’t help but think his plan was going great, and that all he had to do was show the necklace to Steve and he would let him go. But Bucky probably forgot who Steve was, or how most dares went with him.

Steve quickly snatched the necklace and towards the other end of the room. “Hey, punk, give it back! The dare was for me to bring it here, I gotta return it before she realises-“ Bucky stopped in the middle of his sentence, a weird sensation overcoming him. A sensation he only knew when you were around him. And for the first time since you two mated, he really hoped you were anywhere near him.

But when he slowly turned around, he could see your still a little sleepy, dishevelled, and definitely pissed self. He smiled up, trying to cover up what he did with his charm, but by the look on your face, there was nothing in this world that could save him from your rage.

“Before she realises what, Bucky? C’mon, finish the sentence, love!” You growled the last part, still looking intently at Bucky. You were well aware that it was Steve who was now holding your mother’s necklace, but because you knew Bucky was in your room not 5 minutes ago (and because you were quite sure he wouldn’t let anyone else in), you were sure the blame was on Bucky.

“Look, doll, it’s all just a game-”

“Just a game, Bucky? Why the fuck would you need to steal my fucking necklace, huh? Are you out of your damn mind?”

“But Steve told me to do it!” As soon as the sentence left Bucky’s mouth, he wished he could turn back time. He blushed like a little child, burning holes into the ground underneath him, trying not to look at you.

“Oh, then that’s alright, isn’t it? Steve told you so!! And if Steve told you to jump out of the window, would you do it too?” You were yelling now, pissed that he would even dare to use the old “he told me so” excuse.

“Well, I mean, he is my Captain, doll, so if he told me to-“

“But he isn’t your fucking Captain when it comes to playing some stupid games!” You could hear someone snickering behind you, and when you turned around, you could see Sam and Peter, trying to hide their laughs behind coughs.

“Oh, you two idiots think this is funny? Well, I guess it is super funny, that my mate would rather listen to Mr America here, than thinking about what his mate might be feeling, waking up without the only thing that was left behind by her family. I think it’s hilarious that someone would even think of such dare, or whatever this was. ’T’was you, Steve, wasn’t it?”

There was dead silence in the room. The boys probably realise that it would be more ok if they ran around the compound with your lingerie on than stealing the only material thing that mattered to you.

Steve lowered his head and quickly brought the necklace to you. You snatched it from him and gave him a little smack across the top of his head. “Fucking children, that’s what you are. Next time you wanna be a bunch of idiots, don’t involve me, will you? And you,” you pointed at Bucky, “since you’re so keen on listening to what the Captain here has to say to you, you can spend more quality time with him, maybe during the night? ‘Cause you sure as hell aren’t welcomed in my bed!”

You turned around and marched away, clutching the necklace in your hand.

The boys all huffed out a breath, looking in the direction of you leaving. Sam and Peter were good, you didn’t yell at them that much, but Steve, and especially Bucky looked like lost puppies. They knew you’d be pissed, but what surprised them and hurt them the most, were the tears threatening to escape your eyes. They hoped you would just yell at Bucky, and then laugh at the joke with them. But when Steve realised that if someone stole his compass with Peggy’s photo, he would probably kill that someone, he felt even worse.

And Bucky just wanted to die then and there. He, who promised not to hurt you and to protect you from everything, couldn’t protect you from one simple thing- his own childishness. He looked at the boys, muttered some pretty nasty swear words, and ran after you, hoping you didn’t have the time to lock the door.

You hadn’t, and when Bucky walked in, he could see the necklace still in your hand, and your gaze hazy, probably thinking about the time you saw your parents for the last time. He closed the door silently and went to sit down by you.

You didn’t even look up, and you didn’t have the energy to fight him, when he hugged your shoulders with one hand, pulling you in his chest.

“I’m so sorry, doll. I wasn’t thinking clearly, and in the midst of the adrenaline and all, I didn’t realise what I was doing. I really didn’t mean to upset you, Omega. Here,” he extended his hand, waiting for you to give him the necklace, which, after a while, you obliged, “let me put it back where it belongs and I swear to you, never to touch it again.”

“It’s not about touching it, Bucky. If you woke me up, which you did anyway, by the way, and told me that Steve was being a little shit, I would give it to you and would cause a scene for Steve’s amusement. But the shock when I woke up, without the little chain, I almost had a heart attack. For a second, I thought I lost it somewhere on the mission, and that I would have to fly to Japan. I just… I have a deep connection to this little chain, and I understand it might seem like nonsense but-“

“It’s not nonsense, sweetheart! I’m sorry I made you worry. I would love to promise you that I’ll never act like a five-year-old, but we both know that would be a lie. So, I promise that when it involves you, I’ll always consult you. Ok?”

You looked into his eyes and knew you were a goner. You could never stay mad at him long. The adoration you felt towards this man knew to boundaries, and you didn’t complain, because you were well aware that it worked vice versa as well.

You kissed his lips, and he huffed against you. He was ecstatic he didn’t have to sleep at Steve’s, or somewhere else, that he could enjoy the closeness of his Omega. He grabbed the back of your neck with his right arm, while his left squeezed your thigh a little.

Your first reaction was to open your legs, and Bucky smiled into the kiss.

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and whispered to your ear, while nuzzling the side of your head, “Let me apologise properly, doll, will you?”

The only answer you gave him was bringing his hand closer to where you needed him the most, and Bucky was more than happy to oblige.

Challenge tags:

@eileenalone

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buckthegrump · 5 years ago

Text

one stroke and you’ve consumed my waking days

Summary: Bucky has a penpal.

Word Count: 3.4k+

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, mentions of death,

A/n: this does take place in the 40′s but like reader could be POC if y’all catch my drift also this is for @writingbychelle ‘s writing challenge prompt is bolded

“I ship out tomorrow ya know,” Bucky said as he leaned against the trunk of the tree deep in the forest. He had decided that it was their spot, a place where they could be in public without really being in public. Hiding in plain sight, or so it goes.

“So you’ve said,” Y/n said. She picked up a small twig and twirled it around in her hand. “Is there a point to your ramblings? Or do you think that my memory is so short that you need to remind me every ten seconds?”

“My point is, I’ve heard that it’s awfully boring the downtime. Unless someone, such as yourself, were to provide me with something that should entertain me.”

She scoffed at him and put the stick back down. “Oh, go fuck yourself.”

“That is not what I meant,” he said sighing but he still had a smile on his face.

“Ok, Barnes, what did you mean then?” She turned to him.

“Write me, please,” Bucky pleaded. “You are the only person I will really want to hear from.”

“And what about Steve? Your family and sisters?” Y/n spun around and walked away from him, knowing he wasn’t far behind.

“Well, of course, hearing from my family and Steve is a given,” he slipped in front of her and stopped making her stop as well, “But it doesn’t sound quite as good when I add so many people does it?”

“You truly are a ladies man aren’t you?” She raised her eyebrows and took a step only for Bucky to stop in front of her again.

“The only lady’s man I care to be is yours,” Bucky said.

She stared at him surprised by the commitment implied by his words. She smiled sadly at him.

“Barnes, you and I -” she began.

“You worry too much about what people think,” he whispered.

“It’s not what they think that scares me, Mr. Barnes,” she looked around terrified that someone would venture this deep into the park, “but rather what they do when they don’t like when someone is different than they are.”

“And that’s the beauty of letters, no one can tell you what’s different,” Bucky said. “And hopefully in the future things will be different.”

“That future seems to be a long ways away,” she said and looked down at the ground.

“I’m just asking you to write me, nothing more,” he said.

Y/n lifted her chin and looked at him. “I suppose I could find time to write you a letter or two.”

“Nothing would make me happier.” Bucky smiled at her in such a way that earned him the smallest of smiles in return.

* * *

James Barnes,

I hope you’re happy. I told you I would write a letter and here I am. Taking time out of my day to write you a letter. Things here are just as they always are. I hope this letter finds you well. I’m sorry to say that I started writing this letter only to realize that I haven’t got much to say. So I shall end the letter here. Sorry I couldn’t entertain you in the way that you’d hoped.

Best wishes,

Y/n L/n

P.S. Steve is well, although if he says that he hasn’t gotten into another fight since you left. He’s lying. He got into one the other day. He’s fine, and I cannot believe I’m writing this but you should see the other guy. Anyway, bye again.

Bucky folded up the piece of paper carefully and placed it in his bag that was under his bed. He pulled out his paper and pen.

“What are you smiling at Barnes?” One of the men in his unit, Smith, asked from his bunk.

Bucky continued to write but tried to repress his smile.

“Nothing,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, right!” Private Davis said. “Who’s the dame?”

“Leave ‘im alone,” Fraizer said sitting on Bucky’s bunk. “But it is someone from back home?”

“I’m trying to write something, can I please get some quiet?” Bucky asked.

“Fine, fine,” Frazier waved him off and got off the bunk. “But make it quick.”

* * *

Y/n open the mailbox and immediately saw the envelope and her breath got caught in her throat.

She threw the rest of the mail on the table in the entryway and took her one piece of mail and ran to her room.

“And just where are you going in such a hurry?” Her mother yelled after her.

“My room!” She said and slammed the door behind her.

“Y/n! Don’t you go slammin’ no doors!” Her mother yelled.

“Sorry, Ma!” Y/n yelled back with a grimace.

She jumped on her bed and opened the letter.

Dear Y/n,

There are a few things I would like to address from your letter. Number one, I am overjoyed that you wrote me. You don’t know just how happy it made me. Number two, I could never not be entertained by what you have to say. I don’t mind your ramblings so much.

I feel I should tell you though, all the other boys teased me relentlessly over the smile that I couldn’t wipe off my face no matter how hard I tried after I read your letter. But I fear that you will find some sort of joy in the idea of me being teased.

So Steve really got into a fight? And actually landed a few punches? That might be the most surprising thing I’ve ever read.

Yours truly,

Bucky

P.S. Didn’t anyone tell you that you should open a letter with ‘dear’?

She pressed the letter to her chest before placing it in the drawer of her bedside table. After grabbing everything she would need, she rolled onto her stomach and drafted her next letter.

* * *

“Oooo,” Smith teased holding up an envelope. “Looks like Barnes has got another letter!”

Bucky snatched the letter out of his hand and glared at the younger man. “Fuck off, you piece of shit!”

“You kiss your mama with that mouth?” Davis gasped.

“I fucking hate all of you,” Bucky muttered, he grabbed his notebook and pen before leaving the tent.

It was one of the rare occasions that the weather was nice and Bucky didn’t feel the need to stick around his unit if they were just going to make fun of him.

He found a semi-secluded area and sat down.

Dear James, (happy?)

Had I known that you were so easily entertained I might not have wasted so much energy in worrying over the lack of content in my last letter. As for your second point, you seem to forget about all the times you found creative ways to get me to stop talking when I was rambling.

And no, Steve didn’t land any punches. I was only joshin’ ya. But Steve did get into another fight but he held his own ok. He’s getting tiresome waiting around while all the other boys get their assignments. He misses you. And I know you’re going to tell me to tell him that he should be happy he is the only eligible man in the area. But not many will give him the time of day. And it’s not like there’s much room for our social circles to overlap so I can’t invite him out with my friends.

I don’t mean to worry you, and I know that you will worry no matter what I say, I just thought you should know the truth so that you don’t read one of his letters and worry even more when all he ever tells you is how good he’s got it.

As for the boys in your unit, I do take a small joy in knowing that you aren’t going to come home with a big head. I hope they continue their teasing, someone has to make sure you stay grounded in my absence.

It’s odd not seeing you. I miss you, but don’t let that get to your head.

Come home soon,

Y/n

P.S. Hasn’t anyone told you that it’s rude to only talk about yourself without asking how the other person is doing?

* * *

Y/n was walking down the street. An unopened letter in her bag. She was on the wrong side of town for her, but she had to see Steve. The trek to his apartment was unusually quiet. She supposed she had the war to thank for that.

Not that she liked the war in any way. She just found it refreshing to walk around and not have to continuously fear for her safety.

“Y/n,” Steve greeted when she finally got to his place.

“You do realize that if you don’t write him and I stop mentioning you, he’ll get suspicious. And you cannot write him from boot camp.” She bounced on the toes of her feet. “I still cannot believe that you actually got into boot camp in the first place.”

“Y/n, I’m begging you. Cover for me, tell him that I’ve fallen ill or something -”

“Oh, yes, because that will put his mind at ease. Great idea Steve,” she rolled her eyes.

“Just find something?” Steve begged again. “I can’t sit around here and do nothing while Bucky and other men lay down their lives.”

She huffed and glared at him. “Fine, but when he comes home I will throw you under the bus.”

She turned back towards the stairs and began her descent.

“Thank you, Y/n,” Steve called after her.

“You owe me big time, Rogers.”

* * *

Dear Y/n, (yes very happy thank you)

I’m glad my misery has brought you joy. Damn, I miss your smile. And your laugh, I know you always say that you don’t have much to laugh about but anytime I got you to smile brought me a sense of pride. Also, I didn’t hear much complaining when I interrupted you. Besides, as much as I like listening to you talk, I enjoy kissing you more.

Thank you for being honest with me about Steve. And I should’ve guessed that he hadn’t gotten any good punches in.

And I’m sorry for coming off as rude. How are things with you? I hope that you aren’t getting into too much trouble. And tell your ma that I miss her food. Everything they feed us here doesn’t taste like anything. If we’re lucky we get salt to ‘season’ our food with.

I’m sorry this letter is so short I’m writing it in secret so that I don’t get made fun of again and I can hear them looking for me.

I miss you too.

With love,

Bucky

P.S. How many times to I have to tell you? Call me Bucky.

* * *

Bucky,

You can either have ‘dear’ or ‘Bucky’ you don’t get both so make up your mind. But I thought you liked it when I called you James?

Things here are good. Ma says that the second you get back your to come over and eat some real food. I suspect that she will also want to talk to you about something, but I can’t figure out what about.

You assume that I enjoy kissing you as much as you do me. I do but that

I don’t mind a short letter James, as long as I get to hear from you.

You signed the last letter with love. Did you mean it?

My best,

Y/n

P.S. Steve hasn’t gotten into any trouble so far as I know. Promise

* * *

Y/n, (two can play at this game)

A compromise, when you refer to me as Bucky no dear necessary but when you write to James, you must add some sort of affection to it.

I actually have an assignment tomorrow, and I know you won’t get this letter until after but I know what you would say if you were here. You’d tell me to be careful. I will have you know that I am always careful. Or do I have to remind you that I’m not the one who constantly is getting into fights?

And yes, I meant it. I do love you. The war will be over soon and then I will go home to you and we can finally have the life we deserve and if you truly feel we won’t find that in New York I will happily run to distant lands for you.

Your ma loves me, I don’t know why you continue to be surprised by this.

Anyway, I will send you again soon and cannot wait to hear back from you.

All my love,

Bucky

* * *

Y/n sent him another letter, a short one detailing how things were going at work, but when it took longer than normal to respond she feared the worst. It had been about two months since she last heard from him and she hadn’t heard from Steve either. She knew where Captain America was, he was plastered on every poster across town, it would be hard to miss him.

She still couldn’t get over his growth spurt though, she wondered if Bucky knew. Probably not because Bucky would’ve found a way to get back here just to kick Steve’s ass.

It was two weeks after Steve had gone across the seas to visit the soldiers when she heard from Bucky again.

Dearest Y/n,

I cannot apologize enough for not responding sooner. I was indisposed and couldn’t find any time to write. I’m sorry if I worried you at all but I’m back.

I’m glad things are going well at work and I hope nothing too drastic has changed since your last letter.

Although, I find it funny that you failed to mention in all of your writings that Steve not only grew but is now a superhero? Like from comic books? Because I know that you knew he went off and did something stupid. I thought you loved me.

Respectfully,

Bucky

P.s. I’m not really mad

* * *

Bucky, (I stand by my you can only have one)

Well, I didn’t know he left to become a superhero but ok I didn’t tell you he’d enlisted and actually been shipped off to boot camp.

If I had told you, you would’ve been distracted and I want you to come home. And clearly, you found him so now the two of you can look after each other.

And as long as you’re ok, I’m ok.

I hope that you are not lying to me about your well being because Steve may lie to you but he won’t lie to me.

All my love,

Y/n

Bucky stared at the letter. ‘All my love’, Bucky knew that she liked him but she had restrained from using language as strong as ‘love’. He had been keeping himself from writing the next letter but he could no longer justify not writing it.

* * *

She didn’t find it odd that he hadn’t responded although, it had only been a week and he’d gone longer than this before.

So she went about her day to day life. It wasn’t until she got an unexpected visitor when she began to worry.

There was an urgent knock at her door and when Y/n opened it Becca Barnes was standing there. Y/n knew something was wrong before Becca could even open her mouth.

“Becca, what’s wrong?” She asked. Although she could probably guess. Nevertheless, she hoped she was wrong. That Becca was having boy troubles and just needed an opinion on what to do.

Becca released a shaky breath not looking away from Y/n. “It’s Bucky.”

“Did he -?” She couldn’t bring herself to finish her question.

“He’s dead, Y/n,” Becca said tearfully, “I’m sorry.”

Y/n leaned her body weight against the doorway unable to keep herself upright without extra support. Becca was still talking but she barely made out what was said until the end, when Becca handed Y/n a box.

“These are things I think you should have, I’m really very sorry,” Becca said. Y/n pulled her in for a hug. “He really loved you.”

* * *

It was a few weeks before she opened the box. After the funeral, after countless nights crying into her pillow, after forgetting only to remember moments later that she would never speak to him again.

She sat on her bed just as the sun was beginning to rise. Her hands trembled as she removed the lid and caressed the contents. There were a few trinkets that she recognized. There was a letter addressed to her sitting on top of everything.

She almost didn’t want to read it. Because once she had that was it, she would have no new interactions with Bucky. They would never know what would’ve been.

Curiosity got the better of her and she opened the envelope.

Y/n, my love,

This war seems to be never-ending. I miss my home. I miss a bed that doesn’t feel like rocks. I miss you.

I’m not sure what I will do once I get back, job-wise. What does a veteran do after he’s served in the war? That is about the only thing I’m uncertain of though.

I do have plans for other things. Specifically you and me. Don’t think that I don’t plan on asking you to marry me, because I do I just thought I would give you a warning so it doesn’t come as quite a shock. And if you say yes, I will buy you a house, or we could live in the city if you prefer.

Honestly, as long as I have you nothing scares me.

I probably shouldn’t have told you that I plan to propose when I get back, but you know me always jumping the gun on something.

Forever yours,

Bucky

P.S. I’m not sure if I want you to respond to the proposal thing or not, so if you decided to do so please be gentle

She laid her head down on her pillow and stared at the ceiling, unmoving until she finally fell asleep.

* * *

2023

Bucky hadn’t even dared to dream that he would find someone from his past still alive. But when Sam mentioned that his sister, Becca, was still alive he didn’t waste any time in finding her.

They sat on Becca’s porch and Bucky listened to her tales from her life and the adventures she went on. She tried to apologize for believing Bucky to be dead up until just recently but Bucky insisted that it wasn’t her fault and even if she’d known there was nothing she could have done to change what happened to him.

Near the end of their visit, before Becca made Bucky promise to come back and spend more time with her, which of course he would, she gave him a box.

“I was holding on to this but now that you’re here, I think you should have it,” she said not giving him any context as to what was in the box.

When he got back to the apartment he was currently sharing with Sam, a temporary situation because Bucky wasn’t sure how much more he could handle, he sat in his room and opened the box.

Laying on top of everything was a note addressed to him.

My dearest, James,

I have been putting off writing this letter for a while now, but now seems as good a time as any to do so. It felt odd not writing you back like there was so much left unsaid, unfinished.

For clarity’s sake, I think you should know that I would’ve said yes. Without hesitation, my answer to your question would’ve been yes. And I think we would’ve done well in the country, somewhere upstate. Closer to the city so we wouldn’t have to deal with small-town mentality, but I’ve always wanted a house with a porch.

And whatever job you wanted, I would’ve supported you.

It’s been years since I got your letter and people are telling me to move on. But I cannot find the strength, not that it matters anymore. I’m not sure if anyone has told you but I’m sick. Terminally so.

I’m actually relieved, this means I won’t have my friends and family telling me that I should find someone new because I don’t think I’d be able to. No one could ever live up to you in my eyes.

That and I will get to see you again.

I will see you soon my love.

Love always,

Y/n

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x Female Reader #michelles2kwritingchallenge

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itsunclebucky · 5 years ago

Text

Angel [Bucky Barnes]

Pairing(s): Brock Rumlow x Y/N Rumlow x Bucky Barnes Prompt: "My Brother's Best Friend" Summary: Bucky is in an horrendous marriage when his wife starts to abuse him both physically and mentally. One night at a party your brother is hosting, he meets you - an angel to guide him, his best friend’s sister and he quickly finds a friend in you. Things escalate, and soon enough you begin a steady relationship, assuring him of safety and heaven at the same time. Warning(s): Bucky is in an abusive marriage, his wife hits him and degrades him, mentions of abuse, hint of an affair, sex implied, angst, but it has a happy ending for our Bucko. AN: This is for @simsadventures writing challenge, thank you so much for allowing me to join!

Word Count: 1,502 || Masterlist

They say that it's luck when someone stumbles into your life at the right moment, but for Bucky, you had become an angel. An affair was never on Bucky's agenda when he made a vow to his wife Holly that day at their wedding four years ago.

Bucky and Holly's marriage was strong at the beginning, they loved each other very much and spent many months in the honeymoon phase. It wasn't until the second year anniversary came around that Bucky notices his wife's mood change drastically. Holly had become mean with her words, labeling him as nothing more than useless, worthless, reminding him he didn't deserve love. And Bucky, bless his sweet-heart, sat there and took her mental abuse like he already knew these things. He never once said anything back. He tried all ways to please his wife, to prove to her he was worthy and useful, by doing odd jobs around their shared home to buying anything Holly needed.

He tried his best but it wasn't good enough. By the third year into their marriage, Holly not only continued to belittle him and break him down like a whimpering little boy she took the pleasure of laughing at as he sat there crying and begging for her to believe in him, but she had started to slap him across his face for absolutely no reason. If Bucky so much even looked at her in the wrong way, it earned him a hard punch to his face. One particular time earned him a nasty black and blue eye, and it was unfortunate this was the time he had met you at the party your brother Brock was throwing for his friends.

You noticed how timid Bucky was, how tense his shoulders were and if he was talking to anyone his eyes remained past their heads into the distance.

You grabbed a beer from the case and walked over to him. His elbows were leaning on his knees and his hands clasped together as the grass below him looked so interesting.

"Hey." Your voice rang out, causing his head to shoot up. You held the beer out for him and he hesitantly accepted it with a small smile.

"Thanks...but uh I uh shouldn't...drink." his voice was quiet and his eyes looked sad. You noticed the horrendous bruise on his face.

"It'll help you relax. I'm Y/N. Brock's sister."

"Bucky. Brock's best friend." He smiled.

"Aha. My brother's best friend. That's sweet. What happened to your face Bucky?" You asked curiously, noticing his shoulders tensed up by the question.

"I uh..." he chuckles nervously. "I walked into a door." He avoids your eyes and you know there's more to that story, your intuition tells you that much but you decide not to press for now.

And for the evening, you sat next to him gently pressing him to open up to you. And that's when he hints about his marriage life but spares the details.

Before you part, you make a promise to him. "I don't know what's going on with your marriage and that's not my business but if you need me for anything, anything at all please don't be scared to talk to me." You smile reassuringly and he thanks you for your kindness, the first kindness he's experienced from a woman since this with his wife went in a different direction. Your number is slipped into his phone as the two of you exchange numbers, assuring him for a final time you're there if he needs you as you stroke his cheek lovingly. His eyes are closed and your heart breaks as his eyes well up with tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

To say his home life didn't get any better would be a huge understatement. Holly only hurt him more, depriving him of his phone and constantly checking for messages, his social media accounts and check up on who he has been calling. He couldn't take it anymore, he needed a way out. And as Holly slept peacefully on the couch, he grabbed his phone off the side table next to her sleeping figure and bolted out the door, heading towards his safe haven he knew you would protect him in.

It was pretty late - around 10 PM and you were just finishing off the end of your movie in your bed when a knock rang through your apartment. You originally opted to ignore it, but when you checked your phone you saw you had many messages from Bucky and you jumped out of bed, sprinting towards the door, pulling it back and taking in his appearance. He looked broken and you stepped aside, inviting him into your home.

"I'm sorry for just springing this on you I had nowhere else to go.," he says nervously.

"Hey, it's okay." You stroke his bearded cheek with a smile. "Take a seat. Make yourself comfortable, I'll make you something to drink." You offer, choosing to make him some tea to calm his nerves. You watched him from your little kitchen as he fidgeted in the chair, his eyes constantly flying towards the door as though he's expecting someone to barge in at any moment.

"Here you go, honey." You put the cup gently beside him. The pet name you didn't mean to use, you just wanted to make him feel more comfortable and safe. He smiled and thanked you for the tea.

"What's going on?" You ask as you take a seat on the couch opposite him.

He tenses up and you take it as your cue to scoot closer to him, reaching over and resting a hand on top of his to comfort him. And for a moment, it works.

"It's my wife. I don't know what I did but..." and this is it. He speaks and doesn't stop telling you everything his wife Holly has done to him, said to him and it makes you so angry. You've opened up his dam, and you're there comforting him, reminding him he's safe and she Holly can't hurt him.

"Bucky listen to me." You kneel down between his thighs, cupping his beautiful face with your hands and you lock eyes with his. "You didn't do anything to deserve this. I can already see you're a beautiful man, a beautiful human and you deserve happiness. If you were my husband I would feel so damn privileged and lucky to have you!" You admit, and it takes him by surprise. "I'm not tryna scare you away I'm just being candid." He remains quiet as he appears to let your words sink in, and when he doesn't answer you take that as your cue to remove your hands but his hands grip your wrist. Before you register what's happening, his lips lock firmly on yours, angling his head to kiss you deeper and his hair tickles your skin. Your tongues battle against each other like knights, fighting for that dominance which he ultimately wins. He stands abruptly and lifts you with him, your legs wrap around his waist as he walks the two of you to your bedroom.

An affair wasn't intended, as much as Holly hurt him he didn't want to be that man who slept with other women.

Bucky spent the majority of his time in your apartment with you. The more time you spent together, the more you were falling in love with each other.

Within just a couple of weeks, his bruises faded and he started to become a wise-ass with his witty jokes and sense of humor. Bucky started laughing and smiling a lot more and he also spent a lot of time with Brock, which was something he wasn't allowed to do.

And the first thing you noticed in Bucky besides his happier mood was his appearance. He had grown his hair just above his shoulders, and he had a full beard. He changed his wardrobe completely and as a gift, you bought him his first black leather jacket and he LOVED it. He wore it every time you went out over a black shirt and his blue-tinted sunglasses.

One night as you were cuddled up in his arms he asked you to accompany him to his lawyer's office, and you promised you would stand by him every step of the way. There was no way Holly would ever hurt him again. And true to your word, she never did lay a finger on him.

He may have been Holly's husband. He might be your brother's best friend. But he was your soul mate, best friend and now officially your boyfriend, he asked you to be his once he signed the dotted lines of the divorce papers and took his wedding band off.

And as his girlfriend, you promised to protect him. To catch him up on the four years he missed out on, to go traveling to wherever he wanted, to show him how a real woman treats her man.

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strawberry-skies-xx · 4 years ago

Text

a million reasons to let you go

C H A P T E R T W E L V E

word count: 4042

tags: eventual hiccup/astrid, slow burn, fluff, angst, happy ending, feral hiccup, hiccup whump, bamf hiccup, protective astrid, protective hiccup, interrogation, aftermath of torture, implied/referenced torture, hurt/comfort, stoick’s a+ parenting, stoick’s bad parenting, hiccstrid fluff, hiccup and toothless friendship

main masterlist | story on ao3 | next chapter >>

Hiccup wakes up, and he whines. His head hurts, his entire body hurts, and most of all, there’s no familiar warmth next to him.

He sits up in the bed - bed? - and his gaze darts around frantically until it lands on a mass of black scales in the corner. Toothless’s head raises instantly, green eyes wide, and when he sees Hiccup he jumps, chirping joy-love-Hiccup as he stands up and launches himself at Hiccup.

Hiccup laughs, letting Toothless nudge into him as he nuzzles right back, closing his eyes and pressing his face into his warm, familiar, obsidian scales, a low purr rumbling from both of them.

It’s several moments until he pulls away, and then takes a good look at where he is.

Still Berk, he notes with an irritated huff as he spots the crest on a piece of armor in the corner, but it’s a bedroom, and not a cell. They’re in some house, empty and small.

Hiccup sits up, shifting to swing his legs over the bed, and then he notices he can’t feel his left leg. At all.

Toothless nudges at the blanket with a mournful whine of hurt, and Hiccup stares down at the metal prosthetic coming from his leg when he sets his feet down on the wooden floor.

Hiccup breathes, and then he pushes himself up, bracing one hand on the bedpost.

One step, and he collapses. Toothless whimpers, nudging his head under Hiccup’s arm to catch him. Hiccup whistles soft gratitude, and Toothless bows his head slightly in acknowledgment.

The door is locked when they finally make their way over to it, and Hiccup and Toothless both growl.

Hiccup’s growl gives way to a whimper, sagging slightly against Toothless. They had been free, they had been as one in the skies like they were supposed to, and Berk took that away from them, again. He’s so tired of fighting the Vikings; Hiccup didn’t want any of this, and now they can’t escape it. They’re outnumbered, outmatched, and they can’t fly, they can’t do the one thing they love the most; they’re captives. It goes against everything Hiccup and Toothless are, makes their skin prickle and their blood simmer with hatred.

Toothless whines, nuzzling into Hiccup, and the boy gives a weak smile, letting Toothless guide him over to the corner he was in and curling up. Hiccup lays down, Toothless moving his tail so Hiccup can prop his prosthetic on it and folding his wing over him, one paw slipping under Hiccup’s head and the others circling around Hiccup, his head bending down to hide him completely.

Hiccup purrs at the familiar warmth of Toothless and the safety of being hidden in the dark cocoon of his body, leaning up to nuzzle against the underside of Toothless’s jaw and getting a responding purr and nuzzle.

He relaxes, then, closing his eyes and settling into the warm darkness, feeling Toothless relax in response and curl his tail just slightly closer around Hiccup.

Hiccup doesn’t sleep, but he drifts, the throbbing pain of his stump fading in the nothingness. Toothless’s body vibrates with a low, steady purr, prompting Hiccup to respond with his own purr occasionally, his body going lax and his mind emptying. Here, he can almost pretend that they’re free, can almost pretend that they’re simply sleeping in their cave in the forest and not in a Viking house.

It lasts for a time far too short for either of them, when Hiccup is drifting into a deep sleep and Toothless’s eyes snap open at the click of the door latch. The door swings quietly open, Stoick - Viking-alpha to Toothless - appearing in the doorway, and Toothless’s eyes narrow.

Stoick had apologized, but Hiccup had taught Toothless that apologies are not everything. His apology didn’t make up for everything he did while they were in his prison, didn’t make up for him separating them, something so wrong that Toothless recoils at the simple thought of it, let alone the memory of the agony without his other half.

So Toothless hisses and growls, moving only to tighten his paws and curl closer around Hiccup, but otherwise he doesn’t disturb his other half. Not unless it’s necessary, because Hiccup is wounded beyond bleeding and Toothless will not wake him and hurt him further.

Stoick holds his hands out in peace, and Toothless hisses. Stoick doesn’t stop, still moving forward in a half-crouch - that is Hiccup’s half-crouch, Toothless thinks with a low fire of anger rising higher, that is what Hiccup does, not Stoick-Viking-alpha.

Stoick gets within a foot of Toothless, and the dragon snaps, his teeth closing within an inch of Stoick’s hand as he yells and yanks it back.

Hiccup stirs, though, whimpering softly as his breath hitches and he shifts in Toothless’s paws.

Toothless growls at Stoick in retribution for making him wake Hiccup, and then he looks down at his other half. He loosens his paws, allowing a little light in because he knows being trapped in the dark scares Hiccup when he first wakes up, and watches him slowly stir, a mournful warble of sleep again and a light nuzzle into Hiccup’s hair getting a playful smack on his nose and a chirp of no-awake-now.

Toothless rolls his eyes and huffs, and then turns his gaze back to Stoick, snapping at him when he sees that the Viking-alpha has tried to get closer. He hisses threat, feeling Hiccup respond to it with a tensing of his body, and glares at Stoick as he retreats quickly.

Hiccup pokes his head out from underneath Toothless’s wing, seeing Stoick, and he glares as well, despite the sadness in Stoick’s gaze when he looks at him.

They’re captives again because of him, they’re not-free, and Hiccup wants to fight, he does.

But he feels Toothless’s warmth next to him and remembers what Stoick did last time Hiccup fought, remembers the cold nights curled alone in the corner of a cell.

“I want to know your name,” Stoick says.

Hiccup makes a decision, because he wants to be free and he’s so tired of fighting, he doesn’t want to be away from Toothless and he doesn’t want to hurt anymore.

It doesn’t mean he’s happy about it, though, and so his glare is filled with vehemence and hatred as he meets Stoick’s eyes.

“Hiccup,” he hisses bitterly, angrily, watching Stoick’s eyes widen.

Stoick’s mouth opens and he straightens, backing away in shock. Hiccup glares at him all the while - Stoick stopped being his father eleven years ago, and it’s far too late to start now.

Stoick looks down at them, shock and despair in his eyes, and Toothless curls tighter around Hiccup.

“Hiccup,” Stoick breathes, crouching down, and he starts reaching out, eyes shining as tears start welling up. “Gods, Hiccup…”

Toothless tilts his head, curiously watching Stoick, but his eyes narrow quickly and he swiftly snaps at Stoick’s hands when they get too close and Hiccup shrinks away.

Stoick pulls his hands back, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of Hiccup, who whimpers fear softly and shifts a little further back into the shadow of Toothless’s wing and body. “That’s why you were so familiar,” Stoick mutters, almost to himself. “I knew I was missing something, but you were with that dragon so much and I couldn’t see past my own anger and uncertainty...”

“I’m so sorry, Hiccup,” Stoick says, focusing back in on them, a few stray tears running down his face now. “I hope… maybe in the future, you can forgive me-“

His eyes widen as Hiccup instantly growls, fierce and harsh. Never-forgive, he hisses, and he means it. Stoick hurt Hiccup in ways unimaginable, both when he was human and not, and it’s a cemented decision that neither Hiccup or Toothless will forgive him for any of it - though… they won’t actively hate him either.

Stoick’s face falls, but he smooths the expression out and glances down. “I understand,” he says. “I deserve that.”

He looks up again, and then he stands up. “I know you won’t forgive me,” he says. “But I’m not going to hurt you anymore. I promise.”

He turns and leaves, the door open when he does, and they can see the blue sky out from beyond it. Hiccup and Toothless both stare out at it, cautious but both of their hearts leaping with hope at the sight. They’re unsure whether Stoick meant it that way, if he really did mean his promise, but both of them want to leave this house.

A shadow blocks the doorway as they think, resolving itself into Astrid as she slowly walks in, crouching down. She stops a few feet away and doesn’t force herself any closer, and Hiccup feels himself relax slightly, all thoughts of Stoick fleeing his mind. He’s familiar with Astrid, knows that she’ll listen to him when he says no and knows that she can read his boundaries without him saying anything. Astrid won’t hurt him, he knows that now, for certain.

She gives a small, soft smile. “Hey,” she says quietly. Hiccup’s own lips tilt up into a smile, and he dips his head slightly in shy acknowledgment.

“Hi,” he replies softly.

Astrid leans back to sit, but Hiccup makes a protesting whine and he lurches as if to move closer. He doesn’t, still unwilling to move out of the shadow of Toothless, but Astrid takes the hint and moves until she’s a foot away from him - close, but not suffocating, and he can still see the blue sky beyond the door.

Hiccup relaxes. Toothless rumbles a hello at Astrid, in which she laughs and responds in kind, and he rests his head on his paws, tail lashing once against the floor with a thud.

“Are you okay?” Astrid asks, glancing to Hiccup’s leg where it’s hidden beneath Toothless’s wing.

Hiccup shrugs, lips still tilted up into a smile. He can’t help it; he has Astrid here, and he knows she won’t hurt him, knows that she won’t cross his boundaries. He’s forgiven her, and some unexplainable feeling of joy spreads through him, like when him and Toothless are flying together, soaring through the sky and diving and twirling.

It’s not as good - Hiccup and Toothless’s flight is euphoria, is freedom and life and together-us and like nothing else, but it’s close.

Toothless’s warmth is next to him, and Astrid is smiling in front of him, and Hiccup feels as if he could stay here forever. He wants to stay here forever.

Astrid glances down, but Hiccup keeps staring, apparently unable to tear his eyes away. He studies the curves and dips of Astrid’s face, her hair as it shines in the sun, her lips and her blue eyes. She can feel his gaze, and she lets him look, an idea slowly forming in her mind.

Impulsively, Astrid leans close, twisting her fingers in the collar of Hiccup’s leather armor and pausing. She feels him jump, sees Toothless’s eyes open from the corner of her vision, but Hiccup doesn’t pull away and doesn’t tense, so she pulls him close, pausing for just a breath before she meets her lips with his, feeling his head tilt to meet hers.

Of all the touches he’s endured since his capture, hers is the one he melts into, his shoulders dropping down and his fingers skimming feather-light over her hips, tilting his head just that little bit more to get a better angle.

Astrid pulls away first, watching Hiccup sway slightly towards her before he opens his eyes, the bright green slightly glazed, but his full attention is on her. It’s the same sort of draconic interest as if a dragon were preying on her, but on Hiccup, it’s adoring and entirely enamored. She feels as if she’s captured him, with just a touch of lips.

She smiles. “Go,” she says, nodding to Toothless, who’s watching them curiously, deeming her not a threat. “You’ve had enough of Vikings for a month,” she continues, and her smile widens knowingly as right then, he twitches as a group of Vikings walk near the doorway talking, gaze flicking to them briefly, probably what is far too close for his comfort. Hel, the other side of the island is probably still too close for his comfort.

He stays, though, and leans towards her, lips tilting into a small smile. Astrid feels her heart give a traitorous flutter as she realizes that the only reason he’s still here, still talking, is for her. “Not yet,” he says quietly.

She frowns, and Hiccup nods at Toothless’s missing tailfin and his leg. “It hurts.”

Astrid nods, frowning at the fact that they can’t be free, and then Hiccup seems to go limp, sagging and glancing down. Her face shifts to one of concern, leaning forward and hovering her hands over him. “Hiccup? What’s wrong?”

Toothless’s nose nudges Astrid’s back, a worried whine coming from him, and Hiccup looks up at her.

She feels sympathy flood through her, because Hiccup’s eyes are tired, a dull green glazed with pain and not nearly as bright as they should be, and it unsettles Astrid to see him like this. “Stay,” he whispers softly, almost pleadingly.

Astrid nods and then, without considering consequences, she puts a warning hand on Toothless’s scales before turning to sit and lean back against him. Toothless huffs, but then he sees Hiccup and whimpers, looking at Astrid and deciding to allow it.

Hiccup looks at her, and she pats her crossed legs. “Do you want to lay down?”

He glances down, and Astrid holds her breath as he considers. This is new territory for both of them, and Astrid’s never been able to get this close to Hiccup for so long. He’s never allowed himself to be vulnerable around her.

They weren’t in love, then - or, that’s what she hopes he feels. She feels that, anyway, a feeling of love and protectiveness and adoration so strong that she couldn’t hope to fight it even if she wanted to, which she very, very much does not.

He meets her eyes, and she frowns. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she says quickly, and tries to keep her face from falling when he gives a small shake of his head.

He moves beside her, though, so close they’re almost touching, and sits leaning against Toothless, who purrs and lays his head back down again. Astrid waits, but he doesn’t say anything, and she sits in comfortable silence.

Her curiosity wins out, though, and she speaks quietly into the silence. “So… what now?”

Hiccup shrugs. “I stay here. I can’t leave. Toothless can’t fly, and I can’t walk. I’m defenseless.”

Astrid frowns. She feels the weight of their captivity almost as acutely as they do, and she looks down. “Why don’t you go to the cove and stay there?”

Hiccup leans his head back against Toothless’s scales, closing his eyes. His voice is tinged with bitterness when he speaks next. “I have to remake my sword, and Toothless’s tail. I need the forge.”

Astrid goes quiet. She doesn’t know what to say to that - she has a feeling that Hiccup won’t trust anyone else with the making of his inventions, even her. Not that she’d expect him to trust her at all after what she did, but he seems to be… friendlier with her, at least.

It’s a few minutes in the silence before she feels a weight on her shoulder, and she turns her head carefully, seeing Hiccup’s mess of auburn hair spread over her shoulder as his head leans against it, eyes closed and face peaceful, breathing even with sleep.

She takes a sharp breath and goes still, eyes widening, and she looks away. Oh, gods, she can’t fuck this up, she can’t-

He shifts, his brow furrowing as she glances back, and settles against her shoulder again. She takes a breath, and then moves, putting one hand on his back and another on the back of his head. “Hiccup,” she whispers.

He frowns, stirring with a soft hum, and she pushes him gently forwards. “You’ll be more comfortable if you lay down,” she says quietly, practically holding her breath so as not to truly wake him.

There’s a moment of resistance where he pushes back against her, and she hovers her hands over him, not forcing. “Sorry,” she says automatically, face heating. “You don’t have to.” This is all so new - Viking affection is rough and hard, and handling someone like him, with gentleness and care, is not out of her ability, but it’s difficult. His trust is like glass, easily breakable and hard to put back together.

But she’ll try, for Hiccup.

He hesitates, green eyes opening just the slightest bit to look down at her lap, and then follows the push blindly after a long moment, laying down with his head on her lap and shifting so his legs are stretched out straight rather than at an angle. Astrid stays perfectly still as he settles, turning his face into the dip between her crossed legs and going still and lax once again.

She exhales, eyes wide and mildly panicking at the fact that she has Hiccup, sleeping with his head in her lap, trusting her so blindly even after he’d resisted before. “Oh gods,” she whispers, and she looks down at him, content and peaceful and silent.

Astrid knows then, with certainty, that she will deeply hurt anyone who harms Hiccup, will defend him with her life, and she has a feeling that he will too.

Toothless purrs, and Astrid’s breath comes a little hysterically as his tail curls around the both of them, his nose nudging Astrid’s side as he lays down. She breathes as evenly as possible, trying not to break this fragile trust that they have in her.

It’s a few minutes before she realizes the trust isn’t all that fragile, when she unwittingly relaxes into Toothless’s back, and the dragon gives no response other than a light huff of breath. Astrid glances down at Hiccup, then, an idea forming.

She puts one hand down, lightly setting her fingers in his hair, and he doesn’t shift. She slowly runs a hand through the soft auburn, her breath catching when he stirs and tilts the slightest bit up into the contact.

“Oh my gods,” she breathes again, her hand stilling to recover from the surrealism of the situation, and Hiccup stirs again, head tilting back to look at her.

She looks down, meeting green eyes glazed with sleep, utterly trusting of her and almost adoring again, like after she’d kissed him. It makes Astrid’s chest tighten, happiness spreading through her so thoroughly that it almost feels like a pressure inside her.

Hiccup’s mouth tilts into that crooked half-smile of his - except it’s not half, anymore. There’s a light in his eyes that wasn’t there before when he looked at her, and a sort of unrestrained joy to his smile that she only ever sees when he looks at or plays with Toothless.

She can’t help but smile back, and it’s only when Hiccup’s brow furrows and a slight worried frown appears on his lips that her face shifts to concern.

He pauses, though, long enough that Astrid gets the sense his verbal limit is coming up soon, if not already passed. He’s done talking to humans for the day, and it’s a sign of his trust and favor - Astrid wants to believe it's love - that he is still talking to her.

“Will you stay?” he asks, so soft she may not have heard it if she wasn’t already listening.

Astrid nods. “Yes, I’ll stay. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

He nods to himself, but his frown only grows deeper, his body tensing as he looks back up at her. “Astrid?”

She meets his gaze, filled with uncertainty and fear and a little bit of hope, lit behind the green.

He gives a quiet whistle, something like a coo and a purr, and the tone of it makes Astrid force herself to breathe normally, biting back a gasp.

It’s almost unmistakable what he’s trying to say, even in a dragon language, and it makes Astrid’s entire body go warm, her heart beating fast inside her chest and the pressure of her joy almost suffocating.

Love-you, Hiccup had said, and his face heats when he realizes what he did. Annoyance darkens his gaze at her smile and he turns his face away, back into the dip between her crossed legs where he’d been laying before.

Astrid puts one hand on his hair. “I love you, too, Hiccup,” she says in response, and feels him tense before relaxing, going completely pliant and settling into his position with his head in her lap.

She runs her hand through his hair as he lays entirely still, not twitching when Vikings walk by out of the door or making any sort of protesting noise. Rather, she notices with quiet surprise and joy, he starts purring, a low, rumbling noise similar to what Toothless makes.

She keeps going, the purr gradually dying as he fades into sleep, and she absently starts a small braid in the back of his hair.

She doesn’t notice the form blocking the light from the door until there’s a shocked gasp and both her and Toothless look up, eyes narrowed.

Snotlout stands in the doorway, staring at the two of them and Toothless, and he opens his mouth with much more intent than simple surprise, brow furrowing and his thoughts reading plainly on his face.

Astrid’s eyes narrow further and she glares at him, murder in her eyes. If he dares to disturb Hiccup, she will make his death slow and painful.

“Snotlout,” she says, in a soft voice but with a tone hard as steel, and his eyes widen slightly at the obvious threat. “Go outside, now, and don’t say anything about this, to anyone. Got it?”

Snotlout frowns, his thoughts resolving even more obviously as his mouth opens wider, and her glare gets fiercer.

“Snotlout,” she hisses. “I will break every single bone in your body, slowly, if you say anything that offends these two, or wakes him up. Get out, and don’t say a word.”

He closes his mouth, gaze going flat with how unimpressed and petulant he is about it, but Astrid doesn’t care. She will not let him wake Hiccup up for his stupid antics, not after it took so long for Hiccup to trust her enough to do this.

Hiccup stirs then, a soft whimper escaping him, his brows creasing slightly. Astrid turns her gaze from him, back up to Snotlout, her fiery blue eyes harsh and cold, conveying just how slow and painful his death will be if Hiccup does wake up.

Snotlout’s eyes widen and he holds his hands up in surrender, slowly backing away and out the door. She catches him roll his eyes before he turns away, mouth moving with some comment that Astrid couldn’t care less about.

Of course, Stoick comes in next, barely making it through the door without shaking the entire house, and he stops dead in the doorway, eyes wide as he stares at her, Hiccup, and Toothless.

“By the gods, Astrid,” he breathes - still too loud, as Hiccup’s crease grows deeper and he shifts again, a frustrated whine coming from him as he tries settling back into sleep.

“Chief,” she hisses in low admonishment, not a slow death like she did Snotlout, but rather a very fierce plea for him to not wake Hiccup up. She may be reckless already in admonishing the Chief of Berk of all people, but she does have some restraint.

Stoick crouches down, staring at Hiccup as he sleeps, and then back up at Astrid. “How?” he mouths, and Astrid winces. He doesn’t know the full story yet, of her meetings with him over the past two and a half months.

She shakes her head. “Later,” she replies quietly, and Stoick frowns, but he nods and stands up, slowly backing out of the room.

Astrid looks back down at Hiccup and sighs, then starts her rhythm through his hair again.

next chapter >>

#httyd #httyd fic #how to train your dragon #hiccstrid

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oh-theatre · 5 years ago

Text

Objection!: Chapter 15

Chapter title: I Get So Emotional

A/n: Me: Make it angst Also me: But what if he's fine? Also me: More characters to hate?? ANYWHO, I’m love all of them so much? Sorry, it took an extra day! I needed some time! Also, I am seriously regretting this slow burn because I have so many good ideas but they have to be together and I just- fojdosjldjs argh! ALSO, I REALIZE I MIGHT NOT HAVE GIVEN YOU ALL THE LETTERS SO I JUST GAVE THEM TO YOU NOW. Anyway! I hope you enjoy and please do leave me some comments!!

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words: 4973

summary: The precinct runs amok after the discovery of a tense situation

pairings: Eventual logicality, eventual prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing, blood, murder, gun mention, guns, hinted abuse, LIAM AND BAD PARENTS, Angst

Ao3 Link

It was the soft brushing moment, the brief touch as they walked into the courthouse, silent as they connected just for a second. The twins slept peacefully in their stroller, the amber sky yet to awaken to the fresh blue tides. It was a short and quick shock, as the energy from their fingers transferred to one another. The soft giggle escaping his mouth as he pushed the doors open. Not a single word spoken, not that there needs to be.

“Good morning Lo” Patton greets pushing the twin's stroller further in, Logan holds open the door making sure all three members escape the chilly air brought from the November wind.

“Patton” Logan returns, it's almost coy as if the pair share a secret. He turns his attention to the huddled twins, smiling at their sleepy demeanor. “Need a hand?” He offers watching Patton balance quite a few items easily, even so, he wishes to help.

“Oh! I'm alright thank you” He responds, the redness gathering upon his skin subject to Logans offer, although he will claim it was simply the cold extremities. Logan hums in return as they make their way to the desk to check-in, a brisk conversation with Jenny. “What's on the docket for today?” Patton asks, the pair wander down the hallowed halls, the early morning court proceedings spreading a gentle murmur.

“Well, we…” He gives a side glance as he includes Patton, Patton pays no mind simply listening “Have a few hours until the trial...I was wondering if you would want to work on...our case?” They turn the corner towards the offices.

“That sounds wonderful!” Patton pauses “Well not wonderful but good, t-that we are working on it ya know? Together and it-” Patton rambles

“I understand Patton” Logan takes his hand stopping him. A grateful glance is administered while the pair continue walking, Logan leads now making their way to his office. The twins shuffle but ultimately prove to be fast asleep, charging through their dreams with delight. Once they arrive Logan mimics an earlier movement, holding open the door for Patton, allowing him to just barely squeeze the stroller through. He places the twin carefully next to his chair before sitting down across from Logan as he had done so many times.

“Hmm” He hums as he rocks the twins slowly back and forth, Logan watches a small smile spread across his face. Feeling more comfortable than usual, the prolonged time they had been spending together no doubt the cause.

“I have questions” Logan prompts, Patton meets his eyes, his brow furrowed with curiosity. He smiles returning to the soft rocking of the stroller.

“I might have answers” He replies, Logan deems this satisfactory and uses this as an invitation.

“The twin's mother-” He stops himself wondering if that's the right term, it implies the woman had anything to do with raising them which would not be fair to Patton. “Uh…”

“Maya” Patton responds “Her name was Maya, she was very kind” He informs, Logan nods.

“Maya did she...was she…” Logan begins to realize he might not have been as thorough or organized as he had hoped. Patton takes a deep breath, his gaze still fallen on the twins.

“She was very very kind” Patton begins, Logan looks towards him allowing him to push forward “She didn't want kids however and well...I did.” Logan had mastered how to take notes quickly and hidden, it was useful. “She picked me right away and it was…” Patton sighs, his eyes stay planted on twins. Logan accounts for the singular perspective, no ‘we’ or ‘us’.

“Did she name them?” Logan wonders, he knows some details but the circumstances surrounding the day they were born were always a little cloudy. Patton laughs carefully, oozing sweetness.

“Oh no no...Maya was very sweet but she didn't want anything to do with them. Not in a malicious way, of course, she simply just didn't want children. I named them” Logan can picture it perfectly. “I miss her sometimes, she was so sweet. We wanted to stay friends but we agreed that we didn't want her to be apart of their life.”

“You know you haven't mentioned Liam once” Logan reminds, Patton gives a coy smile, a glint of pride in his eyes. “That's...I am proud of you Patton” Logan declares, Patton finally meets his eyes. A slight tint of red spreading across his freckles.

“I am too” He agrees

“He isn't...technically-”

“No, he has no legal claim over the children. He ...well he refused to sign the papers which I am grateful for. It made the split a lot easier for them” He explains “I have sole custody over the children…” Patton trails off, he purses his lips “Lo, show me your notes” Logan coughs, tapping his chest lightly.

“W-what...I” Patton continues his stare, it's one he uses on his children. Logan sighs handing his notepad to the lawyer, Patton smirks as he reads them, his words scribbled on the page.

“You could have just told me it was for the case, I did come to you for help” He assures, Logan bites his lip taking his notes. “Although, I don't think the twins will be a pivotal point, as I said, there was no issue with them. He can't claim custody or parental claim over them” He hates to admit it but sometimes Logan forgets Patton himself is a lawyer.

“True but even so…” Logan hands him a couple of files, opening his own copy on his side. Patton skims through recognizing them instantly. “He has tried to fight you for custody before”

“Yes he has, and lost almost immediately” Patton leans back, melting into the chair. “I see your point however, do you mind?” Patton asks hovering over the pens, Logan gestures allowing him to take one, they continue looking over old files for a while somehow ending up slightly fiddling with each other's fingers over the desk. It's soft, almost playful... However, the twins soon become restless as their minds itch for a taste of reality. Remus wakes first, sitting up grouchy on his side of the stroller. Patton wishes he had seen it coming, the little pout that forms...it always leads to-

“Dada!” Remus cries sniffly tears run down his cheek. Patton bounces out of his dazed state recoiling his fingers from Logans touch, a disappointment to both. Remus continues crying, Pattons used to it. Valerie was better about it but something always set the little boy off. He always awoke to a bad dream, rushing for his father's comfort.

“I've gotcha” Patton strains as he lifts Remus out of his stroller, cradling him in his arms. He wraps his small arms around his father, crying gently into his shoulder.

Logan awaits on the side, he understands. He once read a study that thoroughly described the many reasons that a child might wake up crying. ‘Inappropriate’ sleep onset associations, as explained by Doctor Ferber deemed that a child might become used to sleeping circumstances that are not later present causing them to feel unfamiliar. A set schedule is another reason, a child has had the same sleeping schedule for too long and it no longer fits their needs, causing them to feel uncomfortable. And finally, environmental factors. Doctor Ferber described how things in the environment can unsettle a child, a TV, various noises, the temperature, etc.

Logan expected the crying to stop or falter, he didn't mind but he would like to see Remus happy. However, it continued, possibly growing louder. Patton sighs rocking Remus back and forth, clearly trying every method that usually works. Remus mumbles incoherently and Patton does his best to listen but nothing seems to soothe the child.

“Patton” Logan gains the lawyer's attention, he extends his arms cocking his head slightly. Patton hesitates for a moment before placing Remus into Logan's arms, the lawyer takes him not sure how to hold him at first. It doesn't seem like he’ll need to figure it out as Remus takes his cue to adjust cozily in Logan's arms, he sniffles as Logan begins a careful hum. Patton stops his body sending a striking shiver down his spine, he’s heard Roman sing and heard his own musings but this was different. The voice was so quiet, an angelic tune carried, not that he noticed through his entrancement but Remus slowly fell calm. Logan finishes stroking Remus's cheek lovingly as he does so.

“That was amazing Logan” Patton compliments, if hearts could pulse from his eyes they would. “You have a beautiful voice” He admits, Logan stares up at him.

“My mother used to do that for me, while my mom was at work” Logan recalls, Patton nods listening, he had met Logan's mothers before. Patton adored them, and though unknown to Patton, they loved him. “Is this a frequent occurrence?” Logan ponders

“A little lately, I think he's just been having some bad dreams,” Patton says reaching over the desk to hold Remus’s hand as he makes silly faces up at Logan. “I wan-” He wants to finish his sentence but the door swings open quite abruptly, three figures overshadowing the desk. Patton turns to face them his face drops in dripping fear. “Mom? Dad?” He whispers

“Hello Patton” They confirm

~~~

“Morning Emile” Virgil yawns his greeting as the doctor slumps his way into the precinct. He turns facing Virgil's desk now, his eyes darting around Remy's area. “You ok?” He checks

“Have you seen Remy? I called him last night but that was about it. I thought he might be here with you, or still working on the case” He rambles checking his watch. “We have a pretty important lunch today” Emile accentuates, Virgil nods. He's known Emile long enough, he was less worried about the lunch and more worried about Remy.

“Why don't we go ask Carlton? He was the last person to see Remy” Virgil suggests, the room is quiet as the department awakens to the sound of fresh coffee and early morning perpetrators. Though not part of his plan, Haley striding by was also a good option. He stops her gently grabbing her arm, she turns disheveled, her eyes sunken. “Hey uh...you good?” She purses her lips, Virgil rushes “We were looking for Remy, do yo-

“You haven't heard, have you? No makes sense, we just got the news” Emile fidgets harders as Haley's words fall from her mouth.

“Haley” Virgil questions, his face darkens as the possibilities race through his mind. Imprinting themselves into his brain. He shakes them out, they couldn't be that bad, they just couldn't.

“We have a hostage situation” Haley mutters, Virgil's grip loosens but he can't hear anymore. Just simple mumblings as Haley describes something even worse. Virgil picks on a few words, each making his blood boil. “Carlton...mole...Remy...crime scene...Emile!” Virgil spins just in time, catching a very pale Emile. He regains his posture fanning himself, whispering a very timid apology.

“I want to help, please” Virgil begs, Haley bites her lip, clicking it.

“Fine, but I'm warning you, Virgil. You cannot get emotional” Haley threatens, Virgil nods about to follow her towards the conference room. As though a chain, he feels his arm grabbed. “Emile?” He fears knowing what he will have to decline.

“Please...get him back” Emile begs, Virgil's eyebrows raise, his face softens. He isn't...he doesn't...he pulls Emile into a brief hug. Something they both needed. “Make that son of bitch pay” He jokes sadly through tears, Virgil nods as they pull away. Virgil gives him a last glance before rushing into the room, the clamoring of people would typically overwhelm Virgil but he has more important things on his mind.

“Alright, where do you want me?” He asks Haley adamant to do anything, the captain finishes her conversation turning to the detective. Her face drops slightly, Virgil understands.

“Look, I'm letting you help but you can't be apart of-” Virgil taps impatiently, Haley continues “I want you to unscramble these goddamn letters. They might have something in them” Haley moans, handing him a board with neatly printed letters.

“Well, guess I should tell Patton his clients innocent” Virgil sighs, a dry laugh caught in his throat. Haley tilts her head pulling out her phone.

“This doesn't take George off the table” Haley declares, she opens up her phone clicking play. Virgil was not prepared to hear his voice.

“So...its you” Remy's voice, though muffled, remains calm.

“Not necessarily” Carlton replies, his voice dripping with evil. Not to be dramatic of course. “I had to, unfortunately, take care of a few...bodies. But fret not, I'm no killer” The line goes dead and Virgil can't help but smirk.

“Fucking brilliant” He marvels “His call with Emile, he added you on didn't he?” Virgil questions, Haley joins his smirk nodding. “So George could still be guilty but have Carlton do some of his dirty work?” Haley shrugs unfortunate “Alright, letters” Virgil snaps, he races towards his desk, avoiding looking through the window in Emile's office. He just can't look at him, not now. He will look at him when he can cause a smile to spread, pointing him towards the direction of a hopefully unphased Remy. He returns fast setting up magnet letters upon the board, ordering them alphabetically first, nothing proves of them so in order of how he got them.

“E, L, I, T, A, L, W, S, L, I, A, A” Dylan lists, Haley had instructed he help Virgil. “It's like a really dark game of scrabble” Virgil's eyes widen, he turns to Dylan aware of the slight murderous look on his face.

“Not Latin, not secret code, no it's simple” Virgil mutters, Dylan will admit, he's frightened. “It's so so simple” And he sets off for the next moments no one could see what was happening. Virgil works quickly rearranging the letters in every possible way. Some words appear, but nothing, nothing makes a sentence, nothing gets him a step closer. The frustrated grunt he releases confirms his failure. Not like it matters, he was sent on a fool's errand, a distraction. He knew this from the moment Haley asked him to do it, the letters, while they might provide something, were not relevant. Remy would disagree.

“But what if they reveal the name of the murderer? Or the final murder? Or why he's doing it?” Remy rambles, clearly recovering from a coffee high. Virgil moans, plopping his head into his arms. His desk feels cold, like the pillow once turned over.

“Or maybe you've been watching too much-

“Don't! I have not! I have not! Nopety nope!” Remy bounces scrambling the letters they have once more, Virgil groans spinning in his chair. “Bet you twenty bucks it's gonna reveal something!” Remy shoots out his hand awaiting Virgils.

“I'll take that bet, I think it's just a final message or a game” Virgil shakes his hand, instantly regretting it as his hand bounces. “Oh my god, can we go now? I'm exhausted and Dam-

“Shush! I'm having an epiphany” Remy decides, he sits on the ground crossing his legs. His eyes shut as he begins to hum.

“No darling, you're having an energy rush” Emile points, Virgil thanks him with a gesture. The doctor leans over kissing his partner on the forehead softly, he takes his reluctant hand leading the detective away. Virgil waves them farewell with a smirk.

“Hey! We got it! We found our entrance!” Haley calls, Virgil turns towards her, she sighs…”Detective Tormine, you coming or not?” Virgil claps delighted, grabbing his things.

~~~

“What are you...doing here?” Patton stands, Logan can not read his face. Its morphed so much in the past few seconds, Logan stands with him. He clutches tighter to Remus as he stares the figures down. He had met Patton's parents a few times, but they never said much to him. And honestly? Logan had a hard time staying around them for a long time, he cant listen to them talk about Patton in such a way, which seemed to be the only way they talked about him. Remus yawns squirming softly in Logan's arms.

“Oh, he's precious” Patton's mother, Gloria, compliments. “Is he yours?” She wonders Patton releases a desperate breath.

“No, he's...he’s mine” Patton begs, Glorias sighs recoiling, disappointed. Logan struggles to restrain himself, he baffles at the two of them. “Mom?” Patton's voice is so soft, he can't manage the words.

“Patton, don't get emotional” Gloria warns, Patton flares his nostrils, the phrase was spoken so much it was seared into his mind. “I didn't recognize your son, it is not a big deal” Logan...needs to walk that off. He can't fathom…

“Yeah guess that happens after five years doesn't it?” Patton quips, finally another voice pipes up. Liam stands behind Patton's parents, he laughs a sickly smile across his face. Patton laughs regretfully, a scoff escapes. “You called my parents? Are you five? I-” He stops himself “I'm not doing this in front of my children” He declares

“Why is this man holding your child?” Patton's father, Arlo, questions. Logan wonders if he really doesn't recognize him or if he's being petty. Logan goes to speak but Patton's ready.

“His name is Logan and he is…” Liam peaks over, a knowing coy smile “Doing more than you have ever done” Patton claims staring pointedly at his former partner, Logan asserts his posture. “Lo?” His voice shifts instantly, it's quiet and gentle. Logan would've swooned had he not been staring daggers, at...certain people. Logan understands however, he moves around the desk placing Remus carefully into the stroller, assuring the boy is secure. He starts to roll away stopping in front of Patton who takes his hand. “Thank you” He whispers, Logans not sure how to express how he would do anything in a heartbeat. He squeezes Patton's hand, lingering only slightly as they pull away. He pushes past the trio without giving them a single look, leaving his office he decides to settle in Patton's office, knowing the twins would be able to play there.

“I'm disappointed in you” Gloria hasn't moved, her hands stay crossed in front of her, her gloves in her hand as she takes a less than happy look around. “And is that man your new boyfriend? Is that what you chose?” She insults, Patton ignores it, he’d rather not go into what he...feels for Logan at the moment. (Or the fact that she would ever degrade him in such a way when he means...everything...)

“Oh, that's new” Patton replies dryly “Moms disappointed everyone! Gather around while she tells you everything wrong with you” Patton mocks, he realizes how much he's bottled up. Five years has caused so much and staring in the face of the woman who has caused more agony than should ever be set upon a person. “Oh! And don't forget the yelling match she’ll have with dad later while you and your sister cower in fear” Patton adds, Gloria's face might as well have been dipped in red.

“Patton Hart, you will stop right now” Gloria demands, Arlo nods warning his son.

“Five years mother” Patton states, he keeps steady, precisely picturing images of his children smiling, Logan doing his rare laugh, Roman and Virgil and…

“Yes I see that that was not a good decision now” Gloria looks around, Patton hates how she views his office. Logan's office was one of Patton's favorite places, how dare she see it with such contempt, what right does she have? “Patton you're going to come home with us, Liam is going to help you through this and-” Patton almost laughs, almost.

“Uh, that's super interesting mom” Patton smiles nodding a little to ecstatically “That's great, you know, I'm just gonna squeeze by you and go uh...anywhere else” He decides pushing past his parents, nudging Liam maybe a little harder than needed. Ignoring the seized calls for his name he marches through the courthouse. He stutters a breath before walking faster until he lands outside his office. He knows it's his, but he was programmed to knock. If his parents refused to teach him anything about kindness, he was going to stay up, sleepless nights, learning about what to do.

“Come in?” Logan supposes, Patton trembles over the knob before turning it open. Logan stands as he enters closing the door behind him. “Hi” Logan whispers, Patton gives a small wave, his eyes falling on the twins in the corner. They play excited with their toys, building mountains and palaces.

“Hi” He smiles at them, they smile back demonstrating their talent. He feels an overwhelming sense of warmth wrap him, the room becomes brighter. He allows the moment to work its way into his lungs, his breathing matches the steady pace of the world. It's ok, take a breath, it's ok. The twins return happily to their game sending Patton to sit across his desk, Logan watches frozen.

“Are you alright?” He checks, its the standard question something he's been asked many times. Its starts something, it gives way for Logan to continue without misinterpretation or danger of making it worse.

“I just wish...things were easier” Patton admits, Logan gives a soft laugh “You know that's the first time they've seen the twins, in person?” His voice is hushed, allowing the children sleepy serenity. It's also the first time Patton has seen his parents in five years, besides elongated silent calls and the sparse photos online, it's been distance.

“And they thought he was mine” Logan recalls, Patton taps his fingers on the desk, a smile hinted. “Not that I'm complaining” Logan adds, Patton gains a small twinkle, barely visible behind his glasses.

“Neither am I…” Logan being seen as the twin's father was far from bad, it hurt that it was his parent's own mishap. “I think they should adopt Liam” Patton sighs firmly, Logan releases a scoffed laugh, a glint of amusement upon his face.

“Ah, I don't think you should do that to Barbara” Logan retorts, Patton snaps his fingers lazily “It wouldn't be fair to her, what a downgrade, might I add” Patton chuckles, a sweet smile across his own lips. “Not to mention, Marcy would implode” Logan brings up many good points and many good distractions. And yet again, somehow, the pair meet across the desk. As if the only thing they can hold on to is one another, the soft twiddling of each other's hands and fingers, the excitement of the tickle.

“Oh! That's my phone, sorry” He pulls away, not expecting to feel so cold as their fingers part. “Patton Hart!” He greets, his face turning quickly sullen. Logan braces for the worst, his position becomes alert. The call finishes, Patton lowers his phone. “Its Remy”

~~~

“Carlton its been a day, I'm exhausted” Remy moans, he's tempting fate but if he's right…”Either kill me or let me go or get me food or coffee” His eyes widen at the mention of caffeine, anything to feel a buzz.

“I always found you so strange” Carlton muses, Remys impressed. He's been holding the gun almost all night, directed at Remy. Neither has dared move, but both felt the agonizing sore all over themselves. “More so, your partner” The same all night, he was looking, aching for a reaction. Emile seemed to be his way in but Remy used that, its fuel that he's going to get the hell out of here.

“You can't kill me can you?” Remy quips, Carlton tilts his head craving more “Waiting for mommy to give you permission?” Remy pouts mockingly, he hopes his chest emanates a steady pace.

“You got a death wish Nyx?” Carlton questions, further assuring the position of the firearm, Remy can't help but wince. Far from it, he thinks. He feels his heart pulsate in his ears. He takes a heavy breath, allowing his lungs to restart, it's harder than he thought it would be. A new trial as he stares down his death, hard to breathe, stay conscious.

“Just a little longer” He whispers while Carlton checks his phone for what seems to be the umpteenth time. He can feel his knees grow weaker under him, the need to buckle growing only as time goes on. “Hey, what's my letter gonna be?” He asks, quickly shaking his knees before Carlton turns back.

“Are you kidding?” Carlton faces him, Remy smirks now feeling an entire breath released from his body.

“Nope, I'm stalling” He states dropping to the ground. The door swings open as cops pile in, he can hear shots fired but he feels himself intact. Incoherent shouting bruises his soft ears as something grabs him, a moment of panic sets in until he's hoisted into a hug. “Virgil” He barely whispers, tightening his grasp. Now, in the arms of his best friend, he just allows himself to fall away. Tears stream down his cheeks, staining his cheeks in permanence. He pulls away being led out of the apartment into the hall.

“Are you ok?” Virgil questions checking every inch of his friend, Remy lifts up his shirt revealing a small bruise, Virgil traces it. Remy expects the cold hands, but not the seized chill causing his body to vibrate into itself. “Did he…?” Virgil inquires, his eyebrows furrowed, a pinch of anger.

“I got cocky” Remy admits shrugging, Virgil sighs, a smirk on his face. They make their way to Virgil's car, heading to the precinct. Meanwhile…

“Emile!” Patton cries running towards him, the doctor accepts his hug instantly. Anything to stop him from chewing his nails down, until there's nothing left. “Are you alright?” He checks once they've separated, Logan catches up giving him a light squeeze.

“I think so” Emile stutters a breath, Patton keeps his hand on Emile's shoulder “I just really miss him” He admits with a sweet smile, Patton nods understandingly. “Distract me, please,” He asks softly, Patton coughs but agrees.

“Um...my...parents are back?” Patton tries, Emile looks at him clearly interested. “They want to take me- I'm sorry, Em are you ok?” Patton continues feeling awful doing so, Emile laughs dryly waving him off.

“Please, I just-” His eyes widen quickly, he slithers out of Patton's brace rushing towards something. Patton and Logan spin quickly, both faces light up as their eyes befall unto the pair hugging. “Remy!” Emile cries burying his head into the detective's shoulder. Remy falls into the hug quickly, grasping his partner tightly. He moves his kisses all around the cheek, Emile giggles through his tears. Virgil pats his friend on the back before joining the others. The pair pull away “Are you ok?” He whispers, cupping his face as he checks his partner.

“Em, I'm ok” He assures taking Emile's hands in his own, Emile sighs content landing a kiss on his lips. Remy gasps quickly, hitting himself on the forehead “The lunch! I missed the lunch, god I'm sorry” He rushes, Emile laughs wiping away his tears.

“Only you, my darling” He states shaking his head “I called the people, they understood and we rescheduled” Remy smirks, Emile shoots an ever grateful glance towards Haley and Virgil as he leads a slightly shaken Remy to his office, closing the door behind them.

“You alright Virgil?” Logan checks, Virgil releases a pented breath but nods.

“I've heard that question so many times today...but I'm good. I'm just happy he's ok” Virgil says watching the pair through the window, his eyes emanating adoration. Patton releases a squeal, Logan nudges him softly, it's playful.

“Excuse me, Mister Hart? Mister Tolentino? Mister Tormine?” The trio turn, they nod as their names are recited. “I apologize for the interruption” The man states, he holds out three golden letters, each beautifully imprinted with their names. Patton takes his, bouncing on his heels. Virgil, approaches warily, taking it nonetheless. He groans reading the insignia in the corner, Logan sighs as he reads his.

“Eek! The gala!” Patton squeals reading his invitation. Coyly he reads the letter. “Dear Mister Patton Hart” He pauses looking to Logan “That's me!” Logan's resilience crumbles away as the bright figure smiles up at him. “We cordially extend our invitation to you for this year's annual Cordenza Court Gala” He does a quick shimmy as he reads it, Virgil scoffs happily. “We hope to see you there, yours truly” He finishes, the mystery hangs with the name.

“I hate the gala” Virgil groans, Logan tilts his head in agreement.

“You just don't want Roman to ask you” Logan slips, both his and Patton's eyes go wide.

“Logan!” Patton exclaims, hitting him carefully on the shoulder. Logan sucks in a quick breath, Virgil turns to them, they can't tell if he's mad or shocked.

“What?” He starts slowly. Patton giggles awkwardly.

“Nnnnnothing, we were just talking about-” Virgil furthers his glare and Patton stomps his foot pouting. “Romans planning to ask you to the gala” He moans disappointed in himself, Virgil joins his moan shutting his eyes tight.

“I can't do this right now” He sighs waving them off as he retreats to anywhere else, Patton waves goodbye weakly. Logan turns to him, a dry smile upon his face, Patton pouts, his fatherly side apparent.

“Forgive me?” Logan hopes a slow smile spreads across the opposing lawyer’s face.

“Fine…” He says unable to continue his pout. “Now come! Preparations to be made!” He incites gallantly striding away, Logan sighs following him. Knowing he would do just the same no matter the situation. At this moment, he wishes he had Romans confidence…

Would you...like to…

He pauses watching Patton make his way out of the precinct.

Come...to the..gala...

“Lo? You coming?” Patton asks holding the elevator open for him.

...with me?

“Yes, of course”

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