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inkyblinders · 4 years ago

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Dancing with the Devil: Part II

Part 1

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

Author’s note: This was so embarrassing to write not because of smut...but because I’m crushing hard on Adrien Brody right now. And I can’t even share this obsession with anyone because… he’s kinda niche? Someone please reassure me that I’m just going through a phase because dear God why can’t I stop watching Darjeeling Limited just to see him ahhh.

The story picks up right after the end of Part 1, so I recommend reading that first. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think!

Summary: Following your meeting with Luca Changretta, you face the Shelby family and Tommy's reaction. (2.6k words)

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing

Tag: Let me know if you would like to be added or removed

@anythingwriter, @rrtxcmt, @shut-chan

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You barely make it into your bedroom before he is all over you. The buttons of his crisp, tailored shirt fall like marbles. He moans when you nip the skin of his neck, right over his tattoo of the black cross, legs tangled together like a depraved waltz.

When he grinds into you, you shudder deliciously at the hardness that meets between your bare thighs.

How easy would it be for him to kill you after he fucks you, leaving your corpse twisted in the bedsheets. You know Tommy would find it when he eventually remembers that he has not seen you for days.

“Signorita, you know I come to you with the most honorable of intentions.” He murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts.

“You're not a very honorable man then.” A laugh that turns into a gasp as he trails his hand lower and strokes between your legs. No, not very honorable at all. And pretty soon all thoughts of honor are forgotten as he coaxes a moan from your throat.

His fingers are magic. The cold outline of his onyx rings scald your skin each time he crooks a finger inside you. Knowing exactly what you need, seeking your depths, swirling, rising to rub the clit, all the while exploring the flushed expanse of your body with his other hand.

Shoulder to breasts to hips and back again.

Without meaning to, you’ve let this stranger take control of your entire being. But God, do you crave this pure ecstasy.

It’s as if he wants to know precisely how much you can take before you're undone. So when you clench around his hand and feel the familiar ache he is right there, helping you ride the wave of pleasure, never breaking the rhythm of his thrusting fingers even as you curse, rake your nails down his back.

You almost cry out his name when you come. But you bite into his shoulder instead.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna have to hear you next time.” He growls.

His words barely register as you come down from the high. Aftershocks spark like tiny flames. Now you are wearing his scent as much as he is wearing yours.

“Be inside me,” You whimper, tugging at his soft hair, urging him for more.

He rasps an empty warning, “What's my name, sweetheart?”

Of course. All this time you've never acknowledged you know of his identity. There was no use in trying to hide it now.

“Luca,” you breathe. And his eyes gleam with approval.

With a snap of his hips, he plunges into silky warmth. The fullness stretches you to your limit, head thrown back. It’s good, so good. Every withdrawal of his thrust is a blessing because you know what follows next. It’s him inside you again, wrapping you with his touch and the scent of tobacco and roses.

“Does your Tommy fuck you like this? Like the way I do?”

“He’s not mine.” You choke out, punishing Luca with a bite on the neck that elicits a chuckle rather than a yelp of pain.

He kisses you, your foreheads pressed together. “A damn shame for him.” Soon he starts to quicken his pace, going faster, more erratic, his breathing heavy upon your ears.

Yes, you urge him, come on, now.

And this is your chance. In a flash you roll on top of him, pinning down his shoulders with your hands. He tries to arch up but you stop him with a knee.

“How many men did you bring, Changretta?” You ask, making your voice rough to mask the lust, pressing your hands around his jugular.

It's a pleasure to see him like this. Shocked at your actions, maybe even scared. Naked with want but unable to do anything to relieve it. Unless he tells the truth.

“Fifteen. Why baby, am I not enough for you?” He laughs breathlessly, hands trailing goosebumps along your hips, tracing the contour of your breasts. The jib doesn't hurt you. After all, men have said worse. He tries to surge into you again, and his hot member pulses on your thighs.

“Do you swear on your honor? That you’re telling the truth?” You insist, squeezing him harder. The touch brands his skin as much as it brands yours.

In a voice full of self-mockery he says, “Yes I swear on my honor. Now let me in, clever Isabel.”

You take him in you, the sensations amplify a thousandfold. You try teasing him, going slowly in and out, but soon you are caught up in the sensation of him completely at your mercy and you ride him, faster, until you keen his name, until he too is undone.

****

Through the haze of dawn, he stumbles out of bed and gets dressed. Before he dons his hat once more, Luca leans down to whisper in your ear, as soft as sin.

“You tell Tommy Shelby he may expect a visitor in the night. I'm coming for him as the angel of death. The vendetta has begun…” He kisses your hair.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

The door clicks shut. You rise from your pillow, and a small, hard lump rolls next to your hand.

It is a signet ring of onyx and gold.

****

“So we all get a death letter from the mafia, but Izzy gets jewelry?” Ada huffs as the family filters into the betting shop. As usual, Tommy holds court at the front of the table, brooding over a glass of whiskey. You roll your eyes as Arthur and John try to cover their snort of laughter with a cough.

“If you want it, you can have it, Ada. He’s probably planning on killing me too.”

“Doubt it. You’re not a Shelby, and we’re the ones who killed his father. Well, someone did, to be precise.” She shoots a bitter look at Tommy, who doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Despite Ada’s matter-of-fact tone, the words cut to your heart. Not a Shelby.

It’s not her fault. No one knows you’ve been sleeping with Tommy, not even your dearest friend. It’s a lonely secret to keep, but at least you can look at the family square in the eye and not have to worry about the things they say behind your back. Or worse, pity you.

You can handle the violence and moral ambiguity of Tommy’s business. But to lose the love and respect of the Shelbys would break your heart.

“What was the mafia man like, Izzy?” Finn asks eagerly. It’s obvious the boy is thinking of the dashing, gun-wielding gangsters he’s seen in the pictures.

“He was a wrinkly old brute. Kind of like your arsehole brother Tommy.” A smile to take the edge off the insult. But Tommy only looks off into space. As if he hasn't paid attention to this entire conversation.

Arthur clears his throat. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. It was me who pulled the trigger on his dad, so the blame falls on me.” He pats Linda’s hand even as his voice is heavy with guilt.

“No one’s blaming you Arthur, you weren’t the brains behind the operation, no offense.” Ada says. He is about to say something when Polly cuts in.

“Stop squabbling like children. We’ve all voted for truce, despite everything Tommy’s done to us—” The words nearly having us hanged hover pointedly in the air. “—So let’s focus on the matter at hand." She fixes Tommy with a sharp look.

“What’s the news from Camden Town? Will Solomons help us?”

“No.” He says tiredly. And all of a sudden you feel sorry for teasing him. He look gaunt. There are shadows under his eyes, even more so than usual. Without you to remind him to eat, you can imagine his diet for the past few days consisted more of alcohol and cigarettes than anything substantial.

“Spent three hours on a fucking tour of his bakery and another pretending to drink his piss-poor rum. I think he was trying to get me sloshed so I’d forget what I came for.” Tommy rubs his head.

“He’s refusing to send his men to help. Said he’s not going to go after another oppressed people.”

“Did you tell him the Italians are rounding up Jews in their country as we speak?” Polly asks incredulously.

“Wouldn’t make a difference to Alfie. Besides, that’s just an excuse. He’s really just a fucking coward.”

Polly looks troubled at this, as does the rest of the family. Everyone had been counting on Alfie’s friendship with Tommy, however peculiar, to help them with the vendetta. What they hadn’t expected was his extreme sense of self-perseverance. How are they going to protect themselves now?

“Before everyone panics, I’d like to say something.” Tommy clears his throat, setting down the whisky.

“As you may all know, two nights ago our Izzy encountered Mr. Changretta in the Garrison. He bought her a drink and asked her to deliver an official beginning of the vendetta.” He chooses this time to finally look at you. You hold his gaze until he looks shiftily away.

“We can also assume that he has been scoping out Small Heath, looking for any weaknesses on our turf. Now, Izzy has something to share with you all.”

You stand up uncertainly. The last time a woman other than Polly tried to speak her mind at the table it had been Esme, who still refuses to come to the betting shop unless Tommy is not here.

“While Mr. Changretta was, er, indisposed at the Garrison, I found some items in his coat that I think could be useful.” You fish out a passport and a stack of papers from your skirt pockets.

“Good job, Izzy! Oh, I knew we could count on you more than my idiot brother.” Ada beams.

“Becoming a right little spy, eh?” John ruffles your hair good-naturedly. As everyone gathers around, Polly gives a low whistle.

“Goodness, if this is your definition of an ugly brute, I wonder who’ll really catch your fancy, darling.”

You flush. The documents were obtained shortly after Luca had fallen asleep. It was an exercise in agility, trying to extricate yourself from his tangle of limbs, especially when you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, encased in his warmth.

To your own credit, the papers were highly useful indeed. Some were maps of Birmingham, circles drawn in places where the Shelbys are known to frequent. The Garrison. Charlie’s Yard. The Arrow House. There was also stationary from The Stanton, a hotel just outside of the city.

There had been another piece of paper in the stack, a letter. But you kept that for yourself.

“We all have Izzy to thank for bringing us this valuable information.” Tommy’s voice rises above the chatter. “I will be personally examining all the documents and think of a plan. In the meantime, everyone stay alert, stay armed, and stay together.”

“Now if no one has any further questions, I need to have a private word with her. Alone.”

*****

You twirl the onyx ring around your finger as everyone filters out. It’s much too big but you still wear it anyways. The thick band of gold is comforting in its own way. And despite what you told Ada earlier, you don’t want to give it to anyone else.

Tommy’s curt voice snaps you from your reverie.

“Was it good, then?”

A small muscle tics on the underside of his jaw. His previously blank expression is now cold. The coward in you compels you to feign ignorance.

“What do you mean, Tommy?” You ask lightly.

“Did it feel good to have that fucking wop inside you?”

You burst out laughing. “Christ, Tommy. Did you pick up that word from Alfie? You sound bloody ridiculous when you’re trying to be crass, you know.”

“Don’t fucking change the subject, Isabel.” Tommy snaps.

“Oh, so I’m Isabel, now? You only call me that when you’re trying to get me in bed. Is that what you want? A bit early in the evening if you ask me.”

“What I want for you is to tell me how it felt having that man inside you, inside---”

You blaze with anger. “My sex life is none of your business, even if you are an occasional participant. I did what you would have wanted, and now I’ve got intel on the Changrettas that could save your arse!”

“Do you know how dangerous it could have been? Fraternizing with the enemy is exactly what got us into trouble with the Changrettas!”

“And fraternizing with them again has given us an advantage. We know how many associates he’s brought with him, and where they are staying. Good God,” Your eyes widen as you see the mutinous look on Tommy’s face. “Are you jealous?”

The silence of the room presses in until it's almost palpable. Finally he rubs a hand over his eyes, looking utterly defeated.

“I have no right to.” He says, pained. “But I am, just the same.”

The admission of his feelings would have made your heart soar a few days ago, before you met a man who enchanted you in the Garrison. You only laugh bitterly.

“What makes this different from all those other times you made me seduce the men you wanted to spy on?”

He says nothing. But what else is there to say? The past is in the past, and so many hurts have been caused by the both of you, it would be impossible to untangle it all.

You soften your voice, laying a hand on Tommy's arm.

“Let me continue seeing him. He wants me, and we can use that. You know it will be help, you know it might save us all.”

A breath flutters in your chest as you wait for his decision. If Tommy allows it, you’ll do it in a heartbeat. The Shelbys are your family, whether you're one in name or not.

But if he refuses, then perhaps… Perhaps he might actually care for you, deeper than jealousy, deeper than he admits.

“Very well.” Tommy says finally, and something in your heart shatters. The corners of your mouth curve up in a wobbly smile.

“Thank you for trusting me, Tommy. I won’t let you down.”

“You would never let me down, no matter what you do. Just…Be careful, Izzy.”

He closes the distance between you and enfolds you in a hug. You enjoy this quiet warmth, as fragile as spider's silk. With a small laugh, you pull away, patting his arm before turning to the door.

You don't look back to see if he follows.

#luca changretta #luca changretta smut #luca changretta x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby

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staticscreenwriting · 4 years ago

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LOVE LIKE THE MOVIES // BUCKY BARNES // 7

SEVEN - SERENDIPITY

Trigger warning: Alcohol, food

Masterlist

Summary: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for TFATWS)

“Okay, that’s ridiculous!” Bucky mumbles around a spoonful of fruit loops.

“What is?”

“This,” he responds and points his now empty spoon accusingly at John Cusack. “This whole fate thing. The book, sure, might happen. But the dollar bill? Never!”

(Y/N) puts her empty bowl on the couch table, turning her body towards Bucky and sitting in a criss-cross style. “You telling me you don’t believe in fate and soulmates and that some people are destined to be together.”

“No,” Bucky retorts in a tone that implies it was a silly question to even ask him. “I am 106 years old. If those things were true you'd think I would've found my destined partner by now."

"Maybe you have" (Y/N) shrugs. "Maybe it's Leah. Have you called her anyway?"

Bucky looks down sheepishly into the colorful milk swirling through his bowl. "No."

“ What? Why not? “

“Because it hasn’t — oh I don't know. It just hasn’t felt right.”

He’d been debating on giving her a call many times, never actually going through with it. At first, it was for a fear of failure, rejection. Now though, Leah doesn’t cross his mind as much as before. His thoughts, he noticed recently, are occupied by another person. And it wouldn't be fair to Leah or himself to try and build something on shaky ground at best.

“ Dude, I’m educating you on romance and you are too afraid to call this girl? “

“ Educating me? You are forcing me to watch rom coms. “

“ Forcing you? “ (Y/N) gasps and dramatically slaps her hand to her chest right above where her heart is. “ Are you saying you’re not having fun? “

There’s a smirk on her face, tiny and barely there but he notices it anyway. He’s started noticing the small things. Like how her nose scrunches up when she smiles and how she twiddles with her fingers when she’s nervous.

“ If I didn’t have fun I wouldn’t be here. “ Bucky replies and bumps his leg against her knee. Truth be told, he’d be here anyway. Even if she’d make him watch the most boring movie in the entire world he’d stay right there with her. Sometimes the world doesn't seem so rough and ruthless when she’s there beside him. Sometimes he feels like he could genuinely be happy.

“ Good, “ (Y/N) responds and places a quick kiss on his cheek that very nearly gives him a heart attack. Soft touches are something she grants him every so often and while he is getting used to it, it’s still foreign. It’s something he enjoys quite a lot though.

“Anyway, soulmates finding their way back to each other despite all odds is such a rom-com stable. Like the kiss in the rain or the airport chase or the top-of-the-stairs-moment.”

“ The what ? “

(Y/N) scoffs at him as if she’s never been asked a more ridiculous question in her life.

“ The moment when the girl gets a makeover or she dresses up in some ballgown and her love interest waits at the bottom of the stairs for her and when he sees her he’s so enamored and enchanted by her and ideally there’s some cheesy 90s love song playing in the background. And she meets him at the bottom, walking in slow motion obviously, and they don’t kiss or anything but the looks they share are enough to let the audience know what they feel for one another.”

Her words are heavy with passion and longing and magic and for a second Bucky wishes, he could be the one to give her that moment.

“ But okay, grumpy. You go on not believing in soulmates. I’ll change your mind one day, trust me.”

He doesn’t doubt it for a second.

They sink back into their blissful calm as John Cusak and Kate Beckinsale reconnect on the ice rink in front of Rockefeller Center as an ocean of Christmas lights twinkles in the background.

“ I’ve never been ice skating there. Been living here for so many years now and that’s still something I’ve never done. “ (Y/N) pipes up, a longing swinging alone with her words. “ Have you? “

“ Mmmh. Used to take a lot of girls on dates there. “

“ Oh sorry, I forgot you were a big charmer back in the day. “

“ Saw the first-ever Christmas tree getting set up in 1933. '' he continues to say. Sometimes talking about the past makes him sad. It’s a time he will never be able to go back to. A man he will never be again.

But sometimes, like today, he’s able to recall little snippets of memories and remember how he felt in that exact moment. And those are worth all the pain that thinking about the future might bring.

“ That — is weird flex but actually really cool. “

Bucky doesn’t think of himself as cool. He’s a grumpy 106-year-old who is completely disillusioned with the world around him. If (Y/N) thinks so though, he’s not gonna try to change her mind.

She snuggles back into him, body leaning against the smooth vibranium arm. A part of him he never felt really belonged to himself. Something he had been given to kill, to defend, to fight. If something so dangerous can be a place of comfort to her, Maybe, he thinks, it’s not so bad after all. Maybe sometimes you just have to let go of the part and change your perspective of things.

For a while, they get lost in the movie, in the fictional love of two strangers. He remembers the romance novels his mothers used to read. The way she would get lost in them. Maybe to escape her own life for just a second and follow along with the stories and the people that seemed so much grander than her own existence as a housewife stuck in a life that seems too small to contain her in all her wonderful glory. His mother, Bucky always knew even at a young age, deserved more than she had been given. She was smart and funny and she loved her kids as much as a heart could love another. But her days were dull and her marriage was one of convenience more than anything. She had ideas, beautiful stories swirled around her head, and she’d tell them to him and his sister before she’d tuck them into bed. And yet that is where they stayed, in her mind and in her children's memories. She was never resentful though. She took things as they came and she made them beautiful.

He wonders sometimes, what would’ve come from her ideas if she had been given the chance to tell them to a bigger audience. She could’ve put those rom-coms to shame.

A knock on the front door startles (Y/N), making her get up from the couch and follow LAdy towards the entrance. There’s a definite lack of warmth where she used to be and Bucky feels himself missing her already.

“ It’s probably Robin, she left her favorite jacket here the other — mom? “

The air fills with a chaotic mix of several voices one speaking over the other while the charm on Lady’s collar underlines it all with a jingling sound like that of a small bell.

Before he can even think about how to react, (Y/N) steps back into the living room followed by two more people. A woman who looks like an older version of her and a man. They seem lost in conversation still, talking about their travel to NYC and the fact that the man, who Bucky assumes is (Y/N)’s father, refused to ask for directions.

That’s until their eyes fall on Bucky. The woman regards him with a gentle smile on her face, polite and warm as mothers usually are. The man though. There’s something in his eyes, in his demeanor, that changed once he set sight on Bucky and it doesn’t feel good. Bucky knows what it’s like to be recognized. People see him and then they see all the bodies left in his wake, all the blood on his hands, all the pain and the suffering and the —

“ Sergeant Barnes. “

They used to call him that in Wakanda, as a sign of respect, he believes. To make him realize that they do not see him as the thread he used to be but the man he once was. Other than that it’s been a long time since people referred to him as Sergeant Barnes. It’s a title he takes pride in, something he worked hard for. It also belongs to a man he isn’t anymore. Bucky isn’t sure he still earns it. Still owns it.

“ Uh — hello. “

“Dad, “ (Y/N) says and pushes past her parents to stand next to Bucky. Her hand rests on his arm as a sign of comfort and reassurance. He appreciates it very much. “ Mom. This is Bucky. “

“ I can’t believe it. “ her father exclaims, still not taking his eyes off of Bucky.

“ Dad. “

“ I can not believe it. I can’t believe you! “

There it is. Although Bucky has always been very aware that he wasn’t nearly worth (Y/N)’s time, having it thrown in his face hurts more than he likes to admit.

“ Dad … “

“ You know James Barnes, and you tell me nothing about it? (Y/N) I’ve — I’ve spent so much time researching this man revising all the information people before me have gathered and making sure his legacy and his place in Steve Rogers' life get acknowledged and now I’d have the chance to ask him personally and you — you keep it a secret from me? “

Wait … what ?

“ Bucky, “ (Y/N) says and looks up at him with her gorgeous eyes that never seem to fail at calming him down. “These are my parents and as you can tell, my dad’s a big fan of yours. “

The next few minutes are a chaos of handshakes and nice-to-meet-yous and hugs. Her mother hugs Bucky real tightly, the way mothers do when they know someone needs a hug. And she doesn’t flinch when she feels the metal arm. She just hugs him a little tighter.

“ Why are you guys here? “ (Y/N) asks as her father throws an arm around her shoulder

“ Well, you asked us to look after Lady while you’re gone. “ her mother replies as if it’s the obvious answer.

“ Yeah, but we don’t leave until Friday afternoon. It’s Thursday. “

“ That is truuuue. But dad and I thought we’d surprise you and take you out for a nice dinner since we won’t be spending Christmas together, we thought we could at least try to make up for it. “

(Y/N) shakes her head at her mother’s words. “ I told you guys, it’s not a big deal. You go enjoy your cruise. “

“ And we will but you’re our girl and we want to take you out for dinner. Give your old parents that much, will you” her father jokes and ruffles her hair as if she was just a little girl and maybe she is in that moment, wrapped in his arms.

“ I uh — Bucky and I had plans. “

“ What plans? “ her mother asks, eyebrows raised.

“ Watching movies. “

“ Oh, those aren’t plans. Go get dressed! “

“ And James will obviously come with us, “ her dad adds “ I am not done asking him questions. “

It’s not December yet but the restaurant is already decked out in Christmas lights and tastefully placed sparkly ornaments. The soft lull of Christmas carols being played on a piano flows through the room and Bucky is thankful to discover that while so much has changed, many of those songs have stayed the same. Maybe things aren’t all different right now. Maybe the fundamental things have stayed the same. Like the feeling of being with your family sitting by the tree, singing songs that have been passed down from your parents to you.

(Y/N) sits next to him, lips painted the exact same shade of red as her slouchy knit sweater. She looks so cozy and comfortable and soft and if he’s being really honest with himself, all he wants to do is hold her tight and get lost in her warmth. But this is good, as good as it can ever get, really. Sitting next to her, across from her parents who have been nothing but kind to him. They’re eating good food, drinking delicious drinks and her parents are sharing funny and slightly embarrassing stories about (Y/N). This is the first time he’s meeting anyone’s parents as the man he is now. And even back in the 40s things weren’t this calm and easy. If you went to meet a woman’s parents you better came prepared. This feels nice. Like he gets to be part of a family for just a teeny tiny moment.

“ So, how long have you guys been together? “ her mother asks around a fork of tiramisu. While Bucky only looks at her with wide eyes, (Y/N) almost chokes on her wine.

“ Mom, we’re — not. We’re friends. “

“ Oh,” her mother replies, looking unconvinced as her eyes move back and forth between (Y/N) and Bucky “ I guess I must’ve read that wrong. Shame, you would make adorable babies. “

“ Mom!”

Bucky’s sure his cheeks are the same color as her sweater and her lips and her fingernails. A beautiful bright red. Like a Santa’s hat.

“ I know, babe. You’re an independent woman who makes her own decisions and if you decide not to have babies that’s alright with us. As long as you are happy, so are we. Lady makes for a wonderful substitute grandchild. Just sayin’ if you were to have babies with Bucky they would turn out really cute. “

“ Okay, how about we stop talking about my imaginary potential future children, huh? You go tell me more about work, dad. How about that? “

As her dad starts talking about some history classes he teaches and the students, Bucky notices the change in (Y/N)’s demeanor. Her laid-back ease is gone. She keeps fidgeting with her hair and the rings on her hand. Without really thinking about it, like his body is working on autopilot, Bucky reaches out and grabs her hand under the table. It’s still weird, touching soft skin with his metal hand without the intention of inflicting pain. It’s nice though. It’s wonderful.

She doesn’t let go for a long time.

Restrooms in restaurants are places where time is slightly altered. You’re sheltered from the noises of the main room but they’re still faintly audible through the door. The clinking of glasses and cutlery, the laughter, and the voices as they flow together like waves in an ocean.

It feels like you get a break from the real world for just a moment. To catch yourself. To take a breath. To look at yourself in the mirror and decide your next steps as the music sounds from the overhead speakers in a duller version as if someone wrapped the lyrics in thick cotton padding.

(Y/N) washes her hands while looking at her reflection. Today’s a good day. It’s not going the way she has expected it but it’s a good day nonetheless. Bucky and her parents get along like a house on fire. It’s a nice feeling but it also makes her so acutely aware of all the what-ifs floating around her head and her heart. Would it feel like this if she and Bucky were more than friends? Would it feel this �� right?

Before her mind can come up with an answer to her own question, the door to the restrooms swings open letting in a sliver of the noise outside. Her mother steps in and looks at her with that signature mom smile. Like she knows you better than you know yourself. And maybe that isn’t entirely wrong.

“ Your dad and I are going to take a cab to the hotel. We’ll come over to yours tomorrow before you leave. Is that okay? Bucky said he’d walk you home.”

Of course, he’d say that. He’s a gentleman. He’s Bucky.

“ Sure that’s fine. I’m glad you guys came a day early. I missed you. “

“ We missed you too, baby,” she responds and pulls (Y/N) into a hug.

“ Now tell me something,” she says and takes (Y/N)’s face in between her hands. “ You and Bucky. There’s something there. “

(Y/N) shakes free from her mother's touch and faces the mirror, leaning both hands against the marble sink. “ Mom, can you leave it. “

“ I see the way you guys look at each other. I — you haven’t been this happy in so long. He makes you happy. “

As she lifts her head and looks into her own eyes in the mirror, (Y/N) feels a flood of emotions wash over her. Emotions she’s tried so hard to suppress and others she wasn’t even aware were there in the first place. And it’s all comes crashing down pulling her under and spitting her back out.

“ So what if he makes me happy. We’re not gonna happen. I can not lose a friend and he can’t either. It would kill us both. “

“ Oh honey, “ she goes to pull (Y/N) into another hug but she just shakes her head in response.

“ No. No, mom. It’s okay. I’m okay with it being the way it is. “

“ Are you sure? “

Is she? (Y/N) looks back at herself. You think you know yourself and what you want and how you feel and then someone asks you, truthfully asks you if you’re sure. And you can only stare and wonder. Well, are you?

And sometimes it’s way easier to lie, to both the other person and yourself, than to really face your fears and your feelings and everything you do or don’t understand about yourself.

“ Yeah. I am sure. “

It’s true. New York City never seems to fully go to sleep. There’s always a light on somewhere, guiding you through the dark, guiding you home.

It doesn’t fully go to sleep but it slows down. The air gets heavier, the noise gets quieter.

(Y/N) and Bucky slowly make their way through the familiar streets of their neighborhood as the city lights and the stars fight over who gets to shine more brightly upon them.

It’s a chilly evening, winter is truly just around the corner, and the air feels pregnant with the promise of snow and yet (Y/N) feels a warmth course through her that is unlike any other. A warmth that can only be brought on by being with your loved ones.

“ It’s a lovely night,” she says as her heels create a clip-clap sound against the pavement.

Bucky has his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jacket and his ever-present scowl decorates his face and yet, even Bucky can’t deny that it is a lovely night. One with so much potential. For — for lovers.

“ It really is.”

“ If life was a movie, “ (Y/N) says “ this would be when we realized that we're in love"

Bucky only raises his eyebrow at her, pushing her to elaborate. And maybe it’s a bit selfish. Maybe he just wants to hear her entertain the thought of them two as something more for just a little bit longer. Even if it’s just pretend.

“ We’d get a montage of some quirky dates that we didn’t realize were dates. Then the camera would pan down on us tonight, walking underneath the stars, the city lights glowing around us. There’d be some piano music in the background to set the mood. We’d have a deep talk about our fears or messed up childhoods or the meaning of life. And then you’d make me laugh and I’d accidentally hold your hand. You’d drop me off at my door, think about kissing my lips but then end up kissing my forehead. Once you leave I’d lean against my door, sink down to my floor, and grin like a fool because that’s the moment I realize I am in love with you and the audience would sigh in relief because they knew all along. “

“ That sounds nice,” Bucky replies, eyes staring into the distance as he tries to picture it all, safe it as a mental snapshot to go back to in quiet moments.

“ Yeah, well what a shame life is not a movie and we’re not in love. What a waste of a lovely night. “

“ Guess it’s perfect for a couple, huh? “ Bucky has to agree with her.

“ Mmmh. Or at least someone not in heels, “ (Y/N) jokes looking down at her shoes.

“ You want me to find a couple? Gift our night to them ? “ Bucky asks as they continue their journey down the Brooklyn streets.

“ Absolutely not, sir! “ (Y/N) responds and links her arm with his as she pulls him along. “ I like our night. I want to keep it for ourselves. “

And so they continue their walk home. Words that want to be said, that need to be said, hang heavy in the air, and yet they both decide to stay quiet and just enjoy the silence and comfort of their lovely little night.

The door feels like mocking her as it comes into view, cutting their moment short, putting an end to this blissful night.

She doesn’t want it to end. Doesn’t want to go inside and quite literally close the door to all the possibilities this night seems to hold out to her. If she was just brave enough to reach out and grab them.

(Y/N) unlock the door and turns back around to face Bucky. Something seems to hang in the air right between them and that feeling only gets stronger as their eyes lock. For a moment all there is, is silence and an abundance of unspoken words. And a fear that comes with speaking them. Of messing something up. Of being vulnerable.

Bucky smiles at her then. She loves his smile. It’s so rare but it’s so beautiful to look at. It gives you the feeling of having done something right.

“ Thanks for today, “ he says as if there’s anything to thank her for.

“ For what? “

“ Letting me be a part of your family. Thought maybe you didn’t want your parents to know about me. Thanks for — not being ashamed of me or anything. “

“ Oh Bucky, “ she says and grabs his hand, “ You are my friend and I love you. I’d never be ashamed of you. If anything I’m a little embarrassed by the way my dad kept pestering you with questions. Uh — why are you looking at me like that. “

“ You love me? “ his voice comes out but a mere whisper and his eyes are wide in shock.

“ Yes. You’re my friend, I love you. Bucky when — when was the last time someone told you they love you? “ (Y/N) asks as her hand softly strokes the side of his face.

“ 1942 “

“ Well, guess I’ll have to keep reminding you then, make up for lost time. I love you, Bucky Barnes. “

She can’t even blink before she’s wrapped up in his arms. Despite what one would think, Bucky is always warm. Even the vibranium arm. Everything radiates warmth and comfort. She could stay here forever.

Slowly he pulls away, looks deep into her eyes, lowers his head, and places his lips against her forehead. “ I love you too. “

He smiles at her once more then leaves. And while she won't admit it to anyone, ever, (Y/N) goes inside, leans against her door, sinks to the floor, and doesn't even try to suppress the foolish smile spreading on her lips.

Robin’s laughter fills the halls of the beautiful Inn where just tomorrow she’ll say I do.

“ This was your doing! You scheming little shit.” (Y/N) grumbles from the corner of her mouth as she slides up to Robin.

“ It wasn’t, “ the red-haired girl laughs “ but I wish it was. It’s hilarious.“

Redstone Lodge is a beautiful Inn located in upstate New York. It looks out onto a lake and is surrounded by lots and lots of Christmas trees all year round. It’s made of bricks and big wooden panels. Very rustic and yet cozy and elegant. In the yard, there’s a huge tent with a wooden floor and a see-through roof. That’s where the reception will be held tomorrow.

Redstone Lodge has 35 rooms all of which have been distributed to the various guests. They’re beautiful rooms with nice decor and comfortable beds. Well — a bed. One. Singular.

“ This is like some fanfiction trope, Robin. There is only one bed? “

“ Look," Robin says and pulls (Y/N) closer “ if you want to switch, find someone to switch with. I’m sure someone is willing to. But I’m just saying that if you two are friends, shouldn’t you be able to sleep in a bed together and not make it weird? “

She has a point and she knows it and she also knows that (Y/N) knows it.

Huffing a breath of annoyance (Y/N) grumbles an “okay fine” before letting Robin be taken hostage by yet another overly excited aunt and returns to Bucky’s side as he stands on the front steps looking out into the vast area. It really is a beautiful place to get married.

“ Hey so uh — bad news is that this is the only room they have so we’ll have to share a bed. Good news is they got some movies to take up to the room and I found some really dope rom-coms. “

“It's okay, don't worry. I promise I won't hog the blanket,” Bucky says and nods his head into the direction of the lake “ wanna take a walk? “

“ Sure. Yeah, why not. “

In all honesty (Y/N) isn’t the biggest fan of walking around the woods with no particular destination in mind and yet she can’t help but feel a sense of happiness fill her as she links her arm with Bucky’s once again.

She realized a while ago that she tends to gravitate towards his left side. It isn’t a conscious decision but maybe it’s a good one nonetheless.

Maybe it’ll show him that every part of him is worth loving, even the ones he doesn’t love himself.

“ When was the last time you did something crazy? “

He doesn’t like the way those words sound tumbling from her lips. He does, however, like very much how her eyes sparkle in the light of the setting sun. Their walk had turned into a bit of a hike and by the time they’ve finally made it back to the lake, the sun is about to set. Everyone seems to have retreated back into the lodge, maybe to sit by the big cozy fireplace or up to their room with their several beds. More than one. plural.

Bucky doesn’t want to let go of their time together though. Not yet. Just a little bit longer. And if that means agreeing to one of her weird ideas, so be it.

"Uh well, I fought aliens a few months ago."

"Huh … well see that's not an answer I was prepared for I mean more like, when did you last do something stupid but fun?"

“Like dancing in the middle of a street or having a cake fight in a parking lot?”

“Yeah …. like that.”

She looks at him again with that mischief and that softness. Like a mix of all things that make you feel alive shine back at him from her eyes.

“Wanna go swimming?” (Y/N) asks and smirks at him.

“Now? It’s freezing.”

“ I know,” she replies and shrugs her shoulders “ and I know it’s silly and dumb and we’ll probably get sick but I kinda wanna do it anyway. Wait … can you get sick?”

“Huh?”

“Because of the serum.”

“You know, they didn’t exactly give me a manual when they injected it so — guess we’ll have to find out.”

“So you’re in?”

Bucky only nods his head in agreement. She doesn’t need to know that he’d agree to anything she suggests. Any little thing.

The woods around them are dark and thick and where they probably should be scary they are comforting now. They’re a shelter from the eyes of onlookers. A safe roof and walls to keep their little bubble safe and hold their moment tight and safe.

“Holy shit, it’s freezing!” (Y/N) hisses through clenched teeth as the water reaches up to her shoulders, the straps of her yellow bra the only colors shining through the dark night.

Don’t think about it. He has to tell himself. Don’t think about the fact that she’s only in her underwear. Don’t think about her soft skin and her smile and what her body feels like against yours. Don’t!

He doesn’t have to scold himself for too long before a cold splash of water hits him right in the face.

“Oh, you made a mistake” Bucky calls out to a laughing (Y/N) who tries her best to tread water and get as far away from him as possible but fails to do so, being wrapped up in his arms only seconds later.

For the next few minutes, they splash around like children at the neighborhood pool.

The cold of the night and the lake rattle their bones but neither of them seems to care as a familiar warmth wraps itself around their hearts.

It’s really fascinating how the little moments can become so meaningful. How one person can mean so much so quickly. How drastically your life can change just because of one single person and their kindness and their love.

“Oh-oh!” (Y/N) exclaims excitedly and lays little enthusiastic slaps on Bucky’s shoulder “let’s do the dirty dancing lift. You can lift me, right?”

“I have a vibranium arm…”

“Right. Yeah. Right.”

Bucky places his hands on her waist and pulls her a little closer, trying to ignore the incessant thumping of his heart that feels like it wants to break out of his chest. “Okay on 3.”

“One”

Her eyes look deep into his as if trying to search for something in them. Secrets. Hidden feelings. The truth.

“Two”

And when she smiles, almost shy, it seems for a second that she’s found whatever she’s been looking for. He hopes she likes the secret she uncovers. He hopes it doesn’t scare her off from loving him.

“Three”

In a swift motion, he lifts her up above his head, holding her strong and steady as drops of water, cold as ice, rain down on him while (Y/N) laughs and stretches out her arms.

“We did it! I’m flying, Jack!”

“What?”

“Nevermind.” She retorts and lets out another laugh. Yeah, maybe he’s freezing his ass off but to hear her laugh like that, makes it all worth it.

He doesn’t let her fall over like they do in the movie, instead, he grips her waist tighter, slowly and gently lowers her back into the water. And when she’s back right in front of him, chest against his, he should be letting go of her, but he doesn’t.

While his head keeps screaming at him to just let go, his heart tells him otherwise, makes him stay right there.

(Y/N)’s arms move across his chest and gently wrap themselves around his neck before her fingers start to delicately play with his hair.

He wonders if any person has ever felt the way he does in that moment. He wonders if maybe a poet or a writer or a musician has and if maybe they wrote a poem or a book or a song about it. Maybe that would help him understand. Maybe he could read it or listen to it and keep this moment captured in that piece of art forever. Because he fears that no memory can ever do justice to the way he feels when she moves closer.

When her hand cups his face when her nose nuzzles against his so gently as if she’s afraid he’ll pull away any second.

It’s just them and their wildly beating hearts and the woods providing them shelter and the water setting the scene and the stars shining down upon them.

It’s just them — until it isn’t.

“(Y/N), Bucky? You guys out there?” Robin's voice calls out into the night as her silhouette appears against the light coming from the porch of the Inn.

“Yes, it’s us. We’ll be right in.” (Y/N) calls back, having moved away slightly. The spell is broken and Bucky lifts his hand off of her, immediately missing the contact.

“It’s freezing, we should probably go inside.” She says and grants him a smile, though it doesn’t entirely reach her eyes and he can faintly see her shivering.

“Yeah let’s go. Get you warmed up.”

They don’t talk about their moment as they head inside and get swallowed by the group of people all hyped up with excitement for the coming day.

Bucky is sure though that as long as there are stars in the sky, he will not forget this moment however fleeting and insignificant it might seem.

TAGLIST FORM (fill this out to be added)

Taglist // if you want to be added or taken off just message me :) //:

@zaynyierulez - @je-like-you - @dracoxxyoflam - @jackiehollanderr - @majo240820 - @kay-gilles - @booksb4looksstuff - @jckie94 - @charmed-asylum - @shawnie--jo - @yllwtaxi - @tailsoflightning - @giuliarogers - @mangoogirl - @gerim-1995 - @elen-alambil - @threeminutesoflife - @writeroutoftime - @buckybarn3s - @rosaline-black - @kenziekugler22 - @vghz82 - @frnkensteingrl - @lovefreylove - @cherryofdeath - @bluemoon-icecream - @mariusprincess-blog -

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x freader #james barnes x f!reader #james barnes x reader #James Barnes x female reader #avengers imagine #avengers imagines #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years ago

Text

cardigan

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: violence

a/n:��this is a limited three part series based on three of my favourite songs from taylor swift’s 2020 life saving albums; cardigan, willow and invisible string. this one is cardigan, hope you enjoy xx

WILLOW

She clutched onto her worn out brown leather bag as she stepped inside the her father’s precinct. There wasn’t much that looked different from when she was a little girl, the tables still stood on the same messy layout which made no sense, the officers still didn’t look up whenever someone came in and the whole room smelled like stale coffee and burnt bread. The only difference was that the once endless room now felt small, nauseating, confining, a place where she didn’t want to be.

- Y/N. - her father’s voice rang through the small room, making her look up to where he was standing. Captain William, or dad if she was lucky enough to call him as such, was an intimidating presence even after all these years yet after her mother’s death it was him who was left of her family. - Come in.

Her shoes felt heavy as she stepped inside his office, two more officers standing inside as she walked with her father. He closed the door, nodding his head which was a tell tale for everyone to sit down. She sat at the end of the dark green couch, away from the other two officers who were looking her up and down as if she were a prey.

- I told you she would be perfect. Inconspicuous, he wouldn’t even think she’s undercover.

- She’s not the type of woman Barnes go for.

- She doesn’t need to be the type of woman he goes for, she needs to be the one who works in his bar and listens to their plans.

Her father had told her about James Barnes. They had been trying to get him in for minor offences yet nothing seemed to pan out. The force knew they could never apprehend him for the crimes he knew he had committed but if they could get him in for something small: weapon charge, drug charge, something. For that to happen they needed someone to be in their circle and unluckily for them, Barnes and his men knew everyone who worked in the force but they didn’t know her. In return for her working in his bar, the force would pay her tuition fees as well as any books she needed.

“It won’t be hard” was what her father had told her but as they dropped her at the bar she couldn’t help but freeze at the door. They were expecting her, she had gotten the job yet she couldn’t find herself walking inside. In any other situation she would’ve rushed past it, it wasn’t the place she would like to be in. Her hand grasped the bar of the door, pushing it open. The nightclub looked vastly desert with squeaky clean floors and bright lighting which showed the dark aesthetic of every single owned Barnes club in town. She didn’t know the man but she knew his style, dark, sleek, leather, sensual even, enough to make people feel sexual whenever they walked into his club. Yet, in broad daylight it was merely an abandoned establishment with one a table with a few hangover men still nursing a bottle of beer each, waiting for 7 PM for the club to come back to life.

She stood out like a sore thumb, dressed in brown tones. A loose gingham black dress over a brown turtle neck covered and low black Mary Janes. Her eyes roamed the room, looking for someone to speak to but someone found her first. A tall man, probably pushing fifty, toothpick hanging from his lips and dirty rag on his left hand. She felt short, cowering under the gaze of the man.

- You're the new girl, or what? - he questioned, thick Brooklyn accent yet Y/N didn’t dare reply, instead nodding at him. - Do you have a name?

- Y/N.

- Y/N, that’s nice. I’m Bobby, I’m the bar supervisor. You wanna talk to anyone? You talk only to me and you’ll do well.

She nodded her head quickly, almost like a bobble head figure, following him behind to bar. Now Y/N knew about bars or at least what they did in them, she just wasn’t expecting to see the huge amount of spirits, wines, and beers behind her. She was almost sure if someone robbed the club, they’d be better off with the booze than the money in the cash register. The man, Bobby, ran through the basics, showing here with the cleaning products were, where some more complicated cocktail mixtures were written, how the washing machine worked and how crucial it was to constantly collect glasses from the bar and put them in there. She held a small reporter notepad, pen scribbling down messy wiggles which she wouldn’t be able to understand later on but it was still worth it. She could memorise it, she was a university student after all hence her memory for cocktails shouldn’t be hard. Everything was so polished, meticulously placed, almost too organised for a bar; the bottles placed onto glass shelves which light from under, placed almost the same measure apart in a sea of expensive beverages.

- Don’t serve any drinks to people who haven’t presented a payment form. If the boss comes in, serve him whiskey on the rocks. Glenlivet, no other brands.

- I’ve never seen the boss.

- You’ll know.

She was left there watching as more staff came in, the sun going down at the same time. “Just breathe, Y/N” she remembered her father’s words, she could do it, she could do it. How hard could it possible be to be a bartender? Just breathe, Y/N. She can do it, she can help his father, she can do this and then no longer have to worry about how many hours she would have to do at that little mean shop which had taken more of her than she gave them. She could be a regular university student, she just needed to breathe.

The purple, blue lights started to light the sunlight coloured bar as people started to queue up outside for a chance to get inside one of the most famous bars in town. She could faintly remember hearing her friends talking about how exclusive it was but as she looked out the window and at the queue she could finally understand it. As the doors opened and people started flocking in, suddenly she was serving drinks left and write, vodka and other shoots drenching her dress and apron as she messily tried to serve everyone at the bar screaming at her to hurry up. She kept running around like a crazy person, dragging bottles and bottles and pouring drinks which kept overfilling and dropping onto the floor. People kept yelling at her “hey sugar, how long does it take you to bring me some vodka?” but one man who was sitting still, gaze glued onto her while a cigarette hanged from the middle of his lips. She cowered under his gaze returning to hand a tray of jello shots to some girls.

She continued to work until the last person was out of the bar but the man remained calmly leaned against the bar, the flame of his cigarette dying down. She tried to avoid him, pretending to clean the spot over and over again but the man merely scoffed, rubbing the butt of the cigarette against the ash tray.

- You’re terrible. - he spoke out, voice raspy. - Who hired you?

- That’s nothing to do with you. - Y/N turned around to place back the bottles onto the shelves.

- Are you the owner?

- No. - she placed the bottles on the shelf, hands shaking.

- Then it is something to do with me. - the air seemed to be punched out of her lungs, as her grip tightened around the neck of the bottle she was holding. She refused to turn around and look at him, understanding what it implied. Instead she just looked at herself in the glass wall. Just breathe, Y/N. - Can I get a ...

- Glenlivet. - she rose herself on her tippy toes, interrupting him mid sentence. Grabbing from ice from under the bar, she added it to the glass, topping it with the expensive whiskey before placing it under a black square napkin. She continued to wipe down the counter until Bobby came back from the storage unit with more alcohol.

- You can go now, Y/N. I’ll see you at 7. - Bobby dismissed her and almost like thunder, she bolted off, not even stopping and allowing him to question why their boss was sitting at the bar.

Clutching her bag against her chest she started walking up to campus. She had done it, or at least managed to do something yet get no information her father wanted. That is unless her father wanted to know James Barnes’ drink of choice which she was pretty sure he didn’t want to know. Reaching her flat, she turned the key around, opening the door to see her friend Wanda waiting in the couch.

- You’re alive. - she mocked, turning the TV on. - Once again, tell me why you said yes to working in a mob bar ...

- It’s not a mob bar, Wanda.

- It is a bar owned by a mob boss who has been blamed on several murders. It is a mob bar.

- I’m just a bartender, nothing is gonna happen.

- Can you tell me again why you’re doing this? Your father is the reason why you were raised by John Hughes’ movies.

- Okay, Wanda, you made your point. - Y/N took her jacket off, hanging it onto one of the hooks in the door.

- I’m buying you pepper spray.

- Pepper spray is illegal, Wan.

- So is the bar you’re working.

- Okay. I’ll be careful, don’t worry. I’ll go to sleep now.

Wanda continued to ramble about her working where she was but there was really nothing she could do other than continue. All she had to do was breathe and listen and the department would pay for her tuition for the rest of her degree. Small price to pay for a much bigger price.

As another day started, the routine started once again with her awaking up and running into class with Wanda complained about her brother followed by spending the rest of her free time until her shift began. Walking back to the bar she was telling herself once more that she would be just fine and that Wanda slipping a knife inside her bag was only her overreacting. Stepping inside the same building, Bobby was setting some shoot glasses on the counter.

- Y/N. - he acknowledged her. - Glad to see you’re still here.

- Wouldn’t be anywhere else. - she placed her bag and jacket under the bar and tied her apron around her waist. - Busy day?

- Fridays are the busiest. All the university kids. Let me know if you need a hand.

- I’m sure I’ll be okay.

Once again, wrong. She was not okay and as everyone found themselves flocking to the bar she was already running around like a crazy person, holding two bottles on each hand as people. The lights were blinding, shining on her as she served and slide more drinks onto the bar counter and to the waitresses who’d give her snide remarks whenever she took too long. Her hands were numb from the ice already yet her face was warm from moving side to side. At least, Mr. Barnes wasn’t around and that was already something she could be thankful for. She knew she had to eventually speak to him if she wanted to ever hear anything or maybe she wouldn’t have; she was good at being invisible, maybe she could just overhear something without having to ever speak with him.

- Hey, sugar, where’s my drink? - a sluggish voice came from the bar and Y/N ignored it. Bobby told her, if anyone sounds or looks drunk to cut them off that “Mr. Barnes doesn’t need drunk people being roudy in his bar”. She continued to serve the group of girls celebrating passing an exam until the man moved over to them. - Hey, I asked where is my drink?

- Sorry, you’re cut off. - she shrugged, grabbing some glass onto a plastic bucket so Bobby could put them in the washing machine.

- What the fuck? C’mon give me my drink.

- No. - Y/N just ignored it, turning around to put the bottles back onto the shelves.

- Well then be useful and show me your tits. - the man scoffed as if it was the best joke in the world. Y/N turned around, speechless at what he had said before grabbing an half empty drink from the bar and throwing it at him which surprised the man just as much. - You bitch!

- What’s the problem here? - fuck. Of course he had to show up. Mr. Barnes made his way towards them, holding that same powerful yet frightening stance as the strobing lights painted his face. His eyes were on her, waiting for her to say something but Y/N was mostly frozen. That was it, she was about to get shot, or worse, lose a finger or a leg or an arm. Oh god, how could she take exams without an arm?

- Your bartender isn’t serving me. - he pointed at her as if he were a 5 year old.

- Really? - Barnes stood slightly behind him and all she could see in a glimpse second was his metal arm, reflecting the strobing lights, come up to the nape of the man’s neck before he slammed his face against the glass topping of the bar counter. Y/N was startled by this, jumping back against the wall of drinks. - Get the fuck out of my bar.

The man ran off, bloody nose, like a scared wounded animal leaving Y/N only to stare at him. Her mind rushed miles an hour, wondering if he had done that to someone what he would do to her. She should’ve taken the pepper spray from Wanda.

- Get back to work. - he left her with that, turning around and getting lost in the sea of people dancing.

- Hey ... - Bobby touched her arm, waking her from her own mind. She looked at her hands; good she still had both hands. - Go take a break, wash the glasses, I’ll do the bartending for a while.

- I’m fine, Bobby.

- I know. I just want you to go do something else. - Y/N nodded, not wanting to disobey anyone yet she couldn’t help but be glad she would be in the back where the big washing machine was for most of the pint glasses and other oddly shaped cups. After all, Mr. Barnes wouldn’t be hanging in the kitchen.

She pushed her hair away from her face and put on the big pink gloves and started to wash the glasses and plates from some small appetisers they sold until closing time started to near. Once the bar was cut off, she joined Bobby to clean the always messy bar and make it look as precise as it looked every single day. Another day survived, no limbs lost.

- That was a good one, Y/N. See you tomorrow. - Bobby bid her farewell as he exited through the door. Y/N stayed behind, moping the floor behind the mar which was mostly a pool of mixed drinks that she always somehow managed to overfill and drop onto the floor on her way to serve them. As she continued to mop, the person who she didn’t want to see sat at the bar and without much thinking, she served him his drink of choice.

- I ... hm ... I have to go, I have to walk home and my flatmate is waiting for me.

- You’re walking home with your flatmate?

- No, she’s waiting for me at the flat. - Y/N grabbed her cardigan, putting it on which immediately brought her a nostalgic warmth.

- I’ll drive you.

- Oh .. no, Mr. Barnes. It is not necessary, I’ve walked home before, I know the way.

- And I know the type of men who walk around my bar. - he downed the whiskey as if it were water. - Come on.

Oh god, I’m going to sleep with the fishes. He’s gonna kill me in his car. Y/N thought to herself as she followed him to the back of the bar where he had parked his car. Of course it was a good car, a new model black Audi with sleek matte black leathered seats which looked more expensive than everything together at the bar. She wondered how much money he made. Her father hadn’t told her much about him and all she knew was merely gossip. He opened the door for her which she took as a sign to get inside the car. Once in, she noticed how awfully warm it was, he probably had the heating on so she took off her cardigan, shoving it in front of her feet as he entered the car.

- Where am I dropping you?

- The student campus, south building

- You’re a student? - he asked as the motor roared, signalling the start of the car. - Why you working here then?

- It pays well. My mother paid for my first years but I still have my third one and a possible masters.

- Why not ask mum for the rest of the money then?

- Well she’s dead. - she said, not taking the eyes off the road. - Her inheritance lasted as long as it could but tuition is expensive.

- I’m sorry. - he tried to sneak a look at her but gave up, instead keeping his eyes on the road. - You’re a terrible bartender.

- You’ve said that one time already, I’ve heard it. If I’m so terrible why don’t you fire me?

- Bobby likes you. Says you’re a quick learner. Yet again, he likes every single wide eyed Disney Princess girl who works behind the bar. I give you a month or two before you quit or get knocked up.

- I’m not gonna quit and I’m not gonna get knocked up either.

- Got a boyfriend?

- No.

- Husband? Friends with benefits?

- I don’t have the time so if you want to get rid of me you’ll have to fire me.

- I don’t fire people. - she saw her building come closer and closer from the car window. - Is it that one?

- Yes. - she grabbed her bag, eager to leave the car before anything could happen.

- Hey, you got a black dress? - he asked as she exited the car and she nodded yes. - Good, bring it to work tomorrow.

She mumbled an okay as the car drove away. God, she was alive. Good. All she wanted now was to return to her home and in a few minutes she was back in her living room where Wanda and her twin brother Pietro were waiting for her. Of course waiting meant watching Shark Tank and discussing how bad all the inventions were.

- How was work in hell? - Wanda didn’t even look at her, eyes glued to the TV while she stuffed popcorn in her mouth.

- I didn’t need to use the knife you snuck into my bag, thank you.

- You snuck a knife onto her back? - Pietro looked dumbfound at his sister who immediately snapped back with a response.

- She’s working for James Barnes, she needs to carry a knife block and she’s lucky I only put a steak knife. - Wanda turned around in the couch. - Hey where’s your cardigan? I swear you left with it.

- Shit. - Y/N looked around. - Fuck, I’ve left it in his car.

- Whose car?

- Mr. Barnes’. He gave me a ride and I took my cardigan off because the car was so warm. Fuck. I’ll never see it again.

- Why were you in his car, are you crazy? - now Wanda was interested. Clearly her best friend’s lack of judgment was more interesting than the poor soul trying to pitch a tuna can opener shaped like a tuna to a bunch of executives.

- He gave me a ride ... oh and do you have a black dress?

- I do. - Pietro said gaining an odd look from the two girls. - What? Girls love me and I love them. Stuff get’s left behind. What can I say?

- You’re disgusting. - Wanda rolled her eyes.

taglist: @lookiamtrying @mariamermaid @sebastianstansqueen @unmagically

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky/reader #bucky/you #bucky/y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #mob boss!bucky #mob!bucky

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allyjoe755 · 4 years ago

Text

Here for You (Neville Longbottom x Reader)

Summary: Neville tries to find a way to comfort his friend in a troubling time.

Word Count: 1552

Warnings: Deals with death and alcohol. If you are sensitive towards either of these things, please be careful!

(A/N: I wrote this because I feel like there are not nearly enough Neville fics out there, and angst just seems to be up my alley recently. If you would like me to write something happy feel free to DM me. I’m totally open for taking requests.)

o-o-o

It was raining. Fitting, it seemed. Your leg shook as you threw back another shot. The alcohol burned as it slid down your throat.

You slammed the empty glass on the table and nodded your chin at the bartender. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. Maybe you weren’t the first person he’d seen trying to get drunk on a Tuesday morning. It didn’t matter. He was getting paid. He didn’t care what you were doing. People are selfish that way.

The bartender came over with another shot of bourbon. You gave him his money as he slid the glass over to you. It was a fair trade. You would pay anything to make the pain go away. Even if it was just a minute.

The door to the Leaky Cauldron opened. You didn’t look to see who it was. You didn’t care. They would be headed to Diagon Alley anyways. Or maybe they were like you. Wanting to get drunk on a Tuesday morning.

You threw back another shot.

The stool next to you was pulled back, and someone sat down. It must’ve been whoever walked into the pub. You didn’t care to look.

“I’ll have whatever she’s getting.”

You smirked a little. You knew that voice. The bartender came with another two shots of bourbon. The man sitting next to you threw it back. You hesitated.

“Didn’t think you were one for drinking in the morning, Longbottom,” you said. It was odd. Your voice sounded so strained.

“Thought you could use a friend,” Neville replied.

“How chivalrous.” You ran your finger across the tip of your glass. You didn’t mean to sound so callous. You didn’t care enough to apologize, either.

The pair of you sat in silence for a moment. You threw your shot back and slammed your glass on the bar.

Neville spoke up. “Maybe one of us should be responsible here.”

You barked out a dry laugh. “Well, have fun, ‘cause it sure won’t be me.”

“How many have you had?”

You looked at Neville through the corner of your eye and shook your head. “I make it a rule not to count.”

Neville shook his head. “You’re gonna hurt yourself, y/n.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” You waved over another round of shots.

“Y/n, STOP.” Neville called off the shots.

You slammed your palm on the counter and spun towards him. “What are you doing here?” You spat.

“What do you mean?” Neville asked.

“I mean,” you began, “it is ten o’clock on a Tuesday morning on a school day.” You inhaled. “You are a professor, Neville. So what are you doing, sitting next to me, at a pub?” Your breath shook as you released it.

Neville didn’t speak. A few individuals looked your way. You ignored them. You turned back to face the bar. At this point, you didn’t care. They didn’t have a place to judge.

“I… I know what day it is, y/n.” His voice softened. You hated when people did that.

“Well, I just told you what day it is, so I would hope so,” you replied, sarcasm dripping like venom.

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

You rolled your eyes. Tears were beginning to pool. Your leg began shaking again. Your body was betraying you.

“Please leave,” you whispered.

Neville began to stand up, but paused. He placed his hand on the counter. “You have people who are here for you, y/n,” he said softly. When you didn’t acknowledge him, he got up and left. After a few more minutes, you left too, apparating back to your apartment.

o-o-o

You didn’t remember the next few days. They flew by, and you were still numb. Neville’s words kept replaying in your head. You have people who are here for you. You tried to push them out. You couldn’t seem to get rid of them.

You laid in bed that night, tossing and turning. Sleep refused to come. You looked up to the ceiling and sighed. There was only one way to fix this. You knew that.

“Screw this,” you huffed, getting out of your covers and slipping some shoes on. As you apparated away, you chose not to care about the fact you were still in your pajamas.

Maybe this was a bad idea. You landed outside of a cherry red door. You knocked. There was no turning back now.

“Y/n?” Neville stood at the inside of his home, sporting a white t-shirt and blue pajama pants. “What are you doing here?”

Your arms were folded across your chest. You shrugged your shoulders. “I thought a year would do it for me, you know?” The tears were already beginning to pool up. “I thought that by now I would be over it.” A few tears began to slide down your cheeks. “Gah, what kind of idiot am I?”

Neville shook his head. “You’re no idiot, y/n.” He opened the door up more. “Come here.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You walked up and fell into his arms, sobs shaking your body like they never had before. What a sight it must have been. Here you were, with a former classmate you hardly found the time to talk to anymore, bawling like a baby in his embrace. He didn’t say anything. He just held you tight.

After a while, you pulled back and wiped your eyes. You knew you would probably start crying again, but it didn’t matter.

“You wanna come sit down?” Neville offered, his voice still soft.

You nodded. You walked in and sat down on an older brown sofa. You curled your legs up to your chest. You hoped Neville wouldn’t mind your feet were on the furniture. You didn’t think he would.

“Nice pajamas, by the way,” Neville commented, walking into his kitchen.

You let out a laugh and sniffled. “Thanks.”

“Want something to drink? Water?”

“Water sounds good,” you replied. Neville got you both a glass. He came back to sit down in the living room, on the loveseat across from you.

You smiled, thanked him for the water, and took a sip. “Do you have a coaster I can put this on?”

Neville shrugged his shoulders. “Coasters are overrated. You can just set it down.”

“Okay.”

A tangible silence hung in the air for a moment.

Neville was the first to speak. “You only have to talk if you want to, y/n.”

“Thanks, Neville,” you replied. You took in a deep breath. “But I need to talk about this.”

“I’m here to listen, then.”

You exhaled. The tears were starting to come back. You didn’t try to fight them. Instead, you smiled and shook your head. “He was so sweet,” you started with. Your voice trembled ever so slightly. “When we were little, we got our mom to enchant the pots and pans so they sounded like real drums. And we would beat on them for hours on end.” You shook your head. “It drove my dad crazy.” You took another shaky breath. “When he finally started going to Hogwarts he made everyone his friend. And he knew everyone’s name, and he smiled at everyone he saw. I never met anyone who didn’t love him.” Your legs started shaking. You threw your fist down onto the arm of the sofa. “And I hate it. I hate this.”

Neville leaned forward in his seat. “None of it was your fault, y/n.”

You nodded. “I know that,” you said. “I know that. It was an accident. It wasn’t anyone's fault, really. And that makes it so much worse, Neville. Because I wish I had someone to blame but I don’t.”

You took a sip of your water. Your hands were shaking. You took in a deep breath to try and calm yourself down. “With the Second Wizarding War, we all had someone to blame, you know? No one died in vain. But my brother did.” You let out an empty laugh. “I think about that every day.” You paused, wondering whether you should say what you really thought. “Sometimes… I’m horrible, because sometimes I wish he would’ve just died then, you know? Because then I’d have someone to blame. And I know that makes me an awful, horrible, rotten person.”

Neville shook his head. “You’re not a bad person, y/n. As crazy as it is, I understand.”

“I thought the pain was going to go away with time,” you continued. “But it doesn’t. It still hurts so bad.”

“I know,” Neville reassured. “It-” he sighed. “It takes a while. It’s going to. But you don’t have to carry it all alone.” He moved over to the couch you were sitting on. He pulled you in and held you tight. You cried some more. Even though everything still hurt, your tears were cathartic. A year’s worth of tears were finally being let go.

After a while, your tears started to slow. You began to calm down.

“I’m sorry for dumping this all on you, Neville,” you apologized. “But I appreciate it. I really do. I… I needed this.”

Neville smiled. “Like I said before, you have people who are here for you.” He paused for a moment. “I’d like to be one of those people.”

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k-writer1998 · 3 years ago

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Who Said Love Was Easy (9/12)

There are many different kinds of people who come and go from your life. Some will stay constant and sturdy like a river, growing alongside you, others will come like a whirlwind who wreaks havoc and leaves just as quickly, then there is everything in between. In this twisted maze of connections, that is where our story begins. A steadfast boy, a girl with a past, a little bit of alcohol, mistakes, and some love. Where can you go wrong with that?

angsty fluff

w.c: 1.5k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t know. I mean it's a good thing that my grandma is actually caring about me now right? But why do I have a bad feeling about it?”

“She’s an old woman who lost her only son. You learn things after someone dies, one of them is who was truly genuine and who had ulterior motives. From what I know she was the nicer few of the bunch to begin with, what’s wrong with her finally treating you like her own? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Well yeah but that was when my dad was still alive and my life wasn’t such a mess. I feel like this is just some calm for yet another storm to hit me.”

“Hey now, your life hasn’t been that bad.”

“Changbin. I was practically kicked out and for the first six months I was mooching off of you until Aunt Hyorin found me an affordable place. I couldn’t live off of the money I was left forever so I had to start working on top of going to school. My life has been living by solving one problem after the next. Now I’m set for university with my scholarships AND my estranged grandmother wants to love me? Too many “good” things are happening lately, something is bound to go wrong.”

“Stop being such a pessimist. Is it wrong to finally get what you deserve, a good life?”

“Optimism doesn’t keep you alive my friend. Pessimism is what allows me to still be sane even after all of that.”

“And this is why I’m taking you out drinking. You need to loosen up and unwind. Life doesn’t ever follow a set path so why worry when it hasn’t happened yet, especially when you have so many back up plans for this unknown inevitable,” he joked as pushed me yet another drink once he noticed mine had finished.

“Well last I checked, when I tried last time you got mad at me.”

“Those are two completely different things. I said loosen up not go wild. You were challenging people to drinking contests and the loser paid for the drinks. I had to literally guard you from guys trying to cop a feel at your drunk ass and don’t get me started on what happened when I took you home and accidentally put your code in at your neighbor’s door.”

“Okay the whole thing with Jaehyung-oppa was completely your fault. I’ve lived there for how long? And you still mistook his apartment for mine?”

“Well I’m sorry I was tired after having to drag your drunk self around as you whined and tried to fight me to let you stay out longer.”

“But hey, I never lost.”

“Half the guys let you win cause every time you did you would jump around and hug them before rubbing it in their face,” he rolled his eyes.

“Fine, yet here you are taking me to drink once again so why are you questioning me?”

“This time isn’t one of your patterns though so we’re safe. Last time was pattern two because your brother-”

“Ah- we are not speaking about that or I will go back into pattern two just to spite you,” I warned. “Now if you’ll excuse me I need to use the restroom.”

I know Changbin is trying, he’s watched me fall apart after my brother who I thought was my only ally in that family iced me out like the rest of them. He was also beside me as I forced myself back up but I knew he could tell I wasn’t completely myself. All my motivation has since been drained and I’ve just simply been… living. Not like I didn’t have goals, it's just, I can see it within reach yet my feet refuse to move towards it as if they’ve rooted themselves to the ground beneath me. As I came back, Changbin was nowhere to be found and the bartender let me know he had stepped out to take a call. With a sigh I slumped back into my seat at the bar as I ordered a new drink. It felt like time ticked slowly as I waited for Changbin to come back. My eyes scanned the room, taking note of a few interesting characters until I noticed someone approaching. From the look in his eye and the sleazy smile on his face, his intentions were very clear. I immediately stood and made my way over to the first person at the bar that I saw alone and called out immediately.

“OMG is that you?! I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“I’ve never met you before though?” the boy mumbled.

“I’m sorry but please work with me. That guy over there is making me uncomfortable,” I dropped my voice so only he can hear, “you can just continue to mumble to yourself, don’t mind me. ”

“ By myself? But my friends were just-”

He moved his head around as if he had just noticed his friends were no longer there. Well the place was crowded and he wasn’t there earlier so my guess is that they got separated by accident and no offense but thank god for that. Casting a glance I could tell the guy wasn’t buying it so I turned to talk to the boy in front of me yet again.

“So what’s up with you that your friends took you out and let you get this wasted?”

“It’s nothing big, I just can’t get over a girl…”

“What was it? Break up? Rejection?”

“Neither, I can’t even tell her I like her to begin with but now I can’t because she has a boyfriend. Not like she would consider me anyways.”

“Well you seem like a decent person so I don’t see why she shouldn’t but tell me about her. I’ll give you a girl’s perspective. ”

I wasn’t planning to be so invested in our conversation but there was something about him that had me so captivated. I mean yeah he was my type but then there was how his features softened, and there was this sparkle in his eyes when he spoke about this girl… In the midst of it all I got a text from Changbin, teasing me for “going after a guy” while he was away and told me he’ll be waiting back at our seats. On the other hand, the boy had poured out his history with this girl, from their odd meeting to his inevitable downfall into love. There were ghosts of facts about himself as well but never enough to build a full picture of his character. Although his main focus this whole conversation was this mystery girl… above all reason, I started to have a crush on this boy. Dumb, I know. My heart literally chose to play the fool in this story. It’s just… There is something about how he talked and the starry look and the gentle smile and then my brain just kinda went “I wish he looked at me like that” and then I hated myself for doing this to myself. Luckily not long after my brain had realized, his friend had found him and apologized before dragging him back to his group, leaving me to go back to Changbin.

“Wait so you knew all that when you met me again? That’s fraud you said you could just tell.”

“I can just tell. That night you weren’t really descriptive when you talked about her, you were a little too into the “woe is me” thing so all you really said was that she was pretty,” I rolled my eyes. “So when your eyes practically followed her every move during your shift, I was able to connect the dots.”

“And after knowing that you still chose to have a… crush… on me?”

It felt foreign to hear it from him himself. I’m usually the one bringing it up, it’s weird to see him acknowledge it for once. Seeing how careful he is about bringing it up, can I say that we’re close enough that he cares about my feelings? Wait no. Okay y/n let’s not be pathetic now. You are better than that. No need to grasp at crumbs.

“It wasn’t really a choice. I think you can agree with me on this, it was more like a virus. You just kinda plagued my mind that night and you never left after that.”

“I literally just talked about Gahyeon though, you didn’t hear anything about me unless you’re not telling me something. ”

“I told you everything but there is something called reading between the lines, you wouldn’t get it,” I answered. He doesn’t need to know that the love in his eyes sparked me back to life because I wanted to feel like that about something or someone again. I smiled at him and jokingly added, “But I will say I liked you from that night but after getting to know you I really~ like you now. ”

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes with a chuckle.

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids au #skz #skz imagines #skz au #yang jeongin #jeongin imagines #jeongin au #server! jeongin x regular! y/n #my writing #wslwe?

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 4 years ago

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To Owe A Date

Request fill from AO3 I got carried away with.

@cecie-does-stuff-things I thought maybe you'd like to be tagged since it's DeSleep!

Summary: The new barista at the coffee shop Janus frequents is a shameless tease of a flirt. Janus finds he doesnt really mind.

Warnings: none

Ships: DeSleep, Janus x Remy

WC: 1,499

Rarely was Janus in a worse mood than he was that morning.

It had started off fine, his sons getting along relatively well for the most part. Remus had only stolen one shoe and hidden it the morning and Roman had only gone off on one tirade concerning some musical or another. He loved both of them dearly, chaotic as they were with their typical escapades and he loved listening to their interests and debates on those interests, but they often made for exhausting mornings that made him crave the sweet release of caffeine before he felt ready to face his clients, many of which acted less mature than his seven year olds.

As it was he gently massaged his temples as he kept a fast pace to the nearest coffe shop, which made average drinks at best but was cheap and on his way to the tattoo parlor so he really couldn't complain. Burying himself further in his caplet as he went (yes they were still in style, it was warm and kept his arms free) he stepped hurriedly inside, the small bell tinkling and alerting the worker behind the bar.

Janus' brow furrowed slightly as he took in the new cashier, styled hair swooping low over a dark set of sunglasses and an eclectic assortment of what looked like silly bands adorning his wrists. Sighing quietly he prayed that the newcomer knew how to make coffee already and wasn't a completely new trainee, otherwise this day was going to be a lot more painful than he had anticipated.

"Hey shortcake, what's your poison?"

Janus blinked, the server stood at least a head taller than him, making his comment instantly infuriating. "I have to wait until at least two before consuming alcohol. Unfortunately coffee is classier than wine before noon."

The barista laughed outright. "Ooooh, tired wine mom aesthetic! Don't worry, in this shop we love Karens."

"You won't in about five seconds if I'm still refused service, no ones too tall for a kick to the kneecaps." Janus leaned pointedly against the counter, refusing to acknowledge the others shameless flirting, if that's what it could even be called. The other whistled low and grabbed a small pad and pen, straightening and standing to attention.

"Yes sir." The sultry tone definitely didn't go over Janus head but he merely rolled his eyes and glared point blank. "Alright fine. Geez girl, you are absolutely no fun. Do you know how boring it is in here most days? Can't blame a guy for trying. I'm gonna guess...you're probably a lightweight, so decaf with lots of sugar hun?"

Janus snorted. "Fuck no. A mocha with two extra espresso shots and whipped cream. I'll pay the extra."

Raising his eyebrow the barista jotted down his order and smirked. "Love a man who can hold his espresso. It'll be just a minute...?"

"Karen."

Laughing out loud again, he just nodded and turned away forwards the various machines to go about filling the order. In no time at all it was done, his cup handed over with Karen ♡ carefully written on the side. Paying quickly, Janus turned to leave, only pausing when the man's voice called out to him.

"See ya later babes."

"Depends on how good the coffee is." Janus threw over his shoulder not bothering to look back as he left to actually go to his job. Walking briskly down the sidewalk he idly took a sip of his order while checking his phone for the time.

...well shit.

Concentration fully on his drink he realized that even if that shop wasn't already his regular coffee shop it certainly would be now.

-----

"Dad! Guess what I did today?" Roman jumped up and down excitedly clutching his backpack.

"No, his story's stupid! Guess what I did instead!" Judging from Remus' mud covered jeans Janus could definitely give a guest as to what he did. Sighing in mock exasperation, he shifted the groceries and continued to carefully step up the stairs.

"I suppose it'll be up to whoever can get the groceries over to Mrs. Gibson the fastest can tell their story first." That way too he wouldn't be tripping over them trying to unlock the door with an armload of groceries.

"RACE YOU!!" As soon as they reached the landing Remus took off, leaving a loudly protesting Roman to catch up with him.

"Quieter please, and be-!" A loud crash followed by apples skidding across wood. "-careful. Are you alright?"

His worry dispersed as Remus scrambled up and began picking everything up and shoving them back in the bags, his brother begrudgingly helping him. Smiling and shaking his head he turned to the door and attempted to reach the key while still holding the bags, a feat which he stubbornly refused to believe was impossible now that he had started.

"Do you like, need help or-?" A familiar voice had him glancing up, mouth running dry as he recognized the sunglasses wearing flirt from that morning.

"How am I supposed to be enraptured by my saviors eyes if I can't gaze into them like the star struck lover I am?" Janus drawled, still making a valiant effort to reach his pocket.

"No can do babe, fluorescents are just as bad as sunlight and I enjoy looking at your own eyes too much to risk blindness." So saying he reached over and took the groceries, smugly carrying them all one handed while holding a cup of coffee in the other.

Pretending not to notice his burning face Janus turned to finally get the door open just as the boys were running back down the hall.

"Dad Mrs. Gibson gave us candy-! Oh! Hi mister!" Roman stopped abruptedly in front of the stranger, who smiled and tipped his head.

"Sup kid." Unfortunately, Remus didn't have the luxury of paying attention, too enraptured by the bag of chocolate he had been given to bother slowing down and barreled his way straight into his twin.

Janus saw the dominos fall in slow motion; Roman stumbling forward and reaching out for something to grab, which just so happened to be the baristas arm. Coffee spilled in a waterfall on both of twins' heads and in a desperate attempt to remedy the situation the man jerked his hand up and away, getting a face full of ice and the remaining coffee in the process. For a moment time stood still, but taking in everyone's drenched appearance Janus couldn't help a small small to grow to a grin, a snort breaking the silence as he struggled to contain his laughter, apologizing through it nonetheless.

"I'm so sorry, are you-are you okay?"

Before he could answer he was cut off by Roman. "I'm so sorry I didn't mean to it was an accident-!"

"Hey kid, check this out." The man kneeled, setting the cup down before flipping his glasses up and letting chunks of ice fall from behind them. "No use crying over spilled coffee. It's chill."

Janus stared incredulously before letting loose another peal of laughter. He nudged open the door and ushered the boys inside. "Go clean up before you end up sticky. I don't care if you like it Remus go."

"Boy they took chaos twins to heart didn't they?"

Janus turned around and offered an apologetic smile. "I really am sorry about all of this-"

He waved him off. "It's cool babes. You just owe me coffee now."

Janus smirked and tugged on his groceries, taking them back. "I'd say I just owe you an offer to come in and clean up. Where's the coffee coming from?"

"Oh I might have a place in mind."

----

"This is not what I thought you meant." Janus stood with a deadpan expression as he took in the small cafe that was decidedly not the other's place of work.

"I never eat where I work babes." The man replied, reading Janus' thoughts.

"I thought I was just buying you coffee?" He sputtered following after him.

"Oh you paid me back with that yesterday when I washed my hair in the sink. This is because i owe you a date."

Who the hell- "You are really forward aren't you?"

The other tipped his glasses down slightly to wink. "You haven't told me to fuck off yet so I'm just taking it in stride."

"This is one date, to be clear."

"Sure Karen."

"Janus."

The other stopped and whirled around. "What babes?"

Janus ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. "It's Janus."

Smiling, the man stepped forward and leaned slightly to fix his hair, making his face erupt in flames. "Call me Remy, shortstack."

Janus scowled. "I'm not that short!"

"Babes, I'm like a head taller than you. You're kids'll probs be taller than you by the time they're ten."

Bickering all the way to the door Janus couldn't help but smile. Short just meant dibs on being the little spoon, and he had every intention of taking advantage of that.

As always this work is also available on AO3!

#false writes #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #janus sanders #remy sanders #sleep sanders #desleep

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years ago

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A Change in the Weather AU (inspired by Cacophonylights's A Change in the Weather) - Chapter 33

Notes: I have some good news and some good news! I am sorry that this chapter is up late, and looks smaller than I claimed it would be. But that's because it's half of the original chapter! This chapter ended up being over 12k words long, and very heavy (emotionally) in some parts. Also, it went through an extensive re-write because some parts bothered me. But I feel that it is completely fixed and 1000 percent better. And the best part is, there will be a second chapter up today in a few hours! And after that, only one chapter left. So, as always, thank you all so much for following me on this crazy race to the finish. I hope you enjoy what I've written. Please be aware that in this chapter, Kurt and Sebastian talk a little more about his sexual assault so be warned. There's nothing graphic, but it still could be triggering.

Read on AO3.

It takes forty-seven minutes for the tow truck to arrive, and it’s by no means a run-of-the-mill flatbed tow truck like the one Kurt’s father owns.

No, the tow truck that pulls up to chauffeur Julian’s precious Jag home is a fully-equipped repair shop on wheels - a temperature controlled box truck with the name of the company (aptly called Luxury Tow) stenciled along the gleaming white outside in elaborate calligraphy, the script such a pale shade of silver, you wouldn’t see it at all if you weren’t looking for it. Kurt knows about these trucks. They’ve become something of a novelty among luxury car dealers and owners, the thought process being that no one should ever see a luxury car on the bed of a tow truck, and never, ever dragged on the asphalt.

Not for the preservation of the brand. His father has towed luxury cars on his flatbed just fine.

It’s for the preservation of the owners’ ego.

Emotional exhaustion is making Kurt catty on that point because the reality is it protects the overall investment that is an eighty-thousand plus dollar car. There’s less of a chance of getting your vehicle dinged up or expensive paint jobs scratched if they’re safe inside another larger vehicle.

The chandelier hanging from the top inside of the truck, however, Kurt can safely say might be a tad much.

Sebastian refuses to let go of Kurt while the drivers load up Julian’s car, but he is kind enough to re-position so that Kurt can get a better view of the inside. The tow truck is ridiculous, to be honest, and Sebastian acknowledges that with a sheepish grin, but their family has a membership, he explains, so it’s the only tow company they use.

Besides, it’s the height of excess, therefore it suits Julian and his car.

Kurt forgets how over-the-top rich people can be, seeing as, outside of Dalton, the only truly wealthy people he knows exist inside the spreads of magazines.

Sometimes he forgets just how frickin’ rich the Smythe family is, too, considering Sebastian didn’t even bat an eye when this truck appeared.

As to why the name of the company sans contact information is printed along the side in paint so light no one in the universe would ever be able to see it?

“They don’t need to advertise,” Sebastian says. “If someone can afford to hire them, then they’ll have their number already.”

Ouch.

Kurt doesn’t know why, but when Sebastian explains that to him, he feels like he’s been insulted.

After they see the drivers off, Kurt and Sebastian collect Julian from his booth by the window and lay him out on the backseat of Sebastian’s Mustang. Julian mumbles sleepily about the leather reeking of sex before he collapses on his face and starts snoring.

The drive from The Draft Room to the Smythe estate is another quiet one, with Kurt and Sebastian’s fingers laced together over the gear shift and Paganini’s Caprice No. 24 playing over the car’s speakers. To Kurt, even as a low hum, it’s an anxiety inducing piece, but the fast runs and rapid tempo help keep his mind from wandering. He wants to be available for Sebastian should Sebastian need to talk. Though what Sebastian feels comfortable revealing with his brother in the back seat, even asleep, Kurt isn’t certain.

As it turns out - he reveals nothing.

The tow truck is waiting at the gates of the estate when they arrive. Sebastian lets them in and leads them to the family garage. What follows is a blur of shuffling cars and signing paperwork. Sebastian sees the tow truck drivers off, then he and Kurt gather Julian up once again, help him to his room, and put him to bed, similar to the way Sebastian did for Kurt after the gala.

This must be why Sebastian was so good at it.

He’s had practice.

Sebastian’s phone buzzes, vibrating his pocket. He pulls it out, looks at the screen, and frowns.

“Who is it?” Kurt asks in the middle of removing Julian’s shoes.

“It’s Olivia.” Sebastian stares long at his boyfriend undressing his brother, in his bed of all places. Kurt reads the discomfort on Sebastian’s face. He stops at Julian’s shoes, pulling a blanket over the rest of his clothed body, and Sebastian seems to relax. “I should really …”

“Go on and take it,” Kurt says. “Give her my love. I’ve got this. I’ll be with you in a second.”

Sebastian doesn’t seem too ecstatic about leaving his boyfriend in a bedroom alone with his brother, but he steps out into the hallway anyway, shutting the door till only a sliver remains.

Kurt pulls the blanket up to Julian’s neck and smooths it over his shoulders. He fetches a waste basket from the bathroom and sets it next to the bed just in case. Kurt isn’t sure how much Julian actually drank before they got there, doesn’t know how well the man handles his alcohol.

Or if there was only alcohol involved in his pity party.

Kurt stops a second before turning out the light to steal a glance at Julian’s room. He’s been in here a few times, done an investigative sweep. As with Sebastian’s room, when he first came in here, he didn’t know what to expect. Probably the same thing he’d expected of Sebastian’s room. But the reality is more startling than what it could have been because Julian’s room is so similar to Sebastian’s room, they could have belonged to the same person at different points in their life. They have different furniture - Julian’s is a golden, honey wood as opposed to Sebastian’s dark. But they both have walls covered in photographs and art, shelves filled with CDs and books galore.

The thing that strikes Kurt as most interesting is that Julian has posters of obscure French bands framed on his walls that Kurt would think he’d see in Sebastian’s room, too, since Sebastian has t-shirts for one or two of them. Which makes their absence significant in Kurt’s mind.

Just another mystery for Kurt to puzzle through when he gets the time.

Kurt’s eyes pave a path across the walls, then back to Julian passed out on the bed. He sighs. Things could have been different, he thinks. He doesn’t know how different. He doesn’t know how much of Julian’s actions had an effect on which part of Sebastian’s decision making, but it still stands.

Things could have been different. They should have been different.

Kurt switches off the lamp, intent on leaving, but Julian’s hand locked lightly around his wrist stops him. Julian looks a mess - creases from his jacket imprinted on ruddy cheeks where he laid against his sleeves; eyes shimmering from a steady leak of tears; his lips swollen from biting.

A certifiable mess, but a breathtaking one.

“I know what you probably think of me,” Julian starts in a calloused voice. “Knowing what you know now.”

“I don’t think you do,” Kurt says soothingly, carefully removing his wrist from Julian’s grasp and tucking his arm back beneath the blanket.

“I just want you to know … I had no intention of taking you away from him. I know how I come across but that’s … that’s not what I was ever trying to do. I wasn’t going to let history repeat itself …” Julian’s disarming smile returns for the fleetest of seconds “… no matter how pretty you are.”

“Thank you. That’s good to know.”

“The two of you belong together.” Julian rolls to his side, gathering the edge of the blanket and holding it tight under his chin. “I knew it from the first time (*yawn*) I heard Sebby mention you.”

“And when was that?” Kurt asks, not sure what he expects to hear. Sebastian told his brother about their ruse, so Julian should know that any tale Sebastian told him is a work of fiction, not fact.

“Don’t remember,” Julian mumbles. “Dad asked Sebby what you did that won him over, and he said …” He stops, literally can’t continue past a sudden bout of snickering.

“What?” Kurt asks, burning with curiosity.

“... that you said …”

“What!?” Kurt groans, eager to get this over with so he can get back to Sebastian.

“... he smelled like Craigslist.” Julian snorts. It’s such an obscene sound, Kurt laughs out loud, and not politely. It’s not until Julian’s breathing begins to even out that Kurt realizes what he said.

Smells like Craigsllist? But that was …? Could he really …? No, that can’t …

When Kurt first met Sebastian’s father, he’d said they’d heard so much about him. He’d never ventured to ask how much. Maybe he should get around to that one of these days.

Now seems a good time.

“Wait … what? Julian? What did you just say? Julian?”

Kurt comes close to shaking him to get him to answer, but he doesn’t. Before Kurt can press him for more, he’s fast asleep.

***

Sebastian isn’t waiting in the hallway when Kurt finishes in Julian’s room. He’d taken Olivia’s phone call into his room and started getting ready for bed. Shoes had been kicked off and socks flung aside. He was in the middle of slipping on a pair of sweatpants when Kurt heard him say goodbye with the added, “Kurt sends his love,” followed by a, “yes, I’ll tell him. I already said I would. Geez.”

“Tell me what?” Kurt asks, letting himself in the open door.

“Just that she misses you,” Sebastian relays, turning off his phone.

“That’s nice,” Kurt says, honestly beaming. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Sebastian walks over to his desk and deposits his phone on the blotter. “They wanted to make sure we’re all good, that we have everything we need, that sort of thing. Like I’ve never spent the night alone in my own house before. How about Julian?”

“Sleeping it off.”

“Good. He could use it.” Sebastian meanders around his room, mindlessly relocating books and papers from one place to another with seemingly no purpose. “I laid out some clothes for you to sleep in.” He walks over to his bed and sits down beside a pile of carefully folded pants-shirt-underwear.

“Thanks.” Kurt removes his shirt, then his pants. No longer does he scurry to the bathroom to change. He has nothing to hide from Sebastian now.

He hopes Sebastian feels the same.

“Are you tired?” Sebastian asks like he’s feeling Kurt out. “Do you want to go to sleep?”

“I’m kind of wired, to tell you the truth.”

The look on Sebastian’s face becomes tentatively brighter, like that was what he was hoping Kurt would say. “Do you mind … can we talk?”

Dressed in Sebastian’s clothes, Kurt drops down on the mattress across from him. “Sure. What did you feel like talking about?”

“Can I talk to you about … that night?” Sebastian asks, that smallness from outside the bar returning, mostly to his eyes that aren’t begging Kurt to say yes. They’re begging Kurt not to reject him, which is a wholly different thing, but one Kurt understands.

He did the same himself, every time he was on the cusp of telling his father he was gay, praying that his father wouldn’t stop loving him.

“Not all of it. I’m not … I’m not ready for that yet. And tonight’s been kind of …”

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees without Sebastian needing to finish.

“No one outside my family knows about it,” Sebastian says. “I mean, aside from my therapist. And I love my parents and Olivia to death, but when it comes to this, they’re difficult to talk to. They offer, say they’re open to listening, but when I do open up to them, I get the feeling that they don’t so much want to discuss what I went through and how I feel about it, how it affects me to this day, as they hope if I get it out of my system, I’ll forget it. And I understand that. It has to be torture knowing that something like …” Sebastian’s teeth grind to a halt around the words. In the end, he simply omits them “… that happened to one of your children and there was nothing you could do to stop it. Especially considering the circumstances. I mean, when you think about it, I should have been in the best possible hands.” Sebastian shrugs to himself. “To be … to be honest … the assault wasn’t the worst part of the experience. It was terrifying. It gives me nightmares. But … but it’s been the easiest part of that night to work through.”

Kurt tilts his head. “How?”

“It’s the uncomplicated part. The guy who …” Another grinding halt “… he was an asshole. A sick, disgusting, drunk asshole. It helps that he was a stranger, if that makes sense. There was no personal motive behind what he did. It was more a matter of I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. An easy target.”

“Whatever happened to him?” Kurt asks, careful not to make it sound like a demand. He doesn’t want Sebastian thinking he has to answer his questions simply because he asks them.

“Julian wouldn’t let him leave the bathroom. He got a few punches in. Good ones,” Sebastian recalls with a vindictive chuckle that almost sounds proud. “Knocked him out cold. He called the cops and the guy was arrested. But things didn’t go back to normal after that. Nowhere near it. I was afraid of running into him for a while even though I knew I wouldn’t. It became so unbearable, I wouldn’t go out, couldn’t sleep nights. But then I left the country, and for the first time, I wasn’t looking for him in crowds or around corners, anything like that. Because I knew he wouldn’t be there.” Sebastian pauses, looks down at his hands, running the pads of his fingers over his nails, pushing at his cuticles while he gets his thoughts together. “I wasn’t planning on coming back.”

“So … what was the worst part about that night? If you don’t mind …”

“I don’t mind,” Sebastian says softly. Another long pause, but Kurt is willing to wait as long as it takes. When Sebastian finds the strength to look up again, he’s shaking his head, his cheeks wet with tears. “H-how could he do that to me, Kurt?”

“Who?” Kurt more than assumes Sebastian is talking about the man who assaulted him, but it’s never a good practice to assume.

And this time, he’s right not to.

“Julian,” Sebastian says, his voice cracking. “I look back at that night now through jaded eyes and I see it for what it was, what I felt. I had a crush. Just a crush. Not having that guy obviously didn’t destroy me, right? But at the time, it felt like it would. It felt like my entire life was …”

“Over?”

“Yeah.” Sebastian sniffles. “I wasn’t a bad brother, Kurt. Maybe I was a little annoying but I looked up to him. I idolized him. I wanted to be like him.” Sebastian reaches blindly for a tissue from the box by the head of his bed. Kurt gets up and gets it for him. Sebastian takes it with an unspoken thank you. “I guess … in the end … that’s what I did, huh? I became my brother. None of the interesting parts, though,” he adds with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Just the asshole parts.”

Kurt doesn’t know what to say. He could prepare for weeks and still not know what to say. Part of him wants to storm down to Julian’s room and slug him in the face. But Sebastian forgave him. Julian said that when he found Sebastian, Sebastian got in a few punches and then said he wanted his big brother back. There are times when this rift between them seems as far from water under the bridge as they can get. But this all happened long before Kurt even knew the Smythes existed so he should forgive Julian, too. And Kurt can.

But how does Sebastian do it? How do you forget about something like that? All of it? The violation of your body coupled by the betrayal of someone you love? Someone you trust? Kurt knows a little of what that’s like, but he’s not going to pretend that it even compares to what Sebastian went through.

Sebastian sniffles again, blows his nose. He reaches for another tissue but somewhere in between he falters. The tension that’s been hanging around them, binding them together with brittle arms, collapses. Sebastian is the first through the breach. He falls into Kurt’s lap, arms winding around his waist, sobbing into his borrowed white shirt. And since Kurt can’t think of the right thing to say to comfort him, he says what’s in his heart, and hopes that it’s enough.

“I love you, Sebastian,” Kurt whispers, wrapping his arms around Sebastian’s head and leaning over to press kisses into his hair. “I love you. I love you so damn much, and I’m so lucky to have you. I’m yours, and you’re mine. And please …” Kurt chokes on words and tears and a thicket of emotions, but he refuses to let that stop him from saying what he needs to say “… I’m here … and don’t ever forget that.”

***

“So, where do you want to go for lunch after we visit my dad?” Kurt asks, scrolling though dining options on his phone. Kurt doesn’t usually do much in the way of eating out in Lima. With the exception of The Lima Bean and Breadstix, he pretty much avoids Lima, Ohio cuisine like the plague. His father, however, is a huge fan of Lock Sixteen Steakhouse, and Finn and Puck swear by Sir La Charreada. Of course, the top three items on any of their menus are meat, cheese, and some kind of meat bathed in cheese.

The fact that Kurt knows this comes as a side-effect from spending too much time around junk food addicts.

“I don’t know. What is there around here?”

Kurt rolls his head to the left and shoots Sebastian an incredulous look. “Sebastian, this is Lima. It’s a town named after a bean. And not even one of the good ones.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s named after Lima, Peru.”

Kurt side-eyes him, wondering how in the hell he would know that!? He doesn’t even live here! What? While he was collecting blackmail material on him and all his friends, was he digging up dirt on the city Kurt lived in, too?

“Shares a name with, then.”

Sebastian nods. “I see your point.”

“We can swing by Columbus and pick up some sushi. It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten any ice water poured in my crotch.”

“Ha-ha,” Sebastian deadpans, though he smiles when Kurt starts laughing and can’t stop. “Just for that, I’m gonna …” Sebastian’s sentence dies on his lips, his expression freezing solid on his face.

“What … what’s wrong?” Kurt follows Sebastian’s eye line out the window towards his house, expecting to see yellow caution tape and an ambulance parked outside since that’s exactly the look Sebastian is wearing. Constantly on edge about his father’s health, it’s the first thing that comes to Kurt’s mind that could put that look on Sebastian’s face.

Sebastian heads for the curb, and immediately Kurt’s own expression goes from afraid to angry.

“What in gay hell …?”

Sitting on Kurt’s front porch is, of all people, Cooper Anderson. And beside him, curled into a ball, hugging his knees …

… Blaine.

Sebastian parks his Mustang in front of Kurt’s house and kills the engine.

Kurt thinks he should feel an overwhelming tide of emotion seeing him. That it should knock him back about twenty feet, transport him through time to a place where he swore he would always love Blaine, where nothing would change that. But what he feels when he lays eyes on him for the first time since the beginning of summer is barely a swell. The boy who used to be perfection by Kurt’s standards is riddled with flaws. Kurt finds himself comparing Blaine to Sebastian the way he used to compare Sebastian to Blaine, but this time Blaine is the one who doesn’t measure up.

“Hey guys!” Cooper greets them as they climb out of the car. “Nice to see you both again.”

“Why are you two here?” Sebastian asks, barreling towards them, taking the lead. And Kurt lets him have it. He has every right to read Cooper for filth and besides, Kurt has forgotten how to make his voice work.

“I got a hold of Olivia. She said you guys were heading to Ohio so we took a chance and came here.”

“So you … just … showed up at my boyfriend’s house and took a chance that we’d stop by?”

Cooper winces at that, as if he was hoping that the subject of Kurt being Sebastian’s boyfriend might conveniently not come up. “Yes? Your dad’s not home, Kurt, but I was going to call if we waited longer than an hour.”

“And you don’t think that plan is a little insane?” Sebastian asks.

Cooper sighs. It almost competes with the sound Sebastian made when he realized Julian was driving back to Westerville and they’d have to follow. “It’s been a long couple of days.”

“Really?” Sebastian says sarcastically. “Why don’t you tell it to someone who cares?”

“I’m sensing a little animosity here. “

“No, you’re sensing a lot of animosity!”

“Look, kid, we’re just here to talk.”

“What happened to you, man? Why would you ghost my brother like that?”

“I wasn’t ghosting him!” Cooper suddenly sounds desperate, like he needs to convince Sebastian he’s telling the truth. Like he needs him on his side, which makes Kurt wonder what, if anything, Olivia said to him. If she read him the riot act, Kurt is going to buy her roses. “I was getting ready to go out there but Blaine called me, said he …” Cooper glances down at his brother, still motionless on the porch “… said he wanted to come home, that he couldn’t get a flight out and was hitchhiking. He’s my brother! What was I supposed to do?”

“Why couldn’t you give him a head’s up? Give anyone a head’s up?” Sebastian’s voice gets louder as he talks till Kurt begins to fear a neighbor might peek a head out, call the police. “He was waiting for you! You just disappeared! You didn’t even send him a text! Why couldn’t you send him a fucking text!?”

“It’s not that simple!”

“Save it!”

“I panicked, alright!? I thought that if I told Julian the truth, he would think I was making excuses, that I was going back on my word. And if I told Emily, my dad would find out. I didn’t know what to do!”

“So you did nothing.” Sebastian shakes his head. “What a supreme fucking disappointment you turned out to be. Well, I know what you should do.” He steps up to Cooper, gets in his personal space, and all Kurt can think is he’s about to show him what he can do, and with what part of his body. And though Kurt is confident Cooper can defend himself against a teenager, if he wants to stay out of prison, he won’t.

“Bas …” Kurt puts a hand on the crook of Sebastian’s arm. The sound of his voice, speaking for this first time during this confrontation, has a compounded effect. On Sebastian, it makes him soften, makes him back down. It also draws Blaine’s eyes up from the ground. But when he sees Kurt touching Sebastian, his eyes return to his shoes again.

Sebastian’s jaw works around a dozen swears and just as many threats. But his cooler head prevails. “You should go check on Julian,” he says evenly.

“I’ll … I’ll call him. Right now.”

“You’re past that. He’s at the house. You should go up and see him.”

“What about Blaine?”

“What about Blaine?” Sebastian sneers, glaring at Cooper, utterly refusing to even acknowledge Blaine. “He’s your brother. You figure it out.”

Kurt looks at Blaine, sitting at his brother’s feet. He’s staring down at his hands wrapped around his shins, looking very much like an abandoned puppy waiting to be taken to the pound.

And Kurt hates that.

A few months ago, he’d have hated it because he hated Blaine looking lost and hurt and lonely.

But right now he wishes Blaine would stand the fuck up and act like an adult. Look him in the eyes like an adult.

Own up to his actions like an adult.

Kurt has asked himself a dozen times since he found out Blaine cheated what does he want from Blaine?

That’s what he wants. He wants Blaine to step up.

It doesn’t mean Kurt will take him back, but it might give Kurt a better opinion of him.

“I’ll take him home,” Kurt decides.

“What?” Cooper says, looking more confounded than Kurt has ever seen him. And Kurt has to believe him because he’s not that good an actor.

“What?” Sebastian says. “No!”

“Someone has to take him home. I really think Cooper should go see Julian. Immediately, if not sooner.”

“Well I … I’m coming with you then!”

The twinge of absolute panic hiding beneath the anger in Sebastian’s voice skewers Kurt, but Sebastian’s coming with them isn’t a good idea. He’s more than likely going to take the opportunity to lay into Blaine, and Kurt needs some time alone with him.

He has some questions that deserve answers.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I think you should go to Westerville with Cooper. Mediate between him and Julian. At least be there if things go south. I’ll deal with Blaine.”

“Why? Why do you need to deal with Blaine? Alone?”

Kurt takes Sebastian by the arm and leads him off the porch to talk in semi-private. “I want an explanation,” Kurt says, lowering his voice, hoping Sebastian will follow suit before a sheriff shows up. “He may not give me one if you come with me. And besides, I really think Julian needs you right now.”

“So, what? You owe it to him to hear his side?” Sebastian practically yells in Kurt’s face, apparently unable - or unwilling - to follow social cues. Kurt wagers on the latter. But instead of rising with Sebastian’s anger, Kurt puts his arms around him and holds him, rocks him gently from side to side. That’s all it takes to get Sebastian to fall in line, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and calming down.

“No. He owes it to me to tell me why he took everything I thought was sacred and threw it away. That’s all I want from him. As soon as I can, I’ll drive up and meet you. We’ll have that big house all to ourselves.” Kurt bites his lower lip. “Who knows what kind of mischief we can get ourselves into …”

“Well, relatively to ourselves. Julian will be there.”

“Your door has a lock on it. I think we’ll be fine.” Kurt presses his forehead against Sebastian’s and rubs their noses together. “I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, Sebastian. And nothing Blaine can say is going to change that. But until then, I need you to do me a favor.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian says sardonically, most likely realizing by now that nothing he can say is going to change his boyfriend’s mind. “And what’s that?”

Kurt smiles, brushes their lips together in the most chaste of caresses. “Have a little faith in me.”

Sebastian glances down at his shoes, at his feet that refuse to move from this spot as long as Kurt is in his arms, refuse to leave Kurt alone with the boy he’d planned on spending the rest of his life with.

But there is no moving forward if no one takes a step.

“Always,” he says resignedly.

“Thank you,” Kurt says, mouthing over Sebastian’s mouth, teasing him with the promise of a kiss to be continued.

#acitw #acitw au #kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #spread the love!

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jade4813 · 5 years ago

Text

The Lies We Tell Ourselves, Chapter 7

Fandom: Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist

Title: The Lies We Tell Ourselves

Rating: PG (I’m assuming it’ll stay there?)

Pairing: Zoey/Max

Synopsis: Max would do anything for Zoey. Including posing as her fake boyfriend to give her father one last “big moment” to celebrate with her. Nothing could possibly go wrong. After all, it’s only his heart that stands to be broken. Right?

Chapter: 7/?

Author’s Notes: Takes place after Zoey’s Extraordinary Glitch.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

“Here,” Mo said, putting a drink and a plate covered with eggs, bacon, and toast on the table in front of Zoey. “This will help.”

Her stomach rolled over at the sight, and she tried not to let her disgust show. “I appreciate it, Mo, but I can’t even think of food right now without wanting to hurl.”

“Oh, trust me, I know. But I’ve seen you drink, and I can safely say I’ve had more experience with drinking than you do. Start with this,” he said, pushing a drink into her hand.

Bracing herself, she took a sip and then spluttered when it hit the back of her throat, covering her mouth as she coughed. “What is this?” she demanded, giving it a dubious look.

Mo took a seat across from her at the table. “It’s a Bloody Mary. It’ll help you get over your hangover.” When Zoey stared at him in shock, he rolled his eyes. “A little alcohol in your system will help, and that thing’s practically a virgin!”

“Practically a virgin?” she asked, giving it a cautious sniff. “How can a drink be practically a virgin?”

He waved his hand dismissively in the air. “The vodka and tomato juice fooled around a little in the back seat of the car, but their clothes mostly stayed on. They barely made it to second base!”

“I…am not sure what you said were actually words,” Zoey replied, but when Mo just gave her a hard look, she dutifully downed her drink. Then she looked at her breakfast plate in trepidation. “You know, I appreciate it, but you really didn’t have to go to all this trouble for me,” she protested weakly, stalling for time.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. I did it for me,” Mo replied cheerfully. At her confused expression, he explained, “I know a Walk of Shame when I see one. You didn’t come home last night, and I want all the juicy details! I didn’t want to try to get them with your head in the toilet, so you get my patented cure for a hangover. So, with that out of the way…did you and Max finally decide to stop pretending that your relationship isn’t real?”

Throwing food at her roiling stomach seemed less painful than continuing with this conversation, so Zoey shoved a bite of greasy eggs into her mouth and shook her head. “It isn’t real!” she protested as she chewed. “And it isn’t what you think. Nothing happened with Max last night! He was a perfect gentleman!”

“But you do admit you were with Max,” he pointed out.

Realizing she’d fallen into Mo’s trap, Zoey mumbled, “Okay, fine. Yes. I was with Max. I went out for a few drinks and then went to his place to completely humiliate myself in front of him. But I swear, nothing happened. He turned down all of my advances and even offered to sleep on the couch!”

“And that’s all that happened? You showed up drunk as hell, and the two of you completely behaved yourselves?” he sounded both skeptical and slightly disappointed that her story wasn’t more interesting.

“Well…not exactly. I slept in his bed, and he slept over the covers. But basically, yes.” She took another big bite and mumbled, “If you ignore the part where I told him I loved him and he didn’t believe me.”

“That’s more like it! Go on.”

Zoey ran her fingers through her hair in exasperation, taking a moment to glance at the clock. She really should get going; she was going to be late enough as it was. But she was so mixed up and confused by her own behavior, getting an outsider’s perspective might help. At the very least, it would help to get everything off her chest. “Okay,” she finally began, struggling to find where to start. “So I guess it all started yesterday when my parents caught the two of us kissing outside of work.”

“Hooooold up,” he interjected, jumping to his feet. “I’m pretty sure I’m gonna need a Bloody Mary for this!” He raced into the kitchen to make himself a drink. When he returned a few minutes later, he returned to his seat across from her, looking very pleased with himself. After checking to make sure he was all set, he took a deep sip of his drink and then waved for her to continue. “Okay, now I’m ready.” When she didn’t continue immediately, he gestured for her to carry on. “If you lost track of where you were in your story, you were making out in front of your parents. You two decided you needed more practice?”

She wasn’t fooled by Mo’s innocent tone for a second, so between gritted teeth, she admitted, “Something like that. He was avoiding me, so I thought maybe he didn’t think our first kiss was that great, and I wanted to prove him wrong.”

Mo positively cackled at this admission. “Oh, I bet! So what happened? Your parents caught you? At least they have no reason to doubt your story now!”

“No, that’s true,” she admitted. “But it’s still complicated. The thing is, I realized yesterday just how many times Max throws himself under a bus to protect me, and it made me feel…I don’t know. Sad? Guilty?”

“You’re just now realizing that?”

The amount of disbelief and astonishment in his question made her wince. “Maybe? I guess I never really thought about it before. But it made me realize how many times I’ve probably hurt him without even noticing and I…well, I had a few drinks.”

Mo leaned forward, his expression eager, as if he sensed that she was about to get to the best part of her story. “And I take it that’s when you decided to go to his place? For a little late-night chat?”

She moaned. “I guess. Mo, you don’t understand. It was completely…completely humiliating! I practically threw myself at him!” Remembering how she’d clamped her arms around his neck and refused to let go, she amended her previous statement. “No, I definitely threw myself at him. I couldn’t have been more obvious if I’d done the Dance of the Seven Veils, right in his living room!”

“And?” he pressed.

“And?” she parroted. “And he turned me down! I tried to kiss him, and he wouldn’t do it. He tucked me into bed and then put, like, twenty pillows,” more like two pillows, which had both somehow gone AWOL overnight “between us and went to sleep!” After one or two confessions that weren’t hers to share, even with one of her best friends, and the memory of which still left her feeling rather raw.

Mo snorted. “Of course he turned you down! You were drunk, and he’s a good person. If he’d tried anything, I would have called the police on him myself! But you said you told him you loved him and he didn’t believe you.” She nodded, staring morosely at her nearly empty plate. “Does that mean you’ve finally got your head on straight? You know what you want, and you’re going for it?”

“Yes?” Zoey offered, her voice tinged with doubt. “No. Oh, I don’t know!”

He shook his head. “Well, you need to figure it out. I know you said you don’t want to hurt him, but how many times do you think you can tell that man that you love him and then take it back? He adores you, and if you keep doing that, it’ll kill him.”

“I know,” she replied, poking dejectedly at her half-congealed eggs. “It’s just…okay, I know how this is going to sound, but bear with me. This would all be so much easier if it were Simon, you know? Because Simon is…he’s uncomplicated.”

“He’s engaged to another woman,” Mo pointed out flatly.

“Yes, yes. I know,” Zoey replied, waving away that tiny little inconvenient fact. “But he’s uncomplicated for me. I mean…if he and I were to try a relationship and it didn’t work out? It would suck to lose him from my life, but I could deal with it. He’d be just another on the long list of my failed relationships. When the dust settled, he’d be just another coworker sitting across from me in the conference room. It would hurt, and I’d probably eat my feelings for a little while, but then I’d deal with it and move on. But Max? Max isn’t a quick fling guy. Max isn’t a guy you just get over. At least, not for me. Max is…he’s a forever kind of guy. And I’m not sure I’m ready for forever. Does that make any sense?”

Mo nodded, but then he stopped and said, “No. Not really. I think you’re making this more complicated than it has to be.”

She gave an emphatic shake of her head, which she immediately regretted when it woke up the tiny men with hammers pounding away inside her brain. “No, I’m acknowledging how complicated it is.” Leaning forward, she explained earnestly, “If I say yes to Max, I’m not just saying yes to one date. I’m not even saying yes to a casual fling that I expect to play out in a few months. I’m saying yes to forever. Or at least, I’m saying yes to trying for forever. And I’m risking everything – everything – I have with him to do it. What if it doesn’t work out, and I lose him completely? I can’t…I’m already losing my dad. I think it’s pretty clear I lost my mind a while ago. I just can’t lose Max too. I don’t know how I would be able to survive that.”

Reaching forward to take her hand, her friend said, “I know it’s hard, and you want to run away from this. But you just can’t anymore. You have to figure out what you want and then go for it. I think you’re a lot stronger and a lot braver than you think you are, but you aren’t being very fair to him right now, and you know it. You chose to be in a pretend-relationship for your dad, but now you have own it for real. One way or another. You can’t just stick your head in the sand until it all goes away. Hurt people hurt people, and even if you don’t want to admit that’s what you’re doing right now? I guarantee you are hurting him. A lot. And selling yourself short in the process.”

As much as she hated to admit it, she knew Mo was right. Still, she was hardly going to figure out her disaster of a love life – or fake-love-life – in the next ten minutes, so she held up her plate and gave him a piteous look. “I know. You’re right. But in the meantime, can I have more bacon? It was really good.”

He shook his head, taking her plate for her. “No. Bacon is for people who have their act together. But there’s plenty more eggs, and eggs are for people who are a hot mess.”

Resting her head between her arms, splayed out on the table, Zoey moaned, “Is this what death feels like? Because I’m pretty sure this is what death feels like.”

Mo snorted, seemingly unconcerned by her dramatic display as he headed towards the kitchen. “No. You aren’t that lucky, and death wouldn’t hurt this much.”

“Fine,” she grumbled, her words muffled by the table and protective barrier of her arms. “Load me up with all the eggs you got, then, I guess, because I don’t know that I’ll be able to stop being a mess any time soon.”

Max was in a good mood as he tackled his To Do list for the day. He knew it was unlikely anything with Zoey had actually changed. Odds were good that, even if she remembered her confession the night before, she’d want to backtrack on it today. But she had told him she loved him. And she’d sung a heart song to him about loving him. Surely that meant that she was beginning to realize her feelings for him on some level, right? Even if she wasn’t ready to face those feelings now, he couldn’t entirely squelch the hope that one day, when she’d had a little more time…

Should he even ask her about her confession to him the night before? Part of him thought the answer was no. She’d bring it up when she was ready, and their fake-relationship complicated things. If she wasn’t ready to discuss her feelings, then she might respond to the topic by panicking and pushing him away, as he’d seen her do several times before. On the other hand, weren’t they just ignoring the elephant in the room if he didn’t ask her about it?

Probably no more than the fact they’d tacitly decided not to talk about his feelings for her at all. That was a pretty large elephant that they’d both apparently chosen to ignore.

He still hadn’t come to a conclusion by the time he saw her stagger in, large sunglasses covering her face to shield her from the merciless light of the sun. He tried not to laugh when she made her way slowly to her desk and tried to take off her sunglasses. Blinking a couple of times towards the windows, she groaned deep in her chest and slid them back on, pressing one hand against her forehead as she waged an internal debate whether it was a good idea to try sitting down or not.

“Hey, Zoey,” he greeted her in a soft voice as he approached. Outside of her hangover, she looked like she had survived the morning without incident. “I’m sorry I had to leave so early this morning.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tobin’s head whip around, but he was too concerned with Zoey to worry about that.

“Sweetheart,” she mumbled on a sigh.

Max frowned. “What?”

With what looked like a monumental amount of effort, she raised her head to look up at him. “You called me sweetheart last night. I was just wondering why you didn’t today.”

He would gladly pay a thousand dollars to anyone who could clarify what that might mean for him and his future romantic aspirations. “Ah…do you want me to?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her head sinking again. “I was just wondering. Not even sure why I brought it up.” Rubbing the bridge of her nose just above her sunglasses, she said, “I have a meeting in a couple of minutes, but I don’t know how I’m going to get through the day. Everything hurts. My teeth hurt. How does a hangover make your teeth hurt? That shouldn’t be possible!”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I think I have some ibuprofen in my desk. I can grab some for you if you want.”

“Maybe after my meeting,” she agreed. “And Max? Thank you. I know I’m not at my best today, but I don’t mean to take it out on you. I really do appreciate…everything.”

Taking full advantage of their fake-relationship, Max rested his hand on her lower back and bent down for a quick kiss. It was only the knowledge that she was still fully in the midst of a raging hangover that helped him keep the embrace short and simple. “Any time. You know that…sweetheart.” She rested her head on his shoulder for a quick second before grabbing her tablet and heading to her first meeting of the day, sunglasses still firmly in place.

He couldn’t know that his simple offer – to get her something for her hangover headache – would completely destroy his life and the remains of his heart a mere forty-five minutes later.

After Zoey left for her meeting, Max got wrapped up in a conversation with Tobin, as the two tried to troubleshoot some particularly tricky code for Chirp. Their conversation dragged on longer than he’d expected, so when they finished, he felt a stab of remorse that he’d allowed himself to be distracted and had not gotten Zoey the pain medicine she needed sooner. Hurrying to his desk, he dug around in its depths for a couple of minutes, finally pulling out a half-empty bottle of ibuprofen that was luckily still well before its expiration date.

Pleased with his success, he decided he would track down Zoey and discreetly slip it to her, so she didn’t have to wait until after her meeting to take something for her pain. Glancing around quickly, Max saw she wasn’t working at any of the desks or chairs in the main area. All the isolation pods appeared to be empty, so she wasn’t there, either. He doubted she was working in the meditation room, and Joan’s office appeared empty. Confused, he walked around, searching for her, which was when it occurred to him that she might have been meeting with Simon.

Unperturbed, he tossed the pill bottle into the air and caught it in a smooth, practiced motion as he strolled in that direction. As he approached, he heard voices and grinned like a giddy schoolboy when he recognized hers. For a moment, he hesitated, debating what to do. He didn’t want to interrupt their meeting, but their voices were clear enough to indicate one of his office doors were open. Perhaps that meant they wouldn’t mind Max poking his head in for a moment, just to give Zoey something for her headache.

As he waged his internal debate, he heard Simon say his name. “- about you and Max. I hope the two of you work things out. You deserve to be happy.”

Max didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help but overhear as he approached the open door. If he was perfectly honest with himself, while he would never have gone out of his way to listen on their conversation, part of him was dying to know what she would say in response. She deserved to be happy? Did that mean she’d told Simon she wasn’t happy? With him, or with their charade?

Part of him did die inside when she replied. “It’s not like that. I don’t…The truth is, we’re not actually dating. It’s…I’m beginning to really detest this word, but it’s complicated.”

He stumbled to a halt, his hand tightening around the pill bottle, and he barely heard whatever Simon said in response. It was silly to be so surprised by her admission, particularly when it was the truth. It had been foolish of him to read too much into the fact that she’d sold Simon, of all people, on their romantic fiction in the first place. But he had, and so hearing her finally tell her former crush the truth hurt. A lot. More than it should, really.

The two had gone silent, so Max pushed that pain aside and took another step toward the open door. It didn’t matter that Zoey told Simon the truth about their relationship now. It hadn’t mattered that she told him a lie before. It didn’t really change anything between them. How many times was he going to tell himself that before he started to believe it?

But then he rounded the corner and saw Zoey and Simon through the open office door. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, her body pressed against his, as he stooped slightly to kiss her. Max hesitated, knowing their embrace was none of his business – their romantic relationship was nothing but a farce, after all – but needing to see if she returned the kiss or if she pushed him away.

For three long seconds, Zoey didn’t move. Didn’t push Simon away. And those three seconds were all it took to obliterate the remains of his heart.

When Zoey went into her meeting with Simon, she didn’t imagine that he’d be kissing her a short time later. She plastered a tight smile on her face, trying to ignore the pounding in her skull, as she tried to focus on her job. But over the course of their meeting, she couldn’t help but notice that Simon was looking haggard, his features drawn. When he sagged back in his chair, every line in his body spoke of sadness and defeat.

So, when they wrapped up their meeting, she hesitated before standing. “Simon, I don’t mean to pry, but is everything okay? You’re, uh, well, you’re looking a little rough today.”

The edges of his mouth lifted into what could only charitably be called a smile. “I could ask you the same question. You’re looking a little rough yourself. Is everything okay?”

“What, this?” she scoffed, fiddling with the edge of her sunglasses. “These aren’t because of…I mean, they aren’t necessary. I-I could take them off at any time, it’s not -” Eager to prove her point, she started to pull them off, but the bright light in his office made her slide them quickly back into place. “It’s just…does the sun unnaturally bright to you today, too? Because I swear, it’s a lot brighter than yesterday, and it’s got me really worrying about this whole global warming thing…”

He laughed, a little tension ebbing from his face, and she found herself smiling in response. “Sounds like you had quite a party last night.”

“Not really. Well, more of a pity party. For myself.” As Simon’s friend, she could tell that there was something bothering him, but he wasn’t ready to discuss it yet. But over the last few months, she’d realized that opening up about her problems often made him feel comfortable enough to share his own. Leaning forward as though she was about to divulge some classified state secrets, she held one hand up to the side of her mouth and said, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this about me? But I’m kind of a walking disaster in the romance department.”

He straightened in his chair. “Oh, did something happen with you and Max? I’m sorry to hear that. I thought – well, I’ve heard around the office that the two of you seemed pretty solid.”

Flustered – though not entirely surprised – by the revelation that she and Max had been the subject of office gossip, she stammered, “What? Oh, we are! I-I mean, I think we are. It’s…” she bit her tongue before she could say “complicated.” If she used that word one more time to describe either her life or her situation with Max, she was going to have to throw herself out the nearest window. “It’s…a little hard to explain,” she finished lamely.

His eyes were sympathetic as he stood and moved around his desk, leaning against the edge as he said softly, “Well, you know, I know things between the two of us have been weird, but I’m here for you if you need anything. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yes? I don’t know. Not really,” she admitted. “I just need to sort some things out. Max is wonderful, but I just keep thinking I’m going to screw it up somehow, and I’ll lose him.”

Simon shook his head. “I don’t see any evidence of that. From what I hear, you seem to be pretty good at this whole dating thing. It sounds like you and Max are crazy about each other.”

She winced. “You don’t know the whole story.” Desperate to change the subject before she told him about her whole ridiculous fake dating plot and how it was completely screwing with her head and her heart, she blurted, “But what about you? I don’t want to pry, but you seem kinda down. Is everything okay?”

He hesitated, then gave his head a slow shake. “Not really, but I hope I get there.” When she hesitated, not sure of what to say, he explained, “Jessica and I ended our engagement last night.”

“Oh, god, Simon, I’m so sorry to hear that.” Without thinking, she jumped to her feet and wrapped her arms around him in a comforting hug. “Are you okay? I mean, really okay?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It was probably the right thing for both of us right now. I wasn’t being very fair to her. But it’s still…”

“Complicated?” she offered with a shaky smile when his voice trailed off.

His arms tightened around her, just as she loosened her hold on him. Zoey had never been very clear on proper hugging protocol. How long were totally platonic hugs supposed to last? It was strange that she’d never asked herself that question with Max, but now she was wondering if she was supposed to extend the embrace a little longer, or if – as the initiating party – the onus was on her to step away. But if he was hurting and in need of comfort, she didn’t want to break off the hug too soon.

Her touch soft and uncertain, she rubbed her hands along his shoulders, trying to offer whatever solace she could. “I really am sorry to hear about you and Jessica,” she offered gently.

“Yeah, me too. And I’m sorry to hear about you and Max. I hope the two of you work things out. You deserve to be happy.”

Sucking a breath between her teeth, Zoey pulled away a little. She hadn’t meant to tell Simon the truth about her relationship with Max, but she realized her hedging had left him with a mistaken impression. Max had been nothing less than wonderful throughout their entire fake-relationship, and she couldn’t stand the idea that someone would think he was anything less. Or that her fear and uncertainty were his fault.

“It’s not like that,” she blurted, desperate to clear the air. “I don’t…The truth is, we’re not actually dating. It’s…I really am beginning to detest this word, but it’s complicated.”

Simon looked surprised. “You’re not? Sounds like there’s quite the story there.”

She nodded and shifted, ready to drop her arms and move away. “There is. But -”

Her explanation broke off when he bent his head and pressed his lips to hers. Seconds passed like heartbeats as she processed what was happening.

1…2… Surprise. Zoey was surprised, unsure how to process what was happening. She’d intended to give Simon comfort. She hadn’t expected him to initiate a kiss.

3…4… Curiosity. Just that morning, she’d told Mo how much easier things would be if she was with – or pretending to be with – Simon. She knew kissing him wasn’t right, under the circumstances, but she also remembered her body’s reaction to their last kiss. Would things really be easier with him? Had part of her been holding back with Max because she still secretly wanted Simon?

5… Disappointment. Inexplicable disappointment. Zoey had kissed Simon before. Or he’d kissed her before, to be more accurate. She knew he was technically skilled. The last time they kissed, butterflies had taken flight in her stomach. Part of her had wondered if they would do the same if she had a second chance at a kiss with him, but as the seconds passed, the butterflies remained firmly perched.

There was nothing overtly wrong with Simon’s kiss. It just didn’t feel…right. It didn’t make her heart race, like it did when she was in Max’s arms. It didn’t make her forget about the rest of the world as she threw herself into his kiss, every part of her aching for it to go on and on. And wasn’t that weird? Why would their kisses affect her so differently?

6… Certainty. Love. It was strange that this was the moment that the knowledge would come to her with such perfect, terrible clarity. But when Simon kissed her and she found herself wishing she’d ended their embrace sooner, she realized that she loved Max. Maybe he was the guy you love forever, but that was okay. Maybe she was okay with forever. As long as it was with him.

She dropped her arms and stepped away from Simon, ending their kiss. Six seconds. Six seconds of kissing another man – the wrong man – had totally changed her life. Six seconds had finally made her open her eyes to what she wanted. Who she wanted. And it wasn’t the man in front of her.

What was she doing? This had all been a horrible mistake. Six seconds, and she realized she didn’t want to be Max’s fake-girlfriend anymore. She wanted him for real. She wanted him forever. She wasn’t afraid anymore – or, rather, if she was, she was no longer willing to delude herself that her fear was greater than her love for Max. For her best friend. She wanted him. She wanted to be able to kiss him any time the mood struck her without having to pretend that it was all an act. To do it just because he was hers.

Six seconds, and she almost lost the best, most real thing in her life.

She didn’t know that she already had. And all it had taken was three.

Staggering backwards, Max spun on his heel and retreated as quickly as he could, not wanting either party to the kiss to see him standing there. Not knowing what he would say to Zoey if she did. He would have expected the most devastating moment in his life to hurt more, but the truth was, he felt…numb. He stared down at the ibuprofen bottle in his hand like it was an alien object, unable to comprehend where it had come from or what it was for. Oh, right. Pain medicine. Zoey needed pain medicine.

He couldn’t face her. So, stumbling towards Zoey’s desk, he put the ibuprofen bottle in front of her chair. He turned, but he couldn’t think of where to go or what to do. Supported by the edge of the desk, he felt his body collapse inward, his breath coming in desperate, pained gasps as he fought for air. His hands pressed against his forehead, he tried to clear his mind of the mental image seared into his brain, but to no avail.

“Max? Man, are you okay?” It was the uncharacteristic concern in Tobin’s voice that brought him back to himself, and he snapped into a standing position, his hands falling to his sides.

“What? Oh. Yeah. I’m just…you know what? I’m not feeling well. I think it was something I ate for breakfast. I think I’m going to take the rest of the day. Could you let everyone know for me?”

He didn’t wait for Tobin’s response. Instead, he made a beeline for the elevator, desperate to escape this place. Desperate to get some fresh air. But when he stepped through the elevator doors, his hand hit the button for the sixth floor, rather than the lobby. There was something he needed to do first.

He couldn’t keep lying to himself like this. Torturing himself like this. And if his heart was too stupid to get the message, his brain would have to step in and save him from himself.

It was time to put some distance between himself and Zoey.

#the lies we tell ourselves #zoey's extraordinary playlist #zep #clarkeman #zomax #zoey clarke #max richman #fanfiction #my fanfiction #fake dating au

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SUPER ESTRELLA Ep. 2

Super Estrella, Christmas Eve Bash

Thursday, December 24, 2020

Live on Univision

We start the show of the recap from last week when @TheEyeOfGibson and AuZZtin won the tag titles and Head of Creative John Schneider saying this is far from over.

Here comes @TheEyeOfGibson strutting down to the ring.

Gibson has his own fan section. About a dozen women in their mid- 50’s. One woman has a sign that reads, “Gibson Rats 4 Life”.

Roberto acknowledges them and blows them kisses off his butt before taking the mic.

The Eye starts off by saying “you know last week felt pretty damn good. For the last 5 weeks I didn’t know what I was going to do -- yeah sure living in my van in Pensacola was great but I’m full of steam - I’m a fighter and also a lover ain’t that right Ladies?”

Gibson’s Rats start screaming “I knew I had to get back in The CBWA and when Schneider called me out of the blue to help him in his War Games match.

I knew something was up so I made him sign a stipulation which says if I showed up to Time to Pay PPV and help Schneider’s team, then I will get my shot, my rightful shot at the CBWA World Heavyweight Title”

@gator_AuZZtin music hits to a huge pop.

AuZZtin grabs the mic “Listen Bobby we all know the damn story so quit boring these people to death.Even the Gibson’s Rats dried up during your story.

One of the Gibsons Rats yells, “I’m never dry baby”, AuZZtin looks rather disturbed.

The fact of the matter is I helped you win these damn tag titles.

Roberto stops him and says “you helped me? Correct me if I’m wrong but who kicked The Fiend out cold?”

AuZZtin says, “it doesn’t matter you followed my lead and look here we are the tag champs, something you and buddy Ricky couldn’t do”.

Roberto snags the mic “you leave Morton out of this, he’s still in the hospital and no one knows who took him out, maybe I’m looking at the SOB right now”

AuZZtin grabs the mic “like I said last week if I wanted to take out little Ricky Morton, I would do it in front of his pretty face so he can see who’s whooping his ass, how do I know I’m not looking at the sob that took him out?”

Roberto looks disgusted by that remark “are you kidding me? Now you’ve gone too far thinking I would take my friend of 40 years out”

It looks like they are about to go to blows when John Schneider’s music hits.

John comes down to ringside and interrupts both men “excuse me gentlemen I don’t mean to break up this love fest but I have important business to attend to both of you, starting with you AuZZtin.

Now I imagine you wanna whoop somebody’s ass, so tonight you will go one on one with BS Service member @BrayWya29193609.

Now as far as you go Gibson, you can take your so called disgusting ring rats over there and take them back to your van because you have the night off as a matter of fact you are banned from the arena.

These nice fine Bogota Security guards will see fit that you exit the arena with no problems”

The guards start to make their way to the ring and ask Roberto to come on down. The guards enter the ring, AuZZtin turns one of the guards around, flips him off a stunner, the other guard tries to get AuZZtin but is met by a super kick by Roberto.

Schneider angered tells more guards to get them, bam one stunner another super kick, more guards this time it’s around 6 or so of Bogotá’s finest, tasers are out and Roberto puts his hands up and is getting cuffed -- The same with AuZZtin.

They’re both exiting the ring when all of the sudden, The Miz comes out and nails a handcuffed AuZZtin.

We need to take a break - we’ll be right back folks.

We are back.

Backstage we see Roberto being put in a police car and AuZZtin into another.

John Schneider comes to the cars and says “big tough guys huh? Big tough guys.” He goes to the window where Roberto is and says “I hate your stinking guts and you have no idea how much joy this is to me right now seeing you where you deserve to be, you and your partner over there better start following orders around here or I swear I will make both of your lives miserable”

He then tells the Bogota cop to take this bum out of here, the car drives off as Gibson laughs hysterically in the back. .

Schneider then goes to the car AuZZtin is in, “now as for you, I’ll get you out of the car but you lay one finger on me and you will join your bum partner.”

He tells the cop to get him out, AuZZtin tells Schneider as he is being handcuffed “tell your boy Miz one way or another I’m going to get his ass tonight.”

Schneider says “You need to worry about @BrayWya29193609 because it is now a no disqualification match and Foot Von Erich is going to be the special ring announcer.”

We’ll be right back.

Welcome back to CBWA Super Estrella, let’s go down to the ring.

UNDERFAKER vs BOGOTA BRAWLER

We go to the ring lights go out and it’s @UnderfakerBL.

His opponent, The Bogota Brawler looks terrified.

The bell rings and Underfaker starts to walk slowly to his opponent, uppercut thrust to the throat, whips his opponent into the ropes, flying closeline, picks his opponent up and scoops him up for the tombstone piledriver, this one is over 1, 2, 3.

The Underfaker gets on one knee and holds his arm up towards the entrance.

There’s smoke -- and here comes a long black hearse.

The hearse pulls right up to the ring and out comes Bogota Blake from Ox Rent-A-Car.

@BogotaBlake holds up and urn and summons the Underfaker.

The Underfaker leaves the ring and crawls into the back of the Hearse. Bogota Blake backs up and almost takes out a section of the crowd but is able to regain control of the wheel.

We’ll be right back.

We’re back and we see a sit down interview set up with Kenny Resnick and he’s joined by @FrankConverseMO and his alleged son @BoltsyAmsterdam.

Welcome back to Super Estrella, I would like to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas.

“I’m here with the former CBWA World Heavyweight Champion @FrankConverseMO and a former champion and Hall of Famer himself @BoltsyAmsterdam.

Frank you asked me to get this together because you have something to say and wanted to be sure your alleged son @BoltsyAmsterdam was here, now that he is the floor is yours.

Frank says “thank you Kenny and a Merry Christmas to you and your herpies.

I wanted this gathering here today because I have something to say, you know the last 6 months of my life have been up and down, a lot of ups, I got in the best shape of my life, I won the CBWA World Heavyweight title from a Hall of Famer. I was featured in Action Hollywood movies, but there were also a lot of downs.

My bestfriend Claude Akins Gibson has been busy campaigning to become the next Mayor of Bogota and that meant that I was constantly alone.

I spent all my money -- I blew it on booze and drugs. I pawned a brand new CBWA World Heavyweight title belt Mr. Schneider made for me, but the lowest I was is when my son, my flesh and bone @BoltsyAmsterdam refuses to talk to me because of the shame he has for me.”

Boltsy cuts him off, “what are you talking about son? Boltsy gets up to leave, “for the last time you idiot, I’am not your damn son!!!!! I hate your guts because of the human being you are. You’re a bum, but one thing you are not is my father.”

Kenny steps in and says, “Boltsy, now Frank is admitting a lot of stuff here tonight but why would you say he is not your father?”

Boltsy screams, “because he’s not!!! I know who my father is.

Frank says, “it’s ok Kenny, the one thing I want everybody to know out there and especially my son” -- Boltsy yells again, “I’m not your....”

Kenny cuts him off, “let him talk.”

Frank says, “I just want everybody to know that you are looking at a new Frank Converse. I will no longer rely on drugs and alcohol but only rely on love from my son.” Boltsy whispers “you gotta be F’n kidding me.”

Frank continues “2020 was a great year for me but also a terrible year for me but 2021 will be the best year yet.”

Kenny jumps in and says, “Wow Frank, I’m very impressed with you and coming out with all your issues and recognizing it and having your alledgedson here to hear this is the topping on the cake.

Frank and I wish you nothing but the best, Boltsy do you have anything to say?”

Boltsy obviously irritated at this point says, “are you guys high right now?”

Frank says, “no son that’s the old me.”

Kenny says, “Boltsy I don’t understand -- I thought you would be thrilled to hear that your alleged dad is getting his life together and back on track for you.”

Boltsy says, “I don’t even know what to say at this point, this man is not my father, I grew up in Pittsburgh - he was in LA and we don’t look alike.”

Kenny cuts in, “I’ll have to disagree with that one.”

Boltsy gives Kenny a stare of death, “shut your face, look Frank if you’re going to change your life around and go down the straight and narrow then good for you, I hope you really do it, because you have burned a lot of bridges and I hope you can mend them.”

Frank says “Thank you son that means a lot, would you like to go play catch?”

Boltsy gets up and leaves….

Kenny then says, “well there you go a father and son’s relationship, I believe has been mended. Good luck Frank and we’ll be right back after these messages.”

We are back.

We’re inside Mr. Schneider’s office where it looks like The BS Service is having a Christmas party.

The Miz comes in and starts gloating that he whooped the so called, toughest S.O.G (son of a gator) AuZZtin’s ass and he’s about to do the same thing later tonight when he faces Greg Gagne.

Bolin interrupts and says, “Gentlemen let’s raise our champagne glass and toast the man that brought all of this to us and in the future the leader that will lead us all into dominance, Mr. John Schneider.”

They all toast.

Back in the ring --

The Masked Assassin vs The CBWA Intercontinental Champion Hot Stuff Eddie Gilbert

The bell rings and he locks up with the Masked Assassin and whips him into the ropes. Gilbert delivers a beautiful drop kick followed by the Hot Stuff piledriver, 1, 2, 3. Easy work for the IC champion.

WINNER: @HotstuffINT007

Gilbert is at the interview table with Kenny Resnick. Please welcome the man with the longest winning streak in CBWA history, Hall of Famer and the new CBWA The Intercontinental Champion -- Eddie Gilbert.

Eddie says, “Thank you very much Kenny. It’s great to be back in Bogota. It’s great to be a champion again. I fought hard to win this belt again, I went through some of the very best that The CBWA can offer and I can promise you I will be a fighting champion, as I’ve always been.”

At that moment, Hollywood Foot Von Erich walks out, “you know baby you say you went through the best but never faced the best because you are looking at the best baby” and points at the belt and walks off. Eddie laughs and Kenny throws it to break.

We are back and we are outside of the Bogota Mayor’s mansion.

Kenny Resnick is at the front door and @BigBubbaBogo answers.

Bubba tells Kenny to beat it. “The Mayor does not want to talk to anybody.”

Kenny said “well he asked me to be here for an exclusive.”

Bubba says, “well maybe you should check your emails because his assistant has rescheduled it for next week, now beat it before I have the hounds released on you.”

Kenny tells the camera man we better leave.

THE SOUTH AMERICAN CHAMPION MIZ vs GREG GAGNE

We are back in the ring and here comes Greg Gagne. All the little boys and girls are super excited to see Greg.

Gagne is feeling the Christmas spirit as he is gives each kid an exclusive Greg Ganja action figure which you can also pick up on the CBWA online shop!

Next, here come the CBWA South American Champion The Miz.

Miz takes one of the action figures that Ganja gave to one of the kids and breaks.

The Miz starts mocking the kid, and throws the pieces into the crowd.

This match is NOT for The CBWA South American Championship, which you can also purchase your replica South American Title belt at http://CBWAshop.com.

The bell rings and Miz starts mocking Ganja with the crybaby face but wait -- wait -- it’s AuZZtin.

He is behind The Miz and Miz has no idea, Ganja sees AuZZtin and tells The Miz to look behind.

The Miz all of sudden knows what’s coming, he turns around and AuZZtin flips him the bird and starts whooping on The Miz. He goes for the stunner but Miz escapes and runs away.

Ganja extends his hand at AuZZtin and receives a stunner.

All of a sudden, Bray Wyatt’s music comes on and here comes @BrayWya29193609 with @FootVonErich.

The fans are letting them have it.

It’s Bray vs AuZZtin right after these messages.

We are back and it’s main event time.

BRAY vs AUZZTIN

Foot grabs the microphone and starts announcing Bray Wyatt but is cut off by a vicious closeline by AuZZtin and here we go. AuZZtin stares down Bray but Bray is trying to play peek a boo with AuZZtin.

AuZZtin says ok and plays peek a boo back with a middle finger and starts whooping Bray in the corner, stomping a mud hole and walking it dry.

He grabs Bray by his dreadlocks and is about to set him up for a stunner but The Miz comes out and delivers a low blow.

Referee Nick Patrick calls for the bell and Foot Von Erich comes in its 3 on 1.

Mr. Schneider then comes out with the rest of the BS Services.

The Prototype, Bob Lashley, Rico and Renee Dupree.

John grabs the mic and says, “You see what happens when you don’t fall in line? Let this be a lesson to anyone in the back to not cross the boss.”

All of a sudden, Santa Clause music hits and it’s jolly old Saint Nick himself.

He’s giving all the boys and girls toys and candy, and he stops off at the Gibson Rat’s section and hands out sexy lingerie.

Mr. Schneider addresses Santa, “Hey Fat man, this is my arena who the hell do you think you are? Boys get him.”

The BS Service starts making there way to Santa Clause and all of a sudden --

Goldberg’s music hits -- It’s the CBWA World Champion

Goldberg hits the ring and he spears The Miz!

He spears Foot Von Erich and he spears Bray.

Schneider is looking scared the rest of the BS Service tries to stop Goldberg but is met with a spear.

Goldberg grabs Bob Lashley and picks him up for a jackhammer and down goes Lashley.

My god what strength.

Schneider cant believe what he is seeing.

He is now face to face with Santa Clause.

Santa takes his beard off and it’s @TheEyeOfGibson

He tries to swing at Santa Gibson but Santa ducks and nails him with a super kick.

OMG Schneider is out cold.

As the camera pulls back from the ring, we see Santa Gibson, AuZZtin and Goldberg celebrating with some cold ones.

WAIT -- The Miz is back in the ring and -- AuZZtin STUNS HIM!

From all of us at the CBWA -- We wish all of you all a Merry Christmas!

Next week it will be the CBWA Super Estrella New Years Revolution

Plus find out more about The Great Bogota Bash coming in January 2021.

We’ll see you next week folks, Merry Christmas from Bogota.

#wrestling #bogota #wwe #cbwa #aew

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eeveecrmchl · 4 years ago

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DISCORD THREAD | EEVEE X VULCAN:

feat: @eeveecrmchl & @ellisvulcan

mentions: landon’s apartment

summary: vulcan finds eevee at club echo and tries to take her home. she finally tries to get closure but is met with the truth as to why v left her in the first place. eevee is not convinced.

tw: alcohol, drugs mentioned, my girl being dum as hell

Eevee: Eevee isn’t drunk yet but that doesn’t stop her from straddling the man that’s been paying for her drinks the whole night and letting his lips make marks up and down the column of her neck. If she closes her eyes, she’s able to imagine a different set of arms, a familiar grasp on her waist, and the taste of someone she’d rather be with. Of course she can’t; V’s probably out with whoever takes his offer for the night. Losing herself in the sensation of someone actually wanting her, Eevee lets out a breathy sigh. It feels wrong — like her body is already ruined for everyone else but she forces herself to enjoy it. Bottle still in hand, she takes a gulp straight from it, the burn numbing everything. It’s practically routine at this point: go out, get drunk, and if she’s bored, get someone to finish her off. Most of the time, she finds herself in a backseat of a Lexus or the alley of some random bar, but it looks like she’s going for making out in public for tonight. The man says something but she ignores it, cups his face to kiss the words off of his mouth. He shouldn’t talk; it takes away the fantasy. If Eevee’s thinking about a particular person at this point, no one else needs to know.

Vulcan: The conversation he had with Evelyn has still been in the back of his mind. Truly he wished it was her that took his invitation that night. That text and the little moment he had with her at Landon’s place, Vulcan truly wished he was sober during those times, but alcohol seemed to be one of those things that makes him sleep lately. They haven’t talked in a while, until he was added to that group chat. Right after he did the job that was given to him by his boss, he’s found himself back at Club Echo again, as usual, to drink the night away. He was about to walk up to the bar when the very woman in his mind catches his eye, she was all over this stranger and he couldn’t help but acknowledge how it stings, seeing her like that. He comes up to the booth and stood there for a moment, then he clears his throat to catch her attention. “Eevee.”

Eevee: Eevee flinches when she hears her name, pulling back from whomever had her attention to look up at her ex boyfriend. In her inebriated state, she could only throw him a lopsided smile, keeping her arms around the stranger to steady herself. “Vulcan,” the name tastes sweet coming from her lips, a sudden wave of nostalgia hitting her at the memories of the many ways it left her before: “Vulcan, I want you to meet my parents.”, “Vulcan, I’d do anything for you.”, “Vulcan, I love you.” Now she’s only left with remnants of how she felt, the intensity of which she hasn’t been able to find in anyone else; Eevee doubts she ever will. Noting her current state, and remembering that he, himself was in a similar situation the night before, she tilts her head in curiosity, ignoring the way the man under her seems to feel the tension. “What are you doing here?” New York is a big enough city and she’d foolishly thought that just by avoiding him, she’d be able to move on quicker. “Where’s uh — what’s her name? The one you fucked last night?”

Vulcan: He could see in Eevee’s eyes and her smile how intoxicated she already was. The way she just said his name, it causes some pain is his chest, he wanted to be that one in that stranger’s position, part of him still wants to be with her. Yet whenever the thought crosses his mind, to pursue her once more, he would also be reminded of the warning of her parents, to stay out of her life, that she shouldn’t be with someone like him, that she…..she deserves better than him, better than the state she’s in right now. “Eevee, you’re wasted. You need to go home.” He gives the stranger a look, burning a hole through his head that makes him let the girl go. “Let me take you home. You’ve had more than you should have.”

Eevee: Eevee pouts when the stranger actually pushes her off of him, but it’s no surprise; he looked like the type that would rather avoid confrontation than to find himself in the wrong end of one. Placing the bottle on the nearest table, she huffs up at Vulcan, about to tell him off for scaring away the person that was supposed to make her feel good for the night, but is stopped short when his appearance finally registers. Hands reach out in shock as her eyes roam over the expanse of his entirety, trying to see just where all the cuts and bruises seem to form. “V, what happened,” her voice comes out in a whisper. “Fuck, who did this to you? Do you know who they are? We should go tell the police right now. I know dad has some connections down at the station.”

Vulcan: The mechanic closes his eyes when the younger girl walks up to him, bracing himself for the argument they were about to have. Instead, Vulcan felt Eevee’s hand on his check, worry noticeable in her voice as she asked him a bunch of questions. He almost forgot that he was in a match tonight. His opponent packed a lot of punches, and he wasn’t surprised that they left marks and bruises on his face and the rest of his upper body. He’s been doing this for years, and he’s always attempted to hide it for Eevee not to notice, well not until now. “It’s from work—And no, you’re not going to tell your dad. I’m going to get in trouble if you do.”

Eevee: There are questions that whir through her alcohol addled brain — especially about that comment concerning her father —, but Eevee bites her tongue. She no longer has the right to ask or to even have the privilege of knowing in the first place. Still, in her drunken haze she can’t help but wrap her arms around the man’s neck, burrowing her face in his chest. She’s always been an affectionate drunk and while the more rational part of her mind screams that she should stop, she lets herself indulge in the feeling. “Please try to be safer,” she mumbles against his shirt, refusing to look up at him lest she does something more foolish. “I don’t like you getting hurt.”

Vulcan: Vulcan instinctively wraps his arms around her waist, holding her close as she nuzzles her face against his chest. “I’m always safe.” He takes a deep breath, gently combing his fingers through her hair. “I need you to stay safe, Eevee.” He whispers to the other, making sure that she’s the only one who could hear. “Let me just—let me take you home, at least.” He draws himself away from her slightly to look into those eyes.

Eevee: “I’m safe,” is her automatic reply but Eevee doesn’t mention nights when she roams the city, unaware of her surroundings with drugs in her system and alcohol in her breath. Gaze locked onto his, she leans in instinctively before catching herself. “Okay,” her voice comes out resigned, knowing that she’ll probably be too embarrassed to go over this in the morning, Hopefully in her hungover state, it’d be easy to forget how she practically threw herself at the man who broke her heart. “You remember where my apartment is?”

Vulcan: “That’s all I need, Eevee.” Vulcan gives her that look before she eventually pulls away. Which something that he silently thanked it happened. They cannot do this, especially not in front of so many people. Her dad cannot know that he violated their deal, that he’s violated their deal that one morning at Landon’s apartment. He never wanted to end things between them, but he couldn’t risk losing the things his family’s left for him. “Always.” He takes her hand to hold as he leads the both of them out of the club. “Do you want something to eat? Gatorade?” She probably needed something for the hangover in the morning, too. Vulcan just couldn’t help but still care.

Eevee: There’s a moment when Eevee feels her heart flutter at his look, but she ignores it for the sake of interlocking their fingers together when he grabs her hand. Out of the club, she’s able to breathe freely, the night air cooling her down and sobering her a little, but not enough that rational thinking has come into play which is how she finds herself tugging him towards the back alley. One night. She can give herself one night and it’ll be just like the rest of her flings; Eevee doesn’t need to care. Backing herself up against the side of the club they’re at, she lets go of his hand to let hers trail up his chest. “Don’t need Gatorade,” she exhales, feeling herself grow bolder and tugging him in close. “Just need you.”

Vulcan: Vulcan was about to speak again when Eevee dragged him by his hand and brought him to the back alley by the club. “Eevee—I can’t.” He feels series of shudders crawl down his spine as he felt her hand on his body again. He never heard those words from her in forever, if was in the same level of inebriated as her, he knew he wouldn’t be able to say no. But not this time. The mechanic takes a deep breath. “Food, Gatorade, and drive you home. That’s what you need, baby. Let me take care of you.” He cups her cheek with his hand, leaning close to plant a kiss on her forehead. “We can do anything that you want, just—just let me take care of you.” He repeats, tucking her loose hair behind her ear. “Trust me, I feel the same. I really do….”

Eevee: The rejection shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, but Eevee can’t help but let it settle on her insecurities. “You didn’t say that back at Landon’s apartment,” she’s feeling bitter now and all she wants to do is crawl under her covers to rid herself of this embarrassment. “I can take care of myself,” she throws back. There’s an urge to just walk away, call up Tee, and just forget this whole night ever happened, but it’s the way that he calls her baby that stops her. There’s a hand on her cheek then, eyes fluttering close at the feel of his lips against her forehead. “I’m fine. I’ve done this before.” It’s a miracle that nothing too bad has happened to her considering how much her self destructive tendencies have put her through, so her words do have some truth behind it. “Don’t,” and with this, she uses the hands on Vulcan’s chest to gently push him away. “You don’t have to lie. I can get home by myself. Thanks.”

Vulcan: His eyes widened at her words, what does she mean that she’s done this before? No, he cannot let her leave, he cannot let her slip away like this, not this time, maybe just for tonight. Worry washed all over him, now knowing that this isn’t the first time, and the fact that she’s done this a lot…. “Eevee.” He whispers, pleading evident in his voice as he desperately stared into those eyes once more. “I didn’t—I’m not lying. Please don’t push me away, even just for tonight.” He sighed deeply, resting his forehead against hers. Perhaps her father wouldn’t know, even just this once.

Eevee: Vulcan’s so close and it’s like every dream she’s tried to ignore, every errant thought pushed aside to prove to herself that she’s moving on. The fact that she stays firmly in place, looking up at him with no plans on moving away, just shows how far she is from that. “What do you want from me, Vulcan,” her words come out as a whisper, breaking at the sound of his name. “I don’t know what you want from me.” Close enough to let her lips pass his, Eevee summons whatever self restraint she has left to pull back. “You can take me home but after that — I don’t know. You can crash on my couch if you want.”

Vulcan: Vulcan badly wanted to say that he wanted her, that he never stopped wanting her. Yet all he could do is stare into the eyes of the girl he never stopped on loving. He never thought that losing Eevee would kill him slowly, up to this day, it still does. He finds himself still longing for her sometimes, missing the feeling of having the girl in his arms. "All I want..." He takes a deep, shaky breath. "All I want is for you to have good things, what you truly deserve." He stares down to his feet as the other pulls herself away. "Okay. Let's go." He takes her hand once more and leads them to his car. He makes sure that the girl was settled in the passenger seat before getting in. "Just tell me if you need anything."

Eevee: Eevee can’t help the scoff that leaves her at his answer; the frustration at just how ironic it is that he’d want that for her when he can provide the same is what keeps her quiet. She lets him lead her to his car, the words she want to say trapped behind pride and shock from the audacity Vulcan seems to carry. The need to let him know what’s exactly on her mind wins out and while she knows she’ll probably regret it, she turns to him. “You want what’s best for me?” Her words are colored with the hurt he’s caused but she continues on. “You were what was best for me. You were the good thing I wanted to keep in my life.” Eevee ignores the telltale signs of tears, blinking any moisture away. She would be damned to let him see her cry. “You don’t get to leave me and then act like it was such a fucking sacrifice. It was so easy for you to let go like we meant nothing, like I meant nothing to you, so you don’t get to tell me some bullshit excuse on ‘wanting what’s good for me.’”

Vulcan: He could sense that Eevee was quite deep in her thoughts while he leads them to his car, and before he could even bring his engine to life, she spoke. He hated how much he's hurt her and be a huge part of the reason why she was like this. "Trust me, Eevee. I didn't--I never wanted to leave you. I didn't want to end things. You were the only one I ever wanted--scratch that--needed like this. But I didn't have a choice at the time." He takes a deep breath, resting his forehead on the steering wheel, before staring at the other. "You mean everything to me, more than the world, Eevee. It hurts not having you in my life ever since I left, though it was either you or the only reminders of my parents gets taken away from me. And what he said to me was true, we are both on different ends of tbe spectrum. What can I possibly offer you when I'm just a fucking mechanic who also fights every other night to earn money enough just for myself?"

Eevee: A roll of her eyes is thrown the man’s way with Eevee’s head shaking even before he could finish his sentence. “You say you didn’t want to end things and yet you still did. You say you didn’t have a choice but you could have chosen me. You could have chosen us but you didn’t.” It’s the heartbreak that she carries that has her finally voicing out what she couldn’t before — most of which only Tee has heard in her drunken rambles. Eevee’s kept herself in denial but there’s no way to turn this around with him now. Vulcan broke her heart and she intends to let him know. “Who the fuck was going to take away your parents’ things,” she snaps, confusion clearly etched on her features. “Who the fuck is telling you all these things? And why the fuck didn't you tell me?” Her eyes widen at his words when they process and if she didn’t hate her upbringing then, she sure does now. “I don’t care about that,” her words hold firm. “You know I’ve never cared about that. I just wanted you. I fucking loved you, Vulcan. That’s all that mattered to me. We could have been living in a small ass studio apartment, depending on paycheck to paycheck and I wouldn't have cared.”

Vulcan: "Your parents! Your parents wanted me out of your life!" He's broken another part of their deal. Everything that her parents talked to him about, one by one he was just breaking them, yet ge couldn't keep this to himsel anymore, not when Eevee was demanding answers from him. "Your father came to my place one night just after you left and talked me into breaking things off with you. Or else, he'll take everything I own away from me, everything that my parents passed on to me, the house, the car my stepdad and I worked on for years, the clothes on my back, everything, Eevee. And if I tell you, things could possibly get worse--well fuck, now you know." He runs his fingers frustatingly through his hair. "You're the one I wanted, for the rest of my life. But I can't let you let go of the life you're living because of me. I can't let you turn your back on your parents because of me. That's why I didn't tell you, that's why I broke it off and quickly left before I can't resist and just--I can't....Eevee...."

Eevee: Taken aback, Eevee settles on her seat, head spinning at his explanation. “That doesn’t make sense,” Eevee refuses to believe it; as much as she dislikes the way her parents seemingly control the way she presents herself, they’re still the most important people in the world to her — well, her dad is anyway. “My dad would never do that. He’s not that cruel. Why would you say something like that?” Even as the words leave her lips, she’s not sure of who she’s trying to convince but she holds on to the conviction that it’s not true because it can’t be true. “You don’t have to lie, V, Jesus fucking Christ. That’s not going to make it better. At least fucking man up and own up to the fact that you left me.” Eevee tries to calm herself down even if the confusion still grows and all she wants to do is run. “How many times do I have to tell you? I. Do. Not. Care. I don’t fucking care, V. I really don’t. About the money, about everything they’re willing to give me. I can live without that.” There’s a pause before she looks back at him. “Unlock the door. I can get home by myself. I really can’t be in the same space with you right now.”

Vulcan: "I'm not fucking lying, Eevee. I wish it wasn't true, I wish I wasn't threatened by him, wearing a suit in the middle of the night with fucking papers on how our deal should go. I wish that he didn't threaten me into signing those. You don't have to believe me now, but that's what's happened." He sighed deeply. He knew Eevee meant those words, he knew how she hated her lavish life. Yet, he couldn't bring her into the kind of life he was living. It might be her dad getting into his head, but there's just times he couldn't the fact that....maybe he was right. "Alright. At least let me wait for you Uber to pick you up." He sighs in defeat.

Eevee: Eevee lets his words wash over her but doesn’t let it settle in what she believes to be true. “V, just stop, okay? Please stop. My dad would never. Yeah he’s a fucking asshole sometimes but he loves me.” Her phone is out from her pockets, fingers quickly tapping on the screen to get a ride back home. There’s a car nearby and she waits in silence as it nears as per the app, her eyes trained out the window. She can practically feel her heart beat right out of her chest with the the excuse Vulcan threw at her, but like everything else that goes wrong in her life, she’s going to forget — running has never been a stranger to her. The moment she sees the Uber pull up, she’s out the door, muttering a quick thanks at her ex before practically rushing away from him. Eevee just needs to go home, sleep, and pretend none of this ever happened. // END.

#eevee * / discord threads .#eevee * / & vulcan .#alcohol tw #drugs mentioned tw

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snarkwrites · 5 years ago

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FFT: be my valentine; john shaw

Notes:

So this is the second part to the Galentines ask. And I truly enjoyed writing it, even though hi, oops, angst af? I might be tempted to explore more in the future.

Summary:

John is taking Valerie home. Talks are had. Closure is gotten. Fluffy af.

Pairing:

Detective John Shaw x OFC, Valerie.

Warnings:

alcohol tw.

John shook his head as he watched Valerie flop down into one of the chairs, that bottle of tequila in front of her as she took a few long sips. A smirk playing at his lips for a few seconds as he made his way over, tapping Valerie on the shoulder. She was staring down at the golden-colored liquid in the bottle as if it held all the answers to whatever was currently eating at her mind.

She didn’t acknowledge him tapping her shoulder, so that was his first sign that she needed to stop for the night. When she didn’t acknowledge him tapping her shoulder, he walked around to stand in front of her, pulling out a chair, sitting so that the back of it was against his chest.

“Ya realize you’re over the limit.” he nodded to the bottle of tequila and then eyed her in concern, feeling like an asshole when she tensed all over and he could see dried mascara tracks on her cheeks. If he could get his hands on this Ben guy, he’d probably have taken a great deal of pleasure from giving the guy a few good punches. Something told him there was more to the story than the guy just dumping her over a text and that being that. He briefly wondered if maybe Valerie was doing that thing again, the one where she ran when things got a little scary and serious. Somehow he got the feeling that wasn’t what it was, but he knew she did it when they’d been involved too, so he couldn’t be sure.

Valerie’s jaw clenched and she took a long and deep breath, shrugging. “Don’t w-worry, Shaw. I-I’ll be sober before I c-come into w-work.”

He took a deep breath and dropped his gaze to his hands. “Thought ya had a hot date tonight.”

Valerie snorted in laughter. “Y-you’re not the o-only one, Shaw.”

“Ya friends left.. Ya want a ride?” John asked the question almost warily. He knew how hard it was to be around her while they were on the clock. And her in the shape she was in right now, that might make it even harder for him to keep from letting something he had no business saying given their work relationship.

Valerie eyed him suspiciously then she glanced at the bottle and gave a short laugh as she shrugged. “Guess s-so. F-figured y-you’d s-still be at t-the p-precinct.”

“Nah, I left it to Gustavson. Told him to call me if somethin went down. Just kinda wanted to get outta there.” he explained as he thought to himself, … when I saw ya leavin and saw that look in your eyes, I didn’t have any choice… I was worried. I’ve been worried about ya… I’ve missed ya.

He didn’t dare say it. Because neither of them had bought up. Things had just kind of ended before he got the chance -or the nerve required to find out where they might wind up going.

Then again, it’s not every day that you find out you inadvertently hired the woman had a short and rather intense fling with, either. In their situation at the time, neither of them had really bothered to try and get to know each other. He’d been in a bad place, she told him point-blank on more than one occasion that she wasn’t looking for anything serious, so they really hadn’t bothered with the formalities of last names during their little fling.

They lost touch a few years, but she hadn’t ever really been far from his mind. He’d toyed with finding her at one point but kind of backed out. And then, he wound up hiring her about five years later.

And neither of them really ever mentioned it.

But John thought about it all the time. And it did make things tense as hell between the two of them often as a result.

“Let’s get ya outta here.” John coaxed, catching her gaze and holding it. She stared right back at him, swallowing hard and shaking her head no.

“No. I-I.. I’m fine.” Valerie objected really quick. Quick enough that it raised more than a few questions with John. Questions he almost asked. He didn’t have to, because drunk mouths and sober truths lead her to starting to just pour things out.

Valerie honestly didn’t mean to do it, but when she opened her mouth, the truth came pouring out, starting with the most obvious. The one thing she’d been avoiding saying to anyone. Especially to John Shaw.

“I-I love you.”

He nearly choked on the bottled water he’d had the bartender bring over to their table and he gaped at her. “People who love somebody don’t just disappear, Valerie, fuck. I barely got to know ya but I wanted to. I was plannin’ things, doll..” he stopped himself just shy of saying entirely too much and he went back to staring at the tabletop, his jaw set firm and his mind rushing a thousand miles an hour.

Oh, he had absolutely no doubt that she meant every word she’d just said. Now he just had to figure out what the fuck to do with it. Because they were partners and he was a firm believer in not mixing business with pleasure. And now that it was out, he knew he couldn’t just forget it.

“I-it scared m-me. Because my d-dad, he was a cop too and got him killed.” Valerie hiccupped and continued quietly, “After that, my mom went t-to shit. I-I d-don’t wanna h-hurt like that. And I k-know I would b-because I-I.. Love y sooooo much. It’s scary.”

He eyed her and raised his hand, raking it over the buzz cut he’d recently gotten. To say that he was shocked by what she was pouring out in her drunken state was an understatement. “What’s this gotta do with that Ben jerk, huh?”

“He.. We’re d-done because he said he loved me and I s-said M-me too. I couldn’t say it because I knew I didn’t mean it. Then I-I told him s-so and somehow h-he guessed why. Told me it was h-him or y-you and when I didn’t answer, he s-said he’d make things easier and broke up with me. I t-tried to get over you, okay? I t-tried but I just can’t.” Valerie took a few shaky breaths and immediately dropped her gaze to the tabletop. She was that state of drunk where she just hated holding it all back, she realized how much it killed her to do it.

She also realized that life was too short and if she didn’t get it off her chest now, she wasn’t ever going to. She just had to pray to the Gods that she didn’t remember any of this in the morning.

Somehow, she found herself thinking, I doubt that’s going to happen. John has never been the kind of guy to forget something this important.

“Okay, we’re gettin you outta here, kitten.” his tone was firm and yet softer. Not harsh like usual. Not cold or distant. It felt better. He felt more like the John Shaw she used to know. She eyed him warily and then sighed, her shoulders sagging a little. “Where am I gonna go, John?”

“I’ll take ya back to my place, kitten. Let ya sleep it off.” John was on his feet, making his way around the table and pulling her up out of the chair, picking her up bridal style. Valerie put her arms around his neck and her nose settled against the side of it as she hid her eyes, trying to keep the room from spinning quite as much. “So tired.”

“I know, kitten. I know.”

“No, n-not s-sleepy. Tired. Tired of holdin things back.” Valerie trailed off, going quiet, trying to keep herself from saying too much and going too far. She’d gone beyond far enough already. She must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew, they were in his car and he was driving back towards his apartment.

The car came to a stop and John glanced over, finding her asleep with her head against his bicep. He cleared his throat quietly and when it didn’t wake her up, he carefully pushed her to an upright position as best as he could without waking her and got out, going around to her side of the car. He opened the door, leaning in and retrieving her from the seat, sliding her up his body, letting her legs wrap around him.

Somehow, he managed to get her into the house without her really waking up and once he had, he took her back to his bedroom, laying her down in his bed. She rolled over, reaching out and he stopped, sitting on the edge of the bed instead of walking out like he planned.

“John?”

“Yeah, kitten?”

“I can’t keep on bein’ your partner. I’m.. Sorry.” she hiccuped and he gave a quiet chuckle, leaning in, gently cupping her jawline. “It’s okay, kitten. It’s gonna be okay. Because now that’s not in the way, and now we can kind of work on stuff.” he leaned in, giving her a peck on the lips.

He wanted to give her a long and deep and slow kiss that left her breathless, but she wasn’t in the shape and he needed to think. To figure things out, figure out where to go from here. The only thing he did know was that he loved her and maybe if he fought harder this time, if he dug his heels in and refused to let her just run when she got scared if she got scared again.. He had to try. He couldn’t just keep doing things without her.

He missed them.

Their thing back then may have been brief and intense, but he’d fallen in love with her and he never really got over it. He’d never really wanted to. Now he was getting a second chance and he really had to at least try to take it.

He went to stand but she reached out, grabbing his wrist. “Don’t go… please?”

He cleared his throat and he sank back down onto the bed after pulling off his boots, getting into bed beside her, letting her arrange herself so that her legs were tangled in his and her head was on his chest. “I never should’ve just left. I didn’t want to.”

“I didn’t want you to go.” he didn’t have anything left to lose, might as well admit it. “Happy Valentines, kitten. Always gonna be my valentine, I swear, baby.” his lips brushed against her temple and she raised her head, pulling him down into a clumsy and deep kiss.

When the kiss broke, she nuzzled against him a little and her arm slipped over his body. When she started to snore again, he laid there until he finally let himself relax enough to go to sleep too.

#john shaw fanfiction #john shaw fanfic #john shaw fic #john shaw oneshot #john shaw imagine #this is the second part to the one I just posted

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likeshipsonthesea · 6 years ago

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i don’t know why but even though i’m not catholic i really identify with the catholic guilt thing? anyway this song makes me think of dex, so here.

warning for internalized homophobia and religious turmoil

The church looks the same as it always did.

Rays of stained light cast over the deep, dark wood of the pews, smooth but always a stiff seat. The green carpet muffles Dex’s footsteps as he makes his way down the aisle, candles littering the end of the path, the pulpit dressed in drapery and symbolism. Christ hanging on the wall, head bent, humble, thorny bronze crown reflecting the light.

Dex’s hands get caught in his pockets when he goes to light a candle, but no one is there to watch his fumbling. He picks up the wooden stick and tucks the end of it into the flame, waiting for it to catch.

He doesn’t know why, but he always took a moment to pick the right candle for the right prayer. There’s no criteria, or logic, but he looks across the array of candles, some lit but most dark. It’s early, he stumbled in after his morning run, and only the most devoted come in before the sun.

He ultimately decides on the candle three from the end, second row, and dips the lit end of the stick in to touch the wick. Half delirious, he thinks the word “kiss” as the ends touch, and then crosses himself hastily as he makes his prayer.

Forgive me, Dex thinks. He doesn’t think what for, as he would assume God would already know whatever Dex is asking forgiveness for. Dex isn’t quite sure, which is the other reason why he leaves it at that. Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart.

Dex nearly scoffs. You have some part in this too, then, he thinks, wry, before the guilt floods his mouth, bitter.

It has been a long while since he’s taken communion. The papery taste of the wafer is hard to forget, the sweet wine even more so. The other boys in Dex’s religion class snickered at the prospect of drinking. Dex was never that excited about it.

For one, he’d overhead Ma talking to Aunt Julie about how Father Paul was a recovering alcoholic so he used wine without much alcohol. More than that, though, the thought of sipping from that huge glass, looking up at Father Paul, the man who baptized him and would hear his first confession-- Dex never saw the novelty in it.

Dex turns and sees the confessional, old and white, the same one Dex sat in as a kid, the same one Dad did, too. He stares at it for likely too long before he takes a seat in one of the pews. His running shorts ride up, as he sits, and his bare skin brushes the lacquered wood. It’s a foreign feeling in a familiar space. Dex doesn’t know what it means that he takes comfort in it.

He’s supposed to take comfort in the church. In the scripture. In God and His forgiveness.

“Man, they screwed you up,” Nursey said, in what should have been a laughing tone but was darker, honest, when Dex explained confession, finding solace in forgiveness. Dex didn’t know what his face did when Nursey said this, but it must’ve been pathetic because Nursey’s anger softened in his eyes. “Sorry,” he said, laying his hand on Dex’s chest, over his heartbeat. Skin bare, unbearably warm, all the apology Dex needed. “I just don’t like seeing you like-- this.”

Dex understood that. It’s why he didn’t invite Nursey to come home with him for Spring Break. Nursey didn’t like seeing Dex uncomfortable, uncertain, and he always became defensive on Dex’s behalf, which Dex appreciated at Samwell but couldn’t have in Maine. In Maine, Dex has to be quiet, dutiful, nod along to whatever is given to him. Penance, maybe, for being such a loud thing otherwise.

That’s another thing Nursey would think is fucked up. How Dex reconciles his queerness by being a good son otherwise. He wouldn’t believe, maybe, how Dex is here, compared to how he is at Samwell. “A Poindexter that doesn’t talk back?” Dex can imagine him saying, grinning. “Doesn’t flush at every single “wrong” thing someone says? Is silent?”

Maybe that’s it, too. Why Dex didn’t bring Nursey home. He doesn’t want Nursey to see who he is here. Who he has to be. It’s closer to how he was their frog year than Dex ever wants to be, and he doesn’t want to give Nursey the reminder.

Another thing Dex probably gets from his childhood: the fear that Nursey will realize that Dex doesn’t deserve him and leaves. If Dex was truly the good Christian he ought to be, he’d let Nursey go on and find what he does deserve, or at the very least Dex would confess the selfishness.

Dex hasn’t gone to Confessional since summer break, after his frog year. Even then, he wasn’t being honest. He hasn’t been honest in confessional since he was a freshmen in high school, came to church the morning after drunken parties where he always managed to slip away from the crowd, the watching eyes, press himself between a beer-laden boy and a wall strong enough to hold him up through the tremors.

“Do people confess sex stuff?” Nursey asked. “That seems so awkward.”

“If it’s a mortal sin.” As Dex said this, Nursey’s head rose and fell with the cadence of the words. They were both bare, save for briefs, in the heat of the Haus during an unexpectedly hot spring day. Nursey was using Dex’s stomach as a pillow because his actual pillow was in the freezer so that “all the sides will be the cool side!” Dex stared at Nursey’s curly dark hair, slightly damp with sweat, and told him about mortal sins and sins of the flesh and tacitly told him all the ways Dex was wrong and broken and no good.

“Crazy,” Nursey said, after Dex was finished. “I’m gonna go grab my pillow.” He hopped up from the bed and turned back to Dex, smiling a little. “Want an ice pop?” Dex nodded and Nursey’s smiled widened. “I’m gonna get you a blue one,” he said, bent down, and kissed Dex before he could object to the color of the popsicle. Nursey knew Dex hated the blue ones.

There were things about church that Dex missed. He missed the people, generally, their kindly complaints about their lives and questions into his own, their pride in his successes and encouragements in the face of his failures. He misses the songs, the sound of deep old men voices mingling with the off-key children’s, all of it pursuit of one goal, one God. Dex took comfort in the rules, even when they restricted him. He liked having a set answer: this was good, that was bad.

Samwell made it harder to ignore the parts Dex didn’t like. Like how some of those bad things weren’t, actually, and how the evidence for their conclusions were perverted, cruel, sometimes. How Dex had been taught to crave forgiveness before he could breathe fully, but every time he begged for it to Samwell, to the team, to Nursey, he refused to even acknowledge the need for it.

“Don’t ask me for forgiveness,” Jack said, once, early early on, after Nursey and Dex got in a fight during practice and flubbed a play. “Just be better.”

Dex measured “better” in the wideness of Nursey’s smiles, the blatancy of honesty in Bitty’s laughs. He got addicted to it. Worked for it constantly until he felt like he would never stop being better as long as he lived.

Then he’d come home, where smiles were short and laughs clipped. The lingering looks and pointed questions filled up tallies in the worse column of Dex’s mind and he felt desperate for the easiness of instant forgiveness. He returned to school full of apologies and took all the chances he could to add more of them. The more there was to apologize for, the easier the forgiveness, right? The more available?

“What are you looking for here?” Nursey asked, once, after a long fight, before they were together, after Dex had moved out. “What is the goal of all this?”

Dex blinked back, not knowing the answer.

Forgiveness? If it was forgiveness, why did he never feel good after he got it? Being better felt good. Tasted like warm pastries, felt like an arm over the shoulder on a walk to class.

By that time, Dex hadn’t been to confessional in two years. He wasn’t seeking forgiveness the way he should’ve been. Why?

If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you withhold forgiveness from any, it is withheld.

It was a final kind of thing. With the team, with Nursey, it didn’t end when Dex failed to be better. He kept trying. In confessional, he confessed the sin, did his penance, and was expected to go on and be clean. He never felt clean.

“It’s the Catholic guilt,” Nursey said, mouth blue around the popsicle he’d faked Dex out with. “I know that and I’m agnostic.”

“What’s that mean?” Dex asked, quiet, chewing around a bit of red popsicle. Nursey’s eyebrows went up, ready to chirp, and Dex clarified, “I know what it means generally. I want to know what it means to you.”

Eyebrows down, eyes soft. “For me,” he said, swallowing his bite to speak clearer. “It means that I believe there could be something. Something-- beautiful. Kind.” He curled his popsicle cold fingers around Dex’s wrist. Dex imagined he could feel his own pulse rebelling against the cage of Nursey’s fingertips. “Something that loves coincidences. That hurts when we hurt. Something that wants to be perfect and falls short sometimes. Something good.”

“That sounds nice,” Dex said, keeping his voice smooth even though he knew Nursey could feel his heartbeat echoing through his veins.

“It is.” Nursey said it intently, but kindly. Hopefully.

Thou shalt have no other Gods before me.

That was at the root of it, maybe. Dex had touched boys before Samwell. He’d lied in confessional long before he stopped stepping within its confines. But committing a mortal sin of the flesh and worshiping a false idol were very different things.

Most of the time, recently, when Dex spoke to God, he spoke to an understanding one. One who delighted in Dex’s adoration of Nursey, eased him through his fears.

Being here, in a pew in his childhood church, it was difficult to imagine his prayers going to his kindly God. This God peered down at him through the stained glass windows, frowning at the pale freckled boy within His house.

I hope you can understand, Dex thinks at the frowning figure. I hope you can love this thing you created despite all its broken pieces. Dex smiles at that. I am trying to.

The candle, three from the end, second row, flickers with a draft of wind from a nearby window, left open accidentally. Dex watches the flame for a few moments before standing and making his way down the green carpet aisle. The brightness of the sun, unstained, makes Dex squint, but he keeps going down the steps until the church is behind him.

He doesn’t look back once, even if he feels it looming. He figures that must be progress.

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shirtlesssammy · 6 years ago

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5x22: Swan Song

In light of recent news, we thought we’d finally tackle what might have been the end (until someone went and made a demon deal, giving us 10 more years of our beloved show!) It’s weird watching this and seeing what a bummer this all would have been if it had ended like this. Sure, it was epic, but I guess I’m a sucker for a happy ending when it’s about characters I’ve come to love more than my own family. I’m also going to point to this Twitter thread about good and bad show endings. Swan Song wouldn’t have been bad had we only had TFW for five years, but we’ve watched them grow over 15 years now, and I want to see them get some peace. (Thanks to all the meta writers for throwing out the much needed hope!)

The Road So Far:

Carry on my wayward son...

Now:

We open with Chuck Shurley narrating the origin story of the most important object in pretty much the entire universe. And I’m literally two minutes into rewatching this episode and already crying. He’s tells us about it’s original owner, Sal Moriarty. (Oh, Eric Kripke, of course it was.)

And how, after he died, it ended up in the hands of John Winchester, after some persuasion by his time traveling son.

Fade to Sam and Dean in Bobby’s salvage yard, drinking beer from the little green cooler. Dean tells Sam that he’s “in” on having Sam say yes to the devil.

Dean acknowledges that Sam can make his own choices. “Watching out for you? That’s kinda been my job, you know? More than that, it’s kinda who I am.” Seeing this image Dean has of himself shift to NOT be this is really great. Dean asks if this is really what Sam wants. Sam is more resigned than enthusiastic to the plan, obv.

Cut to Team Free Will collecting demon blood like they’re stocking up for the apocalypse (err..). Dean confers with Bobby about Lucifer’s location and they determine it is Detroit.

Once on the road, Dean can’t help but notice what a cute, slumbering angel he has in the backseat. Sam logically points out that angels don’t sleep. They talk about their plan, the odds of it working, and the reality that Sam won’t be coming back from the cage. Sam makes Dean promise that he won’t try and get him back. Dean balks at the idea. Sam makes him promise that he’ll find Lisa and live “some normal, apple pie life.”

Once in Detroit, the group finds many demons out and about. Sam and Bobby have a moment. Then Sam asks Cas to “take care of these guys” for him. Cas tells Sam that it isn’t possible. Sam asks him to humor him. Cas catches on just a little too late that he’s supposed to lie. Oh Cas, you beautiful, literal goob.

Sam then gets to the business of downing four gallons of demon blood. With that done, Sam and Dean turn themselves in to the demons, who bring them to Lucifer.

Chuck continues his monologue on the Impala. He mentions the unimportant features, and then mentions the important features: Sam’s green army man, Dean’s legos, Sam and Dean’s initials. The devil doesn’t know or care about their car.

The devil wants to know what Sam and Dean are up to.

Sam says he’s ready to say “yes.” The devil reveals that he knows they have the rings that will reopen the Cage. Fuuuuuck. Sam tries bluffing, but the jig is up. Dean’s look of anguish is devastating. Lucifer likes his odds on the battle that will happen in Sam’s head. He agrees. Before Dean can do anything more than say “No”, Sam says “Yes.”

A bright light flashes and Dean finds Sam knocked out on the floor. He throws the rings on the wall and gets to opening the door to Hell. Sammy awakens and Dean helps him towards the portal. Only, PSYCH! It’s actually Lucifer. Sam didn’t stand a chance against him. He closes the portal and takes the rings.

Once away from Dean, Lucifer has a moment with Sam, where Sam makes it very clear that he’s not done fighting.

Lucifer appeals to Sam’s worst feelings about himself, but says he wants Sam to be happy. Sam doesn’t want anything from Lucifer. Lucifer then points out the group of demons behind him. They’re all people Sam knew in his life --they were all watching Sam for Azazel.

Dean, Bobby, and Cas are watching the fallout to Sam saying yes.

Shallow Sidenote:

(Those curls!)

Cas suggests they “imbibe copious quantities of alcohol and just wait for the inevitable blast wave.” GRIM, DUDE --but he ain’t wrong. Cas doesn’t think there’s any way they can stop Lucifer and Michael meeting. Dean is not giving up (and he’s desperate guys -his insult at Cas was way harsh). Bobby’s even resigned to the reality of the situation.

We cut back to the room full of demons, but they’re all dead this time. Lucifer smugly looks at Sam in the mirror. “We having fun yet?” Ugh, Lucifer, you’re the worst.

Chuck’s narration cuts in like a road narrative, all misty colored and gentle. “They could go anywhere and do anything. They drove one thousand miles for an Ozzy show, two days for a Jayhawks game. And when it was clear, they'd park her in the middle of nowhere, sit on the hood, and watch the stars for hours without saying a word.” This beautiful interlude dissipates with a phone call and Chuck picks up, expecting Mistress Magda. (Eyebrow waggle.) LOL, nope! It’s Dean.

“You got a real virgin / hooker thing going on, don’t you?” Dean observes. Excuse me while I laugh forever over this line, with the confirmed Chuck-is-God context. Dean wants to know where the fight will happen. It’ll be at Stull Cemetery at high noon, just outside of Lawrence. Chuck doesn’t have any more useful information than that…but it’s a place to start.

Bobby and Cas try to prevent Dean from heading to Lawrence to intervene in the upcoming archangel showdown but their arguments are weak sauce compared to Dean’s need to save Sam. He heads off alone to Stull.

The cemetery is wispy with mist and bedraggled with age. Michael (wearing Adam) flaps in to greet Lucifer. (Side note: Saying that Michael is “wearing Adam” sounds like Adam is a fashion designer. In this epic showdown, Michael has been dressed by the FABULOUS Adam!)

Both brothers seem regretful, but ultimately resolved. Lucifer questions why they’re fighting if neither of them wants to do it. Michael trots out the old “duty” argument. Lucifer offers an alternative: “We’re going to kill each other. And for what? One of Dad's tests. And we don't even know the answer. We're brothers. Let's just walk off the chessboard.” Hey, guys. It’s a really good point. It’s also an intentional mirror of Dean, Sam, and John that I refuse to stop getting emotional about.

Michael’s tempted for a moment. Damn serpent!! “I’m a good son,” Michael decides. “You haven't changed a bit, little brother. Always blaming everybody but yourself.” This is also an excellent fucking point, man. The rumble’s still on.

Speaking of rumbling, Dean approaches in Baby with Def Leppard cranked up loud. FUCK YEAH. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?” To quote Tess McGreer’s Twitter feed: MY SON!

Michael’s not into the whole threesome battle, and heads threateningly towards Dean when the camera cuts suddenly to Castiel and Bobby who have just flapped in. “Hey, assbutt!” Castiel shouts before lobbing a holy oil molotov cocktail at Michael. Bless.

Michael poofs away. “You got your five minutes,” Cas says to Dean just before Lucifer explodes him. NOOOOOOO

Lucifer’s pretty crabby by this point, so when Dean tries to verbally reach Sam again, he hurls Dean into Baby. Bobby shoots futilely at Lucifer before Lucifer snaps his neck. NOOOOOOO

“Sammy, are you in there?” Dean asks desperately. PROTECT.

“He’s gonna feel the snap of your bones,” Lucifer promises Dean. He’s gonna kill Dean slow. I’d chortle over the classic villain “kill you slow” trope except that Lucifer is beating Dean bloody and it’s really, really not funny.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” a very battered Dean tells Sam, leaving me to stare into space thinking about how he must have said this on quiet nights, comforting young Sam over nightmares or monster-under-the-bed scares.

Lucifer draws his fist back to deliver a killing blow as Dean slumps in his hold. His eye catches on a little army man stuck in the ashtray and we get a montage of Dean and Sam moments set to the soundtrack of howling wind. Sam’s fist uncurls.

And that’s it. Sam takes control. “I’ve got him,” Sam tells Dean. He hauls the rings out of his pocket and tosses them to the ground, chanting the incantation to open the cage. Dean sprawls on the ground, leaning against the car, bloodied and broken. Sam panics at the threshold to the cage when Michael!Adam appears.

Sam takes one more look at Dean before he opens his arms wide, ready to plunge into the cage. As Michael tries to haul him back, Sam pulls him in as well.

With a blast, the cage closes and Dean is left alone in the quiet, wind-swept cemetery.

He looks up a while later to find Castiel standing behind him, whole and unblemished. “You’re alive?” Dean asks.

“I’m better than that,” Cas says and…okay. He heals Dean with a touch, then brings Bobby back to life. Good job, Cas bby!

“Endings are hard,” Chuck says, and the scene switches to his office once again. “Endings are impossible. You try to tie up every loose end, but you never can. The fans are always gonna bitch. There's always gonna be holes. And since it's the ending, it's all supposed to add up to something. I'm telling you, they're a raging pain in the ass.”

We switch back to Dean and Cas in the Impala. Cas is headed back to Heaven to try to bring order upstairs. He’s ready to continue his heavenly mission, but Dean’s pissed off. “Where’s my grand prize? All I got is my brother in a hole.”

“You got what you asked for, Dean. No paradise. No hell. Just more of the same. I mean it, Dean. What would you rather have? Peace or freedom?”

Cas flaps out. “You really suck at goodbyes, you know that?” Always, Dean. Always.

Dean says a temporary farewell to Bobby, then shows up at Lisa’s house, CLEARLY TRAUMATIZED. What a non-booty booty call. Lisa reads the room and pulls him in for a comforting hug. (Stay tuned for my 8,000 word essay on why Lisa is the best.)

“Up against good, evil, angels, devils, destiny, and God himself, they made their own choice. They chose family. And, well... isn't that kinda the whole point? No doubt endings are hard. But then again nothing ever really ends, does it?” Chuck vanishes, which is apparently his equivalent of dropping the mic.

Then, the show proceeds to not end, in the best way. Dean is still lost at Lisa’s, putting on a “normal” front. And outside, Sam appears under a flickering street light. To be continued…for ten more seasons. <3

Quoting is Hard:

This 1967 Chevrolet Impala would turn out to be the most important car – no, the most important object – in pretty much the whole universe.

As far as foreboding goes, it's a little light in the loafers.

Ain’t he a little angel?

I told you. This would always happen in Detroit.

MFEO. Literally.

I suggest we imbibe copious quantities of alcohol and just wait for the inevitable blast wave.

Cas, are you God?

Every fiber he's got, wants to die, or find a way to bring Sam back. But he isn't gonna do either. Because he made a promise.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn 5x22 #swan song #spn rewatch #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #bobby singer #lucifer #michael #chuck shurley

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