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soobadnoonecanstopher · 4 years ago

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Touch it for Real, Part 2

Genre: Humor / Fluff / Eventual Smut

Warnings: OMG they were roommates / slice of life / slow burn / mutual pining / crude humor / cursing / virgin!baek / enemies to lovers

Characters: Baekhyun X You/Female Reader

Description: You teach Baekhyun how to date. (Basically the Get You Alone M/V)

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

What you didn't know — what you couldn’t have known was that it wasn’t real. The flush you felt in your skin was real. The sticky sweat that spread over your bed sheets when you tossed and turned was real. The heat of it; the perceptible and tactile fire that spread through your veins felt so physical and solid, you had no way of knowing that this wasn’t real.

Slim fingers.

Fleshy thighs.

Hip bones beneath well worn denim.

Buttons popping with the barest of effort.

And the lips. Oh God, the softness of those lips as they traveled over your very hot skin. You could feel it all.

You never saw his face; you hadn’t needed to. You could smell him everywhere. You knew who this was. You’d know him with your eyes blinded; you’d know him anywhere.

At first you turned away. At first you resisted, but as the fire spread through you, you found yourself turning into him, searching for him, seeking out that connection to fuel the heat.

Why was this happening? Why did you rejoice in it? The longing and the desire had simply become too much for you to deny and now you were the one pulling him into you. You were the one who wrapped your legs around that slim waist and constricted and those sounds from his chest they were...they were…

Those sounds from his mouth, they were—

Screaming.

Laughing.

‘AH HA HA HA AH — YES!’ Rough staccato laughter; so, so loud — so damn loud, it ripped and it tore at your mind and it yanked you up so roughly; up so fast you felt your entire body shaking if not completely falling apart with the speed at which you were pulled.

You opened your eyes into pitch blackness. Your vision took only a second to adjust and you could make out the sliver of dim light from the street lamp outside that peeked through the very top of your curtains.

On your nightstand, pale yellow squared numbers taunted you with 03:42 AM and covering your entire body where you laid on your once so welcoming bed was your bunched up and sweaty comforter. It was heavy. It was everywhere. You felt suffocated by it. Why was it so hard to breathe?

Your comforter. You purchased it because it was pretty. It fit in perfectly with your room decor and it was pale in color enough that the brightly colored stuffed animals you set atop stood out and complimented the subtle pattern. It made you feel at home.

It used to make you feel at home. Now it was making you feel a very different sort of way. Hot and sweaty and flushed all over and now, very mad about all of it.

You could still feel that shaking deep inside your chest and you laid your palm over your forehead to feel for a fever. You swear you could feel the tremble happening inside, though it was fading now, you were sure you still felt that shaking inside of your body.

It was beginning to settle.

You felt another rumble, paired with a loud booming sound that vibrated and shook your wall. The glass of your window quaked and the pale yellow numbers on your nightstand danced in your vision.

‘HAHAHA! I got you asshole!’

03:44 AM

Speakers. Surround sound. Heavy bass. An impressive system at any other time of the day when the sun was out. But right now? When you had been peacefully asleep; when you had been dreaming? Earth shattering booms. Deafening shouts of victory from the idiot with every new explosion that rattled your bones.

You sat up and the comforter stuck to your sweaty skin. It wasn’t even hot in this room, yet this thing clung to you like it was coated in glue. Nearly four in the fucking morning.

You had to work tomorrow. It was the one day a month when you were required to report to the office in person for the staff meeting. And here you were being ripped awake by such a disturbing commotion and goddammit this blanket was hot.

This … thing.

This thing that brought with it images of him and images of, oh god, images of his fingertips and his lips and his, oh god, oh no. No, please not that. Anything but that. Of all the things that were absolutely off limits. Of all the situations that could never happen. Horror. An overwhelming horror; it tasted of shame.

No, no, no, no.

How could this have happened? How could those images be burning into the backs of your eyes? The more your overtired mind tried to make sense of it, the less sense this made. You looked down at the blanket, searching for answers.

Had something about this blanket been ruined?

Was it’s once comforting and innocent essence somehow completely changed on a molecular level and was it now….tainted forever? Because of him? Because of what he brought into your room and depravedly rubbed all over it?

You pushed it away with both hands reaching you pushed and pushed until it sunk down off the foot of your bed and the cool air blew over your hot bare legs. Even the cool air did little to calm the irritation you felt all over your body. It did nothing to cool you off. Your legs were made of pure fire.

He did this. You were sure of it. He brought this evil on you. And now with his room shaking howling laughter you were wide awake and angry at almost 4 am when you had work in the morning; you had to be worth a damn in the morning.

You were up on angry legs with rage pushing you forward and you reached down for the blanket that you didn't even want in your room anymore for all it represented. You hauled it with both hands and took two steps forward toward your closed bedroom door when your forward progress took a quick and southward dive and you fell, tripped up by the wretched blanket when you stepped on a corner instead of on your soft rug.

You could feel the burn on your kneecaps where you collided with the hard floor. You could feel a sting on your left knee that hit the hardest but burned into the carpet and you grunted through the pain to quickly lift yourself back up and gather every other bit of hanging blanket securely inside your arms.

The trek through the living room at such an ungodly hour when every living breathing cell in your body would have rather been asleep felt absolutely crazed. You reached his door, turned the knob just enough for the latch to disengage and with your entire being hurled that motherfucker open and sent it flying.

Oh and it flew. It hit the wall and bounced back hard, bouncing back quickly against your arms that held on securely to the blanket. The noise was shocking. It was a vindicating battle cry.

The commotion startled him. His hands were on the keyboard and a pair of headphones atop of his head and for WHAT, you could hear every single thing happening on his screen in mind deafening stereo surround sound filling up the whole room. You could hear it clearly from your own room and from inside this room it sounded like you were living inside of the subwoofers themselves.

Your rage was somehow louder and it made him spin toward the motion and sound of you at his doorway with a shriek of surprise. His eyes were saucers and his mouth flew open; an unchewed bite of some pink sausage fell out and bounced off his knee onto the floor below his sock covered feet and he was only screaming for a second before he was cursing.

“Shit. Jesus. Fuck. Ohh my God, Fucking Hell, oh my heart. Oh it hurts. Oh Christ I’m dying.” He was clutching at his chest. His headphones, the useless things slipped off his head and toppled down his shoulder following the sausage chunk and you could see them fall all the way down to the floor. The cord, which had not been plugged in quickly followed and pooled into a puddle at his feet.

“Do you have any idea ... what time it is?” Your voice sounded foreign to your ears. Had you always sounded so burly? You felt like an angry mountain lion ready to go in for the kill.

His eyes were closed up tight and he inhaled a deep breath before cracking them open to look at you through the heavy panicked breaths.

“Ohhh,” he moaned as his breathing calmed and the shock faded with each slow breath he took. “Ohhhhh,” he repeated softer, to himself.

“Ohhh…” this time he was looking at you and his eyebrows furrowed together as he did it. “Oh—whoa, whoa, whoa, you look….super fucking crazy right now. What is happening?”

His hands were up in confusion; in defense, and you were moving forward taking the stupid blanket and roughly shoving it toward him you hurled it right at his face and watched it hit as hard as a soft cottony blanket could manage to hit — it was more of a gentle nudge really, and then it fell down, taking his stupid glasses off his face and burrying them somewhere within the fluff where the blanket fell.

He was too confused to catch it. He had absolutely no idea what he had done to defile and destroy the sacred sanctity of your sleep.

He had no idea.

“What are you doing with this? Why are you doing this? Why are you giving me your blanket? Where are your pants? Is your leg bleeding? Tell me what is happening!”

“You!” You hurled a finger up and pointed it in his face. His eyes widened, crossed to look at the finger that clearly accused him of something just off the end of his nose and then looked back into your face in utter confusion.

“You—“ you inhaled to survive and your mouth hung open as the words, the accusations you had for him, the truth of what he had done to you, what he really hadn’t done, but what you were certain you felt happening in your sleep, in that dream, those words they stopped entirely as you looked at his face. His very real face, the very real pink cheeks and confused eyes of your roommate Byun Baekhyun who had absolutely no idea that you had just been disturbed during and then disturbed by a vivid and confusing sex dream about him.

Oh god.

You couldn’t say that.

You would rather be dead right here than say those words with your own mouth.

This had never happened before. He was a real person, you had never experienced a dream like that involving a real person. Not someone you knew like you knew Baekhyun. Not someone you lived with and had to keep on living with. The more you replayed the words that refused to come out of your mouth inside your head the more your sanity slowly returned to your mind.

“Your headphones are not plugged in.” You shook your finger in his face. Using every bit of anger you had built up on the walk across the living room, every bit of uncomfortable sweaty stinging ick you felt all over your whole body about the whole thing and you shot those death lasers out of your eyeballs and you focused them right on his face, right there in the center of his stupid forehead. That’s where you put it. That’s where you glared and that’s where you wished every little bit of comeuppance that he had coming to him would land. Right there on that head.

“Wha?” He said and his stupid pink lips frowned downward into a pout. Against your will, you watched them as they moved and then quickly focused your pointing anger back up onto the center of his forehead. It took a lot.

He was looking down at his feet and reached through the big fluffy blanket that covered him from the waist down to the floor to find the headphones that had landed somewhere within it all.

He pulled them up and kept pulling, following the cord until he reached the end and he held the male end of his headphones with his fingertips as he looked down at them with a scoff and a small laugh.

“Oh shit,” he chuckled to himself, “huh...would you look at that?” As if absolutely nothing at all mattered in the world and this was just a humorous little hiccup in his day. At 4 am on a work day.

The audacity of the man. The absolute shameless audacity.

“Would you look at that?!?” The volume of your own voice surprised you. You screamed it. Right at the top of your lungs and he jumped in his seat, closed his eyes up tight and clutched at his chest again with a pained wince on that face. Immediately after you’d done it you felt a pang inside. Was your anger really caused by being awoken? What were you really so damn mad about here?

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered to himself when his eyes opened again.

Then he directed them at you with his eyebrows furrowed and that glare right on your face.

“Jesus. Christ. Woman.” he half spoke again with his eyes on you and his face pointing directly at yours with each new word he spoke. You felt unjustly rebuked. The seriousness on his voice closed up your gaping mouth and you pulled your head back. Part of you wanted to grab his hair and pull it, demanding reparations and apologies and justice for his many 4 AM crimes against you.

“I mean...Jesus. Christ.” His head nodded to emphasize just how ridiculous he was now finding your current outburst and you felt the heaviness deep inside your arms as you sagged on your feet and wanted to give up your fight against gravity. Part of you knew you were justified in your outrage. How could you be losing this fight so easily to him? Maybe...maybe you were just tired.

“I’m just...so tired, Baek.” Your complaint came out as a sad little whine and your head fell back as you closed up your eyes. Suddenly feeling like you could drop right here at his feet and sleep curled up in your wretched comforter.

He must have gotten up. You could feel his arms on your shoulders and you were steered somewhere within his room. Your legs didn’t feel like moving but there were some calming circles being rubbed on your back that felt too nice to resist.

“I’ll turn it off, Bug. You can sleep, I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“I was sleeping so nicely.” You mumbled and you were in a bed that didn’t smell like you. “I was dreaming.” All at once the memory and that smell brought back a strange yet familiar feeling.

“Was it a good dream?” His voice sounded far away.

“Mhmm,” you hummed and you let yourself drift. You let yourself curl into the mattress that you were laid over and gave in to an unimaginable comfort that pulled you under too easily.

If he had any more questions you did not know, but something called your sleepy mind back for one more word. Something asked perhaps. You couldn’t be sure what it was, only your single word response slipped from your lips.

“You,” you told the questions, before disappearing entirely.

Your alarm clock was ringing. It was a sufferingly familiar sound that could rip you awake from the deepest sleeps. Today it sounded far away, but that tune was so ingrained into your mind that you immediately opened your eyes and stuck a hand out to look for your phone to stop it.

Only your hand reached and found nothing. You moved further and bumped against something hard like a table that should not have been there.

“Mmm,” a soft moan sounded out from somewhere below and when you finally opened your eyes and searched your ceiling, the layout was definitely different.

This was not your room.

This was not your bed.

“Don't you work today?” You followed the sound of his voice and found it coming from somewhere curled up on the floor beside the bed underneath your comforter. The one you’d abandoned last night. The memories flooded in an instant.

“Yeah. I’m getting up. You can have your bed back, Peanut.”

Peeling back his blankets for a quick escape you saw your own bare shins; knees; thighs; all the way up to your underwear. You’d fallen asleep with only a t-shirt on last night. But there was a new addition. You saw a flesh colored bandage stuck to your knee with a brown-red stain in the center of the gauze pad. You paused to look down at it, a thousand conflicting inclinations running through you in a single breath and not a spare minute to dwell on any of them because your alarm was still ringing and Baekhyun had turned over and peeked his face out from under your blanket.

You could not explain the urgency to leave. You freely loitered near him and around him constantly without even a second thought.

Although you had never done it in such a state of undress. This could have explained the rush. How much would he see of you? How many flaws could he make out with his sleepy eyes. How long had it taken him to apply the bandage last night? Did he use his bare fingertips to softly dab ointment on your wound or did he merely slap on a bandaid with a rough palm. He wouldn't have lightly blown on it to dry the medicine would he?

Something was wrong with you.

These were not important questions for you to be asking. You needed to get out of his room before he saw any more. Perhaps the dream had done much more damage than you had feared.

You could have stepped down off the bed beside where he laid. It would have only required an extra step to get over him. Instead you climbed down to the foot of his bed and without a look back you were out of his room under the compulsion of the ringing alarm and you surrendered willingly.

Back inside your room you could breathe freely and deeply. You could indulge in your routine of getting ready for the day and you took your time to get your hair and your makeup looking nice. It was cold out so you opened for the thick winter leggings to get you through the commute without freezing to death and you were out of your door just in time to stop for a morning coffee.

The day dragged. You were probably just out of practice, having worked from home for so long that having to make an active attempt to look busy enough to justify your paycheck with so many witnesses in the office had you feeling burnt out by lunch time.

You went for a walk to avoid awkward small talk with your co-workers even though it meant you didn't have enough time to actually eat any real food before your break was over. Still it was preferable to the alternative. Namely the meddling old women who, every time they saw you had some new neighbor’s friend’s son, or some doctor’s nephew they just had to set you up with.

So what if you were single. So what if you were too young and too pretty to be alone. There wasn’t some invisible timer counting down to your swift and imminent demise just because you didn't have a boyfriend. You were pretty sure that timer was running for everyone despite the relationship status on their facebook profile. And you did not mention your facebook profile to Baekhyun because he would probably flip out, hack into your computer and delete the whole thing. The dramatic man. How else were you supposed to see what a mess your high school friend’s lives were shaping up to be.

When it was finally time to go home for the day you were more exhausted than you thought was normal for someone still walking around on her own two legs. You were the angry sort of hungry that made you annoyed with every single sound you heard on the subway and not even your headphones in your ears playing your favorite songs eased your anxiety.

You glared at the woman across the aisle with the unruly kids who refused to wear their masks right. You glared at the old man with his nose sticking out of the top of his and you tightened your own mask to your face and took a step back and away from the group of youths that eyed you up and down as they moved through the doors.

You’d never before been so happy to open the door to your apartment and be greeted by the pleasant hum of a refrigerator that you knew had to have at least one tasty thing you could snack on to take the edge off of your mood.

Inside was bright. It was cleaned recently — You’re welcome — It was sparkling and gleaming and well organized and it was full of a multitude of raw ingredients that could be chopped and sliced and diced and cooked up to make a wonderfully healthy and fulfilling meal for whoever had the energy and ambition to embark on such a feat.

You peered inside at the bottles of water in the door. The sticks of butter and the bottles of sauce mocked you. You were pretty sure raw eggs cracked into your open mouth would give you some sort of infection that would require you to leave the house again this month so you opened the drawer where you were sure you saw a cheese stick hiding inside last night.

There it was.

It was white and bouncy. It was salty and individually wrapped and it was calling your name in sweet a cheesy joyous chorus of promised deliciousness.

It was yours.

It’s most amazing feature wasn’t the chewiness or the cold chill it had from sitting for weeks in a refrigerator. No, the best thing, and you mean the absolute very best thing about this single plastic wrapped cheese stick was that it existed.

Exactly when you needed it most.

Feet shuffled behind you. Baekhyun would be waking up from whatever napping schedule he’d accidentally tricked his body clock into adopting and he would be stumbling into the kitchen for a drink of water.

You unwrapped the cheese stick and stuck the end between your lips. Instantly rewarded by the soft way it gave when you bit down. You took the tiniest bite and you chewed carefully and thoughtfully. Perhaps your eyes rolled back and closed and perhaps you might have even experienced something akin to out of body experience of pure pleasure as you chewed, swallowed, and opened your mouth again for another bite. A real one this time.

What you hadn’t anticipated, was the cruelty of the universe that had allowed you to live this many years on Earth only to end up here in this exact moment with this man whose home you also lived in. You hadn’t expected the crushing reality of watching that man sleepily stumble into you with his eyes half closed and open his big mouth as wide as it would go and sink that mouth down directly onto the entire exposed part of your cheese stick, of which maybe 85% had been exposed, and chomp down ruthlessly with nearly the entire thing vanishing away before your eyes.

You watched him chewing noisily with his mouth open and bits of white cheese bumbled around inside before he let out a noisy laugh complete with a snort that sent bits of cheese flying across your once clean kitchen.

“Haha,” he said as he swallowed, “your face.”

He was laughing at you.

He ate your cheese; well, most of your cheese. He was laughing now, harder. The longer you stood staring at him in absolute shock at what he had just done the harder he laughed and you could feel the countdown happening inside of your chest. A number for each heart beat that seemed to be speeding up toward his death.

He had no idea. He never ever did.

This man was so close to death and he was giggling now and reaching for the big bottle of orange juice that sat inside the fridge.

He lifted it up to his lips and drank from the bottle, not even bothering with a glass. He drained half of its contents and when he pulled the bottle down, some things, tiny and white - mini specks of your cheese floated around inside the orange liquid.

You saw bright white nothingness.

You would like to go on the record now, and plead insanity.

In your mind's eye, everything was just all white.

Like the afterlife in movies. Except far less peaceful but equally unexplainable.

Violence may not be the answer. But you really had very little memory of this.

You had flashes of it. His deafening screams and your hand reaching into a bag of cheese puffs for handfuls that you shoved into his gaping mouth. You don’t even know where you got them from. They just appeared suddenly and they crushed so easily into soft powder as you pressed them between his teeth. The powder coated the surface of his skin around his mouth. It flew in the air too as he screamed. You were covered in it. Your hands were stained bright orange. The color of your wicked crimes.

The whiteness returned. Then more flashes of your crimes. Your mind touched on images of the sticky drops of orange juice that fell one by one from his hair that laid completely flat, lacquered to the top of his head. Then, his cries of pain with your knees dug into his chest and both of your bright orange hands squeezed tightly around his neck. The coughing when you pressed down harder in the middle of his neck and the eventual sensation of him fighting back. The urge to live must be strong in him. Why did he resist this so much? Just die already. Why fight the inevitable? If not done by you, surely some other person would do it.

When you came to, you were inside of your bedroom packing a bag full of clothes and stuffed animals. You felt that this was probably your get-away bag, and that meant he was probably dead.

Drowned in two ounces of backwash filled orange juice and lungs stuffed with brightly colored cheese flavored* puffs (*contains no real cheese.)

You had a list happening inside of your head. Things you had to do before you left this place forever and never returned. A strange calm had washed over you; probably brought on by shock.

First, you had to pack this bag. You had stuffed it full of overcoats. Your winter coat with the pink polka dots. The fluffy yellow puffer jacket you got as a gift from your best friend. Your rain jacket in case it got wet in hell. Second, you would go into his room and clear his search history. It was something you had always promised you would do for him and he had promised to do the same for you. After that, you would call the police from a pay phone on the corner of the block to anonymously report the crime.

Your bag was full. Too full to fit the brightly colored pink bunny even though it was a tiny thing. You pushed and shoved, squeezing it in between the layers of coats until you were sure the seam of your bag was about to pop if you tried to zip it closed.

You still had your toiletries to pack. This would never do. How could you pack a get-away bag without your favorite shampoo.

A flood of memories came to you. Your favorite shampoo and handing the bottle with your eyes covered to Baekhyun as he showered. All at once, that steady and all consuming calm wavered and you felt the first hot tears building. Stinging and burning as they crested and spilled over your lashes onto your cheeks.

Your lips were stuck in a deep frown and you did your best to inhale through a stuffed up nose.

“My poor Peanut,” you said into the hollow empty space of your lonely bedroom. You’d have to venture into his bathroom to get your shampoo. Possibly walking past his lifeless corpse which you were pretty sure you left somewhere in between the kitchen and the living room.

A maniac. You were a heartless monster. The remorse you now felt, which could very well help you in court, coated you from head to toe and you cried openly when you pulled your bedroom door open and took your first step out of your room.

Shampoo and search history. These things were your destination.

But a sound coming from somewhere deep in the kitchen threw off your steps and you felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise with the unexpectedness of it.

More than just a sound, you could smell something too. Was that sizzling? Had you accidentally turned the stove on and now your whole apartment was on fire? Was this how you could get rid of the body?

No. You had to get a grip now. That was going too far. You could understand homicide but desecration of a corpse? Ick. That kinda shit was for sickos.

You focused your energy on your destination and took three big steps to cross the living room and placed a hand on the door knob of his room.

The knob clicked noisily when you turned it too quickly and you heard a shuffle coming from the kitchen. A shuffle and then a scrape and you turned at the sound.

“Hey Bug, food’s ready. Come eat. I made your favorite.”

You froze on your feet with your eyes wide open, nose too stuffy to breathe so your mouth hung wide open as well. With tears streaming down your face, made fresh again by the sight of him standing in the kitchen with a white towel draped around his neck, clean wet hair, and a frying pan and spatula in his hand, you gasped.

You had never been quite so relieved to see the sight of your stupid roommate. Overcome, you dropped the bag you carried at your feet and rushed to where he stood with arms raised and the dish he had just finished cooking elevated and you reached for his body with your arms outstretched. When you felt his warmth you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him in for a tight hug.

“Uhh,” he said softly, flinching upon contact and freezing up but first lifting the hot pan high enough to remove any danger of burning you with it. “Why are you crying?”

You squeezed tighter and buried your face in his chest. You’d get his shirt wet with tears and with snot but you didn't care. He was okay. Your overwhelming guilt for your behavior towards him was so thick you had a hard time not sobbing harder when you felt the awkward steps he took to set the hot pan down and free his hands and then that first warmth of the palm of his hand that landed on your back.

When the other hand joined and slipped around your shoulder a quiet cry got caught up inside the back of your throat and you heard a warning sound somewhere. Because the warning did not exist in this realm of reality he did not hear it and another step into you brought his arms tighter around your shoulders and when you felt those hands move gently over your back the warning sound blared up hot and terrifying.

You and him did not do this. This was not something you had ever done with Baekhyun. Sure, light touches sometimes. Plenty, even. Hell, you playfully smacked him for something new and annoying every single day. You weren’t exactly scared of him, but you had never hugged him before and you sure as fuck didn't ever hold him.

“Bug?” His voice was calling you. You had an inkling that it might have been the second or third time and you pulled back from him. His hands released you the second he felt your retreat and you looked at the spot where you’d mashed your whole face into his shirt wincing at all the face shaped wet spots you saw there.

He didn't seem bothered by it and you inhaled a deep trembling breath with a meaningless nod of your head at him. Whatever had happened didn’t matter. Everything was fine. Everything was over and it was okay. He was okay too.

He offered a small smile and turned to get two bowls to fill with the food he had made.

It was fried rice. Simple, no frills fried rice with a fried egg on top and just enough spice to make it interesting but not enough to activate any more water works. It was his favorite and you were pretty sure he didn't actually know how to make any other dishes. But hadn’t he just said he made your favorite?

“Baek, This isn’t my favorite. This is your favorite.”

He placed a bowl in front of where you sat and he lifted a quizzical eyebrow with a small tick of his head.

“No, it’s not my favorite. It’s your favorite. You make it all the time. And that’s why I made it now. Because it's your favorite.”

As he spoke, he pointed back and forth between you and the bowl of rice with his spoon. As if he was teaching a class on something you obviously didn’t know the first thing about.

“But I only make it all the time because it's your favorite, Peanut.”

You picked up your spoon and mixed the egg into the rice and began eating quickly out of necessity. You were about to pass out from hunger at this point.

He was watching you eat with that confused look on his face and he hadn’t touched his rice yet.

“Well whose favorite is it then?”

You shrugged and swallowed another bite. You were half finished with your bowl already and Baekhyun looked down and scooped up the egg from the top of his own rice with his spoon, leaning forward to plop it down on top of your remaining rice.

“Please tell me you at least like eggs on top.”

“Doesn’t everybody?” You remarked flippantly and you mixed again, feeling so much more human now that you had some real food in your stomach.

He was leaning back in his chair, fingertips over his face as he lightly massaged at the space between his eyebrows and you giggled to yourself with a mouth full of rice.

“I thought I killed you, Baekhyun.”

You heard him snort out a laugh and he quickly covered his mouth with both of his hands before he spat out all over the table. You yourself had to cover your mouth to keep your rice in and you laughed in a painful stifled way to keep from choking on the food in your mouth.

“You made me eat so many fucking cheese puffs I’m not even hungry right now.” He wheezed through his words and you saw him wiping at his eyes while you forced yourself to swallow before rice flew out of your nose.

He was holding his stomach as he laughed and the tight pained wince on his face only made you laugh harder.

You had eaten all you could and Baekhyun abandoned his food before he even started due to a certain cheese puff armed psychopath.

You’d stood to clear away the plates when you heard the hum of his phone vibrating on the table. You’d made your way into the kitchen when his voice piped up from where he was seated at the table staring down at whatever he had just received on his phone.

“Hey, uhh...h-how should I respond to this girl?”

“Girl? Baekhyun are you chatting with someone?” You perked up, instantly way more interested in what was happening on his phone than washing these dishes and you quickly rounded the corner back into the dining room to find out more.

“Oh wait, nevermind, I think...I don’t think she’s serious.” His voice weakened when his phone vibrated again and you’d reached a spot where you could clearly see the messages he had just received.

From Vixxxen18 again. You rolled your eyes hard enough for them to ache just seeing that familiar screen name.

“Ugh, this bitch again,” you said in a disgusted voice and you saw the flinch in his shoulders. He darkened a shade and you quickly grabbed the phone to steady it so you could clearly see what she wanted this time.

‘Hey honey, DTF tonight?’

You read the message out loud and he held his hands over his face and squirmed in his seat.

“Peanut do you know what DTF means?”

“Yes. I know what it means.” He interrupted you before you could get the whole sentence out. His ears were pink. You heard the clench of his jaw muffle his words as he spoke.

Her next message you didn’t read out-loud.

‘Spot me 50 for gas and I’ll come over’

“Gas doesn’t cost fifty dollars,” you scowled under your breath and your fingers were typing before you had a chance to second think.

‘Shouldn’t we get to know each other a little bit first?’

Her response came quickly and made your blood boil.

‘What makes you think I want to know you’

“Oh I’m going to kick her ass,” you said right before the phone was plucked out of your hands so fast you still moved your thumbs as you typed in the air, ready to give this bitch a piece of your mind.

“Settle down, Cheese Puffs, she's actually not that bad most of the time,” he said and he was closing out the messaging program quickly before you could say anything else to literally the worst human being you’d ever had a two second conversation with.

Your breathing was heavy and you must have had a look in your eyes that made him uncomfortable because he was reaching down to grab your hand and he tugged lightly toward the living room sofa. He was swiping with his other hand on his phone again.

“Here, I have some matches on the dating profile you made me. Why don't we have a look through them and find someone who’s ass you don't want to kick.”

He plopped down with a huff and you quickly sat down beside him, leaning well against his arm so you could see his screen clearly.

“God, you’re so mean today. What’s gotten into you? Ever since you woke up from that dream last night you’ve been ready to kill anyone who moves.”

You’d taken over the scrolling and found yourself lost in the freedom of judging the girls on his phone screen as he mused about what a grump you were.

Boring. Bland. Brainless. Vapid. Ugh.

As you flipped through them you not so quietly voiced how much you hated every one of them. Sure, for someone they could have been perfect but for him, they were not. His complaints about you went silent and as he watched the scrolling.

At last you found someone who seemed to fit some sort of idealized image you had of the perfect girl for him and you stopped scrolling instantly with a quiet gasp. He wasn’t saying anything about her though and you looked up excitedly at his face expecting him to be reading the profile she had carefully written, or looking through the pictures you oh so slowly scrolled past but instead of looking down at the phone his eyes were just watching you.

It was an odd and calm observation of only your face. And when you grabbed ahold of his eyes with your searching ones you raised your eyebrows and tilted your head down, pointing with the angle of your face at his phone screen so he could see her, so he could see Mia who lived only 5 miles away from him and had seen all of the animes that he liked and played the same kinds of computer games he played and was honest to god, cute as a damn button. Perfect! You wanted to squeal.

“Peanut,” you whispered and his eyes widened and his eyebrows danced on his face as he finally, finally looked down in his lap where the phone sat.

But the screen was now black. It had timed out. You clicked on a button on the side and it prompted him to log in again and what was wrong with him? Why wasn’t he unlocking it already? You grabbed his hand and his eyes glanced down where you touched his fingertips, carefully tracing with his index finger over the pattern he used to unlock his phone and it came back to life — the smiling, lovely image of Mia who lived only 5 miles away and was just absolutely perfect.

“Bug,” He said softly as he looked down at his phone screen and your smile was naturally wide as he watched each image fly across his screen. The anticipation of his reaction was killing you. He had to be as excited about this as you were. He at least seemed to be paying attention to the pictures this time.

But he wasn't squealing or even smiling about her. The silence on his side got you talking again. A quick nervous sort of talking to fill up the quiet. “She’s cute. And she's nice, I can feel it. And she's perfect for you. Let’s message her.”

You lifted a finger to your chin and thrust your eyes into the air to think. You thought back to some of the opening lines you’d been fed by the men you dated and you opened the window to send a message to Mia from Baekhyun.

“Bug,” he said again, even quieter than he had called before and it stood out to you that he had been trying for a while to get your attention now and you were so distracted with how much fun this was that you hadn’t really acknowledged him. You were being presumptuous. Just because you liked her didn’t necessarily mean he did. It even occurred to you that maybe you were being downright rude.

So you looked at him. Lifted your eyebrows up and rested the phone back down on his knee cap so he would say what he wanted to say already. You braced for the rejection of the cutest girl in his list of matches.

But instead of speaking he just looked at you and you slowly began to hear the actual ticking of the clock on the wall across the room from where you both sat. After much too long his eyes fell to look down the phone in your hand and you heard the smallest, softest scoff from his chest and he closed his eyes once with a long sigh.

And then he was nodding his head with his eyes closed up tight. “Yeah. Yeah, go ahead, send her a message. If you say she’s perfect, then she’s perfect.”

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

Tag list: @j-pping @blahblahblah-boo @his-mochi-cheeks @amyeonzing@littleflowercrown13 @baekinmylife @insta1010 @nana-banana @f4ncyvelvet@bbhbeth @beg0neth0t420

#Baekhyun #Exo #Baekhyun fic #Exo fic #Baekhyun fanfic #Exo fanfic #baekhyun smut #exo smut #baekhyun fluff #exo fluff #baekhyun exo

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batarella · 4 years ago

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3 birds 1 stone - chapter 12

‘Dick, Jason, and Tim. Supposed brothers 'till the end, until all three fall in love with you. Who wins your heart?

The man who earned it, the man who stole it, or the man who always had it?’

A/N: We continue the three perspectives!!! AND we got special appearances from a few characters today eeeeee we’re so close to the finale. Hope you guys enjoy this one!

WORDS: 12,068 WARNINGS: violence, arm dislocation, muscle injuries, alcoholism, mentions of coffee addiction and insomnia

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

Dick:

That day, this all ends.

Telling himself he got into this mess because he hadn’t a choice, that he hadn’t already stopped because it was all just too riveting and captivating and not at all within his control, was nothing short of a lie.

He had every say in it.

But not even his fucking conscience could convince him to stop. He wanted this mess. Dove right into the lava. He knew every bit of the heartbreak he’d have to endure and he willingly brought it to himself. To get lost into the deep dark woods, with nothing more than an oil lamp, to be pricked by the many thorns and suffocated by the leaves and trees that crowd about much like a bush. To get lost in her, and never want to climb out of any of it. He knew how slippery the road ahead of him was and still he kept going, kept driving, sped up a little even when he thought he’d actually get to where the stars pointed him to.

But so profoundly was his loss of himself, without much effort at all to escape from those grasps even when he told himself he did; going to another woman, wanting the same arrest of his heart to hopefully take him away, but without halting those thoughts of Y/N and how her smile that he’d seen earlier that day would last until dark, maybe even beyond that. Those flares of her face and her voice and how he let them speak to her every night, change them into burning whispers against his ear when he’s memorized her voice too much to make her say anything he wanted her to, even when they only last in his head.

Dick never tried to stop her from taking her heart like that, even when he had to watch her be with another.

Tonight, it all ends. Every bit of this torture that he brought only to himself, it all comes to this sorry halt.

Dick, standing atop a roof of an office building in Dresher, knew that at that moment, he had to sit this one down. He had to be alone and in the darkness to make this as painful as it possibly could, hoping that if all that pain were to be felt now, compress them into this little tub of static blackness, then perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad the next day, and the day after that. Even when he knew this would backfire, he had to.

No one, especially not Y/N, would want him to end up with her. Tim deserved her. Hell, even Jason’s done a lot more for her sake than he had. He can't hope anymore. He can't let this go on.

All this would have gone better if he’d known this sooner.

So with him on that rooftop, sitting on the ledge fifty stories above as if not at all was he a push away from death, Dick let his finger scroll across his phone’s screen moist from his sweat. The battery was going to run out soon. He’d been there for hours, staring at that same picture of her from the day in the nursery, when the sun had been kind to her, touching the surface of her skin so perfectly, it showed more of the little details that he’d already memorized. Those exact images would be thrown out by the end of tonight. Pack their bags. Scram them out the door.

It had, as expected, proven to be difficult.

The thirty-seven pictures he took that day, he’d already heartly remembered by the end of it. Countless of times, he pulled them out of his pocket just to take a second to look, even at the worst. Another month had passed and nothing had happened much since, nothing out the ordinary, which meant their friendship was back to how it used to be. They were friends.

And that was why it ends tonight. Because if he doesn’t fight these thoughts, if he doesn’t fight her, he loses her. He loses this friendship.

Are you sure you want to delete this photo?

Confirm.

Thirty-six times, he let his finger do the talking. Not his heart. Not even his brain.

At the last one, the screen was too distorted by a fallen tear that had seeped out of his domino mask for him to go on. It was the only hindrance he needed to give up and stop. At least for a second.

But he couldn’t even dwell on it too much, or let himself cry, let it burn his skin off enough so it wouldn’t hurt any more afterwards. He couldn’t even let himself have that luxury when he heard the thudding noise of his brother’s boot-cladded feet, a Bo staff that hit the ground, and a black cape that enforced a gust of wind to blow against the back of his head.

Dick just closed his eyes, and just after that, Tim walked over to stand right behind him.

Greatest Detective in the World. But even an idiot would know what he was up to, sitting in the darkness crying while his feet dangle off a rooftop’s ledge, eyes to his phone like he was reading the saddest sob story in the whole world or that he’d just received a text that one of his loved ones’ lives had been taken away from cancer.

The way Tim was silent, he knew.

And Dick just let him believe it, without even a word to explain himself, he did. He let Tim’s mind do the figuring out and the explaining because not even his own words would be half that truth.

Tim’s voice that night wasn’t the kind he heard often.

“You think this is the right time for that, Dick?”

A crack on his knuckles, his throat sounding rough and beaten, Dick didn’t know what to even say.

“We called you fifteen times over at the bridge. We needed you-“

“Sorry-“

“And it turns out you’ve been at your phone the whole time-“

“You handled it without me.”

“That isn’t the fucking point.”

A month of silence, since that deathly night after they took Y/N home. Several minutes, together in one car, had proven to be one of the most insufferable moments of his life. And not surprisingly, it went on for even more days after that.

Dick turned off his phone, but Tim snatched it away from his hands and walked away so Dick couldn’t grab it.

He stood from the ledge. “Come on, Tim. Not cool.”

“Hmm. Cute,” Tim faked a smile and swiped around the screen, at the last picture of Y/N he had. “Could have sent it to me. And Jason.”

“Tim-“

“But it’s cool,” Tim said. He threw the phone back at Dick and he caught it just before it hit the ground. “All good. Finally, you have something of her all to yourself, right?”

Tim was Tim. Not this. Not someone so angry and grievous and someone who was looking at him that way with so much disgust when he used to be that young boy of fourteen who looked at his older brother like a god. How long, he thought, must he have kept all this frustration bundled up inside, where not even he could reach into. Someone who’s so calm, so in control of what he says, had finally given in and let his annoyance flourish about. He wondered, as anyone would, at what point Tim had finally had enough of all of this.

“Tim, please-“

“You,” Tim pointed his gloved finger right at Dick’s face.

“You were supposed to be my brother.”

Tim:

Of course, he’s had enough.

He’s had enough of all this a lot longer than anyone else, even he, would have thought.

It might have been since that day Y/N was crying over an argument they once had, over something he can't even remember, that almost pried them apart, only for Dick to come along and console her without telling Tim where he was, and he only knew because Y/N told him what happened. If she hadn’t, Tim wouldn’t have known.

He wouldn’t have known Dick had long been pining over the love of his life, never mind how she was in his arms and kissing his lips and calling for his name.

Dick, who could have literally anyone he could possibly wish for, just had to want her.

“What do you want me to say?” The asshole started after a moment’s silence, of nothing but a helicopter’s whirl from far above, the lack of light from everywhere around them, and their footsteps against the empty cement.

He couldn’t even look at his brother in the eye with his mask on, but he knew enough to know what he felt. It didn’t matter if he was sincere. It didn’t even matter that he cried.

“Nothing,” Tim said. “You’ve done your damage.”

“Damage?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Enlighten me.”

Tim scoffed and faked yet another laugh. It annoyed himself at that point.

“You are unbelievable-“

“I’m not trying to do anything with her anymo-“

“Don’t even start with that, asshole.”

Tim’s hands were shaking, and subconsciously he tried to repress those tremors, hoping they’d go away if he clenched them enough, but they only got worse.

“She was mine,” he cried. “And you just couldn’t handle that-“

“I never tried anything with her when you were together.” Dick tried to step closer to him but he just backed away.

“So you weren’t just waiting for us to break up so you’d swoop in and be the hero?” he scoffed. “I asked you to make sure she was okay, not take advantage of her hurting just so you’d have your chance.”

“And why did you break up, Tim?” He had the audacity to ask. “You didn’t love her anymore-“

“You knew I still did-“

“Then why hurt her?!”

“Because I was hurting her anyway!”

Never. He’s never been this angry. Not that he could recall.

“I was 17. Everything about me changed. Wayne Enterprises. Red Robin. Fucking Bruce dying and coming back to life. She was there but I was about to lose my fucking mind. I thought she didn’t have a place in all that mess anymore so I broke it off.”

Finally, he stepped close enough to Dick, almost to leveling with his height. His brother had his lips hidden, hands falling to his sides.

He looked terrified.

“Two seconds after that, I never regret anything more my whole fucking life. I thought talking to you would make her feel better, but you just couldn’t help but bat your pretty little eyes at her when she was vulnerable. I wanted to go back but I couldn’t ‘cuz you were already there!”

He was snarling, and a growl escaped his throat by the time he backed away. Tim didn’t even get to hear himself until he saw his own reflection in the white of Dick’s mask.

But Dick. He didn’t even take it as a hint to just shut up and take his rambling.

“I never meant to keep her away from you-“

“I went to you, Dick.” Tim wiped his lips with the back of his gloves, watched over to the next building to avoid his brother’s face. “I always went to you for help. With her. You know how long I’ve wanted her. And I went to you because I thought you were my brother and you’d help me.”

“I did help you!”

“You were helping yourself!”

His hands slammed against Dick’s chest, and it was a good thing he didn’t fight back. He would have just taken that as an excuse to keep hitting.

“Tim,” Dick held his hands up. Tim backed away. “Just go to her-“

“THIS ISNT ABOUT HER ANYMORE, ASSHOLE!”

Hands shoving his chest once again. This time, Dick had caught them, held them by his wrists enough so Tim couldn’t pull them away.

“THIS IS ABOUT YOU AND ME, GRAYSON!” Tim screamed. “WHAT HAPPENED TO HAVING EACH OTHER’S BACKS!”

“YOU THINK IT WAS MY CHOICE TO GET IN BETWEEN YOU!?”

It was from a whip of strength not even he had known prior, but it hurt when he finally could take his hands off of Dick’s grip, and with that, he backed further away, though his eyes couldn’t stray from looking straight into his brother’s.

“IT DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER IF IT WAS-“

“THEN I’M SORRY!’ Dick swallowed. “IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR?!”

“No,” Tim’s knees hit the railing and so close did he fall, but he kept himself up, rubbed the bottom of his chin with his gloved hand. “You're not sorry…”

Dick’s silence. Even more so did he want to just lunge at him and strangle his vocal chords. No matter how far-fetched, Dick was supposed to tell him all the things he wanted him to say. So far, he’s said none of that.

Dick just watched when Tim turned around to rest his weight onto his palms, looking out into the open seeking for just about any kind of help there was that he could call out from the wind, but there was nothing.

“You're right,” Dick said, and Tim felt the cement crack from beneath his palms. “I’m not sorry.”

“Fucking bold of you-”

“What would have happened to her if I hadn’t stepped in?” He heard Dick’s voice louder and clearer, which meant he was walking closer towards him.

“I would have come back. I always wanted to come back, but by then she was all over you. I couldn’t-“

Tim looked at his own hands. “I had it coming. I can't blame her.”

Another whiff of air, and it blew the strands of his black locks right onto his eyelids. They stung, but he didn’t push them away. He just kept his eyes locked onto the blankness of the gray, the dark that went all the way into his spirit.

“But I do blame you-“

“Tim, you hurt her-”

“AND YOU HAVENT?!”

Dick caught his Bo staff, which Tim had thrown right at him as swiftly as he turned around. His mouth was as dry as his palms were sweating. His teeth were close to breaking. And his eyes dangerously drifting off into some unknown nowhere just so he wouldn’t have to look at such betrayal.

“Tim-“

Tim was shaking, or at least his hands were, when he gave into his impulses and moved so fast, grabbing Dick by the collar and standing him down.

“You stand there blaming me for all that hurt when here you are-“

“What the hell do you want me to say to you?!”

He was strong, stronger than any one of them would have thought. Dick couldn’t even move, much less out of shock than it was out of his hold on him too overwhelming to counter.

“Tim, this isn’t like you-“

“You have no idea what I’ll do,” Tim growled. “Why do you think I became Red Robin?”

To separate himself from the likes of what it used to be. To not be Robin anymore. To stray away from his ideals, ideals and morals no longer his.

Because he was, in his truest capacity, capable of much darker things than people seem to know. Even his own brother.

“I hate you-“

Dick, who took that second to take advantage of weakness, grabbed him by the wrists and pushed him off with the soles of his feet, not enough to send him to the ground but enough to almost topple him. And when he looked up, immediately, Tim’s fist headed for his brother’s head, but again it was caught by Dick’s palm.

“HEY, HEY, HEY, ENOUGH! BOTH OF YOU!”

A much deeper, louder voice, the third one to be heard that night. It was that, and two strong arms that grabbed Tim by the shoulder and Dick by his suit’s back. Even when it wasn’t even to much effect, they stopped.

At least, for a second they did, before Tim started for Dick’s neck and he had to be held back with a strong hand right against his chest. “Let me go!”

“What the hell is going on with you two!?”

“Stay out of this Jason!”

It was easier for Jason to stand right in between, just to stop either of them from going after their skin. Dick had stopped. Tim, on the other hand, had to be held back by the shoulders. “Tim, calm down!”

“I said stay out of this!”

Jason:

“One of you pinheads tell me what’s going on!”

“Are you really gonna let Jason fight your battles, Dick?!”

Tim tried to push Jason out of the way. He was lucky, in fact, that none of them could see the irate look on his face hidden behind the safety of a red helmet. Otherwise they might have started for him too, just at how disgusted he looked at them both. And he had every right to be. He knew exactly why they were fighting. It was the devil in him who felt like asking.

Jason held him back with his cape. “Hey, KNOCK IT OFF-“

“Let go of me!”

“You don’t think I wanna bash this asshole’s brains out everyday, Tim?!” Jason hauled him to the floor. “Trust me. You can hold back.”

“Oh, fuck you, Todd.”

“You shut up.” Jason pointed at Dick. “If this is about Y/N I know exactly why Tim wants you dead.”

“And why am I the one you two’re ganging up on?!”

“If I was, Dick, I’d just let this one have at it with you. Thank me later.” Jason said, nodding over at Tim. Tim shrugged off his brother’s hold on him and frowned.

“You were never the one to trust, Dick,” Tim gulped. And Jason knew Dick would have thought the same. His flaring eyes, the burn that was almost never there from someone so usually calm. It was unnerving seeing Tim this way. “Look at everyone you’ve hurt. Y/N. Kori. When are you going to stop?”

“Don’t you fucking start with me, you little-“

“Hey! Knock it off!” Jason pushed Dick again with a shove of his hand. Dick stepped back.

“Jason, just get out of here -“

“I don’t know, man; Feels like I have to be the responsible one. For once.”

Tim grabbed Jason’s hand and hauled him to the side so he could step closer to where Dick was standing. “You don’t want to be a part of this.”

Jason, if not at all wanting that to be true in the slightest sense, didn’t fight back and took Tim’s shoving. But, as he’d thought, Dick was the one who looked at him so slyly he wanted to grab his lips and use them to haul him over the building.

Suddenly, every part of his skin wanted to burst, blood beating through every inch of vessel and flesh so much it burned him. His mouth sewed shut, ears hurting at the redness. Again, if not for the helmet, it would have been a dead giveaway.

But Dick wasn’t having it.

“Trust me, Tim. He already is.”

“What the hell do you mean-“

“I said, enough. You two settle this at home.”

Jason tried for Dick’s shoulder just to push him to back away, but he threw his hand off.

“Don’t fucking act like the good guy between the three of us,” Dick said. “What are you gonna say next? That this isn’t what Y/N would want?”

“You think it is?!”

Dick chortled and he turned away. Tim still wouldn’t let his glare away from his brother and if Jason would let him, he’d have mauled him to death.

“You always did think you knew what was best for her, didn’t you?”

“Jason, what the hell is he talking about?”

He never told him. The bastard never told Tim when he was so sure he would, when he basically told him that night outside Y/N’s doorstep that by the end of the hour, Tim would know what he’d done and he’d have found Jason by the next, even when he tries too hard to disappear, which he had tried to do for four months, hiding from his brother, and not long after he’ll never be welcomed into the manor as so much as a guest. It did surprise him, after many months, that Tim hadn’t so much as acknowledged it. Part of him wanted to believe Tim didn’t care, or had already forgiven Y/N and in turn forgiven him.

But, of course, Dick hadn’t told him. The asshole wanted this to drag out as painfully long as he possibly could. Make him carry that burden himself just because he thought it was right, as Tim’s brother, even when he wanted no part of those niceties.

“You wanna tell him?” The blue leotard wearing ass said. “Or should I?”

“Don’t fucking bring me into this shitshow-“

“Brother, you walked right into it yourself.”

“I will kill you,” Jason growled. “One of these days.”

“Tell me what?”

Tim’s voice, the softest it had been since the start of that night.

He shouldn’t.

His little brother, one whose relationship had proven far too difficult to build, if there was ever a chance at a good relationship at all. His brother. An established brotherhood he once despised so much, took too many years just for it to be something tolerable. His little brother.

He never had a little brother like Tim. Perhaps even now, he wouldn’t. Not once he knows.

“Tim, I-“

“Jason, tell me what’s going on.”

Dick no longer even had that smirk on him. He just looked sad for the both of them, as he should be. As anyone should be.

“Just tell him.”

So much did his fist want to just fly and land straight at Grayson’s perfectly chiseled cheekbones, break his face so much he wouldn’t live to stand a day.

But Jason had grown too silent, too guilty.

He couldn’t even take off his helmet and look at either of them in the eye.

Tim stepped right in front of him and on his face kind of worry that often lingered prior to it being the worst rage to ever engulf into.

Was there a way out of this? To counter the impact? Make it so it didn’t hurt so much?

If Grayson had just told him, it wouldn’t have to be this way.

“Jason-“

He looked up, and through the slits of his visor, he knew Tim wanted to look at him in the eye, to find something out of this truth.

“I…”

His throat, it hurt to even breath. And when this happened, he usually takes the helmet off. This time, however, he couldn’t do that. Not when he had so much to say despite him not wanting to.

“I slept with her…”

It was a shame Dick didn’t look too much like an ass right then. If he did, he’d have a reason for himself to just jump at him with a knife. But all he could even see, all he could bring himself to watch, was his feet.

Nothing else. Not when Tim was looking at him that way.

“What?”

“I slept with her-“

Tim.

Was it even Tim anymore? The boy in front of him? Who never looked at him with so much betrayal?

“When?”

“A few months ago…” he said. “Lasted about a month.”

Then, it wouldn’t even have mattered if it were him who broke the news, the asshole that Dick was, or the Gotham Times.

Tim.

No longer his little brother. Never will be again.

Right for the neck. That’s where Tim pounced a second less than he was smart enough to move away.

Dick:

That asshole deserved it.

But if anyone deserved it more than Jason did, it was Dick.

Was it to divert Tim’s attention from himself? Give him a breather and a while for Tim’s anger to mellow down taking it out on Jason so he doesn’t take it out on him so much? Possibly.

But the moment Tim’s hands squeezed the living daylights out of Jason’s neck, he knew he shouldn’t have brought it up. It was wrong. This was all wrong.

He started for Tim’s arms, grabbing them both just to at least give Jason enough time to breath, but this newfound strength certainly wasn’t one he’d expected. When he did manage to pull them off, Tim swung his fist right at Dick’s face.

Then, he went back for Jason, who then took that short time to grab both his fists and stop them for hurling him over the roof.

This was his fault. This was his doing.

And all the more did he want this to end when Jason held Tim strong enough to make him scream, and with that, he threw another punch right for his helmet, shattering the visor beneath his bruised knuckles. Jason tried to kick him away with his knee, but Tim was pushing him.

Jason, who should have been a lot stronger, was not doing much to fight Tim. And instead, he tried talking him out of it.

“Tim!” he coughed. Tim still holding both fists went on to push him. “Tim, stop!”

Head slam against his helmet, and it broke, enough for a part of it to be chipped off and expose his forehead.

Jason finally hurled Tim over to the ground just so he could wipe the blood stain off from seeping down his eyes, but that wasn’t much of a good idea. Not when Tim took that as a chance to jump for his brother, grabbing him by the shoulders, and with the forces of their own bodies flying across the wind, the railing wasn’t enough to stop their fall.

Tim and Jason fell over the building, down fifty stories with one’s hands wrapped around the others throat, and Tim went on to strangle him even as they fell.

Dick, without even thinking much, dove into that same abyss. Did he have a plan? No. Was this going to work anyway? Probably not. But he had to try.

At least, it was all he had to do. When Dick leapt, head soaring straight down for a car so miniscule that wouldn’t be so small the more he wastes time, his brothers thrashing bodies that broke the speed of their fall worked to his sorry advantage and Dick managed to catch up.

He grabbed Tim off, thankfully with the fall lessening his grip but not at all did it change the murderous look on his face. This wasn’t his brother. This can't be him. This was someone who had all his frustrations bottled up in the form of coffee addiction, insomnia, and workaholic tendencies, someone who hadn’t vented out his hurt and anger at him, who he apparently had been hating for a while.

When he had him in his grasps, Dick grappled up to the next building. “Jason, hold on!”

It was, in actuality, the worst idea he’s ever come up with. Other than the fact that Tim weighed a good 170 pounds, Jason was no lighter. Not even in the slightest. And carrying both of them? He might as well be hauling up a whole tank.

That one single grappling hook showed them no appreciation despite it holding on the best it could. And it was to no help that the hook landed on a building too far.

They were just yards up the ground when the rope tightened, and the impact on Dick’s arm he was sure had the bone dislocated. A scream was all he could muster at the shooting pains that went all the way up his neck, but still, he held on, and even when it lasted no more than a few seconds, it was all too agonizing not to feel like it lasted hours.

All it took was to at least break the fall, but that was all he could handle. Dick let go of the grapple gun and they were falling across the whole block, across the street over to an abandoned lot with junkyard cars and probably some broken glass scattered across the ground.

Tim landed on top of one of the cars, breaking the windshield under his weight. Jason wasn’t so lucky, rolling across the cold cement with it hitting his helmet, enough to expose his face.

And Dick, with it not helping his arm at all, landed right against the fenced border and fell to the ground. Some wire sticking out might have impaled his skin.

He was breathing. Was he still breathing? There was throbbing. Redness. Blood that went to his eyes, most probably. He could hear his heart and basically the rest of his senses going haywire.

When he looked up, already Tim could stand, right on top of the cars.

Now lacking his Bo staff, Tim smashed the broken metal beneath his feet and pulled out a slab hard enough to break bones.

Tim:

If Dick were smart, he should have let him die.

This was always how he was, how this was all going to boil down to. His so many ways of dealing with loss, heartbreak, and stress, it was never going to hold him back enough if he hadn’t an outlet. And this, tonight, this was all part of the inevitable. He did what he promised Y/N. He kept off the coffee and had eight hours of sleep every day. But did it mean it warded off his thoughts on her? On his brothers? On their betrayal and how much he’d been holding that all off for months? Not even close. In fact, they grew worse.

Who does he start with?

Dick was all the way over at the fence. Wounded. Dislocated arm. He pulled himself up and went for a wall he could smash his shoulder against just to pull back the bone.

And Jason.

Shit.

Should have went for him first.

Two glocks in his hands. This man wasn’t afraid in the slightest.

“Jason, don’t!” Dick cried. Too late. He already shot one of the cars.

Tim spun about just to dodge at least the shattered glass. He was aiming for his legs, at all the parts of his body that wouldn’t be so lethal. How kind of him.

Which meant, that if it were the vital parts of him exposed, Jason wouldn’t shoot.

So he didn’t even try to hide himself, his chest especially, when he hurled himself over the many car hoods and roofs. Jason kept going, and this time he went to shooting the glass on purpose. Probably to hit him with the shards.

Tim reached the wall and pushed his feet so he’d roll on the ground. Cape up, he looked through the many places to hide, but he didn’t want to hide. What he wanted was to grab one of them, any of them, by the shoulders, pin them to the ground, and have his fist have at it with their stupid faces.

He ran up to Jason, cape protecting his legs and arms, and just as he did Dick had crept up behind him, grabbing Jason by a headlock. Elbow to Dick’s chest, he took that as a chance to grab his guns and throw them over to the side. So close did he miss one of the bullets, if grazing his shoulder was ever a miss. But he ignored that hiss and landed a hit on Jason’s stomach.

But not even that could last long, with Jason practically subdued. Dick set Jason aside to block Tim’s fist from landing anywhere near either of them. He kept hitting, swinging, it was all a blur after the third time he felt his shoulders hurt. And Grayson’s was no better. So he aimed for it.

What was he doing?

Foot landing on Dick’s pelvis. It was enough for his body to skid across the ground. He looked up at his brother, teeth gritting so much that it hurt, Tim didn’t move fast enough before he could move away from Dick’s fist, which landed a good one right to his teeth.

Jason:

This was the most ridiculous fight he’s ever been on. No different from a fucking pellet gun war over at the gardens that one time they were drunk and stupid. This was a game, one he really didn’t want to play. He should have known, and what he thought that time was that somehow, she was worth going through all this chaos for. That moment of bliss, that month of beauty and serenity and peace, was it worth this? With his own brothers?

It wouldn’t have been if it was just a month of beauty and serenity and peace. But it wasn’t just about that anymore, was it?

So this had to be worth it. In every way. With Dick and Tim over a few yards away, Dick holding his shoulder and trying so hard to avoid being hit there and Tim so unruly and angry and being so taken over with his rage, not at all was he anything like this before tonight.

He had the choice. To grab the gun that had skidded over to his side, shoot them both in the shoulder to put everything to a stop, or join in on their rumble to drag this out as long as inhumanely possible. Three different men who knew exactly what the others’ moves will be, this wasn’t going to last very long if it were to be a good way.

But, if this were to be dealt with bullets, he can say goodbye to either of them of ever being his brother again, to never be a part of this family so hard to love but love nevertheless.

He stopped his hand from reaching for the gun, and with that, he started for the two.

Jason grabbed Tim’s ankle just before it would have landed on Dick’s chin, threw him to the side so he’d land on the floor.

Dick’s fist, which would have hit Tim, instead hit Jason right at the nape of his neck. He almost toppled over to the ground, and with that flash of rage, he struck back at Dick right at his bad shoulder. Might have been too far. But he didn’t care.

Tim hit his back, right up against his sharp knee. He cried out at the unnerving bellows that went straight to his head, picked himself up just before he hit the ground.

Another hit for his head, but Dick had stopped it with his own hand, twisted Tim’s ankle so he’d once again lose his balance and fall.

Three different men.

Three different fights.

Three men who knew each other far too well to be beaten so easily.

They jostled and rolled about, around the junkyard over so many of the cars and the broken glass and even the fence that had long blown over. This wasn’t at all supposed to be what they’d spend the night on, but with the slabs of metal being thrown, the cars almost hurled up with their peak human strength, their limbs flailing, some barely missing a nerve on their head and some wrecking a whole tooth out of their mouth, it was not, to even some capacity, ever going to end as well as any of them hoped.

And with them at the middle of the barren empty grounds, Jason dodging Dick’s fist only to meet Tim’s knee, Dick being absolutely smothered by Tim’s head smashing against his, and Tim being pinned to the ground by either of his brothers larger than him that he hated so much.

It all would have ended in death, after the kind of blur that clouded so much of their moral thought and any kind of sense at all to remind them of what they were doing, if not for something far too strong for them to easily swerve from.

Or, better yet, three things too strong for them to swerve from.

At a whiff so quick for any of them to have possibly even sensed, a flash of purple was the first to wave off that blur from their eyes. And it went for Tim.

Stephanie was first to subdue him, holding Tim down with her knee landing right at the small of his back. He cried out both at the shock he hadn’t expected and the pulsing pain that probably went all the way up his spine, but he was done. Steph had grabbed Tim’s head and pinned him down right against the floor.

The next one was Dick, and before any of them could even turn, something so brightly blinding, a figure of yellow, fell from one of the cars’ hood and grabbed Dick by the neck. Duke was smaller, but not at all was that some disadvantage. His huge armored arms, locking Dick enough for him to just flail his hands about, it was enough to make him stop.

And, just as he expected, the next thing he saw after that flash of a second he was spared, was a blur of black so silently creeping up on him, Jason couldn’t move even when he knew it was coming. No one could have seen it. Not even him. By the next second, he was bent over one of the cars, hands to his back, and Cassandra had a taser stuck to his hip.

“NO, NO, NO, CASS DON’T-“

Barely enough to fry him unconscious, but enough to fucking electrocute his skin off so his muscles could barely move.

Dick:

This should all have ended sooner than it even happened.

And the shame crept in, not even when he stopped struggling against Duke’s hold on him, but when Barbara, the last to come into the scene, flew in from the window right across.

She looked like she wanted to murder all three of them by a rope around their necks. One single rope. Having three just wouldn’t be worth it.

She took off her cowl and let her red hair fall to her back, so they’d easily see just how disgusted she looked at them all, at the look on her eyes, at the look on all their eyes.

“Duke, let me go-“

“I’m sorry, Dick.”

“Please.”

“If we could, Nightwing,” Babs swallowed. “I’ll have you tied to that streetlamp for the rest of the night.”

Jason tried to reach for something in the car just to kick Cass away, but she tased him again. Some smoke flew up from his flesh.

“Cass, that’s enough,” Babs said.

Cass glared at them all, then settled to just holding Jason down with his arms.

“Is anyone going to tell me what the hell is going on with you three?”

“Maybe if you get your foot out of my head, Steph, I’d actually get my brain back and answer her question,” Tim said.

“You lost your brain when you fell down that building.”

“You saw that?”

Steph snorted. “You’re lucky I didn’t jump in until I had all of us on call.”

“Lucky?!”

Steph twisted Tim’s arm and his cries could be heard over to the next block.

Jason tried, again, to break free from Cass’s hold, but her fist wasn’t one to welcome when it landed much like a bat would’ve right up against Jason’s head.

And Tim, who almost pried Steph’s knee from against his back, was just pinned down again not even a second after breaking free.

They were too tired to go up against any of them.

So Dick, knowing there was no other, prettier way out of this, let go of his hands from gripping too hard on Duke’s arm. He didn’t let go, but it had loosened, enough for him to properly talk. Babs went over to him. That dagger-infested glower stuck through, but at least there was some appreciation for his lack of resistance.

“It was a misunderstanding-“

“Was it?!”

Babs clenched her jaw.

“This is about her, isn’t it-“

Tim’s voice echoed. “No!”

Tim:

He growled and shoved Steph’s hand away, but they kept on his arms, pushing them down against his spine. She was strong enough to subdue him, stronger now that he was exhausted and his muscles were all strained, but that didn’t mean he was, in any way, going to back down from this fight. This wasn’t over.

He could crane his head up enough to look at Babs.

“This is about these two traitors who lied to my face for months!”

Steph was having too much trouble keeping him down. “Tim!”

“Are you really going to take their side?!”

“No one is taking anyone’s side here.”

Babs eyed Cass at least to make her loosen her grip on Jason’s twisted arms. Cass rolled her eyes, sighed, and still without a word, she grabbed Jason by the back of his collar to make him stand. But it wasn’t without her taser stuck up to his side.

“Cass, I’m not gonna fucking fight you-“

“Just shut up, Jay,” Dick said, and with that, Duke tightened his arm.

“They wanna know,” Tim panted. “Tell them all why we’re in this mess.”

His voice, all broken and rageful and so unlike what anyone would have thought. It turned the heads of everyone around. Steph loosened her hand around Tim’s neck much out of her own disbelief.

“Stabbing me in the back the way you did…”

“Tim, you don’t have to-“ Babs went on, but Tim’s screams were too much.

“Tell them! Say why you’re all a bunch of ass-“

“You’re the one who wanted this to be some shitshow!” Jason’s teeth shouldn’t last long with how much he was gritting them when he hissed and snarled at Cass, who poked the taser just beneath his hip.

“Cass, enough with the taser.”

“Yeah, Cass,” Jason said. “Where the hell did you even get that?”

“Some douchey police officer over at Chinatown,” Duke said to him while still keeping his hands on Dick.

Something so foreign, so unruly and aggressive, it was taking too much control over him. Tim’s eyes were burning, and there weren’t even any tears. His blood pulsed through every vein, strong enough for it to hurt, and loud enough for him to hear it through his bloodied ears.

Tim pushed Steph away and for a moment, he was free. He wasn’t even thinking anymore. He just wanted his hands squeezing the voice out of Jason’s neck.

Babs grabbed him by the cape just as Steph caught up, and again he was on the floor. Still, he screamed, thrashed about because everything within him just yelled for him to finally let it out. He was done being the nice guy, done being the brother they both pushed around, took advantage of, lied to, and picked on because they knew he’d never fight back.

“Tim…” Babs helped Steph holding him down. She looked up at Dick. “What the hell did you do to him?”

“Nothing we can't sort out!”

“Jesus, Dick,” Jason snorted. “You haven’t said one smart thing all day.”

“Like you're any better, you asswipe.”

“Enough!”

Babs stood right between them, otherwise they’d have lunged for each other even if they had a missile launcher aimed for their heads.

“Let me go. Duke,” Dick said. “I’m not gonna fight any of you-“

“Yeah, three seconds ago you were close to running Jason’s head through a windshield.”

“Just let me go and we’ll all calmly-“

“Calmly?” Duke laughed. “I saw you fall down that building from where I stood. None of you know what calm is.”

Duke’s voice was stern and not at all did he sound like he’d trust him enough for that, no different than Steph’s or even just the look in Cass’s eyes. Because, if anything, other than the utter disgust, disdain, and disappointment, everything before them was something not to easily believe.

Not long after, before anything even happened, before Tim heard that first trace of a large black cape and the heavy soles that would have broken the cement floor underneath if he hadn’t purposely landed so swiftly, with the shadow that wasn’t in fact a shadow, but a suit so terrifying, dark, and so close to invisible, it was the night in a physicality no two people could similarly describe.

Tim knew he’d get here first, before anyone else even turned their heads. Because he stopped with his cries and faced his untimely doom. Face to the ground, quiet and unmoving. Everyone else followed but that was after he’d already appeared.

Not even anyone from the likes of the worst villains had seen the look on Bruce’s face as close to the one he had right then.

Jason:

If he were alone, he’d just have snorted. The look on Grayson and Drake’s face. Couldn’t be drawn.

He’s seen that same frown on Bruce every time he shoots a damn gun, which was every night. He could paint it by memory and he wouldn’t miss a detail. The squinted white of his eyeholes, his lips forlorn and flat. His hands, clenched enough for it to hurt, hidden beneath his cape. Oh, Dad. Did I do that?

These guys just needed some getting used to.

And he shouldn’t be amused at the fact that at least, for once, he wasn’t the only one in trouble this time. Tim looked ashamed. Dick looked like he’d seen a ghost. Dick should have known this, at least. He’s steered up a few times of trouble himself. Nothing like what he’s done, that’s for sure. But he shouldn’t be so stricken. Still, he was, which made it all the more inappropriate if he were to smirk right then.

Damian was right beside him. He wasn’t entertained, or intrigued, what he usually was watching his father tell off his brothers. In fact, he looked bothered. Like they’d just taken so much of his time away from what he’d rather be doing, which apparently was more interesting than this.

Ah. Of course. An out-of-town mission. Just Batman and Robin. They left Babs in charge. Probably why she looked just as horrified as Dick, hands to her side and keeping the slight shake of her palms hidden. It seems she prepared for anything to happen on patrol that night, anything Bruce prepared her for being the boss. What they hadn’t prepared for, apparently, was them.

“Batman, I-“ Babs swallowed. “We have this under control. You can go back to-“

“Let them go.”

Chills down everyone’s wobbly spines at his growling voice proved more terrifying under the filter near his neck. Everyone except Jason, of course. But he can't be so relaxed. Cass was getting suspicious. He just felt her hands tighten even more around his wrists.

But perhaps, he should be afraid. He’s gotten into mounds of trouble, but it was never anything like this.

He snorted again. They hadn’t hurt anybody. It was just them three and their lack of brain. They’ll be fine.

He hoped.

“Bruce, they’re trying to kill each other-“

“They can try.”

Babs, right then, might be the one to kill them right after. Maybe with her bare hands. Maybe with a truck. With a deathly, silent scowl at all of them, she nodded.

Duke was first to let go of Dick, and with that a pat on the back. Dick rubbed the back of his neck, stayed put and didn’t even step away. He was relaxed. Ashamed, but relaxed. He just stretched out his limbs and already everyone was satisfied.

Next, it was Jason. With a reluctant Cass finally letting him go, and the taser, Jason tumbled over to the nearest car hood just to keep himself up. That fucking taser robbed him of his knees. How many volts was that thing?

Finally, Steph swung her legs over from holding down Tim’s body and helped him up. She dusted off his back, apologized under her breath. He probably had a lot to say if it weren’t for the seven other pairs of eyes on him, watching him from letting out so much as a twitch.

Tim didn’t shove her away so he could go back to poking Jason’s eyeballs out. He just stood there and stared at him like Jason and Dick were lucky everyone else was around. Which, he probably was. He wasn’t going to deny that.

The last people to be so afraid of Bruce were the three of them, the perpetrators, the reason for this little reunion. So instead of letting out something so cocky and unapologetic, something so at the borders of causing Bruce to have an aneurysm, not one mouth resisted from being kept shut. It was the kind of silence that wasn’t often expected from such an unusual family.

And Bruce looked at the three of them not with anger, or dismay, or even annoyance.

He looked disappointed.

Which, arguably, makes it a whole lot worse. Hell, even for him. He’s been yelled at since the day he came back and all of a sudden a little fight with his brothers is what brings him to shame.

Bruce was unmoving, so his voice startled and shook.

“All this…” he said. “For her…”

No one spoke. Not even a cricket. Even with the horns and sirens from afar, the bustle they couldn’t care less the only noise there was, it was deafening.

“Don’t you think you’ve disappointed her enough?”

Jason ignored the shattered edges of his helmet that poked on his cheek, ignored the blood it drew or the strain on his arms. Everyone did, perhaps.

“Go back to patrol.”

Batman left, as quickly as he’d come. Robin followed right behind him.

Batgirl turned around, nodded at her team, which was all there was out of her, out of anybody. They could see her fists clench, her eyes down and avoiding the others. The Signal flew out of the scene, Spoiler grappled up to the next rooftop, and Orphan disappeared out of thin air, without a word or even a grunt.

Nightwing, Red Robin, and Red Hood left that junkyard lot, and as the brothers they were, and dreadfully still are, they kept out of each other’s ways for the rest of that quiet night.

-----

What was so different about that night, and the many more nights that followed, was how they no longer had each other to turn to, even more now that it seemed they needed their brothers the most. Jason was, in the worst sense, used to the kind of isolation he was forced into after the matter. Dick had to learn to be alone, but it always had been better to have another’s shoulder to lean on and talk to. Tim, not so much. Not when he almost always turned to Y/N. And if not her, Dick. His older brother. One he once looked up to like a being unreachable, now a traitor he’d scoff at if he dared to show up.

So what they did, and what they were forced to do for several nights, was to deal with the cosmos and the whirlwind of thoughts all by their sorry selves. Dick usually could be found in training, spinning about in the uneven bars set up for him at the manor, have the sweat and the strain in his muscles force out whatever it was that bothered him into some physical outlet, how it often had been for many years as he appreciated himself for the care it brought. For the others, however, it wasn’t so much the same. Tim would spend all hours in the office and wouldn’t so much as nap even when his whole body tortured him to at least stop his back from being crouched so much. And Jason, well, had already drowned himself in booze, even more now that the reasons had faded clearer.

Alone in his apartment, over at the nook by the window where he usually spent the day with a book, now his mess of a hair would be plastered against the cold glass and the many bottles that surround him would block the surfaces of the cushion. It never actually got out of hand. He only ever drank to get rid of that noise blaring into his ear the way it was now, the way it was for all three of them.

And Tim couldn’t turn to that same comfort, or whatever it was that caffeine, stinging eyelids, and an unhealthy staring into a computer screen with an all nighter at the office would bring him. That night after the fight, he couldn’t sleep, even when he tried to. Which led to no one’s knowing, a cup of coffee when the day had risen and he was forced to go on with that said day like nothing happened. That cup would turn to two. Three. Eventually it dawned on him that he’d slept what he should have in a single day in a span of three.

Dick’s training, as it turned out, wasn’t so healthy at all. The strain in his wrists began a little over two hours ago. He’d been at the grounds for quadruple that time. For that day alone. Would it kill him if he didn’t stop? Probably not. Would it almost kill him? Probably. But he went on. Kept his hands busy. Forced himself to feel that exhaustion that should be taking his mind out of everything and not amplify it.

But this was only the beginning of what eventually would be that highway to descent, to some slope with no ladder to climb back up to, no guide for them to reverse and no light at the end that would eventually bring some alternative to the truth. They only had the truth to hold on.

Their brotherhood. One so strained. So complicated. One that took far too much time to build and rebuild. They couldn’t, not even if they wanted to, be apart from this family, deny that they were a part of it. They couldn’t escape each other’s presence no matter how many times they’d change their numbers or block out their trackers or find another city to live in. They couldn’t lose something that had grown too strong for them to fight against. That night, they tried. Or rather, the forces tried. The forces run by their bitter rivalry or the want for the same woman.

It was the fifth night after that fight, when Dick let go of the bars, finally giving his hands that rest too many hours overdue. He wiped his sweat, drank from his bottle, and pulled out his phone. That night, he thought it was enough, that this silence and bitterness and sheer negligence over their bond would eventually break for permanence. He knew that this coping was only just the beginning, and that it will, for everything he was certain about, would it become so much more, something so dark, that it would pull the whole family apart. He didn’t want that. For any of them. So that night, he sent a text to Tim and Jason.

Tim’s first account wasn’t on his brothers, though it had crossed his mind many more times than he would have hoped. His first thought, if anything, was how Y/N would have thought if he let himself fall. It’d be in his rule this time, that he wouldn’t let the caffeine get to him or reach to such extremes he’d never otherwise control. But Y/N wasn’t going to believe that, as nobody should. Hell, he probably shouldn’t place that much faith onto himself at all. Even if he does so much as lose an hour of sleep, one for every night until there wasn’t any hours left, if he allows himself one more cup when he had one just half an hour before, he knew it’d be just the beginning.

So, when he got that text from Dick, he realized it wasn’t worth much the risk.

He hated them both like he’s hated no one else, wanted them to realize just how much of a wreck their doings have imprinted on him and Y/N, how the consequences that followed weren’t nearly what they deserved at all. But if he doesn’t fight that hate, if he doesn’t find peace, it’ll be that darkness for him, that same life he hadn’t learned to control, one where he once lost himself to. and in turn, made him lose Y/N. And he’ll lose her again if he won't listen to that conscience. He texted Dick back and told him to meet him at Pauli’s.

Jason, on the other hand, acted as was expected of him. When he saw that text the first thing his lack of conscience told him was to get another phone and forget it all happened, disappear for another few months, show up when it was convenient, and hope that this all blows over before his escapism backfires.

But he never did get to bring himself to throw out his phone and get a new one, much less delete the text before he’s even seen it. A few days after, he let that daft little voice in him to open the text, allow himself a few seconds just to witness its premise. But he’d read through everything in that split second he allowed himself to. Dick didn’t really have much to say. And what else was to come next other than the few days of tussling and fighting and the many more bottles of booze that were not at all helping with those same voices that just wouldn’t shut up.

Was this all worth it? Was anything worth this at all?

Because those few years it took just to have any sort of a conversation with Dick, much more with Tim, certainly wasn’t a few years of a bond rebuilt that he wanted to go through again.

He loved them. In his own, twisted little way. He loved his brothers and actually would go out his way to save them from whatever horrors he’d been forced to face. That love didn’t have to be from occasionally hanging out in the holidays or spent an hour or two in a bar.

At least, in his conscience, if he were to die one day like he’d realize would happen again, knowing life wasn’t exactly his alone to spend and control, he’d know he did whatever was best for the people he loved.

So, despite Dick and Tim not at all expecting so much as a text back, they still had it in them to wait a few hours. In that dimly lit corner of Pauli’s, the aroma of freshly backed pancakes distracting them from their otherwise bland pickup from the rest of their senses. They waited, not hoping for the best.

Jason went into the diner and saw them, ordered a cup, then took a seat across Tim, with Dick in between.

That silence, the same for everyday for the past five, it was haunting and eerie, disturbing, uncomforting, one they knew they’d all have to settle if they wanted to move on and actually bring some light into whatever it was they’ve caused.

Jason didn’t take off his hoodie. Tim warmed his hands with his cup of hot chocolate. And Dick, knowing he’d have to start, cleared his throat and looked up.

Dick:

Seeing Tim walk through that door was a surprise enough, much more Jason coming along and not even was he three hours late. Fuck. Fuck. What does he even say? Where does he ever start? Should he even start?

Giving in to his impulses certainly was bad an idea. This was, in every way, what he should have expected when he picked up his phone and thought to call his brothers hoping it was the right thing to do. And, perhaps, it was the right thing.

But was he the right person to start it? Lead this conversation to the direction he wanted so they’d get to a better place? The one that pushed his impulses in the first place?

They were all too awfully silent. Tim’s had his second round of hot chocolate. He doesn’t even like hot chocolate that much. And Jason looks like he’s hiding himself from the cops with his hood down and neck craned to the table’s surface. He’s never been in anything more awkward and uncomfortable in his years. This was just humiliating.

But, he was sure, humiliation should be the first thing they’d have to go through. Setting their prides aside, talk with the other’s stories in mind and hope that by the end of this, it’ll at least be a bit better.

So he started, in the most bland, uneventful way, he tells them both.

“Thanks for coming,” Dick said.

Tim momentarily bit onto his lip, and Jason stayed motionless without so much as a nod. At least Tim glanced over at him, even when it was just a second.

“How are you, Tim?”

Tim’s finger traced over the brim of his cup. He’s finished it. Didn’t seem like he wanted to order another one.

“Alright. I guess.”

“Good. Jason?”

God, this was awful. He doesn’t even ask how their broken bones are healing after a life-threatening encounter in patrol. Hopefully this greyness wasn’t too weird, not when it should be the start of something even more difficult to overcome.

Jason’s order of coffee came into the table and it made Tim shift in his seat, leaning to the back to stay further away from its aroma. Jason took a sip. “Fine.”

As quiet as they possibly could. Dick wished he had something to order, even when it was just a piece of pie they’d displayed over at the counter. But he didn’t want to get up or even call a waitress.

He was, in the most obvious sense, ashamed. Ashamed that he wasn’t either of them, which he wished nothing more to be. He wished he was them so he wouldn’t have to be the man who’d hurt Y/N the most, when he was supposed to be who she’d turn for comfort, because they weren’t the man who’d been in love with her for so long, never thinking he’d have a chance. And when he did finally have her, even for a just a moment, when he finally got to kiss her that one time he’d been waiting for so many years, it all broke down and nearly diminished what he took years to build. Their friendship. Something so great yet so fragile, when their love never could be so easily set aside to make way for a friendly bond.

“I’m sorry,” Tim said, and his voice had gone softer. “I’m sorry I started a fight. And for being so angry. That was uncalled for.”

He did want all this to be right with them. Both of them. Two of his brothers he’s learned to love. And with that love comes many sacrifices.

“You don’t have to be sorry for being angry.”

“Would you like more hot cocoa?” The waitress came in with a pitcher. Tim declined, and she left.

He stared at the empty cup and rolled his lips.

“Yeah, I… I kinda do.”

Further into the day, the less people there were in the diner. And with that came more silence. There were half the people in there than when they’d first arrived. Soon enough, they’ll be the only ones left.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Then, without even a word, Dick and Tim turned over to Jason.

They didn’t expect him to apologize, or even say anything for that matter, possibly for the rest of the night.

But Jason shrugged, looked up at both of them in the eye, and he nodded. It was enough for them both to know what he meant.

Jason:

Get this over with. As quick as they possibly could. But he should know by now that this was going to take time. With how difficult it was. This wasn’t going to end any better than when they’d started if they rush through.

Jason took a sip out of his coffee and leaned his arms over on the table. Still, he didn’t take off his hoodie, as if he was going to take off not long from then.

“I don’t exactly know where to start,” Dick said. “But I think we should put this out there now.”

Neither of them looked him in the eye. He and Tim both stared at their cups as if it were any interesting.

“I’m sorry if I’m doing this wrong. I’m just saying what I think is best.”

“It’s okay,” Tim said. “Just go on.”

This was harder than when they had to help out the League face Brainiac. And that certainly was something.

“I love Y/N.”

Okay. Wasn’t what he thought Dick would say. But okay.

“Tim loves her, too.”

Shit. Alright. So that’s what this motherfucker thinks he’s doing.

“And I for sure as hell know, that you love her as well, Jason-“

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jason’s voice was deep, controlled, and as monotonous as he forced it to be. Without a flick of a lie or a speck of truth, as they both would have easily picked up if they listened to him hard enough. That is, if it worked. Which it probably hadn’t.

“We don’t know who she wants…” Dick said. “And frankly, I don’t think she does, too. At least for now.”

“It could be any of us.” Tim didn’t take his sight away from the blankness of the white table’s surface.

He can't take this. No. He never should have opened that text. This was a bad idea.

Y/N will choose one of them. Not him. Not when he was the one who fell in love with her far too late, realized just how perfectly imperfect and how she managed to be this little bundle of happiness for him that he never could find in another. Someone whose presence he yearned for on the days when he thought nothing could be okay. He realized all that when too late, when his brothers already cemented their places and have already gone out of their way to win her love. And, on top of all that, he was the one he didn’t have a close friendship as a ground for something to lean onto. They weren’t close. Not like she was with Tim. Not even with Dick.

“This is ridiculous,” Jason stood up from his seat with his cup half finished. “I’m leaving.”

“Jason-“

“Dick, I want no part of this-“

“You can deny it all you want, but what if she chooses you?”

“She won't choose me. That’s the point-“

“Everyone knows that’s just as much of a possibility than everything else. It didn’t even take much time, and already you’ve wooed her. You think we didn’t notice that?”

Jason stopped and faced the counter, away from his brothers.

“Just sit down.”

“Dick-“

“I know this hurts but what if she actually does choose you-“

“I don’t love her.”

“You do. And she might love you back.”

No. Don’t bring his hopes up like this. This fucking-

“And if she does, are you really going to turn her down?”

Jason closed his eyes. He had nothing to say.

“No matter what Tim and I do, if it’s you she wants, then it’s you who’ll make her happy. Do you honestly think I believe you won't at least take that chance?”

Nothing. No voices whispering into his conscience to fuck everything and leave. Nothing that told him what to do, much less what to say.

He just knew that whatever he was, it wasn’t nearly as strong as that one pull that forced him back on his seat.

This shitshow already hurts as it is. What’s a little more?

Tim:

There’s a chance for all of them.

That’s what has always been so hard for him to understand. Never would he have thought it to be true, but it was.

They were both good men, good people, and if he were honest, he’d admit to Y/N being lucky if she were ever to choose one of his brothers in the end. He never, ever wanted to admit that. Not even now.

But for so long, he’s ignored the fact that those choices might be for her happiness, for what she deserves, and that might not always be about Tim. That whatever it was he wouldn’t admit to himself didn’t mean it wasn’t true. Y/N smiles like no other with Dick and no one else understood her like Jason. Even if Tim were her best friend, even if they had together from the very beginning, even if he probably loved her the most. It won't be about that.

So he has to accept all this.

And if it meant her happiness, then that hurt will be a lot easier to deal with.

“He’s right,” he said, and his two older brothers looked up at him.

“I’ve always thought you two… Well, I wish I was in your place. Not always. But, right now I do.”

They were confused to say the least. They didn’t look like they understood. Tim was the one who got to be with her, had years of calling her his love, had her love in return and have her actually show it the same way he did.

But that was just that. He had her. And now he didn’t. Because of him. Because he had her and was stupid enough to let her go, something neither of his brothers would have done if they were him.

And he wanted to laugh at the looks of both their faces. They didn’t have to say anything at all, but he understood. They envied each other in so many other ways, too complicated to map out. Because they’ve all done their own grievances, done so much that they regret.

Which is why this had to happen. Because no one knew what was going to happen next.

“I know it’s hard for all of us…” Dick said. Tim stared out at the window to see the start of the cold evening. “But we’re brothers. I don’t know about you both, but I don’t want this to tear us all apart.”

It already did, he wanted to say.

But it might not be true. It might not be too late. This brotherhood could still be salvaged. And in a way, it might be worth all that hurt.

“The last few weeks have been hard… for all of us… taken its toll on the rest of the family. And we’ve worked too hard on each other. I don’t…” Dick swallowed. “I don’t want to lose Y/N, but I don’t want to lose both of you either.”

It was easier for him to shut his eyes closed.

Neither do I, Tim thought.

“But… Y/N deserves to be happy… We’ve put her through too much.

“And if it means being with the one she loves, one of us, then so be it. We’re done making her decisions. We don’t decide between the three of us. If she wants to choose, then she gets to choose. And we won't have a say in any of it. She decides if it’s one or none of us at all. She deserves this.”

Jason finished his coffee. He no longer sat so stiff.

Tim sat back on his chair and stared out the window.

“And whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. As brothers. We’ll have each other. It’ll be okay. We’ll make it okay.”

That cold night of late November had the first snowdrop of the year. It was light, subtle, and one would have missed it if they weren’t looking out for too long. But they saw it, and never had something so gentle calm what used to be this rageful storm, not since Y/N.

They hadn’t spoken another word in that diner. But for many hours, they stayed.

They continued to wait for many months. They were patient.

October. November. December. January passed.

And on that day of the second week of February, a day Y/N once loved and hated at different times, they put an end to that waiting.

-----

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

A/N: I honestly can’t wait for the finale. AHHHH

MAIN TAGLIST:

@idkmanicantenglish, @wunderstell, @birdy-bat-writes, @multifandomgirl-us, @icequeen208, @offendedfishnoises, @arkhamtoddler, @elsenthal, @lucy-roo, @loxbbg, @reclusive-chicken-nugget, @l-inkage, @http-cherries, @river9noble, @zphilophobiaz, @annoylinglyaries, @knightfall05x, @hyp-oh-critical, @satan-s-ass, @1-800-starmora, @flowersgirl02, @nahcho, @thatonecroc, @trixie-bb, @daddyissuesmademe, jasonsbitch, @shadowsndaisies @jaybirdbooty @writing2sirvive

SERIES TAGLIST:

@spaceservicestation, @thedeadlythoughts, @vanessafabricius, @pinkforest05

225 notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 5 years ago

Text

A Good Man - Part 2

A/N: Part 2!! I hope you're all excited! Thank you guys for your support on the first part. And don't worry, the ugh....smut is coming soon! Thank you to @rosetophighlander for helping me brainstorm this part! As always, comments and feedback is welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged let me know! xx

Pairing: Professor! Javi x Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: mild language...yearning....

A GOOD MAN ‘VERSE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

JAVIER MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Fuck,” murmuring under your breath, you scratched your well loved pen roughly over the paper, willing for more ink to come out. But it was fully used; it had been growing fainter and fainter for some time, and now, mid-lecture, it had decided to be done.

Glancing up from your notes, you chanced a peek at the professor, catching his eye as you did so. Of course. There seemed to be a mildly amused expression on his face as you chucked the pen inside your bag with a huff and searched for another, managing to dig one up after a few minutes of silent struggle.

The professor seemed to realize what was happening and appeared to slow down his lecture as you tried to catch up, almost as if he was attempting to ensure that you wouldn’t miss anything. No one else around you even seemed to be alive, starting down at their books with glazed expressions; one of the students across the room was even shamelessly sleeping. Groaning internally at them, you felt bad for him. It dense enough material to teach, and having people be this disinterested probably only made it more difficult. That just made your resolve to work even stronger.

Uncapping the new pen, you set it back on the page and offered your full attention back to the man at the front, keeping your eyes trained mainly on the chalkboard. It was hard not to allow your eyes to flit over his body, the tight white button up, the fitted navy trousers, and those damned glasses were enough to drive you slowly insane. When he turned his back to the class, you couldn’t help but to admire the view...but luckily you always managed to catch yourself and keep up with his lecture. But you didn’t catch on how Javier always seemed to notice all the little things, including how your eyes lingered on him. You also didn’t seem to catch on how his own honeyed gaze was usually focused on you, the sole person he seemed to be teaching.

But this class was different - just before Javier excused the lot of you, he decided to assign your midterm papers. This time you didn’t groan internally, but let out a little sigh as he explained his requirements, all of which you scribbled quickly down in your notes. It was such a simple task but you just knew it would be difficult, and would end up phasing you someway or another. Just as he finished and dismissed everyone, the students around you seemed to practically sprint for the door and you were left behind in the dust.

Clearing your throat awkwardly, you grabbed your things and tucked them inside your bag, the realization that you were the only one left in the room hitting like you a ton of bricks. The temperature seemed to increase insurmountably as you left your desk and headed for the door. Javier’s gaze followed your frame for a moment and just before you ducked into the buzzing hallway filled with students heading off to their next class, you turned to him. His expression was unreadable, filled with a mixture of emotions that you couldn’t quite place. Instead of saying anything, you felt your cheeks heat up and stepped out of the classroom, allowing yourself to get lost in the sea of people.

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Professor Peña?"

"If you're looking for stories or secrets or whatever bullshit for your little newspaper, I'm not interested," Javi didn't even bother to look up from his desk, eyes dark and focused on the mountains of papers in front of him. When he didn't hear the sound of retreating footsteps or the squeak of the ancient door, he groaned lightly, "I said I wasn't interested in indulging your little inquiries."

"I-I'm not here for that," your voice sounded small, quiet and almost pathetic in the darkened office. The sun had almost completely set and Javier had yet to turn on the lights, depending only on his small desk lamp. He almost gave himself whiplash as he turned to look in your direction, eyes widening when he realized it was you, "I'm sorry to bother you, professor. I-I can go."

He let out a long sigh, took off his glasses, and ran a hand over his face in exhaustion as he shook his head and pointed at the chair in front of his desk. Swallowing the nervous lump in your throat, you padded over, almost completely silent, before slipping into the aging leather chair, "It’s... I shouldn't have yelled like that."

"I can go...if this is a bad time,” you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes as you trained your gaze on the worn, wooden grain of his desk, “I know it’s almost the end of your office hours and I don’t want to impose.”

When you were met with silence, and unable to keep your knee from bouncing up and down, you almost jumped up and headed for the door, wishing a hole would swallow you up and this moment would never have happened.

“It’s fine,” he insisted firmly, holding his hand up to keep you from darting out, finally looking up and meeting your nervous eyes. Nodding, you swallowed the thick lump in your throat and planted yourself firmly in your seat, “it’s been...a long day. It doesn’t excuse it...so just stay.”

“Really...I can come back another time,” you captured your bottom lip between your teeth and chewed on it for a moment, unsure of where to concentrate your gaze. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, knowing you’d be too far gone if you started at his handsome visage too much. It was hard enough in class to focus on what he was teaching when he came in looking handsome as hell everyday. You had tried, desperately so to avoid your attraction to him, but it was undeniable. Little did you know that you had slowly turned into the highlight of his day; the three hours a week you spent in classroom had him almost...excited to show up and teach.

“Nah,” he insisted in such a blasé tone that you almost couldn’t believe it. You’d never heard him be anything but completely serious before, “I was just being an asshole...”

“I didn’t mean to imply-”

“No, no, no,” he said quickly, giving you a surprised expression, “it’s not you. Trust me, it’s just... people don’t...normally come to my office hours. Maybe like one student a semester. And it’s usually for...”

“Your time in Colombia,” you concluded as he paused for a moment, still as could be as he nodded lightly. Clearly you’d struck a nerve; you could see it in the way his shoulders tensed, the veins in his neck protruding slightly as his hand curled into a fist and rested on the edge of the desk. In class he’d never even come close to bringing it up; hell, you’d never have known if Sarah hadn’t shown you that little article, “that’s not why I’m here. I swear.”

“Then what can I do for you?” his voice adopted a different tone, more docile and less on edge as his eyes seemed to rake over you and he could see you were being honest. You wrung your hands anxiously in your lap before pulling your notebook, and looking through your copious, detailed notes from his last lecture. Javi couldn’t help but try and skim over him as you dragged a finger down a page and stopped with a small triumphant little sound when you found what you had been searching for. He was impressed that you, or anyone, actually took the time and energy to listen to him.

“Your assignment,” you glanced over the notes and frowned at them, “you asked us to submit a proposal for a midterm paper topic, and you left it pretty open ended, but we’ve only covered up until about 1750. Does that mean we can do any major topic up to then or can we do anything? Do you have a preferred area of discussion? Or do you prefer we focus on a figure and analyze their viewpoints towards specific topics? I guess...I’m just looking for some guidance. I don’t want to do something and have it be off the mark and waste your time...or mine.”

“You...took the time to think about this and then come and ask me?” he sounded astounded as you slowly nodded, offering him a slight shrug of your shoulders. You hadn’t thought it was that weird...you just wanted to be sure about things, “huh. Do you actually like this class?”

“Professor...” you didn’t want to lie, not directly to his face as you sat in front of him, “it’s...”

“Just be straight forward,” he leaned back in his chair, playing with the pen in his hand as you let out a low breath, “I don’t care either way.”

“How honest do you want?” a small smile tugged on your features despite your best efforts to keep it at bay.

“Brutal.”

“I hate it,” you felt like you were confessing your sins in church, unsure of what to expect his reaction to be. What if this had all been some sort of weird test...what if he suddenly hated you? But he remained silent, waiting for you to expand on your answer, “it’s a subject I do not care for, and I only took it because it satisfied one of the last subject areas I needed and everything else was already filled up.”

But then, in a total change of pace, shocking you almost as much as it surprised him, he burst into a fit of laughter, throwing his head back as his warm, rich voice filled the small, dark space of his office. Your eyes widened as you tried not to focus on his smile and his glorious neck as you wondered if he was was going to commend or condemn you.

“That was the most honest I think I’ve ever had someone be with me,” he answered once he calmed down, his shoulders still bouncing lightly with silent laughter, “the honesty...it’s quite refreshing.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” fumbling for the right words, your hands trembled slightly as you reached for your notebook, attempting to hastily stuff it into your bag and fun out of the room. But Javi reached over and grabbed one of your wrists with a touch that was both firm, but delicate enough to cause you to almost break your neck as you looked at him, “professor?”

“I’m not offended,” he promised, letting his hold on you linger a few moments before slowly releasing your wrist. He gestured for the notebook and you handed it over to him, nervous as to what he would say about your notes. Would you be in trouble? Would he be impressed? He was silent as he flicked through everything, his fingers touching over all the areas your pen had scribbled on, “these are extremely detailed and thorough for someone that apparently hates the subject.”

“I didn’t want to fall behind. There’s a lot to remember and take in,” you felt nervous as he scoured over your writing and read some rushed words under his breath, “I-I figured if I was going to take this class, regardless if I enjoy it or not, I should put in the time and effort. It’s not fair to you to just completely waste your time either.”

“Tell that to rest of the hundred and something students I have. They couldn’t give a shit less,” he suddenly snapped your notebook closed, the sharp sound reverberating loudly in the otherwise quiet room. Shoving the worn notebook across the desk, he let out a sigh before tousling his dark hair as you shoved it away. Something had struck a nerve with him and you were nervous, unsure of how he was going to respond to whatever you had to see. So the inattention and lack of care from the rest of the class was not lost on him, “it’s like teaching to an empty room.”

“And you?” a rush of courage and rushed through your bones and you were almost surprised that the words came out of your own mouth. Your hand flew to your face in shock and you were sure that must have gotten on his bad side now. Surely he wouldn’t tolerate that much insolence, if you could even call it that. Something in you snapped and you decided that if you were already on his list in red and underlined, you had nothing left to lose, “do you care?”

His lips turned into a thin, hard line, and he tapped his fingers against his stubble covered chin as he watched you closely. It was a weird thing, and you could feel him trying to analyze you. You refused to meet his eyes, not wanting to give in and let him see deep into you; maybe he wouldn’t like what he found.

After a view moments of tense silence, he leaned back in his old chair, and it creaked loudly, the only disturbance in the still air. He dropped his fist back down and tapped it against the desk for a moment before quietly saying, “not as much as I should.”

“Oh,” you nodded, unable to blame him for teaching a class he didn’t really care about, “then why...never mind. I don’t mean to pry.”

You stole a glance at your watch and noticed that it was now past his office hours; that was good enough of a reason for you to leave, right? You cleared your throat and quickly stood up before he could make any move to stop you, “your hours are over...I’ll just...go.”

“Wait-” he stood up but made no move to follow you, but keep his gaze on you. You paused with your hand on the door knob, not quite twisting it open yet as waited for him to speak. The tension in the air was palpable and you answered with a small nod, “I...we...how about you come back tomorrow? Or whatever day works and I can help you pick a subject for your midterm?”

“Y-you want me to come back?” there was a light shake to your voice as you realized what this meant. However he felt towards you, he didn’t completely dispose you anyways. Turning on your heel, you languidly raked your eyes up to meet his, finding him with his hands on his hips and an unreadable expression etched on his face, “you don’t have to, Professor. I’m sure I can find a topic to write on.”

“Javi,” his name rolled off his lips in an unsure tone and the corners of your mouth twitched into a small smile. He’d never offered is first name to a student before - he’d never even spoken this much to a student before. This was all uncharted territory for the both of you; normally you were steadfast and sure in your way, but this had you questioning a lot. Including where you truly stood with your enigma of a professor, “you can call me Javi.”

“Javi,” you repeated, sounding it out slowly and deciding that you liked how it sounded, how felt when you said it. Javi Peña. It was a good name. Despite it being his decision to tell you to call him that, he still seemed...confused. But as soon as he had told you his name, soft and gentle, you had made up your mind, “I’ll...be back tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow,” he repeated quietly as you turned back to the door and turned the knob and slowly opened the heavy wooden door. You stepped out of his office and into the softly illuminated hallway. There was a few seconds were you contemplated turning around and offering him a wave, a proper goodbye, something, but instead, you clutched your book bag tighter and quickly took off down the hall, your heart racing as though you had just run a marathon. In sync with each footstep all you could think was Javi, Javi, Javi.

Every last logical part of your brain told you not to return tomorrow, to just pick a topic and write a paper on it, but the other part of you, your more heart governed side, insisted that you should go back tomorrow. It told that there was something...more that you needed than help on your paper. You weren’t sure what it was, but you decided not to repress the feeling.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Why do you look so...happy?” Sarah looked up from the show she was watching and studied you for about five seconds before coming to the conclusion that something was definitely off. Not...in a bad way, but definitely different from what you would normally come home like after a day of back to back classes. Making it a point to put a frown on your face you shook your head as you dropped your book bag down and flopped onto the couch, pointedly avoiding her gaze, “babeeeeee. What happened? Did you get laid?”

“Sarah!” you burrowed further down on the couch and hid your face, “nothing happened and no, I did not get laid.”

“Then what is it?” she wasn’t about to drop the subject and you found yourself cursing her inquisitive nature, “did something happen in class? With hot professor!?”

“Absolutely nothing happened with him in class,” you insisted, your voice cracking lightly on the last word as she inhaled sharply. Peeking at her, you saw that she was almost bouncing out of her seat with excitement, “just because he’s hot-”

“You said nothing happened in class,” she came over and sat right next to you, patting your thigh in excitement, “then tell me, what happened after class?!”

“I went to his office during his office hours because I was stuck on the assignment,” you admitted, “at first he was annoyed...but then he wasn’t. He thought I just want to poke around about when he was in DEA, but I told him I just needed help. He was fine after that...mostly. I’m going back for help to tomorrow.”

“Shit,” her brilliant sapphire eyes were wide with excitement as her mind jumped to all sorts of conclusions, “office hours with hot Professor Peña!?”

“Javi,” you mumbled, barely audible to your own ears. Sarah sucked in a breath before letting out a squeal of excitement; she was even more invested in your little back and forth with him than you were. But every time you’d told her about your classes over the last six weeks, she was insistent, almost to a fault, that he felt something for you, that no teacher was like that with their students. You were sure it was just because you appeared to be the only living being in his class.

“Javi,” she repeated in a dreamy voice, “that even sounds sexy.”

“He told me to call him that,” your face was hot and suddenly the thing sweater you were wearing seemed too much, and you quickly pulled it off in a vain attempt to still the warmth that was coursing through your veins, “it got late and I left...he asked me to come back tomorrow.”

“He asked?” you nodded as you bit your lip, realizing how it appeared to sound when you recanted the tale back to her. But if she had been there, she surely would have realized that it was all straight forward and there were no double entendres or anything. it was just professional; a professor helping his student, “hot professor asked you to come back tomorrow?”

“For help with my paper!” you groaned and hid your face in your hands, “that’s all and nothing more, I swear.”

“Oh no,” she shook her head fervently, sienna curls bouncing wildly, “there’s something more to this than meets the eye. I swear it, I can feel it. A professor doesn’t just tell you to call them by their nickname and insist you come back without an underlying motive.”

“It’s not...like that,” a heavy sigh escaped your lips, “he’s...different. I mean, sure he seems to hate life when he’s teaching, but I think he just wants to help. I think he felt bad for snapping at me at first...and maybe he wants to help because I’m the only one who gives a damn about his class.”

“That maybe so,” she agreed, giving your shoulder a light squeeze, “but there’s more to it. I’m sure of it, mark my words!”

“Sure Sarah,” tossing your head back on the couch, you stared at the ceiling and studied the patterns of the aging paint, “I’m sure something will happen between me and Javi.”

“Ahh! See you’re already calling him Javi!”

“PROFESSOR PEÑA!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

When you woke up the next morning, you slowly got ready for your classes, your heart beating wildly, quicker than the wings of a fluttering humming bird, as you realized what was to come this afternoon. You were sure that your nerves were for naught, but it still didn’t calm the wild fluttering going in your belly. Just before leaving, you checked yourself over in your mirror, deciding you were satisfied with your appearance. There was bright glow on your cheeks, prompting you to chide yourself for acting like a school girl with a crush instead of a groan woman.

But the day seemed to drag on, and on, and on, and by the time you headed out of your last class, you were tempted to go just go home and take a nap. Maybe that would have been better instead of going to Javi’s office and letting whatever would happen happen.

You were almost on autopilot as you entered the history department’s building, not thinking much of anything, besides not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of the mysterious professor. Before you knew it, you knocked softly on his door, but when you were met with silence, you rested your hand on the knob, wondering what was going what you should do. Maybe you hadn’t been loud enough? Knocking with more force this time, you waited with baited breath to see if he would let you in....but nothing.

Sighing lightly to yourself, especially at the fact that you had gotten yourself so worked up over nothing, you hung your head and got ready to leave. You might as well disappear quickly before anyone could see the pathetic look on your face. You’d meandered about halfway down the hall, when you heard a pair of rushed footsteps behind you, and a rich voice called out your name. Spinning around, probably much too eagerly, you find Javier right standing out of his door, breathless as he waved you over.

“I-I’m sorry I’m late,” he said as you slowly made your back down the hall, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath, “I was running behind and had to stop home to check on Stevie.”

“Stevie?”

“My dog,” he answered and your mouth curved upwards into a smile. He had a dog named Stevie; it wasn’t at all what you had expected, “I usually go earlier, but had a meeting that ran late and couldn’t get to him. I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“No,” you answered in earnest, “I-I just...didn’t know if you’d forgotten or were busy or....”

“I haven’t forgotten,” he insisted as he opened the door to his office and ushered you inside, following closely behind, close enough that you could feel his body heat radiating onto yours. You remained silent as you slipped into the chair opposite his desk and pulled out a fresh pen and notepad, ready to take notes and figure out what on earth to do for your midterm, “all business, huh?”

He seemed mildly amused as he slinked into his own chair, more relaxed and calm than he had been the afternoon before. You lifted your eyes slowly and met his gaze as you nodded and shrugged; you wondered if he could hear how fast your heart was beating. Something in the air was different today...much more palpable than before. You wondered how long much longer you would walk on this thin line before it snapped and something happened.

“Yeah,” you managed to say after a few moments of silence, his dark eyes never leaving your frame. Even with the silence, only the sound of the aging clock on the wall filling the room, you could sense that he was mulling over things in his mind. You could practically hear the gears turning, “I-I manged to come up with a few figures and events I might focus on, should any of them pique your interest.”

“I do like having my curiosity piqued,” there was a different tone to his voice and you could sense that there was bit of a double meaning to his words. But you didn’t want to get too lost in that, to let your mind wander, “tell me what you’ve come up with.”

“My main ideas are either Patrick Henry,” you looked up briefly to see if he was even interested and he nodded lightly, “or the Boston Tea Party. I know we technically haven’t covered that in class yet, but I figured I could give it a go.”

“Common topics,” he stated and you hung your head in annoyance; you thought that one of the two would be worthy of your time. He seemed to sense your dissatisfaction at his answers and shifted in his seat so he was leaning closer across his desk, and almost directly in front of you, “but I think you could make one them of them work. Give me liberty or give me death, or dumping tons of tea. Which do you prefer?”

“An overly dramatic statement or a waste of good tea,” you mused thoughtfully, tapping your pen against your chin, “I’m more disappointed in the loss of the tea. I’m thinking if I do enough digging I can focus on a few figures behind it all, lesser known figures or...something like that.”

“Well there you go,” without thinking, he reached over and grabbed your pen, earning a small sound of surprise from you. Pulling the notebook in front of him, he quickly scrawled your proposed topic down and next to that a big approved along with his signature. You couldn’t help the snort of laughter that came out of your mouth at his sudden burst of playfulness; you weren’t sure he had that kind of joking in him, “I look forward to reading to your paper. I’m sure it’ll be the best one in the class.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“You’re the only one in class with a fucking pulse,” he leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, the picture of cool, calm, and collected. You tried not to let your eyes linger on how deliciously his crisp white button stretched across his chest, “I’ll probably get another forty papers on George Washington.”

“I do not envy you in the slightest then...Javi,” unsure if you were okay to his name you let it linger in the air slightly as he gave you a small smile, “I’ll try and make sure it’s not a complete mess then.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” he insisted, and suddenly you were unsure if you should just leave or stay. There really wasn’t any more reason to stay, now that you had figured out your topic...not that you apparently needed any help at all. Maybe you both just...wanted to be there. Drumming your fingers along the arm of the chair, you came to the conclusion that it was probably best to go. But before you could do or say anything else, he quickly asked, “do you like tea?”

“I do,” you grinned at his random question, “maybe even more than coffee.There’s nothing better than a good cup of tea at the end of the evening, especially now that’s turning to winter. Although I’m guessing you prefer coffee?”

“Lucky guess,” he clicked his tongue against his teeth, but the amusement on his face was still there.

“No,” you giggled lightly, “I’m just not blind - I’ve never seen you without a cup of coffee near you. Except today.”

“I suppose there’s a first time for everything,” he liked this; how easily you were able to tease him, how naturally you eased into conversation, despite the initial nerves, “what’s your favorite kind?”

“I dunno...I guess anything really,” you wondered why he was so curious, if he was just trying to be polite or he actually wanted you to stay there and speak to him, “I’ve really been liking matcha a lot.”

“Hmm,” he dragged his hand over his mustache and you couldn’t help but notice, as you had several times in the past, that there was no wedding ring, no suggestion that he’d ever worn one. Somehow it eased you ever so slightly, “sounds...interesting.”

“It’s really good,” you promised, “you should try it sometime. Well...thanks for all your help professor, I really appreciate it. Knowing I won’t be totally off the mark with this paper has made me feel better already.”

“Maybe I will,” he nodded as you slowly gathered your things and stood up, “anytime you need help, just let me know...”

“Thank you,” you heard him hastily grab a pen and then jot something down. The sound captured your attention and you turned around to see that he had piece of paper in his hand and was holding it out to you. Hesitating ever so slightly, you took it, your mouth gaping when you realized what it was, “professor...I don’t...”

“Javi,” he corrected firmly and you could barely keep yourself from combusting, “if you need any more help, at all, call me.”

“Y-yes,” your voice was a small, faltering little thing as you pocketed his phone number. Had your hot professor actually given you his phone number? The piece of paper burning a hole in your pocket firmly screamed yes, “thank you.”

Turning to leave again, he said your name softly, before you could step out of his office. Biting your lip, you turned around and found him with his hands on his hips, some sort of debate clearly raging inside from the look on his face, “are you...what are you...are you busy this weekend?”

“Umm,” clearly you needed to get your hearing check because there was no way in hell that Javier Peña, your professor, had just inquired about your weekend plans. Surely he just wanted to make sure you were dedicating your time to his assignment...right? There would be no good reason, no logical explanation for anything else, “I suppose I am. I’ve that paper to write, and some other assignments I’m trying to get a jump on.”

“R-right,” he ran his hand through his dark locks and let out a long breath, “good luck. See you in class.”

“Have a good weekend, Javi,” you offered him a small smile before stepping out and closing the door behind you. Your heart was hammering away and you could barely think straight before practically sprinting down the hallway. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, and while a part of you was nervous, the majority was flushed with sheer excitement.

Once he no longer heard the sound of your feet retreating on the linoleum tile, Javi looked the door and leaned against, letting out a long groan as he realized what he had just done, “fuck. Fuck!”

He couldn’t believe that he had just willed up the audacity to all but throw himself at you. He felt like a fool, like an old fool, with remnants of his former self slowly bubbling up. But no - he wasn’t that man anymore. He was no longer taking his emotions out by aimlessly fucking women. He was older, albeit slightly, but more collected, more...of the version of him that he liked. But this? Giving his number to a student and basically asking her out? That hadn’t been part of the plan at all.

What if you didn’t feel the same way in the slightest? What if you were just actually being nice and wanted to succeed in his class? What if he’d made you uncomfortable? Surely he’d crossed just about every professional boundary he could think of...something not foreign to him by any means, but he just hadn’t planned on it happening anymore. Not like this.

But - you hadn’t spurned his advances, hadn’t turned him away, and you’d accepted his offer of coming back. Maybe he wasn’t reading the room wrong at all...maybe he wasn’t off the mark. But at the end of the day you were the student and he was the professor...it was wrong...but not really. Not if you were both consenting adults after all.

Shaking his head to himself, he slammed his fist against the frosted glass and willed himself to pull himself together. He couldn’t be going around like this, feeling like a teenager with a crush on a pretty girl. No - he had to be Professor Peña...a good man who only made the right decisions.

But then...why was this so hard?

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javier felt lost...almost awkwardly out of place as he browsed the small aisles of the tea shop. He was not a large man any means, but he felt like a bull in a china shop as he looked at the all small colorful boxes, teas, and goods. Squinting and furrowing his brow as he pulled out his glasses, he sighed when he could finally read the small lettering clearly.

“Do you need any help finding anything?” the shrill voice was enough to have him startled and almost drop the tin in his hands. Recovering quickly, he was about to shake his head and tell her no, but he knew he was lost as could be. Instead he slowly set the tin back down and nodded, “what are you looking for?”

“I’m not sure, honestly,” he admitted, having no clue as what to you liked besides this so called matcha. He should have investigated further somehow...but that felt like it would be too obvious, instead he opted to go in blind, just like he had with so many things in the past, “I know I’m looking for some matcha and then if you have any suggestions or recommendations...”

“Shopping for yourself?” she asked and he cringed internally - he wasn’t about to spill everything to this sales woman. Oh yeah, some for myself and then some for student I seem to really like.

“More or less,” that was as much as he was willing to offer, “just giving this tea thing a try.”

“Well, I can assure you, we have some of the finest teas around,” she grabbed his arm and started leading him to a different section of the store. Javi could hardly keep up at the sudden jerk and let himself be dragged like a rag doll, “there are several types of match here, ceremonial and culinary grades. There’s also a ton of different blends, so you can try out whatever kind of flavors you like. Do you like peach?”

“I love peach,” he narrowed his eyes as he read between the lines of her statement. She was either oblivious or brash, but she offered him a flirtatious smile anyway, “I like berries most of all...”

“Well, we’ve got all the finest fruit and herbal teas in all of Texas,” she insisted, “to suit whatever your needs are.

“It’s...ugh, the matcha is for me, the rest is a gift,” he finally admitted hoping that would throw her off the scent. She was attractive, in the most conventional sense, a bottle blonde with a dazzling smile and ruby red lips that most men would adore. In another life, at another time, he might have even pursued her, spent the evening with her to quiet the demons in his mind. But now? Surprisingly...he couldn’t care less, and honestly hoped she would take the hint and leave him, “so I’m looking for...maybe a random assortment? Less common teas?”

“Wife? Girlfriend? Coworker?” Javi fought hard not to roll his eyes at her inquisition, but instead offered up a saccharine smile of his own as he shook his head. She perked up slightly at the revelation, “so...just a gift?”

“Yes, she’s...special,” he didn’t know how else to describe but it bottle blond finally understood what he meant and nodded, “so I just...want to get her something she’ll like. She’s the one that told me about the matcha.”

“Sounds like she has good taste,” her response was a little more curt this time, as she came to the conclusion that Javier was decidedly not interested in her and was unlikely to make a move. Pointedly to the back of the store, she didn’t even bother to feign enthusiasm, “that area has all the more specialty teas and less common finds. You should be able to find something there. Let me know if you have other questions.”

Turning on her heel she left him again, and Javi couldn’t help but smirk lightly to himself at her annoyance. He thumbed through the various boxes, tins, and packages of matcha, wondering what you would pick out. Reading the descriptions was no help, but eventually he settled on something basic to try. He figured that was a good place to start.

But before he left the tea shop, one he’d meandered into Austin to find, after hearing from several people that it was the best, he made his way to the back of the shop and spent probably more time than necessary browsing their selection. He hoped you would like it...that it would be worth it. Something in his gut told him to do it, and he worked to drown out that inner little demon that told him what he was doing was wrong.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Butterflies were fluttering wildly in your stomach as you walked into class on Monday afternoon, unsure of what to expect. Would Javi be the same as always? Almost bored and tired? Or would he have some sort of renewed sense of vigor?

You’d thought about calling him all weekend, pretending that you needed some sort of help, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Instead you’d kept his number pinned to the cork-board in your room. Your eyes had wandered over to it on numerous occasions, but something held you back. You knew it wasn’t wrong...not inherently anyway, but you just couldn’t do it. Maybe you could see how today went and go from there....yes, today would be telling.

But when you arrived at your seat, your eyebrows rose so high they almost disappeared into your hairline. Sitting on the desk you always occupied was a neatly wrapped bundle of tea boxes, topped with a large bow. You could see that it was several different varieties, all unusual, but somehow picked out with care. A face splitting grin appeared on your face as you picked it up and clutched to your chest, the faint smell of the teas hitting your nose.

You turned around and let your eyes wander to the front of the room where you spied Javi setting out his notes for the day on his lecture. Almost as if he could feel your eyes on him, he looked up and offered you the best smile you ever seen. He had dimples...you never would have know before. You already loved them.

You pointed at the bundle in your arms and mouthed a silent you? to which you were sure a flush of color rose up in his golden cheeks. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before giving you a singular nod before turning his efforts back to his notes. You slipped into your seat and put the present into your bag, making sure not to crush any of the boxes. A weird sense of warmth settled within you as you listened to him begin.

You always knew that he kept his gaze trained in your direction when he taught, but something was different today. It was almost as if he was teaching, but only to you, his dark eyes almost never wavering from yours. You wanted to take diligent notes, truly you did, but there was something magnetic about him, and just couldn’t look away. Instead it was almost two hours if you making eyes at your Professor. Shameless, you thought to yourself, but so is he.

Maybe you hadn’t been reading the signs wrong after all.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javier peña x reader #reader insert #narcos #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #a good man

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hebescus · 4 years ago

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remember this ship ask? yeah, i wanna do them all with lawlight bcs they control my brain. but it's a happy no death note au bcs it's me. oh and this shit is long plus it's 3 am rn so my words are very messy. but enjoy.

(i skip some numbers that i answered and the ones that i can't think of btw)

pre relationship :

How did they first meet?

L's investigation hq. he was a suspect of L, still, but this time he told soichiro to bring this 18 yo boy to the hq to test him, asking light to work with all of them. he ends up not guilty ofc, but L still wants to keep him…around.

What was their first impression of each other?

ah, the good old 'what the fuck dude???' from light and the 'oooh he got a big brain' from L. it's hard to get out of canon in this one.

Who felt romantic feelings first?

L. But it's more like thoughts, rather than feelings. It's just these random thoughts that pop out in his head like 'i don't mind kissing this guy, if he asks' but not like 'i want to kiss him' yknow what i mean? idk this is just something i experience a lot lmao. it develops to feelings once light falls for him and L can see that. So in terms of ideas, it's L, but in terms of feelings, it's Light.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Oh our favorite light denial yagami. Of course he's cursing himself for having feelings like this but once L calls it out he's over.

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

Light would laugh it off, and be like "i don't like him that way you know". L would shrugs be like "well yes that's possible, i don't think i mind".

What would their lives be like if they had never met?

boring, lonely, empty, you name it

(more under the cut)

general :

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

hmm, they both initiated the relationship? ykwim? They both notices they had feelings for each other and just...go from there. they never have like a relationship talk, they just go with the flow until at some point they starts to get comfortable to refer the other as partners. They basically can read each other's mind, after all.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

Yes, sort of. A tennis game! And a coffee sesh after, just like canon. They plan this to be just "let's just relax, this case has been really exhausting, take a one day break, L" but when Light got home, sayu asked "how's the date going?!" He immediately said "it's not a date, you watch too many dramas it's rotting your brain" And sachiko gave him a smile while shaking her head at this statement and when he's back to his room he immediately calls L and was like "hey does that count as a date?" and L answers with "depends, do you want it to be?" with a smirk that light can hear.

What was their first kiss like?

it was late at night, light was helping L with the case when everybody went home. they were sharing their view about this certain criminal when light notices L staring at his lips, first he ignored it but it happens again and again to a point where their face just got real close and then...kiss, somehow. idk lmao.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

First person who can understand each other and are equals, the only ones who can tear the other's wall down, and just practically soulmates in any form that even their sun & moon signs mirroring each other's? YES.

What’s their height difference? Age difference?

i hc L as just a little bit taller than light, but it's not like you can see it through the hunch anyway. ofc we all know the 6 years and 4 months age gap

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Sayu likes L, Sachiko is kinda surprise Light doesn't date a typical pretty person, but it only makes her heart fonder. L doesn't mind them, he thinks they're nice, light grew up in a good place. Soichiro? Well, he might me a bit reluctant but he loosen up slowly, his son is happier than he ever was, after all.

Who takes the lead in social situations?

Light, obviously. Because he's a charmer and if L takes control, the person they speak to would run immediately the first 2 minutes.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

it is a universal knowledge that L does this. like, come on, count the fics, you can't, there's just so many. he loves to break that perfect wall and make light feel 🥴😳. it's entertaining. But he knows when to stop. too much of that will be embarrassing in light's part, and he respects his boy's dignity.

love :

Who said “I love you” first?

Light!! The thing is it was said over the phone. He gets more and more comfortable talking with L through calls, since every now and then L travel frok countries to countries. One time he just like "yeah, safe flight. love you, bye" he expected L to say goodnight to him as a response as usual but L was silent and he realised what he just said and realised that he fucking mean it. L seems to still be able to read his mind even thousands miles away so he replies with "i love you too, goodnight". they never missed seeing each other more than that night.

What are their primary love languages?

we had a discussion for this! but as we see in canon, they're both very acts of service with a little hint of physical touch here and there. quality time is also important. words and gift aren't really needed for them.

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

L. Only to annoy light. It's terrible that he almost cringed to himself, but it does bring a good laugh for light.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

PDA is a not their preference, they just love being in private more. They might hold hands sometimes, butmost times they won't. Altho they always stand or sit reaaaaally glued to each other even though there are so many space.

Who initiates kisses?

both. they want it, they got it. but light gives light kisses (ha) more, not necessarily on the lips, usually when L was really busy working, keeping his feet on the ground.

Who’s the big and little spoon?

They don't spoon a lot, they prefer not touching at all or cufdling face to face, but when they do, Light is the little spoon because being a big spoon makes his sleeping position kinda uncomfy, he feels awkward with his legs, it's just not. thankfully L thinks cuddling light this way is very calming.

What are their favorite things to do together?

Tennis and solving cases, duh. Or sometimes they play video games fighting each other. Anything competitive and/or challenging that make their brain grow 10 times bigger. But sometimes, a comfortingly peaceful and quiet dinner with hushed words thrown here and there about random things feels like the best thing ever.

Who’s more protective?

L. For identity reasons, ofc.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Physical. They can read each other's mind, they knew it by gesture, touches, and glances.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

IT'S MY TIME TO SHINE. venus by sleeping at last fits them so well, that song is in the background of multiple cozy couch smooches sessions or even when they're slow dancing (please listen to this tho song it's so good). also i think they would like persephone by the tragic thrills too, L would be like "this song reminds me of you" and Light answers with "i'm persephone?" "Yeah" "i'm a fucking badass then" "yes you are". oh and first day of my life? lover of mine? pink in the night? sweet creature? the lakes? oh god i have too much answers

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

they don't do nicknames, really. although, L sometimes called light with some snarky tony stark styled nicknames when he feels particularly playful but annoyed at the same time.

Who remembers the little things?

They both do. Big brained assholes they are.

domestic life :

If they get married, who proposes?

It's not really a proposal, they didn't even remember who said it first. But one sleepy night after a hard case, someone said "hey you wanna get married" and the other was like "sure, why not" "really?" "yeah, i think i'm ready, you?" "me too" "great" and then they go to sleep. at breakfast the next morning L called watari from across the room and said "wammy i need you to prepare [enter marriage stuff here], and light, you must call your family after this". poor old watari chokes on his tea.

What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

The wedding is in a secluded little place near the wammy's house, L used to go there a lot as a kid. With just light's parents, sayu, and watari. Well, not until Light caught Mello, Matt, Near, and Linda peeping from the bushes

Do they have any pets?

A chunky cat the wammy's kids feed daily but never try to keep them in, because no animals are allowed inside the orphanage. L saw it and was like "light let's bring this bitch home" she is, indeed a little bitch, but light and L loves her dearly. her fur has light brown and black colors, like both of their hairs, so she becomes their daughter, L gave him a weird ass name but i can't think about it rn.

Who kills the bugs in the house?

Light because he's the one who's actually bothers to. They ofc annoyed L but he cpuldnt care less to actually get rid of them.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

L. He rarely sleeps and once he did, he wakes up very fucking late and will pull light back to the bed if he's woken up by the empty space beside him.

Who’s the better cook?

Light. L is a spoiled brat. But Light can't bale for shit, that's Watari's job. Light grow up learning and helping his mom making meals for the family. He's not the best, but it's good enough to make L craves them in between his sweets.

Who likes to dance?

None of them. But they would slow dance on rare, sentimental occasions. And it's like so fucking romantic bcs all the lights are off except for a candle or a table lamp or a cabinet lamp whatever that has yellow-y dim light. And they don't speak, they just casually move against each other, but heart ready to combust like i do when i the mental image came into my head.

#lawlight #death note #very fucking self indulgent whoa #brainrot hours #anyway i love them so much #scenarios and shits

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winter-soldier-vibes · 4 years ago

Text

Empty Words (Bucky x reader)

Empty words (Based on the song by Beth Crowley)

Bucky Barnes X reader

Warnings: Break-up, tearing apart your room, angst (not with Bucky), comfort (with Bucky)

Word count 1924

Summary: Reader goes through a rough break-up and calls her friend Bucky to help her.

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

“Look, I just need some time to think things over okay? I just need some time to myself,” they said. You shook your head. You knew what they meant. They weren’t trying to find themselves. They were trying to find someone else. “I should go,” they said.

You started pleading with them. “Please, don’t leave! Stay - don’t go, please…” It was as if you weren’t saying anything. they didn’t acknowledge you, just kept walking towards the door. “Is this really what you want?!” you yelled. They just slammed the door.

You were crying, and let out a few sobs. You began frantically walking around the room, anger boiling your blood. You tossed photographs across your apartment, breaking the frames. You threw a lamp on the ground, punched a hole in the wall...you looked around at the apartment. Shattered glass covered the floor, along with pieces of furniture splayed about. You didn’t even remember pushing them. Or throwing them, if that’s what had happened. The pain didn’t register until you looked down at your hands and bare feet, bleeding from the shards of glass.

You began crying harder and sunk to the floor up against the wall. You don’t know how long you sat there, but the sun had since set. Hands shaking, you pulled out your phone and dialed your best friend. Bucky.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings -

“Hello?” a tired voice answered.

Your throat went dry, and you just kept sniffling. “Bucky…” you said weakly.

He sat up, any exhaustion gone from his body. “Y/n? What happened?”

You just started crying harder. You couldn’t find any of the right words to say, and the tears wouldn’t stop long enough to form a full sentence. Bucky pushed himself out of his bed and reached for his shoes. “Y/n, where are you? Are you at your place?”

You nodded, forgetting for a moment that he couldn’t see you. “Yeah,” you croaked out.

“I’ll be right there.”

He hung up and came out of his room, running through the compound to the garage. He threw himself into the car that corresponded with the key he had stolen from the place where Stark kept them - he’d deal with him later. He sped out into the streets, making his way to your house. What could have possibly happened at 2 in the morning to make you this upset? Why had you called him and not your partner? Realization set in to Bucky and he hardened. This better not have anything to do with them.

It must have only been 5 minutes since he had hung up, but to you it felt like hours. When he finally knocked on the door, you managed to say “Come in.”

When he opened the door, his face paled at the image in front of him. What the hell had happened? He called out your name and you whimpered in your corner, his eyes landing on you after following the sound. He stepped over the broken glass, not concerned with it at the moment. He came over and crouched in front of you. His heart broke at the sight of your bleeding extremities and your shaking frame.

“Hey, it’s me. y/n, look at me.” he said.

You met his gaze, and he saw just how much pain was in your gaze. He wrapped his arms around you and cradled your head against his chest. “Shh, it’s alright,” he whispered. He took a deep breath. “What happened doll?”

Your eyes started tearing up again as you tried to speak. “they...they left...I begged them to...but they…”

Bucky hushed you again, getting the point and not wanting to upset you any further. The two of you sat there for a while, him helping you try to calm down and you trying to process what had happened.

“Why don’t they want me?” you whispered.

Bucky felt his heart lurch. “Because they’re a bastard who doesn’t know what they have even though it’s right in front of them.” He swallowed. “They don’t deserve you.”

“Then why do I feel like it’s the other way around?”

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, your cries dying down into numbness and exhaustion. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked.

You simply nodded, not wanting to be alone right now. “Can we go somewhere else?” you asked. You didn’t want to wake up to this tomorrow. He agreed and picked you up, carrying you back to the car. When he started it, you noticed just exactly how early it was. It was now just after 3 in the morning, and you wondered how all that time had passed.

The drive back to the tower was silent, Bucky not wanting to make you relive tonight and you being too numb to. He helped you inside and up to his room, trying to be as quiet as possible so you didn’t wake anyone. You fell back onto the bed and curled up in a ball on your side, trying to shut everything out.

You slept the entire next day.

You stayed for about a week, not feeling up to facing your own home again quite yet. You cycled between feeling the emotions too heavily to being too numbed out to care about anything. As the days passed, you numbed out more and more. You were starting to believe what Bucky had told you, that the person who had broken your heart wasn’t worth your time or energy.

You finally decided that you were okay to go back to your house. You’d have to face it sooner or later, and the mess wasn’t going to get any smaller. Bucky offered to come with you, but you told him you’d be alright on your own. You were starting to go back to your normal self again, and you didn’t think the memories would be too painful.

You walked in the door to everything you did that night. It was now that you realized the extent that you lost it. There was more shattered glass on the floor than patches where the floor was clear, most of the furniture was overturned, pictures were everywhere and the frames were in broken pieces everywhere else, and you had no idea where to start.

Great.

You decided to start with the glass, walking over to the closest to grab your broom and a pan to sweep it into. You made your way through the room, sweeping up everything that was broken and putting the pictured on the counter. You’d decide if you wanted to keep them later. After the floor was clear you started turning the furniture right side up and putting it back in its place.

This entire process only took about an hour, but you were wiped out. The memories, despite your resistance, did start flooding back in. it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, you were able to push away the pain of them relatively quickly.

You decided to watch something on Netflix to get a few laughs in before you called it a night. Flipping through your options, you settled on your favorite show and had your finger on the play button, when there was a knock on the door.

You groaned. Seriously?

You put the remote back on the table and walked over to the door. It was probably just Bucky because you probably forgot something back at the tower.

You were not expecting it to be the person who walked out on you a week ago.

“Hey,” they said with a smile, letting themselves in. It was as if nothing had happened. You tensed and froze a little. You crossed your arms and turned to them. “What are you doing here?” you asked coldly.

They sat on the armrest of the sofa, facing you. “I - I’m sorry. Look, I never should have walked out that door. I love you, and I shouldn’t have left in the first place. Everything I need is right here,” they stood making his way over to you. “Can you forgive me?”

You kept your face expressionless. You weighed your options. You were finally starting to move on, you had cut your losses with them. You thought of them as some asshole who didn’t really care about you in the first place. Yet here they were again.

“You think it’s that easy?” you asked, walking away and turning your back on them.

They scoffed a little, turning back to you. “Y/n, I fucked up. I’m sorry. Just give me another chance. I can change, I’ll be what you want me to be. Just tell me what you want from me.”

You laughed dryly turning back to them. “I wanted you to not leave in the first place! I wanted you to listen to me begging you to stay. I wanted you to not throw away what we had. I wanted to know you loved me.” you shook your head. “You had your chance to give me what I wanted. Now? I want you to leave.”

They stepped toward you again. “Don’t do this y/n.”

“Do what? Exactly what you did to me?” you shook your head. “I’m sure that there will be someone else you can fool with your words. Go find her. She’s out there somewhere. But you won’t find her here”

“I swear, I’ll do anything -”

“Yeah, those are just empty words. What about the next time? You’ll say this is the last time until it happens again. So just do us both a favor and move on. “

They shook his head, anger dancing in their eyes. “You’ll be sorry y/n. You’ll change your mind and I won’t be there anymore. You’re nothing without me.

You shook your head. “Say whatever you want. Nothing you say could ever hurt me again. I know better than to waste my time on you. I’ll find someone who knows what they have when they have it. So, I’ll ask you again: go.” You even surprised yourself with your words. You weren’t really thinking about what you were saying, the words were just coming out. And from their reaction, he wasn’t expecting it either.

They opened and closed his mouth a few times, anger and confusion fighting each other on their face. Finally their face hardened again and they walked out just like they had before, making sure to slam it behind them.

You let out a breath you hadn’t known you had been holding and sat back on the couch. Did that really just happen? Were you happy with yourself? Were you proud? Disappointed? Did you actually want this? Was that the right decision?

You shook your head. No. you were not going to let them back in. You had already mourned once, they wasn’t worth a second round. But still… No. You were better off without them. You were sure of that now, thanks to Bucky's help.

You felt your heart tug a little bit. Bucky had been so kind to you and made you feel better about yourself than anyone else had in your entire life. You pulled out your phone to send him a text.

Hey, you still free? Turns out I don’t want to be alone after all.

He texted back almost instantly

Be right there. You ok?

You smiled as you responded

Never been better.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #breakup #fanfiction #fanfic #songlyrics #song lyric inspired #song lyrics #lyrics

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 5 years ago

Text

Shadows in the dark

A/N: this was requested by anon, I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think! If anyone has any requests, please let me know!

Summary: can you do a reddie x teen daughter where she thinks she sees a shadow figure but it’s just bc she watched a horror movie, n she screams so richie n eddie come n automatically assume it’s IT n go into fight mode but she reassures them she was just seeing things, but then she’s suspicious af bc of their reactions so they try to like explain the whole pennywise thing but rlly vague and like half bs so tht they don’t scare her n they acc get away w it.

The thunderstorm pours heavily outside of Raina’s bedroom window, drenching everything in sight. It was the first night of the year that this happened, and she had forgotten just how scary it is, to be faced with this kind of . The horror movie she watched a few hours prior doesn’t help her case either, the images of dark figures stalking girls outside in their backyards flashing through her mind every time a bolt goes off.

The window is located on the left side of her bed, above a cozy seating arrangement Rania uses to read and indicate that she requires alone time. Though it usually symbolizes her calm, it now appears ominously, something she should be scared off.

She fumbles with her phone, trembling impatiently until the screen lights up, illuminating the room so she can see. She groans in frustration when she looks at the time, barely three am, falling back into the bed and burying her head in her pillow.

The storm croaks outside, loud and un-bothered in it’s intensity, making Rania wonder if anyone else is awaken by the weather phenomenon. ‘Shut up’, she mumbles stupidly, as if it’s going to listen to her, but it reminds her of the times when her pops used to stay up with her when she was little and afraid of the storm, and that causes her to chuckle.

She’s older now, and not so easily spooked, except when she watches a scary movie. This particular movie was called hush, and even in the light of day it frightened her. The idea of not being able to hear whether or not someone was breathing down your neck, or calling out for you seemed manifested straight out of one of her nightmares.

The storm rings loud enough to drown out any other sound that might emit, but that’s only her brain talking, tricking her into being queasy of nothing. There’s not a thing that’s going to happen, and logically she knows that, so she tries to shut her eyes and will herself to sleep.

It’s not going to happen, the three am hour sign burned on the back of her eyelids. She taps her fingers against the edge of the bed restlessly, shifting and twisting in her blankets until sweat starts to build above her eyebrows and she frustratingly kicks the comforter off of her.

Glancing at the window, firmly shut and the curtains drawn over it, Rania debates if it worth opening her window to let some cool air in. The hot summer sun is unforgiving these days, so scorning hot that it feels like your skin will burn right off the flesh if you stay outside for too long.

A bit of relief of the heat would be welcome, yet she almost falters, then curses herself with how foolish she’s being. Her pops is famous, and they’re living in an expensive neighborhood with a security guard, no one can harm her. She opens the window up an inch, and before heading back to bed, Rania shuffles towards the living room to grab a glace of water.

It isn’t uncommon for her to wake up, usually around the same time too, so she learns to deal with it, eating or drinking something or trying things like yoga. Though rarely helpful, Rania does discover new things and interests, so she takes it as a win.

An explosion of lightning brightens up the room, so she leaves the lights off as she shambles towards the fridge. It’s dead quiet, everyone having gone to bed, which makes her feel like she’s alone in the house. Another thunder crack causes her head to whip up from where she was ducked down to grab the water, eyeing the room twice, but coming up empty handed.

Rania hurries to pluck a water bottle and run up the stairs back to the safety of her room, peeking over her shoulder multiple times to ensure that there’s no one watching her. When she reaches her door, she throws it open, duks into the room, and then promptly shoves it closed with a loud bang.

She winces, the noise way too loud, though thankfully neither her dad, nor her pops stir. The rain ticks away on her window, some of it slipping through the opening and spattering in her room, resulting in a wet puddle being formed.

‘Fucking great’, Rania mutters when she notices, the pool extending right before her eyes. She turns halfway to her closet on the right side of the room, a wooden terra cotta colored one that uncle Bill got for her when they moved in, searching for an item that is allowed to get wet.

Towels aren’t at her disposal right now, and she’s not jumping at the idea of leaving her room again to go get one, so she improvises, by using a cloth that will be washed in the morning.

She takes hold of an old sweater that’s non usable right now anyway, and then circles in the direction of the window. A scream tears from her lips as she does, a shadow looming by the window leering at her as he sits on the window seat.

Screeching, Rania trips over her feet and falls on the ground, the sweater dropping from her hands, then scrambles back towards the door in an effort to get away from the silhouette. Her hands cover her face, like she wants to protect herself even if there were no visible weapons or the person preparing to attack her.

With burning eyes, tears that threaten to push themselves over the edge, she squints one eyelid open at the lack of movement. The room is empty.

Rania’s heart beats a mile a minute, her breathing fast and erratic, yet she manages to laugh manically. It was only a catch of the light, induced by her own imagination, petrifying her within an inch of her life.

She inhales and holds, then exhales slowly, controlling her breathing so she calms down. Several footsteps thunder on the laminate flooring in the hallway. Not fast enough to dodge the unlatching door, she receives a blow to the head, knocking her down once again.

‘Auw’, she complains, cupping the back of head in one hand and rubbing over the bump.

‘Rania, are you okay?’ Her dads pile into the room, switching the light on, searching frantic until they see her, and scurry beside her.

‘Rania talk to us, are you hurt? What happened?’ Eddie, her dad, clutches her body, half hanging over her, and pulling her as close as possible.

Richie, her pops, is standing on her other side, holding a lamp tightly in his one hand, while the other one latches on to her shoulder.

‘Nothing dad, I thought I saw something, but it’s not real.’

Up close, she can detect the tremors originating from her dad, and the hand of her pops shakes too.

‘You need to tell us alright, even if you think we won’t believe you, we will,’ Eddie promises, Richie nodding along vigorously.

The strangeness of their responses causes an alarm bell to go off in the back of Rania’s brain. She tilts her head sideways, peering up at her dad’s with a quizzical look in her eyes.

‘Okayy..’, she draws up, her voice taking on a questionable tone. She makes an attempt to inquire why they’re acting the way they do, but Richie and Eddie engage in their own conversation now.

‘She won’t tell us, we never told anyone either.’ Eddie says, still keeping Rania close at bay.

‘Well Eds, all the adults in our town fucking sucked, especially your mom.’

‘Fuck off Richie. Do you honestly want to joke about this right now? What if it’s IT asshole? What if the clown returned?’ They’re rushing through the sentences like they are hunted on by the devil himself, complete with wild gestures and raising voices as panic and hysteria seem to control them more and more.

‘I didn’t intend for it be a joke Eddie, I mean it. She was a fucking bitch so yeah, you obviously weren’t going to tell her shit,’ Richie responds irritated.

This wasn’t the usual bickering her parents did on a day to day bases, this time both were annoyed with the other, and Richie being vexed was a rare thing.

The storm rages on outside, three crying out thanks to the wind that blows strongly, but entirely the last thing on Rania’s mind right now.

‘Dad, pops it’s fine, leave it.’

‘It’s not fine, stop saying it’s fine.’ Eddie snapped, staring at Rania with poorly concealed terror. Her dad never snaps at her, ever, furthering suspicion in Rania that something was really, really wrong.

‘Sorry, sorry’, he relented, ‘that was rude.’ It is, but Rania is more concerned than angry anyway. She’s anxious that her dad might have a panic attack, even if he hadn’t had one in years. His face is red, and his hand digs in his pockets, aiming to find his inhaler.

‘We have to call Stan’, Richie distracts, seizing both Eddie’s, and Rania’s hand.

‘Wait what? why?’ Rania asks, pulling her hand out of his grip. Uncle Stan lives in Atlanta, which is a plain ride away, he’s not easily accessible.

‘And Bill. Maybe Mike too.’

‘Guys’, Rania yells out, frustration getting the upper hand. Why won’t anyone listen to what she has to say?

‘I watched a horror movie, I just got spooked. Nothing happened. I opened the window and the curtains moved in a way that looked like there was someone sitting there. But there wasn’t.’ She pointedly fixes her gaze on both Eddie and Richie, to get her point across.

‘Is someone going to tell me what this is all about? Why would we need anyone to come here?’ The tension dibs out of Richie and Eddie, albeit slowly, and they nervously communicate in silence.

‘Hello, is anyone gonna fill me in?’ Rania repeated, as she is not used to being kept in the dark. She thought Eddie and Richie told her everything, so it comes as a shock now she reckons that there’s something hidden.

‘There was a clown.’ Eddie starts, despite the shaking of Richie’s head. ‘And every year at the carnival, he scared us half to death by mean pranks.’

Rania blinks once, then twice. ‘That’s it? That’s what terrified you guys enough to want to call your friends?’

‘I guess we’re just traumatized’, Eddie chuckled uneasy, flatting a curl on the top of her head to keep his hands busy.

‘Psst,’ Richie draws her attention, ‘your dad is spooked because we’re the clowns in high school too. He’s just afraid to admit it.’

Rania giggles, always counting on her pops to make light of a situation, making her instantly more calm.

She misses the thumb Eddie gestures at Richie, gratitude flowing through him that the topic has been avoided, mostly.

They’re both still on high alert, the trouble Pennywise cost then a long way from forgotten, but outwardly they come across as composed.

A tree branch slaps against the window, starling all three people of the family, although they all pretend that it didn’t.

‘Is anyone up for watching a movie?’ Richie suggests, shoulder shimmying to draw the attention his way.

Rania wisps her head towards her dad, applying the puppy dog eyes her pops had taught her to convince Eddie to do something he most likely won’t approve of.

This time, he relents without any type of resistance.

‘Yeah, come on, I’ll get the hot chocolate milk.’ With a last, lingering hug, Eddie releases his hold on Rania, getting up from where he’s sitting on the floor.

Richie hugs Rania as well, smiling brightly at her with the giant smile. ‘Come on,’ he says, then ushers Rania out of the room.

The suspicion still lingers, the story her dad made up not making much sense, but Rania allows herself to follow them downstairs anyway. It’s late, and though she’s aware that no one hung around her room, she’s apprehensive all the same.

She’ll find out what all of this is about, for example by exploring and question one of her uncles or her aunts, but that can wait. Right now, all she’ll watch a movie, and slip off to sleep under the watchful eye of her parents, who outside of her knowledge, don’t dare the blink away from her once.

#reddie #reddie imagine #richie tozier imagine #eddie kaspbrak imagine #reddie x daughter #my writing #reddie as parents #eddie as a dad #richie as a dad #it chapter two imagine #it chapter 2

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perfectharmonyloveschaos · 4 years ago

Note

what if whenever klaus is accidentally doing his telekinesis at first, everyone thinks it's vanya, including him. but when hes by himself or something and things keep happening he doesnt notice it or brushes it off by reasoning it. ben keeps trying to tell him that hes being dumb and it's klaus whos doing all of that

Sorry if you just wanted me to talk about this in bullet points or anything (i still might, god I love making those), this idea was just too good and immediately inspired me to write a small fic about it so hope you’re not mad anon! I wasn’t sure how much to go into, so I tried to keep it to your ask, but goddamn if it wasn’t fun. Klaus being an idiot and not realising that he can move things with his mind is so funny to me for some reason, hope you enjoy it!

The first time there had been anything out of the ordinary, it had been Ben who had noticed it. Field after field of wheat and corn and cotton stretched as far as Klaus could see, squinting his tired eyes against the glare of the sun that sat lazily on the horizon. If not for the aches left from his sudden fall into whatever time period they were in – little Five had said that the equations were a bitch to get exactly right – than Klaus may have paid more attention.

Ben, however, didn’t get sore from falls out of the space-time continuum or hours of blind walking, so it really had been no wonder that his deceased brother had far more focus.

“Great.” Klaus hissed; his brows knitted together tightly as he hugged his arms closer to his chest. A shiver ran through him, the irritable itch of his skin taking no time in setting over his body. “This is just peachy, huh? Fivey couldn’t have dropped us somewhere nice… like Vegas?”

Ben made a face, strolling leisurely by the medium’s side as he watched the cattle stare as they passed. “Fresh air is better for you than booze and slot machines.” Ben reasoned, his lip rising as he watched Klaus’ slug by, his legs dragging off the dirt countryside roads until anything else came into view. “Besides, all these,” He added, gesturing a hand to a black Angus calf ignorant to them as it suckled its mother. “-must belong to someone.”

“Little shit dropped us in the asshole to nowhere…”

“The others could have landed in the nearest town.”

“-and my ribs hurt.”

Ben sighed, leaning his head back as he let his arms flop down to his sizes, focusing on the swaying motion of them as they walked in silence. They’d be okay, they’d find the others – probably Diego in that stupid outfit scowling at Klaus for ‘wandering off’ – and then Klaus would smile and quip and everything would be okay.

The others weren’t in the nearest town.

They could only gather so much from their surroundings, but their deductions seemed sound and clean enough that Ben smiled at his brother as he peered at the newspaper over his shoulder. Klaus’ long, knobby fingers worked on straightening the wrinkles and skimmed over the weather-worn letters – people had thrown looks at the lanky man tearing paper from a nearby trashcan, but none of them said anything, thankfully – only to let out a tired groan.

Ben didn’t need to read through it to understand what his brother meant.

“Nothing.”

Without another word, the newspaper was crumpled up into a ball and dropped at his feet, worn trainers that scuffed off the concrete feebly kicked it aside. He could see the tension in his brother’s shoulders, bare against his torn army vest – Dave, would he have been able to lift Klaus’ hopes better than Ben, did Klaus want Dave there more than him? – as his withdrawal slithered back in to replace the time-travel nausea.

Ben grimaced at the slump of Klaus’s body, hunched meekly on the sidewalk.

A few moments of silence went by.

“What are we gonna do?”

“We should check around for the others, at least we know something.”

“Fine.” Klaus nodded but didn’t budge from the sidewalk as his hands covered his face. The fashion definitely struck them of being around the 1960s, at least giving them a when to base their next action on, the newspaper only confirming it as 1960 to be exact. It was early morning, so fewer people were around to see Klaus – who appeared to be talking to the air, Ben reminded him – but the oncoming morning rush meant a higher chance of standing out.

“The Commission is probably already on our asses.”

Klaus snorted, but didn’t release the tension in his shoulders. Pressing his arms tighter against his side, the skin of his hands pressed white off the sidewalk, pushing all his weight into his limbs and yet failing to move. Short nails clawed at the concrete. Ben stared down at him, brow wrinkled at the heaving breaths that passed through his thin form, shivering with each exhale.

Glancing up to take a look at their surroundings, Ben forced himself to stay put. Withdrawal was a bitch, that much was given at how many times he had seen Klaus go through it before in hospitals and rehab, only to dive back into the intoxication pool without hesitation. But time-travel? That was a whole other game, sensations that he couldn’t understand as he was.

Klaus exhaled a hard breath beside him, the muscles of his arms flexed between them and his teeth clenched down hard into his jaw. Breathe, Ben reminded him, repeating the word over and over until it sounded wrong and then kept going.

"Breathe”.

“I know.”

“We’ll be okay.”

Klaus groaned in reply.

“We’ll find the others, and everything will be-”

The newspaper shot away from them and all the way across to the other side of the street.

Ben blinked.

His mouth opened to speak, to question what had just occurred, only to let his mouth close once more. There had been no wind, no breeze that flapped at Klaus’ clothing or anything else on the street strong enough to do that, so how-

“Alright... I’m alright,” Klaus said slowly, letting out a groan as he shakily rose to his feet. Ben leapt to attention, adrenaline left over alerting him to the scuff of his brother’s foot off the road before he could help him to his feet, his eyes never leaving Klaus. That was… new. “Let’s go.”

(***)

“Klaus.”

“Ben, for the last time-!”

“It was floating!”

“I must’ve made some other ghost corporal by accident!” Klaus reasoned, waving his brother’s concern away as he shoved his arms back through his jacket sleeves. “Remember when you were able to hold stuff again? You knocked all kinds of shit over-”

“There were no other ghosts, I would’ve seen it.”

Klaus rolled his eyes, picking up the knocked over lamp and replacing it back on the motel bed table. Blowing a raspberry after flicking the light switch on to make sure the bulb wasn’t damaged; Klaus hoisted his bag over his shoulder and gestured for Ben to follow. “Maybe being corporal makes it harder to see other ghosts, Benny-boy.”

Realising the other was heading out the motel room door rather than listening, Ben pursed his lips with a shake of his head as he followed Klaus. Watching Klaus tie his hair into a high bun – the tangled mess of curls on his head now reaching his chin – in order to help dry the sweat still coating his neck, Ben sighed.

Ghosts can’t knock over lamps, he frowned to himself as Klaus hopped into the driver seat, quickening his pace to slip in the passenger seat before the other had time to start the engine. But idiots who can move stuff without touching them having nightmares can.

(***)

“Lucky that the guy tripped, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ben sighed, rolling his eyes as Klaus swung his arms leisurely, going on his merry way as if he hadn’t almost been mugged and stabbed by some alley-thug five minutes before. “It’s our lucky day…”

Because men twice the size of Klaus just so happened to become clumsy despite being able to sneak up on a man and a literal ghost.

And that said thug had tripped so hard that he somehow flung himself back down the alleyway far enough that they could escape.

And that the man’s knife just so happened to fly out of his hand and straight into a wooden pallet leaning against a wall more then ten feet away.

Purely, undoubtedly, luck.

Shaking his head, Ben forced himself to only nod when Klaus suggested they get something to eat.

His brother was such an idiot.

(***)

Their whole family were idiots.

“Our first objective should be stopping the apocalypse─”

“We need to help Vanya─”

“Allison please, we don’t know what she’s capable─”

“She is trying to control them, Luther. Why can’t you─

Any attempt at conversation was muffled out as Luther shouted louder, only angering Allison who had stood in-between him and Vanya once their brother had shown a lack of resolve to control himself. Lingering off to the side of the room, Klaus could only chuckle as chaos erupted between his three siblings, earning a look from the remainder of his family.

Five took no time in trying to dismantle the tension, jumping back and forth between the living room and the kitchen counter in order to move his plans elsewhere. Neither Ben, Klaus or Diego could blame the fifty-year-old-teen for his lack of concern, arguments were as common in their family as game nights for other, more functional homes.

Earning an expectant look from Ben, Klaus sighed as he hoisted himself up from the couch and stepped cautiously over to their siblings. Diego, raising a brow, glanced over to Ben before giving his dead brother a small smile.

Good job.

Ben straightened his posture, lifting his weight from the settee arm and instead balancing it on his opposite hip. He pursed his lips, however, into a glare at the shift of Luther’s stance, using his bulbous shoulders to basically shove Klaus out of the argument without even hearing what the medium had to say.

Lifting his hands before him to show no harm, Klaus tried to draw attention back to Vanya and her own voice, rather than letting her be drowned out like always. Sharing a smile with his shorter sister, Vanya shifted to allow Klaus room, guiding Allison who could only smile at her growth in confidence.

The conversation, however, didn’t calm as Luther continued to protest despite the majority, besides Five who was too busy working out equations in the kitchen and trying to save the world to care, to the point where Diego rushed in at the mention of their childhood numbers.

Klaus groaned, smothering his face with his own hands once Diego unsheathed a knife. Not listening to either Allison or Vanya demanding them to stop, Ben stood back as the argument began to break down into a brawl between the two highest numbers.

That was, until, something pushed them.

Silence fell as a force of some kind knocked into both men, knocking Diego’s knife from his hand and sending both him and Luther further back from one another. Wide-eyed, the group grew silent.

Until Five jumped back into the room, pissed-off and snarling at the group to restrain themselves, rather than making the Commission’s job easier for them.

Ben sighed as the blame shifted to Vanya, furrowing his brows as he caught sight of Klaus stepping back from his sister in shock. None had noticed his hand, clenched tightly into a fist and still slightly glowing blue.

Sharing a look with his startled brother, Ben scowled at his dismissal and the attention on Vanya, ignoring their sister’s certainty that she hadn’t done anything. Klaus shook his hand out, letting the colour fade and acted to be simply stretching once Five and Diego looked at him at the collapse of the argument.

Shrugging of Diego’s concerns, Klaus was quick to console Vanya.

Ben frowned but pushed those thoughts away upon his siblings realising he was corporeal once more, attempting to ease tension within the bunker.

Idiots.

#the umbrella academy season 2 #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy fanfiction #tua #tua season 2 #tua klaus #tua fanfic #tua ben #klaus hargreeves #i forgot you could tag asks #oops #do i tag the rest of the characters?#nah #ill just tag ben #ben hargreeves #it is his pov mainly

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cesabutterflywrites · 5 years ago

Text

Prince in the Storm: Chapter Four

Summary: Contrary to popular belief, Virgil was sensitive. Most people saw him as some “spooky, broody dude”, when in reality he was just a private person. Teachers tried to open his mind up with a figurative crowbar. Everyone tried to get him to open up. Well, everyone except his best friend Talyn. They were the only one who understood his personality and inner workings just enough to be his friend. However, they haven’t seen his Marking. No one other than his parents have.

Contrary to popular belief, Roman was sensitive. Most people saw him as a fanciful, dreamy, somewhat egotistical thespian who wanted nothing but to be the best of the best. Everyone cheered him on in his performances. Everyone praised his original works. Anything he made others enjoyed. People would whisper about his Marking, wondering where it was and when he would reveal it. He had a whole circle of friends, yet no one except his best friend Joan understood him. Joan was the only one who saw Roman’s insecurities.

As students of Kingston High School, with zany principals and try-hard superintendents, it is up to Virgil and Roman to stay alive enough to fulfill their destiny. Ao3

Word Count: 2007

Chapter Warnings: panic attack

Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter FIfteen

Bonuses: Immune to Change

Chapter Four

Virgil shut the front door of his house rather loudly. He was in a bad mood. A very, very bad mood. All he wanted was to go upstairs to his room and sleep until the sun went away. Instead, he settled for dropping his backpack on the floor by the door. He wandered to the couch and plopped down on it, sighing in relief to be finally sitting on a plush surface. He leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling.

Ever since Virgil could remember, he liked finding shapes on walls and ceilings. He would stare at the surface looking for the grooves, cracks, layers. He would then make shapes out of them with his eyes. Once he had the shape, he would make a story for it. Sometimes it was an apple being smashed by a foot. Sometimes it was a crowd of people at a carnival. Making the stories took time. It was something that always got him to calm down, and oh, he needed some calm. Some peace, and quiet, and rest.

Soon the shapes started to get blurry. Virgil closed his eyes and laid down. Maybe a little nap wouldn’t hurt.

When Virgil woke up, it was dark outside and inside. None of the living room lights were on, not even the entryway lamp that was usually kept on all the time. The only light in the living room was from the street lamps shining through the window. He looked around curiously. Usually his dad got home just an hour after him. It took Virgil a moment to realize that he had a blanket pulled over him. A small smile tugged at his lips. Even though it could be unbearable sometimes, his father was always considerate.

Virgil sat there for a minute scrolling through his phone. The only notification he had on his phone was a message from Talyn, and it was just a meme. Nothing he needed to respond to right away. Then he smelled it. Spaghetti. The wonderful, amazing smell of his favorite dinner food.

Almost as if on cue, his stomach growled at him. Virgil looked up the hallway to see if the kitchen lights were on. Just to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. There was light, but the door had been closed. Something twisted in Virgil’s chest. His dad was trying his hardest to care for him as a single dad, and Virgil had been dismissive of him this morning.

God, I’m such an arrogant asshole.

He shook his head, trying to dismiss that line of thinking. Instead he let himself succumb to his hunger. He stood up, steadying himself after getting a head rush from standing too quickly. He recovered quickly, then made his way to the kitchen.

As he got closer he realized his dad was talking to someone on the phone. Virgil, being a bit nosy, just stood by the door to listen. He tried very hard to quiet his breathing.

Patton’s normally cheerful voice sounded frustrated. “Yes, I understand that he’s your nephew, but-...No, I don’t think you understand...Do you want him to have a target on his back? Cause that’s what would happen if-” he sighed, and waited a bit before he spoke again. “Fine. Just make sure you’re there to do your job. Don’t distract him, he’s been distracted enough lately.” With that, he hung up the phone.

Virgil waited two breaths before entering the kitchen. He saw Patton leaning his hands against the counter, his shoulders tense from the strain. Virgil saw the pasta has already been mixed with the sauce. He also smelled the garlic bread still baking in the oven. His dad must have been in deep thought because he didn’t acknowledge his son until Virgil spoke up.

“Hey, dad. You okay?” he asked. Virgil noticed that his own voice was scratchy from sleeping for so long.

He wanted to ask who it was on the phone, but he suspected that he already knew. No one really upset his dad except for one person; Uncle Thomas. There were so many questions running through his head, but he used up most of his mental strength to shove it all aside. His dad was upset. So that meant Virgil needed to bring him back into the moment. Which, Virgil admitted to himself, is what Virgil needed as well after the day he had.

Patton quickly spun around at the sound of Virgil’s voice, startled. The shock was only brief, then replaced with his goofy grin that he had when he wasn’t alone. “Hey, kiddo. I didn’t hear ya wake up. You hungry?”

Virgil just nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak aloud without accidentally admitting he’d been eavesdropping. Virgil didn’t like lying. He felt slightly disgusted with himself for listening in on what was obviously an intense and private conversation.

“Why dontcha set up the table while I finish up here, kiddo?” his dad asked, noticing Virgil had zoned out.

“Y-yeah, sure thing, Dad.”

He went to the cupboard above the sink where the plates were. He had just pulled two of them down when the timer for the garlic bread went off, startling him. He tried to stop himself from dropping the plate but he was still a bit uncoordinated after his midday nap. With a crash, the plates shattered onto the floor.

Virgil bit his lip to hold back the tears threatening to leak from his eyes. The day had been full of accidents and mishaps. He just wanted to do something right for once. He got down on his knees to pick up the bigger pieces.

“Virge, don’t touch those pieces, you could cut-”

Virgil shouted out,”Fucking shit!” and gripped his forefinger. Patton rushed over to look him over.

“Oh, kiddo. I’m sorry. Why don’t we stand up to get you a bandaid?”

Virgil shook his head as the tears fell freely from his face. He was tired, and emotional, and a bit hungry. He had a long day and just wanted some freaking dinner. Was it too much to ask that he had a reprieve from the bad luck he seemed to accumulate throughout the day?

He leaned into his dad’s shoulder while cradling his bleeding finger. He felt stupid for crying over a tiny cut. Stupid for not being able to do something as simple as grab some plates. Stupid for not watching where he had been going and crashing into someone as popular as-

“Smell the flower for me, son” his dad requested softly. Virgil was tucked in his dad’s arms. He felt his dad’s hand rubbing circles on his back. Virgil had been spiraling in his head too much to notice his dad scooping him up at first.

He just grabbed his dad’s blue shirt and shook his head ‘no’ against the solid chest he was leaning against. It was getting harder for him to breathe. He felt his chest tightening as he tried to gasp for air. He was sobbing too hard. All he could feel was his hands going numb. A lump was growing in his throat, as if he had swallowed a golf ball, but it was growing. He was dying. He knew he was dying.

Patton shifted to grab his son's face, but gently. Virgil kept his eyes closed. He didn’t want to open them cause more tears would come out. He was still hyperventilating but the pressure on his chest wasn’t as intense.

“Virgil, c’mon buddy, I’ll do it with you. Smell the flower,” they both took in a deep breath, “Good job. Now blooow out the candle.” Virgil did as he was told.

After a few times of smelling the flower and blowing out the candle, Virgil opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was his dad’s soft, warm, brown eyes behind thick glasses. They were filled with concern, but Virgil sighed in relief. Dad was warm. Dad was caring. Dad was safe.

Virgil wrapped his arms around his dad’s neck. They held the hug for a minute before Virgil’s stomach growled.

“Okay kiddo. Let’s get you a bandaid and some food. I’ll clean up the mess, don’t sweat it.”

Virgil stood up and made his way to the bathroom where the first aid kit was. When he reached the doorway, he paused. He turned around to say, “I love you, Dad”

Patton smiled warmly at his son. Virgil reminded himself that while he may seem tough and rough and mean to the outside world-there was comfort knowing he had someone as pure and kind for a dad.

---

As far as Roman was concerned, the first week of school had been a breeze after the first day. He had gotten the hang of his new sleep schedule. He found a way to fit in a quicker, but more effective, face moisturizing routine in the mornings so he could get 10 extra minutes of sleep. He had applied to the theater club- a formality, as this point-and settled into his classes. All of his teachers loved him or tolerated him. His friends still hung around, and he even made a few new ones.

He was doing great, really. He played the part he needed to. The part everyone needed him to. He was friendly, perfect, and personable.

So why did he still feel so empty?

Roman couldn’t quite understand it. Was it that he needed a different schedule? Did he need to put his focus on more creative pursuits? If so, he just started doing theater club, meaning he’ll be able to find his center.

With his eyebrows crinkled together, contemplating, he walked into his technical theater class. It wasn’t his first choice or backup choice for an elective his senior year, but it didn’t hurt to learn the techie side of things. In fact, it could be useful to him. Theater was his passion. What a better way to become more intimate with the stage than by learning how it all works?

He wasn’t exactly paying attention to where he was going, so naturally, he suffered the consequences by bumping into the last person on God’s green earth he wanted to run into.

They both stumbled but the other caught his arms. “Hey, there, handsome. We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

Roman pushed him off and wiped his hands down the front of his shirt. He was not in the mood for this. “Yeah, well, you’re the one who hasn’t been paying attention!” Roman snapped, a bit more aggressively than he needed to.

“Ha, we both know that you’re too busy thinking of new ways to get everyone to pay attention to you. How do I know you’re paying attention back for once?” Virgil smirked.

“Well at least I don’t creep everyone out! You...creepy cookie.” Roman was sputtering. “What’s the deal with the aggression today? I thought we worked out our issues earlier this week!”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Of course you thought that. Everyone loves you, right? Well, maybe, for once in your life, consider the idea that I don’t care about you or your popularity.”

It was a stab to Roman’s heart. He couldn’t understand why this guy was so mean… and so right. However, he had a part to play. He did the only thing he could think of to keep himself from breaking. “Whatever, Jack Smellington,” he snarled out. Then he walked away to join the friends in class he had made.

“Roman, what was up with you and Emo Nightmare?” one of the girls, Rachel asked.

Roman smiled and tried to shake it off. “Nothing. Just can’t stand the guy. I tried to give him an honest chance on the first day of school but he just can’t stand how popular I am I guess…” Roman took one last glance over his shoulder to see Virgil glaring at him. He turned back to the group and tried to ignore the heat of Virgil’s glare.

Well, if you don’t like me, then I don’t like you.

Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist for this story!

#prinxiety #prinxiety fic #soulmate AU #high school AU #romantic prinxiety #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sympathetic Remus #sympathetic deceit #chapter four #Prince in the Storm #Prince in the Storm AU #Mama Cesa writes

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httpjeon · 6 years ago

Text

❝something’s not right (Ⅰ)❞ jjk/pjm ; determinant

― summary: after a night playing with an ouija board with your friends, things begin to get strange in the house.

jungkook/reader/jimin | possession!au | horror, reader-interactive | 3.1k ↬ content warnings: demons, ouija boards, spooky ghosty business, priest!yoongi, reader interactive

a/n: VOTE LINK disclaimer: I used Yoongi as a priest who cleanses the house. If anything about the use of a Priest in a fic offends you then I suggest you don’t read it. He’s mostly based off the way priests are portrayed in paranormal horror movies.

→ blog masterlist → pt2

“Come on you guys, it’ll be fun!” Jimin begs, practically on his knees as you and Jungkook shared a gaze.

“Alright, fine,” Jungkook agreed suddenly, making you jaw drop open.

“We’re going to play with an Ouija Board, are you crazy?!” You shrieked, eye twitching as Jungkook began to attempt to yank you to floor, which you resisted.

“Taehyung does it all the time!” Jimin defended, using a lighter to light the white candle Taehyung had recommended he use. Something about cleansing and keeping evil away, you remembered.

With a pointed look from your best friends, you slowly slide off of Jungkook’s bed and onto the floor to join the circle they’ve formed around the board. Your knees where all touching, creating a closed circle which the board sat in the center of.

“Alright,” Jimin began, placing his fingers delicately on the wooden planchette. After a pointed look from him, you and Jungkook followed his lead. The planchette felt unusual under your touch, you couldn’t explain it but it felt as if you weren’t supposed to be doing this. Still, however, you continued on with the game.

"We call all spirits who wish to speak to us," Jimin said, voice resonating through the otherwise silent room. "If there is anyone listening, we invite you to come and use our energy to talk."

There was a stillness that overtook the room, there was nothing. There was no hum of electricity, there was no outside noise pollution, you couldn't even hear the boys breathing. It was an unnatural silence that filled the room. Your fingers were trembling against the wood of the planchette and you took a glance at your friends, both of their faces calm and unbothered.

"Is there anyone here?" Jimin asked, but his voice sounded muffled in your ears.

There was a beat of silence again. You stared at the board, silently praying there would be nothing.

"This is bullshit," Jungkook scoffed when nothing happened after a minute.

"Give them some time," Jimin growled, glaring at Jungkook, who rolled his eyes.

Suddenly, you felt movement beneath your fingers. Your eyes snapped down, tearing your line of sight from their faces. With wide eyes, you watched as the planchette slowly moved to 'Yes'. Jimin let out an excited squeal as Jungkook simply glared.

"You did that, didn't you?" He growled, making Jimin's excitement quickly vanish.

"No! Why would I lie?!" Jimin snapped, jaw set in his anger.

Things were tense, you could feel it in the air. You sensed the change in both of their attitudes and it made you uncomfortable. Jungkook didn't answer Jimin's question, simply looking back at the board.

"What's your name then?" Jungkook asked, voice flat and petulant. Jimin glared out of the corer of his eye but didn't comment.

The planchette moved immediately this time - traveling to the O...Z...A.

"Oza?" Jimin parroted, cocking his head to the side. "What a strange name..."

After Jimin spoke the name, a shiver ran down your spine. The room's temperature seemed the drop and goosebumps rose up on your skin. Looking across from you, you could see Jimin was sweating.

Was he nervous? What was he feeling?

Jungkook seemed to not feel either. He was still with his eyes staring down at the board, mouth in a straight line.

“O-Oza…” Jimin started, voice trembling. “A-Are you of the moon or the sun?”

The response was slower this time. You held your breath, waiting for the piece to move. You exhaled as it did, finally, except it didn’t move to either the sun or the moon. Instead, it slid over the letters again.

G…I….V...E

“Give?” Jimin said again, blinking. “Give what? Are you of the moon or sun?” He asked again, becoming more agitated.

“Guys,” You spoke for the first time, you voice sounding foreign to yourself. “I don’t want to play anymore,”

They both ignored you, watching as the planchette moved over onto the moon.

From the knowledge you gathered from Taehyung, the moon meant it wasn’t a friendly spirit you were talking to.

“Guys!” Your heart was racing, tears springing to your eyes as your breathing picked up,near panic level.

“How did you die?” Jimin asked suddenly, completely ignoring you and your panic.

The planchette moved over to No, confusing you.

No? What did that even mean?

“I’m not playing anymore!” You cried, ripping your hands off the planchette and jumping to your feet.

“_____!” Jimin snapped, glaring at you with clenched teeth. “You’re not supposed to pull off like that! We have to close the gate before letting go!”

“I don’t care, this is too weird. I’m going to get water,” You huffed and turned your back to them, feeling glaring eyes in your back.

You slipped out of the room, needing to get out of the tense atmosphere. Your feet pounded down the carpeted stairs before going into the kitchen. The house was still silent, it was making your ears ring. You grabbed a glass from the cabinet, the creaking of the hinges making you cringe. Once the glass was filled with water, you took a few long gulps. You hadn’t realized how dry your mouth had become until it touched your tongue.

There was a thump from upstairs, sounding much louder through the silence. You put the glass down onto the counter before taking a deep breath and venturing back upstairs.

The bedroom door creaked as you opened it. The candle was out and it was dark.

“Guys?” You asked, squinting into the darkness. Just faintly, you could make out the shadow of someone standing in the middle of the room. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. With trembling fingers, you flicked on the bedroom light, making the lamp on the table turn on.

Illuminated in pale yellow light, you found Jungkook standing in the middle of the room, back to you with Jimin laying on the floor.

“J-Jungkook? Jimin?” You asked, stepping into the room. “This isn’t funny. Jimin, get up?”

Suddenly Jungkook spun on his heel and advanced towards you, teeth bared as he grabbed you by the shoulders.

“Give your soul!” He snarled, making your scream and push him away. Jungkook fell back onto his butt, laughing his cute little head off.

“Give your soul?!” Jimin shrieked, standing up, laughing from where he had been splayed out on the floor. “That’s so stupid, Jeon!”

“You guys are assholes!” You shrieked, stamping your foot petulantly as they laughed.”Whatever, I’m going to bed.”

“Yeah, I guess I should head that way as well,” Jimin sighed, brushing past Jungkook to the door. “Hope you don’t have nightmares you two,”

“Oh ha-ha, cute,” You snapped, flipping both of them off before you left the room, leaving them to laugh and tease you by themselves.

You laid in bed, staring blankly at the dark ceiling above you. It was burning hot in your room from the heater bring turned all the way up. Sweat stuck to your skin, making your sheets a little damp.

It was deathly silent, almost mimicking the absence of sound from earlier when you were all on the Ouija Board. It was unsettling but you were grateful to the occasional gust of wind outside.

Finally, you were unable to take it anymore. You’d been laying there sweating like crazy for hours and your mouth was dry. You flung the blankets off of your body and stepped onto the floor. The floorboards beneath the carpet creaked under the sudden weight, sounding much louder than normal in the silence.

Walking through the hallway, you noticed your roommates rooms closed as usual. There was no sound coming from Jimin’s room but you could hear what sounded like the television on in Jungkook’s room. However, there was no light from beneath the door so you dismissed it as being your imagination.

The creaking of the stairs was deafening as it echoed in back against the walls. You were thankful to be in the kitchen again, where you were able to be in the light and get some water. However, when you tried to turn the light on, you remained in darkness.

“Did the bulb blow?” You sighed, rolling your eyes in annoyance before carrying on getting some water.

As you stood, leaning against the counter, drinking water you heard a loud thump from upstairs. You went silent, lips pressed against the rim of your glass. The thump was followed by several other noises, raising in volume louder than the last.

You placed your cup in the sink and shuffled towards the stairs. Standing still, you heard a few more thumps, followed by the slam of a door. The sharp noise had you jumping in shock, holding in a scream of fright. After that, the noises were much more muffled until they died out completely.

You were still frozen at the bottom of the stairs as silence fell once more. Your heart was pounded so hard it made your ears ring. You sucked in a deep breath and crept back up the stairs.

Maybe it was just Jungkook. But what was he doing that was so loud?

When you got upstairs, you first noticed that Jimin hadn’t been awoken by the noises despite them taking place on the floor he was sleeping on. The next thing you noticed is that the faint voices of Jungkook’s television were now silent.

Perhaps it was Jungkook and he was just going to bed and knocked something over.

With that thought, you slipped back into your bedroom and into your bed. You curled up under the blanket, shivering. Why was it suddenly so cold? It was blisteringly hot not 10 minutes ago! Maybe the heater went out?

Sighing, you closed your eyes and attempted to drift off to sleep.

“I don’t know, Tae,” You sighed, resting your head against his wood table. “I’ve not slept in days, I’m exhausted.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re imagining things,” He cooed, rubbing your back to comfort you.

“I saw my laptop just shut on its own!” You cried, hating how crazy you sounded.

“Look,” Taehyung sighed, still rubbing your back. “Why don’t you get the house blessed?”

“Blessed?” You repeated, sitting up to look at him.

“Yeah, sometimes when I accidentally let something in, I call up Father Yoongi to come and bless the house to cleanse it of whatever I let in, everything goes back to normal after that,” He explained, chuckling when he saw the skepticism in your eyes. “Even if you don’t believe in spirits, maybe it’ll give you some peace of mind,”

By the time you left his house, you had been talked into contacting the priest. Taehyung gave you directions to his church and his contact information. Since you didn’t feel like returning to your now-unsettling home, you opted for a visit to Father Yoongi himself.

Dry leaves skuttled across the cracked pavement of the old church’s driveway. You adjusted your scarf around your neck as the gusts of wind blew to chill your bones.

When you entered the church, you walked into the chapel. A man was standing in the aisle of pews, arranging bibles in the pockets of the wood.

“Excuse me?” You winced when your voice echoed around the room. The man stood up straight, smiling kindly when he saw you.

“Come in,” His voice was deep and he was wearing a cassock with a white collar, showing his holy status. “I’m Father Yoongi, what’s your name?”

When you reached where he was standing, he took your hand in his. His skin was warm against your chilled self, and you took comfort in his gentle gaze as you whispered your name.

“I...I was told you could bless my home?” Your words seemed to stun him before he smiled, motioning for you to walk.

You were led into a small office off on the side of the chapel. Inside there were shelves of books, some in different languages. There was also a photograph of Father Yoongi with some nuns. He was wearing a large, gummy smile that could only be described as endearing.

“What makes you come here for a blessing?” He asked once you were both seated, you across from him as he sat behind a wooden desk.

“My friends and I were playing with an Ouija Board,” You began, watching as Yoongi’s gaze quickly became serious. “I think something’s in our house and I was told I can get it blessed to...cleanse?”

“I see,” He sighed, resting his elbows on the desk as he spoke. “I can come by and give a blessing, see if things will get better. Can you tell me some things you’ve been feeling?”

“I’ve not been sleeping, ever since that night,” You began, going down a mental list of all the things that have changed. “My roommates have been acting very strange, at night I hear things thumping and slamming. Lights won’t turn on at night but then in the morning they’ll be fine. I hear voices with no obvious source, the room suddenly gets freezing cold, I’ve seen things move on their own. This sounds insane, right?”

“Not at all, ______,” He have you a comforting smile. “A lot of the time, when we invite spirits to us, they bring negative energy. I can come in and bless it and it will remove the negative energy.”

“Thank you so much, Father,” You whispered, already feeling a step closer to normalcy.

Jimin and Jungkook thought you were nuts when you let Father Yoongi into the house. They watched him with furrowed brows as he walked around the house to investigate.

“There is some negative, dark energy in this house,” Yoongi murmured, flipping through his Bible to a page he had marked. “Tell me, did it say anything as you spoke to it?”

The question caught you all by surprise, none of you quite sure how to answer. Jimin, however, was the first to sober up and answer the man.

“It...told us its name,” He responded, sounding rather unsure in his words.

“None of you spoke its name, did you?” Yoongi asked, eyes level with the three of you.

“I...I don’t remember,” Jungkook answered immediately.

“Alright,” The priest muttered, letting out a soft sigh. “It shouldn’t take long to cleanse the house,”

And he didn’t take long. He walked through the room, seeming to focus on Jungkook’s bedroom where he splashed some holy water around, much to Jungkook’s chagrin.

As soon as he was done and standing before the three of you again, he held a calm smile on his face as he clutched the book to his chest.

“I hope things will be better now, please contact me again if you need more…” He pauses for a brief moment. “assistance.”

The next couple of nights were surprisingly peaceful. You managed to catch up on sleep and you could get up to go get water and the lights in the kitchen actually turned on. Everything was peaceful, that is, until night 4 after the blessing.

You woke up, looking at the time to see it was a little after 3am. You sighed, unsure why you had woken up but as you laid there staring blankly at the ceiling, you heard it.

A quiet mumble of a voice coming from the hallway. It was unsettling, the voice just barely above a whisper but you weren’t able to actually make out any words.

You crawl out of bed, intent on seeing what the source of the talking was. When you opened the door, you knew right away it was from Jimin’s room across the hall. There was a dim, flickering orange light coming from beneath his door; a candle.

What the hell was he doing?

As you opened the door a crack, careful not to make any noise, Jimin’s talking became much more clear. He was reciting something.

When you were able to slip into the room, you could see him sitting in his knees on the floor in his pajamas. There were three candles lit before him and there was an open book on the floor by his knees that he seemed to be reading from.

However, you didn’t recognize the language he was speaking. It wasn’t any you knew and you were shocked to hear that Jimin knew it.

“What are you doing?” You asked, making Jimin jump, whirling around to face you with dark eyes.

“Get out,” He snarled, shocking you into backing up.

“Wh-”

“Get out!” This time he shouted and started to get up but before he could, you spun around and bailed.

However, when the door was shut behind you and you were in the safety of the hallway, another voice scared you once again.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook asked, voice groggy with sleep.

“I don’t know,” You whispered, turning to look at him as you put a hand over your racing heart. “He’s...chanting?”

“There’s something wrong with him lately, _____,” Jungkook muttered, eyes burning holes into the door. Jimin was still muttering inside. “He’s just...not right,”

“You’re right,” You confessed, feeling goosebumps go up your skin as the air around you became chilly. “Something’s not right. I’ll contact Father Yoongi in the morning,”

“Good idea,” Jungkook placed his hand on your head, ruffling your hair with a comforting smile. “Go back to sleep,”

“Alright,” You conceded, patting Jungkook’s back as you walked to your room. Jungkook remained in the hallway as you closed the door behind you.

A crash is what woke you up, only an hour after you had gone to Jimin’s room. You sat up straight in bed, listening as you heard your roommates shouting at each other.

Hauling yourself out from under the comforting blankets, you stormed into Jimin’s bedroom.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Jimin screamed, raising his hand to attempt to shove Jungkook off. Jungkook growled, attempting to restrain Jimin as the smaller man fought.

“W-What’s going on?” You asked, hoping your voice would reach them over the sound of the Jimin’s desk chair falling over.

“_____!” Jungkook cried, your appearance allowing Jimin to get the upper hand and flip Jungkook over. “H-He’s fucking crazy! He was per-performing some kind of satanic ritual in here!”

“What?!” You shrieked, looking at Jimin who pinned Jungkook’s arms down by his head.

“He’s lying!” Jimin shouted, panting as he fought with Jungkook. The younger had always been stronger and managed to deliver a solid kick to Jimin’s stomach and launch him off. “H-Fuck, he’s possessed or something!”

“Possessed?” Jungkook scoffed, sitting on the floor glaring at Jimin. “Are you crazy?! You’ve let Taehyung get into your fucking head too much! If anyone’s possessed, it’s you; with your weird ritual! The fuck were you doing?!”

“Taehyung’s been trying to help!” Jimin argued, pointing a trembling finger at Jungkook. “We’ve known...something’s not right with you since that night!”

Jungkook opened his mouth to argue but Jimin turned his head to look at you.

“_____, you believe me right?”

#bts #park jimin #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts preferences #bts reactions #jimin scenarios #jimin imagines #jimin preferences #jimin reactions #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook preferences #jungkook reactions #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jimin fanfic

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pizzas-will-rule-the-world · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! I... love your writing so much? It makes me very happy asdfghjkls; 💕💕💕 Could I, um, request 19 for the prompts with Javid?

Thank you so much!!

Read on Archive of our own!

* * *

Title: Is this love?

Relationship: Javid

Genre: Fluff, so much fluff

Words: 1.2k

* * *

It was night, one of those warm summer nights when the day’s heat hadn’t yet disappeared entirely, despite the fact that the sun was setting. Jack and Davey both laid in bed, too tired from the day’s rushed schedule to keep up a conversation. Their day had been far too busy in Jack’s opinion - it was summer break after all, shouldn’t they relax? - filled with carrying boxes and sweating in the merciless sun while Mush and Blink ran around their new apartment like giddy children. The newly moved-in boyfriends had bought all of them pizza, as a thank you for the help with moving, so it could have been worse. And if Jack was honest with himself, the enthusiastic looks his friends had shared all day had been more than enough to make up for the soreness he would feel tomorrow. He had caught the two of them giggling together like schoolgirls a few times during the day, but hadn’t been able to find the heart to remind them to keep carrying boxes into the apartment. Walking around - and realizing that this is it, his friends are becoming adults and graduating college and buying apartments - had made him feel something, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. Excited, sure. And happy for his friends. But also sort of longing for something.

He and Davey had walked home, idly chatting about nothing in particular, and Jack remembered how warm Davey’s hand had been in his, and how calming his presence had been beside him. A steady constance that he knew wouldn’t change, even if their friend’s were all growing up and getting jobs while he’s still slaving away for an art degree.

Their window was cracked opened, and a light breeze sought its way into the room and provided some relief to the clammy warmth in the room. Jack rolled over to his side and felt the covers twist around his torso as he did. Davey had his eyes closed, one hand under his pillow and the other stretched out beside him. There was a shine to his forehead - no doubt sweat - despite the fact that they had taken a cold shower right before going to bed. Jack’s fingers brushed over his cheek, almost without him meaning to. Then he retreated his treacherous hand, because he knew how much Davey loved sleeping and how annoyed he would be if he was woken in the middle of the night. Jack watched him for another moment, not really being able to tear his gaze away. Davey’s brow furrowed, as if he was having a nightmare, before smoothing out again after a second.

And there it was again, that pang of longing Jack couldn’t explain. A deep pull in his stomach aching, almost like a hunger he didn’t know how to still.

Was this love? Like an unyielding battle inside of him, tearing at his stomach, and heart, and lungs, fighting despite the fact that it was already won?

Jack knew he loved David, he had known it for a long time. The fact that they had known each other for years before they started dating had turned their whole relationship backwards. They had said they loved each other many time before they kissed for the first time, before even going on their first date. The words had been said so many times between them that some would argue they were losing their meaning.

But now, laying in the bed with Davey next to him, Jack was certain that wasn’t the case. How could something lose its meaning just because you said it many times? The words weren’t less true just because they were spoken repeatedly. And besides, it was something he couldn’t possibly keep to himself anyway, he wasn’t nearly strong enough for that.

He brushed his fingers over Davey’s face again, this time touching his nose and forehead, smoothing out invisible lines that could only be seen when Davey was very concentrated. His nose twitched and Jack could see a small pull at the corner of his lips. Then his eyes fluttered opened, and their eyes met.

“Why are you awake?” Davey asked. His voice was laced with sleep and kind of rough but also quiet and soft. The pull in Jack’s stomach intensified, urging him to move closer, to touch and to hold and to never let go, and to tell him…

“I love you.”

Davey yawned. “That’s nice. Is that why you’re awake?”

Jack moved closer and wrapped an arm around Davey’s side. It was way too warm to lay so close, but Davey didn’t complain. “I’m awake because I keep thinking about how much I love you.”

Davey closed his eyes, but smiled and nodded before resting his forehead against Jack’s. “Maybe you should sleep.”

Jack let out a breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “It feels like something inside of me is moving, and growing, and pulling at me to do something, but I can’t figure out what it wants me to do, until I see you. And then I… Understand. Because it’s you, it’s always you.”

“The thing inside of you wants you to do me?”

Jack shoved Davey, who laughed breathily. “I’m opening my heart to you, here, and you’re being an asshole.” But there was a smile in Jack’s voice, just to make sure Davey knew he wasn’t really upset.

“Sorry,” Davey mumbled into Jack’s neck. “It’s just that I’m only now realizing what a big mistake it was to date an artist. So many metaphors.”

“You’re a writer!”

Davey was smiling widely now. “Right, right…”

They were both quiet for a moment. Jack started tracing words and pictures with his finger on Davey’s arm. He bit his tongue for almost a whole minute, before feeling the creature inside of him urge him on again. He stilled his hand and looked up at Davey’s face. His eyes were still closed, mouth half opened, breathing slowly in and out.

“Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“How much do you love me?”

Davey rolled over to his back. “A lot more if you let me sleep.”

Jack giggled and scooted closer. “Please.” He leaned over and placed a light kiss below Davey’s ear. “How much do you love me?”

Davey’s eyes fluttered opened again and he turned back. “You really want to know?”

Jack nodded. Davey’s gaze was hesitant now, not teasing like it had been a minute ago. It took him a long moment to say anything, and Jack could almost see the thoughts fly through Davey’s brain, trying to string words together.

“I…” Then Davey stopped and retreated back into himself for a couple of seconds before opening his mouth again. “I think… I think I love you more than, more than my mind and body can handle. I think that if I think too long or too hard about how much I love you, I might explode because a human can’t handle feeling this much at once.”

His gaze broke from Jack’s and instead moved to the open window, out of which a street lamp and a tree could be seen from the bed. Jack didn’t follow his gaze, however, as he was too busy watching his boyfriend breathe in and out at a steady pace. He smiled. “And you called me sappy.”

“I never called you sappy.”

“It was implied.”

Davey snorted softly and shook his head. There was another minute of silence before he turned back and looked at Jack. “What brought this on?” he asked.

Jack moved forward and kissed him softly. “You did.”

* * *

TAGLIST

@mckpricely

@kreativekiss

@wafflesareh0t

@fanfictionrecommendations-com

@lifeform-42

@yaboigrass

@modern-race-owns-airpods

@jan-jan-jan-jan-jan-199

@thats-our-que-boys

@spotrash

@theprincelypariah-blog

@romeo-in-a-trenchcoat

@and-i-lostmy-shoe

@uiopp11-blog

@i-aint-tapped-out

@colbys-blue

@everyonecalmdown

@technically-whizzy

@rivertellsstories

@rainfallingfromthesky

@frens-brudders-fellerciterzens

@glewstick101

@tea-and-theater

@graves-is-here

@blue-taco-soul-collector

@yes-cleargrace-stuff

@ok-but-what-about-connor

@pikapika1717

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@carryyourownbanner

#newsies #my writing #ask #tellthosewithpowersafeintower #Thank you for the prompt!!!

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ihaveallthesefeelsokay · 6 years ago

Text

Gabriel Bingo fic - Playing His Role

@idabbleincrazy @gabriel-spn-bingo

Playing His Role (AO3 Link)

“Please. Just five minutes. Hear us out.”

“Sure. Tell you what: survive the next twenty-four hours, we’ll talk.”

“Oh, you’re somebody’s bitch.”

“Don’t you ever, ever presume to know what I am.”

Dean looked down at his firefighter’s uniform and back up at the horizon. He and Sam were somewhere flat – maybe Kansas or Nebraska – and looking at a mushroom cloud in what must be the Rockies.

Great. A post-apocalyptic show. What ‘role’ did the Trickster want this time? Putting out fires?

People rushed around them franticly and Dean had to sidestep to keep from being run over by a mom carrying a baby.

Jeez. You’d think it was the end of the world or something.

Okay, so it might be the end outside of this TV world. But in here, Dean was pretty sure life was going to go on – if people would just calm down.

Wait. Maybe that was the job here. “Sammy,” he said. “We’re supposed to stop rioting, you think?”

Sam shrugged. “I’d’ve figured we’d be in cop uniforms for that.”

Speaking of cop uniforms, an older man in one came up to them with a swagger and looked Sam up and down. “My men and I are headed out to look for the missing school bus, Chief. Think you got things here?”

“Uh, sure thing, uh, Sheriff.”

The man – and Dean noticed his sheriff’s star this time – nodded and put his hat on as he walked off.

Around them, lights flickered and went off, leaving the street in the dark.

“Great,” muttered Dean. Just like before, he somehow knew exactly what to say. “How could we lose power?”

Another fireman appeared near them. “The bomb could’ve fried the relays.”

“That’s possible,” Dean said.

“They could’ve blown up the power station for all we know,” said Sam.

A rugged-looking dark-skinned man approached them. “Guys? It was probably just a drain on the system from Denver.”

Denver, then. So from the angle… yeah, they were probably in Kansas.

“You a science teacher?” he asked the newcomer.

With a laugh, the man introduced himself. “Robert Hawkins.”

Sam held out his hand. “Chief Winchester.”

Around them, the town continued to panic while three sheriff’s cars drove off.

“Guess we’re on our own now,” Dean said.

“Great. How much longer do we have?” Sam asked quietly.

Dean reflexively at his wrist, but the watch was useless in TV land. “Gotta be getting close to the twenty-four hour mark.”

“I sure hope so,” muttered Sam as this Hawkins guy turned back to them.

“Your town does roadwork at night, doesn’t it?”

Sam and Dean looked at each other. Hell if they actually knew, but Sam said yes anyway and Dean followed some other firefighters to a garage across the street from the parking lot they were in.

Huh. Roadwork had never been one of the jobs he’d taken to make ends meet, but maybe he should try it. The equipment was kinda fun to play with.

Sam helped crank up the equipment and it lit up the sky – way too bright for road lamps.

Dean shielded his face and next thing he knew, he was staring at blue sky and a harsh sun.

“Shit,” said Sam, barely able to be heard over the whine of a plane engine close by. “Lost.”

“Son of a bitch,” cursed Dean, although at least this was another world where women dressed scantily. In fact, if he remembered right, that Shannon chick went sunning in her bathing suit pretty early…

Sam yawned. “Dean, we’d better find a world we can sleep in soon or I’m going to fall asleep standing up.”

Yeah. They’d gone Trickster-only-knew how many hours since he first trapped them here – and who knew many days outside, since Cas had said they’d been gone for days the one time they’d seen him.

Dean hoped the Trickster had just blocked Cas from breaking in, not killed him or hurt him somehow. They needed the angel on their side for this upcoming fight.

The fight his stupid brother wanted to bring the stupid Trickster in on. If they made it out of here, the Trickster better pony up or he was definitely gonna gank a demigod.

Dean noticed Sam swaying on his feet. Okay, sleep. Maybe they could get a nap in somewhere in this world, where at least it was warm and nice – except for the polar bears and smoke monsters.

But not before people were waving them over to help pull the wounded from beneath the plane’s wings. Remembering from the show that one of the wings fell, Dean couldn’t say no.

He did tell Sam to go find a shady spot and sit down. Dean was tired but still going. Sam looked dead on his feet.

And maybe, just maybe, if they stopped to rest, the Trickster would let them.

Ah, who was Dean kidding? The Trickster wanted them dead as much as any other monster. They’d probably get eaten by the polar bear.

“Do you have a pen?” someone said to Dean as he hauled a guy out from under the plane’s wing and away from the engine. “I need a pen.”

“Sorry, kid,” Dean said. “Keep looking.”

Once everyone was safe, Dean trudged back up the beach to where Sam was wiped out and snoring. He sat down under the closest tree, leaning back against the trunk, trying to keep his eyes open to watch out for Sam.

It wasn’t working.

Gabriel leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on his red ottoman and dog in his lap, watching the Winchesters doze on the retro TV in front of him. His fingers itched to send some danger their way to wake them up – they only had three hours left to go, after all. He ought to keep them jumping.

But they’d caught on, hadn’t they? He couldn’t get them to understand the full lesson until he went and talked to them. And humans being built as they were, they’d probably listen better after a few hours sleep.

With a gesture, Gabriel paused the Lost simulation and let Sam and Dean rest.

As the last hour of their ‘day’ came to a close, he changed the setting and brought them back to the Dr. Sexy hospital, this time as patients. Gabriel was rather proud of that set – he’d been able to embarrass Dean by exposing his obsession with the show and embarrass Sam by making him uncomfortable with that doctor’s flirting.

Yeah, that had been a good set-up.

Gabriel popped himself into the hospital room where the Winchesters slept, checked that he’d tied them down and gagged them with breathing apparatuses, smoothed down Dr. Sexy’s coat, and snapped his fingers – a little bit of flair for when he was being watched, even if it was just by his own creations.

It took them a second to orient themselves, but the Winchester quickly began fighting the straps holding them down and coughing around the tubes in their throats.

“Calm down, buckos,” Gabriel drawled. “I’ll ungag you. I did promise we would talk.”

He took a moment to watch the frustration in their eyes before he stepped back and opened the door to the room. A rather busty nurse came in and fussed over the boys as she removed their intubations. Gabriel added a little wiggle to her walk, trying not to laugh at Dean’s eyes following her so blatantly.

Oh, he loved humans, but they were so predictable sometimes.

As soon as the nurse was gone, Dean rasped out a question.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” Gabriel said, even though he had. He snapped again, lubricating Sam and Dean’s throats so they could talk clearly.

“What did you do with Cas, you bastard?”

Ah, that was touching. Concern for his little bro. “He’s safe,” Gabriel said simply. Castiel was caged up in another pocket dimension, locked up tight. No way was Gabriel going to let him escape until the archangel/Trickster was far away – Castiel could identify him.

“Where is he?” Dean asked again.

“He’s safe, like I told you. Keep asking and someone might start wondering about you two,” Gabriel teased. “I’ll let him go at some point.”

“So let us go,” Sam said. “We did your game. We played our roles.”

“Ah,” Gabriel said, holding up a finger knowingly. “That’s half of the game.”

“What’s the other half?”

Wiggling his fingers vaguely towards the windows, Gabriel said, “Play your roles out there.”

Glaring, Dean asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know. Sam starring as Lucifer. Dean starring as Michael.” Gabriel pointed at each brother in turn. “Your celebrity death match! Play. Your. Roles.”

Sam looked betrayed. “You want us to say yes to those sons of bitches?”

No, Gabriel didn’t. He’d much rather the Winchesters find a way to stop this thing. That wasn’t possible, though. Destiny couldn’t be avoided, not when it’d been preordained by Father, so the only thing to do was get it over with as quickly as possible. Like ripping off a cosmic Band-Aid. “Hells yeah! Let’s light this candle!”

“We do that, the world will end,” Sam tried to argue.

“Yeah?” Gabriel sneered, letting some of his frustration bleed out. “And whose fault is that? Who popped Lucifer out of the box? Hm?”

Sam had the gall to look affronted. Gabriel turned to Dean before he continued.

“Look, it’s started,” he explained. “You started it. It can’t be stopped. So let’s get it over with!”

The brothers glared at Gabriel, who popped off with a charming grin to try and tamp down his anger.

“Heaven or Hell, which side you on?” Dean asked.

Oh, no. Gabriel was not going to play that game. “Get this straight, asshole: don’t ever presume to know me,” he snapped, dropping the cheerful façade. “I work for myself. You’re stuck with me and only me right now. And listen closely, because here’s what’s gonna happen: you’re gonna suck it up, accept your responsibilities, and play the roles that destiny has chosen for you.”

“And if we don’t?” Sam said, daring to sass.

Gabriel’s fingers itched. It would be so easy to send them back into TV Land and leave them there forever, but soon Heaven and Hell would send emissaries to look for the vessels. He didn’t have much time left to keep them.

“You will,” he said with assurance. “You’ll say yes because you’ll want to, in the end. Because you have to.”

“We won’t.” Dean struggled against the restraints. “You think you’ll fare well if we say yes? You’re just a demigod. Michael and Lucifer will eat you up.”

Gabriel very pointedly didn’t react. Truth was, his big brothers might very well wipe the floor with him. He’d learned some, well, tricks that might give him an edge, but they’d only work once, with one of his brothers. Best to lay low and stay out of things as long as he could.

Besides, he’d promised Loki.

“I think,” he said, “that I’ll survive better than a couple of humans wanted by the big dogs. I think that whichever way this goes, it’s better for the world if it goes quickly.”

“Oh, so you’re doing this out of the kindness of your own heart, is that it?” Dean laughed. “Sorry, buddy, not buying it.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed and Sam looked at his brother. “Dean…”

“What did I tell you, you arrogant prick?” Gabriel seethed. “I told you to suck it up because you have no other choice. Or would you rather stay in TV land forever, without me letting you stop and rest?”

“No,” Sam said firmly. “We get what you want. We just don’t get why.”

“I told you. You can’t stop Armageddon, so might as well ride it out.”

“We’ve heard from both Heaven and Hell,” Dean said. “Doesn’t sound like there’s much room for anything but angels and demons in their plans. You really think you’ll survive?”

“I’ve survived this long, haven’t I?” Gabriel asked. “And let me tell you, Heaven and Hell don’t care much for pagans.”

“Pagan?” Sam asked. “You’re a pagan god? Thought Tricksters were just demigods.”

‘Just’ demigods. Hah. Sam wasn’t entirely wrong but Gabriel would classify all pagans – even the nasty Norse pantheon – as demigods. After all, he knew the real God and his Father wasn’t anything like the pagans. Some of the pagans were loving, involved parents, for one.

“Which one are you?” Dean asked. “Grumpy, Sneezy, or Douchey?”

Gabriel glared at Dean, but answered. “Loki. They call me Loki.”

“Loki? As in the Norse god?” Sam sounded bewildered.

“That’s right. You thought you were tangling with some low-level mischief maker? Puh-lease.” Gabriel spun, doing a little twirl to show off. “I play in the big league, boys.”

“Okay, so you’re a big dog,” snapped Dean. “But that doesn’t make you bigger than an archangel. If we say yes and they find out you tortured us…” He trailed off, leaving the threat unspoken.

Gabriel had considered that. It was almost certain that his brothers would see him in Sam and Dean’s memories and realize he was still around. It’s why he had a contingency plan – as soon as one of them said yes, he was going to ground. Maybe Loki – the real Loki – would help hide him again.

Why not? It’d worked the first time and he’d kept his promise. If not, he could always fortify a pocket universe and seal himself off from the world. It’d suck, being all alone with only his creations to entertain him, but he could do it.

Funny. Maybe that’s how Dad felt about the universes he created. Maybe that’s why he left.

He waved his hand, dismissing Dean’s threat. “You think I don’t have plans? Try again.” He smiled and patted Sam’s leg, making him thrash against the restraints again. “Like I said, you’re going to say ‘yes’ or you’re my playthings forever. And I have quite the imagination,” he warned.

Going still under his hand, Sam managed to speak through clenched teeth. “We aren’t going to say yes without a fight, you know.”

Of course they weren’t. They wouldn’t be his brothers’ true vessels if they went to their destiny quietly. “But you will say yes. Once you realize it’s hopeless, you’ll say yes. When you see what Michael and Lucifer do to the Earth, you’ll wish you said yes sooner.”

“Fine,” grumbled Dean. “Let us go and if we can’t find a way to stop it, we’ll say yes.”

Gabriel could tell Dean was lying – souls pulsed in a certain way when humans hid the truth – but Loki couldn’t, so Gabriel played along. “Soon. If you can’t find a way to stop it soon, like say, three months from now. February. Make it Valentine’s Day, so you remember it.” He paused. “No, make it the day after. I’ll let you boys pick up some lonely chicks on Valentine’s so you go out on a high note,” he offered magnanimously.

“Okay,” said Sam. “We’ll do it.”

Sam lied, too. Gabriel wasn’t surprised. Still, this gave him an out – he had to get rid of the Winchesters. He considered dumping them at the gates of Heaven – Michael wanted the fight, had always wanted the fight, so he’d be honorable and deliver Sam to Lucifer – but decided to keep his word.

You never knew how humans would surprise you, after all.

“I’ll be watching you,” Gabriel cautioned. “Don’t try and double-cross me, kiddos, or you’ll regret it.”

The Winchesters swore up and down they’d keep their promises.

Filthy little liars. Gabriel would have to come up with other ways to nudge them into submission.

He did have one big ace up his sleeve, though. “All right. I’ll let you go, but your friend Castiel is staying with me. Call it my insurance plan.”

It was obvious from Dean’s face that he didn’t believe Gabriel could actually hold and hurt Castiel. Hah! If he properly understood the power Gabriel had, both angelic and pagan, he’d be quaking in his hospital gown and compression socks.

Well, he probably wouldn’t. Dean was foolhardy like that. Gabriel remembered a time when humans cowered in fear from angels. Hell, the very sight of him had struck the human Zachariah mute two millennia ago.

Humans these days. So brash and unafraid of the very things they should fear most.

Gabriel sighed. Raising his hand, poised to snap, he shot off a last minute warning. “Say yes. Save the world some suffering.” Save me from having to watch the storm approach. Let it just get here and be done with, he thought.

He snapped, returning himself to his little apartment and comfy armchair. On the TV screen, nurses came and made Sam and Dean go through the full discharge procedures of a real hospital – one last little stab at them. Two hours later, they wandered out of the warehouse and into the world again.

He’d failed, he knew, just like he had at the mystery spot. Sam and Dean weren’t going to go say ‘yes’ immediately any more than Gabriel was going to pick a side. But he’d tried.

And he’d try again if he came up with another idea. But how to convince humans as stubborn as archangels?

Not even the youngest archangel, the one who’d studied his Father’s creations the most, could figure that one out.

It was tricky, thanks to Castiel’s Enochian carvings, but using pagan magic, Gabriel kept an eye on the Winchesters that winter, following them from the convention with the prophet – that one, he almost wished he could have seen in person – to the time the kid swapped bodies with Sam. Another amusing one, since Gabriel knew they weren’t in real trouble – Heaven wouldn’t let those teens kill Dean and if they brought Sam to Lucifer, well, that was in Gabriel’s best interest.

He did step in once, when Anna – whom Gabriel remembered as Ananchel, a curious angel he’d once been fond of – decided to kill Sam Winchester. With some regret, he bound her up in the same sort of prison he held Castiel in. He knew, someday, he’d have to kill her or let her go, but he couldn’t allow her to interfere in the Apocalypse any more than she already had.

The Winchesters danced through January, unaware of the danger they’d faced from Anna, and into February, when they met Famine on Valentine’s Day. Without Castiel, they came closer to dying than Gabriel would have liked, but he wasn’t prepared to release his baby brother just yet. He still needed that leverage against the Winchesters.

When he realized Dean held the rings of two Horsemen, Gabriel began to formulate a plan.

He’d known about the key to the Cage since Lucifer went in and Dad gave the rings to the Horsemen for safe keeping.

He’d just never imagined that humans could take the rings. But if the Winchesters could depower the Horsemen… well, that would be one big hitch in the ineffable plan.

And if they surprised him even more and tricked one or both of his brothers into the Cage…

Gabriel smiled to himself. It was miniscule, but he was beginning to see a chance for everyone to live. He just had to see how the Winchesters fared from here on out. If they gave in like they’d promised, well, that was simply Plan A working.

He pocketed Plan B in case he needed it.

In the meantime, he needed to show up and make some noise because the Winchesters hadn’t kept their promise. Preferably after Sam detoxed from the demon blood and they were gone from Bobby Singer’s house – that man was just a little too astute for Gabriel’s taste.

Sam leaned against the window of the Impala, tired to his core. He finally felt like himself again after three full days of going cold turkey, but he could stand to have another eight hours of sleep.

Dean was anxious, though, not wanting to stay someplace as obvious as Bobby’s house any longer than necessary in case angels or demons were keeping an eye on it.

Billboards passed every mile or so, the only lights on the highway besides the rare car.

KEEP YOUR PROMISES, read one that went by.

Huh. Odd message but surely it made sense to someone.

The next one said YOU LIED.

Okay, that was weird.

“Did you see those last two billboards?” he asked Dean.

“The one for the Boobie Bungalow and the ‘REPENT NOW’ sign?”

Sam frowned. “No. The one about promises and the one about lying.”

Dean laughed once. “Think you’re seeing things, Sammy. Get some sleep.”

Keeping quiet after that, Sam kept his eyes peeled for the next sign.

Sure enough, it was a message. I’M TALKING TO YOU, SAM.

“Dean, that billboard had my name on it,” he said, getting antsy. In the back of his mind, their lies to the Trickster popped up. Shit. Were they about to have another run-in with the monster?

LOOK IN THE BACKSEAT.

Sam turned around cautiously and almost startled when he realized it wasn’t empty.

Spread out across the leather bench seat was the Trickster, legs crossed and lollipop hanging from his lips.

“Dean…” Sam said softly.

The Trickster grinned and sat up – silently – before taking the lollipop from his mouth. “Heya, guys.”

“Fuck!” yelled Dean. He swerved and almost ran off the road. Once he got his composure, he glared into the rearview mirror. “What the hell, Loki? It was freaky enough when Cas used to do that; I don’t need you making me wreck, too.”

Sam held back a comment. Dean was being quite brash with Loki, but the Trickster hadn’t killed them outright yet, so maybe it was okay.

“Seeing if you guys had forgotten about me,” Loki drawled. “Seems like you must’ve, since you’re still here and not being ridden by Michael and Lucifer.”

“We’re not yet convinced it’s hopeless,” Sam argued, even though he knew Loki had given them a deadline and they’d blown right past it.

“Uh-huh. Right.” Loki popped the lollipop in and out of his mouth between sentences. The clacking of it against his teeth was making Sam’s skin crawl. The Trickster was probably doing it on purpose.

He leaned forward and clapped a hand on each brother’s shoulder, squeezing hard enough to hurt. “I recall you boys swore to me you’d say yes by Valentine’s if another solution didn’t present itself and hey, it’s February eighteenth and the Apocalypse is still on the docket. You wouldn’t have lied to me, would you?”

“We’re not doing a damn thing until you let Cas go,” Dean hissed. “What have you done with him?”

Sam probably wasn’t supposed to know that Dean had prayed to Cas every night since TV land. He’d prayed a time or two himself. He didn’t know if Cas could hear them, but between the two of them, they tried to keep their friend updated. Tried to let him know he wasn’t forgotten.

They’d spent weeks at first, trying to figure out how to force the Trickster’s hand and make him release Cas. Of course, they’d come up with nothing.

“Castiel is safe.” The same thing the Trickster had said back in TV land.

“Safe? Safe? He’s an angel; that could mean you stashed him at the bottom of the ocean and he could be ‘safe.’ What the hell did you do to him?” Dean argued.

Sam wasn’t so sure provoking the Trickster was a good idea and his thoughts were proved right when the air in the car started to get prickly and he could swear he saw Loki’s eyes flash.

“I told you he’s safe,” Loki snapped. “I didn’t lie, unlike some people in this car. What happened to your promises? I ought to drag you to the gates of Heaven and Hell myself.”

There was something in his voice that Sam could just about put his finger on. He dared to guess. “But you don’t want to do that, do you? You want to stay far away from Heaven and Hell, otherwise you would have already done that.”

Loki turned to him sharply and Sam felt the weight of his gaze. How could such a small guy be so menacing? “I haven’t done it because I keep the promises I make. I can’t force you to say ‘yes,’ anyway. I can just try to convince you it’s the only way.”

“Is it the only way?” Dean cut back in. “You keep saying that. Everyone keeps saying that. But I don’t buy it. There’s always a way to pull the plug.”

“Yeah. The plug is being pulled,” said Loki. “It’s called the Apocalypse.”

Dean glared at the Trickster. “Still don’t buy it. Why aren’t you trying to help us, anyway? You oughta want to keep your schtick going and that’s not gonna be possible when there aren’t any humans left. You gonna try giving a demon its just desserts? An angel?”

Sam appreciated that Dean was using his argument from three months ago, but wasn’t sure how relevant it was now. Loki had made it pretty clear he wanted them to be the vessels.

There was something weird about his insistence, but Sam hadn’t figured it out yet.

“I might,” said Loki petulantly. “Some of them deserve more than that.”

Dean snorted. “That’s for sure. Buncha self-righteous dicks. Angels are worse than any human I’ve ever met.”

A queer smile crossed the Trickster’s face. He let go of their shoulders – finally; Sam’s had started to cramp – and leaned back. “So they are,” he said. “But that still doesn’t solve our problem. What am I going to do with you two?”

“Appreciate our plucky, can-do attitudes?”

Loki actually laughed at that. “Nice one, Dean. Wish I could let that be it.”

“Look, we’re going to figure out something,” Sam said. “Just give us time.”

“While the world suffers from Death walking across it?” The Trickster pursed his lips and nodded. “Sure. Because that’s great for everyone.”

“You can’t tell me you aren’t trying to brainstorm an escape,” Dean said.

Something occurred to Sam. “And you can’t take us again because Michael and Lucifer will eventually come looking for us. You can’t keep us hidden away forever or you’d have never let us go before.”

The sarcastic expression on Loki’s face turned into another smile. “Good one, Sam! You’re as smart as they say you are. I was beginning to wonder.”

“So if you can’t take us and you can’t give us to Heaven and Hell, why’d you show up? Think you could put the fear of– of demigod into us?”

“Worth a shot.” Loki stretched his arms out. “And don’t be fooled. Just because I can’t kidnap you again doesn’t mean I can’t make your lives miserable. Or Castiel’s. Or your friend Bobby’s.”

“Don’t you touch Cas or Bobby,” snapped Dean, turning a little to face Loki. “Or we’ll see what an angel blade does to a Trickster.”

“Less than you’d like,” Loki said lightly. “It might itch a bit.”

“Sure.” Dean reset his grip on the steering wheel. “Haven’t met a thing yet it won’t hurt.”

“Well, now you have.” Loki entwined his fingers behind his head and leaned back against them. “So we’re at a standoff now. Either you go say yes, or I start playing tricks on everyone you know.”

“No,” said Sam. He didn’t know why he felt the Trickster wouldn’t really hurt them – if he could, he would have already, surely – but he was certain of it. Certain enough to argue. “We’re going to keep figuring out a way to stop all this and you’re going to help us or get out of our way.”

“Oh, am I?” The air prickled a bit again.

Sam held his ground. “You are. Because otherwise we’re going to let the real big dogs know where they can find a Norse God who thinks he can play both sides.”

Loki’s eyes flashed again, all humor gone. “You don’t know where I am,” he said defensively. “I’m not even really in this car with you.”

Sam wasn’t sure he bought that, either. “You think they couldn’t find you? That’s all of Heaven and all of Hell searching for one little god. My money’s on them.”

“Try me,” seethed Loki before he disappeared suddenly.

“Well that was fun,” said Dean after a minute. “Empty threats from the Trickster. Still think he’s all that powerful?”

Sam frowned. “We know he is. It’s obvious he’s more powerful than most demons we’ve met. We just don’t know how he’ll stack up against angels.”

Dean laughed. “Sure we don’t. He as much as told us they’ll fry his ass. He’s scared of the sons of bitches.”

“Right.” Sam wasn’t so sure about that. There was a lot of things about Loki that didn’t add up. He didn’t act like the other pagan gods they’d met. As far as they knew, he just snacked on sugar, not humans, for one. He seemed strangely interested in the two of them, for another. “So are we just going to keep going until he comes back with a real vengeance or are we going to consider saying yes?”

Dean shot him a look. “Are you crazy? We’re not saying yes, no matter what. We’re not playing their game. Or his game. Not anymore.”

Sam nodded and went back to watching out the window. Hopefully Dean was right and they’d figure something out soon.

In the backseat of the Impala, unseen by Sam or Dean, Loki grinned.

The letter in Gabriel’s hands burned around the edges without consuming the paper.

Ah, Kali, always a show-off. She wasn’t a light-hearted about it, but it was no wonder Loki – well, Gabriel in full Loki mode – had once fallen for her. They had more in common than Kali would ever admit.

A gathering of pagans, she’d said. Loki wasn’t officially invited, but Kali wanted him to show up anyway.

Something deep inside Gabriel told him this was all a bad idea. Getting pagans together was asking for a battle to break out. And then Kali telling him about it on the sly…

Well, things with Kali hadn’t ended that well and he’d heard she was with Baldur now – Baldur, who loathed Loki with a fiery passion. As much as Gabriel would like to see Kali again, this was just fishy.

And then the letter said they were going to trap the Winchesters and use them as bargaining chips–

Yeah, that wasn’t a bad idea at all. Wasn’t suspicious, either.

Gabriel did something dangerous and exerted some archangelic power to pop into the future – a future where he attended the meeting – and watched it play out.

Faked deaths. Blood spells. Slaughter of the pagans.

And Kali had known he was Gabriel when she invited him.

With a deep sigh, he plopped into his armchair. Walking into a huge trap like that was just stupid and Gabriel wasn’t stupid. If he didn’t interfere, though, the pagans would all die at Lucifer’s hands. The Winchesters would be captured by his brother and Sam forced to say yes.

Going would end up interfering with his brother’s war and break his promise to Loki. Staying back would let Lucifer get the high hand.

Whistling for Max, Gabriel reached down and helped the dog jump into his lap. He scratched behind the dog’s ears. “This is a trap for all of us,” he told the dog wistfully. “Kali doesn’t know she’s going to her death, though. If I go, I break my promise and reveal myself to Lucifer. What do I do?”

Max gave a happy yip and flopped on his side.

Unable to help his smile, Gabriel said, “Lying low and letting it happen might be the smart thing, but it won’t be easy. Those guys were my family for centuries.”

The dog just craned his neck for more scratches.

Gabriel thought for a while. He still had Castiel. He could let him loose now, with the instruction to divert the Winchesters and keep them from stopping at the hotel at all. Castiel had enough power to break through any of the pagan’s beckoning spells.

But what good would that do, except to delay the inevitable?

The thought of the Horsemen’s rings danced in his head again. Dean kept two rings in his pocket. Pestilence was out there, getting ready to make his move. Death was tethered to Lucifer and mightily unhappy about it. There was the chance the humans could get those rings, one way or another. Gabriel just had to tell them how to use them.

That would be picking a side, though. Was he ready for that?

It was the side of humanity, though. Not Michael’s side or Lucifer’s side. He’d be setting himself up against all his brothers. But humanity was what Dad asked them to choose in the first place, right.

And anyway, Castiel had made that choice. If a little seraph could stand against Heaven, surely a rogue archangel could, too.

Right, then. Gabriel knew what choice he had to make. How to execute it, though?

Another stranger walked up to Castiel as he slumped against the walls of his prison. It’d been at least a week since the Trickster’s last visit – or at least a visit from the Trickster’s creations.

This time, the creation was a child, a young girl. “Castiel,” it said. “It’s time to go.”

Castiel didn’t even look up. “You’re finally going to kill me?”

“No, it’s time to go free. The Winchesters need you. The Trickster needs you.” The little girl sat down in front of Castiel. “He told you that he’d let you go eventually.”

“The Trickster has told me nothing,” Castiel growled. “Just figments of his imagination sent to torture me.”

The little girl laughed. “Torture? Oh, Castiel, you know torture and you know this isn’t it. You’ve been in Heaven’s prison before, haven’t you? At least here there was no brainwashing.”

Well, that was true. The Trickster didn’t have a Naomi to probe Castiel’s brain. “What do you want from me?”

“You’re going to keep the Winchesters from stopping at a certain hotel,” the little girl said. “And you’re going to give them this.” She handed him a DVD case.

CASA EROTICA 13, read the cover. A blonde in lingerie posed under the title.

“What is this?”

“Porn,” said the girl matter-of-factly. “It’s a good one. You might learn something if you watch it.”

Castiel knew the girl was simply an extension of the Trickster’s powers, but hearing that come from a child’s mouth was slightly disturbing.

The little girl started giving instructions, detailed enough that Castiel had no questions what he was being asked to do. He just didn’t know why.

“Why can’t they stop at the hotel?”

The little girl gave him a look. “Because they’ll be in danger if they do. Lucifer will find them.”

Oh. Well, okay. Avoiding Lucifer would be good. Castiel knew from Sam’s prayers that he was nowhere near close to saying yes, but that Dean had come close enough to run off on a ‘farewell tour’. Thankfully, Sam had found him and stopped him, even though it meant Sam and Bobby had locked Dean up in Bobby’s panic room.

Dean had come around, though, and they were headed east from Sioux Falls right now.

The Trickster wanted him to pop into their car and make them drive past this Elysian Hotels place, then give them the DVD at the next motel they found.

Did he trust that this wasn’t one of the Trickster’s lessons? That Castiel wasn’t delivering Sam and Dean straight into the archangels’ hands?

“Stop thinking that,” the little girl said. “The Trickster keeps his word when he gives it. He isn’t lying to you now.”

Castiel still wasn’t sure, but he didn’t have much of a choice at the moment. He could believe the Trickster and be set free or he could continue to stay here, with only Jimmy as company.

“Okay,” said Castiel gruffly. “I’ll do it.”

The little girl beamed. “Good! Ready to go?”

Castiel struggled to his feet. “Yes.”

“Good. Remember, the Winchesters are on I-90 now, about to be sent on a detour near the Wisconsin Dells.”

Castiel nodded. Before he’d finished the motion, though, he found himself standing on an interstate exit in the dark in the pouring rain.

He checked his coat pocket and yes, there was his phone.

Time to call Dean.

Gabriel followed Castiel on his TV screen and breathed a sigh of relief when the Impala drove right past the Elysian Fields Hotel.

He’d done his part, right? He’d given the Winchesters the DVD – and if they watched it, they’d find out how to close the Cage again, hopefully with Lucifer inside.

The thought made Gabriel shudder. Lucifer had already been trapped by himself for millennia. Was it cruel to trap him again? Would Michael try to break in – or would he go after the Winchesters to get the key?

Gabriel didn’t know. At some point in the past, before Dad left, he might have been able to predict Michael’s actions, but it’d been centuries since he skipped out of Heaven. Gabriel had changed. Surely Michael had, too.

There really was no telling how things would go, even if the Winchesters trapped Lucifer again. The wise thing to do would be to go to ground now and not emerge until it was over. Let things fall out as they may – for the pagans, for humanity.

Gabriel was a wise being. Loki was not.

Which one was he these days?

Sam, Dean, and Cas huddled around Sam’s laptop in the Briggsviille motel room, watching the opening of CASA EROTICA 13.

“The Trickster wanted you to bring this to us?” Sam asked, confused. Nothing about the DVD seemed out of the ordinary.

“Maybe he’s a fan,” Dean said. “It is a good one.”

Sam and Cas gave Dean a look.

“Wait,” Dean said, pausing the DVD. “Look.”

There, on the paused screen, was Loki, dressed in a ridiculous mustache and waiter’s uniform.

“He gave you porn that he’s in?” Dean asked, incredulous. “Dude’s crazier than I thought.”

Cas huffed. “He didn’t tell me he was in it.”

“Guys, maybe there’s more to it,” Sam said, though he wasn’t sure himself. He hit the space bar, unpausing the DVD.

“I’ve got the kielbasa you ordered.”

“Ooh. Polish?”

“Hungarian.”

They watched as Loki started making out with the woman. Sam grimaced and noticed everyone looking away. That was not what they wanted to see.

Suddenly, the moans and kisses stopped. Loki turned to the screen and, incredibly, started talking to them.

“Sam. Dean. Castiel. You’re probably wondering what the hell is going on. Well, if you’re watching this, I’ve picked a side.”

“’Bout time,” Dean grumbled.

“Humanity’s got the short straw in this fight. And you’re right, I don’t want to see the fight happen. I’ve got my reasons, but… well. They don’t really matter. What matters is that I’m betting on you three to stop the Apocalypse.”

How, Sam wondered. How could they stop it when the Trickster had spent so much time trying to convince them otherwise?

“You’ve got zero shot at killing Lucifer. Sorry! But you can trap him. The Cage you sprung Lucifer from? It’s still down there. And maybe – just maybe – you can shove his ass back in. Not that it’ll be easy. You gotta get the Cage open, trick the devil back into it. And, uh, oh yeah: avoid Michael and the God Squad. But hey, details, right?”

Cas scoffed. “This is impossible.”

“Here’s the big secret that Lucifer himself doesn’t even know – the key to the Cage? It’s out there. Actually, it’s keys, plural. Four keys – well, four rings. From the Horsemen. You get ‘em all, you got the Cage. Think you can handle that?”

Loki looked sad for a moment. “Probably not. But hey, I’ve been wrong before. And so far, everyone has underestimated you at their peril. So go get ‘em, tigers.”

There was a key to the Cage and they had two of the four parts already. Sam tried to let that sink in, almost not noticing as Loki turned back to the girl in the DVD and started disrobing.

“Oh, ugh,” said Dean, slamming the laptop shut.

“I didn’t know there was a key,” Cas said.

“How did the Trickster know?” Sam wondered.

“He knows more than he should,” Cas said. He reached over and picked up the DVD case, closing his eyes in concentration. “There’s pagan magic here. That’s all I can feel. If I could meet the Trickster in person…”

“Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth, okay?” Dean said. “We’ve got War and Famine’s rings. That’s two down. Collect all four? All we need is Pestilence and Death.”

“Oh, is that all?” Sam asked, rolling his eyes. They could probably get to Pestilence if he was on the same level as War and Famine. But Death? How could anyone mortal defeat Death?

“It’s a plan,” said Dean defensively. “It’s the only plan we got.”

“What do we do now?”

“Turn around,” Dean said. “Get this to Bobby. He can help us make it a better plan.”

Sam couldn’t argue with that. Maybe Bobby would have an idea how to find Pestilence and Death in the first place, much less defeat them. They’d been lucky before, stumbling upon War and Famine like they did. There was no guarantee they’d find the other two through cases.

“First, we gotta sleep, though,” Dean said. “We’ve had what, maybe three or four hours this week? Time to crash. Cas, you keep watch.”

The angel nodded and stood by the motel room door, motionless. It was weird, but Sam had started to get used to the fact that angels didn’t need sleep. He moved to the other bed and flopped out, spread-eagle. Having an actual pillow – crappy as it was – under his head made him relax and soon he was drifting off.

Loki was not wise – and apparently Gabriel was more Trickster than archangel these days.

He hung out outside the ballroom doors, waiting for the dramatic moment, because if he didn’t make a dramatic entrance, he wasn’t Loki.

Well, pretending to be Loki.

“Who asked you?” came Kali’s voice through the doors.

Yeah, this was his moment.

Gabriel slammed the doors open with a gesture and sashayed in.

“Can’t we all just get along?” he asked sassily. Every face in the room turned to him, glaring. Yeah, Loki had not left on good terms.

“Loki,” glowered Baldur.

“Baldur!” he said happily. “Good seeing you, too! I guess my invitation got lost in the mail.”

“Why are you here?” Baldur asked.

“To talk about the elephant in the room.”

Ganesh began to stand and Gabriel pointed at him, rolling his eyes. “Not you. The Apocalypse. We can’t stop it, gang.”

“Of course we can,” said Kali, practically purring. “If we fight together, the archangels can’t stand against us.”

Kali had never been this naïve in the past. Too bad Gabriel knew it was an act or he might feel bad for her.

Oh, who was he kidding? He was here for her. He felt bad even though she was going to try to kill him.

Baldur cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should disband for a bit while we sort out our… unwelcome guest.”

“Yes,” said Gabriel, sardonically. “Why don’t you do that? Check what Daddy says to do with your black sheep brother.” He grinned at Odin, who grumbled something under his breath.

Mercury stood, wiping the blood from his chin. He clapped his hands together. “We’ll meet back here in ten? Better to stop now and eat while the food’s still fresh.”

Kali breezed past Gabriel towards the doors. With a waggle of his eyebrows at Baldur, Gabriel spun and followed her.

She kept her room dark, like always. As if she didn’t know Gabriel was following her, she started undressing.

Gabriel could play this game. With a thought, he lit the candles on her table and manifested a rose in his hands. “Bonjour, mon amour.”

Kali looked at him in the mirror. “Leave,” she stated.

He knew she didn’t mean it. “You always did play hard to get,” he purred.

“I’ve moved on,” she said, turning around. Gabriel’s eyes were drawn to the chain of silver skulls around her waist. He knew that if she manifested her true form, those would be real skulls.

He always had enjoyed dancing with danger.

“I noticed.” Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “Baldur? Really?”

“Baldur’s uncomplicated,” she replied.

“Oh come on,” he said. “Baldur’s a pretty idiot. Always has been. It’s why I killed him.”

She looked at him. “I never took you for the type.”

“Romantic?”

“Pathetic.”

Gabriel tried not to laugh. “You’re the one who called me here.”

“Because I thought you might take this seriously.”

Gabriel gestured with the rose as he spoke. “I’m taking this seriously! Ship’s sinking. Time to get off. I mean, screw this marble. Let’s go check out Pandora.” The fictional planet didn’t exist, but he could create it, protect himself and Kali both while Earth sorted itself out.

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” Kali argued.

His hopeful face fell. “I’m afraid it does.”

“If we fight–”

“You die.”

“And what makes you such an expert?” she challenged.

I know my brothers. I know our power. “I’ve tussled with those winged ass-monkeys once or twice. Kali, no more tricks,” he said seriously. “I’m begging you, don’t do this.”

“I have to,” she said.

And that was the Kali he still loved – a fighter to the end. “Can’t blame me for trying. Still love me?”

“No.” Her face didn’t change.

Gabriel’s did. He softened his look into an ‘I know better’ expression. It worked. Kali reached out and grabbed him, pulling him in for a kiss.

Oh, she was still just as good at this as he remembered.

Suddenly, Kali pushed him away and he felt a scratch along his jawline. She held up her fingers, covered in his blood.

“Ow!” he protested, knowing this was the beginning of the end.

“You must take me for a fool,” she said, voice low and menacing. “Gabriel, you’re bound to me. Now and forever.”

Gabriel’s heart sunk. He’d known this was coming, had seen it, but he’d still hoped that maybe if the Winchesters weren’t here…

Oh, who was he kidding? He knew and he walked into this trap willingly.

“Kali, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he argued.

“Stop insulting me, Gabriel. I don’t know where the real Loki is, but you aren’t him and you never have been. You’re an archangel and you’re here to infiltrate our plan.”

“No, I’m not! I’m trying to save you,” protested Gabriel.

Kali didn’t say anything. She dressed again, turned, and walked out of the room again.

This time, Gabriel followed because he had to – he felt the pull of her blood spell deep inside him, impossible to resist.

Oh, he was in trouble.

She led him back into the ballroom and made him sit at the head of the table. All the gods watched curiously.

“How long have you known?” Gabriel asked. What had given him away?

“Long enough.” Okay, so she wasn’t going to let on. She looked at the rest of the room and spoke louder. “Well, surprise, surprise. The Trickster has tricked us.”

“Kali, don’t,” begged Gabriel. If he got outed, his whole deal with Loki was nullified. For all he knew, Loki would betray him to his family as soon as he found out.

“You’re mine now,” she said, lowering herself into his lap. “And you have something I want.”

Gabriel knew what was coming. Imperceptibly, he duplicated himself, leaving the fake Gabriel in the chair with Kali, while Gabriel was as far away as he could get, a few rooms over.

Kali reached inside the fake’s jacket and pulled out an angel blade. A fake one Gabriel kept around for moments like this. “An archangel’s blade,” she continued, standing up again. “From the archangel Gabriel.”

A murmur went around the room. Apparently no one but Kali had known about Gabriel.

“Okay, okay! So I got wings – like Kotex,” the fake said. “But that doesn’t make me any less right about Lucifer.”

“He’s lying. He’s a spy,” accused Kali.

“I’m not a spy,” protested the fake. “I’m a runaway. I’m trying to save you. I know my brother, Kali. He should scare the living crap out of you. You can’t beat him. I’ve skipped ahead, seen how this story ends–”

Kali cut him off. “Your story. Not ours. Westerners, I swear, the sheer arrogance! You think you’re the only ones on Earth? You pillage and you butcher in your God’s name. But you’re not the only religion and he’s not the only God. And now you think you can just rip the planet apart? You’re wrong. There are billions of us and we were here first. If anyone gets to end this world, it’s me.” She looked at him piteously. “I’m sorry.”

Gabriel winced as she stabbed the fake him in the heart with the fake blade. He made sure to put on a good show, with light coming from the fake’s eyes and mouth. Just in case she thought to check, he left her a clue that he wasn’t really gone – there were no burnt wing-prints.

Conversation continued in the room as Kali pointed out that archangels could die and now they had the weapon that could do it.

Gabriel just slumped down on the bed, waiting for the inevitable.

Screams echoed through the hotel as Lucifer made his way to the ballroom.

Gabriel hung his head, knowing that Loki was going to blame him for this, even though he was here to try and save everyone.

If only they’d listened.

He was stuck here, though. Kali had him by the short and curlies with that blood spell. If Lucifer killed her, though, he could get out of here.

But could he stand to listen to her being killed? She’d betrayed him, but still…

Still a part of Gabriel loved her. He loved all of the bastards that Lucifer was killing, but Kali especially.

So when he felt Kali try to burn Lucifer and fail, he knew what he needed to do.

This might literally kill him, but he had no choice. He teleported back into the ballroom.

Lucifer raised his foot to stomp on Kali, but Gabriel shoved a hand out, blowing Lucifer through the doors and into the hallway.

“Luci, I’m ho-ome,” he said, sing-song.

Lucifer stood slowly, barely reacting to the fact that Gabriel was there. Then again, he’d been in the cage so long, maybe he hadn’t known that Gabriel left Heaven.

Lurching forward, Lucifer tried to push Gabriel back with his own power.

“Not this time,” Gabriel said. He reached down and helped Kali stand. “Lucifer, we’re leaving and you’re going to let us. Surely you’ve spilled enough blood tonight, even for you.”

“Gabriel, really? All this for a girl? A pagan? I mean, I knew you were slumming, but I hope you didn’t catch anything.”

Yeah, that was his brother. Gabriel smiled a little. “Lucifer, you’re my brother and I love you, but you are a great big bag of dicks.”

Lucifer frowned. “Wait, what did you just say to me?”

Gabriel shuffled around the room, circling his brother and trusting that Kali was staying behind him. “You heard me. Look at yourself! Boo hoo, Daddy was mean to me, so I’m gonna smash up all his toys.”

“Watch your tone,” warned Lucifer.

The doors opened behind him and Gabriel heard Kali run down the hall, jumping over the bodies. He expected to feel the blood spell pull on him, but it didn’t.

She was going to let him sacrifice himself, wasn’t she?

Too bad Gabriel wasn’t going to do that.

“Play the victim all you want,” he said to Lucifer. “But you and me? We know the truth. Dad loved you best – more than Michael, more than me. Then he brought the new baby home and you couldn’t handle it. So this is all just one big temper tantrum. Time to grow up.”

“Gabriel, if you’re doing this for Michael–”

“Screw him. If he were standing here, I’d shiv his ass too.” Gabriel glanced behind him. “But you know what? Today’s your lucky day. I’m not going to fight you.”

“Scared?” taunted Lucifer.

“Sane,” countered Gabriel. Before Lucifer could grab onto him, he zapped himself out to the parking lot, where Kali waited, shivering in the light rain.

“Get us out of here,” she instructed.

“Oh sure,” Gabriel said. “No ‘sorry for trying to kill you’ or ‘thanks for saving me?’”

She glared and he knew that was the best he was going to get.

“Fine,” he sighed and reached out for her hand. The quickest and easiest place to escape to was–

–his apartment.

Max barked at the newcomer. Gabriel shushed him while Kali looked around disdainfully.

“You brought me here?” she asked. “This is tacky.”

Gabriel grinned. “Yeah. Like it?”

She glared at him.

He held her gaze, refusing to back down. “Where do you want me to take you?” he asked. “I’ll drop you off anywhere once you undo this spell.”

“I shouldn’t,” Kali said. “I should make you my tame archangel.”

For the first time in a very long time, Gabriel let his archangelic power well up in him, turning his eyes blue and making the lights flicker. “That wouldn’t be wise,” he warned. “You’ve seen how easy it was for my brother to destroy the rest of you. Think of what I could do to you.”

Kali actually looked shaken. “Fine,” she said and waved her hands.

Gabriel felt the blood bond dissipate. Lucifer must have really scared her. If only she’d listened to him in the first place.

“Where to?” he asked, purposefully keeping his tone serious.

“Kalighat Kali?” she said.

Her temple. Seat of her power. Made sense.

Gabriel gestured to the door. “Be careful.”

She opened the door, the temple appearing behind her. “What are you going to do?” she asked.

“Like you care,” Gabriel said. She didn’t respond and he sighed. “Lay low. Try not to watch my brothers kill each other.”

She nodded and left, closing the door behind her.

Gabriel stood there for a moment, silent, until Max trotted up to him.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, leaning down to pet the dog. “Looks like it’s going to be just you and me here for a long while.”

Concentrating, Gabriel made the door disappear, fortifying the walls between this pocket universe and the real one out there.

Maybe, just maybe, that’d be enough to keep safe until after the Apocalypse was over.

In the meantime, he always had the TV.

There was just one channel and everything was on.

#Susan writes stuff #GabrielBingo2019 #GabrielBingo #Gabriel

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maxhoemo · 6 years ago

Note

Write a story about supernatural happenings.. from the POV of a character’s pet.

Kyo had lived with her human, Max as he was called, for a long time. She sat on the arm of the couch, licking her paw and looking around the room. The newest one in the house was Kevin. Kyo was not a particularly big fan of Kevin. Dogs were irritating enough, but puppies were even worse. They were easily excitable and not particularly bright. Kevin was also not particularly mindful of personal space. Cats, Kyo thought, were so much more polite.

Regardless, she put up with him as much as she could. Mainly for the sake of her human. Max loved Kevin, and Kyo loved Max, so what could she do?

Today, Max, and the other human, Ian, had been away most of the day. It was unusual, as Kyo could normally spend hours curled up in Max’s lap as he stared at one of the many glowing boxes around the house. But not today.

Max and Ian were dressed in black, and Max was very sad. Kyo, Somha and Kevin had all tried to comfort him but he ignored them and left. Now, finally, at the sound of the car door slamming, Kyo’s ears perked up. She leapt up onto the window sill and watched the two humans come up from the street, and up the walkway. When the door was opened, she sprang over to the hall table and watched. She tilted her head in confusion. He was still sad. It seemed that Ian was the one comforting him…

“Come on, Max… Everything’s okay…”

“I just can’t believe it…”

“You always talked about what an asshole he was…”

“Ian! I know…But, he was my cousin. We grew up together… I still loved him.”

“I’m sorry. This must be really hard for you.”

“Meow…”

“Ruff!”

Max turned towards the animals. “Hey guys… Sorry for leaving you all day… I had to go to a funeral,” he explained, giving Kyo a pet along the head and chin. Kyo couldn’t say she knew quite what a funeral was, but she supposed it was something upsetting. He then knelt down and gave Kevin a few scratches behind the ears, nestling his face up to his. Ugh, what did he see in that mutt?

—-

“Ian! Ian!” Max called out, shaking where he stood.

“What is it?” Ian asked from the next room.

“Come here!”

Kyo watched Ian enter the room, and take a look at one of Max’s glowing box’s. The small one he held in his hands. “L-look…” Max trembled.

Ian cocked a brow.

“Look at the snapchat filters….. It’s like there’s a face back there it’s detecting…”

“Max, that happens all the time. It’s just a mistake. Come on, look at your photos it can’t even tell you’re the same person when you have a beard. Those facial recognition things are finicky.”

“No, Ian, look…” Max frowned. Kyo didn’t understand what had the human so scared. “S-stick out your tongue…” he said.

“Fuck…!”

“See it!? It fucking did it! Ian, it’s a fucking ghost!”

“Calm down, calm down… I’m sure it’s just a coincidence…”

“It does it every time!”

Max and Ian looked over at where the filter had appeared. Kyo looked over too. Was it that human the two were afraid of? He’d been there this whole time….

Eventually, Kyo figured out that Max did not want this person in his house. So, like the good cat she was, she attempted to scared him off. She hissed at the man for several days when she spotted him, but it didn’t work. Kevin seemed to catch on too, barking and growling wildly at him.

“Kevin….” Ian groaned, still groggy from lack of sleep. “Stop it!” he demanded, but the dog didn’t let up.

“Ian…” Max crept behind him, “look at him. It’s like someone’s there…”

“Max, stop. He’s a puppy. He’s just being an idiot.”

“Kevin wouldn’t do this for nothing.”

“Do you honestly believe there is a ghost in this house?”

“Yes, I do!”

Kyo looked over, the man seemed to disappear before her eyes. Kevin stopped barking.

“Come on, Max. Come back to bed…” Ian yawned, leading the other away.

–

Kyo was startled awake. It was early morning, and Max was yelling again. She crept over to his bedroom and pushed open the door.

“Ian! Oh my God…!” Max was panicked, breathing erratically.

“Calm, down, calm down…” Ian grumbled, feeling around for his glasses on the night stand and switching on the lamp. He finally found them. Blinking as the room came more into focus.

“Look…” Max pointed to his bare chest, which was covered in tiny red cuts.

“What the fuck happened…!?”

“I don’t know. I just woke up like this!”

“Was it the cat?”

“No, she just came in. And I would have felt that, don’t you think?”

“Well, whatever it was you would have felt it…”

“But how come it took me so long to wake up? I mean, look how many there are…”

Ian didn’t say anything. He just looked his body over, again and again. As if he didn’t believe it.

—-

Kyo watched from a distance. Another new stranger in the house. The humans seemed to want this one, however,

“I do sense a very strong presence in this house…” She said.

“I knew it.”

“That doesn’t prove anything…”

“Sorry,” Max apologized. “He’s a little skeptical. But after waking up with all these cuts, I can’t think of any reasonable explanation.”

“Well, what?” Ian asked. “Does this ghost want us to get out of the house or something?”

The woman paused for a moment. “No…” She finally decided. “It seems more like this spirit, Max, is directly tied to you.”

“Me?”

“Maybe it’s your dead cousin,” Ian suggested.

“It could be…” the woman said.

“What can I do?” Max asked, sounding desperate.

—

Kyo didn’t understand why Max was so upset. She went over and rubbed her face against his leg, trying to comfort him. But he shooed her away. “Not now, Kyo!” The three people stood in a circle, joining hands. The cat watched as the woman chanted, thinking the action rather odd. She’d never seen humans, especially hers, doing anything like this before.

Suddenly, she jumped. The door to the closet opened and shut several times, as the lights above them flickered.

“Oh God, you’ve made it angry!”

“This is not your place!” The woman spoke in a harsh, demanding tone. “You must leave! You must move on!” The chaos continued for several minutes, more and more objects in the room rattling. The woman’s demands getting louder and louder. Until, suddenly… It just stopped.

The cat blinked, as if unsure she had really just witnessed what she had. Ian seemed to do the same.

“Is it gone?” Max asked.

“It is gone,” the woman confirmed.

—-

In the coming days, everything seemed to return to normal. Kyo once again spent her days curled up in Max or Ian’s lap, or at their feet. No more strangers over to the house, or Kevin or Max waking her up at all hours.

One day, however, as the black cat settled into her spot on Max’s lap, something felt….Not right. The cat couldn’t quite place it, but this didn’t feel like Max. She even looked up at him to confirm. The face was right. The scent was right. But nothing else was. She jumped down, going off the find Ian or a nice patch of sun instead.

—

After a long nap in the corner of the yard, Kyo awoke with a stretch and a yawn. Jumping back inside through her cat door. She meowed a few times, pawing at her water dish. But nobody came to fill it. She made her way through the house, looking for someone. But something wasn’t quite right. She heard someone. As she made her way further down the hall, she followed the sound into the bedroom. She cocked her head. Max was laying in bed, and Ian sat beside him. Crying. Kyo meowed, jumping into his lap to try and comfort him. He just kept crying. “Max…” he heard him say.

Out of curiosity, the cat leaped up onto the bed. Max was cold and stiff. Kevin lied next to him. Head on his stomach. Big wide eyes. Kyo tried to cuddle into his hand to force him to pet her, but he didn’t respond.

The next day, two humans came and took Max away. Kyo never saw him again.

#requests #maxian #writing

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imnotoikay · 7 years ago

Text

Loss--Giveaway for Shaolinqueen

Here is the story for our second place winner @shaolinqueen ! They wanted the aftermath of the Karasuno game with a side of angst and some IWAOI. And Kuroken which are mentioned but I could not find a good way to have them be bigger in the work and I offed Bokuto, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa as my apology presents for that :) I hope you like it!

Read it on AO3

The loss hurt.

The dropping of that ball near the wooden bleachers. Oikawa’s ravenous eyes glaring off behind him, a red spot growing on his arm where the ball propelled backwards.

The silence seemed to hang forever until—cheers. Screaming fans erupting in shouts to celebrate the great victory of the no longer clipped crows.

Iwaizumi spun around quickly to look at his team. Oikawa was standing now, Iwa had no idea how. He looked so broken. But he quickly attempted to blink it away spreading his arms wide to welcome his team.

Iwaizumi had no idea what he said. His vision blurred and sound seemed to switch in between frequencies like the radio on the bus to the match. He knew he was crying. He could feel the searing tears slide down his cheeks. He could not care less. He felt Oikawa’s arm slam against his back and he forced up whatever pride he could to thank the audience for their support.

He knew his feet were carrying him through the hallways to the changing area, but he was completely unaware of where he was. All he could see was the final ball—how could he have stopped it? How could he have led them to victory? He was the ace—there had to be something he could have done to win.

Now they would not get their fabled chance to take the crown from Shiratorizawa…Their last chance to knock down Ushijima before they all moved forward. What had they trained and fought so hard for all season if not to beat their rivals once and for all?

He ran a shaking hand through his sweat soaked hair as he tried to focus on his breathing to calm down, but all he could see was Oikawa’s broken face when he closed his eyes. His hands and arms stung where the ball ruthlessly pounded into his skin. He could practically feel himself spiking that one hit from Oikawa’s serve as he tumbled into the tables on the side of the court. His head sank, He trusted me…his ace…and I failed him…in our last game together.

The thought came before he had the chance to suppress it. He knew thinking about that would lead him down a long and dangerous road—but it was too late he was already there.

Oikawa would be heading off to the top collegiate volleyball team in the country…and he would be on the sidelines…

This very well could have been the last game he ever played with Oikawa.

Air seemed to stop coming into his lungs. He felt as if he were drowning as he gripped his chest to try and slow his heart and concentrate on breathing. He gasped violently for another breath when a warm hand landed on his shoulder. He opened his eyes for the first time to see Tooru squatting down in front of him. Oikawa placed his hand on Iwaizumi’s cheek to wipe at a long stream of tears and smiled gently at him. Iwaizumi had not even realized he had been crying again.

He blinked rapidly as he attempted to call in his surroundings. He was in the changing area sitting on bench while the rest of Aoba Jousai stood quietly, changed, bags packed at the other side of the room by the door. Tooru kneeled in front of him, also changed into his track suit, two bags slung over his shoulder, the sun setting just behind him through the doorway.

His eyes were red and puffy but there was a twinge of burning pride in his chocolatey eyes. He heard Hanamaki sniffle quietly leaning against Mattsun behind Oikawa.

“The bus is here.” Tooru’s gentle smile remained as Iwaizumi nodded slowly rising to his feet. He stumbled slightly, balanced by Tooru, who grabbed his hand and pulled him quietly out of the room, the rest of the team following dutifully behind their captains.

…

Hajime did not remember falling asleep, but he woke up laying across Oikawa’s lap as the stars danced in the sky outside the bus window. The lights of the bus were off and it was clear that most of their team mates where either asleep or silently mourning the loss of the match. It was such a juxtaposition to that morning where the bus was full of raucous laughter and singing. Now the air felt heavy and uncomfortable whereas before it had been so light and cheery.

He shifted his attention to Oikawa who leaned gracefully against the window. Iwaizumi felt as Oikawa’s hand carded slowly through his hair while his eyes drifted out to the passing cars on the road.

“Stargazing?” Iwaizumi whispered harshly against the oppressive silence. Oikawa jumped slightly at the noise before smiling down at him,

“No, just enjoying a break from your horrible snoring.”

Iwaizumi stuck his tongue out playfully before falling serious again,

“Did you sleep?”

Oikawa shook his head as his eyes shifted back toward the night sky,

“No…but I’m okay, I’m not tired-“

“Bull shit. That was a long ass game everyones tired.”

Tooru frowned slightly,

“You’re sleeping in my bed tonight.”

Oikawa attempted to laugh but it came out more like an exhale as he nodded against the window.

…

[That Asshole Kuroo ;)]

Dude I just saw the coverage of the game and I’m broken I don’t even know what to say to you.

Read 6:35pm

[Kozume Kenma]

Kuroo said to check on you because you didn’t respond to him.

Read 6:36pm

[That Asshole Kuroo ;)]

Bro call me text me are y’all alive?

Read 6:37pm

[Brokuto Koutarho]

BRO I’M SO SORRY FOR YOUR LOSS SHIT MAN I CAN’T BELIEVE THAT SPIKE FROM THE SHRIMP THOUGH THAT WAS AMAZING DAMN WHAT A WAY TO LOSE

Read 6:38pm

[Brokuto Koutarho]

Sorry that was kind of a dick move I shouldn’t have brought that up but it was an amazing serve but I should be more sympathetic I’m sorry.

Read 6:38pm

…

Saying goodbye to the team was hard. They would have practice next week, and they still had several weeks of school to go, but the crushing loss of their dream victory against Shiratorizawa coupled with the future loss of the third years seemed to weigh on everyone’s mind.

Iwaizumi made sure that everyone had someone to walk back to their dorm with as Tooru leaned almost silently on Mattsun. Once the underclassman disappeared down the sidewalk he turned to this three best friends.

“Fuck us,” Hanamaki mumbled as he turned and began walking towards the Senior dorms. Everyone gave a resounded moan as they turned to follow behind him. Tooru shifted from leaning on Mattsun to Iwa like a leaf in the wind, the emotional and physical fatigue finally starting to him them.

The third years walked in relative silence only occasionally complaining about random aches and pains they experienced as they walked. The thrills of getting old Iwa had claimed.

They reached the dorm slower than they usually did. The sky was fully dark by now with the street lamps brightly guided their path. Their classmates populated the area laying in the grass around the large building, some tossing frisbees others chasing after girls as they weaved in and out of the people happily enjoying the warm weather outside the dorm. Everyone seemed to look up at them with excitement but quickly pretended like the had not when Iwaizumi sadly shook his head “no” as they passed. The group entered the dorm and elected for the elevator riding only up to the second floor before making the slow walk down the hallway to their doors. They reached Hanamaki and Mattsun’s first.

“See you in the morning guys,” Hanamaki sighed giving them both a quick hug before kicking his door in. Mattsun shook his head and followed in quickly after them.

They walked to their dorm in a silence that was uncomfortable but necessary. Iwaizumi looked over at Oikawa’s defeated expression. What was he supposed to say to that face? How could he make any of this better? He could never give Oikawa that victory…the one thing he wanted for the past three years.

Oikawa unlocked their door and pushed it open with his toe. The poorly taped polaroids of them flopping in the breeze as the heavy door swung open. Oikawa tossed his bag onto his bed and the flopped forward onto Iwaizumi’s bed with a dramatic sigh.

At least he is being dramatic again, that’s a good sign.

“I can’t believe we lost-“

“I’m sorry-“

They locked eyes as they both attempted to fill the silence. Iwaizumi felt the tugging urge to cry again but he attempted to swallow it. Seeing the shiny tears fall down Oikawa’s cheeks broke his will.

He slowly walked over and flopped onto his back next to Oikawa, their sniffling filling the room. Oikawa easily slithered on top of him locked his arm and leg around Iwaizumi’s body and burying his head into his chest. Iwaizumi wrapped his arms tightly around him at first just grounding him but then eventually tracing slow lines over his neck and back.

“I know how bad you wanted this,” Iwaizumi whispered. The moon illuminated a long streak of white light cutting through the ceiling of the dorm. Pale green starts twinkled across the white ceiling dancing in the moonlight. “Destroy Shiratorizawa” was hand written on a post it note stuck to the ceiling above Oikawa’s bed. It was a faded pink note, ripped from being taped and re-taped to ceiling after ceiling over the past three years. He swallowed hard and looked over at Oikawa. He was surprised to find him sitting up on the bed looking out the window again,

“We can’t win them all.”

Iwaizumi snorted, “Yeah we could’ve.”

Oikawa frowned shaking his head, “There were two things I wanted more than anything in my whole life…I got one of them…I’m happy.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes turning his attention back to the ceiling.

“Yeah and you’re going to kill at that school next year,” he scoffed. The bitterness was unintentional, but he was too vulnerable after the loss of the game today to control the venom that came out at the mention of Oikawa’s perfect future. The thoughts of him sitting on the sidelines, watching, waiting for Oikawa to win game after game. The flashes of him groaning through coursework he would probably hate because nothing mattered more to him than being on the court with Oikawa and now that would be gone.

“Why are you talking about that?”

Iwaizumi turned to find Oikawa staring at him in confusion, his head titled slightly to the side and his eyes impossibly wider than normal. Cute.

Iwaizumi shifted pushing a tucking a long piece of light brown hair behind his pointy ears, “The two things you’ve always wanted…to beat Shiratorizawa,” he struggled to choke out the name, “and to play on a great team in college.”

Oikawa stared blankly before his eyes crinkled into tight lines as he laughed loudly, “You’re so stupid Iwa-Chan! Dumb Iwa-Chan~!” He sang. A rush of anger filled Hajime’s mind as he struggled to push away from his teasing boyfriend, but Oikawa’s death grip on his body made it impossible to move,

“You’re an ass what do you want!?” He grumbled while squirming helplessly,

Oikawa regained full composure instantly and smiled a soft smile that many were never graced with, “You were right about Shira…Shiratorizawa,” he swallowed hard before returning to his smile, “but not the second one silly.” He leaned closer, his long eyelashes teasing against Hajime’s face and he began again, “The only other thing I have wanted as bad as that,” he placed a feather light kiss on Hajime’s nose causing it to wrinkle slightly, “is you.”

His lips found Iwaizumi’s easily and they met with a soft expertise that only comes from experience. After several moments they parted searching for breath. Iwaizumi rubbed his nose against Tooru’s softly watching the other smile,

“It was just a game,” Oikawa whispered lightly.

It was a lie, they both knew it. That game meant more than anything in the world to them—well almost more than anything. There was one thing that would always mean more no matter who was playing volleyball in college, no matter how many times Ushijima would boast about their loss to Karasuno in future meetings, no matter how hard they trained to win that game. Nothing would ever matter as much as the relationship they fought so hard to have. Nothing could ever mean more than their love.

#iwaoi #iwaoi angst #iwaoi fic #haikyuu fic #haikyuu angst #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #hanamaki takahiro #matsukawa issei #oiiwa #oiiwa fic #imnotoikay fic

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pjbehindthesun · 7 years ago

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chapter 8: if I followed you home, would you keep me?

Tuesday, October 9th, 1990

I blink and look around the practice space, which is lit only by one small lamp right by the stairwell, and it takes a moment to remind myself where I’ve just woken up. My watch says it’s still only 6:24 am, so I must have only been out for a couple hours. Easing off of the run-down couch, I pull the guitar neck out from under my shoulder blade and wince as I stand up and stretch out the kinks. Even with no sunlight down here, no street noise, and no one else around, I woke up feeling like there was an alarm clock ringing in each of my cells. Time to write, time to write, time to…

My notebook dropped onto the floor while I was asleep, and after a little hunting, I locate my pen just under the couch. I’ve got a couple hours before the guys said they would stop by and get back to work. Jeff had offered to let me crash at his place, but I needed to stay here, keep the creativity going as long as I could, as long as I can. No distractions, no fucking around. I rub my eyes and sit back down on the couch with the guitar on one knee and the notebook next to me on the cushion, picking up where I left off.

***

“So, uhm, I’m in the front row, and Exene just, like, hands me her beer, so she can finish her set, and –”

“She WHAT?” Jeff screeches over Eddie’s quiet mumble. Jesus Christ, Jeff, don’t terrify him, he seems freaked out enough by us already.

They’re a couple stairs ahead of Mike and me on our way to drop Eddie’s bag off in Jeff’s apartment before we grab lunch and get back to the practice studio to meet up with Dave. I have to admit, Jeff and Ed have really hit it off. I’m glad someone’s getting this guy to talk. I mean, it’s not like it’s a problem that he’s quiet, I guess, although I’m a little worried about how he’s gonna do on stage. Or maybe I’m just used to how extroverted Andy was. At any rate, Eddie seems like a good guy. And I respect how hard he’s ready to work already – I caught an inkling of that this summer when we sent him that tape and got music back right away, but he even slept at the fucking studio the other night just so he didn’t have to stop writing. And he writes so spontaneously, like it’s all just beneath the surface, waiting for the right riff or rhythm to pull the words out of him. I’ve never seen anything like that before. Good instincts.

Not that I’d be caught dead saying any of this out loud, of course. It’s great that he and Jeff are so close already, but someone has to regulate things. I feel like I’m likely to get to know this new guy better if I keep him on his toes, keep him nervous, keep him trying to impress us. Find out if he’s really this dedicated or if it’s just a front in the beginning, and maybe he’s actually just lazy or an asshole or somehow really fucked up.

“Or maybe you’re just scared of another false start and you’re just being an asshole to protect yourself, when in fact this guy is knocking your fucking hair back with his creativity and work ethic, and don’t pretend like he isn’t.”

I can hear Cora saying it. She didn’t, obviously, she hasn’t met Ed yet. But she’s always had this way of nailing my innermost thoughts to the wall. It’s so unnerving and also so calming. Fuck. I miss her. I can see it now. The way she looks at me when she’s really listening to my bullshit, those intense eyes burning holes through all the layers of sarcasm and indifference, the way she holds off on saying anything until she’s confident she has all the pieces put together, and then she says something so insightful it’s devastating. I’ve known her for like four months, but I could swear she recognizes me from a past life, or I would if I believed in any of that crap.

“Stone? Earth to Stone…”

Mike’s waving his hand in front of my nose. Eddie and Jeff must have already taken their Exene Cervenka Fanboy Hour inside Jeff’s apartment, and I must have unconsciously stopped dead out here in front of #41. Cora’s door. Alex’s door. It’s closed, there’s no one home, why am I staring at it?

“Yeah, yeah, sorry…”

She’s been gone like four days and I’ve got the fucking DTs. I fake a laugh with Mike before following him into Jeff’s place. She comes home tonight, you idiot.

“You find him, Mike?” Jeff laughs.

“Yeah, just worshiping at the shrine of the red priestess.” Stop fucking smirking, Mike, damn it.

“Who?” Eddie asks.

“Cora,” I roll my eyes at Mike, “our friend Cora. You’ll meet her soon, she’s been out of town but she gets back tonight. She lives on this hall with her boyfriend Cletus.”

“Oh, cool.” Eddie bobs his head like he meets someone named Cletus every other day, and I gape at him, not even caring that I’m being rude as hell.

“Alex, his name is Alex,” Mike shoots me an exasperated look.

“Whatever. Are we almost done here, guys?” I ask, surprising myself a little at how annoyed my voice sounds. I try again, a little more gently, “I just wanna get back to work, okay?”

Jeff shakes his head at me and clicks his tongue. “Yeah, okay, whatever, let me just show Ed around the place really quick.” He goes back to talking Eddie’s ear off as they disappear toward the spare bedroom. With a roll of my eyes, I decide I’m better off loitering in Jeff’s front doorway to try to move these three in the general direction of the studio sooner than later, and Mike grabs a seat on the couch.

Once I’m kind of halfway into the hall, I let out a big, steadying breath. Time to get a grip and stop being such an asshole. It’s not their fault I’m on edge. I didn’t expect to miss her this much. She left on Friday for this wedding in North Carolina, and she’s been so busy with family stuff that we haven’t talked since before she flew out. This is honestly the longest I’ve gone without seeing her or talking to her since we met. Even when she was in Alaska, we talked almost every day, and especially now that Jeff and Lucy are joined at the hip all the time, I just take it for granted that I’ll get to see Cora every couple of days for one reason or another. She’ll drop by to hear us play, or come out to catch a show with us, or we’ll grab a drink during her shift at Cyclops. Sometimes I have to put up with Alex hanging out too, but it’s been worth it to have her become such a consistent part of the landscape.

“I said, RIGHT STONE?”

I shake my head back over my shoulder at Jeff, who’s staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. “I… what?”

“I was telling Eddie, we ought to go to Cyclops tonight for a quick bite, it’s like right around the corner from the studio,” Jeff repeats, as Mike nods along and Eddie listens intently.

“But… Cora’s not working tonight,” I mumble stupidly.

Mike’s face cracks into a shit-eating grin. “Stone…” he says slowly, like you’d explain to a senile grandparent, “it doesn’t suddenly stop being a restaurant if Cora’s not there…”

“Ha. Like, uhm, Schrodinger’s cafe?” We all blink at Eddie, because it’s one of the longest sentences he’s spoken since getting here, at least, a sentence not having to do with music.

Also. Fuck. She would have laughed at that joke. But I can’t ever tell it to her. It’s a little too true to be funny.

Eddie has already reverted to scratching the nape of his neck and studying the floor, clearly uncomfortable with our attention, so Jeff goes back to giving him the scenic tour, Mike helps himself to some chips on Jeff’s counter, and I go back to my solitary post in the doorframe. Until I hear a voice in the hallway that makes me automatically duck back inside the apartment.

I can’t make out exactly what he’s saying, but that’s definitely Alex’s voice, hushed and mumbling. What is he doing home on a Tuesday? Who’s he talking to? It’s the woman’s flirty giggle that makes me tilt my head slightly out of the door against my better judgment.

I look out just in time to see a grinning Alex follow some girl I’ve never seen before into his apartment, speaking into her ear with his hands resting low on her hips. He shuts the door behind himself, too focused on his friend to notice me, and the sound echoes in my ears and pounds through my veins. The guys join me out in the hallway and ask me if I’m ready to go, and I nod, swallowing hard to lock the rage down in my chest.

***

“Uh, hey, sweetie, it’s me, and now that I think of it, it made absolutely no sense to come inside and call you because you’re probably already in the car on your way, or worse, you’re out circling the airport looking for my dumb ass, but anyway, I was just looking for your car at the terminal. Hope you didn’t get stuck somewhere or something, or… and great, now I’m rambling into the void, so I’m gonna hang up and go back outside to keep an eye out. Disregard! Love you.”

I hang up the grimy payphone and make my way back outside to the curb, with my bag at my feet and the world’s ugliest bridesmaid’s dress in a dry cleaning bag over my shoulder. Orange. As in, day-glo orange. It looked fine on my cousin Annie’s sisters and friends, who are all Southern belles with radiant sun-worshipper tans, so if I squint, I can maybe understand why she picked the color out, but on me? Ghostly pale even before I’d spent the last year in Seattle, with flaming red hair? I looked like a fucking Bic lighter if you’d made it wear a corsage. Vowing to use just such a Bic lighter to burn any wedding photos she sends me, I scan the oncoming cars for Alex’s Jeep, but it’s still nowhere to be seen.

He didn’t forget. It’s rush hour, there was probably traffic.

Half an hour later, with a painful lump of anxiety in my throat, I give up on waiting and try again, but this time I hang up as soon as I get the machine, figuring another pointless message won’t do me any good. Where is he? I gave him the right flight information. Ugh, down girl. Just give him a little more time.

I take my bag and dress back to my lonely spot on the curb, feeling increasingly heartsick as the minutes drag by and approach an hour and a half past the time we’d agreed upon, although I put on what I hope is a believable smile when the security guard asks me if I’m alright after passing me for the fourth time. What if something’s wrong? What if he’s sick, or had an accident? The thought feels like ice water down my spine, and this time I leave all my shit outside as I head back in to the row of phones. I have two quarters left. It doesn’t make any fucking sense to keep ringing my own phone off the hook. Maybe Lucy’s home. I don’t even want a ride anymore, I can get a fucking cab. I want someone to go up to my apartment and make sure Alex is okay.

“You’ve reached Lucy Rosenfelder, I’m not home right now but –” I hang up on my friend’s sunshine voice and swallow hard. Okay. Maybe she’s at Jeff’s. I’ve just resolved to call his number when I remember there’s no way in hell any of the guys are at home with their new singer in town. Stone said the new guy was adamant about working around the clock, and the memory of Stone trying not to appear impressed by the singer’s work ethic is almost enough to make me smile through my disquiet.

I root through my shoulder bag for my copy of A People’s History of the United States, which has as its bookmark a folded piece of notebook paper with the phone number for Potato Head on it in Stone’s handwriting. It’s not far from the building, so maybe if Lucy’s with the guys she wouldn’t mind running home to check on Alex without interrupting their practice. I drop my last quarter in and dial.

The phone rings, and rings, and rings. Of course there’s no answering machine in the basement of the gallery, why would there be? A wave of nausea rises up as the stupidity of my idea dawns on me and I make to hang up the phone. Either they’re not there, or they’re playing and they can’t hear the phone, but anyway, I’m resigning and pulling the receiver away from my ear when I hear a voice. A really deep voice that I don’t recognize.

“Hello?”

I yank the phone back. “Hello? Oh, sorry, uhm, sorry to bother you, I think I have the wrong number –”

I trail off as I make to hang up the phone, but the voice starts shouting.

“No, no, hey, hello? HELLO? Shit”

I put the receiver back to my head again, and I hear a cymbal crash and some low bass notes and guys’ voices tumbling around in the background. It starts to make sense.

“Uh, hello, still here… is this Eddie?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” the low voice continues. “Uhm, who’s this?”

“I’m Cora.”

“Oh, Cora, right, hi, uhm, let me get one of the –”

“CORA?” Stone’s yelp cuts over the noise in the background and there’s a muffled sound that can only be him rudely grabbing the receiver from his poor, bewildered new singer. Soon it’s Stone’s voice coming through the receiver, but it’s strained, tense, not at all the familiar lazy tone I expected.

“Cora? What’s up?” Whoa, he sounds pissed. Is he mad at me for interrupting their practice? That’s probably it, I should have thought of that. I’d kick myself, but I really don’t have time for that right now.

“I’m so sorry to bother you guys, seriously, I –”

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not bothering anyone, what’s up?”

“Uhm, I was actually wondering if Lucy was around.”

“No, she’s gonna meet us later, what’s going on? Where are you?” he asks as the gate agent’s nasal voice broadcasts flight information over the loudspeaker behind me.

“I’m at Sea-Tac. Look, I need someone to check on Alex for me, he was supposed to pick me up like two hours ago –”

“motherf–”

“– and I was just looking for someone who could go back to the building and see if he’s okay, or like, maybe he’s had an accident or he’s sick or something –”

“–ucker. What? No, you need a ride is what you need,” Stone growls over the top of my words.

“No, I can get a cab, I –”

“Like hell, Cora. My car’s back that way anyway, I’ll come get you after I check on Alex.”

“What?? No, I didn’t mean to interrupt, that’s going to take you forever, I just –”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m coming to get you. Stay right there.” He hangs up before I can say anything else. Jesus, he sounds mad at me.

Back on the curb, I sink down onto my bag, worry and regret gnawing my insides, and wait for Stone.

***

I’m going to fucking kill him. That motherfucker, I’m going to fucking kill him.

Violent thoughts blur my entire run back to Cora’s building, but even so, there’s no missing the hideous blue Wagoneer that fucking bastard drives. Alex’s car. The thought of Cora waiting at the airport and worrying about him, when he forgot about her and is off with someone else, makes me want to scream. I glance up at the building and count windows until I’m sure I’ve got #41. The windows are all dark. If he and his friend were still home, at least one light would be on somewhere, right? Anyway, it was hours ago that I saw them. He’s out with the girl now, I’ll bet anything, but I’ve got to go knock because I need to be able to tell Cora… Cora. What the hell am I going to tell Cora? I’m taking steps three at a time. I’m pounding on her door. No answer. Of course. I grit my teeth and head downstairs to my car.

When I pull up to the terminal, she’s sitting on the curb next to her luggage with her knees pulled under her chin, but she stands up as soon as she recognizes my car. I jolt the parking brake into place and jump out. Before I can say anything, she starts rambling with her hands up defensively.

“Stone, I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t have come all the way out here, please don’t be mad at me…”

“I’m not… I’m not mad at you, Cora,” I frown at her, pulling up short, “wait, what? Is that what you thought?”

“YES!” She shouts and then chews her bottom lip, like her voice got away from her and she’s trying to rein it back in. “I interrupted your practice, Eddie’s been here like, not even 48 hours and I – and Alex – is Alex okay, did you find him?”

“His car was at the building, but your place was dark and no one answered the door,” I explain as she watches me with worried eyes. “But… I saw him. Earlier today.” With another girl. Say it. With. Another. Girl. Except I can’t make those words come out of my mouth.

“Today?” she repeats quietly, frowning at me.

“Yeah. Yeah. So he’s… he’s fine, he’s safe. I think he just –”

“– forgot. Yeah.” She blinks slowly and nods with a small sniff.

“I’m sorry,” I say lamely, but there’s something else I need to tell her. “You know I’m not mad at you, right? That’s not how this –” I wave my hand between us “– works, okay? You can call me whenever you want.”

I’m trying to keep my voice level, but my insides are churning. I want to tell her everything, I don’t want to tell her a thing because I don’t want to be the one to hurt her, I want to beat that bastard to a pulp, I want to apologize for ever suggesting that he should pick her up from the airport in the first place, I want to wrap her up in my arms, I want…

I stop spinning my wheels when she throws her arms around my waist and buries her head in my chest. All the toxic sludge in my chest evaporates at the feeling of her warm breath through my shirt as she murmurs “thanks, Stone.” I hug her back, but I’m thankful when she lets go first, because I’m not sure I could have.

She picks up her bag and the crumpled up dress, and doesn’t even argue with me or call me a chauvinist asshole when I take them both out of her hands.

It’s a pretty quiet ride back. Cora’s been looking out the window, mostly, although she pipes up occasionally to ask how things have been going with the new singer. I can tell she’s just trying to distract herself, so I fill her in as much as I can, but she doesn’t say much back. The closest we come to actual conversation is when I tell her about Eddie at the Temple rehearsal yesterday, just quietly stepping up to the mic to help Chris out of a tough spot, and intuitively making that song into something entirely different, something better. That gets a smile and a few words out of her, and I know she’s considering teasing me for doubting him, but she holds back. I don’t push any other topics of conversation because I’m afraid of what I’ll say. As we’re getting close to her neighborhood, though, she speaks up sharply.

“Stone? I don’t want to go home yet. Can we go somewhere else?”

I glance away from the road and try to read her face. “Yeah. Uh, I think the guys are at Cyclops by now, you wanna… you wanna go grab a drink?”

She bites her lips in and gives me a small smile and a nod. I hope that was the right answer.

***

“So, Eddie, how are you liking Seattle so far?”

Jeff’s girlfriend Lucy strikes up a conversation with an encouraging smile as she climbs next to Jeff into the opposite side of the booth at this cafe near the gallery. She’s definitely the friendliest person I’ve interacted with since getting here. Not that everyone else has been rude. Jeff and I have probably talked the most because we have so much in common, and the other guys are all cool. Musically, it’s a perfect fit, but they seem okay outside of practice too. Or, at least, I think we’re okay. Dave’s great but I haven’t seen him outside of playing. Mike’s a joker and I’m always worried that somehow I’m the joke. Stone’s been pretty friendly too, as far as I can tell, but it’s all painted over with sarcasm and defensiveness so I’m never really sure what he thinks. But Lucy, she’s clearly the ambassador. She knows when to talk, when not to talk, what to say to make me feel welcome. As welcome as possible, anyway.

“It’s, uh, it’s great. Kinda cold.”

“It’s like 50 degrees, man, this is nothing!” Mike cackles as he sits on her other side, and she glares at him briefly before responding.

“You get used to it, honest. At least it hasn’t been raining much, that’s where you’ll have the most trouble, I think. You’re going to have to get used to rain in the summer!”

A waitress who looks quite a few years younger than us, with a long blonde braid, comes over to greet us and take drink orders. “Just you four this time?”

“Hey Emily. Nah, two more on the way,” Jeff responds, waving to the rest of the empty bench on my side. “Pitcher?” She nods and disappears towards the bar, and Jeff turns his attention back to Lucy, winding an arm around her shoulder and planting a kiss on her cheek. Her cheeks glow and she glances down at her lap self-consciously, but she leans into him with a huge smile. The two of them are soon absorbed in some quiet conversation, lacing fingers and only occasionally looking at anyone else. Happy. I study my hands, trying not to intrude, trying not to think about how it feels. Soon Mike speaks up and gives me a distraction, leaning in with a conspiratory smile.

“So Eddie, when you meet Cora, she actually goes by the nickname Red –”

Whatever he meant by that, it was enough to get the attention of both Lucy and Jeff. He’s scowling at Mike and she’s charitably explaining to me, “no, don’t listen to him, she’ll bite your head off. Stone’s the only one who gets away with calling her that, don’t ask me why.”

“You guys are no fun,” Mike pouts as Emily sets our pitcher and glasses down.

“Honestly, I just made her sound so bitchy, but she’s the sweetest, you’ll love her. Just… don’t ask her about her hair,” Lucy continues.

I just nod, but I’m starting to wonder what the deal is with Stone and this Cora girl. Isn’t she supposed to have a boyfriend?

Why does everything have to make me think about couples? Damn it.

I don’t get much time to sit and feel sorry for myself, though, because Stone has just walked up behind a short, freckled girl, and Mike’s prank makes more sense now that I see her long, flaming red hair, which almost looks unearthly under the orange-shaded halogen light above the booth. It’s a great color and it suits her, but I also understand feeling sensitive about something that makes you different.

Lucy nudges Mike out of his seat and gets up to hug Cora with a worried look on her face, but her friend kind of shrugs her off with a smile and a shake of her head before turning to me.

“Eddie, hi, good to meet you.”

There’s that voice I heard on the phone, although it sounds a little more tired now, a little less keyed up. But it’s still the same tone, warm and a little bit husky. It occurs to me that based on her voice, I thought she’d be taller, before reflecting that’s probably what everyone thinks of me as well.

“Yeah, hey, uhm, nice to meet you,” I mumble, realizing I haven’t responded to her yet, and I lean forward to take the hand she’s offering as she climbs into the seat next to me, followed closely by Stone.

“These assholes been nice to you so far?” She sneers at Mike, who sticks his tongue out at her, and Stone chuckles.

“Yeah, it’s been great,” I say to the table.

“So did you ever figure out what happened to Al –” Lucy’s voice cuts over the growing noise in the cafe, but Stone coughs even louder.

“It’s fine, we got it figured out,” he says casually. I glance over to see him giving Jeff a pointed look while Jeff frowns back and Lucy scrutinizes her friend, who’s now acting as if she hasn’t heard anything because she’s too busy pouring herself what’s left of the beer.

“Shit, that’s not going to work,” Jeff laughs at her pitiful glass that’s more foam than anything else, and flags Emily down for another round and some food.

Over dinner, Jeff and Stone start brainstorming plans for a show as soon as possible. Now here’s somewhere we all agree. I’m mostly just listening and chiming in occasionally to remind them of when I fly back to San Diego and when I can come back up again for a second trip. Other than work, it’s not like I have much to go back for. Stone’s got a good game face, but he’s keeping a close eye on Cora while we talk. She hasn’t said much, also partly because her friend Lucy is holding down a heated argument with Mike about Ayn Rand. She just said something about a misogynistic rape fantasy that made everyone at the table turn their heads and gave Mike a reprieve from obviously having stepped in it.

“Hey, there’s Mark and Matt,” Jeff rasps, waving over toward the door at a tall guy with shaggy blonde hair and and a baby-faced guy with a wild mop of hair who have just walked in. Jeff and Stone excuse themselves to go greet their friends. Lucy and Mike are still deep in their argument about The Fountainhead, and Cora’s nodding along but she doesn’t seem to be paying much attention.

I don’t know this girl and I don’t know her situation, but you’d have to be totally oblivious not to notice that she’s hurting. Obviously this boyfriend of hers stood her up at the airport so Stone had to come bail her out. What kind of person does that to someone they care about? I’m actually kind of intrigued that she wanted to come out with us, rather than going home to find him. That really says it all about this relationship, doesn’t it? Writing’s on the wall.

How come it’s always so much easier to read the writing from the outside?

I wish someone had told me. Beth was gone for months before she really left. That’s how it happens, and you’re lucky if you see it coming. I sure as hell didn’t. Why should I be looking for signs that something I loved was coming to an end? What kind of life is that?

Stop projecting your shit onto this poor girl. I glance down at the bag she still has slung over her shoulder, resting in between us on the bench, and stifle a smile at the collection of buttons and patches covering the messenger flap. She’s still pretending to listen to Lucy and Mike, so she hasn’t noticed me reading them all. It’s like a map of her brain: in the center of it all is a tattered ecology flag patch, neatly stitched on. There are band buttons (I notice the Dark Side of the Moon prism and the Who’s mod sign right away) and political slogans (“homophobia can be cured with education”; “no nukes”; although, weirdly, another one with an atom symbol right next to it; “up yours”; “pro choice”; Rosie the Riveter; a handful of psychedelic classics, the peace sign in the American flag, and more environmental ones than I can count without being creepy). But there’s one button out of all of them that doesn’t seem to make sense with the rest of the group. It confuses me enough that I read it out loud.

“If…if I followed you home, would you keep me?”

She shoots me a sideways glance with sharp brown eyes. Weary. Wary. Wry.

“if you what now?” she asks with a hint of acid in her voice.

I poke in the general direction of her bag, not daring to actually touch anything, and drop my hands in my lap like I’ve been static shocked as we speak at the same time.

“Uhm, your button –”

“– oh, yeah,” her face relaxes into a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay. What’s the deal with that one, though?”

“What do you mean?”

“Kind of an outlier.” I jab at the one about the woman needing a man like a fish needs a bicycle, and its neighbor, the coat hanger. “A pick up line?”

She gives me a puzzled look. “See, I never thought of it that way.”

“You know very many guys?” I laugh.

She glances around conspicuously at our gathering and chuckles. “These guys? Bunch of Casanovas, obviously. Whatever Stone would have you believe, it’s charitable to call it an exaggeration.”

“Fair,” I laugh back as Mike looks increasingly cowed by Lucy’s counter-arguments and Jeff and Stone are surrounded by a bunch of mangy guys over by the bar.

“So then, what does it mean?”

“Hmm?” she squints at me and scrunches her mouth to one side for just a second.

“Your button. What does it mean to you? If not the laziest way ever to try to get invited upstairs.”

She toys with the flap of her bag and prods the button in question. “I picked that up at a thrift store when I was 16, back home.”

“Home’s not here?”

She shakes her head down at her bag. “North Carolina. Mountain Girl, just… wrong mountains.”

“You’re far from home.”

“Not really.”

Two words can carry an avalanche of meaning, and I feel the weight of it looming, so I go back to pointing at the button.

“Anyway, yeah, I’ve had it longer than any of the others, well, except this.” She drags a fingertip across the ecology flag. I make a mental note to ask about that one later. “I don’t know. Back then, it just seemed so… sweet. It’s probably going to sound idiotic or naive now…”

“I doubt it.”

She glances back up. “I don’t know, it’s kind of romantic, isn’t it? That kind of vulnerability? Asking someone to keep you. The whole biblical ‘whither thou goest’ thing, if I still gave a fuck about anything in that book,” she laughs. “Or, like, Perry Como, I guess.”

“Leonard Cohen?” I offer.

“Hey! Much better,” she grins, and it’s the first time I’ve really seen her relax, so I can’t help smiling back. “Anyway, yeah, I was a silly teenage girl when I picked it up, and it fit with my notions at the time. I didn’t know then that’s… that’s not really how any of this works, is it?” The smile is gone and doubt has clouded her face. “Too fucking trusting.”

She picks at the button like it’s a scab now, rather than a decoration. I’m sure as hell not going to say anything out loud, but I feel a certain kinship with her all of a sudden. This near-stranger in a bar, further from home than I am, figuring out the limits of reciprocity the hard way. I know exactly what she means.

“Alright, New Guy,” Stone materializes at the booth with Jeff right behind him. He glances quickly at Cora before continuing, “Mark heard that the Off Ramp needs a band for the 22nd. We doing this or what?”

#behind the sun #chapter 8 #fanfiction #fanfic #eddie vedder #stone gossard #jeff ament #mike mccready #pearl jam

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