#oh unrelated but i just remembered i had a dream i told my friends i was bi uhm 😳

[from-ultra-space]

Nori’s First Mission

//This will be the second entry in Nori’s Stories, a collection of drabbles and short stories about the little blue dude or his little blue friends. This one is unrelated to the first but if you want to read it you can find it linked in my pinned post. Nori’s First Mission covers, well, Nori’s first mission out of the city. It happens many years before the current time and includes: blood, major injuries, mention of death (although no one dies), a little bit of found family, Nori imaging a sunrise, and is overall pretty long. I was hoping to show a bit more than what I have but that would take too long so just posting as it is. Hope you enjoy :)

-Mod Cucco //

     It was a little while after the team originally found Nori that he went on his first mission. He had been trained in common Ultra Beasts (specifically how to avoid them) and general procedures for how things worked. Still, just because you're trained in what to do if something goes wrong doesn't mean that's always what happens. It was supposed to be something simple, the mission that is. Nori was going to follow a few of the members in the Ultra Defense Force outside the city, collect some basic data to update their records, and maybe learn some stuff from more experienced people along the way. 

     The sky was always dark but Nori was noting it anyways, just like how he noted the sound the group made as they walked further from the light of the city. Osmund, the lady in charge of the expedition, marched confidently in front with something that could be considered a flashlight. As Nori was the only Recon Squad member there he also marched in the front, and even though it was just to gather the highest quality undisturbed data, it made Nori feel important.

     After a few minutes of quiet walking Osmund decided to be the first one to talk. "Your name is Nori, right? Sorry, I'm terrible with names."

"Yes, at least I think my name is Nori," he said back, "I'm not quite sure after all that's happened"

Osmund nodded, "I heard about that. I'm sorry Phyco couldn't find your family, not to mention losing your memories must have been a struggle. Still, I'm happy to have you working with us!" She smiled when she patted Nori on the back. "Just a tip but you don't need to be stiff to be professional. If you keep your posture relaxed while talking all fancy it helps your back and your confidence."

Nori hadn't even noticed he was tense until she said that. "Oh uh… thanks!"

"Hey It's my job. One of the reasons why Phyco sends all the new guys with me. That and the fact that I've walked this route so many times I'd notice if anything was off."

     They walked for a while longer after that. Nori noted (just as he was told) every rock and ancient building foundation. Each sample was one more weight added to his already sore legs until he eventually asked for a rest. Nori carefully went through his data and thanked his suit for being comfortable even if it was a little bulky. From the vantage point he was at there was still light emanating from Megalo Tower and for a moment Nori could imagine what a "Sunrise" might have looked like. Maybe there would be stars, tiny sparkles in the sky that would represent the people's dreams. Maybe there would be farms longer than buildings were tall. Maybe there would be "Trees", plants so big you could live in them. Just as Nori was about to write this down in his Personal Thoughts section of the notes he got interrupted by Osmund.

"We must have taken a wrong turn." She said, "I don't remember this place. Dalis, what's the distance to Megalo Tower?"

One of the members of the Defence Force, who must have been Dalis, looked down at an instrument with a confused look on his face. "That's strange, the number hasn't changed since I last checked it," He thought for a moment, "That must have been at least 20 turns ago. It's just… strange. I did a full diagnostic on it before we left, there should be no issue with it."

"Well nothing we can do about it now. Let's turn back before we get into any trouble… Nori, what's beeping?" Osmund asked.

Nori didn't notice anything though. It took him a bit to find what instrument was going off, his energy monitor. The small device was beeping like crazy, probably for so long that Nori had stopped noticing it. To put it simply, this was not good. "This is not good." Nori replied.

Dalis yelled, "Alright everyone get going. GO." Immediately everyone picked up the pace. Someone called the headquarters for a Lunala but it wouldn't arrive until well after the standard time simply because of how far out they went. Nori was so caught up in the group that for a little bit he didn't even notice that Osmund wasn't following them. 

"Osmund, come on!" Nori called out. She didn't move, just stared in the direction everyone was running.

"oh no. not good." Osmund murmured. "DON'T RUN THAT WAY" The entire group halted as Osmund finally ran to catch up with them. "TURN AROUND NOW!"

Nori was confused. Why wouldn't they head back? Why was it so bright all of a sudden? Nori's head hurt and he felt like he might fall over. Where had he felt this before? The world seemed to slow. Behind him the universe tore itself in two, and a monster entered the world. 

     Nori turned around In horror, his legs shaking as two hands emerged from the Wormhole, each larger than him. The hands forced the rift wider until the creature’s torso could fit through. Before Nori even had a chance to think, the Ultra Beast’s long needle of a mouth had focused its next target, him.

It was that moment that the Buzzwole came crashing down like a force of nature and everything went red. Somehow Nori wasn't dead. Somehow Nori was still conscious and as he lifted his hand to his head he felt something there aside from the blood. Don't panic, he thought, pleaded really, Osmund. Where is Osmund? 

     Nori crawled through the rubble spread by Buzzwole's entrance. He could see the destruction it had caused now,  people fell to its might, some fled but probably wouldn't get far. Finally, he saw Osmund. She was trapped beneath a rock that fell when she must have shoved Nori out of the way. He stumbled across the chaos until he fell next to her, both terrified and in pain. It was there that they waited for help. Osmund was nearly dead, barely breathing but still struggling to stay conscious even if it was only to warn Nori everytime the Beast returned to look for them. It felt like a long time before any help arrived.

     Sometime between rescue and being transported back to the city Nori must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he remembers is waking up to Phyco and Soliera looking down at him. He was told that the Buzzwole had been defeated and that everyone had survived, even if they did so with injuries. A large chunk of rock had to be removed from Nori’s head and it would leave a permanent scar just above his eye, but surprisingly he and Osmund sustained the most damage. Ms. Phoris (as Phyco had called her) would most likely not be able to go out on missions due to complications with her legs. Still, that certainly wouldn’t stop her from training others in the future. Nori would always be her favorite student though, enough that she even gave him her last name.

     While much has changed since this incident (mainly safety procedures) it’s content continues to affect those involved. Aside from the main physical injury Nori received, from this point forward he almost refused to get too close to any kind of Ultra Beast or pokemon. It also kickstarted Nori’s relationship with Osmund, one of the primary people who he considers his family, as he has none by blood. Like a few other of the accidents Nori continues to find himself in, it still bothers him a little, even if he won’t admit it.

[myuheru-archive]

did anyone ever actually finish death note

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 3 - Ensnared [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns.

Summary: Things aren’t always what they seem to be.

Series Masterlist

Finding out that the target you had been assigned to seduce and manipulate for information was actually a good person had its advantages and disadvantages.

For starters, the biggest advantage was that now you could prepare a strategy based on his personality. After all, good people were easier to trick, it was the people like you that would’ve given you a hard time if the roles were reversed. You had been taught to approach everyone with suspicion and pinpoint their weak spots to use against them and as it turned out, Bucky didn’t adapt the same strategy when it came to other people.

The disadvantage? You had no idea how to deal with that.

For years and years you had been trained to kill, lie, manipulate and not look back or feel guilty about any of it because you were told that all your targets were the kind of people that would’ve harmed you or others if they had the chance; so Bucky not being evil was surprising at the very least.

The infamous Winter Soldier hadn’t tried to hurt you when he was under attack, hadn’t tried to use you as a leverage to get out of there unlike what you would’ve done if the roles were reversed.

Needless to say, you were confused as hell.

“I mean when you think about it, it’s not surprising that he’s a good guy,” Chloe said, resting her feet on the table in the empty conference room, “Didn’t he fight against Thanos with Steve Rogers and everyone else?”

“I would’ve fought in that war if I could as well, it doesn’t mean that I’m a good person.”

She pouted, “That’s debatable. I think you’re a great person.”

“No I’m not. I swear to you I’m not.”

“Come on, you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“If it were me, I would’ve pushed him into the line of fire without a second thought.”

“Exactly. We’re terrible people and we acknowledge that, Chloe.” Keith said as you tapped your pencil on the file,

“Back to the first impression strategy, guys. How do I meet Barnes?”

“Hold on, before we continue with the strategy you need to give me an answer about your cover job,” Chloe said, “We can’t have him suspect you’re hiding anything from him. Jobs are a huge part of someone’s life, it’ll come up.”

Keith raised his head, “What are the options?”

“Oh you know, the usual. Sales assistant, retail—“

“The last time you put me in retail for an undercover job, I ended up punching a customer.” he cut her off, “I vote no to the retail.”

“I’m sure they had it coming,” you deadpanned and Chloe hmmed.

“Fast food?”

“No, it makes my hair smell bad.”

“There’s a milkshake shop I can put you in, it doesn’t smell bad. It’s close to the coffee shop he and Wilson get their coffee from.”

“What’s the catch?”

A small grin pulled at her lips, “It’ll be good for the mission.”

You frowned as Keith sat up straighter, curiosity written all over his face. “Chloe? Share your devious plans with the class please?”

“It’s a retro milkshake shop and the uniforms are like….1940s pin up meets 1950s diner waitress.”

Keith started laughing and you stared at Chloe before letting out a groan, burying your face into your palms.

“I hate you so much.”

“Come on, it’s going to be Bucky Barnes’ wet dream, you know that!” Keith said, “On a completely unrelated note, can I see those uniforms?”

“No!” you snatched the phone from Chloe’s hand before Keith could take a look, “No you can’t!”

“I’m so going to take pictures, and when you become a handler I will use them to humble you.”

“I will shoot you if you do that, and can you please focus?” you insisted, “I have a meeting with General soon, and he will ask me about the strategy and I can’t go there with no ideas.”

“Just find something you and Barnes are interested in both, that never failed me,” Keith paused, “Well that, and my good looks.”

Chloe turned to look at him, “I gave her a huge file containing everything there is to know about him,” she said, “It will help her to make him fall in love, but meeting him is something else.”

“Guys,” he rolled his eyes “What are you, fifteen? It’s incredibly easy to meet people.”

“No, it’s incredibly easy to meet civilians,” you corrected him, “Or the bad guys. It’s not like Barnes goes to bars or anything, he’s not very social.”

“Yeah I get that but he has to do something.” he insisted, “Just hand me the file, are you sure you didn’t miss anything?”

“We didn’t—he does the same thing every superhero does,” Chloe threw her hands up, “He saves people if they’re in need, but how are we going to use that?”

You opened your mouth to answer but when the thought struck you, you took a sharp breath, narrowing your eyes. A smile lit up your face, the plan slowly forming in your mind and Keith frowned at you over the file.

“Y/N you’re smiling,” he reminded you, “It’s creepy when you do it genuinely.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” you asked as you turned to Chloe, “You’re right. Superheroes save people, and—and Barnes is not only a superhero, but he’s also a good guy right? He didn’t use me as a leverage while getting out of there, so he cares about people’s wellbeing, so to speak.”

“Yeah?”

You snapped your fingers, “I need to find someone to shoot me.”

“Same, you’re not special.”

Chloe gasped, “Keith!”

“Relax, she’s not serious.”

“No I’m very serious.”

He scowled, “Did you forget what happened when I accidentally shot you on a mission three years ago? It was just one time and you bitched at me for a whole month. You found me when I was working undercover in Brazil to show up at my apartment so that you could complain about it more, I don’t even know how you found my address, it was classified info.”

“I gave her your address.” Chloe held up a hand and Keith heaved a sigh.

“Thank you Brutus.”

“You had it coming,” you pointed out, “But forget about that for a second, okay? I think I just found our strategy. We’re going to use me as a bait.”

“What?”

“That’s how I’ll meet him. We will put me in a dangerous position and he will…” you tried to ignore the bitter taste at the back of your throat, “He will have to save me.”

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said, “He will help you and you will use that to lure him, did I get that right?”

“Exactly,” you grinned, “What better way to manipulate a hero than to give him somebody to save?”

She blinked a couple of times, then turned to Keith.

“Honestly, in times like these I wonder why I’m friends with you guys,” she commented, “Do you have any idea why on earth I’m friends with you?”

He shrugged his shoulders,

“I don’t know,” he said, “Because we’re fun when we’re not diabolical?”

                                           ***

The plan was pretty simple, it would look like a robbery gone wrong. You would be accompanied by one of the lower ranking agents who would pose as a robber so that if he got caught while getting away, it would pose no threat to your cover afterwards, not to mention it couldn’t be traced back to you or the operation.

Of course, you had to make sure that Bucky would stay behind and meet you while Wilson chased the bad guy off. Based on your observations on Wilson, saving people always came first rather than punishing the other person, he put the safety of innocents before anything else, so you had to find a way for them to think Wilson was more suitable for the chase.

Motorcycle. The rookie agent would get away on a motorcycle, which would require Wilson to use his wings to gain speed on him.

But God, you just hated playing the damsel in distress.

“I just want to say I’m honored that you picked me for this mission,” the agent was almost buzzing with excitement in the back alley while you waited until Wilson and Barnes was anywhere within hearing distance. “I heard- I heard so much about you Shrike. Ma’am.”

You leaned your back to the wall, crossing your arms.

“Is it true that you once killed a target using just a pencil?” he asked, “Or that you took down five armed people with a dagger?”

You turned your head to look at him better, amusement making you smile.

“Or- or that you can get information out of someone in just five minutes?” he held his breath, “Or that your father-“

“Don’t talk about my father.” You cut him off, the harsh command leaving your lips almost too fast and you felt the slight guilt pulling at your heartstrings before you shook your head.

“You’re a good shot, right?” you asked, “I don’t want to get the bullet stuck in my arm, you’ll just graze me.”

“I’m a great shot ma’am, top of my class.”

“And you need to make it look believable. Remember, if Wilson catches you—“

“He will take me to the nearest police station, and I will stay there until an agent is sent to pick me up. But do you want me to get caught?”

“Try not to,” you shrugged your shoulders “But if he does, don’t worry about it. He has no reason to believe it’s anything more than some mugging.”

His phone beeped and he checked it, then took a deep breath, “Barnes and Wilson are within hearing distance. Are you ready?”

“Let’s do this,” you said and he grabbed his gun, then pointed it at your arm. You cleared your throat, looking over your shoulder before you turned to him and let out a very high scream, probably enough to reach the people nearby. He pulled the trigger and the gunshot echoed through the alley, a burning spreading all over your arm and making you fall to your knees.

“Are you okay?” he stepped closer to you and you tried to catch your breath.

“Go!” you hissed and he ran to the motorcycle before he rode away and as soon as he was out of your sight, Barnes and Wilson ran to the alley and you started sobbing, holding onto your arm which throbbed in pain.

Good news was he was a good shot, and he had managed to only graze you. But considering that your cover was a civilian, you doubted civilians were used to gunshot wounds, so you had to make it dramatic.

“Ma’am?” Wilson rushed to you with Barnes following him and you tried to breathe through sobs.

“Thank God, please help me—“ you sniffled and looked at the other side of the alley, breathing fast, “He took my wallet, and-and he had a motorcycle…”

“On it. Buck, stay with her.” Wilson said and ran out of the alley as Barnes crouched down to your level while you kept panting, your knees pulled to your chest, leaning back to the wall.

“Hi,” he smiled at you softly and you took a trembling breath, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Hello,” you managed to say as he stole a look at your arm before his eyes snapped back to yours.

“I’m Bucky,” he said, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Can I look at your arm, Y/N?”

You pursed your lips together, pretending to consider it before you raised your hand so that he could see the graze on your upper arm. He furrowed his brows for a moment, and carefully lifted your arm to see it better under the street lights while you sniffled again.

“Am I—am I going to die?” you stammered and he let out a small chuckle.

“No,” he said, “No you won’t. It’s just a graze, it doesn’t even look like it’ll need stitches. I promise.”

“But how do you know?”

“Let’s just say I’ve had my fair share of arm injuries.”

You tried to keep the look of confusion on your face before you slowly averted your gaze from him to his metal wrist and you gasped, your jaw dropping as if you were distracted from the pain.

“Bucky? As in Bucky Barnes?” you asked, “Wait, no. Right? Can’t be.”

A look of regret flashed over his face, apparently he thought that would scare you but lucky for you, you had seen it coming while coming up with a strategy.

“I heard about you!” you said, “You fought against Thanos!”

He was taken aback at the fact that you didn’t accuse him of anything his head was obviously swarming with, and that would be the one thing you could base your whole plan on.

In order to make him fall in love with you and trust you, you had to act like you trusted him, act like you had little to no knowledge of the dark side of his past. Naïve civilian girl with a soft heart was the perfect cover because as far as you could tell from his file, Bucky Barnes just wanted to come back home from war.

He had been looking for something he could call his home for decades now and you’d let him believe you were his home until your orders told you otherwise.

“That’s it?” he asked when you didn’t continue and you pulled your brows together.

“Hm?”

“That’s all you…all you wanted to say?”

“Right—” you took a deep breath, “Right, I’m sorry. Thank you for all you’ve done, for saving the world.”

“No no, I didn’t mean—“ he stopped himself, “That wasn’t what I meant. Trust me, you shouldn’t be thanking me.”

“Well I am though,” you winced when you moved your arm before turning your head to check the dark alley “Bucky? Do you… do you think that robber would come back?”

“Sam’s got it covered.” he assured you, “Don’t worry. He’s not getting away, and he’s definitely not coming back here.”

“Okay.” You murmured and wiped at your eye again with the back of your free hand before you clutched at your arm again, a sob tearing itself from your chest. “God, it just—it hurts so bad...”

He shushed you gently, “I know it does sweetheart. Let’s get you to the hospital so that it will stop hurting, alright?”

Ah.

Even by 40s standards, sweetheart was a good sign.

You shook your head, “But I can’t go to the hospital.”

“Why not?”

“I’m on a budget.”

He blinked a couple of times, “Come again?”

“I don’t have enough money for the hospital. I’m sure if I put a band aid on it or something it’d work, you said it wouldn’t need stitches and there’s a pharmacy right around the corner you see—”

“That’s not how bullet wounds work, let’s go.” He helped you up but you stumbled into him, letting him catch you as you looked up at him.

“I apologize, I just feel dizzy…” you said and he smiled softly.

“Don’t worry about it,” his voice was soothing, “You think you can walk? I can carry you.”

“No I can—I can walk,” you stammered and let him lead you out of the alley, his arm wrapped around your waist tight before he looked down at you.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured to himself, then he took off his jacket to put it over your shoulders. You pulled the oversized jacket tighter around you, brushing the sleeve over your forehead to push back your hair and only when he turned to stop a taxi you let a tiny smirk pull at your lips despite the throbbing on your arm.

Well, your superiors were going to be pleased. The first part of the mission was done.

Now all you had to do was make him fall in love with you.

                             Chapter 4

[mrslilyrogers]

All I Have To Do Is Dream

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Telepath! Reader (X-men reader)

Summary: It’s been five years since the snap. You and Steve are stuck at an impasse. You want a family, he doesn’t. He says he’s moved on but has he really? With your doubts growing, you consider risking his trust and use your powers on him to get your answers once and for all. 

Author’s note: I know I’ve been gone for so long, I’m sorry!! I loved these requests and decided to merge them together. Took a while to write, I haven’t had much inspiration. I’ll keep this short and hope you enjoy this!! Let me know what you think!  

Requests: hi!! first of all i adore your writing (esp. betrayal)!! id willingly chop two of my limbs in exchange of ur writing skills hahah!! can you maybe write a oneshot similar to take my breath away, and the reader and steve are dating, but they’re actually in steve’s dream(like in age of ultron) and she is sad that steve’s still hasn’t moved on from peggy?? and can you make it extra angsty?? sorry if this is too much hehe!! thanks btw :))

Hmmm maybe angst w/ Steve or Bucky where a misunderstanding/bad fight leads to the reader leaving the team?

“Damn it, Steve! Would you just listen? Where the hell are you even going?” your voice boomed around your small apartment as you breathed harshly, trying your best not to pull your hair out of frustration. 

At first, it had all been just petty disagreements, you and Steve letting off some steam after the snap happened. You had thought it was normal at the time, a coping mechanism that needed to be flushed out of your systems never expecting that it would last for as long as it has. Five freakin’ years. By now, you would’ve thought you’d realize how lucky you were to still be alive, to still be together while others couldn’t say the same. And yet...

“Geez, Y/N. I am! For the past 30 minutes! And I’m telling you now what I’ve told you from the start,  I am not ready! You gotta give me more time, doll.” He replied, his voice just a tad calmer than yours but you didn’t miss the tick in his jaw as he walked out of your shared room, shrugging into his jacket. You knew his anger was just brewing inside, ready to attack if you pushed just a little bit harder. After countless back-and-forths, this had become a routine between the two of you with Steve always taking the role of the aggrieved party, ending arguments with an exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes before he walked away, deciding he had something better to do with his precious time than fight with you. While you, on the other hand, always found that more infuriating, making you impatient and mean, baiting and nagging him until you wouldn’t even recognize the shrill and whine to your own voice.

“And when would that even be? It’s been five years since the snap. When will—”

“Don’t you dare bring that up!” his voice rose, eyes glaring at you as he whirled around, his jaw clenched. “Don’t use that excuse on me, you know damned well I know it. Why do you think I chose to move on and be with you instead of helping Nat bring them all back, hmm?” He continued mockingly as if you were stupid enough not to understand. 

This was it, what all your petty arguments had narrowed down into;

Despite what he said, he still wasn’t ready to settle down. 

“But what the hell are we doing now, Steve? We’re not getting any younger! I want to have kids, a family, with you!” You knew you sounded pathetic, and desperate all at the same time but you couldn’t help but continue, the pretty picture already clouding your brain, 

“Can’t you see it? Having children of our own, their drawings hung up on the walls, the dog you’ve been wanting to have since forever running around the house, family barbecues...” your voice trailed off, a lump forming in your throat, your eyes glazing over with unshed tears. It was all within your grasp, so easily reachable if only Steve agreed with you. If only he wanted it too. Anger bubbled up to the surface while he bristled, looking annoyed. 

 “We can have all of that, you know. What are you even waiting for? Will you ever be ready? Because it really feels like you won’t and I’m the only one who actually wants this,” You were unrelenting, thinking of Tony Stark’s family, how they had gone off the grid and had their own little piece of heaven. Crossing your arms, you knew you wouldn’t achieve anything by becoming a nag but your patience was already wearing thin. 

“Jesus, Y/N! Why would you even say that? Of course I want a family with you! I’m just not ready for that yet! Just give me more time,”

Shaking your head, you let out a defeated sigh and looked away from him. You could hear him grabbing the keys from the counter, exhaling loudly before he went up to you and ran his hands down your arms soothingly, willing you to understand. When you didn’t budge, he just pleaded as he always had, 

“I love you, you know I love you. But I need to get to this meeting, those people need me, Y/N. Could we please just talk about this later?” He moved his head lower to meet your eyes and even in your state of anger, you knew you couldn’t say no to that. He took your begrudged nod as an assent, kissing your forehead before he turned to leave. What else were you going to say anyway? He was going to lead a therapy session for people who had lost their loved ones. Guilt ate at you for keeping him here when he so desperately wanted to save the world. People needed him too, not just you. They hung on his every word. They needed their Captain America, their symbol of hope. While, here you were, acting like a child because he wouldn’t let you have your way. 

Letting out another sigh, your gaze stuck to the floor, berating yourself at how selfish you’d become. You knew what you were getting into when you dated him. You had no illusions of being the center of his universe, it was always going to be the people. But still, it would’ve been nice to be put first for once. You hated the tandem feelings of jealousy and guilt that always crept up on you after your fights. You just wished he understood that while those people needed their hero, you needed your Steve too. But as time passed, it seemed like the man and the hero were indistinguishable and you’d been deluding yourself into thinking it could be different. You’d just have to accept that too because living without him wouldn’t even be an option. 

He paused by the door, catching sight of your slumped shoulders. “Hey,” he said softly, striding back to you. 

“You know I love you, right?” he stroked your cheeks and you couldn’t help the turn of your lips. Nodding slowly, you rolled your eyes at how easy you were for him. 

 “I know. I’m sorry,” 

Ducking down to give you a quick peck on the lips, he reassured you again, “We’ll talk about this later, I promise,” then he gave you one last kiss to your forehead before he disappeared. But what once would’ve eased your worries did nothing to quell your nerves now. Your heart believed everything was alright but your gut said otherwise. 

_______________

He looked down at the worn, brassy compass in his palm, his mind years away from where he was, unaware that you were standing by the door. You watched his shoulders relax into a defeated sigh, his eyes never leaving her picture. You couldn’t remember when he ever looked at you like that, all the love and longing etched on his face. He brought his other hand up to caress the picture gently, as if he actually imagined she was with him, a small, sad smile forming on his lips. You felt the air knock right out of you while you scrambled out of there feeling as if you’ve intruded on an intimate moment. You couldn’t help the tears falling from your eyes while you convinced yourself it was nothing. He had just lost his best friends, she was a symbol of his past. He just missed that right? 

You paced around the kitchen, your mind running back to the times you’ve caught him staring at Peggy’s picture. All those times you pretended you didn’t notice how frequently he had been doing it these past few years. His voice, an echo in your head, 

“I’m not ready, just give me more time doll, please,” 

Closing your eyes, you buried your face in your hands. Oh, it would be so easy, you thought. All you had to do was get into his mind and see for yourself. One little, fast trip into his thoughts and you’d get your answers. He’d be none the wiser, no one need ever know except you. And your dignity, and your pride and your principles. Ugh.

He trusted you, you promised never to use your powers on him and yet, that was all you could ever think about now. Did he think of her when he thought of the family he wanted? Was it her face he saw, walking down the aisle to him? 

For the first time in your life, you hated your upbringing at the Xavier Institute. You hated the values and principles they instilled in you, the very reason you were adamant not to use your powers on the unwilling and unsuspecting for your own personal gain even though you were going crazy, craving for your own peace of mind. Deep down you knew, promise to Steve or no, you couldn’t go through with it. 

You looked at the clock, thirty minutes to go before his meeting ended. Grabbing your coat from the rack, you impulsively decided to go to him, promising yourself you weren’t going to nag and argue with him but have a normal conversation like you used to. You haven’t had a date in a long while anyway. Maybe a little spark of romance was all you really needed. 

_____________

Your steps echoed on the linoleum floor, walking past the empty hall to follow the directions to the room where the meeting took place. Rubbing your palms together, you spotted the room. The fluorescent lights hanging above casting a lonely pallor to the already gray walls while the rain poured heavily outside. The gloom, an inevitable reminder of what the world has become. It seemed everywhere people went, there was always a reminder of what they’ve lost. Even on an otherwise unblemished sunny day, the vibrancy was not the same, people were scarce and it was quiet. Too quiet. Which was why you were so adamant to continue on living, in order to honor the lives of the people you’ve lost. 

You could hear their faint voices outside the room. Your heart going out to those poor people who still held onto the past while you thanked your lucky stars you still had Steve.You fished for your earphones in your purse trying not to eavesdrop but his clear and deep voice interrupted you. Leaning against the wall opposite the door, you listened, a smile tugging on your lips while he commended the other person. He was always so good with words, always knew the right things to say and that never failed to make you proud. His words of encouragement lifted your spirits, making you stand a little taller, hope blossoming in the pit of your stomach. He talked about moving on, about finding purpose again. 

“I went in the ice in ‘45 right after I met the love of my life,” 

Your whole body went cold, the smile on your lips faltering, your hands suddenly gripping the edge of your blouse while his disheartened voice continued to try to reassure everyone including himself,

“I woke up 70 years later, you gotta move on. You gotta move on,”  

With a hand to your lips, you ran, your rapid, staccato steps filling the hall barely even muffling the sobs you desperately tried to hide. 

___________

Steve didn’t bother coming home straightaway after the meeting.  He told himself it was because he needed to check up on Nat despite the fact that he could’ve easily just called, despite knowing you were all supposed to meet for dinner in a few days anyway. He took his time getting to the Avengers Compound, embracing the uncharacteristic quietness of the city, giving him the chance to be alone with his thoughts. If he were being honest with himself, he couldn’t shake off the guilt that settled at the pit of his stomach at the thought of Peggy. The love of his life. Apparently, anyway. He had no idea where that came from, never really thought of it until it slipped from his mouth. And did he really feel that way? Was she really the love of his life? 

The thought of you came unbidden from his mind, your warm smile waking him up in the morning, your laughter setting the world to rights whenever he was feeling especially out of place. You’ve been through so much together, what you both had was real and it was beyond anything he could’ve imagined when he woke up from the ice and he knew he should take it a step further. He loves you, he is fully committed to you. There was nothing holding him back and yet… and yet, he still thought of her. He couldn’t help but think that if he had only stayed where he really was supposed to be, Peggy would’ve been the mother to his children, she would’ve been his wife. She would’ve been his life’s true love. But the very thought of that put a sour taste to his mouth, the truth was he could never picture his life without you. As much as he still dreamt of the past, how could it be the same if you weren’t there?

At first he thought falling in love with you was a balm to soothe his lost soul until he eventually realized you had crept up on him slowly but in a span of a heartbeat, wormed your way into his heart so suddenly he couldn’t even pinpoint the exact moment he knew he loved you. It was plain and simple, he knew it as he knew the sun rose in the east, he loved you. It was so unlike the way he fell for Peggy where all it took was one look and he was already drunk in love. 

Was it possible then, to be in love with two women? 

________________________________________

You were already in bed when Steve got home, feigning tiredness from the day when your heart was really beating rapidly in your chest. How could you face him now knowing you were second best? You could hear him in the bathroom, oblivious to your inner turmoil. When he was done, he gave you a quick kiss goodnight and went to his side of the bed, his back to you. You turned to face the wide expanse of his shoulders and wondered where the hell do you go from here. Would you really be alright living in the shadow of his ex, one of the world’s most accomplished women, so extraordinary that Captain America couldn’t even move on from her? Could you really leave him if it came down to it? 

A tear escaped the corner of your eye and you laid on your back, the darkness of the ceiling reflecting the heaviness in your heart. You must’ve stared at it for hours, wondering just how far away you were from the man right at your side. He was with you physically but his heart? You always knew deep down, it belonged to someone else. If he had a choice to go back, would he leave you? With the way things were going, you knew he would. In an instant. There was always a part of him that he closed off from you and ever since the snap, it only worsened. The fights, the distance, it all made sense now. Heck, even tonight, he didn’t even bother to ask how you were doing and accepted your lame excuse to get to bed early. It was the weekend, you literally had nothing to do the whole day and yet, it never even occurred to him that something could be wrong. For once, you were sorely tempted to use your powers on him. Hearing his even breathing as he slept didn’t make it any easier. It would be over before he knew it, what would be the harm in that? 

As if on cue, he turned and faced you. His long lashes resting peacefully on his cheeks, his lips slightly parted, he looked like a man who didn’t carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He looked younger, more like your Steve. The Steve you wished would let you in and give you the family you’ve always wanted. 

“Just a quick little trip, no one would ever know. What would be the harm in that?” the little voice in the back of your head taunted.

What would be the harm in that? 

With your resolve weakening, you jumped right into the abyss, entering the mind of the man of your dreams, hoping you were his too. 

______

The sun shone brightly through the open window, letting in the warm summer breeze while his favorite vinyl record played in the background. 

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It’s been a long long time 

The air was crisp and the smell of pancakes and cinnamon wafted from the doorway of the kitchen into the living room of the small, suburban house. The yellow walls were adorned with children’s drawings with a few marker drawings on the wallpaper here and there. The faint sound of giggling could just be heard from where you stood by the stairs. Your children, you thought to yourself, a smile creeping up your lips. This was it. This was what you’ve been picturing too, what you’ve told him countless times over and over again. He dreamed of it too. You turned your attention to the living room, your heart giving a little leap at the mess. It looked like someone had tried to tidy up but gave up on the last minute, some toys still scattered about. You noticed the pet bed by the couch, and you couldn’t help but be excited and hopeful, it was everything you thought of down to a T. You went towards the paper and crayons on the low table between the couch and the fireplace, inspecting one of the children’s current drawings there. It was of a family, their hands holding each other while they smiled in front of the house, a little dog at their father’s side. At the bottom, a scribbly handwriting of a preschooler wrote; Mom, Sarah, James, Dad and directly below the dog, Sam. You laughed aloud at that, clutching the drawing, hoping you could keep it for yourself and willing it into existence. 

“Come on, dance with me,” 

You heard Steve’s playful voice coming from the kitchen. A woman’s laughter rang out, you could just imagine yourself shaking your head at him in response, but something about the woman’s laugh caught you in your tracks. A little too shrill, a little too melodic. You inched closer to the open door, your heart dropping to your stomach. There they were, the picture perfect couple.  He twirled her around, her red dress hugging her curves so effortlessly, while she drew her head back and laughed. The dimples on her cheeks deepening, her curls staying in place even when Steve maneuvered her around. They looked so beautiful together, his golden locks and smitten smile never once leaving her face, he never looked so happy. 

Not even when he was with you.

That realization hit you like a train. You couldn’t even remember the last time he looked at you the way he looked at Peggy now.  When was the last time you danced? When was the last time you acted silly together? When was the last time you were both happy? That was what hurt the most. You couldn’t even remember. It felt like a weird sort of deja vu except now, it was an actual woman instead of a picture on a compass. You tried to gather your pride and step away but you couldn’t, you were rooted into place, a sadistic part of you welcomed the pain because you should’ve known. 

“I went in the ice in ‘45 right after I met the love of my life,” 

You should’ve known.

 But instead, you choose to play the fool.

There must’ve been a shift in the air that only they understood because Steve gathered her in his arms now, their eyes locking into each other, gentle and longing. 

You'll never know how many dreams

I dreamed about you

Or just how empty they all seemed without you

So kiss me once then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It's been a long, long time

He rocked her back and forth, bringing her hand up to his chest, turning into action what words fail to describe. She closed her eyes and laid her head on his heart, savoring their moment. He leaned his head on hers too, a satisfied smile on both their faces as they continued to sway to the music. You had never felt as small as you did now. You felt like a thief, intruding on their moment, stealing his dream away. And that’s exactly what you were doing. That’s exactly what you are. You felt so dirty, a desperate, pathetic fly on the wall he couldn’t get rid of. And worst of all, you destroyed his trust too.

As if on cue, the colors started to change, the song distorting and shifting and in this moment you knew, you had to leave. 

You have to leave. 

Part Two

[bokugaos]

Territory

＞﹏＜ koutarou-nii just has to be the first here!! @aoyukai​ @kiyokens​ @shoyokuns​ for this nd helping nd encouraging me yesterday ILY’ALL MWAH

length: ~2k

warnings — yandere!bokuto, pseudo-incest, virgin reader

Bokuto can’t get enough of his pure and perfect little sister. So sweet, so soft, and untouched. Like an angel.

He knows about the things you talk about with his two older sisters. He tunes in to your conversations a lot; to keep tabs on you, he insists! As a responsible older brother, he has to know everything about you.

He’s seen the way other men look at you—his old high school classmates and teammates, strangers on the street, hell, even his current teammates. Everyone knows you’re off limits, he always makes sure of it. Nobody has the right to take you away from him, to be the reason that you’re going to cater to someone else’s attention but his.

You belong to him and only him.

But you’re simply too stubborn for your own good. You just have to go out and make your own friends, and now you have some suitors that he’s concerned about. You’ve dated some of them and of course Bokuto is spending more than half his time worrying about you and the things you do with them.

The thought of one of them, thinking they have the right to take away your virgin flower. He’s not even entitled to have you, let alone all those scumbags. He can’t bear the thought of someone snatching your innocence away—you’re so precious to him that he doesn’t even allow himself to have it. He would never ever let anyone else take it, not under his watch.

He is more than delighted when you announce to him that you’re going to stop meeting and dating people. You’re now finally seeing eye to eye with him! You haven’t been hanging out with other people, spending most of your time with him, as if living together is not enough for you.

You’ve voiced your complaints before, how you’re getting weird comments from your friends. They told you that it’s not normal for siblings to be that close. But he understands; they hate that you’re no longer so attached to them since you go out to see them less and less. He tries to explain to you that they are simply jealous.

You don’t need anyone else after all; he’s the only one you need, and he’s the best man you can ever find in this world.

But he’d be lying if he says he’s never had a lapse of judgment. You’re not making it any easier for him either, even though you don’t know just how weak he is for you. He’d catch you with your eyes closed, so relaxed and unguarded… what are you thinking? Do you lose your imagination, like he often does?

Are you fantasizing about him caressing you as he’s lowering you to the bed? Because he’s done it a few times you know, putting you to sleep like that. He has just never made any moves beyond. Maybe you unconsciously wish for him to all the same and that’s what you’re thinking about

Do you want him to pull the underwear down your thighs, slowly rub his fingers over your sex, smear your love juice to make sure you’re at least a little prepared for him, before he presses the head of his cock to your entrance? Do you want to feel him, inch by inch, as he sheathes himself deep into your tight, hot, virgin space? Because he would love nothing more than to listen to your moans, all your cute squirms underneath him and your delicious whimpers.

When you call out, “Kou-nii”, his heart jumps—he knows you’re definitely not thinking of anyone else. This is the only time he’s giving into a moment of weakness. He’s got you pressed up on the wall, your clothes hiked up just enough for him to have more of your thigh to grind against. You’re asking him—practically begging him to sink himself into you. “Am I not worthy?” You are, and your mewls, his sister gift wrapping it for him in the prettiest show of doubt and hesitation, can break his fixation.

Bokuto glides his hot, needy cock against your skin. His wet, leaking tip is leaving glistening trails, beautifying you even more. You keep your hands to yourself, both pressed on the surface of the wall. Your eyes are starting to close with each rock of your body, while musical little hums resonate behind closed lips.

He growls, having worked himself into a heated madness. He spins you around, and you instinctively close your legs tightly together for him. With slight difficulty, he wedges himself between the pillowy parts of your thighs, the softest portions, just underneath your crotch. He ruts in between them, with fervent quick snaps.  

His hands plant onto the wall on either side of you. His cock briefly grazes the cloth of your underwear, feeling the moist there. He can’t tell if he’s simply leaking that much, or if you’re truly that wet for him. He pulls back to peel your underwear down in a flash and the next thing you know, its head is rubbing against you, earning him a soft moan bellowing against his ear.

The bedroom is a tad too far, but he won’t let himself be the reason his whole fantasy, the one he’s been dreaming around his fist about, to be ruined. He ups and carries you to the room, restraining himself from throwing you against the mattress and start fucking you senseless.

He crawls on the bed and hovers above you with heavy breaths, unable to calm himself down no matter how hard he tries. You’re so beautiful for him, laying on the stark white sheets as pure as you. He opens up your legs, marveling at how you look like a goddess in his bed. You’re so, very perfect. How is he so lucky to be the one who sees you like this?

Thankful that you’ve waited this whole time,—for him!—and let him take you. He gives you a kiss on the forehead and slowly pulls his hips back, cock leaving a wet trail from navel to mound. He angles his hips so that his bulky head lines up perfectly with your hungry cunt. Your inner, velvety walls hug him, just the tip this time, like a vice grip.

The last bits of his moral center shut down.

All Bokuto wants now is to fuck and fuck fast. To bury himself to the hilt, over and over. However, he’ll need to ease you up even more, as he’s barely even a quarter in but you’re already milking him so tightly that his eyes might actually roll back in pleasure. With an adorable cry—he’s unsure if it’s a surprised one or a pained one—your slack hands move his forearm to his biceps, clinging tighter and tighter the rougher he is. He loves that. It feels as if you're returning some of the passion, so he gives it even more effort.

He mercilessly plunges inside with a few rude thrusts of his pelvis. You wail at the sudden stretch, the burn that careens through your silky, slick walls. Flowering up into your chest, taking the breath from your lungs.

Though his hands are caressing you all over, it seems as if he is not paying any mind to any of your other reactions. Your wails, or the heavy flow of tears that roll down your temples. The whimpering or the continued pleading.

“Hey, pretty girl, don’t cry, huh?” one of his trembling hands smooths over your cheek, trying his best to comfort you despite the raging need in him to thrust faster, harder.  “I-it hurts! and they… they said this is-”

“Just ignore them.”

A thumb hooks around your chin gently but insistently, leaving no room for argument, and you look up to meet his gaze. Bokuto only realizes he’d been slowing down, staring deeply into your eyes when a sob bubbles out of your mouth. Your eyes are half-lidded as he grazes his nose against yours. Kitty kisses, he always calls them. This seems to soothe you the smallest bit. His consciousness is blurring like watercolor now. He has to focus on the more important part of this, he realizes. And it’s you. “How bad does it hurt?”

You shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut.

“I know, baby, I know…it hurts the first time, remember? But d-don’t be scared, I-ah, fuck! It’s nii-chan,” Bokuto’s hips buck faster and harder, “Nii-chan’s got you.”

Closing your eyes you take a deep breath in through your nose. One of his hands is roaming your body, trying to distract you. The very tips of his fingers, gliding over the slopes of your breasts, teasing your nipples. Sending sharp shivers through your stomach into your pussy. Accumulating a new bout of slick, your cunt feeling hot and needy, you clench around him.

Your fingers come together in a fist over your head. All you can focus on is how deep his cock is hitting you, how filled up you are. The unbelievable heat, how your pussy continues to salivate all over his cock. Slick seeping in between your cheeks. Thighs shaking, as your velvet walls clamp down on his length. “Ah!– Nii-chan! Fu-fuck… oh– oh my god…” Your whole body quakes with your intense orgasm.  

You throw your hands back over your head and arch your back. Your breath is fevered, chest rapidly rising and falling. Shaky meek whines that accompany every exhale. But that’s now, because your body is begging for it, pleading to get filled and creamed.

Bokuto continues to piston into you long after you're done coming. He fucks you until you’re a sweaty, grimy, whimpering mess. All muscle strength lost to it, becoming a rag-doll being puppeted by his big, unrelenting figure.

A deep-seated growl in his chest, not yet, he thinks, maybe you need some more practice before you can take him all the way inside. He’s too inside himself to recognize the wail you give, hunching over and burying his face in your neck, tasting sweat and fear and wholly unable to stop himself at all. He grunts like an animal, punctuated by loud, slick smacking sounds, overwhelmed with the pleasure of your burning hot, resisting walls clutching at him like a fist.

You turn him on so much. The tight constriction of your heavenly, virgin cunt. The heavy, moist breath on his neck. Nothing else matters, nothing except catching his end. Filling you up and making you his.

Your nails dig into his biceps and he comes. “Oh! Shit– It’s am– amazing.” His cock, aching and twitching inside of you. He’s coming hard, thick and heavy. Seated all the way inside, spurting deep within you, causing your belly to feel flooded. Marking his territory, you’re his.

He slowly pulls out of you, his cum spilling out of your cute, used up hole. “How’s it feel, angel?”

“ ‘s so good...” You weakly roll your head, face digging into the sheets. You have no strength to lift up your head, but you hope he’ll see your dazed smile.

He chuckles, “Silly baby, of course it does.”

You try to turn over, but he won’t allow it. “No, no. Don’t move. I’ll get you cleaned up!” He comes back with a warm washcloth. He gently cleans off the sweat from your forehead, wipes up stickiness from between your legs. Then he lets you move just he hugs you close to his chest, as he lays down with you in his arms.

Bokuto nuzzles his nose along your cheekbone, humming in approval. He is massaging circles, nibbling on your earlobe. You let your eyes fall shut again, trying to concentrate.

His body is so big, his musk so familiar and homely. You sigh as you finally start to relax, “...Kou-nii is the best.”

He is, and in fact, the only one you need.

[emerald-chaos]

Coney Island

Hi friends! I appreciate all the love and response I’ve gotten for my writing over the past week or so. You guys sure know how to make a gal feel loved! This is another little idea that came one night when I was screaming to a good friend of mine (which is how a lot of my ideas come to me lmao) about how pre-serum 1940s Steve deserves the best. It’s not necessarily my best work, but Steve Rogers deserves some love too. I hope you guys enjoy! Also please feel free to let me know what you guys would like to see me write next :) Enjoy! xo

Pairing: Pre-Serum!Steve x Reader

Word count: 1895

Warnings: swearing and bad attempts at being funny lol

a/n: this was uploaded on mobile because I’m at work tonight so if it looks funky I apologize! I’ll try to fix it after I finish my 3 night stint lol.

As the sun began to set and the hot July air began to cool, Steve couldn’t believe the situation he’d found himself in yet again.

“Come on, pal,” Bucky chuckled as he pat his friend roughly on the shoulder, “I’ve never met someone who was this upset to meet up with a couple of beautiful ladies.”

“What? And somehow be the third wheel on a double date again?” Steve quipped back at his long time friend.

Bucky replied with a roll of his eyes and waved off his friend, turning his body toward the Coney Island parking lot to see if he could find the girls they were supposed to be meeting.

Steve regretted that he sounded so bitter, but these “double dates” that Bucky dragged him on were somewhat of a joke. It was always the same song and dance. The girl who Bucky was attempting to court would bring a friend, either for moral support or to try and set her up, and that friend would always be wholly disappointed when she saw that Steve was who she was stuck with. Steve knew that not every girl had to like him, of course, but occasionally it would be nice to be as sought after or wanted as Bucky was - or at least to not be looked through by every girl he met.

“There they are,” Bucky grinned, raising his arms above his head to signal the two, “over here!”

Steve took a deep breath and prepared himself for the inevitable look of disappointment that he had become so accustomed to. Instead, as he turned he was met with a stunning pair of eyes and a soft smile splayed across the most incredible pair of lips he’d ever laid his eyes on. Seeing you made him feel like all the air had been forced out of his lungs and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t catch his breath. The only other time he remembered experiencing the sensation was after a particularly bad time that he had gotten the living hell beat out of him in the alleyway - except this time, it was a good feeling.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Steve.” You said, your voice soft and warm - like honey.

There’s no way that could be a blush on your cheeks, right?

“Well, we already got our tickets,” Bucky’s voice brought Steve back to the present, “so what do you say we head in?”

---------

For the first time in, well, forever, Steve actually found himself enjoying the evening. The small talk didn’t feel stiff or forced, you never recoiled at any of the accidental touches throughout the night, and you actually looked him in the eyes when you were having a conversation. If you were disappointed in being stuck with Steve, you hid it pretty well.

The unrelenting sun had finally set and the colorful lights of various rides and booths reflected off of the water. You had been on a couple rides, enjoyed some hot dogs and funnel cakes, and now the group of you had been sucked into one of those carnival game booths. Bucky was attempting, as usual, to show off for your friend by trying to win her a stuffed animal.

“Would you like to take a walk or something?” Your voice captured Steve’s attention as he turned to look at you. You grinned a little before adding, “It’s kind of sickening to stand here and watch them act like this.”

Steve was caught off guard, both at the jab directed to your friends and the fact that you would even consider being alone with him.

“I, uh, yeah, sure, we could do that,” he nodded quickly, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

You smiled and started down the boardwalk.

This is too good to be true, right? He thought to himself. She’s obviously just trying to be nice.

“Steve?” your voice cut through his doubts. He hadn’t even realized that you made it several feet away from him and he was still planted in the same spot.

“Oh! Yeah, coming! Sorry!” Steve blushed as he hurried to catch up with you.

The two of you walked side by side for a few minutes, an oddly comfortable silence lingering between you.

“How are-”

“Have you-”

Steve’s eyes met yours as you both began to speak simultaneously and you shared a laugh together. Steve could feel the warmth rising in his face and he hoped to God that he wasn’t blushing like an idiot.

“You first,” he smiled softly.

“I was just going to ask how long you and James have known each other?” you asked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

And there it was.

To anyone else the question would seem innocent, but Steve knew better. You had only drawn Steve away so you could question him about his friend - the same way every other person before you had done. There was a heat building inside Steve’s stomach. How could he be so stupid? How could he actually believe that someone like you could be interested in someone like him?

“T-the only reason I ask is,” you blurted, sounding...nervous? “well, because the two of you are so different. I mean, not in a bad way! Just like, James is so...cocky and loud and you’re...well you’re not.”

Steve stopped walking and looked at you. His thoughts were racing through his brain like a freight train. What exactly were you trying to say?

“God I'm so bad with words,” you laughed, shaking your head, “just forget I said anything at all.”

“You don’t have to feel bad for me, you know. If that’s what this is.” Steve couldn’t hold back the words, and they sounded much colder than he meant them to. He was just so tired of living in his friend’s shadow. The only time girls were ever nice to him was because they wanted to impress Bucky. He was sure that’s what you were doing too.

Once he noticed your brows furrow and a look of sadness overcome your face, he wanted nothing more than to rewind time and take his words back.

“Is that the type of person you think I am, Steve?” Your voice came out a little shaky, but Steve could still hear the hurt he had caused.

Steve sighed and rubbed his face.

“I’m sorry,” he started as his hands fell from his face and he met your gaze again, “I’m just...I’m not used to this.”

“And what exactly is this?” you asked, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Someone on these double dats being interested in me.”

He could tell that his words caught you off guard. You were quiet and your arms slowly fell to your side. Steve was having trouble reading your expression, but it looked somewhere between someone who saw a puppy left on the side of the road and someone who was trying to understand a foreign language.

“Just...Just forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.” Steve waved his hand, as if he was trying to dismiss the conversation.

What he didn’t expect was for your hand to intertwine with his.

Steve’s gaze lingered on your connected hands for a minute before traveling to meet your eyes.

“You’re not very good at this, Rogers.” You said with a small laugh, “Here I was, thinking I was being too obvious.”

“I-I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Steve slowly responded.

You laughed again, the sound slowly becoming one of his favorites. Before he knew what was going on, you were pressed flush against him and capturing his lips with yours.

This would make the third time Steve had felt the wind be knocked from his lungs.

The kiss was slow, soft, and unlike any other he had ever experienced. It reminded him of the time his dad told him how he knew his mom was the one.

Well, when we kissed it felt like the rest of the world melted away. At that moment in time, it was just her and I.

A shiver ran down his spine as the warmth of your lips left his. As though he was drunk or coming out of a haze, it took him a moment to open his eyes and focus his vision back on you. There was a cute pinkness to your cheeks and you had a doe-eyed expression. It took a moment for the heartbeat in his ears to fade away - the joyful screams of park patrons and whirring of machinery returning.

“I like you, Steve,” You told him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, “In fact, I've liked you for a while.”

You watched as Steve’s adam's apple bobbed up and down as he gulped.

“You,” Steve cleared his throat as the word came out as a squeak, “you do?”

That smile he adored returned to your lips as you nodded, “I do.”

Before he had an opportunity to respond, you were speaking again.

“I see you at school, you know, around town too. I’ve always noticed how kind you are to everyone. The way you hold the door open for the old ladies at Church. That one time you gave Johnny your lunch because his parents forgot to pack him one?” the smile on your face growing bigger as you recounted the times in which you fell for Steve Rogers, “I mean, what’s not to like.”

Steve felt an asthma attack coming on.

“James is nice and all,” you leaned in then, as if you were telling a secret, “but he’s also kind of a bastard.”

Steve couldn’t hold back the laugh that tumbled from his lips and you quickly joined him. This felt like some sort of twisted dream to him - you standing here, confessing your feelings to him. Never in a million years did he think someone as beautiful as you would even talk to him, let alone have feelings for him.

“Obviously I’m kidding, but in all honesty... you are one of the best men I’ve ever met, Steve. I’m sorry that any one has ever made you feel less than.” You squeezed his hand again.

This time it was Steve who initiated the kiss, holding your face between his hands as he moved his lips against yours. Your hands found a place on his waist and your bodies slotted against one another - like they were two puzzle pieces made to fit into one another. You tasted sweet, like funnel cake, and your lips were soft against his slightly chapped ones. Steve hadn’t kissed very many people in his lifetime, but if this were the last kiss he got to have - he could die a happy man.

“Ahem,”

The two of you separated to see your friend, holding a huge stuffed bear, and Bucky standing before you, grinning like fools.

“Are we interrupting something?” Bucky mocked the two of you, sending a wink to Steve.

“Shut it, Buck.” Steve warned, although he couldn’t help but grin back at his friend.

“Come on, lovebirds” Bucky teased, “my girl here wants to ride the ferris wheel again.”

You smoothed out your dress and smiled at Steve, lacing your fingers once again with his as the two of you followed your friends toward the ferris wheel.

For once, Steve was going to have to thank Bucky tomorrow.

[amoristt]

Don't Go | Peter Parker

anon: how about a peter parker scenario where the reader is also an avenger and dies from the thanos snap instead of peter, so they turn to dust in his arms? GIMME THE ANGST PLZ

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)! it also helps motivate me!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

c/w: death ment, endgame spoilers

want to support me? heres my kofi!

-

For a brave moment, there was calmness. The distant sound of fire, the seldom silence of a raging war. The sky displays a brilliance of red, yellows, golds over the heads of what remains of Peter’s little team as he helps Tony to his feet. Mantis assists Quill, his arm slung loosely around her shoulder, and then, Peter see’s you congregate into the regrouping. You’re dirty, your outfit looking a little worse for wear. He’s seen you in better shape but at that moment all he can think about is how happy he is to see you there. Standing, breathing.

Seeing you alive.

There’s still light in your eyes when you find his gaze and smile.

Yes, in that moment, even miles away from the finish line, Peter feels his heart swell. In that moment it felt that the war had been won- that the worst of it was finally over.

He’s about to open his mouth, remark about the events having unfolded, ask a hopeful, is it over, but he’s stopped.

Mantis’s eyes unfocus. She stares into the vibrant, dangerous sky, “Something's happening.” She says suddenly.

Peter’s brows knit in confusion, but then- he feels it too. A sharp shot of electricity running down his spine that brings the hairs on his arms to a stand. His spider sense is thrust into full gear as he turns, looks for something, anything, but there is… Nothing. Nothing is happening. If anything, the world was almost too silent, trepidation making his breath halt in his throat.

In the span of a simple, yet devastating second, it all begins.

Mantis is gone. In the blink of an eye, not a single other sentence uttered than a warning. Peter stops in his tracks. Then, he see’s Drax peer down to his hands. Without saying a word, in just a few quiet moments, the man dissipates into ash. From where he once stood, there is nothing. There was no howl of agony, there were no words, there was no time to process. No pile of ash or any evidence he’d been there at all. Peter’s chest tightens. His spider sense wreaks havoc on his nerves, bringing his stomach to an unrelenting churn.

Quill, now forced to stand on his own, looks to Tony. His team gone right before his eyes.

Tony’s eyes light up in fear. “Steady, Quill,” he rushes, but it’s too late.

“Oh man…” Quill knows it's over. And he, just as his friends, fades into nothing. Little ashes that were once the being of Peter Quill flutter into the air before fading entirely.

Peter’s mind is racing now. This can’t be happening, how could it be happening?

“Tony,” Dr. Strange calls. “There was no other way.”

Peter can’t watch anymore. Instead, he finds you. He doesn’t need to see it to know that Dr. Strange is gone. The silence, the way you cover your mouth and shake your head fervently, whispering to yourself in denial, mind overtaken with sudden grief, with fear. He wishes he could take it all away from you. Tears are drawing in your once lit eyes.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter starts frantically, turning to Tony and ignoring that empty space that once was Dr. Strange. He’s terrified to the core, mind racing. Who would be next? Tony? Himself? You? He take’s a trembling step towards his mentor, begging for answers. His stomach is in knots. “What do we do?”

He needs something, anything. It feels like the world is ending before his very eyes.

Tony turns to answer him, but he stops. He’s stuck looking at something else, his expression falling. Peter follows his line of sight, and he’s stricken with dread.

Your hands at your chest, staring into your palms, the gentlest stream of brown dust eating away at your skin. “They’re numb,” you whisper, and Peter feels like the floor was torn out from under him. His heart sinks into the lowest pits of his stomach when you look up at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape.

Not you.

As you lose your footing, falling victim to the effects overtaking your body, Peter launches from his place to catch you before you could collapse onto the dirt. He follows you down, cradles you in his arms, eyes searching for anything he could do to fix it. Anything he could do to save you.

It couldn't be you.

“Peter.” You begin, and you touch his face. He swallows a lump in his throat. You appeared so fearful, and yet, at a sort of peace. Of course you knew exactly what was happening. So did he.

“You can’t,” Peter wheezes. He shakes as he keeps you in his hold. “You can’t leave me.”

He watches in anguish as your expression softens, your eyes unfocusing. Staring into the bright sky ahead of you. There’s nothing he can do to keep you here, with him. Your arms fade into nothing, infectiously spreading to your chest. He feels the weight of you lighten in his arms.

“You’re okay,” You whisper. “You’ll be okay.”

For what short time he can, Peter pulls you into his chest. He clutches you to himself like nothing else, unaccepting, unprepared. He can’t accept it- not like you had so quickly. He can’t. He doesn’t want to.

Clutched against him, he feels the shape of you in his arms, and then, all at once, you’re gone. Emptiness from where you once lay and the absence of you sends him collapsing into the dirt with nothing to keep him supported any longer. The dirt is cold, hard,. unwelcoming. He doesn't even bother to look to see if maybe, somehow, you remained. He knew better. You were gone.

Peter doesn't cry out, or wail into the nothingness or grasp at the dirt you’d faded into. Teeth sinking into his lower lip, he just shakes, he sucks in breaths that hurt his aching lungs and tightens his hands into harsh fists. There’s a touch on his shoulder but he ignores it. He’s lost in himself, lost in you. Lost in wondering so suddenly how he’s supposed to carry on without you.

He hadn't even gotten to say goodbye.

“He did it.” Nebula whispers, sorrow dripping from each word. A miserable confirmation.

Tears sting his eyes, squeezed shut, wishing it was all just a dream. Wishing he could glance up, and you’d just be there still. Why did it have to be you? All your fighting, all your work, making it to the very end side by side with him and for what? There was nothing of you left- nothing for him to remind himself that you’d even been there at all save for your goodbye, the softness of your eyes. The way you touched his face and told him he’d be okay.

“Hey,” A touch breaches his scrambled thoughts once more. Tony kneels beside him, crestfallen. “You gotta get up kid,” but Peter can’t. He doesn’t want to- not just yet. He doesn’t want to move and see that you really are gone.

The touch turns into a soft grip, a small tug. Tony tries again, a crack in his voice. “You gotta get up, Peter.”

Eyes wet, blurry with fat tears, holding the worst of his lamenting cries within the confines of his chest, he brings himself to look up. The loss of you stings him all over again. The loss of everyone stings him, fills him with desolation. Fill him with hopelessness.

They hadn’t won. They’d lost everything.

He can’t meet Tony’s gaze. The world had rolled, crashed in and folded onto everyone. All he could think about was you, the feeling of you. The hauntingness of remembering your words so rushed and the sight of you eroding into nothingness. He can’t handle it. He drops his head all over again and let’s tears soak into the dirt underneath him.

He can’t handle the thought of you gone now, and gone forever. All your plans, desolated. The thought of you never getting to see the end of the war, let alone another day. The realization that he’d never get to spend another with you.

The pure, raw, mercilessness of having you in his arms one moment, and gone the next.

[cooloddball]

JIB9 (JIBCON 2018) ANALYSIS PART 2

Go read part 1 of jib9 analysis if you haven’t read it already.

Continuing from where we left off...

Misha says no, he doesn’t think that Cas feels like part of the family and Jensen smirks and looks down while Jared smiles

Jensen helps Misha along with his answer 

Jensen defends Sam and Dean after Misha says they don’t show emotion saying things like “I love you so much”

Jens: “There are a few scenes where you know,”

Jared: “Didn’t you see the one with the whole if we die we will do that together too?”

Jens: “Yeah that was emotional”

This is getting serious people. Remember this is season 13 they are talking about.

Jens keeps going on “you know there was embracing, and then there was a lot-I mean…” This whole time Jensen is looking at Misha

Misha is like “All I’m saying…”

And Jensen cuts Misha  off and says, “Did you miss that?”

Look at Jared’s face here though. He’s like are you guys having a lovers’ quarrel? Am I missing something?

Misha tries to talk again but Jensen is adamant, unrelenting to give up on that there was an emotional scene between Dean and Cas. 13x05???  “Were you not there?”

Misha being who he is and not backing down either he says, “NO” rather defiantly. 

Jared’s face here though. He stopped talking and is watching these two lovers go at it. (No, not the sexy kind)

Jensen doesn’t look too thrilled about what Misha said. Jared laughs Jensen is basically done at this point. Look at his face.

Misha continues “That was Castiel”

And Jensen just looks appalled, he raises his eyebrows looks down at his hands [0.43 insert Jensen’s face atm] and since Misha is looking at him and he sees that Jensen is unhappy he adds “I’m very method.”

Jensen goes to say something but stops himself, Jared senses the tension, Misha is still looking at Jensen and Jensen hasn’t looked at Misha since he asked him “were you not there?”

IDK what is going on here but it fees like more than just about Dean and Cas and more like it’s about Jensen and Misha. I mean Jared and Misha are having fun with it and Jensen just seems adamant to prove they care A LOT about Cas which is weird considering the fact that the moment Misha was asked that question Jensen agreed with Jared that they are not as pleased that Cas was back (this was a joke) . So what has changed since then? Only a few seconds have passed.

Jensen presses on, “I mean was Cas there? I know he was there physically but was he there emotionally? Because it doesn’t sound like it.”

The way Misha is holding his microphone he looks scared. Jensen can’t take his eyes off Misha.

Misha says, “see this is what I’m talking about” I think he realizes Jensen is getting too emotional and personal on stage and he decides to guide the conversation to the funny side.

Jensen laughs .

Misha says “ I don’t think he [Cas] lets himself feel worthy or wanted” and Jensen keeps looking at a fixed spot on the floor and I don’t know what’s so interesting there. Jared says “smart” in reference to Misha’s statement and Jensen nods.

Jared tries to make fun but Misha is not having it, he [Misha]  looks at an imaginary watch and says  “That said-uh…that said I think this season he’s felt more part of the team and the family…probably *looks at Jensen* more than ever before” Now I talked about that moment here but I have to reiterate, something is off here tbh. I don’t know what was going on with Jensen but something was definitely off.

I have been thinking about what the causation of Jensen’ s behaviour could be and I have come to a very weird and maybe kind of controversial conclusion, IDK. But  here’s what I think. Maybe Misha finally told Jensen that he didn’t feel like he was part of the family because of the way they treated him and talked shit about him at J2 panels? Like how he pretended to gag when he saw Misha on screen during the jib9 j2 panel the previous day. Or the extreme pranks Jared played on him and Jensen just stood aside? The way some  j2 fans send hate to him and that it gets to him. Maybe he finally opened up. Because if that is the case then,  Jensen blamed himself for making Misha feel like that when he didn’t have any intention to? I hope I’m making sense. Or maybe it could be something else entirely but I feel like since 2017 Jensen had stopped going along with Jared’s attempts to make fun of Misha at their panes. So maybe this was him feeling bad that he ever played a part in that??? Okay my head hurts I have to move on. 

Since that moment Jensen doesn’t look okay, even when Mishalecki are bantering with the next fan, Jensen just seems sad? Sad is not the right word but he seems kind of upset 

So the fan makes a small mistake in what she’s asking and Misha laughs  then Jensen turns to look at him for a brief second, it’s literally for a second and Misha looks at him with his big blue eyes but Jensen looks away rather quickly. I think they can both feel the weight of the previous answer Misha gave simmering beneath the surface but they can’t talk about it atm. 

Now Jared says something rather weird to me, “A man who goes to sleep with an itchy butt wakes up with a smelly hand.”   (I know it’s a saying or whatever but it’s just a strange thing to say or maybe it’s just me) Jensen is nodding along to that but Misha doesn’t look amused. I think it’s an interesting thing to say when two of your best friends who play with each other’s butts are seated on stage with you. I’m not sorry I said that because it had to be said.

For a literal microsecond, Misha looks at Jensen but Jensen is looking at a fixed spot on the floor as has become norm in the last 2 minutes. Mish suppresses a smile because he knows Jensen still feels bad about earlier.

Jared says that’s why he thinks the brother’s and Cas have to die in order for the show to end and Jensen’s face is just stoic. Dude wtf?? 

Jensen joins in the banter and makes a joke about a man who stands on a toilet while high on pot he’s not crazy he’s just high? J2 make another joke about a man going backwards to Bangkok or something. Misha manages to laugh at those jokes.

Jared asks Misha  if he has anything to add and Jensen looks at Misha smiling look at the way he’s looking at Misha. It’s like he wants to stuff him in his pocket and take him home with him.

Jensen is laughing so hard now because Misha says that the only sayings that come to mind are the only ones he doesn’t want to say.

They try to pronounce the German word and it’s hilarious AF.

So Jared makes a joke of a sound that the fan is helping them pronounce and Jensen is just done. Completely done because he looks away and scratches his beard like he wants to be anywhere but there. JFC What is going on? He was happy again.

OMG husbands whispering at each other while Jared is engaged with a fan. Gossipy Jensen. Also I’m glad whatever tension was there after the Cas question is finally gone and they are back on track again.

They are in there own little world because IDK what Misha whispered to Jensen but Jensen is unicorn laughing. Aww J

 “We just said some really bad shit” I like it when Jensen curses. Now I want to know what they said because when Misha whispers it to Jared, he laughs really hard as well. Oh to be a tiny ant crawling around, listening to their whispered secrets. A girl can dream am I right?

7.33 Jared asks the fan what her “that German/Austrian word” was that morning and I am inclined to think whatever the husbands were whispering to each other had something to do with a sex-related orifice because of the way Jensen reacts.

The fan puts Jared in his place. Look at Jensen’s reaction.

He’s like you go girl.

Jensen wants to whisper something to Misha so bad but he stops himself.

Okay so Jensen says he did bicycle touring and he did take part in some of the quests. Is he talking about GISHWES because he never can pronounce that word. LOL.

So Jared interrupts Jensen starts telling his story and Jensen just shuts down just look at his face the entire time Jared is telling it.

Misha and Jared are talking about how it’s so hot on stage and Jensen is just miming to the fans how it’s not hot. I love when he does that. Naughty boy.

Misha moans and he and Jared just rush off to point the fan in their direction while Jensen just stands over the fan on his side of the stage and cools his balls off.

OMG!!!! Misha is doing the mating dance while making fiery eye contact with Jensen and sips from the bottle. Jensen heeds his husband’s call to mate and walks briskly in long manly steps to wards him and he takes the drink off his hand while looking at him like he wants to eat him [it’s called a mating dance for a reason] and inhales the drink whatever it is and it must be really strong because he looks away and says something to Jared. Misha walks away says something to Jared and goes to sit down.  Jensen starts twerking his booty. Misha your man wants to mate on stage do something. Anyway Jensen pours the drink that Misha had sipped directly from the bottle in a shot glass  and does the rck on sign and sips it. The entire time Mishalecki are just looking at Nesnej and laughing not understanding what is going on.

Jared sniffs the drink and says “poker face” and Jensen says “thanks Lady Gaga” IDK if this was a snide comment or just banter but now we know Jensen listens to Lady Gaga and Katy Perry (re: jib8).

This part is really funny when the fan thanks Misha for sending a recovery message to her friend but Misha says that  he had no choice but to do it because the fan just held out the phone to Misha and Misha was like “oooh, heeey”

I think Jared asks Misha what happened and Misha explains because Jared folds over laughing.

Jared starts talking before Jensen can answer the question and again Jensen doesn’t look too amused. This guy keeps stealing his thunder.

Jensen manages a smile when he hears that Misha did a German accent 

Misha asks Jensen if he wants some tips on accents and Jensen smiles and says no. Ouch. Sorry Mish, your man doesn’t want your help. He’d rather wing it.

Misha is not backing down and compliments Jensen by listing all the accents that Jensen can do. We love a supportive husband. Hype your man Mish.

Jensen says that he speaks French and he has a little have a  tête-à-tête in français. I find it funny how Misha pretends not to know Jensen speaks French yet he just listed all the accents Jensen can do. Sure Jan.  And after the French interaction which Misha adds a flair of a French accent when he talk as and , Jensen tries really hard  not to smile. Someone’s excited. #accent kink ;)

Jensen says he doesn’t think Michael is going to need an accent and Misha says yes he will in French accent and Jensen is just trying really really hard not to smile.

Look at Jared’s face though he’s like dude are you seriously turned on by Misha’s weird accent right now? It’s not even funny and Jensen can’t stop smiling.

Jensen is done with Misha’s shenanigans so he just cuts him off and Misha is exasperated and Jensen proceeds to ask his question.

Fan says she would improve on Misha’s German accent and Misha gasps scandalized and  even Jensen is not happy about that but he takes this moment to make fun of Misha so the comment doesn’t seem as harsh 

Look at Misha’s face

and here is Jensen’s face  he can’t believe someone was mean to his baby.

Anyway, in an attempt to make it less painful for his man he tries to make and joke and says, “I didn’t send that out with the insult in mind but I’m really glad that happened.” 

The joke makes it worse and Misha  doesn’t seem to feel better. Poor Misha.

It’s over.

Time for the closing ceremony

Jensen and Briana singing.

 Misha and Adam

I love their friendship, makes me think of the possibilities that could’ve been between Cas and Mick on the show.

OMG Jensen you naught boy, yeah I see you have experience humping and spanking. Go on Rockstar we love to see it.

Even Jason Mann’s sees Jensen humping the air and Misha and Jensen turn to look at Jason. Jensen is  smirking at him after what he just did. OMG.

The way Jensen is looking at Rob when Rob tries to sing the remaining verses of carry on my wayward son. Jensen you need apple juice. Jensen is me. He is insane and he is me and I love him. JENSENKIN!!!!

Why are Jensen and Misha gravitating towards each other unconsciously? Do their hearts have magnets that pull towards each other?

Speaking of them why does Jensen seem extremely tall here and Misha looks so tiny.

Am I the only one who doesn’t like the guy who played Ketch? OMG he just rubs me off the wrong way.

 OMG is Jared trying to touch Jensen’s hand? Eww He touched Jensen’s arm and Jensen didn’t even look at him. This is embarrassing. Jensen hasn’t looked at him once/ HELP.

Misha and Jensen are standing the same way at the exact same time and they aren’t even looking at each other. OMG!! This is insanity.

Jensen turns to smile at Misha. Aww J

Jensen looks at Misha with a smile on his face when Daniela says they’ll be back the next year the year that gave us straddle gate and boners.

It’s over guys. 

So I have come to the conclusion that something was going on between Jensen and Jared at jib 9.

See you on the next one.

Part 1

[mochegato]

Capturing a Dream

Chapter 11 – That Keeps Out the Danger

Chapter 1     Chapter 10

“How are we supposed to eat?  We’re going to starve.  You’re leaving us to starve.  To wither away into nothingness.”  Wally collapsed dramatically onto the kitchen island.

“Oh my God, drama queen.  You don’t even live here.  Go home and eat.”  Chimera threw a kitchen towel in his face.  He grabbed the towel as it hit him and fell back off of the barstool in an exaggerated drop, crying out as he fell.

“Yeah, Wally.  You don’t even go here,” Robin grinned reaching to grab the cupcake left unguarded on his plate.  He grumbled when Wally was able to get back up, get onto the barstool, and swipe it back again before he could take a bite.  Chimera giggled at the reference until Robin turned his mischievous grin on her.  Her giggles quickly quieted and her expression turned apprehensive.  “And we don’t want to interrupt Chi’s date.”

Chimera rolled her eyes.  Robin and Wally had been teasing her relentlessly since they found out she was going to be out of the Cave for the weekend and wouldn’t give them any details.  They made the completely logical leap to claiming it was a date with Roy.  She honestly wasn’t sure if it was intended to annoy her or Conner more, or more likely both.  She was positive Robin’s ultimate goal in life was to antagonize every member of the Team and the Justice League with one comment, like the annoying, teenage menace he was.  Honestly, she liked seeing it; a glimpse of normalcy in his life.  But, that didn’t mean she appreciated it when it was turned on her.

“Yeah, you sure you won’t tell us where you two are going?” Wally teased, his words obscured by the bite of cupcake still in his mouth. “Roy won’t tell us anything.”

Chimera gave him a flat look.  “Roy’s in India this week.”

“Ah, so that’s where you’re going.  Guess portals have their advantages,” Wally snickered, waggling his eyebrows at her.

“Funny how she knew exactly what his plans were for this weekend, don’t you think, Conner,” Robin commented in exaggerated innocence, laying his arm on Conner’s shoulder.

Chimera’s mouth dropped, scandalized by the accusation. “You’re the one that told me.”

“I have no recollection of that conversation…” he answered seriously.  He looked at the floor and shook his head, his hand stroking his chin in thought. “Actually, I do.”  The grin he shot her was nothing short of terrifying. He leaned across the island to get in her face.  “You asked me where Roy was going to be.  You were very insistent,” he grinned, pushing into her face.

“I hate you.  And if I had to ask you, that means I didn’t ask him, dork,” she pointed out, shoving Robin’s head away.  

“Hey!” He cried out.  “My hair!”  He automatically reached up to fix his hair.

Chimera raised an eyebrow at him, a feral grin spreading across her face.  “Oh no. No, no, no.  Chi…” he warned, moving off the chair and backing slowly away from her. Once he got to the door, he took off running at full speed.  Conner and Wally watched as Robin jumped the railing to drop down to the floor below. Chimera raced after him, jumping the railing with just as much grace as Robin.  They could just hear their footsteps as they ran and accidentally collided with different objects.  

“Really hope they don’t accidentally destroy anything,” Conner observed casually, swiping his own cupcake and taking a bite, “…again.”  He smiled at the sound of Chimera and Robin’s laughter echoing off the walls.

“If they do, it won’t be accidental,” Wally noted as he stuffed his fourth cupcake in his mouth, glaring at Conner for taking one of the cupcakes Chimera had made for everyone.  He turned sharply back toward where the two had run off to when they heard a loud yelp and even louder cackle.  He shook his head and leaned back, waiting for Robin’s walk of shame back into the kitchen.  He never outraced Chimera.  She always caught him.  He wasn’t sure why Robin even tried instead of just accepting his fate.

It only took a minute for Robin to slope back into the room and slouch back into his chair, pouting the entire way.  He tried to subtly fix his now extremely ruffled hair. Chimera was only a few steps behind him, trying incredibly unsuccessfully to hold in her giggles.  

“I hope your date sucks,” Robin grumbled into the floor.

“Not a date,” she singsonged and booped him on the nose.

“Hope Roy feels that way too,” Wally smirked, but his eyes were on Conner with an amused gleam at his scowl.  Conner took a deep cleansing breath.  He knew they were just teasing, but he really didn’t appreciate the joke.  

Chimera pulled at Robin’s hoodie pocket, looking in it with a furrowed brow.  “What are you doing?” Robin demanded, slapping her hands away.

“I’m looking for the brain call you two share. Someone has to have it,” she shrugged. “I figured it was your turn with it today.”  

“I have it today, thank you very much!” Wally objected around the mouthful of his fifth cupcake.

Chimera stared at him blankly for a few seconds. Robin rolled his eyes and slumped against the island.  “Idiot.”

Chimera shook her head.  “I can’t believe they’re letting you guys go out unchaperoned,” she muttered

Robin scoffed.  “I’m from Gotham.  And I do this,” he motioned around them.  “I can take care of myself.”

“I’m from Gotham,” Chimera mocked him in a poor imitation of his voice.  “Being from Gotham doesn’t automatically give you better judgement than people from other places.”

Robin glowered at her, but before he could retort she continued in a softer tone.  “I know you can take care of yourself and you’re responsible… on missions.  But this isn’t a mission and you’re a kid. You should get to be one, which means making stupid decisions that adults try to talk you out of and they,” she motioned toward Wally and Conner, “don’t count.  They’re more childish than you.”

“Hey,” Wally objected again.  He narrowed his eyes at her.  “Roy’s never going to kiss you if you keep being so mean.”

Chimera rolled her eyes.  “I’m meeting my best friends.”

“Wow, already introducing him to the family. You and Roy are really moving quickly,” Robin quipped.

Chimera groaned and looked to the ceiling for patience. “You are such a little dick.”

Robin froze momentarily.  Conner looked down to hide his grin, but there was no hiding his chuckles.  Wally, however, was laughing so hard he was bent over holding his stomach, his body shaking with laughter so violently, he almost fell off his chair.  Chimera gave him a concerned look, but Robin glared at him. After a few minutes of unbroken laughter, he finally tamed his laughter enough to pat Robin on the head and gasp out, “You really are… such a little Dick.”  Robin lunged for him but he sped out of his reach before he could make contact.

Conner shook his head and focused back on Chimera.  “Can you say where you guys are going?  Or will that compromise your identity?”

Chimera cocked her head to the side in thought before quickly shaking her head.  “I don’t think so.  We’re going to Metropolis.  My best friend wants a tour of the Daily Planet… and to try to meet Clark Kent or Lois Lane.”

Wally perked up.  “You don’t say.”

Chimera grimaced.  “Yeah.  She’s a huge fan of them.  She desperately wants to meet them.”

The boys started laughing at her.  Robin finally spoke up with a devilish grin. “You know, you could make that happen.”

Chimera threw her arms out in defeat.  “I know!  But not without compromising my identity.  And even if I could, how would that even work?  Hey Supes, totally unrelated to me or my identity in any way, could you meet with this person I absolutely do not know on a very personal level for many years? Ugh.  This is going to be awkward as hell.  I’m going to be on his home turf… where he works… his territory.  I’m going to have to pretend I don’t know him and didn’t go all Electro on him.”

Conner smiled at her catastrophizing.  “He likes you.  You remember that, right?  And at the time, he was the bad guy so, if anything, you went all Storm on him.”  He chuckled at the deadpan look she gave him. “If it makes you feel better, he’s off-world today and tomorrow.”

Chimera perked up with a hopeful grin. “Really?”  Conner nodded.  She bounced on her toes in excitement.  

The action was so adorable on her Conner couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up.  “Yes,” he reassured her.

Her smile suddenly turned into a wary look. “Are you sure?  How do you know?”

Conner moved closer and rested his hands on her shoulders.  “I talked to him.  We’re trying to make time to hang out so we can get closer.  So incredibly awkward but… anyway.  He said he couldn’t do anything this weekend because he’ll be off-world.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile and moved under his arms to give him a hug.  She lessened the pressure and rested her head on his chest, keeping her arms around him. He returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around her as well.  “I’m glad to hear that.  Not the he’s not here part, the he’s trying part… well, actually, both parts.  I’m not going to lie.  I’m really happy he won’t be there when I am.  But I’m sad you guys can’t hang out this weekend.”

Conner smiled into her hair.  “It’s okay.  There’ll be other weekends.  At least I know he isn’t trying to avoid me this time.  It just means we get to have a boy’s weekend instead.”  His expression turned concerned and he pulled back just enough to try to look her in the eyes.  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay though?  Last time you hung out with your friends it… you didn’t exactly come home happy.”

She smiled up at him.  “Yeah.  I’ll be fine. I’m excited.  It’s going to be a lot of fun.”  She gave him an extra squeeze before starting to pull away.  “I won’t be in P… home,” she quickly corrected herself, “this time, so it should be good.”

Conner pulled her back into a tight hug.  “Okay, well… if you need us, I’m only one call away… or you know just show up wherever we are,” he whispered.

She craned her neck so she could rest her chin on his chest and look at him with a smile.  “Portals have their advantages.”  

“You two are disgusting!  Get a room,” Wally groaned dramatically.  He threw the towel Chimera had thrown at him earlier back at her. Chimera squeaked and jumped away from Conner, while Conner caught it before it could reach her.  “You’re going to make Roy jealous if you keep it up.”  Conner sent Wally a vicious glare that Wally completely ignored.

“Right.  On that note…”  She reached down for her bag but rolled her eyes at Robin when she saw he’d already grabbed it.  “I’m stronger than you.  You know that, right?”

“Yeah, don’t care,” Robin shrugged.  “Wouldn’t want to disappoint Agent A with bad manners.”

She snorted and shook her head.  “Sounds incredibly sexist, but whatever.  Unless you’re planning on doing the same for them,” she motioned to Conner and Wally.  Robin furrowed his brow at her, but kept his grip on her bag.  “Then it isn’t manners, it’s sexism.”

He narrowed his eyes at her.  “I’m going to tell A you said that.”

“Go ahead, I’ll own it,” she shrugged.  “And he’ll agree with me.”  She turned toward Wally and Conner with a small wave.  “Okay, you guys have fun.  Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Conner scoffed.  “That doesn’t narrow it down much.”  He grinned at her when she let out an offended scoff.

“Don’t worry, we won’t accidentally destroy anything. Can you say the same?” Wally grinned.

“I don’t destroy everything I touch,” she groused, “just almost everything,” she muttered the last bit to the floor with a frown.  She quickly recovered and looked back up at him with an exaggerated smile.  “But, with the three of you going out unsupervised, I highly doubt something isn’t going to end up destroyed intentionally.”  She narrowed her eyes challengingly at Wally.  “In fact, I bet my trip is less destructive than yours.”  

Wally sat up and grinned back at her.  “Oh, you’re on.  Two dozen cupcakes every day for a week if I win.  My choice of flavors.”  

“And no eating any food I make for a week if I win,” she smirked back at him.

“You know, there’s more than just you two in on this bet,” Conner reminded them.

“Oh?  And what is it you want from Chimera when we win?” Robin asked with a devious smirk.

Conner glared darkly at him, but his cheeks turned a bright red.  “I get to choose what we watch for a week.”

Chimera groaned and dropped her head.  “Nooooo.”

“Backing out?” he grinned, raising a challenging eyebrow and moving closer to tower over her.

“Never,” she scoffed.  “Just trying to imagine a full week of exclusively Conner-chosen programming.”  She pretended to shudder.  “The horror.”

He grinned down at her and took a step closer again until he was almost chest to chest with her.  “Better not lose then.”

Chimera matched his grin and straightened up. “Oh I don’t intend to.  There’s no way you guys will be able to stop yourselves from getting involved in any and every drama you walk in on.  By the way, getting into a fight counts, even if you don’t destroy any property.”

The moment was broken when Robin spoke up. “I want chocolate macarons.”

Chimera shook her head and gave a sweet smile to Conner as she made her way to the door.  She bumped Robin’s shoulder as she passed him.  “Dream on, Bird Boy.”

Wally watched her leave the room with Robin and turned to Conner.  “Whatever happens this weekend, we absolutely cannot allow anything to get destroyed because of us.  Agreed?”

Conner nodded.  “Agreed.”

Robin watched Chimera closely as they walked. She was quieter than usual. Normally she’d still be trash talking with him about the bet.  She was extremely competitive and her personality flourished when there was a challenge.  But now, she had a carefully crafted neutral expression on her face that he would have absolutely bought if he didn’t know her better.  “You sure you’re okay?” he asked.

She smiled at him.  A fake smile that he didn’t buy for a second.  “Of course.  You just heard me tell Conner, it’ll be fine.”  She looked back forward quickly.

“Are you upset about us teasing you about Roy?”

She huffed out a laugh.  “No.  It’s fine. Honestly, less teasing than my friends back home would do.  I’m tough. I can take it.”

Robin looked back toward the kitchen.  “I don’t know that Conner feels the same way,” he said carefully.

Chimera eyed him suspiciously.  “Robin…”  She pursed her lips and took a breath.  “Then maybe you should stop doing it around him.”

“Maybe you should put him out of his misery, and yours,” Robin snapped back a bit harsher than he meant.

“Robin, you know I can’t,” she shook her head and looked down.

“I just want to… you two just seem so… are you sure?” he tried again.

“Robin…” she repeated, but her voice was considerably sadder this time.  She pursed her lips and looked back forlornly toward where Conner and Wally were waiting for Robin.  She let out a deep sigh that became a boom sound and expanded her fingers out, miming an explosion.  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Does it really matter if you’re officially together or not when things like that,” he motioned toward the kitchen, “happen so often?  You guys are… you’re perfect for each other.  You make each other happy.  I can’t believe you’re not meant to be together.”

“Yes, it does,” she answered sharply.  “It matters.  That’s what I’ve learned.  That’s what the universe taught me.”

He took a deep breath to prepare himself for this. He’d been working on what to say for a few weeks.  Just the right way to phrase it so it hit right, so she thought it was a matter of helping him, not herself.  Because that was her weakness, if you could call it that; protecting the people she loved, whatever the cost to her.  “I just… the result of being a hero can’t be to be miserable.  I need to believe that you can still be happy, that I can be happy, but between you and Batman...”

“Of course you can be happy,” she jumped in instantly, just as Robin had been hoping she would.  “You and Zatanna are happy now.  And even if that doesn’t last, you know you still can be.  And Batman…” she grimaced unsure how to sell a happy Batman.  “Wally! He and Artemis are adorable.”

“Oh come on.  Wally’s going to mess that up, you know him,” Robin scoffed.

Chimera rolled her eyes.  “And Artemis will knock him back into shape.  You know her. No, I think they’re in it for the long haul.  ‘Til death do them part.”

Robin shook his head.  He needed to focus it back to her and him.  “I need to know that someone like you gets to be happy too, or what’s the point?  We’re constantly in terrible situations.  We constantly see miserable things.  That’s a part of our lives… but we can still be happy… right?”  He was laying it on thick.  He knew he was laying it on thick and he knew that if anyone else was doing this other than him, Chimera would have picked up on it all of two seconds into the conversation.  But he needed to get to her, to make her stop and think.  And if that meant manipulating her into it, he’d do it… again.  But she was like a sister to him. She was family.  And when it’s family, it isn’t manipulating, it’s meddling.  And meddling is okay.  Meddling is the way family show they love each other.  

“Being in terrible situations doesn’t mean your personal life has to be too.  But, it’s different for me, Robin.  Things… things get destroyed when I fall in love; buildings, monuments, countries, moons, planets…  The universe made sure I understood my lesson well.  But you!”  She gave him a bright smile and set her hands on his shoulders.  “You have a heart so big.  It could....”

Robin gaped at her.  “You know he was just teasing right?” he interrupted before she could finish her sentence.  “About you destroying stuff everywhere you go.  Chi, you… you don’t… Chi, that isn’t anywhere near the truth.  Terrible things happened, but that isn’t your fault. That’s the situations you were forced into.  It isn’t you!”

Chimera nodded at him and gave him an utterly unconvincing smile.  “Yeah. I know.”  She gave him a quick hug and pulled away almost as quickly.  “You guys have fun, okay?  And if you need anything, just give me a call, okay?” She ruffled his hair again before punching her destination into the Zeta tube interface.  “I’ll get notified even if I’m not transformed.”

“Chi,” Robin started again, but she was already standing in the Zeta tube platform.  There wasn’t enough time to finish that conversation, so instead he answered with, “yeah, okay.  I will.” He continued to stare at the Zeta tube for a few seconds before making his way back to the kitchen.

“Did you tell her?” Conner asked as soon as Robin made it back to the kitchen.

Robin shook his head, still looking back toward the Zeta tube.  Conner nodded at his response.  “That’s probably for the best.  She'd freak out if she knew.  She’d be looking over her shoulder the entire time.”

“Yeah, what are the odds we'd run into them anyway?” Wally grinned.  “Now come on! We need to get going too.  We just need to make sure we go to the Metropolis entrance she didn’t use.”

“Right,” Conner nodded and started walking to the Zeta tubes.  “You got our bags, right Robin?”

<><><><><> 

“And just twenty minutes ago, I was so happy Superman isn’t in town this weekend,” Marinette sighed and banged her head against the wall she was leaning against.

“He’s what!” Alya whisper yelled.  Adrien and Nino shushed her while Chloe scoffed at her. “Go ahead and announce our presence, why don’t you?”  Nino put his hand on Alya’s shoulder to keep her from pouncing on Chloe.

Marinette tried to tune them out as she assessed the scene in front of her.  There were at least three figures on their floor, but there had been at least four more that had taken any people they saw back down to the toy store’s main floor with the rest of the hostages and she spotted a different three coming up as the others were going down.  That was ten, but they had no way to know how many were in the store.  The marionette looking villains were holding everyone they caught in an area that was out of their line of sight.  

“Don’t know if the Bat is covering for him, but he is off-world.  We are likely on our own,” Marinette whispered distractedly.  “Trixx, can you peek at the main area and see how many captors you see and estimate how many victims there are.”  Trixx nodded in understanding and phased through the floor.

“Oh well that’s just brilliant, isn’t it,” Chloe groused.  “This was your idea, Agreste.  I wanted to go to a spa, but noooo.  We had to visit the giant toy store.  ‘It’ll be such a fun end to the visit,’” she groused in a poor imitation of his voice.  “And now we’re in the middle of yet another attack, without magic protection.  And there’s no miracle cure for this.  If anything happens, just know, I blame you.”

“You’re welcome to hide, you know,” Adrien pointed out quietly.

“No, I’m going to help.  I’m just going to complain the entire time,” Chloe groused again.

“So, no different than usual,” Nino nodded, keeping his eyes on the situation in front of him.

Chloe glared at him, but before she could retort Trixx popped back up.  “I counted nine doll-looking guys downstairs, Guardian.  And at least twenty-five people being held by them,” Trixx reported quietly.  

Marinette nodded, silently processing all the information she had.  “Got a plan?” Adrien asked barely above a whisper, keeping his eyes on the main aisle.

Marinette ignored him, running scenarios through her head.  “They’re moving strangely.  Their movements are stunted.  Either they’re not human or someone else is controlling them.”

“Or both,” Adrien added quietly.

“Or both,” Marinette agreed.  “What do you think the odds are that they are… like robotic marionettes?”

Nino nodded along with her train of thought. “I’d say high.  They all walk too oddly to be human and there’s too many to each be remote controlled, so robot seems most likely.”

Marinette gave a single nod.  Her face morphed into a determined look, ready to go into battle. “We can use that against them.”

“Suit up?” Alya asked.  

Marinette’s body tensed at the thought.  Finally after a few seconds, she took a deep breath and let it out.  “Not unless necessary.  There’s an awful lot of cameras around here and I don’t have extra miraculous for you guys. We’re going to have to figure out a way to lure some away from the main group without the others noticing anything. Chloe, think you can work something out?”  She stared at the stairway as she spoke.  

“Can I get someone’s complete attention and manipulate them into doing what I want?  Are you seriously asking me that?” she scoffed.

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “Well then get on it.  It would help if we could find something to fight with.”

Alya cleared her throat lightly.  “Anyone feel like channeling Harley Quinn?” she asked with a smirk, twirling a bat in her hands.  

“Yes!” Adrien whisper yelled.  

“Fine, but I’m not dying my hair though or doing the pigtails,” Chloe grunted.

<><><><><> 

Marinette had always had an appreciation for stuffed cats.  She’d had one on her bed for years before she became Ladybug and after she did, she had an affinity for Chat Noir themed stuffies.  She still had one on her bed in the Cave.  But she can honestly say she has never been as thankful for them as she was right now.

She rolled off the large stuffed cat she had landed on when she tackled the marionette doll, causing both of them to fall over the railing.  Her smartest move?  No. But it was trying to drag an unconscious Chloe away.  She had to stop it and maybe she had some anger issues lately resulting from violently repressing any slightly negative emotions for years, a fact which she was not willing to admit to anyone else currently.

“I’m counting that for me as a save,” Adrien whisper yelled down to her.

“It’s pink,” she called back.  She raised her hand as she spoke, narrowing her eyes toward Adrien.  She grabbed the bat Nino threw to her in one seeming effortless motion without taking her eyes off of Adrien.  She used the momentum from the catch to smoothly swing the bat back up, connecting to the marionette robot’s head.  She didn’t knock it completely off, but she managed to sever enough wires and connections in the neck to make it collapse on the floor. “… that makes it count as mine,” she finished.

“Bullshit,” Adrien pouted.

Marinette smirked at him quickly before her face turned serious.  “How many are left?”

“I think they’re all gone, at least the ones in here,” a voice answered.

Marinette’s head snapped to the familiar voice. “Con… can I assume you took care of a few of them as well?” she winced internally at the extremely awkward transition to cover her gap.

“We got four of them,” Robin confirmed, coming up next to Conner.  Conner kept his focus on Marinette.  There was something incredibly familiar in her eyes, but he couldn’t place it, but whatever it was, he was having a hard time looking away.

Marinette nodded.  “We got six, I think.”  She turned up toward the second level.  “That sound right?”

Nino nodded.  “We each got one and that one makes two for you.”

Marinette nodded in understanding and started reviewing what she knew.  “That’s ten. There were at least twelve.  Are you sure…”

“That’s only five,” Wally interrupted her looking from her friends to her.

Marinette looked back up to her friends and realized the confusion.  “No, we have another friend.  She got knocked out.”

“Where?” Adrien asked.

Marinette gave him a confused look.  “There?”

“What?” Nino asked, coming up next to him.

“There.  It knocked her out right before I tackled it.  That’s why I did it.  She was right next to where I went over,” Marinette explained slowly.

“She’s not up here, M,” Alya said.

“Son of a…” Adrien growled, taking off to look for her. The rest followed suit, running down different aisles to find Chloe.  Marinette ran up the stairs two at a time to help look.  

“Who are we looking for?”  Wally asked.  “I mean what does she look like?”

“Blonde, blue eyes, yellow shirt, pissed off scowl,” Marinette answered over her shoulders, feeling completely confident he would use his powers to search for her.  Her suspicion was confirmed when she felt two rushes of air at her side. She strained her ears and was just barely able to hear him tell Robin that he didn’t find anyone like that. She mentally cursed and started trying to figure out a plan before she even reached the top of the stairs.  

“I didn’t find her,” Adrien announced, walking back toward them.  

“Me either,” Alya and Nino chorused coming from their sections of the store.

“Damn it.  Are you sure there aren’t any more of those robot things in here?” Marinette asked the Team.

Wally nodded.  “We’re positive.”

Marinette nodded and started moving toward the far wall. “Did any of you see an exit up here?”

“Yeah, over there,” Wally motioned toward a back corner.

“You think she was taken?” Conner asked.

Marinette nodded moving quickly toward the exit. “She got knocked out.  Even if she’d woken up, she’d be too weak to leave on her own, especially without notifying one of us.  She knows the protocols.”

“You guys have protocols for going after villains?” Robin asked skeptically.

Alya scoffed at him.  “You don’t?”

Robin blinked at her a few times.  “I’m from Gotham, of course I have protocols for it.”

“You guys should stay and talk to the police. We’ll look for your friend,” Wally promised, giving the other Team members a look of understanding.  Conner and Robin nodded in agreement.

“We’ll go with you,” Marinette stated with finality.

“No, we got it,” Conner stated in the same tone.

She cocked an eyebrow at him.  “Okay, we’ll go separate.”  She shrugged at him.  She turned back to Nino and Alya.  “Can you listen to the police gossip and do some research, see if you can figure out who might be behind it and let us know along with anything else you find.”

“Will do, L… Dudette,” Nino stuttered.  He grimaced internally at the almost slip up.  “We’ll talk to the police while you go get our girl.”

With her attention on Nino, she missed the Team slipping out the door, though Adrien watched them with a curious look. Marinette turned to Adrien.  “You don’t have to come with us… if you’d rather stay with Alya and Nino.”

Adrien shook his head and gave her a supportive smile. “I’m with you, ‘til the end of the line.”

Marinette gave him a flat look.  “You realize the guy that said that almost died, got his mind wiped and turned into a super assassin, killed Tony Stark’s parents, and tried to kill the person he said it to.  Maybe not the bar to go for.”

Adrien shrugged and let out a noncommittal grunt. “Worked out in the end.  I have complete faith in you.  I always have.”  He gave her a meaningful look.  She gave him a guilty look that he couldn’t allow to continue.  “You want to tell me about…” he motioned to the door where the Team had escaped through, changing the focus of the conversation away from their past and onto her present.

Marinette held her finger up for him to wait and typed out a text she didn’t send.  ‘I’m not allowed to say.’  His eyes widened and he motioned toward the door with his head.  He mouthed ‘really?’  She nodded in confirmation.

“What the hell… Are you sure this is a good idea?” Adrien gave her a dubious look.

She smiled at him.  “I’m not sure, but I’m not going to not get Chloe.  Can you imagine the fallout from that?  Leaving her rescue to someone else?”

Adrien grimaced.  “Valid.”

“And I really want to.  I mean I’m,” she motioned to herself, “and they’re,” she motioned toward the door they had gone through.  “I’ve never gotten to… they’ve never… I don’t know if this will happen again.”

Adrien nodded and gave her an understanding look. “Yeah, I get that.  Okay.  Let’s do this.”

She gave him a wide excited grin, and started bouncing on her toes.  “Yay!” She focused back on her phone and started tapping rapidly.

“You got her?” he asked coming up next to her to look at her screen.

“Just a second.”  She tapped her screen a few more times.  “Got her,” she said tilting her phone to show Adrien.  

Adrien nodded and pulled his phone out.  He pulled up his messaging app and followed her example, typing a text he didn’t send.  ‘You let Batman know?’

Marinette smiled and nodded as she typed a response. ‘Already sent him her phone’s info and who’s looking for her… as civilians.  Wish was a video call.  Know he would have smirked.’

They pushed through the exit, almost running into the Team, who were talking in hushed tones.  Robin tucked his phone in his back pocket.

“I told you before, we got this,” Conner insisted. “The way you took care of that robot before was impressive, but this is likely to get a lot more dangerous.  We can handle it.”

Marinette cocked her head to the side, opening her eyes wide in exaggerated innocence.  “Thank you, but… then it’s dangerous for you too, isn’t it?”  She looked at Robin and Wally and back to him. “I mean we’re all in the same boat here, right?  Experience wise?”  She ignored the coughing fit Adrien faked to cover up his laughter.

Robin spoke up, “I’m from Gotham.  We’re used to villains kidnapping people.  We know how to handle it.”

Adrien raised an eyebrow and shared a look with Marinette.  “And we’re from Paris,” he intoned.  “It was a lifestyle for a few years there.”

Marinette quirked her lip to the side in an amused smirk at the boys’ confused stares.  “Look, it’s our friend who got kidnapped and it’s our drama you’ve walked in on. We’re going.  If you guys are so insistent on getting involved with our drama, we won’t stop you.”  Robin opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get it out, Marinette continued.  “So Gotham, try to keep up, because we’re able to track her,” she held up her phone which showed a map with a dot moving on it.  “…so unless you have a bloodhound in that hoodie pocket, we’re leading the way.” She ruffled his hair as she passed him to get to the stairs.  Was she being a terrible older sister?  No. She was being an amazing older sister, pushing all his buttons.  Isn’t that how all families showed love?  And the best part was he didn’t know to get her back for it.  Free harassment.  What kind of sister would she be if she passed that up?

Robin glared at her and Conner didn’t look much happier, likely upset because it meant they wouldn’t get to use their superpowers, but still followed her down the stairs.  She was right.  They had no way to track their friend without their help.  They would just have to hold off on the superpowers until they got closer and hope they could break off to where the two couldn’t see them rescuing their friend.  Wally however, was grimacing as he brought up the end of the line behind Adrien on the stairs, thinking about the cupcakes he was about to lose.  Maybe if they didn’t cause too much more damage, they could still win.  

“This isn’t the first time we’ve had to rescue Chloe from a villain’s hench… thing.  I swear if I had a nickel for every time she’s gotten kidnapped… I’d only have like fifteen or twenty nickels but still it’s strange that it’s happened that many times.”  Marinette looked back over her shoulder with a smirk, like she was in on a private joke.

Adrien set his mouth and pursed his lips.  He refused to laugh at her comment, no matter how badly he wanted to.  He looked between the guy behind him and the two ahead of him with an overly bright smile. “Hi, I’m Adrien.  If we’re working together, we should probably know each other’s names.”

“Wally,” Wally offered with a chuckle.  Unlike Adrien, he had no issue laughing at her comment.

“Robin,” Robin stated diplomatically, still trying to figure out if her comment was correct.  He’d been the victim of kidnapping attempts multiple times both as Dick and Robin, but he didn’t know why her friend would have been so often.

Conner continued to stare at Marinette mutely, trying to figure her out better.  If he stared long enough, maybe he could place where he’d seen her beautiful eyes before.  Marinette gave him a bright, warm smile.  “Oh,” Marinette paused and turned to look back at them as they all got onto the ground with a bright, warm smile, “Marinette.  My name is Marinette.”

Conner looked away.  Marinette thought she saw his cheeks darken slightly when their eyes met, but that could have easily been the taillights from the car that just parked near them.  “Conner,” he grumbled.

Marinette nodded at him, giving him a sweet smile. “It is really nice to meet you,” she said earnestly, looking at the other Team members, “all of you.”  She took a beat to look at them without a mask and nodded.  “Okay, let’s get going then, before Chloe breaks a nail and we have to hear about it for the next six months,”

“Or you know, someone dies,” Conner argued, following her down the road.

Adrien shook his head behind him.  “I don’t think we have to worry about that.  She won’t kill anyone.”

“Probably… unless they mess with her hair,” Marinette added.

“Most likely,” Adrien agreed with a nod.

Robin gave Wally a confused, questioning look as they followed behind.  Wally returned the look.  Who the hell were these people?

Chapter 12

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[yournameyn]

Feeling Deeply Chapter 5

Genre: Arranged Marriage Fic. Fluff turning into angst?

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Summary: The story of two deeply feeling nerds who find themselves in an arranged marriage. (Details here). Our OC is called Brishti. It’s a Bengali name meaning rain. Namjoon calls her Rim (short for her pet name, RimJhim which means the pitter-patter of rain). She calls him Joon.

Warnings: NOT THE NAMJOON OF OUR DREAMS. Argument. Fight over tiny discrepancies that turn out to be a huge problem. Domestic violence. Not a happy chapter.

A/N: Have you ever felt this, reader? When you watch something and realise exactly what you need to realise in that moment? I’ve had that so many times - seeing my feelings mirrored in a show. That’s something that I’ve tried to have Brishti feel here. Also, this is how I see the natural progression of this Namjoon, the one who obliged to duty rather than his dreams. It took me a long time to write this but I love what’s come out. Let me know what you think!

Current Chapter: London, late 1963. Love fully blooms between Namjoon and Brishti. And yet, something’s not right. A visit to the ballet and a conversation brings forth realisations. The inklings that Brishti was trying to avoid transform into writing on the wall.

Previously in Feeling Deeply: Preface Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5

The magic about new love isn’t really in romance or even in true intimacy. It’s in how violent new love is… and just how much time it takes us to feel it’s impact.

In the new love between Namjoon and Brishti, everything had been roses and honey, overflowing, swaying in a gentle breeze. They spent every second possible in each other’s arms. They had to tear themselves away from each other when they had to leave home. And even then, it hurt as though they were part of the same cloth.

Brishti had thought about how they had become woven, their souls an ornate tapestry. Namjoon had told her then about a Japanese tradition of weaving that was a sort of meditation and a kind of worship to a god called ‘Musubi’. The disciples say it is like being part of the cosmic tapestry. Being tied to each other.

“Just like we are… I felt a pull toward you and I followed it. I was scared… so full of doubts about who you were and how this was all going to go… I had promised myself that I would fulfil my duty… whatever happened ” Namjoon had said, petting Brishti’s hand gently, “And I… I still can’t believe it… It… you make me feel like I can… trust myself.” Brishti had looked at her genius then and wondered what a strange world it must be that made a man like Namjoon doubt himself, “Always, always trust yourself, Namjoon-ah.” and settled into the crook of his neck.

It was indeed a strange world that caused Namjoon to build an armour around himself. Because ‘London’ and ‘Lonely’ sounded just the same to him. His years alone in this strange place had been unkind, unrelenting. Brishti had been the only softness he had felt in a long long time. Armours built over years can break in an instant, though. For him, it was the moment when he and his wife had crossed the threshold to becoming lovers. High on the magic of new love, he had not realised it.

Sitting across from each other after that fateful evening, Namjoon and Brishti were both wide awake in the early hours of the next morning. Brishti buttoned up the shirt they never fully took off. Namjoon had tickled her with his toes. They propped their feet against the other’s to see just how vast the difference was (he melted seeing how small her feet were and hadn’t stopped playing with them since). Caressing each toe, he remembered something he wanted to ask -

“How did you know what Saranghae is?”

“Mm…” she stretched her arms, “I know what it means…” Brishti said.

“I know you know… from the way you… after I said it… You asked Yoongi about it?” Namjoon cautiously asked about the only other Korean Brishti knew. To his surprise, she nodded no, still denying him any information. Namjoon had to tickle her foot for the answer.

“Okay! Okay! Wait! Pleeeease!” Namjoon stopped and Brishti bent down to the bureau next to her bed and pulled out a textbook - LEARN HANGUL THROUGH ENGLISH. Namjoon looked more shocked than she had expected. “I asked Yoongi about the book-”

“You don’t need to Rim… I’m not learning Bangla, am I?” Namjoon said. He was touched but he didn’t want his love to do anything he couldn’t reciprocate.

“I would have asked you to learn it… if I wrote poetry in my mothertongue...” Brishti said. Namjoon was shocked. She went on, “You really think I didn’t know?”

Namjoon blushed and smiled and flopped over in Brishti’s lap. She brushed his hair as she explained, “You light up at the mention of lyrics and poetry, you keep a notebook by your side at all times, you’re moved by the things that people usually don’t pay attention to… I know you’re a poet, Joonie.”

Namjoon looked up at her and said, “No one has ever called me that…”

Brishti leaned down and kissed her gorgeous husband. “You are... From what I know, I bet all my books that you are a great one... And… I… I would love nothing more than to be part of your world of words, Joonie… It must be strange… to be understood but in a foreign language. If you would let me, I want to understand you in your language… Do you think that’s something maybe--”

He got up and all but jumped on Brishti, pinning her down to the bed with the cutest puppy-yell she had ever heard. “Yes! Of course, yes!”

They both understood that this was a proposal. The truest kind - a gentle request to explore Namjoon’s universe. They would later joke about how she proposed to him after a month of being married. Namjoon was completely delighted by this person with him, his person… one who really saw him.

He pulled her to him saying, “You’re the best part of my world, Rim...” and kissed her.

Each moment of love flowed through the next. When they had to be separated, they couldn’t wait for the next one, their moment again. On weekends they would visit museums and find their favourite paintings and sculpture or their favourite prehistoric relic and animal. Brishti hated the fact that Namjoon had to work overtime to compensate for these weekends and she often voiced how unfair it was.

In response Namjoon would just give her a peck and say, “As long as I have you, I’m happy.” This pricked her but she was too taken by the man before her to pay heed to it.

Namjoon was just about able to keep a straight face at work but everyone around Brishti was acutely aware of how much she loved Namjoon.

At one point, her colleague and best friend, Min Yoongi had yelled at her, “Yhaaaaa! Stop blushing?! It’s just a clock… what could be romantic about a clock?!” Sayuri-san, and she were hanging around Yoongi’s table when Brishti looked at his new flip clock and started blushing.

Brishti laughed along with everyone else but explained, “It’s involuntary… that’s what happens when you’re married to a poet.”

Sayuri-san corrected, “I know too many wives of poets to know that’s not necessarily true… It is true though, when you’re in love with a poet… Go on… tell us how exactly poet Namjoon makes you blush about a clock...”

Brishti blushed even more at that. Yoongi rubbed his arms and demanded, “Tell us because there’s some really weird things coming to my mind… like you guys have an exact time when...”

Brishti stopped his imagination, “No no no… it’s nothing like that… he loves digital clocks... because he loves to watch the time turn to 00:00… zero o’clock he calls it… and on days he feels sad, it’s like zero o’clock is always there to comfort him… like it’s a point when the whole world holds its breath and he can feel happy again… but these days… with me… he said he wants the clock to keep going after 23:59… he wishes time would stretch on… beyond 24:01…”

Yoongi sighed and sat back down, “You’re making me fall in love with Namjoon… ahhh that is beautiful. He should be published...”

“Imagine him saying this directly to you and you might know how I feel… I can’t stop talking about him...”

“Oh, we know. But honestly none of us care… your poet-librarian romance is getting us through our single-ness.” Yoongi reassured her.

The three of them continued to talk about the ways in which Brishti could repay Namjoon’s wordsmithing in graphic ways.

It was that evening, wasn’t it, when Namjoon had enveloped her back in the warmest hug as soon as he’d entered their flat. Brishti was in the kitchen when she heard him enter but hadn’t expected this. He kissed her neck while telling her the good news, “We got our first Korean client today… because of me… Mmmm… Why do you always smell so amazing?”

Brishti turned around and hugged him again, “That’s amazing! Namjoon-ssi! I’m so proud of you!”

“He’s from a wealthy family… so he can actually afford our firm… its not exactly the work I wanted to do--”

“It is a step toward that idea, right? It’s still good work, fighting for justice?” Brishti asked, stopping him from undermining his own work.

Namjoon nodded, “Yeah… He’s a dancer… Park Jimin. All the posh types know him as one of the best dancers in the Royal Ballet. They call him Jim… as if it’s too difficult to say Jimin?” Namjoon shook his head in disapproval. He began helping Brishti with the chopping and continued, “He was born in the UK and trained since he was 5... He got into the Royal Ballet but he’s been passed up to be a principal over and over even though everyone who has seen him dance apparently knows that he’s far far better… So recently he spoke to the director there... and of course the director made a racist slur and asked not to bother him with this again. He can’t even quit and work at another company because of the contract they have him on. There’s a non compete clause… meaning he won’t be able to dance with any other company. That’s all he wants… to be able to get out of that contract… I’m hoping to convince him to press charges on racial discrimination too. We’re not in the 20s anymore.”

When Brishti didn’t respond, Namjoon looked up at her. “That’s horrible… I’m so so glad you’re taking up the case. But please tell me what you ate when you were alone?” He looked down at the carrot he’d been failing to cut.

Namjoon scrunched his nose and admitted, “Canned food mostly.”

Brishti said, “I’m really really glad you’re getting to do work that you are passionate about, Joonie, you deserve it. Now, you should know how to cut a carrot.”

Namjoon pressed up against Brishti’s back. She reached back up to the nape of his neck and made him moan into her. Then… then Namjoon made her forget how to cut carrots.

He had these ways… Namjoon, with his touch, his voice, his languages both spoken and soundless. He was lighting new paths into her self. She loved learning him. Paths she didn’t know existed, that she’d been longing for.

The scars of the loneliness, emptiness that Namjoon had experienced had turned his longings into a kind of starvation. He needed to be nourished and also devoured. Brishti was just the creature to do it. He could feel her warm fingers trace rows of pleasure onto his skin. He felt them bear down and singe when the two of them had to move away from each other. He felt those ropes tug at him as the end of his workday neared. Namjoon closed his eyes each night at her touch, the feeling and fragrance of her body. He felt blooms of intimacy spring up like seedlings out of the soil of his skin. And deeper. In the earth of his soul. So he did the only thing he could. Reciprocate. Namjoon sowed his love, his desire, his need onto her, into her every night.

There were times, though, when she would feel his absence in the middle of the night and see him working in the dim light of a lamp. She knew he had to work hard to do what he wanted but she also saw he had to continually prove himself to people who weren’t even paying attention. The reason they weren’t paying attention was painfully clear to Brishti but she was yet to experience it’s full stab.

Namjoon wanted to shield her from it. He was counting on an armour that didn’t exist anymore to protect himself and his wife… the reason he liked his life again. Whenever she came out and switched on a brighter light, reprimanding him for straining his gorgeous eyes, he saw that it did prick her - this world and the unfairness he had to endure. She would say something small, an almost-complaint that alerted him… against her for some strange reason. She would say something that would be easy to ignore and yet would prick him, like - “I don’t know why they haven’t promoted you yet.” or “Why haven’t they taken up Jimin’s case yet? You’ve worked so hard on it.” Everytime she did that, he would have to pacify himself.

‘I’ve told her so much about the Jimin case… she’s just really invested’ Namjoon thought to himself. Just so he would avoid thinking, ‘I shouldn’t have told her.’

He would have to calm himself, give her a peck and try to convince her to stop worrying. “As long as I have you, I’m happy.” Namjoon would always say.

Then, Brishti smiled as she always did. While trying to understand why that sentence bothered her so much. After almost five months of exploring this wonderful man, some part of him still felt unfamiliar… like it didn’t fit in with the rest. Still, these things take time, she had heard from so many women over the years. Besides, she was blessed with a man far far above the norms. So, how could she prod? These are things Brishti had told herself - until the night she couldn’t stay silent.

The couple was coming up on their fifth month together and Park Jimin had gifted Namjoon a ticket to the final show of the season as a token of gratitude, for having heard his story.

Brishti was nervous about going to this kind of a gathering and had told her husband to meet her there.

She had enlisted the help of Sayuri-san to look appropriate for the event. Her slightly longer hair was clipped and her eyes were kohled. She wore a burgundy knee length fringe-ended dress that she had received from her gracious host, stylist and make-up artist - an inheritance of her brilliant life tucked into the black pearl beading and deco design. It was a big departure from the usual tie-die or band tees and jeans with her baggy coat. She had carried the coat but felt this strange sort of compulsion to stand in the cold air in the noodle strap dress, for him to see her.

She felt butterflies in her stomach and kept fiddling with the coat she had draped over her arm. It was electric when she saw him.

Namjoon looked gorgeous in a tux. All of Brishti’s nerves were soothed just by looking at him. He had brushed his hair back. Tall and dashing - better than any heathcliffe could ever be. And with his reading glasses, he looked like the lead of a romance novella that would make all the women swoon. Indeed she was swooning. Brishti was suddenly warm in the chilly, windy night. And when Namjoon saw her, blood rushed to her cheeks. Everything inside her was running helter skelter in a panic. Brishti felt everything drop in the few moments it took for Namjoon to reach the top of the stairs. Dolled up like this, outside of her element, she felt like an imposter. Some angel needed to be standing in her place. For the first time, feigning beauty, Brishti felt like she wasn’t worthy of her husband.

She was finally able to keep her feelings aside when he reached her.

Namjoon kissed her palm like a gentleman and whispered in her ear, “Let’s go home… I need a private kind of dance…” Brishti blushed. Namjoon put his arm around her and felt the chill that had settled on her skin. “Aren’t you cold? Why didn’t you wear the coat?” Namjoon asked. Brishti just shook her head no and the two of them walked in.

Brishti assumed that the ballet would be a welcome distraction from the storm that brewed within her. She had read up about the show, the piece they were going to perform -

Tchaikovsky’s venerated Swan Lake. The story of a young girl who falls in love with a prince who promises to save her but fails. Ofcourse there were finer nuances to the story but this was the basic plot. As the lights dimmed, Brishti felt pulled in by the music, the eerie beauty of it’s melody played in perfectly with the questions that were swirling around in Brishti’s mind -

Why do I feel wrong?

Is this what Yoongi was talking about? Anxiety…?

Why does Namjoon look so... different?

Why is he so quiet, so… distant…It’s like he’s keeping himself away from me despite being right next to me, arm in arm, like the true Namjoon is somewhere in a glass case? Deep deep beneath whatever this creature is who is next to me?

I’m thinking too much. No. What is this? Why am I feeling this way?

It’s the music… no its not just the music… something is fucking wrong because all I feel like doing is breaking that glass case that’s locked away My Namjoon and presented this fucking imposter. What the hell is going on?!

Brishti barely managed to keep it together. She kept her eyes on stage…

It was like seeing a moving painting being created by invisible hands and the music was the sound of the brushstrokes, amplified. Park Jimin was playing Rothbart, the owl-like magician who curses Odette into a swan until she finds someone who would promise to love her forever. The questions in her mind and the power of the spectacle before her forced her tears to keep flowing.

Namjoon saw Brishti cry and held on to her. But the more he tried to comfort her, the more uneasy she became, the more she coudln’t contain the tears in her eyes.

The curtain fell at the end of Act three when the prince realises he has been tricked. Brishti, somehow, mirrored his grief. The prince was cheated by Rothbart into believing that his daughter, Odile, was Odette. Rothbart relished his plan so despicably it made Brishti’s stomach turn. The prince had already declared to the ballroom full of people his vow to love and marry the maiden by his side - Odile, not Odette. Park Jimin played Rothbart so skillfully, so beautifully that despite being the villain, despite being covered from head to toe, he was the star. Rothbart giggled delightfully as he revealed to the prince that the girl in his arms wasn’t Odette at all. That Odette was waiting for her prince by the lake. The curtain fell as the prince felt the stab of betrayal and rushed to Odette.

Brishti rushed to where she did not know. She wanted to get away from Namjoon, from this feeling that she couldn’t understand, couldn’t explain. She was angry. She wanted to break something. Tears still flowing down her face, she found a corner that was hidden away in darkness. She went in. Brishti sat on the couch there, for what seemed like eternity, breathing heavily. Nothing made sense. It felt like her insides were twisting into each other. Suddenly, though, a door creaked open and out came an angel. A man, glowing, having just freshened up. He saw her, saw her fear and instead of pulling back in shock, approached with a strange kindness. He held her wrist and stayed silent for a moment.

His beauty was also a kindness to her. In that moment, Brishti could breathe a little bit better. He sat down by her knees, on the floor and when he spoke, his voice flowed like a tonic, “First time at the ballet? It’s overwhelming… I know. You’re okay. You are safe. Rothbart is not here. Talk to me… what are you feeling?”

The tears kept flowing. This man was different, she knew he understood what she was feeling like. She felt safe, but not as if she was with a saviour, rather as though she was with another victim.

“What are you feeling…” Park Jimin repeated. The pieces were falling into place in her head. This is Park Jimin, the man who danced as Rothbart. The man who should have danced the Prince. Who should have played Odette and Odile.

“I feel… rage.” Brishti trembled as she spoke. She could breathe again.

“Yes… Rothbart is… evil… I’m sorry-”

Brishti nodded her head no. “At the prince.”

Jimin was surprised. “Let it out. You can scream in here and no one would know.”

Brishti didn’t need another invitation, but her rage wasn’t a scream, it was a whisper - “I want to hit the prince. How could he not now? He couldn’t see that that girl was not Odette? Is he blind? The way she moved, the way she danced… which only means… it means that the prince knew… somewhere he felt doubt but he… He couldn’t fucking trust himself enough?! I don’t know why this is breaking my heart… Why can’t people trust in themselves?! It’s a pathetic fucking excuse and I can’t buy it… I just can’t. Why did the prince...” Her hands covered her face as she wiped her tears. She composed herself.

Jimin pulled out a kerchief. “May I?” Brishti nodded and he dabbed her face with care.

“The prince trusted his sight more than his soul. And now, Odette will die because of it. As always, the woman pays the price.”

“He dies too, you know.”

“What a waste…”

Jimin smiled, “Thank you… for watching the show, for feeling it so much.”

Brishti managed a weak smile, “Thank you.” Jimin stepped away and sat next to her, at a respectable distance. “I’m being lied to.”

Jimin nodded, “I know what that’s like. I feel that rage against the prince too. And still, we must be kind to our liars.”

Brishti clenched her teeth, “Why? Where’s the fairness in that?”

Jimin moves away, in a dejected kind of daze and pours himself a drink, “That’s the biggest lie, fairness. Cruel joke.”

Brishti walked toward the door. “I should go… Thank you.”

Jimin raised his glass to her.

Brishti wore her coat and walked toward the exit. She found Namjoon in a panic and suddenly felt like she could reach him. He looked so relieved to see her. She couldn’t help but feel awash with love as he crashed into her in the warmest hug. It was as if he was the one who was lost.

“Are you okay? Why were you crying?” Namjoon asked her as he stroked her head and held her in the hug for as long as she needed.

“I need to ask you something.” Brishti whispered as she pulled away. They began walking down the stairs of the theatre.

“Änything.” Namjoon replied.

“Your firm… they refused the Jimin case, right?”

Namjoon froze. His jaw locked up. “Let’s go home.”

The rest of the way, neither of them spoke a word. They entered their home in a cold silence. They washed the night off themselves and entered their bedroom, which was completely devoid of the heat and desire that usually filled it right up to the ceiling. What used to feel like an ocean, now felt like a vacuum.

When Namjoon walked in, Brishti reminded him, as kindly as she could,“I said I need to ask you something. You said, ‘anything’.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to talk about it.” Namjoon was cold again. Unfeeling. Unreachable.

Brishti tried her best to be calm… “When would you want to talk about it?”

Namjoon breathed in - “Why? Am I answerable to you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we disagree. I don’t think I am answerable to you. What would you have done if I wouldn’t have told you about it in the first place?”

“I would still be feeling what I’m feeling… I would be even more furious though.”

“Fu- why would you be furious? I have to work there, I lost the account. I’m feeling hurt and disappointed in myself and instead of helping me, you’re angry?! What the hell could you be angry at?!”

“I’m being lied to. I’m being tricked.”

“What?!” the contempt on Namjoon’s face made her head throb. He was angry now.

“There are two Namjoons here. I’m being told there’s only one and--”

“That is some philosophical trash that you learned from one of your books. Real life doesn’t work that way. But how would you know?! You don’t have a real job. You have a hobby. A hobby of stacking books in order. You’re just plain lucky that someone is paying you for your hobby. That’s not a job. You of all people cannot tell me about the things I have to do to keep my job. I have tried my best to be as honest as I can be--”

“As honest as you can --”

“Listen to me!” Namjoon thundered. His loud voice might as well have been a punch. It rang through her body and rattled her bones. She had tears in her eyes but clenched them down as Namjoon continued yelling, “Enough… enough with the fucking tears. What the fuck are you so sad about?! I don’t need you to pity me. I don’t need anyone to feel sad for me. I have tried to be a good man - do you even know how much other men don’t even mention to their wives?! I told you everything. EVERYTHING. And now I’m being punished for it. Time and time again I tried to console you… even though I was the one hurting… I tried to be there for you and tell you… as long as I have --”

Brishti couldn’t take it anymore “Don’t. Say that.” She didn’t yell. Her voice was just above a whisper and yet it sent a chill down Namjoon’s spine. She wiped her tears. “I didn’t ask to be consoled. I was just… curious. If a few questions from me hurt so much maybe you should ask yourself why. I’m not lucky that someone decided to pay me for my hobby. It’s nice to know what you really think of my job. But whatever you think, I created my job. I created my life. I fought to come to london. I fought for the right to earn--”

“Oh please... spare me the feminist lecture...” scoffed Namjoon.

“Sure. Take up Jimin’s case.”

Namjoon felt the burn of white hot rage. He wanted to strangle her. He was so used to touching her… and she was his… in this bedroom, he had made her his. He wasn’t thinking. Namjoon strode toward her and held one massive palm over her mouth and the other on her neck and pinned her to the wall. “YOU WOULDN’T HAVE KNOWN ABOUT THAT IF I DIDN’T TELL YOU.”

It took him a few moments to realise what he was doing. Brishti was shocked and tried to scream but no voice came out. She was trying to get him out of his daze when he finally saw her, saw his Rim, horrified… by him. Namjoon pulled his hands back instantly. He saw a red bruise bloom where his hands were - on her face and on her neck.

“This is how you make your conscience shut up?” Brishti’s voice was hoarse. “You think this has nothing to do with your conscience? With the best part of you? The part that you made me fall in love with? Are you really telling me you don’t know that this is why you can’t write the way you used to… You’re killing my Joon and asking me to stay silent. I can’t.”

The searing anger still hadn’t died and it burst out of him, “Why are we fighting like this… over Jimin… why don’t you take up his case if you fucking love him so much?”

“What do you think I’m doing right now?”

“You… Why are you fighting for him against me?!” It was here that Namjoon realised his armour was gone. The idea of who he is... suddenly vanished. And the one thing that had made him feel safe, like his true self, was slipping away. “You’re saying… just tell me… you’re saying what I think you’re saying.”

Brishti did him the only kindness she had left in her, she explained, “Jimin wants to leave but can’t. He stays because he needs to dance. He stays because he cannot get out of his contract. You say you want to help people like Jimin, you roll your eyes at white people who can’t pronounce our names, you feel guilty for asians who have much less than we do… but then you also don’t raise an issue when your boss holds meetings in clubs where people of other races and dogs and women are not allowed. You work overtime for the privilege of weekends… You say you are trying but… as far as I know… you don’t have a non-compete clause in your contract, Namjoon.”

That hit him like an iceberg. Namjoon’s legs gave way and he just sat on the bed.

He watched as Brishti put on her coat and left, covering her bruises with a scarf.

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

Chapter 6 - to be posted.

[fakecrfan]

POV: You wake up in the TMA universe at the start of season 1.

You find yourself on the streets of London, cold and confused.

You try to figure out what happened and get home. You discover the place you lived no longer exists. The place you worked no longer exists.

You try to call the numbers of family, friends, anyone you knew. Baffled voices that you don’t recognize answer you, and then hang up.

As you're wandering around the streets getting increasingly terrified, you pass by the Magnus Institute. Then, everything makes sense.

You hurry in and blurt out: "I would like to make a statement"

Rosie smiles politely.

“Alright, let’s get you the proper forms then.”

She tells you that the Archivist, Jonathan Sims, will see you in a moment. As you are waiting for him, you recall what happens to people who give statements to Jonathan Sims. Unceasing bad dreams. Unrelenting panic attacks. Enough that Jess Tyrell stopped being able to go out in public.

"Ah," you think. "I will not do that then."

You leave in a hurry. Outside, you realize:

oh, I'm the only one who can stop the apocalypse now, aren't i

You shiver. That thought can wait, you think. For now you need to find... somewhere to stay. You are effectively homeless. No, not effectively. You are straight up homeless.

You pull out your wallet to pay for food. Your card is declined. You try to use cash, only to be told it’s counterfeit. Everything is just a little too much to the left of your reality for you to navigate.

Finally you find social services of some kind. They ask for your information, including your NIN. you aren't surprised when they say the info they have on file for that number is.... not you. You are disappointed though.

They help you to a homeless shelter. You sit on your cot and cry self-pityingly for a bit, and then that pressure comes back to your mind:

The world is going to end. You know the world is going to end. You're the only one who can do anything about it.

You turn over and decide that's something you can deal with in the morning.

----

The next day, you think about it again.

"That's something I can deal with when I have an apartment," is what you think then.

So that becomes your next project. Finding your footing as a displaced person. Social services helps but it's... sporadic. It takes months for you to get more stable housing.

When you lie down on the couch of the new, well, new associate you've made, you once again remember that the world is going to end. That you are the only one who can do anything about it.

"I'll think about that when I get a job"

-----

Time continues to pass. As you are trying to get on your feet, you make feeble attempts to... start something.

You go to the Magnus Institute a few times. But it's hard. You've always had terrible social anxiety,. And everyone there seems so cold. You can feel eyes on your back: staring, watching your every move. Normally that alone is enough to make you quit for the day.

A lot of times, the main cast you remember is out doing research. When they are there, you are about to walk up and speak to them when the anxiety hits you again.

What if Elias sees you talking to them? What if he kills you?

You decide to retreat for a little while, then. Just to think of a better plan.

You spend the next month getting your first job in this new world. You start a timeline of when you think the apocalypse is going to happen, but remembering the canon dates is hard. It's not a very helpful timeline, and so you give it up.

Eventually you think the best thing to do is to wait until Elias has been arrested and then talk to the others. When Elias is in prison, he can't murder you for revealing your plans.

This means Sasha and Tim will die. But--they might have died anyway, even with your intervention. Who’s to say? Anyway, you’re not the one who will kill them. It’s not your fault.

You scan the news every day for things about the Magnus Institute, particularly the head of it getting arrested.

During this time, you do a little better. You have a nice apartment now, you think. Nice by your own standards, at least. You decorate the place a little. Get some video games that you like--or well, they aren't the same ones as in your world, but close enough you think?

Months pass.

One day it hits you that maybe the papers would never actually report on Elias being arrested.

Oh shit, you think.

You go back to the Magnus Institute then. By this point, Rosie recognizes you. She grants you the same expression one grants a wayward alley cat. You ask who the current head is. You are told "Peter Lukas."

Shit.

"Can I make a statement?"

Rosie looks nervous. "Um, the Archivist is on medical leave."

"Okay can I talk to one of his assistants?"

Rosie gets this very tired look in her eyes.

"I'll... ask."

Rosie phones the archives extension

it rings

it rings

it rings

"They've all really been through it recently," Rosie tells you. "They don't--like to talk to anyone else, now."

"I have to talk to them," you say. "Um, can you--can you tell Martin Blackwood specifically that I need to talk to him? That it's about Jon?"

Martin is--you like Martin. Martin will be nice and safe. He'll be easier to talk to than Melanie at this point, or Basira. Still, Rosie looks tired again.

"I'll have a chat with him," Rosie says. "How about you go home for now, and I'll call you when I've talked to him."

"But--"

You're bad at this. You were always bad at this. You can barely sign up for anything on your own. Your mother has done so many calls and filled out so many forms for you.

You never cultivated the skill of standing in a lobby and insisting to talk to someone. Maybe you'll just irritate Rosie and she'll blacklist you if you dig in your heels now. Anyway, you're already so tired from this. You think about going home, and playing some Medal of Honour IV.

"Fine," you say.

You go home. You play the game. You sleep.

You're not giving up, you say to yourself. You're just--biding your time.

Rosie does not call you.

It pains you, but you realize you have to go back in and ask to speak to someone again. You'll go today after work, you decide.

No, wait, you're too tired from work today. You'll go tomorrow.

Maybe on the weekend.

----

You finally go back

Rosie tells you she just--hasn't been able to get a hold of Martin.

"Fine," you say. "Any of the other assistants."

Rosie actually looks a bit worried for you. "Um, they're not--they don't take well to unexpected visitors. Let me wait and chat them up about it."

You do not listen this time.

You march down into the basement level where the archives are. The door is--well. Shit. It's barricaded? You knock. You keep knocking.

"Melanie! Basira!" you say. "I have to talk!"

The door opens too quickly. You barely get a glimpse of Melanie's snarl before she strikes and your vision goes white.

She hits you a few times. No knives, just fists. You hear Basira in the backround, barking for Melanie to stand down. Once there is an opening and you can blearily see again, you run away in terror.

It's not--you didn't intend to run. You were just afraid.

----

You go home, and realize that Melanie didn't even really hit you in a super serious way. Nothing that would warrant a hospital trip, at least. Nothing that has left you with a lot of pain, outside of the immediate terror of physical violence.

You probably could have stuck it out there. You should have.

You think about all the months--no, years now--that have passed without you making any progress.

"But that’s not my fault,” you say.

"I was having a really hard time. I was homeless. I've been struggling with my mental health. I still have to keep the rent paid and feed myself."

"It's not my fault. It's not."

"I will do something. Just--I need some more time."

You sleep.

You decide to wait a bit for your bruises to heal up before going back.

When you do drag yourself back to the Institute, now there is a PTSD reaction to going into the Institute on top of the social anxiety.

You leave quickly. Rosie looks so sad for you.

You do try to go back. You do try to get back in contact with the Archives, or go back when Jon is back up. But there's always something. Not something directly stopping you. Just--

Tiredness. Work. Illness. Doctor's appointments. Panic attacks. The Archives staff being unreachable.

The world is going to end. You're the only one who can stop it.

"That's not true though," you think. "I mean, technically anyone could. I just have a little more information that could help."

"It's never one person's fault," you tell yourself as you crawl into bed after another flight of anxiety struck you as you were about to cross the street to the Institute. "It's everything. It's--a whole system. It's Jonah's fault really. If I don't--I'm not to blame."

“I’m not to blame.”

----

You are playing Medal of Honour V when your phone lights up with a notification that there was an outburst of violence at a place known as the Magnus Institute, and billionaire Peter Lukas has disappeared in the confusion.

You should get up. It’s going to happen, and happen soon. You hand twitches on the controller.

You remember a quote you saw before you ended up here, on Facebook of all things.

"Don't wonder what you'd be doing in Nazi Germany. Whatever you're doing now, is what you would have been doing then."

Because bad things were happening in the world all the time, your preachy Facebook aunt said. There is always genocide, and famine, and war. It’s not some movie fantasy from the past.

You think about that. About the horrors in your world. Those movements that you retweeted support for and occasionally donated $5 to. The protests you awkwardly passed by on your way to work.

You quietly realize what kind of person you are. What you would have been doing in Nazi Germany, or the civil rights era in the U.S., or during the catastrophes in your own world, or right now.

It's what you were always going to do.

And so you get back to Medal of Honour V.

----

You're still dreading the apocalypse of course. It won’t be easy.  It will be around six months to a year of full on torture, specifically designed to be the worst you have ever felt. Something about that soothes you. Something about knowing you are a victim too, or maybe knowing that you’ll be punished.

But--it will end, and then you'll be alright. Everything will return to normal, and you can go back to your apartment and your job and your games. It’s not all that bad.

You feel a twinge of guilt for Martin and Jon, who you could ave intervened for. You feel more than a twinge for the worlds the Entities will infect after. But--maybe it will all work out okay. Maybe the universe is a kind place. Maybe other worlds will be able to handle the fears better.

Who knows! There is always hope!

----

[When the sky turns red and the great Eye opens, when you start to hear the howls of your apartment neighbors through the wall--

Nothing happens to you. You are fine. It does not touch you.

Oh.]

[pricemarshfield]

moments like these

A Figayda angst/hurt/comfort fic. Requested by @sapphic-tuesday even though they only requested it because I love Figayda. (ily bestie) Read on AO3 here.

Prompt: Figayda, angst, hurt/comfort, “You don’t need to stay.” “I don’t need to. But I want to.”

The forest is dark and damp and the worst fucking place Fig has ever been, and she's running as fast as she can to get away from herself. She'd point out how it's way too on the nose if she had any breath left, but as it stands, it's all she can do to keep putting one foot in front of the other, slower and slower.

Eventually she has to just collapse into the nearest bush, hope somehow that's enough stealth even as the crack of the branches seems to echo out for miles and miles. There's a long, long beat, where she thinks, just for a second, that maybe she's done it. Maybe the other her isn't too perceptive, either.

She hears an oddly pitched laugh from right behind her ear, as though she isn't lying on the ground, and when did the branches tangle around her leg? Where'd her bass go? Why did none of her friends even seem to care that someone else took her place--

Fig wakes up with a start, sits up, hits her head against her ceiling which is, of course, the living room floor. Her horns scratch it a bit, but thankfully, her mom won't ever see it. Her crystal says it's 3 in the morning when she checks it, and fuck, she's gonna be stuck in here for awhile if she can't pass back out.

She could send a quick text to the Mordred group chat (the manorlings, despite Ragh vying for 'OWLBEAR HYPE HOUSE') and ask if anyone's up to let her out, but then there'll be questions about why she's up, so she just concentrates on mage hand until she nails the chord and the ceiling opens.

The house feels too empty with everyone asleep, too stifling when she can't make any noise, but there's not exactly anywhere else she can go. Her days of sneaking out in the middle of the night to go to concerts aren't nearly as fun now that she misses her friends the whole time. Also, now people recognize her for being one of Solace's biggest stars or whatever, and that's just kind of a hassle when she's not in the mood for attention.

The living room couch is an old, cracked leather thing, moved from Jawbone's apartment. It's not comfortable in any traditional sense, but there's a groove in it that fits her perfectly, and that's nice, in its own way. Sometimes she misses the couch in the old house. It got burned to hell in the attack on prom night, though, so. The whole house did, honestly; when she went home after everything, the window in her bedroom was shattered, glass all over her bed so that she had to pick up each piece, vacuum up what small pieces she couldn't see. She still woke up with a couple cuts on her legs that she didn't have before, but it was home, even if the posters and the pink wallpaper were both singed, even if the purple comforter she'd had since she was a kid didn't smell like it used to.

The old Faeth house never really felt like home after her horns, sure, but Mordred...

She does like it here. Loves it, when everyone's crowded around the table, Adaine arguing with Kristen about some minute difference in casting, Jawbone telling a wildly off-color story to a confused-but-interested Aelwyn, Sandra Lynn making sure Ayda has enough food on her plate while she blinks back fiery tears.

But it doesn't change the fact that she lived here for all of a day before spring break, and right now the hallways and secret passages and tall ceilings all feel ominous, not exciting anymore.

She turns on the light before her mage hand dissipates, scrolls through the games she has on her crystal. Most of them are things she's had on here back when she liked unicorns and glitter and all those girly things that she never got around to deleting.

It's something to do, at least.

The bright colors are nostalgic in just the wrong way, and she makes it through two minutes of matching pop rocks and cake slices before she's scrolling through the games again, on-edge for no goddamn reason.

"Fig?"

Part of her relaxes against the couch before she's even finished processing the voice as Ayda. "Hey! I didn't think you were staying here tonight."

"I wasn't," Ayda says, looking at her with an expression she can't read at all. She's in a deep blue chemise, like she'd been sleeping before she walked through the enchanted door into Mordred. "I--may I sit?"

"Yeah, of course," Fig says, patting the spot next to her. "Always, babe."

Ayda cries a little as she sits, and Fig wipes the tears away. The first time she tried, when she was a normal tiefling and didn't wear the title of Archdevil, it stung a little, like stepping into a too-warm bath. Now, it feels just like the hint of warmth against her hand, uniquely Ayda and not at all painful. (Which is also uniquely Ayda, to never freak Fig out even when she's in this shitty mood.)

"So," Ayda says. "I was in Leviathan, as I needed to--well, still need to, I've merely decided the task isn't as important--I'm getting sidetracked."

"Yeah," Fig says, and when Ayda stiffens, says, "Not bad! Not a bad thing! It's cute."

"Oh," Ayda says. "I--sorry," and bursts into tears again. Fig wipes them away, kisses her cheek just 'cause she can, kisses the other one because she can feel Ayda's face get even warmer.

"No worries," Fig says, too late, because she's not--this is still new to her. "So what's going on?"

"As you know, I am a divination wizard, though not an Oracle like Adaine, our best friend." Fig nods. "But sometimes my dreams have--not prophecies, but looks into the present, or even occasionally the past."

"Okay," Fig says. "Is there, like, a slumbering demon lord underneath Mordred?"

"No," Ayda says. "I asked a ranger I know in Leviathan to check before he left on a journey to Sylvaire. Unrelated to the Nightmare King. I checked, just to be sure, because I am sure none of us want to deal with that again."

"Mmhm," Fig says, willing herself to keep breathing slow and easy and not tense up like she wants to. It's just Ayda talking about preventing further Nightmare King stuff. The Nightmare King doesn't even exist anymore, they're Cassandra, they're cool. "So, uh, what'd you see in your dream?"

"You," Ayda says. "That isn't uncommon. I dream of you often. You're in more of my dreams than not. Is that strange? Should I not have said that?"

"Not strange," Fig says, sure her cheeks are red rather than pink. "Just--I'm flustered, okay, give me a second."

Ayda nods at her, not smiling but face relaxed in a way that suggests the same feeling. Fig grabs her hand just to ground herself, squeezes it once. There's a moment before Ayda squeezes it back, like she's thinking about whether it's the right thing to do.

"Totally normal," Fig says, just in case.

"Good," Ayda says with one long exhale. "I was worried."

"You know, it doesn't matter to me if what you do is 'normal'," Fig says. "I like you whether what you do is normal or not!"

Ayda nods. "I want to finish my thought, but after that I want to kiss you. That was the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"You could kiss me and then finish the thought?"

"I would forget," Ayda says, like she doesn't remember everything, like Fig is enough to distract her. Fig can't quite meet her gaze, then, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. She squeezes her hand again. Ayda squeezes back immediately. "Um. I'm distracting myself. What was I talking about?"

"Your dream."

"Right. Thank you, Fig. I dreamed about you, and I think it may have been--it was as though I was standing at your bedside. I know it was a dream and not sleepwalking, because I can't actually stand in your room--it's too short and I don't want to set your house on fire. But you seemed upset, and while I don't know if that was real or a dream or not, I couldn't--I couldn't just sit in my room and Leviathan without checking."

"Oh," Fig says. "Um. I'm fine."

"Hm," Ayda says. "You know, you were the one who told me that if people say they're fine, it very rarely means they're fine. I don't understand the logic of it at all, but I trust your insight."

"It's stupid," Fig says, and then, in a twist, bursts into tears herself. "God. It's stupid, I don't even know why I'm upset? Like, it's literally nothing, nothing is going on, I'm just dumb--"

"You are not dumb," Ayda says, and Fig hates herself all the more for the panic she can hear in her voice. "You have taught me so much, and if it matters to you, then it's not stupid. Fig?"

"Yeah," Fig says, voice embarrassingly choked up. She clears her throat as best she can, which isn't very well, since she's still actively crying. "Yeah, I know."

"I don't know what you know," Ayda says. "But I know that when I cry, you wipe my tears away, and I'm going to do the same for you, unless you want to stop me, in which case I won't."

Fig doesn't move, lets Ayda wipe away her tears even though it makes her want to cry more, someone being nice to her right now. "Thanks."

"Any time," Ayda says with the weight of a promise and not at all like the platitude most people would mean. "Do you want to talk about it? It's okay if you don't. I often don't want to talk about the things I'm going through when I'm still going through them."

"I don't," Fig says, because the idea of explaining the nightmare and Mordred and her old house being destroyed and feeling so, so unmoored and stuck all at once makes her want to tear her own hair out. "I don't--you don't need to stay. I'll be okay. If I'm not--if I can't talk about it, you don't need to stay."

"I don't need to stay," Ayda says, carefully, and Fig grips her hand tighter without consciously meaning to. "But I'd like to. If I can."

"I meant it when I said always," Fig says, still not looking at Ayda because she can't.

"Do you want me to?"

"Yeah," Fig says. "I always want you to stay."

Jawbone walks into the room on his way into the kitchen, sees two teenagers holding hands and crying and slightly-burning his couch, and decides he can just get water from the bathroom instead of the kitchen. He's not one to interrupt a moment.

[earlysunsetsoverambrose]

Fool For You (1/4)

Lester Sinclair x f!Reader

Warnings: Cursing

Description: You are head over heels in love with the youngest Sinclair, but he could not be more oblivious to your feelings. 

A/N: Thanks to @mynameisliterallycash for the request! I was hitting a wall with writing, but this helped get the gears turning again! I hope this is what you wanted and that you enjoy! 

The sun streaming through your window roused you from a steady slumber. You groaned, stretching out your limbs until you finally collapsed back onto the mattress with a sigh. The sleep from your eyes cleared as you thought of the dream you had last night. Your heart raced remembering the way he took you in his arms and finally said he loved you too. You were so happy you could cry and now you could almost cry at realizing it was just another dream. He seemed to be all that occupied your thoughts: Lester Sinclair.

Lester was all you had energy for these days. If you weren’t with him, you were thinking about when you’d see him again. Even your dream world revolved around him as he’d made an appearance almost every night lately. You were like a damn schoolgirl; and it was as exhilarating as it was humiliating. You thought you were past the days of pining over boys, but here you were.

Slowly, you’d fallen head-over-heels for the man. His self-effacing humor, kind heart, and generous nature won you over so effortlessly. You didn’t even realize where you were headed until your little crush became an intense, desperate love for you closest friend. It practically consumed you.

It wouldn’t be so bad if Lester would just put you out of your misery. Falling in love with him was incredibly easy, but telling him was the biggest pain in your ass since Bo Sinclair.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. You tried hundreds of different ways – of varying levels of subtlety – to tell him how you feel. Extra physical affection? Nothing. Complimenting him on literally everything? Nothing. Baking treats specifically for him? Nothing. Asking him if he’d ever been in love before? Not a damn thing. You were running out of ways to get your point across.

Even if he didn’t notice the romantic intentions, he was always so receptive and enthusiastic, you couldn’t be upset for too long. Being a touch-oriented person by nature, he welcomed the extra hugs, squeezing you to your heart’s content. Your compliments always made him blush and he’d pay you back with as much flattery and twice the charm. After every treat you baked, he carved you thoughtful trinkets from wood and bone. And when you asked him about being in love, he lit up as he rambled on about a dog he met that confirmed for him the existence of true love. God, he was a goofball. You loved him so much.

At this point, you were vacillating between whether you should tell him at all, since everything you tried seemed to go over his head. You weren’t even sure he liked you back. Sometimes, you thought he might, but he was so nice to everyone, it was hard to tell. Maybe he really didn’t notice, or he did and he was trying not to hurt your feelings. Both were possibilities, but you sincerely hoped it was the former. But how could he not get it? Maybe you were better off as friends. It’d probably be easier.

You looked at the clock, realizing you would have to put your pity party on hold. Though the smallest part of you wanted to stay in bed and return to your dreamland where you knew Lester loved you back, you’d much rather spend all the time you could with him in the real world. You had plans to go to town with Lester to pick up more dog food. When he asked you if you wanted to tag along for his day off, you jumped at the chance to go with him. Anything for a few more hours together.

Once you got cleaned up and dressed, you jogged down the stairs and straight to the front door. You took a seat on the bottom step of the porch to wait for Lester to come pick you up. A shiver ran through your body, adjusting to the chilly breeze. You looked up at the sky to find it overcast, matching your mood. You wondered if it would rain.

You heard the door open and shut, followed by heavy steps down the stairs. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“Waitin’ for Lester to pick you up for your date?” Bo prodded, taking a sip from his coffee mug.

“It’s not a date.” You sighed, too caught up in your thoughts to fight with Bo.

“But you want it to be, don’t you?” He snorted, “You’ve had it bad for him for how long now?”

“Can’t you just go on to work without harassing me? Be nice for once and go away.” you asked, finally looking up at him to meet his classic smirk.

“Look, kid, if you wanna get anywhere with Lester, you’re gonna have to spell it out for him.” Bo advised, “God love him, but there’s nothin’ in his head. Plus, he’s dumb as a sack of hammers when it comes to women and sex.”

“Stop it.” You snapped, “Lester’s not stupid. And I don’t remember asking for your advice.”

“Well, you need it.” Bo interjected, “But if you wanna keep pussyfooting around and die alone, that’s your God given right.”

“Truly inspiring.” You said sarcastically, “You should become a life coach.”

“Thought about it, pay was shit though.” Bo quipped without missing a beat. He gave you a soft kick on the leg as his best attempt at comfort, before finally granting your wish for him to leave. He hopped in his truck and took off down the hill.  

You thought about what Bo told you. Maybe you should just come out with it already. You tried everything short of saying what you actually meant. You knew that being open and direct was the best way forward, but it would undoubtedly change things between you and Lester – for better or worse. You just dreaded the thought that after you finally told him everything, he simply wouldn’t feel the same. The idea of rejection, especially coming from him, was utterly terrifying. You didn’t think you could handle it if he were to start icing you out. You didn’t want to lose any part of him. Maybe you should have stayed in bed after all.

“Hello, Y/N? Anybody alive in there?”  

You gasped as your heart jolted and you snapped to attention. You looked up to see Lester chuckling at your expense. Even as your heartrate slowed, you felt it stutter at his laughter.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that, Les!” you said with a playful shove, feigning annoyance –your smile betraying you.

“I didn’t mean to spook ya! But I��ve been callin’ your name for two minutes.” Lester told you, “Ya sure were thinkin’ hard ‘bout whatever it was. Somethin’ on your mind?”

“Sorry, I think I’m still waking up.” You excused, adding a fake yawn to really sell it. Lester smiles wide at you, suspecting nothing.

“Well, wake on up then, we got places to be!” Lester said as he offered his hand to pull you up from the stairs. You happily took it and he hoisted you up with ease. Your eyes darted where your hands met as his touch sent sparks through your arm and into your chest. Now, you were just plain staring. He innocently tilted his head, “Ya sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine!” you said quickly, releasing his hand. “Come on, I’ll race you to the truck! Last one there has to do all the heavy lifting!”

Lester broke into a sprint without a warning. You wondered how he always seemed to have so much energy at all hours of the day as you struggled to catch up with him.

He made it to the truck first by a long shot. He just smiled when you finally made it, not bothering to gloat. Both of you couldn’t help but laugh as you fought to catch your breath.

“Guess, I win.” Lester said simply

“I’m getting too old for this.” you said as you leaned against the truck for support.

“Oh, you’re never too old for a little fun.” Lester replied clapping you on the back, “’Sides, you’re awake now, ain’t ya?”

“Won’t be for long, if I black out from exhaustion.” You fired back dramatically, “You’re going to have to go on without me.”

“Hey, c’mon now, ya gotta go with me to carry all that dog food. Ya ain’t gettin’ outta this one, drama queen.” Lester played along.

“Vision going dark…legs too weak! Goodbye, cruel world!” you cried out with an exaggerated hand over your face. You made a show of stumbling around like you were about to faint, imitating all the terrible soap operas you caught on television. You wrapped your arms around Lester and made your legs limp, forcing him to support you as he laughed at your antics, “Remember me as I was: unwilling to carry everything by myself.”

“Alright, fine!” Lester agreed as he adjusted you in his grasp so he could look back at you. Your act faltered as you looked up into his warm whiskey stare, savoring the feeling of his arms around you, sturdy and gentle. “I s’pose I’ll help ya out a little. Guess it’s only fair since ya let me win and all.”

“Why, yes, of course, that is exactly what happened. Me, the true winner. I let you win, correct. That was the master plan.” You said, every word dripping with sarcasm. You stood back up, separating yourself from his embrace despite wanting nothing more than to stay that way forever.

“Yes ma’am! Ya coulda left me in the dust, alright, but ya didn’t. Thanks for takin’ it easy on me.” Lester said with a wink and a nudge as he made his way to the driver side of the truck. There he goes again with that unrelenting kindheartedness, “Well, hop in then! We’re burnin’ daylight!”

You opened the passenger door and got in next to Lester. You couldn’t help but look at him from the corner of your eye as he got settled and started the engine. He started driving down the road. You wondered how it was possible no one else had fallen in love with him the way you had so easily. Maybe many already did and they also failed to tell him.

You turned to look at him straight on, while his eyes were on the road. You could feel a fond smile pulling at your cheeks as you gazed at him. He had such an ease about him, you thought he looked so handsome without even trying.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” Lester asked, cocking an eyebrow as he looked back at you, “What are ya lookin’ at me like that for?”

“Huh?” you said cluelessly. You had been caught staring again.

“Did I leave the house with a milk moustache or somethin’?” he asked, looking in the rearview mirror to check himself, “Do I got a snot bubble?”

“No, you’re good.” You said, chuckling as you propped your head against your hand by the window. You kept looking at him, practically feeling the hearts flying out of your eyes.

“Whew, had me worried there for a second.”

“Sorry, about that.” You said with a smile, facing front once more.

“Don’t be, I get it, what with my devilish good looks and all.” Lester joked with a hearty laugh, sitting back without another thought. You looked back at him, holding back a sigh of disbelief. He didn’t know the half of it.

You leaned over to turn on the radio hoping some music would ease the tension you were feeling, even though you were sure Lester hadn’t noticed. He was delightfully oblivious to your plight. You heard the beginning of a steady, soft guitar. You immediately recognize the song, internally cursing the irony of it all.

I find it very, very easy to be true I find myself alone when each day is through Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you Because you're mine, I walk the line

Even Johnny Cash could see right through you. As much as you wanted to be irritated with fate, every line perfectly summed up your feelings for Lester. You glanced at him, thinking about how there was no one else in the world who was as right for you. He was just like the song itself; soft and stable.

“You know, I really love this song.” You said hopefully, “Romantic, don’t you think?”

“Sure is,” Lester agreed, with an excited smile and glance in your direction, “But hell if Folsom Prison Blues ain’t one of the best damn songs ever written. That’s my favorite!”

“Oh…that one’s definitely great too.” You said with a small drop of your shoulders. You should have known better than to think that would go anywhere. You straighten up again, giving it another shot, “I Walk the Line just makes me wish I could find the Johnny to my June.”

“Aw, don’t worry about that, none. Won’t be too long ‘fore that happens. I’m surprised none of them bigshot city boys ain’t snatched ya up yet. Guess most of ‘em are just plain stupid. Hell, they gotta be if they ain’t fallin’ over themselves to get a ring on ya.” Lester hyped you up, looking at you, genuine as ever.

“I don’t think I want anyone like that.” You said, “Guys like that really aren’t my type.”

“Well, whoever ya do end up with is gonna be one lucky son of a gun, I’ll tell ya that much.” Lester declared with the utmost certainty.

“I think I’d want him to be like you.” You told him pointedly, scooting closer. Lester gaped, a huge grin still shining through the skepticism.

“Me? Shoot, ya gotta be kiddin’. No way! Ya don’t wanna shack up with a fella like me!” Lester denied with a wave of his hand, clearly amused but not entertaining the notion. He was sure you must be joking.

"Why not?” You asked, “You’re funny, helpful, incredibly reliable, thoughtful, patient, kind. You’re the real deal! Plus, you know everything about everything there is to know about animals. I’m always learning something when I’m with you.”

“Shucks, you’re gonna make me blush,” Lester chuckled, sending you a humble smile as he rubbed his neck, “I don’t know everythin’, but you’re real sweet for sayin’ so. ‘Sides, I don’t think there’re too many ladies that wanna hear me rattlin’ on ‘bout critters and whatnot.”

“Don’t be so sure.” You told him, nudging his shoulder with yours.

“Well, if ya happen to run into anybody ya think won’t mind if I set the mood with a little roadkill, ya send ‘em my way, alright!” Lester told you, slapping his knee. After he finished laughing at himself, he piped up, “You know who I’d marry if I could?”

“Who?” you asked, your heart stopping in its tracks.

“Dolly Parton! Whew that woman sure is somethin’!” Lester told you with a dreamy shake of his head.

You let out a soft sigh as you scooted back to your side; hiding your disappointment by looking out the window. Suddenly, Ring of Fire seemed more appropriate since loving Lester was starting to burn like hell. Even so, you were still charmed by his unrestrained joy as he started whistling along with the radio, totally oblivious to the way your fond smile overtook your features.

[sparkandwolf]

Platonic Absolutes (read on ao3)

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale and Laura Hale & Stiles Stilinski Rating: General Summary: When Stiles first met Laura, there was no doubt in his mind that their soul bond wasn’t meant to be anything but platonic. He had heard of that happening, that the marks on a person’s body could mean they had a soulmate by any meaning of the word, and was momentarily disappointed that his meant a lifetime best friend.

Then he realized that Laura was the most incredible woman he had ever met. If it wasn’t for the fact she was very, very, gay, he would’ve fallen in love with her the moment she barged into his life.Hale.

For the fantastic @evanesdust ♥️ Thank you for your support and creating such incredible content for us! 

When Stiles first met Laura, there was no doubt in his mind that their soul bond wasn’t meant to be anything but platonic. He had heard of that happening, that the marks on a person’s body could mean they had a soulmate by any meaning of the word, and was momentarily disappointed that his meant a lifetime best friend. Then he realized that Laura was the most incredible woman he had ever met. If it wasn’t for the fact she was very, very, gay, he would’ve fallen in love with her the moment she barged into his life. 

Laura took some convincing, though. Stiles helped her through a sexuality crisis - “Maybe I do like men.” “Does the fact I have a penis excite you?” “Absolutely not.” “You’re a lesbian, Laura.” - before they settled on getting to know each other before they pushed aside their fated connection as a mistake. Stiles researched and studied until he found a history book on platonic soulmates; a person who was meant to be in your life as a confidant, an unrelenting support, and a shoulder to cry on whenever the other needed it. Stiles could be that for Laura and he wanted to be that for her. 

It was solidified the first time she had him over to her mansion-sized house in the middle of the woods a few miles outside of the town he grew up in. He had heard of the Hale’s - it was hard to not know everyone in such a close-knit town, especially when his dad was the sheriff - and the legacy that they brought to Beacon Hills. The family had been in the town since its founding and there were rumors that Stiles didn’t want to repeat (mostly about incest and immortality) that were quickly stricken from his mind the second he entered their home. 

“Mom, Dad, this is Stiles, my completely platonic soulmate,” Laura said carefully as if her family hadn’t believed her the first hundred times she told them. Stiles held out his hand but was quickly pulled into a tight hug that could only be described as motherly. 

“Oh, Mr. Stilinski, it’s so nice to finally be introduced to you!” Mrs. Hale said as she held Stiles by his shoulders, shooting a glare at her daughter. “We’ve heard so much about you,” she added with a wink that had Stiles’ face reddening. 

“You have already technically met him, Talia,” Laura’s dad chimed in as he extended his hand to Stiles. He shook it steadily, wincing a bit at the tight squeeze of her father’s hand. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Hale, you have a beautiful home,” Stiles commented cheerfully, grinning at them with teeth shining. 

“Oh, please, son,” Mrs. Hale said with a wave of her hand. “I’m Talia, and my husband here is Evan. You’re gonna be around for the long haul it seems, so you might as well drop the niceties,” Mrs. Hale - Talia - corrected as she made her way into the kitchen area. Laura rolled her eyes and grabbed Stiles’ hand before he could say much more and dragged him further into the living room. 

Stiles glanced around, but his gaze froze on the most beautiful man he had ever seen in his short life. There was no doubt in Stiles’ mind that he was Laura’s brother, the one she had spoken fondly and annoyingly about. They shared the same sharp features and dark hair and he looked just as broody as Laura had described him. The muscles in his back and arms rippled from where he attempted to hang a family photo while their younger sibling directed him with a smirk on her face. 

“C’mon, Derek, I know you’re not straight, but you can at least hang a picture that way!” Laura yelled, her laugh only loudening when her brother - Derek - shot a glare over his shoulder. 

“Like you could do a better job, Lo,” he spat back, letting go on the frame and nodding at it before it fell to the side and swung back and forth. He let out a loud groan and ran a hand through his hair before pointing at his sisters accusingly. “You guys figure it out. I have a pa-- plans with… people,” he said carefully when he finally noticed Stiles in the room. 

“You’ve got a pack meeting with Isaac, Boyd, and Erica,” Stiles corrected with a nonchalant gesture of his hand. Derek gaped at him and then his eyes darted to Laura who was barely containing her delight. 

“You told him?” Derek asked, taking a few steps closer to Laura who held up her hands in defense. 

“Hey, I’m stuck with him as much as the rest of us. He already knew about wolves because of his dad so I figured I’d bite the silver bullet and let him in on the family secret,” Laura said with a shrug. 

Derek glanced back over at Stiles before saying, “And he knows not to tell anyone?” Derek said with a heat in his eyes Stiles couldn’t quite explain. The look had his spine tingling with interest. 

“Cross my heart and hope to get mauled by feral werewolves, Sourwolf,” Stiles said with a wink that only seemed to annoy Derek further. 

“He’s harmless, Der. Just give him a chance, okay? We’re fated, or so they tell me,” Laura responded, tossing an arm over Stiles’ shoulder and pulling him close. His soul seemed to sing at the acceptance and he settled his arm around her waist happily. 

“Right, well,” Derek began, grabbing a leather jacket that hung from the coat rack, “I’ll be back for dinner because apparently, our mother wants to pull out all the stops to impress the human.” Stiles was momentarily offended by the disgust in Derek’s voice but he remembered what Laura had told him about her brother. He took a while to trust people because of some tragic past event but once he did, he would protect that person with his entire life. Stiles admired that more than he could say. 

“Tell the pack I said hi!” Cora called as Derek lifted his arms to put on his coat. Stiles felt disappointment surge through him when he saw the small mark on his hip that could only mean he had a soulmate. Leave it to Stiles to find the most perfect person he could have wished for only to have his dreams squashed before he could even figure out what they meant. 

“I’ll tell Isaac you said hello,” Derek teased as he stepped out of the door without hearing Cora curse at him. Although Stiles was pretty sure werewolf hearing was a superpower and that he was just so used to his sisters swearing at him, he didn’t need to respond to win whatever argument he had just started. 

“Got any other family members I need to worry about?” Stiles asked as Laura moved him over to the couch. She shrugged and grabbed the remote, tossing on some dumb reality TV show he had realized Laura found authentic entertainment in. 

“Uncle Peter will probably try to hit on you at dinner, but he’s relatively harmless,” Cora noted from where she had settled on one of the many chairs that littered the living room. 

“Relatively?” Stiles repeated and the girl’s laughter did nothing to relieve his anxiety. 

——————————

The rest of the afternoon was surprisingly normal. Stiles wasn’t sure what to expect when meeting his platonic soulmate’s family, who happened to be made up of supernatural beings, but relaxing definitely hadn’t come to mind. That’s exactly what it had been, though. He lounged on the sofa with Laura, draped over each other the way they usually were - Laura had said it was something about scent and how if he wanted to be protected, he would need the Hale smell on him - and every so often, Cora, Talia, or Evan would come in and get to know Stiles a little more. 

He told them all about his childhood and how he hadn’t changed much since then, which none of them were too surprised about. He recounted memories of his father being the sheriff and his mother and her untimely death, all of which had Talia gazing at him with sympathy that had tied his stomach in knots. In return, they told him stories of their territory battles and how Beacon Hills law enforcement had always worked side by side with them. Stiles was glad there wouldn’t be an issue between their families as he had previously worried. 

Throughout the afternoon, he had to push thoughts of Derek out of his mind. Their interaction had been short and not at all sweet, but something about the man had Stiles’ eyes darting to the door as if waiting for him to return. He said he would be back for their dinner and Talia had just announced that it was about 15 minutes from being done, so his fingers tapped anxiously on his knees as he tried his hardest to breathe. 

“Alright, what the hell is going on with you?” Laura asked once they were alone in the living room. Cora had been tasked to set the table while Talia and Evan worked on finishing the meal and Stiles was all alone with someone who could read him like a book. 

He sighed and said, “I’m a little nervous for this dinner.” It was a lie and judging by the glare that Laura gave him, she sniffed it out immediately. 

“You haven’t been nervous the entire time you’ve been hanging out with my family, so there’s something else,” Laura guessed. Just as Stiles was about to deny, the front door flung open and Stiles shot up from his seat to greet the new guest he had hoped was Derek. He was, once again, disappointed when the person who sauntered in wasn’t the man he was waiting for. 

“Who is this delectable little thing?” The man said and Stiles furrowed his eyebrows in distaste. Laura groaned from beside him and took a protective step forward. 

“This is Stiles. Stiles, my uncle Peter. He’s going to go tell my parents he’s here and stop licking his muzzle in the direction of my soulmate,” Laura said sharply, raising an intimidating eyebrow at Peter. He sighed but relented, floating over to the kitchen without another glance back. “You thought that was gonna be Derek,” Laura accused as she turned toward Stiles and pressed a stiff finger against his chest. 

“I wasn’t expecting your creepy uncle, that much is for sure. What is his problem?” Stiles asked as a lame attempt to bring the conversation back away from who he may or may not have hoped was coming through the door. 

“Peter is Peter. Harmless but a lot to get used to,” Laura said with a roll of her eyes. She pushed her finger further into Stiles’ chest and asked, “Were you hoping that was gonna be Derek?” 

Stiles sighed, exasperated, and pushed her hand away. “So what if I did?” Stiles asked heatedly, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s got a soulmate that isn’t me because I’m stuck with your sorry ass and I’m allowed to find people who look like him attractive.” 

“Derek doesn’t--” She stopped whatever she was about to admit and sighed heavily. “I can’t believe my platonic soulmate has the hots for my brother,” she said with a cringe. Stiles shoved her playfully and Laura’s eyes lit up golden before she pushed him back just a little too hard. He started falling backward, tripping over his feet because his balance was honestly laughable, and braced himself for impact to the hardwood floor. Instead, he fell into a hard wall and warm, solid arms wrapped around his waist. 

“Aren’t you trying to keep the human alive?” Derek’s voice chimed from behind him. Stiles was momentarily stunned by the feeling of Derek’s arms holding up that he forgot how to stand until Derek pushed him back to his feet. He stumbled forward into Laura who growled at him in response. 

“At the moment, I’m debating on just killing him and having him for dinner instead of the pot roast Mom made us,” Laura said with a glare at Stiles. Derek seemed to freeze at Laura’s words which didn’t go unnoticed by anyone in the room. Laura said quickly, “Derek, I didn’t mean--” 

“It’s fine, Lo. I’m gonna go get changed for dinner,” Derek dismissed as he bounded up the stairs. Stiles turned toward Laura and saw an excessive amount of guilt on her face. 

“What was that?” Stiles asked carefully, resting a comforting hand on Laura’s shoulder. Her eyes didn’t stray for the staircase Derek had disappeared from until she shook her head and took a deep breath in. 

“That was me taking our soul bond for granted,” Laura whispered as she pulled Stiles into a tight hug. He could practically feel his bones crush with the force of it and choked out a nervous laugh as he patted Laura on the back. 

“Puny human, here. Can’t take much more of--” Laura let go and Stiles inhaled deeply to catch his breath. Laura glanced at him apologetically before pushing past Stiles to move toward the kitchen. “Wait, Laura, I can feel the guilt echoing off of you. What do you think you did wrong?” Stiles asked, grabbing for Laura’s hand. She shook it away before staring at Stiles with the most serious expression he had ever seen from her. 

“I know I did something wrong and I need you to not ask questions, okay? It’s Derek’s story and if he trusts you enough, he’ll tell you,” Laura decided with a nod. Stiles agreed and pulled her in for one more hug before she dragged him to the kitchen. “Ma, Daddio, Derek’s home so we should sit,” she said as if nothing was weighing on her. Stiles wondered if he would ever get used to being so attuned to her vast array of emotions. 

“I hope you like to eat, Stiles, Mom’s made enough to feed an army!” Cora joked as she made her way to the table balancing two plates expertly in her hands. Stiles reached for one to assist her and Cora beamed a smile at him. He took a moment to notice just how beautiful the entire family was and thought that fate must have known he’d never have a chance with Laura which was why their bond was strictly platonic. 

Derek chose that moment to walk in, a much neater outfit on his body. Stiles found himself annoyed at how quickly his heart skipped a beat at the new view. Derek was wearing black jeans that rested snug on his hips and a dark blue t-shirt, but somehow he still looked dressed up. Laura nudged her hip against his and Derek smiled over at her like it was all they needed to forgive and forget. She made her way over to where Stiles stood frozen and flicked at his chin causing him to smack her hand. 

“Close your mouth, Stilinski. Werewolf dens aren’t immune to fly infestations,” Laura teased with a wink. Stiles rolled his eyes at her but made sure his lips were pressed together tightly as he rested the plate on the table. He pulled out the seat beside Laura and before he could sit down, Cora slid into place, thanking Stiles as if he had prepared the chair just for her. 

“I have to sit next to my dad,” Cora supplied as if it was the truth, “since I’m such a daddy’s girl.” Laura cackled beside her and Stiles pretended not to notice the sly smile on Derek’s face from where he had sat down. With Laura and Cora on one side of the table, their parents on either end and Peter taking the only other chair that seemed appropriate for Stiles, he had no choice but to occupy the seat next to Derek. Great. 

The moment he sat down, Peter chimed in, “So, Stiles Stilinski. Tell us more about yourself.” Stiles wasn’t sure how such a normal command sounded so gross coming from Peter’s lips. He glanced around the table and caught Laura’s eyes, hoping the stare was enough of a plea for help for her to intervene. 

“He’s not my boyfriend, Uncle Peter. The interrogation isn’t necessary,” she said with an expert roll of her eyes. 

“Then is he single?” Peter asked, staring Laura down like Stiles was some sort of competition. Stiles felt immediately uneasy until Laura’s chest rumbled lowly. 

“Peter, please. The boy has just turned 18,” Talia chastised, but there was no heat in it. Stiles didn’t think it was possible for her to be an alpha with the kindness she had displayed.

“18 means legal big sister,” Peter said as he took a sip of the wine Stiles wasn’t sure he should be drinking. He shuddered when he thought of how even more brash Peter could be with a bottle of wine in his system. “I’m not asking for me, anyway,” Peter said with a shrug, leaning forward to glance over at Derek. 

“Can’t we just have one dinner without you making-- No, wait,” Laura said, interrupting herself as she grabbed a shovel of mashed potatoes, “I take that back. Can’t we just have one dinner without you? Full stop.” Peter scowled at her, but Stiles was a little too focused on how he went out of his way to look at Derek. He didn’t know much about werewolves, but there must have been something obvious in the air for Peter to make such a large jump when he had only been in the house for that short of a time. 

“Stiles, we are dying to know,” Talia began as she put way too many peas onto his plate. Her smile was too bright and the food smelled too delicious for him to ask her to stop. “How did your father react when he found out Laura was your soulmate?” 

“Platonic soulmate,” Laura was quick to interject. Derek huffed out a laugh beside him and Stiles couldn’t help but smile at the sound. 

Stiles ignored the outburst and said, “Well, at first, he was confused. From his history with your family, he was pretty sure Laura was… not interested.”

“Which is very true,” Laura interrupted again. Stiles threw a pea at her, ignoring her cry of protest before he continued. 

“Then he was just amused because, and I think this is a direct quote, ‘she’s going to chew you up and spit you out and you’re going to let her’,” Stiles finished with a wink at Cora. She blushed and laughed, hiding her face when her dad shot an accusatory glance at her. 

“Our Laura would never,” Talia said but it was clear in her tone that she figured that’s exactly what would have happened if their soulmate bond was anything more than platonic. Stiles still thought that she was gonna destroy him any chance she got, but she didn’t scare him much anymore. He knew she was secretly looking for acceptance and Stiles was the one to give her that unconditionally. 

“Speaking of spitting,” Peter said with a sly grin on his face. At that comment, Derek’s growl seemed to echo around the room. 

“Peter,” he said so lowly that Stiles almost missed it even though he was sitting right next to Derek. Peter must have heard it loud and clear judging by the way his face turned to stone. It was almost like--

“Of course, Alpha,” Peter spat, slamming his fork down on the plate. “I wouldn’t want to challenge you for a mate again. We all know how that went last time,” Peter said and Stiles was sure he could hear a pin drop with the silence that enveloped the room. Before he could try to break the tension with one of his jokes, Laura shot out of her seat, wielding a steak knife in her hand, and if Stiles had thought she was intimidating before, he was positive of it then. 

“Laura, no.” Stiles almost didn’t recognize the voice as Talia’s, the stern tone and growl that seemed to rumble table so unlike what he had seen from her before. 

“He knows it’s off limits, Mom. He’s lucky we even let him in here after what he did to--”

“Laura, enough!” Talia shouted, her eyes flashing red as Laura seemed to crumble back into her seat. Stiles could feel her submission through their bond and it knocked the breath out of him. It wasn’t until Derek’s hand rested on his shoulder that he was able to gulp in enough air to have his head stop spinning. 

“Peter--” Evan spat, but before he could continue, Derek was shaking his head and standing. His eyes darted from each face at the table, skipping Peter’s but lingering a little longer on his than Stiles thought was warranted. There was something about the way Derek’s palm slid from the fabric of his shirt and down his arm before resting at his side that had a chill racing down Stiles’ body. 

“I’m gonna go for a run or-- Just, enjoy your meal,” Derek muttered. He glanced at Stiles and whispered, “It was nice to meet you. I’m glad Laura has--” his breath stuttered, “--has someone.” Stiles nodded and watched Derek until he reached the door, hoping he would glance back so Stiles could take it as an invitation and follow him. His hand hesitated on the doorknob, but he pulled the door open and shut it softly behind him. 

“Mom, as a member of your pack and your daughter, I can’t keep staying silent while Peter hurts my brother,” Laura said, her voice surprisingly steady as her eyes flashed. Talia nodded and held eye contact with Evan like a silent agreement was being made between them. He wondered if that’s how all romantic soulmates were with each other and felt his heart constrict at the fact that may never apply to him. 

Laura was staring at him when he looked away from her parents and he realized they had it, too. He knew every emotion that was swirling around inside of her - the hurt, the sadness, the sheer anger directed at Peter, they want to follow where her brother had disappeared to - like it was his own and rested a hand against the mark on his skin. It was something he had resented for so long when he met Laura and figured out she wouldn’t be the love of his life. He couldn’t find himself to hate it at that moment, though. Not when his heart yearned for Derek and the family he had only just met. 

“I’ve allowed you in this pack, Peter, because you are blood. You are the only family from my past that I have left,” Talia began as she stood, shuffling over to Peter to hold his face in her hands, “but the family that is my future can never accept you as theirs.” Peter blanched at the statement as if he had never thought Talia would say those words. Stiles didn’t have it in him to feel bad after what he had just witnessed. 

“You can’t be serious, Lia. I can’t control how your little brat feels about his past. You all treat him as if his past will haunt him forever when I’m merely trying to--” 

“Enough,” Talia whispered. Even with the soft tone of her voice, Stiles knew she wouldn’t let him keep speaking. “Peter Hale, you are no longer allowed on the territory of the Beacon Hills Pack, as proclaimed by the Alpha, Talia Hale.” 

Howls erupted through the room and Stiles thought he heard a distant sorrowful one from outside. Laura’s heart burst in her chest and Stiles felt it from where he had pushed back his seat away from the siblings. He shot a glance at her out of the corner of his eye and saw tears bubbling in them. He wasn’t sure he would ever see Laura emotional, but he was glad the first time was for family. Fate had gotten something right when he paired them, Stiles thought happily. 

“I’ll be gone by midnight,” Peter choked out, and then he was gone. The room silenced like a dark cloud had suddenly appeared and Talia dropped into her seat with a sigh. 

“Mom, I--” Laura began, but Talia’s eyes flashed red. Stiles didn’t see anger in them as he expected. He wasn’t quite sure what had just happened, but from what he had heard from Laura, Peter was the worst person she had ever met and Stiles was glad to be rid of him. Talia might not feel the same as he was family and Stiles couldn’t imagine the pain she must have felt. 

“Derek?” Cora nodded and closed her eyes, her chin tilting down slowly. Stiles knew she was listening for him, trying to sense his mood and whereabouts with her werewolf ability. He would have been impressed if he wasn’t still shocked. 

“He’s at the treehouse,” Cora whispered as she stood. “I can--”

“Can I?” Stiles asked, shooting up from his seat. All four eyes locked on his and he wasn’t sure who to look at it. The bond pulsing on his skin had him subconsciously choosing Laura, which he figured he would have to get used to. “I just-- I don’t know what happened. I don’t need an explanation,” Stiles said quickly as all of their mouths moved to open, “but I would like to talk to Derek. You all saw what I did and for some reason he… trusts me. Can I be the one to make sure he’s okay?”

Talia nodded slowly and rested her hand on Laura’s as if to calm her. He could feel her confusion and what he thought might be jealousy, but he brushed it aside. If he wanted answers, Derek was going to be the one to give them to him. That much was made clear in the last few minutes. 

“Where do I go?” Stiles asked as he reached the door. Laura considered answering him, but Cora beat her to it. 

“Behind the house. Walk directly straight for about a minute and it’ll be on your right. It’s the only treehouse out there,” Cora said. Stiles winked back at her and a blush covered her cheeks as she waved him away. He sent one more glance at Laura and was surprised by her encouraging nod before he shut the door behind him. 

He wasn’t sure what he would say and that was his first problem. He could tell Derek that Peter was kicked out, but by the howl he had heard in the woods, he had already made the connection. He would ask Derek what the hell just happened, but Stiles wasn’t sure brazen was the way to go with Derek. Maybe he would just sit next to him and wait for Derek to do the talking. He thought about that option for a second before remembering the countless times Laura ran conversations with him and he was happy to listen. If he recalled correctly, that day was the first time he had actually heard a full sentence out of Derek in the time he had known Laura. 

All too suddenly, Stiles realized just how different they were. He didn’t know what he felt for Derek or what the night had started, but he wasn’t the kind of person to let it go. He figured Derek might be, but if he thought that Stiles was going to leave without having answers, he had another thing coming. 

“I can hear you thinking from all the way up here,” Derek’s voice split through the silence of the forest. Stiles jumped and held in the yelp that threatened to escape his lips. He heard a small huff of laughter from above and flinched when a rope ladder dropped a few feet in front of him. 

“I thought it was gonna be a lot harder to convince you to let me up there,” Stiles said, huffing as he attempted to climb the rope. He wasn’t out of shape by any means, but climbing was never something he was good at. He remembered being almost as uncoordinated as Erica on the rope at school before she got the bite. 

“You seem like the type that would find his way up even if I didn’t want you here,” Derek noted as he threw his hands on the wooden platform to pull himself fully into the house. He took a deep breath in and sat up so he was facing Derek. He was surprised to see peace in his light eyes that reflected the sunset out the side of the treehouse beautifully. 

“Do you want me here?” Stiles asked carefully, moving to glance at the view. It was breathtaking and not at all what Stiles had expected. The placement was perfect for the sunset peeking through the large trees that surrounded the preserve and shined off the small pond Stiles hadn’t known was hidden behind their home. “Wow,” he couldn’t stop himself from whispering. Derek nodded in agreement and leaned back on his hands. 

After a few moments of silence, Derek said, “I’m not gonna kick you out.” It wasn’t exactly the answer he had wanted, but it was kinder than he expected. He settled back on his hands, matching Derek’s position as they watched the sun fall behind the trees together. “I’m sorry for what happened,” Derek whispered. The admission shocked Stiles more than almost anything had that night. First, because Derek didn’t strike him as an apologetic type, and second, because Derek thought he had anything to apologize for. 

“Your Uncle Peter is a real dick,” Stiles said before he could stop himself. He slammed his palm over his mouth, but before he could apologize, Derek’s laughter filled the air. Stiles pushed back the way his heart seemed to always stutter at the sound. 

“Yeah,” Derek agreed, “he really is.” 

There were a few moments of silence that Stiles used to think of what he could possibly say next. It was obvious there was a story as to why Laura reacted so strongly to Peter and that it was enough to cast Peter out of the town and out of the pack. Stiles didn’t know much about werewolf politics other than what he gathered from the files he had snuck peeks at in the past, but that wasn’t something that was taken lightly. Derek sighed heavily next to him and cleared his throat as darkness fell over them. Stiles was sad to see the sunset disappear, but the stars that started sparkling through the sky almost made the disappearing view worth it. 

“Do you love Laura?” Derek asked and Stiles choked at the question. 

He sputtered out, “Excuse me?” Derek sighed again, more annoyed that time, and turned toward Stiles. 

“I know you’re her soulmate--”

“Platonic,” Stiles interrupted before Derek could finish. Derek shot him a deadly glare which had him pressing his lips together nervously. 

“Even platonic soulmates must feel love for one another, right?” Stiles was a bit scared to speak, so he nodded his head and couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at his lips. “I love Laura, too. She’s my sister, but more than that, she’s the most stubborn, hard headed, independent, kind, strong woman I’ve ever had in my life.” Stiles nodded quickly in return. Laura was the best and they undoubtedly agreed on that. 

“There are times when I wish our bond wasn’t platonic,” Stiles began and Derek’s raised eyebrow told him his interpretation of Stiles’ admission was a lot different than Stiles meant. “No, no, no, I don’t wanna like bang your sister, man,” Stiles said, but at Derek’s blank look, he realized those weren’t exactly the most comforting words either. “What I mean to say,” Stiles took a deep breath, “is that your sister was a surprise to me. Our connection is stronger than I’ve seen with even the most romantic of soulmates. I’m here for the long haul whether you or your family - or anyone else for that matter - like it or not.” 

He said the words with such conviction, he hoped Derek heard the sincerity in them. Even if Derek wasn’t going to bear his soul right then and there to someone he had really just met, he needed Derek to know that he would find out eventually. Derek would trust Stiles implicitly and it was only a matter of time. He had wormed his way into Laura’s life, charmed her into loving him right back, and he would do the same to Derek because he had to. 

It might have been the way his stomach seemed to tremble or the way his heart clenched in his chest or even the way that being so close to Derek with only the night sky giving them any semblance of light had his entire body shivering, as if it anticipated his entire life changing. It could have been the way Derek was watching him so carefully, like he was deciding if Stiles was telling the truth, or the way his shoulders relaxed when he saw whatever he was searching for in Stiles’ gaze. 

“Our family hasn’t had the best luck when it comes to soulmate bonds,” Derek began and Stiles let out the breath he was all too aware he was holding. “My mom never had a soulmate and she was happy about it until she met my dad. His soulmate was the love of his life and my mom sat back and befriended them because she wanted him in her life. When he lost his soulmate to a rogue wolf, he didn’t know how to move on. My mom helped him through it and even though they weren’t fated, they ended up together with the same amount of love most soulmates feel for each other.” 

Stiles nodded and whispered, “That’s incredibly romantic.” Derek laughed in return and shook his head. 

“They had their battles. Mom was an alpha werewolf and dad had barely just been bitten. It was tough for them but they believed that soulmate bonds weren’t the be all end all to how much love someone had to give. It was the only thing that got me through when I--” Derek cleared his throat and Stiles could hear the tears building in his throat. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Stiles whispered, reaching over to rest his hand on top of Derek’s softly. It was so similar to the way Derek comforted him during dinner and Stiles’ mind reeled with what it could mean. They had only known each other for a few hours at most and they both had eased into comforting one another already. It surprised and intrigued Stiles, but his mind was too focused on the trust that Derek was displaying as he shook his head abruptly. 

“Like you said, you’re here to stay whether we like it or not, right?” Stiles nodded and said nothing further, urging Derek to continue with a squeeze of his hand. “I met my soulmate in high school. Her name is-- was Paige. I knew I was one of the lucky ones to meet my soulmate so early in life. We had the rest of forever to spend with each other and I was so in love with her.” Derek let out a choked laugh and ran his free hand through his hair. He didn’t try to remove his hand from underneath Stiles’ but turned it over instead.  Stiles traced the lines of his palm with his fingertips delicately. 

“So fate got it right?” Stiles asked with a smile. 

Derek nodded and continued, “Everyone thought we were perfect for each other. I was extroverted and sporty, she was more introverted and loved to lock herself in a room to practice her cello. I thrived on time spent with my friends and she loved spending time with just me. We were the definition of opposites attract and we--” He broke off with another shake of his head. “I believed in soulmates just as much as the next person, but I also knew that sometimes fate was wrong.

“I mean, I looked at my parents and how much they loved each other and I would never cheapen that the way others had, but fate had perfected the match between Paige and I. Before we even graduated, we were planning our future together.” He went quiet, staring up at the stars like they held all the answers to a question Stiles was too afraid to ask. The silence in the air was heavy and Stiles broke it with a hefty breath. 

“What happened?” Stiles asked softly, lacing his fingers with Derek to try and provide whatever comfort he could. Derek’s small smile warmed Stiles’ heart as he waited for the story he had been intrigued to hear. 

“Peter happened,” Derek spat before taking a deep breath. “He is only a few years older than me and he set his sights on Paige, too. Even though she was my soulmate, he was sure that her kindness meant that they should be together so he challenged me for her. Soulmate bonds aren’t just for werewolves…” Derek trailed off, gesturing toward Stiles who huffed out a laugh. 

“Obviously,” he agreed with a scrunch of his nose. 

“But werewolves take them more seriously than humans. We mate for life more times than not, but Peter grew up with his sister and her husband defying all of the odds and he just couldn’t let it go.” Stiles could tell that even recalling the event was becoming too much for Derek to handle and opened his mouth to stop him. He didn’t need to hear more if it meant that Derek would continue sounding as broken as he did. Derek squeezed Stiles' hand and leveled him with an almost pleading glance.

“Okay,” Stiles muttered as he prepared himself for what he thought would be a tragic story. 

Derek sat up a little straighter and squeezed Stiles’ hand tighter before he started again, “Peter wasn’t born with a soul mark and to him, that meant his mate was his choosing. It didn’t matter that the person standing in his way was his family - someone I considered my best friend - he was blinded by the good that Paige was that he would never be. Paige didn’t want to tear us apart, but I didn’t realize at that time just how much. She was going to leave Beacon Hills and break our bond so that our family, our pack, wouldn’t be broken. That wasn’t on her, but that’s just who she was a person, you know?” 

“She sounds selfless,” Stiles commented and that made Derek smile again which Stiles was grateful for. 

“She was. And Peter was the opposite. He was waiting outside of her house when she walked out with her bags packed and they had an argument. He said it was innocent - that he was begging her to stay with him - and somehow, the tripped and her head slammed against the stonewall lining her driveway.” Derek shuttered and Stiles had to hold back all of the questions he had. Did he think Peter murdered her? Did he see her? Did he get to say goodbye? 

He stayed mostly silent, muttering a brief, “I’m sorry.” As if it would do anything to ease Derek’s pain. 

“I hated Peter, but he was family and one of the only blood pack members my mother had left. I saw her struggle with the decision to exile him back then and I can’t imagine the hurt she is feeling right now,” Derek said, guilt clear in his tone. He pressed his hand against his heart and Stiles felt his own tightening in his chest. 

“He doesn’t deserve to be here with you,” Stiles said and the words were angrier than he had meant them to be. “I’ve known Laura for a while and the rest of you for only a night, but I knew from the second I met you that the tragedy you went through hasn’t broken you.” Derek looked as if he was about to argue and Stiles took a chance, resting his free palm on Derek’s cheek. He was surprised to find it dry as even Stiles’ eyes were tearing at the story. 

“I tried for so long to push aside the pain and anger I felt toward Peter, but for some reason, I feel ashamed that my past is what tore my family apart,” Derek admitted, looking anywhere but Stiles’ face. The hand that rested on Derek’s cheek pushed just enough for their eyes to connect and Stiles tilted his head consideringly at Derek. 

“Peter tore your family apart by ripping Paige away from you. And from what I saw tonight, he continued to poke and prod at your happiness in order to prove that he was somehow superior. You have done nothing but forgive someone I never would have. In fact,” Stiles said, clearing his throat, “I probably would have punched the guy if it wasn’t for the fact I was meeting your parents for the first time.”

Derek’s laughter was real and raw, only slightly drowned by unshed tears as he asked, “Oh, yeah? What makes you think you would have done any damage?” Stiles considered the question and shrugged. 

“I wouldn’t have made a dent in him. But I’ve been told I’m good at provoking people so best case scenario, he would have gone after me and I had at least 4 werewolves ready to attack when he did,” Stiles said with a coy smile. Derek shook his head and reached up to take Stiles’ hand on his face in his own. 

“We wouldn’t have let anything happen to you,” Derek admitted and Stiles knew it was the truth. 

“Yeah, you wouldn’t have. Just like you wouldn’t have let anything bad happen to Paige and how even through your own suffering, you didn’t let it tear your family apart,” Stiles urged. Stiles was sure if he could see Derek more clearly, there would be a blush on his cheeks and the thought made him a bit giddy even with the heavy conversation behind them. “Look, I don’t know you yet, and there was a while in there where I thought I never would,” Stiles began, holding Derek’s hands tightly in his, “but I would like to. I mean, I know what is possibly the most traumatic thing that ever happened to you, so we can only go up from here, right?” Derek smiled wider and Stiles grinned right back. 

“I don’t see the harm in that,” Derek muttered. He stood up slowly, gesturing to the opening of the treehouse for Stiles to make his way down. “I can hear Laura pacing from out here. We should…” Stiles took Derek’s outstretched hand in his and nodded. 

“Yeah…” Stiles trailed off, pulling Derek back to facing him when he started to drop the ladder. “Hey, Derek?” Stiles asked, gulping when he saw the moonlight reflecting in Derek’s eyes. 

“Stiles,” Derek whispered and Stiles thought that he could get used to Derek saying his name like that. It was soft and sultry when he wasn’t even trying. Stiles briefly considered how it would sound when he did try. 

“Thank you for telling me,” Stiles said, his lips pulling back into a shy smile before he could stop them. Derek huffed out what sounded like a relieved laugh and squeezed Stiles’ hand in his. 

“Laura’s lucky to have you,” Derek responded, but Stiles knew it was as much of a thank you as Derek could probably give. 

“Well, I’m feeling pretty lucky, too,” Stiles muttered as he watched Derek lower himself from the treehouse. He was grateful that his extremely platonic soulmate was Laura because that meant he would never be rid of Derek. Derek who he could see becoming friends with, who he could see annoying until he was red in the face, who he could see himself falling in love with… “Yeah, I’m really lucky.” 

[natromanxoff]

I wasn’t sure about posting this at first but as it is already shared publicly and I have come across with it on Pinterest, I decided that it would be okay. So here is a story of a fan about Jim Hutton:

“ON 23rd of March, there was a Queen Tribute band concert in Goresbridge and my boyfriend told me that Jim would come as well. He admitted that he had arranged with Stephen for Jim to come along. The concert was in the pub called The Spirit Store. What a great name for spiritual meeting, I thought. When I entered, Jim sat at the table with Stephen, Jascqueline, her sister Valeria and other family friends. There was nowhere to sit, so we just stood by the table for a while. When I looked at Jim, he appeared somewhat fragile and tiny, like a man who could easily be overlooked. He didn´t look anything like those photos portraying him in the books.

After a while, there was a free seat by the table and everyone, including Jim, moved in order for us to sit down. It was just one place and my friend Mike wanted to take it. He got up fast but they all stopped him. Jim measured Mike up and down and told him, "Perhaps you should let the lady sit here, you cavalier!" Embarassed, Mike got up from his chair and offered it to me. I got the honorable place alongside Jim. Being a woman sometimes has its advantages! Jim welcomed me with heartfelt "Hi". At first I was nervous, but after a while I felt relaxed and enjoyed Jim's company. I was aware of his behavior, gestures, laughter, and tried to absorb his energy all at once. It was easy to talk to him about anything and everything.

I wanted to know the man Freddie loved so much, so I guess I started giving him many questions.

"Jim, are you still in touch with Phoebe?" Jim looked at me closely and began to talk to me with interest. "I haven´t really been talking to him for a long time. I know he had a hotel in Dubai, then he sold it, and he's in Prague now. He also bought something overthere and I think he's going to settle down there." When I heard about Prague, I jumped up excitedly and told him that I was from there. He smiled a little, though the coincidence like this didn´t overwhelm him as much as me.

He relished glass of Budwaiser and smoked Ultra light Silk Cuts. He offered me one and lit it up for me like a real gentleman. It seemed he wanted to continue talking. We both made fun of the ultralight effect of his cigarettes, which would probably piss off every orthodox smoker, Freddie for sure! He then demonstrated jokingly, how to properly smoke them. He inhaled all the smoke by sucking in his cheeks and widening his eyes, as if he should soon burst like an inflated toad. None of us resisted and we both burst into a mad laughter. I told him about my visit to Munich and meeting Barbara. He smiled and listened, then he rolled his eyes up to heaven and stated that she is one hell of a crazy woman. I totally agreed, and added, that also alcoholic one. It was surreal to talk about mutual aquaintances together, people we both knew. I also mentioned my visit to New York club and I could see how he returns nostalgically into his memories. Then I also tried to make him remember my friend Allison, who told me about him in the first place.

"About nine years ago she visited you in London". He couldn´t remember and admitted, that since then a lot of people have passed through his life and many of them he never saw again.

I continued. "She showed me several of your photos and in one of them you were holding Freddie's portrait that you bought at the auction". Suddenly he jumped up and said he knew whom I mean.

I showed him my miniature box containing a stone and talked about it with almost patriotic pride. "It's a stone from Logan Mews that I had to dig out from under the threshold of his house, because there was nothing else to take." Jim laughed out loud, this time without any hindrance and doubt that I was totally crazy. I also laughed because I knew I sound like nuts. He remarked with smile from ear to ear that I was pretty crazy. "Yeah, I'm crazy, and I'm proud to be. Who isn´t...and by the way.....why not?" I smiled at what I just said, because that´s what Freddie would say, to defend himself. Jim then talked about the medallion that Freddie had given him for his birthday. He said, there were three miniature pictures inside. "The first is that of Miko ", he said gently, looking up at me to make sure I knew who he was talking about. "In the other one is Freddie" ... he continued with kind of fervor and love. Something deep inside me shivered. "In the third one," ... he didn´t answer yet, when I jumped into his monologue ...."Tiffany," I blurted out.

"My mom's photo," he finished his sentence. (and I prayed he didn´t register my answer).

It was nice to hear him remembering like that. He opened up in front of me the way I never dreamt of. I think it was nice for him to share these beautiful moments and to talk about things that meant so much to him. "This rock is my good luck charm. I have been listening to Queen since I´m twelve and I also work in the Fan Club's office. We celebrate his anniversary every year. When I went here, I was kidding with my friends that I might meet Jim Hutton in Ireland... and here you are, sitting right next to me. That´s my dream come true", I said all emotional.

"How do you know Stephen?", he inquired after while.

"I go out with Vinnie and they are good friends" He eyed my boyfriend and indicated that he knew who he was.

"I was annoying the two of them and was constantly asking them to bring you", I smiled.

"Oh, Jacqueline wanted me to come, alright" Jim smiled at the thought. Then he talked about the music talent competition, in which they were selecting the best imitators of Queen.

"What music are you actually listening to?" I wondered.

"I have no favorite, I'm listening to almost everything. Even a radio".

"And do you still have Zig and Zag?"

He only sighed and said in a sad voice that they had both died since then.

"And do you have any other cats?"

"Yeah, I have seven others now," Jim smiled. This number didn´t surprise me. The old habits are hard to kill.

"Do you still keep up the gardening, Jim?"

"Constantly," he said with a loving smile and amusedly showed me his hands dirty from the clay and covered in sores. For God's sake, he must have been gardening a few minutes before going to a concert!, I thought to myself. A complete garden maniac.....

We were joking on the account of the band that was supposed to start playing long time ago, but somehow did not. He told me it would be nice to get drunk, so we didn´t know how terrible they were. That really made me crack up. He could be so funny.

He joked and emphasized to everyone around the table, that instead of a concert he could have been at home watching his favorite movie. In the same breath, he admitted that he was curious about their performance and that he hadn´t been out in ages.

He leaned over to me and confessed, that now he lived a life completely cut off from the rest of the world.

"We are basically the same, I am basically like him. Now I just enjoy loneliness and privacy. I don´t go out anywhere except my garden". I immediately knew whom he was referring to in his speech.

I said that I had discovered his house in Palatine and apologized when I saw his slightly concerned look. I said I was just little curious.

He then recalled a few of his encounters with the fans. One day there was an unknown car with a couple of strangers that arrived to his house. They came all way from Vienna and they found him by questioning people in a town! Not a hard thing to trace him, he said, as every cab driver in the area knows him pretty well. One local newspaper even published a photo of his house, and although they gave a wrong address, a lot of people had found him.

That made me laugh, because I knew what it means to be a devoted fan.

"On the other hand, it's nice to know that someone is constantly looking after you and giving you the feeling that all this is still alive," I added with a smile.

"Jim, do you still have your Volvo?"

"You mean the one that Freddie gave me?.....No, I don´t have it few years now, I´ve swapped it for a new one," he smiled.

He was all too gallant all the time, always lighting my cigarette.

He also wondered how long I would stay in Ireland, so I said that only another half a year.

"And you wanna come back here?" He asked suddenly.

"Oh, I'd love to. I'm trying to find a job either in Carlow or Kilkenny," I said enthusiastically.

Then I fell silent, looked at him and assured him "Definitely."

Each time he looked up into my eyes, I saw an incredibly nice person in front of me. Something in his silent expression suggested that he had suffered great deal of pain in life, but that he was now completely reconciled with his fate. Still, in his eyes shone a spark of unrelenting humor. In his company I forgot all about the world. I was happy to be able to make such an affluent and warm contact with him. The longer we knew each other, the closer we were.

When he wanted to go to the toilet, Stephen told him that the men's toilets were behind the bar and the ladies in front of the bar. It sounded like he wasn´t quite sure which one would Jim prefer.

But Jim didn´t care much and set off to the men's. I admit it made me laugh a little.

Then we continued our dialogue. I mentioned that I read both his and Phoebe's book, but that I couldn´t find his book anywhere in the stores. He confirmed that it´s out of print at the minute.

When I told him that I had stolen his book at the local library, he laughed and said that I should have asked him and he would have given me a copy, but he only had Italian version.

Finally, the band started to play. Everyone in the pub stood up and whole lot of us - as we were tucked in at the back, climbed onto the window ledges. I stood next to Jim, who remained seated.

He looked a little bit run over. I knew he was surrounded by the loneliness and I watched him with sadness. I lacked much power or words to comfort him. It was only after some wonderful songs that we both joined and got up. He could not remain sad in such a loving and friendly company for ever.

When he noticed the enormous, life-vibrant energy that only Queen music could produce in conjunction with a crowd of people singing, I think he forgot his personal pain. I could see pride in his face. He stood up and watched the band. Then he addressed me and made me come up onto the ledge above him to see better. I would not listen to anybody else, but from him it didn´t sound like an order. He wanted me to get the most out of it and it pleased me. Then we sat back and drank. Jim seemed to be getting cheerful and livelier. The more he drank, the more cheerful he was. The guys ordered him Red Bull with vodka. When I asked him if it was vodka, he claimed it was white lemonade! He put a warm glass of "vodka" on my hand, so I almost jumped out of my skin, which he thought was terribly funny.

Whatever he did, he looked at me as though I was the only person who knew what was behind his looks. His faces and funny grimaces reminded me of Freddie. He had a lot of subconsciously inherited poses and gestures from him. Even in his laughter I could detect an influence of Freddie's strong personality. He simply marked all people around him. It was not the same contagious and stormy laugh, but there was a spark of resemblance.

His niece Jacqueline, Valerie and Stephen, danced all the time on the ledge and Jim was pulling them and wrapping himself in between their legs, hugging them, clinging to them, and messing around like a little boy. It was a wonderful sight, as he was so happy and childish.

After some time, Jim lost himself in a crowd of concert goers, so I went to look for him. Without his company it felt such a sad place. It was as if he had fallen through the ground, which made me very nervous. Finally, I found him by the entrance table, where he was joking away with one old blonde, not too different from frivolous Barbara Valentin. I asked him for a photo together. At first he looked impenetrable but as soon as I threw a sad eye and smirked, he brightened up and agreed as if saying "You know you can, anything for you, darling"

His niece Valerie took our picture. He then whispered to me that he hopes I´ll send him some pictures later.

After that he announced that we are going back inside to listen to the band.

I saw them from close-up and I must say that it was much better to just hear them. They looked rather too comic with all their wigs. It was something that would make Freddie laugh too.

I told Jim that they don´t look very natural,which he agreed with, but he said he couldn´t complain about their music. He was totally right, because musically they weren´t bad and the singer had a very authentic voice.

Inside, everybody was dancing and Jim joined in and circled around them like a rogalo.

The whole pub vibrated with intense and loving energy. There was no one who would be bored. Jim then threw himself in the arms of his two nieces, who gently caressed him in his hair and embraced him. He let them take care of him, now vulnerable like a little lost child all of a sudden.

There was something deeply touching about it. He had closed his eyes and sadly lowered his head, as if his tears flowed deep inside, in his invisible world. I realized at this stage, how much he really loved Freddie. I was looking at him and I had a desire to caress him and comfort him but instead, I had to stand aside.

"You can have everything and yet feel alone", Freddie once said. But I was glad Jim had his family and friends around him, who cared and protected him. Jim was going through sorrow and joy,both at the same time, it seemed.

During one of his many shananigans, I caught him messing around with his niece's boyfriend.

He sat him on his knees and imitated sexual intercourse. It would seem offensive and utterly crazy to someone who didn´t know him. But we all did. Jim was laughing like crazy and when he finally looked at me, he seemed a little embarrassed by his behavior and gave me a look that said"I hope you won´t tell on me to Freddie"...but it was hard to take him seriously.

We both smiled conspiratorially at each other. In that sense, our relationship no matter how short-lived, was special. We understood one another in thoughts. He winked at me a couple of times, tapping my beer like an old buddy.

In one moment in particular, Jim leaned over me and whispered: "You as a fan have right to be crazy, but them" ... pointing at our dancing group of friends ... " they are fucked up", he said with smile and he began to knock his finger against his forehead. An international gesture that doesn´t need an interpreter!

Jim then went to the toilets for a while, and I, like a stray sheep, followed him through crowds of oblivious dancers. He was somewhat drunk at that time and barely retained a balance. He staggered a little like a broken tree. No surprise after god knows how many Red bulls and vodkas! I was bit afraid for him, so I supported him inconspicuously by both shoulders from behind. He went to the toilet and cared too little to even close the door behind him. If anyone was looking, he would see Jim Hutton pissing in a toilet bowl in his bright canary shirt.

At that moment they played the most touching song of all, These are the Days of our lives .... I stood by the door and listened, watching the band and waited for Jim. I don´t know why, perhaps because of the fate that brought me here, I suddenly felt terrible sorrow. I was sorry for Freddie and Jim. Tears poured into my eyes. I didn´t cry, but was very close to it. Jim suddenly appeared next to me and noticed my face. "What about those tears? I hope you don´t cry", but at this stage I was lost for words. His concern made me sad even more. Something inside me forced me to caress him. I hugged him gently around his neck and put my head on his shoulder for a moment. I wanted to let him know that I am very sorry about what happened to Freddie. He did not resist. He knew he wasn´t the only one in the world who was missing him. I looked into his eyes, and I told him a sentence that I didn´t know why I said, but I strongly felt it..."Jim, he's here, he IS here." His expression was rather confused at first. "Do you believe me?" ... I said this with a seriousness and a certain degree of self-assurance that he froze for a while. He looked thoughtful. He knew what I was talking about.

I seemed to only confirm his inner conviction. He didn´t say a word. He wiped my tear away with the edge of his hand and without warning, took me firmly by the hand and led me through crowds back to our friends. There was a lot of care and love in his touch. The music was just playing and Freddie just sang "I still love you" and I knew he did.

I didn´t want to leave, but I knew I said everything I needed to. I could not leave without saying goodbye. It would be a sin after all this to just disappear into eternity. I interrupted him from the conversation with someone else, leaned over the table and said, "Jim, I'm leaving now, so I want to say goodbye, it was great pleasure meeting you." I smiled as much as my heart allowed me to and shook his hand. He stared up and thought for a moment, and then, without any hesitance said, "We do not see each other for the last time." I didn´t know at this time how true his words were.

I thought I did not understand well, so I asked again, "sorry?" and he repeated patiently and more resolutely, "I shall surely see you again," while taking my hand into his hands and kissing it gently.

He left me in amazement. I stumbled out from there perplexed but still I could hear him talking about me to someone there. He probably said he hadn´t seen a bigger nutcase in a long time, assuming from his cute teddybear smile. Gosh I loved him so much!

The next day I learned from my friends that Jim was looking next morning for his jacket that he had forgotten in his car. Few days later, I've sent him the promised photographs. Jacquie confirmed that he called in to say he had received them allright.”

2001

“...And then I returned back to Ireland in 2004.

I had the opportunity to welcome Jim to my own home in Carlow sometime in 2006. He was Stephen´s surprise. When the door opened up, I didn´t see him at first.

Then his head popped out from the side of the door and with a laugh he emerged a bit later. He hugged me like we hadn´t seen each other for million years. What I felt at that moment was indescripable. My dear Jim back in my life and in my own house!

We all sat in the living room, Jim settled down on the sofa, I was sitting on the ground and absorbed the precious moments because I knew time spent with him was only borrowed time. Then we watched Queen videos and talked about Freddie as if he were in the next room. It was so surreal. Me and Jim agreed that our favorite video was Scandal, and he just added that Freddie didn´t like it very much because he couldn´t make any creative input in it, although he loved the song.

Then we talked about his illness, about him taking up to 40 pills a day to sustain his health and he also explained the difference between AIDS and HIV, as many people still didn´t know. We have talked so much and - above all - we laughed all night, almost at everything. It was so easy to succumb to his funny personality once again and to his heartfelt laughter. He made jokes about fancying my ex-boyfriend, whom he lied on top of on the sofa. Long time ago, I´ve sent him a letter explaining to him how Freddie has impacted my life. But I've forgotten I´ve ever written it and now I was faced with the horror that I actually have sent it. I hoped he has forgotten about it, but when Jim and I met in the corridor of our house, I couldn´t but apologize to him for that letter, and for being so daring. To my surprise, he looked at me softly with his tired eyes and assured me that my letter was absolutely fascinating. Then we were interrupted by Stephen, who was just leaving a toilet and the conversation was cut short at that point. Unfortunatelly I would never have the chance to find out what was the next thing he was about to say, because I noticed he wanted to continue, if he weren´t interrupted.

When we were saying goodbye at the door, he treated me as an old friend. He simply kissed me on the lips, which utterly shocked me and made me laugh at the same time.

He invited us back to his house to have a little party, but my ex-boyfriend was not in the perfect mood and so we politely declined, which I will forever regret!

About a year after that I bumped into Jim several times in the city where we both lived, or we exchanged text messages whenever I needed to advise what room flowers would be best for our new house. Sometimes I learnt about how he´s doing through my ex-boyfriend, who used to hang out with him and drink few pints in a night bar. Once my ex confessed how Jim told him that I was a great person and he should be happy to have me. They must have been talking about me!!!!

Then I met Jim one night in the nightclub, where he was with his friends. He spent most of his time sitting in the lounge smoking a cigarette, having fun with younger girls. Wherever he was, you heard his laughter. That night my ex-boyfriend arranged for Jim and me to have a dance together.

Jim was just dancing on the dancefloor with some older woman. I remember he had his jumper tied around his waist. I just got onto the dancefloor, he looked at me all serious and pulled me close to him. It was some tediously slow song that I can´t even remember, I just know that we were staggering from side to side like two handiccaped penguins and that made me laugh hysterically.

He was such a clown! Now, however, I consider this moment as one of the most precious memories of him. It was my night.

Back in 2009, I have learned that Jim was diagnosed with cancer. My ex-boyfriend told me how concerned Jim was when informing him. He said, he wept. At that time I didn´t know how serious the situation was and I hoped Jim will get better in no time. I believed the doctors would somehow help him out of it. I saw him a little later at work when he came to our restaurant for breakfast.

I almost served him as another customer, but when I realized it was him, I pulled myself back into the kitchen and let the other girls serve him. He never noticed. I was in such state of shock. I didn´t know what to do, how to act and what to say. He was so thin, just skin and bone. His face was sinking, his eyes full of pain, a small tube leading from his nose to the oxygen device he carried in his backpack and a small canvas hat on his head. I couldn´t believe this was Jim, whom I have remembered being so full of life and joy only half a year ago. I wanted to cry like never before. I also felt embarassed by my own cowardly reaction. I wished more than anything in my life to hug him and say I loved him. I wanted to wish him a happy Christmas. But I was scared of my own tears, which would not help him in his situation.

I wrote him a message on the phone, but he didn´t respond. And then I got the terrible news. Jim died and somehow I also missed his funeral. I took a first taxi and went at least to his months Mass and visited his grave, bringing him daffodils and little white lantern with candle. It was so hard for me. His relatives stood above his grave. I said my prayers in a minute of silence. The air didn´t move and the moon was full in the night sky. It was dark and cold all around but I didn´t care.

I wanted to see him laugh and mess around like he used to. It was as if another star had disappeared and fell to the earth. If only life could last forever.”

2006-2010

Credits to Seraphiel’s blog. Please don’t repost without credits.

[like-a-bag-of-potatoes]

Then and Now - Smells Like Home

AN: It's been a while since I’ve written Supernatural, or Dean, but I'm back now with a new Series. Gonna be 10 parts in total with a lot of feels and fluffs. I've been toying with this idea since I started re-watching spn earlier this year (thank you quarantine) and then after reading a series by the amazing @percywinchester27​ I got inspired and started writing. Shout out to my awesome beta @thorne93​, you da bees knees. 

AN2: I'm doing a thing where I raffle off a personalised drabble every month. How do you join? Easy, just hammer that reblog button. Reblog is one entry, reblog with comment is two entries. So you help spread my work and you might get a little sumpthin’ in return. Win Win

Pairing: AUDean x Reader

Warnings: None I think. 

Wordcount: 2494

Summary: It's 2010 and you’re back in Lawrence to settle your family’s affairs after your mom passed. You hope to be in and out of town before anyone really knows you’re there, but that doesn't go as plan. Will a certain green eyed mechanic convince you to come back to the life you once had in Lawrence? Or are you going to return to the real world as soon everything is settled?

The small town air in Lawrence was so much different than the polluted, exhaust filled air in New York. Here, you could actually breathe and not feel as though your mouth and lungs filled with whirled up dust and fumes from the constant traffic. It was something that you had gotten used to doing as the first thing when you reached a new place, to draw a deep breath through your nose and smell the town. It sounds weird, but every town and city had its unique smell, and Lawrence? Well… Lawrence smelled like home. 

It had been a long time since you called Lawrence home though, and now, considering the circumstances, you didn't know if this place would ever feel like home again. Even though it smelled like it. 

The town passed by the window as your cab made its way through it, some of the small businesses that you remember going to as a kid had been replaced by others, but some remained just as you remembered them. Like Rufus’ Hardware, where your dad got all his tools and things like that, and Harvelle’s Scoops where you used to hang out after school. The memories made in that place brought a smile to your lips. It had little to do with the fantastic ice cream sundaes they served, and all to do with the group of friends you used to hang out with. At the edge of town, you passed the Winchester Auto Shop, and again you smiled. The facade hadn't changed since you were here last, and neither had the clutter that surrounded it. Dean Winchester ran it now, your mom had told you not to long ago. John had passed away about a year earlier, in his sleep of all things. You had thought then about picking up and calling Dean, to offer your condolences, but it didn't seem appropriate after all this time. 

A knot started to form in your stomach as the cab turned from the main road and started down the gravel path that led to your childhood home. This place would never be the same again to you, not now that you were the only one left. The words your father had preached so many times echoed in your ears as the house came into view, and all of a sudden you felt the familiar sting of tears behind your eyes. ‘A home is not created by four walls and a roof, it's the family inside that makes a home’, but there was no family left in that house, and therefore it was no longer a home. 

It smelled like home though, moreso out here than it did in town. It smelled of freshly cut grass and flowers, and somehow it still smelled of the livestock that hadn't lived in the barn in many years. When your father had died about six years ago, your mom had discontinued the run of the farm, she just wasn't up for the task anymore and you weren't willing then to come back and help her. It was a huge mistake you had made back then, something you'd have to carry the guilt of for the rest of your life. 

As you climbed the few steps up to the front porch of the house, the planks creaked just the way they had always done, and a weird feeling of comfort crept upon you. It was soon washed away though, as you saw the wilted flowers in the pots on each side of the door. Memories of planting the flowers every spring with your mom played in your mind, bringing with them a hollow sadness that you couldt allow yourself to feel right now. The flowers before you had wilted away, just like your mom had done, alone on this farm without anything or anyone breathing life into them. 

You had abandoned her when she needed you the most, and that was something you could never take back. And for what exactly? Your career? The illusion of love from a man that turned out to be something else entirely? The starry eyed dream that a city like New York promised to make true? No. It was all for nothing, and it was too late to make things right now, you could never fix this mistake. 

Pushing away your emotions wasn't easy, especially as you walked through the old house that hadn't changed much and the memories from your childhood threatened to bring you to your knees. No, you had to push it all away. You were here to get things in order so that you could sell the place and then haul your ass out of town again. A week. Two at the most, and then you could return to the messy life you had left back in New York. 

***

It was early in the morning when the sun crept through the curtains of your room, making you groan in displeasure. Back in New York, tall buildings surrounded yours making it so the sun didn't reach your window until 11am. Something that suited your lifestyle perfectly. You were a night owl, always had been. 

As you opened your eyes, you saw the five members of Backstreet Boys smiling down at you and you couldn't help but laugh. The poster you had once hung in the ceiling had been long forgotten, as had the girl that hung it up there. It was barely past six am as you begrudgingly dragged yourself out of bed, but the sooner you got started, the sooner you could get out of here and back to the big city where you belonged. Nothing had changed in your room in the past - what- 13 years since you lived here. Your parents hadn't touched it, and whenever you visited, you never stayed long enough to bother changing anything. 

In your closet you found your old flannel shirt, the one that a certain green eyed boy had given you one night when it was cold. You took it from the hanger and ran the rough fabric through your fingers before you, as on instinct, brought it up to your nose. It didn't smell like him anymore, but you hadn't expected it to either. You threw it on over a white tank top and shimmied into a basic pair of jeans, and then you spotted them. The brown cowboy boots your dad had gotten you as a going away present when you left. The boots that you had left behind because they didn't fit into the style of life you were pursuing in the big city. Unused and filled with guilt they stood there and basically mocked you. With mixed emotions you slid your feet into them, like if it was an effort to make up for past behavior or something. Nothing changed, your dad would never know how much you appreciate them in this moment, but you still wore them, completing the farm girl look as you set out to start the day. 

It was nearly noon before you took a break, the scorching sun forcing you to find some shade to hide in for a little while. Tomorrow you had a meeting with a realtor, she would help you with everything that came to selling the place, what you would have to get rid of beforehand, and what could be sold with the property. So until then, you just went around and cleaned things up a bit. Now it was lunch time, but you hadn't done any shopping yesterday, and there was a limit to how many granola bars one could have. 

Inside you found the keys to your old truck, and with a nostalgic giddiness you practically skipped outside to the garage to find it. It was an old Ford pickup truck, blue with a white trim around it. Your father had kept it running for as long as he was alive, but now it probably hadn't even been started since you were last here. Two years had passed, but you had unrelenting faith in this truck. “Come on, baby. Show me what you’re made of,” you gently coaxed as you slid the key in the ignition. As you turned it, you closed your eyes and prayed to a higher power you didn't believe in. A meek noise came from the engine, but the engine didn't turn at all. “It was a long shot,” you conceded.

There was a greater chance of getting your mom's car to start, a shaggy, old Volvo that she had had forever, but it was well kept so you had a home there. But no such luck. 

You thought for a moment, but it was abundantly clear what your next move had to be, and you didn't really look forward to it. 

As you waited on the front porch, you looked at the hammock chair that hung there. The ropes that came with it had been exchanged with chains that had started rusting. Visions of your mom reading while she rocked back and forth flashed across your eyes, remembering how the creak of the chains had reverberated and amplified up to your room and annoyed the shit out of you. How you had yelled out the window and how she had apologized. You also remembered how your dad had caught you and Dean there one night, way past either of your bedtimes. That particular memory brought a smile to your face. If your dad only had known where Dean's hand was a minute before he came crashing through the front door. Oh to be young and in love again. Or young. Or in love. 

The roar of an engine pulled you from your little trip down memory lane, and as you got to your feet the sleek black car came into view. Part of you wished he would just send someone else out here, but somehow you knew that he would be the one to come. 

As he excited his car, you ascended the few steps from the porch, a weary smile on your lips. “The allusive YN YLN,” he said with that cheeky grin of his. 

“In the flesh,” you responded before you gave him a hug hello. “It's good to see you, Dean,” you offered. So good in fact that your heart skipped a beat as you laid eyes on him. He looked exactly the same as he had done all those years ago, the only difference was that his leather jacket had been discarded somewhere in exchange for a simple black t-shirt. Knowing Dean, though, and you did, the jacket was still somewhere waiting for the summer heat to ease up so that it could be used again. 

Five years had passed since Dean saw you last, but you hadn't changed much, if at all. “I was starting to think I’d never see you again,” he half joked. 

“Well…” you started, but let your words trail off. “Thanks for coming so soon,” you said to change the subject. 

“You kidding? I haven't seen you in forever, couldn't let that chance go to waste,” he noted. “The old Ford?” he wondered, pointing to the open garage. 

“Yeah. The engine’s not turning, so I'm pretty sure it's the battery. I probably just need a jump,” you explained. You weren't an expert in any way, but growing up on a farm you learned a thing or two about engines. 

“The battery?” he asked with a chuckle. “YN, this thing was old as sin back when you got it. I'm not sure it has any more miles on it.” 

You tried really hard not to notice the freckles across his nose, or the bright green of his eyes, or the scruff on his jaw, or how his muscles moved under the shirt as he opened the hood. “She might be old, but I know that she has more in her. She's younger than yours,” you retorted. Trying really, really, really hard not to notice the crinkle of his eyes as he smiled. 

Dean didn't respond to your comment, he just made his way to the driverside to get in and try starting the car. He listened intently as he turned the key, and then he jumped back out. “We can try jumping her, but from the looks of this battery you’re gonna need a new one,” he noted. 

It took a few tries, but it finally started. It wasn't the confident engine roar you were used to from this car though, it was more like a cough and a stutter before it settled into its idle rhythm. 

“Can I drive it into town like this?” you asked, looking up at Dean who was still listening to the engine sounds to make sure it was alright. 

“I wouldn't stop it though. I'm not sure if you'll get it started again if you do.” He looked up at you as he wiped his hand on a rag he pulled from his back pocket. “I'll get you a new battery. Might be good to let her sit until then.” 

You sighed and ran your hand through your hair, holding it away from your face for a moment. “But it’ll be fine if I don't cut the engine off, right?” you asked, a hopeful look in your eyes. “I need to go shopping,” you explained before he could discourage you. 

Dean sighed. “You have my number if you get stuck in town,” he offered. 

“Can I ask you something? If you’re not in a hurry, that is?” 

Dean checked his watch and then motioned for you to go on. 

“I'm here to settle the property,” you started to explain. “And I'm not sure if this is in your wheelhouse or not, but I wondered if you could check out the farming equipment that we have, the tractors and such? I just want to know what I can sell and what's a good price.”

“You’re selling the place?” he asked, eyes widening in surprise. 

“Yeah. I get that it might be out of your expertise, but maybe you can recommend someone who knows about these things?” 

“I can take a look,” he offered. “But not right now, I'm already late for something. Can I come back later tonight?” 

“Of course,” you said eagerly. “How about I make us some dinner… as a thank you?” 

Dean furrowed his brows. “Are you gonna cook?” He thought back to all the meals you had prepared for him over the years. It was sweet and all, but you could hardly call it food.  

“I know what you’re thinking, but I took some classes and I'm actually a pretty decent cook now,” you said proudly, but Dean's face was full of scepticism. “Okay. I know how to cook a few things.” He still looked right through you after all these years. “Alright. One thing. I know how to cook one thing. I hope you like chicken parm.”

“Can't wait,” he said with a chuckle. 

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