#the fact he's at the office like dude go home your best friend just died you can stay home 😭

[turnaboutstar]

he might have accidentally gotten some of your indestructiveness phoenix actually

[j0kb0x]

Since guts and blackpowder gives us free range for the characters here’s some personal headcanons for their personalities and lives given you can only psychoanalyze them so much. This is as realistic as I can make it based off surface level psychoanalysis + untrue garbage I made up.

Barry:

Despite his short temper (Typical brit) Williams is socially inept and shy. Like super timid. That dumb little softboy persona he has going on there shouldn’t be an indicator that he isn’t dangerous. Dude literally got trained as an infantry solider. He doesn’t want to hurt people, in fact, he avoids it when he can. The war is needless to him and he doesn’t understand why they’d draft someone like him — a lowly stableboy who’s quite known in his village for treating his horses and farm animals like his babies. His overly affectionate and polite personality (which came directly from his overbearing mother) has landed him a lot of bullying by his peers. Aforementioned hesitation to the enemy, but to zombies? He’s under the belief they’re from satan himself like the rest of the world. Afraid of them, but feels a spiritual duty to slay God’s enemies.

Jean:

He’s overly paranoid of Napoleon failing, and holds those french revolutionary beliefs. He wants Napoleon to win, so badly. He really doesn’t want his children living in a world with a stupid monarchy eating better than they do. Jean has no comprehension that maybe Napoleon isn’t the best fit for a country’s leader, in fact he’ll yell at you if you suggest otherwise. His wife died during childbirth and this, coupled with war has hardened him. He has never laid a single hand on his children because his father was deeply abusive, and of course this resulted in a pretty pessimistic, sad, depressed mess of a man. Constantly wanting better and yet fearing the worst. He’s a tough love kind of fatherly friend. Eat your damn rations or you will die. Speaking of which he literally wants to die :D

Jacob:

If this were modern day he’d be legally blind. His clumsiness isn’t the result of stupidity. The direct opposite in fact. He overthinks his job way too much and couple that with his dogshit eyesight, it’s no wonder he has a track record of being the napoleonic war’s personal south park Kenny. If ever a cartoon were made, I could l definitely see him in the background nailing in stakes incorrectly and getting confused as to why it wasn’t as affective as the other sapper’s. He has two sisters back at home and they hate him. They’re pro-monarchy, he isn’t. He raised and took care of these awful pieces of shit. Who were independent thinking teenagers by the time their parents died of sickness. So he couldn’t really influence them even if he tried. He has largely remained non(?) un(?) courted and unmarried his entire life. Hes a huge wine mom induced by stress and if you ever asked him why he never took a wife, he’d start spontaneously crying probably. Sad drunk. Cannot show emotions unless he’s drunk.

Karl / Unnamed Officer:

Selective mutism, ambition.. Way too much ambition. He wants to take down Napoleon himself and even fully believes he’s capable of doing so. Wants to cheat his way above the ranks somehow. He hides this and refuses to reveal his intentions to virtually anyone. Trying to get as close to the general as possible. Not because he agrees with the monarchy thing, but he just wants the fame and glory that comes along with executing him. The other men have horrible tempers but him? Holy. shit. He does not usually act upon his anger but as a wise man once said, “Silence speaks louder than words.” He silently judges those he’s angry at. Could imagine him getting teased, gripping a damn teacup so hard that it shatters in his hand and causes the entire room to go quiet. His whole regiment is batshit TERRIFIED of him. He refuses to betray his life story, let alone if he has any family. Nobody knows crap about him and that furthers the fear. Karl literally popped out of nowhere and his adorable babyface and gentle voice has won him the hearts of women wishing to be his wives… Whom he rudely pushed away in disgust. Has anyone seen that one scene in pootie tang where a woman is simping after him, and so he slips her a bowl of milk like a fucking clingy cat? Yeah I feel Karl would pull something like that.

[legless-fish-on-rollerskates]

All the morons trying to claim that Dean wasn't saying anything to Cas because he was holding back slurs or something equally ridiculous... what show have you been watching? Surely not Supernatural. Like, yeah, Dean had some internalized shit for a while (mostly cause of how he was raised, let's be real), but this isn't season fucking one. Dean's in his goddamn forties now guys.

But you still think Dean Winchester is homophobic? Let's examine the evidence then, shall we?

1. Aaron Bass: Dean was flustered because he's not used to being hit on by dudes, but he was completely respectful. And he was alone, too. It wasn't like he was trying to "hide his homophobia" from Sam. He could've said whatever he wanted in that moment without anyone ever knowing, and he chose to awkwardly walk backward and wish Aaron a nice day. Then later, when they're working with him, Dean says nothing about it (other than a quick "he was my gay thing" to Sam), doesn't make it weird, and talks to him exactly the same way he would talk to anyone else.

2. Jesse and Ceasar: Dean's surprised when he realizes that they're married, again because he's not really used to it and so he made the wrong assumptions (which I will point out is really really normal, it happens all the time even between queer people, because heteronormativity is very much a thing in real life). But what does he do when he finds out? He asks them about their marriage - with genuine curiosity. What's it like to be in a relationship with a hunter, is it hard, all that jazz. Never asks about the fact that they're both men, none of those gross "so who's the woman" questions, literally just. Talking to two married hunters. That's it. Then later, when they're working, he never once questions their capability as hunters or suggests that they're weak in any way. There's no "you're less 'manly' because you're gay" mindset at all. And at the end of the episode he's genuinely happy for them, two hunters who managed to get out of the life and retire together.

There's lots of other examples (several male cops have been obviously into him over the years, his reaction to Jody talking about Claire and Kaia, all the subtext surrounding Lee, etc.) but for my last one for now, let's not forget...

3. Charlie fucking Bradbury: Arguably Dean's best friend besides Cas (no I haven't forgotten about Benny, I love Benny, but he was part of a very specific chapter of Dean's life and that chapter is done). We've known she was a lesbian from the get-go, and Dean takes it in stride when he finds out, immediately improvising to coach her through some painfully awkward flirting so she can get into the office ("you've just come home, and Scarlett Johansson is waiting for you"). And yes, there's the whole "I feel dirty" "yeah so do I" bit there, but that's clearly established as a joke, plus the guy was gross - as someone who is attracted to both women and men, I would feel dirty after flirting with him too.

The next few times we see Charlie, she and Dean are geeks and dweebs together, Dean is having more fun than we've seen in years, and we see him be a really good friend - in some ways, a better friend than he is to Cas. Charlie talks to him a little bit about girls, they LARP, they go shopping together, Dean comforts her when she has to let go of her mom. When she's killed, he gets so upset he goes on a murderous rampage (maybe not the most healthy way to deal with greif, but nonetheless showing how much she mattered to him). When he sees an alternate version of her in trouble he's immediately ready to risk his own life to help her even though she doesn't know him. He loved her like a sister, and he never once expressed any issues with her sexuality.

So let's go back to Cas. Cas is in love with Dean. Not much of a surprise there, he's said it before. But this is the first time Dean understands that that's what he's saying. It makes sense that he's a little stunned, especially considering that Cas is also saying that he's about to die. I mean, if your best friend of twelve years told you one day that they've been in love with you all along, that just knowing you has irrevocably changed them for the better, and that also by the way telling you this means they're going to die, mightn't you be rendered a tad speechless?

Dean does not hate Cas for this. Not at all. Because whether or not Dean is bi, whether or not he reciprocates, Cas is still his best friend. We've seen how hard Dean grieves every time Cas dies. We know how much Cas matters to him. Of all the shit they've put each other through, there's absolutely no logical reason for this to be the thing that damages their friendship beyond repair. Not after everything. No fucking way.

Dean says nothing because he doesn't know what to say, because he's still processing Cas's confession but also already grieving and blaming himself for Cas's death. The way he breaks down at the very end of the episode? That's not a man who's disgusted. That's a man who's shattered.

How dare you try to simplify this incredibly complex and emotional moment into Dean being a dick. How dare you. It's positively insulting. The entire point of Cas's speech was that Dean is so much more than that. If you can't see that, than I'm sorry, but you're missing the whole message of the show.

Supernatural is about family and sacrifice. It's about free will, making your own choices. And it's about being more than just who you're supposed to be, going beyond what other people want or assume. All the depth beneath the surface. That's the show. That's why we're still watching after all this time. Because it means something important. Something relevant. Something real.

Don't you fucking discredit that.

(thank you for coming to my TED talk)

[skiller0dani]

More | Ethan Nestor

M A S T E R L I S T YouTube Masterlist

smut requested requests info Part 1

lately ethan is the only thing that brings a smile to my face. thank god he exists. thank god he was born. 

“Yeah, we’re just friends.” Ethan said with a shrug, adamantly avoiding Mark’s doubtful gaze. That’s the agreement you and Ethan made, you could fool around all you wanted but you were just friends. Lately, the lines felt more blurred than they had in the past, but you were still just friends. 

“Uh-huh.” Was all Mark said, but Ethan pretended not to hear him. 

Ethan didn’t know what kind of answer Mark wanted to hear, all he could tell him was the truth. No matter how painful the truth is, and painfully you and Ethan are just friends. From the first kiss, the first touch Ethan knew this was a terrible idea. Instead of outright admitting how he feels about you, he continues to go along with friends with benefits. 

He loves being able to fuck you, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t want more than that. “What?” Ethan can’t stop the word as it pushes free from the confines of his mouth. Mark smirks. 

“Nothing.” 

“It’s definitely not nothing.” 

“Don’t you think it’s time you asked Y/N on a date?” Mark blurted, his hands fixing the lens as he set up the camera in front of his desk. Without meaning to, Mark presses record and fully intends to stop recording immediately when a horribly wicked thought crosses his mind. You are one of their video editors. 

“W-Why would you think that?” Ethan felt a blush crawling up his neck, he and Mark didn’t have conversations like this. 

“I know how you feel about her, you’re being a pussy.” There’s a smile on Mark’s face that lets Ethan know he’s only joking. Sort of. A nervous chuckle escapes Ethan’s lips before he can stop it, and he’s pulling at the collar of his black and white splattered t-shirt. Which coincidentally, you gave him for his birthday this year. 

“She said just friends.” Ethan sighs, knowing there’s no point lying to Mark. 

It was your idea to be ‘just friends’, you had suggested it first. That’s what keeps stopping Ethan from trying to be more, why would he when you said to his face you wanted to be just friends? 

“She said that just in case you didn’t feel the same way dude.” Mark rolled his eyes, never did he think he’d be coaching Ethan on how to communicate with a girl. Ethan shook his head, itching the back of his neck as he turned back to Mark’s desktop. Mark hoped he didn’t notice the camera recording. He didn’t. 

Deep down Mark knows that Ethan isn’t going to do anything no matter what he says to him. “Do you have feelings for her?” He asks, watching Ethan desperately avoid making eye contact with him. 

“Yeah.” 

“Then it’s worth a shot.” Mark shrugs, turning to grab for the mouse. His eyes looking into the lens as he reaches up to ‘hit record’ on the camera. Mark wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for Amy informing him on your enormous crush on Ethan. 

It was late when Ethan finally made it back to his apartment, and to his surprise he still found you curled on his couch where he left you that morning. You had a book nestled in your lap and Spencer curled at your feet, it made a warm feeling blossom in Ethan’s chest. “Hey.” 

He smiled upon hearing your voice. “Hey, I’m surprised you’re still here.” 

You blushed. 

“You have good books that you never read!” You explain with a pink blush dusted across your cheeks. Ethan kicked off his shoes with a smile, leaning over to press a quick kiss to your forehead. He wants you to be here waiting for him to get home all the time. He wants you to be waiting for him like this, not some other guy. He wants more. 

“Mind if I stay tonight?” Your question is hesitant, but instead of answering Ethan worms his way under your book and lays his head in your lap. “Have I ever?” 

He thinks about what Mark said earlier, and Ethan wishes he had the guts to outright tell you how he feels. He wished he could, but he’s not nearly brave enough for that. He knows the way he feels about you is more than a crush, it’s more real, more raw than that. He remembers all the times you’ve been there when he desperately needed you, all the times you’ve laughed at a dumb meme at 2 in the morning. Those gentle moments in the pale moonlight, those moments after sex but before sleep. When he rolls over and looks at you, and you smile shyly at him, your hands intertwined. Ethan knows your body like the back of his hand, he wants to know your heart like that. 

When Ethan first started this with you, he and Mika had just broken up. He needed someone, needed to feel someone against him. You were there when he needed you, and then the lust turned into something more. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but it did and now it was consuming his every waking thought. 

You continue reading your book, your fingers aimlessly combing through Ethan’s hair. “Gonna put me to sleep.” 

You look down at Ethan to see his eyes have fluttered shut, and he’s fully nuzzled into your lap. Your heart feels like it grows 10 sizes, but you’re just friends. Friends do stuff like this...right? Before you think twice, you’re leaning over and pressing your lips to Ethan’s Spiderman style. When you pull back, Ethan’s eyes are open and focused on you. Ethan sits up when you shift under him, and his eyes widen in surprise when you sink to your knees in front of the couch where he’s sitting. 

“What are you doing?” He swallows thickly, feeling his cock already hardening in his jeans. You smile shyly, you’ve never initiated anything sexual before. It was always Ethan making the first move. “W-Well I wanted to do something nice for you. You worked all day today.” 

Ethan leaned back against the couch as your hands fumbled with his belt, before finally unbuckling it. Your hands unbutton his jeans before your hand delves into his boxers, your fingers wrapping around the hard shaft. Ethan spreads his knees apart further to allow you more room, a soft hiss escaping his mouth when you finally free him from the confines of his jeans. 

“Y/N you don’t have to-” The protest dies in his throat when you take him into your mouth, your tongue snaking under his shaft along the vein that runs all the way down to the base. His head falls back against the couch as you continue to slowly work him down your throat. Eventually one of Ethan’s hands winds into your hair, but he doesn’t tug your head. It’s more that he needs something to hold onto. Soon your nose nestled against Ethan’s pelvis, and you hear him groan softly when you swiftly pull off him. You smiled up at him, and when Ethan looked down at you his pupils engulfed most of his eyes. 

You stood and pressed a kiss to his lips, “I have to go edit the video from today. Be back in an hour or two.” 

“I thought you said you were going to do something nice!” You hear him groan loudly as you leave the room and you can’t help but laugh. 

You sit at the computer, the video pulled up in the editing software. You hear something frying in the living room so you can only assume Ethan is making dinner. Your heart races in your chest, this doesn’t feel like just friends anymore. Ethan lets you stay the night, in fact you’re over here basically every night of the week. He holds your hand, cooks for you, randomly gives you kisses. You don’t want to be friends anymore, you need to be more than that. You try to shake the thoughts from your head when you hit play. 

The conversation you hear stops you dead in your tracks. 

“Do you have feelings for her?” 

“Yeah.” 

You almost feel guilty listening to their private conversation, but when Mark looks into the lens you know it was intentional. You see the blush on Ethan’s face, you see the small smile pulling at his lips when he admits his feelings for you. Ethan has been your best friend ever since he moved to LA, and even when he was with Mika your heart raced whenever he entered the room. You felt tears pushing at the backs of your eyes, he actually feels the same way! 

Your heart races at a million miles an hour as you stand on shaky legs. All this time you thought he didn’t want more, you thought that he was content being just friends. Your heart races and happiness blooms wildly in your chest. A smile stretches across your face before you can stop it. You push out of Ethan’s office and nearly stumble as you stand numbly in the kitchen. You stand quietly and watch him for a moment, humming to himself as he continues to cook dinner. Your chest warms, you want this with him. You want it all the time, you want to be able to kiss him in public and brag because yeah he’s yours. You want sex to mean something between you two, you want it to be more than just getting off. 

“Ethan?” Your voice is shaky, as you watch him stir some pasta in a pot. 

“Hm?” 

You have so many things you want to say, but when Ethan turns to look at you it all completely unravels. His eyebrows furrow together once he sees the tears in your eyes, but there’s a smile on your face. Your mind goes blank as you look into his eyes, the tender concern laced in them as he watches you cautiously. You know what you want to say, and you know that saying it could change everything between you two forever but that’s what you want. You want things to change forever. You can’t live in limbo like this with him anymore, you need more. A tear drifts down your cheek, and Ethan has a confused and worried look on his face. 

“I love you.” The words come out softer than you thought, and for a second it felt as though time stood still. You see something flash in his eyes, and you smile wider before taking a few steps towards him. “I love you Ethan.” You whisper as you reach him, your arms winding around his shoulders. You feel immense relief as the words free themselves from your mind, finally being out in the open between you. Ethan blinks in confusion before swiftly pressing his lips against yours. The desperation that is normally laced in every kiss isn’t there this time. This time, the kiss is soft, and slow, and tender. It makes you feel weak in the knees. 

His hand reaches to turn off the stove as his other one cups your cheek to deepen the kiss. Ethan’s eyes are closed tightly, as are yours and you know your cheeks are wet with tears. “I love you Y/N.” His voice wavers and you press your lips to his once more, and soon Ethan’s hands are pulling your thighs up to lift you off the ground. He walks you through his apartment before you feel his soft sheets against your back, and he finally pulls away from you. Ethan brushes his nose against yours as he smiles down at you. Your hands slide under his shirt, pulling it off his body as you go. You lean up to press kisses to his collarbones, drawing out soft sighs from him as you go. 

Ethan’s hands reach for your leggings, slowly pushing them down as your lips find a tender spot of his neck. You bite down, and you hear Ethan groan as his hands pull your panties down next. His hand drifts up your body, past where you need him and up your stomach. You lay back against the pillows when his hands pull his shirt you took over your head. This isn’t just sex anymore, you’re in love with him. His bulge rocks into your bare core through his jeans and you whimper before reaching down to quickly pull his jeans down his legs. Luckily he never put his belt back on. Ethan’s forehead rests against yours as his boxers join his jeans on the ground and your hand is deftly stroking him. 

Ethan rests on his elbows, and for the first time you can really feel his body against yours as you continue to pump him slowly with your hand. “Jesus stop, keep teasing me like that and I’ll fucking cum.” Ethan groans, eliciting a giggle from you. Ethan reaches down and runs his fingers through your folds, a loving tenderness in his eyes as he positions his head at your entrance. You press your lips against his, and your lips move together slowly as Ethan slides into you with one swift thrust. You gasp against his lips, your nails digging into his bare shoulders. Your toes curl as Ethan slowly pulls out before rocking back into you tenderly. 

He sets a soft and gentle pace, his thrusts going deep and slow. You moan softly as you rock against him, your lips never leaving his. Ethan keeps his slow and loving pace, causing your entire pelvis to heat up. The way he looks at you when he finally parts from you, that look in his eyes nearly brings tears to your eyes. It makes you feel like he really does love you. “Fuck Ethan-” You cry out softly, holding him tighter to you when his pace picks up a little. His hand drifts in between your bodies and presses against your clit, and as soon as it does you’re cumming around him. Ethan offers a few more weak thrusts before he’s cumming inside you. 

When he pulls out of you he rolls over to lay next to you, a boyish smile on his face. You press your lips to his once more, winding your arms around his waist. 

“I love you.” You can’t help but say it again, you just want to say it over and over again. Ethan presses a kiss to your forehead with an easy smile on his face. “I know, I love you too.” 

“What made you tell me?” Ethan brushed a hand through your hair as you laid your head on his chest. You smiled shyly. 

“Mark left your little conversation at the beginning of the video he sent me today.” As soon as the words left your mouth, Ethan blushed. 

“Jerk.” You couldn’t help but laugh, and finally it felt like everything in your life finally fell into place. 

[stormcrawler75]

Bad Things Bingo request: Memory Loss with the Sides as a pantheon of gods.

Warnings: Memory Lost, description of scars, Virgil not having a good view of how he looks.

Notes: Dude, guys, I accidentally deleted the last few paragraphs and had to rewrite them. I finished this tonight out of spite.

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Virgil fucking hated snow.

There was no good thing about snow. Not one damn thing and Virgil was willing to stake his life on that claim. In fact, every good thing about Virgil’s life slowed to a stop when fall ended and the snow started to fall. Snow was cold, killed all of the crops that Virgil spent all year growing, and made travel into town a damn bitch. And, on top of everything else, it made the scars surrounding Virgil’s eyes and temples ache to no end. The only thing that helped with the aches and pains was the medicine that his friend Elliott sold. And where did Elliott sell the medicine?

All the way in town. So, yeah, Virgil hated snow.

He sighed as he climbed out of his bed, the cold from outside seeping into his bones. Virgil’s home was a small one-bedroom house with a small fireplace, a bed that he had pressed against two walls, small knickknacks and gifts placed on shelves that Virgil had built himself, and a small rug in front of the door to the outside. The fire that he had built the night before had gone out, with only glowing embers left in Virgil’s tiny fireplace now. The bowl with half of Virgil’s leftover dinner was left beside his bed, which Virgil immediately grab to slowly pick at.

Virgil glanced over at a small mirror on the wall that Elliott had given him, gently wiping at his eyes and trying his best to avoid his scars. There were deep and rough scars around Virgil’s eyes - as if someone had tried carving them out with a knife but never truly committed to the idea - and two identical thin, deep scars on each of his temples. Virgil’s nose was crooked like it had been broken many times before and one of his eyes didn’t open all the way. He wasn’t the prettiest man ever but, as Elliott had once said, he was just lucky to still be alive. Not that Virgil cared about the scars or how he looked. He honestly just wished that he remembered how he got the damn scars.

Or any part of his life before waking up in the town’s local Doctor’s office. He had woken up nearly five years ago with no memory. Elliott had found him on the outskirts of town, caught in a bright bronze net and left for dead, and had immediately brought him to the town’s Doctor. The town had been gracious enough to provide Virgil with a small house and some land to make a living off of. Virgil had been given far, far more than a poor, ugly man like him ever deserved and he had tried his best to pay the town back ever since. He gave deals to the town folks on his carrots and beets, he did odd jobs in the winter for half the price he charged for out of towners, and when the town announced that they would be making a temple for the God of Family and Safe Havens, Virgil went out and chopped down as many of his own trees that they would need.

Even if Virgil wasn’t sure what he thought about these Gods, he would give everything and anything to the people who had given him a home, their food, and the clothes off their back.

Though, it wasn’t like what he gave was anything special. Though the farmwork he did was hard and backbreaking, the corps flourished under Virgil’s hands. It wasn’t like he ever did anything special. He just did what every other farmer did. Maybe it was just that Virgil did what he loved. Waking up early and going out to work with his vegetables and his two little fruit trees were hard but Virgil loved it so much that anyone who happened to walk onto his land had a good chance of hearing him sing as he worked. As long as what he did made the town happy, Virgil was happy.

Virgil was startled from his thoughts from banging on his door, the excited voice of his best friend calling from outside, “Virgil! Virgil, wake up, wake up!” Virgil yawned shuffled over to the door, opening it with a tired smile. “Hey, Elli. What’s up?”

Elliott beamed at him and surged forward, grabbing Virgil’s arms and making him shiver from the snow and frost on their mittens. “It’s finished! The builders, you know the ones who said that they wouldn’t be able to finish until Spring? The mayor paid them double and they finished! The Temple is opening up tonight and they’re going to be putting out a feast!” They let go of Virgil, stumbling over to the spot on the floor where Virgil’s damp coat, mittens, and gloves had been dumped.

Virgil could only gawk at them, feeling like his brain was having trouble catching up to what Elliott was saying. “It’s finished?! How, when- I haven’t heard anything about the builders starting up again! When did this even happen?!”

“They worked through the night for the last month,” Elliott squealed, practically throwing Virgil’s winter wear at him. “And, dude, I can’t believe I’m even gonna be saying this,” Elliott took Virgil’s hands and said with forced calmness, “the God Patton himself might actually show up.”

Virgil swore that his heart stopped right then and there. Full on, dead stop. “A God?! What the hell are you talking about?! He’s coming here?!”

“It’s this new thing,” Elliott babbled, gesturing at the clothes in Virgil’s arms frantically until Virgil slowly started pulling them on. “It only started in the last few years and only in this country but, recently, whenever a Temple is built, whichever God the Temple is for shows up! They usually mingle for a bit and insist on looking around. I heard that even the God of Logic and all that other stuff showed up in a town a few days away about a month ago! He blessed the town’s teachers, looked around, and then left. People are thinking that the Gods are looking for something or something and that’s why they’re showing up everywhere!”

“Holy shit,” Virgil whispered, pulling his hat on hurriedly. “Holy shit, are you serious?! That’s fucking - we gotta check it out!” He grabbed his boots and practically jammed them on his feet. “We gotta get going now! If we head out now then we can make it to the town by lunchtime! Wait, no, we gotta get an offering! Do you have something to give him? I killed a deer yesterday and I still have its pelt so I’m covered but what about you!?”

Elliott grinned at him and flashed a bright pink ring on their left hand. “I’m good! My Grandma gave me this ring just in case something like this happened before she died years ago. Now come on! We can wait in my house until tonight but we gotta get going!”

Virgil laughed and grabbed Elliott’s hand, pulling them out of the small cabin. “You better have brought your horse and buggy because if I have to walk through all of this snow, I am going to lose it.”

“Of course I did,” Elliott laughed, climbing into the buggy. “And you know that that you could buy a horse of your own from old man Jerry. After you helped him and his wife with that problem they were having, they’d probably give you one for free!” They eyed Virgil’s rising blush with a grin. “And Miss Kitty would give you three buggies for how you helped her with her girlfriend. Heck, she’d give you a carriage!”

“It’s not my fault that I give good advice,” Virgil muttered, ducking his head and trying to get comfortable in his seat. “Besides, Miss Kitty and Jessica’s problem was easy. They just needed to talk, that’s all. I just pointed it out.” He batted Elliott’s arm when he saw them open their mouth to continue talking and - most definitely - continue talking about how Virgil kept getting when it came to giving advice about people’s love lives. “Shut up and get us to town, Elli!”

He ignored Elliott’s laugh and settled back as the horse started making its way back to town. Elliott was just overexaggerating. It wasn’t like Virgil went out looking for people who needed help with their love lives. Just... whenever Virgil was talking to people, the topic of love happened to come up a lot and people always seemed to ask for his advice. Virgil honestly had no idea if the advice he was giving was good, per se. It was just that Virgil seemed to know what he was talking about. People theorized that Virgil had been a Matchmaker before he had come to live here. Virgil wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Besides, it wasn’t just romantic things that people came to Virgil to ask advice on. Virgil had helped with the two orphan boys that had come from the city, the year-long fight that two local sisters were having, and a fight between two best friends. It seemed that Virgil was just good with advice. It wasn’t like it was anything special.

“So, all of the Gods have been showing up lately,” Virgil asked Elliott as the buggy went down the dirt road.

Elliott nodded but then paused. “Well, almost all of them. One of them hasn’t shown up recently. The God of Love and Beauty hasn’t appeared in almost five years now.” They shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I mean, I heard that he was super active before so he’s probably just taking a break. I heard that time passes really quickly for the Gods. I’m sure that he’ll be back sometime soon.

“I mean, what’s the other option? I mean, what kind of bad things can happen to a God?”

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The Temple was beautiful.

Virgil knew that it was nothing compared to the Temples in cities or the Capital. He had heard rumours of those Temples being made from solid gold, with sparkling rubies and sapphires embedded in its walls, and rich offerings given by Kings and Queens stacked through the halls. Compared to those Temples, this little one was nothing. It was barely as big as the local schoolhouse with one room. From looking through the front window, Virgil thought that it looked more like a very cozy and comfortable family room than anything. There was a beautiful fireplace roaring with fire, beds pushed up against the walls, and food stacked on the table. Virgil’s offering of a deer’s pelt was lying on a table along with several others.

“I can’t believe that this is the new Temple,” Virgil whispered to Elliott, both of their eyes wide with wonder. The two of them were at the front of a large crowd in front of the Temple, waiting for entrance. This whole thing was so exciting that Virgil was barely aware of the dull sting from the wind hitting his scars. “I mean, it’s great but it’s... not what I thought it’d look like.” While it might not be what they were expecting, it was still the most wonderful place that either of them had ever seen.

Elliott grinned at him, bouncing up and down in excitement. “Me neither but this is the God of Family and Safe Havens. I bet that this Temple would look a lot different if this was a Temple for the God of Beauty and Love or for the God of Self Preservation. I hear that the God Patton lets people use his Temples as Safe Havens, just like the God Janus.” They gasped when a soft, warm blue light glowed from the inside of the house, bathing everything inside with its light. “Oh my gosh,” they whispered, gripping Virgil’s arm tightly. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe this, I can’t believe this! He’s actually coming, he’s actually showing up!”

The crowd of people immediately quieted and no one made a single sound. Virgil could’ve dropped a pin and it would’ve been the loudest sound in the entire town. Slowly, the light coming from the Temple died down. Though, and maybe this was just Virgil seeing things, the inside of the Temple seemed warmer somehow. It seemed homier. And the large man standing in the, just minutes before empty, Temple seemed completely right there.

Virgil watched through the front window with wide eyes as the man slowly looked around. He was huge, almost six feet, with curly blond hair and big round glasses that were perched on top of a small bottom nose, covering big blue eyes. There were freckles on each and every inch of the man’s skin and there were laugh lines around his eyes. He was wearing comfortable clothes and had the air of a person that you could trust. The kind of person that you would run to if you had a problem or no one else you could turn to. He looked... like a Dad.

He looked familiar.

The God slowly walked through the Temple with a small smile, gently touching the walls and taking a minute to look at the food. Virgil watched him kneel by the fireplace and gently stroke it for a few seconds, glowing embers jumping from the fire and onto the God’s skin only for the God to brush them from his skin with no sign of injury. And Virgil watched as, slowly, the God stood and made his way to the door leading outside to the crowd waiting outside.

Virgil hurried to kneel with the rest of the town, breath catching at the God stepped outside. Most, including Elliott, had their heads bowed respectfully but Virgil could only gawk dumbly as the God looked out at them with a smile. For almost a second there, it looked like he was looking for something and he had to hold back his disappointment when he didn’t find it. But he kept a smile firmly on his face as he went back to looking through the crowd. He had just opened his mouth to say something when his gaze landed on Virgil’s ugly scarred face. Virgil felt a pit of terror settle into him as the God’s face went from gratitude and forced happiness to an expression that Virgil didn’t have the time to fully understand at before the God was almost running at him.

“Vergilius!”

The crowd scrambled away from Virgil, Elliott being pulled from him from someone, and Virgil felt frozen as the God landed in front of him. Distantly, in the back of Virgil’s mind, he remembered a mean rumour that had circulated when Virgil had first been found. That Virgil had somehow offended a God and, in punishment, the Gods had scarred him and stolen his memory. Virgil had never believed these rumours but now, Virgil thought that it might be true. And if they had stolen Virgil’s memory the first time, Virgil found that he was utterly terrified to discover what they might take this time.

Virgil jumped as large, calloused but gentle hands cupped his cheeks, tilting his head up so he was staring right in the watery eyes of the God of Family and Safe Havens. The God’s glasses were slightly crooked and had slid down right down to the edge of his nose. Tears were making their way down his cheeks and the God’s lips were turned up in a bright, slight disbelieving but so relieved grin. The God was rubbing a thumb into Virgil’s cheek gently while the other was hovering frantically around Virgil like it didn’t know where exactly it should settle. “Oh, Vergilius,” the God whispered, voice cracking. “Oh, you’re here. You’re safe.”

“Vergilius?”

“As in the God Vergilius?!”

“The God of Love and Beauty!?”

“Virgil, our Virgil?”

“What is a God doing living in a cabin on the edge of a poor little town?”

“I,” Virgil licked his suddenly dry lips, staring at the God in confusion and a bit of fear, “my name is Virgil. I’m sorry but, I think I you got the wrong person. I’m, I’m not,” his words trailed away from him, not sure what to say. He found himself leaning into the God’s hand and had to jerk away. Had to jerk away from the feeling of ‘finally-I’m-finally-home-I-was-so-scared-but-I’m-home-and-I-was-so-scared-but-I-knew-that-you’d-find-me’.

The God laughed, but it sounded more confused than anything. “Kiddo, Vergilius, what are you talking about? Oh, Sweetheart, what happened?” Virgil’s breath caught as one of the God’s huge fingers gently brushed against one of the scars surrounding his eyes. “Who did this to you,” the God asked, his voice darkening and full of power. He looked up and he seemed like a God for the first time since he had arrived as he demanded, “Did these Mortals do this to you?!”

Almost a full year ago, Elliott had told Virgil that there was a reason that Patton was the God of both Families and Safe Havens. Because no one would dare step into one of the God’s Safe Havens and try to hurt someone who had hidden there. Because those who stayed there were the God’s family and no one would risk Patton’s wrath. Virgil hadn’t been completely convinced if Elliott wasn’t exaggerating back then, of the God’s terrible wrath on those who had hurt those who he had deemed family.

But now, as the ground started to shake and the sun started to burn impossibly bright, Virgil knew that Elliott had been under-exaggerating.

“Wait,” Virgil cried, lurching forward and grabbing Patton’s arm desperately just as the God had started to rise. “Please, don’t hurt them! They saved me, they didn’t hurt me,” he pleaded. “Please, please don’t hurt them, please.”

The God stared down at Virgil, one hand still cupping his cheek. “You’re sure,” he asked softly, the shaking ground slowly calming and the sun’s harsh beams dimming slightly. “Are you sure, Sweetheart? They’ve helped you?”

“They found me in a bronze net,” Virgil babbled, keeping a tight grip on Patton’s arm like he could single-handedly stop the God if he tried anything. “Elliott did. They found me without my memories and brought me to a Doctor and healed me. They gave me a house and land and fruit trees and seeds and they never hurt me, I promise, I swear!” His chest was burning with the love he had for this small town and the people in it and he was honestly afraid that his chest would burst from just how much of it there was.

There was a long pause before the God slowly pulled Virgil up until he was standing, paying attention only to Virgil and giving none of it to the townfolks watching with bated breath. Both of Patton’s hands cupped Virgil’s cheeks and he asked softly, voice almost unhearable, “Do you know who I am, Kiddo? Do you remember me?”

Virgil blinked and the tears that had been building during his frantic plea starting slowly trickling down his face. “You’re Patton,” he whispered softly, “the God of Families and Safe Havens. The Creator of Janus, the God of Self Preservation and, and a lot of other things. The Father of the Council of Gods.” He let out a shaky breath as the God bowed his head, letting his forehead rest on Virgil’s. “Am... am I wrong?”

The God let out a shaky, pained laugh. “No, Kiddo. No, you’re not wrong.” He looked up at the pale, terrified Mayor and gave him a wobbly smile “Thank you for the Temple. It’s beautiful. I love it.” He turned back to Virgil and gently petted his hair. “I need you to come with me, okay Darling? I know this is all probably very scary and overwhelming for you but I need you to be brave, okay?”

“You... you won’t hurt them,” Virgil asked shakily, looking over his shoulder at the townsfolk. Even though they looked terrified, many of them managed to give Virgil weak and encouraging smiles. One of them, an older lady named Miss Julia, looked like the only reason she wasn’t beating Patton away with her cane was her partner, Hannah, gripping onto her arm tightly. “Right? They protected me. You promise you won’t hurt them?”

The God smiled at him gently, pressing a kiss onto his forehead. “I promise, Sweetheart.” And, with that, Virgil was pulled into a gentle hug and his face was gently pushed into the God’s shoulder so he couldn’t see what was happening. Virgil was about to pull away, terrified that he’d look back to see that his town had been wiped off the map, but he found himself falling limp into the God’s arm when a warm, safe feeling flooded into him and the ground was whisked out from under him. The harsh winter wind disappeared and, for one brief moment, there was only Virgil and the God.

And then, Virgil stumbled as a floor reappeared under his feet. Even without looking, Virgil knew that it was the most expensive floor that he could remember standing on. It was smooth and felt like it had been freshly waxed. He pulled back away from Patton and looked around, eyes widening. Now, this was a Temple.

They were in a large room that wouldn’t look out of place as a King’s throne room. Nine empty thrones were placed around the room, all of them looking completely different from each other. And, for some reason, Virgil felt drawn toward the smallest, almost dainty looking one on the far left side of the room. Like it was meant to be his.

“Does this room seem similar to you at all,” the God asked gently, keeping one hand on Virgil’s shoulder. He seemed to deflate a little when Virgil shook his head. “Okay, that's okay, Kiddo. Now, I want you to wait here, okay Hon? I’m going to get our friends and we can talk this whole thing out.” He leaned forward and gave Virgil a gentle kiss on his forehead before leaving the throne room and leaving Virgil alone.

Virgil swallowed and looked around slowly, trying his best to get his bearings. The room was gorgeous but his eyes kept getting drawn to the small, purple and black throne. It was deceptively dainty looking almost like the throne of a Queen that Virgil had seen once in a book Elliott had given him. But, even from halfway across the room, Virgil could see that the metal was sharp and there were two small, detachable knives on the arms of the throne that would’ve been perfect if the person sitting there suddenly needed something to throw. And there was a power simply radiating from the throne, like if the wrong person sat in it then they’d simply cease to exist.

It was beautiful.

There was a sudden flurry of noise and Virgil spun around, tensing up defensively. The noise was coming from a doorway and Virgil could hear one voice rising above all the others, “You can’t be serious, Patton! He’s been in a dirt poor farm town this entire time?!” There was the soft of Patton answering back, though Virgil couldn’t make out exactly what he said, and the same voice from before snapped back, “No way! Vergilius wouldn’t stay away from us, we’re his family! Whoever you brought back is an imposter, it has to be!”

Virgil stepped forward nervously, walking up to the doorway and standing right beside it but still not be seen. A new voice jumped in, low and suave. “We don’t know that, Roman. We should meet him, just in case it really is Vergilius!”

“But what if this is some evil monster who tries to put us under his spell?!”

“Roman - hes’s not a monster!”

Virgil jumped at a new voice snapped out, “Enough!” Roman, Remus, Emile, Remy, you four stay here. Myself, Patton, and Janus will meet with... whoever Patton has brought here.”

“It’s Vergilius,” Patton cried, sounding close to tears. “Logan, I promise-”

“I know, Patton, I know. We’re just going to check that this is Vergilius for certain, okay Sweetling? And if this truly is Vergilius, we’ll want to make sure that he’s okay first before bombarding him all at once. This is just to be safe.”

“And if this is an imposter, then me and Roman will stab him to death and push him into a vat of boiling poison!”

“For once, I agree with my brother.”

Virgil felt a cold stab of fear before it was overwhelmed with the feeling of hot, harsh anger. He was basically dragged here, taken from his home because apparently, some God thought that he was the God of Love and Beauty - fucking ridiculous - and now some other God decided that if he didn’t look enough like this missing God than they were going to be taking Virgil’s life as punishment. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? Before Virgil even knew what he was doing, he was already halfway through the door and spitting out, “Well I fucking don’t!”

The hallway was filled with eight people, all who turned at the sound of Virgil’s voice, but Virgil turned all of his attention to the one with a sword drawn and glaring daggers at Virgil. He didn’t half to be a genius to know that this was the guy who had called him an imposter and jumped right on board with the ‘Killing Virgil’ plan. Virgil decided that he didn’t like this guy.

The guy - he had to be God - puffed up and stalked up to Virgil, baring his teeth at him. “How dare you wear the face of my friend, you imposter!”

“I’m not a fucking imposter and I’m not your fucking friend,” Virgil snapped, planting his feet and glaring up at him. The God glared right back at him with bright red eyes, gripping his sword so tightly that his knuckles were turning bright white. “So don’t go yelling at me!” He pushed at the God’s sword arm so hard that the God nearly dropped his weapon.

There was a moment of tense silence before one of the others cleared their voice, stepped forward with a raised finger and said, “Just so you all know, I’m on Pattycake’s side. That is definitely Vergilius.” They stepped back with a smirk as the God with the sword turned his glare at him. “Hey, just saying, Roman.”

The God - Roman - huffed and turned his snarl back to Virgil. “I don’t care what you say, Remy. I know Verglius and he wouldn’t hide out in some random town while we’re all looking for him!”

“My name isn’t Vergilius,” Virgil snapped, feeling the urge to stop his foot. “It’s Virgil! I don’t know any of you guys and my name is Virgil!”

Roman spread his arm and nodded firmly. “See!? Even the Mortal agrees! This was just a mistake.” He sheathed his sword and offered Virgil his arm with a sharp smile. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll escort you back to your home and we can go back to looking for the real Vergilius.”

“Wait,” Patton cried, stepping forward and shoving himself between Virgil and Roman. “Roman, I know that this is Vergilius, I just know it! He told me that he had no memories, he told me this! Logan,” he turned to a short man who was staring at Virgil with dark narrowed eyes, “Logan, you believe me, don’t you?”

“...He does bear an uncanny resemblance to Vergilius,” Logan hummed, stroking his chin with thin, boney fingers. “And if he did indeed lose his memories than that would explain why Vergilius never sent word and how he gained those scars. Though, we have had many imposters in the last five years that you were also sure was Vergilius, Patton,” he continued gently.

“It’s Virgil,” Virgil said sharply, straightening up and glaring at the God.

Logan sighed in frustration and opened his mouth but was cut off by that same suave voice from before. “Well, then, there really is a simple way of solving this, isn’t there?” Virgil turned to look at who was talking and froze.

Staring back at him was a man with sharp golden eyes and bright green scales going down the left half of his face, staring down at Virgil with an unreadable expression. He tilted his head and said smoothly with a shrug, “Make him sit in Vergilius’ chair.”

One of the Gods who hadn’t spoken yet - a God who looked very similar to Patton but with bright pink and blue eyes, long brown hair instead of blond, and an outfit that wouldn’t look out of place on a scholar - stepped forward with a frown. “But, Janus, that’s not fair to the Mortal! Patton brought him here, he didn’t come here claiming to be Vergilius! If it turns out that he isn’t Vergilius then the power will overwhelm him and -”

“Wait,” Virgil cried, throwing his hands up in the air. He tilted his chin up and glared at the intimidating God, Janus. “Sitting in that chair will prove whether or not I’m this Vergilius?” Janus had barely nodded before Virgil was turning back to the throne room to sit in the stupid damn chair so he could go back to his farm and sleep until fucking spring.

But Janus’ hand snapped out and grabbed Virgil’s wrist, stopping him in his tracks. “As a favour to Emile here,” he said, nodding at the God with pink and blue eyes, “I will warn you to what the chair will do if you’re not Vergilius.” His lips quirked up. “Unless you’d like to just charge in and sit in it without knowing.”

Virgil wanted to scream, he really did. He could be told what would happen if he wasn’t Vergilius - which judging from what Emile had been saying was probably nothing good - and lose his nerve. Which might just prove to these Gods that he was an imposter and Virgil would be in for a world of pain. Or he would just go in to sit on the throne and damn the consequences.

Virgil blamed the decision he made next on how angry he currently was. There was no way for any anxiety or common sense to peek out and make Virgil nervous enough to take a second and really think about what he was about to do. Before he could fully think about what he was doing, Virgil ripped his wrist away from the smirking God and turned back to the Throne Room, stomping across the hall and ignoring the calls of Patton and Emile to wait and let them explain first before trying it.

Instead, he hoisted himself upon the Throne and sat back, closing his eyes.

It was the most comfortable chair ever. It was like someone had studied Virgil’s body and had shaped the Throne around him. The pillow on the throne felt like it was stuffed full of duck feathers and was made out of velvet. Velvet. Virgil had never even seen velvet before. It was the most comfortable Throne in the history of Thrones. Virgil didn’t know how he knew that and he wasn’t going to think on too closely.

“Okay, so, I sat in the stupid chair,” Virgil groaned as he leant forward. As sad as he was to get out of the Throne, he really wanted to go home and check-in with the rest of the townsfolk. “Can I go home now?” He froze though when he opened his eyes and saw all eight Gods standing around him and watching him with various expressions on their faces.

“I knew it,” Patton whispered a large grin on his face and tears gathering in his eyes. “I knew it.”

Roman was staring at Virgil in numb shock, tears running down his cheek. “Oh... you’re really him,” he whispered. His hand twitched like he wanted to pull Virgil into a hug but he couldn’t commit to the action. “Vergilius.”

Virgil twitched backward, leaning back into the throne. “No, I told you. My name’s Virgil. I’m not -”

“You are,” Janus said, stepping forward. He was smiling at Virgil with tears in his eyes, looking so happy and relieved. “That throne was made specifically for Vergilius and your atoms would’ve melted if you weren’t truly Vergilius. Even if you don’t remember your life as Vergilius or don’t remember us, you are our Vergilius.” His smile grew into a large grin. “Oh, Dear One, I’m so happy that you’re safe.”

Virgil blinked dumbly, feeling like everything he knew had just been turned upside down and nothing made sense anymore. He didn’t want to believe it. He just wanted to go back home, visit with Elliott, and then sleep in his own bed. He didn’t want to believe it.

But he did.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered, tears of confusion pricking at his eyes. “If I... if I really am Vergilius... then what happened? How did... where... What happened?”

Janus pulled Virgil into a tight hug, holding him so tightly like he was terrified that if he let go than Virgil would disappear. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t. But we’re going to find out. And until we do, we’re never going to let something like this happen again. I promise.”

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hear your heartbeat

happy birthday to the incomparable @elisela!!! just for you, please enjoy a good fake-dating au with plenty of idiotic and family members abound.

12.5k - on Ao3

—————

“I’m telling you, Scotty. New York has been good to me. Maybe we should just renounce California and stay here for the summer.”

“Don’t joke about that, dude.”

Stiles laughed as he shouldered his phone, taking in the city air as he strolled along the streets of Manhattan.

Needless to say, Manhattan was far from home—while the city certainly was his vibe, Stiles was no stranger to tamping down the champagne tastes that clashed with his tapwater budget. The little shitbox apartment he got through NYU’s housing program was almost a thirty minute train ride from school, but Stiles figured that when he was more or less trapped on campus for nearly fifty hours a week, he could justify spending his breaks wandering the streets of Manhattan and really taking in the city.

On today’s agenda, Stiles was looking forward to wandering around a farmers market that literally stretched on for city blocks. There were fruits and vegetables literally as far as the eye could see, spices and roots and mysterious tubers of all shapes and size, but Stiles didn’t give a flying fuck about the food—his real interest were the vendors and the shoppers.

He had learned early on that open air markets like this were perfect meeting grounds for mythical beasts of all shapes and sizes, so, what better palace for him to do some… field work, so to speak?

There were nymphs who had full bouquets of beautiful flowers that lived suspiciously long in their vases as long as you complimented the blooms on a regular basis. Dryads who sold the most delicious fruit he had ever tasted, even if they charged six bucks for a pear.

Stiles had learned early on to avoid the fae—basically, any stand that sold crystal or metalcraft. His first time at the market, he had somehow wound up spending nearly four hundred dollars on quartz; the moment the money had left his hand, the stall had all but vanished in front of him.

“The people are good here. They’re fast. Blunt. Sarcastic. My kind of people.”

“Uh huh.”

Scott liked to call their whole situation lucky.

When Stiles applied to NYU’s doctorate program, he expected rounds and rounds of interviews, lists of deadlines he needed to memorize, and some less-than-subtle digs at his proposed field of study (which was fair, honestly—he knew that criminology and mythology rarely mixed).

What he didn’t expect was Scott, though, the bro of all bros. When Stiles told him he was applying to NYU, Scott had cheered him on, helped him prepare, and then immediately applied to different veterinary positions through the state.

(Scott was golden, obviously—he had years of training, letters of recommendation from everyone he had ever met, and him being a werewolf basically made him the animal whisperer.)

At the end of the day, Stiles got to pursue his passion thanks to a hodgepodge of grants at NYU, and Scott was awarded a fellowship in veterinary medicine through the Bronx Zoo. What kind of weird twist of luck would let the best friends wind up together across the country like that?

So, yeah, Scott called it luck.

Stiles called it karmic retribution for their supremely fucked-up years at Beacon Hills High, but even he could admit that ‘luck’ sounded nicer... and if Stiles was being honest, ‘luck’ was definitely the best way to classify his meeting Derek Hale.

Derek Hale was smart, he was sarcastic, and he could go toe-to-toe with Stiles over completely obscure things for literal hours. He was a first-year professor at NYU, who had the tiny office right next to the broom closet Stiles had managed to shove PHD desk into, and he was probably the only other person in the program that took mythology seriously (meaning he was the only person who didn’t make Stiles want to put his head through the wall).

He was also hot as fuck, but that was beside the point. Stiles had a little bit of a massive crush, but that was also beside the point.

They had built up a fast friendship based on a series of arguments about the Necronomicon, of all things, and Stiles loved the thought of being friends with someone who didn’t know him as the weird kid in high school who knew way too much about ritual sacrifice and circumcision.

He had evened out a lot through undergrad. He was still awkward, sure, but he was awkward with a refillable prescription for Adderall and some sort of brain-to-mouth filter.

(Honestly, the fact that Stiles had managed to avoid making a single joke about the werewolf who was stuck teaching Mythology 101 really did speak volumes to his newfound maturity.)

Speaking of Derek, though…

“Stiles! Hey, Stiles!”

Stiles almost jumped a foot in the air as he heard his name called, doing a spectacular near-drop-mid-air-catch of his phone as he regained his footing, turning on the spot to see a taller woman with jet black hair waving him over.

She was… okay, she was gorgeous—dark hair, smooth skin, someone who looked like she just stepped out of one of the windows on Fifth Avenue—but Stiles was decently distracted, because standing beside her was Derek Hale, the object of his extremely private affection for the past few months. Who, for whatever reason, was standing there looking like he wanted the sidewalk to open up and swallow him whole.

“Scotty, I’ll see you tonight, yeah? I gotta go.”

Stiles pocketed his phone as he cautiously made his way over to the pair—trio, he corrected, because there was another woman with them, looking incredibly more invested in the conversation now that another party was joining them.

He hiked his canvas a bit higher up as he smiled, trying to remember where he had seen the two before… students, maybe, but if that were the case, they would know Derek, not Stiles. They weren’t faculty members, he was sure of that. Donors to the program, maybe?

Well, if they were donors, Stiles sincerely hoped that Derek would have tried harder to wear literally any expression other than his current ‘bitter and miserable’.

And if they were donors, why were they so fucking happy to see him?

“I’m Laura. This is Cora.”

The taller of the two women extended her hand confidently as Stiles got within arms reach, and he instinctively reached out to take it, Cora following suit. “Derek has told us all about you. I have to say, I figured there was at least a ten percent chance you were made up, but… here you are!”

“Here I am!” Stiles was officially lost, but he kept his smile up, cheeks pinking up a little bit as he turned back to Derek. “You’ve been talking about me?” he asked, his voice on the line between flattered and teasing, nudging Derek playfully as he tilted his head.

“Stiles, I—“

“Of course he has! Derek’s a private guy, sure, but you can’t be surprised he told us about his new—“

“Laura—”

“Lord, Derek, calm down. You already had your big bisexual awakening, I’m allowed to be excited to meet your first boyfriend.” Laura shot back, her glare rivaling Derek’s absolute best ‘listen to teacher’ look, and Stiles could see the muscle in his jaw start to twitch. He probably would have done something, but… he was basically short circuiting, brain trying to keep up with whatever the fuck Laura had said, because Derek now had his arm around Stiles’ waist.

Derek had a big bisexual awakening?

And a boyfriend, apparently?

How had Stiles missed that??

“Stiles, these are my sisters, Laura and Cora Hale.”

Okay, great, they were Derek’s sisters. Stiles didn’t even know that Derek had sisters, which was a little sad if he thought about it.

Thankfully, he didn’t have long to think about it, because Derek—

“This is Stiles, my… my boyfriend. Now stop bombarding him. Give him half a fucking second before you go a thousand miles an hour.”

Oh—oh God. Stiles was the boyfriend.

He had seriously missed something, then—he didn’t think he had confessed his feelings for Derek anytime recently, or he probably would have died from embarrassment. Scott was really good at hiding his phone when he was drinking, which ruled that entire scenario out. Stiles could be forgetful at times, sure, but he thought he would remember if he had managed to score himself a boyfriend.

He looked up at Derek, trying to ignore the sudden burn of contact where their bodies were pressed together, but his brain was extremely focused the moment that he caught the look on Derek’s face, there and gone in a flash. He felt the hand squeeze at his waist, and the message was clear enough.

Please.

Ah, well. Stiles was always good at bullshitting, and this was no exception.

“No, no, Der, it’s fine! It’s good to meet you both, sorry, I wasn’t even expecting to see Derek until… uh, later, let alone meet anyone new,” Stiles said, his voice 100% betraying his nerves as it picked up an octave.

Laura’s voice was much more evenly toned, even if it was a little teasing. “Oh? You two have big plans tonight? We aren’t interrupting anything, are we?” she said with a grin, giving the distinct impression that even if they were interrupting, she and her sister wouldn’t be leaving until they were good and ready. Stiles felt his mind kick into overdrive, waving the question aside.

“Oh, nothing like that. We were going to meet up with my friend Scott for dinner, introducing the boyfriend to the best friend, you know how it is,” he continued, hoping his little chuckle wasn’t too terribly fake as he reached up to pat the lapels of Derek’s jacket, letting his fingers linger a little too long on Derek’s chest as he nodded.

He hoped that she knew how it was. Hell, Stiles didn’t even know how it was. He hadn’t exactly been rolling in romance since moving across the country.

“Well, if you say so,” Laura mused, raising a perfect brow, head tilted to the side. “You look like you’re about to pass out, Stiles. You alright?”

And, okay, Stiles knew enough to know what that meant. It meant that her super-sonic ears could hear his heart trying to break through his ribs with a staccato beat, typically a tell-tale sign that someone was lying, but… maybe he could work that to his advantage. He swallowed, voice a little tight as he laughed, waving the concern away.

“Sorry, I just wasn't… planning on meeting the family today,” Stiles said, probably the most truthful thing he had ever said. “Usually I’d try to prepare a little more, you know, make sure I’m wearing something nice and avoid putting my entire foot in my mouth. Maybe just a toe or two,” he said, relaxing minutely as Cora snorted from her position near Laura’s elbow.

Okay, so self depreciation was a good way to avoid suspicion with all the Hales. Got it.

“Well, if you both have plans, I’ll make this quick,” Laura said, her voice deceptively charming as she sidled up next to Stiles, though he certainly wasn’t going to complain about the way Derek’s hand tightened around his waist. “The semester is up soon, what are your plans this summer? Never mind, move them back. We’re having a family reunion the week after finals, and everyone is dying to meet baby brother Derek’s new boo after all the stories he’s told.”

…stories?

He looked up to Derek again, who was now blushing up to the tips of his ears, which—okay, cute—but which told him absolutely nothing and offered him exactly zero defense.

“Actually, I already have a flight booked as soon as my spring contract is up. Heading back to Beacon Hills for a few days, and—“

“Wait, did Derek already invite you?” Laura asked, her expression pleasantly surprised, and Stiles was speechless for a half second before Derek stepped in.

“No, I didn’t invite him because I’m not even going, Laura. Besides, he has his own plans with his own family,” he said, and Stiles blinked as he tried to keep up. “And what do you mean, they’re excited to meet him? I was very clear that the further I can keep him away from you and Mom, the better.”

Laura only rose a brow as she turned back to Cora, who took a beat before looking up from her phone, her expression halfway guilty as she clutched the device. “I uh—I may have just sent a picture of you two to the family group chat.”

Stiles choked on a laugh as Derek gasped—actually gasped—and pulled his phone from his pocket, making the mistake of releasing Stiles’ shoulder to unlock the device, looking absolutely scandalized as he glared at Cora.

It wasn’t long before Stiles had a similar look on his face, though, as Laura took advantage of his free arm, linking her own with his as she started to walk. “Alright, Stiles, here’s the deal.”

“Cora, you little—hey! Laura, get back here with my boyfriend!”

“Calm down little brother, the adults are talking.”

“He’s younger than I am!”

“So, Stiles, like I was saying,” Laura started, oblivious or ignorant to the way Stiles' mind had absolutely reeled when Derek had called him his boyfriend for the second time. “Derek hasn’t been home for more than a day visit since he moved out to this dump, and no one has raised a stink about it in years. This year, though, is… important,” she started, and Stiles nodded idly as he mentally ran through the calendar in his head.

The semester was over in just over a week, with finals crammed into three days after that, and then—oh, the full moon.

No, Stiles corrected himself, the blue moon. The first blue moon in May in probably… thirty years, if he had to guess. He nodded up to Laura as that clicked into place, a flicker of curiosity crossing over her face as she continued talking.

“We won’t take up that much of your time—it’s only like two events, I promise, and I also promise Derek will personally take care of whatever flight changes you have to make so you can still get some time with your family. After all, it’s not your fault my bonehead brother tried to exclude you until now.”

“I’m not a bonehead!” Derek said, his tone of voice just exasperated enough that Stiles sighed, carefully extracting himself from Laura’s grasp as they slowed to a stop near the curb of Fifth Avenue, the noise from the farmers market blending in with the sound of traffic as he turned back to Derek.

“Alright, hang on, hold up,” Stiles started, his tone firm enough to stop the three wolves in their tracks, Derek and Laura wearing matching expressions of surprise as they stopped in their tracks—even Cora was peeking over her phone, clearly interested, and Stiles couldn’t blame them. It had probably been a long time since either of them had been stopped by a human.

“Laura, Derek is not a bonehead. He’s smart, and he’s sweet, and he’s very kind, and it’s okay that he’s a little more private. Yeah, he’s also a stubborn asshole, but… well, that’s one of the reasons I like him so much,” Stiles said, the first genuine smile in the entire conversation gracing his face as he looked at Derek again. “But you know your brother. Did you really think that catching him off guard across the country in person was going to be the best way to convince him to visit?”

He was fine taking their silence as an answer, honestly.

“Now, Derek, that being said, I… if you are comfortable with it, I can rearrange my plans and come down with you. If you’re not comfortable with that, that’s okay too. Meeting the family—at least, the rest of the family—is a very big step,” he continued, his words very pointed.

(Yes, Derek, meeting the family would be a very big step for someone you weren’t even dating, please pick up on the subliminal messaging here.)

“But even if you’re not comfortable with me being there, I think you should still go down. I’ll get to spend plenty of time with my dad, you shouldn’t have to be all alone up here while I’m gone.”

Moving to smooth over the lapels on Derek’s jacket again, Stiles only barely tampered down a noise of surprise as Derek intercepted his hands, pleasantly shocked by how easily Derek’s warm, smooth fingers slipped between his own lanky digits.

Stiles felt his cheeks pinks up as he cleared his throat, doing his best to act normal, because he was… well, he wasn’t lying. He had absolutely thought about Derek being alone here in New York while Stiles was gone, but that was more in the sense that Stiles would miss him.

He just didn’t know that Derek might be missing some family, too.

Besides, he may not have known that much about the intricacies of a normal, family pack, but Stiles knew enough to know that a big event like this would probably be good for Derek, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Even if Derek was going to reject his offer and go down alone.

…because Derek was going to reject him.

Derek was going to reject him, right?

Stiles had been fairly sure of that when he offered, but judging by the way Derek couldn’t meet his eyes after something as simple as holding hands, Stiles might have just fucked himself over. Derek opened and closed his mouth twice before he finally let out a huff of air and looked up, doing a remarkably good impression of a guilty animal as he looked at Stiles.

“…you’re sure you don’t mind?”

Fuck.

“Derek, I wouldn’t have offered if I minded,” Stiles said, and that much was at least true—but before he could say anything else, Laura was squealing in his ear, wrapping both of them up in a hug so tight Stiles almost had to remind her that he was human, but he was able to breathe again as the car next to the curb chirped.

“Thank God, Stiles, thank you for getting through to him! Oh, Nana is gonna flip out when she hears who’s coming—Derek, you know you’ve always been her favorite—Stiles, do you have any dietary restrictions? Derek, send me his number, and—no, Cora, you are not driving us back to the airport, move your ass—“

Stiles looked up to Derek, his expression somewhere between bemused and fearful as Laura rambled on, but… well, the apologetic look that Derek had on his face wasn’t much reassurance.

“—and Stiles, you’re going to love Beacon Hills. Bye boys! See you in two weeks!”

Stiles was left, partially shellshocked as Derek’s hand slipped from his own, the need for the facade no longer essential as the shiny silver rental car pulled into traffic.

“… Derek, since when the fuck are you from Beacon Hills?”

—————

“Scotty, stop laughing, this isn’t funny.”

“Dude, are you kidding me? This is hilarious.”

Stiles groaned as he shoved another slice of pizza into his mouth, ignoring the burning sensation that spread across his tongue as he tried to pack as much melted cheese as he could into one bite.

Scott’s apartment had been their go-to for the entire time he and Stiles had been in the city—not because it was huge and glamorous, not by any means, but Scott’s shoebox had a door between the bathroom and the living room, and therefore it was the best place for bro-time by default.

Stiles had loudly complained about the entire situation when he and Derek showed up on Scott’s stoop, firmly planting himself in his favorite of Scott’s chairs—the ‘old man’ recliner next to Scott’s little television, the game on screen forgotten as he recalled their harrowed tale.

“Stiles, if you weren’t comfortable with it, why even… okay, no, don’t you dare answer me until you swallow,” Derek snapped, and Stiles rolled his eyes as he swallowed a few times, sticking his tongue out at Derek once his mouth was empty.

“Good. Thank you for pretending to be an adult. Now, why did you even offer if it wasn’t something you were comfortable with.”

Because it was supposed to just be a gesture, Derek. Because I didn’t realize you would take it as a serious offer, Derek. Because you were supposed to say no, Derek.

… because I didn’t want you to be alone, Derek.

Honestly, as surprised as Stiles was that Derek took him up on his poorly-timed moment of goodness, he was even more surprised that after Laura drove off, when he numbly asked if Derek wanted to come over to Scott’s for some pizza, Derek actually said yes.

Derek Hale was being social. Alert the media.

(Well… maybe ‘social’ was stretching it a bit—Stiles didn’t know if it was a territory thing or what, but Derek had turned hilariously, awkwardly stiff the moment he stepped inside Scott’s apartment.)

“I offered because I’m nice, dick, but don’t even think that you can turn this on me. Derek, they knew my name. They knew what I looked like. And yeah, I mean, I’m a complete catch and all—oh fuck off, Scotty—but what in the actual, literal fuck?”

Stiles didn’t think it was possible, but somehow Derek got even more tense, shoulders tightening up toward his ears as he looked down. It took a moment before he answered, but Stiles knew by then that Derek usually had to… wind himself up to talk about some things.

“My mother lives on the opposite end of the country, and even then, she still managed to set up twenty four blind dates for me last year. Twenty four, Stiles. That’s basically one every other week. Do you have any idea how much small talk that is? And how much I hate small talk?”

Yes, Stiles thought, to both of those questions. He would never admit this out loud, of course, but thinking about one of the most intensely private people that he knew stuck at some shitty little coffee shop trying to chat with some random female on behalf of his mother was hilarious to a degree he couldn’t fathom.

It definitely wasn’t a redirection of his own… personal feelings that may or may not be directed at Derek. Not at all. Nope.

“So, around the time the spring semester started, when my mother let slide that she had passed along my number to yet another perfectly eligible barista, or something, I panicked and told her I had a boyfriend. And then she asked for a photo, and the most recent one on my phone was that selfie you sent miming your own death in the stacks, so…”

“Oh fuck, Derek,” Stiles started, downing the last of his beer. “Your big bisexual awakening wasn’t just you trying to get out of your mom setting you up on dates, right?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, ass,” Derek said, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. “The two events were completely separate.”

Stiles laughed at the thought, but even then, his mind was reeling. If this wasn’t a recent discovery, how in the fuck did Stiles miss that for so long?

“Well, you’re lucky Scotty and I had a flight booked anyway. I won’t let you face them alone, not when you have a picture perfect boyfriend to show off now—what role should I take on? Doting, love struck fool? Rebel without a care? Some sad forlorn loser who… okay, no, that one is too close to home.”

Scott stood up and laughed as Derek glared at Stiles again, but it didn’t take a genius to see the tiny smile on his face, or the way his shoulders eased as he leaned back into the couch.

“Alright, this is getting too intense a conversation while the game is on. Want another beer, Stiles? You, Derek?”

Stiles made a vaguely affirming noise as he wove his hand in Scott’s direction, eyes drawn back to Derek yet again as the other wolf politely declined, his own attention affixed to the television as the game picked back up.

Derek was… not a particularly expressive person, Stiles knew, and part of that was because Derek had what Stiles affectionately called ‘resting grumpy face’; at least, he did privately, because the one time he said it out loud Derek had thrown the Encyclopaedia of Demomorgons at his head.

So, to the outsider looking in, Derek might have just seemed uninterested in the game; but Stiles had been watching Derek work for the better part of a semester, and he knew perfectly well how to tell when Derek’s resting grumpy face formed an actual frown. Which it did. Because apparently, the Mets had personally offended him.

“I’m sorry, are you seriously glaring at the Mets? While they’re winning?”

Derek leveled Stiles with the most unimpressed glare he could as Scott laughed from his kitchen, walking back into the living room with two beers. “God, I hope he was. It would be nice to have someone with taste in the apartment for once.”

“Scotty!” Stiles gasped, clutching his heart as Scott handed him a beer, extending the claw on his thumb to pop the top off before he handed the bottle over. “The Mets are a treasure, okay? If God lived in New York, she’d be a Mets fan. I have suffered much for my Mets in my lifetime, and they—woah, Derek, you okay?”

Stiles’ charming cliches would have to wait, because when he looked over to Derek, his humor dropped immediately. Derek had gone white as a sheet, jaw slack as he stared at the beer in Stiles’ hand.

He stared back and forth between Scott and Derek, trying to figure what the hell had just happened; it wasn’t until he watched Scott pop the top off of his own beer, looking between the two of them, did Stiles put two and two together.

“Derek, you… you had to know that Scott was a were, right? Like, you had to. He—Scotty doesn’t do subtle.”

“Me?! Stiles, you called me a wet dog for like a month after I fell into the Hudson.”

Derek let out a sort of choked noise as he shut his mouth, coming back into himself as a bit of pink dusted his pale cheeks, hands moving in front of his face. “Of—of course I knew, but—you knew?!”

“Dude, I’m studying mythical lore and criminology. I’m the one who taught this furry fucker how to control himself. Of course I knew, I... oh my god. You didn’t know that I knew—uh, that I know.”

Matching looks of realization dawned on Scott and Stiles’ face as Stiles stood up, putting the beer down on the coffee table. He moved next to Derek as he sat down on the couch, keeping his movement slow, reaching out to pat Derek’s leg like he was a frail old lady.

“Derek, I know.”

After what felt like an age and a half, Derek melted into the couch, a huge sigh leaving his lips as all the tension in his body bled out like a string had been cut, burying his head in his hands.

“We’ve had arguments about wolves in pop culture. I’ve offered to help you out with your coursework every full moon for, like, the entire semester. Dude, you had to know that I knew, there’s no way I didn’t—Derek!” Stiles felt his giddy laughter bubble over as Derek shot him a red-eyed glare through his fingers, his scowl somehow less intimidating now that everything was out in the open.

Okay, Derek wasn’t just a wolf, he was an alpha. That was… interesting.

“God, you two really are perfect fake boyfriends. Two halves of a whole idiot. Derek, are you sure you don’t want a beer? Or maybe something stronger, if you have to deal with Stiles?” Scott said easily, laughing as Stiles immediately protested, though the way Stiles eased himself next to Derek wasn’t exactly subtle, either.

—————

Scott may have been joking, but by the time finals had come and gone, Stiles had accepted the fact that he would have to forgo booze and opt for a mainline of caffeine to keep up with Derek. How one person remained so meticulously organized, Stiles would never know—but in the amount of time it took for Stiles to wrap up his grant work for the semester, Derek had given four exams, proctored three more, cleaned out his office, and shared the updated flight itinerary with Stiles.

“Wait, wait, hang on,” Stiles had said, tripping over an empty box in his tiny office as Derek handed him his updated boarding pass. “Why do we have to change our flights? Scott and I are already booked, you can probably just join us, right?”

Derek rose a perfectly sculpted brow as he tapped the ticket again, shaking his head. “Hey, I promised you’d spend as few days as possible with my family, and I intend to keep that promise. The sooner we get in, the sooner we start that clock, the sooner you get to spend the rest your time with your dad.”

Stiles blinked as he looked down to the itinerary, eyes scanning over the earlier time—and it was non-stop too. That would be a bit killer on the legs, but Stiles could handle that, maybe he could take some time to sleep or pester Derek for...

“Uh, Derek... this ticket is for first class.”

“I know, Stiles, I booked it.”

“Dude, there’s a reason Scott and I booked an economy ticket with a layover in Bismarck. There’s no way I can pay you back for this.”

If looks could kill, Stiles would be... maybe not dead, but at least set on fire. Derek sighed, as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders as he rolled his eyes.

“You’re not paying me back, dumbass. You’re already doing a ton for me with this little... charade, the least I can do is make sure your frail human body—“

“Hey!”

”—is comfortable in a lie flat seat.”

“Look, I appreciate that, but I’m not leaving Scott alone on his flight in coach just because of our... fake... whatever.”

Stiles’ voice trailed off in curiosity as Derek sighed, his cheeks pink as he pulled the paper out of Stiles’ hand, pointing to the second half of the sheet—where MCCALL, SCOTT had been printed in big, bold letters, that Stiles had completely ignored.

“... you got Scott a ticket too?”

“Of course I did. He’s your best friend, I wasn’t going to ask you to leave him behind just for me. Besides, who do you think I got your information from to book the flight?” Derek said dryly, as though his deadpan delivery could cancel out the ruddy color to his cheeks, or the way that Stiles’ stomach flip flopped when the reality of that sunk in.

It was nice that Derek acknowledged the importance of their friendship, in the way that tugged at the little space right beneath his sternum, but something about the way Derek so quickly dismissed himself was... concerning.

Stiles couldn’t help but play that little bit of their conversation over in his head as he packed, as he hopped on the train, as he met up with Scott and Derek in security.

Scott, bless his heart, was absolutely elated—his excitement was almost tangible as they dropped off luggage, walked through security, and stood around at the boarding gate. Derek had to smack the both of them to get them to stand up when first class was called to board, and Stiles idly wondered if Derek regretted associating himself with them when he and Scott managed to trip in sync as they went down the jetway.

Derek and Stiles were seated together, of course, and once Stiles got over the novelty of not having a middle seat on a plane, he liked to imagine he fit right in—easing back into the seat, enjoying the comfort of the little blanket he had been given, grinning at the flight attendant as she checked in with them.

(Scott was one row ahead and across the aisle, close enough that Stiles could lean forward and smack him if he wanted to... but the moment Stiles saw his seat mate, a pretty woman with dark hair and impeccable eyeliner, he knew his best bro would be on a different planet for the entirety of the flight.)

His grin slipped a little bit, though, as he thought back to the conversation surrounding the tickets, and he looked up to Derek as he settled in a bit further.

“So, we never went over what role I should be taking on.”

“Stiles, just be yourself. You’re funny enough, and you generally mean well, they’ll love who you are.”

Yeah… who he was. Well, who he was was someone who was going to be dangerously invested in a fake relationship that would probably end terribly for him, so that was fun. He sighed as he settled into the seat, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he debated on where to go from here.

No time like a non stop plane ride to have a potentially awkward conversation, right?

“Dude, we’re friends, right?”

“We’re fake boyfriends, don’t call me dude.”

Derek’s tone was teasing as he flipped through his SkyMall, a small smile on his face, and Stiles felt a little bit of the tension ease out of his shoulders as he buckled in.

“First of all, I have called many boyfriends ‘dude’ before,” Stiles started, ignoring Derek’s snort of laughter, “and I’m being serious. We... we are friends, right?”

Be it his words or his awkward energy, Derek looked up, surprise on his face as he closed the magazine and stowed it away as the plane bumped down the taxiway.

“Of course we are, Stiles. You’re like... the only person I talk to at work outside of teaching, that’s light years ahead of most of New York as a whole.”

“I mean, I’m glad to hear, I just...” Stiles chewed on his lip as he turned in his seat, weirdly soothed by the roar of the engines as the takeoff roll started. “You know about my dad, and about my school, and about Scott, and those are basically the three important things in my life,” he started, letting out a sigh as Derek just stared at him blankly.

“It’s fine that you’re a private person, I can respect that... seriously, I may not understand it, but I can respect it,” Stiles said, grinning as Derek shot him a look, lowering his voice again as he leaned over the divider between them. “But I didn’t know that you were from my hometown, too. Or that you had sisters, let alone other family. I should have asked, I guess, but... you know you can talk to me about things, yeah? Even after all this is over, you’ll always be Derek to me. Not just another Hale.”

Stiles’ was smiling as he gently bumped Derek’s shoulder with his own, watching the way different emotions warred over his face, biting back on the urge to babble on so he could give Derek the time he needed to respond.

“We’re... we are friends, Stiles. We are.” Derek insisted, looking down to his linked hands as the plane continued to rise. “Sometimes, I just... I’m not great about talking about myself.”

For a while, Stiles thought that was all he was going to get, and honestly, he was fine with it—it wasn’t until the fasten seatbelt sign chimed off and the flight attendants passed out little bottles of water that Derek spoke again, his voice low as he cleared his throat.

“My family is huge. Like, big enough that we need spreadsheets and flowcharts to organize family events like this. I know they love me, and I love them too, of course I do, but I made some really, really stupid decisions when I was younger… I know they forgave me for it, but...”

Derek sighed, taking a deep breath as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Sometimes it’s hard to be around them and still be okay with myself, you know?”

No, Stiles didn’t know. He only had his dad and Scott growing up, but he nodded his head encouragingly as he took a sip of his water.

“I actually have four siblings. Mark is the oldest, and then Taylor, and I’m right between Laura and Cora. They’re betas, like my dad; my mom and I are both alphas, her mom, too…” Derek continued, and Stiles smiled as he settled into his seat.

By the time the flight landed, Stiles’ head was full to the brim with Hale family trivia, names, faces, teasing stories, and the warmth that had danced across Stiles’ chest for the past year or so had bloomed into a full-on fire.

Would it lead to his downfall? Probably.

But when he saw how Derek smiled when he remembered Mark’s graduating medical school, or heard the pride in his voice when he talked about Laura’s charity work, and the genuine joy he got to see when he heard another story about Derek’s childhood… well, that was all more than worth it.

—————

“I think you should kiss me.”

Stiles had to stop himself from laughing at the look that Derek shot him, doing his best to keep his body language casual as he leaned against the gas pump at a tiny station outside of Beacon Hills, though he knew his heart was going at about a million miles a minute.

“I—you—what?”

“Derek, I’m an affectionate dude, in case you couldn’t tell from all the hand holding. And if you’re going to freak out if I kiss your cheek, then you should freak out now, not when we’re in front of your family.”

Stiles knew full well his heart betrayed his confidence, but seeing Derek’s ears go pink as he dumped the armful of snacks Stiles had asked for into the back seat was a welcome sight—it was always nice to know that Derek’s cool and controlled exterior could be ruffled up once in a while.

Somewhere between the rental kiosk and the gas station, Stiles had decided that he was going to go all in on this. His little crush was already stuck right in the back of his throat and would be unlikely to dislodge any time soon, so he figured that indulging himself in the fake relationship Derek had set up for him… well, it wouldn’t do any good, but it was unlikely to make things worse for him than it already was.

It was a little weird being alone with Derek—Stiles didn’t realize it until now, but between meeting Derek’s sisters and meeting the rest of their family, this was the first time they had been alone together. They had other staff members at school, or strangers around the city, or Scott (who had politely declined a ride back to Beacon Hills with Derek and Stiles, choosing instead to split an Uber with his pretty new friend, Kira).

“You know, as far as first kisses go, usually they’re a little more romantic than just a demand. You’re supposed to woo me, Stiles,” Derek said, his sarcastic tone betrayed by his shy little smile as he pulled the nozzle out of his tank, closing the gas cap as Stiles gasped in mock offense.

“Hey, I said you should kiss me, not the other way around. Why should I have to be the one to woo?” Stiles started, sliding into the passenger’s seat as Derek followed suit. “After all, this relationship wouldn’t have even happened without your instigation, so why should I… uh… Der?”

Stiles’ voice trailed off as Derek’s hand sunk into the soft crook at the juncture of his neck, effectively cutting off his entire train of thought as Derek’s thumb pressed against the hollow of his jaw.

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“O-Okay.”

For a minute, all Stiles could think of were those cheesy old rom-coms, where fireworks would go off, or bells would chime, but kissing Derek was nothing like that. It was the comfort of wrapping yourself in an electric blanket, instead of the shock of jumping into a frozen pond; the familiar buzz of goosebumps over his skin over a bolt of lightning. He felt a surprised little noise leave his chest as Derek’s tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue flicking out instinctively to drag along Derek’s bottom lip, hands coming up to rest against the wolves chest.

Stiles could feel his heart beating through every inch of his skin as the kiss broke, struggling to remind himself how to breathe as he opened his eyes again, his nose brushing against Derek’s as he let out a little huff of a laugh.

“Was that enough woo for you?” Derek asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, and Stiles smiled as he nodded his head, savoring the way that neither of them moved back. Derek’s hand was warm against the crook of his jaw, his own palm flat against Derek's chest, and it was natural, it was so nice, it was—

Fake. It was all fake.

Stiles sighed, closing his eyes as he gently leaned in and pressed their foreheads together, that mantra playing through his head as he pulled himself back. He buckled himself in easily as he took in a deep breath, his goofy grin still in place as he looked back up to Derek.

“See? Now you can honestly tell your mom we had our first kiss at a gas station and that it was magical and I totally rocked your world.”

“Is that what happened, though? I mean, if you wanted me to kiss you so badly, you should have just asked,” Derek said, the sarcasm thick in his voice as he started the car, and Stiles laughed as they pulled out of the lot, his hand finding Derek’s easily once again.

Their silence remained comfortable as they left the city skyline behind and basically blew through Beacon Hills, the trees inching closer to the road as they wound through the preserve.

Finishing off a bag of M&M’s, Stiles cleared his throat as he crumpled up the wrapper and chucked it in the back seat, sucking a little bit of melted chocolate off of his thumb. “So. Is this regular introducing-the-boyfriend-to-the-family nerves I’m looking at here, or is this introducing-the-fake-boyfriend-to-the-family nerves? You don’t have any weirdos in your family, do you? An ex-felon auntie? A cousin who doesn’t quite get personal space?”

Stiles grinned as Derek laughed, oddly comforted by the sound as Derek shook his head. “Nothing exciting. A weird uncle, I guess. Lots of cousins, you should basically abandon any idea of personal space as soon as we walk in, and plenty of human family, too—so you won’t be alone in that. As far as felons go, well… none of us have been caught?”

“Hey, game recognizes game, it doesn’t count if you don’t get caught. And I can work with a weird uncle.” Stiles laughed at the sheepish look that Derek shot his way, his fingers still happily wrapped up in Derek’s warm hands. He could almost feel it when they crossed over onto the Hale land, the huge, white house as much of a giveaway as the shrieks of joy that even Stiles could hear from the property.

“They’re gonna love you, you know?” Derek’s voice was soft as he pulled the rental into a long row of cars, nearly lining the road leading up to the house, and Stiles felt the snarky remark die on his tongue as Derek caught his eye, his expression somewhere between grateful and wistful as he turned the car off.

“Maybe, but…” Stiles sighed as he popped his door open, chewing over his next words carefully. “But if they do, it’s because they already love you.”

He took it as a personal victory when Derek turned away, his ears pink again, and Stiles couldn’t help but grin as he followed the werewolf up the path to his family home.

The Hale House was probably as huge and impressive as the Hale family itself from the outside, and Stiles did his best not to gape like a fool as Derek opened the door for him, his hand finding the small of Stiles’ back as they stepped into the house. Polished floors, huge, high windows, a grand staircase that was the definition of grand, and—

“Derek!”

—and another unfairly attractive Hale moving forward to greet them. Tall, broad, dark hair with just a splash of salt around the temples and the goatee, shining a million watt smile on Derek and Stiles as he wiped his hands on his probably-uncomfortably-tight jeans.

Jesus, was everyone in this family gorgeous? Stiles was going to get a complex.

He looked up as the stranger and Derek briefly hugged, watching the halfway-subtle way they scented one another, Mark’s head buried in Derek’s neck for a half moment before they pulled away. If Stiles strained his ear, he could have heard something along the lines of ‘be nice’ as Derek pulled back; if the situation weren’t so funny, Stiles probably would have blushed.

“Don’t listen to him, I’m always nice. I’m Mark, and you…” Mark started, his million watt smile back in place as his eyes dragged over Stiles’ body, “... you must be Stiles.” Stiles snorted as Mark pulled him into an easy hug, catching Stiles just a little off-guard as he was wrapped in another pair of arms.

Apparently Derek’s family was an affectionate bunch. Stiles didn’t know if it was a wolf thing or a Hale thing, but either way, it was good to know.

“Mark, uh, Seattle, right? You’re the surgeon?” Stiles asked, clearing his throat as the hug carried on just a bit too long, regaining some footing in the introduction as he pulled back. “Derek’s told me a lot about you.”

That was… mostly true, Derek had told him enough about Mark to thoroughly embarrass the older male, and Mark looked like he expected nothing less as he laughed, holding Stiles’ shoulders as he stood at arms length. “Yeah, I’m sure he did, but it’s probably all garbage. After all, how can you really describe a wonder like me in words, huh?”

He actually winked, and Stiles honestly couldn’t believe that this dude was for real.

“Der, nice job with this one. He’s cute. Kid, is my brother treating you well? Cause, you know, if Hale is your taste, you can do much better than—”

”Mark—“

“Oh, lighten up Der-bear, there isn’t enough Botox in the world to get rid of those scowl lines. It was a joke. Now come on, everyone’s out back.”

Stiles laughed again as Mark put Derek in an easy headlock, ruffling up his hair as he led them outside, immediately filing ‘Der-bear’ away for future use as they stepped out into the backyard.

The backyard, which was absolutely filled with Hales.

He felt his heart do a funny little lurch as he was hit with the sheer family of it all—all dark haired, all gorgeous, and for just a moment, he wanted to smack Derek upside the head. There were probably generations of Hales here; Derek had all this family, this built in support group, and he was just going to spend the summer holed up in New York?

“Alright, Siles, we’re gonna keep you in with the main family and keep you away from the cousins,” Mark started, artfully ignoring the way Derek was swatting at him. “Uncle Peter all but insisted that Mom come pick him up, so you’ll get to avoid them until later tonight, but who you really want to watch out for is—“

“Is that my grandbaby?!”

Mark stiffened as Derek perked up, and Stiles couldn’t help but snicker as a bony hand shot up, grabbing Mark by the scruff of his neck, pulling him off of Derek with a flourish that would probably seem overly dramatic if Stiles didn’t know just how much werewolf strength was packed behind it.

“Derek!”

“Hi, Nana.”

Stiles couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as Derek leaned in to wrap his arms around the older woman—she was a good foot shorter than he was, her movements loud, with light skinned with the same tell-tale black hair that the rest of the family had. What caught Stiles’ eye, though, was the way Derek scented her—it was the same way Mark scented him, a familial nudge that Stiles read easily as a sign of deference.

Whoever this Nana was, she was clearly the woman in charge here.

“You know, we’re all technically her grandbabies,” Mark started as he reappeared at Stiles’ shoulder, rubbing the back of his neck, his childish pout painfully obvious as he pointed his words. “But you wouldn’t know it with the blatant favoritism she shows for Derek!”

“Mark, don’t be such a baby,” Nana Hale said as she pulled back from Derek’s hug, patting his cheek affectionately. She raised a brow in a spectacularly unimpressed fashion as she turned to look at her eldest grandson, sighing in mock disappointment. “Not that I thought a career based off of liposuction and face lifts would have brought you some maturity.”

“That’s—I don’t just do—Nana!”

“Now, who do we have here? Derek, are you going to introduce me to your special friend?”

Ignoring Mark’s protests easily as she turned her attention, Stiles felt his heart pick up again, his eyes flicking to Derek as he beamed; Stiles wasn’t sure if he was happy to see Mark get smacked down, or if he was happy to introduce Stiles, but Stiles would have literally killed a man to see Derek smile that brightly on a regular basis.

“Nana, this is my boyfriend, Stiles Stilinski. Stiles, this is my grandmother, Ger—“

“Nana Hale will do just fine, thank you very much,” she interrupted, pulling a face that made Stiles grin—he could absolutely relate to someone who would rather set their birth name on fire than own up to it. “Now, come here, let me get a look at you.”

Stiles stepped forward and hesitated a half moment, not sure if he should try one last time for a handshake or wait for her to initiate a hug, but before he could make up his mind she had her hands clasped on his elbows, a grip like iron stopping him in his tracks.

“Scrawny little thing, aren’t you? We’ll take care of that, don’t you worry. It’s good to meet you, sweetheart, let’s get you some food.”

“It’s good to meet you too—and some food sounds great,” Stiles said with a laugh, ignoring the fact that he was still full of junk food as Nana Hale all but preened beside him. Her grip was gentle but unyielding as she dragged him to a table that was piled with food, giving a half wave to Laura and Cora, who were stationed beside a punch bowl the size of a fish tank as he kept himself a half step behind Nana.

Stiles wasn’t dumb, okay? He knew how to make nice with wolves, and more importantly, he knew how to be subtle.

(He didn’t like it, but he knew how to do it.)

“Uncle Derek! Get Uncle Derek!!”

Thankfully, the moment was over in a flash as Stiles heard a familiar name called out in a high pitched squeal, looking back out to the yard where a hoard of kids had just caught sight (or scent?) of Derek, immediately abandoning the rough-and-tumble games they seemed to be wrapped up in to run toward Derek as fast as their little legs could carry them.

Derek immediately tensed, a manic grin on his face as he prepared to run, body twitching as he caught himself before taking off. He sent a look Stiles’ way that was somehow both apologetic and asking remission, and Stiles sighed as he smiled.

“You better run, Uncle Derek. They’re gonna get you,” Stiles said mock-seriously, only barely keeping a straight face as Derek instead ran straight to the kids, making all sorts of comedic noises as they mobbed his legs.

Fuck, he was cute.

Stiles’ attention was pulled off of Derek as he felt eyes on him, subtly scanning the yard before he made eye contact with another adult in the family, who was very shirtless, and very sweaty, and very much walking toward them with a bright smile on his face.

Okay, Stiles was definitely getting a complex.

“You must be Stiles!” he exclaimed once he was closer to their little group, and Stiles had never been as thankful for a child as he was for the tiny body perched on top of the other males shoulders, because he was just about at his ‘hugging gorgeous people’ limit. He was still sweating, for fucks sake, but Stiles supposed that even a wolf got tired out when they had eight kids hanging from their body until Uncle Derek stepped in.

“I am, and…” Stiles was about to assume this was the firefighter sibling, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the kid on top of his shoulders smiled, and Stiles was absolutely smitten. “And who is this little guy?”

The distraction was apparently a welcome one, because shirtless dude’s smile grew even wider, reaching up to pat the kid on a mop of curly hair before he lifted him up and over, holding him at chest level. “This is Isaac. Isaac, can you say hi to Stiles? He’s your uncle Derek’s special friend.”

Stiles literally felt his heart melt as Isaac gave a shy little wave, looking up at him with big blue eyes. He couldn’t have been older than three or four, and Stiles smiled and waved back as Isaac was set down on the ground.

“You wanna go play with Uncle D?” Any hint of shyness was forgotten the moment the question was asked, taking off toward Derek as fast as his little legs could carry him, which… wasn’t very fast, but was very, very cute.

“They all yours?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked over to Derek, who now had at least six kids hanging off of him. He smiled as the other male shivered, shaking his head quickly.

“God no, just the three. Erica and Boyd, and Isaac too, now that the adoption has been finalized. Those kids basically run the joint, Derek included—as long as you don’t mind the occasional toddler mobbing, you’ll fit in just fine.”

“Thanks, random shirtless man, I really hope so.”

Stiles grinned as Laura choked on a mouthful of punch, the weirdness of the situation apparently just now visible to her as she sputtered, punching her brother in the arm. “Oh god, Taylor, what is wrong with you! Go put on a shirt, you can’t just—you didn’t even introduce yourself, I swear—Stiles is a guest, you weirdo!”

They kept bickering back and forth as Taylor pulled an undershirt on over his head, the whining turning into background noise as he poured himself a glass of punch. He knew perfectly well what Laura was trying to say—Stiles is a human—and he was pretty sure he was mostly flattered by everyone trying so hard, but any coherent thought left his head as he took a bite of the ribs, watching Nana Hale grin out of the corner of his eyes as he groaned in delight.

“God, they really do have Derek wrapped around their pudgy fingers,” Cora mused, and Stiles nodded his head, swallowing. It was honestly hilarious to watch Derek try to manage all those kids by himself; they seemed determined to pile themselves onto his head and shoulders, and he could almost see Derek sweat, trying to make sure he didn’t drop anyone as Isaac managed to wriggle his way into Derek’s grip.

He tilted his head in consideration, taking a sip of his drink before he spoke up.

“Yeah, he always did strike me as that kind of Alpha.”

He couldn’t help but savor the way the conversation ground to a halt around him, Laura and Taylor both sucking in a deep breath as Mark shattered the glass he was holding. There probably was a better way to acknowledge that he was in on the secret, but as funny as it was watching Derek’s siblings tiptoe around the fact, he figured it was best to rip the bandaid off in one go.

Even if it meant he had the attention of the Hales closest to him in one second, flat, Nana’s burning red from where she stood with a plate piled high with food.

He probably should have been nervous, but as he looked back at Derek, he could tell it was the right choice—Derek was all smiles, waiting only a beat before he popped his fangs and playfully snapped at one of his little nieces, the air soon full of squealing laughter once again.

Keeping his gaze even, Stiles smiled in thanks as he took the plate of food Nana offered to him, watching as her eyes melted back into their darker, human color. She was staring at him like he was a particularly complex puzzle, and she wasn’t alone—Cora looked hilariously outraged that she didn’t realize sooner, and even Mark was looking over him with renewed interest as his hand healed.

“I knew you were a smart boy. He told you?”

Nana’s question was accusing, but not unkind, and Stiles shrugged it off easily as he popped a chip into his mouth.

“He didn’t have to. My best friend was bitten when we were both fifteen. He didn’t have… anything, no alpha, no pack, just me and my mad Googling skills, and we’ve had plenty of supernatural run-ins over the years. Derek didn’t tell me because he didn’t have to tell me—I’m not anything special, but I’d like to think I can spot a non-human from at least fifty feet. Maybe more on a good day.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

Stiles jumped as he heard Derek’s voice from behind him, and it truly was a credit to his poise and sophistication that he only blushed a little as Derek’s arm snaked around his waist. His body was warm, far warmer than it had been ten minutes ago, and Derek’s breath came a little heavy as he kissed the back of Stiles’ head.

“You are definitely something special.”

“You—you absolute cheeseball, what is wrong with you—” Stiles managed to get out as he shoved at Derek’s shoulder, his entire face burning red as Laura and Cora both gagged. Any residual awkwardness melted away as Nana’s sharp laugh cut through the air, the sound putting him back at ease as he leaned back into Derek’s warmth.

Somewhere between the fortieth round of storytelling and the gathering moving back into the house, Stiles needed a breather. Derek’s family was huge, and loud, and honestly, Stiles loved it—but it wasn’t long before he felt an itch beneath his skin, his fingers buzzing against his thigh, the muscles in his jaw a little too tight.

Stiles had expected Derek to be pretty popular in the family—what he didn’t expect, though, was that he would be anything more than an introduction and the same polite questions that everyone gave the new boyfriend.

“Wait, no fucking way did the two of you take down a Kanima, Stiles, I’m calling bullshit right now—“

Derek’s siblings were great, but they were also the worst; the minute they found out that Stiles had his own supernatural background, they were pestering him for stories, demanding his opinion of things, getting more and more exasperated with his entire life the more he shared.

Stiles knew that his life was crazy, okay? He didn’t need the constant reminders or the slack-jawed shocked expressions to reinforce that fact.

“Jesus, we didn’t even know that there were any wendigos in the state, and you knew an entire family of them?”

The only stories he flat out refused to talk about were the… issues he had had with hunters through high school—this was a party, after all, and he didn’t want to be the one to bring the vibe down by talking about the one time an assassin held a gun to his head to try and draw Scott out.

Fun times.

“What do you mean, you just know a banshee? And set her up with a hellhound? Dude, who are you?!”

Kissing Derek had, oddly enough, only exasperated the situation. In less than a day, they had gotten better at trading little affections back and forth; but instead of helping Stiles calm down, they only increased that thrumming nerves that bounced around at the base of his skull.

Which sucked, honestly, because kissing Derek was… really, really nice.

Stiles waited until another cousin who’s name he would never remember caught Derek up in a conversation about another tradition he couldn’t follow before he squeezed Derek’s hand, taking the opportunity to stand up from his spot on the couch and slip away.

The Hale House was huge, and outside was no exception; Stiles soon found himself on the porch, a huge wraparound wooden structure with built-in benches that let you enjoy the kind of view that made Stiles remember why he loved home so much. He treated himself to a few pictures of the sunset over Beacon Canyon before he flopped himself down on a bench, rubbing at his neck.

“Stiles? Everything alright?”

He had half expected Derek to follow him out after a few moments—but to his surprise, it was Nana Hale that sat beside him, her cheeks still pink with laughter as she tucked a jet black flyaway behind an ear.

“Is—oh, no, it’s great! Just wanted to, uh, snap a few pictures of the view.”

Another half truth—he was full to bursting with those lately.

“I know that our family can be… a little overwhelming,” she said, her tone even as she rose a brow, keeping her gaze forward as her fingers drummed a pattern into her knee.

Stiles hummed in agreement, his own smile a touch more genuine as he looked over to her. “Maybe, but that’s not a bad thing. When I was growing up, I spent so much time wondering what it would be like, to have siblings, and cousins, and… well, it might be a lot, but it’s a lot of love, too. I’m really glad Derek has that kind of support.”

Nana’s fingers stilled against her knee as she turned to face Stiles, and for the first time, Stiles was really able to get a good look at her properly. He could understand why she was the matriarch of the family, and how she had kept that title so long; even if he hadn’t witnessed her taking Mark down less than four hours ago, there was a whole other kind of strength that she was showing here, radiating off of her in waves.

“He does. But he doesn’t just have us for love and support... or was I reading the way you look at him wrong?” Her tone was teasing as she rose her brow, and Stiles felt his cheeks pink up spectacularly as he coughed, his eyes flashing back to the window for only a moment before Nana patted his knee.

“Don’t worry, the house is completely soundproof. Those nosy little pups can’t hear a word we say. Now tell me, how long have you been in love with my grandson?”

Now fully, beautifully red, Stiles groaned as he hid his face in his hands, Nana’s laughter ringing strong and clear as she stood up and walked toward the railing. “Oh don’t be so dramatic, I have no intention of spoiling that surprise until you’re ready to really woo him with it. And you’d better woo him! You know as well as I do that he deserves the romancing.”

Her tone softened as she chuckled, trailing off with a sigh and a sort of wistful smile as she shook her head. “New York has been good to him. You have, too, I think. California was… a rough part in his life.”

Something in the way she phrased it got the investigative side of his brain thrumming, his curiosity piqued as he remembered what Derek said on the plane.

‘I know they forgave me, but… sometimes it’s hard to be around them and still be okay with myself, you know?’

The nosy part of him wanted to pry, to dig a little more, but his eyes flicked back to the window again, where Derek and all four of his siblings were doing a terrible job at acting like they weren't trying to stare him down.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure he’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

Apparently, that was the right answer—Nana’s face softened again as she smiled, nodding her head, beckoning Stiles into standing up. She put her hand in the crook of his elbow easily, steering them back toward the house in a way that allowed no room for compromise.

“You are going to be good for my Der-bear, I know it.”

“Oh, I mean, I hope so. Derek deserves that, and I definitely—“

“Just let him be good for you, too.”

She reached up and patted Stiles cheek as he stared at her, dumbfounded, automatically opening the door for her as she walked back into the house. His expression was mirrored in the matching expressions of slack-jawed shock from all five Hale siblings, all staring at Stiles as Nana started in on another family story that would be sure to embarrass Mark, or Laura, or anyone who wasn’t Derek.

He meant what he said, of course. Derek deserved someone who would be good for him.

Somehow, that was the problem here.

—————

“Stiles, you reek of nerves. All I can smell is nerves and bell peppers. It’s not a good smell. Are you going to tell me what you’re freaking out about, or what?”

Stiles jolted as Derek called him out so effortlessly, pulled out of the trance he had fallen into as he watched Derek work, pushing around some of the barbecue from the night prior with some fresh chopped veggies into a delightful spur of the moment stir fry.

Derek was also as dressed down as Stiles had ever seen him, in a light grey henley and a dark pair of jeans, and that was even more delightful than the stir fry.

“Wait, you—that’s just something you can do? Oh god, your entire family must have known how nervous I was yesterday, did they—“

“Stiles. Breathe.”

Right. Breathing. He could do that.

…. maybe.

The truth was, Stiles could honestly say that he was having a great time back in Beacon Hills.

Derek and his family were great, no lie, and fake relationship aside, the researcher in him was absolutely thriving seeing how a huge, well-established pack worked with one another. They were literally a well oiled machine, the personification of the old ‘it takes a village’ metaphor, and the only thing that amazed Stiles more than how well they worked together was how well they adapted to Stiles being there.

Of course, he thought a big part of that came from having the Alphas on his side—not just Derek, but Nana too.

(“I can’t believe she hugged you,” Laura had hissed after yet another glass of infused punch. “When she met my last boyfriend, she threw him off the porch.”

“Well, Stiles is a fragile little human,” Taylor had snorted, ignoring the way Stiles smacked his arm, “and Hank was a major, prolapsed asshole.”

“Well yeah, but that’s not the point!”)

As great as Derek and his family was though, getting to come home and surprise his dad early… well, there was no place on the planet he would rather be than wrapped in a signature Stilinski hug, the kind of hug where you held on just a little longer than you needed to so you can pretend you definitely weren’t crying.

He got to watch a game with his dad, he got to sleep in his old, lumpy-ass childhood bed, he got to make breakfast in his mom’s kitchen.

So yeah. Great time.

Or at least, it had been, until a text rolled through after he kissed his dad goodbye that morning.

der-bear: Do you want to come over for lunch? Nana has everyone out of the house, Mom and Uncle Peter showed up this morning and he’s already driving everyone crazy.

sent: sure man. want me to bring anything? :)

der-bear: Don’t worry about it. Besides, I figure we should talk before the bonfire anyway.

And just like that, something brought around a cloud to rain on Stiles’ parade.

“Is it about tonight?” Derek asked, and if Stiles’ hadn’t been so laser focused on his cooking technique (his arms, okay, he was staring at Derek’s arms) he probably would have missed the way Derek hesitated when he asked, like he was afraid of the answer.

He picked himself up off of the barstool at the island in their gigantic kitchen, leaning against the counter closer to Derek, reaching in to pluck a chunk of onion out of the pan, skillfully avoiding the swat from Derek’s wooden spoon. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you… You know we’re looking forward to having you with us, right?” Derek asked, spooning some of the food onto two separate plates, using his claws to rip two fresh chunks of bread off of a loaf. “But if you don’t… I mean, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to be there if you don’t want to.”

Stiles frowned as he accepted one of the plates, pulling the smaller chunk of bread off of one of Derek’s claws, mulling his next words over. “As long as you want me there I’ll be there,” Stiles said slowly, because there really was no way to politely say that Stiles would rather throw himself into the sun before his mythical lore studying ass missed out on observing pack activity on a blue moon.

“Why would you think I didn’t want you there?” Derek asked, looking like he was offended at the very notion, sliding a fork to Stiles as he sat down at the countertop, that offended look only growing as Stiles snorted.

“I dunno, I thought you might have changed your mind about it. Dude, you sent me a ‘we should talk’ text. I’m no expert, but I know that nothing good follows a ‘we should talk’ text,” Stiles said around a mouth full of bread, but any degree of playful levity he had gone for was sapped out of his voice the moment he saw Derek look back down at his plate.

“That, uh. I do think we should talk, but not about that. Stiles, I...”

Ah, fuck. Derek’s ears were pink again, and for once, Stiles thought that was a bad thing.

Stiles did his best not to panic as he thought through things, wondering what he had fucked up, because he just knew he had fucked up a little something. Maybe he had come on a little too strong last night, maybe he had gotten too comfortable with his crush, maybe—

“I was thinking that maybe… we shouldn’t be faking this anymore.”

—or maybe, he had fucked up a whole lot of everything.

Stiles felt his heart sink through his shoes as he swallowed his bread, his appetite suddenly gone. He brushed his hands on his jeans, giving a few short nods, swallowing again as he pushed back from the table a little bit. He thought for a moment that he should argue against it, but Derek had a sad puppy expression splashed across his face, and Stiles wasn’t strong against that on a good day.

“Oh.”

He could feel Derek’s eyes tracking him as he started to move, standing up and starting an easy track around the kitchen, flexing his fingers before he rubbed his palm with his thumbs, an old habit he had thought he had kicked back when he graduated from Berkeley.

“I think, uh, maybe you should wait until you’re back in New York to tell your family?” Stiles started, missing the tiny smile on Derek’s face before it melted into a look of confusion. “You should tell them I broke up with you, not the other way around, I don’t mind being the bad guy,” he added, staring down at his hands.

“Wait, Stiles—“

“No, seriously, it’s fine,” Stiles interrupted, putting a smile back on his face, because he knew this was going to be coming at some point. Derek had made up their entire relationship, and Stiles had worked hard to remember that the reality of it was… that it wasn’t reality. He was the one with the inconvenient crush, he was the one who had gotten stupid. This was all on him, and taking the high road to bow out gracefully would be too.

Or, at least, it should have been. But Derek had abandoned his seat as well, halfway following Stiles in his trail around the kitchen, putting his arm out against a countertop to stop Stiles at a turn.

“I said I wanted to stop faking, Stiles.”

Hell, when had Derek gotten so close to him? Stiles blinked as he backed up against the counter, Derek’s arms closing him in, and suddenly he was getting an up close and personal look at Derek’s lips, and his eyes, and the way the blush was going back up his ears, and—

...why was Derek blushing?

“I never said anything about wanting you to leave.”

But why would Stiles be staying if… oh. Oh.

Realization dawned on Stiles’ face as Derek blushed and looked down, moving his hands a little bit closer against the counter, and Stiles felt a shiver run down his spine as he felt Derek’s thumb settle right along his hip. He had to clear his throat before he could speak, swallowing down the hope that was threatening to bubble over, chewing on his lip as he put one hand on Derek’s chest, the other gently tipping his head back to look him in the eye.

“Dude, if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, you gotta spell it out, I’ve had a crush on you for like forever and if I’m mis-reading this—”

“I told you. I’m your boyfriend, don’t call me dude.”

Stiles laughed again, elation making him feel light and giddy, finally breaking eye contact with Derek as he felt his own blush burn through the back of his neck.

“Stay, Stiles. You belong here. With me.”

Rather than even try to form a coherent response, Stiles dropped one of his hands, cheeks still a ruddy color as he looped a finger into one of the belt loops on Derek’s designer jeans, pulling him just that much closer.

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Oh, thank God—"

—————

Yeah, Stiles thought hours later, still feeling the warmth of Derek’s smile against his lips as howls sounded off around the Hale House, moonlight swirling around him from the vantage point he had on the porch.

This was exactly where he belonged.

[cherryrogers]

➸ call me baby {2/3}

SUMMER NIGHTS

pairing: bucky barnes x reader | biker au

warnings: swearing, violence, implied smut, mainly fluff.

word count: 7.8k

synopsis: Returning to Brooklyn for the summer after a year of travelling from city to city, you hadn’t expected to find your best friend, Peggy Carter, hopelessly in love with a biker. And when she decided to introduce you to the rest of his club, you hadn’t expected to fall for one either. That was until you met one with pretty eyes and a habit of calling you baby.

series masterlist

a/n: ok so this has turned into a three part series!! the next part will likely be a bit shorter, but i wanted to wrap up the story properly and i felt that needed it’s own separate part. i’m gonna post a masterlist for this series tomorrow, and i might write some drabbles for this fic to add to it once it’s finished if anyone has any hc/drabble ideas they’d like to send in?? i need to stop rambling so much lmao,,, please enjoy!!

Sunsets; consisting of an array of warm tones, reds and oranges bleeding into each other, casting a dim, natural light over cities before the artificial yellow beaming of street lamps lit up the world instead. A comforting reminder that every bad day eventually ends, but a sad reminder that every perfect day ends too.

In your case, they’d been unsettling ends to a continuous string of perfect days. And following those, a bright sunrise poured light through your windows every morning, indicating that you were one day closer to the end of the summer.

Currently, the deep, warm sky was the background of a blissful ride through the city. Perched on the back of Bucky’s motorcycle, your arms enveloping his waist, fingertips grazing lightly over his stomach through his shirt. No destination in particular; just an excuse to be close to one another.

Since the night at Wanda’s bar, the night where you simply let yourself begin to feel for Bucky, things had been different. Better.

Rides around the city were a frequent occurrence, usually happening when Bucky offered to take you home on his bike, but taking the long way back to enjoy the view and the feeling of you next to him for a short while longer.

It was therapeutic, tranquil. Well, until your road rage got the best of you.

“Dude, it’s a green light,” You shouted at the car in front you. “Green means go, didn’t you learn that in kindergarten?”

“Christ, you realise you’re yellin’ straight in my ear, right?”

“Sorry, Buck,” You patted his chest apologetically, before proceeding to yell once again. “Not my fault some people don’t know how traffic lights work!”

It was entertaining to Bucky, anyway. Even if it did earn you some middle fingers, which you gladly returned.

As the sky began to lose its vibrant hue, the two of you headed back in the direction of your place, definitely your least favourite part of the ride, but you savoured it nevertheless.

You were friends. Teasing each other incessantly because you just bounced off one another like that, but you often found yourself gravitating towards him. During meals at the clubhouse, you sat in the same spot as you did when you entered the place for the first time; right next to Bucky. While that likely meant for Steve and Peggy that they were in for a painful time, consisting of them slowly losing their patience with you both, they didn’t mind. Well, they did a little.

It’d been almost two hours since you started your game of Monoply. You weren’t sure if you were anywhere near the end of the game, but everyone was still pretty into it. Clint and Sam were paired up as a team, Steve and Peggy shared the little top-hat token, you and Bucky had the wheelbarrow, and Natasha had the car. She claimed she worked better when was on her own team, which was proved to be true by the fact she was winning.

It was Steve and Peggy’s turn to roll, and their top hat was moved to land on the ‘Boardwalk’ space.

“Oh, that’s our space!” You chirped. “Pay up, my dudes.”

“_____, you don’t have a house on that space.”

“Well, could you pass me one? I want this space.”

“You have to buy one.”

“Then I’ll buy one.”

Peggy sighed. “It’s not your turn, you can’t buy a house. Your token isn’t even on that space.”

You furrowed your brows, turning to Bucky. Maybe you should’ve read the rules before playing; you’d never actually played Monoply before. “Oh. That kinda sucks then.”

After a moment, Bucky reached over to the little bag of houses, picking one out and placing it on the Boardwalk space.

“Buck, that’s cheating.” Steve glared at his friend, who only shrugged innocently.

“She’s never played before, let her just have the damn house.”

“You’re only sayin’ that ‘cause she’s on your team, jerk.”

Bucky just shrugged again, turning to shoot you a wink as you smirked in satisfaction and placing your little house on the space, missing Steve and Peggy sharing a look of annoyance as they passed a pile of yellow bills over to you.

It was safe to say the two of you weren’t allowed to play as a team during board games anymore. Natasha always won the games anyway, so it’s not like you and him cheating made much of a difference.

You thought things were moving smoothly with Bucky. You knew that you liked him, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he already knew that — it was pretty fucking obvious at this point. But it would be a rather dumb move to escalate things even if you wanted to. The summer would be over in two months, one third of it was already gone, and you would be too by the beginning of September. Naively, you’d told yourself that you simply wouldn’t take things further. Easy enough, right?

Wrong; so very wrong. You’d proved to yourself that you seriously needed to stop acting impulsively on one fateful after a day spent at the clubhouse.

You’d been about to leave, but had decided to head off to the office where Bucky had been pretty much all evening while everyone else was out in the backyard, which was odd considering you would’ve assumed he’d be the last to not spend the night drinking beer and hanging out with friends over, well, anything else.

You knocked loudly on the door, hearing shuffling and the clicking of a computer keyboard before a quiet ‘come in’ followed. Furrowing your brows, you stepped into the room, eyes landing on the biker slumped in the chair at the desk, forcing a small smile. Did he really think your were that oblivious?

“You’ve been hiding in here all night,” You approaches the desk, crossing your arms over your chest. “Is there something you wanna share with the class?”

Bucky’s eyes flickered between the computer screen and your face, before he shook his head. “Just dealin’ with club stuff.”

“Hm, and what counts as club stuff?”

“It’s stuff you don’t need to worry about.”

You scoffed. “Huh, what happened to not doing stuff you shouldn’t be? Not getting into trouble?”

“Do you ever mind your own business?” Bucky questioned bluntly, though there was a smirk tugging at his lips.

Mirroring his expression, you leaned against the desk next to him. “Not when someone is clearly trying to hide something.

The biker bit the inside of his cheek, contemplating for a few moments. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you. Sure, he’d only known you around a month now, but you were... his friend. A good friend. He just didn’t want you mixed up in anything dangerous. Steve wasn’t lying when he said that the club tried to stay out of trouble, because they definitely didn’t go out of their way to get into shitty situations. But if they needed to get their hands a little dirty to deal with clubs that thrived off trouble, then so be it.

Eventually, Bucky sighed, moving a hand back over his computer mouse and letting the screen light up again. Crinkling your brows, your eyes scanned the screen. He’d been looking at a map of Brooklyn, and the little red location pointer was pinned onto a warehouse downtown.

“Peter Parker, he’s just a kid. Parents died when he was barely five, lost his uncle a few years back. He lives at home with his aunt in Queens since he’s still in school, but we sorta took him in a while ago. The night after his uncle died, Tony found him on the sitting on the curb a few blocks away from here, completely distraught. He managed to talk him down though, and found out he was pretty good with engineering. We said if he wanted, he could help out with fixing bikes and cars at the clubhouse, and he comes by every so often since then.”

You didn’t know Tony that well; he was a little older than the rest of the club, and he lived outside of the clubhouse with his wife, Pepper. You hadn’t met Peter at all, but you trusted Bucky when he said that he was a good kid.

“Last week, he showed up to the here with a busted lip and broken nose. Said that Rumlow and his guys had jumped him, and that they wanted him to do a job for them — collect a weapon shipment from this warehouse.” Bucky nodded towards the screen.

At the mention of Brock Rumlow, you felt your jaw tighten. Thankfully, he’d kept his distance from Wanda’s bar since your last encounter with him, but you were still pissed off about the show he put on there, and there was nothing you regretted more than not jumping over the bar top and kicking him in the balls. Now he’d resorted to threatening a kid and making him do his dirty work?

“So, what’s the plan?”

“Peter’s meant to meet the guy delivering the weapons next week, so I’m gonna take Nat, Sam and Tony down to the warehouse and deal with any of Rumlow’s guys that are nearby.”

Upon seeing your face light up, Bucky chuckled, standing from his seat. “And no, you can’t come.”

“Bucky, I’m not a woman of many talents, but if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s handing people’s asses to them.” You lifted your chin confidently.

“Baby—”

You held a finger up to shush him. “Okay, I know I said that I liked when you call me that, but not now. Brock is the guy that grabbed me, Buck. And the guy that punched you in the face!”

“I know, and we’ll deal with him,” A smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Besides, I thought you weren’t part of any club. Can’t do club stuff if you’re not a member.”

“Well, not that I want to... but how would one go about becoming part of your little gang?” You weren’t lying; you definitely did not want to be a damn biker, but you did want the chance to boot Brock Rumlow and his group of dipshits in the face.

“You could become an old lady.” The biker cocked a brow, and you chuckled heartily.

Not that you were up to date with the biker lingo, but you could take a good guess at what being an old lady meant. “Hm, if only there was someone that wanted me to be their old lady.”

Narrowing his eyes, Bucky glanced over your features, waiting for you to laugh and brush the comment off as a joke since the majority of your vocabulary was sarcasm, but you didn’t. The corners of your lips curled up slightly, not teasingly, but softly...

...Until you became painfully aware of the silence that’d fell upon the two of you, and let out a sigh to break it. It was already late when you were supposed to leave, anyway. Now, the dim moonlight was casting shadows outside of the office window, the only source of bright light being the yellow streams from lampposts dotted up and down the quiet street.

“Well, I should get going.” You reluctantly stepped back from him.

“You don’t have to go, you know. Peggy stays overnight when it’s late.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, cause Peggy has a boyfriend that she can share a bed with.”

“Hey, I’ve got a double bed.” Bucky teased, and you’d be lying if you said sleeping next to him in his bed didn’t make you feel a certain type of way.

Though, you definitely wouldn’t let him know that. “You’re stupid, Bucky.”

He shrugged, following you as you continued for the door of the office. “I mean, even if I had a single—”

“I would still not be getting in your bed,” You deadpanned, finishing his sentence for him and promoting the stupidly hot little smirk of his to appear again. “Okay, now I’m leaving. Goodbye, Bucky.”

“I’ll give you a ride.”

“No you will not,” You breathed out a laugh. “There are two bottles of beer on that desk and death isn’t on the cards for me tonight — can’t get rid of me that easily.”

A look of realisation washed over his face, a pink colour tinting his cheeks. Was Bucky Barnes blushing? That was certainly a sight, and what a sight it was.

“S’alright — I don’t wanna get rid of you,” The biker stepped in front of you, dangerously close as your back hit the door. “Not yet, anyway.”

You couldn’t lie; Bucky was hot, he was beautiful. Even when he was being a sarcastic ass, but he was just as much one of them as you were. God dammit, as much as you wanted to slap yourself for letting your insides melt for a guy you didn’t know all that well, you knew that if you didn’t fucking kiss him right this second that you’d regret the hell out of it later.

And so, you did.

You grabbed the collar of the leather jacket he never failed to make an appearance without— or perhaps he just had a lot of leather jackets, though leather jackets didn’t necessarily need washed so it was probably the same jacket— not the time, _____. Carrying on, you swiftly captured his lips with yours, relief washing through you as you felt him react almost immediately. Almost, he definitely wasn’t expecting you to do that.

The kiss was gentle; gentle enough so that you could simply savour the feeling of his lips on yours, the taste a mixture of smoke and minty chewing gum. It was slow, but quick. Bucky didn’t even have the chance to move his hands to your waist before you pulled back, raising your hand to trace his bottom lip with your thumb.

“You still planning on getting rid of me?” You grinned, amused by the biker’s dumbfounded expression.

He laughed breathily after a couple of seconds, nose nudging yours playfully. “Not if you keep kissin’ me like that, baby.”

“Hm, maybe you’ll just get lucky again.” You pushed at his chest softly, letting you step forward and open the door to leave the office.

Bucky let out a scoff. “You’re really just gonna leave? After that?”

You shrugged, cocking a brow. “I mean, I could stay if you let me come with you next week...”

“No chance,” He smiled smugly. “Shut the door on your way out, will you?”

“You know what? I’m never kissing you again.”

“Whatever you say, _____.”

You rolled your eyes at his cocky tone, turning to make your way out of the room. “And I’m leaving the door open!”

“Hm, get home safe.” He called back.

Trying to bite back a smile as you looked over your shoulder back at him, you mouthed a final goodbye and left the office, a rush of feelings suddenly emerging as you stepped out of the clubhouse and onto the street.

You’d just kissed Bucky. You had kissed Bucky. And he had kissed you back. Well, shit.

Did you need to talk about it with him? What it meant for the two of you? Did he just kiss you for the fun of it or did he actually have feelings for you? Ugh. You’d always hated serious conversations, because apparently using sarcasm to cover up actually talking about your feelings was inappropriate and unhealthy. That’s what Peggy always told you, anyway. Perhaps there was no conversation to be had. Bucky could be your summer fling; a couple of months of fun before you were off on your travels again. The only reason he kissed you back might’ve been because he knew you were leaving eventually, which meant he didn’t have to commit to you.

Whatever — you were simply going to go with the flow. If you and Bucky ended up becoming... something more, that would be great. If not, you’d be slightly disappointed, but you’d be out of Brooklyn soon enough to forget about it.

And now, as you tightened your arms around the biker’s waist, you just enjoyed the moment. As someone that rarely stayed in a city for longer than a couple of weeks, enjoying the moment was all that you could do.

* * *

“Pegs, I am working. You can’t just call and ask me this kinda stuff during a shift.”

“I certainly can, especially when I had to hear it first from Steve.”

A strained sign fell from your lips as you leaned against bar, checking that no customers were approaching the counter before you turned your back. “I was gonna tell you, I promise. I didn’t think Bucky was gonna kiss and tell as soon as it happened.”

“I don’t think it was exactly a kiss and tell situation,” Peggy chuckled over the phone. “Steve said it was written all over his face after you’d left the clubhouse.”

Feeling heat rushing to your own face, you lowered your head, hoping no one was observing the bartender getting all embarrassed. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell Peggy about your kiss with Bucky. She was your best friend, of course you wanted to tell her. But considering that you weren’t really sure what direction you and him were going in, you thought perhaps that it’d be better to just keep it between you and him, like a Danny and Sandy situation — if everyone had known about their summer affair, it wouldn’t have been the same.

“Can you... tell him to not question Bucky about it?” You asked. “You told me he’d never been in a proper relationship before and neither have I. I think we need to work out... whatever we are ourselves, you know?”

Since the kiss, you hadn’t had the chance to even see Bucky that much. Wanda had been asking you to work more shifts at the bar because one of your co-workers was going on vacation for two weeks, which you didn’t mind doing. Other than hanging out with Peggy and seeing everyone at the clubhouse, it’s not like you had much better to do. Plus, it meant more money to put towards your travels at the end of the summer. At the rate you were earning and including what you already had saved up, you’d be getting your dream London trip a lot sooner than you’d thought.

“Of course, I understand,” She replied. “_____, I— I don’t want to play devil’s advocate, but have you thought about what’ll happen when summer ends? When you leave Brooklyn?”

The thought had crossed your mind, yes, though it was also pushed to the back of your mind whenever it popped up. In all honesty, you had zero clue what’d happen when you left Brooklyn again.

“Nope,” You said defeatedly. “Do I need to think about that now? What if we don’t even last until the end of summer?”

From the pause in conversation, you could just tell that Peggy knew you were bullshitting. “Okay, I’m going to pretend you did not just say that. You don’t just kiss guys, _____. And Bucky doesn’t get all flushed from kissing any old woman. It’s obvious you two click easily, and I honestly don’t think it’s something that can just end once you leave.”

The girl was right, she was completely right, but you weren’t sure what the hell you were supposed to do. It’s not like you could stay in Brooklyn forever and abandon your travels. That wasn’t who you were; staying wouldn’t be you being true to yourself. You couldn’t throw that away for a man you barely knew, a guy that possibly may not want you anymore after the summer ends, though there was a large part of you that didn’t believe that.

“I can’t talk about this right now, Peggy, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the kiss earlier, everything is just... it’s just confusing,” You rambled, wanting to steer the conversation away from your love life for the night. It was nearing nine o’clock, and with an hour still left of your shift, you didn’t want to waste your energy on a conversation that could be had another time. “Anyway, how is everyone? Has Steve heard from Bucky?”

This night was also the night that poor Peter Parker was meant to be carrying out Rumlow’s dirty work, and Bucky was going to get his club to back off. Well, hopefully. He’d already been punched in the face by that bastard once, you hoped that he’d be able to avoid having that happen again. You’d texted him earlier, telling him to let you know when he was home and safe because you would, in fact, worry about him. He teased you for your concern, but you frankly didn’t care. The fact they were having Peter pick up a weapon shipment implied that they wanted to use them to hurt people, and opposing biker clubs seemed like the type of people they’d target.

“They’ve been out an hour, so they should hopefully be back soon,” Peggy assured you. “We haven’t heard from them yet, though.”

“Right,” You exhaled, a little upset that there was no update from them. The sound of the door opening a few metered behind you reminded you that you were still at work, and that you should probably say goodbye to Peggy for the time being. “I’ve gotta go, Pegs — duty calls. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Alright, darling. Be careful going home.”

With a quiet ‘will do’, you quickly ended the phone call and shoved the device into your jean pocket, turning around to identify the source of the footsteps getting closer to the bar. Well, fuck.

An ugly smirk, scruffy jaw, messy hair — Brock fucking Rumlow was standing right in front of you.

You could’ve laughed, in fact, you did laugh. He was back, even after the embarrassing show he put on last time he was at the bar, and this time, he was alone.

Putting back the glass you’d pulled out from under the bar on instinct, because there was no way you were serving him, you cocked a brow, waiting for him to make the first move.

He slid onto the stool in front of you, the same place he’d sat during his last visit. There was a short silence as his dark eyes roamed your face, before he exhaled heavily. “You not gonna ask for my order?”

“No.” You answered instantly. It looked like he was expecting the cold shoulder from the way he chuckled at your answer.

You wanted to ask what he was doing here, why he wasn’t down at that random warehouse making sure the teenager he manipulated was doing the job correctly, but you didn’t imagine it was a good idea to let on that Bucky was telling you about that sort of stuff. He’d probably try to hurt him as opposed to you, and you didn’t want to put Bucky in any unnecessary shit.

“You know, it’s against the law to refuse service to an innocent customer.”

Clearly, he didn’t know the law at all, but you found it awfully ironic that he was claiming that you were in the wrong side of the law. You cocked your brow higher. “And you’re always abiding by the law, Brock?”

“What makes you think I’m not?” The man narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t know,” You shrugged nonchalantly. “Last time you were here, you were the one assaulting an innocent customer, and me.”

Brock scoffed. “You’re calling Barnes innocent?”

You only stared at him, waiting for an elaboration.

“Do you know where he is right now?”

Yes — dealing with your bullshit and the rest of your gang.

“Enlighten me.”

“A dirty warehouse across town, meeting a dude that’s sellin’ him weapons. Rifles, pistols, you name it.” He leaned forward on his elbows, pursing his lips.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you met his eyes, dark and full of hope that he’d somehow miraculously turned you against Bucky -- he was going to have to try a little harder than that if he wanted to sell his lies.

“Where are the rest of you pals, Brock?”

He furrowed his brows. “Down at the warehouse, shutting down the deal.”

“And why aren’t you with them, hm? I don’t think it’s ‘cause you decided you wanted a drink over the chance to screw Bucky and his club over.”

The guy clearly thought you were oblivious, that you’d be naive enough to believe that Bucky was the one having Peter collect the weapons instead of him. Maybe he thought it’d turn you against him, and then you’d carelessly join Rumlow’s club without a second thought. Even if Bucky hadn’t told you anything, there wasn’t a thing that could come out of Rumlow’s mouth that could convince you Bucky’s club was doing anything of the sort.

Unfortunately, the comment seemed to tip the conversation in the exact way you hadn’t wanted it to.

Brock’s jaw clenched, eyes hardening as he sat up properly on the stool. “What’s he been tellin’ you, huh?”

“I think it’s time for you to go, Brock.” You glared at the man. There was no way you were letting him sit and annoy the shit out of you when you weren’t going to serve him.

“You see,” He laughed emptily. “If Barnes has been spillin’ things that he shouldn’t be, I need to know. Can’t have any false information spreading.”

“False information, right,” You muttered. In your defense, all you knew about his club was about them manipulating Peter. Though you could assume that wasn’t the only stupid shit they were doing, you didn’t know anything else for sure. “Well, you’re wasting your time. I don’t know anything, so get out of here.”

Brock tutted, rising from his seat and cracking his knuckles. “You’re a good liar, but I ain’t buyin’ it.”

“That’s not my problem,” You glowered, loving quickly around the bar to pace towards the door, opening it in an attempt to lure him out. “You need to go, or I’ll call Wanda over.”

Stalking towards you, the man shook his head. “If Barnes thinks he can tell his little girlfriend all of our business, he’s a fucking idiot,” He took a grasp on your wrist, his other hand curling into a fist. “Someone’s gotta show him what the consequences of that are.”

Anger flashed in your eyes as you struggled against his grip. “Get off me, dude. I don’t know anything.”

“Liar.” He murmured, before taking his fist and colliding it with your cheek abruptly.

A groan of pain left your lips as you stumbled back, the clutch on your wrist gone as Brock eyed you cautiously. Carefully, you brought your hand to where you’d been hit, blood quickly staining your fingertips as they grazed over the cuts on your skin from Brock’s rings. He’d hit you. That stupid, fucking son of a bitch had punched you. If there was any justifiable reason for you to kick him in the balls, this was it, and you were going to take advantage of the opportunity.

He definitely thought you were done with him for the night; you could tell by the way his chapped lips curled into a sick smile. He thought he’d won — how cute.

When your parents made you take self-defense classes ‘just as a precaution’ when you were a teenager, you thought it was unreasonable. Now, you’d never been more thankful.

Brushing your hair out of your face, your eyes flickered up to Brock, who was still staring down at you. Slowly, you moved so that your back was pressed against the closed bar door, clasping your hands around the long metal handle. The man assumed you were just catching your breath, and wasn’t ready for when you forcefully pushed your body forward, raising a booted foot and slamming it into his crotch.

A string of swear words fell from his lips as his upper body fell forward, Fuck it, you thought, striding over to his hunched over form and smashing your own fist against his cheek. He staggered back, just catching himself on the bar. Eyes wide, he raised his head to scowl at you, spitting blood from his freshly split lip onto the floor beside him.

From the other side of the bar, Wanda jogged over to the scene, an unimpressed scowl on her face. “What the hell is going on?”

The woman knew it wasn’t you causing the trouble, and there was even a smug smirk threatening to peak through her annoyed demeanor at the sight of Brock Rumlow with a split lip. She strode over to him, pulling him up harshly by the collar of his jacket.

“You’re banned from this bar. If I see you in here again, you’re getting a bullet straight through your gut, yes?” Wanda practically spat at the man, who nodded reluctantly and pulled away from her grasp. She turned to you, a small smile on her lips. “_____, you’re free to go early. Do you need...?”

Wanda eyed your cut cheek and bruised jaw, but you only shook your head. “Thanks, Wan, but I’ll just head home.”

The strawberry-blond nodded, sending a final glare towards Brock before heading back behind the bar.

Of course, your stubborn self wouldn’t let yourself leave without having the last word, causing you to approach him as he haphazardly stood from where he’d fallen. “If I ever have the displeasure of seeing you again, and you try to hurt me or anyone else, I’ll cut off your fingers and force them down your throat, you got that?”

Before you could wait for an answer, you were spinning around and heading out the double doors of the bar, ignoring the throb on the left side of your face as a satisfied smirk crept onto your lips. You’d never considered yourself to be a violent person, but when it came to assholes like Brock Rumlow, you didn’t mind getting your hands a little dirty. When you told Peggy about what happened, she’d likely scold you for even just mouthing back at him. You had zero regrets, however. You’d always wanted to experience a bar fight, and now you’d experienced one first hand.

As if on cue, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Stretching out your aching knuckles, you swiped it from your jeans.

Back at the clubhouse safe and sound. You want me to pick you up from work in an hour?

You chuckled under your breath, typing out a response.

Can you come up now? Wanda let me off early.

Sure, I’ll be there soon. Did you do something special to get off at this time?

Pausing, you debated whether to let him know straight away about the incident. You decided against it; when he saw your face, he’d figure it out soon enough.

Something like that...

After twenty minutes of aimlessly standing outside of the bar, the familiar roar of a motorcycle engine caught your attention. As the bike came to a stop, the beaming headlights had you squinting to even make out the outline of Bucky in the dark. However, judging by the speed at which he was dismounting the bike, you were sure that the light had allowed him to see the state of you.

“Holy shit, _____,” Bucky paced over to you, hands coming to your shoulders. “What the hell happened?”

You let out a hesitant laugh. “Uh, rough shift?”

Scoffing, the biker narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, looks like it. What— are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You assured him, removing his hands from your shoulders and squeezing them comfortingly. “Trust me, you should see the other guy.”

“You were fighting?”

“Bucky,” You intervened, for now deciding against telling him that it was in fact Brock Rumlow you’d gotten on the wrong side of. It’d only result in him marching into the bar himself and starting another disturbance, and you wouldn’t be surprised if Wanda pulled out her pistol again. “C’mon, can we go? My house, the clubhouse, wherever — I’ll explain when half of my face isn’t aching like hell.”

The man paused, eyeing you cautiously before a soft chuckle left his lips. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” You patted his chest, plastering on a smile. “Now come on; I didn’t wait this long to clean you up when you got decked across the face.”

With an amused eye roll, Bucky tugged on your hand and led you to the bike. He’d never seen someone so calm after getting a punch to the face, but then again — as cliché as it was — he’d never met anyone like you before.

Half an hour later, the biker had you sat on the counter-top in one of the bathrooms at the clubhouse, standing between your legs and gently dabbing at your cut with a wet cloth. The bleeding had stopped by the time you got to the clubhouse, but it still needed cleaned up. You were holding a cool ice pack to your jaw, watching him intently as he took care of you. Might as well take the opportunity to stare at the guy, right?

“I’m gonna put some antiseptic cream on the cut, just to make sure it doesn’t get infected.” He muttered, reaching for the tub of it in the wooden cabinet above you.

“Are you getting a sense of déjà vu too?” You quirked a brow, eliciting a smirk from him.

“Hm, a little bit; I guess we both just can’t avoid trouble,” Bucky cupped your jaw as he applied the cream, chuckling when you mumbled a ‘motherfucker’ under your breath at the sting. “You gonna tell me what happened?”

“Well,” You sighed. “Long story short... Brock Rumlow happened.”

Pulling back, Bucky furrowed his brows and waited for you to elongate the story, but you only shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. You knew that Brock being involved would only fuel a rage that he couldn’t relieve.

He bit the inside of his cheek, a frustrated laugh falling from his lips. “Rumlow did this to you? Why didn’t you tell me at the bar? Was he still there? I would’ve went in there and—”

“I know exactly what you would’ve done; why do you think I waited until now to tell you?” Though you were smiling, Bucky was still understandably apprehensive. Pursing your lips, you grabbed one of his loosely clenched fists and held it in your lap. “I meant it when I said ‘you should’ve seen the other guy’ — Brock’s face looks the same as mine and he got a boot to the balls. Plus, I think his ego was bruised enough without someone else going in there and knockin’ his lights out.”

Sighing, Bucky shook his head, unable to suppress a small grin. He never underestimated your power; anyone would be a fool to do so. When you were angry, you showed it. When someone hit you, you hit them back harder, metaphorically and literally. It wasn’t even that you had a short temper, you just didn’t put up with people’s shit, and Bucky highly admired that. “Well, I’m jealous of anyone that was there to see it — I bet it was damn hot.”

You scoffed, though seconds later you were shrugging in agreement. “It definitely was, you would’ve loved it.”

While he returned the first-aid stuff to their rightful places in the bathroom, you explained to Bucky what had gotten Brock so riled up. He wasn’t surprised that Brock tried to convince you that he was the bag guy in all of this; he’d tried to do it with Peggy too when she first started dating Steve. In his misogynistic mind, he thought that women were naive enough to be persuaded of anything that he wanted them to believe, and that by getting you on his side would mean he’d ‘won’ over Bucky. Perhaps he’d learned his lesson that night to not underestimate a woman’s power — dumbass.

Down at the warehouse, they’d managed to get Peter out of there before the person delivering the weapon shipment could arrive. There were one or two of Rumlow’s guys there keeping watch, but without him, they ran away like scared children. You teased Bucky about being a ‘big bad biker’ as he explained the night to you, but he insisted it was Natasha that had them crapping their pants; she never usually made an effort to hide the set of knives on her hip, and she apparently had a death-stare that could have anyone shaking in their boots. With him being banned from Wanda’s bar and unsuccessful with his plan of using Peter, they doubted Brock Rumlow would show his face around the area for a while. He’d only be embarrassing himself if he did.

Not long after your cut had been tended to and the pain in your jaw had subsided, you found yourself once again fighting the temptation to stay the night at the clubhouse — the temptation being a whiny biker named Bucky Barnes.

“But you’ve had a rough day,” He bargained, following after you as you made your way to the front door of the clubhouse. “It’ll save you the ride back if you stay.”

Chortling lightly, you turned around to face him. “A rough day? Buck, I gave an asshole a well-deserved kick in the balls, I’ve had a great day.”

“But what about your cheek? It might start bleeding again and—”

“Bucky,” You cut him off, biting back a smile. “Why do you really want me to stay?”

There was a short pause, heat pooling in the biker’s cheeks at the question as he raised a brow, silently asking you if he was supposed to actually answer the question. When you only quirked your own brow, he sighed, his lips curling into a fond smile. “...because I don’t like it when you leave? ‘Cause I like you a whole lot and I really wanna kiss you again?”

Slowly, you trailed a slightly bruised hand up his chest, stopping at the nape of his neck to tangle your fingers in the hair there. “You should’ve just lead with the kiss, biker.”

Before you could notice the doting grin on his lips, Bucky had looped an arm around your waist and pulled you flush to his chest, soft lips locking with yours tenderly. Your other arm was quick to wrap around his neck as you found yourself wanting to be impossibly closer to him. You tugged at his hair, eliciting a deep moan from his lips, and you pulled away with a satisfied smirk.

“So you’ll stay?” Bucky spoke against your lips, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“If you keep kissing me like that.” You imitated his words from your last kiss, to which he shook his head and clasped his hand around yours, leading you out of the hallway and up to his room.

You hoped the rest of the club were asleep, because from the thump of your body being pushed against Bucky’s bedroom door after he’d dragged you inside and shut it, you were sure that they could assume who was causing the racket at almost midnight.

Bucky’s mouth was on yours in a matter of seconds, hands cupping your jaw, carefully avoiding pressing against the side that was bruised. Meanwhile, your fingers gently traced across the hem of his t-shirt, riding it up so that the pads of your fingers came into contact with his lower stomach, ghosting over the waistband of his jeans. He stepped back momentarily, shoving his leather jacket down his arms and letting it fall to the floor.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your jacket,” You breathed. “It’s like you’re naked already.”

“Who said anything about getting naked?” He teased, hands coming to trace over your own exposed stomach. “Someone’s eager.”

“You’re stupid,” You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a grin. “Coming from the guy who just said he liked me, sap.”

“Real mature,” He snickered, riding your shirt up to your chest and tugging it off when you raised your arms to aid him. His lips moved to the crook of your neck, trailing light kissed along the soft skin there. “I meant it, though. I really like you, baby.”

A whimper escaped your lips as his attached to a certain spot on your neck, your hand fisting his shirt in response. You didn’t even have to say it back; it was obvious that you felt the same way about him in pretty much every way. The way your body was reacting to his, the breathy way that his name was falling from your swollen lips, and the fact you’d kissed him the week prior was a good indicator too.

“And you said you’d never get in my bed.” Bucky smirked after helping you pull off his own shirt.

“Technically, I’m not in your bed yet.”

“Yet,” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before trailing his hand down your jaw, along the curve of your shoulder and down to the hem of your bra. “Can’t wait to have you there, moaning all pretty for me.”

Your face grew hot at his words, but his lips were on yours again too quickly for him to notice. When he eventually pulled back for air, you bit your lip in anticipation.

“Hm, let’s not wait any longer then.”

And he didn’t let you wait any longer, leaning down to kiss you with a passionate hunger as he dragged you by both of your hands to his bed. Maybe it was the way he didn’t rush, that he took time memorizing every inch of your skin with gentle lips and wandering hands. Maybe it was the sighs and moans of pleasure that he’d managed to draw from you so easily, or the way he whispered praises and sweet nothings into your ear as he positioned himself comfortably between your legs. But after the two of you had reached your highs and were left grinning like idiots and panting for breath, you realised how fucking hard you’d fallen for the damn biker who’d somehow gotten you in his bed.

* * *

Soft snores gradually drew you from your slumber, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks before you eventually squinted your eyes open. It couldn’t have been any later than 5am; daylight was peaking through the curtains of the bedroom, but the world outside was still quiet. Quiet for New York, anyway.

Bucky had his arms tucked under his pillow, face buried into the cotton, lips parted, brown strands of hair falling in front of his face. Back muscles relaxed, shoulders raising slightly as he breathed quietly. He looked pretty like that, innocent even. Innocent in comparison to what occurred in his bed the night before.

As you idly observed him in his peaceful state, you couldn’t help but think about what Peggy had said to you earlier the prior night. She was right, as always. Especially after the night you’d just had with him, there was no way that your feelings for Bucky would just leave along with you leaving after summer. Perhaps sleeping with him was the stupidest decision you’d ever made. Perhaps it would’ve just been easier to not stay the night and pretend like you’d never kissed him in the first place. But you didn’t want that. You wanted him, even if you could only have him for the summer.

A muffled moan jerked your attention away from your thoughts and back to the man laying next to you, who was shifting as he began to wake, the muscles in his back flexing as he did so. It was a sight you could get used to for sure.

Soon enough, his baby blues met yours, a lazy smile overcoming his lips. “Watching me sleep?”

“No.” You denied, though he could see straight through the lie.

He hummed, reaching a hand out to trace over your bruised cheek. You leaned into the touch. “Still hurt?”

“Not really. Had a good doctor fix it up last night.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh-huh. I mean, he slept with me afterwards which I thought was a little inappropriate...”

The biker scoffed, enclosing an arm around your bare waist to pull you closer. Sloppy kisses were planted down your jaw to your shoulder, ghosting over the dark bruises he’d marked you with only hours ago.

“I’ll miss you, you know. When you have to leave.” Bucky murmured, pulling away and laying back down against the pillow, his nose grazing yours.

You smiled sadly, pushing some of the hair away from his face. “Do you think this was stupid of us? To start something that’s just gonna have to end in a month?”

“Maybe, yeah,” He mirrored your expression, voice still a little raspy. “But I don’t regret it.”

“Me neither,” You twirled a lock of his hair sigh your pointer finger. “What’re you gonna do without me, huh? You might have to find another girl to take rides with you at sunset.”

Bucky shook his head, squeezing your waist. “Nah, I think I’d rather ride solo. Won’t be the same without you just over my shoulder.”

“Even when I get road rage?”

“Especially when you get road rage.”

“Well, we should probably make the most of the time we have left,” You propped yourself up on one elbow, a smirk playing on your lips. “How about a ride while the sun rises?”

“Sounds perfect.” He loosened his hold on you, letting you roll away from him and swing your legs over the side of the bed.

“Mind if I take a shower first?”

“Mind if I take a shower with you?”

You thought for a moment. It’d be saving water, wouldn’t it? “Screw it, why not. C’mon, Buck.”

You scurried off to the bathroom, still naked as Bucky followed after you, suddenly not so tired anymore.

Perhaps the summer hadn’t went in the direction you’d been expecting, but you had no complaints about the turn that it’d taken. You’d never believed in fate or destiny, much like you’d never believed in love. However, you’d like to believe that you were meant to meet Bucky when you came back to Brooklyn at some point. You’d never met someone— someone so perfect for you, if you were being honest. He didn’t scold you for your sarcasm, or shame you for standing up for yourself. He responded to your teasing with his own, he knew how to make you laugh, how to make your cheeks hot and your knees weak. You were always on the exact same wavelength, always knowing how the other was feeling, being able to bring out the best in one another.

It seemed like a waste to spend the little time left at home thinking about summer ending, so you simply pushed it out of your mind. Enjoying the moment was something you’d learned to do over and over again, because that was all you could do in the life that you led.

The moments spent with Bucky Barnes were just going to be a little harder to let go of.

* * *

Taglist:

@domolovee @oplunket16 @barnestruck @igotkatiepowers

[abybweisse]

Possible backstory for Bard, Part 3

⚠️ Long post.

⚠️ Some slightly graphic images (from the manga) and descriptions of warfare and death.

😅 There is a TL/DR at the end of this post for all three parts.

Here’s Part 1.

Here’s Part 2.

Bard’s uniform, hat, and other recruitment memory details

Bard mentions trenches (weird for the Apache Wars), but he also mentions Apache arrows. And poisonous snakes in Arizona. He might be mixing his various war experiences into his faked PTSD episode (the trenches might have been from a previous experience). But he must mean Terry was bitten in Arizona, during the Apache Wars, since he had much earlier told Snake he’d had a bad experience with snakes in Arizona.

The odd idea of a trench in the Apache Wars is one major detail that Yana-San seems to have overlooked. Or she has simply changed it on purpose, which is possible. I mean, it works really well for Bard’s “outbursts” to include the horror of hunkering down in trenches. And that detail could actually have come from previous experience, say during the Civil War. He just wanted to display classic symptoms of PTSD, so it doesn’t really matter if everything happened during the same battle or even the same war.

He meets Sebastian any time between later 1887 and early 1888, after Mey-Rin joins the Phantomhive household (She joined sometime in 1887) but before Chlaus’s visit in spring or summer of 1888. I’m basing the timing of Chlaus’s visit off the weather being warm enough for lemonade to be a good idea, the garden needing to be weeded, the roses already starting to have spent blooms, and Sebastian deciding to set up dinner outside in the garden.

So, here’s the scene where Bard is recruited by Sebastian.

There’s a LOT going on here.

From the spurs on their boots and the Hardee hat with the crossed swords ⚔️ on it, they are US Calvary. Like I said before, this might be the 4th US Calvary, which was one of the most decorated calvaries in US history. There would normally be a number just above where the swords cross, but this has been omitted... or there wasn’t enough room to show it. Yana-san can have them be from the “US Calvary”, in general, if she so chooses.

Bard is probably a high-ranking officer, but the rank itself is not clear. The three stars on his shoulders are for a lieutenant general.

The single stars on his coat lapels don’t make sense with the three on his shoulders, so 🤷🏻‍♀️. It’s not how you would designate a four star general. The leaf pin on his ascot is probably an oak leaf, which can mean a lieutenant colonel (silver) or an army major (gold).

I think it might be that Yana-san kept seeing “lieutenant” and got confused about the fact there are different rankings that include “lieutenant” in the name. And the star on the lapels probably just looked nice and gives the impression that he’s ranked pretty high.

Then we have this odd detail that I’m not sure anyone has mentioned before: his fallen comrade is only wearing one boot, while the unbooted foot (and leg) are mostly covered by a text bubble.

This dude was probably Terry, and that text bubble is probably covering up a swollen foot and/or leg with a gnarly snake bite wound.

The rest of the people there seem to be dead or dying. One guy looks like he might have even been partly scalped. It could also be a gunshot wound.

I looked it up, and turns out that even though the Apaches were not traditionally scalpers, they did sometimes resort to it. What’s worse is that various campaigns in the US involved rewards for the scalps of Native Americans. Some people tried so hard to make a buck this way that they would scalp Mexicans, too, and try to pass off their hair as that of a native. The tradition in Europe was to behead your enemy and bring back the entire head, but they were killing natives in such vast numbers that they switched to scalping because it was easier to carry back home to claim bigger rewards. A lot of them didn’t even kill their enemies first. They just removed part of the scalp and left them there. Yikes! Some US authorities created rules regarding how much scalp you had to cut off. The Native American tribes who engaged in this practice didn’t have the same monatary motivation, so they killed the enemy, took what they got and usually stretched it out over a hoop for decoration. If that guy in the upper right hand corner was scalped, then it was probably just a relatively small section removed, and this is likely not how he died.

Either he really is the last survivor of his troop, or they did sustain heavy casualties, though not everyone else is dead... but Terry might be the last one that Bard considered a “friend”. Then Sebastian shows up with a deal that Bard couldn’t possibly refuse. Since Sebastian can’t transport Bard to England too quickly without giving away the secret of his demonic nature, either Bard was given the money and information needed to make his own way to London (where Sebastian would take him to Phantomhive Manor), or Sebastian actually travelled the slow way, with Bard, all the way back. Makes me wonder whether our earl is also there to recruit him.

TL/DR:

Bard might have previously fought in the Civil War, when he was a teenager, and he might not originally be from Arizona. The Civil War might be where/when he first learned to make explosives.

By the time Sebastian finds him, Bard was an officer in the US Calvary: either the 4th US Calvary or some equivalent to that in the Kuroverse. The Hardee hat with the crossed swords means US Calvary, but there’s no number on this one. Because of his ranking as an officer, this is probably his hat. And that troop was probably his.

His real ranking is hard to determine because Yana-san has given him insignia that clash, but he could be (in the Kuroverse) simply a “lieutenant” of some kind, like lieutenant colonel. Honestly, Yana-san can give him any rank she wants to, since the ranking system doesn’t have to be the same in the Kuroverse.

Bard could be partly named and modeled after W. B. Royall, colonel of the 4th US Calvary from Nov. 1882 to Oct. 1887, when he retired. W. B. Royall —> B Roy —> Bardroy/Baldroy?

Bard wasn’t personally using the Gatling guns (Gatling, 1865) that were used during the later Apache Wars, since he was on horseback most of the time.

Bard would have had the use of small firearms, a sword, and various small explosives available at the time, like grenades (inventors: Adams, Ketchum, and GW Rains), land mines (GJ Rains), and dynamite (Nobel). All of those explosives were inventions of the 1860’s, too.

That far out west, and fighting enemies with way less advanced weapons, Bard and his comrades were relying on weapons technology a good twenty years old.

Trench warfare wasn’t really used in the Apache Wars because the US was the one with the more advanced weapons (and was largely on the offense), and the (mostly) defensive Apaches generally didn’t dig trenches as a war tactic. So, either Bard is jumbling various war experiences together for the grand effect of it, or Yana-san has decided to add trenches to the Apache Wars.

Sebastian finds Bard in Arizona during one of the Apache Wars. Should be one of the altercations after Geronimo was captured in 1886, but Yana-san might fudge the timeline in order to bring Geronimo into the story, since he’s so famous.

Terry was bitten by a snake in Arizona, even if that’s not really where the trenches were. And that’s probably when Sebastian found Bard, too. It best matches the timeline for the war, the uniforms, the location... and even the fallen comrade with one shoe removed and his leg hidden by a text bubble.

Bonus: Bard meets Hiram Maxim, originally a fellow American, probably after relocating to England. Maxim spent much time in England but made trips back to the US and would take various weapons and other inventions to England. The machine gun Bard uses in the circus arc is a Maxim original, invented ~1885. Even though it should have existed when Bard was fighting the Apaches, he wouldn’t have had access so far West to something this new made back East.

Edit: There is also now a Part 4/Update. And a Part 5/Addendum.

[bluenet13]

Hay Amor en Todas Partes (Part 2/2)

Written for @badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: 9-1-1: Lone Star

Characters: T.K. Strand, Carlos Reyes, Firehouse 126 Crew (basically everyone is here)

Prompt: Losing Their Temper

Summary: After a night out, Carlos and TK encounter two men with nothing good to say. When tempers flare, punches fly, chaos ensues, and two become six, leaving Carlos and TK at their mercy.

Chapter 1

Links: ff.net - AO3

Judd and Grace were tangled together on the couch watching a movie when Judd's phone rang. Frowning, he grabbed it and looked at Grace in confusion, showing her the name on the screen. Confusion on both their faces, because sure, both Judd and Grace were friends with the officer but he rarely called them.

"Reyes?" Judd said, instantly putting the call on speaker. "Carlos, you there? TK?"

A grunt could be heard from the other end and the couple shared a puzzled look. "Is this some kind of joke?" Judd asked, managing to sound only mildly exasperated.

"Should we call TK?" Grace inquired, moving to her phone already.

Hearing another groan, and shuffling on the other side, Judd's features twisted to mild disgust. "Do you think they… are they-?" Judd cut himself short, shaking his head, not even wanting to think about what he could be hearing, and moved to end the call.

"Judson, wait," Grace directed, her hand coming to rest over his. "Turn the volume all the way up. I don't think this is an accidental call." And never one to question his wife, Judd did as directed.

While Judd spent his days saving lives in the physical world, Grace spent hers helping people through a phone, and nobody was better at her job than her. So now, she closed her eyes and listened. Opening them again and looking at her husband with horror in her eyes as soon as they both recognized the distinct sound of fists and feet connecting with a body, and various accompanying pained gasps and grunts.

"Carlos what the hell is going on? Where are you? We're coming to help," Judd screamed into the phone, but no response came. Then a gruff voice softly spoke, but it sounded far away so they could only make out the word 'alley'.

"Grace, call 9-1-1. Then call the crew, I want to stay on the line with Carlos," Judd directed, turning to his wife, even as he ran to their room to get a jacket and some shoes. "And don't bother calling TK, I'm sure whatever is happening they're together."

When Judd came back to the living room, Grace was already standing by the door, dressed and ready to go, keys already in her hand and phone pressed to her ear.

"Where do you think you're going?" Judd breathed out.

"To help. TK might be your teammate, but he and Carlos are my friends too. Let's go," Grace left no room for argument, and opened the door, not waiting for Judd to follow, just knowing that he would.

And so he did.

-x-x-x-

Carlos Reyes has always known he would die alone. It was a fact he had accepted the very day he enrolled in the police academy. And he had made peace with that notion, even if he wasn't fond of the idea. But right now, he cursed inwardly, because he had much rather die alone than face the possibility of TK dying alongside him, or even worse, instead of him.

TK Strand had almost died more than a few times, and long ago he had already questioned and accepted his own mortality, but he had never made peace with the idea of losing people close to him. And there was no one he wanted to lose less than Carlos Reyes, so right now, he stilled his nerves and told himself he would welcome death like an old friend, hoping destiny would see it as an invitation and chose to take him instead.

When the shot ran out, TK and Carlos both flinched. Hands unclasping as they both waited for the pain. Eyes going simultaneously wide as they reached the same conclusion when none came. Both, cop and paramedic, were too scared to turn around to their boyfriend and what they would find there, so instead they just closed their eyes and waited. Until the sounds of sirens gave them the little push they needed to continue being brave and turn to each other.

Simultaneous smiles reached their lips as they saw the other one was okay, and Carlos and TK collapsed in an embrace. Holding each other up, both hanging on for dear life.

Footsteps coming close broke the hug, and Carlos and TK fumbled and stumbled as they both tried to push the other behind. Neither sure of the upcoming threat, just focused on protecting their boyfriend. But the attempt was unnecessary because they were finally safe.

Aaron laid on the ground in front of them, blood pouring out from a sniper round to his head, and the other five men had disappeared, but most likely were currently being rounded by APD, if the blinking red and blue lights in every direction were any indication.

"Are you guys okay?" Marjan asked first.

"What the hell happened?" Judd added not a second later.

"Paramedics are on route," Grace directed, phone still pressed to her ear.

"Come on let us help you," Paul offered, holding out his hand.

"You both look like hell," Mateo said, because he just couldn't help himself.

TK and Carlos looked up and away from Aaron's body, to see their friends, their family, surrounding them. Everyone was there, Judd, Grace, Paul, Marjan, Mateo, even Nancy. All looking nervous and sounding more than a little bit breathless.

"What? Uh? How?" TK fumbled with the words, staring at the group with wide and still slightly frantic green eyes. "How did you find us?" He finally managed to whisper.

"You have to thank your boy over there," Judd drawled, his hands closed into fists at his sides.

Turning to Carlos, TK raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

"When, when they were focused on you, I took out my phone and tried to contact Judd. I couldn't send a message so I just left the call open. I thought of calling 9-1-1 but you never know who's going to get that call and if they're going to take something like this seriously. Besides, I already knew where the best operator in town was," Carlos explained, smiling shyly at Grace. "But I wasn't sure it had even worked. Sean was standing over me and I couldn't see the screen well," Carlos finished with a breathy laugh, one of pure relief.

"It worked, alright," Judd said proudly, "but what the hell happened?"

Both Carlos and TK deflated at that, neither wanting to relive the experience. But their friends deserved to know, especially because they had all paused their lives to be here, so they took turns telling the story. From the moment they left the bar until just now when the 126 rescued them from almost certain death.

"Bastards," Paul hissed, eyes darkened.

"I would kill him myself if he wasn't already dead," Judd mumbled, staring at Aaron's lifeless body, and only managed to look slightly regretful when Grace whispered a stern 'Judson'.

"I hope the other five rot in prison," Nancy said under her breath, and everyone else nodded.

"Damn, that sucks, dude. That's why you shouldn't go out without adult supervision," Mateo teased lightly.

"Not that you are that much of an adult, probie. But you're right. No more bars or nightclubs unless the crew is there," Marjan added with finality.

Still shaken and in pain, Carlos and TK couldn't help but laugh because their friends were truly something. But they wouldn't have it any other way.

"Can we go home, baby?" TK asked after a moment of silence, turning to his boyfriend.

"Yeah, we can," Carlos whispered, pushing TK's hair back and kissing him on the forehead, where a bruise was already forming.

"Uh no, you're both going to the hospital," Judd interjected.

"But -" Both TK and Carlos tried to say.

"No buts, if it was only one of you that was hurt, we all know the other one wouldn't have it any other way. So no arguing now, and just do as we say," Paul said, leaving no room for argument.

TK just pouted and tried to give the team his best puppy eyes but they were seemingly immune to his charm by now because they all shook their heads and turned around.

"Come on, Ty. We can make a date out of it," Carlos offered, groaning as he lifted himself from the ground and extended his hand to TK.

Taking it, TK kissed Carlos' bruised knuckles and mouthed a silent 'thank you'. Then let himself be pulled off the ground as they walked to the waiting ambulance, their weight supported in between Judd and Paul, the rest of the crew instinctively moving to surround them from all sides, enclosing the couple in a protective circle.

-x-x-x-

The next few hours were spent in the ER, both TK and Carlos going for countless x-rays, and scans. But in the end, their injuries were deemed to be painful and bothersome, but not life threatening. So when it was nearing 5 in the morning, they were finally discharged with clear instructions to take it easy, rest for the next few days, and come back if any of their symptoms or injuries worsened.

"Ready to go home?" Carlos asked TK as he helped him close the bottoms on his shirt. Thankful the team had brought them clean clothes so they didn't have to wear the bloody and dirty ones.

"I have never been more ready," TK said sincerely, pushing Carlos' hand away. "But, I'm not the one with three cracked ribs, I can dress myself."

"Yeah, but you're the one with two broken fingers, and a sprained wrist," Carlos said matter-of-factly.

"Can we stop comparing scars and get the hell out of here?" Paul deadpanned from the door, then turned around to shout something towards the waiting room. "They're decent guys, you're good to come in."

Carlos blushed and TK rolled his eyes, parting his lips to say something, but his attempt was interrupted as the rest of the 126 came into the room. Conversation flowing easily as if they had all been together in the room for the past few hours.

"Besides, I think we can all agree you both look like hell," Marjan added helpfully, the rest of the team nodding their agreement. Their words teasing, but their eyes betraying the concern and anger they were all feeling.

"What are you guys still doing here?" TK asked, ignoring their jokes, because he had already looked at himself in the mirror, and knew exactly how he looked.

"It's been hours, you should have gone home," Carlos agreed.

"Did you guys really think we would leave you alone after what happened?" Paul asked incredulously.

"Yes?" TK shrugged, but smiled at them anyways. "There's these helpful apps called Uber or Lyft if you guys didn't know, we would have called one."

"Dude, what's the point of having friends if you have to rideshare home from the hospital?" Mateo said softly, then looked uncomfortable when all eyes turned to him.

"Probie is right," Marjan said with a smile, clapping Mateo on the shoulder, "you guys are family and family don't let each other take an Uber from the hospital."

"Much less after getting the crap beat out of you by racist and homophobic assholes," Paul added under his breath, looking ready to murder someone if he could get his hands on any of the six men who attacked his friends.

"What's taking so long?" Judd popped his head inside the room, cutting all conversation short. "Come on, let's go. Tommy and Owen will meet us at your house."

Hearing his dad's name TK groaned and silently wondered if it was too late to ask his doctor to admit him for the night. Carlos picked up on his anxiety, and took his hand and squeezed softly.

"Did you really have to call him?" TK couldn't help but ask, "tonight, I mean. Couldn't you have waited until tomorrow?" He amended after everyone glared at him.

"Of course we had, we didn't all want to lose our jobs," Marjan said with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. Everyone was rattled, and no one was doing a good job of hiding it.

"At least this time it really wasn't your fault that you got hurt, so maybe Cap will take it better," Mateo offered, but even he sounded like he didn't believe his words.

"Or he might just finally decide to bubble wrap TK so he stops getting hurt," Nancy proposed, "I know Tommy and I were talking about it after the whole kidnapping incident."

"That actually sounds like a great idea," Carlos perked up at that.

"Shut up, Reyes, you're in the hospital too," TK mumbled.

"Behave boys," Grace said softly, in her best 9-1-1 dispatcher tone, calm and collected but firm in her opinion. "You know Captain Strand worries about you, TK. We waited to call him and Tommy after we knew more of what was happening, but we did after the doctor spoke to us. If it was the other way around and Owen was hurt, you would have wanted us to call you too."

"Thanks, Grace," Carlos breathed out, while TK only nodded, "actually, thank you all. We don't know what would have happened if you hadn't shown up with half the cops in the city." He did know, but he didn't want to voice those words. Instead choosing to end with his attempt at a joke.

"No need to thank us," Nancy said, stepping from the back of the room for the first time, "took me long enough to break Strand in after the last fiasco and parade of potential paramedics. I just can't deal with a new partner. And I'm sure your partner feels the same, Reyes."

Everyone laughed at that, but it never reached their eyes. T.K. and Carlos were okay now, but the events of the night would remain with them for some time. For now, the crew would just be there for their friends in whatever way they needed, and hope their love was enough to chase away any memories of what Aaron and his men had said and done.

-x-x-x-

Reaching their house a half hour later, Carlos and TK stepped out of Marjan's car with a groan, awkwardly leaning against the door and each other as they tried to steady themselves. Quickly getting out of his truck and the Camaro, respectively, Judd, and Paul ran to their friends, each setting one of their arms over their shoulders as they helped them to the front door.

Reaching the porch, Carlos smiled and TK groaned as Tommy, Owen, Gabriel and Andrea came into view, all of them instantly crowding the boys, fussing over them, asking questions, and offering to help. But thankfully, Paul took pity on them and respectfully pushed everyone away, sharing the doctor's words and reminding all their friends and family that Carlos and TK needed to rest.

As soon as they made it inside their home, they collapsed on the couch, both in pain but content to be in each other's arms and surrounded by their families and best friends. Once they were all settled around the living room, Owen handed them their prescriptions with two bottles of water, staying in front of them for an extra second as he looked them up and down. Seemingly satisfied with what he found, Owen nodded, squeezed both Carlos and TK's shoulders and stepped away. But visual confirmation wasn't enough for Tommy and Nancy as they insisted on checking the boys over, for their own benefit and mental peace. Gabriel and Andrea, for their part, went straight to the kitchen, setting bags on the counter and containers on the fridge. When they came back into the room, Carlos thanked his parents and hugged them both, silently wondering when his mother even had time to cook all that or if maybe she just had a stack of comfort food lying around on the fridge ready to go next time disaster struck.

Everyone then shared some small talk before they all left the house an hour later. The crew promising to be back on their next day off so they could play some video games or board games, while Owen and Andrea offered to return the next morning to make sure they were alright and help them around the house, and Gabriel vowed to get the Rangers on the case so these men could never attack or harass anyone ever again.

-x-x-x-

"Are you okay?" Carlos asked eventually, once they were finally alone in their bedroom, both just wearing boxers and a towel over their shoulders as they continued to air dry their damp bodies.

"Not really," TK said honestly, head tilting sideways as he looked at Carlos thoughtfully. The shower had helped, but it hadn't been enough to erase all the fears and worries after the night they just had. "But I will be. What about you?"

"Pretty much the same, but mostly just worried about you," Carlos admitted softly, fingers carding through TK's hair as Carlos stepped in between his legs, while TK sat on the bed.

"Why? I didn't go through this alone. It didn't just happen to me," TK explained, moving his hands to Carlos' hips and pulling him closer.

"Yeah, but I feel like it's my job to protect you. And I failed at it," Carlos said simply, eyes darkening as he felt the plastic splint on TK's wrist brush against his skin.

"Why, because you're a cop?" TK wondered.

"Because I'm your boyfriend."

"And I'm yours," TK said easily, "so that means we protect each other."

Carlos nodded, but still looked unconvinced.

"I'm a big boy, Carlos. I can handle some homophobic and racist assholes," TK tried next.

"But you shouldn't have to," Carlos whispered. His fingers now softly running over the bruise on TK's temple.

"And you shouldn't either. No one deserves something like this. But, sadly, these things happen," TK said with a shrug. "And I know that doesn't make it better, but it's just the way it is."

"It sucks." Carlos sighed, because it did and there was nothing else to say.

"It sure does. But we will be okay. We just need to go about this like we do everything else, we handle it together and move forward as a team. No need for you to take the weight of the world on your shoulders alone. Not when you have someone to bear it with you." TK moved his hands from Carlos' hips to his back, softly running his fingers over the tense spots and knots around his boyfriend's shoulder blades. It was a bit awkward with broken fingers and a splint, but like everything, they made it work.

Carlos hummed his agreement and closed his eyes, taking a moment to enjoy the comfort his boyfriend was so graciously gifting him, even when he was hurt too. After a few minutes, Carlos opened his eyes again, instantly getting lost in the green of TK's gaze, and his body naturally leaned forward. TK easily met him in the middle, their lips connecting in a sweet kiss.

TK's hands left Carlos' back to wrap around his body, pulling him closer as they slowly deepened the kiss. Lips parting in simultaneous invitations, but the moment was short lived as TK hugged a little too hard and Carlos groaned against his lips. His injured ribs protesting the movement even when his heart leaped in his chest.

"You're hurt," TK breathed out, stepping out of his boyfriend's space and limping to the bathroom, a smile gracing his face after hearing Carlos' little whimper at the loss of contact. "Lie down," he directed when he returned a minute later, supplies in hand.

Carlos raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "I would love nothing more but I think we're in no physical condition for that."

"Ha, ha." TK waved the bottle of 'Arnicare' in his hand, before pointing to the bed.

Carlos nodded and carefully sat on the bed. Then took a few steadying breaths before he fell back on the mattress. Barely suppressed grunts and a wince escaping as the movement pulled at his tired and sore muscles.

Moving forward TK put some of the cream on Carlos' abdomen and began rubbing softly, mindful of the broken ribs and bruises that were already visible on his skin. "Just relax," TK said softly, feeling Carlos tense under his touch. "I won't hurt you."

"I know," Carlos said honestly. TK could never, would never. But the memories of what happened at the bar were still fresh on his mind. So, he moved his hand to TK and set his palm over his thigh. And only then could he really relax. His heart needing the physical connection as much as the sight of his boyfriend standing in front of him.

When TK finished with the cream, he wiped his hands on the towel and left the room. Returning soon after with two ice packs, one which he set over the worst of the purple coloring his boyfriend's skin, and the other one over his own temple. He then turned off the lights and climbed into his side of the bed.

Wordlessly, Carlos shuffled closer and set his hand over his boyfriend's chest, letting the steady beat of TK's heart ground him and calm his own. "Thank you," he whispered eventually, hoping the simple message conveyed more than just gratitude. He wanted it to mean 'I love you', 'if I had to go through this I'm glad it is with you', 'I'm sorry you had to hear those things and get hurt', and so much more. But his words were failing him tonight, so he settled for the two words that would always be true.

"Anytime," TK mumbled, voice laced with sleep. "But Carlos, promise me one thing?"

"Anything," Carlos offered easily.

"Next time this happens, because we both know it likely will," he began, but quickly backtracked, "I hope not the beating part, but the insults. Promise me that when, if, it happens again, you won't try to defend my honor." His words were serious, but Carlos sensed the smile that was on his lips. "You looked damn hot when you punched the bastard on the face, but -"

Carlos chuckled at that, knowing that losing his temper had only made things worse, even when he had done his best to keep TK under control. But still, he promised nothing. Because as certain as he was that something like that could happen again, he was also confident that he would always defend TK. From homophobic and racist men, or anything else that threatened his boyfriend. And TK seemed to know and understand because he didn't press the issue any further. Mostly because he would do the same thing. Anytime and any day.

"But thank you," TK did say, his hand seeking Carlos' and intertwining their fingers together, before he moved it to his lips and pressed a kiss over his knuckles.

"Anytime, and always," Carlos echoed his boyfriend, before ending on a promise of his own. Then he inhaled a deep breath, taking it all in. "I love you, Ty." The words flowing more easily this time.

"Love you, too."

The previous night might not have gone like they expected, but they had made it through. And now Carlos and TK simply continued to bask in their love. Because love could take many shapes and forms, and it sometimes happened in bed after a night of dancing at the bar, but other times it just entailed taking care of one another, and shared bruise cream and ice packs.

Snuggled against each other, and content, TK and Carlos eventually fell asleep. Because even when the world was at its darkest, the actions of their friends, families and each other had shown them that there was still love everywhere around them. Most people just had to look hard enough to find it, but for Carlos and TK finding it would always be the easy part. Since their love was a simple fact, a constant, and a reality that was as true as breathing.

[chandelier-s-notebook]

Doodlewash April 2021 prompt 5: Buttercup

This is going to part of a Vigilante AU I’m creating. I will elaborate on world building and other plot points at a later date. Kinda like that pirate things from a few days ago.

BTW: Sally and Wilbur aren’t a thing and were never a thing in the canon of this world. But Sally is still Fundy’s mom.

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

The City was separated into 100 districts; the lower the district number, the poorer and the less likely heroes were to be casually patrolling the streets. And the more likely vigilantes would be about helping the people.

- - -

Tommy was born to loving parents in City District 93. Tommy’s parents worked in the mill, making books for schools that they couldn’t afford to send their son to – you know, the fancy ones; Tommy did still go to tax payer schooling.

When Tommy was eight his parents died in an explosion at the mill while he was at school. When Tommy was eight his parents landlord gave him a month to figure out lodging. When Tommy was eight the landlord let Tommy say in an unheated, unairconditioned apartment with no water and no running electricity until they found a new tenant. When Tommy was eight he moved out onto the street. When Tommy was eight he started stealing to survive. When Tommy was eight Ranboo and his parents quietly told the school board that Tommy had moved into their house even though the kid had declined the offer, because he wouldn’t be allowed to attend without guardians or a permanent address.

Tommy didn’t limit himself to District 93, but he did stay in the lower 20. His parents’ landlord had let him stay two months without rent, and Tommy had spent that time under a roof scouting out places he could rest the night, and places he could use to help him survive. He spend that time saving up and learning to pick pocket properly – because what kid in District 93 didn’t have some basic knowledge on that skill.

It wasn’t until he was already on the street that he found a nice little bakery in District 87. The bakery was really nice, like really nice, like it was from District 41 or something. But here it was, right in the middle of District 87. Tommy would look longingly inside. He had never had fresh pastries – slates from the day before were always cheaper.

Tommy noticed his brown haired kid noticing him. He tried the shrug the boy’s presence off, but it was hard. The kid would always walk in and buy a cupcake. Tommy thinks at least – there was an advertisement for a cupcake that looked like the thing the boy left the bakery with everyday – he’s pretty sure.

On day nine, the boy brought out two cupcake-things. He held one out to Tommy. “Hi! I’m Tubbo! Wanna be my friend?”

Tommy stared at him in bewilderment. He looked between the clean clothes ‘Tubbo’ had on and his rags. He cautiously look the cupcake. “This good?”

“The best.” Tubbo took a bite and smiled once he finished chrewing.

Tommy shrugged. Food was food. He took a bite. If he could get this every day: Tubbo was for sure his new best friend.

So Tommy’s days went as follows: wake up; go to school with Ranboo;  eat the half lunch Ranboo’s parents made for him; continue being bored in school; steal; have a cupcake with Tubbo; steal; eat something; go back to bed. There was other stuff in between, and times fluctuated, but that was Tommy’s life. It was sometimes hard managing the need to steal to survive and wanting the spend another fifteen minutes being a kid with Tubbo, but he pushed thought it. That was his life for a few months.

One day after post-Tubbo-evening-stealing, he walked by the bakery and saw that it was closing. Tommy knocked on the door.

“Oh I’m so sorry, but we’re closing right now,” the lady behind the counter said once she opened the door.

“I have money.” Tommy held out some cash. “Do you have any leftovers that didn’t get sold?”

She looked him up and down. Tommy bristled, knowing how he looked. “How’d you get the money?”

“Some dude gave me a couple bucks.” Not a lie – ish.

He looked at his obviously hungry form. “I’ll give it to you half price. Is there anything specific you’d like?”

“Bread.”

“Just bread?”

Tommy thought about it. “If I can afford it I’d like two cupcakes please, any flavour will do.”

The lady nodded and took his offered six dollars. She came back with a bag, it in was an unsold baguette and a Tupperware with four cupcakes. “You could really only afford the bread and one cupcake at half price. Keep the rest for free.”

“Thank you Ma’am!”

Tommy scurried off. He really only wanted two cupcakes so he could share with Ranboo at lunch, but now he could also repay his parents for the continuous food.

- - -

Tommy skipped into school the next morning; a pep in his step.

“What are you happy about today?”

“I have a surprise for you Ranboo.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a good one.”

When they got to lunch, and Ranboo gave Tommy his half a meal, Tommy pulled out the Tupperware.

“Did you bring your own food?”

“Nope.” Tommy popped the P as he brought the apple slices and carrots closer to him. “I wanted to thank you can your parents are giving me lunch.”

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

“What did you do to Tommy?”

Tommy laughed at Ranboo’s obvious distress. “Here.” He lifted the lid. “It’s a cupcake from the Sweet Shoppe and Bakery from District 87. I got ‘em at half price at the end of the day. The lady even took pity on me and gave me some for free.”

“Tommy? Accepting pity? Like actual pity? And not just your friend’s family doing something nice for you?”

Tommy lightly punched Ranboo for the jab. “Pity is fine when it’s for you.” Tommy grabbed the most smushed cupcake. “Try one. If you like ‘em enough than he don’t save them for your parents.”

Ranboo laughed. He reached for a cupcake. “You wouldn’t poison me would you?”

“Never.”

“Never.”

That was the day both Tommy and Ranboo were called into the office to be told that Ranboo’s parents had passed in an explosion at the steel manufacturers. That was the day Ranboo dragged Tommy to his apartment, and Tommy went with no complaint for the first time since his parents had died. That was the day Ranboo packed a single bag and took the potted buttercups. That was the day Ranboo moved in with Tommy at the crappy little alleyway-canopy-shelter he had created for himself. That was the day they both got on a bus and walked into a posh apartment complex in District 5 and demanded to see Sally – Ranboo’s aunt.

Tommy and Ranboo ate the other two cupcakes on the bus ride.

They were nice about it, but they told her that in order to keep going to school they needed a house and a guardian – at least on paper. They also make sure she knew that ‘they’ meant ‘Ranboo.’ One look from her nephew and Sally knew that Tommy needed it as well. Ranboo and Tommy were adamant about staying in District 93, it was all they knew.

Within a week Sally came down and bought them a nicer apartment, she figured that Tommy definitely would not want the best the District had to offer, and she signed their paper work. She made them promise that if things ever got super dire they would call.

Ranboo promised.

Tommy did not.

When Tommy and Ranboo were nine, they started living on their own in a nice apartment that they wouldn’t ever need to pay for. That fact didn’t stop Tommy from continuing the steal. Just because lodgment was paid for didn’t mean that they had food money.

Ranboo went the more sane approach and got an afternoon job.

Tommy had started buying two half priced cupcakes on his way home every night. He learned that the Sweet Shoppe and Bakery Lady was named Niki. That was cool.

One night, on the walk from District 87 to 93 when Tommy was ten he was kidnapped. Stolen off the steal without even a scream.

Ranboo didn’t wait up. Sometimes Tommy stayed over at his friend Tubbo’s. The kid Ranboo never had time to meet, but that Tommy promised – when he was being soft and nice and genuine – he would get on really well. But then Tommy wasn’t at school the next day

Or the next week.

Or the next month.

And at that point it was too late to call aunt Sally and not get a lecture about asking for help sooner. Ranboo knew that her son Fundy was in Hero Training and the fieldwork would probably be good for him. But 93 had its vigilantes, they wouldn’t want a hero-in-training patrolling. They barely tolerated normal heroes. No. Fundy didn’t need the confidence debuff that would give.

Not that Hero HQ would send in a trainee to District 93. For a single missing ten year old. Then again, aunt Sally was high profile. But he couldn’t call.

He’d just take care of his buttercups until Tommy banged through that door safe and sound.

He didn’t account for how long that would take.

[accidentallyadramablog]

Review: Down With Love (2010)

I felt a little nostalgic this week and decided to rewatch Down With Love, a romcom out of Taiwan featuring Ella Chen (from Hana Kimi) and Jerry Yan (Meteor Garden).

This is more of a brain dump as opposed to a real review. More below the cut.

Let me just start with the fact I love dramas with tomboys, gender benders, and gender non-conforming women and girls in general. I'm a 40 yr old gnc bi-woman, so some of these storylines really resonate with me - despite the trend of making those female characters glaringly stupid and pitiable.

Tags: Nanny, Love Square, Tomboy, Male Chases Female First, Sismance, Rich Man/Poor Woman, Pretends To Be Gay, Single Parent, Sisterhood, Boss/Employee Relationship

Our girl Ella Chen plays tomboy Yang Guo. Yang Guo works, has friends, and a shitty boyfriend of 5 years. She acts naïve, but she actually has a lot of life experience due to a *tragic backstory*. After her mother died, her father ruined the family business. Their family plunged from riches to rags and their father abandoned them. Yang Guo is 6 when this happens and it falls on her older sister Yang Duo to raise them both while homeless, starving, and navigating the homeless camps in the parks of Taipei.

Yang Duo (Kelly Huang) has raised her little sister by herself, beginning from poverty and homelessness to having a house and making a life for themselves. They bicker good-naturedly, but Yang Duo is very protective and supportive of her sister. She's managed to earn a job at a prestigious law firm as an admin assistant with strong accounting skills. She is seen as frugal, clever, and competent. Several characters make comments throughout the series about how it was a shame that she didn't go into certain careers because she's so accomplished despite not having a formal education. It's obvious that Yang Duo has put her own dreams and happiness on hold to make sure that she and Guo have financial security. Yang Duo is my favorite character btw. She is a supporting character that is multi-faceted and has her own character arc. I really like seeing her growth in this drama, and she gets some cute side couple action later in the series. Skip the last episode.

Due to growing up in poverty and scrabbling to lower-middle-class, the two girls work nonstop. After Guo is fired from her job waiting tables, Duo gets Guo a job as a nanny for her boss Xiang Yu Ping by lying and saying Guo is a lesbian.

Xiang Yu Ping (Jerry Yan) owns his own law firm and is seen as cold and overbearing. He is raising his dead brother's kids and none of the nannies he's hired have lasted either due to being chased off by the kids (a la the Sound of Music) or by trying to seduce him because he's a rich handsome lawyer. Relieved to have found a nanny who definitely wouldn't seduce him (because he thinks she's a lesbian), he just pays an unreasonably huge salary to keep her there with the kids despite their abuse.

Supporting characters: Amanda Chu as the best friend Yan Ling with the messy dating life is also delightful, but I've enjoyed all her roles. I may rewatch Lion Pride for her, now that I'm walking down memory lane. The office of 'just some lawyer dudes being dudes' are funny. I love when they gather around to watch drama and place bets on what's happening. They're also slackers. I would love/hate to work with them.

So that's the setup.

Honestly, I hate the 'pretends to be gay' plots. It's typically really offensive and this was no exception in a lot of places. (It's not at the same level as Personal Taste, but it's bad.) One of the cases Yu Ping takes on is unlawful termination and blackmail of a gay teacher and he asks for Yang Guo's advice to help the man. Taiwan was trying in 2010, but it wasn't exactly good representation to have a fake lesbian help an actual gay man faced with employment discrimination and blackmail over his orientation. When I compare this with Love is Science (2021 twdrama) that has two out lgbt characters employed in their office with significant roles, I'm just so happy that lgbtq media representation is still progressing.

I don't care about Yu Ping's best friend Qi Ke Zhong or Yu Ping's ex-girlfriend Ding Hui Fan because they're both terrible people that don't deserve forgiveness and their only purpose was to drag out our leads getting together. Since this was a rewatch, I knew how much I hated their scenes and skipped them as much as I could. You're not missing anything. Someone on YT needs to just make a Yang Duo/Xiang Yu Ping cut, tbh. Also? Go ahead and skip the deadbeat father.

The nanny bit only lasts three episodes (the kids are adorable), but it's long enough for Yu Ping to catch feelings and think his lesbian nanny is cute. He actually is not cold and overbearing as episode 1 makes him out to be. Yu Ping is supportive and tries to be a good friend to Guo. When he thinks her 'girlfriend' is cheating on her, he absolutely flips out because he feels she deserves to be respected and loved in her relationship. He learns about her family. He learns about her friends. He knows where to look for her when she's upset. He knows how to cheer her up and later, he knows how to make the perfect date. When he finds out she lied about being a lesbian, he's not even mad. He admits it was his fault for making certain demands in the employment contract. He's just upset that he's lost chances to flirt and court her.

Listen. It's a dumb premise in this drama and the misunderstandings suck. But it's so refreshing to see male leads be decent to women that are romantically and sexually unavailable to them. The bar is so low, in RL and in dramas, that Yu Ping belongs in the top tier of male drama leads. This dude was just going to continue in a supportive friendship for an undetermined time, both when he thought she was a lesbian and later when his shitty weasel of a best friend dated her under false pretenses. He didn't burden her with a confession until her relationship was over. And whenever she asked for space, he gave it to her. And when she confronted him on instances of jealously, he apologized and gave her space.

Yu Ping never tries to change Guo. He doesn't give her a makeover. She has a makeover scene that is instigated by another character and all he does is try to make her comfortable when she's so obviously uncomfortable. Then he cheers inwardly when he sees her overcome her awkwardness and have confidence. But by the end of the drama, she is still dressing and acting the same as in act 1. It honestly reminded me a little of Coffee Prince in that the fancy male lead is still just as enamored with his gnc woman by the end and the way she presents herself doesn't have an effect on their romantic relationship. Again, this is content catered to me as a bi & gnc woman in a relationship with a cis-het man. I often am mistaken for a man when I go out with my spouse and he's still super into me so let's normalize gnc people with gc people already it's 2021.

Anyway, if you watch romances for kisses, there's really only a couple of pecks and one nice passionate kiss and they're all in basically the last 3 eps of the series.

The last episode sucks. Stop at episode 15. Seriously. Don't watch episode 16. Why oh why do you let terrible people back in your life? Qi Ke Zhong and Ding Hui Fan are toxic and should but cut out of their lives. The end of ep 15 had a happy ending with a family-style breakfast for our two sisters with their boyfriends. Ep 16 threw in some more misunderstanding, jealousy, and separations followed by a time skip for no reason and brought back my two least favorite characters.

Anyway, I will live in my little world with Yang Duo and her sweet lawyer boyfriend Liang Zhi Hao (Ian Yim/Cyran Yan/Yan Yi En yeah, this actor has three stage names) that supports her interests and self-determination while they save money on mass transit by using his motorbike. And they build her dream home that she designs. Perhaps they put aside funds for her to pursue a degree in what she's passionate about.

[partnersatfazbear]

Analysis of The Real Jake (SPOILERS)

I can't decide whether to make this post a stream-of-consciousness style or group it into evidence for x... but since it's easier, I'll just write my thoughts as I go. Although a lot of this is factual ties to, say, FNAF 4, things like relating Margie to Henry are just my own headcanon and you can do with that what you will AKA don't take this all too seriously, but have fun with it. There’s also specific notes about Michael Afton, for those that just want to know what was said regarding him (presumably).

Before I start, please note I've had three hours of sleep in the last... 28 hours? IDK I can't math, especially not on this little sleep. So, there may be errors. I tried to make a note on things I was unsure about, too. 

Note: I wrote this before the Evan=CC theory was all but confirmed. Although I believe this theory from the logbook, I think a lot of these notes are still valid.

Read my notes under the cut:

Margie shares similar physical appearance to Henry: Pg 84 “The window fan blew a lock of her shoulder-length brown hair across her upper lip so it looked like she had a mustache.”

“Mrs. Afton” stand in is mentioned: Pg 86 “...it had been four years since his Mom had died...” (Jake is 9 in the story)

I notice when Scott mentions plaid. Pg 87 “...a green-and-blue plaid plush chair...” I mostly wanted to note this since canonically, Henry had a green plaid shirt.

“William” stand in is mentioned. Pg 89 “And you know he thinks about you [Jake] all the time?” “So, he has to concentrate on what he's doing... ...I don't want him thinking about me and end up shooting himself in the foot or something.” Pg 102 “Yeah, I did. [I spilled some chocolate ice cream] Right on my shirt!” Pg 122 “I did that today! [While playing a DDR like game, breaking a shoelace.]” (Admittedly, I only counted these because I headcanon William is much more of a bumbling fool than he appears. It comes up very often as you can see... although you could write it off as Evan just trying to relate to his kid.)

“William” stand in is mentioned. Pg 92 “...Margie was pretty sure Evan couldn't afford to replace a washer and dryer” and “...Evan, at his rank, could barely afford her” Pg 110 “Gillian's house shared stlying with Evan's, but hers was probably four times bigger.” (Again, I headcanon William and his family is on the low end of middle class, if not lower, in terms of income. Particularly, the house is cramped.)

“Mrs. Afton” stand in is mentioned. Pg 93 “First, Jake's Mom was killed.” Pg 139 “The mom's dead.” (You could infer that she died via something akin to a car crash in the context of the story, however if you reflect it to the games given the commonalities, I like to think of this as confirmation that William murdered her, given the word 'killed' is used.)

Margie records herself on her cell phone. Pg 93 (and on other pages) (Again referencing my headcanon for Henry, in which he records ideas/diaries often. At minimum, Henry is referred to as “Cassette Man” in PizzaSim so... I just thought it could make for an interesting comparison.)

Jake mentions his “friends”. Pg 99 “Patty and Davey... Vic... and the twins... Ellie and Evie... Kyle, Clay, and Garrett” (Also, he isn't mentioned until later, but there's his best friend Brandon, too. I noted these in reference to CC talking about his 'friends', either IRL or the plushies. I assume his IRL friends are the MCI victims. The number doesn't add up though. I really, really wanted to make a connection about the twins, considering Charlie and Sammy are twins, but there wasn't enough evidence to write it off as anything other than a coincidence. Also... Clay, really? We need another double name in this series? Ugh.)

What's your favorite flavor? Chocolate Pg. 102 “What flavor did you get?” “Chocolate. Duh.” (This is a stretch, but it did remind me of Help Wanted's final level in the main game, where you're asked to choose your favorite cake flavor. Although, they're discussing ice cream here.)

Maybe some insight into William's personality? Pg. 103 “You ever do that, Evan?” “What?” “Let off steam.” “Me? No. Steam is pretty much what keeps me going.” (Just more evidence that William is obsessed with his work. You could imply “steam” implies he runs like a machine, but that's stretching a bit.)

Pg. 113 -118 (Jake climbs out of his window to run off to play at the arcade with his friend. Obvious parallel to the child in Midnight Motorist, although it's daytime and no animatronics/fursuits luring him.) There is this, on Pg 121 also. Jake says, “We played all the racing games. I love racing games.”

PURPLE Pg 121 “...did you get a slushie at the arcade? I got one. I got grape. It turned my tongue purple.” “My tongue's purple, too!” “Purple power!” (Uh, do I really need to explain this? I should note that Evan is the one mentioning “grape”. I guess William likes grape flavor and purple.)

'Michael' is mentioned. Sort of a stand in for Michael Afton, but it should be noted that Michael and Evan are brothers in this universe. Pg 126, 127 “Michael...lived in Europe for a few years...” “Michael's a serious dude. He's, well, a little different. He's intense about making money...the way he is about it... can make him seem like he's not human.” “So, he's like a cyborg with bad programming?” Michael has some dialogue: “You must excersize caution. You could get chocolate on my suit, and that would be bad. Very, very bad.” (The very very bad thing is a running joke in the family, which is why this comes up. I don't have a lot to say about it, though. I think Michael [Afton] being obsessed with money seems a bit counter intuitive to how we know him, but who knows? I also want to note that Evan doesn't seem antagonistic towards Michael; in fact, he “hate[s] to ask him for favors”.)

Also, Pg 141 “His [Michael's] flat, gruff voice was unmistakable.” Michael is also the first one to hear his father is dead and informs Margie about it. “I have been notified that Evan's dead.” Pg 142 “She had only met Michael the one time, and she knew the way he processed the world was very different from what was “normal”” Michael also states to Margie: “I've got Evan's will... you're Jake's guardian and he left you the house and some savings. I'm the executor.” Margie also says: “He[Michael]'s a numbers genius, manages money for the wealthy people and has made a killing doing it.” “He's not a bad guy. He just doesn't know how to connect. He doesn't feel the way we do.” (Just more Michael characterization.)

Direct FNAF 4 easter egg references: Pg 128 “...the IV stand lurking in the corner of the room” Pg 129 “...and the line of perscription medication bottles marching across the top of the chest of drawers”

Margie is more than a nanny and possibly in love with Evan: Pg. 139 “She'd come to love Evan, too... like a brother.” Pg 140 “...she was included in the outings, movie nights, game nights, and storytelling time...” Pg 149 “...she wanted Evan to be more than just a boss, and being in his room when he was gone made her feel like a lovelorn stalker.” “Love him like a brother... She snorted. Boy, had she been lying to herself.” Pg 158 “What she was feeling called for a screaming fit or a total mental breakdown.” (Yeah, this is just me reading too much into this for Willry content, haha... But still. I am determined that Margie is a Henry stand-in.)

'I will put you back together' Pg 140 “I'm trying to bring you home whole.” (Evan is discussing “no man left behind” with his son, Jake. I think this is obvious.)

William's home office? Pg. 149 “When he was home, she'd go in and vacuum or put away laundry... ...when he was gone...coming in here felt like an invasion of privacy.” “Evan's room would be her room.” “...I'd feel like I was sleeping in your bed, she thought.” “...the room felt discretely masculine.” “The walls were covered in family photos.” “The shelves were stuffed with fiction... mysteries to classics, nonfiction... how-to books...from rebuilding a car engine to planting a garden.”

FNAF 4 reference. Pg 152 “Outside, a dog barked.” (You can hear a dog barking as ambient noise during nights when playing FNAF 4.)

Other notes:

It happens a lot, but one of the main things in the book is the doll Simon and how Jake talks to it. This is very blatantly a reference to the Golden Freddy Plush (“Psychic Friend Fredbear”). The story confirms it's Jake's father, Evan, talking through it. Although it makes the one scene in FNAF 4 a little wonky (the only scene where we see Purple Guy), I think it's pretty much confirmed that it's William talking to CC now. Obviously, we already suspected this due to Sister Location's “Secret Room”. In this story, Evan says he did it because he wanted to give Jake some hope he would live. Combined with both the IV/medicine bottle easter eggs (in the story and FNAF 4) I think it's plausible to assume that CC was taken home after the Bite of '83 for a period of time before he passed away. I will admit, also, that Evan definetly comes off as a very caring father (in comparison to how we presume William is based on what we've seen of him as a person; although I argued this before on this blog, I don't think William hates his kids. I think he's neglectful, moreso as the story goes on. I think he resents Michael for many reasons but I won't go into that here. I just don't think he's the abusive monster the fanbase interprets him to be—at least not early on.)

The cabinet reminds me a lot of the closets in the novel series. A built in shelf with a doll in it. A doll that represents a child. Considering Margie tends to this doll (see Pg. 130-135), I have to draw more parallels between her and Henry.

The fan is mentioned A LOT. I don't really know why, but I guess we can't help but think of every single FNAF office when it's brought up. Specifically, on Pg. 106, Margie mentions the fan in her room is as loud as a jet engine and the sound made her nervous. Once again, I'm reminded of PizzaSim. Seriously, screw you fan.

The heat is mentioned a lot, too. I know the story takes place in summer, but this did remind me of Pizza Sim.

Pg. 93 “Margie sat down in the faded blue webbed lawn chair that was set up, for reasons she never understood, in front of the shelves by the stairs.” (I noted this because it's specifically called out and I don't know why.)

Margie talks about why she's working for Evan: Pg. 95 “I didn't get the internship I applied for.” I like to think her and Mia (from 1280) were after the same internship. (I may be misremembering, but I'm pretty sure Mia mentioned an internship at the hospital.)

Jake is mentioned to have brown hair, green eyes. His favorite color is green. He also wears green often. I couldn't find anything really interesting about it. It would make more sense as a Puppet reference, tbh (because of the green bracelet (and eyes? I may be remembering wrong) I guess it's also worth noting that Elizabeth has green eyes.

Pg 135 “Are you afraid people will think you're murdering me?” “...I could end you so quickly you'd never make a sound.” (Just an odd conversation between Jake and Margie. Margie is joking here, obviously.) Also, Pg. 136 “I just figured your [Jake's] wires got crossed or your circuits were frying.” (Admittedly, I don't know what to make of this. Could be a reference to Robot-CC, if you believe that or MikeBot [I don't], but more likely just ironic dialogue. It could also reference Jake's future in the Stichwraith?)

Pg 139 “Sometimes, Margie wished she was like one of the robots Jake liked so much.” (Although I can't really compare this to Henry, I did write William with this mindset and thought it was worth mentioning.)

Pg 141+ So, Evan dies overseas (he's a soldier). (I think this could be hinting that William has been springlocked around the time CC passes away. Jake has been home for some time after his diagnosis so we can infer based on that and the easter eggs that CC was brought home to die in peace. At the very least, William's probably very absent during this time. Possibly brought in for questioning but not arrested. I don't know. I feel like there's something to this.)

Pg 154 “Dave's at work.” (Why? Can we not use established names? Aghhh)

Pg 155 “The ambulance arrived at 11:32.” (I don't know why this is stated so outright. I couldn't find a reason, except that a few paragraphs earlier they say it will arrive by noon. I don't know why it's so specific, but I felt like noting it anyway.)

Pg 159 “Five people. Five sets of eyes. And none of them noticed...” (Yeah. We all know how important 5 is in FNAF.)

Three medical personel are mentioned. One at the end is named Nancy [No Last Name Given], but I like to think its a reference to Man in 1280 and we're dealing with Heracles Hospital once more, although it's never said in this story. Speaking of, the only thing that really stood out to me in 1280's story was that a billionare funded the restoration of the hospital. I like to headcanon that was Henry's doing—I imagine him obscessing over overcompensating for his mistakes by giving back in every way possible, even if it isn't directly related to him.

So, this post only took two hours of my life. I hope someone gets some use out of it, be it for my intended Willry purposes or maybe those Michael fans that are curious about it. If you enjoyed this post, let me know. I'd love to write up more of these if I have the time.

I have other write-ups on this blog, too. Just search fnaf theories on my blog page!

[buckyodinson]

Pedro boys (or who ever your most comfy writing for) reactions to trying to woo a girl not easily impressed/doesn't trust dudes easily??? I feel like a lot of ppl get this vibe sometimes or maybe its just me, love your blog btw keep being ah-mazing! 💖💖💖

Hi!!! Thank you for requesting, I had fun with these - sorry they took a while! :) 

Din would bring little things back to the ship for you while you looked after the Child. He would make mental notes of things you mentioned that you missed about home or things you craved, and if he ever saw them on his travels, he would buy them for you. Din is very awkward about dealing with his feelings, and it doesn’t help that you don’t seem interested at all. He carries on regardless even if you don’t feel the same back, living for the little smiles that light up your face when you see what he’s brought back. But he comes back from a bounty one day and you don’t hear him, and he’s about to climb the ladder to the cockpit, when he hears you up there with the Child, telling it that you think you love Din but you’re worried. His heart hammers underneath the beskar and before he knows it, he’s climbing the ladder to reach you, confessing his feelings once you turn around in shock at his sudden appearance. You admit your worries but that you can see what a softy he is under the armour, and he hugs you tightly, with the child pressed between your bodies. He speaks quiety through the modulator that he’ll prove to you he is worthy of your love (in your mind, though, you know he already is).

Whiskey is a charmer. But once he realised his flirting was getting him nowhere with you, he toned it down, and tried to just be friendly with you. You were much more receptive to that, and he enjoyed your little passing talks in the corridors of the distillery, or when you’d just sit and have lunch together. You didn’t really trust Whiskey at first, seeing the way he flirted with just about any woman he laid his eyes on. But you definitely opened up to him as time went on, and the pair of you grew closer. He’d remember the little things about you that you told him in passing, and he would try to bring them up as naturally as possible in future conversations to prove he really does listen intently to everything you say. After a while, you started to develop feelings for him, and you were glad you were initially resistant to his flirting, because it allowed you to really get to know him first and fall in love with him for himself, instead of the flirty persona he seems to have turned on all the time.

Javier was notorious around the DEA for his sexual exploits. The other agents constantly teased him about how he got his information, and whether he had to pay for it this time. When you learnt that he often frequented to local brothels and fucked the girls there for information, it put you off Javier (which was a shame, because he was so attractive). But you knew you wanted no part in joining the long list of women he’d taken to bed, so when Javier took an interest in you, you made an effort to seem like you had no interest in return. But you did start to notice that Javi wasn’t getting as much intel as usual, and the other guys would still ask and tease him about the various brothels in town, but he didn’t have his usual banter with them. Steve was pretty tired of watching Javi pine over you (which you were seemingly oblivious to), that he pulled you aside one day and told you Javi had feelings for you. You snorted rolled your eyes, “Nice one, Murphy.” you spoke as you tried to walk away, but he grabbed your wrist and told you to really pay attention to Javi. You narrowed your eyes at him, but did as he said, and noticed over the next few days that Javi was different. He seemed a little sadder, and he had no new information either. You confronted him one night after he left the office, and he confessed to you. You were still wary about his tendencies, but you agreed you were willing to give it a go.

Pope introduced you and Catfish and you really fell for him (and vice versa).You were a bit wary, knowing a little about his past. You knew they were both in the army, and that didn’t bother you, but Pope had told you about that fateful ‘mission’, and you saw him in a little different light after all that had transpired, but you knew they must have been desperate to do what they did. But Pope was still a close friend of yours and after you were introduced to Catfish, you hung out with the pair of them a fair bit, and you really enjoyed Frankie’s company, and you were slowly coming to terms with the fact that he wasn’t the man he used to be, and he was actually a real sweetheart. When Frankie noticed that you kinda shut off from him a bit when you all hung out, he assumed you didn’t like him and was only appeasing Pope. He quickly dipped into his self-loathing tendencies. One night, you had fallen asleep on Pope’s sofa, and you stirred and went to grab some water from the kitchen when you overheard Frankie telling Pope how he was stupid to think you could love someone like him, after everything he’d done. You knocked softly on the door, alerting them both to you presence, and Frankie’s face dropped, but you simply walked over and wrapped your arms around him.

Ezra and his partner came across you on the green moon, and offered for you to join them prospecting for a three-way split of everything you make. You were fairly new to the profession, and you leaped at the opportunity, hoping you’d make a little more money than you expected. However, you were wary of Ezra and his silent partner. After a tense stand-off with other prospectors, Ezra’s partner was killed, and it became just the two of you. He flirted with you a lot (at least you think it was flirting, you didn’t really understand half he stuff he said to you), but you still didn’t trust him very much, wondering if any day now he’d kill you and take everything for himself. You couldn’t deny the nagging feeling burrowing it’s way into your chest when he spoke, or so much as looked at you, however. The night he lost his arm, you did your best to help relieve the pain, and he was lying in his cot, pretty delirious after the medication you had given him. He stared at you while you were putting the gems from the day away. You asked him if he was okay, and he smiled in response, telling you that if he died because of his injury, he’d be glad you were the last thing he sees, before promptly passing out. You blushed and told yourself you would ask him about that when he woke up the next morning.

Oberyn seemed like quite the gentleman to you, but you weren’t so sure about his sexual exploits. You couldn’t deny the attraction you held towards him, but the many lovers he had, and the constant orgies that could be heard from all corners of the Sunspear did put you off slightly. He tried to charm you a lot, complimenting you any time he saw you around the castle, often asking if you’d like to join him and Ellaria. You would deny his offer and scurry off quickly. He will admit, he was confused by you, most people were gracious to accept the invite to his chamber. It made you all that more interesting, and he wanted you even more. He would never overstep your boundaries, though. He respected you too much. But he would have things sent to you - flowers, fruits, poems he’d written. Eventually, Ellaria came upon you in the gardens. She asked you whether you liked the prince or not, and you replied truthfully, telling her you certainly found him attractive, but that you were worried he would fuck you and then never want to see you again. Ellaria told you that Oberyn had not stopped speaking of you in weeks, wondering what he had done to offend you, and hoping he had not upset you in any way. You smiled at that, and she walked you to Oberyn’s chambers, where he enveloped you in an embrace.

Maxwell takes it like a challenge. Most of the women he hires in his company seem to throw themselves at his feet (most likely due to his money), but not you. You keep to yourself, and you do a pretty damn good job of your work. But if he ever offers to take you out for lunch or for a drink, you kindly decline his offer. He doesn’t give up though. He admires that you hold your place, and don’t just give in to him for the sake of it. Eventually though, he starts to just buy you food and bring it to you, sometimes sitting opposite your desk and eating with you. He spends more time getting to know you, and you open up a little more as time goes on. He figures out you probably didn’t trust him very much, so he tries to be a little vulnerable around you, telling you personal things and testing boundaries. Eventually, you agree to a drink with him, and you admit that you were worried about his advances. You figured it would be a bad idea to get involved with your boss, especially if it was just a sexual thing, for fear of the judgement from others, but when you realised he was genuinely trying to get to know you and get closer with you, you realised you quite liked Maxwell too. And it took off from there.

[gohyuck]

this is for the nct prompt thingy. i hope my choices aren’t boring 🥺✊ member: jaemin au: 10 trope:4 scenario prompt: 5

based on this post

i’m also adding another request i got to this one:

jaemin + tangible pls

notes: prom night!! and pretty much just fluff with a small bit of angst at the beginning

10: neighbors

4: coming of age

5: “i’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home.”

enjoy! part 2 here

being the president of the student council has its perks - you get to have a say in a decent amount of the major decisions that go on in your high school, and you get to do things like visit your prom venue (the top floor of a hotel this year, overlooking the entire city) weeks beforehand just to ensure that your classmates will love it. you got to design the class ring, and help lead student sections at football games. you wouldn’t give up your role for anything, and you know it.

still, right now, as you feel your high school world almost crashing down around you, you’re painfully away of the negative aspects of your job. prom ended two hours ago, and you’ve only just finished clean-up. the rest of your officers had left thirty minutes ago - you’d ushered them out yourself, wanting all of them to enjoy their prom nights in the way you wouldn’t be able to do so yourself. you’d stayed behind to help the caterers clean up and even managed to stay after all the chaperones had left, almost hell-bent on being alone in the end. 

it’s only as you say your final goodbyes to the hotel staff and make your way into the parking garage that you let your tears start to fall. 

you no longer have a ride home, and you really don’t want to bother your parents at 2 in the morning. getting a rideshare would involve paying with money you really don’t have. before you can talk yourself out of it, you dig your phone out of your clutch, searching for the contact of the one person who might be able to get you home at this hour. you press call. you rush to wipe your tears and stabilize your breathing, praying that you’ll sound normal on the phone. 

jaemin picks up on the third ring, and you realize immediately that he’s at a party, or a club, or something. regret climbs up your throat - you don’t want to tear him away from the fun he must be having. you almost hit the glaring red end call button, but his voice interrupts your actions. 

“(name)? what’s up? are you okay?”

you’re pleasantly surprised by the worry behind his words, but you’re quick to reassure him that yes, you’re fine, you’re just a little bit stranded at the hotel and if he could please give you a ride home, you’d be indebted to him forever. he agrees without qualms, and assures you that no, the party behind him isn’t very interesting, and that you aren’t doing him a disservice by calling him away from it. it takes him almost no time at all to get to where you are, and you realize he must’ve been at one of the clubs nearby. 

you wonder what it’s like. 

he opens the passenger door for you and ushers you in like a regular gentleman, and it isn’t until you’re settled down and buckled in in his beaten down honda civic that he asks the question you’re dreading. 

“didn’t you go with bradley?” his eyes don’t waver from the stretch of highway ahead of him, and it’s obvious he’s just trying to make small talk. still, you can’t help the sigh that escapes you. jaemin finally glances over, concern etching his features. 

“he left with alina halfway through,” you say, a sad smile turning up one corner of your mouth. “and left me rideless.”

“that bastard...” jaemin starts before trailing off, muttering angrily to himself, and you’re reminded of how protective he can be over his friends. though you don’t run in the same circles - his friend group is comprised mostly of the dance team, and yours is mostly your friends from student council and yearbook - you’ve managed to maintain some form of a relationship with jaemin throughout high school, in part due to the fact that his house is right next door to yours. 

“it’s fine, jaem - him and i weren’t a couple anyways.” you tell him, and he only gives a tight-jawed, curt nod in your response. you realize you’ve reached your neighborhood only when he turns onto your street. you’re prepared to give him a genuine thanks and a cursory goodnight until he drives directly into the driveway rather than stopping in front of your house. 

“did you forget that i’m here?” you tease him, though you’re thoroughly confused. he laughs before shaking his head, pressing the button above his head to open his garage. 

“how could i forget you?” he smiles directly at you after he parks, and under the fluorescent lights of his garage you realize just how handsome he looks in the dark blue suit he has on. you knock your shoulder against his as a way of responding to him, and the both of you share a grin. 

“but seriously, though, what are we doing here?”

“well i live here, so there’s that.” jaemin points out. before you can snark back at him, he waves a hand towards the passenger’s side door. “get out of my car and into my house and you’ll find out.”

♕ ♕ ♕

a few minutes later, you’re sitting on top of jaemin’s dining table with your feet - your heels long gone - resting on the chair in front of you. he’s scooping ice cream into a two bowls at the island as you watch. both of his parents, as professors at a nearby college, are off at a three day, two night conference, so he has the house to himself. 

jaemin hands you your bowl, though not before sticking a dessert spoon in it. you watch with equal parts horror and fascination as he pours soy sauce onto his own vanilla ice cream, and he sends you a cheeky wink when he catches your disgusted stare. 

“you’re a goblin, na.” you state, shaking your head. he can’t help but laugh at you as he pulls the chair out from under your feet and sits down on it. 

“what? it helps me with my lactose intolerance.” as if to emphasize his point, he digs in, making sure you’re watching as he places a spoonful of his concoction on his tongue. 

“mmm, it’s so incredibly delicious. why don’t you give it a try?” he grins up at you, and you fake gag at him in response. the two of you continue to banter back and forth as you eat, and, soon enough, bradley is out of your mind for good. it isn’t until after jaemin washes your dishes - “i can help, jaem-” “and get that gorgeous dress wet? not fucking likely.” - that you realize you should probably get home. he walks you to the front door and you give him a hug and say your thank you and goodnight. 

you’re genuinely surprised when he follows you outside. 

“dude, i live right there.” you point at your front door, which is hardly 20 feet away from you. jaemin gives you a sheepish smile before shrugging his shoulders. 

“it’s 3 in the morning. i’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home.” 

you shake your head in disbelief, though neither of you can ignore the smile that spreads across your face. you look up at him, and the way he looks back at you is so heartbreakingly tender that you find your own smile fading fast as your face relaxes itself. any response you might’ve had dies in your throat. 

jaemin hadn’t gone to prom with a date, the voice in the back of your head reminds you. he’d left his best friends to come pick you up, and he’s been the first person to make you smile all night. he looks impossibly good in the moonlight, dark hair tussled artistically and his single, dangly earring framing his jawline. in the moment, he seems realer to you than he ever has before. he’s concrete. tangible. 

before you can stop yourself, you lay a hand against one of his lapels and search your eyes with his. 

“can i kiss you?” your voice is more sure than you can give yourself credit for. jaemin, to his own right, lets his hands fall onto your waist naturally before nodding. you lean up as he leans down, and as the two of you meet in the middle, you can’t help but feel like something’s fallen into place. 

as you pull away from him, though, only one thing is on your mind...

... and your tongue. 

“you’re so lucky you’re a good kisser,” you say, not stepping away from him. before he can question you, you keep speaking. “because you taste like soy sauce, you big idiot!”

[agentofscifi]

Success is the Best Kind of Revenge: Ch 2

The whole classroom is sitting there in shock as Marinette, Chloe, Alix, and Juleka leave the room. Juleka’s mom follows them out, giving a smile to the Superintendent.  

Alya was still pale after being told she was now the Class Representative. She’d seen the piles of paperwork Marinette had to complete. None of it was quick or easy.  

The silence in the rooms holds until the door shuts behind them and then the yelling starts.  

“How could she have lied so well!” Rose is crying once more, thick tear trails soaking the tissue Marinette had given her earlier. Rose’s mother pulls her in for a small hug.  

“We collected money for her!” Myléne’s eyes are wide. “We collected money for her charities!”  

Kim raises an eyebrow. “How’s that a bad thing?”  

“Because it’s charity fraud.” Ivan’s voice is heard throughout the room, despite the fact that he wasn’t yelling. “We collected money for a charity that doesn’t exist. It’s illegal.”  

“We,” Myléne cuts off with a sniff. “We could have gone to jail. We almost went to jail over break.”  

Kim looks away with a grimace. “I went through something similar. Lila gave me this stuff, she said it would help with my swimming. She told me her olympic friend recommended it. You know, like organic stuff. Turns out it was steroids. They found out at my last surprise drug test before winter break. All my Universities pulled out and I got kicked off the swim team this morning.”  

Kim’s Mom blinks and then she lets her face fall into her hands. “You took pills from a classmate, without asking what was in them!”  

His father groans. “Well, this explains how you got those pills. Why didn’t you just tell us this?”  

Kim flushes. “I thought Lila was lied to, you know. I didn’t think she’d do this on purpose.”  

His mother lets out a sob. “All your scholarships! All your Universities!”   

On the opposite side of the room a different argument was taking place. Nino’s mother is glaring down at him, disappointment in her eyes. “When you said you weren’t talking to Marinette as much, I assumed it was because you grew apart. I did not think it was because you ignored all common sense to trust an exchange student over someone you’ve known since école maternelle.”  

Nino’s face is red. “I-I just her stories were so great and our class has done some amazing things. I didn’t think it was so far-fetched.”  

His mother purses her lips. “You didn’t think it was so far-fetched that Marinette was a bully. Marinette, who brought in cookies and cupcakes for every birthday. Marinette, who made you a custom jacket when you lost your favorite one on a vacation. Marinette, who brought you soup and get-well gifts every time you stayed home sick. This is who you thought was a bully.”  

Nino opens and closes his mouth a few times before finally closing it and looking down at the table. His mother throws her arms up in the air. “You stood there and watched, or even recorded, as your classmates physically assaulted Marinette. You are lucky, so very lucky, that she didn’t press charges. You were 18 for some of the worst offenses.”  

“I lost all of my University acceptances, Mom.” Nino hesitantly looks up at her.   

Mrs. Lahiffe whips her head down. “Nino! You could have lost a few years of your life, thousands of euros, and the ability to go to college. You have no criminal record, but you could have started one with the stunts you have pulled. You are lucky the police were willing to just give you service hours. This won’t even appear in your permanent record.” Nino nods mutely.  

Nathaniel is having a similar, but less heated argument with his parents, too. “My comics! They’re all missing online and the company that I signed a contract with has pulled the contact. There’s a pending copyright suit!”  

“Nathaniel!” His father sighs and places a hand on his shoulder. “We’ve talked to the people issuing the suits and explained the situation. They agreed to not press charges if you were dropped from the company and all of the art work is pulled off the internet.”  

Nathaniel stares at his father. “What! They can’t do that!”  

“Yes, Nathaniel, they can.” His mother is on the other side of him. “You copied someone else's work and didn’t credit them. You tried to sell that work and make money. That’s illegal. ”  

“Lila said she helped! That I could do this and it was ok.”  

Nathaniel’s father sighs. “Even if Lila had been involved, you still should have credited the other person. It still would have been illegal”

Nathaniel’s head drops onto the desk. “My life is ruined.”  

His mother places her hand on his shoulder. “A year off to...reimagine your art will do you some good.” Nathaniel only moans.  

Across from Nathaniel is Rose and her father. There was no lecture or comments from her father as Rose was too busy sobbing into his shirt. Prince Ali’s abrupt and simple ending of their relationship made more sense now, as did the comments by the music schools. Rose had changed so much of herself to help Lila or because Lila gave her some advice. Rose honestly didn’t know what to do now that it was all a lie.  

Sabrina, up in the front row, was hunched over herself. Her father had given her a none stop lecture about responsibility, trust, and legality that she hadn’t said a word. “You’re grounded for the next year!” Officer Raincomprix is red in the face. “We’ll talk about University after the next New Years, but for the next year you will be staying with me.” Sabrina nods.  

Her father deflates slightly. “Sabrina, you have no idea how lucky you are. 100 hours of community service will feel like nothing in the long run.” Sabrina just nods, curling in on herself.  

Back up by Max it was quieter. Max’s Mother was mumbling into her hand, asking how her brilliant son could be so stupid. Max’s was looking at his hands sheepishly. He’d attempted to disprove all of stuff about Lila by finally looking her up only to find nothing good. The Ladyblog came up first, filled with all of Lila’s lies. There were several news articles and twitter posts after that from Celebrities calling her out for lying or casually asking who this Italian Rossi girl was when it was brought up in interviews.  

Max then looked to Markov to ask why he said that Lila wasn’t lying only to find out that his robot marked most of Lila’s stores as inconclusive. It was all very vague and “he said, she said” situations. He couldn’t form a true conclusion without the other people in the stories being asked. This screwed the results in Lila’s favor. Max hadn’t looked up since Markov made that announcement to the class.  

However, the loudest and biggest argument was happening between Alya and her Mother, who were practically in a screaming match. “Alya! Stop blaming everyone else for your mistakes!” Marlena Césaire's coat was askew and her face red with narrowing eyes.  

“But Lila lied! I didn’t do anything! Why am I being rejected from my Universities? Why do I have to get rid of the Ladyblog!”  

“You attacked Marinette! You physically harmed her on the word of another student. Instead of getting a teacher or the police, or talking to us, you attacked her. Marinette got a concussion and stitches after the last assault when you pushed her down the stairs. As for the Ladyblog, you posted so many lies. It’s practically a shrine to that girl Alya.”  

“But Lila told us Marinette pushed her!” Alya’s phone is in her hand, clenched in a tight hand. “And, Lila told me all those stories!”  

“And yet, Lila had no injuries. And yet, Lila didn’t go to the proper authorities. Instead, you suggested getting even with Marinette. You started this!”  

“But Lila lied!” Alya sounded like a broken record, always repeating the same things. “Lila’s a psychopath or something!”  

“And you're the sheep who followed that psychopath Alya. You didn't look into any of this. You took her words as facts. You lectured Marinette about facts and yet you looked for nothing! Even now, you seem to think about no one but yourself. You’re screaming about how Lila lied and how that’s affected you. Have you once thought about what this must have been like for Marinette? You reject her for a new, shiny thing. You bully, verbally insulted, physically harmed, and stole from that girl. If it had been me, I’d have used the full force of the law against you. You’d have gotten more than a cease and desist order, a restraining order, and order from the blog’s removal.”  

“But Mom!”  

“Alya!” Otis Césaire stands from up. “You made mistakes, now you have to pay the consequences. You’ve been telling us for years that you’re an adult. Now act like it!”  

Mrs. Vaux chooses this point in time to clear her throat. “Mr. Agreste?” Adrien looks up from his seat. He’d been silent and pale as everyone took in the truth about Lila. “Your Aunt is here for you.” Amelie Graham de Vanily was standing in the doorway, a severe look on her face.  

Nino looks up at him. “Dude, what about your Dad?”  

Adrien gulps and looks down. “My Dad was hawkmoth. Ladybug caught him over the weekend.”  

The whole class, and their parent’s, take in a deep breath. Alya turns her eyes over to him. “You worked with Hawkmoth!”  

Marlena Césaire grabs her daughter and drags her down onto the bench. “Alya!”  

One of the police officers clears his throat. “We have questioned Mr. Agreste and found him innocent. Ladybug spoke on his behalf after Hawkmoth’s identity was revealed.”  

Adrien shrugs. “I’m moving in with my Aunt and cousin in London. I’ll be finishing Lycée online. I just… need to get away.”  

Nino gives Adrien a small smile. “Keep in touch.”  

Adrien returns it nervously as he packs up his stuff. As he walks up to his aunt he turns to give the class an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, about Lila. I didn’t think she’d taken things this far.”  

Nino blinks slowly as the rest of the class starts to process those words. “Wait? Dude, did you know that Lila was lying?”  

Adrien nods. “I thought she just wanted friends at first and didn’t know how to make real ones. Marinette called her out and she got akumatized. I didn’t want that to happen again!”  

“So, you let her lie to us?” Nino leans back on the bench, putting a few more inches between the two of them.  

“I thought she was like a tabloid. You have to ignore the lies for them to go away.”  

Alya lets out a blood thirsty scream. “This is all your fault! If you had just told us-”  

“Alya Césaire!” Her mother grabs her once again and pulls her down.   

Most of the class is staring at Adrien in horror. Rose was just sobbing even harder. The parents had more of a pitying look as they gazed at the son of Hawkmoth. Being the child of a magical terrorist who doubled as an abusive father probably didn’t help a child learn right from wrong.  

Adrien looks down. “I’m sorry.” His aunt places a hand and guides her nephew out the door, giving the police and the superintendent each a nod.  

The door closes in the silent room before chatting starts up again. The students are all trying to talk to each other and their parents at once. No one was quite sure of what they were supposed to do with that information. Hawkmoth had been found, they’d gathered that from the police saying that Hawkmoth named Lila as an accomplice. However, Hawkmoth being Adrien’s Dad was another matter entirely. Then there was the whole fact that Adrien knew about Lila. He had stood there, for years, letting them be used. Their overly kind classmates had done nothing to stop Lila as she twisted all of them like puppets.  

Mrs. Vaux clears her throat again. “You all have the rest of the day off. It was mentioned to me that this must be stressful to you all and I agree. You won’t learn anything else today. Besides,” she turns around to glare at Miss. Bustier and Principle Damocles. “We have some staffing issues to handle.” Both of them shrink down at the gaze.   

Mrs. Vaux looks back at the kids. “You all have mandatory school therapy twice a week for the rest of the school year. With everything that has happened, I think it will be healthy for all of you. Miss. Lucilia,” one of the women behind her steps forward. “Will be your teacher for the rest of the year. Ms. Birch,” the second woman steps forward. “Will be the acting principal for the rest of the school year.” She gives the class more onceover. The students all looked overly confused and their parent’s looked exhausted. “You are all excused.”

Ch. 1 ~~~~~ Ch. 3

[angeltrapz]

ALSO your takes on this lil Strahm/Adam thing we’ve been discussing?? hi???? tht dynamic makes me insane i love it sm + am very excited 2 hear more of ur thoughts 💗

I'm answering this one first bc!!!!!! It makes me insane too like I cannot stop thinking abt it. I am Trying 2 put together a fic abt it!!!

Okay so. I think that Adam and Strahm are similar in several ways, and yet not at the same time. Adam is accused of being apathetic by Jigsaw, right? But we're obviously shown that it's not exactly the case; if anything, Adam's supposed apathy is a shield to protect who he really is: someone who cares deeply, maybe more than he should; someone intensely thoughtful, someone willing to keep things from people if he knows it'll hurt them while also functioning as self-preservation (not showing the polaroid to Lawrence, hiding the fact that the trash bag contained both the hacksaws AND the pictures he took), someone who altogether simply cannot truly be defined as apathetic at his core. His projected persona, however, is a completely different story - Adam is angry, bitter, jaded. And yes, he is angry, bitter in regards to his circumstances, jaded in a way that comes from a life spent living paycheck to paycheck if he could even manage that regularly. We've seen his apartment. This dude struggles. Apathetic, no, but angry? Oh, absolutely.

Strahm is... slightly more complicated. HIS projected persona is one of cool indifference, no nonsense, someone purely analytical and maybe a bit of an asshole about it. The thing is, though, is that deep down, Strahm also cares deeply - just look at how he reacted to Perez being injured + having to call her mom, when he destroyed that office room - it's just harder to get out of him. His projected persona hides someone whose emotions run just as hotly and strongly; his are just more well-hidden. He is impulsive, intelligent, result-seeking. Strahm doesn't seem like someone who allows himself to just feel things very often, and when he does, the blowout can be a fucking mess (for example, showing up to the packing plant BY HIMSELF, operating on adrenaline and rage alone).

I think, other than Perez perhaps, Adam just may be the first person to understand Strahm in a way that no one else has even attempted. Adam might be the first person who manages to see past that indifference, who embraces the writhing emotions underneath it because he gets it. And Adam is absolutely one of the very first people to look at Hoffman the way he and Perez did - after all, Adam is present in Strahm's hospital room when Hoffman pays him a visit and tells him to back the fuck off, and after the man leaves, the first thing he says to Strahm is "It's him, isn't it?"

Because he sees it too. He'd been in Hoffman's presence for all of around five minutes and he'd seen it too.

And just how world-shattering can that simple revelation be? For the first time, Strahm has someone other than Perez on his side. She's gone, there's nothing he can do to bring her back, but here is someone else who sees what he sees, feels what he feels, in a strange echo of the test that brought Strahm and Perez into this whole fucking mess. Here is someone who has no reason to agree with him, no prior pressure put upon him and someone who Strahm feels wouldn't simply agree with him on that basis anyway (as you've touched on before), and yet Adam sees it too.

I feel like, in the tensely energized space the two of them share in that room after Hoffman leaves, that is one of the very first times Strahm feels seen. He doesn't feel the need to keep his shields up, and it's liberating, in a way. He feels like he can breathe around Adam. For reasons even he isn't entirely sure of, Strahm feels safe here. He can be himself, even if that self is angry, bitter, jaded. Who better to understand that than Adam Faulkner-Stanheight?

It's a feeling that only increases after they're discharged from the hospital. There's no real reason for the two of them to stay together, no obligations (except the fact that Strahm saved Adam's life, but Strahm doesn't hold that over him & Adam doesn't stick around purely because of it), and yet they do. It's two weeks after they're sent home that Adam shows up at Strahm's apartment, shaking softly and looking so fucking miserable that Strahm couldn't even dream of turning him away - after all, he gave him the address. An unspoken agreement, an offering of companionship.

Adam has been thinking. He and Strahm, they're tied together in more than one way, aren't they? Not just their shields and safeguards, not just the similarities in their true, deep-down emotions, not even having been targeted by Jigsaw and surviving things they shouldn't have - they've both lost people. Strahm is never getting Perez back, and Adam? Adam bonded with a man in that bathroom who shot him and told him he'd come back, but never did. He never looked back. His other potential saviour, Amanda Young? Her idea of rescue was a plastic bag over his head, but even she couldn't commit to the idea. She left him there, too. He's not getting Lawrence back, he knows that. Jigsaw took something, someone, from both of them. So, he proposes, what if we did something about it?

(Strahm still thinks about when they first met, when Adam told him he loved him. He can't help it, of course he thinks about it; knowing Adam was delirious with blood loss and a dizzying combo of dehydration and starvation and infection didn't cut into the feeling the earnest declaration gave him, even if it should've. Adam stuck around when he didn't have to. He wants him here.)

They've lost everything. Adam, his peace of mind, the uncertain semi-stability of his life, functionality in his arm, one of the first people he'd made a genuine connection with. Strahm, his best friend, his colleagues' trust, the safety that came with observing the case from a distance. They have nothing and yet they have each other. They both want Jigsaw to pay for what he's done to them and the people they care about, and the innocent people they never even knew. Why shouldn't they?

Like you said, I don't think they get in the coffin. I agree with you and I think that Adam is the catalyst there, the one voice of reason that drags Strahm away from certain death before he even has the chance to get ensnared permanently in Hoffman's web. They don't even listen to the tape. They just hightail it. And it's outside of that building, chests heaving and hands shaking, that it all kind of sets in for Strahm: he could've died. Hoffman could have killed him like he wanted and he would've walked right into it had he been alone. Adam, completely unconscious of the gravity of Strahm's revelation, had turned around and saved his life, repaid a favour he didn't really owe but wanted to fulfill.

And again, like you said, it's not really a favour, is it? Not when instead of laughing in an expelling of nervous energy Adam leans up and drags Strahm down by the lapels of his jacket and kisses him hard, grip white-knuckled and short breaths huffed through his nose. No, there is the same kind of reverence to be found in the way that Adam cradles his face in his trembling hands and breathes out "You're alive," as the kind that could be heard in that first I love you. There's nothing else that Adam has to say for Strahm to understand. He just pulls him close because he needs this, too. He has spent so long living his life as someone who doesn't need tenderness, doesn't need people to care about him, feels safer in isolation than anything else, and now he doesn't feel the need anymore. He is changed, in this way, but Adam accepts it readily, and though Strahm can't say it back when Adam finally slumps against him and breathes out "I love you" against his shoulder, no fever or delirium to compromise the meaning, he feels it all the same.

They understand each other, hold each other. They have work to do, and lots of it - Hoffman's going to be rampaging in a blaze of enraged glory soon enough, knowing that Strahm (and, by extension, Adam) got away, and they're going to need a plan - but right now, they can breathe. Right now, all either of them needs is knowing the other is alive, that they'd made it through something that for all intents and purposes was meant to kill them. Strahm can't just walk away. Adam knows this; he doesn't think he can, either. Two people who are more similar than they could've ever dreamed, brought together in one of the worst ways imaginable and yet in a way that has served as a lifesaver - not Jigsaw, fuck that. They want to live. For themselves, for each other, for everyone who didn't make it out. For the people they can't get back.

It's a kind of understanding that's entirely foreign to both of them, but as they hole up in Strahm's apartment after, huddled close on the couch because neither of them can sleep and they're trembling for reasons other than just the caffeine buzz of coffee, it's one that they can learn to adapt to. They can do this. They're going to save lives. They're going to do this hand-in-hand. They have each other's backs, without the shadow of a doubt.

And, really, is that not love?