#the memory of them. forever. wow- it's a completely different level of pain. it just hurts differently. because i know it's time and i know | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

battlinghurricanes · 4 years

Text

LITYERSES HEADCANONS!!!!!!!

I saw some other headcanon posts for him, so I felt inspired to throw my own ideas out there! I think some of my headcanons are pretty different from the ones a lot of people have of him, but I always like reading other people’s ideas so hopefully people will like this too!

(also theres a lot, this is long *cough* my bad)

- After the incident in The Lost Hero, after Midas dies, Lityerses is homeless. His father’s mansion is destroyed and it’s not like he has anyone to turn to.

- They mention in The Lost Hero that the Hunters of Artemis came across Midas and Lityerses earlier. When they did, Lityerses heard in passing about Camp Half-Blood. It’s the only place meant for demigods that he has even the slightest knowledge on, so he sets his sights on making it there.

- It takes eight grim months to reach New York. It’s half a miracle, slowly taking busses, hitchhiking, and sometimes just walking to the next city. Monsters attack him the entire way and he adds plenty of new scars to his collection.

- There’s no reliable way for him to get money. He gets much, much better at using his powers as a son of Demeter. He uses it to grow fruits, vegetables, and any sort of edible plant so he can at least have food of some kind.

- He goes to New York City because he doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t even know if the Hunters were talking about the city or the state but he figures he has to start somewhere. Unfortunately, the Triumvirate notices his presence before anyone from Camp Half-Blood does.

- He follows some demigods to Nero, who sent them to collect him. He offers a position working for the Triumvirate in exchange for food, lodging, and other basic support. Lityerses is tired and he wants to sleep in a bed and have proper meals he doesn’t have to worry about acquiring.

- He accepts, not caring if what the Triumvirate is doing is shitty or not. Nero sends him to Indianapolis to work for Commodus.

- Apollo’s decision to give him another chance was very affecting. Especially coming from ancient times when the stories of the gods on earth were far more real and immediate, he knows very well how the gods could treat mortals as simply disposable.

- He had never questioned his belief that any mortal who got wrapped up in business with a god suffered a horrible fate because of it, whether the god intended it or not.

- But then Apollo saved his life and defended him at the Waystation and told him he trusted him and Lityerses’s mind keeps drifting back to him over and over and over.

- His mind wants to reconcile what Apollo did for him with what he knows about the gods. He can’t, and that makes him feel a great many things that he can’t pin down. Apollo decided to care about him when he had no reason to, and he doesn’t know what that means for him.

- He feels a twinge of gratitude whenever he steps into the sunlight and pulse of anxiety whenever he wonders if he’s okay on his quest.

- He thinks about Meg, his little sister, and hopes they’re keeping each other safe.

- Lityerses can occasionally seem really dull, indifferent, or unresponsive because he gives super minimal reactions to things sometimes, but that’s really not the case.

- Being in the modern world for him is sort of like a slight, but near constant sensory overload. Sometimes, his brain is too busy processing other stuff to fully load up an emotional response. He’ll react to something in his mind but he won’t express it outwardly at all.

- Leo, running up: Wanna help me strap a firework to a crossbow bolt and try to shoot it into the office building across the street to see if it’ll blow up in there?!!!!! Lityerses, with a completely flat voice and blank expression: I think that’s a very bad idea.

- It’s definitely not all the time, but it does happen.

- (Me? Projecting sensory issues onto every character I like? It’s more likely than you think.)

- He has a very “go with the flow” attitude, to the point of being a character flaw sometimes. It can make him easy to manipulate.

- (Commodus: hey lityerses go put this barbed wire and war helmets and metal teeth on these ostriches Liyerses, in his head: uhuh uhuh uhuh uhuh yeah cool got it i hope i still have some fingers left tomorrow)

- He’s working on it though. He’s working on it.

- One side effect of this is that whenever Leo makes some pop culture or meme reference, Lityerses will just nod and agree. It takes Leo forever to realise that he was just lying going along with it.

- *mid conversation* Lityerses: I’d go get some food, but I don’t have any money Leo: dude, you’re literally just the 69 cents vine, not enough for chicken nuggets Lityerses: oh, for sure Calypso, overhearing: wait, you understood that?? Lityerses: no, I’ve never understood a single word that’s left leo’s mouth Leo: what?!!!! but you said you understood my reference to that dril tweet the other day, right?! Lityerses: yeah, of course Calypso: what’s a dril tweet?? Lityerses: I don’t know. Leo: YOU TRAITOR

- Another side effect: he’s a complete pushover for Georgie.

- At one point, when some of the Waystation crew are walking out in the city, she complains that she’s tired and wants to be carried. When her moms gently refuse, she immediately goes over to Lityerses and holds her arms out and says that she’s tired. He doesn’t even stop walking, he just swoops her up and puts her on his shoulder right away.

- Hemithia and Jo glare at him but he just avoids eye contact. “She’s already up there, too much effort to put her down now.”

- He was in the Fields of Punishment in the Underworld and wow was it incredibly traumatizing.

- His memories of death are sickeningly agonizing, but they also usually feel distant and unreal. Sometimes, though, they’ll worm their way into his dreams with horrific clarity. He’ll wake up in a cold sweat, hyperventilating, with full body tremors he can’t control.

- One morning after waking up like that, while sitting on the floor regaining his composure, Hemithea comes in to see why he wasn’t up yet. He pulls himself together in due time. He doesn’t answer any of her questions.

- He never talks about it, but he’s truly terrified of dying. He never was before, but now that he knows what’s waiting for him...

- It doesn’t help that he knows that, no matter how careful he is or how well he defends himself, he could die at any moment if Thanatos decides to bring him back to the Underworld.

- It weighs on the back of his mind that, at least on a technical level, he has no right to be alive. Sometimes he can’t help but think that the things he does now don’t matter in the end, because there’s no reason he would get a second judgement when he does eventually return to the Underworld.

- He does his best to shut that down and remind himself that trying to do the right thing helps the people around him, no matter what happens after his death, but the thought exists and it is painful.

- He really never voices these fears because he feels like all he can really do is try not to think about it, and when he does, he tries to forget as soon as he can. It’s a burden he shoulders as quietly as he can.

- He isn’t used to owning a lot of material possessions, both from how he lived in ancient times and then from being homeless for a while. He’s only ever described wearing that Cornhuskers shirt because it’s the only one he owned for a while.

- Not long after joining the Waystation, the first time he was going out somewhere them, Jo snapped that it just made him look stupid, trying to look tough by going without a coat when it was so cold outside. Earnestly confused and defensive, he tells her that he just doesn’t own one.

- After that, she insists on filling his wardrobe until he has enough clothes.

- (Speaking of the Cornhuskers shirt, he just picked it out on a whim, sort of thinking of Demeter (They grow corn here like we used to grow wheat, right?) and sort of just thinking it looked cool. Olujime once tried to talk to him about how some college teams were doing and Lityerses just goes “What’s football?”)

- He doesn’t really get modern fashion trends. Leo offers to catch him up, but he declines very quickly.

- In ancient times, dyes and patterns available for clothes were much more limited and much more expensive. He’s fascinated by all the colors and prints people can wear just all the time now. Lityerses wears a lot of bright colors because he thinks they’re cool and fun. He likes red, blue, and purple the most but he’ll wear a lot of stuff.

- Along with not really following any trends, he also hasn’t picked up on a lot of unspoken gender connotations that come with modern clothing.

- When the Waystation are first trying to get him some clothes, he picks out a pink jacket and Leo snorts at him like “You’re going for pink?” Lityerses just stares at him like “Yeah. It’s just pink.” Leo sort of realizes and goes, “Oh, it’s just, you know...” to Calypso. But Calypso is also just staring blankly and says, “No I don’t. I don’t get it. Is there something about pink?” And Leo notices Hemithea glaring daggers at him and he laughs nervously and goes, “Nevermind, it was a stupid joke anyway.”

- Hemithia: Leave the ancient demigod and ex-titan blissfully unaware of our complex, modern gender stereotypes. Leo, sweating: gotcha.

- He pretty much just wears what he finds comfortable. Generally it’s just t-shirts with jeans or basketball shorts.

- Lityerses is a super clingy sleeper and will reflexively grab on to anything within arms reach while he’s asleep. (He’s a big spoon by nature.)

- Leo discovers this and now, whenever Lityerses falls asleep on one of the couches, he’ll entertain himself by slowly pushing a pillow up to him until he inevitably grabs it and pulls it against his chest.

- No one gets those pillows back until Lityerses wakes up.

- He’s very buff. His muscles aren’t super defined, nothing at all like a bodybuilder, no six pack abs or anything. But he’s built. Thick arms.

- He’s very limber and flexible too. He has great balance, which lets him move as fast as he does in combat. He’s quite physically fit in general.

- He’ll never admit it, but he ended up getting attached to the highlights in his hair he got when Apollo revealed his godly form. He thought they were fun and different and he sort of missed it when his hair grew out.

#trials of apollo #toa #lityerses #pjo #litpollo #well none of its super litpollo but #you know you know #long post #also sorry for giving you super cute georgie and lityerses headcanons #and then punching you in the gut with the trauma of death and revival with no warning #not that sorry tho #god its been a long time since ive done headcanons like this #this better go in the tags #edit- it did for a min then disappeared :^)

266 notes · View notes

chaoticpuff17 · 4 years

Text

A Dangerous Game

part 31

masterlist

Hello my darlings! We are winding down. This is the second to last before we’re done, not including the epilogue. I’m honestly so sad for this to be almost done, but so excited to start on Something Wicked. Enjoy, my loves!!--- chaotic puff

To say that the atmosphere around the estate was frosty the next day would have been an understatement. It was positively glacial. She wouldn’t even look at him, and Namjoon knew rather immediately that he had fucked up.

“Jagi.” He tried gently taking her arm to turn her to look at him only to be met with a solid slap across the cheek with enough force behind it to turn his head.

“You do not touch me. You never touch me without my permission.” She hissed her eyes blazing even though her voice was shaking.

“Jagi.” He tried again taking a step back to give her space. “Jagi, please.” He pleaded his eyes soft and contrite as he looked at her.

“No!” She yelled taking another step back closer to Jungkook who was tense, holding himself as taunt as a bowstring was waiting to jump in as soon as she needed him. He loved his hyung, but anyone with eyes could see something was very, very wrong. “Don’t.”

“Noona.” He whispered gently touching her shoulder flinching with her when she flinched back at the sensation only to relax when she realized who it was melting back into the familiar protection of his presence. Jungkook was safe. Jungkook could protect her.

“Y/N, please let me talk to you.” Namjoon pleaded in physical pain as she flinched back from him and into the protection of another man’s arms.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Please, jagi.” He begged eyes soft and pleading. “Jagiya, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“You’ve done enough.” She hissed turning on her heel and leaving the dining room. She turned at the door to face him again, leveling him with a cold glare. “I’ll be moving my things back to the other room.” She swept out of the room Jungkook following closely behind her.

And Namjoon couldn’t even argue with that.

The stony silence between the two of them continued until the Christmas party. Y/N would not let him near let alone let him touch her, but the Christmas party was one obligation that he couldn’t allow her to shirk. She was expected to attend as his wife. She had yet to move back to the master bedroom, and she had no plans to do so any time soon. Namjoon was living with the consequences of his actions and this was one of them.

She hadn’t even let him near here when she’d gotten sick repeatedly, day after day. Jungkook reported that she was suffering from night terrors. Jin said it was because of the stress, and Namjoon couldn’t have felt worse. It was his fault. He’d taken things too far, and now she wouldn’t look at him. It was killing him inside.

Anything she said to him was cold and clipped. All the progress he had made, months of work, was gone in an instant, ruined in a night. He tiptoed around the estate looking like a kicked puppy trying to find an opportunity to talk to her, but she was adamant in her avoidance, the queen of the cold shoulder. It seemed to him that her ire was endless, and he couldn’t even blame her for it. He’d done something unforgiveable.

The worst of it was on the drive over to the party. He had to give the jewelry for her ensemble to Jungkook to deliver to her. He wasn’t allowed past the threshold of that room, and even Moni, his dog, had taken to growling at him when he tried to enter the room.

She sat next to him during the drive bundled up in her coat and gloves staring out the window. He hadn’t seen her in the full outfit yet. She’d come down the stairs bundled up in her coat and gloves hair neatly tied back and her expression glacial as she breezed past him to the car. She didn’t say a word to him the entire time.

“Y/N…” He began trying to start conversation though he wasn’t sure that she would allow it.

“Let’s just get through tonight.”

“Y/N.”

“No. We’ll get through tonight. That’s all that I promised.” She sighed picking imaginary lint off her coat.

“Y/N, we need to talk.” He sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. It had been two weeks of this. He missed the sound of her voice. He missed talking to her. He’d even settle for her yelling at him.

“We have nothing to talk about.”

“We have a great deal to talk about.”

A small bitter smile pulled up the corners of her mouth. “Do you think talking is going to make this better?” She asked turning her gaze to him for the first time in weeks.

“I know it’s not.”

“Did you or did you not promise me when you first took me that you would never touch me without my permission?” She hissed head cocked to the side curiously. “I thought we promised not to lie to each other.”

“We did.”

“Then I’m imagining what happened? Because the great RM would never break his word?”

“Y/N… jagi…”

She threw back her head laughing the sound breaking through the thick tension filling the car. “Do you really think there’s anything you can say that will make this better? You’d think that I’d be used to this by now, but I guess I never learn.”

Namjoon froze letting the reality of those words sink in along with the horror they brought with them. He stared at her eyes wide. “Jagi… I’m…. I’m sorry, jagi…”

“Sorry doesn’t fix it.”

“Jagi…” He reached over to take her hand, but she snatched it back throwing him a harsh glare.

“Don’t. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Where’s Y/N?” Hoseok asked scanning the area for the woman that was missing from Namjoon’s side.

“She wasn’t feeling well. Got sick in the car. I had the driver take her home to rest.” He explained sipping at a scotch. “I tried to talk to her.” He began scowling down into his cup.

“And?” the other man asked curiously.

“She said she didn’t want to talk, that nothing could make it better, and then she got sick.” He sighed expression gloomy.

“Lighten up. She’ll come around eventually.” Hoseok patted his shoulder sympathetically. “You have all the time in the world. It’s not like she’s going anywhere.”

“We’re back to square one. Worse than square one.” He groaned placing his glass on a passing tray. “It’s worse than when I first brought her home.”

“Wow.” Hoseok laughed. “And she threw a vase at you that time.”

“And tried to jump out the window.” A small wry smile tugged at his lips at the memory.

“She’s something.” Hoseok smiled swiping them both a glass of champagne from another passing tray. “She’s good for you. Keeps you on your toes.”

“When she talks to me.” He growled throwing back the glass. “She won’t even look at me.”

Hoseok sighed smile falling from his face. “You have to talk to her.”

“She won’t talk to me.”

“Make her talk to you.” He shrugged. “She can’t ignore you forever.”

“She’s certainly trying.” He huffed out a bitter laugh of his own scowling at his empty glass. “Stubborn woman.” He murmured under his breath.

He knew he had to talk to her, but she wasn’t making it easy. She wasn’t going to make it easy though. That was part of her charm. She never made things easy for him. It was what drew him to her in the first place, her fire, her ability to match him at every turn. Even when he’d stripped her of everything, she was still a fighter. This was different though. This was complete radio silence. It wasn’t fighting. It was like when she was catatonic, she was completely freezing him out like he didn’t exist at all.

“What do you suggest?” He asked sighing deeply. “How far can I push her before she breaks? I don’t want a shell of her. I want her.”

“You have time. Keep trying. She’s what you want right?”

“She’s everything I want.” And he had no intention of losing her. He refused to lose her.

She never managed to change out of her dress when she returned to the house. She’d gone straight to her bedroom to lie down, not even removing her shoes. She was sprawled across the bed red dress fanned out around her like a pool of blood as she laid with her arm thrown over her eyes.

She was grateful not to have had to go to the party. She didn’t know if she could stand a whole evening by his side. Her skin crawled every time he was near. The bruises were faded but the memory of the incident had not.

She only moved from her position when she heard the door to the room bang open. Sitting up she saw Namjoon storming towards her, and she could only sit there like a dear in the headlights.

“What are you doing here?” She asked watching him with wide eyes. “Get out.” She watched in astonishment as he dropped to his knees in front of her clutching her hands tightly in his as she tried to yank them away. “What are you doing?”

“I love you.” His words were spoken fiercely, his eyes lit up with determination. “I love you, and I can’t take this anymore. I can’t take this silence this cold war. I want you. All of you.”

She laughed the sound bitter and cold. “You want me? Have you ever stopped to think that that’s the problem? You want things so you take them. What about me? What about what I wanted? I want to go home. I want my life back. But that doesn’t matter, not to you. This isn’t love.” She hissed out each words throwing them each out like a dagger to his heart. “This is obsession, possession, but it sure as hell isn’t love.”

“I love you.” He repeated clutching her hands tighter.

“I don’t.”

“What?” He asked eyes wide searching her face hoping for any trace of a lie or hesitance of some kind, but there was none.

“I don’t love you.” She repeated voice steady as she gazed down at him. “You’ve taken everything from me.”

“I would give you the world if you would just let me.”

Looking at him she knew he meant those words. He really thought that he loved her. He thought that this was okay, that he was doing the right thing for them. But it wasn’t, not for her.

“I don’t want the world.” She whispered voice low and gentle. “I just want my life back.”

“This is your life, here with me.” He urged reaching up his hands to cup her face, holding her steady even as she tried to pull away. “My wife, my love, my life.”

“You don’t know what love is.” She scoffed ripping herself out of his hold and standing up and striding over to the window arms wrapped around herself.

He strode after her holding onto her upper arms as they stood looking out over the dark garden. “You have to forgive me eventually.”

She whirled around delivering a sharp slap to his face. The sound of the impact echoed across the quiet room as they stared at each other both breathing heavily.

“I don’t have to do anything.” The words were laced in venom. “Get out.” She ordered staring up at him defiantly.

“Y/N.” He pleaded, reaching for her.

“Out!” She yelled again. “I look at you, and I see him. I thought you were better than him, but you’re not. You’re worse than him. That was my own mess. This, this is your hell.”

The words stung hitting him right at the heart of the issue. She was comparing him to Marcus, a man she had called vile and brutish on more than one occasion.

“Get out.” She ordered again pushing on his chest shoving him away, and he stumbled back shaken by her words. “Out!”

“We’ll talk again tomorrow.” It sounded more like a question than a statement, a figment of wishful thinking.

“Out!”

Part 32

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #bts rm #bts namjoon #namjoon #namjoon x reader #mafia namjoon #yandere namjoon #kim namjoon #yandere #soft yandere #rm x reader #rm #mafia #mafia au #dark romance #a dangerous game #fanfic

314 notes · View notes

vermss · 3 years

Text

a slip of the tongue- jamilmads

@who-knew-what I wrote a part 2 to Home Is Where The Heart Is! expect more to come, too. I’m already working on two more installments in this universe. I’ll tag all of them with “#home ‘verse” so you can find them. enjoy, y’all!

“Alex?” John asks, peering into Alex’s office. The man is barely keeping himself awake, empty mugs of coffee all around him and papers on the floor. It’s nearly midnight. “Are you alright? Do you need me to take you home?”

“I’m alright,” Alex mutters. “They’ll take me home.” John furrows his brow. People taking care of Alexander Hamilton isn’t unheard of, exactly, but usually it’s one of his friends, and he isn’t aware of any new people in the friend group. Everyone else is sleeping at home already.

“Who?” he asks. “You got a boyfriend or something?” He meant it as a joke, because Alex would have told him. Right? But then Alex looks up at him, his tired expression twisting into something happier.

“I got boyfriend,” he slurs, obviously exhausted. John sighs. Whatever that means, he’ll parse it later. For now, he just wants to make sure Alex gets back to his house.

“Yeah, well, is ‘boyfriend’ gonna pick you up in a few? The office is closing soon,” he says.

“Thomas’ll drag me out anyways,” Alex responds, though he looks distinctly annoyed at the thought.

The revelation hits John like a freight train. There’s only one Thomas in the office (not counting Thomas Paine, who’s a level above them when it comes to management and is also very old), and that Thomas is the guy Alex screams at and then complains about to John. What? He considers asking Alex for more details, but looks again at Alex’s figure hunched over the desk, typing furiously, and decides against it.

Alex, in his sleep-deprived state, has no idea why he said “I got boyfriend” or if he even said it. He has a vague memory of John’s gears turning as he stares at him from the doorway, but that’s all, and he promptly forgets about it.

Thomas and James are entirely unaware of the incident. Thomas did end up storming in after receiving an email from Alex about the project he was working on and dragging him out, scolding him like a child (“I have no idea what you’re trying to accomplish with this, Alexander, but so far I only see death by loss of sleep”), but only several minutes after John had left.

So a week later he finds himself dragging James into his office. He just wants a quick kiss, initially, and then it turns into something more and James is straddling him in his chair, making out like there’s no tomorrow, and then John Laurens barges in, stops short, glares at Thomas, and turns on his heel and runs. Thomas exchanges a bemused look at James, but John’s been sending him those glares (albeit more of an “I’m watching you” sort) all week, and he thinks nothing of it, chasing James’ mouth with his own again.

Alex barely looks up as John barges into his office, glancing once at his friend and then returning to the screen. The click of the keyboard resumes, John’s heavy breathing filling the office. “What is it?” Alex asks when John continues to simply stand there, out of breath from his run. It takes a few more moments before he can gather enough breath to speak.

“Thomas- is- cheating,” he pants.

Alex’s head snaps up. “What?” he says sharply. He isn’t worried for himself- he can deal with the fucker- but it’s James he’s worried about. And then there’s also a slight disbelief. He knows John would never lie to him, not with something like this, but he also knows that Thomas wouldn’t cheat. Right?

“He- was- hang on,” John says. Now in a better state, he continues, “he was making out with Madison in his office, I’m really sorry, Ham- what is it?” Alexander had slumped over his desk, cackling with laughter.

“Oh my god,” he says after a moment in which he feels hysterical and John is plain confused. “I cannot believe- I thought- if you knew about Thomas-”

“Get to the point, will you?” John asks, beginning to feel annoyed.

“Okay- okay so,” Alex begins, then dissolves into laughter again. “Sorry. So. Thomas is my boyfriend.” John nods, well aware. “James is also my boyfriend.” At this, John tilts his head. Wouldn’t that be worse, then? Double betrayal? “Thomas is also James’ boyfriend.” John is lost, as is evident in his expression. “Look- it’s- it’s basically like, like, I like both of them and they like me and them- like a- it’s a- triangle of love, of sorts,” he says. Having never really considered the unconventionality of his relationship, he finds himself at a loss to describe it. John is even more lost, having not followed half of what he was saying. “Like a couple, except with three people! I’m with James and Thomas and Thomas is with James and me and James is with Thomas and me. Like a big puddle of love,” he says, acutely aware that he’s not doing a very good job of explaining. John, however, seems to get it, nodding slowly as he processes the words.

“OH!” he nearly shouts. “Ohhhh. Goddamn, I feel like an idiot.”

Alex laughs. “You are!”

Later that night, Alex finishes recounting the story to his boyfriends, lying across Thomas and James’ laps on the couch. James laughs, fingers entangled in Alex’s hair. “Wait- so how many of your friends besides John know about us?” Thomas asks. Alex pauses, considers.

“Actually I think only John knows,” he says. “Wow. I just completely forgot to tell them.”

“Are you going to tell them?” James says. “I mean, I could understand if you didn’t want to, considering-” he waves his hand around, the gesture invoking memories of shouting competitions in meetings and furious disagreements and, especially, Alex breaking off his friendship with James and coming to them crying afterwards.

“It… should be fine,” Alex says, though he sounds uncertain. “In any case, they’re my friends, they’re legally obligated to support me even if my boyfriends are assholes.” Thomas smacks his thigh.

“I’m gonna call them right now,” Alex announces. “I’m probably going to forget later if I don’t.” Saying this, he picks his phone up from where he’d discarded it on the floor and proceeds to call Eliza. She picks up on the first ring.

But it isn’t her who answers. “This better be a good excuse for why you’re not at game night,” Angelica snaps. Alex’s face is blank for a moment, and then he remembers.

“Shit!” he hisses. “I’m so sorry, Angie, I just-” he looks up at James and Thomas, who are giving him disapproving looks- “forgot. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m putting you on speaker. Apologize to all of us.”

“Sorry!” Alex says into the phone, and he hears a chorus of voices rushing to reprimand him..

“This is the second time in a row you’ve forgotten,” Hercules says. “What happened, man? I thought you had a reminder or something!”

“I thought I did!” Alex says desperately. “I’m so sorry, you guys. I was just, uh…” He trails off, searching his mind for a plausible excuse.

“Well?” Peggy asks.

“Actually, I called you guys to tell you something because I forgot to, so uh…” James nudges him. “I have boyfriends,” he says. Their reactions are immediate: five different voices start talking at once, raising their voices to be heard over the others and creating a cacophony of both pleased and annoyed tones. He can’t hear John saying anything, and he imagines him sitting smug on his bean bag (Hercules has bean bags in his apartment for whatever reason) while the others crowd the phone.

“Who?” Lafayette demands. “Tell us at once, mon ami! Why did we not know sooner?”

“Uh. So,” he starts, hearing his friends fall silent at once. “James?” It comes out more of a question than an answer, but they get it immediately.

“Madison?” Eliza says. “Didn’t you-”

“Yes, well, we’ve worked it out,” James interjects. It’s still a bit of a sore subject. There’s immediate squeals on the other end.

“James!” Angelica says in surprise. “You’re there?”

“Evidently,” he says, though he’s smiling. “Hello, Angelica.”

“Mon amiiiiii, you cannot leave us hanging like this,” Lafayette interrupts. “Tell us who the other person is! Do we know him? Is he handsome? Oh! Are they a girl?”

“You do know him,” Alex concedes, “and his handsomeness… mmm, not quite there,” he continues, earning another smack on the thigh from Thomas.

“I am very handsome, thank you very much,” Thomas cuts in smoothly. His friends fall silent at once.

“Is that… is that Jefferson?” Peggy whispers.

“It IS!” Lafayette shouts. “I knew it! I knew it! See, I told you, Alex, mon cousin is not that bad once you get used to him-”

“Is it Attack Thomas Day or something?” Thomas grumbles. James pats him condescendingly on the head.

“Hush now, the grownups are talking,” he says.

“Hold up,” comes Hercules’ voice from the phone, which is now balanced on Alex’s chest. “You’re dating Jefferson? The guy you used to whine about whenever you came over?” Thomas raises an eyebrow at him.

“Oh? You whined about me? Do I truly affect you that much?” he teases.

Alex makes a hmph noise. “I did not!” he protests. “Stop lying, Hercules!” And that’s the end of any questions about his relationship, thank god. They spend a couple more minutes just messing around with each other before they disconnect abruptly upon discovering that John knew before them.

There’s silence for a bit afterwards. Thomas shifts, nestling closer to James and slinging his arm around him, the other hand resting on Alex’s thigh. “Your friends are… something,” James says eventually, threading his fingers once again through Alex’s hair.

Alex laughs. “They sure are.”

I very much hope “I got boyfriend” made you laugh as much as I did. Please, please reblog! Likes don’t do anything! If you comment I’ll love you forever.

#home 'verse #hamilton #jamilmads #alexander hamilton #thomas jefferson #james madison #john laurens #hercules mulligan #angelica schuyler #marquis de Lafayette #peggy schuyler #elizabeth schuyler

38 notes · View notes

cosmicclownboy · 4 years

Text

Alex has been stirring his milkshake for half an hour his fries completely untouched getting colder by the minute. Alex loves dipping his fries. What the hell?? Michael knows somethings up his Alex senses are tingling. Getting their friendship on track has been a struggle at times but he fought against his need to put his face on Alex’s face to support Alex’s needs. He knows it’s not the Forest breakup. It was amicable they even went to a concert as friends the other day. So it’s not Forest. And it’s not him because Alex smiles a lot more recently at him which his alien heart isn’t prepared for in the slightest. The Alex Manes protection squad protocol has jumped out so he’s surveying when he can get a minute to maybe see if Liz has any details. When Alex sighs for the third time before quietly excusing himself to pee it’s when he hops to it.

The responsible party for making Alex Manes sad isn’t a person.

It’s a rocking chair. His grandfather’s rocking chair.

The last storm that hit the reservation had wilted whatever life was left in it. When Greg went to sit down the next evening the thing snapped in two.

“Alex once told me his mom used to rock him in that chair before she left and that his grandparents took over until he could sit in it himself”

Beautiful loving memories his father never touched it’s not hard to see why he’s sad. Alex slips back into the chair chewing with an air of disgust at the cold plate of fries he’s doing it for Liz’s benefit no doubt.So instead of watching his soulmate dejectedly chew cold potato Michael concocts his brain into action.

He calls Greg for starters asks if he can maybe take a look at the damage.

“You can take a look but there’s not much to look at the wood mites have been at it for years”

And upon inspection, the rocking chair is very much dead. There was no way he could bring it back to life and sadness washes over him. He can’t take away Alex’s pain in the way he wants to so he kindly asks Greg if there’s a picture he can borrow.

Woodworking is a pain in the ass. He’s been to several woodworking classes when he started out under Sanders's thumb he knows chances are you aren’t leaving without a splinter or two. And making a rocking chair is probably one of the most intricate and difficult things to make. Yet he’s clutching a photo of a young Alex playing with trucks in front of the chair happy as Larry. And maybe Michael wants to make him happier then any Larry he could find.

It takes months of blood sweat and tears he pours all of his unspoken love into it. Is it the best thing he’s ever made? probably he’s been hyperfocused on it wanting it to be perfect. Alex’s birthday is in a week and he’s nervous. He has made one alteration. The detailing in the head of the chair and the arms are still exactly like the one previous but when he was working on the legs he was thinking about Alex - how brave and beautiful he was and he wound up doing something a bit different for the legs. One of the legs is littered with music notes and stars winding up and stopping three quarters away from the top. Even if there are days in the world where it gets hard for him he wants Alex to feel like he fits.It’s his home and he matters.

The little shit winds up working on his birthday. He can’t tell who’s more pissed himself for not getting to spend time with Alex or Isobel who was planning a party. He knows Alex will be tired working on his feet all day and he probably shouldn’t park his truck on his garage but even he’s worked a six-hour shift it’s still his birthday. And he misses him.

Alex is a little stunned when he spots him swinging his legs on his tailgate humming judging by his warm smile he’s greeted with he thinks maybe Alex wanted to spend part of his birthday with him too. Alex has stopped attempting to date. They've held hands twice. It feels like everything's finally falling in their favour.

“Please tell me I am not going to walk into a surprise party with streamers thrown into my face. I've already had my unit give me a very special cake that I really can’t unsee”.

Alex spends the better half of three seconds juggling the keys and the cake box before Michael takes it off his hands. He's ushered into the kitchen.

“You almost did but I dissuaded Is. You still are getting one Saturday though so make sure your free and act surprised. Now let me see this monstrosity”

The box is flipped open on the counter and WOW. He's holding a laugh Alex is staring him down for a second before handing him a fork.

“Since I have a poor lack of restraint when it comes to cake.Head or balls?”

They don’t eat the whole thing that’s a whole level of buzz neither one could take at this hour. Somehow after Alex takes a sip of his wine he takes a tiny step closer to him.

“Is it bad that I’ve had so many people wanting to celebrate me but all I wanted to do was see you” his hand finds his cheek softly tracing it.”Everyone kept asking me what do you want for your birthday and all I could think about was this”.

He slowly steps into his legs to which Michael enthusiastically opens his legs to him.Yes to all of this yes to the touching yes to their lips meeting and kissing.Yes.Yes.Yes.It isn’t until Alex is on top of him on the couch tracing his neck with kisses he remembers he hasn’t given him it yet.

“Oh um I got you a present. Well, I made you a present. Long story. Is it okay if I bring it in? you have to close your eyes though”

Alex softly nods lips puffy dazed from kisses. God, he’s beautiful.

How he manoeuvres the door without squeaking it and the chair is anyone's guess it all pays off the moment Alex opens his eyes. Alex is so bewildered and taken aback he’s almost choking on air. Eyes watering looking up at him with the most achingly soft eyes is the love of his life.

“You did all of this for me? It must have taken forever the detailing it’s just ......how?”

“I know you Alex.You don’t care about objects or have a materialistic bone in your body. It doesn’t matter what you have it’s the memories. Liz could give you a pair of socks and you would treasure it because that’s who you are. And you’re just...there’s a lot of ugly people on this planet seen the worst of them you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And your majestic ass deserves a throne”

He wipes away the tears holding him as he can trying to throw as much unconditional love towards him.They wake up to one another that morning knowing there isn’t going to be a day they won’t.

Takes three months to realise he’s already sort of moved in.His clothes are in spread about in drawers.His books his plans are all decked about the house along with little mementos of their relationship.He finds his boyfriend in the garden book in one hand reading watching their dog prance around the grass.It’s so domestic it hurts.And as he sits on a battered lawn chair he realises something is missing....His rocking chair. This is the big leagues the endgame. And when Alex sings a song about growing old together in rocking chairs he takes the concept and runs with it. For the first time in a long time Michael slaves on something purely for himself. He puts nods of Alex’s chair to his, of course, wanting them to be almost a matching pair but he covers his in constellations, the cosmos the galaxy. When he finally finishes and places the chair next to Alex’s holding a book it’s the first time it hits him. He’s finally home.

#malex #malexfic #yes this includes romantic declarations and cake

73 notes · View notes

misterbitches · 3 years

Text

This is a personal kinda critique/my thoughts w the show im in my phone in a hotel w my parents in boston and im just rly fucking crazy rn and i cant put a read more link my bad. tagging it just in case cos i have some technical thoughts too but i doubt ppl care. I may delete this. Why is ttumblr for iphone so vad where the eff is the read more jawn.......ANYWAY

my uncle died and it has taken an insane emotional toll on me more than i thought possible. spiraling me i to an episode. when the pandemic began, i remember i was watching 2gether and it gave me solace because i had nothing else. i lost two jobs—one very important for my career—my relationship with my parents is fraught, im 29, and i have to live with them. but when i look back on 2gether, since it was what i was doing a lot at the time bc we could do even less than now, i dont feel a connection i just watched it at the time.

blih may be like this, but my uncle died...the day before it aired. I guess i watched it the next day out of desperation. I just went to check and im crying now. Idk what memories ill have of the show and i hate marking periods of my life by such silly capitalist output but what choice do we have anyway? it was nice because i got to see something mild and sweet.

and i have to say, the mom cameo was really touching. so was director mai. having grief and having a really neglected childhood those two things made me cry. they got his mother’s reaction downpat to losing the love of her life and being a widow—it hit me like a ton of bricks to hear that talk then go to the memorial service snd take care of my cousins and be there for my aunt. Im no one and not a widow but that type of love for a partner and being able to celebrate him abd love him completely forever and not having the memory leave you. It is important to me to see that it is possible. This could lie the rub between BL just for BL sake or like actual shows that are dramas that happen to have different types of ppl and not ignoring their way of life or possibility (“querrness means possibility” - a famous thai auteur named joe)

love is a really beautifl and previous thing and people deserve happiness and respect and to be loved. theres a person who is with you and the people around you and one day they could leave. for whatever reason. should we not try? if not for the emotional buts i think the show would be something people care less avout but that was a draw. and for the first time in so long especially for a BL i thought, “wow, i feel something and i’m having fun.”

it’s hsrd to talk about and personal. i miss him more than life itself. Some days it is so bad. I want to exit the earth and dnot do it anymore. but theres little teeny thngs that make it a bit better to hold on. lol theres so much to do and to be happy with. and so much to fall into despair. id rather watch it go by but i dont want to miss a chance to feel what they feel or loving people around me and finding the love of my life and my calling.

it was nice to wait for something every week that was sort of like a friend and to see a lot of the same problems im facing too. pain of loss and moving on isnt running away i guess. im similar to jyz in the fact that id rather not do it at all to not lose what i never had. i wish i didnt know my uncle, because i wouldnt feel this way but if i never knew him bow could i have loved someone so much and known him? wouldnt that bee a loss? isnt giving up and closing yourself off to force people to come to you because youre scared just as slefish? Dunno.

The show made me think a lot ans it was just perfect timing i guess. it didnt help me run away from my demons but it quelled them for a time and reminded me i could be better too.

Now as an artist with insane abandonment issues i can safely say that production mistakes were a plenty and most egregiously i would NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER be able to handle the level of stress of having someone that fucking left me back. That would destroy me, when JYZ was upset around him i was and all the signs were about a relaly oppressive difficult person but they introduced him too late. but ironically i saw the patterns of abuse i went/go through w my parents and my distrust meter skyrocketed and because aaron lai is a good actor, it extra hurt. he acted like a small child—the same feelings i was having at that exact week and i felt the force of it. I feel like that was a missed opportunity and i get why but this is what i mean about the feelings they were able to get down. The actors did legwork from the script to their delivery but it alsk means the script wasnt totally atrocious. Ok now im talking in circles.

This is kinda like to my star, a nice show, tranqhil, and sorrowful but eventually just hopeful. Maybe it’s the hopefulness and peace idk. I just wish my life was calm like that but again escapism abd then they hit u with the rela shit and u cant take it

And the little prince....st exupery was an anti fascist so thats good but the whimsy of that book and the beauty of continuing or...the prince knew he was heading first into something he may not make it out of but he did it because why not? Why not go to the fullest? Nothing is set in stone. The prince didn’t understand adults but he didnt have to. He was going through life searching and encountered hardships but still took the chance. He didnt run away.

#be loved in house

0 notes

pilot-boi · 4 years

Text

Shouting In Cafes: Chapter Twenty

Giving In

I’ve seen the difference and it’s getting better all the time

AO3 LINK

Sun grabbed his hand. For the moment, Neptune didn’t know what to say, so he did the only thing that felt natural. So, fingers now interlaced and his heart racing for what was definitely completely innocent reasons, he had to wonder why Sun was giving him that look.

One of those intense unreadable looks of his. Eyes too wide and too blue, but somehow Neptune found that he didn’t need to look away this time.

What was he trying to do here?

It couldn’t be what he thought… He couldn’t handle that… Not after everything today...

Panic rose, as Sun struggled for words. Neptune almost laughed at the idea of Sun picking his words carefully, but the question that Sun finally pieced together cut him off like he’d run straight into a brick wall.

“Will you go out with me?”

This…

This couldn’t be happening.

He was dreaming right now, he had to be.

One month past, Neptune had determined he’d never fall for another too hot straight boy, and if he did, he’d immediately push them away. He’d sworn that he was done, that his heart had been broken too many times to go through that again.

But then Sun happened.

And all of Neptune’s willpower had fallen apart.

Sun who dragged him along on idiot adventures. Who invaded his dorm room. Who smiled at him like he was the entire fucking world. Who was so obviously straight that it caused Neptune physical pain.

So how could he ask this question, with such a sense of longing in his gaze? Like Neptune's answer was all he needed to make his world complete. Why would he ask this impossible question? To him of all people no less.

It didn’t seem possible. It didn’t make sense.

Say no, say no, say no screamed every cell in his body in a panic. He couldn’t start dating another “straight” boy only to get his heart broken again. He didn't know if he could survive that again.

Especially with Sun.

Neptune prepared to say the word, breath filling his lungs to do so.

He couldn’t date Sun. As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn’t risk ruining their tentative friendship. Sun was so good...far too good. He was loud, and boisterous, and just so alive. He was simply everything Neptune could have dreamed of.

Neptune had barely dared to dream like that for nearly five years now.

Horrible images of when Sun would inevitably figure him all out and leave were all that filled his mind as he stared at their interlocked hands. Now Neptune really couldn’t meet Sun’s wide-eyed nervous gaze. Because he knew if he did, he would immediately give in. And he couldn’t risk that chance

It wasn’t stubbornness or some physical boundary keeping him away.

It was fear.

It scared him to imagine what would happen if he fucked this up. Like he always fucked it up. The way those bright smiles and brighter eyes would leave, and the way this moment, with that expression flooded with fondness, would be torn to shreds.

Not to mention that this was impossible on every level. He’d spent the last month agonizing over flailing for another straight guy, only for this to happen? And the world just expected him to handle it well?

Hell no. Panicking and blurting out the first response that came to mind it was.

So as his lips came to say the word, he tried to lock the memory of this month in his heart. For after turning down such an unexpected display of affection, Sun would definitely never want to see him again.

But why though?

His heart murmured in that voice that always sounded suspiciously like Scarlet, and stopped him in his tracks. That portion of himself that he almost wished he could force into silence at the moment.

Why go back to being miserable? Why ignore it, if it’s what you want?

And that was true. It was what he wanted. So much that the denial of it was tearing him apart. For so many reasons.

There were so many reasons.

So many that sometimes it felt like they’d swallow him whole.

Sun had brought the first pure, innocent joy he’d felt in years into Neptune’s life.

From the moment he’d come barreling through that door, there’d been an unmistakable connection, even when Neptune had been sure that he’d hated him. But then he’d returned. Even after Neptune pushed him away again and again Sun came back.

Filled his drab job and life with light and energy for the first time in years. Them jabbing fondly-barbed jokes at each other, Sun smiling wide enough to brighten the entire room, Neptune rolling his eyes at every idiotic thing Sun said.

Driving… Holding hands… Actually feeling alive for once...

Suddenly he realized that the idea of losing those moments forever. Losing the opportunity to maybe impossible find something more with him… That was crushing. Just thinking about it sent a pang reverberating through his chest.

The thought was enough to convince him. That for how unexpected this was, and how it would undoubtedly end in disaster, and how it would all collapse like a house of cards before his eyes sooner or later, he couldn’t turn it away.

Not when Sun was looking at him like that, with the open and trusting look he’d worn so often. That look that had always baffled him that he finally understood.

“Yes.”

The world started moving again when he said it, and Sun’s eyes widened comically.

He was surprised. Neptune couldn't blame him, he was surprised, too. “You…you mean it?” Sun asked, disbelief coloring his words.

Neptune nodded and smiled slightly. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t,” he reminded.

And he did. He could hardly believe it himself.

But in this moment he was finally willing to admit that he really did mean it.

Hanging there in the sky under the still fading lights of the fireworks and the endless blanket of stars. With his demons all stuck on the ground below, unable to reach him. And Sun here holding his hand so tightly and looking like his entire world was suddenly complete.

“You said… you will… I… thanks,” Sun stumbled over his words as they came out, his cheeks flushing with delight as a cheek-splitting grin spread across his face.

“Why are you thanking me?” Neptune asked, unable to keep the amusement from his voice.

“I dunno…” Sun chuckled sheepishly, still sounding slightly dazed. “Not sure what else to say.” His free hand rubbed the back of his neck, but was still making no move to extricate his other hand from Neptune’s grip.

“You know, I thought you were straight,” Neptune’s mouth blurted before he could stop it.

Oh god. Oh god oh fuck why did he say that?! Now Sun was going to-

Sun barked out a peal of laughter, and Neptune let himself relax slightly. “Bro, what?!”

“I did!” Neptune said, suddenly feeling very defensive, but his lips quierking into a smile despite himself.

“Bro, I’ve been flirting with you for like a month!” Sun exclaimed, fighting to get his words out in between renewed rounds of laughter. “I thought I was being like totally obvious!”

Neptune froze, eyes going wide behind his lenses. “Y- You have?!” he stuttered, flushing deep red. “Wait, that was all serious?!”

“Yeah, of course, bro.” Sun shrugged. “You did it back, so I thought we were on the same page.”

Same page his ass. So Neptune had been freaking out and pining for a month for nothing?! This was some bullshit.

But…

He wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Without those weeks of pining, he would never have arrived at this moment. With Sun.

What do I do now?

Neptune was caught in the moment still, even as he saw Sun leaning towards the edge of the cart, about to wave for them to be lowered back down.

Back down to earth, where his anxieties and his own expectations would be crawling all over him again.

Where he’d realize every little thing he’d done wrong today, every single moment he should have realized and didn’t, every possible way things with him and Sun could and would crash and burn. All of it would wreak havoc on him the instant he was alone again.

Back to work, full-time at school, back to the real world where he could never have brought himself to accept that this was okay. That this was something he was allowed to have.

So before he got to earth, he did something stupid.

Because once he had his feet on the ground, he knew he would never manage to let himself feel this way again.

Not without regretting it immediately.

He reached across the cart, put his arms around Sun’s neck, pulled him back from the edge, and brought their lips together.

It barely lasted a heartbeat, just the fastest press of their bodies together, jumpy and erratic. His glasses pushed painfully into the bridge of his nose, and Sun’s hair tickled his forehead. Noses smushed together, and just short enough for him to see Sun’s eyes widen comically in shock.

Neptune pulled away again, already feeling flustered and idiotic for getting caught up in his emotions.

Sun was shell-shocked for a moment, then grabbed the front of Neptune’s jacket and pulled him forward again.

This one was a bit longer, a bit deeper, a few seconds that for all the world lasted an eternity. Heads titled so they fit together, Neptune’s arms snaked around behind his neck, Sun’s eyes fluttered closed. Neptune only had time to really marvel at how pale his eyelashes were, at how many freckles speckled in constellations across his cheeks, before his eyes were closed as well.

By the time they separated, the ride was already moving again. They broke apart in a daze. Neptune’s traitorous mind dutifully catalogued away the wide-eyed deeply flushed look of wonder on Sun’s face.

“Wow.” Sun had wound up with his arms wrapped around Neptune’s waist, and this was the first time they’d touched beyond Sun’s penchant for arm-grabbing.

“That was...” Neptune managed, not moving to release Sun. His hair was so soft. How was it that soft?

“Yeah...” Sun agreed, not moving his arms. Not letting go.

They better get to the ground quick, or Neptune would melt into a puddle of good.

Time ticked on, a few seconds just to be there, in the moment.

Neptune glanced back up at Sun, still held firmly to his chest, glad the relative darkness of night hid his blush. “It’s… uh… getting late,” he finally said after far too many moments of them both just staring at each other.

“Oh… oh! Right! Are you working tomorrow?” Sun asked, releasing him this time around. But still only barely. Their hands were still intertwined.

“Y-yeah,” Neptune replied, making no move to leave Sun’s side any time soon.

The wheel continued its descent. They arrived at the bottom and, after what felt like hours though in reality was only about fifteen minutes, Neptune’s feet hit the ground.

It felt like a lifetime ago that they’d first entered this park, with Neptune insisting desperately the whole time that this wasn’t a date. That he wouldn’t give in.

He’d never been more glad to be wrong.

They made for the park exit in near silence, and the first few steps Neptune felt something was different in Sun’s stride. He was still swinging their hands in between them, but there was a spring in his step that hadn’t been there all day.

He’d been nervous all day because of this, Neptune realized. How much of this had he planned from the start?

They reached the car faster than it felt they should and said goodbye to the carnival grounds. The ride back was quiet. Well quiet for Sun. The music wasn’t quite as ear-splitting as it normally was, by a barely measurable amount.

They pulled up to the sidewalk in front of his dorm.

“Are you sure you don't want me to walk you up?” Sun asked again, shifting the vehicle into park.

“I’ll be fine,” Neptune insisted as he got out of the car. Scarlet would never let him hear the end of it if he brought Sun back to his dorm after what he was rapidly realizing had been a date despite all his protestations to the contrary.

After weeks of bothering him about it no way was Neptune going to give Scarlet the satisfaction of knowing he’d been right.

Unsurprisingly, Sun followed him anyway. “I…had fun today.” Sun said, his feet shifting awkwardly as the two of them stood under the light by the stairwell door.

Neptune nodded. “So did I. And I didn’t expect to… so, thanks for that.”

Sun pouted as if he were offended, although Neptune still couldn’t completely read him. And after all the revelations from today, he sincerely doubted that he’d ever been able to. “You didn’t think I could come up with something fun?”

The spark was coming back into his eyes.

“Street racing ring a bell?”

“Alright, fair.”

Neptune rocked back on his heels, turning his head away. “Will you…come to the shop tomorrow?” He still couldn’t believe that he was able to ask this. That this was really happening.

“Do you want me to?” Sun asked, a tinge of something creeping into his tone.

Neptune looked up and saw a smug expression crossing his face.

“You’re a moron.” Neptune accused, before stepping up onto the curb of the sidewalk.

“Yeah but I’m your moron,” Sun replied without missing a beat, looking positively delighted and grabbing Neptune’s hand.

Was this that moment, again?

In the dim light of the streetlamp that reflected in Sun’s eyes.

His boyfriend.

He could say that now, couldn’t he? When this morning he’d been so convinced he’d never have a boyfriend again. A that it definitely would never be Sun.

He’d said yes, hadn’t he?

If or not that was a good decision, he could mull over later, but the fact stood he had. That funny floaty feeling that he’d felt on the Ferris wheel was still hanging around, blocking out the impending damage control he’d have to do after today.

But that was a problem for Future Neptune to worry about. For now, he was still free.

So honestly, where was the harm?

He stepped down again, so close he felt his skin buzz.

The lights were dim, and the stars were twinkling above them. Neptune wasn’t even worried about who might see them. Not right now.

All of it could wait.

Neptune pecked a kiss to Sun’s cheek.“Yes, you are. Happy?”

After the few seconds it took for Sun to process went by, his eyes lit with fire again. “Extremely!” He beamed, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Neptune responded, smiling fondly at Sun’s antics. His boyfriend.

“Yeah…see you then,” Sun murmured, sliding back into the driver’s seat. “Love you, bro!” he called, blowing him a kiss and waving. Neptune rolled his eyes and waved back.

He watched the bright blue car sped away from the curb and disappear around the corner.

After focusing for a moment on steadying his heart, Neptune leapt into the air with a cheer. Not caring who was watching. Not caring that it was the middle of the night. None of that mattered, because the impossible had happened.

And he honestly couldn’t be happier.

Who’d’ve guessed?

Neptune raced up the stairs, feet pounding loudly on the metal steps. The door of his room slammed shut loudly behind him. He collapsed on his bed the instant the door shut.

Telling Scarlet or Jaune or anybody could wait until the morning. For now, he wanted to remember this moment.

His heart was still racing, and a stupidly wide grin was stretched across his face.

He’d said yes.

It was hands down the happiest night of his life so far, bar none.

A block away, similar thoughts were filling Sun’s mind.

He’d said yes. Holy shit he’d actually said yes.

He knew Neptune was stubborn and he’d worried that it was all too fast, but it hadn’t been.

Sun’s heart felt so much lighter. Cloud freaking nine. Finally that stupid saying made sense to him

Neptune had seemed so different today. Not like, different-person type of different, but just… less guarded. Less tense.

And he said yes. And he kissed me.

Sun couldn’t get over that. Neptune kissed him.

Tonight would be circulating in his head for days to come, no doubt.

I’ll see him again in just a few hours… could I… kiss him again?

His mind went spiraling, millions of possibilities racing each other through his brain.

It would only be a few hours, but he already couldn’t wait.

#rwby #neptune vasilias #sun wukong #seamonkeys #scarlet david #jaune arc #mine #my writing #writing wednesday #coffee shop rwby #shouting in cafes #chapter 20

12 notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

Text

Humans are Space Elves

@graham-cheshir gave me this idea, I don’t know if it is what they were looking for, but it’s what I got. Hope you all like it, had to try for a different sort of style ad feeling to see if I could get this one right

They stood huddled together at the base of the soaring edifice. Lines of deep silver metal flowed towards the clouds and then curved down into darkness. The sky above was blanketed in a deep, impenetrable layer of clouds bringing the light to near twilight levels, casting everything into shadow, but somehow, the massive alien ship seemed to glow with a soft silver light. They waited at the bottom of the ramp unwilling to go up, but unwilling to go away.

Movement, just at the head of the ramp, and they looked up to see two absolutely towering figures looking down at them. Otherwise they were very still, standing like trees watchful glittering eyes staring down from the darkness. Even despite their glittering armor, they nearly blended into the background of the ship.

So, they were waiting, but no one was willing to move clustered together as they were.

They wouldn’t have known what was coming next if they hadn’t been looking. The footsteps were so quiet.

They seemed to glide from the interior of the ship on a wave of silence, their movements as lithe as dancers every foot placed perfectly. Their muscles waved and rolled in perfect lines of synchronization. Where those at the base of the ramp were short and stocky, these creatures were tall and willowy, with long legs, long arms and delicate hands alive with precise movement, and they were absolutely breathtakingly beautiful. Their faces angular, their eyes deep and haunting, one a deep amber, the other a stunning green.

There were two of them now, one a flawless ebony black like the most precious of stones, and the other an ethereal white like a polished crystal so clear it was almost translucent. They could see the delicate veins of blue running through its skin like veins run through marble. The wind picked up at that moment tugging at their statuesque bodies, rippling through hair like spun gold. The clothes they were rippled with the wind, perfectly tailored to their strange statuesque bodies.

Behind them other creatures came, most of them ugly, none with the superior grace and power of these. They shrunk closer together in fear. This was more than they could understand, than what they could take, not months before they had assumed they were the only ones alone in a deep blackness, that it was just their planet encircling their star, but come to learn there were eleven planets in their system, and billions of galaxies outside that, and hundreds and billions of other lifeforms. Some, watching from the distance and willing to save them from their own planets destruction, but these…. These creatures were the ones, just as perfect, as otherworldly as they had been described.

So perfect, so beautiful that it brought tears to their eyes collectively. None of them could help but weep throwing themselves to the ground at the feet of their saviors. No one spoke, finally being able to look up, they found the creatures staring at them, their faces masks of unreadable, unemotional stiffness. “You need not do such things, please, rise.” The voice that spoke was chilling, hauntingly beautiful like a melody carried through the forest dazzling like a thousand winking stars. They could have danced to it, the rising and falling of his voice soaring high rolling deep with only its simple rhythm. They quickly scrambled to their feet. The creatures waited as they stood awkwardly at the base of the ramp, until a hand reached out beckoning them with a flowing sweeping motion.

“Come.”

They did as they were told scrambling up the ramp, feeling so jerky and awkward as they moved slipping on the ramp, nearly falling sometimes as they reached the top. They looked up caught in the gaze of a single green eye. They could see better now, see the slight hitch in the creature’s movement, see the blue metal on his feet, see the pain of ancient injuries.

What could have been so horrible, so terrible as to take grace from such a creature? It was so sad, so horrible. This time they wept for his pain, for the ruining of a perfect body. The only response of the creature was to raise an eyebrow over his single working eye. “Why do you weep?” He wondered melodic voice washing over them like a wave.

They could hardly speak, couldn’t articulate how they felt.

One of the other creatures stepped forward, and the ancient one leaned in to hear them never breaking eye contact from them as he did. “We have yet to perfect the translation patterns so be In the knowledge that your words come off differently to them.” The ancient slowly swayed back into position like a tree bending and waving in high wind.

“No matter…. Come.” His order was obeyed instantly, and they followed at his heels racked with pain and awe at his movement, the grace despite injury, the flow of near perfect imperfection. As they went, they could sense eyes all around them, but could not see, shapes flitted through the darkness, sometimes a face would coalesce from the shadows and then pull away just as quickly.

The further they went the less sure they became. The interior of the ship was a maze of shadow, like the deepness of a forest. Lights glittered form the darkness, pinpricks of red and green winking from the cold silver set to illuminate arcane symbols etched upon the metal in the flowing, strange script of the ancients. Pools of blueish light tickled from open doorways and out into the hall. Beautiful, echoing, ghostly voices rolled through the ship carried on a distant draft of air unseen from where they walked. Their sound of distant laughter was the sound of vibrating crystals, it flowed off the walls and then dispersed like fog.

The creatures ahead moved silently flaked by the other strange star dwellers, but they hardly paid attention as they walked through an open door and into a massive room dominated by a high table. Light filtered in from above a strange bluish color trickling off the skin of the ancients like liquid diamond. They were offered a seat and awkwardly sat like children atop the tall chairs at least three times too large for them.

At the head of the table the ancient folded his hands together expression strange, distant, and cold as he watched them, “Before we commence, I must apologize for my lapse, I am Commander Vir of the UNSC representative of the Heavenly Conclave.” His voice was deep, rolling, it seemed to fill the room. They felt small before him, “We have come to speak peace with your people as we wish for you to join the Heavenly Conclave as allies in peace. If you do wish to ally with us there are decrees you must follow…”

They didn’t even bother waiting for him to tell them the rules before agreeing whole heartedly. He didn’t show much of a reaction as they could sense, accept for a slight expression of perplexity, but they could have been wrong the ancient was so hard to read, but why wouldn’t they be willing to ally with them. It would have been stupid not to agree, and they were so happy. They could learn more about travel, more about these strange beings that had saved them.

They were happy to agree to anything, and their intermittent instruction by the ancient was dotted with questions about his race, and his species. He answered hesitantly as if unsure what to tell them. In secrecy he seemed to hide to keep his race an enigma to them. They asked how long his species could live, and he answered, they were stunned by the age, so ancient so knowledgeable with lifespans three times that of their own, if not more.

Not only were they beautiful, but they were warriors, like a race of heavenly soldiers built to fight. They could run forever, could fight past the greatest injury, defeat entire armies with their strange mystic weaponry. They were incredibly strong and fast, there was no way the Tvek could match them, in war against them they would fall like trees in a wildfire. And so too were they wise beyond what should have been acceptable. They spoke in languages more ancient than time itself, and their passed down intelligence and knowledge of history surpassed what the Tvek had ever known. When they spoke to the rest of the strange beasts, they spoke of pacts and agreements made may years in the past, barely longer than living memory for the Tvek.

They had lived so long, seen so much.

They couldn’t help themselves, they wanted to be closer to the strange creatures, and with his grace and acceptance, he allowed them to come forward. They swarmed at his feet touching his hands and his clothing. He was so warm, which made sense with the inner light he seemed to give off, the glow about him. They touched the metal that had replaced his limbs, and were sad again for his loss. The Tvek were a race driven completely by their emotions, they could not control them. It made them wonder if these other creatures even had emotions at all, so cold and distant were they, but not uncaring or unkind.

“You must return, now, and I shall carry your message to the conclave.”

And they went watching from the ground as the ship fell upwards into the sky, a paragon of power and speed.

***

“You should probably go now, and I will let the assembly know your decision.”

Commander Vir stood next to Sunny, watching the Tvek representatives toddle their way from the room. They were so small, humanism in form like the way a goblin or a gnome was, but surprisingly childish. He glanced over at sunny who looked down at him with one brow raised, “Wow, they sure have a thing for you.”

He snorted, “Yeah, kind of weird wasn’t it. You’d think I was an angel or something.”

“Angel?”

He shrugged, “Ancient religious symbol. Human in form but better, filled with holy light, flying with wings, sometimes soldiers for god, ancient, wise, unknowable. Far superior than man etc. etc.”

She gave him a critical once over barked a laugh and then walked off. He stood there stunned for a moment then burst into a jog after her, “He, hold on, what’s so funny.”

More laughter.

“You’re just jealous that they can see me for what I really am.”

“And what might that be?” She wondered as he caught up.

“I don’t know ancient celestial being of pure power and grace.”

“Hmm.” she tugged at the translation device on her head, “I’m sorry, Commander, I didn’t catch that, I think something is wrong with my translator.”

“What, why do you say that?”

“Because I swear I heard you say ancient celestial being of power and grace when you must have meant, a 25 year old massive dork of average intelligence who routinely runs into door-frames.”

“No, no I don’t think so, clearly the first one.”

And then they left the room together the strange ancient being, and his six limbed beast.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are weird #earth is space australia #humans are space elves

1K notes · View notes

wordsturnintostories · 5 years

Text

king of bangtan | namjoon

summary: Namjoon. Boyfriend. Recently bitten werewolf. Alpha. Kissing. word count: 2.4k note: okay I wrote this a long time ago, before I even knew bts and now i read though it again, going, “oh wow, this is basically Namjoon…” Did you see his instagram post in Vienna or where was it, with the one fan on weverse commenting how Joon has buffed up? lmao i thought this would fit so well. anyway, thank you to @taeshuworld for pointing out how well Woosung's Face goes with this. i also recommend listening to Wolf. warnings: fluff, werewolf-theme, shirtless Namjoon

masterlist | moodboard masterlist

It’s the third time today that your boyfriend stands (shirtless) before the full-body mirror in your room. It seems he’s discovered something and now he can’t stop checking up on it. It’s probably pointless to tell him now that you’ve been noticing it for a while (to be precise, ever since he was bitten). When Namjoon turns around, nervously glancing at you, probably to gauge your reaction, you shrug. Why is he so afraid of becoming more muscular?

“Don’t look at me”, you chuckle, “I will never complain.”

He turns around, giving you the real thing to admire. And you do, those wide shoulders with the extra neck space to kiss, the chest that has become your second pillow recently, those strong arms that provide comfort, protection, and joy. And you do wanna let him know. He shouldn’t be insecure about how his body changes. No one could have guessed becoming an Alpha would affect him physically so much but now that it does, you are determined to give him all of your acceptance and admiration. You beam at him and softly place your hand on the warm skin above his heart. It’s a simple touch but you love to offer it to him. So he can remember it forever like he does with some of the other spots you have touched him. Somehow, it’s really important to him to keep them. Maybe it’s a werewolf thing but it’s probably just a Namjoon thing.

When his face turns soft, you reach up, caressing his jawline and gently tugging at the soft strands of hair in his neck. He purrs, what a glorious sound. He only stops to place a kiss on your lips.

“Maybe I should have become an Alpha straight away”, he says.

“Why?”

“Well, it would’ve saved me all those hours at the gym, for starters.”

Laughter is bubbling out of you and his face lights up. He beams at you. Suddenly, he’s glowing, this bright happiness is all over his skin like a wrap-around blanket. It’s as if his emotions are pouring out of every pore of his body. Are all Alphas like this? You watch his lips as his mouth opens to laugh with you. He has fangs. Oh God. He looks hot. You can’t stop the blush from making its way onto your cheeks. Immediately, your mind presents to you a hundred different images of Namjoon grinning, and those fangs show every. damn. time. You wish you could just hide somewhere. You’re so not ready to admit what those fangs make you feel. One look into his eyes and you know he noticed. God, he noticed. Your head spins.

“What is it, babe?” he asks and you shake your head.

“Tell me”, he coos, voice husky. You wonder whether he remembers the first time he said those words to you. That night he had crawled on top of you and left you trembling. That night he had made you feel so bold you wanted to trick him, where you had almost kissed him, where you had almost done it because you had wanted to so bad. On his sofa. Blood rushing in your ears. Heart exploding. A raging amber fire burns in his eyes and you know he does. God, he does. He’s turned that memory into his weapon against you. It’s an understatement to say he’s trying to get you all flustered, to turn you on. Another to say it’s working.

“Tell me, baby.”

“Your fangs,” you breathe. It’s impossible to withhold information from him, especially now.

“Mhm,” he hums, giving his lips a delicious lick as he pulls you against him. He grins. There they are. He knows exactly how to get you to your knees. “What about my fangs?”

“They - you”, you breathe and weakly, you blush, “Joon, have mercy.”

Suddenly, he presses you backward, against the wall. His lips crash into yours with all that newfound boldness of his, completely stealing your breath. As promised, you don’t complain. You embrace what he gives and you give what you have, moving against him, using your hands to invite him.

It’s a loud kiss, his purrs and growls vocal love letters from his body to your soul. He has his big hands on your waist, grabbing for your back and moving you to closer to him as he blazes for all the skin you give him access to. You are rewarded with the soft tingle of his hair beneath your jaw as he works on your first hickey ever. You can’t help sounding needy when his tongue is there, licking and planting sloppy fires on your tender throat. Oh God.

His hands are even worse, lifting you up, slowly, so you can wrap your legs around him and you wonder why he’s never done that before. It’s like he’s hungry, like he hasn’t eaten for a long time and now he’s gotta taste you no matter what the cost. Love usually is a sparkling delicacy with him but it turns into an inferno now that he seems to have found a rough vein in himself. Your hands feel the heat on his bare torso. Namjoon moves back, finding your eyes and then he’s against your mouth, wild like his breath. His fangs give you shivers, sharp and sensational when they graze the side of your tongue. Your lips get to feel them too, their exhilarating pressure, their smooth solidness, when he starts nibbling on your bottom lip. He works you with a fire he’s never given you before. Your hand grips his necklace, pulling on it softly. The first second your boyfriend draws away, his tongue swishing over his pink lips, with a grin a hundred times better than what your mind had made up for you, you pull him back, arching your body into his and he growls. That’s the first time you open your eyes and grin, admiring the pink blush on his cheeks, on his throat. His eyes are glowing. You secretly wish you had that same amber fire to give back to him, just to show him how beautiful it is to look at while he is kissing you. He just stares into your eyes.

“I wasn’t done,” you breathe, going straight for his neck. Your body goes into an adrenaline rush when his breath hitches, when he shudders, especially when his heart misses a few beats under your fingers. As if his efforts flipped a switch in you. Yeah honey, I can do hot heavy mess too. You love the soft feeling of cheek sliding against cheek, of cheek against neck; it’s all perfect and rhythmic and you get to smell him as a bonus. Today, there’s perfume mingling with his body’s own scent, it’s all a swirl of woody and sweet, lemon and cologne. Giving attention to his face, you take his lips captive between your teeth and he moans your name as you run your nose along his eyebrows all the while keeping his face in your hands. It’s too precious to let go. Does he know that? You sigh when your shirt slips up and his biceps touch your bare sides. It’s all messy now, wild blood, wild everything as he’s got you and you’ve got him. His hips are dancing against your middle. He’s panting and his eyes are still blazing.

“I wanna - I wanna-” and you can feel something is happening because for a few moments, there is a new tension in his body, a powerful streak of energy. Namjoon shakes his head, his hair as he breathes heavily, as if he’s trying to shake something off. Your chest is still heaving for air and your fingers are shaky but they find his neck. Maybe that touch is the spark that set the explosion off. He trembles. A deep growl fills the entire room. His torso presses you against the wall with him in between your legs and a golden determination fuels him when his mouth hits your neck. It’s all instincts now. “I gotta-“ He almost can’t speak, it’s all low and growly and it gives you shivers. “Joon, do it,” you don’t know what will happen. Love, maybe. It’s Namjoon. It will be good. He’ll take care of you.

His lips press against your skin, his tongue joins. He bites you. Your hands grip him tightly, holding on. There’s a force that takes your body captive, that has it slack against your boyfriend. Total surrender and your head rolls against his shoulder while he keeps nibbling. Whatever it is, pain, ecstasy, exhaustion, you can’t keep your eyes open. It’s the best thing you’ve ever done. Holy. There’s a clicking noise in his throat. When he looks back at you, he looks the proudest you’ve ever seen him. Must be some Alpha shit, you think as you give him a kiss. His pupils are dilated, as if he’d just drugged himself up on you. You would have had to swallow a giggle if all the excitement in your chest wouldn’t have you panting.

“You’re so good to me”, he hums, letting you down with a hazy grin. “You’re a queen.” His cheeks are red, as are his lips and his throat. Even on his chest, you can see traces of rough love. Was that - me? Holy. What is he doing to me?

“Then where’s my crown?”

Breathing is difficult but you manage. His brown eyes widen, as if he’s just realized something important and he runs to the other side of the room. The barrier between you and the mirror is gone and your reflection stares at you. That’s even more insane; your hair is tousled as heck, where you’d imagined one hickey on your throat, there are constellations of them, and your shirt is totally messed up. Maybe becoming an Alpha had more to it than just physically growing and feeling more responsible. This was a whole new level of needy. Namjoon fumbles through the squeaky wooden drawers of his nightstand and returns with an ornamented paper envelope. Your name is calligraphed on it. Excitement is all over his sweet face when you open your hands for it but he hesitates. You feel a speech coming.

“Happy Birthday, love. I hope you like them.”

The first piece is a necklace. It’s the same necklace that he wears, the same one you’ve secretly admired so many times while he had been sleeping. The silver plate with the engraving looks so nice, you’ve always enjoyed feeling the smooth plate between your fingertips.

“How did you know I liked this?”

“You tug it every time we kiss. Now you can wear it and every time you feel down or lonely, you can touch it and think of me.”

“That’s the sweetest thing. Thank you. You’re the best, Namjoon, honestly.”

“You say that now.”

“Yeah, and I will put it in my phone’s calendar to remind me to repeat it any day you need to hear it. Any requests?” He chuckles. “No, I know I’m the best-“

You raise your eyebrows. “Getting cocky now, eh?”

“That’s not how I wanted that to come out. I meant, just you wait until you see the second gift.”

“Well, you better pray it’s great.”

He smiles at you and you pull it out. It’s a delicate silver ring with three white crystals worked into it on the top. They shimmer fierily in the sunlight that streams through the window. When you turn the ring over in your hand and the light hits the crystals at a certain angle, they light up in a hot amber, just the same amber as Namjoon’s eyes. You gasp, surprised. That’s a ring truly worthy of a queen’s finger.

“Where did you get it? Who on earth makes there?”

“Long story. I found it when we were on vacation in Italy. The day before, the boys and I did a tour of a castle that belonged to some duke back during the renaissance. The next day, we stroll through Florence and I saw this ring in the sun on a street vendor’s wooden table. It reminded me of the duchess’ jewelry and I bought it. I think the vendor gave me a discount but it’s real silver and if you’re wearing it, I would’ve paid every other penny I have to get it for you.”

“I will only accept this if you promise to be my king.”

“Well, technically, I’m your Alpha.”

“King of Bangtan.”

“Okay, I’ll take that. I promise.”

bonus:

With those words, you feel your body starting to tingle strangely. Namjoon doesn’t notice, from the way his eyes rove over the room, where he’d held you against the wall, where the kiss had started. You’re sure he’ll burn every moment of your kiss into his mind until it’s irreversibly stuck, until he’s sure it will never go missing. But something is missing, you can feel it deep inside, like an ache, like a letter written and sent but not returned. This thought tugs on your mind.

When Namjoon stands up, eyes fixed on your wardrobe where his clothes have taken home long ago, a sudden panic rises in your mind and strikes your legs. It’s an indescribable feeling, like you know you have to do a certain thing, but you don’t know what it is. It feels like ants are crawling in your chest and over your neck. You jump up, right after him. Stepping right up to him, the panic calms down but you still feel it.

“Joon, I-“

“Yeah, baby?”

Do it, do it, do it. Now!

You dive in for another kiss, pushing him this time. He’s surprised, takes the hit against the wall with a deep “ooof”. It only adds to your determination. And as if suddenly, there’s only one thing left to see, next to those red lips, next to those glowing eyes, next to the fire in his chest.

“I need to do it back, I can’t- Namjoon,” you’re surprised yourself at how you’re panting, so worked up about something you can’t even understand logically.

His lips pull into a grin and those fangs just - ugh. One shove and you’re there, feeling driven and bold with the way he’s supporting your back, the way you’re standing in between his muscular thighs. And then, he bares his neck. And your body tells you to go for it. To claim him. Just like he claimed you.

“I promise too.”

masterlist | moodboard masterlist taglist: @taeshuworld, @xmagicxshopx, @justanemptydream

#kim namjoon #rm #bts #bangtan #namjoon #werewolf!namjoon #alpha!namjoon #namjoon x reader #sep22 #wordsturnintostories

92 notes · View notes

pyroandtheprincess · 5 years

Text

Chapter 2 of My “Alternative” Fairy Tail Ending

Alright, alright. I’m continuing my “alternative ending” story for Fairy Tail. It’s something I put a lot of thought into years ago when I had written that first chapter. Everyone was wondering how Fairy Tail might come to an end at that time, and this plot still creeps into my thoughts ever so often, so I’m gonna put it in writing.

I’m beyond flattered that people already like the story! If you are a fan, help me out... do I title it? What are the next steps, lmao I’m new at this. For those of you who take the time, thank you so very much for reading, and I hope you continue to enjoy this story. Peace and blessings my dudes, here is chapter two.

—————————-

Chapter 2:

An hour earlier....

Lucy sits on her knees, choking out sobs in the middle of an abandoned street in the once lively Magnolia. Happy is clutching her chest, crying his eyes out. The poor Exceed is shaking like a leaf and Lucy’s hand is laid on top of his head holding him tight.

She is in agony. Sure, she is physically spent, aching from having been exposed to Zeref’s magic, but trying to grasp that she wasn’t able to protect her best friend, that she couldn’t save him from his fate, is beyond devastating. It’s excruciatingly painful. Natsu Dragneel, the man who brought her to Fairy Tail, her home, was gone.

And it was all her fault.

“He was just here.” Lucy murmurs almost silently as she puts her head in her hands. He was just right there in front of her, looking worse for wear, but he was there. And he was smiling, Mavis, his smile made her so warm and so, so relieved. She actually had the audacity to let herself feel proud. She’d thought she made a difference. She really believed she had been able to rewrite the book and keep him safe. And then in an instant, he was just ripped away, gone like he had never been here in the first place.

This doesn’t make sense, none of it. The more she thinks about it the more confusing it becomes.

How could this be? She knows she wrote down every single memory she had of him correctly and she knows for damn sure she changed the books ending... how could it not have worked?

Maybe she’s just in denial, she is grieving after all, and that is the first step, but she wasn’t buying it. Nope, nuh-uh, no way. Natsu had left her once, there was no way he was leaving her alone again, at least not without another stupid excuse for a “good-bye” note. She just has this gut feeling she can’t explain. He’s alive somewhere, she can feel it, and she’s choosing to believe that instinct. Plus, the refusal to accept he is gone forever is going to keep her from spiraling right now. She needs the truth, she wants the evidence he is really gone… or any sort of clue that might lead her to him again. And, to do that, she needs to get to the guild. That’s where Zeref and him had fought, there was bound to be something there.

However, there is a glaring problem, literally. To her right sits Gray Fullbuster with the sternest face she has ever seen him dawn. It’s as if he has skipped denial and gone straight into the anger stage of grief. His eyes are so sad and yet so livid. They are clouded with hurt, and with the amount of people he has lost in his life, who can blame him. Especially, when all of these deaths could be tally’s under Zeref’s name, Natsu’s disappearance being yet another.

There is no way Gray is going to let her go to the guild, not now. He’d say it was crazy for her to do so, that they have other things to focus on. The dark wizard was gone, but there was still Achnologia. They couldn’t waste anytime. And just as she is thinking this, he speaks up.

“I know it’s hard, but we have to keep moving. We have to find the others.” He is slowly moving to stand as he continues, “We need to stay focused. Acnologia is still alive and we need to defeat him.”

He looks at Lucy, but he can’t meet her eyes fully as he clenches his fists, “Natsu… Natsu would want us to keep fighting, for Fairy Tail’s sake.”

At the mention of Natsu’s name the blue exceed slowly looks to Gray, and then to Lucy. His little nose is running and his eyes are still leaking, but he finds his voice, “He is right, Lucy.” Happy sniffles,“W-we n-need… w-we need to save everyone!” His voice cracks and he buries his face in Lucy’s chest again, and she squeezes him to her, “For Natsu!”

She knows. She knows that they need to stay focused. She knows that taking down Acnologia is their main priority right now. But, she just can’t do it. She just can’t focus until she knows exactly what has happened to her best friend. She just needs to know the truth, and her gut is saying he is alive. And if he’s alive, getting to him is her main priority.

A plan is slowly formulating in Lucy’s head, it’s not great, but she thinks it could work. Wasting no more time, she starts putting it in action.

“Happy,” Lucy gurgles out, trying to sound as sick as possible. She starts to peel Happy off of her and he looks up with concern.

“L-Lucy, you don’t look so good.” He says, helping himself off her lap.

“I just- I just need…” She pauses for effect as she moves to stand, “Some air.”

Wobbling in place for a second, Lucy clutches her stomach and holds one hand over her mouth.

“Lucy are you okay-“ she puts up one hand to stop Gray from continuing and holds the other over her mouth as she quickly hobbles behind the nearest of the buildings surrounding them. As soon as she is out of sight, she is scrambling for her keys.

“Open the gate of the twins, Gemini!” Lucy frantically whispers, she knows she doesn’t have a lot of time before Happy and Gray come to check on her. This is her only chance.

“Piri-piri!” Gemini exclaims as the smoke clears and another version of Lucy appears.

“Shhhhh!” Lucy chides, “Please, we need to stay quiet.”

“Lucy,” Gemini reply in a hushed tone, “We in the spirit world we’re getting worried. We could sense you were very upset about something and we were about to send someone to check on you.”

“I’m grateful for all of your concerns, but I really need to you to do me this favor.” She holds on to the copy of herself' shoulders, “Please, I need you to pretend to be me. Copy my outfit, my entire appearance, and join Gray and Happy. Natsu is… missing. I need to go to the guild and see if I can find any clues on how to find him. Can you do that? Just while I figure things out. We- I need to know what happened to him.”

“Of course Lucy!” A bright light engulfs Gemini and when it subsides, the replication of herself is complete, tear stained cheeks and all.

“Thank you,” Lucy sighs, relieved, “I owe you big time. Just stay quiet and nod along, Gray and Happy-“

“Lucy...”

“Lucy are you okay?!”

“Are closing in, I need to get moving.” Lucy quickly stands and scans around where she can hide. She spots a few barrels further down the alley, perfect. “Again, thank you.” She dashes, and quickly ducks down just in time for Gray and Happy to turn the corner.

“Lucy,” Gray crouches down to be eye level with Gemini Lucy, “we need to get going. I know it’s hard, but he have to.” Gray extends his hand.

Happy climbs into Gemini Lucy’s lap and hugs her tightly around her midsection, “We need to s-stay strong, l-like Natsu would want.” He sniffles, voice wavering.

From behind the barrels, Lucy sucks in a breath as a twinge of guilt pulls on Lucy’s heart strings. As much as it hurts to leave Happy behind, she can’t drag him through the search and get his hopes up... not with the potential for a negative outcome. The blue cat would never recover.

Gemini Lucy holds Happy tightly to herself and then takes Gray’s hand. She nods at him and he helps her off the ground.

After they have sauntered far enough away, Lucy stands from her hideout and immediately starts sprinting toward the guild.

“Open the gate of the Lion! Loke!” She pants out.

The gate opens and Loke is there running alongside her.

“Lucy, you’ve had us worried sick!”

“Natsu vanished.”

“What?!”

“No time to explain!” They turn the corner and there stands Fairy Tail, or what’s left of Fairy Tail, “We need to get to the guild. I need you to help me search for clues.”

They sprint through the entrance of the guild, which is now just a massive hole, and Lucy is immediately scanning the room. Her eyes are everywhere, looking for anything substantial.

Loke whistles in disbelief, “Wow, this place took a beating. ”

“Well, this is where Natsu and Zeref battled after all.”

It’s silent for a few beats, only the sounds of Lucy rustling through the wreckage can be heard until Loke speaks up.

“Natsu fought Zeref? And he is…missing?” The gears in Loke’s head start turning, “Wait… is Natsu… is he-“

“Hey!” Lucy snaps, her bangs casting a shadow across her face. She halts her movements for a moment to collect herself. She feels badly for her tone, but she doesn’t want to hear the end of Loke’s thought.

“Enough with the questions we need to-“ she struggles turning over a heavy boulder, “focus.”

“Lucy,” Loke starts again slowly, “what are we doing here?”

“I already told you, we are looking for clues.”

“Lucy, we can’t… we shouldn’t be here-“

“Loke…”

“He wouldn’t want this-“

“LOKE!” Lucy yells stand up and turning to face him, fresh tears springing from her eyes. “Please…” a sob racks through her, “just help me... help me look for clues.”

Loke steps forward and takes her shoulders in his hands, “But, what about the war! Lucy, he wouldn’t want this. He would want us to keep fighting... for Fairy Tail.” His grip tightens at the mention of the guild.

Lucy can’t meet his gaze, “Please, stop talking about him in the past tense. He is still here, he is still alive. He wouldn’t leave again…”

Loke looks down at her sympathetically, “Oh Lucy…”

Lucy looks up at him with pleading eyes, “I tried! I tried so hard to save him… he was right in front of me! I saw him! He was there!”

She pushes away from him, “I love him! He can’t just leave me again, he wouldn’t-“

Lucy gasps covering her mouth. Oh Mavis. That feeling she has repressed for so long, that’s been eating away at her heart and mind, is now out in the world. She’s never said it out loud. She, Lucy Heartfilia, is in love with Natsu Dragneel. Her best friend. It’s a fact that she has tried to convince herself is fiction for years. Too afraid of her overwhelming feelings for him to take action at risk of losing their bond.

Just as she gains the courage to glance up at the very shocked celestial spirit’s face, she sees something glistening brightly out of the corner of her eye. Loke seems to see it too because they both simultaneously turn and look at the object.

A feeling, a dark, familiar feeling, begins to bubble in Lucy’s stomach and she slowly starts to move toward the object. It’s like it’s calling out to her. She almost hears it saying her name. The closer she gets the more urgency she feels to hold it. She can vaguely hear Loke calling out worriedly to her, but it’s like this thing has her in a trance.

‘An amulet?’ She thinks to herself briefly as she bends to pick it up.

“Lucy…” she vividly hears the voice coming from the shining necklace now, “I can help you. I know where he is. I’ll take you there, but you must trust me and stay calm.”

She is about to question the mysterious voice’s integrity, but as soon as she is standing with it in her palm, magic power surges through her. It’s like a massive wave washing her out to sea. It’s so overwhelming, she lets out a shriek as the glistening light starts to consume her.

“LUCY!” Loke screams, sprinting toward Lucy trying to take hold of her only to have his hand pass right through her left arm.

She turns back to look at him in horror as she feels herself being absorbed by the light. She closes her eyes attempting to calm herself. This is her only lead and her gut is telling her to listen, “Loke... Go find the others. Tell them I'll get Natsu home.”

“What?! No! Lucy!” All he can do is watch as his contractor slowly fades away, leaving nothing but an ancient looking amulet rattling on the ground in her place.

#nalu #fairy tail #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #ft #fairy tail nalu #ft spoilers #alternate ending

30 notes · View notes

som3thingcr3ative · 5 years

Text

By Her Blood 4

Wow! I’m alive under these piles of school work! Here’s a present for those who have been patiently waiting for more of these two :)

Synopsis: You’re not allowed to stay in a bubble with Ivar forever, so now it’s time for work. Thankfully your not-so-new abilities can help out.

warnings for this chapter: anything that applies with Vikings applies here.

Last time: “I get that.” You say eventually. “But it doesn’t change what happened. I can’t forget so easily.” Her face falls, a tear slipping down her cheek. Your father moves to comfort her, the armor forgotten. “We can start with you accepting that Ivar is part of my life now. We can move on, make things better from here on out.”

Your mom nods. She looks at Ivar, at the defined muscles of his chest and arms, the intimidating span of his shoulders. “You’ll protect my little girl?” She asks. Before you can protest that you’re not her little anything any more, Ivar nods. “With my life.” He vows.

You’ll come to wish he’d never said that.

You should’ve known things wouldn’t be that easy for long. That same day, less than 24 hours after Ivar re-corporated, your parents have work.

That means that you’re expected to be at the scene.

Ivar refuses to leave your side, so he’s standing beside you, leaning on the crutch you’d bought at Goodwill just an hour ago, glaring wordlessly as the archaeologists dig. “What are they looking for?” He asks you, squinting against the light. You can just see your mother’s head over the lip of the ditch as she works, your father somewhere out of sight nearby.

“Any relics from the past,” you answer, glancing over at the sleepy, bleary-eyed group of teenagers who’d just come onto the site with their parents. “Anything that’s in good shape is a bonus.”

“They’re looking in the wrong spot then.” Ivar grudgingly admits. He slides his eyes to the right, toward the base of a sloping hill. There’s a small stone ruin atop it, crumbling from hundreds of years of brutal weather.

Laney is the first to spot you. Her gaze darts to Ivar, to the sweatpants that hide his leg braces, the dark t-shirt stretched over his chest and arms. His hair is still braided, but he looks vastly different than he had the night before. Not different enough, though. Her mouth drops open and she smacks the shoulder of the guy next to her- Lee turns on her, about to yell at her for hitting him when he sees you.

“Can I tell them?” You ask, knowing that it may be a sensitive topic for him. As it is, you don’t know that you’d be comfortable with someone poking around your burial site, or even somewhere you’d buried anything.

His shoulders tense as he catches sight of the group of teens watching you. They’re whispering to each other and staring quite obviously, probably gossiping. “Let’s go over there.” He offers, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “I want to see how much it’s changed.”

The two of you walk over, your fingers drifting through the tall grasses of the field, his shoulder brushing yours with every other step. Thankfully your ex-friends don’t follow you. For a moment there’s nothing but the quiet brush of the tall grasses, the sigh of the wind until Ivar stops, looking around.

“Here.” He says, lowering himself to the ground at the base of the hill. The grass here is shorter but darker, nutrient-rich. You pick a few blades idly, twisting them in your palm. “I want you to try something.”

Ivar holds out his hands, palm-up. You place yours over his, fingers against his wrist. “Now what?”

“Close your eyes and call to the spirits.” As your eyes close, you can feel the warmth of him against your hands. The spirits surround you almost before you call, their voices louder and more demanding than usual. Just inside of the ring they make around you, Ivar’s spirit pulses with power and golden light, washing over you in waves. The warmth from his power makes your blood rush in your veins, thrumming through your body like an electric current. “Focus,” he calls to you, his voice distant. “Now go past the spirits, call to your blood, feel the earth beneath you.”

At first there’s nothing. How do you call to something you’d never given much thought to before? Ivar’s grip tightens on your hands, the squeeze close to painful as he centers you. “I don’t know how.”

“Yes you do. Focus on the wind, on the solid ground beneath you. Feel the blades of grass, hear the insects. Open your mind and take it all in.”

You take a deep breath of the mountain air, letting your lungs open and your back stretch. Something nags on the edge of your senses, a little hint of untapped power. Another deep breath, an answering grip on Ivar’s hands and you reach out, consciousness going past the spirits to a deeper connection.

All at once your senses are flooded with too much information. You can feel the pounding of your heart, the trace of your blood through your veins, the pulse of your muscles as they keep you upright. Beyond you, the earth hums with life; worms and grubs and tiny beetles in the soil, mice flitting through the tall grasses, ants gathering food and tending to their young, the slither of a snake tracking prey. The air is full of twisting currents and birds soaring high, refusing to be limited to the ground. It whips and whirls and twists, singing through your hearing and raising the hair on your arms.

“Call to the earth,” Ivar says, his voice so distant it’s like a faded memory in the vivid new world you’ve discovered. “Feel what’s beneath you. Bring it to you, slowly.”

With a frown, you concentrate your energy on his words, searching down, down, down through new soil and ancient, past rocks and bones until you find what he was talking about.

The Viking burial mound is vast and deep, buried so long that the earth has grown around it, accepting it into the embrace of decay. You cannot possibly bring everything up to you at once. There’s a skeleton lying near the top, a shield maiden whose sword was ritually killed when she was buried, her shield and the trinkets she was interred with still mostly intact. Your energy focuses on her, maneuvering her through the soil, drawing her towards you.

Brunnhilde, the spirits murmur. You see flashes of a vibrant blonde, her long hair braided back, her clothes always suited for battle. She has stocky features, her shoulders broad and her arms toned, her hands calloused. Her death was honorable. The valkyries called to her and she went as a warrior should, sending her killer to meet his god.

Her sword breaches the ground first, bent metal shedding dirt as it lays at your feet. Next comes her shield, then the crown of her skull. Ivar is silent as her skeleton pieces itself together, lying the same way she was buried with her hands on the rusted handle of her sword, her shield over her legs. The trinkets rise faster, shooting out of the ground with little pops, tumbling through the air and falling beside her.

Your eyes open to see the skeleton before you, the rush of power still in your body screaming that you can do more. Ivar’s brilliant blue eyes are on you, watching every little nuance in your expression. “Amazing.” he whispers.

“I did that?”

“Yes.”

A giddy feeling steals over your body, raising the hairs on your arms. “I can summon skeletons,” you whisper, staring at the bones before you. The sword is completely rusted, the metal almost unrecognizable past the decay and oxidation, the leather of the hilt long gone, but it’s still beautiful. Her shield is petrified, the metal around the edge in a similar state to the sword, but you can remember the color is used to be; blue and white, streaked with blood. The memory isn’t yours; it belongs to Brunnhilde, a vision of the shield resting against the pole of her tent after a skirmish. Your eyes meet Ivar’s. “Can I tell my parents?”

His brows furrow. “Will they disturb the land?”

“I won’t let them. I can bring everything to the surface- or hide whatever you want me to.”

“Hide,” he murmurs, eyes losing focus. For a minute you just watch the subtle play of his thoughts across his features before he snaps back to himself, blue eyes vividly bright. “There is something I would ask of you.” He says, pushing himself to his feet with the crutch. You don’t help him; you know it would be an insult unless he asks for help. “Up there,” a nod toward the crumbling stone dwelling.

You follow him up the hill and into the ring of stone that marks the foundation of the building. He sits down on one of the fallen stone bricks, making himself comfortable. “What am I looking for?” You ask him, settling on the ground with you palms against the soil. Now that you’ve reached out to nature around you, the persistent hum of life remains on the outside of your senses.

“You’ll know when you feel it.” He replies.

With a sigh, you close your eyes and reach out, diving deep into the soil. Just like before, the life in the uppermost layers surprises you, but you move past it much easier than you did the first time. As you breach the lower layers, getting close to the level of the burial mound, something catches your attention: Saxon bones litter the ground, becoming more and more frequent until entire skeletons show themselves, each full body on its knees, bent forward over itself, bowing. Some have their heads cleaved from their spines, others have broken ribs. All of them carry an attached soul, bound to the bones and screaming for release.

Their voices rise around you, calling and begging to be free. The Viking, they scream. He did this. He killed us. Their memories follow quickly: a barn with darkness all around. Six Saxon soldiers sit around a fire in the center of the barn’s floor, slaughtered animals around them. Three viking women and a child are bound hand and foot nearby, their eyes terrified, the youngest of the women naked with blood coating her thighs. The soldiers jump as something rustles in the darkness just outside the ring of light from their fire. They laugh as Ivar crawls toward them, twin axes on his hips, blades strapped to his arms and chest. His eyes scream murder, his lips set in a determined line. He doesn’t falter as he approaches the soldiers, doesn’t even flinch before he takes an ax from his belt and throws it at the nearest of the soldiers.

The soldier dies before he knows what happened, his chest split open. Ivar kills the other five in quick succession, freeing the women and child who’d been abducted from the camp.

You feel no pity for the soldiers; they’d kidnapped and tortured innocent women- wives of the raiding party, had nearly killed the young child. Being bound to their bones was the least of what they deserved- and you quickly realize it wasn’t all they got. Their bodies form a circle, all bowing to something in the center of their ring; a hollow rod of silver, enclosed at both ends, barely the length of your pinkie finger. The vial is as perfectly smooth and blemish-free as the day it was crafted, you realize, the energy radiating from it the same as the energy barely two feet from you.

“Ivar,” You say, your eyes still closed. “What is it?”

His crutch shifts against the stone. A pebble falls somewhere on the outside of the ruin, clacking against stone as it tumbles toward the hill. “The last of my ashes.”

The vial comes easily toward you, parting the ground before it in a perfect circle. Magic. Magic has been keeping it in perfect condition, preserving the curse Ivar put on the saxons so long ago. So long as his ashes were in the earth, the saxons would be hard-pressed to live peacefully. With the last of the true saxons long dead, Ivar had no reason to maintain the curse.

“What do you want with it?” You ask, finally opening your eyes once the vial has cleared the last layers of the earth and is safely in Ivar’s hand. He stares curiously at it, turning it over and over.

“It’s a reminder.” He says. “A reminder that I’m mortal.”

“Is it still cursed?”

He laughs. “Yes, dove, the curse remains, but it is of no consequence to either of us.” You watch as he places the chain over his head, as the vial settles against his chest. The silver gleams in the light, the aura of the ashes mixing with Ivar’s aura; the same, but also different. “You can tell your parents about the burial ground- but they must respect the Viking dead; you have to be the one to remove them from their rest.”

“Deal.” You say, standing up and brushing off your legs. “Let’s go blow their minds!”

“Ivar?” you ask, a minute later as the two of you walk back to the dig site. “Modern medicine...well, it has therapies for people with osteogenesis imperfecta- they could help you. I completely understand if you don’t want to, but there’s no shame in it. They could at least help with the pain.”

He glances over at you, half-smiling. “I was wondering when you were going to bring that up. I’ve seen all of their advances, remember?”

“Oh.”

“It’s okay, dove.” He says. “I never had true hope of a cure when I was living before. I gave up on it after a while, and when I died, I didn’t feel the pain anymore. Now that I feel it again…” He sighs, glancing at his legs. “If it will make you happy, I’ll look into it.”

You twine your fingers with his, bumping playfully into his shoulder. “You don’t like doctors, do you?”

A laugh. “No, love. No, I don’t.”

“I don’t want you to be in pain, that’s all.”

He glances askance at you, eyes glittering oddly. “They don’t bother you?”

You yank him to a sudden stop. “Nothing about you bothers me, Ivar. I love your legs just as much as the rest of you- but they hurt you, and I hate that you have to live in constant pain. You don’t have to, that’s all I’m saying. I want this for you, but only if you want it too.”

He smiles at you, tugging you against his chest. For a second he just watches you, his eyes lingering on yours. Then he pulls you in, kissing you fiercely, his arm slipping around your waist. “I love you.” He murmurs against your lips, wisps of his hair tickling your cheeks. You hum, pressed against the firm lines of his chest, eyes still closed. Ivar kisses you again, just the soft pressure of his lips against yours. Your chest fills with warmth, stomach flipping, heart racing.

“I love you too.” You tell him, finally opening your eyes. He’s so close you can see the tiny patterns in his irises.

“I’ll see a doctor only if you go with me.”

“Whatever you want.”

“Okay.” He says, taking a deep breath. “Now let’s go tell your parents.”

Tagging (open): @tis-itheapplepie @pixievampira @demonhunter1616 @hexqueensupreme @thorins-queen-of-erebor @grippleback-galaxy @readsalot73 @glassythoughts @youbloodymadgenius

#By Her Blood #BHB #som3thingcr3ative writing #som3thingcr3ative #my writing #Vikings #ivar x reader #fluff

25 notes · View notes

mittensmorgul · 5 years

Note

One thing that stuck out to me about last night's ep was that with all the stuff Michael was saying about why Dean said yes, Dean never actually argued or refuted any of it. I'm not sure if that means that on some level its true, or if Dean *thinks* it might be true, or if its just Dean not wanting to talk about feelings.

Well, we know the data set Michael is working with, but like Metatron failed to understand the full emotional undercurrent of the data set he’d been working with back in s9, for example, Michael just… doesn’t really understand it.

(and with Michael, he doesn’t really CARE about understanding it, as long as he’s getting what he wanted– ie Dean’s silence)

Or to give another example. Toni Bevell’s kinda-sorta accurate (but occasionally outright wrong) but wildly misinterpreted data on the Winchesters back in 11.23 and s12. (I started collecting this table of disinformation under the tag THE MURDER BOARD! but it eventually evolved into the men of letters vs hunters tag, because boy HOWDY did the MoL have some fundamental misunderstandings about, like… everything…)

But back to this specific scenario, because I think it’s important to look at what Michael said exactly here, because Dean’s response reminded me a heck of a lot of his response to Tony asking him about Benny in 12.02– you know, the vampire you befriended and brought out of Purgatory, she asked him, four years after Dean had last seen him, I mean… not exactly the freshest take on Dean’s speed dial there…

Michael: Well, this is fun.Dean: Get out of my head.Michael: You don’t mean that, Dean, not really. You may lie to them, but, deep down, I know you. I am you. You only tolerate the angel because you think you owe him, because he ‘gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition.’ Or whatever. But since then, what has he done? Only made mistakes, one after the other. And, Sam – oh, Sam You know, Dean was his happiest when you quit hunting, leaving him with your dad, just the two of them. See, deep down, he knows that you will always abandon him, again and again.Dean: Shut up!Michael: You don’t need them. You don’t even like them. They’re not your family – they’re your responsibilities. They’re a weight around your neck. And deep down, you wanted – you were desperate to get away from them. And that is why you said yes.

Let’s break this down point by point:

- You only tolerate the angel because you think you owe him, because he “gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition.” Or whatever. But since then, what has he done? Only made mistakes, one after the other.

Well, maybe Dean has thought that think in the past– like possibly during s4. I mean, in 4.16 he literally told Cas he’d made a mistake, picked the wrong guy to save the world. In his darkest moments, yeah. He’s probably thought Cas had made mistakes. I mean, in 7.02, while clutching Cas’s soaking wet coat immediately after his apparent death, and in the immediate aftermath of a horrific couple of days of feeling betrayed and abandoned by Cas in the worst possibly ways, Dean calls him “dumb son of a bitch” with a hitch in his voice and abject sadness and loss. I mean… This was s7 Dean speaking here, if anything.

And because Michael is Bad At Stories, he thinks this one out of context Bad Thought Dean had a long time ago is an accurate representation of everything Dean thinks about Cas overall. Because remember, Michael wasn’t trying to be honest here. He was trying to hurt everyone, to keep them distracted to buy himself time.

But to suggest that Dean really, truly feels that way about Cas, at his deepest core? It just… whoa that’s so far from the truth as to be horrifying, you know? If Michael actually believes that, then it just serves to prove how terrible he is at understanding stories.

I think it’s at least in PART Michael’s own judgment of Cas based on what HE believes about most of Cas’s actions in this universe, in direct comparison to the Castiel he knew in his own universe. And Cas has already passed judgment and dismissed Michael’s opinions on THAT.

But yeah, it’s also in part because somewhere deep down, Dean’s gotta know that this is something that Cas is afraid of– because Cas has TOLD him, multiple times over the years. From the end of s7 when Cas was ashamed and horrified and consumed with guilt over his mistakes, to the self-doubt that drove him to say yes to Lucifer in 11.10, to his painful need to bring a win home to Dean in 12.19… Dean understands this is one of Cas’s biggest issues. Therefore Michael would understand that saying this out loud had the potential to hurt Cas the deepest.

Let’s move on to the next point, shall we?

-And, Sam – oh, Sam You know, Dean was his happiest when you quit hunting, leaving him with your dad, just the two of them. See, deep down, he knows that you will always abandon him, again and again.

Immediately after this, Dean breaks in with SHUT UP!

Because there’s got to be some kernel of truth buried in there. I mean, Dean wasn’t happiest hunting alone with John. We know that based on fourteen years of watching Dean struggle to pry himself out from under John’s thumb. Sure, he put on a face of bravado back then, even going back to when he and Sam were kids– like in 3.08 trying to convince Sam that John was some kind of superhero, and putting a positive spin on the horrors he’d spent his life to that point trying desperately to shield Sam from. This is not just a simple issue that Michael has laid down on the table. It pokes at one of Dean’s deepest fears– that Sam WILL abandon him, or will choose a different life, run away to pretend to be normal. And yeah, he’s had to confront that over and over again in the course of the series, but it still hurts. Even if he knows they’re at a completely different place now then they once were about this.

This also pokes at the Performing Dean facade that sprouted from having essentially been placed as the emotional middle man in their family– knowing about the supernatural and protecting Sam from it at all costs. It tore him up, and he erected this safety zone around himself out of self-defense. Yeah, that mask has slipped a lot over the years, and Sam’s had more than a few peeks behind it at Dean’s squishy center, but this was Michael essentially using the fact the facade exists at all as a weapon targeted to hurt both Dean and Sam. Because this is all part of that lie, that everything was hunky-dory with John, as long as they stayed in line and followed orders.

Because heck, that’s kind of how Michael sees himself. He followed all the orders and was disappointed by his father in the end. But unlike Dean, Michael never actually learned to deal with it. Never learned that his father’s orders were maybe flawed. Never learned to think for himself, or try to become better than that himself. He just went right on blaming his own father for his failures. And we KNOW that Dean hasn’t done that. (and I think we’re gonna see that borne out in 14.13, which I am SO excited for)

But this also hurts Sam, because Sam KNOWS that the night he left for college was one of the WORST nights of Dean’s life. It was writ plain on Dean’s face in 5.16, when he learned that it was one of Sam’s “heaven memories.” So again, this is Michael maybe not understanding the context, only reading “WORST MEMORY” and thinking he’s hurling it like a truth bomb, when it’s more of an expired stink bomb…

That said, let’s move on to what Michael thought was gonna be the kicker:

-You don’t need them. You don’t even like them. They’re not your family – they’re your responsibilities. They’re a weight around your neck. And deep down, you wanted – you were desperate to get away from them. And that is why you said yes

Heck, maybe Demon!Dean would’ve had this thought. I mean, Demon!Dean kinda did say something like this in 10.03:

Dean: You notice I tried to get as far away from you possible? Away from your whining, your complaining. I chose the King of Hell over you. Maybe I was just… tired of babysitting you. Or always having to yank your lame ass out of the fire, since… forever. Or maybe – maybe it was the fact that my mother would still be alive if it wasn’t for you. That your very existence sucked the life out of my life.Sam: This isn’t my brother talking.Dean: You never had a brother. Just an excuse for not manning up. But guess what. I quit.Sam: No. No you don’t. You don’t get to quit. We don’t get to quit in this family. This family is all we’ve ever had!Dean: Well then we got nothin’.

But like Michael, Demon!Dean was kind of a nihilist, yes? He was driven to demonhood by the literal actual Darkness that only wanted to destroy all of creation. He didn’t care about ANYTHING. Not Baby, not Cas, not Sam… NOTHING. And his entire line of thinking here is just tainted by the worst thoughts he’d ever had on the subject. It was like talking to someone in the midst of a depressive episode. He couldn’t see any joy in anything, and that’s just not the Dean we know and love. It was the bleakest, most hopeless part of him made visceral.

But again, Michael lobbed this bomb entirely without context. The fact that Dean was ASHAMED after the fact of how he acted as a demon, and under the Mark’s influence. Because when he hadn’t had all the best parts of himself submerged into this darkness, we know he’d never in a million years feel that way about Sam (or Cas). It’s like Soulless!Sam telling Dean he just didn’t care about anything, because he didn’t have the equipment to care. So unless you can accept that Soulless!Sam spoke absolute truths about how Sam really feels, then you can’t assume that Demon!Dean truly spoke Dean’s honest feelings.

Because we KNOW why Dean said yes to Michael. It wasn’t about wanting to run away from his family. Quite the opposite. He was willing to throw himself on that grenade in the hopes of SAVING his family. And I don’t think that’s ever been in doubt, by anyone.

And wow, heck, this is getting long…

So I’ll just say, Michael was cherry-picking out of context moments from Dean’s memory bank and making wild assumptions based on them, while disregarding literally everything else we know and love about Dean in order to try and cause Dean, Cas, and Sam as much pain as possible. It was a delay tactic that he was almost relying on to either hit the mark emotionally and lead to immediate surrender, or else baffle and dazzle until his cavalry arrived to murderize everyone for him. And he failed. Because he’s just that bad at stories.

50 notes · View notes

cyanpeacock · 5 years

Text

Realtalk(tm): The Continued Brainprocessing of Fucky Shit

it’s a long one boys but they all are atm

like jinkies scoob i have been Avoiding So Much with les drogues. avoiding so much like, wow, shit, I Feel So Empty Around People Who Were In My Life. but yes, very necessary to dissociate from this shit for a period while i adjusted to the possibility of, oh, wait, this really is My Apartment? this... i can Live Here without being Disturbed or Attacked? still adjusting. but without les drogues this time.

im continually coming to terms with like... ok, so, i have been and sometimes still like... engage in emotionally and physically abusive behaviour towards my own body, and to other bodies around me?

and also, i am coming to terms with, this does not strictly mean i am An Abuser Forever full stop (i.e. Bad Person, Irredeemable, Disgusting, Abhorrent, Should Be Euthanised, etc).

this is reflective of, emotional and physical abuse has been so normalised to me as a young individual, that i have been repeating patterns of behaviour i saw routinely growing up, not even understanding why that kind of behaviour is hurtful or how i could do stuff differently. and that kind of makes me go, oh shit. dude, what the hell? that’s... that’s actually, yeah, that’s one fucked up upbringing. it really Was that bad.

even regarding like The Voices In My Head(tm), my reaction historically was just like, scream at them? yell at them? injure the body somehow until they shut up or it passes out?

which, uh, oh. that’s totally what my mother did when i was displaying “unreasonable” or “irrational” emotions as a small thing. rejecting then snapping then shouting then smacking until i either ran away to cry alone and injure myself more (emotional abandonment; reenacting and normalizing physical punishment) or went very numb and quiet and compliant like a Good Child (dissociative reaction/freezing; fawning).

now like i am aware of these structures and this history Right Now. but still frequently i do get into the old frame of mind where it’s like, “you’re being stupid. you’re overreacting. you’re being melodramatic. Other People Have It Worse. Just Don’t Think About It” which, yeah, that’s introjected from a number of adult figures in my life. very very unhelpful, but when you’re a kid, you’re looking to adults for structures to implement to help you navigate your own life. when those adults are emotionally unhealthy... Yeah. this happens.

and right now, i’m like, uh, what the hell? it’s not a dick measuring contest, you’re telling a kid in pain that they’re not allowed to express their pain?

like i’ve talked abt this before probably but it’s an incident that reminds me how fucked up the whole situation was and is. when my school found out i was self harming in like y7 (so like, 11-12yo), because i’d cut so far down my PE shorts didn’t cover the marks, my PE teacher legally had to get the school to call home. and like, i fucking Begged her, please don’t, a call home is gonna make things SO much worse for me. but ofc the law is the law especially when it comes to teaching, and the call home got made. and later that evening my mother bust into my room with NO warning and fucking screamed at me, “You Selfish Little Cow.”

like i went numb as hell. i don’t really remember clearly what she said after that but it was a whole tirade. stuff about how i was a brat and going to get her in trouble with social services and how i was ruining the family (implicitly, her life) and causing trouble, and how i ought to Think About What I’d Done. i was thinking/feeling, oh my god, she’s beating me again. i’ve ruined everything for everyone again. this is all my fault. i’m responsible, i’m the one to blame, i should have hidden it better. i’m not allowed to talk. i’m not allowed to feel. i’m supposed to be Quiet and Good and Do School and Not Annoy Anyone and Behave. i’ve failed. i am a failure. I Am A Selfish Little Cow.

i think i tried to commit after she left? but like, in that way where you’re so numb and out of it you can’t actually physically pull together the methods, despite the mind wanting No More.

and like i’ve been going to visit the woman that DID THAT TO ME. smiling and telling her about my life while Really Fucking Avoiding Telling Her Any Details About My Life. hesitating in pain and then adding “xx” to the end of the text messages i felt like i was obliged to send her. trying to convince myself “she’s my mum, i’m not gonna get another one, i should call her, it’s not so bad, we can talk about... uh, talk about politics, or religion, or, uh, her dog, or my siblings...” COMPLETELY fucking avoiding the fact that, like. this is the Same Person who caused me all that pain, and i don’t feel safe or secure talking to her about important details of my life, or my emotions, or, well, me. i hide and go Nothing Is Wrong! :) I’m Doing Fine! :)

and! it really does seem like she’s not, you know, as cruel as she was with me, with her other children, at least since after i ran away. but no amount of that can actually change MY memories of growing up with her? my more-or-less programmed Make Her Happy reaction to her physical body? i can’t just, you know, conveniently forget those Things that Hurt Me to engage with her for her happiness. because, well, Her Happiness is not My Happiness, although i was lead to believe that was so. and, when i’m Conveniently Forgetting those things (i.e. my emotions at the hands of an abusive relative), i’m not behaving with the proper regard for myself as a person, and by extension i’m missing pieces of how to properly engage with other people.

i don’t wanna like, mask the in between spaces of utter dread and anxiety and total blankness with Everything Is Totally Fine. I Am Functioning. Yes I Did Well In School This Year. That’s All That Matters. What Have I Been Doing? Oh You Know. The Usual. (without ever saying what The Usual is, because, yeah, when i’m in that Mode, i don’t fucking know what i do at home! idk how i spend my time! My Function Is To Avoid Conflict).

because, uh, yeah, academically, sure! i am functioning, sort of! bodily? uh, well, i’m SLOWLY learning how to properly feed myself, and sleep without chemicals, and stay clean, stuff like that. socially? Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. okay, fuck. that’s the one i can’t... figure out, like, at all, on my own. how do i... where the fuck do I even start? i’m not even okay enough with Myself to navigate the social world without passing inappropriate judgement on potential peers. i see people who might, Might, be friends, and my brain goes POTENTIAL THREAT REGISTERED. SELF: SIGHTED. ACTION: HIDE. DO NOT APPROACH. FLEE IF CONTACT INITIATED.

SO LIKE. my issue now is, i totally know that like... these patterns of behaviour are not My Fault, don’t make me Useless, Bad, Bratty etc, if i sit down and write about it, frowning on-and-off for hours. but, i can’t actually implement these regulatory thought processes in realtime quickly enough to... meet new people and enjoy it? on like, a social level? even on a professional level i have to wait for a good day, and switch off like, chunks of me to get the Task Completed. and uh, talking to friends isn’t a Task process, it’s supposed to be a Leisure process?

i’m quite capable of filling my time and navigating the world quietly, alone! there is a surprising amount i can find to do. but hypothetically i’d really like to, like, meet people, and not talk about “haha dude I’m so sick right now. let’s smoke another blunt,” because while it was... uh, reassuring? and i suppose fun? for a while? to meet other people dealing with life pain like that, that sort of thing gets really mutually toxic.

like, i’m in the process of quitting drugs altogether, and drugs tend to go hand in hand with that social space. daily use, even second-hand smoke, is not something i can be around any more. weed was great for ages, but now like, the drug basically told me “nah g i’m not for u any more”? - as in, it was not helping me any further, i could feel this, and i just... smashed the pipe i’d smoked out of since living in the YMCA, deleted my dealers’ numbers, and withdrew. goodbye ganja! I Keap The B o m g In My Mind Now

i was offered like, support from a local drug addiction charity? people fucking pushing me and pushing me to go there, actually. but like... i step outside the place and the ground is carpeted in fag ends. there are cheap booze shops like 5 minutes walk away. it felt like the kind of place where something heavy would come up in group, and i’d be with the people who peel away afterwards to chainsmoke, get a couple litres of cheap voddy, then somebody pulls out their second phone to get a baggie of the good shit once the booze hits? like it could easily just drag me back down. this is a thing i gotta discuss later, and more privately. that kind of group Not For Me.

i’d also like... started Really noticing the whole undercurrent of like, anger and judgement and denial and impermanence in the we’re-all-mentally-ill-here social spaces i used to hang out in? and i’m aware that i was participating in that too, and that while it was good to begin with and for a long time, it really isn’t good for me any more. actually tbh i go Completely Wack upon returning to those people and places now. which, fuck, like, if the person in question happens to be reading this, i’m very sorry. and yeah, sorry doesn’t cut it, because that must have been Fucking Alarming from your perspective, and i wouldn’t have done it if i’d been in my right mind, and i wasn’t in my right mind, and currently can’t be around so many triggers, and yeah your lifestyle being triggering to me is NOT your fault at all, which is why all i can really do is a disappearing act. cuz there’s no conversation that can even make a goodbye feel right, fucker that this situation is. rip.

so yeah uh. my issue now, is Establishing Trust and Healthy Social Connections. that is, trust that someone is gonna like me for, the collection of things i like and do and say and am? uh, or even several people?

this... is one i can’t figure out Alone, because, well, it concerns social relations. and i have very little confidence in social relations, because, well, they’ve either been painful, or centered around painful experiences. and i’ve been told that when i’m really truly enthusiastic and happy about something, i’m overwhelming and annoying to others? so i put the brakes on like crazy if i start feeling “too” happy and end up going Appeasement Mode to get out of the social situation as quickly and smoothly as possible.

and uh, what, i don’t even know the collection of things i like and do and say and am. i don’t... Know all of those things at any one time. how, uh, what? what am I. you know. the usual ??????????? flippy haze.

i mean! i’m getting better at talking Within myself. i REALLY try to talk slowly with kindness and understanding of context to myself and the voices in my head now, and figure out solutions to pain and problems that don’t involve different kinds of pain or avoidance? but i still lapse into like, you know, Augh Jesus Christ I’ve Heard This One Before Why Do I Need To Have This Discussion Again, and frequently i can’t find a viable alternative for avoidance, because i get overwhelmed easily and that makes EVERYTHING worse. and i haven’t figured out how to take my foot off the brake pedal, either, even though i’m not always pressing it. I Need It There For Now Or Else The Car Might Crash u kno.

so, like, what? i guess i just keep, talking kindly to the voices, and also to myself? practice until it becomes the default state of being when a trigger pops in? this requires patience, and also booting away people who refuse to have patience with me. unfortunate, necessary.

the thing about IRL conversations, is they happen so QUICKLY, and like, i don’t have enough time to calm the brain down from every trigger that pops up! because like, it can be a facial expression, a movement, a word or phrase, a tone, something in the periphery, something behind me, an internal sensation. it’s SO much information my brain is scanning urgently for threats, and my brain scans harder the more a person knows me, because a person who knows you can deal WAY more damage than a stranger.

so... yes. this is the part i require assistance with. Hrrrrrrmmnhghdfgjnh.

I SUPPOSE. perhaps now the university have stepped in to arrange a case review with the NHS, they can really push for the kind of support i need. which, yeah, it’s long-term one-on-one trauma-focused counselling or therapy, and also some help with social interaction???? not repeated crisis team referrals, not some 12-week DBT course, i’ve literally been off finding DBT skills and employing them on my own because the waiting lists are so fucking long, and not a 12-week psychodynamic course, because i’ve been seeing a psychodynamic counsellor on and off for four years privately, and the work is nowhere near a conclusion. shit, i’d be satisfied if they could just somehow secure funding for me to keep seeing that guy specifically? he’s REALLY helpful to me, literally like my fucking role model for non-toxic masculinity. and i’m not ready for like, group social skills work, Yet. but soon, you know? only when i’m like “okay, yeah, i really do think I can handle this without my health going backwards again” - which, i need more within-myself security for that.

also better mood monitoring would be nice, i.e. seeing the same damn person, who actually knows my case, instead of a different person every time saying “I’ve just quickly had a look at your case notes”. because if i go low again this winter, then my “depressive disorder NOS” is bipolar, and i’ve been mismedicated from the beginning. and yeah honestly like? as soon as it starts getting dark and cold, I get inexplicably sad, even with plenty of indoor light and warm clothes and whatnot. but yeah we’ll see about that.

anyway This Shit Wack. Im Done.

#fliptext #trauma #abuse #drugs #self harm #emotional abuse #verbal abuse #physical abuse #fuck uhhh ask to tag #ask to tag #isolation #(boosh voice) i-so-la-tion i-so-la-tion

1 note · View note

seriouslyhooked · 5 years

Text

Dear No One (Epilogue)

Short CS holiday story, broken into three parts, where Emma is unlucky in love and decides that for her Christmas wish she’d like to find the right person for her. In an attempt to write what she wants into existence, Emma writes a letter to the man she wants to find someday and then shenanigans ensue. Rated T and based off of the song ‘Dear No One’ by Tori Kelly.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3. Story available on FF here and AO3 here.

A/N: Hey everybody! So as promised I have made a small (note the small) epilogue for this cute little Christmas story, and surprise, it brings in NYE too. This flashes forward a year and a week and shows Emma and Killian enjoying their happily ever after. There are a couple of surprises and a whole lot of fluff, so I hope that you guys will enjoy it. I couldn’t think of a better way to close out the year than with some cuteness. Can’t wait to see what you all think, and thanks so much for reading!

“So, how are you feeling about going back home?”

The words from his wife – God it felt good to say that – were more packed with meaning than even Emma could know. It had been a little more than a year since they’d met, and in that time they’d fallen so completely into their love and into a life together that Killian couldn’t really conceive of life before his Swan. There was a defining shift in his world after meeting Emma, and though it was hard to wait another year to marry her, Killian had done just that. They’d had a Christmas wedding, because it turned out that had always been a secret dream of Emma’s, and they spent that miraculous day with just their friends and their family in a little church in the city they both called home.

Thinking back on that night, which was now only a week ago, Killian still felt his heart race and his excitement rise. It was a long build up to make Emma his wife. He’d managed to hold off on asking her to marry him only through the spring of this past year, and by June she’d had his mother’s ring on her finger. If it were up to him it would have been that night last Christmas Eve, the one where Emma had run when finding the letter, but when they’d both truly come clean and started fresh together. Killian knew even before that that Emma was made for him, and so when he saw her at their wedding at last, walking towards him in a gown of white that was fit to perfection and hugged her every curve he was lost.

The memory of Emma coming towards him and ultimately taking his hands in hers to be wed was one that Killian would carry every moment for the rest of his days. He would recall the glossy tumbled curls of her golden hair, which always reminded him of the sun, hidden only somewhat by a wreath of white flowers. The bouquet she held in her grasp captured both Christmas and the intimacy of a wedding, with whites and shades of red that made him recall the scarf she wore before he even knew her name. But most of all Killian would remember the brilliance of her smile, for it was so beautiful and magnificent that it could outshine the sun.

In the instant where Emma vowed to have him for always and forever Killian was nothing short of elated. There were no words for his feelings at that point of the ceremony, because words simply couldn’t stack up to all that he felt. All Killian knew was that he was the luckiest man alive for having Emma and that he was ready to give her all of him in return. Every dream she’d shared, every wish that she had he was ready to give her, and he made that clear in his vows, even pulling some of his promises from the letter that had brought them together and almost torn them apart months before. He cherished every word of that missive that she’d written, which she’d shared that night a year ago, after they’d come home from the festivities with their loved ones. It was a remarkable work in his eyes, and to see his own wants so perfectly mirrored had been breath taking. Their hopes were so aligned and it told Killian that they were made for each other and that the dreams they shared were bound to come true.

Killian could hope for nothing more than a partner who would stand by his side in good and in bad, who would love as him fearlessly as he was willing to love in return, and to challenge him and push him forward in every way. Emma was the embodiment of that, a light in the darkness and a north star in good times and in bad. She had become his best friend and his better half, and there was never a day when he didn’t think of her with the fiercest kind of love. Even when they fought, and even when things weren’t as perfect as the fairytales would have one believe, what they had was all he needed. It was magic, pure and simple, and Killian knew that on some level a higher power, whether it was magic or something else, had led him to this remarkable woman who truly made him whole.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything, my love,” Killian said, answering his new bride after a short and thoughtful pause. “Save perhaps for our wedding.”

Emma laughed at his added words, the sound reverberating through him as she leaned against his side. They were tucked away in a cab, coming home from the airport after a week on the beach in paradise. Her hair was even more vivid and brilliant than before, blonder from the sun at the same time her skin was kissed with color. She was gorgeous and utterly relaxed, and she was clearly enjoying his expression of devotion and want to marry her. By now, Emma was well aware of his attachment to her, and she’d grown accustomed to his never-ending need to be near her and to see her safe, happy, and cared for.

“Wow. That’s a big statement seeing as you nearly charged out of the chapel with me in your arms before we could even say I do.”

“I managed to contain myself,” Killian responded, feigning some injury as Emma playfully rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Barely,” she said, with her smile breaking through and her eyes coming back to his, sharing her love and her light. “But after reading that letter you wrote me I didn’t expect much else.”

Killian willed himself not to go red at his wife’s words, for he had nothing like embarrassment about what he’d written to her. It was a pre-wedding present, and honestly a necessity on his part. Her friends had insisted that they spend the night apart before the ceremony and Killian hated the distance when they were so close to their union. So, in the hopes of making himself and his intentions explicitly clear he’d written his own letter of want and desire. It felt fitting to give one to her, it being a year since she’d shared hers with him, and because he’d wanted every detail to be right, Killian found he memorized the words that had all been written from the heart…

My Dearest Emma,

To think that there was ever a time before knowing you is staggering to me. I know it existed, that life before us was once the norm, but you and your love have transformed my world completely. What I knew before is now so different, it’s so much better, and I want to start by thanking you for bringing me so much just by being you. You are the product of the life you have lead, the pain and the goodness, the sadness and the hope. There is no one else the world over like you, and for that reason, no one can ever begin to compare.

A year has passed since you wrote your own letter, and though it might not have had my name, I know your heart was calling out to mine. I remember every word of what you wrote, they’re tucked away forever in my memory, and I know this letter can never compare. But I hope you’ll trust that I mean what I say when I tell you that you are the love of my life. You, Emma Swan, are the answer I’ve been searching for. You are distraction and desire, joy and satisfaction, happiness and love. In short you are every good thing in this world and no one can deserve you, but I promise I will spend each day trying, my love. I will be a man who does right by you, and who never lets you feel like you are anything less than perfection.

Though our vows might not be said until tomorrow, I feel it’s only right to lay out my feelings explicitly here, so that you may have a similar gift to the one you gave me a year ago. It is my most earnest wish to walk this world by your side, Emma. I could never envision a better partner. You see the world for all it is and you manage to find the beauty at every impasse. You make me hopeful and have helped me grow. Before you I was lost, a kind of lost I know you’ve felt as well. But those days are over. We’ve a whole life to get to, and a whole new world to explore.

I can’t wait to see all that our life will be. I can’t wait to build our perfect home, to start the family you’ve always truly wanted, and to face each trial with you on my team. It will be the greatest honor to be your husband, and I vow to protect, support, and love you as you have always done for me.

Wishing you were here, but knowing tomorrow will bring all we could ever need…

Killian

“Is it cheesy to say that I love how much you love me?” Emma asked, pulling Killian from his thoughts and brightening his world as she did. “Because I really really do.”

“No, Emma. Our love could never be construed that way.” Emma raised a brow and he amended the statement. “And if it can, well so be it. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Would you?”

“Never,” she whispered before placing a kiss to his lips. It was one of so many Killian had lost count, but damn if it didn’t feel like the first kiss all over again. There was so much warmth and possibility and it was impossible not to feel the weight of every worry or care lift with Emma in his arms. Right now, life was damn near perfect, but as their kiss broke and the cab slowed to their end destination, Killian hoped that in the next few minutes things would get even better.

“I believe we’re here, love,” Killian said, extending his hand to hers and helping her exit from the car. Only when they were outside did the haze of their kiss seem to leave Emma, and when she looked at the beautiful home they stood in front of she was shocked.

“Wait, Killian what are we doing here?” Emma asked, her emotions and anticipation all written clear as day on her beautiful face.

Killian knew that Emma must be somewhat thrown by the house that stood before them. It was a lovely place just outside the city, and Killian and Emma has seen it before completely by chance. When they’d passed it a few months back while en route to another outing, Emma confessed that it was the ‘absolute dream’ in her estimations for best home. If she could pick any house to live in in the world it would be one just like this one, so, having that knowledge, Killian set out to make it so, unwilling to settle for something Emma might love less and making an offer that the owner’s couldn’t refuse.

“We’re coming home, Swan, just as I promised.”

“Oh my God,” Emma said as her eyes traced over the house with glee and excitement, and then it sank in that he was being honest and she ran back over to him, throwing herself in his arms and holding on tightly. “Oh my God you bought us a house!”

“Aye, I did. And though it was touch and go for a little bit, it all came together in the end.”

“So all those random business calls you suddenly had on the weekends… they were this weren’t they?” Emma asked, the pieces of the puzzle clicking more fully for her as she did.

“Yes. I had to have the team working round the clock to have it ready for us tonight.” Truth be told there were some changes that needed to be worked to make it exactly what Emma wanted, and through consulting her friends and the pinterest page Emma didn’t know he knew about, he was able to address some small gaps in the home that would make it more ideal.

“And it had to be tonight, huh?” Emma asked, her hand coming up to cup his cheek as she looked at him lovingly. “You couldn’t wait for a while, despite all the work that needed doing.”

“I wanted to start the New Year with my wife in our new home. I think we’ve waited long enough, and honestly waiting doesn’t suit me.”

Emma laughed at that, ducking her head into the crook of his neck before kissing him there gently. Killian held her tighter, glad that she was happy. Whatever came next would just be the cherry on top. Emma would no doubt come to make this house a real home for them both, furnishing it beyond some of the pieces he’d chosen that he thought were to both of their tastes, but he could tell he’d done a good job with this gift and that his bride was truly blissful. They hadn’t even gone inside yet, but she trusted him implicitly and that was clear as day.

“Well I can safely say it’s the second best wedding present that’s ever existed.”

Killian stilled, watching Emma as she came back to look at him still smiling. He was confused with her response and he let her know it. “This is only runner up?”

“Mhmm. I mean don’t get me wrong I love this house, and you are the world’s most perfect husband for doing this… but I got some good news right before I got your letter and I’ve been waiting to tell you ever since. It felt like the kind of thing that we should be home for.”

Killian wondered what she could mean as Emma brought one of his hands to the flat of her stomach. It took a split second for him to follow her meaning and then all words escaped him. Was his wife saying what he thought she was? Was she… could she really be pregnant?

“Emma?” he asked, his mind not able to string the words for such an incredible turn of events into something spoken aloud, but his bride just smiled happily, running her thumb across his hand where it was pressed against their growing child.

“In about seven months we’ll be having a baby,” Emma whispered and that was all it took for Killian. With those unbelievable words he closed the space between them, kissing his wife as much as decency would allow before he realized they were still out in front of the house and not inside. It was cold this deep into winter, too cold for his wife and child to be out, and instinct demanded he get them inside quickly. With a swift motion he swung Emma up in his arms, and he led her inside, crossing over the new threshold of their home intent on celebrating all of their good news.

“So I take it you’re happy then?” Emma asked as he brought them to their new room, laying her down gently on their bed and taking in the beautiful sight of her there before him. She was completely content and more than happy, and that was all Killian ever wanted for his precious Emma.

“Happy doesn’t do it justice, Swan. Not even a little bit.”

“Same,” Emma confided, pulling him closer with a look in her eyes that told him she wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. “I love you, Killian. We’ve already had so much together, and now we’re going to have so much more.”

“Everything, Emma. We’re going to have everything.”

And after saying that he loved her too, and showing her exactly how much all the rest of the night long, Emma and Killian rang in the new year together, knowing that they were, in fact, on their way to having everything they could ever want and so much more.

Post-Note: Thanks so much to all of you for reading along with me. It was so fun to write this little fluff ball of a fic, especially since I got to write it as a sort of cleanse from school. I was hoping to get some smut in this fic, but unfortunately the muse wasn’t feeling particularly cooperative. Oh well, there’s always the next story. But anyway, it’s been such a fun story to share with all of you. Hearing your reactions and thoughts has been awesome and I want to thank you all again for the support and kindness. Wishing you all a very happy new year and a great 2019!!

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan au #cs fic #cs ff #cs fluff #CS christmas #cs new years #CS Holidays #emma swan #killian jones #dear no one #dear no one au #dear no one 4 #dear no one epilogue #married cs #cs baby #cs au

20 notes · View notes

reddieaddict · 7 years

Text

You’re Gonna Live Forever In Me (Part 3/4)

Prequel to Richie’s Eulogy

Official Cast

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: This chapter is when we finally get to see Richie in all his hispanic glory! Haha I hope you all like how I characterized the Losers. I know it’s kinda different than how other people do, but I wanted to spice things up. Bill’s parents are nicer in my fic than in Canon, but I liked to imagine eventually they help and became nicer. Whatever though. I also added a lot more humor into this chapter. I fucking love doing dialogue and really hope you all find it funny. Enjoy.

Pairings: Reddie with a slutty side of Stenbrough and some implied Benverly

Summary: It’s senior year and Eddie has began to notice Richie exhibiting strange behavior. He is worried he might be hiding something, but doesn’t know how to confront Richie about it without setting him off and making matters worse.

December 1994

It was Christmas in Derry, Maine, and just as it’s been since the conception of the club, all seven losers found themselves in the Denbrough’s household, preparing for their annual holiday dinner. Eddie, Mike, Ben, and Bev’s parents preferred to celebrate Christmas Eve as a family, which, coincidentally (and conveniently), allowed the Losers to spend actual Christmas Day with each other. Stan was Jewish as fuck, so he could do whatever the hell he wanted on the Christmas; and Richie’s parents didn’t care what he did any other day of the year, so why would Christmas be any different? For some of the Losers, this was rather poetic; since their friends were more of a family to them than anything their parents could hope or care to be.

Despite having become accustomed to his parent’s active indifference, the holiday season was still an agonizingly difficult time for Richie. This was the time of year when the world seemingly would mock and torture him with imagery of happy families, as if to say “You see this? You will never have this!” Of course, this wasn’t really the case, but it sure felt like it was to Richie. Seeing all these families on TV, in advertisements, and even around town indulging in their pseudo-domestic bliss that came with the yuletide had Richie’s heart set ablaze with jealousy. “How can people be so happy? Why couldn’t he have that? Why did his parents have to be so awful?” These questions loomed over Richie, taunting him.

Unable to make the pessimistic voices in his head dissipate, he figured if he spoke louder and didn’t stop, he could drown them out enough to make the season tolerable. Unfortunately this made him especially intolerable to everyone, except the Losers. Richie has always liked to crack inappropriate jokes and be the center of attention, but this was taking it to a whole new level. Anything and everything out of his trashmouth was either a crass joke or an obscenity, making his nickname even more fitting. The Losers weren’t thrilled about this, but, being aware of his situation, had developed more patience for him throughout the years. This didn’t mean that there weren’t times when Richie crossed thresholds and sent them into a fury.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, ASSHOLE!” Having Richie pestering him all day, had Eddie fed up. “I don’t care if there is a mistletoe under every fucking doorframe, I am not making out with you!”

“Baby, don’t be such a prude! Es Navidad! Dame un besito! Andale mi nino lindo! Presioso!” Eddie hated PDA and refused to kiss Richie outside of the privacy of their rooms, but it was their first Christmas as a couple and Richie wanted to make it special. So, he decided to bring out the big guns: talking in Spanish. Whenever Richie spoke in his native language, Eddie would melt and Richie could get him to do almost anything.

Eddie froze in place as fire spread across his cheeks, giving away just how effective his boyfriend’s tactic had been. “Umm. . . uh. . . ahem! NO! Stop it! I know what you’re doing and that is not going to work this time! I have to get back into the kitchen to help Mrs.Denbrough with dinner! You’ve already distracted me long enough!”

“Bebe, no seas asi! Amorsito! Nene!” Richie cooed as he wrapped himself around Eddie’s shoulders. “Solo un besito chiquito! Aaaandaleeee!”

“Fuck off.” Eddie pushed him away and began to make his way back into the kitchen. “If you keep annoying me, I won’t kiss you for the rest of the week.”

“Hijo de tu puta madre!” Richie mumbled under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest, and a child-like pout settling on his rosy lips.

“I KNOW WHAT THE FUCKING MEANS, DUMBASS!” Eddie retorted as he disappeared behind the kitchen door.

“Oh shit. . .” This is when Richie knew he fucked up.

“So, what happened? Did you get Eddie to kiss you or what?” Stan smirked as he continued to set the table. All of the Losers had been setting up for dinner, while Richie was on his quest for affection.

“Of course he didn’t! Why do you even bother asking, knowing how Eddie is?” Mike answered, beating Richie to the punch.

“Because then he has to admit to us that he didn’t, making his failure humiliating as well as disappointing.” Stan looked directly into Richie’s eyes with a condescending self-satisfaction.

“Wow! You’re evil. . . and I think it’s making fall in love with you all over again.” Bill placed a delicate kiss onto his boyfriend’s temple as he passed by him with a stack of plates in his hands. Through years of speech therapy his stutter had pretty much disappeared, except in the instances when he found himself inebriated.

Richie was none too pleased with getting ambushed by the people who he was starting to regret calling his friends. “Honestly, I don’t get what you’re being so smug about, Staniel. My Eddie is a classy lady with decorum, which more than I can say for you. Don’t think any of us have forgotten about catching you bobbing for Bill’s apple last Halloween!”

“CAN YOU NOT!?” Bev interjected, disgusted with the memory of Bill and Stan mid-blowjob being forced back into her mind. “How are any of SUPPOSED to forget about it if you keep bringing it up, Richie!?”

“Yeah, and my mom is in the next room, idiot!” Bill’s parents were aware and supportive of his son’s relationship, but that didn’t mean they were interested in knowing the details, especially such graphic ones.

“Buscame y me vas a encontrar! That means come for me and you shall find me, Big Bill. I wouldn’t have to put you on blast like that, if you kept your bitch in check.”

“RICHIE!” Ben was fed up with the conversation. He knew there was no real malice behind any of their words, but this was hardly appropriate banter for Christmas dinner with Bill parents. The Denbroughs knew the Losers had quite the potty mouths, but expected them to cut that shit out on Christmas. “Why don’t you help us finish setting up the table, instead of arguing? Dinner is ready and we need to have everything set up, before Eddie and Mrs.Denbrough bring in the serving dishes!”

“Yeah, I think that is a good idea. God knows the last thing I want to think about during dinner is blowjobs.” Mike was by no means a prude, but was not eager to picture his friends getting it on, either.

“Agreed.” Bev stated as she finished placing the utensils on the table.

They finished setting up and took their seats just as Eddie entered the dinning room with the first platter. He placed it in the open space at the center of the table and took his seat beside his boyfriend. “Hola, mi amor!” he said completely butchering the usually romantic Spanish language, with the thickest accent anyone had ever heard, but Richie didn’t care. The sentiment was sweet nonetheless and he thought it was adorable when Eddie tried to speak Spanish.

“Eddie-Bear! My Love! Why are you sitting there, when there is a perfectly comfortable seat here on daddy’s lap?” Richie knew just how to ruin a cute moment.

“Can you behave!? Bill’s mom worked very hard on this dinner! Don’t be rude and wrangle your trashmouth!” Eddie looked up at Richie, who still comically dwarfed him even when seated.

“Whatever, bitch. Don’t be trippin’ balls, you know I got this shit.” He said with a straight face and not a hint of humor to his voice, knowing this would set Eddie off. God, how he enjoyed teasing his boyfriend!!

“Listen here, motherfuck-“

“Eddie!” just then, at the most incriminating moment, Bill’s parents walked into the room, each with a dish in their grasp. “I am so disappointed in you! You know we don’t allow foul language at the dinner table, especially on Christmas, young man!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs.Denbrough. It won’t happen again.” Eddie avoided her eyes at all costs, as if to catch them he would cause him spontaneously combust. He reached under the table and gave Richie a hard pinch to the sensitive flesh of his thighs. A vengeance that was subtle, but very much effective.

“OUCH! You dick!” Richie whisper yelled, only audible to Eddie, and Bev who sat beside him. She giggled.

“You deserve that! You got poor little Eddie in trouble!” she teased.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m some defenseless creature. I’m a man!” Eddie resented his height, and it infuriated him when anybody made him feel weak because of it. “And, yes, you did deserve that, trashmouth.”

“Whatever you say, my little love-muffin. Ay que lindo mi bebe henanito!” Richie knew Eddie hated when he talked to him like a baby, which is exactly why he did it so often.

“Uuuuuuuugh!” Eddie was exhausted and just wanted to enjoy dinner. “Whatever.” The Losers exchanged amused looks. Eddie and Richie always knew how to put on a show, even if they didn’t mean to. Well, at least Eddie didn’t mean to.

“Alright, everybody! Let’s dig in!” Mr. Denbrough said wanting to change topic. Bill’s parents adored having the Losers over for Christmas, even more so since Georgie’s death. It was a pleasant distraction from his absence, though nothing could ever fully make their pain go away. It was still nice to have a house full of children, even if said children weren’t really kids anymore.

As they all began to enjoy their dinner, the couples segregated into their own individual conversations. Mike, being the eligible bachelor that he is, dipped in from one conversation to another. Mike was so charming and intelligent, and always adapted so well to any crowd, so it was effortless for him to jump from one topic to another. Ben and him had a particularly strong bond and could find themselves lost in conversation for hours. It was probably due to their similar qualities and shared interests. One could say they were Richie and Bev’s counterpart; both platonic, both incredible close.

The evening went on pleasantly, as it did every year. Eddie and Richie, surprisingly, bickered very little. Mostly because no one was paying them any attention, so there was no motivation for Richie to rile him up. Their conversation consisted mostly of cute inside jokes and sweet nothings. It would have been perfect, if not for Richie’s constant glances in Mr. and Mrs. Denbrough’s direction. As the boys spoke, Richie would face Eddie, but his eyes would dart towards the parents and linger just a bit too long. Then he’d catch himself, and snap his attention back to his boyfriend. Richie has always had a short attention span, but this was different. It seemed more like Richie COULDN’T get his eyes off the Denbroughs, rather than being incapable of paying attention to Eddie’s words.

Annoyed with Richie’s behavior, he turned to see what it was that he found so fascinating. What he found was a thing of fairytales. There were Mr. and Mrs. Denbrough, leaned into one another with her hands lovingly enveloped within his, as they engaged in their own conversation. The way he looked into her eyes was that of a man who could see the answers to the universe and find treasures untold within her emerald irises. An incandescent luminance seemed to radiate from them, and it was breathtaking in the most understated way possible.

Eddie was touch by such a display of unconditional love, but couldn’t understand why Richie found it so hypnotizing. It’s not like it was the first time they had seen Bill’s parents being affectionate toward each other. What made this instance so special? Eddie turned back to face Richie, who seemed to realize he had caught on to what he was doing. “You okay?”

“Yeah, totally.” Richie responded as he cleared his throat and sat up on his chair making him seem a whole foot taller. Whatever it was that Richie found so engaging about the Denbroughs, it was clear to Eddie that Richie DID NOT want to talk about it. Knowing that asking him anything else about it would just aggravate him and ruin what has been a beautiful night, he relented.

“Okay.” He reached out for Richie’s hand and began to caress his knuckles with the pads of his thumbs. Richie turned to face him again, relaxing into the gesture. Eddie looked into his ebony eyes (noting to himself how much they resembled onyx) with sincere adoration and gifted him with the warmest of smiles. “I love you.”

A smile grew onto Richie’s face; accentuating the creases besides his eyes, a sign Eddie’s words had meant more to him in that moment than they usually would have. And that was saying a something. “I love you, too.”

“Oh my god, I am so stuffed! Eddie you guys did such an amazing job! It was DELICIOUS!” Ben plopped himself on the couch and patted his belly. After dinner everyone had helped out with the dishes, making the whole process much quicker, and they were now ready to enjoy their movie marathon in the living room.

“Thank you, but it was honestly all Mrs. Denbrough. I just did whatever she ordered me to do.” Eddie said humbly, seating himself in his usual spot on the floor, next to Richie.

“Hmmm. . . and what is it I have to do to get you to do the same for me, Eds?” Richie draped his arm around Eddie’s shoulder and pulled him closer to him.

“Don’t be fucking gross! I just ate!” Stan cried from his seat on Bill’s lap. “I swear I’m gonna go all exorcist and projectile vomit all over you, if you don’t cut the shit, Richie!”

“Okay now you’re the one being gross.” Bev grimaced at Stan’s words. “I’d rather talk about the film selection, than talk on any bodily functions or fluids.”

“I second that motion!” Mike said as he sprawled out a large selection of VHS’s on the table in the center of the living room. Everyone leaned in to inspect the titles. “What do you guys think about a Christmas movie?”

“Isn’t that a little cliché?” Bill chimed.

“Well when else are you supposed to watch a Christmas movie?” Ben quipped. “It’s not like we would watch A Christmas Story in July. Well, I don’t know about you, Bill, but we wouldn’t.”

“Appropriate or not, I don’t feel like watching a Christmas movie!” Richie interjected.

“What about a scary movie!?” Mike suggested excitedly, as he held up the new Nightmare on Elm Street movie.

“Yes!!!” Bev and Richie cheered in unison, then smiled at each other, proud of just how much they think alike.

“We can’t watch a scary movie! You know how easily Eddie gets scared, you guys!” Bill warned as he directed a concerned look at Eddie.

“Shut the fuck up! I‘m not scared, you twig-bitch!” Bill was taken back by Eddie’s unexpected outburst. There was a reason Richie and Eddie made such a perfect couple. Amongst many other things, they shared the same lighting wit and venomous tongue. “Don’t project your pussy boyfriend’s fears on to me!”

“I love you so fucking much!” Richie beamed with pride as he hugged Eddie with all his might. “I think it’s so fucking HOT when you get snarky like that! Mmh,” he whispered into Eddie ear, only to find himself chastised by the petite spitfire.

“I resent that, Eddie. I am not scared; I just think horror movies are stupid! They are all so predictable and exactly the same.” Stan attempted to defend himself to no avail. Everyone already knew what Eddie said was true.

“It’s okay to be afraid, Stan. It’s not that big of a deal.” Mike assured Stan, sympathetically.

“I’M NOT SCARED! Put on the fucking movie, I don’t care!” Stan was determined to prove his so-called friends wrong!

“Are you sure, babe?” Bill asked, his words laced with uncertainty.

“YES, I’M SURE BILL! WHAT THE HELL!?” Stan was disappointed that his boyfriend, out of everyone, didn’t believe in him enough to watch a horror movie. “Just put on the fucking movie!”

“Okay, people! You heard Curly Sue!” Richie chanted, earning a leer from his ringlet adorned friend and a giggle from Ben. “Let’s get this shit started!”

Mike took the VHS out of it’s plastic case and inserted it into the player. Everyone made themselves comfortable, paring into their respective couples, ready to enjoy the horror flick. Before they could begin, though, Bill’s parents entered to say goodnight, both ready to head to bed. “Alright, kids! We’re gonna go to bed. It was nice having you over again this year. Have a good night.” Mr. Denbrough said with the typical paternal formality one would expect from a father.

“There are plenty of snacks in the pantry, if you kids get hungry. Feel free to scavenge through.” Mrs. Denbrough added.

“WAIT, MRS. DENBROUGH!” Bev yelled, startling Bill’s parents with the sudden exclamation.

“What is it, Bev!?” Concern littered her petite face. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you! Ha! Ha! It’s just that you’re both under the mistletoe.” She answered bashfully.

“Oh, I guess we are, huh?” Mr. Denbrough smiled sweetly at his wife and she mirror his expression.

“KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS!” Everyone except Richie chanted. His stillness garnered the attention of his boyfriend, but Richie would never have noticed. He was lost; disconnect, but burdened. As the Denbroughs shared a kiss that could not be classified as anything other than a quick peck, Richie stared intensely and Eddie’s heart began to race. Eddie immediately recognized the expression that settled onto his face as the same one that he had on that terrifying September morning. It was unmistakable! It had been so long since he had seen it, but he could never confuse or forget it, even if he tried. It was burned into his memory like a scar.

“Richie. . . “ Eddie whispered warily, forgetting all about the other people in the room, who also seemed to be blissfully unaware of the situation between the two boys, having started to clap and cheer for the Denbroughs.

“Hmm. Yeah, Eds?” This time around reaching Richie was much easier, as he snapped back into the present almost instantly. Again, just as last time, he immediately tried to overcompensate with smiles and kisses. “What’s up, baby boy?” he asked nonchalantly as he leaned in for a kiss, which Eddie did not resist.

“Uh. Nothing.” Eddie learned from his experience last time and decided now was NOT the time to interrogate his boyfriend about what just happened. He would leave it for another time when they could both be alone. Richie just responded with another smile, only this time, the creases besides his eye did not make an appearance.

“Hey you two! Are you ready to watch the movie or do we need to give you some privacy?” Mike asked from the recliner he had made himself comfortable on. Eddie took notice of the Denbrough’s absence, surmising they had probably gone to bed in the middle of their exchange, and now all eyes here on them.

“Ha! Ha! Very funny.” He said sarcastically. “Press play, we’re ready.”

“Okay, but no making out during the movie!” Mike taunted with a sing-song tone one would expect from a child.

“Uh, when have we ever done that around you guys? Why don’t you say that to Stan and Bill!? They’re the ones that are always all over each other!” Eddie complained, in his tenor whine.

“Don’t be a fucking hater, midge.” Stan retorted.

“You know, Staniel, I think I like you better with Bill’s dick in your mouth.” Eddie said glaring into Stan’s eyes, a smile spreading on to his lips. “At least then you’re quiet.”

“Oh fuck! Ha! Ha! Ha!” Ben cackled. “Damn, dude.”

‘Okay! Okay! I’m pressing play now, everyone shut the fuck up!” Bev announced, taking the remote from Mike. She, too, had thought it was funny, but thought Stan had been humiliated enough for one day.

Eddie found himself unable to pay attention through the duration of the movie, still concerned with Richie’s strange behavior. He instinctively wanted to be blunt and forward, but he knew better. If he just came out and asked what was wrong, Richie would just flip out on him again. No, he needed to be smart about this. He settled on dealing with this on their walk home, which wouldn’t be for few more hours. This gave him plenty of time to figure out how to approach the subject. He knew that no matter how much prep time he had, Richie would still end up upset somehow, but it didn’t matter. This was something that had to be addressed. He silently prayed to whatever deity would listen, to bless him with the same resilient determination when he was force to face off with a furious Ricardo Alonzo Tozier.

It was now a little passed midnight as Richie and Eddie trekked their way over to the latter’s house, their gloved hands laced together and swinging between them. It had been a quiet walk for the most part, but not uncomfortably so. Both of them found themselves content in the other’s presence, even if neither spoke a word. It was strange to see the couple so well known for their loud and heated arguments be so serene. As heartwarming as it all was, Eddie knew this was just the calm before the storm. Guilt began to overtake him and he decided to break through the stillness.

“You know you can talk to me, right? I mean, like, about ANYTHING! I am here for you.” He said looking up at his raven-haired, statuesque boyfriend, forcing the calmest tone could possibly muster.

“I know, baby-boy.” Richie responded avoiding eye contact, knowing where this conversation was going and wanting to evade it at all costs.

“So, um. . . what’s going on?” That was EXACTLY what Eddie had promised himself not to ask, and then he fucking went off and asked it anyway. He was so frustrated with himself. “Ahem. . . Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is cool. It was a nice night, right?” Richie asked sullenly.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Then, let’s not ruin it. I know where you’re going with this and I appreciate it, babe, but I don’t want to get into it.” Eddie was surprised and slightly hurt by Richie’s bluntness.

“I’m not trying to ruin anything.” Eddie’s eyes darted away from his boyfriend and glued themselves onto the pavement beneath them. “I am just concerned.”

“I know you are, and like I said I appreciate that, but nothing is wrong. If something WERE wrong, I would tell you, Eds.” Richie’s tone was becoming more pointed. “No you wouldn’t.” Eddie said under his breath, which came out as a small cloud due to the freezing temperature of the evening.

“What did you say?” Richie stopped in his tracks and pulled his hand away. “What did you say, Eddie?”

“Nothing.”

“No, go ahead say what you’re really thinking! You wanted to talk; well here’s your chance! Talk!” There was no going back now.

“I-I-I . . . um. . . “ Eddie hesitated as he turned back to face Richie, “I said ‘No, you wouldn’t.’”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean, Eddie?” Richie inched himself closer.

“It’s just that you never talk to me. I mean you do, but only . . .like, only when you . . .”

“Only when I what? When I run to you after my dad kicks my ass? After my mom throws a bottle at my head and tells me to kill myself? Hmm?! Is that what you can’t seem to say?” Richie was not holding back any punches. “It’s funny how you say you want to talk, but here we are and you aren’t even able to finish that sentence!”

“It’s not that I can’t say it! I just have to walk on eggshells for you. If I say the wrong thing you get mad at me!” Eddie was starting to regret having brought the whole thing up.

“Oh, so it’s me!?” Richie widened and narrowed his eyes, pointing towards himself. “So I’m the bad guy!?”

“Richie, stop it! That is not what I said! Why does there always have to be a villain!? It’s just you and me; two people who care about each other! I am just trying to help…” Eddie tried his hardest to pacify Richie, but it seemed to make no difference.

“No, bullshit! I tell you everything is fine! I ask you to trust me and you keep fucking digging, Eddie! Why can’t you just let shit be? Why do you have to keep nagging and bitching!? What the fuck do you want from me? If I don’t want to talk about something, maybe its cause I can’t! Has that ever occurred to you?! No, because you don’t fucking care! No, you just want to martyrize yourself! You want to save me! I don’t need saving Eddie. Just let it fucking go! LET! IT! GO!” Richie was full on shouting now, emphasizing the last three words of his rant by shoving his boyfriend.

Eddie’s amber orbs began to shimmer with tears, but he refused to divert he eyes from Richie’s. “Why . . . Why are you being so mean? I didn’t mean to . . . I- I -I was just-Ugh!” He could find a way to finish a thought, so overwhelmed with hurt and frustration.

“You know what?” Regret had begun to sink in. Hurting Eddie was something Richie never wanted to do, but yet here was his Eds, crying because of him. “I-I-I’m just going to go home.” He turned around to walk back in the direction of his house, but before he could take more than one step he felt a small hand latch onto his arm.

“Wait! Stop!” Eddie began to wipe tear off his face with the hand that was not grasping on to Richie. “No! Don’t leave! Is this what its going be like every time things get difficult? Are you always going to walk away? What’s going to happen when things get to be too hard? When I get to be too annoying? Are you just going to leave me forever?”

“Eddie, I just can’t right now.” Richie pulled away and continued towards him house in wide strides; he needed to get out of there before he made things worse.

Without a second thought, Eddie chased after him and wrapped his small arms around the taller boy’s midsection, “STOP! DON’T LEAVE! I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY I MADE YOU MAD; I DIDN’T MEAN TO. I’LL LET IT GO, I PROMISE! JUST- PLEASE DON’T LEAVE!” Eddies sobs tore into Richie’s heart. His body trembled as his tears streamed down his cheeks uncontrollably, his voice deteriorating with every word. “Please don’t be mad at me! Please don’t leave me. I love you. I love you, Richie. I’ll let it go! . . . I’ll let it go.”

“Eddie. . .” Richie’s voice was tender and free of the malice that had poisoned it minutes ago. He turned to face Eddie, pulling him into his chest and rocking them side to side. “Shh. . . It’s okay, baby-boy. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry. I never wanted to make you mad at me, I swear. I just wanted to help! I’m sorry.” Eddies sobs began to die down, but his face remained buried in Richie’s chest.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m not mad, bebe. I promise I’m not mad.” Peppering kisses all over Eddie’s head, Richie tightened his embrace. “You did nothing wrong, I’m the one who should apologize. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I’m sorry, I just…It’s just hard sometimes.”

Moving his arms from Richie’s midsection and wrapping them around his long pale neck, Eddie nestled his face into it’s nook. “I can understand that. I just want you to know that I care. I’m always going care and worry about you. I love you so much, Ricardo Alonzo Tozier! You never have to feel afraid or ashamed to tell me anything. I will always stand by you.”

Richie pulled Eddie away from him and looked into his eyes tenderly. “I love you too Edward Kaspbrak, so fucking much! I’m not going anywhere, you hear me? I will always stand by you, too!” Eddie’s lips spread into a smile, before leaning in to kiss the taller man.“Your nose is freezing! Let’s go home before you catch pneumonia.”

“Ha! Ha! You’re an idiot, but yeah. I’d really like that.” Just like that, it seemed everything reverted back to normal between them.

“You know what I’d really like, Eddie Spaghetti?” Oh yeah, Richie had definitely gone back to his normal self.

“Don’t even THINK we’re gonna have sexy-fun-time, tonight. I am so tired and you definitely need to shower before you get anywhere near my bed.” Eddie foreboded, as they continued their journey home with Richie’s arm draped over his shoulder.

“Eds, have you learned nothing today? I ALWAYS get my way.” he smirked.

“No, you do not!” Eddie looked up at him with narrow eyes and furrowed brows.

“I got you to kiss me tonight out on the sidewalk. It wasn’t underneath a mistletoe but it still counts as PDA!” Just then, Richie leaned in and stole another kiss from his boyfriend.

“That doesn’t count!” Eddie argued.

“Oh fuck yeah it does! Accept defeat and let me ravage you, Juliet!” Before Eddie could attempt to squirm away, Richie wrapped his arms around his hips and lifted him above him. Tickling Eddie tummy with his nose, Richie began to spin them around, playfully.

Eddie grabbed on to his shoulders in an attempt to stabilize himself as he giggled wildly. “Okay! OKAY! OKAAY!!”

“Does that mean yes sexy-fun-time?!” Richie’s eyebrows wiggled suggestively as he gently returned Eddie onto the pavement.

“Hm, we’ll see,” was all Eddie said as he continued his walk home, leaving Richie behind him.

“Oh, Eds, mi amor! You and I both know what that means.”

Eddie giggled in the distance.

Taglist: @bitchardtozier @bloggingandstruggling @11stayradstaybad11 @breakmyreddieheart @reddieformeerkat @purejaeden @julietissue @greywatertozier

108 notes · View notes