#um i spent like five days working on this nonstop

[sbeana]

the pool scene

#the locked tomb #tlt #griddlehark #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #tlt art #tlt fanart #comic #apologies for how wonky it looks in some parts #um i spent like five days working on this nonstop #well not nonstop i ate a shit ton of pomegranetes or however its spelled during it #but uhm yeah #im not good at drawing backgrounds or anatomy (YET) so hhuhshsu #anyways yah yeepers when will i get to have a homoerotic moment with my former rival/enemy where i get to show them forgiveness and care #gideon wants to kiss harrow on the lips so bad its so fucking funny #harrow is a whole pathetic looking sopping wet kitten and gideon is like ooh yah thats the stuff #anwyas yah #ill post the version without their skull makeup because i like that one more #the skull makeup looks ugly sometimes (BY MY OWN DESIGN!!!! HARROW QUEEN I WILL NEVER DISS YOUR FASHION <4) #ALSO SORRY ABOUT THE PACING BUT DID YOU KNOW THAT DRAWING TWELVE PAGES OF A COMIC CAN MAKE YOU REALLY MESSED UP IN THE HEAD #hatman is in the corner of ym room rn

[eideticmemory]

TWO GHOSTS IV | MATTHEW GUBLER

It’s been 15 years. 15 years has to be long enough . . . right? Read PART 3.

Set 15 years after the end of Ever Since New York, so give that a read first!

Word Count: 3.9k.

Warning: Usual angst, porn, and poor communication amongst characters.

SOUNDTRACK:

Love Affair - UMI

Debt - Eliza McLamb

Sometimes Sunshine - Seasalt

A nonstop flight, from New York City to Los Angeles, is three hours long. On a good day. And May 16 was supposed to be a good day. A great day. The best day of Matthew’s life. He tries not to think about it, not to reminisce too often. About the way he walked through the airport with a little jog, a little pep in his step. And the way he smiled through security, and constantly checked behind him as if you would magically appear. The roses he bought for you in a gift shop near the terminal.

See, a nonstop flight from New York City to Los Angeles is three hours long. On a good day. But Matthew wasn’t looking for three hours. He wasn’t asking you for a few hours of your time, or even a good day. He was asking you for a lifetime.

And that day, he had booked you two a connecting flight that totaled over six hours, with a two hour layover in Colorado. There was a little ice cream shop in the Denver airport, and they served blueberry ice cream. Matthew remembered it was your favorite, and saved just enough money to get your tickets and an entire pint. He couldn’t shake the thought of flying across the country with you, seeing a few small parts of it at a time. A few small parts at a time, until someday, you two had seen the whole world together.

He bought a blanket for you and, while waiting at the terminal, he sat it in the seat beside him, keeping it warm for when you would arrive. He had a little itinerary written in his notes app, and so far everything was going to plan. He had a bouquet of roses in his lap, and he killed time by looking up engagement rings online.

He didn’t start to worry until maybe, an hour, an hour and a half before the plane was set to depart. He called you, just to check in, and it went straight to voicemail. But he was still hopeful. There was very little that could destroy his peace that day. His hope. His happiness.

He tries not to think about it. The way the seconds inched by like a caterpillar moving across the limb of a tree. Slowly, painfully. The way his hope dwindled, and dwindled, and the insane amount of times he heard,

Hey, it’s [y/n]! Leave a message!

He can’t think about it anymore. The way he spents those six hours alone. Bawling his way through flight after flight, and eating a pint of blueberry ice cream by himself. He spent hours on his own. And weeks, months, hell, he spent years thinking that maybe, just maybe, you would find your way back to him.That the universe would magically correct itself.

And you’d come home.

Fifteen.

It took him fifteen years to find you again. It took fifteen years for the universe to bring you back together, and Matthew spent the first five thinking it was all some really shitty nightmare. It took him fifteen years to get close to you, to hear you say his name again, to get inside of you again.

And he managed to fuck it all up in a matter of twenty-four hours.

His body is paralyzed. His mind is moving a mile a minute, and he can’t take his eyes off the ceiling. His chest feels tight, like he can’t breathe properly. He knows he should not feel sorry for himself. That he, alone, is responsible for this wreck. But he can’t seem to shake it. He can’t seem to move.

“What the hell did I do?”

A knock at your door wakes you up. You don’t remember falling asleep, you don’t know how you were able to. But now, it’s all you want to do. You want to stay in the bed, in a state of unconsciousness and dreariness where you can’t remember your mistakes. But someone is knocking. Incessantly, loudly. And they won’t stop.

You roll out of bed, and drag your body across the floor. Zombie like, your shoulders are slouched, your eyes are hooded. Your feet shuffle along the floor like they’re weighted to the hardwood. Your footsteps are slow, hesitant. You don’t know what you’ll do if Matthew is on the other side of that door. You just . . . you don’t know. The very thought of it is making your stomach churn, and you suddenly feel very, very nauseous. The banging continues, and it’s as someone is using all their force. Like they’d break the door down if they could.

“[y/n]!”

You instantly relax at the sound of her voice. You speed up, hurry to the door, “[y/n] [y/l/n]! I know you can hear me! Open up!”

The door swings open and you catch her with her fist in the air, ready to strike the door once again. She’s pissed, doesn’t try to hide it, couldn’t hide it even if she tried.

“Good morning,” you rasp.

“It’s one in the afternoon,” she corrects you, pushing her way into your home.

“Please,” you say, shutting the door behind her. “Come on in.”

“Y’know,” Everest starts, clasping her hands in front of her as a wild look graces her face. “You’ve always been one of the good ones . . . hell, you’ve been . . . great, if that’s the word. You’re better than the others. The ones that really write my checks. But, um, you’re testing me, [y/n].”

You don’t even have to ask.

“Now, if there’s is some magical relationship blooming, or a monumental disaster about to strike, then you need to tell me now, so I can fix it. I’m a fixer, you know, that’s what I do. So, why are you making this so hard for me?”

“If it . . .” you clear your throat, cross your arms as you stare at her feet. “If it makes you feel any better, um, this is hard for me, too.” You attempt to joke. But you just sound sad.

“Yeah?” she raises her eyebrows. “So hard that you come out of his hotel in tears? And what the hell were you doing over there anyway? Was there a plan? Did he call you to come over?”

“I don’t see how any of this matters.”

“It matters because I woke up at seven in the morning — on a saturday — to all sorts of choas and speculation, and picture evidence of you doing exactly what I told you not to do!”

“Yeah, well, I’m a idiot. Don’t worry, that’s been established.”

“The internet is undefeated. Okay? People are . . . great at making up stories, making assumptions. And as your publicist, I need to know the whole story, the real story, before it gets twisted even further.”

You sigh, and walk over to the couch. As you sit down, you pull a pillow into your lap for just a little bit of comfort. “What do you mean the whole story?”

“Wrong choice of words,” Everest says. “The important parts of the whole story. Like are you dating him? Are you fucking him? If so, how long has this been going on?”

You can’t make eye contact as you speak, “I . . . fucked . . . him . . . a few times, a long time ago . . .”

She nods. She motions at you to continue, “. . . And?”

“And . . .” you breathe out. “I fucked him, again. Recently.”

“Last night? At the hotel?”

“Last night . . . not at the hotel.”

“Sooo, when? — Oh, my God,” she lowers her eyebrows at you, purses her lips. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did,” you nod. It’s a shameful nod. “You know they say there’s no sex like sex in a dressing room.”

“They also say polka dots are making a comeback, you believe everything you hear?”

“Sorry.”

“So you fuck him in the dressing room, and?”

“And . . . we go our seperate ways . . . again. And, then I realize that’s a lot easier said then done, so I . . . I go for him. I go for him . . .” Everest can hear the way your voice is cracking, the way the weight on your shoulder is slowly pushing the air out of your lungs. “And, uh,” you clear your throat. “Yeah. Yeah, it didn’t work out. Hence the . . . photos of me crying, I guess.”

“Mm,” she nods, crosses her arms. “And the other girl?”

You freeze, cut your head up at her. “What other girl?”

“What do you mean? The girls that came out right behind you. Same sad face? Kinda got a Natalie Portman look to her?”

“I . . .” you shake your head. “I didn’t know she came out after me, I must have left by then.”

“Who is she?”

You give her a shrug, “I don’t know.”

“His girlfriend?”

You huff, “Guess so.”

“Ah, so, some people online actually got it right. Huh, look at that.”

“Look, if the point of all of this is to keep me away from him, you can stop now. I don’t plan on seeing him ever again.”

The doorbell rings, as if on queue, and Everest instantly gives you a look. “What?” you ask. “I don’t know who it is. Your guess is as good as mine.”

She scoffs at you, and turns around, marching towards the door with a certain determination. She pulls it open, and immediately puts her hand on her hip. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Oh,” Matthew gasps. “Uh, oh . . . fuck . . . sorry, I must — I must have the wrong house.”

“You sure do, Romeo.”

You stand from the couch, your face laced with shock and anger and confusion, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Don’t engage, [y/n], what the hell?” Everest interjects.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “How the hell did you find my house?” you direct at Matthew.

“Oh, what?” he scoffs. “Like you’re the only one around here who can play stalker?”

“Go home, Matthew.”

“Five minutes. I’m asking you for five minutes. You can time me if you want.”

“Go back to California, Matthew.”

“Look, I know I fucked up. I know, but —“

“Do you?” you snap. You take slow, calculated steps towards the front door, and your voice is lowering to a rumble. “Do you know that you fucked up? Because, if you did, if you truly knew just how badly you fucked up, then you would leave. You would get on a fucking plane and leave, and you would never come back!”

The way Matthew is looking at you right now.Like he can’t fathom what’s happening. Like he is trying his very best not to feel defeated. “Can I . . . can I just —“

“No.” Everest says. “You heard her. Fuck off, string bean.”

You walk away, retiring to your kitchen. You try to keep yourself busy, but you’re trembling like mad and you can barely breathe.

Matthew leaves. You know because you hear the door close. Everest comes into the kitchen, and you feel stuck. Frozen to the spot and position you’re in. Your back is to her, and you can’t begin to imagine or guess what look is on her face right now.

She’s quiet for a moment, eyeing you with her arms crossed at her chest. She leans against the entryway and sighs, “Tell me more.”

Ramona walks up your driveway, and it isn’t until she looks up from her phone that she sees Matthew. She notices him, and he notices her, and Ramona tries to act like it didn’t happen, But when Matthew opens his mouth to speak, she blows past him, “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

“I know,” he says instantly. He is well aware, but it doesn’t stop him from running in front of her, blocking her from your front door. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, but . . . please, can you give this [y/n]?”

Matthew holds out an envelope. It’s bright red, your name is printed on the front of it in his handwriting.

Ramona glances at it, but she quickly glances back up, “Do I look like a mailman to you?”

“She won’t take it from me. She won’t talk to me. She might take it from you.”

“Yeah, or she might fire me for even taking it from you in the first place.”

“[y/n] wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s usually pretty amazing, except for when you’re around, or when you’re brought up, or when you’re fucking with her head. You make her a different person, dude. I want no part of it.”

He nods, looks down, “Fair enough . . . I’ll put it in her mailbox.”

“Yeah, why don’t you do that?” She shrugs, and she continues on by him.

“Damn . . .” Everest says. “You ghosted the guy at the airport?”

“Basically,” you shrug.

“Well, fuck,” she scoffs. “That is some serious great gatsby shit.”

“Yeah, we’ve always had a flair for the dramatic.”

The doorbell rings, and you both turn your heads sharply towards the entrance. “You don’t think he would come back, do you?” Everest asks as she walks to the door.

“Well, he never listens much to anything I say, but he’s probably a little scared of you.”

She laughs, and when she opens the door, she tells you it’s only Ramona, who walks in quickly, looking for you. She gives you a soft smile, and joins you in the kitchen as Everest follows close behind.

“So,” Ramona pips. “What’s the game plan?”

“You and [y/n] come to my office in the city and we’ll figure it out. Hey, did you pass him on your way out?” Everest asks her.

“Uh, who?”

“Matthew,” you tell her. “He was just here, you didn’t see him?”

“He was here?” Ramona questions, putting on a look of bewilderment. “When?”

“Just now. He left right before you got here.” Everest explains.

“Holy shit,” Ramona says. “What’d he want?”

“[y/n].”

“So,” you interrupt. “Your office? Now? We can go ahead and get going.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Everest stops you in your tracks, throwing her hands up. “Not so fast, you . . . you need to shower first.”

You look down at your outfit. You’re still dressed in Claire’s clothes and they’re completely disheveled. You haven’t showered or brushed your teeth since the last time you had sex, and the very thought makes you feel dirty. You look exactly how you feel. You sigh, “Fair enough.”

“We’ll wait in the car,” Everest nods, and motions to Ramona to follow her.

“What are we gonna do with her?” she says to Ramona as soon as they’re out of the house and walking down the driveway.

“I don’t know, she’s my boss . . . I can only help so much.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve known [y/n] for a long time now, and she’s never needed saving. But, something tells me we’re going to have to keep her away from this one.”

“From Matthew?” Ramona stops in her tracks.

“Well,” Everest stops, turns around to look at her. “She’s a grown woman. She’ll do what she wants. But, that zombie in there,” she motions to the house. “Who walks around the city in her pajamas for a man, is not [y/n]. Atleast, not the world’s [y/n]. People love her. She’s one of the few celebrities that’s kind and passionate and isn’t problematic. I’m just being proactive here.”

“Proactive?”

“She says she’s done with him. She told him she’s done with him. Now, we will just keep her on that path. Few months later, she and the rest of the world forget this ever happened and everything is back to normal.”

“You sound very sure of all of this.”

“Yeah, well, I like my schedules and I happen to like [y/n] so I better be sure. Come on, our ride’s further down the driveway,” Everest continues walking. While Ramona is stuck in place.

“Hey! Uh,” Ramona stutters, suddenly, loudly, causing Everest to turn around once again. “I think I left my water bottle in the house. I’ll meet you in the car?”

“Okay,” Everest eyes her. “It’s just around the corner. And tell [y/n] to hurry up.”

“I will!”

Ramona waits for Everest to continue down the driveway, and when she’s just far enough, Ramona turns around and acts as if she’s walking back up to your front door. When she’s positive Everest has made it to the car, she runs over to your mailbox. She opens it slowly, so it doesn’t creak as loud. The bright red envelope is the only thing in there, and she takes it out quickly. She looks at it for a moment, asks herself what the hell she’s doing. But she doesn’t have time to think right now, you could walk out at any moment. She closes your mailbox, shoves the envelope in her bag, and walks down the driveway.

Matthew Gubler, himself, is a disruption in the space-time continuum.

When you start tallying up the days, it just doesn’t make sense. Some days, every second feels like it’s crawling by. You’ll be in class, at the head of the class, and you’re surprised when your lesson plan ends atleast ten minutes early. And some days, time moves too fast. You find yourself running late for things, events, important people or things, which isn’t like you.

You call it Matthew Brain, and you keep that term to yourself. It happened fifteen years ago. And it’s happening now. It’s a slow, steady descent back to earth, back to reality. Time isn’t real with him, and you think that’s the reason you can’t remember much of your senior year. It’s a rush, a high to even be near him, and it’s the ultimate collapse when he’s gone. Really gone. Out of the life, for the second time.

Time has reset.

And what feels like one month with Matthew Gubler, only turns out to be four days.

You’re on a journey back to earth, and you haven’t even reached the bottom yet. It’s coming, but not now, you thought. You have time to prepare. And this time you’ll be ready. Ready to hit rock bottom, and spend another fifteen years digging yourself out. You have time, you’re sure of it.

Then Ramona comes into your office. She notices you crying, and you have to twirl around in your chair while you wipe the tears away. “Shit, Ro,” you try to laugh. “What’s up?”

“Uh, your afternoon class?” she reminds you. “With the girls at the community center? . . . What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

A lot. Not anything that you can really talk to Ramona about. And each day is something different. Like today, you’re feeling like a fucking idiot. You feel unbelievably stupid and lost and question why anyone in their right mind would choose to learn anything from you. You feel defeated, and you can’t get the look on that girl’s face out of your head.

You turn to Ramona with a soft smile, “I’m fine. I forgot about the class, thank you for reminding me. I just have to grab a few things before I go.”

“Well,” she sets her bag down in one of the chairs on the opposite side of your desk. She takes a seat in the other, “You’ve got some time, I haven’t even called the ride yet.”

You eye her, suspicious furrowing your eyebrows, “Oh, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” she seems genuinely confused.

“Sit there and feel sorry for me. I don’t need pity. I’m alright.”

“I’ve never seen you cry before . . . I’m just worried.”

“And I appreciate that, kid, I really do. But you don’t have to be, alright?”

“. . . okay.” she shrugs.

“Anyways,” you change the subject. “How much time do I have until I’ve gotta be out of here?”

“Um, I can call you a ride now, it should be here in about, ten minutes?” Ramona pulls her phone from her pocket, and holds it up as she dials the number.

“Sounds good,” you nod.

She leaves the room to make the call, and when she closes the door, you release a big sigh. As if you’d been holding it in the whole time she was here. You get up from your chair, and walk around the desk. Not paying attention, you stub your toe into the adjacent chair, so hard that the chair falls to the ground.

“Ow! Son of a b—“ your yelp is cut off by a painful groan, and your reach down to hold your foot. You look out in front of you, and Ramona’s entire bag has spilled out across the floor. “Fuck,” you mumble and instantly begin to clean it up.

It’s bright red. And it sticks out like a sore thumb. You reach over to grab it, but only because you recognized his hand writing. You run your fingers over your name, and your head is starting to hurt from the amount of pure confusion.

The door swings open, “Okay, they’ll be here in fifteen, but you have some wiggle room —“ Ramona stops when she sees the item in your hand.

You stand up straight, look her in the eye. She’s shaking. She’s trembling, and there are already tears in her eyes.

“I . . . can explain,” she says.

“Then explain.”

“Matthew . . . wanted me to — to give that to you.”

“When?”

“When, um, when he was at your house on Saturday.”

“You said you didn’t see him. You acted like you didn’t even know he had been there. You took this from him?” your voice goes up at slight octave. Not by much, but it stills cuts Ramona like a knife.

“No! No, I didn’t take it from him. I told him to put it in the mailbox. Which he did, but then I . . .”

“You? You what? Went into my mailbox and took it? Are you kidding?”

“It was crazy! I know! It was absolutely insane of me! But—But Everest was saying all these things about protecting your image, and being proactive, I just wanted to help. I thought —“

“Everest? Everest knew about this?”

“No. No. I took it when she wasn’t looking, and I just, I thought maybe if you didn’t know about the letter, you would be able to move on, y’know? Heal.”

“That was not your decision to make.”

“I know. [y/n], I’m so sorry. I can’t — I can’t even begin —“

“You’re right,” you interrupt her. “You can’t.”

You look down at the envelope in your hands, and shake your head. “God, Ro, I can barely look at you right now.”

“I’m sorry . . .”

You nod.

“I’ll . . . go wait for the car,” she nods, sadly and apologetically exiting the room.

You close the door behind her, and press your back against it. You slide to the floor, and bring the evelope close to your face. The day is not over, and you may need all night to take this in. You are not mentally prepared for whatever is in your hands, but, you rip it open anyway.

There’s a thin piece of paper inside. You pick it up, and it feels so frail that you worry it might rip. You set it on top of the envelope, and examine it. Your eyes dot over the page, until you realize, it’s not a letter at all.

American Airlines

[y/n] [y/l/n]

Seat: 14A

May Sixteenth, 2002

It’s a plane ticket. From fifteen years ago.

One you’ve never seen.

One you’ve never touched.

And now that it’s in your hands, you wish you never knew it existed.

#mgg #esny #tg #mine

[datleggy]

Buddie prompt: aggressively pro-buddie Helena and Ramon Diaz, who are ecstatic when Eddie tells them he's dating, and then utterly befuddled when he introduces Ana. But they decide to bite their tongues about it (Buck, their future son in law, has talked to them about respecting Eddie's decisions, however dumb, after all), until Ana (unwittingly? Innocently? No matter) makes a comment about Buck, and then all bets are off.

Hope this inspires you!

Helena is so relieved that Eddie finally feels comfortable enough to come out to them, that she could cry. She feels awful that it took her so long to realize it. 

It had been on Eddie’s last visit to Texas, when he and his crew had been fighting wildfires, that Ramon--her dense as can be when it comes to matters of the heart husband of all people--had noticed that their son was in love. 

Helena still remembers saying goodbye to her son and his two teammates, remembers Ramon closing the door, waiting exactly all of five seconds before turning to her and saying, “I’m happy for him. He’s so stubborn, I didn’t know if he’d ever let himself get that close to someone again.” 

And Helena had been confused at first, and then even chuckled when Ramon had explained calmly that clearly their son was dating his coworker Buck, until she’d stopped to really give it a moment’s thought. It had hit her all at once, how obvious those two were, and she couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since they’d started dating and why Eddie hadn’t said anything yet. 

She’s seen the photos on Instagram, Helena thinks, as their plane lands. Buck smiling next to her grandbaby after helping her son build him a skateboard he could safely ride in the park. Buck standing shoulder to shoulder with Eddie behind Tia and Christopher in that Christmas photo at the station. The selfie Eddie posted of him and Buck with the giant cast still on his leg the day of the ceremony for when he was no longer a probationary firefighter with the 118. 

Really, she should’ve figured it out months ago. 

When Eddie had called and told her he’d started dating again and that the next time they came to visit he’d make an introduction Helena had been thrilled! 

Ramon drives them from the airport to their son’s place in their rental and Helena rambles on about how she hopes Buck isn’t too nervous to see them again, now that the cat’s out of the bag. 

When they arrive Eddie greets them at the door with a big hug and ushers his parents inside and Helena is so ready to step into the living room and welcome Buck into the family with open arms, to show her son that there was nothing to be afraid of, that they love him and nothing in the world would change that--

Only to be met with....not Buck? 

“Oh,” Helena stops dead in her tracks and Ramon stands beside her looking about as confused as she feels. “Hello.” she smiles politely enough. 

The woman sitting next to Christopher on the couch stands up and she’s absolutely stunning, her curls bouncing on her shoulders when she stands up to exchange hello’s. “It’s so nice to meet you both. My name is Ana.” 

The rest of the afternoon goes by just fine, but Eddie can tell something is amiss the entire time, though he does a good job of hiding it from Ana, who’s her usual charming self through out lunch. 

She has to take a work call at some point and excuses herself to another room and that’s when Eddie turns to his parents and half-whispers. “Ok, I know those looks. What’s wrong?” 

Helena shakes her head, feigning ignorance. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

Eddie sighs, rolling his eyes. “Seriously, what is it? Ana is perfect. She’s incredibly smart, she’s funny, she’s got a great job, good head on her shoulders, and Christopher loves her--so again, I ask, what’s wrong?” 

Ramon follows his wife’s lead. “Mijo, really, it’s nothing. She’s great. We’re happy for you. I think we’re just a little tired from the flight, that’s all.” 

Eddie narrows his eyes slightly but decides there isn’t much sleuthing that can be done at the moment, so all he can do is take them at their word for now. “Fine, if you say so.” 

They’re in the middle of watching Nemo when Buck's name comes up.

"When the tsunami happened Buck and I sang 'just keep swimming' like Dory." Christopher grins up at his dad and Eddie ruffles the curls on his head playfully. It helps Christopher to be able to openly talk about what he went through that day, the good and the bad.

"You never told me Buck was there that day." Ana comments off handedly.

Eddie nods, "Huh, I thought I mentioned it? Buck took him to the pier that morning."

"It was scary but Buck saved me." Christopher tells his grandma, who reaches across the couch to squeeze his arm. Helena had been horrified to hear what had happened at the time; it still gives her anxiety just thinking about it.

"That's right." She says softly.

"I thought some woman you didn't know carried him to one of the tents, and that's how you two were reunited, no?" Ana asks.

"Yeah, but before that, during the initial impact Buck was with Christopher, he managed to get him up to this firetruck in the middle of everything. It was after he dove back into the water to save someone that a second wave came and swept Christopher right off and they got separated from there." Eddie recalls solemnly.

There had been blood running down the dirty wet bandage on his arm, he'd been soaked to the bone, exhausted and barely standing upright. It wasn't until Christopher had been found that Buck had allowed himself to collapse.

"Oh..." Ana frowns.

Ramon puts a hand over his heart and sighs. "It's a miracle, really."

Ana doesn't mean to say it outloud, but the words comes tumbling out of her mouth without warning. "And you're still friends with him?"

Eddie blinks. "What?"

"I'm sorry, really, it's just--I don't understand." Ana rubs her shoulder self consciously, fully aware of the fact that everyone is looking at her. "Look, Edmundo, you nearly bit my head off when Christopher got a skinned knee under my watch but you're still best friends with the man who lost your son for God only knows how long? It doesn't make any sense to me."

Ana knows how overprotective Eddie is of his son, and in fact, that's one of the reasons she likes him so much; she admires that about him and this? It doesn't track with the man she knows.

Helena wants to open her mouth and she say something in defense of Buck--he's a good man, after all. But she knows better than to get between a couple in an argument, especially given how bias she is towards her future son in law...

Instead, she clears her throat and looks at Christopher, "Honey, how about you help me and Grandpa unpack? I bought a lot of fun things from Texas for you."

Christopher doesn't want to go. His Dad looks upset. Ana looks upset. He wants to stay and help. If Ana met Buck she would understand, Christopher's sure of it. But his grandparents are already leading him down the hall and to the guest room.

Christopher hangs out with his grandparents for a few minutes before fibbing and telling them he needs to use the bathroom. They both offer to help him but he insists that he can do it himself, promising to call out if he needs them.

He sneaks the home phone into the bathroom with him and dials a number he knows by heart at this point. He waits a couple of rings before the call connects.

"Hey, what's up?" Buck's voice comes through the other end. He sounds distracted.

"Bucky? Can you come get me?" He whispers into the phone.

He hears a small commotion and then a stifled 'ow!' and then: "Chris? Are you ok? You're home, right? What's wrong? Where's Eddie?"

"I'm home. I'm ok. But--" there's a knock on the door and it startles Christopher into accidentally hanging up the phone before he can explain the situation in it's entirety.

"It was a tsunami." Eddie sighs, "It wouldn't be fair to hold something like that over his head. And look, you weren't there. You didn't see the look on his face, you don't know how many hours he spent crying out Christopher's name at the top of his lungs, injured and looking nonstop through the rubble for him--"

"Yeah, which he wouldn't have had to do if he hadn't lost him in the first place. It sounds like he was too busy playing hero for strangers to watch your son." Ana folds her arms across her chest. "I don't want to fight. Especially not with your parents here. Honestly, I'm just confused? We don't have to talk about this right now. I can go. I just want to apologize to your parents and Christopher first, before I leave, for," she sighs, embarrassed, "well, for causing a scene. This is not the way I'd pictured meeting your parents."

"You know, if you just met Buck I really think you would--"

A cacophony of knocks at the door make the both of them jump. Ana looks at Eddie. "Were you expecting anyone else?"

"Christopher!? Christopher I'm here, open up!"

Eddie gapes. "...Buck?"

"Did you...call him over?" Ana didn't even see him reach for his phone.

"What? No, of course not." Eddie starts towards the door--the knocking has gotten so boisterous he's pretty sure Buck's about to break down his door--but Ana beats him to it.

At this point Eddie's parents and Christopher are in the hallway wondering what all that racket is.

Ana lets the door swing open, and if she's being entirely honest she's not sure what she's planning on saying to the man who's essentially at the center of her first real argument with her boyfriend, but whatever it was, it goes up in smoke when she takes in the sight of him.

Buck is taller than she'd pictured but that's not what's got her speechless.

He's standing at the doorway, chest heaving, clearly having rushed out of his house, where he was very obviously in the middle of shaving, if the shaving cream still smeared on a third of his face is any indication. He's in sweatpants and a white undershirt that's got little drops of blood on the front from where he must have cut himself while shaving. There's a bright red cut running down the underside of his chin.

"Um." Ana can't do much except stare, wide eyed.

Buck blinks at her, "Uh...Ana?" He suddenly realizes all the people in the house behind her are looking at him in a kind of stupor.

She nods slowly. "Buck?"

Buck nods sheepishly, "Uh... So, I am clearly interrupting something here."

"You came!" Christopher moves past all of the adults in the corridor and throws himself at Buck's legs.

Buck lifts the kid up easily enough, crutches and all, "Yeah, about that," he gently pinches his cheek, eliciting a giggle out of Christopher, "What was that phone call all about? You nearly gave me a heart attack, bud."

Eddie groans. "Christopher, did you call Buck to come all the way over here in the middle of the day?" He walks over and uses the cuff of his shirt sleeve to wipe away the rest of the shaving cream on the side of Buck's face. The look on his face is fond as he does so. "What did this little menace say to get you over here in such a rush?"

Christopher pouts. "I just told him to come get me. I thought if Miss Ana met my Bucky she'd know how come you're still best friends." He grips at Buck's t shirt tightly. "You can't stop being friends, Dad. I love Buck. He's my friend too."

Buck frowns. "Umm..."

Eddie gives him an apologetic look. "Sorry, it's not--it's complicated. I promise to explain everything later. Right now isn't really a great time--"

Ana interrupts hesitantly. "Actually, now is probably good. I need to get home soon, it's getting pretty late, so I should get going." She turns to Helena and Ramon. "It was very nice to meet you both." She scoohches past Buck and Christopher and practically sprints to where she parked her car, aware of the fact that Eddie is calling out her name and only half a step behind her.

It's not until they're several blocks down the street that she swivels around and he nearly topples into her in his haste. "Ana, please, I don't want you to leave like this. I really didn't call him over." He reaches into his back pocket and shows her his phone. "See?"

Ana takes the phone and presses her lips together thinly. "He called you like twenty times on his way over."

Eddie frowns. His phone must have been on silent. It's no wonder Buck rushed over like he did. "He was just worried about Christopher--"

Ana sighs resignedly. "No, I know. It's obvious, how much your best friend cares about your son. I can see why he's still in your life. And I think I can also see why that means you don't really have any room for me in it..."

Eddie shakes his head. "What? Why would you say that?"

Ana looks him in the eye, intent as can be on reading him. Eddie had smiled so warmly, creating such an unintentionally intimate moment when all he'd done was swipe at the other mans face with his sleeve...

"You don't even know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"I think this is something you and Buck need to sort out yourselves. Goodbye Edmundo."

Eddie closes the door behind him as he steps inside, a little heartbroken and a lot confused.

There's noise coming from the kitchen and so Eddie follows it to the source. Ramon is telling Buck about how to sear the perfect steak by the stove while Helena and Christopher set the table.

"Is everything alright?" Helena asks, when she notices him by the entryway.

Eddie nods, lying when he says. "Yeah, all good Mom."

She gives him a knowing look but keeps her mouth shut. "Honey, take Buck here to your room, let him borrow one of your shirts. And maybe a razor?"

Buck chuckles shyly. "It's fine, really. I should probably get going too--"

Ramon shushes him. "Nonsense. Go, go, get changed and get your butt back into this kitchen. Scoot."

Eddie takes Buck by the shoulders and drags him to his room, where he finds a worn gray Henley for him. "Here."

Buck thanks him before stripping out of his white undershirt and throwing on the clean shirt.

Eddie plops himself down on his bed with a sigh. "Hey, I'm sorry about all this mess. And on your one day off, too."

Buck sits down beside him, bumping their shoulders together. "I don't really know what's going on but, are you doing ok?"

"I don't know," Eddie makes a face. "I think I got broken up with today."

Buck cringes. "Shit, I'm sorry, what happened?"

That's a good question. Eddie ponders that a moment. Ana had said it herself: she understood perfectly why Eddie didn't blame Buck for what happened during the tsunami and she had seen first hand how much Buck cares for Christopher for herself today.

So, why?

"She said that there wasn't any room for her in my life?" Eddie scratches the back of his head. "Maybe I'm just not cut out for this dating stuff anymore."

"Aw, c'mon man," Buck pats him on the back. "You fall off the bike you gotta get right back on." He turns his body all the way around so that he's facing Eddie fully. "Dude, you're a catch. You're a handsome, badass firefighter, you've got the best kid, and hey--you got me." Buck grins toothily.

Eddie rolls his eyes, though he can't help but smile. "So what I'm hearing here is that I'm stuck with you?"

"Oh yeah, for sure." Buck laughs.

Eddie leans back on his arms and looks up at his best friend, pensive. "Promise?"

Buck extends his pinky and wiggles it in front of Eddie, who smiles as he wraps his pinky around Buck's. "Promise."

.

#long post is long #I'm gonna fix it and put a read more when my laptop stops fucking up 😩😩😩 sorry #911 fox #buddie

[delimeful]

or set your teeth against my throat (2)

warnings: illness, mild emeto, bad decisions, miscommunication, short panic attack/flashback

---

As the night turned to dawn and then day, Roman didn’t stop running.

He couldn’t stop, even as his pace grew more and more sluggish, his path erratic. Every time he thought about pausing, finding a good campsite and finally letting himself take a breath, it was as though phantom sensations grasped at his skin or tore at his throat.

He kept moving.

It was stupid, probably, being driven forward by fear like a mindless animal. … It was definitely stupid. Still, after ages spent trapped in one form, the full moon’s pull on the wolf in him was irresistible.

For the first time in ages, he worried about the possibility of coming astray of a human settlement once the moon was overhead. Normally, Virgil was the one who dedicated himself to making sure their pack’s turning ground was far from any stab-happy humans, always double and even triple-checking.

In his current state, Roman could barely discern a single natural scent around him, let alone any human scents he should avoid. He kept feeling eyes on him, silent watchers, but the distinction between reality and his own terrified delusions was growing thinner.

When the sun finally sank below the horizon, Roman allowed himself to collapse on a soft patch of earth under a shielding copse of saplings. He had some hope, however shallow, that by wearing himself out, his wolf would spend the night curled up somewhere, settled into a sleep heavy enough to erase the pounding headache settled deep in his skull.

He’d been a fool to let himself hope.

His memories while fully-turned were foggy as usual, but the emotions were clear: he’d spent his entire night on the move. His wolf had been howling long, agonized calls into the dark around him, desperately searching for the other members of his small pack. Desperately waiting for a response that would never come.

To top it all off, when he woke up human-shaped in the early hours of dawn, his headache had only grown worse.

His only turn of fortune was that his wolf hadn’t traveled back the way he’d come, driven away by some immutable sense of danger. He could at least be grateful he wouldn’t have to make up for any lost progress, even if his body was weak and trembling from being pushed past the brink of exhaustion.

The further he got from those bloodsuckers, the better.

His vision blurred slightly with each step. It was seeming more and more likely that he was growing feverish, though it was hard to tell with nobody else around to ask. He kept pressing a hand to his forehead and neck, trying to gauge his temperature, but his hands were warm, too.

He’d complained about his packmates’ terrible circulation and icy fingers before, but there was very little he wouldn’t do for them now… Just the phantom memory of Virgil’s cool hand on his head, voice sharp but touch unbearably gentle, was enough to make tears prick his eyes.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself up on shaky legs. There was no way he could give up now, feverish or not. What would his packmates advise?

“For survival, shelter and water are most important,” he mumbled to himself, wincing at the poor imitation. He cleared some of the raspiness from his throat, imagining Logan’s face when he really got into sharing his newest bit of knowledge. “Running water is preferable to still water, which can carry illnesses, and for larger rivers there is also the potential to find freshwater food sources, like salmon, catfish, bass, um… pike, trout… cod?” He frowned, losing the careful enunciation. “Wait, is salmon freshwater?”

Logan could have listed more off, Roman was sure, but the effort helped cheer him nonetheless. He spent the next few hours winding his way through the forest, attempting every so often to sniff the air for damp soil with little success.

His ears still worked fine, however, and so when he caught the first distant trickle of rushing water, he wasted no time in following the sound. It was no river, but the stream was plenty to help quench the dryness in the back of his throat.

“Go upstream,” he could imagine Virgil demanding, “make yourself harder to track. Wolves aren’t the only ones out there with good noses.”

“The water is so cold, though,” he complained to himself even as he began sloshing through it. “I have squishy human flesh, I’m going to freeze to death.”

Here was where Logan would point out his exaggeration, and Virgil would snap something snarky to distract him from the chill.

The burbling of the water was a poor substitute.

Once his feet grew truly chilled, he waded back out, mimicking Virgil’s voice to caution himself against the more slippery-looking rocks. He probably looked a little silly, holding both parts of a conversation, but it wasn’t as though anyone was around to see.

“Cut me some slack,” he muttered to nobody, allowing the comfort of his wolf form to slide back into place as the day turned to a chilly evening and he lay to rest. “I’m maybe-possibly-feverish, I deserve good things.”

He slept fitfully, and when he woke, there was a gray coat draped over him, and a small pile of walnuts and blackberries sat at his side, the nuts already shelled and the berries freshly washed.

The incredibly suspicious nature of their appearance only stopped Roman from eating them for about five minutes, and four of those five minutes were dedicated to imagining all the reasons Virgil would list to not eat them.

“Sorry, Virge,” he said through a mouthful of fruity deliciousness.

There didn’t seem to be anyone around, and no matter how he buried his face in the coat lining, his nose was too stuffed to pick up anything. It was an extraordinarily soft coat, though, and he felt awfully cold. It was hard for even him to imagine what harm could be done with a coat.

“I’m accepting this Possibly Evil Coat, but only for a little while, so don’t get any ideas!”

The woods were quiet in response to his declaration, and he sniffed daintily before climbing to his feet, internally bemoaning the way the world swayed slightly as he moved.

Couldn’t he just sleep here a bit longer…?

He imagined the unimpressed looks his packmates would give him. Imaginary Virgil in particular wouldn’t stand for sitting around when there was every possibility he was still being hunted.

“For all you know, that vamp was just a sick mind trick, and they’ve been toying with you this whole time!” Virgil would say, jumping to the worst-possible scenario that Roman always stalwartly tried to ignore. He shuddered, glancing around himself.

“You are not helping my mood, mister,” he muttered to Imaginary Virgil as he tromped through the underbrush with much less elegant grace than usual.

The little mystery offerings from the morning had helped stave off his plummeting energy levels, but they weren’t enough. It was only midday when the lightheadedness and the chills shuddering through him became too much, and he found himself collapsed on the ground between one blink and the next.

He was contemplating the benefits of simply remaining facedown on the dirt for a while when a cool hand wrapped around his wrist, carefully tugging him onto his back.

Roman blinked at the face above him, the blurry features slowly resolving themselves into the shape of the vampire who had freed him only nights before. The fear that shot through him didn’t make him any more lucid, and Roman bared his teeth in a snarl that was probably much less fearsome on a human face.

“Told you so,” Imaginary Virgil said, instead of doing anything helpful like tearing a vampire’s throat out. Roman missed Real Virgil.

The vampire was talking, a low, constant noise meant to soothe as he shifted an arm around Roman’s shoulders, lifting him to his feet. The blood rushed to his head, vision going black-- the next thing he knew, he was inside a small cabin, swaddled in blankets, the hearth crackling merrily feet away.

… What had he been worrying about? He couldn’t remember.

A chill shuddered through him. He was still so cold, even as sweat drenched the cloth around him, and he complained relentlessly.

His packmates tolerated his sickbed whining as graciously they always did, though for some reason they were more hesitant than normal to hold him close when he called for them. They seemed to be taking his care in shifts, as there was only ever one person in view, and sometimes he woke up completely alone.

(Strange, since they normally all piled up together when one of them got sick. They probably just needed to prioritize hunting or checking their territory boundaries or something. Roman wasn’t that sick.)

When they were there, Roman rambled and bickered with them nonstop, through shudders and chattering teeth, telling old stories and adding new twists to distract from the sickness ravaging him, only pausing when they pressed coriander seeds or wormwood to his lips.

(That was a little strange. Logan knew mint worked better for Roman’s nausea. Maybe they were out?)

Time passed in a haze, marked only by the frequent offers of fresh water and stale rations. Eventually, he was able to even measure out his healing progress by how often he could keep the aforementioned nutrients down.

(One of them was busy hunting, but somehow there was never any fresh kill.)

He knew his fever had finally, properly broken when he reached out for the one who had been taking care of him all this time, and registered that their skin was icy-cold.

Roman jerked back and then instantly regretted it as every nerve in his body protested severely.

“Ah, careful!” warned the vampire, who was at least smart enough to stay out of immediate biting range. His hands fluttered around as though he was attempting to bat away the dark spots that were currently dotting Roman’s vision.

Unbidden, a rough growl tore from him. He had a heartbeat to feel vindicated at the vamp’s flinch before his breath caught in his throat, kicking off an uncontrollable coughing fit.

Each wheeze brought less and less air, and when he caught the vampire shuffling closer, it suddenly felt like he had no air at all. He hunched over his knees, shifting his hands to cover his neck pathetically, as though the motion could protect him.

“Back off,” he snapped, cursing himself when the words came out as barely more than a choked whisper. How many times had he said some variation on the phrase in the past few weeks? He should have learned by now that it never worked.

When he glanced up, though, he found the vampire had practically teleported all the way across the room. The sight of the vamp peering at Roman worriedly from the furthest corner was odd enough to yank his mind out of the half-formed flashback.

He took a deep breath, trying to remember the grounding exercises Virgil always ran through. His wrists were light, his knees didn’t ache; he wasn’t chained down. There was soft fabric around him, and warmth in the air; it was a far cry from cold cement platforms in lifeless forts.

There was a vampire here, but his eyes weren’t red, and he didn’t wear a cruel smile like a second skin. Roman might still be a prisoner, but he wasn’t there anymore.

Instead, his current location was… a curiously cozy cabin?

Roman blinked. It was a single room, a bit sparse in decor but containing a small coal stove, stocked pantry, and a cheerily roaring fireplace. He was sitting on the solitary bed, a nest of blankets creased around him.

He turned his blank gaze back to the vampire. For a moment, the only noise in the room was the low crackle-pop of burning wood.

“Are you okay?” the vampire finally asked, brow creased with what looked like genuine concern. “You’ve been really burning up, and fevers like that can take a lot out of you. At least,” a pause, “as fire as I know.”

Any and all snappy responses (both literal and metaphorical) flew instantly from Roman’s mind. He groaned and slumped over dramatically, ignoring the way his vision swam slightly at the movement. “Augh, that was terrible!”

The vampire grinned, his smile somehow dorky even with the visible fangs. “You don’t have to tell me twice: I’m a fast burner!”

“Are you sure?” Roman asked. “Because this is the worst thing you’ve done to me yet, and I’m including the mind games, apparent abduction, and imprisonment.”

“Flameous last words,” the vamp said, and then the rest of Roman’s statement seemed to catch up with him. He drooped like a wilting flower. “You’re not imprisoned here! And I’m not trying to... mess with you, or anything.”

Roman gave him an unimpressed look. “Just so we’re on the same page, that’s a yes on you abducting me, correct?”

“I mean, yeah, just a little bit,” the vampire admitted, “but I meant it in a helpful way! I wasn’t going to bother you at first, I promise, but then you got sick, and I could tell how feverish you were just looking at you, and--,”

“Wait,” said Roman, his brain slowly churning through the implications of that sentence, “you were just going to follow me without me knowing, the entire way--,” home, he didn’t say, because the mere thought of accidentally leading a coven of vicious vampires to his vulnerable packmates made his stomach turn, and then he was leaning over and being violently ill in the bucket beside his bed.

A cold weight settled against the back of his neck, soothing against his overheated skin for the few seconds it took him to realize what-- or rather, who it was. He jerked away with a halfhearted snarl, probably looking rightly pathetic.

“I’m sorry,” the vampire said mournfully, stopping him short. “I wasn’t trying to upset you, I just-- I knew it was my fault. If I’d gotten the key sooner, or been braver, you wouldn’t have been out in the cold for so long, you might not have caught sick at all. It wouldn’t be right for me to abandon you.”

“Abandon me?” Roman spluttered. What did this guy think he was, some lost pup? “I can take care of myself just fine alone, thank you very much! I have absolutely no need for suspicious sanguinous stalkers on my tail.”

For emphasis, he shoved the blankets off of himself, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and stood up in preparation to leave.

One blink later, he was facedown on the floor, his body numb yet his nose stinging from the impact. “Ow.”

The vampire offered him a hand up. “Autumn is my favorite season, but that certainly didn’t seem like a very nice fall.”

“Must you kick a man while he’s down?” Roman bemoaned, ignoring the proffered hand in favor of pushing himself up.

His traitorous legs wobbled under him, and he ended up collapsing back into a seated position on the bed, right where he’d started. He felt a wave of familiar despair wash over him. The sickness had sapped every ounce of strength from him; whatever villainous plans lay ahead, he had no chance of foiling them.

… Maybe he could still foil some of them.

Roman met the vampire’s gaze as solidly as he could. “No matter how adeptly you try to play the kindly stranger role, I’m not going to fall for it.” I’m not going to lead you to my family. “You may as well cut your losses and do whatever it is you’re planning to do to me.”

He waved a dismissive hand for emphasis, as if it didn’t matter to him. As if the mere idea of getting so close to freedom and then dying (alone, far from his pack, without them ever even knowing what happened to him) wasn’t enough to make him feel like there were roots tangling in his lungs and weeds clogging his throat.

The vampire nodded slowly, a troubled look on his face. “In that case…”

He moved closer, and Roman focused very intently on not flinching, no matter how badly he wanted to, or how hard his body was already shaking. The vampire reached out--

“My name is Patton,” he said, very carefully offering his hand at the midpoint between them, “and what I want is for you to stay right here in this house until you’re healed, and then you can go wherever you want to go, and I’ll make an oath not to follow.”

“What?” Roman blurted, staring at Patton’s hand with blatant confusion. “You-- I-- What?”

“I really don’t want to hurt you, kiddo.” Roman stiffened, because that was a classic villain line setup if he’d ever heard one, but-- “So, once you’re healed, whatever you need me to do to prove it, I’ll do it.”

Roman’s increasing headache had nothing to do with his fever and everything to do with the oxymoron that was a philanthropist bloodsucker.

What was the right option? He couldn’t get away, but he couldn’t trust that this bizarre hospitality would last, either. Perhaps the best course of action here was inaction-- lulling the vampire into a false sense of security by pretending to be sick even as he grew healthy enough to escape?

Roman could act. He was good at it, and the bar for his illness had been set quite convincingly with his earlier faceplant. He let his muscles go lax, slumping over slightly to give off the impression of conceding without actually ever agreeing to Patton’s proposed plan.

“If you’re so intent on me trusting you, you can start by telling me where I am,” he sniffed, graciously not mentioning the abduction thing again.

Patton brightened, letting his offered hand drop without comment. “This is an aidhouse! It’s part of a system recently set up in this division of the kingdom for common good and to prevent spread of disease.”

That explained the insulated, if somewhat bare, interior. Roman raised a curious eyebrow. “And they’ll let just anyone use it?”

“That’s the principle behind it, yep! Normally, with non-plague cases, an apothecary apprentice would stop by to check in and offer guidance, but I told them I had it apothecovered!”

The puns were apparently a permanent fixture in the guy’s repertoire. Logan would be in agony. Roman ignored the pang in his chest at the thought, leaning further back against the pillow mound. “Yes, you wouldn’t want some poor apprentice to stick around long enough to find out there’s a lone vampire in their midst, would you?”

Dial it back, he could imagine Virgil hissing, as though the emo had any room to talk about unnecessary vitriol.

“Well, no,” Patton admitted, his smile turning a little strained. “But I turned them away because I already have all the experience I need! I worked as a full-time doctor before-- um, before...”

The smile turned full-on tremulous, and Roman was seized by a strange panic at the sight of it. He sprawled over the bed haughtily, the way he always did when demanding attention from his workaholic packmates.

“If you’re such a skilled doctor, then I’m sure you won’t have any problems running me through your treatments so far?” Roman challenged, inspecting his nails. It wasn’t a pointless query, either; some common human treatments were toxic to werewolves.

“Oh!” Patton said, voice still a little choked up. “Of course, let me see…”

The brink-of-tears quality to his words faded as he began to recount everything Roman had missed in his feverish haze. Patton’s exposition was nothing like Logan’s, cheerful rambling and jokes thrown in where Logan preferred efficient lists and muttered tangents.

Roman found himself drifting off to the sound regardless.

It seemed that pretending to trust Patton wouldn’t be as hard as he’d thought.

#sanders sides #ts roman #ts patton #werewolf au #vampire au #my writing #osytamt #or set your teeth against my throat #writing #fantasy au #hurt/comfort #bthb

[v-hope]

Unscripted

Pairing: Actor!Kim Taehyung x Actress!Reader ft. (mentions of) Park Hyungsik

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3.1k

Request: “Is this the moment that we kiss? + Taehyung + make it so awkward/cringe as you can and the ending so cute that you might have to throw up from it”

Summary: There might have been a slight change in the script for the k-drama Taehyung and you were starring on, but that did not mean there were any changes when it came to the way you felt towards each other when the cameras weren’t rolling.

A/N: So this was supposed to be a smol drabble but this idea came to my mind and I just went with it 🤧 i hope you guys enjoy!

When Taehyung had signed up to be a part of the next big k-drama coming later that year, starring both you and one of his favourite hyungs, Park Hyungsik, as his co-stars, he had signed up for a love triangle kind of plot, which would end up with him getting the girl in the end.

At least that was what the first script he had been handed to said.

And, as the story went on and your characters’ relationship developed, he could only be confident about that being indeed the outcome for it.

So now, after nearly three months of filming, it was finally the day they would shoot his first kiss with you. Well, his character’s first kiss with yours, to be more specific. Those were the lines he had rehearsed and also what he had emotionally prepared himself for — the idea of getting to kiss those lips of yours he had wanted to get a taste of ever since you first met, being the reason he had gotten little to no sleep the night before.

And that’s why, when the two of you were working on said scene, being face to face after he had followed you into Jieun’s —that being the role you were playing— living room, and you said different lines than the ones on his script, he found himself being absolutely puzzled. Nevertheless, everyone else seemed to be okay with it, which is why he carried on, saying the lines he had rehearsed, and this time being you the one to be completely dumbfounded.

However, even though you didn’t know what was going on, you did not find it in you to lean back and away from his lips, as you felt your heart beat ever so hardly against your chest at the sight of him leaning in to kiss you.

Not like it mattered anyway, for although you might have not found it in you to do something about it, the director didn’t have a problem with it — a loud “cut!” resounding all around the set, managing to stop Taehyung from pressing his lips on yours like both of you had so badly been anticipating.

“Taehyung, what the hell are you doing?” director Han questioned with furrowed eyebrows.

Taehyung’s mouth formed a pout, both because of not understanding what was going on, and because the moment he had been looking forward to the most —that being, your kiss’ scene— had been interrupted before it could even take place. “Isn’t this the moment we kiss?”

You found yourself taking in a shaky breath at his bold question, focusing on the lips of his that remained slightly puckered up in confusion after some people from the staff had gasped as others tried their best not to laugh.

“In the old script, yes. But not in the new one”.

“The new script?” Tae asked, giving you a quick glance and growing even more confused when you confirmed it with a small nod.

“Yes, you didn’t get it?” director Han had seemingly grown irritated by then.

“I… don’t think so?” Taehyung replied.

The director sighed, looking to his assistant next to him. “Okay, find out whose fault this was and tell them we need to talk” he ordered sternly, before he looked around and announced to the rest of the crew: “Everyone else, take five!”

With that said, and everyone else dispersing around the set to mind their own business, the man went up to the two of you.

“God, I can’t believe we’ll have to push back the recording because of this” he pinched at the bridge of his nose.

“It wasn’t his fault” you defended Tae in a heartbeat, causing his eyes to soften as they gazed to you.

“I know” director Han agreed with you, much to your surprise. “Still sucks though”.

That it did.

“So…” Taehyung begun. “What is this thing about a new script?”

“Oh, yeah,” the older man didn’t wait to begin his explanation. “You know how we’re always taking into consideration the viewers’ opinions as we go on with the story?”

“Yes…”

“Turns out, they all are over the moon with Y/N and Hyungsik’s chemistry,” those simple words were enough for Tae to feel uneasy. “So, after giving it a lot of thought and having a few meetings, we decided they will be this story’s endgame”.

Well, that surely had felt like a bucket of ice cold water being thrown straight to his face.

And although there were so many questions he wanted to ask, and so many of them he could’ve asked, he ended up looking at you and asking the one his heart felt more troubled with. “So you’re kissing Hyungsik hyung”.

It had not quite came out like a question, but more of a statement, yet either way, you nodded in affirmation.

Taehyung sighed. “I mean, hyung mentioned something about a kissing scene but… I didn’t know you...”

And although you didn’t have to explain yourself to him, at the sight of his disappointed expression, you felt the need to do so anyway. “It will only be a couple of times though. And it’s only for the drama, I wouldn’t—”

“Okay, look,” director Han cut your words off mid-sentence. “I don’t know what’s going on with you two when it comes to your personal lives, so I’ll leave you guys to talk it out. But um… we’re done for the day, I guess” he sighed, later fixing his eyes on Taehyung so he could inform him: “I’ll send you the new script. You guys may leave now”.

Nodding your heads, you watched the man head out of the set, leaving the two of you alone to ‘talk it out’.

The thing is, there was nothing to talk out. Or, more precisely, you didn’t know how to talk out what you so desperately wanted to do. Because you had feelings for him and he had feelings for you, but neither of you knew about one another’s. At least not for sure.

Truth be told, the two of you felt an instant attraction to each other the moment you met, but you thought nothing of it. You were both professionals. You would be a couple on the drama and that would be it, for you both knew getting involved with a co-star could only complicate things when it came to work.

However, that mindset of yours did not quite go to plan as the filming went on and you got to spend quite a lot of time together. Yes, your characters were written to fall in love, and so you had to act like it when the cameras were rolling, but the chemistry you and Taehyung had outside the set was, for sure, so, so much stronger than the one your contracts forced you to act out.

And so, soon enough, the two of you would be attached to the hip, spending not only every second off camera on set together, but also texting nonstop every other day you didn’t get to see each other.

It had just been so natural for the two of you to get along so well together, that neither of you questioned it. Neither of you had questioned why you felt like keep talking to each other every single moment you were apart, or why you craved one another’s attention whenever you spent time with other people of the crew… or why your hearts sped up so damn much every single time you were close.

You didn’t question any of that, you just went with it. To the point you came to terms with your feelings without having to go through any kind of epiphany. They were just there, and you would keep them to yourselves.

That’s why this particular kissing scene was so important to the both of you, for it would give you an excuse to do what you were dying to without actually having to risk anything. And that’s why you had been so disappointed when you got the new script three days before, and why Taehyung was now having such a hard time accepting the new fate of the plot.

“I, uh…” his eyes fixed on yours after a few seconds. “I’ll go change now…”

“Oh, okay…” you nodded. “I’ll go do the same”.

The sweet smile you gave him right then had somehow managed to ease the tension he had been feeling those last couple of minutes.

“You want me to drive you home?” he wondered like he did every day your shootings ended at the same time.

You could always just call your personal driver, he knew that, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t still try to spend as much time with you as he could. And the fact that you accepted his offer every single time could only encourage him to keep on doing so.

“You wouldn’t mind?” you asked with another smile, causing one of his own to take over his factions.

“You know I don’t”.

“Okay” you accepted, like it was oh-so-usual by now. “I’ll meet you at the parking lot in ten?”

“Yeah” he agreed, his smile only growing bigger at the way your stares had lingered before you turned around to go change into your personal clothes for once and for all.

That’s how, ten minutes later, just as agreed, you were entering his car, fastening your seat belts before he started driving over the route he knew by heart at this point.

The ride was quiet, yet not uncomfortable — both of you having too many things on your minds to even pay attention to the way the only sound filling the car was coming from the radio.

Both of you debating within yourselves whether or not you should bring up the topic the two of you were about to discuss before director Han interrupted you back on set.

And when Taehyung parked his car outside your place and you thanked him for the ride home, placing your hand over the door handle so you could pull at it and get out, he found himself speaking before he could even stop himself.

“Hey, uh…” his quite unsteady voice caught your attention. “It slipped my mind to say it before, but sorry about today…” he apologized when your eyes met his. “I never meant to make things uncomfortable for you… for us…”

You smiled sweetly at his sincere words. “It’s okay, Taehyung-ie” his heart jumped at the way his name sounded like honey to him whenever you said it. “It wasn’t uncomfortable… I was just, you know… worried you would get scolded because of the script and all that”.

“Yeah…” he recalled the way you had jumped on his defense the moment director Han had approached you. “Thank you about that…”

“It was nothing…” you shrugged. “Sorry I didn’t tell you about it” it was now your turn to apologize. “I know we talk quite a lot and I had the chance to, but I just assumed you had read the new script”.

“It’s okay, don’t worry” he reassured you.

“Do you have time to learn it?” you wondered, knowing both his idol and actor schedules tended to overlap a little too much.

Taehyung nodded softly before he gave you a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll manage”.

“That’s good” you smiled as well. “If you want to rehearse our scenes beforehand or just need help with yours… just hit me up”.

“I probably will, to be honest” he chuckled, earning a light laugh from you; for going over your scenes together from time to time, just for the sake of it, was something the two of you had found out to be rather helpful these last couple of months. “Sucks you will be rehearsing the kissing ones with hyung now…”

Your heart jumped, feeling your face heat up at his boldness.

“I don’t think we’ll be rehearsing them. I mean…” your eyes nervously gazed to the window. “We never did…”

Taehyung took in a deep breath. “Right…”

And although a part of him was screaming at him to just shut his mouth, for he had been bold enough already, he couldn’t help but go on with it; not wanting to let go of the topic just yet.

“Why didn’t we?”

Because we’re idiots. Because it would’ve felt too real. Something along those lines was the answer you wanted to give him.

Instead, you said nothing, just shrugging and looking out the window to your place. “Doesn’t matter anymore…” your eyes travelled back to him, taking in his beautiful factions and anticipating eyes before you explained: “Junho’s the one getting the girl now”.

The way your eyebrows had teasingly moved up and down as you referred to Hyungsik’s character, got Taehyung throwing his head back against the driver’s seat as a loud whine escaped his mouth.

“Aish, you little—”

He wasn’t planning on finishing that sentence, of course, so he stopped himself mid-sentence right as you threw your head back as well — a loud laugh coming out of your mouth.

“Just for the record,” you faced him, catching his attention. “I was really rooting for Sehun”.

A flustered laugh abandoned his lips, shaking his head in disbelief before his chocolate eyes fixed on yours once again. “Yeah… he would’ve been good to Jieun” he lamented his role’s defeat with a small, dramatic nod.

You giggled. “I know. But J—”

“If you say Junho will be better, Y/N, I swear to fucking God—”

Just like he had cut off your words mid-sentence right before, you cut his — only not with actual words, but with a cackle instead. “Biased much?”

“Sehun would’ve been better and you know it!” he accused you.

“Oh, yeah?” you questioned rather tauntingly, unconsciously moving closer with a daring demeanour.

“Yeah” he stated confidently. “And he would’ve kissed her so much better, too”.

Although your heart had skipped a beat at that and your hands were suddenly trembling, you went on with the teasing, not being ready to lose the unspoken competition this conversation had somehow just turned into. “Hm... I wouldn’t know about that though…”

“I can show you if you want”.

Just like that, Taehyung left you speechless.

He had gone for it, and was waiting for an answer now. One you weren’t able to give him with actual words, but with a small, almost unnoticeable, nod of your head instead.

It didn’t go unnoticed by him, though — the way your eyes had focused on his attractive lips being the last straw for him to just finally let go of any rational thought he might’ve had until then.

Tenderly cupping your face, he brought his face just close enough to yours so you could feel your already heavy breathings mix, before he gazed up to your eyes for one last brief second.

“Is this the moment we kiss?” he mocked his previous words that day, earning a giggle from you that sounded like music to his ears.

“Just kiss me already, you dork”.

So he did.

Gently caressing the corners of your mouth with his thumbs, he brought your face up to meet his lips in the middle — softly pressing them together.

And only that took for you to know you would, from then on, not enjoy kissing any other than him.

Letting out quiet, content hum when he deepened the kiss a few moments later, you pressed your hands on his chest, causing him to smile at the way your hands had lightly tugged at the fabric of his sweater as you managed to pull him even closer to you.

Damn the directors for depriving you both of the many kisses you could’ve gotten as the series went on.

“Was that Sehun kissing Jieun or Taehyung kissing Y/N?” you couldn’t help but softly ask once your lips were no longer trapped in his cloudlike ones.

He laughed under his breath, sweetly running his thumbs on your cheeks. “If I said it was just me kissing you, would you be okay with it?”

You nodded in a heartbeat, not being able to hold back a small giggle that had his heart skipping a beat in a second.

“Oh, good” he finally breathed out the air he didn’t know he had been holding, letting his forehead rest on yours. “Because I’ve wanted to do that for a while now”.

“So have I” you laughed lightly under your breath, lovingly removing a strand of hair that was covering one of his pretty eyes. “Maybe our characters won’t get to be together but… that doesn’t have to apply to us, does it?”

“Absolutely not” he smiled, planting a small peck on your lips. “Even if people think you have better chemistry with hyung, whatever that means”.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the bitter remark he had let out, followed by a huff. Director Han’s words had really stung deep. Maybe if it had just been that the viewers liked Junho and Jieun together, it wouldn’t have been that bad. But he said Hyungsik and you. As your own persons outside of the fictional drama world. And that was a whole different situation he could not help but dislike.

Kissing his cheek ever so sweetly, you pulled back to fix your eyes on his. “Good thing I don’t care what they think” those words alone made that cute boxy smile of his show on his face. “Are you okay with me having to kiss him though?”

“Can’t promise I won’t get a little jealous, but… it’s your job, of course I’m okay with it” he smiled reassuringly. “I’ll have you know, though,” his eyes squinted daringly. “For every time you kiss him, you’ll have to kiss me a hundred times to make it up to me”.

You snorted. “Don’t you think that’s a little too overpriced?” your teasing words had him raising his eyebrows. “How about five kisses for each time I kiss him?”

“Did I stutter?” he lowered his tone to seem more serious, causing you to bite your bottom lip as you shook your head in amusement.

“Oh, well…” you sighed over dramatically. “You’ll be too distracted kissing me to even keep count of them anyway”.

“Don’t test me, baby”.

“Okay, okay. I won’t” you laughed, catching him by surprise when the next second your hands tugged once again at his sweater to pull him closer. “May I pay some of those in advance though? Since there will be way too many of them to pay for in a few days”.

Taehyung chuckled, gently pushing your chin up with his thumb as his face came closer to yours, until his pink lips were faintly brushing yours. “That you may do”.

#bts #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #kim taehyung #bts fluff #taehyung fluff #kpop #kpop fanfic #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #bts scenarios #taehyung scenarios #bts reactions #taehyung reactions #bts x reader #kim taehyung x reader #bts taehyung #bts v #taehyung

[writingfeatherduster]

A Warm Feeling, Chapter Four

Chapter Four: Mutual Care

Part One | Part Three | Part Five Word count: 4268 Warnings for this chapter: Illness, panic attacks

Read this on Archive of Our Own and Wattpad!

“Yeah, I got him to eat a little bit when I brought him home. He just looks so… I dunno, dim? His temperature is only 317… Yeah, Al, I know that’s low, that’s why I called!”

Sans paced nervously as he glanced at the living room couch, talking to Alphys over the phone. Once again, he found Grillby laying there, but this time was much less endearing. The flames that formed his body didn’t seem to burn as brightly as usual, and he looked downright sickly. This wasn’t something that had come on suddenly, either. Sans felt like an idiot. Thinking back to the past few days, he should have noticed that Grillby was moving slower. The bartender had been having trouble keeping up with orders lately, and there were moments where he’d even spilled drinks because his hands were shaking. Sans chalked it all up to him being busier than usual, but he should have known better. The last thing Grillby needed- no the last thing Grillby deserved was for Sans to be dismissive of obvious cries for help.

Guilt gnawed at the skeleton’s bones. Why did he let Grillby go home alone the night before? Why didn’t he say anything when his food was underdone? Why didn’t he just pay more attention? If their places were reversed, Grillby would have caught on to Sans’s ailment and made him rest days ago. Grillby was observant like that. He was a good, attentive friend. Was it really that much to ask for Sans to return the favor?

Thankfully, it didn’t seem like the situation was dire. After giving Alphys a rundown of everything that had happened, she seemed optimistic. “W-well,” the scientist stuttered over the phone, “It sounds like t-t-to me that, um, that he’s just been o-overworked. When- well, um, when y-y-you work too much, it c-catches up to you eventually, right? A few days, um, a few days of r-rest should- um, it should help him perk right back up! I think, heheh, heh…”

Sans sighed in relief. “Thanks, Al. I’m just glad he’s not dying or something.”

“He’ll b-be fine,” Alphys reassured. “Just k-k-keep an eye on him, and, u-um, and call me if he gets- if anything else happens.”

“Will do. Thanks.” Sans hung up the phone, looking back at the sleeping bartender. It was nerve-wracking to see him so still. What would have happened if Sans didn’t check on him? The door was unlocked! Anyone could have come in, and that ‘anyone’ could have been a monster with way more malicious intentions than Sans! The thought made the skeleton shudder, ice settling into his bones. What if Grillby hadn’t gotten home safely the night before? What if he’d frozen to death? He should have at least walked him home. Isn’t that what Grillby did, when he was worried about Sans? He said something, he acted, he made sure that Sans was okay and safe and taken care of. Sans had noticed the bartender struggling, and what did he do? Looked the other way. Why would he do that? Grillby could have been seriously hurt! Not that he wasn’t already! What if he had a concussion from the fall? Or sprained something?

“...Sans…”

The skeleton gasped, head jerking up. Grillby was awake, weakly reaching out and putting his hand on Sans’s arm. Sans sniffled, only then realizing that he’d been crying as he spiraled. He wiped at his eye sockets with his sleeve, sitting on the edge of the couch next to the fire monster. “Y-you’re awake,” he mumbled shakily. “You really had me scared there for a second, heh.”

“Well, there’s nothing to fear,” Grillby said with a small smile, voice a little raspy from days of nonstop talking to customers. He sat up slowly, leaning back up against the pillows before opening his arms to Sans. “Come here.”

Sans hesitated for just a moment… and then he was in Grillby’s arms, hugging tightly as he started to cry again. “I thought you were dying! Or Fallen Down, or something!” Sans said through his tears. He felt silly and selfish. Grillby was the one who was sick, and yet here he was, comforting Sans again. The skeleton suddenly sat up, upset with himself. ���No, cut that out. I should be taking care of you right now, not- ugh!” He pulled his hoodie up over his head, embarrassed and ashamed. “Now is not the time to be worried about me, Grillbz.”

Grillby frowned at him, adjusting his glasses. “Sans-”

“No,” Sans huffed, cutting him off. “You need to be resting. You can’t prioritize me over your own health.”

“Sans, please-”

“And you really should have taken a break days ago,” Sans interrupted once again. “I know I’m not one to talk, but you’ve gotta pay attention to yourself! I know you like your job and your customers and all but it does no one any good if you work yourself to-”

“SANS.” Grillby raised his voice a bit, reaching forward and lifting the skeleton’s chin to make him look at him. Sans immediately felt guilty for the lecture, seeing the expression on the bartender’s face. Grillby was hunched in on himself, shoulders hitched up slightly with tension. Sans could feel where the fire monster’s hand trembled slightly against his skull. What broke the skeleton, though? Tears were forming in Grillby’s eyes, shining under his glasses for a split second before disappearing in a puff of steam. Sand had never, ever seen Grillby cry, and the quickly growing trails of steam coming off the bartender’s eyes made him feel like his soul was cracking.

Grillby lowered his hand, bringing it to his chest as his gaze dropped to his lap. His voice was barely more than a whisper, vulnerable and wavering. “I know,” he said softly, “I know. I just- please… Can I have a hug?”

God, Sans was an idiot. “Of course, Grillbz, come here.” He really couldn’t do anything right, could he? He moved forward again, taking the fire monster into his arms and rubbing his back. “Shh, hey, I’m sorry, don’t cry. I didn’t mean it. I’m not mad at you, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you.” Grillby always knew what Sans needed. He knew the skeleton so well, from his schedule to his habits to his anxiety. How much did Sans know about Grillby, though? He never asked him many questions about his personal life. He didn’t ask about his family. Hell, he rarely even asked if Grillby was okay. He was starting to realize… this relationship was one-sided, wasn’t it? Well…

Sans would do everything in his power to remedy that.

Comforting his best friend on the couch, Sans made a silent promise to himself and Grillby. He was going to be a better friend, and he was going to take care of his bartender. This time, he would be the one making sure that Grillby didn’t come apart.

Grillby had stopped crying some time ago, but he stayed in Sans’s arms anyway, head resting against Sans’s shoulder as he took long, deep breaths. His head was pounding and his limbs felt like they were made of lead, a sore ache seeming to fill his body down to his soul. The past several days of unrelenting work and exercise were catching up to him, and he found himself feeling sicker than he’d ever felt before. He wasn’t sure why he pushed himself so hard. He’d been fairly good at taking periodic breaks when he needed them before, he just…

Well. He wanted to see Sans.

Business was business, but certain kinds of business could feel unwelcome and overwhelming in the moment. Customers were rude, offhanded comments stung, and the behaviors of some of his customers could get irritating. If there was one thing he could always look forward to, though, it was seeing his favorite skeleton. As soon as that familiar blue jacket came through the door, something in him would ease, and he would be able to push himself through the rest of the night with the promise of getting to talk to the one person he could consider a close friend. Recently, that desire to see Sans had been bordering on desperation. He’d considered asking Sans if he would like to meet outside of work, on Grillby’s days off, but was that overstepping? Would that be awkward?

Wrapped in Sans’s embrace, those fears felt silly. Of course Sans wouldn’t mind it. Grillby wasn’t sure what had pushed them past that line of a bartender/customer relationship, but he felt like they were suddenly much closer. Maybe it was the night Grillby had walked Sans home. Maybe it was the afternoon he’d coaxed Sans into resting, wrapping him in his coat and tucking him into bed before staying the night to make sure he didn’t feel alone.

Maybe it was the way he felt himself fluster at the soft compliments and praise Sans gave him to help him keep going. Maybe it was the familiar amusement and fondness that filled his chest when he and Sans went back and forth with their usual banter. Maybe it was because he still hadn’t mentioned his missing jacket.

Grillby felt Sans’s hand move up to the back of his head, the skeleton running his fingers through the flames that acted as Grillby’s hair. For some reason, it made the bartender want to cry again. Instead, he took a deep, shaky breath, and curled closer to Sans, seeking out that familiar comfort. For the first time in days, he was sure that he was going to be okay.

Sans wasn’t sure how long he spent comforting Grillby, but by the time the fire monster had relaxed all the way, it was nearly time for lunch. He could tell that the bartender had exhausted himself with his tears, but he needed to eat something before he went back to sleep. He had a lot of calories to catch up on, after all.

The skeleton slowly pulled away, cupping Grillby’s cheek. “Hey, I know you’re tired, but you need to eat something first. I’ll make up some ramen real quick, ‘kay?”

Grillby nodded tiredly, leaning into Sans’s touch for a moment. His hand came up to rest over Sans’s as he closed his eyes. “Thank you,” he sighed. “I… I needed that.”

“I could tell,” Sans chuckled gently. “Just try to stay awake while I whip up some grub. I’ll be right back.” He let go of the fire monster and stood, stretching before wandering to the kitchen. His soul was pounding in his ribcage. The warm, gentle way that Grillby looked at him was seared into his mind. The skeleton couldn’t quite identify what it made him feel, but he liked it way too much. He was pretty sure that if Grillby looked at him that way all the time, he would melt.

Shaking off whatever that feeling had been, Sans put a pot of water on the stove, rummaging around in the cabinets until he found a packet of instant noodles. He was glad he still had a few packs left. While there was plenty of semi-edible spaghetti in the fridge, the microwave was still sitting out in Snowdin Forest. Since, you know, Frisk hadn’t come through there yet.

The thought of Frisk made Sans drop the pack of noodles on the floor. Shit. He hadn’t been at his post once all day. What if the human had come out of the Ruins? And Sans wasn’t keeping an eye on them? How had he forgotten about them? He wasn’t sure what they were planning, but at this point, he was sure it couldn’t be good. He had to be there to make sure he was the first person they saw. He had to be keeping an eye out.

“Sans?” Grillby called out, sitting up a bit straighter. He’d heard the skeleton freeze up and drop the package, immediately worried. “Is everything alright?”

Right. Grillby needed someone to watch over him today. Sans could call Papyrus, but the taller skeleton brother could be a bit… much. Sans loved his brother, but when it came to caring for others, Papyrus’s constant energy could be overwhelming. He considered his options carefully. He could go out to his post and hope that Frisk hadn’t already come through, leaving Grillby alone, or he could stay home and just pray that today would be just like the past two weeks.

For the first time in a long time, Sans found that he had a higher priority than watching that damn door in the woods.

“Yeah, everything’s good. Just dropped something,” Sans called to Grillby as he picked up the instant noodles and opened the package, waiting for the water to boil. Even if Frisk did show up, it was unlikely that Sans would be able to do anything about it, right? Right. He could do something about Grillby’s condition, so that was what he would do.

Once Grillby had eaten something, he had enough energy left in him for Sans to get a better grasp on the bartender’s condition. Grillby admitted to having a headache, and he told Sans that he was so sore that he barely felt like he could move. He also hadn’t had much of an appetite over the last few days, but he was starting to get hungry again, so that was probably just the stress. Sans checked his temperature again and was relieved to find that it was steadily rising to normal now that the fire monster had some ‘fuel’ in him (Grillby groaned at that one). Once the little check-up was over, Sans gave Grillby some painkillers and brought a blanket for him. “You sure you don’t want me to move you somewhere more comfortable? I practically carried you to my house, I’m pretty sure I could help you up the stairs and get you into a bed…”

Grillby shook his head, regretting the action as it immediately started to throb again. “No, I’m- I’m fine here,” he managed. “The idea of moving at all is less than savory at the moment.”

“Fair,” Sans mumbled, handing him the blanket. “Well, just get some rest, okay? You need it. I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

Grillby didn’t have to be told twice. He laid back down with a sigh, covering himself with the blanket and pulling it to his chest. “Thank you,” he said softly, closing his eyes and letting himself relax.

Sans chuckled, some of his anxiety finally easing off. “Don’t mention it, Grillbz. Sleep tight.”

Over the next few days, Sans stayed home with Grillby, keeping an eye on his recovery. The fire monster was bouncing back pretty fast, though he did spend most of his time sleeping. They fell into a sort of routine. Sans would wake him- if Papyrus hadn’t already woken him up on accident- and ask him how he was feeling. Grillby would give him the rundown, then the two would have breakfast before Grillby went back to sleep. Sans would wake him up again for lunch, and at that point, the fire monster usually had a little bit more energy in him. He’d stay up for a few hours just talking with Sans before he ran out of steam and had to take another nap. Papyrus would come home in the evening and inevitably wake Grillby by accident, so Grillby would stay up for the rest of the evening, eating dinner with the skeletons and talking to Papyrus about his day.

Sans was a little surprised at how well Grillby and Paps got along. Grillby was pretty patient with him, even if he had to ask the skeleton to lower his volume a few times. He let Papyrus ramble about puzzle ideas and cooking, even throwing in a few tips of his own on how Papyrus could improve his spaghetti. People were polite enough to Paps, but Sans had seen plenty of times how other monsters could be dismissive of his brother. A few would even be downright rude, telling Papyrus that they didn’t care and asking him to just be quiet. With as composed and quiet as Grillby could be, Sans worried that he wouldn’t get along well with Paps, so it was a nice surprise to see them hitting it off so well.

The routine was nice. Grillby’s health steadily improved over the next weeks or so, to the point that Sans was comfortable leaving him home alone and going back to sentry duty. He was still nervous about the idea of Grillby going back to work, but he also had to admit, the bartender was getting restless. Sans managed to get him to agree to three more days before he opened the bar back up again.

Sans went over all of this in his head as he walked towards his station, feet crunching in the snow. It had been a long time since he felt this relaxed. He was… happy. Yeah. He was really, genuinely happy.

Of course, that wasn’t meant to last.

As the door in the woods came into sight, Sans stopped dead in his tracks. There were no footprints in the snow, no indication anyone had left the Ruins. The door was closed, undoubtedly locked tightly from the inside. Everything was as it should have been at a glance, but Sans had learned to pay careful attention to detail.

The snow at the base of the door had been moved. There was a small pile of it where the door had been pushed open slightly, as if someone had just peeked out before changing their mind and closing it again. It was a small reminder. Frisk hadn’t left the Ruins yet, but they were still there. Sans still didn’t know what they were doing, waiting all this time.

Why? Why did they have to remind Sans they were there, and why then? What the hell were they doing in the Ruins?

The skeleton teleported to the door, anxiety filling him as he did. He didn’t bother knocking, because he knew there would be no answer. Toriel never answered when Frisk was with her. She was too busy… or too dead. The thought made Sans go cold. What if Frisk hurt Toriel again? What if they were just coming up with new, crueler ways to torment them? And if they were, what could Sans do about it?

Sans sat in front of the door, trying to take deep breaths only to find his ribcage wouldn’t expand as far as he needed it to, making him gasp weakly for air. He was helpless. He was useless. Frisk had learned every trick Sans had. It didn’t matter if he confronted them in the judgment hall or the moment they left the Ruins. He would fail to protect anyone Frisk decided needed to die. Sans couldn’t breathe. Frisk could be fucking torturing Toriel and the innocent monsters of the Ruins and what could Sans do? Absolutely nothing. He couldn’t breathe. Frisk could be waiting right on the other side of that door, listening to Sans choke and laughing at him. Were they messing with him on purpose? Did it matter? No matter what they did, they never faced any real consequences. Sans did everything he could and every time, Frisk just Reset and started over.

Sans’s vision was starting to get blurry, his pupils fading out. He pulled his knees to his chest and covered his skull with his hands, shivering. Any moment, everything Sans had done in the last month could be erased. Every moment he shared with Papyrus, the friendship he found himself sharing with Grillby, all of it could be gone in a moment and the skeleton could do nothing.

The skeleton vaguely registered that he was spiraling, but he couldn’t pull himself out of it. He couldn’t protect the monsters he loved. He swore he heard Frisk laughing at him. He couldn’t protect their memories, their lives, their progress. “Sans.” He was useless. He couldn’t breathe. “Sans, look at me.” Look at who? He couldn’t see. He couldn’t calm down, panic pulling at his soul. Was he dying? “Can you hear me? Sans, you have to breathe.” He couldn’t. He was going to die. Everyone was going to die. There was nothing he could do. “Sans, stop, you’re going to hurt yourself.” Was he? It didn’t matter.

Whoever was talking to the skeleton seemed to understand what was going on, taking matters into their own hands. “Sans, I’m going to hold your wrists, alright?” Okay. Sans vaguely registered a familiar warmth envelope his wrists and pull his hands away from where he’d been digging them into his soul. “I’m going to put my arms around you, just for a moment.” Do whatever you want. The skeleton was wrapped in a gentle embrace, pulled forward so that he was sitting in someone’s lap. “I’m going to hold your hands now. Focus on your hands. Focus on my breathing and try to match it.” Sans could feel the steady rise and fall of someone’s chest against his back. He focused on the pattern as someone took both his hands and started to rub gentle lines up and down the bones. It was the same pattern as the person’s breathing, and surprisingly, it helped him focus a bit. Sans felt his ribcage start to relax as he fell into that pattern. He realized his eye sockets were closed and slowly forced them open.

Sans was facing away from the door and away from the road, staring into Snowdin Forest. He was still shaking from adrenaline, but it didn’t feel like his soul was about to be torn apart anymore. Someone had him in his lap, and after a moment he realized that someone was humming. He looked down at where they had started rubbing circles into his palms. The hands that held his so gently were made of familiar orange and yellow flames, the light reflecting off the snow in an oddly comforting way.

The skeleton looked up at Grillby, exhausted as he came down from his panic attack. Grillby smiled gently at him, letting go of one of Sans’s hands to brush away the skeleton’s tears. “There you are,” the bartender mumbled softly. “It’s alright. You’re safe. I’m here.”

And when Grillby said that with so much certainty, how could Sans not believe him?

Sans wasn’t sure how long he spent curled up in Grillby’s lap, but it was longer than he liked to admit. The bartender had carried him away from that godforsaken door and sat with him behind the skeleton’s sentry station, effectively shielding him from the world for a little while. God, what would Sans have done if Grillby hadn’t come to his rescue? Sans’s memories of the last who-knows-how-long were blurry, but he vaguely remembered Grillby warning him that he was going to hurt himself. The skeleton only had 1 HP. What if he really had hurt himself, and badly?

As grateful as the skeleton was, there was a more pressing question in the front of his mind. “Grillbz? What are you doing out here? You’re supposed to be resting…”

Grillby sighed, having expected that. “I know, I know,” he conceded, “But I got restless, and… you forgot to take lunch with you this morning.”

Sans sat up a bit, eye sockets wide. “You didn’t.”

“Well,” the bartender chuckled, “As… interesting as Papyrus’s spaghetti is, I had a feeling you might have missed this.” He shifted a bit and reached up to the counter of Sans’s sentry station, grabbing a brown paper bag that Sans had somehow missed. When Grillby set it in his lap, Sans could feel that the bar was still warm.

Sans eagerly looked in the bag, a particular craving he’d been ignoring the past few days hitting him at full force. A burger, a basket of fries, and a bottle of ketchup. He pulled the burger out and dug in, groaning through a mouthful of food. He swallowed and sighed contently, leaning back against Grillby’s chest. “God, I missed your cooking.”

“I’m glad you enjoy it,” Grillby said through another light chuckle.

“Enjoy it? I’ve been practically in withdrawal the last few days, Grillbz.” Sans took another large bite out of his burger, washing it down with a sip of ketchup. After a moment of consideration, he took a fry out of the bag and held it up towards Grillby. “Couldn’t help but notice you didn’t bring anything for yourself,” the skeleton explained.

Grillby smiled a bit. “I appreciate it, but I can eat later.”

Sans just held it up higher, insistent. “Dude. Just take the fry.”

Grillby arched an eyebrow, then gave Sans a small, mischievous smile. “Alright, fine.” He leaned forward and took it from Sans with his mouth, smirking at him.

Sans nearly choked, covering his face with his hands. “Oh my god, Grillbz, you can’t just do that.”

Grilby laughed at him. “What? I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” the bartender teased, wrapping his arms around Sans’s waist.

“You know what? Fine.” Two could play at that game. Sans picked up another fry, holding it to Grillby’s lips. “Eat something, you dork.”

The skeleton would never get enough of the beautiful way Grillby glowed when he blushed.

End Chapter Four

Thanks for reading! If you liked this, consider reblogging and/or leaving me a comment to tell me your favorite part of this chapter! Comments keep me motivated, and motivation gets you more stories faster!

Follow along on Archive of Our Own or Wattpad, or leave a comment to be added to the tag list!

#undertale #sans #papyrus #grillby #sans x grillby #sansby #undertale sans #undertale grillby #undertale fic #fanfic #fanfiction #undertale fanfiction #undertale a warm feeling #my writing #dustywrites #dusty fic #ao3fic #wattpad #this is too many tags

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1.6K~

Summary: The question— incomplete, and yet bursting with long-held curiosity— emerges from thin air while he’s about to tuck Steven into bed in the back of the van one night.

In retrospect, no parenting book could’ve ever prepared him for this one.

A Greg and Steven focused fic, set when Steven is freshly four. This is one of those I had on the poll a month or so back, ahah! Finally finished it. Apologies for the wait. The good news is that my list is now whittled down to three non-Crack the Paragon WIPS! Woo! That’s rather exciting.

There’s some brief meta rambles on the AO3 version. If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

____

“Where’s yours, Daddy?”

The question— incomplete, and yet bursting with long-held curiosity— emerges from thin air while he’s about to tuck Steven into bed in the back of the van one night.

In retrospect, no parenting book could’ve ever prepared him for this one.

“My...?” Smiling encouragingly, he lets the word dangle unfinished in the air for a moment, and gestures to try and prompt the little tyke to continue. “My what, kiddo? My... pajamas?” he says, pointing towards each item his kid bears in succession. “My... stuffed tiger? My very own... tickle monster?!”

In the spirit of good-hearted mischief, Greg tousles his boy’s dark, flyaway curls. When he then moves his hands to tickle his sides, Steven breaks into delighted peals of laughter, squirming nonstop.

“Noooooo,” he giggles breathlessly, batting his small pudgy hands at him to stop the affectionate onslaught. “No tickles, your gem! Like mine! You ‘aven’t never showed it.”

In an instant, the small universe encapsulated inside their van freezes, and he goes momentarily slack-jawed as he struggles to process the words that just came out of his son’s mouth.

“My- w-where’s my gem?”

He lets out a low chuckle at the absurd thought— imagine that, him, having a gem of his own! Where on Earth did his kid acquire this notion? And then... his memory can’t help but drift back to a few hours earlier, when Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl spent a mission-free day with Steven on the beach, surrounded by all manners of summer tourists. Humans coexisting amongst Gems, most entirely nonplussed by their otherworldly appearances. Steven was eagerly padding across the shore in his brand new swim trunks— the pair he received for his birthday just a week ago— the quartz gem at his navel on proud display. Midway through the afternoon, though, the kiddo seemed to become strangely preoccupied by all the human beachgoers. He’d glance at people’s faces, their sternums, their exposed navels, and then scowl in confusion. At one point he excitedly ran up to a dark skinned young woman with hair like Garnet’s to give her a high-five, and returned puzzled, his lips pressed in a thin line. At the time, Greg didn’t understand what all of his bewildered, curious gawking was about, and quietly instructed him not to bother other people. But now, given this latest comment, a theory builds in his mind... oh stars, was he looking for their gems?

Did he somehow assume both from his own and from his frequency of interaction with Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl that everyone had one hidden somewhere?

Swallowing, he deliberately makes it a point to mask his nervousness about this topic in front of his impressionable four-year-old child as best he can. Oh, boy. They haven’t had this sort of conversation yet. He always kinda feared it was coming, coursing towards him like a tidal wave faster and faster with each passing moment, but never in a million years did he imagine this moment would be tonight. And now, his tongue dry as a stone in his mouth, he finds himself at a complete loss for words. As best he knows, there’s no one else even remotely like Steven in the entire universe. How does one even convey this concept to their child in terms they’d understand?

Because even if he— ignoring the rose quartz gemstone embedded flush with his skin where a typical kid’s belly button would be— looks the part, Steven isn’t human. That much is obvious. That’s simply a fact. Humans don’t glow as babies. They don’t grow so ramrod still while sleeping that they appear like they’re not breathing at all. They can’t casually lift double their body weight at the tender age of four. Not to mention, in all his years of life thus far, he’s never gotten sick. Never gotten a scrape or cut that didn’t heal up completely in less than an hour. Not once. There’s no way that’s by mere coincidence, Greg muses, there’s gotta be another reason. He’s gotta have some sort of mega-boosted immune system or something, or magically healing cells. No branch of human science can successfully justify the alien nuances of his son’s existence. He just... is. He’s a walking miracle, the light of his life.

Steven’s never been a normal child, that’s for sure.

But how is a father supposed to lovingly and sensitively explain this to innocent ears?

“I, erm- I don’t have one of those, bud,” he says slow, still desperately sorting through his thoughts to figure out what else to say about this.

The kid stubbornly wriggles free from his arms, lifting up the bottom hem of his baggy pajama shirt to showcase the glittering pink gemstone resting at the center of his belly. “But I got one, an’ Amethyst an’ Pearl got one, an’ Garnet, she- guess what,” he says in an attempt at a whisper, wide eyed as if he’s about to impart some sacred knowledge. “She even got two gems!”

“That’s right, she does have two gems!” he nods, only barely holding back his chuckle at the hilarious solemnity of his kid’s proclamation. “But Steven, not everyone has ‘em like you and them. It’s something unique to the four of you. Y’see, they are Gems, just like me and everyone else in town are humans. It’s, um—“ his speech falters as he struggles to find words someone so young could possibly begin to understand— “it’s sorta just who they are.”

The corners of Steven’s mouth turn downwards in an exaggerated pout, and it’s immediately obvious that this blind, clumsy attempt at an explanation didn’t satisfy him one bit. Greg leans back against the inner siding of the van, gently tugging at a strand of his hair as he scours his mind for any potential solutions to this parenting quandary.

Think, think, think... How does one connect this topic to things such a young kid might understand?

“Listen, uh...” he begins again, marked hesitation tinting his voice. “Pearl’s been teaching you about bugs lately, right?”

However, if Steven— bless his heart— happened to notice his heightened nervousness, he sure doesn’t let it show on his face, instead enthusiastically jumping to answer his question.

“Uh-huh!” he nods, and then proceeds to happily babble about what he’s learned, flapping his hands in front of him as he does so. “She tells me all about bumble bees an’ stick bugs, an’ these...” His brow creases as he pauses, combing his memory for the right words. “...fuzzy worms? But they aren’t worms, ‘cause they sleep for really super long and then, then they get wings and fly away!”

He can’t help but smile at his son’s animation about this subject. He soaks up knowledge like a sponge, that’s for sure. Between Pearl and him, they’ve been trying to introduce him to some of the basics lately, stuff kids his age should know. Like reading, and writing, and counting, and music, and basic science. Pearl does the math and science, (those classes were never his wheelhouse in school), and he takes care of everything else. Given, erm... given their kinda strained history, they don’t exactly collaborate on lesson plans, but so far the arrangement seems to be working out okay. Steven’s having fun, at least, which is all that matters in the end.

“Oooh, caterpillars and butterflies, huh?” he says, reaching for the thick blanket folded up against the side wall of the van. “Well, y’wanna learn a cool new thing?”

His son bobs his head, his eyes glittering.

“All those bugs you named?” he begins, unfolding the blanket for the two of them as he goes. “They’re each types of completely different creatures, or, different species, we call ‘em. And humans and Gems, they’re types of species too. And every species has something that makes them unique, different from everything else. You know how all those bugs have special things the others don’t have, like the bumble bees and their stripes, and those caterpillars’ fuzz?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, that’s what it’s like for humans and Gems, too! Garnet and Amethyst and Pearl and you, you all have gemstones, just like yours right here,” he says, tapping a gentle finger over the rose quartz embedded at his midsection. Steven lets out a small giggle at the contact. “That’s your special thing as Gems, something humans don’t have.”

“What’ve humans have?” he asks in curiosity, tilting his head.

Greg purses his lips, his fingers subconsciously massaging the blanket’s rough, time-worn surface as he considers the elements that— from personal experience— he’d consider essential to human life. “Hmm. Well, let’s see... I guess... humans eat, and sleep, and grow from babies all the way until they’re adults. Gems don’t age. They don’t really... do any of that.”

“But I can do that!” he whines, brows creasing.

“Hm?”

“I thought you jus’ said I’m a Gem?”

Greg’s breath stills upon the deliverance of this pointed question, spoken with such youthful innocence, and yet wholly capable of penetrating through every layer of his ill-formed logic. He swallows hard. Once again, he is not prepared. He likely never could be.

His son... oh, his beloved Steven. Without meaning to, he keeps ignoring the inherent humanity that sets this boy apart from the rest of the Gems. He’s similar to them in many respects, yes, but he’s also not. He’s both, but...

He’s also neither.

He’s unique from everyone, his own thing altogether. Something entirely new.

Quite honestly, the best word he can grasp at to describe him is hybrid.

And while at this present moment he has no idea if he’s doing his son a disservice, othering him from the rest of humanity at such a tender age, he figures that he at least deserves to know the truth.

“You’re kinda- uh, both, at once, actually,” he clarifies, these very words acting as a beacon to clarify a wide range of once deep-seeded assumptions in his mind. “Gem and human. You’ve got special things from both sides, how funky is that?”

“Huh.” Steven mulls this new information over, and then flashes a toothy grin. “That's cool!”

#su #steven universe #greg universe #su fanfiction #my writing stuff

[teenwolffanclub-me]

Season 1, Episode 10: Co-Captain

Hey there beautiful reader! If you’re new here, this is a series I’m writing where each chapter is an episode from the first season of Teen Wolf. If you’ve been here before, hey! I missed you! Previous and future chapters are linked at the end of each part if you want to catch up.

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader (eventually)

Notes: I somehow forgot that Deaton existed until I wrote this. My bad guys, but he’s not really that relevant in the first season anyway so...

P.S. Kate needs a therapist, Sheriff Stilinski is kinda bad at his job, and so many people almost die. Seriously, it’s getting ridiculous at this point.

            ��                                       ————————

Lydia huffed in annoyance, struggling to keep up behind me in her high heeled boots. The ground crunched with each quick step I took, the dirt barely visible through a thick layer of dried leaves. I pulled the sides of my jacket tighter around my sides, feeling a chill run up my spine as a gust of cold air blew against me.

“Allison. When you said you needed to run an errand before we went shopping, a five mile hike in the woods was not what I was expecting.” Lydia had been complaining nonstop since we got here, and didn’t seem likely to give up anytime soon.

We’d been walking through Beacon Hills Preserve for at least ten minutes by now, Allison leading us with a big bag slung over her shoulder. She seemed aggravated, practically running with a tense look on her face. I had no idea what the hell we were doing. She’d been acting weird all week, more angry and on edge than usual.

We were supposed to be shopping for winter formal dresses at the mall. Lydia had been begging us to go all week, since the dance is next Friday. I kept dodging her invitation because there were just so many other things going on right now.

Me and the guys had spent the week trying to figure out where Peter’s been hiding, while keeping Jackson from spilling the werewolf beans to the whole school every time he got pissy.

I wasn’t sure who either of them were taking to the dance, and I honestly didn’t care much. I wasn’t planning on going. No one had asked me, and stuff like that wasn’t really my thing anyway. I definitely wasn’t annoyed that a certain spastic boy hadn’t even mentioned it yet. Not at all.

“Before I forget, I wanted to ask if you’re okay with something.” Allison quipped, not even bothering to turn around and look at us. “Jackson asked me to winter formal.”

My eyes widened and swept toward Lydia quickly to see her reaction. I wasn’t expecting that, even though the two of them had been incredibly flirty lately. It was obvious that Allison still had feelings for Scott, and Lydia for Jackson, so the whole thing was just a big mess.

“Did he?” She tried to sound unaffected as she nearly stumbled over a rock. My arm instinctively stuck out to steady her, and she sent me a small, grateful smile.

“Just as friends, but I wanted to make sure you were okay with it first.” 

Lydia pursed her glossed lips tightly and flicked a lock of hair away from her eyes. Her gloved hands tightened into fists at her sides. “Sure. As long as it’s just friends.”

Allison scoffed quietly, seemingly annoyed. I quirked a brow at her back in curiosity. Yeah, she and Lydia had a bit of a love hate relationship, but stealing her boyfriend was a little over the top. Something was clearly bothering her. I’d been trying to figure it out for days, but she never wanted to talk about it when I asked.

She stopped suddenly, and I nearly toppled over as I narrowly avoided running into her. Her bag dropped onto the leaf covered ground with a thud before she knelt down to unzip it. Lydia and I both watched in curious silence as she pulled out a huge bow and inspected it carefully.

It looked like something a professional would own. I’d nearly forgotten that she was into archery as a kid, but that thing was intense. Plus, why she felt the need to do this right now, on a Saturday afternoon while we were supposed to be shopping, I had no idea. She popped back to her feet quickly and screwed a big cylindrical arrowhead onto her arrow.

“What does that do?” Lydia shivered beside me and crossed her arms tightly as another gust of wind blew past us.

“We’re about to find out.” Allison muttered, more to herself than us, as she strung the bow.

She turned her back to us and raised her arms up beside her head. I watched closely as she narrowed her eyes and scanned the area for a good target. After a moment of wobbling, she let out a breath and squared her shoulders. Then, she let go.

The arrow whizzed through the air with a zip before landing in a tree a few yards away, immediately exploding with a bright waterfall of sparks.

I jumped back, not expecting that at all. “What the hell was that?”

That was not an ordinary arrow. I wondered for a moment how she even got it. It was most likely her dad’s, so she either stole it or knew way more about her family than she was letting on.

She dropped her arms with a jerk and whipped around to face us, her eyes glassy. Their hard edge had disappeared entirely, replaced now with something close to fear. “I need to tell you guys something. It’s going to sound really ridiculous and I-I don’t want you to laugh at me.”

Her sudden change in demeanor was a little jarring. It seemed like this was coming out of nowhere. I glanced at Lydia, who was doing a terrible job of hiding the fact that she thought she was completely crazy.

“We would never laugh at you.” I narrowed my eyes at Lydia, silently pleading with her to be nice. She just pouted and looked at Allison expectantly.

“It’s about my family.” Allison let out a heavy breath and wiped at her eyes. “Awhile ago, I caught them in a lie. A little one. But now, I’ve been overhearing some really strange conversations. I think...I think some of it has to do with Derek.”

“Derek?” I sputtered, my breath catching in my throat at his name. I’d learned earlier this week that he was, in fact, alive after our encounter with Peter. They’d both shown up at school a few days ago to intimidate Scott into joining their pack, which was honestly so much worse.

I let out a sigh and cleared my throat. “I mean, are you sure?”

She nodded, glancing around the trees as if he could be spying on us right now. “Yeah. I don’t think he is who he—”

She suddenly stopped, her whole body stiffening as something rustled in the leaves nearby. I watched her closely as she looked from side to side, wondering if something happened that she wasn’t telling me about. She was acting so jumpy and weird.

“Hold this.” She absentmindedly handed her bow to Lydia, who balanced it on her upturned palms as if one wrong move would set it off.

“What? Why?” Her emerald eyes widened in horror.

“Because I thought I heard something.” Allison whispered harshly, as if that would help the situation at all.

She turned her back to us and took a few timid steps forward.

“Allison,” I sighed, moving toward her. It was probably nothing. And if it wasn’t, she shouldn’t be the one going to investigate. “I’m sure it—”

She turned around just long enough to shush me before continuing on her way. I paused, my lips parting in surprise. Did she really just do that?

I stood in place, my eyes firmly planted on her back until she turned a corner, disappearing among the trees. I was ridiculously confused by her sudden personality change. Up until this week, she’d been terrified of anything even remotely out of the ordinary. Especially after we spent that night in the school.

“She’s being weird. Right?” Lydia breathed from beside me, still standing completely still and holding the bow gingerly.

I nodded, eyes narrowing in the direction she’d gone. I guess there was a chance the noise was something supernatural, but we were in the woods. It could’ve been anything and was most likely harmless. Still, part of me wanted to go after her and make sure she was okay.

“Very.” I moved to walk away, but stopped when Lydia’s panicked voice sounded from behind me.

“Um, absolutely not. You are not leaving me alone with this thing.” Her wide eyes glanced down at the bow apprehensively.

“Oh, for God’s sake...” I stepped toward her, quickly plucking it from her hands, and she visibly relaxed with a heavy sigh.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as I dropped it on top of Allison’s bag. She was always so dramatic. I motioned for her to follow me and continued forward. Allison couldn’t have gotten far yet, so I figured we’d find her pretty quickly.

I rounded a corner and immediately staggered to a stop as my eyes landed on Allison only a few feet away. She was crouched on the ground hugging Scott, who looked like he’d just fallen or something. His eyes found mine and immediately widened as he shook his head frantically with a wave of his hand.

I whirled around and nearly ran right into Lydia. Her eyes narrowed into a glare as I grabbed her biceps and jerked her the other way. I had no idea what he was even doing here, but I didn’t want to ruin their moment. He’d been trying to get back on her good side, and apparently it was working if what I just saw was any indication.

“Y/N, what the hell is wrong with you?” Lydia snapped, turning her head to try and see what I was taking us away from.

“Uh. It was a...wolf.” I cringed at my pathetic attempt at lying. I’d always been complete shit at it.

She gave up on tying to see what it was and let me continue pushing her forward, but still glanced at me as if I’d lost my mind. “There haven’t been wolves in Beacon Hills in—”

“Sixty years. I know.” I let out a huff as we made it back to Allison’s bag, and finally released her.

If only she knew how wrong she was. 

                                                  —————————

I crossed my arms over my chest impatiently, watching as Stiles fumbled with his house key for several seconds before finally managing to push it into the doorknob. He was always such a spaz, no matter what he was doing.

We didn’t have much time, but in my experience, Stiles and rushing don’t mix well. We were only stopping here so that he could grab his laptop before we met up with Scott at his house. The three of us were trying our hardest to find a pattern in the people Peter was trying to turn, so that we could hopefully stop him before he kills anyone else. 

“Why would Jackson want to be a werewolf?” I asked slowly, not fully believing what he'd just told me.

He turned around long enough to twitch his eyes at me incredulously before facing the door again. “Because it’s Jackson.”

I mean, fair enough. 

I’d been delivering dinner for mom at the hospital when Scott texted us that he wanted to meet up. Stiles came to get me, since she would need the car to get home in the morning. On the way here, he’d filled me in on his and Scott’s afternoon.

The three of us had a new policy: no more secrets, and no more lies. 

They decided to follow Jackson after school because they still don’t trust him and also, they’re nosy as hell. Apparently, he didn’t make it far before being cornered by Mr. Argent, so it was a good thing they have no concept of healthy boundaries. The fact that they saved his ass didn’t stop him from threatening to out Scott—again—if he doesn’t give him what he wants.

Stiles also casually mentioned that the Argents are actively trying to kill the alpha and his beta, who they think could be Scott, Jackson, or Derek. 

Things were a shitshow, basically.

Stiles popped his front door open and I trailed in behind him. My eyes immediately landed on his dad, who was sitting at their dining room table surrounded by various documents. Stiles perked up at the sight and practically ran to his side.

“Whatcha doin’?” He sang, peering down at the mountain of papers.

“Work.” Mr. Stilinski muttered curtly, his brows furrowing as he scribbled something down onto a notepad.

“Anything I can help with?” Stiles’ voice rose eagerly as his eyes continued flickering around the table.

His dad let out a long sigh and rubbed a hand across his forehead. It looked like he hadn’t gotten a good nights sleep in days. “You know, if you poured me an ounce of whiskey, that’d be awful nice.”

Stiles jerked upright and nearly bolted to the kitchen. I just stood in place by the door, watching him curiously. It was like he’d completely forgotten that we were supposed to be doing something. He had a tendency to be forgetful, especially when stressed. I’d say he was pretty wired lately, since he could barely go a minute without worrying about Scott and all his werewolf issues. 

He reappeared in the doorway a few seconds later, the bottle of alcohol and a shot glass in hand, and quickly pulled out a chair next to his dad. I decided to join them because I was honestly really curious about what he was working on. Plus, getting Stiles back on track usually took a lot more effort than I was willing to give right now. 

“Any leads?” He put the stuff onto the table and picked up the closest paper to him.

“Hey.” Mr. Stilinski swatted his hand away before wagging a pencil disapprovingly. Stiles cried out dramatically and rubbed at his fingers. “You know I can’t discuss that with you.”

“What about with me?” I slid into a free chair on the other side of the table, my lips pulling up into a teasing smile. It instantly dropped at the unamused stare he gave me. 

Okay. Do not joke with a tired Sheriff. Got it. 

I cleared my throat and glanced at Stiles for help, only to find that he was already looking at me, an amused smile twitching at the edges of his lips. He was trying to be discreet about it, so his dad wouldn’t see, and it was ridiculously adorable. 

He sagged back into his chair with a sigh. “Son, the last thing I need right now is you and your girlfriend shoving your noses into my classified investigation, so if you could just—”

My heart nearly stopped beating in my chest at his words. I looked at Stiles with wide eyes, but he was too busy sputtering silently toward his dad to notice. “Uh, we aren’t—” 

We still hadn’t talked about that. Sure, we’ve kissed a few times, but we haven’t gone on a proper date or anything yet, and he didn’t even ask me to the dance. As far as I was concerned, we were...friends? That sometimes kiss?

“Yeah. No. We-we haven’t...” He rushed the words out as he finally remembered how to talk, his cheeks turning bright pink.

“Look. I don’t care.” His dad sighed before sliding his glasses off and massaging his temples. “Just please go do...anything else.”

“Alright. Fine.” Stiles started pouring a shot of the whiskey, his eyes widening after a moment as if an idea dawned on him. He kept going until the glass was almost full before sliding it across the table. “Bottoms up.”

He got up just as quickly as he’d sat down, striding around the table to take my hand in his. I nearly tripped over my own feet as he pulled me out of my chair and up the stairs quickly. He shoved his bedroom door open before practically throwing me inside and slamming it behind us. 

I just stared at him with wide eyes as he leaned back against it with a sigh. 

“I didn’t want him to notice what I did.” He glanced at me fleetingly before pushing himself off the door and walking briskly toward his desk. 

I swear, he never slows down. 

“Which is...?” I drawled, turning around to watch him dig through each of the wooden drawers. 

He tongue swept across his bottom lip in concentration. My eyes followed the movement, my own lip rolling between my teeth. I was always surprised that he could manage to make even the smallest things attractive. “I’m gonna get him drunk. He talks a lot when he’s drunk.”

“So that’s how you know so much about police stuff.” I wandered over to his bed and plopped down, figuring I might as well get comfortable if we were going to be in here for awhile.

He stopped rummaging through his stuff to frown at me. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Manipulating a Sheriff into giving you classified information? That one’s not exactly north on the moral compass.” I dragged my toes along the hardwood floors and leaned back on my palms.

He rolled his eyes and turned back to the desk, searching for another few seconds before letting out a frustrated huff. He practically slammed the last drawer closed. One of his hands came up to scratch at the side of his head as he turned and let his eyes flicker around the room. 

“Where the hell did I leave that thing?” He muttered, more to himself than me.

He suddenly perked up, as if remembering something, and took a few big steps toward the bed. He bent down in front of me and started moving his blankets around. I leaned to the side in an effort to give him more room, since it seemed like he somehow forgot I was sitting right here. My eyes flickered over his face, which was only a few inches away from mine. 

The window beside his bed let in just enough light to perfectly illuminate his freckled skin. It reflected off of his eyes, making them look like molten amber. His nose was scrunched adorably in concentration as he weaved around me to look for the laptop. He suddenly stopped fidgeting and moved back slightly. 

“Ah ha! Got ya, you little...” He trailed off as his eyes met mine. He froze, as if only just then realizing how close we were. 

I stole a glance at his lips before deciding to close the distance between us. It was hard to think about anything else but kissing him when he was this close. My hands moved up to the sides of his face and I tugged him those last few inches closer. When my lips slanted over his, he stiffened against me, as if caught off guard. The contact only lasted a few seconds before he pulled back with with shaky breath. 

I took one look at his stunned expression and erupted into a fit of giggles. 

“What?” He frowned and moved away, his eyes searching mine.

“Why do you always kiss me like you think I’m going to punch you in the face right after?” I chuckled and let my hands drop back down to my lap.

It looked like he was about to argue as his mouth opened and closed a few times. He eventually just dragged his tongue against the inside of his cheek and sighed in defeat. “I just—uh. I want you to be comfortable, and I don’t want you to think that I want you to do something that you don’t want to do.”

My brows furrowed as I tried to figure out what the hell he just said. 

“I’m gonna go check on my dad.” He jerked up to his full height and rubbed at the back of his neck before practically running out the door. 

I watched it bounce off the wall from the force he’d used to open it, and shook my head in amusement. I wasn’t sure how he still managed to be such a spaz around me after all this time, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t endearing as hell. After a few seconds, I wandered out of his room and down the stairs to join him.

“You know, Derek Hale would be a hale—” My eyes landed on Mr. Stilinski, still sitting in the same position we’d left him in, as he stopped slurring for a moment to chuckle at his own slip up. “A hell of a lot easier to catch if we could get an actual picture of him.”

Stiles was sitting in the spot beside him again, already nose deep in some document. I padded over to the table and slid into the empty chair on the other side of the table. I finally processed his words and looked at him in question. They didn’t have a single picture of Derek? He’d been arrested at least two separate times now. How was that possible?

“How do you not have a picture of him?” Stiles’ eyebrows pinched as he voiced my thoughts perfectly.

His dad peeled a small piece of paper off the table and studied it as if it held a code he had yet to decipher. “It’s the weirdest thing. It’s like, every time I try to get a mugshot, there’s like two laser beams pointing at the camera...”

Stiles ripped the picture out of his hands and inspected it closely. I leaned over the table to get a look, my eyes widening at what I saw. It was definitely Derek, but only a fraction of his face was visible through the two bright circles that took up most of the shot.

“Nice.” I breathed before sitting back down, honestly impressed. That was a pretty cool trick and could probably come in handy later on.

“Oh my God.” Mr. Stilinski groaned and slid his glasses off before leaning back in his chair and rubbing his hands down his face. “That ounce hit me like a brick. I’ve said way too much, and if you repeat any of this...”

“Dad. It’s me. I’m not gonna say anything. Come on.” Stiles scoffed and put the picture down, as if his dad questioning him at all was offensive.

The Sheriff’s eyes swept toward me and I swallowed, feeling nervous under his intense gaze. It was like he couldn’t turn off the whole cop thing. Or maybe he just really didn’t like me. I looked away from him and picked up a nearby file to distract myself.

“And Y/N, she’s ya know, trustworthy...too.” A frown pulled at my lips. That stuttering mess made me sound anything but. How did he still manage to be awkward even in front of his own dad?

“See, the thing is, they’re all connected.” Mr. Stilinski started, that jumble of words apparently enough to convince him to continue. “The bus driver that was killed was the insurance investigator assigned to the Hale house fire.”

My eyes widened as I realized I was looking at that very man’s file. I flitted through the pages quickly, looking for anything relevant. 

“Terminated under suspicion of fraud.” I read the words slowly, wondering if it had anything to do with the fire.

I glanced up toward Stiles, who fidgeted in his seat uncomfortably before moving his attention to his dad. “Alright. Who else?”

“The video store clerk who got his throat slashed? A convicted felon with a history of arson.” 

“What about the other two guys? The ones in the woods?” My eyes swept back to Stiles quickly. I’d nearly forgotten about them. They were “mysteriously” killed the night Stiles took Scott into the preserve to get drunk after Allison broke up with him. 

“Priors all over their records. Including—”

“Arson?” I quipped, putting the pieces together easily.

Every single murder was connected to the Hale house fire. But why?

He breathed out a heavy sigh and let the papers he was holding flutter back down to the table. “There’s just so many questions. I mean, if Derek wanted to kill everyone involved with the fire, why start with his sister? She didn’t have anything to do with it. You know, why make it look like some kind of animal did it?”

Stiles looked away from him, his jaw clenching. His eyes flickered to mine fleetingly before moving down to his fingers as he tapped them on the edge of the table, his brows furrowing.

“And, when that cougar showed up in the parking lot, I checked with animal control. Did you know that the incidents of wild animal reports are up seventy percent over the last few months? It’s like they’re just going crazy and running out of the woods.”

It was in that moment, as I saw him so confused and dejected, that a heavy wave of realization crashed down onto my shoulders. Allison wasn’t the only one being hurt by the secrets in Beacon Hills. Not even close. There were so many layers to the problems that all of this shit had created. I hadn’t even considered how it would effect people like Stiles’ dad. 

But it made total sense. Of course, how would they solve any of these cases without the most important piece? He’d run himself into the ground trying to figure out the impossible. Until he knew about the supernatural aspect, he wasn’t going to make any progress. The thought made my heart twist uncomfortably in my chest.

I finally realized how much it was weighing on Stiles, too. It was clear that it pained him not to tell his dad everything. His jaw was tight as Mr. Stilinski rambled on about the unknown, his lips rolled into a thin line. He couldn’t sit still for more than a few seconds, and he kept fidgeting with his fingers. 

It dawned on me then, too, that he wasn’t just complacent in all the lying like I thought this whole time. He was a caretaker. He quite literally couldn’t help but try to protect everyone around him all at once. I had a feeling that even if Scott said it was okay to tell his dad everything, he still wouldn’t.

“Or something’s scaring them out.” Stiles finally sighed, looking defeated. 

Just then, both of our phones dinged with a notification. I pulled mine out of my pocket, brows furrowing at the somewhat incoherent text we’d gotten from Scott.

Mom. Date. PETER!

A second later, another message came through.

MY MOM IS ON A DATE WITH PETER. FREAKING OUT. HELP.

Holy shit. What? That is beyond bad. That’s so fucking terrible I can’t even put it into words. 

My eyes jerked up when Stiles’ chair scraped against the hardwood floors loudly. He bolted to his feet and practically ran around the table, grabbing my arm in the process. He muttered something about us having to be somewhere over his shoulder, but his dad was too far gone to think twice about our quick departure anyway.

We scrambled out the door and into his Jeep, peeling out of the driveway as I recited the address and license plate Scott had sent over. Neither of us said a word as he sped to the other side of town.

After several tense minutes, I spotted the car up ahead. My eyes widened as I realized that it was parked on the side of the road. That couldn’t be good. I saw the silhouette of a man in the driver’s seat, but couldn’t find anyone else inside. 

Oh, God. I hope we aren’t too late.  

“There.” I said, pointing at the car. Stiles immediately veered off the road, but he wasn’t slowing down. I put my hands on the dash for support and looked over at him frantically. “Uh...Stiles?”

I lurched forward, my seatbelt digging into my shoulder as he slammed into the rear bumper of the car. My jaw dropped in shock as smoke started pouring out from under the Jeep’s hood, which was now bent. 

The passenger door in front of us popped open, a very angry looking Ms. McCall tumbling out. “Oh, God! Stiles!”

Well, at least she was still alive.

“Ms. McCall?” He scrambled out of the Jeep, looking flustered despite doing that very much intentionally. 

“Yes!” She threw her hands up in exasperation as she walked around to survey the damage. 

“Wow. Well, this is just crazy. What a coincidence!” Stiles chuckled nervously as he met her between the cars. 

I threw my door open and slid out, immediately shivering as the freezing night air wafted over my skin. My head tilted up to the sky as it started sprinkling. Great. That’s just what we need right now. I came to a stop beside Stiles, crossing my arms tightly over my chest to hold in of my warmth.

“I-I really don’t know what happened. You guys came out of nowhere.” He let out a huff and put his hands on his hips, eyes twitching as he raised his eyebrows, hoping she would buy the excuse. 

“Came out of nowhere? We were parked on the side of the road, Stiles!” Yeah, she so wasn’t believing any of this for a second. 

“How crazy is that?” His voice rose with panic as Peter came striding toward us, looking equally as unamused. “Man, we should probably call the cops. Do like an accident report or something?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” Peter drawled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. What was with the Hale’s and leather? Was it a fashion statement? A werewolf thing? Or did they just not own anything else?

Either way, being this close to him was making my skin crawl.

“Are you sure?” One of Stiles’ eyes squinted shut as he lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck with a forced grimace. “I think I’m feeling a little bit of whiplash.”

“Whiplash?” It looked like Ms. McCall was going to injure him herself as her voice became sharp with frustration. “You hit us!”

Peter suddenly turned his back to us and began muttering something under his breath. I peered around Ms. McCall’s shoulder and watched as he seemingly talked to himself. My brows furrowed in confusion and I pulled my phone out of my pocket. As I suspected, there was a new text from Scott saying that he was here a few minutes ago. 

I looked around, but couldn’t find him anywhere. My eyes landed on Peter again as he continued taking slow steps away from us. He was clearly talking to Scott, who would be able to hear him from a good distance away. But where was he?

“You know what, I seriously can’t do this right now.” Ms. McCall threw her hands up and walked back to the car with a huff. 

Without thinking too hard about it, I started walking toward Peter. I wanted to know what he was saying, and what the hell he thought he was doing by going after Scott’s mom. If I stopped for even a second I would’ve realized how epically stupid that was, but at the current moment I was too angry to care. For some reason, putting a human face to the alpha had made him just a little less scary. 

I only made it a few steps before a firm hand on my wrist stopped me. I turned to see Stiles staring at me with wide eyes. “Are you out of your freakin’ mind?”

At the touch of his skin on mine, I suddenly felt like the earth shifted beneath my feet. I staggered back a step, a gasp escaping me as a vivid image of Scott flashed in my mind. The only thing I could see was his face, scrunched into a pained grimace.

Stiles ripped his hand away and I was dropped harshly back into the present. “Whoa. What? What?”

I stumbled to the side, feeling lightheaded, and met his wide eyes. He stared at me with parted lips, his eyebrows raised in shock. The vision had come and gone too fast for me to see what was going on, but I knew it couldn’t be good as my stomach tightened uncomfortably.

“Do that again.” I rushed the words out in one breath. “Touch me again.”

He stammered silently for a few seconds, his confused eyes searching mine. I jutted my arm out toward him expectantly and he rolled his lips into a thin line, looking uneasy. After a few moments of hesitation, he slowly wrapped his hand around my wrist again. 

My eyes fluttered closed as the image of Scot instantly returned. I could no longer feel the rain on my face or the chill of the night air. I was just looking down at Scott, watching as he writhed around on the leaf covered ground, a wet stain on his shirt just below his heart slowly expanding.

A thick liquid stained his lips and chin. It looked like blood, but was almost black. He took in a hoarse breath, his chest heaving from the effort.

Suddenly, my eyes snapped open with a jolt. I nearly toppled over as my legs gave out under me. Stiles wrapped his hands around my biceps and studied with me a hard look. I blinked at him a few times, trying to get my eyes to refocus.

“I’m sorry, but I had to stop. It looked like you were in pain. What the hell was that?” His voice was tight with concern as his eyes flickered around my face.

I rubbed a hand against my chest in an effort to steady my breathing. My head pounded harshly as I looked around, trying to convince myself that I was actually back in the present. 

“We need to go. Right now.” I made a move toward the Jeep, but Stiles stood firmly in place, stopping me easily. 

He gave me a hard look and shook me slightly as he spoke. “Okay. You’re really starting to freak me out. What’s going on right now?”

“I’ll explain on the way. Just...please. Trust me.” His eyes twitched as he swallowed slowly. I tried my hardest to silently convey how serious this was. If we were going to make it to Scott before whatever the hell that was happened, we needed to go. Now. 

He hesitated a moment, looking at me as if he wasn’t convinced of my sanity, but eventually nodded in agreement. I let out a breath of relief, casting a final quick glance at Ms. McCall and Peter as I climbed into the Jeep. I was nervous about leaving her with him, but right now Scott was the priority. 

I just hoped we would get there in time. 

                                                —————————

I squinted through the darkness, using my phone’s flashlight to help illuminate our path as we walked through the woods. It was nearly midnight now, the sun long gone. I was starting to lose hope that we would find Scott. It looked like he was somewhere in the preserve during my vision, but we had yet to run into a single other living thing yet. With each passing minute, it seemed more and more likely that I was actually just crazy.

“So I’m your anchor? Me. Stiles.” He asked from beside me, for the third time in ten minutes.

I sighed, pulling his jacket tighter against me as a gust of wind brushed along the back of my neck. He’d given it to me without hesitation when we got out of the car, already assuming I’d be cold. Since we had nothing else to do while looking for Scott, I told him about what I saw by the cars and explained how Derek helped me with my visions last week. 

He wasn’t happy, to put it mildly. He probably hated the guy more than any of us, and had since let me know how much he despised the idea of me being alone with him. Repeatedly. 

“Don’t go getting a big head about it.” I quipped, mostly joking. “I’m sure I could pick a new one if I wanted to.”

He stopped walking and looked over at me, utterly offended. When he leaned forward to narrow his eyes, I noticed something over his shoulder. I took a big step toward him and shoved his head out of the way quickly.

“Hey! What the hell was—”

“Oh my God.” My heart instantly started hammering in my chest as I saw a crumpled figure a few feet ahead. “Scott!”

As I sprinted toward him, I heard a low, pained groan. Within seconds, I fell onto my knees beside him. His eyes were fluttering as he stared vacantly up into the sky and clutched his injured side. My hands twitched in the air above him, wanting to help but having no idea what to do. Thick smoke started pouring out between his fingers, and I reeled back in disgust. 

Stiles scrambled to his other side a moment later, wide eyes flickering back and forth between Scott and I as if he couldn’t believe that I was right. Honestly, I couldn’t either.

“Allison...” Scott choked the word out, barely able to get a breath in. 

“Seriously?” I shouted urgently as panic surged through me. “You’re literally dying and that’s all you can say? What the hell happened?”

“Derek...Jackson was...” He sputtered and coughed, thick blood oozing from his mouth.

I groaned in frustration. This whole gasping out one word at a time thing was not working for me. I looked up at Stiles desperately. “We have to do something.”

“Uh. Right. Okay...” I could practically see the gears turning in his head as his eyes flickered around spastically before finally coming back to mine. “The clinic. We have to take him to the clinic.”

“What?” I breathed, surprised by the suggestion. 

“Just, come on. We don’t have much time.” 

We both draped each of Scott’s arms over our shoulders and started dragging him back the way we came. I was obviously Incredibly freaked out because he was dying right in front of us, but I was angry, too. I was so mad at myself for not being able to see this sooner. If I had control over my visions, we could’ve been here before he even got hurt. I couldn’t help but feel partially to blame for the whole thing. 

Within minutes we were barreling through the vet clinic’s doors. We came in using the garage, the same way Scott had told us to when Derek was in this same position. It was obvious that he’d been shot with a bullet covered in wolf’s bane, since he wasn’t healing at all. Stiles and I dropped him onto one of the metal operating tables the second we got in the room.

He was passed out cold at this point. I bent over to rest my hands on my knees, my chest heaving with labored breaths. He was heavy as shit, and Stiles and I aren’t exactly the peak of fitness. After I caught my breath, I stood up straight and immediately froze at the sight of Deaton in the doorway.

He was just standing there, observing us curiously. We were so screwed. He could charge us with breaking and entering, at the very least. Plus, Scott was laying on his table with a bullet hole in his chest. There was absolutely no way to explain this, and we didn’t have time anyway.

“Uh...” I stammered, not sure what to say. 

“Remove his shirt.” Deaton said slowly, his eyes firmly planted on Scott as he walked across the room. 

Stiles and I exchanged a quick glance, but did as he said. I grimaced and reared back as I saw the bullet wound properly for the first time. It was still discharging that weird smoke and was oozing a thick, nasty looking black liquid. Deaton returned to the table with a pair of long tweezers, gauze, and a small jar. He looked strangely calm as he peered down at Scott’s unconscious frame.

“I thought you were a vet.” My eyes trailed over him as he snapped on a pair of medical gloves. I appreciated the help from an adult right now, but he wasn’t exactly a doctor.

He glanced at me fleetingly before picking up the tweezers. “That’s correct. And ninety percent of the time I’m mostly treating cats and dogs.”

“Mostly?” Stiles muttered from beside me, his eyes glistening down at Scott with worry. 

Deaton paused just before digging the tweezers into Scott’s side. He looked at the two of us, a small smile pulling at his lips as if he knew something we didn’t. “Mostly.”

Just then, my phone started ringing loudly. I winced at the high pitched tone and reached into my back pocket to fish it out, but stilled when I came up empty. My brows furrowed as I patted my hands against my jeans. I could’ve sworn I put it back in there once we found Scott. 

“What are you doing?” Stiles eyed me curiously from the other end of the table. 

“Have you seen my phone?” I muttered, walking around the room to look around the floor. The ringing kept getting progressively louder, to the point that it was almost painful. I rubbed at my ears as I continued searching. 

“Y/N...” Something about his tone made my attention snap back to him. I glanced down at his hand as he held it out toward me. “You dropped it in the woods so I picked it up...”

My breath caught in my throat as I looked down at the screen. It was black. There was no one calling me, but I could still hear the ringing even now. It didn’t make any sense. I took it from him with a shaky hand, avoiding his concerned gaze. I nearly jumped out of my skin as it started actually going off the second my fingers touched it. 

My eyes flickered up toward Stiles and Deaton, who were both watching me closely. I cleared my throat and turned my back to them before answering. 

“Y/N!” Allison yelled harshly, panic clear in her voice. I immediately stiffened. What more could go wrong tonight? “You’re never going to fucking believe this.”

“What?” I breathed, my heart already beating erratically in my chest with anticipation.

“My aunt just showed me this creepy room we have in our basement—which I didn’t even know was a thing by the way—and you’ll never believe who she has chained up in there.”

I blinked a few times, taking a moment to process what she said. “Allison, just spit it out already.”

“Derek fucking Hale! And—and that’s not all. He was...he’s. Oh my God, I can’t even say it. He’s a...a...”

I pinched my eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable bomb to drop. How did he always manage to get himself in these ridiculous situations? Like, are you kidding me right now? As if dealing with Peter wasn’t enough, he goes and gets himself kidnapped by the Argents too.  I turned back around to face Stiles and Deaton, my gaze shifting to the fresh bandage on Scott’s side. I took the relieved look in their eyes as a good sign that he was going to be okay. I held onto the small hope that Allison’s innocence had been preserved and she wasn’t about to say what I thought.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy, but he’s—she said that he’s a...werewolf.”

Yeah, I knew we weren’t that lucky.

Episode 9                   Episode 11

#stiles stilinski #stiles x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf series #scott and stiles #scott mccall #allison argent #derek hale #dylan obrien #teen wolf imagine #lydia martin #stiles #stiles x y/n #stiles x oc #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fic #teen wolf season one #jackson whittemore #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien imagine #teen wolf rewrite #stiles x original character

[frostedfaves]

To Build A Home (10)

Masterlist

Pairing: Rosa Diaz x fem!reader

Summary: Rosa spent years building a friendship, relationship, and eventually a marriage and home with you. This tale follows your journey together up until her sudden murder. Now that you’ve tracked down her killer before anyone else, will you do the right thing and send him to prison or take care of him yourself?

Warnings: some emotional grieving with everyone involved, brief moment of soft!Rosa 

A/N: this is the last chapter of the series! I’m sad that this is ending (aside from future blurb requests) but I’m excited to have more time to work on other things! I haven’t really worked on I Don’t Feel Alive much in the past few weeks so posting dates are TBD, but I will be opening my requests again soon while I figure it out! anyway thanks again for all your feedback, comments, reblogs, any little attention you gave to this series, I appreciate it all.

Previous chapter here

-

A frantic knocking brings Jake and Amy’s attention away from their book or phone, the two of them locking eyes across the table. 

“Were you expecting anyone?” 

Jake shakes his head, following Amy as she jumps to her feet and heads to the door. Upon opening it, her heart breaks at the sight of you on the other side, holding a bouquet of flowers that caught a few of the tears spilling down your cheeks. 

“What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry for popping up so suddenly,” you spoke hoarsely, attempting and failing to clear your face with one sleeve. “It’s our first wedding anniversary and I was going to visit her grave but before I knew it I was here. I don’t want to speak to her that way and I don’t want to see her that way again and I don’t want to—”

You fell into Amy’s waiting arms as you broke, repeating “I don’t want to” until it turned into mumbled sounds mixed in with your sobbing. Jake quickly came around to close the door, putting the flowers you dropped off to the side before sandwiching you into a hug from the other side. 

After you’d finally calmed down enough to breathe the three of you moved over to the couch, sitting in silence until you were ready to share what was on your mind. You held the bouquet in your arms once more, cradling it to your chest with one arm while you organized your thoughts. 

“I didn’t even get to call her my wife for a year before she was gone.”

Amy shifted her teary gaze to you, placing a hand on your free one with a gentle touch. Jake sat on the other side of you, listening while trying to get a hold of his own emotions. 

“We’ll never get to celebrate one year, five, ten, fifty. I wanted all of that time with her and it was stolen from me so easily.”

“Why don’t you write her a letter?” Jake suggested quietly. “When my grandma passed, Gina and I wrote letters to thank her for everything she did for us, and basically say anything we didn’t get to say before she went. I actually, um...I actually wrote one to Rosa the other day.”

Your eyes watered as you turned to him, a tear dropping as you addressed him. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, brows pressed together in confusion. 

“I’ve been so lost in my own grieving that I forgot you lost someone too.” You turned to Amy. “Both of you have.”

“Y/N,” Jake placed his hand on your shoulder, offering you a sad smile. “Yes we all lost her, but she meant something different to each of us. We can’t always relate to each other’s pain with this because it’s different for all of us, and it’s not selfish to take the time to focus on working through what you feel.”

You returned his sad smile with a little more hope behind yours, placing the flowers on the table in front of you and grabbing both of their hands. 

“I love you guys. Thanks for always being there for me.”

Amy chuckled a bit, squeezing your hand between both of hers. “It’s one of my favorite things to do.”

-

You’d barely been home from Jake and Amy’s apartment five minutes before there was a knock on your door. You opened it and a grin appeared on your face at the sight of Terry and the twins. 

“Hi, Auntie Y/N!”

“Hi, sweet angels!” you greeted them as you pulled them into a group hug. “Hey, Sarge. Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, I just picked the girls up from a playdate and I needed to bring you this.” He handed you a plastic bag that you instantly recognized. 

“Is this the—”

“Yeah.” He sighed heavily. “I was going through the case file and realized this was still in evidence. I was able to sign it out because it had no relation to anything, and based on what today is, you may need it.”

“Daddy let us put something in there for you, too!”

“Yeah! It’s an invitation to dinner tomorrow and your favorite cookies,” Cagney added, her eyes suddenly widening. “Sorry, that was supposed to be a surprise.”

“It’s okay, Cagney,” Terry assured her with a pat on the shoulder before turning back to you. “Are you going to be okay? We would love to have you tonight, too.”

“I’ll be fine, and I’ll be there tomorrow. Thanks for the gift, angels,” you addressed the twins as you hugged them one last time.

You took your time opening the bag once you were alone, setting the card and cookies to the side and using your shaking hands to sift through the rest of the items. Underneath things like toothpaste and deodorant sat a little booklet titled “First Year of Many”.

You took a deep breath and opened it to a page with a handwritten note, handwriting you knew to be Rosa’s. Blinking back a few tears, you stroked your finger along the page carefully before finally reading her last words to you. 

“Y/N Diaz, I love you. I was going to stop there, but I know you love it when I get mushy or whatever. So I’ll add that this has been the best (almost) year of my life. Being your wife and having you as mine is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, especially after the horrors of coming out to my parents and being framed. You’re my favorite person in the world, and I can’t wait to celebrate our wedding day every year for the rest of our lives.”

By the end of the note you were sobbing again, and you had to take a few moments to breathe before you could move onto the pictures. Each one was from different days in the past year starting with your wedding day, and you admire her beauty through nonstop tears. Some were taken on special events like birthdays, with or without friends, and others were simply selfies from lazy days where you fell asleep before she did. 

You closed the book and took the bag in your bedroom, setting the book on your bedside table to look at again later and placing the other items in the bathroom. You grabbed your phone and sat on the couch, dialing Rosa’s number and trying not to cry again when you heard her voice for the first time in months. 

“Rosa Diaz’s phone. Leave a message or don’t.”

“Hey, baby. Um, happy anniversary. I really liked your present, by the way. Nowhere near as good as what I was going to get you.” You laughed a bit, sounding somewhat pathetic mixed in with sniffles. 

“I miss you so fucking much. I miss your voice, your snorting laugh, riding on the back of your motorcycle, and cuddling morning, afternoon and night. I’ve never known pain like this before and I never want to again.”

A couple seconds of silence passed before you started again. 

“I hope you’re safe and happy wherever you are. I hope you have unlimited axes to throw, and the Nancy Meyers movies are easily accessible. Most importantly, I hope you don’t miss me as much as I miss you because this really fucking hurts. Arlo and I feel like an incomplete puzzle without you. Anyway, I love you and—”

The automated voice cuts you off and you hang up instantly, not needing another reminder that you’ve run out of time to talk to Rosa. Part of you felt lighter after spilling your thoughts out to her, even if she couldn’t hear them. You smiled as Arlo padded sleepily into the room and climbed onto the couch to lie next to you, resting his head on your thigh. You thought back to Rosa’s vows, realizing that her wish of building a home with you had been granted.

You just wish she’d gotten the chance to live in it a little longer.

-

Tags: @creepingwolfberry @rosadiazswifey @milkfromhell @marie-03 @jay-is-groovy @gaulty74 @xetherealbeautyx

#to build a home #rosa diaz #rosa diaz x reader #rosa diaz imagine #rosa diaz x fem!reader #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine imagine #brooklyn nine nine fic series #brooklyn nine nine x reader #b99 fic #b99 imagine #b99 fic series #b99 x reader #b99 fanfic #b99 #stephanie beatriz

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 97

97

Keith never wanted to move again. Lance was preheat for a week, Coran having him stay with Keith to help keep his hormones and emotions stable, while Matt and Rieva were staying with Matt’s parents, Blue at Shiro’s. A new group chat was made between the four of them, plus Shiro, so Matt could keep them updated and see if the pair needed anything. What Keith needed was to be left alone with Lance. They’d spent three days at the hotel, Keith knew Shiro extended their stay, but he’d thought one extra day, not two. Lance tried to downplay his symptoms and tried even harder to be normal about the situation. Keith had to give a full report over what had happened on his end of things went the stakeout went south. Shiro had not been a happy camper. Keith forced through a whole heap of tests to prove he was fine, like he’d told them a hundred times. So when he finally escaped Platt to Lance’s house, he never wanted to leave.

And then Lance’s heat came.

Oh dear lord, had Lance’s heat come. The house would need a thorough scrubbing from top to bottom. It lasted four days, five if you included the fact it rolled into the morning of the fifth day. They’d “accidentally” discovered Lance really, really, liked it when he used the pocket pussy on him during sex. Blindfolds and restraints weren’t their thing. Keith thought maybe, but seeing Lance like that made him feel weird not in a sexy way, and the butt plug seemed to help Lance sleep better between the waves of need. The fifth day had been pretty brutal despite Lance’s heat tapering off. His boyfriend spent most of the early afternoon making love to the toilet bowl, while Keith “snoozed” against his back.

Coran had given them emergency contraceptives, but neither of them wanted to go without a condom, despite what their fevered minds told them before, during, and after. It was completely whack that their bodies got mad at them for being in a happy relationship that didn’t need a baby to prove it. Lance’s waves were more intense then when he’d smelt Sendak for the first time, but they’d made it through. Lance swallowing down one of the yellow pills on the fourth night when they noticed things definitely starting to calm. Keith had the suspicion that Lance’s vomiting was a side effect from that, and the stress of having so much sex that his dick felt broken.

Cuddling up together on the sofa later on the fifth day, Lance fell asleep sipping on one of his blood bags before his energy finally ran out and his boyfriend turned into a bat. Keith would have too if he could have, because even trying to walk had him shuffling. Lance’s body had wanted sex, his mind wanted a baby, but Lance himself wanted him to be okay. The moment his heat would simmer down, Lance would be asking if he was okay. His boyfriend too fucking sweet... and his arse too fucking good. They’d flirted with fire the first time, Lance’s legs locked around his waist, barely giving him space to pull out in time. Keith would like to say that was the only time, but when you wake up very hard and very in your boyfriend, you thanked whoever was out there for contraceptives as you wondered if you’d done this the first time around... as well as being amazed you could get in there when your boyfriend’s butt was already preoccupied.

Lance had spent two days as a bat, cuddling Keith wherever he went as he stayed clinging to Keith’s shirt. He’d had to go shopping for coffee pods and lactose free milk, Lance tucked up inside his jacket where he squeaked to make his wants known. They made a pretty good team, though one or two members of Garrison’s general public might now believe Keith was crazy from the amount of time he’d spent “talking to himself” in the supermarket. Keith didn’t care. He wasn’t dating them, nor was he friends with them, so he wasn’t going to let their opinion of him get to him.

Keith was in the bath with Lance when his boyfriend finally turned back. After a ridiculously long day. He’d brought a container up so his boyfriend could float without drowning. Lance had seemed sceptical, but after nearly losing him hiding too much body wash and filling the sink with bubbles, this seemed safer to both of them. Keeping their friends under control had seemed like less work than trying to clean up the bathroom after Lance accidentally flooded it with his sudden transformation. They’d worked out a system. Lance couldn’t push the buttons on the phone, so Keith asked him how he wanted to reply... kind of getting into being both of them, but not enjoying it when he’d make his boyfriend flap his wings and squeak his protest over something Keith said for himself.

He’d also gotten himself into trouble for calling himself an idiot when accidentally broken a plate and cremated his toast. Lance had bitten him for it. When Pidge and Hunk had learned Lance was not only home but also a bat, they’d invited themselves over. Pidge was the only one game to try give Lance flying lessons. His boyfriend couldn’t fly straight if his life depended on it. He’d flap his wings, get a few feet, even a couple of metres before gravity would remind him of its existence. Both their friends were disappointed when he and Lance came down humanish.

Still exhausted from the medication and his heat, Lance collapsed on the sofa, Pidge wrapping her arms around him and cuddling Lance tight. With Hunk on the other side, the bear of a man rested against Lance, arm around Lance and hand resting near Pidge’s knee. Neither of them knew what’d happened, they simply wanted to comfort their friend... while Keith fought down the need to protect Lance. He felt as if he really would have shot someone had they tried to come near Lance sooner. Had they come during Lance’s heat, he wouldn’t have lifted a finger to help them if Lance had torn their throat out. They could say what they liked about him, or try to pick a fight, but when they went for Lance, he wouldn’t stand for it. Like Lance wouldn’t stand for the same happening to him, or their friends.

With a sleepy Lance, and Keith not providing of their “romantic week away”, Hunk headed to the kitchen to make popcorn as they decided on a movie night. Lance mumbling about some movie starting with “G” that they had to watch together. Pidge pulling Lance’s hair for it and Lance pretending to snap at her finger with his fangs. Hearing something from the kitchen, Lance called out that he should invite Shay tomorrow for a family dinner. Pidge taking teasing Lance over having forgotten everyone thanks to his vacation. Cuddling the gremlin tighter, Pidge sighed dramatically, pretending to make a deal out of it, when Keith could see she was happy being back with Lance. Things were good.

This all led to Keith not wanting to get up and human the next day. He’d had his coffee, Lance bringing up breakfast in bed, to draw out their alone time together before the house swarmed upon by Shiro, Matt, Rieva, Curtis, Hunk, Shay, and Pidge. After having Lance alone to himself again, he wished he hadn’t mentioned Lance was bat, so they could have spent some more time together being boyfriend’s and not adults. Cuddled up after breakfast, Keith nearly jumped when Lance’s voice broke the comfortable silence between them

“I may have done something”

“Mmm?”

Lance moved to lay across him, looking him the face with a semi worried expression. Now Keith was getting nervous

“I... um... okay. So I know you’re like me and birthday’s are a bit of an issue... but I am... might have made plans for yours seeing ours are like three months apart, well, a little less”

Keith groaned. Yeah. Now he got why Lance didn’t want to talk about his

“Babe...”

“Do you remember when you said you liked hiking?”

Keith didn’t have a single clue where this was going. He liked hiking, but Lance didn’t seem so keen on it

“Yeah”

“And do you remember how you haven’t had much time to work on your photography?”

“Mhmm?”

“I may have organised for us to go camping for your birthday”

Keith blinked half a dozen times at his boyfriend. Camping for his birthday?

“What?”

“Not “camping” camping. But like a three night stay over the weekend... All of us too, but there’s like 3 seperate cabins and a small communal kitchen area. We’ll have a cabin, Matt and Rieva will have a cabin, and then the others will share the main one”

He’d done what? When? Since when had Lance had the time to sneak this in on him?!

“You did what?”

Lance winced. Keith too shocked to feel guilty at the harshness in his tone

“I’m sorry. It seemed like a really good idea at the time. It’s like a three hour drive from here and then a hike up to the cabins...”

“How? What... hang on... we haven’t even talked about my birthday”

“I know. I should have asked. I got carried away trying to think of what I could do for you on your birthday. I know Shiro’s been working pretty much nonstop and I thought maybe it’d be nice to be away and I should have asked but when I saw the photos I got excited and kind of maybe booked it on the spot”

Lance dropped his head to Keith’s chest, his boyfriend kind of seemed less than happy now he’d told him

“Hold up. I didn’t even want to do anything for my birthday”

“I know. We don’t have to make a big huge deal... I just thought... I thought maybe we could be there to show you that we care... and you know, hang out as a group somewhere other than here... and I thought it’d be a nice place for you to take photos”

Lance seemed really happy with the coffee table album Keith made up. It lived on the living room mantle between the bobble heads Shiro gifted Lance. But there was another problem to this whole plan

“What about work?”

“Coran okayed it because you have to work Halloween security and because, you know, you had to work my birthday too...”

Keith could see Coran being easily swayed when it came to Lance. It was kind of hard not to be

“You should have asked”

Lance sighed, rubbing his cheek against Keith’s chest

“I know. I know... I’m stupid and impulsive. Plus the next few months I usually get swamped with work. The holidays are hard for a lot of families. Sometimes I’m even working on Christmas Day and there’s been too many times I’ve had to request welfare checks”

Keith had had to work Christmas days too... all the Christmas crowds tended to bring out the less desirables, preying on people getting their Christmas gifts...

“But you don’t even like camping. Can you even go camping? What about the blood?”

Lifting his head back up, his boyfriend’s chin dug lightly into his chest

“Thanks to this super modern invention that science has gifted us with, there’s this super magical thing called ice. You see, you put stuff in ice and it stays cool”

His boyfriend was a dick. Ice was hardly a new invention

“What about the sun? How do you hide the blood?”

Lance shrugged a shoulder

“I cover up, and I’m the only one who drinks red wine. Pick a dark bottle, wash it out, then pack it”

That was... impressive. With the blood being red, you wouldn’t think it blood at the first glance of a wine bottle.

Reaching out, Keith ruffled Lance’s hair

“You’ve kind of... really smart”

“It’s not a perfect system... I mean, I only came up with it because Pidge wanted to hunt things like Mothman...”

“Mothman is real”

Until he proved otherwise, Mothman was real. Lance patted Keith’s chest

“Of course he is, dear. Anyway, I’ve got the information on my laptop”

“I still don’t know when you had the time”

“At the hotel on my phone. You keep saying you’re not great at this boyfriend thing, but it was really nice at the hotel. I thought about maybe going to the coast for a week, but you’ve got work, and Rieva’s got work, and so do Shay, Shiro, Curtis, and Hunk at his parent’s garage... so I thought a weekend would be better. Head down Friday around lunch, then back either Sunday night or early Monday morning”

“I suppose next you’re going to tell me you’ve gotten me a present”

“Yep. Only because you told me what you wanted”

“When did I do that?”

“Pretty much within the first month of meeting you. And if you’re worried, everyone else has chipped in to cover their part of the rental costs for the weekend. I covered yours because you’re the birthday boy”

Keith hadn’t thought about that bit. Lance could afford to treat them all, but knowing Keith would be uncomfortable with that had let everyone else contribute

“It’s not too much is it?”

“Nah, it’s off season at the moment with things cooling down. Apparently people don’t want to risk hiking when you could get soaked”

Pfft. He and Shiro had hiked in the rain before. It wasn’t terribly awful, but it wasn’t always great

“Whimps”

“We can take Kosmo too. He’ll have to be on lead up there and around the camp site. They used to trap there before humans over hunted the deer population. Matt and Rieva should be fine to run around the forest as long as Shay doesn’t see them”

Not as well as everyone else. Did Shay like him?

“I barely know Shay”

“Dude, you totally know her enough. She’s like Hunk’s soulmate”

Hunk was soft and gentle... Sometime’s Shay could be as ruthless as Pidge in chat

“She’s a lot like Pidge”

Lance rolled his eyes at him

“Who’s Hunk’s platonic soulmate. Shay is super shy until you get to know her. Then she’s as ruthless as Mami”

“Have you called Mami yet?”

“Nope. Wanted to do it with you. We should probably get up”

“If she was closer we could have brought her to dinner”

Lance brightened right up. His boyfriend always seemed kind of amazed that Keith thought of Miriam as much as he. Kissing his cheek, Lance pulled away, Keith knowing he was about to be forced up and to human

“That’s a great idea... I’m gonna call Mami and see if she can stay the night”

With Lance now super excited and wearing his “determined face”, Keith bit down talking Lance out of it. For her own safety, and the safety of her sanity, Mami really was better staying in Platt. All their friends were weirdos.

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid

[colesterstrudel]

Everything But the Kitchen Sink

Michael Cole/Reader: You own a bakery with your best friend, who can’t come in on one of your busiest days. Luckily, you have a customer who is more than willing to help you in your time of need. Smut but not all the way bc I kinda forgot how to write smut so.......

ANYWAYS HERE IT IS, FOLKS. THE OFT-MENTIONED MICHAEL COLE FIC. IT’S HERE. IT’S FINISHED. LIFE IS SWELL.

Tagging @sporadic-fics @helplessly-nonstop @wrestlingfae @renegademustelid @cookiethewriter @concussed-to-pieces @toxiicpop @thirstiswet @moxleysbaby @itsreigns @shadow-of-wonder @ilovesamizayn @merchfreak @paintedneverland

You knew owning a bakery would be hard work, had prepared yourself for that when you finally got the money to open the place with your best friend. The hard work didn’t scare you off, but made you more determined to make your bakery the most successful in the city. Two years in and you were well on your way to meeting that goal, new orders coming in every day, fairly steady visitors. It was all coming together. 

Until today, when your best friend called to tell you she couldn’t come in. The seasons were changing and she was stuck in bed, allergies waging war on her immune system. 

It wasn’t a problem, of course, you couldn’t have her at work when she was sneezing every three seconds. But today was a big day, with three large orders needing to be finished and picked up. You could do it, you knew you could, but having her here would definitely be a big help. 

On the bright side, you didn’t have too many visitors in the morning, meaning you got to spend most of your time in the kitchen. You were in the middle of making ten huge trays of brownies, five of them in the oven as you mixed the sixth when the bell above the door jingled. 

With a sigh, leaving the giant bowl of brownie batter behind, you headed for the front of the bakery. 

“How can I help you?” You asked, mind still focused on the mountain of work you had waiting for you in your kitchen. The customer was at the far end of the pastry cases nearest the door, barely even looking up as you walked to the register. 

“I’m just looking, thanks,” he replied, finally looking up for a moment to shoot a smile your way. He was a little older, soft lines and wrinkles accentuating his smile with short salt and pepper hair. For a moment, you were struck by how attractive he was, but you shook it off, focusing instead on helping him to be in and out as fast as possible so you could go back to the work you had to do.

“Take your time, let me know if you need anything.” You smiled back at him as best you could, eyes finding the clock on the other wall. Time was slipping away and you still needed to finish the brownies for your second big order before moving on to the final touches on the cupcakes for the third order. Luckily, your first order had already been picked up that morning, but there was so much to do and so little time. 

Just as the customer was making his way to the register, ready to tell you his order, the oven timer went off. “I’m so sorry, give me just a moment,” you apologized before rushing back to the kitchen to take the brownies out of the oven. On your way back through the kitchen, a lingering glance on the bowl of brownie batter still to be completed, you ran into the counter and knocked over your cocoa powder as you fell to the floor. 

You were attempting to stand up and assess the damage when someone cleared their throat in the doorway in an attempt to get your attention. One glance told you the customer from just before had made his way back behind the counter to check on you. 

“Are you okay?” He held a hand out to help you up and you took it gratefully, finally standing up from the mess on the floor. 

“I’m fine, thanks,” you said, shooting him a smile that hopefully didn’t look too pained. “If you give me just a second to clean this up, I’ll be right back out there to help you.”

“Do you, uh, need any help?” The glance he took around the kitchen told him all he needed to know. The huge racks of cupcakes still cooling in the corner, brownies scattered across every available bit of counter space. 

“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to help,” you flushed, wiping your hands on your apron. “It’s fine.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering.” The man seemed to make the decision for you, heading for the hooks by the oven and grabbing a spare apron to slip over his head. His fingers deftly tied the knot in the back before heading back over your way. “Now, what do you want me to start on?”

It only took you a moment to think about how absurd these circumstances were before you graciously accepted his help. “In that binder over there,” you began, pointing to a three inch purple binder across the counter, “is my double chocolate brownie recipe. We only need to mix up a few more batches and get them in the oven.”

He just nodded, moving to get the binder and flipping through it on the counter right next to you. It was silent, the two of you working on your own batches of brownie batter, dancing around each other in the kitchen with ease. It was nice, to finally not be too stressed about getting orders done since there was someone to help you again. And that meant the brownies got done quickly, allowing you two to move to frosting the racks of cupcakes that had been cooling since that morning. 

The customer-turned-bakery-assistant was a quick learner, picking up exactly how you liked the swirls of frosting to look on top of your cupcakes, sprinkles generously added afterward. 

Three hours later, all of the orders were complete, the brownies had already been picked up, and you were finally able to let out a relieved breath. 

“Thank you for the help,” you told the man you’d worked beside for hours as you walked towards the front of the bakery. “If there’s anything you want, it’s on the house. You didn’t have to spend all your time helping me.”

“It was my pleasure,” he assured you, smile wide on his face. “And don’t worry about it, I don’t need anything in return.”

“Are you sure? I made some Kitchen Sink cookies this morning that are really good, if I do say so myself.” You smiled back at him, tilting your head towards the pastry case that held the cookies in question. 

You sent him on his way with a dozen cookies and a smile, watching as he waved from the door. It wasn’t until you saw him drive away that you realized you never even got his name. And you weren’t sure you’d ever run into him again. 

————

“So you never even got his name?” Nattie asked after you regaled her with the story of the kind stranger from the day before. 

“No,” you groaned, resting your head on your arms with a dramatic sigh. “And I’ll probably never see him again so it’s not like it even matters.”

“It doesn’t matter?” Nattie shook her head, laughing. “Then why did you just spend an hour telling me about him?”

“I don’t like your tone,” you told her, glaring as you sat up. “It doesn’t matter. We have work to do, anyway.”

“Whatever you say, boss lady.” As Nattie walked towards the front, leaving you to pour in the kitchen alone, you heard her mutter under her breath. “He doesn’t matter but you spent all that time detailing his smile. Yeah right.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but closed it almost instantly, head sinking back down onto your arms. What have you gotten yourself into?

—————

Something about the delivery you needed to make two and a half weeks later wasn’t sitting well with you. It was pretty standard, all things considered. Six trays of brownies and six dozen Kitchen Sink cookies, a simple order. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the order was weird, that today was a weird day. 

You had already sent Nattie home for the day, closing the bakery a little earlier than usual so you could go straight home after delivering the only order you had for the day. She offered to make the delivery for you, allowing you to go home and relax, but you waved her off. At least this way you could use the drive as a way to clear your head, get some fresh air.

But first, you had to juggle all the boxes in your hands as you rang the doorbell, trying to keep them all straight as the door opened in front of you. 

“I have a delivery for Michael…” you trailed off, finally looking up after getting the boxes to settle in your hands. The man at the door was the customer from before, the one who helped you when you obviously desperately needed it. The one you couldn’t quite get out of your head. “Michael Cole,” you managed to finish, your thoughts going a mile a minute. 

The smile on his face was throwing you off, making it impossible to think. It was the same kind smile you saw so often all those weeks ago as you looked at each other across the kitchen in your bakery, the smile that was in your thoughts constantly since then. You had come to terms with the fact that you would probably never see it again, not in person, but here he was standing in front of you. 

And suddenly the order you had in your hands made sense. The dozens of kitchen sink cookies, the brownies. Everything you two had worked so hard to make together. 

“It’s good to see you again,” Michael said, smile never wavering. 

“It’s, um, good to see you, too,” you stuttered. And then, unable to stop yourself from being a mess,  “I didn’t think I’d see you again.” 

“I wasn’t sure I’d see you, either.” His reply came so easily, he seemed entirely unaffected. The complete opposite of you, mentally screaming right in front of him. “But a friend is having a party and I offered to bring some snacks and then I remembered your bakery…”

“Oh, well, I’m glad you thought of me - us. Glad you thought of the bakery.” The smile on his face seemed to only get wider as you struggled to recover from your inability to string appropriate words together. “Well here’s your order. Hope everything’s to your liking. You know where to find me, us, the bakery if you need anything again!” 

And then you were practically running to your car, slamming the door behind you before hitting your head against the steering wheel. You misjudged the distance, however, hitting right on the horn and jumping as it blared. Your eyes flutter immediately to Michael’s door, seeing him still standing there, laughing, and you put your car in gear quicker than you ever had before. You had to get out of there before you embarrassed yourself further, if that were even possible. 

——————

“So do you still think it doesn’t matter, or are you finally admitting to yourself that something’s up between you two?” Nattie asked, smug smile on her face as you explained to her what happened on your delivery the day before. 

“Shut up,” you grumbled, absentmindedly tapping your fingers on the counter in front of you. “I made a complete fool of myself in front of him and now I know I’ll never see him again.”

“He probably thought it was cute that you were so flustered,” she offered, one eyebrow raised. “And you thought you’d never see him again before and things didn’t work out that way. I’m sure you’ll see him again.”

“Yeah, long enough for him to tell me he thinks I’m weird or something.”

“I mean, he could say that. Or he could ask you out. Or maybe just order more of the Kitchen Sink cookies. You said he liked those, right?” Nattie was having a little too much fun at your expense, so you stood up to make your way back to the front of the bakery. 

“When you’re finished with your little comedy routine, feel free to come do your job,” you told her, ignoring how hard she was laughing as you walked away from her. 

Of course, you couldn’t quite get her words out of your mind. You may see him again, that much was true, he does know where to find you. But what would he say, that was your first concern. 

With a shake of your head, you cleared your mind, focusing back on the things you could control. You could control the bakery, the layout of the goods in the cases, interacting with customers. You could focus on that, instead of letting a man you barely know take up every moment of your thoughts. 

At least, that’s what you were telling yourself. 

————-

One week later and you were alone at the bakery again. This time, however, you weren’t so stressed about Nattie’s absence. For one, there weren’t any deliveries or huge orders that needed to be done. And with her gone, you wouldn’t have to deal with her knowing stares as you gazed at the pastry case the Kitchen Sink cookies were in. It was a win-win for you. 

Or it would be, if you could keep your mind off of Michael Cole. You hadn’t seen him since you delivered the cookies and brownies to his house, but you couldn’t stop hoping that you would see him again sometime soon. The more time passed, however, the surer you were that you wouldn’t see him ever again, that you had embarrassed yourself too much making that delivery and he would pretend he had never even met you.

Maybe you did miss Nattie being around, after all. At least she would distract you, keep your mind from turning to Michael every five minutes. 

With a heavy sigh, you glanced at the clock and saw there were only ten minutes left until closing and decided to start cleaning up. You hadn’t had any customers for a few hours, so you were sure you wouldn’t have any until closing. 

Of course, the bell above the door jingled as someone walked in just as you went to the back with a few trays of cookies to put up. “I’m so sorry, I was just cleaning up!” you called out to the customer in the front. “But if you’d like anything, I’d be more than happy to get it boxed up for you!” The customer service smile you had plastered on your face when you came back through the doorway to the front of the bakery faltered just slightly as you saw who was standing there. Michael was here, standing right near the door just as he did the first time he came in, soft smile on his face. 

“I can leave if you’re closing up. I don’t want to keep you from anything,” he offered, gesturing to the door.

“No!” The word was out before you could even think it through, practically yelling at him as you stepped forward to the break in the counter. “No, you don’t have to. Is there something I can get you?”

His eyes flitted briefly to the pastry cases, then focused right back on you as he moved further inside the bakery. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, grip on the counter next to you tightening as he moved closer. 

“I just came by to see you,” he explained, stepping in front of you. Now you were separated by just a few feet of space, one swinging knee-high door breaking up the counter. You had been closer to him before, both while making the delivery to his house and while he helped you bake all those weeks ago, but there was something about the distance between you today that felt as if you were closer to him than you had ever been and simultaneously further away than you wanted to be. 

“Well, here I am,” you laughed, nerves prickling even through the casualness of your words.

It was silent between the two of you and you felt as if time had stopped, or even just slowed down. His grey eyes were glued to yours and you opened your mouth to say something, to finally break the silence. Before you could get a word out, he was through the partition, pressing his lips to yours. The counter was digging into your back but you barely noticed as your fingers found their way to the fabric of his shirt, twisting to hold him closer so you could kiss him back.

And then you remembered where you were - in the middle of your empty, but still technically open, bakery. The lights were on full blast and anyone walking by could see you pressed into the counter, back arched obscenely into Michael. With that in mind, you reluctantly pulled away just slightly, breaking the contact and letting out a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Michael began, pulling back, hands dropping from where they were resting on your waist. “Did I misread-”

“No, no,” you assured him, wincing at the huge wrinkles in the front of his shirt from where your fingers had twisted into the fabric. “But we’re in the middle of the bakery, the door is unlocked, anyone could see…”

His grey eyes widened as he looked around, as if only just now realizing that you two were in full view of anyone in the street. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think about that. Should I just go?”

“Absolutely not,” you answered faster than you meant to, words sharp. “Just...Give me a second.” You brushed past him, headed straight for the front door to lock both locks and turn the sign to read ‘Closed.’ You hit the main light switch, watching as the front of the bakery went dark, the only lights the ones in the front windows, before walking back to where Michael still stood, eyes following your every move. Grabbing his hand as you passed him again, you pulled him along behind you to the kitchen in the back.

“So,” you began, smile wide as you released his hand and turned to look at him. “What brought you back here to see me? It can’t possibly be that first day you dropped in and saw me on the ground covered in cocoa powder.” You laughed at the memory, at how mortified you were when you saw him standing over you to help you up.

“I don’t know, I thought you were endearing.” His smile matched yours and he inched even closer, leaning against the counter next to you. “And I couldn’t get you out of my head when I left, but I was sure that you wouldn’t be interested in me, given the obvious age difference. I’m glad to see I was wrong about that.”

“Very wrong,” you agreed, cutting into his sentence.

“It took me a while to convince myself to come back, but I found myself driving over here before I was even sure of where I was going. And I’m glad I did.” He reached out, pulling you into him again. “Very glad I did.”

“Funnily enough, so am I.” You smiled as you leaned in to kiss him again, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt once more. The kiss was harsher, deeper than the one earlier and before you knew it, you were perched on the counter in front of Michael, hands tearing at the buttons on his shirt. His own hands were working their way under your shirt, inching it up your sides. He broke away long enough to pull your shirt over your head, shrugging his off his shoulders after you got it unbuttoned all the way. “You know,” you sighed, tilting your head to the side as he rained kisses down your neck. “I don’t usually do this.”

“What? Invite strapping older men over to your bakery to have your way with them?” he asked, laughing into your skin.

“Excuse me,” you laughed, breaking off into a moan as his hands moved the cup of your bra down, fingers pinching at a nipple. “I did not invite you, you just showed up.”

“I can leave at any moment,” he offered. His hands betrayed his words, however, reaching behind you to unhook your bra and pull it off your body.

“Not a chance. You’re stuck here now,” you warned, arching into him as he kissed down your neck again. You felt him smile against your skin again, biting lightly at the juncture of your neck and shoulder before coaxing you to lie back on the counter.

“Noted,” was his only reply before he closed his mouth over a nipple, teeth just barely scraping against the tender flesh. The moan you let out was damn near other-worldly as you arched into him, fingers fumbling down towards the waistband of his pants. 

Your brain was foggy, too focused on enjoying the way Michael’s tongue moved against you, his hands gripping your hips harshly, and trying to get his belt undone that you never heard the back door open. 

“Hey, I saw the light on when I passed by and wanted to stop in and - oh, whoops.” Nattie’s voice rang out and you shrieked, trying to sit up and cover yourself at the same time as Michael fixed his belt.

“Nattie, what, um. What are you doing here?” you rushed out, pulling your shirt over your head haphazardly.

“It doesn’t matter, just pretend I was never here,” she told you, hiding her eyes behind her hand. “But you must be Michael. I’ve heard a lot about you, you know.” She held her free hand out to shake his and you groaned, head dropping to your chest as Michael let out a laugh. 

And to think that the night started out with such promise. 

#wwe fic #wwe fanfic #michael cole #michael cole fic #michael cole fanfic #this is my life now lmao

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Worked Themselves to Exhaustion

Heeeey, @badthingshappenbingo​ is finally underway! @burtlederp​ asked for Worked Themselves to Exhaustion with Ryan as our POV/Main, so here it is! 

Bloodstains = requested, puppy sticker = completed

This is set post-rescue and post-trial. Tagging the crew: @spiffythespook​, @bleeding-demon-teeth​, and @special-spicy-chicken​!

CW: Very little, actually! Some references to parental abuse and implied/references past assault/violence, but mostly this is just Ryan being Ryan

Ryan woke up with a start to discover he’d fallen asleep sitting at the kitchen table, forehead resting on one arm and the other simply hanging loose down at his side.

He still had the mug of coffee he’d been drinking sitting next to him, his fingers loosely curved around the handle. He dragged his free hand up and over to find the ceramic had totally cooled, the coffee no doubt cold and stale inside.

He blinked, lifting his head slowly, wincing at the crick of pain in his neck. What time was it? How long had he been asleep? His phone was buzzing on the table next to him and he blinked, blearily looking over at it. Must've been what woke him. Fuck, was it really 9:45 already?

When he saw ‘MOM’ and the photo he’d set of he and Corrine at the beach a couple of years ago lighting up the screen, he groaned, hit the button to silence it, and let his head drop back to the table.

He was so fucking tired and he did not have the energy to deal with his mother right now. Maybe not ever again, not where Danny was concerned.

She would tell him to get an aide, she was always telling him to get an aide. Move out (you can move right back in the house with Dad and I until you find a place, no reason to linger there wasting your twenties), leave him and Vandrum with a full-time home health care aide.

You shouldn’t feel obligated to take care of him, Ryan.

But he did, and maybe if Mom had ever felt obligated to really care about Danny, he wouldn’t have ended up wearing a goddamn dog collar in western Canada.

Not that it was Canada’s fault, or anything. Ryan hadn’t ever realized how fucking huge Canada was, before he’d flown into Edmonton on the fastest flight he could find, rented a car, and then drove and drove and drove and fucking drove to the police station his brother was waiting in - only to realize it had been more hours upon hours of driving for Nate to get Danny there in the first place.

That cabin in the woods had been literally in the middle of fucking nowhere, and Ryan couldn’t possibly have known, right?

He should have, though. He should have, and maybe none of it would ever have happened if his mother and father hadn’t said all that shit to Danny five years ago about regretting adopting someone who didn’t want to be part of the family business, and therefore part of the family.

They might not see their obligations, but Ryan did. He was obligated, because while Danny had been up in those woods suffering, learning to believe that Denner fucker's lies that he isn't a person, that his body belongs to Denner to use however he wants, learning to call himself a puppy and give up his name and his body and his humanity to stay alive, Ryan had been looking in all the wrong places trying to find him.

He had looked for four straight years. He'd started looking the day Danny didn’t come home from his weird meetup with the older guy he was either just crushing hard on or actually dating, no one seemed to know, and he'd kept looking until the day the cops called and said We’ll know for sure once we’ve done the DNA test, Mr. Michaelson, but we’re pretty sure this man is your brother. He had never, ever stopped looking.

He had leveraged his parents’ wealth and influence to pull together private searches long after law enforcement had given up. He had kept looking even when the cops and the FBI stopped helping them find a living man and started focusing on recovering a corpse one day, maybe decades from now, when some dumbass hiker might trip over his brother’s bones in the woods-

Stop it. He survived. You brought him home. You couldn't have known where Denner would take him. You couldn't have done more.

Yes, he could have.

He had been looking, but he hadn’t looked hard enough. He'd looked in the wrong spots, he had missed clues, somewhere, somehow.  What if there had been a white hair in the bloodied car they missed? What if Denner had left a fingerprint on Vandrum's apartment building? What if what if what if.

What if none of it would ever have changed a thing?

No, his mother didn't understand, but he couldn’t ever give enough of himself to Danny's recovery to make up for what he had lost, for what he was still losing. For time suffered and time spent trying to heal.

His mother’s photo blinked away and the phone went back to empty black. Ryan sighed in relief… only to watch it light right back up as she tried a second time.

“No, fucking no,” He groaned, fighting the child’s urge to answer just because it was her, because he loved her, because she loved him. Him, but not his brother. The eternal hidden truth of the Michaelson family - one child loved, the other left out, chased off, and lost. "Leave a goddamn voicemail, Mom, come on."

He'd been up all night, for the third night in a row, and Ryan was tapped the fuck out.

One super fun discovery Ryan had made about bringing home two people who had lived in nonstop fight-or-flight-or-freeze mode for four years was that they never stop getting sick.

Danny's immune system had apparently just checked out at some point and left, and Ryan could usually handle it, but this virus or whatever it was... was bad.

Vandrum usually did his best to help, but he had caught the bug, too, this time. Which meant two grown men reduced to middle-of-the-night coughing fits and all-day fevers, two grown men essentially helpless, two grown men Ryan had found himself in charge of.

Ryan wasn't only taking care of his traumatized older brother who refused to let him touch him, even just to check to see if his fever had broken, but also his brother’s equally traumatized maybe-boyfriend who never flinched or pulled away but who instead stared at Ryan with glassy, frightened green eyes and gritted teeth as he simply put up with Ryan’s clumsy attempts at caretaking in silence, only breaking it with the occasional pl-please let Red sl-sleep, he can’t d-d-do chores today, I’ll d-do his chores f-for him, please...

One more day of this and Ryan might crack.

He's stocked the fridge with all the stuff he remembered Mom buying when they were sick as kids - ginger ale and Pedialyte (did adults drink that shit? Vandrum and Danny hadn't put up a fight when he brought it to them and God knew they weren't keeping any food down yet), chicken soup from the deli in little microwave-safe containers, some Gatorade. There were saltines open on the counter, from the only experiment with solid food either man had attempted since they first got sick.

Ryan had never seen someone throw up saltines before, but at least Vandrum had seemed decently ashamed of himself for it. Danny hadn't even tried them.

It's 9:45 in the morning and all Ryan wants to do is crawl back into his own bed and drift, but if he does he knows one of them will need him, and the only thing worse than not sleeping is finally, finally getting to sleep only to be almost immediately woken up by grown men so knocked out by some kind of virus that they could hardly stand on their own.

Ryan slowly sits up straight, feeling pops along his spine from having been slumped over the table for so long, wondering if twenty-four was too young to have his fucking bones crack when he moves, like an old man.

“One hour,” He says out loud, to no one in particular. “If they don’t need anything in the next hour, I’m giving up and going to fucking bed.”

He pours himself a fresh cup of coffee, which does absolutely nothing to alleviate his exhaustion. He listens to the voicemail his mother eventually leaves, after her third and fourth attempts go unanswered.

Here’s to hoping you’re sleeping, Ryan, and don’t worry, I was just wondering how you were doing and if you had any updates on how Danny and his, um, friend are doing. I can have Mrs. Verona over there to give you a break, poor dear, just say the word.

I was sleeping, Mom, Ryan thinks bitterly, rubbing at his forehead with the heel of one hand as he listens, ignoring for the moment that technically he had fallen asleep sitting at the table like a parent with a newborn and not an adult with a sick brother. Your fucking phone calls woke me up, congratulations, Corrine Michaelson, you’re a gold-star mom today.

No, that wasn’t fair. She was just worried, Mom knew he wasn’t sleeping enough since Danny came home. She was just trying to help, with the offers of an aide or of sending Mrs. Verona over for a day. 

She wasn’t trying to chase Danny off again, she wasn’t trying to make him feel like less-than even when he’d only just really started to get his feet under himself again. She just wanted to help Ryan, like always, and was so blinded by it that she missed that what helped Ryan sometimes hurt Danny.

She’d never meant to be awful to Danny, really, it had always just… happened.

Why do you always make excuses for her? Why don’t you just admit it, give it a name, and try to protect him from them while he’s still so fragile and so easily torn apart all over again? He needs someone who can stand up for him this time, and you never have, you always, always let them blame him. You let him run to Eureka to get away from them, so he was in this stupid town when that fucking psychopath came calling to pick his ex up again.

You let them chase Danny away, and it’s your fault he was here when Abraham Denner wanted a new victim. It’s your fault, Ryan, and you have to fix it, so stop whining to yourself about being tired and take care of the brother you couldn’t save when it counted.

You can start by calling what Mom and Dad do to Danny what it is, by calling it-

“Ryan?”

He’d been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t heard anyone coming, but he looks up now to see Danny leaning against the open-framed doorway to the kitchen, staring in at him with stark surprise written across his face.

The wavy red hair is sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck and his blue eyes are fever-bright, two bright red splotches mark his cheeks. His face is otherwise chalk-white, freckles and the ring of half-healed scarring standing out in garish, nearly neon red in a perfect outline of that fucking thing Ryan can barely stand to think about.

“What’re you doing up? You look dead on your feet, man.” Ryan stands up, slowly so he doesn’t surprise him - Danny still doesn’t like it when people move too fast around him, and the fever definitely doesn’t help with that problem - and sets his coffee mug on the table. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“I’m not s’posed to, to be in th’ bed.” Danny glances over his shoulder, then back, putting a finger to his lips. “Ssshhh. He must’ve… told Nate it was okay...” Danny’s eyes drift, aimlessly, to the side, looking with confusion at the window above the kitchen sink, with the faded, ancient little pleated floral curtain that had been in the apartment when Danny moved in.  “That’s not right. What d’you think he did to earn me getting to sleep in the bed?”

Something in Ryan cracks a little more, the way it always does every single time Danny says something else like this, some new piece of heart-deep horror that Danny doesn’t even seem to recognize for what it is.

“I don’t suppose it would help to tell you you’re home,” Ryan says, wearily, thinking longingly about the last few swallows of hot coffee left and whether it’s worth drinking it if it’s not going to even touch the fatigue. “Would it?”

“I wish I could go home.” Danny speaks the words so softly Ryan nearly misses them. “I wish, but there isn’t one anymore. I know all the rules. I’m so fucking tired, Ryan. Are you still looking for me?”

“Danny?” He’s so exhausted that it takes too long, far too long, for it to really sink in that Danny isn’t talking to him at all, but to some memory he’s having, that Danny’s lost in the woods again.

“I wish I got to keep my name.” Danny whimpers the words more than speaks and then slides straight to the floor in one swift motion. Ryan can’t cross the distance in time to stop him and Danny thumps to the ground nearly bonelessly, still braced against the door frame, closing his eyes slowly and resting the side of his head against it. “You have to look in the woods, Ryan. We’re in the woods.”

When Ryan crouches in front of him, reaching out one hand, he doesn’t flinch or pull away, not when Ryan’s palm presses against his sweaty, boiling-hot forehead, not when he feels the rabbit-fast flutter of his pulse in the side of his neck. 

“Whatever you want,” Danny mumbles, eyes half-opening, then closing again. “Do whatever you want. I’ll be good.”

He’s going to have to stand Danny up, and he can barely find the energy to straighten his legs for himself. Three days - three days of the fevers that come and go, the coughing that wakes him up when he does sleep, his mother’s worried phone calls, Vandrum being fucking useless because he’s sick, too.

He just.

It’s just too fucking much and Ryan never realized how hard it would be to do all of this totally alone.

“Danny, I’m so goddamn tired,” Ryan says out loud, near tears himself. “I can’t keep doing this, I can’t keep taking care of you-”

“S’okay,” Danny slurs back to him. “Go back t’bed. I can make breakfast. I need to do chores… s’time, he can’t see I’m late, he can’t, can’t see-” Danny starts trying to push himself back to his feet, and Ryan is half-impressed, half-horrified when his desperately ill brother manages to make himself stand back up, knees locked, glittering, distant eyes fixed on the sink. Ryan stands with him, slowly, his hands out but uncertain what to do next. “Do dishes. Start with dishes. He has to see I’m still working…”

Danny takes a step and simply collapses forward, but this time Ryan is there to catch him under the arms in an awkward half-hug, and Danny shudders at the touch but he’s too weak to pull away or fight back, too weak to even try.

“Look in the woods,” Danny mutters, and his forehead falls against Ryan’s shoulder, thumping into it hard enough to make Ryan wince. “Look in th’ woods for us. Sssshhhhh… everything’s so fuckin’ loud…”

“You’re the only one talking here, buddy,” Ryan murmurs, closing his own eyes just for a second, feeling himself sway a little, a sort of dip in his brain where the white fog of tired takes over before his eyes jolt back open. “Shit. I, I have to sleep, Dan, or I’m gonna die.”

“Don’ die,” Danny mutters, without moving even an inch. “Don’ die. Mom’ll be mad at me.”

Ryan laughs, and after a second Danny huffs a sound that might be laughter, too, and finally Ryan braces himself, pushing Danny back up to where he’s taking at least a little of his own weight. “Okay, okay. I got an idea. Go back to my room, okay? We’ll lie down in there.”

“I have to start chores,” Danny protests faintly, his eyes dancing around aimlessly again, then landing back on Ryan’s face. “Can you tell Mom to call me in sick today? There’s no way I’m going to school. Abraham’s gonna be so mad at me... I can’t go t’school today...”

“You’re twenty-six years old, big brother,” Ryan grunts as he manages to get Danny’s arm around his shoulder to hold him up, taking his weight, his head pounding. He just had to get to bed. Just that far, not too far at all. “You haven’t been in school for a long time.”

“Oh.” Danny frowns, confused, and when Ryan starts trying to walk, he drags his feet along beside him, nearly shuffling. Their progress down the hallway is slow, but damn it, it still counts as progress, and Ryan can see his bedroom door getting closer with every step. “Did I graduate? I don’t remember that.”

Ryan sighs, taking a pause to redistribute Danny’s weight. He’s going to fall over right here in the hallway, pass out and sleep for a week. Right there on the floor. Maybe someone will drop an omelet or something for him to eat while he’s down there.

Who would make it, though, if Danny and Vandrum are both totally useless? Maybe if he called his mother, she’d send Mrs. Verona over with, like, a fucking honeyed ham or something.

“No, Dan, you didn’t. You were still one semester out. They sent you an honorary degree, though, I have it stashed somewhere.”

You know, when they thought you were dead, when everyone but me gave up.

“Honor degree.” Danny giggles, the sound eerie and unfamiliar, a high-pitched noise he’s almost never made in Ryan’s entire memory. “Degree for honor. What’s honor when you fuck like I do now?”

“If there is a God, may you never say anything like that ever again.” Ryan manages to get his door open, although only barely, and he stumbles a few feet into the room before simply letting Danny fall right into the bed, breathing hard.

“May I have permission to sleep?” Danny mumbles, eyes already closing as he mostly crawls his way further into the bed. Ryan’s heard him ask Nate Vandrum that question every fucking night since they brought him home, with the occasional lapse when he remembers he’s a human being and grown-ass humans don’t have to ask permission to fall asleep.

Just like they shouldn’t have to ask permission to shower or bathe or sit in a chair and not on the floor or eat with a fork or…

No. Too tired to be angry right now.

“Yes,” Ryan says heavily. “Yes, you can sleep.”

“Thank you for letting me sleep, Ryan.” The voice is soft and fuzzy, gentle and grateful, and Ryan fucking hates Danny’s stupid fucking rules and his stupid fucking puppy voice. And he hates that he’s so tired that he can’t stop himself from being angry that Danny still uses it rather than focusing on the fact that sometimes, for whole days, he doesn’t.

“No problem, buddy. Get some rest.”

He watches Danny curl up, turning his six-foot-two body into something shockingly small. His knees go to his chest and his arms curve over his head with his hands loosely splayed over his hair, a defensive position to ward off the blows that might be coming at any time.

He never slept like that before, he’d said to Vandrum one night early on, when they’d both woken up and caught Danny curled up like that on the floor next to the couch.

Yeah, w-w-well, your p-parents didn’t w-w-wake him up with head t-trauma, did they? Nate had said, and Ryan had hated him a little less, in the moment, when he’d seen the guilt written across his face. Nate was always guilty, and he damn well should be, but Ryan had plenty to be guilty about, too.

Plenty to make up for.

And he’ll be right back to that as soon as he gets some goddamn sleep.

Ryan sighs, swaying a little, and finally climbs in, sliding under the covers, unruly black curls falling over his face. He watches Danny, already out, curled up and ready to be kicked awake at any moment.

He falls asleep with one hand out, resting on top of the comforter within inches of Danny, not quite touching him.

#Daniel Michaelson's story #Bad Things Happen Bingo #bthb Daniel Michaelson's story #whump #trauma recovery #angry caretaker #broken whumpee #deconditioning #conditioning #dehumanization #pet whump #recovery whump #hurt/comfort #h/c #sick fic #of a sort #I suppose #ryan michaelson is a good brother

[suhmayzooka]

cursed child broadway, December 28, 2019

my sister (S) and i were fortunate enough to get tickets for the third row, right by the aisle, making us right in the center.  I was a bit worried about the seats being so close to the stage, but it was absolutely amazing to be so close to the action. it was immersive, and i felt like i was part of the action.

S is my polar opposite.  she’s not a potterhead, for starters, and likes to call me (and everyone else in the theater, especially those in cosplay) a loser.  she’s heavily involved with her school’s theater -- acting and stage crew -- and i call her a theater nerd.  she’s an aspiring actress, and almost gave my mom a heart attack when she announced her plan to study acting in college (they compromised, and now S intends to major in psychology in addition to acting).  i didn’t know she was interested in cursed child since she eschews all ‘nerdy’ things, but she said that she ‘wanted to see how bad it was.’

she’s been the only extrovert in our family since she was born. she’s a hatstall between gryffindor and slytherin (although she identifies with the lion).  if you’re reading this, i’m assuming you like cursed child and perhaps are involved with the fandom.  ever read the tea time series on ao3? S is lily luna.  she’s the embodiment of how everyone writes lily luna.  she cursed out our dad a few days ago.  she made me spend the equivalent of two hours of work on fucking soda and popcorn because she didn’t listen to me when i told her to pack a clif bar.  this is what i put up with.

she actually enjoyed the show!  i was shocked.  she loved the effects.

after part one, she turned to me and went, “please just tell me one thing: do albus or scorpius die?”

i was surprised by her question.

she explained: “because at this point all i care about is their romance, and if they don’t get together or if they die i’m leaving the theater.”

this is coming from someone who ranted to me about how she doesn’t understand why people ship non-canon pairings since ‘not every friendship has to be romance.’ and here she was genuinely invested in scorbus? my heart…

i’m a good big sister, so i told her really vague statements like “our heroes will find themselves in danger several times during this act...” “one person’s pain is used to inflict pain on the other” and similar things.  eventually, she became convinced that scorpius would be revealed to be voldemort’s son and harry would accidentally kill him. not sure how she came up with that.

i guess everyone caught the plague? the coughing would Not stop.  S started making fun of them. and it’s like...everyone was a-okay during wand dance.  there were no coughs in the opening choreography for part two.  no, everyone had to succumb to coughing fits during the quiet, emotional moments.

“i always wanted a best mate to get up to mayhem with--”

COUGHCOUGHPHLEGMCOUGHHACKHACKHACKPHLEGMPHELGMCOUGHCOUGH

“--you’re my best friend--”

COUGHCOUGHPHLEGMCOUGHHACKHACKHACKPHLEGMPHELGMCOUGHCOUGH

for every. emotional. scene. maybe they were choked up on their tears.

at the last minute we decided to do stage door.  as in, we had already left the theater, saw the line outside, and were like, “sure.” unfortunately we had left our playbills in the theater since my hands were occupied holding her soda and popcorn since apparently she’s incapable of doing so…

i’m using google and my shitty facial recognition to remember who was who.  we (she) spoke to zell steele morrow (young harry), karen janes woditsch (mcgonagall), nadia brown (rose), james snyder (harry), and nicholas podany (albus).  unfortunately, we had to catch our train and left just as jonno roberts (draco) came out :( i think he was S’s favorite.

anyway here are my (our) thoughts:

1. Characters

~nicholas podany is a really good albus! he’s very mischievous, and you can see the wheels in his head turning as he comes up with his (increasingly more ridiculous) plans.  whenever he comes up with an idea he looks at scorpius like :O and it gets funnier as the play goes on.

~bubba weiler is a lot of fun. he’s very physical actor, and he really hams it up.  his scorpius is meant to be seen rather than read.  most of the comic relief is written for scorpius, and there seemed to be roars of laughter after every other line.  he shook his hips at “MALFOOYYYY THE UNAANXIOUSSS” and (exaggeratedly) pretended to march in place for “MY GEEKNESS IS A-QUIVERING!!” he purred at rose.  he flailed his entire body around when he was crucio-d :( one thing i noticed was how he carried himself.  scorpius spent a lot of time sitting hunched over, rocking slightly back and forth (most noticeable when he was introduced, but he hunched over and rocked on the staircase several times as well). when he stands he’s rubbing his thumbs or the hems of his robes.  his leg was bouncing nonstop in the library scene.  anyway what i’m trying to say is scorpius malfoy is neurodivergent. ableists don’t interact.

~for some reason S says that both scorpius and albus are unlikeable, but they’re cute together.  she was very proud when scorpius yelled at albus for being “the most terrible friend.”

~the chemistry between scorbus is There. it’s clear podany and weiler are close friends irl; they’re extremely comfortable together and play off each other really well.  

~matt mueller is great as ron. he works well with what he’s been given...not his fault thorne/tiffany decided to make ron a caricature with very little resemblance to canon ron...but that’s a rant for another day :] he’s delightful on stage.  he’s funny and charming.

~i’ll admit i wasn’t really feeling jenny jules as hermione, at least in part one.  she’s really playful, especially in the scene in her office where she offers harry a “to~fee~!” she was really great in the dark timeline, however.

~my romione heart

~the man himself, james snyder as harry potter!  was um, very shouty? very angry all the time.  he’s under a lot of stress.  his son disappeared in time.  i’ll let it slide.

~jonno roberts was literally draco malfoy.  his sneer, his swagger, everything was absolutely as i imagined draco 20 years in the future would be.  he’s so protective of scorpius...when the adults travel back to 1981 to find their sons, he picks scorpius up as they hug? and then instead of breaking apart, he sort of...put one arm around scorpius’s neck? like a backwards neck travel pillow thing. scorpius held his arm as draco looked around behind him for any danger.  it was really cute.

~diane davis was a really protective ginny.  all the fiery ginny from the books that was absent from the films made its way into her.  

2. Scenes

~one criticism i have is the fact that everyone speaks really quickly.  it’s a five hour play and i get that they’re trying to contain all the dialogue within that time but like...it’s a dialogue-heavy show.  i knew what was going on since i’m familiar with the script and the story, but there were parts when S and other members of the audience were confused. this was especially noticeable during the trolley witch scene.  literally nothing could be heard over the music and the sound effects, and several people around us were audibly confused and asking each other what was happening.  i mean, it doesn’t make a lot more sense with the dialogue, but at least let us hear what the characters are saying!

~podany, snyder, and (at times) weiler were the worst offenders.  weiler’s good at physical comedy, punctuating his iconic lines with clownlike movements for laughs since no one would know what he’s saying otherwise.  e.g. “we stand over the baby and scream” was almost inaudible, so we just heard “HEEELLLPPP HEEEEELLLP!” it was effective since the whole theater laughed, i guess. take this with a grain of salt; we were only a few feet away from the stage, so maybe our audio wasn’t the best.  

~roberts was crystal clear at all times

~S fell in love with scorbus during the staircase ballet.  if you’ve seen that one clip from this cast you know why.  the YEARNING.

~the LIBRARY scene! i reblogged audio of this a few months ago. oh my god, it’s perfect.  it hits the emotional highs and lows.  when albus said, “i wasn’t a loser before i met you,” there was a collective gasp and we all “OOOOOOOOOOH”-ed.  everyone was invested in this. weiler’s performance is really emotional, he’s holding back tears, i’m holding back tears. podany’s gets so soft when he talks about how kind he is.  i actually clenched my heart. “friends?” “always.” audience: “OOOOOOOOOH!”

~i can confirm that myrtle’s “girls...AND BOYS” is directed straight at albus.  his eyes widen, and he sheepishly shrugs his shoulders and is very excited to change the topic.

~scorpius’s imaginary friend was named hector.  idk if he improvises it every time, or if he decided to change it to hector from flurry, but his delivery was great.  sweetly: “oh, i had one of those too!” scathing hiss: “HECTOR.”

~the biggest jumpscare of the play was when scorpius emerged from the lake at the end of part one.  it was all dark, and then he shoots out of the water, gasping. i jumped.

~voldemort walked down the aisle right next to us.  S was terrified that he’s jump or touch her, so she curled up next to me.

~i was interested in how the penultimate scene would play out, since i heard that weiler and podany really play up their relationship, but scorpius had spent every scene with rose purring at her.  she came and imitated a scorpion when she said “scorpion king,” curving her hand and making a hissing noise, which elicited a few “oohs” from the audience.  then the Hug...the “new version of us” line is said as they hug, and they just. stood there for a few moments, hugging.  when albus goes “you better ask rose” scorpius looks up at him and blinks, goes, “.........uh oh yeah, rose….” and goes off stage.  right before he exits he looks at albus, and albus keeps watching him after he leaves. uhh anyway scorbus is canon and so is pollyrose

~“dad...i don’t want to be a wizard anymore.” (dead silence) “i want to go into pigeon racing” *breaks into the biggest shit-eating grin and cracks up*.  the last shot is harry holding albus as he silently weeps.  Ookay.

~due to several instances of childhood trauma, my sister’s biggest fear is birds (especially chickens, ostriches, and...pigeons).  she didn’t know why people laughed at harry’s confession that he was afraid of pigeons, because to her that’s a valid fear.  we saw a pigeon in the train station and she almost cried.

3. Stage door

~S did most of the talking.  she told everyone “so sorry we don’t have our playbill! you did such a great job!” and then struck up mini conversations.  i stood nodding like “good job!” looking like this :]

~first up was (i believe) zell steele morrow! he’s so cute and was really upbeat.  S finally found someone shorter than her…

~karen janes woditsch asked what houses we’re in.  S was like “gryffindor!” and she smiled, i told her “ravenclaw” and she was like, “well...i love all my students equally….”

~i didn’t recognize james snyder since he was dressed like he was in the arctic.  neither did S.

~nadia brown was so sweet!  you could tell she really loved seeing fans.  there was a group behind us in line who apparently were here for their third viewing, and they conversed like they were old friends.

~nicholas podany came out wearing a t shirt. in december.  i was cold because i forgot to wear gloves and he came out in a t shirt.  the group behind us asked if he was cold and he said that he was hot from running around the stage.  S told him that he did great, she asked how long he was performing (ten months since february) and her response was “oh, that makes sense, you were good!” he went on about how he loves performing, how each night is different based on the crowd and how we were such a great crowd, and i could feel S like. sinking into the sidewalk. i just nodded at him and went “good job.”

~he’s my height, maybe slightly shorter (i’m 5’6/167 cm) and very pale.  i think S has a crush on him since she wants to go back to “apologize for being so awkward.” growing up she had a crush on daniel radcliffe, too, so i guess she has a thing for potters.

~the group behind us went on about how much they loved harry potter, had been fans their whole lives, etc. podany’s apparently a huge potterhead, but not the biggest in the cast: they all came together to see who was the biggest potterhead, and the answer is the actor who plays cedric (forgot his name and the internet isn’t helping, sorry!) -- his tv (?) remote is in the shape of a wand! the rest of them are nerdy enough to fact-check the director lmao

~we didn’t get to actually speak with jonno roberts, but we saw him interacting with other fans.  he seems like a cool guy.

#ccsquad #cursed child #i see cc

[peraltiago-lover]

For the rest of our lives

Set after the events of AMATW.

Her mom is back. 

Whoa, it sounds surreal, but she is. Janet Van Dyne is back and her family is complete again. And yet, she can’t quite figure out why she’s been staring at the kitchen’s wall for over an hour, feeling a little dizzy. Well, that’s not entirely true. She’s been thinking about Scott nonstop since last week’s events. Hope was so trapped in her own thoughts that she did not notice her mom taking a seat right in front of her.

“Honey, are you okay?” Janet was sitting across the table with a cup of coffee in her hands “you’ve been so absent minded lately”

Hope snapped out of her bubble and looked at her mom, nodding. “Yeah” she said a little bit distracted “yeah I’m fine mom, don’t worry”

Janet wasn’t buying any of it. She might have spent 30 years trapped in the Quantum Realm, but she still could read her daughter like an open book.

“It’s Scott, right honey? He’s what’s been on your mind lately” she said, looking right into Hope’s eyes.

“Scott, wha-” Hope chuckled and looked away from her mom “No, Scott’s just… he’s just my par-” she was cut by her mother.

“Your partner? Oh honey, I’ve seen how you look at him, and how your face lights up whenever he’s around. He’s not just your partner, isn’t he?”

Hope was a little caught up by this, blushing a little and looking down at her feet. “The truth? I don’t really know, mom” she looked kind of sad when she looked up “I hated him at first, you know. I hated that dad preferred some stranger over her own daughter to wear the suit. It enraged me that after all, he did not trust me enough to let me take over. And Scott… he was just too much for me to handle.” Hope looked at Janet, who nodded knowingly. “But then he started to be his charming self. He’s immature and impulsive and he never knows when to be serious and he always makes stupid comments, and I… I couldn’t resist any longer, so I gave in. He grew on me. We didn’t really label it, but we grew closer, until one day I found myself kissing him and, other stuffing with him.” She felt a little embarrassed; all in all this was her mom she was talking to.  “I actually found myself so close to loving him” Hope blushed again and stopped, feeling a little overwhelmed because she hadn’t actually said this out loud to anyone.

“Then what happened?” Janet asked. She’s missed a lot around here.

“Then Germany happened” Hope took a breath “He went on this mission that broke a ton of accords without saying a word, not to dad, and not to me. He got caught and Dad and I had to run away. I was so angry, mom, I felt betrayed and I was actually heartbroken. And that was the last time I saw him before he was put on house arrest” A small tear slid down Hope’s face and Janet brushed it away.

“And then this whole mess, two years later. We needed Scott’s suit and I had to break him out of his house. I spent two years thinking that the only thing that I would feel when I saw him again would be anger. And it was like that in the beginning” Hank appeared, and Janet looked at him, silently asking him to stay outside, so he just leant on the threshold. “But then, he started to be himself, and my anger melted and I couldn’t help but have this feeling inside me, something that drawn me to him like a magnet. And eventually all started to come back to me, all the feelings. I tried to fight it; I tried as hard as I could. But then he went all superhero and almost died on that deck and I couldn’t hold it anymore so I kissed him” Hope let a small smile scape and Janet looked up at Hank, who was looking at Hope with a knowing grin.

Janet just waited for Hope to keep going. Hope was overwhelmed by her own thoughts and feelings.

“I… kissed him, yeah, because I was so scared I was going to lose him and the moment our lips touched, it just felt right, and I knew that’s where I wanted to be.” Hope’s eyes locked with her mom’s and Janet could see it so clear, her daughter was in love

“And what’s bothering you so much that you’re not telling him all of this?” Hope lowered her gaze, taking a closer look to her kitchen floor.

“I don’t know mom, I just… I just have this sick feeling that he’ll leave me again and…” Hope swallowed, closing her eyes, not being able to verbalise her fears.

Hank appeared from behind and rested a hand in Hope’s shoulder. She didn’t look up at him, but leaned into him instead, looking for some comfort. She then opened her eyes and sighted.

“And that I won’t be able to take it” Hope rested her face in both her palms for a few minutes before she spoke again.

“I just don`t want him to wake up one day and feel that I am not what he wants and that he needs to leave. I have been told many times, that I don’t know how to love. That I am cold-hearted and that I’d never find love because no one would ever love someone like me. An Ice queen, as they used to call me. I used to dismiss those comments, but now I’m not sure if I’m really capable of loving someone without hurting them.”

Hope’s eyes filled with tears.

“The truth is that I love him, mom” she chuckled “I love Scott with all my heart and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“And have you tried telling him this?” she stayed silent “Hope, honey, love is hard, it is complicated and doesn’t always work the way we would like to but we dive in anyways, because it’s worth it. It can hurt sometimes, but... It wouldn’t be love if it didn’t. Pain is part of the pack, the more you love someone, the more vulnerable you are to being hurt by them; but the good outweighs the bad.” Janet smiled at her, with a loving look on her face, when Hank spoke for the first time.

“You have to trust him Hope. I know we had our disagreements and I didn’t like him very much at the beginning, but he’s a good guy.” He approached Janet and put an arm around her, looking down at her. “You know Hope, when you realise you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

Hope then looked at her parents. She realised that was what love was all about. Overcoming difficulties and problems together, because no matter what, what they felt for one another tied them together. That’s what gave them the strength to keep going.

“Go and tell that man of yours how you feel. Let yourself be happy” Janet kissed her forehead and both her and Hank left the kitchen. Hope then was left alone with her thoughts.

Hank and Janet were walking up the stairs when they heard the door shutting close and the sound of an engine starting.

“Come on Hope, relax” Hope was repeating this to herself while she drove to Scott’s. She was grabbing the wheel so hard that her knuckles were turning white. Even thought it was barely a ten minute ride it felt like an eternity.

“Whoa, geez, okay. It’s now or never, Hope” She was facing his door, deciding whether or not to ring the doorbell. After a solid five minutes of going back and forth, she chickened out. “I can’t do this” and she turned around and started to walk out of his front yard when she heard the door cracking open.

“Hope?” Scott asked from behind “what are you doing here?”

She froze.

Oh my god Hope what were you thinking, this was such a bad idea.

She turned to face him and she then felt her knees go weaker.

“Scott! Hey, uhh, I was just-” it was like Hope’s brain stopped working. “I was just passing by the neighbourhood”

“And you casually appeared in my front yard?” Scott inquired, a small smile showing in the side of his mouth.

“Well, I...” Hope breathed in and was ready to try and say something, but before she could articulate a word, Scott took her hand and guided her inside.

“Come on, it’s cold outside” he said, gently pulling her inside the house. Hope didn’t oppose to it, feeling a shiver just by the feeling of his hand in hers.

He then closed the door, and leant into the kitchen counter.

“So, hi...” he started, looking Hope, who was standing right before him.

“Hi” she said, smiling a little bit, feeling the nerves slowly fade away. “You know I wasn’t just passing by… It’s, um… I wanted to tell you something, but I haven’t quite figured out how to say it”

Scott had a serious expression, but he was sure as hell that you could hear the sound of his heart pounding against his chest if you paid enough attention.

“So I guess I’ll just say it. Geez, okay” Hope was walking back and forth, and after taking a breath, she looked at him. “You and I are not the kind of people who say ‘I love you’. Well, at least I’m not anymore, I know better than that. It’s a lie, you don’t just meet your perfect match and then everything is beautiful and perfect and- that’s not how life works, and if anyone understands that it is you and me”

“Wha-“Scott was a little lost

“Ok, stick with me” Hope came closer to him “I tend to push people away, I spent the past 30 years building this wall around my heart to protect me and it was okay- I was okay. Until you came in the picture, and started to tear that wall apart brick by brick.  And I let you, I tried so hard to avoid it, but I liked you, Scott, so much. And I eventually started to love you.”

Scott smiled but before he could say anything she continued.

“But then Germany happened, and you left without hesitation, without even thinking about me, about what would mean for us that you left. And it tore me apart Scott I’m not going to lie. And all that cold came back within me.” Hope’s eyes were filled with tears on the verge of falling.

Scott was looking at her, sadness and guilt in his eyes. God, he messed up big time.

“And then you came back. And we started to work together again and I just couldn’t help but feel warm again.” She took his hand in hers, interlacing their fingers together. “Scott, I can’t go through that again. I need to know that you’ll be here, I need to know that you won’t leave me again.” A silent tear fell down her cheek, and Scott gently brushed it away.

“Hope, I know I messed up, and I know I hurt you. Believe me when I say it haunted me every day for the past two years. I can’t change what happened, but I can assure you I´ll be with you every step of the way if you want me to. We are partners, aren’t we?”

She gulped and tried to avoid his gaze before making a hesitant sound. Scott’s eyes were the most delicate shade of green mixed with a flecked crown of amber. Hope so desperately wanted to stare longer as his face came closer, but her eyes had already fallen shut. In the several breaths standing between them, when the tip of his nose just barely grazed hers, and they were so close, it was as if the two of them still considered that maybe it wasn’t the best idea. Scott was afraid of disappointing her. Hope was afraid of losing him. Both of them standing between loving and losing the best thing they had.

But then she pushed herself up on her toes and he met her halfway. Their lips touched, so gentle, barely moving, like if they were checking if it was okay for them to touch. But after a second, they crushed harder against each other, kissing fiercely, trying to express with that kiss everything they couldn’t say out loud. He brought her closer and her fingers graced at the back of his neck, entwining with his hair. Scott kissed her neck, sending goosebumps down her spine.

“I hope you meant the ‘dating’ type of partner” Hope said against his neck.

“Oh, no, this is just sparring here. You know, two years alone is a long time.” Hope put a fake offended face, and Scott just laughed “You know I think I might have missed why you were here in the first place. Mind showing me again?

Of course he would ask for another kiss.

She leaned and gave him a soft peck on the lips. He stepped closer and sighted. There was sincerity in how pure the kiss was that made Scott want to cry.

They stood there for a few seconds, looking into each other’s eyes, hands entwined.

“I love you, Scott” she finally said. It felt right, to just say it after all this time. She smiled.

He loved his smile, how it could light up the room. He just knew, this is where he wanted to be.

“I love you too, Hope”

And they kissed again, this time less carefully and more hungry.

The next morning Hope woke up to the sun bathing her, she tried to move but felt a strong arm around her, pulling her closer to the male figure next to her.

Scott.

Hope blushed at the thought of last night’s events. She did it. She really did it. She confessed her feelings and then… well they did other stuff together. She couldn’t see her face but she was sure her expression was just pure bliss.

She started to gently draw small patterns with her finger in Scott’s bare chest. He opened his eyes a few minutes later.

“Hi” he kissed her head and looked down at her “did you sleep well?”

Hope, who was still focused on Scott’s chest nodded in agreement.

“It’s actually the best sleep I’ve had in a long time” she smiled.

She lifter her head and locked her lips with his, resuming what they started last night.

Oh well, she could get used to this.

Little did she know, she would be getting up to this for the rest of her life.

And maybe the ones to come.

#antman #ant man and the wasp #scott and hope #langdyne #fluff #love #marvel #hope van dyne #scott lang #scott and hope fanfic #langdyne fanfic

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 204: Chintetsu

Previously on BnHA: Shouto left Endeavor on read. Team TodoIidaShoujiRo attacked Team TetsuHonePonySen head-on, hitting them with a wave of ice and freezing them all in place. But it turns out Honenuki’s quicksand quirk is actually a “softening” quirk which can soften anything he touches. He used that to melt the ice to allow his teammates to escape. It also turns out that he had pre-treated some of the surrounding area with his quirk, and Ojiro and Iida came crashing down from their hiding spots shortly after as the softened ground gave way beneath them. Sen attacked Ojiro with his drill quirk while Pony took on Shouji. Meanwhile Tetsu went for Shouto, realizing a direct attack was his best bet. And Honenuki trapped Iida under a layer of the softened ice, but then made the mistake of rehardening it, intending to keep him stuck in place. Instead, Iida blasted free with his Recipro, revealing that he’s built up his endurance to the special move. So now we’ll see if he can take Honenuki down.

Today on BnHA: We get a wholesome Iida flashback to when Tensei explained how to upgrade his Recipro by -- wait, what? Mutilating his own fucking leg?! Holy shit. That’s not wholesome at all. What the fuck. But anyway, it worked I guess because back in the present day Iida is zipping along at speeds faster than Gran fucking Torino, and he’s able to maintain this speed for up to ten whole minutes. The only downside is that he can’t fully control himself because he’s so goddamn fast and so he keeps skidding around. Anyway, so Honenuki is like “nope” and gets the fuck out of there. Meanwhile Sen continues to whoop Ojiro’s ass, but then Iida shows up to save him so yay. Elsewhere the Tetsuroki fight has heated up, quite literally, as Todoroki activates his left side to create a wall of fire, and Tetsutetsu proceeds to walk right through it and attack Shouto as a red hot steel man. Shouto thinks back to his dad’s training and decides that the solution to this is clearly to make shit even hotter, so he starts up with that, and the chapter ends.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my mostly-unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’m caught up with the manga now at chapter 223, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

ohhh my god

IIDA FAM FLASHBACKS!??!

AHHHHH

EXCUSE ME IS THIS THE FUCKING FUTURE OR NOT?? CAN WE GET IIDA TENSEI A FUCKING HOVERCHAIR HERE PEOPLE? IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK. IF ONLY HORIKOSHI WAS AT ALL FAMILIAR WITH MARVEL COMICS -- OH, WAIT

but seriously though. also he’s supposed to be rich too isn’t he? c’mon

also! Iidamom looks exactly like I expected her to. welcome to our canon full of other awesome moms, Iidamom! a few more moms and I’ll be ready to do a top ten moms post. spoiler alert, the winner is not who you’d expect (unless you’re expecting Aizawa, because then you’re absolutely right)

anyways so I got SUPER distracted just now but apparently Tensei is talking about “tuning up” Iida’s engine!

wow can they do that?? fucking quirks, though. wild

oh my fucking god

just yank that fucking muffler right the fuck out. and a new one will grow in!! fucking QUIRKS, though. WILD

dsfalkhsd

just yank that fucking muffler right the fuck out without anesthesia. what are you, a pussy!?

gee thanks Horikoshi for this graphic image of Iida biting down on something while he uses his bare hands to yank what are essentially bones -- or organs, or whatever! the point is they’re part of him! -- right out of his fucking body. might wanna add some vodka to that OJ tonight Iida

OH SHIT, THAT PAYOFF THOUGH

IN TEN MINUTES YOU COULD TAKE OVER THE FUCKING WORLD, IIDA!

okay maybe I got a little overexcited. but damn though!

so he’s DRRNing over to Honenuki and

oh my god

loool at the thought of Iida zooming around wildly for the next ten minutes while he tries to figure out how to stop this thing, and meanwhile Honenuki can’t land a hit on him though

GET HIM IIDA!!

oh fuck

can he breathe under there? you know, depending on how long they still have until time runs out, he could just hide for the next ten minutes and then emerge and drag the paralyzed Iida to Rat Principal Jail

(ETA: actually that was a stupid thought. obviously Iida doesn’t have to keep Recipro activated the whole time if there’s no need to.)

but no, he’s swimming back to Tetsu and the others for now

meanwhile Iida’s still up top and trying to figure out what he’s up to

maybe you should do the same

holy shit we’re cutting back to the kids outside and Deku says Iida’s even faster than Gran Torino

“by a long shot.” that’s fucking fast. and I love it

by the way, with the way Mina was pointing, I thought, “oh, maybe Ojiro’s finally getting the upper hand!”

but no

Horikoshi why do you hate poor Ojiro

it’s probably the pain of this guy kicking you in the chest with his rotating fucking foot

so he’s trying to figure out what to do because he can’t really attack, and he keeps getting hurt whenever he tries to guard

oh hey there

trying to decide if I’m disappointed that Ojiro will never get to do anything cool, or ecstatic that Iida fucking Tenya just pulled off a badass save of this caliber

leaning more toward ecstatic, honestly. sorry Ojiro

oh, Iida

nice use of the word “forthwith”, Iida

(ETA: and nice use of the word “slammer”!!)

and now he’s telling Ojiro to go help Todoroki and that he’ll be right back

well I guess class 1-A will need some sidekicks too

meanwhile we’re sticking with Iida, which means I’m going to keep right on posting all of his panels, because his dialogue honestly deserves a fucking pulitzer prize

never, Sen!

Sen’s trying to reason his way out of this and telling Iida that he shouldn’t let Honenuki get away because he’s more of a threat

and he’s also grumping about Iida interrupting his and Ojiro’s fight. “you shouldn’t interrupt a one-on-one fistfight like that”

um, says who? fuck that. we’re trying to win here, we can make friends after

Iida says if he allows his will to be bent here, it will be bent in the real world as well

basically he’s treating this seriously. well, good

meanwhile! we’re cutting back to two minutes prior!

I guess Tetsu’s best option is to somehow knock him out. but the problem is that Shouto’s reflexes are too good and he can create an ice barrier in an instant

I think Tetsu’s steel would allow him to withstand Shouto’s fire long enough to punch him on his left side, though, so that would be my personal strategy if it were me

heh

A+ attack name. Shouto I’m sorry, I love you, but if I’m being honest I’m rooting for this guy here

heh

so you think he should try the fire instead? I’m not so sure that’s the best play in this case though. at least with the ice he has better control and he can hold him at bay. I just don’t think the fire would be that effective against Tetsu, but I’m sure we’ll find out shortly

because Tetsu’s bragging about how easily he can break through Shouto’s ice defense

ah here we go

for some reason Bakugou actually wanted to go up against this. still don’t quite understand it. my baby boy got a death wish

lol Pony’s running off. honestly a miracle she wasn’t incinerated just now

Shouto’s yelling at Shouji to go after her and Shouji’s all “got it”

yeah I’m thinking my initial assessment was right and this was indeed a mistake

fucking great. now you’ve got a molten steel man after your ass, Shouto

LOL

holy fucking shit. just in case anyone isn’t aware, “chinchin” means “penis” usually. so yeah

and I fucking love that here he’s using it to mean “hot”, but it could also be a throwback to the whole “five peepee man” thing, which he doesn’t actually know about but I do, and so to me this is the funniest thing ever okay

I have no further comment

oh fuck

no but as you can plainly see he is no stranger to burns, so please try not to maim him too badly...!?

lol Vlad has started narrating again. no doubt elated that his team is somehow eking out a win in what initially appeared to be the most one-sided matchup we were going to see today

uh oh but now it looks like Tetsu may have accidentally triggered the quirk development that Endeavor was trying to trigger but couldn’t because Shouto won’t return his damn texts

before I continue to the next and presumably final page of this chapter, I’m just gonna take a moment here to appreciate the irony of Endeavor accidentally conditioning Shouto to never listen to him ever, even on the occasions where it turns out he’s right. he spent years trying to get Shouto to use his flame side, but failed utterly, and then in the span of one fight Deku did what Endeavor had spent Shouto’s whole life trying to get him to do

and now it’s happening again here, where we see that Endeavor was once again trying to teach him something, but Shouto just ignored him until a random kid from the class next door just happened to say something similar. and then it clicked

like, it’s a major burn on Endeavor (no pun intended), but it’s also really unfortunate for Shouto, because his dad has been such a prick until recently that he’s missed out on absorbing the few worthwhile things he actually had to teach him. lot of lost time to make up for here, on both sides

anyways, let’s watch as Shouto slowly processes all this

well I assume (a) because of the “surpassing my limits” thing, and (b) because he’s been texting you nonstop and it was probably on your mind even though you were stubbornly trying to pretend it wasn’t

lol what kind of cliffhanger is this??

he’s not even doing anything! come on Shouto what are you doing to us. this isn’t fair

also, what happened to your hand? why is it all smooth. I assume because of some fire bullshit you’re about to do, but that’s still just weird looking

oh and on the last page there’s a long translator note explaining what I mentioned before about “chinchin” meaning penis. sometimes on select occasions I’m down with Horikoshi perpetually having the mind of a 12-year-old. if he wants to make this a recurring thing I won’t complain, lol

#bnha #boku no hero academia #iida tenya #honenuki juuzou #kaibara sen #ojiro mashirao #todoroki shouto #tetsutetsu tetsutetsu #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #listen though #if tensei doesn't have a goddamn hoverchair by the next time we see him then I am going to start making some calls #and writing some emails #there is no excuse #don't tell me we don't have the technology when a high schooler is out here building jetpacks just for fun #we have sassy robots and holograms but no hoverchairs?? #give me a break

[highfivecalum]

Wouldn’t Miss A Chance {CH} 15

Previous Chapters: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine TenEleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen

❋ ❋ ❋

IT HAD BEEN A FULL WEEK since the party and since Ashton had come home. Calum and Sophie tried to get ahold of him, tried to explain everything to him, but he ignored all of their calls and texts. They knew he was upset and more so pissed off, but they thought they deserved the chance and opportunity to explain themselves.

Things between Calum and Sophie were good, great, almost perfect even. With it just being the two of them in the house they could have sex and be as open and lovey as they wanted to without fear of Ashton lashing out or feeling uncomfortable. The only thing bothering Sophie was the nagging voice in the back of her head telling her not to trust Calum after he told her he spent the night at Sarah’s.

Sophie knew she should trust him. She knew that he wouldn’t hurt her, not intentionally at least, but the jealous and paranoid part of her made it hard for her to. The fact that she had been cheated on before and lied to really messed up her trust issues, so she didn’t think she was being completely crazy and paranoid when it came to the potential of Calum sleeping with Sarah, especially since she knew they had a history.

She just really hoped that she was wrong.

Not having to work that day or night and with Calum out doing stuff, Sophie sat alone in the house with her thoughts that were driving her absolutely crazy. She knew she needed to get up off the couch and do something, distract herself and keep her mind occupied, so she finally peeled her body off of the couch and got up to shower and get ready. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do by herself, but she knew she needed to get out of the house.

After her very much needed shower and after applying her makeup and finding a suitable outfit for the weather, Sophie grabbed her car keys and drove in the direction of the mall. It wasn’t far, just over ten minutes, and she was glad when she easily found a parking spot in the crowded parking garage.

Sophie walked around the mall for a little bit, still not entirely sure where she wanted to go or what she wanted to do, but when she saw a large SALE sign in the window of one of her favorite stores, she knew she had to go in. She hadn’t been shopping in a while and she had saved almost all of her money she had been making from the bar, so she decided to treat herself.

Sophie picked out a pair of jeans, a few tops, and a few pairs of lacy underwear and bras to match. She tried them all on, smiling widely when everything fit perfectly and looked great-- that was a rare occurrence for her when it came to shopping, she usually had no luck. Happily making her way towards to the counter, she was stopped by somebody calling her. Spinning around, Sophie was face to face with Clara.

“Sophie! Hi,” Clara pulled her in for a quick hug which Sophie returned. Sophie hadn’t seen Clara since the night of the party and she was happy they ran into each other because Sophie was dying to know how Ashton was doing and if he was okay. “How are you doing?”

Sophie tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and shrugged. “I’m alright. I’ve been better.”

Clara knew it was because of Ashton and Calum and the fight between the three of them and Sophie didn’t even have to ask before Clara was opening her mouth and talking about Ashton. “He’s really upset,” Clara sighed and Sophie furrowed her eyebrows. “Ashton, I mean.”

“Right,” Sophie nodded her head and laughed sadly. “You probably think I’m the worst sister ever; dating my brother’s best friend. Has he said anything about it?”

“I don’t think that,” Clara assured her. “And not really, no. He just huffs and mopes around and when I try to get him to talk about it he just shuts me out. I just think he never expected that to happen so he was totally blindsided by it, you know?” Sophie nodded her head. “And I think he’s worried about you and just trying to look out for you since he knows Calum well and knows he doesn’t do relationships well.”

“And I understand that, I do, I just-” Sophie ran a frustrated hand through her hair and exhaled a sigh. She wanted to cry at the thought of Ashton hating the idea of her and Calum together. “I just wish he would talk to me and let me explain things. He ignores my calls and I’m pretty sure he blocked Calum’s number.”

“Want me to talk to him?”

“Oh no,” Sophie shook her head. “I don’t want to drag you into it. Ashton’s already pissed at us, he doesn’t need to be pissed at you, too.”

“I don’t mind. If you and Calum are really happy together and if it’s a serious thing then Ashton needs to hear you guys out and let you explain. I think he owes you that much.” Clara smiled sympathetically. “And I’m also tired of him moping around my apartment.” She laughed lightly and Sophie smiled.

“Well, thank you, Clara. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course.” Clara waved Sophie off like it was no big deal, but to Sophie it was. “I’ll let you go now, though. I hope everything works out for you guys.” The pair said their goodbyes, giving each other a quick hug before Clara was making her way to the fitting rooms and Sophie making hers to the registers.

Sophie walked aimlessly around the mall thinking about what Clara had said. Clara was right, Ashton did owe Calum and Sophie that much, but she wasn’t sure if Ashton thought about it that way. She hoped, prayed even, that Clara could get through to him.

Sophie was knocked out of her thoughts when she felt her phone vibrate in her back pocket. Pulling it out, her grim expression turned into a smile at the text from Calum.

Calum: Any plans tonight? I’m makin’ dinner for you if you’re free.

Sophie smiled and quickly wrote a text back to him, looking up every so often to make sure she didn’t bump into anyone, but was unsuccessful when she felt her body collide with another. She locked her phone and looked up to apologize. “I’m so sorry.” Her smile from Calum’s text diminished when she saw Sarah standing in front of her.

Sarah pursed her lips and looked Sophie up and down. “Sophie, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Hi.”

“You should really watch where you’re going.”

Sophie furrowed her eyebrows at the bitchy tone in Sarah’s voice. “I’m sorry, I was just-”

“Texting?” Sophie rolled her lips into her mouth and nodded her head. “Texting who?”

Sophie wanted to tell her that it wasn’t any of her business who she was texting, but unlike Sarah, Sophie was polite and had manners. “Um, Calum.”

Sarah’s eyes widened. “Oh. That’s surprising.”

“Why is that surprising?”

“I just figured after he stayed at my place that night you would have ended things, since you know, we hooked up and everything.” Sarah smiled and Sophie felt her insides twist. “Well, I gotta go, nice seeing you, though Sophie.”

Sophie was left there standing in the middle of the mall, mouth agape, and heart slowly breaking at Sarah’s words and she hoped to God that Sarah was lying, because if she wasn’t, Ashton was right, and Calum was capable of breaking her heart.

❋ ❋ ❋

Sophie sat at the dinner table across from Calum, twisting her pasta around on her plate while her brain tortured her with the thoughts of Calum and Sarah together. Was Sarah just jealous that Sophie and Calum were together? Or did Calum lie to her and they really did hook up? She couldn’t get her mind to shut the fuck up no matter how hard she tried.

The whole time Sophie helped Calum cook dinner she was in her own world and Calum noticed, but he didn’t say anything. He figured that maybe she was just tired or hungry and after she ate she would go back to her normal, smiling and nonstop talking self, but she didn’t, and Calum was getting worried.

“Sophie,” Calum repeated Sophie’s name louder this time and her head snapped up from her plate.

“Sorry. What?”

“I asked if you were okay.”

“Oh,” Sophie cleared her throat. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Calum frowned, knowing fully well that Sophie wasn’t fine, and stood up, completely forgetting about his food and rounded the table so he was in front of her. He crouched down, knees bent so now they were face to face and he took her hand in his. “Soph,” Calum mumbled. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Sophie shook her head although it wasn’t nothing. “It’s stupid.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothin’.”

Sophie exhaled a sigh and closed her eyes before telling Calum what happened. “I ran into Sarah when I was at the mall today and she-- she told me that when you stayed at her house the night of the party the two of you hooked up.”

Calum’s jaw locked and he looked away from Sophie. He shook his head angrily and stood up. “And you believed her?”

“I don’t know, Calum! I don’t know what to believe.”

“Nothing happened, Sophie. You gotta believe me.” Calum assured her and he wasn’t lying.

Sophie didn’t want to ask, but she did anyway. “What if I can’t believe you, Cal?”

“Then you’re gonna be the one breakin’ my heart. Not the other way around,” Calum laughed sadly and shook his head. “When I showed up, she was drunk and she tried to kiss me, tried to talk me into sleeping with her, but I told her no. And when I told her I was with you she got jealous and told me to crash on the couch and be gone when she woke up. Nothing happened, Soph, I swear to God,” Calum sighed and bent down so they were eye to eye again. He took her face in his hands and licked his lips. “You’re all I want. I don’t want anybody else but you.”

“Calum,” Sophie tried to interrupt him, tried to tell him that she believed him because she was the desperation and the sincerity in his eyes, but he kept talking, kept rambling. He was nervous, maybe even a little bit scared, and Sophie could tell.

“And I know I’m not good at relationships, but I’m tryin’ here, and I want to prove Ashton wrong so fuckin’ badly, because I’m not goin’ to break your heart, baby.” Sophie couldn’t help but smile at Calum’s confession and she knew that she could trust him. Hell, she did trust him with everything. “And I know I should have asked you this a while ago, but will you, finally and officially, be my girlfriend? Please?”

Sophie rolled her eyes at the man in front of her but nodded her head and pressed her lips against his in a light and quick kiss. “Yes, Calum. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Sophie swore she had never seen Calum smile so widely before, his pearly white teeth on full display and the little crinkles by the sides of his eyes, and she knew that it was her new favorite sight. She knew that she would do anything to see it.

❋ ❋ ❋

Taglist: @wrappedaroundcal @roselukes @hereforlukescruff @plainwhiteluke @astroashtonio @catchinqcalum @irwinkitten @irwinvalentines @mistletoemichael @youmaycallmemrshemmings @musicsavedme-00 @complete-trash-101 @jupitergranger @mysteriouslycali @lex-micole @sincerelycalum @calistheloml @kaxseychill @calteahood @mermaid-merrick @verybelowaverage @forggetablle @ihatemyself21 @rexorangecouny @alotof1dlove @dionnealberts @turtlenecktgc @nipplyportman @lauwenrodriguez @uncrowned-cal @ghstofcalum @cliffordcntrl @xx-cuddlemecalum-xx @it-was-a-lie @therainydays4 @booklove-2 @pattys-got-cakes @mpadge33 @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles @buddhas-princess @nostalgia-luke @tothemoonwithclifford @hopelessxcynic @dannisos @calpalbby @thebodaciouscth @blue-skies-are-alright @90s-good-vibes @sugarcoatedcalum @crystalisinfinite @toofadedtofight @girlstalkreality @rosesfromcth @parkerspicedlatte @rip-lukes-balsamic @miahelizaaabeth @wcstethenightt @mixedfeeelings @isabella-mae13 @antisocialbandmate @ohhmuke @absolute-moody 

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer imagines #5 seconds of summer imagine #calum hood #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #michael clifford #calum hood 5sos #5sos calum hood #calum 5sos #5sos calum #calum hood imagines #calum hood imagine #calum hood fanfic #calum imagine #calum imagines #calum hood blurbs #calum blurbs #calum fanfic #wouldn't miss a chance