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charleecat-bat · 6 months

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"So, what's the scariest thing that's ever happened to you? What happened?"

Tiberius' Story- Summer Camp Sighting

Okay. I haven’t really spoken about this to anyone but, what’s a better time to finally get it off my chest better than now, right?

I just hope no one gives me shit for this story. I’m not trying to fake nothin' for attention or exaggerate and all that bullshit. This happened.

I was around like... 9? 10 years old? I wasn’t TOO young, but not a tween yet, pre-pubescent. Anyway. My parents had decided to sign me up for Summer Camp. I wasn’t sure if I was gonna be into the whole thing, but my gramps had signed my dad up as a kid, and while he hated it at first, he wound up loving it and going back to it for years. So I guess my old man hoped the same would happen for me.

If only it turned out that way...

I’m embarrassed to say, but… I wasn’t as popular as I wished I was as a kid. I was picked on a lot for a lot of bullshit reasons. Especially to do with stuff I couldn’t help, like my fur colour or how small I was. I hated it. I was a huge target for a lot of the big kids. And for those asking ‘What about the counsellors?’ Well, you know those typical teenager-20-year-old counsellors in horror movies? That were less focused on the kids and more on smoking, drinking and putting their tongues down each other's throats? Yeah, those were the type of counsellors I had, and the few decent ones- well, just didn’t really do much to help me.

What made it worse was that despite this, I was so desperate to seem cool to most of the kids. I did a lot of shit that wound up just making me look stupid or getting me hurt. Kids can be fucking cruel.

Anyway, not important.

It was evening time and just about everyone was sat around a giant bonfire, just doing their own thing. Honestly, due to how most of the counsellors were focused on themselves, I'm shocked that I don’t remember a lot of the kids sneaking off. Maybe they did. Wouldn't surprise me. I don’t remember quite what happened at this point, but a bunch of the little shit ‘cool kids’ that I wanted to be friends with so had just finished doing another hazing ritual to me. I even don’t remember what it was, but I do know it was embarrassing and upsetting enough to make me come up with some excuse to leave.

(imagine illustrated by @btm-txt)

I remember announcing that I was gonna ditch this place and go into the woods alone, and as a plus for me at the time, a lot of the kids thought that was ballsy since it was getting dark and not really recommended for any of us to be out there after dark. Didn't stop me, though, and probably didn't stop other kids doing it either. I didn’t care, though. I just wanted to go somewhere to cry alone without being picked on anymore. As pathetic as it sounds, this wasn’t the first time I came to the woods to cry. In fact, I was caught doing it once, but that just made me go deeper into the woods to avoid getting seen by the other kids.

I was trying really hard to like it there, but I didn’t. I hated it. I hated it SO much. I wanted to go home so bad. So, out of my embarrassment and homesickness, I just started to bawl my eyes out. I must’ve sat there crying for a good 10 minutes maybe, until a sound made me go quiet.

SNAP

The break of a stick.

I immediately sat there in dead silence as I quietly began looking around. Now, my first thought would’ve been it was more kids that found me, but you know as much as I do, kids aren’t that sneaky. You’d be hearing giggling and a lot of movement. Hell, a lot of kids I knew at that camp would’ve just barged through to laugh at me, not hide from me. And if it were a counsellor, they’d immediately be approaching me, not hiding either. So… the idea that someone was trying to sneak up on me was already really fucking creepy.

I didn’t see anything for a bit, no matter where i looked there was just nothing around me except more woods.

Until I turned my head towards another crack of a branch. This time it was closer and louder. I quickly turned, and I saw this... figure. This tall, lingering figure; just standing between the trees in the darkness. it was hunched over, and its arms were long and dangly. It just… wasn’t normal. The one thing I could see clearly were its eyes. At least I think they were. These small white glowing orbs just staring at me.

(Illustrated by @btm-txt)

You know those times when you’re so scared you just can’t move? That’s what happened. I wanted to scream, I wanted to run but I just couldn’t. I was frozen I just stared at…whatever this fucking thing was.

I don’t know how long i was locked in a staring match with the thing for. But eventually, it just vanished from my sight. I don’t know where the hell it went, but as soon as it left. I booked it.

I just ran in a random direction into the woods, which looking back now, was a dumbass move; I dunno why I didn’t go back to the camp, but I guess I just wasn’t thinking. I was just a scared kid who wanted to get away from whatever I saw. After running out of breath and hiding under a fallen tree, I just curled up, trying to catch my breath and calm down. That wasn’t easy, considering I was JUST crying, holding my breath in fear and THEN ran for it. So I may as well have sounded like an asthmatic. Eventually, my breathing calmed down, but I just stayed in that spot. I was too scared to move as you could expect. The woods were eerily quiet except for a few of the typical noises but that didn’t make me feel better. The coldness began to get to me, too, so now I was shaking both out of fear and the cold.

(Illustrated by @starlitskvader)

“Tiberius?”. I heard someone call my name, I looked up and around but still didn’t see anyone. “Tiberius? Where are you?”. I heard it again; this time the voice was clearer… it was my dad's. My dad’s voice. I had no idea how it was possible but my kid brain didn’t care. I was happy, and I crawled out of my hiding place immediately. I started calling out for him. “Dad?! Dad?! Where are you?” “Come here, Tiberius. I can’t find you”, the voice spoke out again in a weirdly calm tone. If I wasn’t in such a stressful situation, I maybe would’ve picked up on the strange way my dad was talking, but like I said, I didn’t care at the time. I was just relieved that my dad was here and thinking I was gonna finally get out of there and go home. I started going through the woods, following the voice that sounded like my dad but my excitement started slowing down and it started to hit me. The more closer I got to the voice, the more I realised it sounded... off. The strange calmness was still not a warning sign for me, but what was is that the voice just sounded so… shaky? Fake? It sounded like my dad but something about it just didn’t FEEL like it was from him. More like someone trying to do an impression of him, but how was that possible? He was back on the island, ages away from here. No one here would possibly know what he sounded like except for maybe one or two counsellors but that was way too much of a longshot. Why would some counsellor be doing an impression anyway, it made no sense...

I soon stopped when I saw a figure again, the dark outline approached slowly and as it got closer it started to look like my dad. I smiled but… something felt wrong, really wrong. Something in my gut was screaming at me that I needed to run, but I didn’t know why. It was my dad; it had to be, I thought. The figure of my dad stopped, I could see some of the details, the salmon pink fur, the long curled spines, even the clothes, the hiking boots, and all the gear he wears on him. It had to be him, It was uncanny!

But something still felt wrong... “Hello, son. Come here, let's go home”, it stretched it's arms out. My smile vanished… now that I was right there, I really picked up how weird his voice was… something was really wrong with it. ‘Till this day i still can’t pick up on how it was exactly. You just kinda had to be there to know. You could just tell it wasn’t right, and listening to it made you feel like something was crawling up your spine. I didn’t move. “Tiberius? What’s wrong?” it spoke, taking a step forward. I started to notice this-this thing. Its arms were way too long for the body, and 'my dad's hair was starting to move, almost like tentacles or some shit... I couldn't understand what I was seeing.

(Illustrated by @starlitskvader) Stupidly, I spoke up out of nervousness. “W-...who are you?”. “It’s me, son. Come here, give me a hug”. The long arms stretched out even further and closer to me and the figure took a few steps forward, coming completely out of the darkness of the trees showing its face… it was not my father. That face. I don’t know if I could begin to describe it. The smile was huge and unnatural, going all the way to the cheeks, full of uneven teeth that made me think of a fucked-up shark. Rows upon rows of these janked up teeth. The eyes were open wider than I thought possible, the pupils tiny and barely visible. Staring into my fucking soul. And to this day the gaze of this thing, pretending to be my father, has haunted me.

“Come here, son. Come to me”, it spoke as it started approaching me. The voice fell apart and sounded more unnatural. It started moving with a strange twitch and making these strange sounds. After being frozen in utter fear this entire time, my legs finally moved, and I booked it. Just running back as fast as my little legs could take me. The entire time, I could hear a slurry of noises. The best I can describe them was like a bunch of demonic feral sounds, along with fast, savage movement coming after me from behind. I knew it was chasing me; whatever this thing was, it wanted me. I had no idea what it wanted to do with me, but I knew it’d probably result in me being fucking dead.

I only looked behind me once… and the image of this thing, still trying to appear like my father, running around like a fucking animal. Running on all four of its distorted limbs and it's fucked up face looking up at me. It was at this point I started screaming my lungs out in terror; I didn’t even care if I was crying anymore. That was the least of my worries.

When I finally got out of the woods, I scrambled my way to whatever was closest, which was the stairs to a cabin, I think. I don’t remember how many people approached me at first, but i remember hearing a lot of voices, and eventually, a bunch of counsellors came running over, trying to calm me down. I was screaming, crying and thrashing around for ages. Not even the little shit kids were laughing; everyone was wondering what the fuck was wrong with me. It took me ages to finally calm down enough, but even then, I just couldn’t explain. I tried to, but it came out as nonsense. I was a scared kid who saw something that was worse than any horror movie I’d heard of at the time.

Eventually, the adults kinda gave up on trying to get an explanation from me after they kept asking me to ‘stop lying’ or to ‘make some sense’, but I wasn’t. They just assumed I'd get over it after that night or so and I'd be fine.

I was the furthest from it. That night I didn’t get a wink of sleep. I laid awake, shaking and hiding underneath the covers. I don’t remember speaking much, if at all, after that. I just shut down. I didn't do any of the activities. I barely ate. I was practically a shell of a person. I didn’t know how to process what the fuck I just saw.

(Illustrated by @btm-txt) After a few days. Yes. I know. DAYS. My family was finally called, and the counsellors told me my dad was coming to get me ASAP. I couldn’t even be happy about it. I think at that point they just made sure to have a counsellor with me at all times. Dunno what for exactly, since I wasn’t really doing anything and it's not like them being around made any difference to begin with. I guess I just made them super fucking worried. When my dad got here, with my mom and grandpa, they all rushed towards me. My dad quickly hugged me and picked me up, but I don’t even remember reacting much other than curling up a little into him. Meanwhile, my mom and grandpa went from fussing over me to yelling at the counsellors at the blink of an eye. They were furious. I don't remember what went on with that conversation but I could only imagine what went on.

(illustrated by @btm-txt)

I didn’t hear much else about what they talked about, as my dad just put me in the car with my things already packed. He sat in the back with me on the drive home, just holding me as I laid my head against him. When we got home. My family, mostly my grandpa, wound up suing that summer camp over what happened to me and not helping me much at all during the whole time and not even seeing me go into the woods at all. The camp wound up being charged with gross negligence and closed down not long after. I don’t even think I said anything on the drive home or when I got home. I don’t remember when I started talking again, but I didn’t talk about this that’s for sure. It was hard though, I had nightmares and apparently night terrors for weeks, I’d apparently wake up screaming and when my parents would come to comfort me, I’d fall back asleep and not remember the next morning. Speaking of no memory, I actually didn’t remember this for a long time. I guess I tried so hard to forget most of this nightmare that I eventually did. Well, most of it. I still remembered two things. One. I always unconsciously remembered something bad happening to me in the woods, so it made me permanently uncomfortable with the idea of going into any woods, forests or any of that shit. To the point I was even terrified of letting my daughter go camping with my dad. I couldn’t even give an explanation as to why I just said I didn’t like it but I didn't stop them. I just made it painfully I didn't like it. I'm not surprised if my Dad was a little disappointed at how much I grew to hate the forest. I know he loves the outdoors and camping, and I knew he was really sad he couldn't share that with me I could see it with my daughter too, how she'd beg me to take her camping to let her try it and I just refused At least they had each other. I always felt bad that I was so against any sort of activity to do with the woods without even having a proper reason for them…until now at least. They never held it against me though, and I'm grateful for that.

And two, even after all of that… I had never forgotten that face. I think after a few years, I thought it was some messed up dream, but it’s imprinted itself into my brain. That horrible fucking face.

Now that this is fresh in my memory, I actually decided to look up stuff on the area of that camp and that forest… and it turns out. Some weird shit has happened in those woods at night. A lot of people have had stories Stemming from being stalked by an unseen pursuer, being chased by a weird animal, or even like me, having some… thing… look like someone they know approach them and talk to them. After doing more research, a few people think that it’s not a paranormal occurrence or some weird spirit or demon doing this. Instead, these people believe it’s a shapeshifting creature; it goes by many names, but it all means the same. It takes the form of animals and people in order to lure people toward it so it can kill and eat them and or then take their place as their doppelganger.

I don’t believe that entirely, but… I know for sure now that something definitely happened to me in those woods. It wasn’t just a nightmare or a fucked up scenario I imagined. It was real. I honestly don’t know what scenario is worse, if it actually was a dangerous person after me that went way too far, if it was something paranormal or… if there really was a creature in there. Something dangerous. Sometimes, I wonder if… despite all of these years, it’s still there. In the woods. Waiting to lure another person… Not like I’m ever gonna find out for myself, though. I am never EVER going back there. Never.

If you read this far. Thank you and HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!

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magickastiel · 3 years

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Somewhere Off in the Dark (Dean/Cas) 7.3k

It’s easier to be with Cas in the dark.

Dean hasn’t got to see those eyes at full brightness, boring into his soul. Instead he can just talk and not worry about the embarrassment scalding his face or the discomfort twisting his spine.

It’s dangerous being with Cas in the dark.

Gift for @jackttwist for the @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! ✨

mild warning for a scene during early s13 so dean is very self-destructive and doesn't care about his own life. It's along the same times as the show but if you're triggered by that, skip from: 'Dean is sick' and pick up again at: "The Empty?" Dean whispers, feeling cold' for the cute stuff!

a03 or keep reading 💖

Dean will never get used to waking up and seeing eyes peering back at him.

He starts awake, half-reaching for the gun tucked under his pillow before he can pull himself back. He glares and throws the blanket off his lap, immediately regretting it when the cool night air hits his legs.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel says, voice dry and face impassive. He watches without shame as Dean clambers to his feet, eyes skimming over his legs, his rucked up t-shirt, the scowl on his face.

A chill shoots up Dean’s back and, not for the first time, he wonders how many pairs of eyes Castiel really has. He walks from the couch to Bobby’s kitchen for something to do with his overly observed body.

“I’ll shoot you one day.” He says over his shoulder. “That’ll show you.”

“What will that show me?”

Dean wants to be annoyed but instead he snorts with laughter. Castiel seems to have this affect on him.

“Nothin’. Forget it.” His eyes itch with fatigue and he rubs them with the back of his hand. “You want coffee?”

“I have no need for - ”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Dean turns to lean his back against the counter and almost jumps again when he sees that Castiel has silently followed him to the kitchen. He can count the number of worn tiles between his bare feet and Castiel’s shoes. He has to swallow before he speaks. “Didn’t ask if you needed it. You want some?”

The angel’s eyes travel over him again and Dean feels like an ant under the hot glare of a magnifying glass on a sticky summer’s day.

“Yes.” He says eventually.

“Right.” Coffee.

He potters about, feeling eyes on him wherever he goes. He doesn’t let his hand shake.

By the time they’re sat back on the couch with two half-empty mugs, Dean’s body has loosened as he becomes accustom to the silent scrutiny. There’s no looming threat and no harsh judgement because Castiel is as he always is – curious. Every movement is apparently fascinating to him, every sentence Dean says is worth contemplation and every sip of coffee is a new experience to mull over. Again, Dean is surprised how little it annoys him.

“You remember the first time you woke me up here?” He says after a long pause. “You threatened to throw me back into Hell. Real nice of you.”

In the dark, Dean has to rely on Castiel’s voice to judge his expression. “Yes.” The word sounds solemn, like he’s disappointed that Dean remembers it. “I did say that.”

Dean takes the last glug of coffee to think. There’s an obvious question that’s been lingering between them for the last ten minutes.

“Why did you come here tonight?” He asks and doesn’t know what he wants the answer to be.

Even though he can’t see him properly, he’s sure Castiel is staring straight at him even as he ponders his answer. It’s another reminder of how alien he is. He doesn’t have that need to look away, to hide his face as his mind races to find the right way to say the right thing. Dean envies him that.

“I wanted to apologise.”

“Apologise for what?”

When he speaks again, his tone is unnervingly soft. “Your friends.”

Ellen. Jo.

Dean’s heart clenches and he feels the urge to move, unable to sit still in his grief. His knee knocks against Castiel’s solid thigh but the angel stays perfectly still.

“I should have been with them.” Castiel continues his voice low and smooth. If it wasn’t for the subject matter, Dean might think he was being read to sleep like a troubled child. “I should have protected them.”

“Not your fault.” He mumbles and means it. It never occurred to him to blame Castiel. He’s been too busy blaming himself to consider anyone else’s actions.

“I arrived with them and I should have stayed with them. I let them down. I – I let...”

Castiel is hesitating. This is new behaviour for him and it’s dangerously human.

“I...let you down.”

Dean feels like he’s been doused with cold water. He doesn’t blame Castiel for not wanting to say that. It’s so ridiculously untrue and so goddamn weird to say that he let Dean down specifically. It’s too much focus on him, on them.

“You didn’t let us down, man.”

“You are being kind.” Castiel says in neither admonishment nor gratefulness. He just states it like it’s a sure fact. “Thank you. But I shall endeavour to make it up to you.”

“Oh.” Dean says feeling dumb and strangely warm. “Right. But like I said, nothing to make up for.”

“You are not sleeping.”

He almost gets whiplash at the sudden change in conversation. “Uh well, no, not right now. You did wake me up.”

“Allow me to clarify: you do not sleep enough.” The still air is disturbed by the rustle of his trenchcoat and the sharp clack of the ceramic mug being placed on the table.

“Kind of a lot going on, dude.” Dean says, trying to protest as Castiel pulls his mug from his hands and places that on the table too. “Uhhh, what are you doing?”

“Lie back down.”

Dean does as he’s told but frowns too. He tells himself it’s a good compromise. “You gonna stare at me until I fall asleep or something?”

“I could but I believe that will be unnecessary.” He stands and looms over the couch. He looks intimidating from down here – tall as a skyscraper and dark as a void. Dean clutches at the blanket for something tangible to hold on to. “Your body still hasn’t recovered from the physical and emotional trauma of the last week. And when you sleep you have nightmares thus reliving the pain. You must rest completely to correct this and regain your full strength.”

Dean snorts. “Oh, yeah? So what you gonna do – zap me to sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Wait – ”

Two fingertips brush his forehead and he sleeps.

Dean can’t stop looking.

Even as Benny regales them with some batshit story, even as he eats his handful of berries, even as he wanders the perimeter of their little camp.

Cas is here.

Like, actually here.

He hadn’t let himself lose hope but it had been slipping. Just around the corner, he’d think. One more fight and he’ll be there. On and on.

And then there he was, alive and washing his face like he’d just woken up after a bad night’s sleep at a motel.

Dean’s eyes flit over to him again. He isn’t used to it yet. They only found him a few hours ago. Man’s gotta bask in having his best friend back.

“Dean? You hear me?”

He sighs and turns back to Benny who, to his credit, doesn’t even look annoyed. “Yeah, yeah. Sleeping, shifts, food.”

He snorts. “Got the gist, at least.”

“I’ll take the first shift. Gotta...” He glances over his shoulder at Cas again. He isn’t quite sure what he’s got to do, but he knows it involves Cas.

“Like that, huh?” Benny says, a slight smirk on his face.

“What do you mean?” He mutters, grabbing a stick and poking the meagre fire for something else to focus on.

“Nothin’, nothin’.” He waves a hand, but the smirk hasn’t left his face. “Just startin’ to feel like a third wheel, is all.”

Dean’s face heats unpleasantly. He knows it’s not like that but he can’t quite bring himself to argue about it. Instead he stares into the fire as Benny wanders off to rest. He feels horribly cracked open. He’s gotten used to his hardened shell – Purgatory took all the resilience he had and coated him in it. But the first sight of Cas had split him apart and now his usual racing thoughts have come rushing back with the force of a ten tonne truck. He almost wishes he could go back to how he was yesterday, pure focus and drive.

Now he feels small next to the fire, between a vampire and an angel.

He’s just one slightly shitty human lost in Purgatory.

“Dean?”

Cas joins him suddenly, with that eerie angelic stealth. Dean only just manages to stop himself from jumping like a kid. Cas sits on his left, watching him intently.

Everything is kind of colourless in Purgatory. It drove Dean insane for the first few days; everything seemed slightly off and unreal. Then he got used to it – the lacklustre trees, the blank water, even the fire looked kind of grey.

Cas’ eyes are still very blue.

It’s the first real colour he’s seen in months.

“Dean?” He says again, sounding slightly alarmed. “Are you alright?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah. Just...weird to see you, I guess.”

“Oh.” Cas blinks. “I...I suppose it is strange to see you too. I have seen you from a distance a few times. If several leviathans caught me at once, it would take me a while to kill all of them. Each time, I was very aware of how you were likely closing in on my location. Then I would catch a glimpse of you through the trees and that was when I knew I needed to get ahead again.”

“You what?!” Dean hisses, only keeping his voice down for Benny’s sake. “You mean you’ve been in spitting distance before and you didn’t say anything?! You could have...” He thinks about the sleepless nights, the desperation to find him alive. “I was afraid you were dead.”

“I am sorry, Dean.” Cas squints and tilts his head a little. Dean feels his anger dissipate. “I wanted nothing more than to join you. Together, I am sure we can conquer almost anything.” Right. That’s a total normal thing to say to someone. “But I was the one who released the leviathans. It was my responsibility to deal with them. If they got to you I would never be able to forgive myself.” His gaze drops to the fire. “I will never be able to forgive myself.”

“Don’t.” Frustration pushes at Dean’s skull, making his eyes water. “Yeah, ok. You did something pretty dumb. But you did it because you were trying to save the world. I should have...if I hadn’t been so damn caught up with other stuff. If I had just been there more - ”

“Dean, you cannot blame yourself.” Cas sounds genuinely horrified at the thought. “It was my decision and the consequences are mine to bear. All I can hope is that you can find a way to forgive me. And Sam - ”

“Sam’s good now.” Dean says quickly, half to reassure himself. “You screwed him over, not gonna lie. But at least you fixed it.”

Neither of them speaks for a while. Cas seems intent on watching the fire while Dean’s shell shatters a little more. Had he really had forgiven Cas just like that? He thought of what John Winchester would say about that. To say Cas had ‘screwed Sam over’ was a bit of an understatement. He had totally destroyed his mind. And here Dean was, casually forgiving him like it was no big thing.

It isn’t just words either. Dean really doesn’t feel any animosity towards the angel at all. Look out for Sammy. That had been drummed into him since he was four years old, when he carried his baby brother from their burning home. He still lives by it too. So it’s unnerving to forgive someone who hurt Sam. He’d been angry at first, sure. Upset, if he was being honest. He’d been hit with the double whammy of worrying about Sam and being betrayed by the only real friend he’d ever had. The only one that sticks around.

Well, that isn’t quite true. Cas always leaves but he always comes back too.

Now Dean just feels happy. And tired. He’s pretty tired too.

“You should sleep.” Cas says, softly. “I can watch over you.”

His knee jerk reaction is to tell the angel that’s weird. In any other situation it is weird. But here, he really does need someone looking out for him.

“’Angels are watching over you.’” He says, thinking of soft blonde hair and a warm smile. He swallows around the lump in his throat. “That’s what my mom used to tell me every night when she put me to bed. Guess that’s true tonight, huh?”

“I suspect she did not imagine that to come true in Purgatory while you are travelling with an angel and vampire, but the sentiment is lovely nonetheless.”

Dean can’t stop himself from grinning as he settles down, wedging his jacket under his head like Benny did.

“Do we have to travel with the vampire?” Cas grumbles beside him, sounding wonderfully like himself.

Dean raises his eyebrows against his makeshift pillow. “What, you don’t like Benny?”

“I don’t like the way he acts.” His eyes narrow, glaring at the sleeping figure the other side of the fire. “He looks at you like he wants to...consume you.”

Dean laughs and, for a moment, the clearing rings with it. “Dude trust me: Benny ain’t gonna eat me. He’s got plenty of food around.”

But Cas still looks unsure. “That’s not...” He sighs. “Yes, I suppose you are right.” He gives Dean one of those rare, small smiles as he looks down at him. “Sleep.”

Dean does as he’s told for once, letting his aching limbs stretch out next to the warmth of the fire and under his best friend’s watchful gaze.

But after a few moments, he can’t resist another look, even as his body succumbs.

“You can sleep, Dean.” Cas says, almost chastising. “I’ll watch over you.”

“Ain’t that. Just...” His tongue feels too big for his mouth and his heart feels too heavy for his chest. “Just checkin’ you’re still there, is all.”

As he falls asleep, he hears his voice one more time.

“I’m still here. I’ll always be here.”

When Dean asks Cas where he can drop him, the ex-angel avoids his eyes and says something about being ‘between places’.

Yeah, Dean’s the worst friend in the world.

He drives them to a motel because that’s the least he can do.

He mentally berates himself on the drive there while Cas is quiet in the passenger seat. This really is the least he can do. He should be driving Cas home to the Bunker, buying him dinner on the way back. He should be apologising for throwing him out. But if he starts apologising that means he’s got to start explainingand that’s something he really can’t do. Not yet.

So he drives his awesome best friend to a shitty motel and books them a shitty twin room and orders a shitty pizza.

Once they’ve eaten in relative silence, Cas perches on the edge of one of the beds staring wide-eyed and blank faced at the television. Unfortunately, it’s not Dr. Sexy. Just some grim drama about murders and family betrayals. Like they don’t have enough of that to deal with already.

He looks small and Dean has the sudden urge to rest a hand on his shoulder.

“Dude,” He says, busying his restless hands with clearing up the greasy napkins and tossing them into the bin. “Don’t sit that close to the TV. You’ll get square eyes.”

For what seems like the first time in an hour, Cas blinks. “Is that possible?”

Dean chuckles and settles back on his bed, kicking off his boots with a groan. “Nah, just somethin’ parents tell their kids. Dad used to say it to me all the time.” His smile slips as John Winchester’s dark eyes narrow in his mind. “Used to watch so much Scooby Doo it drove him mad. ‘Turn that TV off and do something useful! Ain’t got no use for a son with square eyes!’” He fidgets on the bed, fighting the urge to pull a blanket over himself.

“Oh.” Cas half turns away from the TV. “That seems unnecessarily harsh.”

Dean shrugs. “Just watched it when he was gone.” Had plenty of time.

“I assume you had plenty of time to watch it then.”

Huh.

Dean’s stunned into silence long enough for Cas to look over. Something on his face makes Cas look guilty.

“I’m sorry. It isn’t my place to comment on your father.”

“No.” Dean says but isn’t sure if he means it.

Cas stands, flicking off the TV and sitting against the pillows of his own bed. The quiet makes Dean realise that he’s alone with Cas in a motel room. He isn’t sure why it sets his teeth on edge – it shouldn’t be any different from sharing with Sam. So why does he feel a bit too hot under his shirt?

“Family is a complicated thing.” Cas continues, oblivious to Dean’s discomfort.

“Y-yeah.” The word sticks in his throat. “You miss ‘em? The other angels?”

In the soft lamplight, Cas’ profile looks striking as he thinks. “Yes and no. I miss the simplicity of being with them.”

“Simplicity? Can’t imagine Heaven ever being simple.”

“Oh, it’s not, not really. But I knew my place and I knew what I required to do. And I was known. Understood.”

“You think I don’t get you?” Dean asks before he can stop himself.

Cas leans back further, turning slightly to rest his head on the pillow. His eyes look almost velvet in the soft light. Dean finds himself turning a little too, cheek brushing the cotton pillowcase.

“I think you understand me more than I could have ever hoped for.”

“Oh.” Dean feels struck dumb and something inside his chest clunks. “That...that’s what friends are for, I guess.”

“Yes.” Cas smiles, gummy and a little crooked where he’s resting his head. “It is.”

Dean rolls onto his back, heart hammering as he stares at the ceiling. Cas’ eyes are still on him – he knows the feel of that gaze like a dangerous coastline knows the relentless glare of a lighthouse.

The silence drags and his fingers itch to switch the TV back on.

“Coulda got you your own room.” He mutters, almost to himself. Least I could do. “Give you some privacy.”

“No.” Cas says firmly. “This is...this is good. Thank you.” He sounds so earnestly grateful Dean almost cringes in shame. “I spend quite a lot of time alone. It’s good to have company.”

“Right, yeah. Of course.”

“But if you’d rather - ”

“Nah, it’s all good.” He says and is surprised that he means it. He’s counted the stains on the ceiling three times and his heart is slowing to its normal pace again.

“Dean?” Cas sounds a little slower now. “Tell me something?”

“Uh, sure. What?”

“Anything.”

“Like a story?” Dean frowns and looks over to see Cas’ eyes are already half-closed.

“Hmm.”

“Uhhh...” He flounders. He hasn’t done this since he was a kid, making up stories for Sammy to fall asleep to in the back of the Impala. “Ok. Once, this guy woke up. Let’s call him...Dan. He woke up and realised he was underground, being suffocated. So after he panicked a bit, he dug his way out and almost goddamn blinded himself ‘cos it was a sunny day, right? He walks to this old gas station and keeps thinking ‘how am I alive?’ ‘cos he’s pretty sure he was dead.”

He knows he isn’t telling it well but it doesn’t seem to matter because Cas hums again, sounding pleased this time. Dean feels his own body melting like hot wax into the bed as he watches Cas’ eyes close.

“Then he looks in the mirror and sees he’s got this mark on his shoulder. A handprint. So he’s like, ‘who the hell left that there?’”

Cas chuckles, mouth thick with sleep. Dean pulls a blanket over himself and wraps an arm around one of the pillows.

“Turns out, his best friend left it there. But here’s the thing: he ain’t met him yet.”

Dean smiles as Cas’ breathing gets even and heavy. He watches for a moment and squeezes the pillow tight against his chest before turning out the light.

He dreams of Hell but when he wakes, all he can remember are dark wings beating hard against fire.

Dean is sick.

He throws up until his body is shaking, until his throat is raw and his eyes are bloodshot.

He slumps down next to the toilet and takes in breaths he doesn’t really want. The cool title presses against his burning back and he closes eyes. Which is a horrific mistake.

A beam of light streaming from his mouth, from his eyes, from the hole in his chest -

His body jerks and his foot knocks the empty whiskey bottle with a jarring clatter. Yeah, that’s rule one, buddy. Don’t close your fucking eyes.

He stands on shaking legs, picks up the empty bottle and goes back to his room where he’s stashed another. Thankfully, he doesn’t pass Sam on the way. He can’t deal with the pity, he can’t deal with the logic and he can’t deal with his stupid, childish hope. Mom’s gone. Ain’t no sense in pretending otherwise. Gone just like –

Nope.

He opens his door and chucks the empty bottle down again, letting it roll off to some dark corner of his room. He scoops up the next one and cracks open the top, taking a deep swig. It hits him hard; neat alcohol on his turbulent stomach makes him gag but he perseveres. He’s exhausted but he can’t close his eyes.

So he’s aiming for blackout.

It can’t be too far away – he can’t remember when he last ate. He’s aching all over, boiling hot and he’s...

Sobbing.

“You...you son of a bitch...” He sways a little when he looks up at the dingy ceiling but he’s trying to talk beyond that. “Whydya hav’ ta...fuck!” He rushes over to the sink and throws up the whiskey he just swallowed. It burns even more on the way up.

Once he’s stopped retching, he tries to take another swig but his body won’t let him do it. He collapses onto the floor again, legs too weak to stand. The bottle clangs in the sink, probably spilling all of its contents down the drain. He makes a weak sound of protest but doesn’t move.

His eyes feel tight and dry against the salty wetness on his face. He wonders how far above him Heaven is. If he’s even there. Something tells him he isn’t. If he is, surely he would have found a way to get back.

Dean whispers his name, a private prayer of desperation. There’s still some dumb part of him that thinks he might just appear again, slightly dishevelled and annoyed at Dean for not looking after himself.

But he doesn’t.

The silence stretches and Dean contemplates hitting his head on the floor. If he does it hard enough, there’s a good chance it’ll knock him out for a while, maybe a few days if he’s lucky.

He tries to lift his head but it’s too heavy. A wave of panic rushes over him as he starts to feel paralyzed – trapped in his own body and smothered with grief.

“Cas?” He chokes, a fresh wave of tears rushing down his face. “You...you’re meant to come back. You always come back. You gotta...you gotta come back, man. Please. Please, I can’t - ”

I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to. Don’t make me.

With all his might, he rolls onto his side before he’s suffocated completely. His head spins as he turns, his stomach churns and his eyes roll back. When he finally passes out, he doesn’t see anything at all.

“The Empty?” Dean whispers, feeling cold.

“Yes.” Cas whispers back. He’s only whispering because Dean is. Dean feels completely normal about that and not giddy at all.

“What was it like?” He doesn’t want to know but has to ask all the same.

“Empty.” Cas says, deadpan.

“Oh ok, smartass – thanks for clearing that up!” Dean huffs good-naturedly and has to grip the railing until his knuckles turn white. He’s got so much happiness in him his body doesn’t know what to do with it. He feels energy thrumming through him and he has the sudden urge to start sprinting and laughing.

They’ve stopped at a motel on the drive back from Colorado to the Bunker. Sam is already asleep, hair all splayed out on his pillow like Sleeping Beauty. But Dean...well, Dean was dead for a couple of minutes today so he figures he’ll enjoy being alive for a bit longer. He leans on the rail overlooking the parking lot and lets the cool air fill his lungs.

He’s got company.

“How is Jack?” Cas asks, obviously expecting a better answer than the quick reassurance they’d given him earlier.

“He’s doing ok. I was...” Dean trails off, his good mood momentarily dipping into guilt. “I was kind of a dick to him at first - ”

“What a surprise.” Cas sighs, world-weary and affectionately irritated. Dean wants to make him sound like that every day.

“- but we’ve gotten better.” He knocks Cas’ shoulder with his. “I’ve gotten better.”

“Good.” Cas smiles at him and he has to grip the railing again.

Dean watches him stare up at the moon, the pearly light making him look as otherworldly as he is. Dean is reminded there are wings somewhere behind Cas. Broken, yes, but still there. It’s weirdly exciting that Cas isn’t human. A strange thrill shoots through him when he really thinks about it. He feels like one of those people who inadvertently tame some dangerous beast and have their photos taken with the thing sat on their couch with them. It’s that precious feeling that you’ve been chosen, that something that would normally kill you with a snap of jaws or a click of its fingers saw you and thought you were special. So it decided that it wanted you to live. That it wanted to spend time with you. That he wanted –

“Dean? You’re staring.” Cas turns back to him with a raised eyebrow and a slightly smug expression. “You usually tell me off for that.”

“Right.” Dean doesn’t stop looking. “It’s just...you’re back.You came back again.”

Cas’s expressions softens and he edges a little closer. Suddenly – wildly – Dean thinks if Cas kissed him now he’d be fine with it.

He doesn’t.

“It was suffocating.” He says instead. “The black emptiness was...all encompassing. Like no matter what I did or where I went, I would never escape the feeling of total despair. Of being painfully alone. It was like - ”

“Choking.” Dean says and swallows hard against his healing throat.

“Yes.” Cas’ fingers twitch on the railing and Dean thinks that if he moved his left pinkie, he could feel his skin. Cas’ hand drops before he can really contemplate doing it. “But I did escape.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s full of energy again, happiness buzzing around his body like a swarm of bumblebees. “You got out, man.”

“I was afraid that feeling would follow me. That I would still feel that fear no matter how far I ran.”

“And?”

“I don’t.” Cas turns to the moon again, bathed in pure light, eyes shining as bright as his grace. “I don’t feel scared at all.”

Dean blinks back the sting in his eyes and smiles. “Me neither.”

Dean pushes open the door with a sweaty palm.

Cas stands next to him, staring into the room with his lips slightly parted. Dean’s gaze lingers on them for moment before he drags his eyes away.

Just because Cas...said what he said, doesn’t mean he wants that. Maybe he didn’t really mean it. Or maybe he did mean it but like...friends. Best friends love each other. Of course they do. Sure, it did seemlike a momentous romantic confession made by a guy madly in love with his best friend before he sacrificed himself to save said best friend but maybe...maybe it wasn’t really like that.

“You did this for me?” Cas sounds almost tearful and Dean can’t look at him like that. It reminds too much of –

“Yeah.” Dean clears his throat. “Well, Sam helped too. Turns out he’s kinda nerdy about plants too. But I bought ‘em all and watered ‘em and...Jack got you that stuffed bee, by the way.”

Cas steps inside the room and Dean can finally look up from his feet. His eyes go straight to Cas’ broad back, casually dressed in one of Sam’s sweaters. The sleeves are too long but Cas says he likes it. He’s wearing a pair of joggers that Dean kept aside for him and a pair of socks with a hole in the toe.

“I love it.”

Dean’s heart literally skips a beat. Great, he loves it. Loves it in the way he loves –

“Wanted you to have something to come back to, you know? I know this was always kinda your room but there was nothing in here and I thought...after what you said before about the Empty...thought you’d want something good to come back to. Bright and full of life...or whatever, I dunno. Just thought you might like it.”

“It’s incredible.”

Dean thinks that’s over stating it. It’s not that good. Not nearly enough to repay his debts. Not anywhere near what Cas deserves. He deserves a real home, a huge garden, a fucking mansion with butlers and people who bow to him and call him ‘sir’. Instead Dean has given him his old room back. Sure, it’s got a few shelves up, a new rug, bedding that Jack picked out called ‘jungle dreams’, a load of plants and a tall lamp that gives everything a nice glow but it’s still the same room.

Dean has never felt more pathetic.

Castiel is an angel. Ok, barely an angel now (and whose fault it that?) but still a celestial being. He might get tired sometimes, he might get hungry and he might be able to get drunk but he’s still an angel.

He’s still better.

Better than this stupid room, better than this miserable Bunker. Better than Dean.

“Is this your blanket?” Cas asks suddenly, plucking the Scooby-Doo fleece blanket from the bed.

Oh, that. “Uh, yeah. Thought you might get cold now. Don’t want you to get numb toes or nothin’.”

“That’s...” Dean isn’t prepared for the open, raw joy on Cas’ face when he looks up. It almost sends him reeling backwards out of the door. “That’s very kind of you. You didn’t have to do all of this. It’s...”

Stupid. Stupid plants, stupid lamp, stupid goddamn blanket.

“It’s wonderful.”

“It’s stupid.” Dean blurts, feeling awkward and childish. “Shoulda done something more. Shoulda got you - ”

“You got me.” Cas says firmly. “You got me out, Dean. You and Sam and Jack...I will never be able to thank you enough. And then to come back to this room that you worked so hard on, that you filled with things you knew I would like...there is nothing better than that in the whole world. The whole of creation. To be known and to be wanted is the best thing there is.”

Fuck.

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that. What can he say to that? What can he say that would ever compare to what Cas said? What he said before –

“Right. Ok. Great. That’s...good. I’ll just...” He gestures over his shoulder to the door. Being in here with Cas is too intense, like staring at the sun or holding your hand over an open flame. “You probably want to rest.”

Cas hesitates before saying, “Yes. I suppose I should. Thank you again for this. I really love it.”

“Yeah, man.” Dean almost winces. “No worries. I’ll just...leave you to it.”

He steps back into the open doorway, unwilling to take his eyes away from Cas because he’s here, in the room Dean has imagined him in for weeks. It’s kind of annoying that Cas doesn’t have the same trouble. He turns his back, wandering towards the plants on the shelves and gently touching the leaves.

Dean lingers, like a moth perched on a lightshade.

“Are you - ” Just leave. “Are you gonna be ok by yourself? I mean, you said before that it was lonely being in the Empty. Thought maybe you’d want company?”

Cas seems surprised when he faces Dean again. “Oh. Well, yes, of course. I would enjoy you staying for a while. But please don’t feel like you have to.”

The idea of Cas thinking he’s keeping Dean against his will is laughable.

“So, er - ” He sits on the bed, fingers clutching at his blanket. “What do you wanna do? I could get my laptop and we could watch a movie? Or we could watch one of those nature documentaries that kinda send me to sleep? You know the ones with the British guy with smooth voice - ”

“Actually, I should rest. I am quite tired.”

“Oh.” Dean tries to not look crushingly disappointed. “Right, yeah.”

“You could rest with me.” Cas says, just like that. Like it’s not a big deal at all. Like guy friends just clamber into bed with each other all the time and die for each other and confess their love for each other...

“Sure.” Dean’s mouth decides for him. “We could – we could do that.”

So they get into bed together.

Cas slides in as though this is his regular night time routine, looking totally at ease in his new ‘jungle dreams’ bedding and borrowed blanket. Dean’s hands shake as he lifts up the covers and slides in too. He waits for it to be weird, waits for discomfort and his father’s face swimming in front of eyes.

Instead, he just feels warm.

They’re led next to each other, unmoving and flat on their backs. Dean’s right leg is about to fall off the bed and Cas’ shoulder looks like it’s digging into the nightstand. Maybe this bed wasn’t made to fit two fully grown men too afraid to touch.

“Dean, are you comfortable? I am not.”

He laughs and rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, this isn’t great. Maybe if we...uh - ”

“What about if we do this?”

Cas’ hands are suddenly everywhere, manhandling him in a way that Dean has never experienced before but wouldn’t mind experiencing again. He ends up with his head resting on Cas’ chest, forehead pressed against his neck. His right leg has nowhere to go but to hook around Cas’ legs, entwining them together.

And Cas is holding him.

His arms are wrapped around him and not just because they haven’t got anywhere else to go. Because he wants them to go there. Because he wantsto hold Dean. Possibly all night.

Dean starts to panic.

Led like this, his ear is pressed against Cas’ chest – his heartbeat the loudest thing he can hear. What if someone breaks into the Bunker without him knowing? What if something is happening to Sam? To Jack? And he hasn’t even brought a gun with him. He squirms a little, debating on popping back to his room to get one when Cas says,

“Are you thinking about getting a weapon, Dean? I promise you, you won’t need it.”

Cas’ deep voice rumbles through his body, rocking him out of his spiralling worry so quickly Dean briefly wonders if he used some of his remaining slither of grace to do it.

“I would never let anything happen to you.”

“What if someone comes in?”

“An intruder? Judging by our current position, I assume I am the being most visible from the door.”

Dean’s fingers curl in Cas’ borrowed sweater. “You mean you’d be shot first?”

“Yes.” Dean feels his arms tighten around him for a moment. “And I believe my body would shield you from the vast majority of attacks.” He sighs and his breath tickles Dean’s hair. “Of course, if someone were to gain access to the Bunker, it’s likely they would be a supremely powerful being. That would reduce our chance of survival by quite a lot. However, if you really insist on being armed, I am confident that in the few seconds I could shield you, you could at least reach for a makeshift weapon. Whatever good it would do.”

“Right. But...” Dean doesn’t really feel comforted. “I don’t want you to...” He can’t quite say the word.

“Die?” Cas finishes for him as his fingers begin to move, leaving warm trails over Dean’s back. “No, I cannot say that I am enthused by the idea either. I have no desire to leave you again.”

“Not ever?” Dean asks and despises himself for the needy edge in his voice.

“Not ever.” His hands are moving now, big and slow in soothing motions against Dean’s back. He can’t remember the last time he was held like this. Mom, he thinks. When he was a kid. He knows he must look pathetic – six foot plus guy that’s been to hell and back being held like a baby. He should move, should pull away, wipe his eyes and tell Cas it’s time he went back to his own room.

He doesn’t want to.

“You love me.” He says instead, face burning and mouth dry.

He feels Cas smile against the crown of his head. “Yes.”

“You’re like...in love with me.”

One of Cas’ hands moves higher, fingertips trailing over the back of his neck leaving goose bumps in their wake. “Yes.”

Dean will never admit to the half moan, half whine he lets out. He buries his face in Cas’ chest and breathes him in. The smell of him fills Dean’s lungs and Cas’ arms start to feel like a weighted blanket, pressing gently on his body. It makes his eyes soft and his limbs heavy.

As he drifts off, he feels Cas’ lips brushing against his temple.

Dean wakes slowly.

He’s cocooned in softness and warmth and he has no desire to rush anything anymore – least of all to the leave the comfort of his (new) memory foam and his angel. He shifts a little, nuzzling his nose against stubble.

“I thought you were making breakfast.” Cas’ voice rolls over him slow and sweet like honey.

“Hmm.” A murmur, breathed into Cas’ neck, is all Dean can manage.

“Dean, you did promise them.” Cas says, with barely a hint of firmness. His voice is a little husky, like he’s still battling the urge to sleep.

“Oh, yeah? When?” Dean’s lips brush over warm skin.

“Last night.”

He pretends to forget. “Can’t take anything I said last night serious, Cas.”

“Oh?” He sounds a bit more awake now – that familiar dry, teasing tone creeping in.

Dean feels a pang of something in his chest so intense he almost squirms. “Alright, maybe some things were serious.”

“Hmm.” One of Cas’ hands rubs languid strokes up and down his back. “I should hope so.”

The memories come back easy and bright, playing like a dream behind Dean’s heavy eyelids. The stillness of their bedroom is punctuated by the sound of quiet voices in the living room. He grins at that, relishing waking up with the love of his life and his family just in the next room. Happy. Safe.

“Screw ‘em.” Dean says, more to himself than Cas and rubs his foot along his leg a few times, settling down again.

Cas doesn’t seem to have any objections. His hand strokes higher, fingers brushing through Dean’s hair and his blunt nails lightly graze his scalp.

Dean almost whines, his head lifting to follow the touch. He half opens his eyes again and sees a smile, unhurried and adoring. Cas leans down a little and kisses him, stubble rough and lips soft. Dean’s fingers curl against skin and his legs squeeze a muscled thigh beneath the blankets.

They stay that way for a while – bodies warm and entwined, gently greeting each other as the new day dawns. The rising sun has drenched the room in rich yellow light, soft and muffled through the curtains.

Cas’ hand is just caressing his hip and his tongue is getting hotter and more demanding in Dean’s very willing mouth when there’s a knock at the door.

“I know you’re both awake.” Sam’s voice rumbles through the door, amused and still a little sleep rough. “And don’t think we forgot about breakfast either. Eileen wants pancakes and she says I don’t make them right.”

“Not unhealthy enough!” Eileen voice calls out, a little further away.

Dean laughs against Cas’ lips.

“Alright, alright! Gimme five.”

As they slowly detangle, he catches a glimpse of silver as Cas stretches. Dean’s hand feels heavy and warm, like someone’s been holding it for hours. Dean yawns and dangles one leg out of bed, then another. He’s easing himself into the day, taking it a bit at a time.

He can do that now.

He laughs as Cas drags him in for one last kiss before he slides away, shoving his feet into his slippers and tugging on his trusty robe. His ties it around him and wanders, a little stiff-legged, to the window. He pulls back the curtains and from the bed Cas both grumbles and raises his face to meet the sunrise.

Dean watches the sun bathe him in bright light and remembers seeing him like this before. But then it was moonlight and he and Cas were at some shitty motel just out of Colorado. Not in their own house, not in theirbedroom. Dean has his first unbearably intense wave of wild happiness. It won’t be the last one today.

“I like having a window.”

“I liked having eyesight.” Cas mutters, burying himself into the covers.

Dean laughs and thwacks him on the thigh as he passes out the door. Cas’ll be up in his own time.

Four steps and Dean’s in the kitchen.

His brother is perched on one of the chairs at the little island separating the kitchen from the living room. Eileen is signing at him and he’s watching, completely enraptured, with a look of total adoration on his face. Dean would have laughed at him for that once. Now, he knows what it’s like when someone looks at him like that. Now he knows what it’s like to look at someone like that.

But he might still laugh a bit. That’s a big brother’s right.

“Mornin’!” He calls cheerily, rummaging in the fridge for eggs and milk. He emerges triumphant, plopping them onto the counter with a grin. “If the lady wants pancakes, the lady gets pancakes.”

“Best brother in law ever.” Eileen says and Sam almost falls off his seat. She just shrugs cheekily. “Unofficially.”

“For now.” Dean winks and Sam splutters.

“Right, well. Once you’ve finished marrying me off, can we get some breakfast?”

“Alright, alright!” Dean glares but he’s itching to get started. “Goddamn demanding baby. Eileen you could do so much better. Sadly, I’m already taken - ”

She laughs and so does Sam. He wraps an arm around Eileen’s waist and she plays with his hair as they all talk. They talk about Jack getting hyperactive on sugared almonds, about Claire and Kaia wearing matching suits, about Jody and Donna getting drunk and singing karaoke until they were booed off the stage.

Then Cas stumbles out of their soft-lit room; hair wild and face crumpled. He bids them all good morning in a slightly rough tone before shuffling over for coffee. He cradles his mug in both hands as he leans against the corner counter, basking in the sun with his eyes closed.

Dean watches him, aching with joy.

Being in the dark with Cas is easy. But being with him in the light is better.

He twirls the whisk in his hand and it knocks against the ring on his left hand, so new it glows against his skin. Cas kisses his neck as he passes into the living room and Dean grins, looking up at his family.

“Hey, Eileen. What’s the sign for ‘husband’?”

#destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #destiel fic #spn fic #userstarry #dean and cas night time snippets throughout the years #it's mostly cute #ahhhhh my first spn fic i'm so excited #i really loved working on this #mine

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trashytummiez · 3 years

Note

what if Orca ate too much and Killer Croc rubs her belly?

Killer croc returned to his underground lair and rubbed his scaly stomach hungrily. It growled like an animal and left him grumbling for his own stomach to keep it down. But when he checked his fridge to his dread he saw the whole thing was picked clean.

"What the hell?!" Croc shouted.

He had a stocked fridge when he left how could it it be empty just like that?

Then he heard groaning from the other room and straight away got his answer.

There he found his girlfriend Orca sitting on the floor and caressing her massively stuffed tummy. Orca had eaten so much that her stomach looked like she was pregnant and expecting any second now. Her blubbery tummy was so huge that she had to sit on the floor with her back against the wall and her thighs spread out just to give it some room to breathe.

"Ey why'd ya eat everythin' in the fridge??" Killer Croc complained.

Orca groaned miserably. "Unnngh sorry Croc. Something got me feeling anxious again so I had to distract myself..."

"So ya settled on cleanin' me out?"

Orca hiccuped which made her huge belly jostle and slorsh. Not a good feeling right now. "...Unf couldn't help myself..."

The way her massive tummy groaned so loudly was enough to make even Killer Croc cringe almost as hard as Orca did. He'd certainly been there countless times in his life.

He decided to cut his girlfriend some slack so Croc sat down next to her and planted his rough scaly hands against her giant smooth tummy. Then in a surprisingly gentle way Killer croc began to rub Orca's massive tummy with a great deal of care. His hands delicately moved up the giant blubbery medicine ball of a tummy where his claws gently dug into the fat flesh.

Orca's eyes rolled to the back of her head and she moaned at the much needed tummy rub. For a monster so rigid Killer Croc knew how to be surprisingly tactile and docile with her.

"That feel good?" Croc asked.

Orca hummed through her chest and smiled pleasantly.

Killer Croc grinned and kept it up even when his own stomach rumbled.

Orca frowned guiltily when she heard Croc's scaly belly complaining. "Sorry I really should've left you something..."

"Ah it's cool. It's pretty late so I'll go back up t'the surface and find a mugger later."

Orca shrugged. At least Killer Croc would be getting a more filling meal that way. Then she continued to enjoy his soothing treatment over her tummy.

His scaly hand ran up and down the fatty side of Orca's massive stomach. He just kept rubbing it up and down occasionally rubbing upwards with his palm or gripping into Orca's blubber and kneading it to help it settle. Croc's hands traced over every bit of that giant whale belly and kneaded into it on top of rubbing away.

Orca sat there loving every second of it. Especially when Croc dug his claw into her very deep belly button. Croc kneaded into Orca's navel moving around circularly inside which got Orca moaning a little louder. Even when she was human her belly button was always extra delicate.

When Croc yanked his claw out of her belly button her whole chubby tummy wobbled around until Croc patted it heartily which caused it to slosh around and made Orca hiccup again.

"Man ya really know how to pack this stuff away don'tcha!" Croc admired.

"I stress-eat sometimes," Orca admitted with embarrassment. "I keep meaning to maintain better self control."

"Pssh self control's overrated," Killer Croc dismissed speaking from extensive gluttonous experience himself. "Besides ya look good with a belly on ya," Croc almost purred when he grabbed a hold of Orca's hefty blubbery tummy.

Orca blushed and scowled back in response. "Y-You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"Naw I'm serious," Croc insisted and looked down at that big plump tummy which he rubbed circles all over. "Ya look sexy as hell."

"...You're an idiot..." Orca said but the way her cheeks flared up hinted something else.

She didn't object when he continued stroking her tummy though. Her silky flesh felt so smooth to Croc even with his scales partially diluting everything he felt. Even he could feel the sleekness to it and how much softer it was when Orca was so unbelievably bloated. He couldn't help marvel at her girth as his hands roamed every bit of that hefty belly.

Killer Croc fondled her heavy underbelly gripping into her tummy and heaving her whole stomach up a little to just feel its weight in his arms. And the way he looked down at this massive tummy with this hungry look in his eyes was telling.

Maybe Killer Croc really did have a thing for tummies, especially Orca's tummy.

Orca also had to admit. Having her belly tended to by her big scaly boyfriend was doing something for her too.

It was enough to make her forget all about her troubles. At least until Killer Croc brought it back up.

"So what was buggin' ya anyway?" Croc asked while he rubbed.

Orca shifted a little. "You know me. I'm an anxious person."

"But ya usually ain't anxious fer nothin'."

"I don't know. I guess I was just thinking about the future. I've accepted this is who I am now but I don't know things like how it's going to affect my lifespan if I can have children or if it will affect my mind going forward."

"You've been this way fer years now though."

"Mutations do still occur and I never got a chance to read the fine print when they transformed me."

Killer Croc frowned. He'd changed a lot too when he grew up but for as much as he mutated he was still himself. "D'ya feel any different?"

"No?"

"Yer thoughts ever make ya think differently?"

"Well I didn't used to think humans tasted so good," Orca joked and rubbed her fat belly fondly patting it a few times too. "Besides my hunger and my new body though no. I guess not."

"I ain't smart bout nothin' but I know people well enough. I think the fact yer so nervous bout this sorta crap only means yer still you cuz ya always overthink crap. Comes with bein' a nerd right?"

"Scientists aren't nerds," Orca frowned.

Croc grinned teasingly. "C'mon ya could be playin' video games with me but instead yer always readin'? Yer the queen'uh nerds babe!"

"And you're an asshole."

Killer Croc laughed and nodded in agreement. Orca herself couldn't help laugh and shake her head. Croc wasn't the most sensitive of maneating monsters but he was surprisingly very good at listening and helping Orca get out of her own head sometimes. That was all she really needed sometimes and he never failed to give her that relief from her own anxieties.

"Thank you," she said sincerely.

Croc smiled back at her and leaned up to kiss her on the lips.

Or at least he tried to until her huge belly gurgled heavily enough to actually make it ripple slightly.

Orca cringed and turned her head with a fist pushed against her mouth. She stifled a deep burp in her mouth that Killer croc could hear rumbling in her cheeks. Then Orca gripped the dead center of her chunky belly and muffled an even bigger burp that made her cheeks balloon out somewhat.

She blew the gas out from the corner of her mouth and blushed.

"Unnnnf excuse me. That was gross," Orca pardoned herself.

"Pssh ya forget who yer datin'?" Killer Croc teased. "Don't hold 'em in if yer feelin' gassy babe. That ain't gonna feel too hot fer yer gut."

Killer Croc leaned his heavy scaly torso against Orca's giant belly. The added weight of his body alone was causing the pressure to build but then he squeezed Orca's tummy firmly and forced that pressure right up her throat. Before she could stop herself Orca a huge echoing burp that rumbled throughout the tunnels.

BBBRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHP!!!!!!!!!

Croc grinned. "There ya go babe! Get it all out!"

Killer croc gripped the center of Orca's belly and pushed his hands deeply into the middle of her heavy tummy. Before Orca could tell Croc off she burped so hard that the ground felt like it was shaking!

HHUUUUUUUURRRRRAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOURRRHP!!!!!!!!!

Croc laughed heartily. "Damn! Ya been holdin' out on me haven'tcha!"

Orca panted heavily and waved her hand to get Croc to pause for a moment. Her blubbery tummy rose and fell heavily with her stunted breath. Orca's face was pretty red. She was never shy about burping at all even back when she was still human. But these days she usually only did that either if she was alone or if the only other person around was in her stomach.

She couldn't help be a little embarrassed by how loud they were. But she had to admit it felt so much better getting the gas out.

Whatever the case Orca puffed out her cheeks and blew in a weary sort of way. "Ungh push here," Orca instructed Killer croc pointing right around her belly button again. She felt that part of her stomach bubbling and making it feel even more tense.

"Grand finale time huh?" Croc grinned. Then he pushed his thumbs into Orca's belly button and pressed both hands right into the middle of her chunky gut. They actually sank into the blubbery belly fat and caused her whole stomach to churn.

The Orca's mouth parted with an absolutely colossal burp that was louder than any she'd ever let out and rumbled out of her tummy so long that Croc stopped counting the seconds.

AAAAAAAAAHHRRAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUURRRRAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOORRRRRHHHHUUUUUURRP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Orca panted so heavily she started drooling. She slumped back in a daze feeling absolute relief while her belly spilled out freely and bubbled much more softly.

Killer croc slapped his thigh with laughter. "GAHAHAHA!!! Holy shit babe! You'n I definitely gotta have ourselves a contest later!" He said childishly patting her tummy and making her hiccup again.

The relief she felt was so astronomical that Orca didn't even blush. She just smacked her lips and said, "I wouldn't want to embarrass you."

And in an uncharacteristic display of cockiness Orca thumped her chest and burped one last time to prove her point.

#kink fic #orca #killer croc #waylon jones #grace balin #stuffing #belly rub #belly kink #burping #hiccups #belly button play #fat play #belly play #fluff #killer croc x orca #waylon jones x grace balin #canon ship #relationships #anxiety

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belphegor1982 · 3 years

Note

not sure if you're doing the prompt list, but parenthood (6) with leonard snart and janet? 👉👈 i'm in love with your characterizations of len and his wife 💕

It took me two weeks, but there it is :D

Parenthood (DCAU)

When she’d been a kid, Janet had – very naturally – assumed that her adult life would match her parents’, or their neighbours: a house, a husband, a dog, a white picket fence, not necessarily in that order. And kids. Like an afterthought, something not really important so much as vaguely necessary.

She hadn’t thought about it until a couple of years or so into her and Len’s marriage. They’d had somewhat rocky beginnings: she’d been fierce, he’d been grumpy, and they’d both been so damn young they hadn’t seen how ridiculous they were, dancing around each other like they weren’t sure they were allowed this… that. ‘Relationship’ was too big a word. Whatever they had, though, they had kept, because it was good and it was theirs. One day it had hit Janet that Len basically only went back to his crappy little apartment to shower; one night they’d been in bed, sweaty and tired and stupid happy, and as Janet reached for the book on her bedside table afterwards while Len scribbled on his ‘heist ideas’ notebook like he’d been struck with sudden inspiration, she had realised in a rush that she wanted the rest of her life to be like this.

“Wanna get married, one of these days?” she’d asked, almost not nervous at all.

Len had stared at her long enough to make her start to regret asking. Then he’d given a small smile, the very rare sort that showed in his eyes.

“Sure,” he’d said, and that was that.

They’d gotten married six months later. Janet wore blue. Her parents showed up, despite the disapproval hanging thick in the air – her father convinced that she could ‘do a lot better than a thug’, her mother ice-cold at the thought of her daughter marrying ‘some two-bit crook’. Len had only invited his sister, a stunning young blonde who’d been friendly to Janet but still appeared put-out that the invitation didn’t extend to her boyfriend.

“He’s a jerk,” Len had said later, making Janet laugh.

“You’re a jerk, Len.”

“Not the same kind. He’s stuck-up. Lisa’s too good for him anyway.”

“Yeah, well. That’s not up to you to decide, is it? It’s your sister’s choice.”

“I know, I just… She deserves better. Better than she got as a kid.”

Janet had looked at him, long and careful, suddenly a little tense.

“Do you think she’s… not safe? With him?”

Len had blinked, then shaken his head.

“Nah, nothin’ like that. You can tell Dillon’s actually good to her. Nothing like…” He had trailed off, something hard and cold and sudden in his eyes like someone had slammed closed a pair of shutters. That had only lasted for ten seconds before he’d shrugged. “I just wish he wasn’t such a dick, that’s all.”

Then he’d abruptly changed the subject, and Janet had followed, because she knew precarious ground when she saw it.

* * * *

Living with someone in the intimate way meant noticing a lot of things about them, more or less willingly.

Len had cottoned on pretty early to her tendency to snap when she was tired or angry, and of holding nothing back then. She also caught him looking at the crisscross pattern of scar tissue on her knuckles from when she’d punched a wall, repeatedly, after the girl who’d been her best friend in school was battered to death by her boyfriend. “I only slapped her around a bit,” the bastard had said, and ten years later Janet still wished that she’d had the guts to punch him instead. She’d finally told Len about it one day, and seen his face go stone and his eyes ice. His cold fury had been comforting.

It went both ways. She noticed things about her husband, too. Like some odd scars she had a feeling he hadn’t picked up in juvie, the trace of a cigarette burn in the hollow of his right shoulder, or the mark – still chillingly precise even years later – of a belt buckle in the small of his back. She wondered whether Lisa had similar scars. Not that she’d ask. She and her sister-in-law didn’t have that kind of relationship.

Janet had a past. Len had a past. That was what being human meant. Sometimes that felt more like dragging a corpse through the dust wherever you went than a happy set of picture-perfect memories, but it was part of the whole package.

The major reason Janet didn’t entertain the idea of kids for longer than a passing thought was because she didn’t want any – for the moment, she told herself, even as she kept forgetting to really think about it. She’s grown up with the distinct impression that she hadn’t been wanted, or had come at an inconvenient time to her parents. The last thing she wanted was to make a kid feel like that.

The lesser reason was everything Len wasn’t saying. He wasn’t crazy about opening up about things either important or trivial, though he did anyway because they both liked to get their point across clearly. But she’d never, ever heard him say anything at all about his life before he’d struck out on his own, a couple of years short of eighteen years old. His sister Lisa was six years younger, and that was all Janet knew. Family, parents, home life – Len didn’t let anything slip. This, combined with the scars and a few odd reactions, carefully hidden under a lot of attitude, told her more than he appeared willing to share.

One day, when he’d been nicely mellowed out by a good score and a shared bottle of the good stuff to celebrate, she had asked him, “Do you ever think about having kids?”

The split-second look he’d given her still haunted her to this day. She had seen him angry, she had seen him silent, cheerful and surly and balking at house chores, but it hadn’t crossed her mind that he could ever be afraid.

“No,” he’d answered curtly. “Why?”

“Just wondering. Kevin from logistics just had his third the other day. Kept asking me when I’d finally get started on my own.”

“Kevin from logistics needs to mind his own damn business.”

“That’s what I told him,” said Janet, and Len smirked. “Anyway, he got me thinking. Turns out I don’t think I want kids. You know, at all.”

The relief on his face was as fleeting as the fear, but just as stark.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like what we have.” A pause. “You’ve really never thought about having kids one day?”

“Sure I did, once – for about five seconds. Weirdest five seconds of my life.”

She’d given him a look, half amused, half a smile. Relax, Len. You’re not getting interrogated.

“That bad?”

“Look, I don’t… Kids are weird, all right? Adults I can deal with. Besides, all I know is how not to be a father. No way I’m risking—no way.”

That was as close as he ever came to telling her why she’d never even heard Snart Sr.’s first name. But it was enough. They closed the subject and moved on to other things.

* * * *

And then it turned out that Metropolis and Gotham were not the only cities that could boast an actual superhero, because Central City quickly became aware of a lean, young-looking man in a red costume who called himself the Flash and went after burglars and thieves with superhuman speed. Whoever he was, whatever he was, he added an element of danger to her husband’s chosen profession, and Janet took an instant dislike to him and his big smug smile. Then she dismissed him from her mind quickly enough.

Len, though, was a very different story.

While he didn’t like the Flash any more than Janet did, the guy’s addition to the tried-and-true equation of cops and robbers added an edge that hadn’t been present before. Having an actual superhero in town made all of Len’s old research on absolute zero – and tinkering in the basement – not only relevant but useful. He designed a ‘cold gun’ from plans he’d stolen years ago, looking more excited than Janet had seen him in the last eight years, and worked hard to ‘up his game’.

Privately, Janet thought that, for a man who claimed to be as serious about his trade as Len did, creating a brand-new persona complete with parka, visor, and goofy moniker was hilarious.

Not that she ever actually laughed at him. Especially not the one time Len came back from a heist with an armful of cash and a weird look on his face.

“He’s a kid, Jan,” he said when Janet had asked him what could be wrong when he’d clearly got away with the loot unscathed. “He’s a goddamn kid. I don’t think he’s even old enough to drink.”

“What the hell is he playing at, then?” she exclaimed. “This job is not kid’s stuff! What was he thinking, that he could waltz in and play Superman, just like that?”

“I don’t know.” Len took off his visor and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then his eyes hardened. “And I don’t care. I like my job. If this guy thinks he can stop me, then he’d better be prepared to try harder.”

“I got him good today, though,” he said hours later, in the small hours of the night, after Janet’s hands had searched for his, cool and calloused, under the covers.

Something tensed inside in the region of her stomach.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“Of course not,” he snapped, looking annoyed that she’d even ask. Janet’s guts relaxed. “I’m a crook, not a murderer. Besides, you know the second someone offs that guy, Superman or another big hero is gonna show up and turn the city inside out in revenge. It’d be like when a cop gets killed. They close ranks and start shooting indiscriminately.”

“So when you say you ‘got him good’ –”

“I just sent him packin’. Didn’t rough him up more than I would a cop. The kid’s got a mean right hook but he has no idea how real cold works, speed or no speed.”

Janet closed her eyes again and murmured, “Maybe he’ll quit, then.”

“Maybe.” Even half-asleep, she could tell that this ‘maybe’ meant ‘fat chance’.

“So… on the off-chance that today didn’t put him off, what are you gonna do?”

“I was thinking I might hit Drake & Hall Savings on Infantino Street next month.”

“I meant about the Flash.”

Len’s voice was low but certain when he said, “Me too. I’ll just keep doing my job, and if this joker is as serious as he claims to be, he’ll keep trying to stop me. But I’m not gonna drop everything just because of a kid in a onesie and a mask. I’ll just have to find ways to slow him down.”

The last thought that coalesced in Janet’s mind just before she nodded off was Did my husband just become a supervillain?

She fell asleep before the laugh passed her lips.

* * * *

While ‘supervillain’ might have been stretching things – not to mention the word made Janet choke up on laughter – Len’s new approach to the job was certainly different from the one he’d had before the Flash came along. He still refused the label, though, arguing that supervillains had powers, costumes, and delusions of grandeur, while he just had a cold gun, a parka, and banks to rob.

“Okay,” said Janet when she was in a ribbing mood, “what’s the Joker’s power, then?”

This usually earned her a deadpan look.

At least Len didn’t remain the only crook with a gimmick and an eccentric costume for long. Soon her husband had colleagues, fellow not-supervillains, some of whom not only willing to work together but also seemed to actually appreciate it. Their ‘powers’ were not innate, nor did they get them in freaky accidents; like Len, they either stole tech or were savvy enough to design it. And they all rejected the label of ‘supervillain’.

They were ‘rogues’. Or rather, Rogues. And Len – who knows why – took the place of the de facto leader.

Of her husband’s coworkers, Janet got on with Mick Rory the best. She liked his even temper, his slight smile, and the fact that he generally found it easy to keep a level head. Digger Harkness was his exact opposite, and her whole life she could never quite shake off the urge to slap him whenever he opened his mouth. The others were scattered along the scale between those two extremes: some were never quite sure what to do with her (or she with them – apart from making sure the old couch in the basement could be slept on and keeping an eye on their quickly-dwindling stock of coffee and beer packs), while others were more accommodating about having to spend time with ‘Len’s missus’.

One day Janet caught James pilfering one of the cookies she’d baked herself for the next night she’d have to spend alone. He looked so terrified at being caught red-handed that she refrained from rolling her eyes and told him to help himself and share with his musician friend.

She drew the line at pointing out Hartley was too skinny, though. Just because the young man was friendly and polite and, indeed, looked rather underfed didn’t mean she had any right to turn into her Aunt Debbie. She’d rather die first. Besides, she wasn’t the kid’s nanny, was she?

Nevertheless, the cookies proved a success. Like the couch in the basement, like the stocking up on beer packs, like the occasional patching-up of scrapes not serious enough to warrant a trip to the hospital, they surreptitiously became a habit.

* * * *

Over the years, Janet Snart slid smoothly into middle-age never regretting once her decision not to have children. Turned out being a woman, a wife, a friend, and a sometimes kind-of-support to a bunch of Rogues was quite enough.

Parenthood was overrated, anyway.

______________

Hope you liked, @orion-nottson 💜

Timeline notes thingy: Janet and Len met when they were about 25-27 and got married a couple of years later. ‘Dillon’ is of course Roscoe Dillon, the Top, who has a blink-and-you-miss-it cameo in the JLU episode with the Rogues, but since I don’t want to kill him or Lisa, I’m thinking he was her ice skating trainer, they fell in love, and didn’t go into villainy.

Wally was the first Flash of this universe - maybe the second and Jay was a superhero in the 1940s? - since he says “my uncle’s flying in” for the ceremony. Also, when he first pops up in this story he’s not quite 16, while Len is a bit over 30.

...I really overthink these things, huh 😅

#Anonymous #my stuff #rogues #fanfiction #ask reply #my OCs #Janet Snart

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batfamscreaming · 3 years

Text

[superbat hs au - Court of Owls, First hints of ~superpowers~

Tommy was willing to fill the time a while until supper, when about ten minutes before six, the boy on the top bunk would finally sit himself up and slide down to the floor and tugging on shoes without much of a word. “Almost six. Get ready to go.”

“Uh-”

Clark had asked him if he had any family, and what he planned to go to college for, and other generic questions he could manage to think of while he unpacked his things and then shoved his empty luggage aside.

“Six?” He asked, like he hadn’t heard any of what Harvey said before.

“Dinner,” Bruce said as explanation, unbothered.

(“Unfortunately, my mom,” Tommy had said with a roll of his eyes. “And obviously, Bruce’s an orphan. I’m hoping for medical school, to be a surgeon. What about you?”

There was no moment to acknowledge the middle part of the sentence. Only an impossible-to-hear tightness in the boy in the bunk’s otherwise steady breathing. And then it was gone again.)

“They’ll want you to wear something nice for the opening dinner, and any dinner on Sundays. If you don’t have anything else, your school uniform will do,” Bruce said.

(“Wh- journalism.” Clark had replied, but didn’t dare ask about how Bruce was an orphan.)

“Oh, okay. Uh. Yeah. I’ll have to get changed then.” Clark said, and dug around for his uniform. He didn’t have anything nicer than that with him.

He walked out to head to the bathroom and change.

“Alright.”

They would wait for him to return.

When he did, it was clear Tommy had changed clothing too, though he hadn’t bothered to leave the room to do so. He sat with Bruce on their bottom bunk, dressed in a matching oxford and button down jacket. Dark pants, black shoes. They could’ve been siblings, probably, despite their personalities.

And once all three were there, off they went, Bruce dutifully leading the way to the cafeteria, and Tommy trailing a bit behind him, content to just follow along for the moment.

“Sundays and special dinners we gotta eat with our hall table,” Tommy said. “And listen to the headmaster give speeches. But other than that, school’s pretty great.”

Clark followed along behind them. The closer they got the louder things got, and he could tell this was going to be rough. Places that were loud even for regular people were killer on him. It was so hard to focus on what you were supposed to.

“You like school?” He asked, sounding a little in disbelief.

“Uh, yeah?” he said. “Get some time away from the family? Live with my best friend? School rocks.”

He slung an arm around Bruce, and it was accepted with a huff.

“Not everyone’s as good at school work as you,” Bruce said.

“You are, though,” Tommy said. “So you don’t get to point that out to me.”

He poked Bruce’s cheek. The quiet boy smiled a little.

Clark didn’t say much. He felt like a third wheel, and the black-haired kid really wasn’t much of a talker. Couldn’t blame him if he really was an orphan.

The dinner was… boring. But hey, free food. The headmaster talked about the upcoming year and how they were all going to grow into strapping young, disciplined men and yadda yadda. Clark didn’t really pay attention.

When dinner was over it was back to the room. Back to bed.

… He had a hard time sleeping. Gotham at night was still so damn loud compared to back home.

Gotham was loud.

…

So were the dorms.

(someone, somewhere in the building, was crying into their pillow. Trying to muffle it, but the dissonance--

Multiple people were. Quiet, muffled, hiding it--)

In His Room.

In his room, the first night, a heart started to rocket up in pace from where it had once been steady, panic--

Bruce on the top bunk jerked awake, with the sound of his teeth biting through his lip to keep quiet.

Sometimes Clark didn’t realize what was supposed to be loud to normal people and what wasn’t.

“... You okay?” He whispered out into the dark.

The boy flinched.

….rolled over to face Clark, breathing still shallow.

He flinched again at whatever he saw.

“...fine,” he said. Then, “Quiet.”

His eyes were still bright in the dark, but only when they caught the light.

“... Okay.” He said, and wouldn’t say anything else.

…

He wouldn’t get much sleep.

…

It was something Clark couldn’t hear, but Bruce’s mind wouldn’t quiet anymore than Gotham or the dormitory would.

“...what’s with your eyes?” he whispered.

Oh damn. Oh shit.

He quickly closed them and rolled over so he faced away from the other bunk.

“Nothing.”

There was a disbelieving huff from the other side of the room.

...unfortunately, Clark wasn’t the only light sleeper.

“...mmh?” Tommy mumbled, splayed out on the bottom bunk. “What’s goin ‘rong?”

“Nothin’.” Clark said again, and didn’t turn around.

They had sent him here to get away from everyone knowing what he could do. He couldn’t blow his cover on the first night because his STUPID EYES GLOWED IN THE DARK.

“His eyes were glowing,” Bruce said. Because of course he did. No wonder Tommy called him a snitch--

But Tommy started making noise into his pillow, too.

Laughing. Trying to muffle it.

“Were you dreaming about the Talon?” he hissed, sounding delighted.

Ignore it. Let this blow over.

…

“What’s that?” He mumbled, still looking away.

Above Clark, Harvey Dent let out a groan under his breath.

Apparently, everyone was awake tonight.

If Tommy’s eyes could’ve glinted in the dark, they would’ve. “Oh, that’s right…. You’re from Kansas. You don’t know about… the assassins….”

“Oh my god,” Harvey Dent whispered only to himself.

… Clark finally lifted his head and glanced back at the other bunk.

“What.”

“It’s a fairy tale in the area,” Harvey said finally, whispering loud enough for the other two in the room to know he was also a little snitch. “Tommy likes to scare new kids with it. Now shut up, we’re gonna get in trouble.”

Tommy flopped back onto his bed, huffing. “It’s fun to watch them freak out. It’s not like anything bad actually happens by just talking about it.”

“You got a quote for that?” Bruce mumbled, half audible in his pillow.

“Ugh. ‘Happiness depends on ourselves?’ Or in this case, in letting me tell a ghost story in the middle of the night, you babies.”

“Fairytale assassins?” Clark couldn’t help but snort and roll back over so no one could see his eyes.

“Guess you city kids gotta have some kinda boogiemen.”

…..

Tommy sat up in bed, eyes narrowing.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well back home we got things like portals to hell and angry ghosts, not assassins.”

...somehow, that seemed to settle Tommy, a little.

“No room for that stuff here,” he said. “Just threatening nursery rhymes that date back definitely two hundred years and if you want it creepier, even longer.”

“... Assassins with nursery rhymes?”

Sounds pretty lame.

“Still spooks people enough,” Tommy said, shrugging. “Especially in this kinda place.”

“It’s nice to think some random murders might’ve had a point,” Bruce said.

Tommy did not respond to that.

“Dunno how anyone could get spooked in a place as loud as this.” Clark said, sighing.

No room to think enough to be scared.

….for a moment, the three regarded him in incomprehension.

“Oh,” Harvey said. “Oh, he’s not used to the city.”

There was a small sound of understanding from the other two.

“I was gonna say. It’s dead quiet, honestly,” said Tommy.

“Not if we get caught talking,” Bruce warned. “Shh.”

“Shhhhhh,” Tommy said.

Clark groaned his own ‘nnnngh’ and shoved the pillow over his head.

It didn’t help.

Somewhere out of normal hearing a car alarm went off.

“You gotta be kidding…” He whispered to himself.

…

At least, finally, the conversation, thin as it was, had died out.

(There wasn’t any explanation for why Tommy would think Bruce dreamed of Talons when it was just a silly boogey man.)

But the three boys settled down in their beds again.

Bruce started breathing deeper. More intentionally. Until it relaxed him enough to get back to sleep.

...his heartbeat deepened and steadied out. Much closer than the car alarm.

Tommy and Harvey’s followed.

[...]

He wrote to his parents.

Everything is going well. Making friends. They're all rich but not as full of themselves as I thought they would be. It's pretty cool. Really loud here though. Having a lot of trouble sleeping.

Love you.

Then it was just… back to normal. Like he hadn't found out the teachers beat their students.

(When his mother wrote back, she was so relieved he was making friends. That it wasn't as bad as she feared.

But he wouldn't get that letter for another two weeks.)

The next week rolled around, and Bruce grew a little quieter. Tommy didn't, but Harvey quietly told Clark to be extra careful this week. It was an anniversary, he said, assuming that by now Clark knew, Kansas or not. And sometimes Bruce got a little mean during the anniversary.

Not just standoffish, but.

A little aggressive? Sometimes.

...and so the 26th rolled over, and even though Tommy seemed to be pretending it was a normal day, the rest of their dorm room woke up with stale, held breath.

Bruce avoided people. Avoided radios and TVs playing the news.

But somehow, he didn't manage to avoid the newspaper, and did a double take when he saw the headlines.

Finally, something had overshadowed him a little.

On the front page was the picture of a grisly murder. Open-eyes, holes in his face--

“REAL ESTATE SUPERSTAR FOUND DEAD IN PENTHOUSE SUITE; DEATH OF A THOUSAND CUTS!”

Clark tried to keep it in mind. Unlike the other two he didn’t treat it like any other day because it wasn’t. They still all went through the motions of course, but he talked to Bruce a little softer. A little gentler. Not because he wanted to walk on eggshells, but because he knew for Bruce that this wasn’t just another normal day, and acting like it was felt like almost a slap in the face of what he had to go through.

Maybe it hadn’t occurred to him that Bruce would want to avoid the papers. It was hard for him to wrap around the fact one of his roommates was so rich that his parent’s death made it into the news every single year somehow, so maybe it was his fault that Bruce saw the headline. He read the paper almost every day if he could. He wanted to be a journalist, after all, and they didn’t have TV in their room. Sometimes the common room TV wasn’t even on.

But he saw the murder too and, at this point, didn’t think much of it. Read the article and moved on.

Gotham, he had learned very quickly, was just as bad as everyone said.

It made sense, why Gotham Academy reassured all their parents that they would keep the children safe.

And maybe that was Bruce’s fault, he thought. Because it wasn't as if he was expecting papers to talk all over again like the day it'd been, but--

He'd expected a talk piece. An opinion article.

One Year Later: Flowers Left At Wayne Memorial Event as Investigation Dies

Two Years Ago, As Martha and Thomas Wayne Laid to Rest, Crime Began to Rise

Three Years Since Gotham’s Kennedy’s Mown Down: Park Row Died with Them?

A Reflection on Gotham’s Economic Fall: Wayne Fortune Locked Up as Charities Run Dry

(Sole Survivor Wayne to Attend Gotham’s Most Prestigious Academy This Fall with Luther Heir)

Five Years Ago Today: How the Wayne Deaths Marked the End of a Safe and Glorious Gotham

…

He could imagine what the headline should've been. What it should've been.

Instead, Six Years of Sorrow: Wayne Murders Still Shadow Upper East Side and Wayne Murder Theater Announces Close on Anniversary of Deaths, citing ‘Unrecoverable Reputation’ of the Area had been pushed down the page to make room for the new murder.

...and Bruce took a look at it and snatched it up to stare at the grisly photo and start to read.

It was a good thing that Clark had a loose grip on it as it was yanked from his hands.

“O-kay. You coulda asked.” He said, but didn’t sound angry. Still being soft around Bruce due to the day it was.

He feared he might’ve done something wrong.

Bruce managed to give him a hum of some sort of acknowledgment, but didn't really give much of a response.

He went to his bag, grabbed a pen, and sat right down on the floor, tracing the bottom of the words in the paper to keep his place.

Tommy leaned out from his bunk to try and watch over Bruce's shoulder, but his eyes looked uninterested. “Saw somethin’ ya liked?”

(Bruce shot him a disgusted look, a “what?” but otherwise ignored him.)

Clark leaned over too in order to watch him. “Or somethin’ ya didn’t like.”

…

Bruce glanced up at him, too, but looked more self-conscious than anything at that.

…

“The way they're talking about the thing just reminds me of the claw marks they found at the Lansing murders…”

“Oh my god,” Tommy said in a familiar kind of disbelief for this specific topic. “It was a dog claw, Bruce.”

Clark, however, was interested.

“Lansing murders?”

Bruce shrank down under Tommy’s criticism, but… looked up again, and quietly answered Clark’s tone.

“...the Lansings were a business couple,” he said. “They were murdered in their home the summer before last by stabbing a, so not… like this.”

For a moment, he backed up again, and let Clark see the slashes of the man on the page.

“Something left a big claw mark on the door, and their dog--”

“Ran away from home and wasn't seen again,” Tommy said dully. “It obviously hit the front door. Broke the hinges. Ran off in fear. It was a hundred pound dog.”

“...” the look on Bruce’s face said he didn't believe it all the way.

But he didn't lift his head to argue this time. He just stared down at the paper.

“...Bruce, hey, I'm not trying to make fun of you, I'd never do that,” Tommy said, rolling a little closer to the edge of the bed. “But just because claw marks happened once or twice at a murder doesn't mean the Court is real. What, did your dad have a gash on his face when he died?”

…

And Bruce shook his head.

“See? It's not real.”

“Well that don't mean you can't look into it.” Clark offered, looking up at them. “What's the harm in connecting a few dots? And just because there ain't proof they do exist doesn't mean they don't.”

Tommy gave Clark the kind of flat look he never gave Bruce. Like he was saying the dumbest thing.

“You didn't even know the story when you showed up and now you're trying to do this? Really?”

...Bruce stared up at Clark, face unreadable.

And he started to pick up the newspaper and fold it again.

“Tryin’ to do what?” Clark frowned. “If there's a story here I'm interested! Y'know--” he gestured to himself, “journalism?”

“To drag him down again!” Tommy said, rolling off then bed and standing, defensive behind Bruce. Above him.

For the moment.

For the moment before Bruce stood, pencils and notebook in hand, and paper carefully folded under his arm.

He looked at Clark.

“Let's go.”

Clark glared at Tommy, but he said nothing.

He grabbed his own notebook and pencils to leave with Bruce.

“Bruce?” Tommy said, but Harvey was the only one still listening. “Bruce!”

Bruce closed the dorm door behind him.

“Library has old papers on record,” Bruce said softly. And he began to walk.

Whatever history was repeating here, Clark knew nothing of it.

“Okay,” he said, and started heading that way.

“... Tommy said I was ‘dragging you down again’. What’d he mean by that?”

He sounded annoyed. Offended. Like he would do that to someone intentionally.

Bruce pursed his lips, buying time for a response, but not sure what to say. Or, he knew what to say.

But he didn't like to say it.

“...I tried to find the man who killed my parents,” he said finally. “...I couldn't.”

…

“You think they’re all related to that Court?”

…

Bruce hung his head.

Stared at the ground.

Didn't… want to look Clark in the eye when he admitted his stupid, idiot theory.

“...they’re all building developers. Or owned lots of property. And were trying to change it…”

But Clark didn’t call it stupid.

“Okay, something to start with. And, hey--”

He reached out slowly to touch Bruce’s shoulder.

“Worst case scenario is we’re wrong and nothing changes.”

Bruce twitched a little at the contact, but…

Mostly, he just turned his head up a little, and stared at Clark’s face.

(He was sixteen and he'd stopped believing in a just world long ago.

But somehow, he was stupid, and still believed in fairy tales.)

…

“Okay,” he said, voice cracking.

And he led Clark to the library.

...the newspapers were all in the bottom floor, the basement. In the archives. The indexes were massive, but well organized and maintained.

And Bruce already knew where to start looking… to a point.

But the first place to start, was writing down a scrawled poem on a blank sheet of scrap paper. Hesitating.

“...we’re doing this backwards,” he mumbled. “Not supposed to go in with a theory…”

But he wrote it out, all the same.

Beware The Court of Owls, that watches all the time,

ruling Gotham from a shadow perch, behind granite and lime.

They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed,

speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send The Talon for your head.

Clark followed him down.

“No?” He asked, setting his notebook on a desk close to the archives they would need to look through.

“How do you think we should go about it then?”

Bruce swallowed and stuffed the paper in his pocket.

“...supposed to go in and look for patterns and connections,” he said. “...if you already have a suspect, you… only look for things that point to them.”

“... Okay. How much can you tell me about this ‘Court of Owls’?”

He was sitting down and opening his notebook to a new page. He didn’t have the knowledge of them Bruce did. This wasn’t his home. These weren’t his urban legends.

Looking for them directly was exactly what Bruce said they shouldn't be doing, but…

It still thrummed inside him, on some silly, stupid level.

Maybe it hadn't just been a coincidence murder. Maybe it had a purpose. Anything other than random events. Anything.

“...” he handed Clark the paper. “...they have at least one assassin. They… Have an architecture motif. They're watching from the buildings.”

With the kind of architecture in Gotham Academy not being uncommon to the rest of Old Gotham, it maybe wasn't surprising the buildings themselves were the boogeymen’s hiding places sometimes.

But he didn't know if Clark would make that connection to a real estate building mongle--

“Ties in to your theory about them targeting building developers.” He said, writing something down before he got up so he could look into those Lansing murders Bruce had talked about earlier.

He needed to play catch-up. This wasn’t his turf. He didn’t know as much as Bruce did.

…

He planned to dig up the papers about the Wayne tragedy too, but… not now. Not with Bruce in the room.

Clark could do that later on his own time.

Tommy had seen the connection, and rolled his eyes, and Bruce half expected Clark to just-- not see it at all--

…

But he swallowed something down, and his stomach stopped roiling quite so much, and he nodded again.

“Yeah. Just. Anyone who changes the architecture.”

And he dove in behind Clark.

He looked for the more recent murders. The ones he hasn't read about or studied like this since he was twelve and finally gave up, run off from his last scraps of energy.

…

And finally, someone was beside him, willing, even for just a moment, to believe him.

While Bruce looked at the more recent murders, Clark went for the old. The ones Bruce already knew about. He asked him which ones he had connected before, if any, and he would take a look at those.

(“I’m a new perspective. I wanna go over things you already know about. We don’t think the same, so who knows. Maybe I’ll see something different.” Is what he would say.)

The Lansing murders. What they did before the murders. The other ones that Bruce had tied together when he was 12--

Before they knew it the library was closing. They would need to come back.

And they would.

(A new perspective. A new reading level, honestly-- from twelve to sixteen, the change in things he understood--)

They would come back.

Absolutely.

Bruce went to bed and slept the whole night, and woke with impatient fire in his eyes.

Tommy gave Clark a sour look as Clark headed out the door to change, and once again as Bruce flew out of his last class, tossing his bag into their dorm and making a beeline to the library.

“Bruce, but, homework--!” Tommy called.

“Don't bother,” Harvey sighed, sitting down with his own book bag to get started “It’s not like his grades will get him kicked out.”

….and on the weekend, Tommy barely had time to pull on a matching hoodie and jeans, before Bruce was out the door for early breakfast and back to work.

(“Nice to see him care about something,” Harvey said.

Tommy threw a pillow at his head.)

#superbat #highschool au #bruce wayne #clark kent #thomas elliot #i really like outgoing terrible thomas #let's see if I can actually keep the italics in it this time #rp logs #80s gay superbat

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keelywolfe · 3 years

Text

FIC: Drifters ch.9 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Enter the Other Brother. Blue, welcome home! You might be in for a surprise!

Tags: Spicyhoney, Violence, Rescued Child, Medical Experimentation, Babybones

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Edge was not a Monster who cared very much for surprises. In his experience, they never led to anything good, not to birthday parties or unexpected gifts, but rather ambushes and dust. He preferred careful planning to the seat-of-the-pants schemes that his brother often came up with, every step made with strategy in mind.

He couldn’t say for certain if Blue was the same way, although he suspected he may be. His understanding of how the alternate worlds worked was more for the layman rather than the professional, but he wasn’t blind to the personality traits that he and Blue shared, the sort of twist in nature vs nurture that any sociologist would love to explore.

He had a fair idea of how he might react to finding this clown car of a domestic scene in his own living room and if he’d known that Stretch hadn’t even mentioned he and Red were here, much less the baby, he would have at least sent Blue a blasted text.

That might have at least braced him and given him a chance to come up with a better question than simply, “Is that a baby?”

His brother, ever the peacemaker, chose that precise to speak up, scoffingly, “sure can tell you two are brothers, ya share the same brain cell, your bro said the same damn thing. yeah, it’s a baby, good on you for noticin’.”

“blue!” Stretch scrambled upright and his bright grin was too wide, too wrong, tinged with poorly hidden guilt. “sorry, bro, i was gonna call and it slipped my mind. yeah, hey, everyone showed up on our doorstep yesterday. check out the snow princess, cute, huh?”

That much at least was the truth, but Blue didn’t seem to have heard a word of it. This wasn’t quite the reaction Edge had been braced for; he’d expected Blue to make a beeline for the baby, had been resigned to handing her over for plenty of excited cuddling and cooing.

This was something else entirely. The normal stars of his eye lights were overly bright, flashing between blue and yellow with seizure inducing intensity, set into a face that was like stone. He barely glanced at the rest of them past a brief, bizarrely sympathetic glance at Edge. The anger in his gaze was for his brother alone.

Stretch seemed equally confused, his oversized smile faltering, “bro?”

“How could you?” Blue said, his voice carrying despite its deadly softness.

“wha…me?” Stretch looked around the room as if perhaps another person had appeared, that it was to this stranger his brother spoke that way. He shrank back as Blue abruptly moved, slamming the door shut as he stalked over to the sofa, his small body radiating fury.

“How could you!?” Again, louder this time, not quite a shout but verging on one.

“coulda woulda shoulda? bro, what the hell—”

Blue ignored that, stamping his foot and sending out a spatter of rapidly melting snow from his boot to dampen the carpet. “Irresponsible!”

Stretch’s face was falling, going oddly blank, his false humor fading. Next to him, Red looked equally perturbed. “now hang on a sec, short stuff, ain’t no reason to go off on the honey bun.”

“Stay out of this!” Blue snapped and for a wonder, Red jerked back, his mouth snapping shut. His eye lights briefly guttered, leaving his sockets dark and black, returning only when Stretch spoke up next to him.

“yeah. stay out of this,” Stretch agreed, softer but no less sharp and from the look he shot Edge, he was included in that statement.

Edge said nothing and even the child was silent, a dab of runny banana sliding down her chin as she stared at the Swap brothers with wide sockets. Even if he’d wanted to intrude, this argument was between brothers and it was an unspoken rule through all the ‘verses that one did not interfere with brothers.

Despite the surface similarities, none of their relationships were exactly the same. Edge knew all too well that if he railed at Red over his laziness, his brother never took it to heart or soul. He let Edge rant, blowing off the steam that built within him throughout the day and his frustrated insults rolled off Red like water off the proverbial duck. The only fallout tended to be yet another sticky note added to the continuing line trailing away from a single, absurd sock.

Stretch was, well, lacking waterproofing. More like Edge in that way, truth be told, and if Edge could snipe at his brother all day long for his ridiculous puns and lazy ways, one genuine return jab from Red often left him deeply wounded, all the more painful for its unerring accuracy and rarity.

He wondered how he’d handle being under the weight of that much visible disappointment. Edge almost always agreed with Blue’s assessments of his brother’s behavior, but his delivery needed work and the unexpected impulse to protect Stretch from that disappointment took him off guard. He wanted to scoop Stretch up like he did the baby, hold him close, cradle him in his arms and protect him, and that was ridiculous, utterly; he was an adult, older than Edge, and yet the urge remained.

In the end, Edge could only look away, stirring the gloopy remains of the banana while the two brothers whispered furiously behind him.

“Of all the careless, irresponsible—” Blue took a deep breath, let it out, muttering out, “This is all right, this is fine. We can deal with this.” He scrubbed his gloved hands over his face and then squared his shoulders as he said, “You still should have called me.”

“probably,” Stretch agreed, and perhaps the unexpected storm had passed. He relaxed back into the sofa, the tension in the room easing. “didn’t want to interrupt your important training.” He flashed Edge a sharp glance and he tried to look as if that was the exact reasoning.

“Yes, well, that’s true,” Blue admitted. “And I appreciate you thinking of that, but next time…well, there probably won’t be a next time of this, I should hope.” Any lingering worry that Blue might object to them staying for a time vanished as Blue finally swung back to the baby, this time with a familiar, bright smile on his face as he gushed out, “Which is a shame because she is simply adorable!”

He rounded the coffee table with the haste Edge originally expected, grabby hands extended, and the moment Blue bent down to reach for her, the baby burst into sobbing howls, squirming away.

Automatically, Edge swung her up, settling her against his shoulder and patting her back gently as he soothed her with a bewildered, “There, there, it’s all right. What’s wrong?”

Blue looked as if he might burst into tears himself, stumbling back a step and his eye lights faded from stars to unhappy circles. “I didn’t mean to—"

They both turned to look at Red as he let out a harsh laugh. “what’s wrong? he scared the shit out of her coming in like that, that’s what’s wrong,” Red snorted contemptuously, “don’t you know nothin’ bout babies? you’re almost as bad as my bro.”

“Not really,” Blue admitted. Shame filled his expression as he shuffled his feet. He noticed he was still wearing his boots and sat on the floor to pull them off, carrying them over to the door and automatically straightening the other shoes before adding his. “Most of my experience with children has been seeing them from a distance.”

That gave Edge a start and he realized he’d been expecting Blue to have some sort of knowledge about childcare, though he wasn’t sure why. This world was softer and tended towards kindness, but that hardly meant it gave them any innate parenting skills.

“Well!” Blue straightened, propping his hands on his hips. “I’m sure that the Magnificent Sans can learn!”

“sure you can, bro,” Stretch said, cautiously, and that Edge could understand, being very familiar with Blue’s brand of determination.

“yeah, well, here’s your first lesson,” Red slouched back on the sofa, picking at his gold tooth with a sharpened fingertip. “babies don’t like it when ya shout.”

“yep, that’s a good place to start. you know what, i’m gonna get everyone some coffee,” Stretch announced and fled to the kitchen, the coward.

Blue paid that no mind, already came back over determinedly when he spied the bowl Edge had hastily shoved on the table. The child was watching him warily as Blue picked it up, taking hold of the little spoon. “Here, let me help!”

Before Edge could stop him, Blue tried to poke the filled spoon into her mouth. The child refused to part her teeth, leaving a smear of mushy banana across them, and Blue’s brief confidence sagged, “Oh. Um. Maybe she’s not hungry?”

“Maybe.” Edge took the bowl back and immediately she began bouncing eagerly in his lap, mouth opening wide as she made urgent little sounds.

“fuck, you two are morons,” Red snorted, because of course he would stay to bear witness. “she don’t know you. kid is small, she ain’t blind. she ain’t gonna take her banana goop from just any plain asshole, she likes an asshole she knows.”

“Yes, thank you for clarifying that for us all, brother,” Edge said sourly. Somewhat gentler, he said to Blue, “Sit with me. Let her see you, it may make her more comfortable.”

“yeah, hold out a hand and let her sniff ya, that’ll do it,” Red chuckled meanly as Stretch came back out with a tray of mugs. He set it down before smacking Red on the back of the skull.

“will you cool it on the running commentary? let them work it out.”

Red rubbed his head and scowled, but he accepted the coffee cup when Stretch handed him one. “just callin’ it how i see it.”

“yeah, well, if they give up on trying, that leaves you as mary poppins, smartass.”

“good point. my teeth are sealed.”

The child grudgingly allowed Edge to settle her back on the pillows with the unspoken promise of more food. She watched Blue warily the entire time she was eating, but he made no move towards her. He sat obediently still the entire time, his gloved hands clasped tightly together in his lap as if to stave off any impulse to scoop the baby up. If nothing else, her attention on Blue kept her from messily sharing any more of her banana.

When the bowl was scraped clean, Edge wiped the child’s chubby face clean with a damp cloth then settled her back into his lap. “You see, little one?” he told her softly, “Blue is a friend.”

“I am! I really am! Want to come here?” Blue slowly held out his hands without getting too close, waiting with impressive patience. The baby looked from him to Edge, and he tried to look encouraging.

Slowly, she held up her arms to Blue. He lifted her a little awkwardly, but managed to get her settled into the curve of his arm without intervention.

“There we go!” To Edge’s relief, Blue kept his enthusiasm at a minimum, though he practically vibrated with excitement. Almost immediately, the baby began to loudly babble and if he didn’t know better, Edge would say she was scolding Blue for his part in the earlier brotherly dispute.

Soon enough, her chattering dwindled to murmurs, her sockets growing heavy, then closing entirely as she slept. Edge let Blue keep holding her as he gratefully took up his own cup of coffee and never had caffeination been so delicious.

Blue only looked at her in awe, lightly touching each of her tiny, perfect fingers. “She’s beautiful,” he whispered, turning the full force of his starry eye lights onto his brother, “but honestly, Papy, you should have told me you two were expecting a child!”

Stretch choked, spilling coffee down the front of his shirt. “wait, what? that’s why you were so pissed off?”

“I would have thought you would be more cautious about that sort of thing, but I suppose it hardly matters now,” Blue said philosophically. “You still should have called me though when she arrived!”

“but we didn’t…!”

“Here we have a new baby, and I wasn’t even able to give her a baby shower!”

“She’s already had a bath,” Edge said, confused. This was going entirely too fast and he was not in top form, how could they possibly have been expecting her, there was nothing about the past two days that Edge had expected in the slightest.

Rescue came from an unexpected and wholly unwanted source.

“fuck’s sake, blueberry, she ain’t their kid!” Red snapped.

“Don’t swear,” Edge and Blue said, nearly in unison. Then Edge nearly choked on his own coffee as realization clicked with the force of an open-handed slap. Blue thought that the baby was his, not simply his responsibility but his own and Stretch’s. Suddenly his earlier sympathetic look made more sense, by Asgore’s horns, of all things he could believe…!

“She’s not?” Blue asked, confused. “But, then where did she come from?”

“where the fuck do you think, numbnuts?” Whatever the patience Red usually had for Blue seemed to have found its limit. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, all but slamming his mug down on the coffee table, “she wasn’t flown in by the stork, kid was homegrown just like the rest of us and she’s got the fucking serial number to prove it!”

“Oh.” There was a wealth of meaning in that single, soft word, too many to properly interpret. Blue looked down at the baby sleeping in his arms, his fingertips hovering over her rib cage without touching, right over where her pajamas hid the healing scar. The same scar his brother and Red still had, faded and blurred, but still there. Then he wordlessly handed her to Edge, climbing to his feet and walked determinedly over to his brother.

Stretch only watched warily, allowing Blue to take away his half-empty coffee cup to shove it on table, ignoring the splash of coffee that slopped out and spread across the wood. He slid his small, strong arms around him, holding onto his brother tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” Blue said simply. The words were muffled, buried into Stretch’s coffee-stained hoodie. “I shouldn’t have been so upset with you and I certainly should have let you explain.”

“aw, bro, it’s okay—” Stretch hugged him back, resting his cheekbone on top of Blue’s skull.

“It’s not,” Blue said, the words tainted with the hint of a sob. “I assumed you were being irresponsible, and I shouldn’t have.”

“not like i don’t give you a reason for that.”

“There’s a difference between a messy room and, well, this.” They stayed there a moment longer, holding on tight, and when Blue drew away, he swiped a hasty sleeve over his damp sockets. “Now!” Blue clapped his hands together softly. “I think we should discuss living arrangements.”

“We can,” Edge said, quietly firm, “but I hardly think that will be necessary. We won’t be here for long.”

The sudden trio of protests was loud enough to wake the baby and Edge turned away, bouncing her in his arms as he tried to soothe her back to sleep. He’d known there would be objections, but he couldn’t allow them to sway him. This child was his responsibility, his choice, and his alone.

He had a duty to her and Edge was determined to see it done.

TBC

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #drifters

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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 3 years

Text

obnoxious truck horn noises

FIC UPDATE! COME SEE WHAT THE TEENS ARE GETTIN' INTO TODAY

This is the latest chapter of my long and unwieldy beetlejuice au. Start here to understand all the pointless call backs to my own work that I put in mostly just for myself. This is found family au, and features Beetlejuice being Lydia's big brother and if you like that idea I think you'll end up having a pretty okay time

Really, in his opinion, today has been one of the most fun he’s had in ages. It’s probably because he’s a being of chaos, and it’s been a little too quiet and wholesome around here, lately. Sexy and Babs aren’t exactly thrilled with the turn their day has taken, but man, he treasures it.

Their group punishment is banishment from the library, which he wouldn’t care about, except Adam actually seems devastated. BJ specifically is relegated to picking up trash on his lunch break the next two weeks, and he’s already plotting ways to get around it. But the actual worst thing to happen is after the meeting, when both Adam and Barbara’s parents tell him, very angrily, to stay the hell away from their kids. He makes the choice then that he’s going to get even closer to them, out of spite.

They all have to go shuffling back to class, because it’s still the middle of the day, and he’s worried, for a moment, that his two friends are mad at him, but then they both glance back at him, at nearly the same time. Barbara winks at him, and Adam, holy shit, Adam fucking blows him a kiss, and, sincere or not, and he pulls his hood over his hair because he knows for a fact he’s going pink. He gives them a pathetic waive back. They can be downright flirty, when they feel like it.

Emily pauses beside him. “Should I come to your audition after school?” She asks, and he glances up at her, amber eyes shining from the darkness of his hood. “Sure, but don’t expect nothin’. Probably won’t even get th’ part.” She kisses his head, through the hood. “I doubt that.”

One more gentle pinch to his nose, and Emily takes off down the hall, and he takes himself to class.

There’s a little bit of chatter as he enters the classroom, and he feels an unusual amount of eyes on him, all the breathers seemingly watching him, as he slides into his seat in the back. It’s confusing, and a little worrying, because while he’s been getting more attention, lately, it’s really only been from the drama kids, and Adam and Barbara. He’s not sure what this is about, until one of the girls in front of him turns to face him. He’s shocked, because he can’t remember ever seeing another angle of her, other than the back of her head.

“Did you and Adam really get into a fist fight in the library?” she asks, and from the way the entire classroom goes quiet, they’re all apparently waiting to hear what he’s got to say. He finally pulls his hood off his head, trusting the color has gone back to normal, and stares at her. “What th’ fuck’re you talkin’ about?” He squints, like she’s the weird one, even though, one hundred and ten percent of the time, he’s the weirdest thing in any building he’s ever been in.

“You and Adam got in a fist fight over Barbara,” another kid, to his left, chimes in. “Over Babs?” “You got in a fight, and knocked a bunch of stuff over?”

This seems to be his peers' way of quantifying his weird ass, “kind of something kind of not sure what that something is” relationship with his two friends. Someone there had heard fighting, or at least the sounds of all the books going flying, and had seen them led out, and cobbled together this bullshit.

He grins.

“You got it all wrong,” he says, and for once, all the attention is on him. “Me an’ Adam fist fought th' vice principal.” The bullshit lie he weaves is way more interesting than some love triangle, and it makes the three of them sound very cool, very sexy, very rebellious. He can tell a few of them aren’t buying it, but to be honest, he talks so little that he’s never really lied to these kids, and they have no clue what his personality is like. They’re not sure if they can believe a word out of his mouth, or not. Obviously, they can’t, but he’s grinning and laughing by the end, and a few of them are shaking their heads, but smiling. This is something, something good, even if it won’t last, because for five minutes before class starts, he’s not the weird, lonely kid in the back. He’s just a kid.

The audition doesn’t go nearly as bad as he’s anticipating. Adam had predicted right, there are only a few non club kids there, and the looks on their faces tells him they had no clue he would be here, and are already rethinking their decisions to try and participate. That’s right, losers, he thinks, sending each of them his best slasher smile, in turn. My club now.

Barbara and Adam aren’t officially going out for any parts, seemingly happy to be a part of the ensemble, which makes sense… they’re not really all that interested in the limelight, they want to stand in support. That’s so them, he thinks, smiling and clapping in turn, as each of them give a sample of their singing, mostly a formality. Adam was right, though, Babs can really hit that high note. When his name is called, he feels his gut clench, and thinks he might experience vomiting for the second time in his life, but as he stands up on stage, looking out in the auditorium, he catches sight of Emily, sitting way in the back. She’s laser focused on him. He makes a face at her, wrinkling his nose and sticking out his tongue, ignoring the confusion of the other drama members, and Emily, his mother, his lifeline, from across the rows of seats, returns it.

So he sings.

His voice is scratchy, but that’s what they want, they think it sounds villainous. They're more right than they know. Turns out not needing to breathe really works in your favor with singing, because he can take a huge breath of air and use it all, not needing to hack and sputter or pause for oxygen, but despite not needing to breathe, when he finishes, and stands there, he still feels somehow breathless. It’s more of a metaphor than anything else, but it’s still there. Maybe this is what passion feels like, he thinks, and then takes a little bow, as even the non drama kids clap, because he fucking nailed it.

They’re going to hang up a sheet later, announcing who got what part, but Adam insists he’s a shoe in for this dentist role. “Guess I should actually learn what this play’s about now, huh?” He says, and both his friends give him looks like he’s insane. “There’s a movie.. I think it’s right up your alley,” Babs tells him. “I can’t believe you haven’t seen Little Shop! It’s a cult classic, and it’s got murder, and stuff,” Adam tells him. “Oh, well, why didn’t anyone say so?” There’s a natural lull in the conversation. The three of them are sitting on the edge of the stage with their feet hanging off, himself in the middle, where he prefers to be. He feels Barbara’s arms snake around his own, until she’s got him pressed tight against her, and she rests her head on his shoulder again, like she had in the hallway. Adam takes his hand, and rubs the pad of his thumb over a well earned ukulele inflicted callous. God, Satan, who or whatever, he’s never felt more comfortable.

Adam clears his throat, like he’s mustering up some courage, and then says, “So. Should we.. talk about.. This?” And he gestures to the three of them. “Do we need to?” BJ asks. “It feels nice. Can’t it just be that?” “But.. don’t we need ground rules?” Barbara asks, barely lifting her head from his warm shoulder. “Because this is feeling like something. It is something, right?” Both boys nod in agreement. Certainly feels like something, to him. Something big.

“We could make a list!” Adam enthuses, suddenly, and BJ groans. “It’s absolutely revoltin' how excited you get over your lists and organization. It’s a fetish, isn’t it? It’s a sexual fetish.” “It’s a good idea,” Barbara gently flicks at his ear. “If this is… anything, we should all be on the same page, right? Know what to expect out of each other? Have boundaries?” “You two can do whatever you want to me,” he says with a smile, and it’s not even a joke. “Ravish me. Run me through. Just don’t leave me.” It gets more vulnerable at the end than he means it to. “I think you need to set higher standards for yourself,” is what Adam says, and all he can do is respond lamely, “I’ll hire your standards, Sexy.”

They have to break apart, and stand, because Adam and Barb’s parents will be here soon, and besides, he knows Emily is waiting patiently outside the auditorium for him. But he lifts Adam’s hand to his lips, finally gives him that little kiss they missed out on earlier. Adam goes a very sweet shade of pink, and then looks to Barbara. “His stubble is scratchy,” he confirms, and she takes Adam’s hand from BJ, and kisses it, too. “There. All better.”

The two of them slip their hands into his as they make their way down from the stage, to the auditorium door, and he catches himself starting to float, because he feels light and airy and enamored. He forces his boots back to the ground, tries to remind his body that it needs to respect gravity, and he gives both their hands a squeeze, as they step out from the darkened hall into the light of the outside, like he’s making sure they’re real. They are. Despite his heart still as death in his chest, he’s never felt more alive. this isn't even the whole chapter! There's way, waaaaay more for this update, over HERE on Ao3!

#beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice fic #lydia deetz #emily deetz #beetlejuice #beetlelands fic #goldenrat fic #barbara maitland #adam maitland

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satsuma-saturn · 4 years

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Trying - Mammon x Reader

A/N: ok, so this is another song fic b/c i can’t help myself lmao. also, i decided to say ‘guardian’ instead of ‘parent(s),’ so you can insert whoever, like maybe a grandparent or a foster parent or whatever. you can even insert your parent(s), if you feel comfortable doing so. it was for the comfort of the reader, just like the gender neutrality of the reader character. the guardian is only mentioned like once, but i just wanted to point it out.

WC: 2520

Warning(s): Reader deals with depression/anxiety and has a meltdown (kind of panicky, but not to the extent of a panic attack), Mammon sees the reader nakey, but there’s nothing spicy

fic is below the cut

I’m not really sure if my words make sense to you, but I can’t really find any other way to form these feelings into cubes and sort them in my mind…

Breathe. Just breathe. An involuntary function that you shouldn’t find it so hard to do, yet you feel your chest tightening as you hyperventilate and sob in the bathtub. You feel as though you’re dying, tears streaming down your face, blurring your vision. The water in the bath chills you to your core, and you just want to hide under your covers in your bed, but you remain in the tub, unmoving.

A knock on the door pulls you out of your haze. You wipe your face as the knocking gets louder, sitting up. Your breathing slows, but your nerves are still shot. Someone wants your attention, but you don’t respond. Instead, you pull your knees to your chest, shivering as the icy water seeps into your bones, freezing them solid. The knocking refuses to stop. It only gets louder the longer you sit there, but your body, crafted of lead, remains still, and you stay in the tub.

The negative thoughts go on the left and the happy things on the right, and there’s a little corner saved just for you…

“Hey, Y/N! What the hell are ya doin’ in there? Masturbatin’? Ya been in there for like two hours and I’ve been waitin’ for ya!” Mammon. One of the more sympathetic brothers, yet despite that, you can’t bring yourself to tell him about your anguish, as you let out silent sobs in the bathtub. Hell, you can’t even bring yourself to speak. You’ll just leave him with that imagery instead. Eventually, he’ll get bored and leave you alone. It helps that he has the attention span of a dog on a walk, especially one that has just spotted a squirrel.

Please let me know if you change your mind, ‘cause inside I’m falling and I need you to pull me out of this decline…

Only, your assumption about him getting bored and leaving cannot possibly be more incorrect. He needs your attention and he needs it now, the clingy sonuvabitch, so good luck getting rid of him. “Ya can’t just ignore the Great Mammon like that! I’ll break down this damn door if ya don’t open it, ya stupid human!” The doorknob jiggles, as if he’s first trying to see if he can even open the door, except it’s locked, because who the fuck leaves the door unlocked when they’re bathing? It won’t open until you’re ready to leave, since you can’t see him actually breaking down the door, therefore, it will remain locked until you unlock it. His words are most likely an empty threat meant to scare you into opening the door for him. Except, you feel no fear as you listen to him, since Mammon and fear pair together as well as toothpaste and orange juice. In fact, if you weren’t in such a sorry state and having a meltdown, you probably would laugh at his futile attempts to enter your bathroom.

I realize how hard to you this must seem, but trust me when I say it’s far, far worse for me…

Instead of opening the door, you just close your eyes and lay back down in the tub, wiping away the tears that refuse to stop vacating your eyes. Not too long after, Mammon’s knocking on the door again. Only, it’s louder and harsher than knocking. Is he kicking the door? You never thought he would hold true to his threat, but it sounds like he’s trying to break down your door. That ass.

You jump as the door swings off its hinges, crashing into the wall. Now, not only is your door destroyed, but there is a gaping hole in the wall. How the hell are you even going to respond to this? Mammon broke your damn door and now he’s in your bathroom, where you’re crying and naked in a freezing bathtub. He’s never even seen you naked before and this is not how you imagined it would go. This is so fucking embarrassing.

Please, please be here for me, dear, ‘cause I’ve never needed a friend more and I can’t stress how much it means to me that you’re trying…

His blue eyes widen as they drink in the scene in front of them. “Why the hell are ya cryin’? Is it ‘cuz I broke yer door? I’ll jus’ take some cash from Levi to replace it. I’m sure he won’t mind.” The way he’s staring at you makes you want to sink lower into the tub or disappear completely. Not only that, but Levi would most definitely mind if Mammon ‘borrowed’ some money from him, considering how often the latter had done it in the past without paying him back. “Why didn’t ya respond when I was callin’ for ya?” He steps inside the bathroom to sit on the edge of the tub. If he couldn’t see your body from the doorway, he can definitely see it now. You suddenly feel extremely self-conscious as you lay in the tub, thinking of how to respond. Quietly, he watches your face, waiting for your reply.

And I don’t mind if you can’t hold me like you used to, ‘cause I’ve never hated myself more…

Your voice is hoarse. “I don’t know. I guess I thought you would get bored and leave if I didn’t say anything. I didn’t think you’d really break my door down.” The water splashes over the side of the tub, spilling onto the floor, as you sink lower into the tub. You close your eyes as you sink to your ears in the tub, tilting your head so that your face isn’t submerged. Mammon’s voice sounds akin to the buzzing of bees as he speaks to you once more. Why can’t he just leave? Isn’t it obvious you don’t want him there, in your bathroom, where you’re naked and crying? Why is he so damn nosy?

His hands are gripping your biceps, nails digging into your skin as he pulls you out of the icy water. You don’t bother opening your eyes to look at him, but you feel him wrap a towel around you, holding your shivering form against his chest. “The hell are ya doin’, Y/N? What’s goin’ on with ya? It’s gotta be more than just the door. Were ya in here crying in this fuckin’ freezin’ water before I got here?”

But this is just a bump in the road and I promise I’m trying…

Nodding your head, you swab your tongue on your lips before speaking. “Yeah.” That’s all you say in response as your teeth chatter uncontrollably. The water was hot when you first got into the tub, but you guess you were in there for so long that the temperature lowered a substantial amount. Still, you weren’t glad to be out of the tub now. Under the water, you didn’t have to answer his probing questions. Now that you’re out of the tub and in his lap, you have no choice but to answer the questions he throws your way. You don’t know how to explain it to him. Your thoughts and feelings, and how they’re sporadic, like a scribbling on a child’s drawing. The child’s drawing is of a dog, only it looks like it’s just a bunch of scribbles.

I promise I’m trying…

Not only that, but you’re naked and in his lap, a towel serving as the only thing separating the two of you. You start crying again, burying your face into the soft fluff of the towel, your shoulders shaking. Your eyes are closed, but you feel Mammon pull your head to his chest, seemingly indifferent to your sopping hair drenching his shirt. “Y’know, I always wondered why ya stupid humans gotta cry n’ be sad n’ stuff. Ya have such short lives and ya spend them cryin’ in bathtubs. I’ve been alive for I don’t even remember how long and I ain’t never once cried in a bathtub.” Mammon speak for why are you crying? I care about you and want to help you. He would never actually say that, though, since he likes to pretend that he doesn’t have feelings for you, even if it’s obvious to literally everyone, including yourself. Whatever, you’ll just let him live out that fantasy for as long as he pleases.

You wipe your face on the towel, peering up at him with glassy eyes. There’s a look of discomfort on his face, like he wants to help you, but doesn’t know what to do. “I’m crying because…” Why are you crying? Originally, you were kind of panicking, but it was something so small, and you weren’t sure that he would get it. “I was having a meltdown and just kinda sad in general. It just kind of happened while I was in the bath. I didn’t really expect anyone to come in here to check on me. Or y’know, break down my door.”

Give me a moment to get my cards in line, ‘cause I’m still trying to figure out in what kind of order I should set them out…

He chews on his lip, silent for a moment. You feel as if this is the most serious you’ve seen him. A frown spreads across his face after a few moments of silence. “Y’aint got nothin’ to cry or be sad about, human. ‘Course, if you were hangin’ out with Satan or Lucifer, I’d understand, since bein’ around them makes me wanna cry. ‘Specially Lucifer. Don’t tell him I said that, though. He’ll throw a hissy fit. Thinks he’s so cool, but he’s a damn stick in the mud.”

If there was a way to explain everything without a word, I’d have a full house right now, without a doubt…

Sniffling, you wipe your nose on the towel, pretending that you don’t leave behind a disgusting trail of snot as you do. Ignoring what Mammon’s remarks about Satan and Lucifer, you say, “can you take me to my room? I just want to lay down in my bed right now, if you don’t mind.” Your hands are shaking as you speak, and you attempt to get them under control, but the effort it takes drains you, like trying to scoop water out of the Titanic with a plastic pail.

I’m trying to tear the wool from your eyes, but part of me wants to let you be, ‘cause then you wouldn’t see what I’ve become…

A slow nod from the demon comes after a few seconds, as if he needed time to process your words. He hooks an arm under your knees and lifts you up, holding you as a groom would his bride, and carries you out of the bathroom. Stepping around the splintered pieces of door, he loses his balance, almost dropping you when he steadies himself. In response, you dig your nails into his arm, bracing yourself for smacking the ground. Mammon hisses in pain as you leave small, crescent-shaped indents in his flesh. Yet, he holds onto you, miraculously managing to not drop you on the floor.

I’m trying to shout, but no sound comes out…

Gently, as if afraid to break you, Mammon sets you down on your bed, towel and all. After that, the bed shifts as he too lays down, pulling you to his chest. For a few seconds, there’s nothing. Just him holding you against his chest, seemingly unwilling to let you go, not that you want him to. His breath is warm on your damp hair, as his fingers tangle in it, massaging your scalp with his fingertips.

As he massages your scalp with one hand, the other rubs slow circles on your back. You can fall asleep right then and there, with the silence and his soothing touches, but you want to lay awake with him. Despite being a demon and the Avatar of Greed, he is always kind to you, even if in his own way. His inability to admit his feelings may make him appear cold towards you to an outsider, but you know differently.

It’s like we’re in a dream state, but I should have woken up, woken up by now…

After a long, drawn out silence, he finally breaks it. You figure he would give into his impatience eventually. “Are ya feelin’ any better? I don’t know too much about humans, but I know a lot of ‘em like physical contact when they’re feeling down, at least in my professional experience.” Professional experience. The words almost bring you to laughter. You can’t picture him having really any personal, or ‘professional’ experience with humans, much less ones that struggle with mental health issues, such as anxiety or depression.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” you reply. Your head aches and your mood is still damper, but you know that Mammon is attempting to make you feel better, in the best way he can. The demon, always greedy for your attention, is probably thriving from all the attention he’s getting at the moment. Only the two of you are in your room, so he can be the sole recipient of your attention and you can tell he’s soaking it up.

“Good.”

Please, please be here for me, dear, ‘cause I’ve never needed a friend more and I can’t stress how much it means to me that you’re trying…

Even if Mammon often drove you to near insanity with his crazy ‘money-making’ schemes and pranks, you’re grateful for his presence. Warmth radiates from him, a welcome change from the icy water of the bathtub that you were in some time ago. His clothes are soaked from your towel, pressed against his body, but he doesn’t seem to mind. When you try to point it out to him, he ignores you, continuing to rub circles into your back.

And I don’t mind if you can’t hold me like you used to, ‘cause I’ve never hated myself more…

Having your back rubbed relaxes you, and you find yourself almost drifting off to sleep a few times. You’re reminded of when you were a small child and your guardian would rub your back to get you to sleep, especially when you had trouble sleeping. In order to keep awake, you lightly pinch your skin, leaving behind faint pink marks. Normally, you’d go to sleep no problem, but you feel an obligation to stay awake with Mammon, especially after all that he’d done for you in the past hour or so.

But this is just a bump in the road and I promise I’m trying…

Your eyelashes, like butterflies, flutter as you fight to keep them open. The hand in your hair stops its movements, just gently resting on your occipital bone. You continue to fight sleep, but eventually, you give in, feeling it wash over your body. When you eventually wake up, you’re still wrapped in your towel, with Mammon asleep by your side.

I promise I’m trying...

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writing-for-me-at-this-point · 4 years

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iv. Relationships w/ MC | Obey Me | Actor AU

Request: Hello! I saw that your ask box is open, so I have come bearing a request. I found ur blog thru your OM actor au and I adore it to bits. Your interpretation of the characters was delightful and the gag/bloopers had me laughing so hard! May you please expand on the au by sharing your relationship headcanons of how the cast interacts or feels about MC (platonic/romantic)? I hope this finds you well 💖💖💖

Word Count: 3225 words

Page Count: 9.2 pages

A.N. Hope you guys enjoy this!

Tags: @weebartistinc

[ M A S T E R L I S T ]

Lucifer / Benjamin

The relationship between Benjamin [ Lucifer ] and MC would more like master and apprentice. Think of RDJ and Tom Holland. Ben is more lax than his show counterpart for sure. Where Lucifer would be prideful, Ben is humble, where Lucifer is smug, Ben can be self conscious. I'd like to think the MC of the "real world" thinks much more logically, doesn't throw themselves into things head first and is more calculating. Maybe something more like Satan?

Between the two of them, they are lax and playful, throwing inside jokes and playfully fighting. Ben [ Lucifer ] is like the "cool dad" that loves to mess around with his kids, which makes sense because he does have his own, they are fairly young and I can see MC babysitting in case it was needed. There's a deep trust between the two that can't really be described. Ben really wants MC to prosper in their career and will guide them- but he doesn't want to baby them either, he wants them to test the waters on their own. If they ever get overwhelmed he's there for them though.

His dumbass is forgetful to check his sugar as well, so you can catch MC helping to remind him to check it/eat/drink if needed. He didn't have the most welcoming background- he didn't have the support system a child needs, so he strives to be that and forgets to care for himself often.

"I want to give my kids everything I never had and more, just like how I want it for you too, MC."

Mammon / Avery

Avery [ Mammon ] is very business oriented and formal. MC and him would get along well, like their Obey Me counterparts, but just more lax and less chaotic. I see them as the type to go on coffee dates to catch up and get away from it all, seeing as how famous he is, he often likes to find smaller and less well known places to dwell. Enjoys the small and peaceful moments with MC and they can relate with being the most famous of the cast- so they often get treated the same.

I can see them having a deep platonic and familial connection while also being distant. Avery has trouble opening up due to being frequently used for his money, and though he and MC are on the same playing field, he has his moments where he needs to back away and recuperate. And though he is distant, if MC or himself were to ever need anything, they're at each other's beck and call. Think of the relationship as: MC is the younger sibling that was born like... 10 years after Avery and he is the older brother, they are distant at times, but still love each other deeply and fiercely.

"MC, what do you think of this new script- who is that on your page? They're liking too many pictures at once... a bit desperate- don't you think?"

Leviathan / Jackson

This one... is a little complicated. Really- he's a fuck boy and he doesn't care. I can see him as very... objectifying- and not just sexually either. He can see how to use someone to their fullest advantage, but only for his sake, just for to further himself or satisfy any needs he has. MC is a playful flirt, but once Jackson [ Leviathan ] starts to pull the moves, I can see MC pulling back quickly and isolating away from him. Until there is a serious moment where Jackson can prove that he can provide something meaningful to the relationship- it's going to remain cold and formal. MC isn't playing games.

This can be one of the few relationships that, if managed properly by MC and Jackson [ Leviathan ], can make their relationship to a more friends with benefits type or something romantic. Jackson [ Leviathan ] needs to learn how to stop seeing people as tools and more like... people. MC, in turn, would need to learn boundaries for themselves. They'd probably be so used to accepting people that keeping Jackson at a distance would be weird and almost foreign to them. If they both want things to work out for a proper, and healthy, relationship- it's going to be a lot of work.

"MC, come here, I need you for something. Hm? No, no- nothing like that. I thought maybe... we could just hang out? Normally?"

Satan / Ross

Honestly? MC could do better than Jackson [ Leviathan ] and Ross is it, babes. He is definitely the most understanding of MC and takes their own emotions into consideration. Wow kinda like Satan. He still does those live streams and gets smacked on a couple of grams, so MC is there either smoking as well or just getting hot boxed, their tiger dyed cats running everywhere. The live stream then turns into a kitten purring ASMR, then eventually, everyone is asleep on a live stream together. Ross [ Satan ], is a sweetheart as well, remembers the little things about MC and will make them special gifts or gestures for them. Is the type of boyfriend to leave random kisses on them just because.

Ross [ Satan ], also likes to talk, so he does like to pick MC's mind and see how they think- which in turn touches their heart because WOW. A guy they like isn't using them or being a general ass? He doesn't play around, so if you want a relationship prepare to be in something for the long haul, family affairs are now your business as well. He is super close with his younger brother Dmitri [ Luke ], so you need his approval as well. Ross also can help with building confidence and a stronger self image, but a major downside is that he is lazy, like, he is really fucking lazy. He's tired though, with his job, the animal shelters, watching his brother, and avoiding... them- he wants to just be a homebody. MC does a lot of home dates, but they end up very fulfilling because it's Ross, he knows how make make even the smallest moments feel like everything.

"Look at ya, MC! Damn, you always have me fallin' for ya all over again."

"I'm in sweatpants and a tanktop, babe, nothin' special."

"And you make 'em look fine as hell. Now come 'ere, let's watch a movie, look-! An MC sized space is here, right between my arms, neat right?"

Asmodeus / Micheal

He's like the best friend who acts like the wine mom. He's the wine mom. He's mom. Always come to him for help, from either something as small as a rant to larger issues like contracts and relationship advice. This a more platonic/familial relationship that MC would develop. They can delve into more personal and private conversations, confident Micheal has the best intentions and advice, and in turn MC helps him out with what their generation is up to these days.

Pinching MC's cheeks? Yeah, it's a ritual at this point. Likes to joke that MC is actually his illegitimate child. He also invites them to his vlogs, taking MC out at 2 am to Wendy's and talk about the most random stuff. Maybe hint at new things that are upcoming on the show. He writes TSL, not Alex [ Simeon ], so MC will help him with plot and point out any plot holes as well.

"MC, hon, take a nap. You're tired and haven't slept well. I got you food too- no, not Wendy's, actual food. Eat that and go sleep, alright?"

Beelzebub / James

This can be another contender for a romantic relationship! James [ Beelzebub ] is one of the few actors who is pretty similar to their character, so if you love Beelzebub, you love James, sorry I don't make the rules. It's law. He is still new to the acting scene, so unless MC was an actor as a child as well, they'd bounce tips off one another- things they learn from whoever takes them under their wings. In MC's case, Benjamin [ Lucifer ] is their mentor, and in James' case, Alex [ Simeon ] is his mentor.

He's very thoughtful, understanding, and compassionate. But, he is a bit of an airhead at times, or he often gets lost in his own head. This is due to him trying to think things through, he gets anxious and wants to perform well in every aspect of his life, so he tends to overthink and try to fix his problems in his head. MC will help him with opening up and stilling his mind into calmer waters. He feels the weight of his family, seeing as he now makes the most, he feels like he should be taking care of all of them- even when they tell him to just enjoy his life as it is. MC would realize he's a family man, so this would be another relationship where commitment is expected, James would rather not just have something casual due to how hectic things in his life get. He also is often with Dmitri [ Luke ], watching him and making sure he's okay, because if his younger siblings were in the same situation, he'd want someone to look out for them too. Dmitri is in love with both MC and James, often messing around or just relaxing with them of Ross [ Satan ] isn't around, so their often known as the "Realm Trio" due to their characters each being a different race.

"I'm fine, really! I was just... thinking, that's all. I'm happy, really I am, and I want everyone else to be as well. That's it."

Belphegor / Conner

MC definitely becomes more chaotic with Conner, he's a sweetheart, but damn can he not sit the fuck down. He can be a bit draining for MC if they aren't in the best of moods, and even then, he just holds this light that makes them happy or feel peaceful. Another romantic/platonic relationship that can happen. This is a relationship where no matter how old they get, what is going on in life, how overwhelmed they feel, MC and Conner [ Belphegor ] will always manage to laugh.

He is clumsy, especially with the tail, so MC will worry over him on and off set. He is very humble, and grateful for every opportunity he gets, so he faces each day with a smile and the classic southern hospitality- where you say thank you after everything, help anyone even if they aren't struggling, all with a southern drawl that makes MC melt. This is the healthiest relationship to exist, due to how easy Conner can communicate with MC and how MC can pick up on things he might not, there isn't any big issues because they both can just talk it out. Even if it doesn't end up romantic- it's still one of the most fulfilling relationships MC and Conner will have due to just being... them.

"It's so easy, being with you, and I love that. Loving you is never painful, never tough on me, it's always so... light. So perfect, like you."

Barbatos / Thomas

Oh my god. He is an absolute ass. He is like the uncle you never wanted, always sarcastic, roasting someone, but in the end he means no harm. MC and him definitely have a darker sense of humor together, getting either morbid or just downright weird, and no one else can decipher that the fuck they're saying because there's too many inside jokes and little intricacies. In the end, he is a ride or die, may not be the best to work with- but MC is now family and Thomas [ Barbatos ] will now kill for them. Congratulations on the achievement!

Will not allow MC to go to openings or any large events alone, and even if they have another cast member with them, he still keeps an eye on them. He gets anxious, and almost paranoid, his younger sister went missing years ago and never got closure. He see's MC not as his missing sister, but as someone who is in need of that older brother figure, and wants to take that role because it feels so natural. He still ends up as that cool asshole uncle, but he likes that too, as long as MC is with him. There are times where MC will need to help him through some issues, just by being a shoulder to lean on, and in turn they get closer. Thomas didn't expect to get close with many people on the cast, other than his old friends, and taking MC into his family was a surprised for all.

"Come here, ya annoying ass little kid, give me a hug! What! Come here or I'll chase you around his big ass house, MC!"

Diavolo / Roman

MC can be the romantic partner for Roman if you'd like, but I just remembered that I made him have triplets, so unless MC is his partner and willing to have kids, Roman would end up as another Uncle/Father figure. If you go the romantic route, Roman is so deeply in love with MC he will sometimes feel empty of he doesn't tell them he loves them everyday. He is attentive, watchful, and optimistic, always bringing fun into the relationship and making MC feel fulfilled and overflowing with love. But, now with the triplets? Love bomb x10, he loves MC with all his soul, he does, but now he realizes the kids come first and appreciates that they do the same. Prefers to be more private though, won't post whatever he does with the kids or anything like that, he doesn't want spotlights on his children when they never asked for it.

A more platonic/familial relationship though? Best. Man. Ever. Always taking MC out to eat and keeping up with their needs, doesn't baby them, just keeps a watchful and caring eye. Does this with all the younger cast as well. MC will feel loved, safe, and in harmony. He is a wine dad though, so MC will often bring him drinks so he can unwind, even make cocktails time to time just for practice and will make sure to give any tips he can. MC gets a little too tipsy at a party? Well, since he knows where the party is, shoot him a call and he'll pick his 6'5 ass up outta bed to bring MC either to their home or his.

"I've got you, always have, always will. I won't ever let you down, because you deserve the world and all the happiness in it, I just hope I can even be a little piece of it. A reason to make you happy."

Luke / Dmitri

MC is close with Dmitri no matter what, he's always on set, and MC can't seem to let him leave their sight. Kinda like a parent at the park. Won't exactly just stare at their kid, but will always know where they are, and make sure their within a safe distance. Hollywood is full of some sick fucks and MC will be damned if they'd let anything happen to Dmitri. He gets overwhelmed sometimes, will cry and shake, due to holding in stress from the public. MC will teach him how to cook, rather than bake, because food always brings people together and he wants his family to be together in any way he can do it.

Spending time with him means spending time with Ross [ Satan ], so MC ends up close with Ross anyway, and will often be filling up Dmitri's Instagram and other social medias. He is the younger brother MC never had and is ready to be another older sibling for him. If the show goes on for multiple seasons, then it will be set in stone, MC and Luke will be a found family along with the rest of the cast.

"Thank you for everything, MC. I love you, really, and I want you to be as happy as you can be! You're the best and more!"

Simeon / Alex

Alex [ Simeon ] is another potential love interest/ close friend. This is the only other relationship that can compete with Ross [ Satan ] and Roman [ Diavolo ]. He is known for his temper, but usually plays it up for comedy, and will never actually "blow up" on anyone that isn't deserving of it. He is a sweetheart, but has a tendency to be materialistic, due to his rich upbringing. He knows material things aren't the answer, but it's a habit/mentality he's working on fixing. He prefers to be more affectionate in private, because he wants to enjoy intimacy with MC without the eyes of the public on them, not because he would want to hide their relationship.

He is intelligent as fuck, so MC will be filled with the knowledge of the gods, always learning something new and living a student life that isn't more of a student- but someone that has a love for learning. You know Leonardo in Ikevamp? Yeah- that bitch. That's Alex. Even as a friend MC and Alex would always confuse people due to how close they are, which can be annoying if they are with another cast member, but in the end they know the truth.

"Ah fuck, MC, I'm trying to cook here, ya dork! Don't yank me around the kitchen! Hey! Loving me isn't an excuse to squeeze the life outta me! MC! Don't run now!"

Solomon / Derek

So, I honestly had Derek [ Solomon ] as the original love interest, going with the childhood friend trope. MC and Derek would be the ultimate set of goals, and living a fantasy life that most people dream of, the thing you'd see if those overly fluffy fan-fictions. Derek is the more caring and nurturing of the two, while MC is more outgoing and aggressive, and manage to find a happy medium between them. Derek has a calming aura around him and yet is the most socially awkward one in the cast- he will put Leviathan's character to shame with some of the things happened in the past. MC is the biggest tease and will have him flushing like a virgin school boy- and it isn't even sexual, he just flusters easily.

With Lovely and Blue, MC and Derek are known as the babysitters and pet sitters, and are often looking out for the casts pets and children whenever they need it. The couple everyone wants to end up like. You will never see them in scandals, drama, or anything of the sort- even if they become household names, Derek and MC prefer to keep the details of their lives lowkey. I can't see major issues in this relationship, romantic or platonic, because after knowing each other so long, they can communicate in their own ways.

"Blue, stay stiiiiiiiiill. Fine, leave. MC, come here, I need a pillow and Blue won't love me. Thank you- oh! Now you come, Blue? Jealous much?"

#obey me actor au #om actor au #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me imagines #obey me x you #obey me x mc

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walkerwords · 4 years

Text

“Careful You” Part 1 of 2 - Shane x F!Reader, Daryl x F!Reader

PART II

Request from anonymous: A Shane x reader x Daryl where reader and Shane we’re together since the beginning but reader realized he’s becoming an ass and Daryl (who the reader secretly likes) says “I know you ain’t in love with him” pretty please??? Thank you!!!!

Word Count: 5063

Warning: Cursing, Violence

Song I Wrote To: “Careful You” by TV On The Radio

Note: So yes! This will be a two-part request story. I got hella carried away with this one and I didn’t wanna post the whole thing so part 1 today and part 2 tomorrow! I’m sorry if ya like Shane but hes an asshole in this at times. It jumps around a bit from the quarry to the cdc to the highway to the greene farm. The real emotional stuff is in part two so I hope yall like this. reminder: I may not fill every request, ill only pick the ones I know I can make somethin good, but still send them!

------

You began to notice a change in Shane when Rick Grimes was reunited with his family.

Before the world turned, you, Shane, Rick, and Lori were the best of friends. It was always double dates after work and the four of you planning Carl’s birthday parties. It was Rick and Lori and Shane and you, no matter what. Shane Walsh wasn’t an easy man to love, but love him, you did.

The first time you saw him it was at a bar in downtown Atlanta. Rick and Shane were out in the city for a weekend to celebrate some kind of achievement they got from the Academy. You had noticed his dark hair and dashing smile from across the room and as soon as your eyes met, you were done. Shane Walsh became your person and you never thought anything would get in between the two of you. And nothing did...until the end of the world.

You weren’t an idiot, you knew about Shane and Lori. Hell, you probably knew about his attraction to her before she did. You ignored it the best you could before the world ended, but now it was hard to ignore the fact that your boyfriend, the man you loved, was in love with another woman.

A married woman.

Then when Rick stepped out of that truck and Carl ran from Lori’s arms, the ground rocked beneath your feet. When you had hugged him once his family had let go, it was more than relief that cascaded over you, it was gratitude. With Rick back, there wouldn’t be time for Shane to gawk at his best friend’s girl, let alone sneak off into the woods with her. Hopefully, things would start to go back to normal.

However, whenever Lori was alone, Shane was still there. He would be watching her, looking out for Carl, and he’d do it right in front of Rick. Rick didn’t seem to notice and if he did, he ignored it and acted as if everything was the way it once was. It pissed you off to see him act so naive, but you figured he didn’t want to start anything. The last thing any of you needed was in-fighting within the group.

However, it didn’t take long for said in-fighting to start. Especially once Daryl Dixon came back from his hunt. You had met both of the Dixon brothers the day they arrived at the camp. Merle was an asshole and immediately began hitting on you. Shane had shut that down within a few seconds, making sure the older Dixon knew that you were his girl and to keep his paws and his mouth to himself. It was one of the only times Shane had claimed you in front of the group.

As for Daryl, you weren’t sure about where his head was at. He followed his brother closely and you figured he had been doing so his entire life. Daryl was his brother’s opposite. While he still had a mouth on him when he did happen to speak up, he didn’t purposefully inject himself into conversations or make lewd remarks at the women in the camp. He kept his head down and his crossbow up when it was warranted. He was also great at hunting and had taken the job of getting food for the group.

Carl had once told you that he thought Daryl was “cool”, but that he kind of scared him. You had laughed and assured the kid, whom you considered a nephew, not to worry. Dixon may be a bit rough around the edges, but he was harmless. Though you made sure to tell him to steer clear of Merle and Carl didn’t argue about that.

The other thing you noticed about Daryl was that he always seemed to know where you were. You had noticed him watching you in the camp. At first, it was simple glances here and there and then his eyes started to linger more and more. You considered telling him not to due to how Shane normally reacted whenever another man looked at you, but whenever you turned to look at your boyfriend, his eyes would be on Lori and you would give up and go talk to Andrea or Amy to pass the time.

You had only spoken to Daryl a couple of times. Once when you had run into him as he walked back to camp carrying rabbits on a line. You heard a rustle in the trees and pulled your weapon, a police-issued pistol Shane had given you after the Turn. Daryl froze as the barrel became trained on him. You dropped it immediately. “Shit, sorry,” you had said.

“Careful where ya point that thing, girl,” Daryl had scoffed. “Don’t need my damn head blown off cause ya trigger happy.” You had rolled your eyes and holstered your gun.

“Such a charmer, Dixon,” you told him and left him with his fresh kill. That night after your run-in in the woods was when he first started watching you. The other times you had spoken to him were just in passing and it was always when both Merle and Shane weren’t there. It seemed like your friendship, if you could call it that, was only acknowledged when the alpha males in both of your lives took a hike. And while it bothered you, you accepted it. It’s just the way the world was now.

On the day that Rick told you all that they had left Merle in Atlanta, you knew Daryl was going to be pissed and he definitely was. You watched from the doorway to the RV as Daryl yelled at Rick. The emotion was clear on his face as he thought about his brother being chained to the roof like an animal as he waited to be eaten by Walkers.

When Daryl had thrown a punch and Shane placed him in the chokehold, that is when you stepped in. You shoved Rick back and knocked Shane’s feet from under him. Daryl and Shane went down hard on the ground and Daryl shoved out of Walsh’s arms. “Stop it!” you yelled, getting between the men. “None of this alpha-male bullshit is helping anyone. Rick,” you said, looking at him, “you screwed up. Merle screwed up. It was bound to happen at some point! So instead of acting like idiots, do something.” You then turned and offered your hand to Daryl who took it and you helped him to his feet.

You watched as Daryl stormed off and without thinking, you followed him, ignoring Shane’s calls. You found him as he exited his tent on the edge of the camp. He was throwing things into a backpack and gathering up his bolts for his bow. “Daryl,” you said. He looked up at you and scoffed.

“Don’t need yer sympathy, girl,” he shot at you. “Don’t need ya fightin’ my battles either. I can handle yer damn boyfriend.”

“Never said you couldn’t,” you said. “Shane is a hothead and yeah, Rick can be an asshole, but they mean well.”

“Yer friend Rick left my brother to die!” he yelled, pointing over your shoulder.

“I know,” you said, trying to calm him down, but Daryl marched up to you, getting in your face and looking you over.

“You know nothin’,” he snarled in a low voice before pushing past you, knocking into your shoulder. You pushed your hands into your hair as you took a deep breath.

“(Y/N)!” you turned to see Shane walking towards you.

“What now?” you asked, not wanting to start another argument.

“You need to stay away from Dixon,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Excuse me?” you asked, mirroring his stance. “I don’t need to do anything, Walsh,” you said. “He’s pissed about Merle. What if it was me or Rick that was left on that rooftop? You’d be pretty pissed too.”

“Don’t loop me in with him,” Shane said with a touch of disgust. You rolled your eyes. “What?”

“I’m just sick of people acting like there aren’t worse problems out there than a few petty arguments or having to be with people you don’t like.” You relaxed your arms and reached for his hands and he let you. You squeezed Shane’s hands tight in your own, looking into his eyes. “Shane, there are monsters walking around and we need to start thinking about how to protect our people from them. How to protect the kids like Carl and Sophia.”

“What do you think I’ve been doin’?” he asked, his voice softer. “That’s all I’ve been tryin’ to do, (Y/N).”

“I know, but sometimes you try to take on too much by yourself. Let others take some of the weight, okay? I’m here and now so is Rick. You have Dale and Glenn who are always willin’ to help. Lori, too. Stop trying to be Superman.” Shane looked at you for a moment before he nodded. He then tugged you forward and kissed you firmly. When he pulled away, he leaned his forehead on yours.

“Rick is gonna take Daryl back, go look for Merle,” Shane said quietly.

“Are you goin’ with?” you asked.

“No, I’m stayin’ here to protect the camp,” he then leaned back and looked at you with a fierce look in his eyes. “And so are you.” You knew there was no point in arguing so with a sigh you nodded. He pressed another kiss to your lips before leaving you alone. As Shane walked away, you caught Daryl watching you from where he stood next to Glenn. You couldn’t read his expression, but there was an intensity to it that had you turning away from him.

However, there was a feeling that his eyes remained fixed on you even as you headed into the tent you shared with Shane.

-------

Of course, it wasn’t long until things got worse.

While Daryl, Glenn, Rick, and the others were out looking for Merle, Shane was following Lori around like a lost dog while you distracted Carl, trying to keep his mind off his father leaving again. When you had first met the smallest Grimes, he took to you immediately. You weren’t just Uncle Shane’s girlfriend, Carl considered you family as well.

It was Carl who you were sitting with when the Walkers entered the camp. You heard the screams of panic first and you moved. Grabbing Carl by his collar, you pushed him behind you as you watched Andrea’s sister, Amy, get taken down by a Walker. Carl clutched the back of your jacket as you pulled your own weapon, taking aim at the monsters that converged on the quarry.

Shane was there in a second and he took out all the Walkers that surrounded the RV. He then pushed all the kids towards the vehicle, locking them inside as the rest of you aimed at the Dead. Only a moment later, shots were coming from another direction. Rick and the others came through the woods, their guns blazing. Their sudden appearance caused you to miss the Walker stumbling towards you. You raised your gun as it grabbed your shoulder, but a bolt flew past your ear and struck the Walker that clung to you. Daryl ran past you, giving you a once over before taking aim again.

Snapping out of your shock, you finished off the rest of the Walkers that feasted on your new comrades. A cry pulled your attention as you saw Carol staring at her now-dead husband. You had no remorse for Ed, he wasn’t a good man at all, but the heartbreak on both Carol and Sophia’s faces made you pause.

Once the Walkers were down and people had calmed down, you searched for Shane. You found him by the RV, moving the kids out and away from the body that lay before it. You didn’t need to look closer to know it was Amy. You turned away, looking for Carl and felt relief when you saw him with his parents as the three of them embraced. Looking back over your shoulder you saw Shane and how he watched the Grimes family. The envy in his eyes made you uneasy. He looked at the man he considered his brother as a rival now even though Lori was never his, to begin with. Again, you shoved down your feelings and went to help move the bodies out of the camp.

It was morning by the time everyone had sorted between the Dead. Two piles. One for friends to be buried and the other full of Walkers that were to be burned. You didn’t see the point in either practice. You knew that if you walked down the hill and onto the roads, bodies were strewn everywhere. It had simply become the new normal. However, you knew it was their way of trying to find some normalcy in the new screwed up world, but you couldn’t see it the way they could.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Andrea as she knelt over Amy’s body. You knew that she would turn any time now. It was already happening and it made you sick to think about someone you knew becoming one of those things. It was all just a bit too much at that moment.

You excused yourself and headed to the far side of the camp, settling down on a log, leaning your forearms on your knees. You took a few deep breaths and tried to focus on anything that wasn’t the memory of the screams of people being torn apart. The log shifted as someone took a spot next to you. You figured it was Shane so you ignored him. However, when you spotted the crossbow on the ground between their feet, you relaxed and turned to look at Daryl.

“Thanks for last night,” you said, breaking the silence. He grunted a response that you had become accustomed to. “What happened?” you asked, not needing to elaborate further. Everyone noticed that only one Dixon brother came back.

“He’s gone,” Daryl muttered, “cut his own damn hand off to get out of the cuffs.” Your brows shot up at that, but you weren’t that surprised. It sounded like something Merle Dixon would do.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, turning your face back towards the camp as Glenn dragged more bodies through the camp.

“What she waitin’ for?” Daryl asked as he looked at Andrea.

“People cope differently,” you said. “Maybe she just needs to see it for herself.”

“Don’t make sense,” he mumbled.

“I don’t get it either,” you sighed, “Dead is dead. Whatever this is…” you waved your hand vaguely at the Walker corpses, “They just need to be put down. Amy doesn’t deserve to become a monster.”

“I could probably hit her from here,” Daryl said, toeing his bow, but you shook your head.

“She nearly ripped Rick’s head off when he mentioned putting her down. We don’t need any more damn fighting,” you said with a warning tone. Daryl nodded and then was silent for a bit.

“I agree with ya, ya know?” Daryl said after a minute.

“About what?” you asked.

“Nobody deserves to be a Walker,” he clarified. “I wouldn’t want someone to wait, ya know?”

“I do,” you said, understanding. “Make me a deal, Dixon. If I get bit, you shoot me right away. Don’t let me turn,” you said, offering your hand. Daryl looked at you and then took your hand in his, gripping it tightly.

“Only if ya return the favor,” he said and you nodded. You shook hands and then let go, feeling Shane’s eyes on you. “Yer boy keeps starin’,” Daryl said.

“Yeah,” you said before you stood up, brushing off your jeans. “I’m holdin’ you to that promise.” He nodded to you again and you left him alone to his thoughts.

------

When Rick and Shane decided to go to the CDC, you were less than thrilled.

The last thing you wanted was to go back into the city. Considering the things you saw there the last time you were there, it wasn’t the most desirable plan. However, you knew that you were outnumbered, and with Jim trying to fight the infection, you went along with it.

Everyone knew that Jim wasn’t long for the world. The fever took him fast and you knew there wasn’t a cure. If there was one, every street in Atlanta wouldn’t be crawling with Walkers and littered with half-eaten bodies. Again, you also knew that it was all about optimism and Rick felt that this was the right choice.

Sitting in the RV, you leaned against Shane. He kept his arm wrapped around you and rubbed your arm and down the side of your thigh. It was nice to just sit with him for once instead of feeling the distance that had began to deepen between the two of you. Shane rested his head on your shoulder, kissing the place your neck met your shoulder and you sighed, resting your head against his chest. Carl was making kissing faces at the both of you and you stuck your tongue at him causing him to laugh.

“You trying to steal my girl, Grimes?” Shane teased the kid.

“(Y/N) likes me better!” Carl joked causing Shane to chuckle. He gripped you tighter, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Easy gentlemen,” you said with a smile. “I think we both know that Lori and I are the true soulmates.” Lori laughed at that.

“I’ll take that,” she laughed.

It was an easy ride from there on until Jim got worse. You all went from laughing and joking to feeling somber as Daryl, Rick, and Shane helped Jim off the road and under a tree. When they tried to hand him a weapon, Jim shook his head. Rick and Shane left him, giving him a final goodbye, but Daryl stalled, looking down at his bow and the dying man. He then turned and started to walk back to the truck. You stepped in his path, a pleading look in your eyes. He shook his head.

“It’s his choice, (Y/N),” Daryl said, knowing what you wanted to say. Daryl pushed past you as Jim closed his eyes. You fought the urge to yell as you made your way back into the RV. Instead of sitting back down with Shane, you went to the back and laid down, trying to drown out everything around you. You fell asleep as the RV rumbled beneath you, getting some decent rest for the first time in weeks.

Shane lightly shook you awake when the caravan finally came to a stop. The look on his face made you sit up quickly. “What is it?” you asked.

“Just...prepare yourself,” he said and offered his hand. You took it and he led you out of the RV. The smell was what hit you first and then you saw the source. Bodies were everywhere. Lori and Carol kept their arms around their children as your group moved through the rotting corpses. Daryl and Rick headed up the group while you and Shane took the rear, all of your weapons ready to fire if needed.

“I don’t like this,” you whispered to Shane as you stepped over another body.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep ya safe, (Y/L/N),” he joked, poking you in the ribs.

“It’s not funny, Shane,” you chastised. “I don’t like being out in the open like this. We’re vulnerable, especially with the kids.”

“Everything is gonna be fine,” Shane assured you. He winked at you and you pushed ahead of him as you started to hear groans and shuffling of the Dead as they noticed you moving towards the shuttered building. Daryl began taking them out while Rick yelled at the cameras. Lori urged her husband to leave it. Rick continued to yell, begging that whoever was inside to open the doors because they had children and they were desperate. You wanted to yell at him to shut up as more Walkers kept coming out of the shadows.

You stumble over a corpse, nearly going down when Carol caught your arm and pulled you back up. Daryl stepped in front of you then, covering you, Carol, and Sophia. Rick was still yelling and that was when Shane started too. He called to Rick, trying to get him to retreat, but before any of you could make your way back to the cars, the metal shudders slid open with blinding lights. You gawked at the sight and then you felt hands tugging you along as Shane gripped your wrist and pulled you through the mess of dead bodies and into the safety of the CDC.

------

Doctor Jenner was an odd one and you didn’t trust him.

Glenn, however, was thrilled at the promise of hot water, and then when the wine was cracked open, everybody loved Jenner. Even Daryl had a smile on his face as he drank wine and laughed with the others, his Georgian accent getting thicker with every sip. Shane drank deeply as he sat at the table next to you, his hand gripping your leg under the table. Your glass remained full as you occasionally swirled it in your hand. You figured someone had to be sober when eventually everything went to shit.

Daryl filled up Glenn’s glass again as T-Dog went for thirds. And while you were worried about things and just trying to stay calm, it was nice to see your friends and family laughing for the first time in weeks. You offered Shane the rest of your wine and he drank greedily. “Thanks, babe,” he said, kissing you. You could taste the alcohol on his lips as he kissed you and leaned his head against yours. He downed the rest of the wine and you caught Daryl looking at you. When your eyes met his, he quickly looked away and took a long pull from the bottle in his hands. The whole back and forth was starting to get tiring.

Eventually, it was time for some much-needed sleep. It would be the next morning when Jenner started explaining everything so you all headed to your new beds for the night. You and Shane pushed into a vacant room, pulling off your boots. Laying in bed, you stretched out, enjoying the feel of a proper mattress under you for the first time since the world ended. Shane stumbled over to the bed, dropping down beside you. He rolled over and braced his elbowd on either side of you. He leaned down to kiss you as his hands ran up your sides, but you pushed him back.

“You’re drunk, Shane,” you said, pushing against his chest. He looked down at you with a frown.

“(Y/N)...,” he whined, kissing down your neck.

“Shane, stop,” you said, taking his shoulders and pushing him again. This time he relented and flipped back over. He sighed as his eyes pressed closed. His hand found yours, playing with your fingers.

“I love you…” he said, looking over at you with heavy eyes.

“I love you, too, idiot,” you said. Shane huffed and sat up. “Where are you going?” you asked as you watched him stagger towards the door.

“Gonna walk it off,” Shane mumbled. “See if Rick is still up.” Shane stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him. You flopped back down to the mattress and then eyed the bathroom on the other side of the room. You figured you wouldn’t get another chance to have hot water in a while so you headed for a much-needed shower.

As soon as the hot water hit your body, you felt as if you were transported back in time. You stayed under the spray as long as possible, relishing in the feel of finally being clean after living in the woods for so long. You scrubbed your hair until it slipped through your fingers, free of tangles. Once you had your fill of the luxury the CDC had to offer, you shut the water off and grabbed a fluffy towel, wrapping it around your body.

After getting dressed and combing your fingers through your hair, you figured you should go find your boyfriend before he passed out in some lab or something. The halls of the residences were quiet as you moved through them, peeking around corners as you searched for Shane. When you turned again, you nearly ran into someone. They steadied you with their hands, grabbing onto your shoulders. Looking up, you saw that it was Daryl.

“Ya showered,” he said. You nodded slowly, trying not to laugh at his surprised expression. You then noticed the fine layer of dirty still adorning his skin.

“Yeah, you should try it, mountain man,” you teased, flicking a piece of dirt off his shirt. He scoffed at your words. He then realized he was still holding onto you and awkwardly let go. “Hey, have you seen Shane? He’s not exactly lucid right now and I don’t wanna find him passed out in a supply closet.” Daryl’s jaw went rigid at your words.

“Ya, saw him followin’ Grimes,” he said, looking away from you.

“Rick?”

“Nah,” Daryl grunted, moving past you, “Lori.”

-----

You didn’t bother to look for Shane after your run-in with Daryl. You went back to your room and tried to get some sleep. This time you did feel like an idiot. As if Shane would really leave her alone just because Rick was back. You stared at the ceiling, trying to stop your mind from creating scenarios about Lori and Shane in your head.

An hour or so later and the door opened. Shane glided into the room, clearly not as drunk as he had been. He pulled off his shoes and sank onto the mattress beside you. He rolled into your side, throwing an arm across your waist, his fingers playing with the fabric of your shirt. “I’m sorry about before,” he said, “you know I’m an ass when I drink.” You did know that which is why you had remained sober.

“It’s fine,” you said, which is what you always said when he apologized when he was being an asshole. His hand stilled on your stomach as his breathing slowed and he slowly fell asleep. A small amount of light entered the room from a crack in the door and as you looked down at your boyfriend you could see fresh scratch marks on his neck. You didn’t have to think too hard about whose nails had made them.

Your hand came up and carded through Shane’s hair. In his sleep, he nuzzled you closer and you had to fight the tears that welled up. You could do this, you could be there for him when he needed it because that is what you had always done for him. The end of the world didn’t need to change that. Right?

——-

The next day everything went from bad to worse.

Watching the MRI on the large monitor was horrifying. Even Shane was disturbed. As you all watched the patient reanimate, Shane had reached over and gripped your hand. The two of you hadn’t said anything about the previous night. At breakfast, he had played off the scratches as a drunken accident, but you noted the look in Lori’s face and you noticed that Daryl and even Carol were looking at her and Shane with accusatory glances.

When Jenner invited you all into the main theater for the explanation, hope was upon everyone’s faces as they urged the doctor to tell them about a cure. However, just as you suspected, there wasn’t one. Jenner explained that he was the only one left. He worked as hard as he could, but eventually there was no point.

Then, as soon as everybody started to realize what was happening, it was nearly too late.

The blaring red countdown clock was staring you all in the face as the CDC went into full lockdown. Sophia and Carl were stressed and Daryl was pissed. Rick and the others had to restrain the archer as he nearly decapitated Jenner with a fire ax. You, yourself, wanted to attack the man as well. You also wanted to beat Rick to a pulp for getting you into this mess in the first place.

Eventually, Rick convinced Jenner to let you out, but Andrea, Dale, and Jacqui were staying behind to succumb to the implosion. You rushed after the others towards the lobby. Shane pulled you along, nearly carrying you as you sped through the halls. With the metal shudders lifted, you could see the bodies of the dead even clearer in the sunlight now through the large windows. While you weren’t thrilled about going back into the world of the Dead, it was better than being incinerated.

You knew you were in trouble when the glass wouldn’t break. When Carol had produced the grenade, you could have kissed her. Rick set the charge and you all hit the deck. When the blast went off, you felt a body cover you and you knew immediately that it wasn’t Shane.

You didn’t say a word as Daryl used his body to keep you close to the ground. You just waited for the ground to stop moving before getting your bearings. Daryl hauled you up and took off towards the blown-out window without saying a word.

You helped with the kids as they climbed down to the ground, keeping them from the shattered glass. Then, following the others, you took off across the courtyard. Aiming your gun, you and some of the others took out Walkers that were drawn by the grenade. You all ran for the cars going as fast as you could. Entering the RV, you all hunkered down. You could see Daryl dive into his truck and Rick shouted at everyone to cover their ears.

But then Dale and Andrea came running out of the building. You crouched down again unable to see if they made it or not and this time it was Shane that held onto you. You covered your ears as a blast echoed throughout the city. The RV shook around you and when the smoke cleared and you stood up to look out the window, the CDC was gone.

#walking dead #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead imagines #walkerwords #shane walsh x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon #shane walsh #rick grimes #season 1 twd #twd #twd imagines

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found (Eighteen)

MASTERLIST HERE

***************

Tony thought he was dreaming when James picked him up from the chair and cradled him up close, thought he was outright hallucinating when cool lips pressed a kiss to his forehead and a hoarse voice whispered, “Fuckin’ hell, sugar. What is happening to you?”

Somewhere out there in a haze of pain JARVIS instructed James on how to fill a syringe with a slightly less-than-legal pain killer and Tony barely twitched when it stung against his skin and liquid heat poured through his veins, his mind settling and pain easing and...thoughts...slowing…down...

“Tony.”

Tony didn’t know how long he’d been out, but when he opened his eyes again he felt normal, or at least close to what had passed as normal for the past several days. The tour around the world had drained him to the point of constant exhaustion, his mind compromised to near incoherence, and the pain meds didn’t even take it all away. The shot only dulled the bone deep hurt enough to keep Tony’s mind mostly online, and for right now and until he was out of time, that was all he cared about.

Tony didn’t want to die out of his mind crazy, too far gone to put a sentence together, in too much pain to function or remain lucid.

But Tony didn’t want to die all by himself either, cold and all alone in a too big house at the end of a too deserted street at the edge of a too uncaring ocean.

Tony didn’t want to die alone.

“You’re not alone, sugar. I’m right here.”

Tony’s eyes snapped open, zeroed in on James sitting at his bed side. The soldier looked haggard, exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, shoulders hunched and hands clasped between his knees and looking like he had no idea what to say to Tony after three weeks apart, after three weeks of missed called and unanswered texts, after three weeks of waiting only to find Tony almost gone.

James didn’t look like he knew what to say, and Tony didn’t know what to say either, so he just didn’t say anything at all.

It was the most difficult thing in the world to stumble out of bed and make it towards the bathroom, but Tony didn’t say anything about it and neither did James. The soldier just held out his hand long enough to keep Tony steady, then let it fall away, and hung his head again.

What were they supposed to say?

The man in the bathroom mirror staring back at Tony was practically a shadow-- thin and pale, hair hanging limp around a sallow face, lips chapped and eyes dulled from the pain medication. The robe hung loose around a gaunt frame, fingers trembled where they grasped at the sink and for a single, terrifying moment Tony didn’t recognize the man in the mirror and then in a split second of hysteria wondered whose life he was living because this couldn’t be his, not way, not Tony Stark, it couldn’t be Tony Stark who was looking in the mirror and then out in the bedroom and wondering if he was hallucinating or if what he thought he was seeing was actually was he was actually actually seeing...

Actually actually seeing James. Was James actually actually here?

James.

... James?

Am I dead yet?

“Are you really here?” Tony propped himself up against the frame of the bathroom door because it was the only thing keeping him on his feet, held onto the doorknob with fingers that couldn’t quite close in a fist. “Are you-- is this--”

He smacked too dry lips. “Are you here here? Or am I seeing things again.”

“I--” James cleared his throat and tried to talk, but it didn’t work so he cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m right here, Tony. I’m here. You’re not alone.”

“Jesus.” Tony scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “I uh-- what are you-- how are you--”

He shook his head, grimaced. “Sorry, the meds make me-- I’m here.” he tapped at his temple. “But not--it’s slow. Everything is slow. How are you here? Why are you here?”

James’s throat jerked as he swallowed, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he ground his teeth together, trying to find words or explanations or anything that would get them through all the terrible explanations and questions and right to the point of being able to hold each other.

God he wanted to hold Tony but Tony looked so weak and James was scared but he was also so fuckin’ angry.

So fuckin’ angry and so hurt about the lies and the hiding and so goddamn scared because Tony was so goddamn weak.

“You knew you were dying.” He started slowly, working hard to keep the devastation from his voice. “Didn’t tell me or Ms. Potts or Rhodey, right? Knew you had limited time and that’s why you told me-- when we met in the diner you said the offer to make me a new arm was going, going, gone. Was that some sorta sick joke?”

“It wasn’t a joke.” Tony plucked at the tie of his robe, wanting to cringe away from the hardness in James’s tone but not able to muster the energy. “It was just-- c’mon. You’ve seen how I deal with tough stuff, James. I-- I-- I--”

“S’why you wanted to find out who I was so bad.” James looked up at the ceiling like JARVIS would validate his thought. “You wanted to find my family so I wouldn’t be alone after you left. It’s why you went to D.C. to find Stevie.”

“Yeah I thought you and he--” Even swallowing hurt, and Tony tried not to flinch when his throat lit up raw. “I thought-- you know, shared trauma. And pasts. No one has a shared past like you and Captain Rogers do.”

“You found out about me being--” James pursed his lips. “About Hydra? What they did to me?”

“Had notes from Howard and from Auntie Peggy.” Tony put a hand to the reactor and pressed hard as it so he could breathe without it shifting in his chest. “Pretty easy to put two--” god it was hard to breathe. “--to put two and two together--once I knew who you were. It’s sad but it’s-- it’s in the past, right? We can-- you can-- move on.”

“Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, of the 107th.” James said dully. “Bucky Barnes, right? You found out who I was and dumped me on the first person who’d want me and then left me alone?”

“James.” Tony tried for a smile, and failed. “Or--or Bucky. Bucky. D-Didn’t dump you on anyone. Reunited you and your best pal, best friend. Captain Rogers and--and--” breathe. breathe. breathe, damn it. “--Sergeant Barnes are as American as apple pie and peanut butter and jelly. You belong together.”

“I belong with you!” There was the anger, flaring hot and bright as James jumped to his feet and the chair clattered over behind him. “Damn it, Tony! I belong here with you! I should have been here with you when you needed me!”

“James--” Tony closed his eyes when his vision swam. “Um-- Bucky--”

“My name is James!” the soldier shouted and Tony stumbled away from it, away from the anger and the hurt and the betrayal in those beautiful eyes. “My name is James and you know that because you know me! You know me, Tony! You know me and you--you found me--”

One step forward, then two and then three and the anger fell away as suddenly as it appeared. James went down to his knees in front of Tony, wrapped both arms around that too thin waist and clutched him tight, clutched him desperately. “You found me, Tony. You found me and then you left me and what was I supposed to do?”

“S’posed to re-unite with the Captain and ride off...into the sunset together.” Tony shuddered and nearly collapsed, slumping forward onto James and resting unsteadily on those broad shoulders. “You were supposed to-- James, I found who you were. I tried to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m only okay with you.” James gripped at Tony’s hips, ran his hands up to feel bony ribs. “Tony, you were just gonna go off and die alone? Let the poison ruin ya? Sugar, sweet thing, how could you think I wouldn’t want to be here with you? Three weeks. Three weeks I’ve been waitin’ for you to call me and then I find you like this? Tony, why?”

He reached up with his left hand and tore the robe away, shredded the thick material and threw it over his shoulder and then pushed his face into Tony’s stomach to muffle a sob when he saw the ugly black crawling beneath Tony’s skin. It looked like scars but so much worse, like cracks in china, like death under porcelain, like tar spoiling something pure and perfect and his.

“Babydoll.” James got to his feet and buried his fingers into Tony’s hair, brought him in for a careful careful kiss, spread his left hand as far as it would reach over the poison so he could protect Tony, protect his heart. “Babydoll, why did you send me away?”

“I’m sorry.” Tears then, falling from Tony’s eyes and trickling down his cheek to mingle in another kiss and then another, his lips numb from the medication and heart pounding beneath James’s palm when his legs finally gave out and the soldier caught him up into a hug. “And I--I missed you-- I-- I missed--”

The smaller brunette made sound like his very core was splitting as Tony finally let himself admit-- “I’m so scared. James I’m so scared, I’m so s-scared.”

“I’m scared too but I’m here now.” James wiped away tears and kissed away a quiet sob. “Sweet thing, I’m here. We’re gonna figure this out. We got it, Tony. We’ll figure it out, I promise. Just don’t send me away. Don’t hide from me, okay? Okay?”

“...I think it’s too late.” Tony clung to James, half grateful for his presence, half terrified that this would be the last time, the very last time. “Shit I-- I think it’s too late. I waited too long cos I couldn’t figure out how to fix it and now it’s too late.”

“We will figure it out.” James repeated, firmer. “Tony, you found me.” He wound their fingers tight and pushed their foreheads together. “You found me and you know me and for the first time in my entire life I don’t gotta hide, not when I’m with you. I don’t gotta hide who I am or who I love--”

Tony sucked in a shocked, ragged breath and James only pressed tighter to him, held him closer and tried so hard to breathe adoration into every word.

“Don’t gotta hide who I love anymore, sweet thing.” He murmured. “So don’t hide from me. Don’t hide from me, not your being sick or how awful it is or bad you hurt or-- or nothin’ else alright? No more. Please. Please?”

“N-no more hiding.” Tony managed and James kissed him soft and slow and achingly tender. “Promise.”

“I love you.” James said it for real then, and it was the most beautiful thing Tony had ever heard whispered into his ear and mouthed into his hair and down across his cheek to his mouth,. “Sweet thing, I love you. And m’not lettin’ you go anytime soon. I swear it. I swear it. You’re mine sugar. Took me seventy years t’find ya and I’m not letting ya go, not for nothin’.”

“God, I love when you talk all Brooklyn for me.” Tony tried to laugh, tried to smile, but instead he just pushed his face into James’s neck and shook through a body racking sigh. “But I don’t know if--I mean what if it’s too late?”

“You’re a goddamn genius, babydoll.” the soldier said firmly, stroked purposefully over Tony’s thready pulse then left a featherlight kiss over the same spot. “You built that lab downstairs, built me an arm, figured out how to do the whole super hero thing. Invent something, sugar. Create somethin’ to fix this.”

“James--”

“But more than all that, you found me when I had no chance of finding myself.” James interrupted. “And I found you when I thought I’d never have anything ever again. So let’s do this together. Find a way to fix this and get towards a happily ever after.”

“Happily ever after.” Tony felt the first spark of hope in weeks. “You-- you think?”

“I think I can’t wait to go and get lost with you on the beach somewhere at sunset.” James tipped Tony’s chin up carefully carefully so he could look deep into his eyes. “And I’ll help with whatever I can to make sure that happens. You just tell me and I’ll do it, sugar. Whatever it takes. I’m here and we’ll figure it out.”

And then quieter, “And if it doesn’t work, I’m gonna be here anyway. You’re not doing this alone. Not again, not anymore. M’here, sweet thing. Don’t hide from me.”

“O-okay.” Tony finally nodded, relief making his breath catch in a half sob. “Okay, let’s figure it out.”

“And then we’ll get lost together.”

“And--and then we’ll get lost together.” he nodded again and pressed close to his soldier. “... I love you.”

“I love you too.” James swept his mouth along the shell of Tony’s ear and gathered him as close as he dared, soothing the shivers with his warmth and hiding his own tears in Tony’s hair. “I love you too.”

***************

Chapter Notes:

I kept this one short just to not take away from the impact of the moment. Nothing like that very first ‘I Love You’, right?

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER!

****************

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @1fuckingshitup69 @agentlokii @livewire28 @tulipsnbigcats @kimstark @alex-stark-rogers @bibbarnes @heeeyitskay @goindownshipping @justaniche @actual-demon-belial

@quietgayguy @bluedreamdino @akimi-youngblood @blackstar1602 @dixiehellcat @travellover1245 @capnstarkey @the-awkward-teenaged-one @thanossucks @peteryoulittleshit @tony-and-steeeb @striving-artist @roe-sesandthorns @coolsidedpillow @i-am-worth-it-25 @firelightmystic @maligatorthealigator @simsccsol @a-tardis-in-221b @happyendingrequired @everygoodoneistaken11 @pootie-and-the-snoots @megahuffledor @xkissmeimirishx @crystalskrull @hazelbeatsturtle @wecollectnightmares @endrega23 @saganarojanaolt @the-crazy-house @ravynfyre @yomama-umbridge @lovely--tony @gayspacesprinkles @elliotkaingrey @warmachinesocks @glitternotgold73

#ncts fics #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes

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harrysgloves · 4 years

Text

Fine Line (Chapter 6)

>>>Catch up with the Fine Line Masterlist!<<<

word count: 2k

story summary: Since you were kids you and Harry had always walked that fine line of friends or something more. Now, pregnant by someone else, you find yourself staying with your long time best friend after things go sour with your boyfriend of 3 years.

Singlemom!Reader x Harry Styles

chapter summary: Your friends leave town. Old feelings come back to the surface.

warnings: Language // Angsty? Harry’s a bit stupid too but we love him for that.

a/n: The cute stuff is coming. I’m so excited. Woot!

>>><<<

You tried your best to hide your sniffling and water eyes as you walked through the airport. Your hands balled tightly against your sides as you walked those overcrowded hallways as far as you could possibly go without a ticket. The security guard stopped all three of you once you reached the TSA line.

"This is shit." Abby said as she turned to you. Her eyes were just as red and puffy as yours.

"You guys come back when this one's born." You managed to say through the depressingly sad little coughs that always happened when you cried too much.

"Of course, we gotta see our little niece when she arrives." Gemma cooed as she touched your stomach, your eyes rolling at her determination that your baby was a girl.

"We love you baby." She smiled, hugging around your waist as you let out something between a laugh and a sob. Your arms wrapping around the parts of them both that you could reach from your awkward angle.

"I'll let you know when I get a place and you two can facetime me to pick out where my stuff goes." You three were still tightly holding onto each other, causing people around you to stare longer than necessary.

You didn't miss Gemma slyly flipping off an older lady who scoffed at you three.

"We'll text you when we land." Abby said, pulling back from you first. Her hands wiping away her tears.

"Yeah. Okay." You agreed, Gemma standing up from you, and even your least emotional friend had tears brimming in her eyes.

"We love you." She said, giving you a hug and not your stomach. Her body thrown against you hard as she clutched her hands around you.

"Be good to my brother, yeah? Make sure he's taken care of." She whispered into your hair. Your head nodded as she broke away from you.

They gave you one last wave goodbye before heading for the line. Suddenly, you felt like you were 19 again, standing in the same exact spot as you watched your two best friends leave on an adventure you couldn't join.

You rubbed your shoulders, trying your best to comfort yourself as you made your way back to your car. Your eyes fixed on the shitty off white tile that covered the abnormally long hallways. Every step felt like a huge task you had to force yourself to do.

Only a few more steps until you could have your breakdown.

Deep breaths in through your nose and out your mouth as your car came into your sight. Throwing passenger door open so hard you could hear the metal protest to your violence.

"'M sorry." He mumbled from the driver side. Your eyes not daring to move over to look at him as the tears leaked down your cheeks.

You'd blame hormones but you knew that wasn't the only reason you were crying this hard.

You always seemed to be the one who got left behind. Always alone.

"'S fine." You sniffed as your sweater covered hands wiped away the mixture of tears and mascara off your face.

Harry's hand covered your thigh as he backed out of the parking spot. Your head against the headrest as you closed your eyes.

"Don't 'ave to tell me y'fine when y'not." He said as he entered the motorway. The other cars swerved to avoid your slow old vehicle as he floored it to try and keep up with the flow of cars.

You could tell he wanted to say shit about your car being dangerous. A hazard to have around other cars. His one free hand having a death grip on the steering wheel but he knew better than to push that button. He knew better than to criticize the last thing your dad ever gave you.

"We're not doing this." You shot back, his eyes glaring at you. His pursed lips tightened as he looked away from you rolling your eyes at him.

You always were a brat when you didn't want to talk.

"Top five." He said with his hand on the broken volume knob of your car. His black painted fingers trying to fiddle with the radio to turn it down.

"I'm not eight anymore, Haz. Not doing that." You huffed as you watched him grow more and more frustrated with the fact your car radio wouldn't work the way it was supposed to.

"Fuckin' hell, jus' humor me and do it, yeah?" His eyebrow raised as his irritation slipped off him seeping around the car. Your hands slapping his away as you tapped a memorized pattern of hits and bangs against the old controls until the machine finally quieted the speakers around you.

"Need a new radio for y'birthday." He muttered, face set in irritation as he stared at the road.

Hormonal anger flaring inside of you as you looked at the smug bastard sitting in your seat, driving your damn car.

"Fine." You huffed out as your hands flew around. His eyes immediately widening as he looked from you to the road and back again. Very aware he'd woken the beast within.

"You wanna do top five? You fucking asked for it." Anger dripping from your voice as you felt your face heat.

"Number one, you don't get to tell me what shit I need and don't need. Mainly, my fucking radio." Your voice vibrated along the metal and glass as you held up your pointer finger to show the number you were on.

"Two, don't you dare say anything bad about this car. You know I can't get rid of it and even if I wanted to get rid of it not everyone has billions to drop on a new car whenever they want."

"Three, I'm fucking pissed and upset with Jesse. Then I feel terrible for being pissed and that's just a whole ass mess."

"Four, I have to start apartment hunting and I don't even know how to tell if a place is decent or not and I don't have my fucking dad with me to help me anymore."

"And finally five, I miss my fucking friends and I feel like I'm always the one who gets left behind all the time. You, Abby, Gemma, my dad, hell my mom is even technically gone and now Jess."

"It's like I'm a fucking neon sign saying abandon me it'll be fun." You said, your hands finally done flinging around with every word as the hard sobbing set. Choking on your own breath. Tears flooding every inch of your face.

You didn't even notice you two were parked in his driveway. Your hands over your face as you leaned into your legs. Crying your heart out.

The hand on your back rubbed soothing circles. Shushing you quietly. The waves of pain and anxiety started to slow as your eyes stung.

"One," he said quietly as he hunched over the armrest, his head laided awkwardly against the back of your shoulder "'M sorry 'bout the car. Know it means a lot to yeh, jus' don't want y'and the baby in somethin' that might break down somewhere."

"Two, 'm stressed 'bout this next album. Got no muse and nothing done. Feel like've taken a year off and got nothin' to show fo' it."

"Three, 'm scared to leave yeh if I go on tour or promote an album if I do get it done and yeh go into fuckin' labor or have a problem and I can't be there fo' yeh."

"Four, my damn socks 'ave been half way down my foot fo' the last hour but I'm too tall to reach it and fix it in this miniature car." He said, your head lifting from your legs to glare at him. Not being able to suppress your smile as your faux anger cracked, laughter coming from deep in your chest.

Of course he'd find a way to make you laugh when your world felt like it was falling apart. His own laugh joined yours and at a certain point you were sure you two were laughing for no reason other than loving to hear the others giggles.

"What's number five?" You asked once you finally calmed back down, your back against the seat in the car as you stared out the car windshield. Harry's posture mimicking yours. His hand in yours over top of the armrest in the middle of the car. The cool faux leather on the back of your hand. His warm skin almost felt clammy in your palm.

"Five," he sighed, his fingers dancing across the sensitive spot in the middle of your hand. Instinctively making you look over to him lost in his own little word. His mind running. You could practically see him rehearsing the conversation in his head.

"Hey," your other hand against his cheek to pull his face towards you. Your thumb stroking to the stubble on his cheek. "'S just me."

His eyes finally snapped to yours. Those eyes of rolling green pastures that reminded you of the crisp summer winds blowing through your hair held so many words behind them. Paragraphs and books worth of this he'd never tell you. Poems and lyrics of all the secrets he held onto.

Even though you both made promises to never hide things from each other. You knew everyone had things they'd never let slip from their mouths. Things they grasped and held on to so tightly. Kept close to their chest out of fear from rejection or regret of consequences.

You knew you had things like that. Thoughts of you with him. Daydreams of a life where you weren't so different.

"Want yeh to move in with me, bunny." He said as your eyes closed, forehead leaning against his.

Your mind raging a war within as you sighed. Torn between wanting to and knowing better.

But God, how you wanted to.

"Can't, Harry, you know that." You sighed, your eyes not opening even though you felt his gaze on you.

"Always said yeh wanted to live with me." Your eyes opened just enough to see him pouting at you. That puffy bottom lip sticking out.

"When I was 10. Now you're old and have smelly feet." You laughed as you pulled away from him, your back against the worn out fabric of your seat. Harry's glare trained on you as you moved.

"Love, I've smelled y'feet 'fore. Trust me yeh’s are way worse." He said with a simple shrug. Your eyes widening in shock before hitting him in the shoulder with your hand.

"Hey!"

"And yeh steal all the hot water in the mornings and y'eat all my pickles." He pointed out. Your lips pushed together as you looked at his overly lavish house.

Prick could afford for you to eat all the pickles in the world if you wanted to.

"I do not!" You lied, knowing damn well you had just finished off the jar the hour before leaving the house. Right after you'd taken all the hot water for your shower.

"I promise yeh right now there's no pickles in there and I jus' bought sum." He said with a little smile playing on the corner of his lips when he finally looked back to you.

"Why would you even want me to move in then?"

"Cause I love you." He said easily, his hand wrapping around yours again as you sighed.

"Love you too, Haz." Your fingers fiddled with his own, not looking at him. "Just not smart to move in together. Camille would be uncomfortable, you know?"

"Nah, I'll talk to her." He said with a wave of his hand like it was no big deal. Your very judgmental stare being shot his way.He was a fucking idiot if he thought that conversation would go over well. The girl might not have hated you but she would if you moved in with her boyfriend. "I promise. I'll talk to her."

"I'm still not moving in with you." You shook your head as you opened the door. Your legs slung over the side of the car before he could argue with you.

"Just think 'bout it." He said as he caught up with you. His arm around your shoulder as you walked to his doorsteps.

You rolled your eyes but nodded your head. Knowing you could never move in with him and maintain the distance between you two.

#Harry Styles #Harry #Harry Styles x Reader #Harry Styles x You #Harry Styles x Y/N #Harry Styles Fanfic #Harry Styles Fanfiction #Fanfic #fanfiction #writing #mine #FL #Fine Line

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justsomefluff · 4 years

Note

OMG I LOVED that reaction you did, and the scenario like thing was really good!! I loved it, thank you!! Can I request another reaction (mini-scenario)? Like ATEEZ confessing to their crush while they (ATEEZ) are drunk? (San said Yeo does aegyo/is cute when drunk I'd like to see this ^^)

This is so cute, I would pay good money to see them tipsy no lie lmao. also this is fluff and crack at the same time so...I hope you like it lmao

Hongjoong:

(^ he’d do this during a drunk confession you cant change my mind ^)

Okay so when he’s drunk I feel like he sees himself as being really composed and cool

but in reality... not so much

and, even if he hadn’t been planning on confessing to you

oh boy, his body starts shaking a lil and you’re low-key like... 911?

like his body is telling him to ABORT MISSION but once his drunk brain has made the decision there's no going back

So, in his mind, this is what he’s saying out loud okay

“Y/n, I just wanted to let you know that I have some serious feelings for you. I know you may not feel the same way, but I just needed to tell you.”

Super awesome, everyone wishes to be that composed right?

Well here’s what he really said:

“Listen here, you cute mother-, no I shouldn’t swear at you, my bad. I’m totally in love with you right? Watchu think bout dat?”

and then he’s quiet, and smiling bc he’s proud of himself and you’re just like um????

like that’s not how you imagined this would go

But you also know that he’s gonna be super embarrassed about this in the morning so you just say

“Let’s talk tomorrow, Joongie?”

and he smiles at the nickname and nods and kinda puts his head down

You honestly cant wait to tell him you feel the same when he’s sober

and make fun of him for getting wasted

Seonghwa:

so Seonghwa, unlike Joong, is actually pretty composed

like at first, he’s wildin’ and everything

but then he just calms down super fast

like so fast you get whiplash

and he just smiles at you and you’re like “...freak”

then he frowns and he’s like “I like to look at pretty things that make me smile”

“You make me smile too, Hwa” :)

then he just grabs you into a hug and starts swaying you guys side to side

like some awkward and forced middle school slow-dance

“What are you doing?”

and he shushes you to preserve the moment but you're like “I want answers”

then he finally leans his head down and his lips are brushing the shell of your ear so softly you barely notice

“I think I love you”

he strikes me as the kind of person who wants to confess but also isn’t ever 100% sure he wants to confirm that he loves you so he throws that “I think” in there to cushion the blow if you reject him

but, luckily for him, you do feel the same

you just turn your head ever so slightly to the side and peck his temple

he smiles and rests his head on your shoulder and squeezes your hips before wrapping his arms around you completely

“I kinda need to hear you say it”

“I think I love you too, Hwa”

Yunho:

okay this big ole baby right

I feel like he’s the kind of drunk who is crazy for a little bit but gets tired really fast

so after like an hour of insanity, his eyes are drooping and you’ve settled on a couch (or seat, wherever your location might be)

and he smooshes his cheek into your thigh and you’re totally aware that he’s gonna fall asleep on you

but you’re cool with that, I mean who wouldn’t be

and after a couple minutes of silence, you think he’s knocked out completely

he suddenly turns his head to look up at you

and you look down at him to ask if he’s okay, or if he needs anything

he just starts laughing and then this IDIOT

pokes your double chin (bc I mean why does he have to look at you from that angle) and goes “How is it that I like you so much, even your double chin is cute?”

part of you is like “omg he likes me” and the other part of you is like “...im gonna slap him. don't talk about my double chin”

so, given your inner turmoil, you're silent for a minute and he starts to pout

“you don’t like my double chin?” and he makes a double chin and grabs your hand to make you poke it

“say you like my double chin too, please”

“Yunho, I like you too... double chin and all” (you had decided that you are not going to slap him after all)

and thats kind of the end of the night bc after that crackhead confession he actually falls asleep

but you are lucky enough that he remembers it all the next morning and it becomes kind of a thing in your relationship to make double chins at each other then say “I love you”

Yeosang:

drunk Yeosang and aegyo here we go

whiny baby voice and big eyes and pouting all the way

like he’s not so much into doing the cutesy actions like finger hearts and stuff

but refers to himself as “Sangie” and talks about himself in third person too

CLINGY

not necessarily cuddly, but always has to be holding your hand or else he’ll cry

calls you pet names like Jagi and my love and stuff

and at first you’re like aw he’s a cute drunk and tease him a little bit

but then he pouts even harder and murmurs “I'm serious”

you’re like O.O

“you mean it? you really like me, Sangie?”

nods his head furiously like you seriously think he’s gonna get a concussion for about .5 seconds

like okay I get it, you mean it, please stop doing that your head is not a maraca

“I like you too”

cue the biggest, goofiest, toothiest grin you’ve ever seen

makes big ole fishy lips at you, and points at them to ask for a kiss

so you just give him a quick peck, bc you don't really want either of you to be drunk for your first real kiss

but that satisfies him for the time being :)

San:

Sannie best boy, I cannot stress that enough

the sweetest lil drunk okay

tries to take care of you even though he’s the drunk one

thirsty? he’s gonna get up and get you a glass of whatever you want even if he spills half of it trying to give it to you

hungry? he’ll get you some if you agree to share

so halfway through a tub of ice cream he decides to lay some truth on you okay

“I like my ice cream like I like you”

and you, of course, having seen that meme, respond with “ugly?” and you cackle at your own joke

but he’s so offended

“apologize to yourself and this ice cream”

“wtf? why?”

“because ice cream is the second most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen after you. apologize”

literally holds the tub of ice cream up to your face, and will literally carve a sad face into the ice cream to make you apologize quicker

and when you apologize he eats the sad face and draws a smile

sentimental cheeseball is all he is in that moment okay

“you really think I’m pretty?”

he looks at you like “...duh”

“I think you’re pretty too, Sannie” and he smiles so big :’)

and both of you know that this would be the start of a really happy relationship aww

Mingi:

I bet Mingi is the cutest drunk okay like if you thought he was a giant puppy before get ready you aint seen nothin yet

and you don't even get a warning before he confesses bc he says it so out of the blue

like his whole plan was to drink some liquid courage iykyk and then he was gonna confess

but he ended up getting a lil more tipsy than originally intended

and he just blurts it out and he’s stuttering and lisping and just struggling to get all the right words out

but you just think it’s super endearing

“Minnie, are you drunk?”

he starts blowing raspberries in the air and starts shaking his head “you think I’m drunk?”

literally hiccuping after every word lmao

like yes, Mingi, I think you're drunk

still blowing incredulous raspberries all over the place

and you blow one on his cheek and he starts giggling like the baby he is

“why you do that”

“bc I like you too, Minnie! also you were starting to spit and I needed you to stop that”

he giggles and nods at you, just happy that you feel the same way

nuzzles his head into your shoulder and plays with your fingers for the rest of the time youre together

Wooyoung:

okay he’s a crackhead already so I don't even think alcohol would be something he’s even offered most of the time lmao

but when he is all hell breaks loose

no subtlety about his confession at all

like he literally screams it at you

he had been paying extra attention to you all night, which you didn't even notice bc you liked him too and never imagined he felt the same

so you’re like he so friendly and clingy when he’s drunk

but five minutes later he’s like “DID YOU KNOW IM IN LOVE WITH YOU”

and you’re so taken aback because

1.) he just screamed in your face

2.) he just screamed that in your face

and then he’s quiet and just staring at you, waiting for a response

you’re so dumbfounded that all you say is “you too”

but thats enough for him

“GOOD THATS AWESOME”

and thats basically the end of the conversation bc he gets easily distracted

you have to remind him the next day that that conversation had even happened actually

and he’s like “oh yeahhhhh”

then you’re able to actually talk about what you both feel and be almost normal for about ten minutes lmao

Jongho:

since he’s on the quieter side compared to the rest of the group, I think this shows even more when he’s been drinking

but it’s almost concerning how quiet he is

like if you had never seen him drunk before you’d probably be really worried

and that’s exactly what happened

you went to check on him to see why he wasn't joining in the fun and he looks at you, a little teary from the alcohol

or maybe he’s just deep in his feels who knows

we’ve all been there amiright

and he’s like “just like you a lot you know that?’

you’re like “I was most certainly unaware of that, sir”

and he apologizes??? like why???

“I like you too, doofus, why are you sorry”

then he smiles and means it for the first time that whole night

he feels like he could crack all of the apples in the world he’s so happy

side-note: he probably could break all them apples fr

so basically you just made him the happiest apple murderer in the world

he’ll break all the apples for you baby

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