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tyongxnct · 3 years

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𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝘩𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑤𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 - 𝐿𝑒𝑒 𝑇𝑎𝑒𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑔

pairing: Taeyong x reader

special guest: Mark Lee

summary: You and Taeyong promised each other to go through everything together. You both dreamed of the music industry and after so many years, you finally got the opportunity to sign a contract with a big company, but they only wanted you, not Taeyong and you. At first, you didn’t want to do anything without Taeyong, but he encouraged you and supported you, but after your big success, Taeyong changed and his jealousy destroyed your relationship.

song: the heart wants what it wants - Selena Gomez

genre: idol!au, angst

warnings: mention of alcohol, swearing

word count: 4,8k

A/N: I really love this one and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do, listen to the heart wants what it wants by Selena Gomez while reading!! 💖

taglist: @alex-chann

I was on stage and I was thinking of... I felt like I know him though I know his heart And I know what he wouldn't do to hurt me But I didn't realize that Feeling so confident, feeling so great about myself... And then it just be completely shattered by one thing By something so stupid But then you make me feel crazy baby Feel like it's my fault I was in pain…

The award in your one hand and your phone in your other hand. You were nervous, almost scared. You whole body was trembling, and your lips were about to bleed, you chewed on them without feeling any pain.

You looked on your phone, for the millionth time in the last three minutes and there was still no call and no text.

You felt like the dress you were wearing, the beautiful golden dress, was suffocating you. It was tight around your waist and with every passing second it got tighter.

You clutched your heart.

Are you dying?

You can’t breathe.

Is this it?

Your vision is blurry, tears filled your eyes.

“Y/n! Can you hear us? Hey, honey, are you alright? Look at me.” This was your manager, she tried to calm you down. You were going to die, there was no other way to stop the pain.

“Someone bring me a fucking bottle of water!” she yelled to the crew in your dressing room. “You did it, Y/n! Artist of the year award is in your hands! This was your dream!”

You looked at the award in your hand.

Artist of the year.

Did you deserve this? Of course you did. You worked day and night, non-stop without any breaks, this was your dream and you did everything you could to achieve this.

But did you really deserve this?

“You looked absolutely gorgeous on-stage Y/n! Honey, you moved everyone with your speech! It was beautiful, you’re trending first place worldwide on twitter!” she told you as she handed you the bottle of water. Your throat was dry, and you finished the whole bottle in one go.

“Thank you.” You said and then you turned your phone off. He wasn’t going to text you anyway.

The water helped you calm down and the crew and your manager cheered and popped a champagne bottle. Today was your day, and you had to push every painful thought away and just be happy for once.

After the award show you found yourself in your bed, but it was hard to fall asleep. You could see the sun rising and the clock on your wall told you that it was almost 6am. You were awake the whole night, alone in a cold bed without him keeping you warm.

The bedroom door was suddenly opened with him stumbling inside. The heavy smell of alcohol surrounded the whole room. When he saw you looking at him, he laughed. He walked towards the bed and almost tripped on his way.

“Oops.” He giggled to himself.

You starred at him, curious about his next move.

“I saw y-you on the tv. You looked so small.” He laughed again like a little boy. He took off his socks and then his shirt.

“Do you know why I was on the tv?” you asked him.

“I don’t know and I don’t care.” With that, he got under the blankets and turned his back to you.

Tonight was one of the most important nights of your life and Taeyong simply didn’t care.

The bed's getting cold and you're not here The future that we hold is so unclear But I'm not alive until you call And I'll bet the odds against it all Save your advice 'cause I won't hear You might be right but I don't care There's a million reasons why I should give you up But the heart wants what it wants The heart wants what it wants

Your history with Taeyong started when you were both around twelve years old. The typical childhood friends to lovers. You had your first kiss with him when you were fifteen, you officially started dating when you were sixteen and you had your first time when you were eighteen. Years later, with twenty-three, every memory, every special day with him wasn’t the same anymore.

You two always dreamed of becoming the greatest couple in the music industry. You promised each other to go through this together and love each other forever. Taeyong was more into rap and producing and you were more into writing lyrics and singing. For the first couple years everything was perfect, but it was also exhausting and tiring. The music industry was harder than you imagined and the day you signed a contract with a big company, without Taeyong, was the day your relationship started falling apart.

You didn’t want to sign the contract. It was always Taeyong and you or nothing. Taeyong felt bad and didn’t want that to happen, he couldn’t be selfish just because it took longer to achieve his own dream. Taeyong worked in your studio, you let him spend as much time as he wanted and he produced song after song but nobody wanted to sign him. Your company offered Taeyong a job as a producer to produce a couple songs for you and other artists, he accepted the offer and hoped that one day, he could produce something for himself.

Taeyong supported you at first. The day you released your first self-written single, he surprised you with a big party and a promise ring. A promise to be with you forever. When you released your first full album, your fanbase grew even faster and you album hit first place on almost every chart. You were twenty-three and you were a star.

Taeyong was distant after you released your first album. He never left the studio and produced day and night. Every time you tried to get close to him, he’d find an excuse to push you away. No company wanted him, and he was going crazy. You understood, you tried to keep your own stuff for yourself and never talked about your job, you didn’t want to hurt him more.

While you got more popular, Taeyong’s hate towards music grew and one day, he just stopped.

“There’s no need for me to keep doing this. I don’t want this anymore. I need money to pay for this apartment, I need money to buy food and-“ he rambled nervously.

“Taeyong, you know that money is no problem for us anymore. This was your dream, you can’t just give up-“

“Oh please, don’t start with that bullshit. I don’t want your fucking money! Keep it to yourself! Go buy yourself some diamonds or I don’t fucking know, a house or no, go buy yourself a plane!”

Taeyong hated it whenever you talked about money. He hated it that you gained more money than him and provided for you two. The thought of you now paying for the apartment drove him crazy.

“Taeyong, I don’t want you to stop trying. Just let me pay the rent, I love you I just want to help-“ You loved Taeyong so much and you knew how much music actually means to him.

“I don’t want your fucking help. You’re not paying the rent. End of discussion.” And like every other night, he left you alone and went to a bar.

You knew you shouldn’t, but you did it anyway.

You bought the apartment you were living in and didn’t say anything to Taeyong. For two months, he didn’t notice that the money he paid for the apartment was back on his bank account. You knew that he’d find out sooner or later, but you couldn’t sit back and watch him destroy himself anymore.

But one day, he noticed, and you thought it was really the end of your relationship. The future you always dreamed of was nowhere to be seen.

“Do you really think that low of me?! Do you really think I can’t even fucking pay rent?! Huh?! How could you do something like that behind my back!” he yelled at you.

“Taeyong, please. I did it for us. I don’t want you to worry about money, I can help-“

“No! No you fucking can’t help! I don’t want your fucking money! You think, now that you are fucking famous you can do whatever the fuck you want?! Is that how it works? Just because you sing like anyone else, you can do whatever you want? I don’t even get why people are listening to your fucking music! It sound like every other artist singing you’re not special, not unique! You don’t have any fucking talent but here we are, you get the contract and not me, someone with actual talent.”

Every word that left his mouth, felt like a knife piercing in your heart. You finally heard how he really felt about your success and it broke you apart. You never wanted it to go this far.

You sobbed, you felt numb and his gaze on you didn’t help. Maybe he was right. There was nothing special about you. He deserved to be in your position.

“I-I’m sorry-“ you blurred out, “D-do you want me to g-go?”

Taeyong’s gaze softened, you looked like you were about to fall apart, and he couldn’t catch you because it was his faut in first place.

Did he want to break up? Was it over now? Do you have to leave the love of your life now?

“N-No, I’ll leave.”

And you didn’t see him for next hours.

You did nothing except for crying while listening to your songs. He was right, there was nothing special about your voice. You were like anyone else. No talent, how did people even listen to you?

It was late, past 3 am.

You were still crying, and you thought that Taeyong left you- forever. You took off the promise ring and tried to fall asleep, but he entered the room, and you could feel his presence behind you.

Taeyong hugged you from behind and cried. His head fell in the crook of your neck and he cried with you in his arms, you were also crying.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” He whimpered. “I didn’t mean anything I said. You’re perfect, the best of the best. I’m sorry, please don’t leave me. I love you.”

You turned to him. When he saw the tears on your face, he stroked them away and kissed your cheeks. “Please don’t cry- I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

You did the same with his tears and he noticed the missing ring on your finger. “W-Where is the ring?”

“I’m sorry, I took it off. I thought you’d leave m-me.” You told him and he cried harder. “No baby I’d never leave you. I’m sorry, please don’t take it off. I still mean it.”

You turned to your nightstand and put it back on.

“I’m sorry. I’m stupid and an idiot. T-This is just driving me crazy- Am I not good enough? What am I doing wrong?” he said, you could see in his eyes that he was in pain and it hurt you so much to see him like this.

“You are not doing anything wrong. You’re perfect, they are just blind and don’t see how great you are. They don’t know what real music is, Tae. You are so talented and please don’t stop trying.”

You put your head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat.

“A-Are you serious? O-Or are you just saying that to make me stop crying like a baby?” he pouted.

“I’m telling the truth. I’m not biased here. Well, I do love you but I’m really telling you the truth. You are the most talented person I know.”

“Thank you.” He kissed your head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for earlier- I hate myself for saying that to you.”

“It’s okay, I know that you didn’t mean it.”

“I love you so much, never leave me, okay?” he said softly.

“I love you too.”

You got me scattered in pieces Shining like stars and screaming Lighting me up like Venus But then you disappear and make me wait And every second's like torture Hell over trip, no more so Finding a way to let go Baby, baby, no I can't escape

It didn’t stay like that. Not even weeks later, you were back to the cold and distant Taeyong, he was still the same cold guy who hated your success with a burning passion.

Two weeks later, you were back at the studio, after you won the artist of the year award, in the studio working on some music with a hungover Taeyong. He still didn’t talk to you about the fact that you won the artist of the year award and you were not going to say anything about it.

You were distant. You tried to keep your thoughts to yourself and only talked whenever it was really needed.

“Try again.” He said for the fifth time.

Your throat hurt after last night and singing the same verse over and over again didn’t help.

“Taeyong can I take a break?” you asked.

“Mrs. Artist of the year wants to take a break? That’s not so professional of you. Artists don’t take breaks. They try and try until it’s perfect.”

First of all, you thought he didn’t know that you won artist of the year? And second, so he knew but he didn’t even show you a tiny bit of love. You won the biggest award of the year and your boyfriend hated you for that.

“But my throat hurts- I can’t hit the notes.”

“Drink some water.” He pointed at the water in the recording room.

And then you tried and tried to hit the note, but your voice gave up.

“Fine. That’s it for tonight. We won’t get any further with that voice of yours.” He said coldly.

When you left the little recording room, you gathered your things together but Taeyong didn’t move. “Aren’t we going home?” you asked.

“You can go, I’ll stay a little longer.”

And without saying anything or kissing him goodbye, you left.

The pain in your throat got worse and talking was difficult. You were talking to your manager about a potential tour, but after one sentence your voice broke. You stopped talking immediately, the pain only got worse whenever you tried to talk. “Here drink this tea. You should stop recording for a couple days, maybe even weeks.” You nodded, your voice was still there, but you didn’t want to risk losing it completely.

A couple days later, you talked to your boss about taking a break for a couple months, a short hiatus to calm your voice and throat and just write lyrics for your upcoming album. You decided to leave the city and rent a little beach house. Your manager was happy, you were happy but Taeyong, well, Taeyong just laughed at you.

“Taeyong, I just told you that I’m going to take a break and you’re just laughing?”

“Our little pop-star got enough of being the star? Why? Are they paying you too little?” he said mockingly.

“You know that this isn’t about money! I’m stressed, I’m not feeling good. My voice is always breaking, it even hurts to talk.”

“You can’t even handle that, can you? What kind of singer are you? Pathetic.”

You had enough. You really had enough.

“I’m the pathetic one? Look at yourself for once! You did this to me! I’m recording 24/7 and you don’t give me a single break! How is my voice supposed to handle that?! Tell me! You hate me so much, you weren’t even there for me when I won that stupid award! We talked so much about being there for each other in the past, but you threw everything away because of your jealousy! You weren’t there when I needed you the most even though I’m always there for you. You promised me b-but I’ve had enough… I can’t let you tear me down. I worked so hard, but It feels like a punishment to sing.” Once again, your voice broke.

“I want you to leave my apartment. I don’t want to see you or any of your stuff here. I’m done with you breaking my heart.”

Fortunately, your bags were already in the car, you thought maybe Taeyong would come with you, to relax and remind him of the love you once shared. But after what he had said, you just couldn’t stay with him anymore.

Taeyong looked at you, eyes wide open and lips trembling. Was he about to cry? Impossible. He must be happy that you’re finally leaving him.

“Y-You’re breaking up with me?” he asked slowly.

You took off the ring and placed it on the shelf next to you.

You turned around without saying anything and walked out of the door and when you finally closed the door of the car, you cried. Taeyong didn’t realize that you just left him. He was staring at the ring, he couldn’t move, he wanted to go after you, but his legs were numb.

After more than 10 Years, you left him. You had promised each other that you’d never leave each other but he also promised to be there for you.

This is a modern fairy tale No happy endings No wind in our sails But I can't imagine a life without Breathless moments Breaking me down, down, down, down

You lived at the beach for five months and you had no contact to anyone except your manager and a couple of producers you met. Your manager was always there for you after your breakup with Taeyong. You wrote so many songs in the past months, only love songs. Sad ballads about broken hearts.

You were scared to go back, scared of seeing him in the studio and scared that you actually weren’t ready to go back on stage, but after a long talk with your manager, you felt ready. Your five months hiatus helped you feel better about yourself and gain more confidence.

You woke up to the sounds of waves and you fell asleep to them. Your body relaxed and your throat didn’t hurt anymore. You felt good and you were ready to face the reality you were living in.

Your manager talked to some producers and that’s when you met Mark Lee. A young producer from Canada who was really talented, and you couldn’t wait to work with someone who wasn’t Taeyong. The car stopped in front of the building you tried to avoid for the last months. Your driver kindly opened your door and helped you get out.

“Thank you.” You said politely and entered the building with a nervous heart. Your manager told you that Taeyong was still working in the company, just for other artists and you hoped that you’d never cross paths.

You softly knocked on the door.

“You can come in!”

You opened the door and greeted Mark. It wasn’t your first time meeting him. He visited you at the beach house to talk about your new songs.

“My favorite singer is finally here in my office!” he said happily and hugged you softly. You hugged him back and sighed, “I don’t know If I’m ready.”

“Of course you are. We are going to produce some hits for you. I mean the songs you wrote are sad but like a good sad and everyone loves a good ballad.”

His studio was a little bigger than Taeyong’s and it was also warmer, the vibe was definitely better here. “Well we’ll see about that-“

“Yo Mark do you want to-“ suddenly someone entered the studio and when you turned around time stopped.

Taeyong looked, well, he looked like he always looked and that was perfect. His hair was a pretty shade of blue, he looked mesmerizing.

His eyes widened, his hand on the doorknob tightened and his body tensed. You weren’t doing any better. Your grip on your bag also tightened and your heart clenched.

Mark did know a little bit about your history with Taeyong, and the tension right now was crazy.

“H-Hi.” Taeyong said nervously.

“Hey.” You just said back, trying to avoid his gaze.

“You’re back.”

You nodded, not knowing what to say.

“So, Mark is a new producer here-“

“Yeah I know. I’m going to work with him.” You simply said.

“Oh, t-that’s good. I mean he’s good. Mark is really good.” He mumbled. Taeyong tried to meet your eyes, your beautiful pretty eyes he had missed so much, but you looked down to your feet.

“Uhm, Taeyong, I guess I’ll talk to you later?” Mark tried to save you from this awkward situation.

“Yeah sure.” He slowly left the room and you thought you’d die any second.

“That was so awkward.” Mark said and wiped the sweat from his forehead, “I can’t handle awkward situations, shit I thought we were all going to cry any minute.”

“Let’s start, I need to distract myself.”

Taeyong held his heart tightly when he entered his own studio. He wanted to ask Mark to order some food, but seeing you there after months, looking beautiful as ever.

Taeyong missed you and he was more than happy that you were back, even though you weren’t a couple anymore. You looked healthier and happier and he hated himself whenever he thought about the past. He was an asshole to you, you never deserved his stupid attitude. Losing you was his own fault and he had to leave you alone.

But Taeyong is selfish.

The past two months, you recorded and recorded. You new album was done, and you were able to perform on stage after a long time again. You were extremely nervous, but it also felt like a relief to perform the heart wants what it wants with a big audience.

Each song on your album had a deep meaning. After getting your heart shattered into many pieces, you wrote sad but beautiful lyrics. Everyone goes through heartbreak which is why so many people could relate to your songs.

“Are you ready honey?” you manager asked you.

“I hope I don’t cry.” You tried to joke but everyone knew you were actually serious. “It’s okay to cry. Just go on stage and let it all out.”

You hugged her and even Mark was there to cheer on you. “You’ll do amazing. The songs are amazing and you’re going to deliver them perfectly. Don’t worry.” Mark said as he hugged you tightly.

It felt like a déjà vu. You were in the waiting room almost a year later after you won the Artist of the year award, this time before you performed, and you still hoped to get a text from a certain someone. Did Taeyong even knew that you were going to perform tonight?

You breathed in and out and when you were on stage you poured your heart out.

When the performance ended, you didn’t cry. You almost did, but in the end you didn’t. The genuine smile on your face showed the relief you felt and that you finally reached happiness after years of looking for it.

You left the stage and adrenalin was pumping through your veins. A big smile was on your lips and when you entered your waiting room to celebrate with your crew, there was no one inside except for one person.

“Taeyong?” you asked, not sure If you were imagining him.

“Hey,” he looked you up and down, “You look gorgeous. Absolutely beautiful.”

You were shocked. Is it really him? “W-What are you doing here?”

“I watched your performance. Front row. I wanted to be in the crowd and watch you perform. It was phenomenal. You were breathtaking.”

He stepped closer, “W-Was the song about me?” he whispered.

You nodded, tears were about to fall down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I hurt you. I was a blind little boy, I was so obsessed with the idea of me and the music industry that I forgot about you and your feelings and I can’t tell you how much I hate myself for that. You were always my number one priority, b-but then… all I could see was red and I let my anger and frustration out on you. I love you more than anything and instead of loving you I tried to hurt you and I thought it would make me feel better about myself, but it didn’t, and I realized that when it was too late. You left me and I was absolutely devastated. I couldn’t imagine my life without, and I still can’t. You were always a part of me, and I don’t want to lose the most important part of my life. No one and nothing on this planet is more important to me than you are. You are my world and when you left, my world stopped spinning and I didn’t know what to do. The first time I saw you after our breakup I-I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that you were real and that I lost someone as beautiful and kind as you. I don’t need to be an artist. I don’t need fans- I just need you. My number one fan and supporter.”

You were bawling your eyes out and you couldn’t stop yourself from crying harder and harder.

Taeyong was also always a part of you. Everything you achieved was thanks to him. He was the one who taught you how to play the guitar and the piano. Taeyong helped you find your voice when you were younger, and you found your passion for music and singing all thanks to him.

You went through so much, and you never stopped loving him. You loved him on every single day since the first time you met him until now.

He came to support you. He watched your performance and it felt so good to see him here. Your heart was beating against your chest and you couldn’t talk, you were scared that your voice might break, but it didn’t matter. You didn’t need to.

One step, two steps and you were standing right in front of him.

Taeyong’s face was completely wet from his tears and his big doe eyes trembled, tears still rolling down his pretty face.

You cupped his cheeks and pulled him closer to press your lips on his.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had kissed him or touched him. His lips were perfectly on yours, slowly kissing you with so much longing and passion.

He dropped the bouquet of roses in his hands and pulled you even closer. His hands were on your waist, holding you tightly. He was scared that you’d slip away or that he’d break you. He kissed you tenderly, you were so fragile in his hands he was scared to break you with a simple touch.

The two of you pulled away slowly, he never let go of you though. You hid your face in the crook of his neck and sobbed silently.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He whispered to you and hugged you as tightly as he could. He would never let go of you again.

“I love you so much Taeyong. I always loved you so much and I don’t think I can love anyone as much as I love you. I also need you in my life- the months without you- I just wanted to go back to the days we were happy. I miss those days so much Taeyong. I love my job, but I love you more.”

“I love you so much. I love you. More than anything else. I promise you I’ll give you everything you deserve and so much more. Okay baby? Just like back in the days. You and me against the world.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

After everything you’ve been through, you couldn’t let go of him. No matter how many times your cried yourself to sleep, in the end, the heart wants what it wants and yours wanted Taeyong.

The heart wants what it wants, baby It wants what it wants, baby It wants what it wants It wants what it wants

The heart wants what it wants, baby It wants what it wants

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starkeristheendgame · 4 years

Note

If you are okay with it, I was wondering if you could do a body switch soulmate au. When you first make eye contact with your soulmate you switch bodies. You stay in each other's bodies for 24 hours. I feel like this could cause some shenanigans on both sides. Tony hasn't had to be taught anything in awhile and Peter doesn't know how to run a company.

I was a little apprehensive about this idea at first but honestly? I adore it. I am afraid, however, I took this away from the ‘humor’ pathway and plopped it straight down into ‘light angst’. Please accept my apologies for that - And I’d be happy to write something more lighthearted if this doesn’t hit the spot. Keeping your own emotions and mindset out of what you write is hard sometimes.

Slight AU in that they meet differently to CW.

TW: Light angst | Slight hurt

He was going to lose his fucking mind. He could feel each one of his IQ points disintegrating as he stared at the board (an actual digital board, what fucking year were they in? 2015?) and tapped his pen restlessly on the desk. He hadn’t been to school since he was eighteen. The last time he’d been in a classroom was January, giving a motivational speech to Princeton graduates.

He felt too small and too stifled and if this woman pronounced Epinephrine wrong one more time, he was going to launch his desk at her and snap that stupid board in half.

Because he could do that, now. Displays of sheer power. Because Peter Parker had been bitten by a genetically modified spider and Tony was currently occupying Peter’s body.

Soulmates were so, so overrated.

“Hey, wonder kid. Tap that pen one more time” the girl to his left whispered, and Tony shot her a cool side-eye. MJ quirked a brow at him, equally unimpressed, and nodded to the board. Tony scowled but knew the effect was ruined by the soft, pretty baby-face he currently wore. Curse Peter and his lopsided brows and his huge eyes. Curse soulmates for existing.

MJ was thus far the only one who’d noticed The Switch. It was only sheer coincidence that Peter and Tony both had brown eyes of a similar enough shade that the telling switch of eye colour between soulmates hadn’t given them away. MJ, however, was astoundingly attuned into her best friend, and it had only taken three minutes in her presence for her scowl at him and ask who the fuck was wearing her friend’s meatsuit. Tony had to begrudgingly admit that he could see why her and Peter were good friends. She’d looked unimpressed at his claim until he’d pulled out his (Peter’s) phone to show the frantic texts from that morning, and then she’d huffed, rolled her eyes, and dragged him to first period.

He thought lunch would be a reprieve when it came, but instead he found himself staring with growing dismay at a tray of food that he’d refuse even if he was a prisoner, blanching in disgust when a sloppy excuse for a mac’n’cheese was dumped into one of the slots. “I’m going to die” he complained, ushered along by an unsympathetic MJ. “This is cruel. This is inhumane. Dogs don’t even get fed this”.

“Yeah, well. You’re a billionaire, so. Put up or shut up. I have no sympathy for capitalist elitists”. And, wow, rude. But understandable. He sank down onto one of the bench seats and tried to stop his stomach from rolling at the way the meal wobbled when it was set down. He’d been poking at it for several moments, largely ignored by MJ, when a shadow fell over his table. He looked up and stared with disinterest at the sneering figure above him, before he sighed.

“Which one are you, then? Neb? Flake?”

“Flash” the form above him frowned, and Tony waved a dismissive hand.

“Yeah, whatever. Class killed off half my IQ points and I’m not wasting the rest on you. Off you pop”. He turned back to his pitiful excuse of a meal, prodding the macaroni distrustfully with his fork. The boy besides him gaped, flustered, before turning on his heel and stomping off. When Tony glanced up, the girl was looking appraisingly over her book at him.

“Maybe you should leave your balls behind. Peter could do with them” she noted, before dropping her gaze again.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“How much money does he actually have?”

“Sir’s total net worth including assets, liabilities and investments are currently estimated at just short of a trillion, Mr. Parker. In terms of ‘real time currently’ Sir has £515,268,385,012 as of the current hour”.

Peter was gonna pass out. He was wearing the body of a man with five-hundred billion in the bank. He’d known Tony Stark was rich, obscenely and un-necessarily so, but that was a whole other level. Vaguely unsteady, he sank down on the plush couch, feeling a little green. It had already been a few hours since waking, but he had yet to get used to the fact that he was, for all intents and purposes, Tony Stark.

“Does that bother you?” The artificial voice asked after a moment, sounding impossibly curious. Peter hadn’t thought AI of this level possible, but here he was, talking to a voice that was more realistic than some of the living people he knew.

“Its...A shock, I guess. I mean, it does bother me, I suppose. Nobody needs that much money. That much cold cash alone could eradicate homelessness in America. But...I don’t know. Its his money, he earns it. He saves the world and stuff. I don’t know how you could put a value on some of the things he’s done”.

The AI was quiet for a moment, pensive. “Sir’s ‘profession’ is high cost also, Mr. Parker. The worth of the Mark IVII alone is £6,000,500,000”. Peter thought about it for a moment, then gave in, humming softly. He supposed in that sense, having that much money kind of didn’t matter, then, when a huge chunk of it was consumed by saving the world. He’d seen how often that suit got dinged up, and had no doubt repairs and replacing parts was costly.

“Am I allowed to get something to eat?” He asked after a moment, stomach rumbling a little. He’d spent so much time this morning freaking out and being consoled by JARVIS that he’d missed breakfast and lunch had slipped him by.

“Of course, Mr. Parker. Several components of the kitchen are automated, but I am capable of guiding through any recipes or devices you are unfamiliar with”.

JARVIS had apparently activated something called ‘Romeo and Juliet Protocol’ when it had been revealed that Tony had been Switched, and a large majority of the Tower was closed off and protected. Peter couldn’t leave the penthouse and JARVIS had strict control of everything, even down to the doors. Peter was happy enough to just sit there and wait it out, though. As amazing as being here was, snooping was rude, especially when what he could find could potentially compromise the entire world.

He chose to make a simple, small sandwich which involved nothing more than a single knife and plate, marvelling at the giant fridge and the ridiculous amount of food within. Apparently Mr. Stark had a chef that stopped by once every other day with prepared meals, and was on-call for whenever he required a fresh meal without having to cook it. The produce was organic and far different to the sad, wilting lettuce that could be found at the local Cheap Fresh.

Technically, if it was plausible, when you Switched you were supposed to follow a specific protocol set up by the Government, but Mr. Stark had ultimately lost his entire mind at discovering his soulmate was fourteen and had immediately demanded Peter stay locked up like Rapunzel while he pretended to be him for the day to throw off suspicion. Peter couldn’t deny that had hurt a little, but he understood it. Soulmates or not it would be the scandal of the century - Tony would be called all sorts of things at best and investigated at worst, and the nature of their age difference meant a lifetime of interference and monitoring by the Government and protective services. He knew it was easier to pretend it hadn’t happened, to hide it from the world. Tony had suggested a private agreement, a ridiculous sum of money in exchange for Peter’s silence.

He realised he’d been staring morosely at his plate when JARVIS prompted him softly, and he sighed, taking a bite. There was no physical remote for the TV but JARVIS helped him to access a cache of movies and he settled on Inception, his weakness for Tom Hardy and Leonardo DiCaprio soothing the ache of his new reality.

“Am I allowed to ask what running a business is like?” He asked after a while, head balanced on his palm.

“In what regard, Mr. Parker?”

“Well, I don’t know. I mean, I’m fifteen. I don’t know how to run a company, let alone run a company and be a superhero. What kinda stuff does he do? Does he attend meetings? Does he fly around the world on company retreats like in the movies?”

JARVIS sounded lightly amused when he replied. “Sir has delegated much of the daily company operation amongst several trusted employees, but he is still the namesake, owner and CEO of Stark Industries. He does attend frequent meetings, but most of Sir’s ‘flying around the world’ is done for leisure or Iron Man related activity”.

“Sir spends most of his time in the lab, conducting important work for both his priorities. Sir also does a respectable amount of charity work, investment work and supportive work. I believe his latest venture is funding the entirety of MIT’s PhD graduate projects”.

Wow. That was...That would be a lot of money. And being supported by someone like Tony Stark was bound to be something to boast about, something that would fluff up your resume a little.

“Does he enjoy it?” Peter asked after a moment, fingertips raising absently to the arc reactor in his chest. It ached constantly, a low-level background pain that never quite faded out of touch, the odd sensation of a gaping maw in his chest something that had made him heave earlier that morning. Mr. Stark was tired, burnt out, but still going. It made Peter want to spend his twenty-four hours just sleeping, to try and soothe the man’s headache.

“Sir finds great gratification in his duties” JARVIS replied quietly, though he did not specify which. Peter gave a hum and succumbed to the desire to nap, curled up on the corner of the couch with Inception fading quietly into the background.

He ate again when he woke up, and blinked when he saw the time. Mr. Stark’s phone had been heavily locked down, but he could still access the message channel between this number and his own. The messages there were disheartening.

Told your hot Aunt I’m staying at that Nate kids house tonight. I’ll be coming to the Tower, but you won’t see me. I’ll stay on the level below.

Sorry, kid. Seeing someone else wearing me like a Givenchy suit is just too head-spinning.

JARVIS will keep you safe up there. We switch back at midnight, so try and get some sleep. You’ll wake up as yourself and I’ll get the plan in motion.

“JARVIS, when was the last time Mr. Stark cried?” He asked timidly, and the AI was silent for a moment.

“Four years ago, Mr. Parker”.

“Oh,” he breathed out, vision blurring. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’m about to ruin that” and he let the teardrops fall.

206 notes · View notes

shhhlikeme · 4 years

Text

“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series:

Outtake Collection #6

———————————

A/N: 1 word, 5 letters: D R A M A

Pls peep the vote at the end! I know there are not very many of you who read this so I want to make it enjoyable for y’all 🥰 it’s sooo important to me that I write what makes me happy

OUTTAKE 5 WAS POSTED HOURS BEFORE THIS ONE SO CHECK IT !

‼️THIS IS THE 10TH PART IN A SERIES READ THE OTHER PARTS BEFORE THIS ONE: ‼️

TABLE OF CONTENTS

———————————

Hours After You Noticed Aone For The First Time And Had Lunch Together! 🤫🥩

With a very discreet bounce in his step, Aone Takanobu walked into the Date Tech boys volleyball team changeroom after exchanging numbers with you after school.

“AONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Upon entrance, the entire team jumped him, tackling him to the ground while shouting praise and acclamations of joy loudly!

Aone was actually grinning, shoving the boys off of him to pretend that he was annoyed.

But anyone could tell that this mountain man was on cloud 9!!!!

Futakuchi reached out his hand to help Aone up and the mountain man took it. They shared a look that only Aone knew meant his best friend was happy for him. Proud of him.

Actually, Kenji’s look was one of happiness and pride, yes, but it was also full of nerves for his friend’s potential heartbreak. But Aone was too overjoyed inside to pick up on that.

“So Y/N finally knows your name!” Koganegawa yelled as he jumped on Aone’s back.

Shrugging the big boned setter off, Aone blushed. He has never been happier in his entire life and it was kind of embarrassing that the whole team knew why that was.

“I’m very happy.” Aone nodded at his team who smiled brilliantly back at him. “But please, do not get your hopes up. I’m trying with everything in me not to get mine up, in case Y/N decides she doesn’t like me. She and I are just going to start talking for now. And for that I am grateful.” Stomach in knots, Aone bowed to his team in thanks for all the encouragement and praise.

“But Aone-senpai, Y/N asked you to lunch! We all watched you guys, she looked ecstatic talking to you and she even glared at these other girls in the hallway because they were checking you out!”

Aone’s heart dropped. “She did?”

Kenji smiled, patting him on the back. “Saw it with my own eyes too, big guy.”

Aone felt like he was so happy he could sing, but he knew how odd that would look coming from such a big and serious guy like himself.

“Oh. Well... that’s quite nice.”

What a turn of events! This morning, Aone was going through another day with a heavy heart because the love of his life would never like him back. Then, it only took him defending you against the class snitch for everything to change......

✏️ Earlier That Day ✏️

Aone was sitting in class like any other day, doing his work, listening to the teacher intermittently and your daily conversation with your friends. The teacher excused himself to run a club errand for 20 minutes, trusting the class to stay quiet and complete their homework. Like most typical high school classes, the volume raised as soon as the teacher stepped out. Aone glanced over at your talkative self for the 15th time that period and noticed how much you were glowing because your team had returned last night placing second at Regionals. You looked radiant, absolutely stunning with your brighter smile and louder angelic laugh.

In Mountain Man’s daydream, he imagined telling you that you looked beautiful today followed by a congratulations for placing second. You would rush over to him and kiss him in thanks then start ripping his clothes off so that you could—

“Y/N! I am sick and tired of you and the rest of the popular kids not listening to the teachers instructions! What part of ‘stay quiet’ is hard to understand in that pea brain of yours!?!??!”

To Aone’s left, sitting in his row, he looked for the yelling voice. It was who everyone (except Aone) called ‘the class snitch’ and school mascot: Tsume Lian.

Also known as Y/N’s arch nemesis.

Seating looks like:

Y/N glared at him.

“Tsume, no one was talking to you.”

“I know that, dork!” He fumed. “BECAUSE WE ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE TALKING! I’m trying to do my homework as asked, and you and the popular crowd just ignore everything the teacher says and it’s disgusting! I’m tired of it! I want you expelled!”

Aone noticed Y/N’s startled expression at the prospect of being expelled, because he knew from overhearing your conversations that your parents were this close to sending you to Seijoh to get your grades up and live on campus there. According to your gossip last week, if you failed another class or got another complaint from a teacher then your parents would under no circumstances allow you to cheer again.

Aone clenched his fists tightly around his pencil because he couldn’t stand the idea of seeing Motomu or Kindaichi drooling over you at his enemy school.

One of Y/N’s friends who Aone knew as Kusa, spoke up in defence of Y/N. “Oh shut it, Tsume. Us chatting isn’t bothering anyone else.”

“I don’t care! You cheerleaders think you can do anything you want and that’s that!! YOU WILL face repercussions if I can help it!”

Kusa feigned fear. She turned her entire body toward him in her seat, meaning business. A bitch had time today.

The entire class gave this drama all of their undivided attention when they witnessed that move, ready for the show like:

“Oh yeah?! And why are you just snapping about this now, huh? Why not before?” Kusa snapped. You put a hand on your friends arm, silently trying to tell her he isn’t worth her energy.

“Because I realized just how selfish, inconsiderate, and deplorable you good-looking, popular women are! You don’t deserve to be bowed down to like I thought! You should be treated like everybody else!”

“What are you talking about?” Y/N interjected. “No one treats us like that. Even if they did, we don’t ask them to nor do we ask to be popular and we especially don’t ask for special treatment, Lian. Why are you so mad??? Get your life.”

COLLECT HIMMMMMM 👏🏾👏🏾

Aone smirked to himself. In all his years of crushing on you he has never seen you look so fierce and he too put his pencil down to enjoy what was a different and fiery side of his crush. It made him want to fuck the shit out of you, you looked so sexy. Aone found he liked every side of you.

“I did have a life. I was a mascot and—“

“—And you were spending too much time looking up our SKIRTS instead of hyping up a CROWD, making the first years uncomfortable and borderline stalking Y/N so badly she asked that we terminate you! You are lucky she kept that to herself for so long! 🤬 And THAT’S why you’re mad!”

The class collectively gasped. Some whipped their phones out to snapchat the gossip. Aone widened his eyes in silence, since he was in between, he was looking back and forth at the fight like a tennis match.

Hahahaha 🎾

Live footage of the classes reaction when Kusa READ TSUME FOR FILTH:

Tsume went red with anger, but anyone could tell that he was guilty guilty guilty !!!!

“When the teacher returns, I’m telling him and the principal the truth that you Y/N are a bully and you constantly disrupt the class! Who do you think they’re going to believe?! Their best student? Or their worst?! Say hi to AobaJohsai summer school for me!”

You frowned, scared out of your mind because Lian was right. The teacher’s believed everything he had to say and ever since you exposed him for sending you creepy messages and inappropriate pictures from a fake account that you knew was his, the class snitch has had it out for you. Even if the cheerleaders had your back, your parents would just think they are trying to protect you and never believe it! Tsume Lian was smart and dead set on planning your demise. It was unfair. You wanted to cry. Kusa whispered something to you in encouragement but you could feel the back of your eyes warming due to impending tears.

Meanwhile, with Mountain Man - Today was a day of firsts in his ‘Crushing on Y/N’ book. It was the first time he’s ever seen you glowing because of the Regional results, it was the first time he’s ever seen you so sassy, and now............. Aone notes that today is also the first time he’s ever seen you on the verge of tears before.

Unlike your glowing and your sassiness, Aone decided that he hated the last first more than anything in the world.

It consumed his emotions, how badly he didn’t want to see you cry.

“You really are slimy, Tsume. Wait until Katana hears this.” Kusa spat, rubbing her hand up and down Y/N’s back to soothe you as you willed your tears not to fall.

Seeing you so sad, Aone’s heart clenched.

He knew what it was like to be hurting but he never ever wanted that for you—not ever.

“Hey Y/N-chan, why don’t you show me that video your mom got of our reaction to us placing second yesterday?? I’d love to see it.” Kusa has accurately distracted you because she texted Katana what was happening and Katana knew just what to do until she got there.

You smiled, thinking about the overwhelming happiness from yesterday when your team placed second. You whipped out your phone and showed Kusa, smiling and giggling in a matter of seconds as it played.

Aone was glad you seemed good.

He turned to look at Tsume, who seemed to be raging inside. Shooting daggers at the two cheerleaders because they weren’t crumbling under his threats. They were laughing, in fact. Ignoring him as if he didn’t matter. Aone could tell Tsume was a ticking time bomb with how mad he was. His anger toward you looked severely unhealthy.

You let out a rather amusing laugh with Kusa as you two pointed to your screen and Aone’s heart skipped a beat because he loved that laugh so much. God, he is so fucking whipped.

When you laughed like that though, it sent perverted-snitch Tsume over the edge, bubbling over in anger like a piping hot kettle.

Aone watched him with studious eyes as Tsume took a deep breath to say something else that Aone was sure would stop your harmonious laughter that he adored......

“Y/N—“ Tsume started, but without warning, THE AONE TAKANOBU, DATE TECH MIDDLE BLOCKER, OUR MOUNTAIN MAN, interrupted him! Stopping all speech in the class with his simple, deep-voiced command:

“Leave her be. She’s having fun.”

The class:

The class went silent because they’d never really heard Aone’s voice before. :S

Still riled up, the class snitch took one look beside him (he was too distracted before) as to locate the voice. Once his eyes set on the verrrry muscular and verrrry mountainous man sitting between him and Y/N, he decided it would be smart to not be riled up anymore. A drop of sweat leaving his hairline, Lian scanned Aone’s gigantic body with his eyes, seeing that the volleyball player just barely fit in his desk—he gulped.

Aone had a relaxed expression, meaning to say what he said nonchalantly, but one needs to remember that Aone’s relaxed expression looks like this:

Needless to say, the ex-mascot almost pissed himself.

Is that Y/N’s b-b-boyfriend now? Tsume wondered to himself in panic as several more drops of sweat ran down his face.

“O-o-ok-o-o-oka-okay-y....” Tsume stuttered out as he turned back to his school work.

Five minutes later when the teacher came in, Tsume had nothing to say. He only had a sweat damped stack of homework to give him before he fled, not waiting for the bell of dismissal.

Did I frightened him? Aone thought.

He didn’t mean to. Sincerely. He was as gentle as giants come (except in bed if you rile him up enough or when someone is bothering you).

The class went back to normal and Aone continued working too.

But one person didn’t—no, couldn’t go back to normal:

You.

You sat in your seat still slack jawed because someone you didn’t know came to your rescue and quite possibly single handedly stopped your expulsion. How have you not noticed him before?! He is gorgeous!

Tall, muscular, handsome. Shiny white hair, beautiful lips. And he came to your defence.

In your opinion , he was a FINEASS mountain man! 🏔🤤

Yes ma’am!!!!

Anyway, while everyone was talking, working and minding their own business—including Aone—you slid out of your desk and bounced over to his happily.

“Hi! Thanks so much for defending me a little while ago!”

Bitch, this was you: ☺️😊😄

lost ass

Aone raised his head to look at you, jumping back slightly because he never even heard you approach. He stared up at you with a heart that stopped beating, absolutely speechless.

WHAT IS HAPPENING? He thought. YOU WERE TALKING................TO HIM? You were NOTICING..............HIM?!

😱😳🤯

You reached over to touch the handsome giant’s arm in his sweater, smiling at him endearingly.

“I’m Y/N! It’s nice to meet you!”

yeah you lost af, bitch 😐

Aone wanted to say something, he did. But he was just too shocked that the girl he thinks about nonstop, the girl he wishes was his, the girl he just had a wet dream about last night, was talking to him and only him for the first time.

Unexpectedly!

Takanobu always thought you two would first speak because of Futakuchi or the teacher but not because of him.

Aone couldn’t fathom the fact that HE made this happen! HE was the reason you were over here!

Aone: 🤯🤯🤯

It was ALL. TOO. MUCH.

He couldn’t speak.

You removed your hand from his arm, silently chastising yourself because you shouldn’t touch people without permission.

Not that Aone minded. That boy would want you to touch him anywhere, on anyday, at anytime that pleased you.

“Sorry.” You looked down shyly, then met his serious expression again, wanting to be sure he knew how grateful you were for his help.

“Um.... you probably don’t know this but you getting that pervert to leave me alone is quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. And you did it for a stranger like me, no less.”

A/N: RUB IT IN THAT YOU DONT KNOW THE MAN MORE, WHY DONT YOU ?! 🤬

You tucked your hair behind you ear while holding his gaze. Aone could only nod because his throat was dry. You looked so incredibly perfect up-close and he wanted to make sure he remembered this. He just couldn’t speak.

Feeling a little awkward now because you just tried starting a conversation with this FINEASS classmate of yours to only get a nod in return, you laughed timidly.

“Okay, well I guess I’ll...” you turned on your heels so you could make your way back to your desk with your L. “....see you later.” You finished, telling him over your shoulder.

Much like when he defended you against Tsume, Aone didn’t know what came over him then: maybe it was all the memories of him feeling heartbroken that you’d never notice him or return his feelings—maybe it was the promise he made that he would do something toward pursuing you if you would just notice him first—or maybe is was because his best friend Kenji would have his HEAD if Aone told him he let you walk away right now without trying....... after TWO YEARS.........that compelled him to respond to your “see you later” bravely, FINALLY UTTERING WORDS TO YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS ENTIRE LIFE:

“When?”

^Asked Aone, just as you were walking away from him.

You stilled, feeling excitement in your body because he answered. You spun around and jumped back in front of his desk. You gave him a questioning look.

You responded, “When, what?”

Even though he was melting under your attention, Aone couldn’t give up now. He had to shoot his shot. This may be his only chance.

“When is later?” He elaborated.

Huh? You thought.

You blinked at the stunning classmate. What is he—OH, does he mean.....

“As in...when will I see you again?”

Aone nodded at you, holding his breath.

You massaged your chin, thinking 🤔.

You can admit you wanted to know more about this gorgeous man who came to your rescue. There was something about him that made you feel safe and warm. You couldn’t quite place it. You’ve never wanted to spend time with anyone outside of cheerleading more than this guy—so you owed it to yourself to explore that small feeling, right?

“Okay. Well, how about now? Lunch is after this period. Would you want to have it with me?!” You asked cheerily.

Though he didn’t show it, inside, fireworks went off in Aone’s mind, heart, and stomach...!

Actual footage:

Aone nodded quickly. Way too quickly for someone who did not want to come across as the most eager beaver in the world.

But he was...... and you noticed. It made you smile.

“Okay. So when the bell rings you can walk me to my locker and I’ll put away my stuff, then we’ll go to yours....then we can go head to lunch together. Sound good?”

Aone nodded quickly again!

You gave him the big smile that made him become a simp for you in the first place and you took your seat again.

Takanobu was so excited he literally almost stood up to spin the hand clock that hung up beside the door himself so that time could go by faster. He couldn’t even move to text Kenji because he knew his hands would shake.

He just sat there, his mind whirling mad until the bell finally rang. You said bye to Kusa and watched as this blonde hottie stood up from his seat, towering over you.

God, he was so freaking HOT! You wanted to jump him.

At the same time students filed out of the class, Aone turned to you as he collected his things then slung his bag over his shoulder.

“May I carry your books for you, Y/N?” Mountain man asked sheepishly in his stern voice.

Your heart fluttered by how cute and sweet he was to ask!

“Umm, sure! Thank you so much!” You smiled and handed your heavy books over.

You two walked beside eachother and Aone held the door open for you. You didn’t know why he was being so nice but you couldn’t lie that you felt very charmed.

“Y/N.”

You looked up at the handsome giant with curious eyes after he called your name.

“My name is Aone Takanobu by the way. You introduced yourself before, but I did not answer. I’m sorry. Either way, I knew who you were already. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Your smiled widened as you bounced on your feet while walking. “Very nice to meet you too, Aone Takanobu. I’ve actually heard of you before.”

Aone’s eyes lit up like 👀

“Wait r-really?”

Omg precious bby 🥺🥺🥺

“Yes. At a cheerleading sleepover. All good things, don’t worry. It’s just funny because I said that night how hopefully I’ll meet you and now here we are!”

Aone chuckled as he held open another door for you. When he did and you two walked down another hall, he caught sight of two very conspicuous volleyball players (one looked eerily like Justin Bieber, the other looked big boned) hugging eachother and slumping down to the ground at the sight of you and Aone. Aone rolled his eyes, thinking that they were lucky you never noticed your surroundings.

“Here we are.” Aone repeated, shooting a secret thumbs up at his friends who were on the verge of crying.

***

Nearing the end of an enjoyable lunch for both of you where you spoke a lot and Aone listened with heart eyes: he pulled your chair out for you, he was responding, he was chuckling, and overall hanging onto your every word, never wanting your time together to end. You became rather smitten.

***

“The bell is gonna ring soon, Aone. I just want to thank you again for buying my lunch and spending this time with me! I know it was super random!”

Aone got lost in your eyes as you said his name, because he’s never taken a moment to analyze how nice it could sound if it was caressed by your voice. Also, he’s never heard his name said by someone so beautiful (when it wasn’t being said in a question). He was BATHING in joy.

Although Aone didn’t answer and he’s maintained his stoic expression the entire lunch, deep down you felt that this man had a thing for you. He was very intense so it was quite obvious. But since you enjoyed the lunch so much and you were starting to have a thing for him, too, you wanted to confirm:

“Also, Aone-san, I’m happy to know that you can say more than 4 words 😲! I asked my friend earlier and she said you basically never speak.” You exclaimed, fishing.

Aone smirked, feeling the need to defend himself on that front. “It is true that that is the consensus of the majority of people who come in contact with me. However, that is because there exists few people, that I feel inclined to speak to.”

Hook, line, and sinker. Your eyes twinkled at his words. He looked like a jock but sounded so eloquent! You loved it:

“Oh wow well you spoke a lot to me today so I guess I must be a little special then, huh.......?” You twirled your hair around your index finger as you asked, causing Aone to almost drool.

listen, you...kind of..... wanted mountain man.

And you were only flirting minimally okay.....minimally, so don’t judge

You just wanted to know if your suspicions were right that he had a little crush on you or if he saw you as a friend

Aone looked down at you, thinking of a way to respond to you asking if you were special to him.

A/N: 😣🤞🏾AONE DONT CREEPY 😣🤞🏾DONT BE CREEPY 😣🤞🏾DON’T BE CREEPY 😣🤞🏾

“This is our first time speaking. So I am not entirely sure if you’re special yet...” He started.

You quirked your eyebrow attractively, anticipating how he would end that sentence.

“...But I hope that even after this lunch ends I can take you out again a few more times, Y/N-chan—somewhere nice and off-campus, perhaps—so that I can truly decipher whether you are or not.”

You quirked your eyebrow even higher, impressed by the smooth way he told you he wants to keep seeing you!

WELL SIS HES ONLY HAD 2 YEARS OF PRACTICE I MEAN—

“I’d love to.” You accepted, making Aone smile.

He was absolutely stunning when he smiled, it was almost unfair.

The bell rang.

“Mind walking me back to my locker, Aone?”

Aone stood on internally shaky legs that he willed to be normal. “Of course.” He took both yours and his tray and dumped it out before escorting you out of the cafeteria.

✏️ Back in the Locker Room ✏️

“We are happy for you, Aone.” Kenji patted his large friend on the back.

“I had your voice in the back of my mind, Kenji-san. I owe this happiness to you and your support. I know you’re worried that I’ll get my heart broken and be crushed but I’m thankful for you supporting me anyway. You will forever be my brother.”

———————————

Taglist: @crushzone @galagcica

Outtake #7: CLICK HERE

THE VOTE! ☑️

Upcoming outtakes (NSFW):

Losty Aone answering Kenji’s call while you’re having sex. He told you to please wait but...um....no. Hang up, buddy 😈

When you tease poor Losty Aone during class and make him want to f*ck you hard

You telling Aone that you’re horny before his game knowing you’d be cheering next to him the whole time being suggestive

Sending Aone a nude for the first time

First Kiss (In which Aone gets his first urge)

Discovering Aone’s ear kissing kink

Upcoming Fluff outtakes:

Aone on your first birthday as a couple

The official confession

Aone Embarrassingly telling Y/N about the things he did when he was crushing on you :/ (cupcake, donation, wet dreams, hoping to be your tutor, etc!)

When Aone fills in at one of your cheer practices!

Aone having to save you from your annoying admirers

Send me an ask/message/comment below with the number(s) of the outtake you really want me to write and the ones with votes will be done

Say “Losty Aone Story nsfw number ___” or “Losty Aone Story fluff number ___”

102 notes · View notes

gerrycoco · 3 years

Text

My entry for Shipwrecked Comedy's Headless Series Fic contest. I've always loved the Socially Awkward Poe video where Edgar and Lenore try to write out the invitation to announce the series. So I figure I'd give it a bit of a twist for Shipwrecked's latest project. I'm posting it here below but I've also uploaded it to my ao3 page.

Summary: Ichabod Crane is new in town (cue John Mulaney voice) and decides he wants to throw some sort of social gathering so he can get to know people that aren't his roommate, the infamous Headless Horseman.

Note: I have no clue how the Shipwrecked gang is actually going to be doing this aspect but it's my Headless headcanon (badum tss) that the Headless Horseman can't actually talk unless he has a head and therefore makes use of AAC (alternative/augmentative communication) in order to communicate with others. The speech language pathology student in me couldn't pass up this opportunity especially since we don't really get to see that kind of thing much in media.

Ichabod Crane’s game night VIP barbecue picnic for neighbors luncheon

Ichabod Crane had arrived in the quaint town of Sleepy Hollow only a few days ago. He was to begin as a science teacher at the highschool in a few weeks. Until then, he hoped to make some connections and possibly friendships with the townsfolk. As of yet this had not proved very successful, his only real connection beyond the most basic of acquaintances was his new roommate.

For lack of a better idea Ichabod decided that he could throw some sort of social gathering for the whole town in hopes of getting to better know the residents of Sleepy Hollow. Well okay, maybe one resident in particular more than others.

Ichabod settled himself at the kitchen table and opened up his laptop. He opened up a blank word document to start writing an invite.

"Greetings fellow Sleepy Hollow citizens...wait no… Sleepy Hollow folk...Sleepy Hollowans?" Ichabod muttered to himself as he typed away, erasing and composing increasingly worse attempts at a greeting.

"Oh my God you've been writing the first sentence for the past 15 minutes please for the love of everything unholy just move on."

Ichabod jumped at the sound of his roommate's voice coming from the living room. Well, not exactly his actual voice. Being the Headless Horseman, his roommate didn't exactly have a mouth to speak with. Instead he used the text to speech function on his phone or a specialized app to communicate verbally when he needed to. Ichabod still didn't understand how his roommate could hear him since he obviously also didn't have ears but he'd learned to stop asking questions. Despite being a man of science he had decided to let it go lest he go insane at the anatomical implications involved in his roommate's literal lack of a head.

"Sorry, I hadn't even realized you were here," Ichabod said, feeling rather flustered.

"Well I was trying to have a nap but who could with you yammering away forever," the Headless Horseman, or HH as Ichabod had started calling him, replied, audibly annoyed. "What are you even going on about anyway?"

"Oh, I'm trying to write up an invite for a party," Ichabod answered.

"You? Throw a party?" HH responded, followed by some sort of odd wheezing sound that might have possibly been a laugh.

“Well maybe not a party,” Ichabod conceded, though he didn’t appreciate his roommate’s tone. “I was thinking maybe more along the lines of a picnic. I hear the weather is supposed to be nice this weekend.”

“The weather is never nice in Sleepy Hollow,” HH stated. “And I hate to break it to you but the only place nice enough for that in this town is the cemetery.”

“A barbecue then?” Ichabod asked, scrambling for different ideas.

“You and what barbecue?” HH retorted. “Besides I wouldn’t trust you near an open flame.”

“Excuse you but I’m a science teacher!” Ichabod exclaimed, as if this explained everything. “I’ve used a Bunsen burner countless times. I can’t imagine it would be very different.”

“That still doesn’t change the fact that we don’t own a barbecue,” HH reminded him.

The exchange went on for some time, Ichabod throwing out every possible type of social gathering he could think of, only for his roommate to shoot down every single one categorically.

“Well what about a game night? Or maybe even a murder mystery dinner party?” Ichabod said, seriously starting to run out of ideas.

“Dude no that’s totally lame. And before you say it, no Gatsby themed party either this isn’t a film noir or whatever,” HH added, finally coming into the kitchen and sitting down at the table across from Ichabod.

“Ugh you are absolutely impossible!” Ichabod cried out, thoroughly frustrated.

“Why are you even bothering making such a big deal over organizing something?” HH asked. “There’s already the annual bowling tournament that’s happening on Saturday.”

“Are you… are you kidding me right now,” Ichabod squeaked out, suddenly feeling his frustration reach a boiling point.

“Yeah the whole town is gonna be there,” HH explained, completely oblivious to Ichabod’s indignation. “Come to think of it, it's the perfect opportunity for you to properly meet everyone.”

“If you had a neck I swear I’d be strangling you right now,” Ichabod grumbled, slamming his laptop shut and storming off to his room.

Great, another new crazy person, just what this town needs, the Headless Horseman thought to himself before going back to the living room to continue his nap.

#headless series #headless series fic #headlessseriesfic #headless: a sleepy hollow story #shipwrecked comedy #fanfic #poe party #ichabod crane #headless horseman

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absolutelynoct · 4 years

Note

Hello! My friend and I are very big fans of yours! We love your works, we've been following since early on! We saw your list of prompts and would love to request one! "This isn't what it looks like" and for Promptis. SFW. And, we were thinking Noct or Prom or both doing crazy things to hide their engagement ring from one another and crazy happens. Sorry for any bad English or poor explaining. Thank you so much! Love your work that makes us smile!

[Ahhh! Thank you anon and anon’s friend! I am so happy that you both had read my works since early on! I hope that you have enjoyed them as the stories changed- and hopefully the writing has improved haha. Please enjoy this story- it was so much fun to write and I am so happy to have written it for you today. Sorry it took so long to write it! I wanted to make sure I really put the love and effort into it that it deserved!

Prompto and Noctis had the idea at the same time. Prompto went to Gladio, asking for his help, while Ignis was enlisted to help Noctis. Gladio and Ignis promised to keep it a secret, so neither team knew that they were both exclusively shopping for engagement rings for one another. It also meant that both Prompto and Noctis were left baffled when suddenly they had no free time to spend with one another.

Gladio took Prompto shopping for an engagement ring on the limited budget that Prompto had from taking up odd photography jobs here and there. He was nervous and anxious about finding something suitable for the future king of Lucis, but ultimately he decided on a ring that was black with small studded diamonds set into the band. It was small, beautiful, and unassuming, something that Noctis would definitely like. Gladio didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was out of his price range, so he secretly paid for the difference when Prompto wasn’t looking.

They had left the shopping district with an elated Prompto clutching the box in his hands and a smiling Gladio with his arm around his shoulders as he always did. As they were leaving, they encountered Ignis and Noctis heading towards the very same store, Noctis’s arm linked with Ignis. By all accounts, it looked as if Noctis and Ignis were dating and Prompto and Gladio were a well-established couple. Both Noctis and Prompto were shocked they ran into each other, both of them blushing as they got caught on their shopping excursions.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Prompto and Noctis both said at the same time, only heightening each other’s suspicions. They awkwardly joked about how they were just out for a stroll, neither of them willing to admit that they were shopping for an engagement ring for each other. After a stammering conversation from the two of them, Ignis pulled Noctis onward to pick out a ring for Prompto. Prompto was a bit worried that Noctis was hiding something from him since he had lied about hanging out with Ignis, but he kept his worries to himself as he made his way back to his apartment.

Noctis spent the time in the shop absorbed in trying to find a ring for Prompto. He had royal funds at his disposal and had his pick of the shop. But Prompto wasn’t flashy like that, and he ended up choosing something small, beautiful, and unassuming. It was the same ring that Prompto had picked for him. Noctis left the shop excited, knowing that Prompto was going to love the ring beyond any doubt. He was a bit worried about Gladio and Prompto looking so chummy, especially since Prompto had obviously lied about where he was going to be, but he chalked it up to Gladio pulling him into one of his shenanigans.

Prompto and Noctis spent the better part of the next few weeks putting together the perfect engagement plan. Several times Noctis almost caught Prompto going over different schematics for how to rig an engagement ring on a fishing hook without losing it to the water. Likewise, Noctis was almost caught holding the brochures for the chocobo-themed trip that he was planning to take Prompto on to propose, hastily stuffing the documents away. Each time they were nearly caught, they both shouted the same excuse, both blushing bright red in their embarrassment and fear of getting caught.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

The final straw for Noctis was when he saw Prompto and Gladio heading to Gladio’s room in the palace. Prompto was living in his own apartment, not technically part of Noctis’s retinue, and had made excuse after excuse as to why Noctis couldn’t come over. Noctis was doing the same thing to him, of course, because he was trying to keep his engagement plans to himself. But the way that Gladio looked at Prompto, the smile that they both had on their faces, made it look as if they were almost dating behind Noctis’s back. He told himself that it wasn’t what it looked like, but it was hard not to at least be more than a little jealous.

It wasn’t nearly as bad as what happened when Prompto walked in on him and Ignis. Prompto heard from Gladio that Noctis was upset, so he went to the palace to try and reconcile things. He was trying to propose to him, after all, not upset him. Without thinking, Prompto opened the door to Noctis’s room, stopping when he saw Noctis on one knee in front of Ignis, holding a ring in a box up to him. Of course Noctis was practicing his speech, but Prompto didn’t know that.

“Oh,” Prompto said as he looked between them. His eyes were wide in shock, his heart breaking, tears coming to his eyes, his voice caught in his throat. “I didn’t know… I thought… Silly me. I’ll see myself out. Congrats you two.”

Prompto left in a hurry, faster than Noctis since he ran regularly from middle school onward, ignoring Noctis’s calls that it wasn’t what it looked like. He ended up in his apartment, alone, crying into his pillow, the engagement ring sitting next to the fishing trip that he had meticulously planned and scrupulously saved for. His heart broke as he thought about how deluded he had been to think that Noctis wouldn’t have another lover. Of course he would be with someone as great as Ignis. Prompto convinced himself that he was easily the side piece, that he was the mistress to be forgotten while Ignis was the one who deserved the world. He didn’t even live in the palace. Of course he would lose to someone like Ignis.

Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis all called Prompto several times, but he eventually turned his phone off. When there was a knock on his apartment door, he knew he couldn’t ignore it. Noctis was desperately trying to get in touch with him, and Cor eventually caught wind that his adopted son was struggling, although he didn’t quite know why. While Noctis continued to try and reach Prompto, to no avail, Cor went to Prompto’s apartment to check in on him.

The blond spent the majority of the night wordlessly crying into Cor’s arms, only muttering intelligible words like how he was a fool and stupid for even thinking of something. Cor assumed that he had proposed to Noctis and Noctis had turned him down, ensuring that the next day Noctis would receive a swift ass-kicking. Prompto was tender-hearted, fragile even, and Cor wasn’t going to stand for anyone, prince or otherwise, breaking his heart.

Cor told Prompto to take it easy the next day, to take off work and stay home from his college courses. Prompto nodded in agreement, offering Cor the fishing trip that he had planned to propose to Noctis on. It had cost him so much money that he didn’t want it to go to waste. Cor told him to hold off on that, that they would go on the trip together and get wasted after he helped him take the engagement ring back to the store. Prompto only nodded and went back to crying, his heart hurting at the thought of Noctis and Ignis marrying.

Noctis was not prepared for Cor coming at him. He had been trying to get in touch with Prompto desperately, begging Gladio and Ignis for any hint that Prompto was in touch with them. Ignis felt guilty, of course, and Gladio was baffled that Noctis didn’t immediately go over to Prompto’s apartment. How could he when Prompto wouldn’t even answer his calls or texts? When he saw Cor, he had been hopeful at first that he would help him sort things out. Then he let out a yelp and screamed in terror when he realized Cor was coming to kill him.

Ignis stood in front of Noctis while Gladio braced himself against Cor to prevent the marshal from trying to kill the prince and end up in prison for murder and treason. Noctis was cowering behind Ignis, trying to tell him that it wasn’t what it looked like, that there had been a huge misunderstanding. It was Ignis who had the commanding presence to get Cor to pay attention to them both, to listen to reason.

“There has been a terrible misunderstanding,” Ignis explained as Noctis hid behind his best friend who was more like a brother to him. “Noctis was practicing, sir. He was practicing so he could propose to Prompto this weekend.”

“What?” Cor asked in surprise. Noctis sheepishly pulled out the box he had been carrying in his pocket, his heart aching as he thought about how it had all gone so wrong. He showed Cor the ring, and Gladio and Cor both looked surprised by it.

“How did you get the ring Prompto got for you?” Gladio blurted out in surprise.

“What are you talking about?” Noctis asked in confusion. “I got this for Prompto.”

“I was there when he bought it,” Ignis explained. “I assure you, this is the ring he bought for Prompto.”

“You… You need to go and see Prompto,” Cor said, his anger quickly receding. “Forget whatever you were planning. Go and see him now. I’m pretty sure he’s ready to become a hermit or a goat farmer or something if you don’t go and see him.”

Noctis didn’t hesitate. He slipped the ring in his pocket and ran out of the palace, heading towards the apartment complex where Prompto was currently living. He didn’t know why Prompto had insisted on living there, save for his need for independence. As long as he was able to work things out between the two of them, Prompto would be moving to the palace soon anyway. He had already spoken to his father about having two kings in Lucis instead of a king and a queen. The fact that it was Prompto only seemed to make the king shrug and say it couldn’t be helped.

Without hesitating, Noctis pounded on the apartment door, hoping that Prompto would answer it quickly. A moment later, the door unlocked, and a sniffling and crying Prompto looked at Noctis in surprise. Noctis felt his heart aching as Prompto looked at him, ready to slam the door shut and run away. Why was Noctis even there if he was going to marry Ignis? Shouldn’t he be celebrating with him?

“Prompto,” Noctis said before Prompto could slam the door shut on him. He wormed his way into the apartment, and Prompto didn’t really have the strength to hurt or fight him. “I need to talk to you.”

“It’s okay,” Prompto said shakily, his legs feeling like jelly as his hands were unsteady. He looked to his secondhand kitchen table, the fishing trip and engagement ring sitting there, useless now that Ignis and Noctis were engaged. Noctis followed his gaze, his eyes widening as he realized that Prompto had been so secretive lately for the exact same reason. “I hope you and Ignis have a happy life together.”

“It’s not like that,” Noctis insisted as he looked at Prompto. He took the ring out of his pocket, holding the box in front of him. Prompto eyed it, wondering why Noctis was holding onto something that he had given Ignis. “I was so nervous that I had to practice with Ignis. I had to ask him to help me prepare the speech for when I proposed… to you.”

Prompto stared at him in shock, not really absorbing what he was saying. Noctis knew he wouldn’t believe him, so he took out the chocobo excursion brochures he stuffed into his pocket and showed them to him. “I was planning to take you here and propose at the end of it,” Noctis said. He looked at the fishing brochures and knew Prompto had been planning something similar. “I had to ask Ignis for help because I was too nervous and excited.”

“What… But Ignis is…” Prompto was confused. He was so sure that if Noctis had the choice between him and Ignis, then Ignis would be the obvious answer.

“Ignis is a high maintenance bitch that Gladio can barely keep up with,” Noctis said with a grin that made Prompto laugh. They both had to admit that Ignis was fairly high maintenance, and Noctis was the only one who could call him such names without it being an insult. Prompto wondered why he didn’t see it before. Noctis and Ignis were like brothers. Of course he would have helped Noctis try and propose. “Besides, I’m pretty sure he’s in love with Gladio.”

“That does make a lot of sense,” Prompto thought, thinking back to all the times he was with Gladio. Gladio never really shut up about Ignis. “I think it’s mutual.”

“This wasn’t exactly the way I wanted to do it,” Noctis said as he looked down at the box, bringing the conversation back to what they were originally here for. “But Prompto will you-”

“Wait!” Prompto shouted suddenly, making Noctis stop. Was he going to say no? Noctis was worried until he watched as Prompto excitedly grabbed the same box on the table and held it out in front of him the same way Noctis was. “At the same time?”

They both stared at each other, breathless and excited, the drama and worry of what had just happened forgotten in their excitement. Prompto and Noctis both nearly lost their composure when they opened the boxes and saw that they had gotten each other the same ring.

“Will you marry me?” Prompto and Noctis asked each other at the same time. They looked into each other’s eyes and both of them smiled, their excitement turning towards profound joy, tears long forgotten. “Yes!”

Trembling, they exchanged identical rings, both of them smiling through their nervous energy. Prompto and Noctis kissed each other, joyous, as they wrapped their arms around each other and held each other close. This time, it was exactly what it looked like.

#promptis #prompto #noctis #gladio #ignis #oneshot #misunderstandings #ffxv #Final Fantasy XV #amitiel writes #thank you this was a lot of fun to write #cor leonis #dad!cor #I feel like I could easily have written a whole AU out of this #fanfic #ffxv fanfiction

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agentbarton12 · 5 years

Text

Old People Teenager Watchers

A/N: gonna be completely honest and tell you that i forgot i hadnt finished posting this. like, its been done and ive writen it but i completely fogot i had to post it. anyway, here you go!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6

—

the invitation — 6

Teenagers, in Tony's opinion, are the strangest breed of people. He’s pretty sure when he hired one, he was not hiring their mood swings, rebellious tendencies and relationship problems as well, but, it seems “you can’t get one without the other” or something dumb like that.

Tony liked to believe that over the last three odd years, he had gotten better at handling teenagers, but apparently not.

Truly, he was too old for this. He needed to fill in his formal Teenage Babysitter Resignation forms and hand them in to the board of Old People Teenager Watchers (“Parents, Tones. They’re called parents.”).

When Steve told Tony what that idiot Peter was thinking of doing, Tony's knee-jerk reaction was to say no. But then he thought about it and sighed.

A heavy sigh.

Not because he was worried, or because he thought it was a bad idea, no, Tony was apprehensive because it would work. Like, it really would. And Tony knew that the only way it would, was if he helped.

And then he sighed again.

Despite this, Tony agreed to help because he thought he should. He thought Peter was on to something and he really needed a reason not to be mad at him anymore. Nearly everyone had gotten over Peter’s idiocy, if only because MJ did, and had moved past it. Tony tried to, but he couldn’t because Peter kept looking at MJ like the sun and the moon shone out of her eyes.

It was disgusting.

And endearing.

But mainly the first one.

The only problem with this staring was that Peter seemed unaware he was doing it. He had convinced himself that he liked Gwen and not MJ and now, refused to admit that he was being dumb.

Okay, okay, he used to refuse to admit that he was being dumb.

Because this was the whole reason of the plan. After an eye-opening conversation with literally ever woman in Peter’s life (Pepper, May, Nat, Wanda, Laura, Shuri, Hope, Jane, Darcy, Carol, Valkyrie, Okoye, Christine, hell, even those Guardians touched down on Earth for a while to give him advice), he spoke with Gwen who, surprisingly wasn’t upset at all. No, no, she was not. In fact, she came up with most of the logistics of the plan. Tony actually took a liking to her eventually. After he got past the fact that Peter claimed to like her, she turned out to be a really nice girl, and if MJ didn’t exist, he wouldn’t mind Peter dating her.

But, MJ did exist and now Tony had been tasked with the impossible feat of getting MJ to the tower. It was impossible because no one — not even Pepper on a bad day — could get her to do something she didn’t want to do. And since it was seven o’clock on a Thursday night, Tony knew she wouldn’t want to leave her bed.

Emmjaaay

Emmmjaaayyy, hurry up and get to the tower!

It’s an emergency!

Ned’s in trouble!! Come nowww!!!ii

Emmjaay

[video attached] he looks fine to me

TonyMan

Uhh...

Emmjaaay

also you text like a child

also also im curious as to why youd lie to get me out of bed on a thursday, so ill be there

tell the babysitter to pick me up

TonyMan

Auto-correct, MJ.

Please.

The video was a screen recording of a Snapchat Story Ned posted. It showed him, Sam and Thor sitting on pool chairs with sunglasses on, and the caption was literally, Living the trouble-free life.

Tony really needed to make sure he and Ned were on the same page before he did something.

He was surprised when MJ agreed to come over, but decided not to think too much about it and sent Happy to pick her up. He complied, grumpily, but complied nonetheless.

He told everyone of the success of his mission, but instead of being greeted with thankful hearts, everyone started running around trying to get everything in order, which just confused Tony because as far as he was concerned, the plan was just get MJ to the Tower so Peter could do whatever it was he was going to do. There was literally no reason for everyone to act like they were planning a wedding.

When MJ arrived, Peter took her up to the roof and everybody, like, everybody ran up to the common room and asked FRIDAY for the security footage on the roof with sound.

The Avengers and Avengers Children sat around and on the couch for a clear view of the holographic screen that was being projected up. They could see them standing on the roof. MJ, once again, was not wearing her own clothes and had put on a sweater she stole from Bruce and basketball shorts that could’ve either been Sam’s, Peter’s or Thor's. Her back was to Peter and Tony could feel how much he wanted to reach out and hug her.

“So, did you bring me out here to murder me or for the view?” MJ asked not turning back to look at Peter.

“Uh, yeah, it’s a killer view,” he responded, rubbing his neck sheepishly.

She turned to him slightly. “That was so achingly lame, my dad turned over groaning in his grave.”

He chuckled nervously. “Peter Parker: Dad Joke Extraordinaire,” he tipped an imaginary hat.

She held his gaze for a few seconds, before looking away. “Idiot.” Peter just smiled at her back and looked at for far longer than what was deemed ’friendly’.

“Oh, god,” Sam groaned.

“This is gonna take way longer if he keeps doing that,” Bucky muttered, rubbing his beard in frustration.

They stopped their mutterings when Peter spoke. “I am. An idiot. I am an idiot.” MJ gave him the slightest of gazes, before training her eyes on the skyline in front of her. “A huge one,” he went on, “for not telling you I love you too.”

The eyes of the Avengers widened and Thor choked on his Pop Tart. Tony remembered that they never really got an explanation for MJ's behavior all those weeks ago and this is the first time they’re hearing this.

“I'm sorry, but when did MJ tell him that she loves him? How did I miss this? Why did no one tell me this?” Wanda was rambling at this point and no one shushed her because she was voicing their thoughts. As if she had a revelation, she gasped and said, “Was it that night MJ — ?”

“ — Shh!” Natasha said, as MJ started speaking.

“Yeah, you did. Remember, when you then proceeded to ask Gwen out?” Peter gulped at the memory.

“Excuse me, what?” Steve asked the screen. The common room erupted in noise as everyone started yelling about how they needed to know things like these. Tony looked over at Gwen who was sitting on the floor and saw Ned put a reassuring arm on her shoulders.

Peter took a breath. “That’s what makes me an idiot. I should’ve told you before. Like, two-years-ago before. Because I’ve loved you for, like, ever, but me, being the idiot I am, didn’t realise it.

“I knew I liked you, but when Gwen came and I liked her, I thought that meant I liked her more, I guess. But, that night outside my room, I fell in love with you all over again, because you continued to put what you thought was what I wanted as your top priority. Even if it was hurting you.” Peter took a breath. The whole common room was on the edge of their seats and Tony was pretty sure that Bucky had gotten FRIDAY to Skype it to Wakanda where Shuri and her brother were no doubt watching.

“The past few weeks have sucked so much because I realised just how much I adored you. Like, sometimes it gets physically painful to breathe whenever I think about you and Tony has told me so many times how disgusting it is when I look at you like you’re the only person in the world. And I’m trying, MJ, but, honestly, I still haven’t figured out how sit across from you and not be madly in love you with everything you do.

“This is more an apology than anything else, because I hurt you and I was an idiot and you deserve better than that.”

“…I taught him that,” Sam said after a moment or two of utter silence in the common room.

“Shut. Up,” Clint said hitting him in the head.

“If that is true, Son of Wil, you did a mighty excellent job at teaching the Man of Spiders how to woo the ladies,” Thor said.

MJ looked at him for the first since his speech. “Now what?” Peter looked stunned. “I’m not about to jump into your arms because you said all that, because that’s some dumb, cliché romcom BS and I ain’t about that.”

“Yes, girl!” Shuri yelled from the other end of the call.

“And you hurt me. Like, a lot. Like, I was pretty sure that at some point, Scott was gonna kill you. But, I’m not going to stand here and say that I don’t love you either, because I’m not a liar. I do love you. But, I hate you too. So, this…thing, it’s moving at my pace, how I say it will, got that?”

Peter nodded mutely, a large grin slowly gracing his features. “You see all that cute poetry junk you just spewed a moment ago? Yeah, you should stop that. I might actually end up liking you.”

Peter grinned evilly. “Oh? So I probably shouldn’t tell you that you’re the last thing I think of before I close my eyes?”

“Smooth,” Clint said, nodding slightly. Thor silently gave Sam a fist bump.

MJ's eyes crinkled and her mouth twitched ever so slightly, an almost smile. “No,” she said, “you shouldn’t 'cause that’s just creepy.”

“I love you,” Peter said breathlessly.

“It’s like you want me to break up with you.”

Peter shrugged. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into him. “I love you,” he said again with her face inches away from his.

“Stop.”

He shook his head. “Nope. You know why? Because I do. I love you.” He looked her in the eye before turning away and yelling into the night, “I love Michelle Jones!”

She punched him in the arm. “Don’t make me regret hugging you.”

“But you’re not — ”

He was silenced by her crashing into him and he stood stunned for less than a second, before he wrapped his arms around her and he settled his head in the crook of her neck due to the height difference.

“YES!” the common room erupted into cheers as everyone, everyone stood up in excitement. Scott called Hope and told her everything. Clint, followed his lead and phoned Laura to update her on the newest development. Hugs were given and tears were shed.

They all decided to stick around just in case something…interesting happened and so they remained in the common room.

Tony thought he’d hang onto his position in the Old People Teenager Watchers Committee just a little longer.

“How long do you think they’re gonna stay in the common room watching us before they realise that we’re trolling them and aren’t planning on leaving until they do?” MJ asked Peter as they remained hugging on the roof.

“Dunno. They like snooping. Probably waiting for us to kiss or something.”

MJ stayed silent. Then, “We should have sex. Give them something to watch, y'know?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Wh-What?”

Tony jumped up and told FRIDAY to connect him to the roof speakers. “You two get off that roof right now, or so help me I will ban you from looking at each other. Get down. Now.”

The last thing he heard from the two was MJ's cackling as they got off the roof. And the cackling of his fellow teammates.

Never mind, Tony was resigning.

#avengers #marvel #peter parker #spiderman #michelle jones #ned leeds #spideychelle #iron man #tony stark #mcu #iron dad #spideyson #domestic!avengers

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wackapedia · 5 years

Text

Magical Museum Date

A/n: Set at the end of natm3. Sorry for the crap title but here u go

You and Tim were sent to the Museum of Natural History in New York to inaugurate new exhibits from the British Museum, one of them being the Triceratops skeleton.

Before you worked with Tim as a paleontologist, you had worked as an intern at the museum. One night, Larry the night guard called you for an emergency at the museum. It was past midnight when you ran through the back door of the museum to find Larry inside a locker. He explained that he pissed off Dexter the capuchin and was therefore lured in there and ran away with the keys. This of course didn't make sense until you saw the lobby where all of the exhibits were running around. Larry explained to you that the tablet has some magic in it and even introduced you to it's owner, the mummy, Ahkmenrah.

You didn't expect to find yourself back at the museum years later.

Larry still worked there as the night guard although he had started his business really well, he couldn't let go of his job at the museum. He knew you and another doctor would be inaugurating the exhibits when he sent you an email about how excited he was for a reunion since the tablet would be returning and you will also be in town.

It was in the afternoon when you arrive in New York. You had a lot of time to show Tim around your former city. He of course was excited to learn a lot about you.

Later that evening, after a lot of walking around and visiting your favorite places, you decide it was time to rest in your hotel. You and Tim have been dating for a while now so it wasn't awkward at all to share a hotel room. While Tim was getting settled in the bed, your phone started ringing.

Unknown number.

You picked up the call anyway.

"Hey y/n! It's me, Larry Daley." He sounded out of breath.

"Oh my gosh! Larry! What's up? I can't wait to see you and Nicky tomorrow!" You cheerfully answer.

"Yeah I think I'll be seeing you sooner. The new exhibits came in this morning and the triceratops is attacking Rexy and it's horn is stuck in between Rexy's ribs and I think something broke off I don't know how to fix it without damaging it further, y/n I need your help" Larry speaks in one go.

"Okay I'll be right there" you say as you ended the call. You found yourself feeling nostalgic. It was always like this back when you were an intern. Larry calling you late at night because he needs help.

"Tim, something came up at the museum. It's about the exhibits I have to go and see it. I promise I'll be quick so you can sleep without me" you say to Tim as you get dressed.

"What? What's going on? I'll come with you!" Tim moves to get out of bed.

"No, Tim, It's fine I promise just please sit this one out okay? It's okay I'll be quick. I'll be back before you know it now go get some sleep."

You didn't want Tim to come because a living skeleton of a Tyrannosaurus Rex will certainly trigger his trauma from the park.

"Let me at least drive you there?" He sits up to put on his slippers.

"It's okay I'll just walk." You say as you pick up your bag.

Tim reluctantly stays in bed.

"Text me when you're at the museum okay?"

"I will! Love you! Get some sleep!" You kiss him before you leave.

The hotel you were staying at was a ten minute walk to the museum. You walk to the front of the building and knock at the revolving glass doors. This got Larry's attention and moved to unlock them. As soon as you enter you were caught in a warm group hug from Larry, Atilla, Teddy, Sacajawea, and Ahkmenrah.

Everyone was gathered at the lobby looking over two tired dinosaur skeletons stuck at each other.

Larry explains that they got too rowdy and excited to meet each other that Trixie the Triceratops rammed into Rexy.

You looked at the situation around all angles and tried to formulate a way to dislodge them of each other without leaving a scratch.

You figured you would need a liquid adhesive and some tools to smoothly fix them so you went to the back office to retrieve the tools. Nicky and Ahkmenrah went with you.

"Wow, Nicky. You're all grown up now! The last time I saw you, you were about this short. Now you're taller than me!" You excitedly spoke to the young man.

You were catching up with each other as you entered the office. You were starting to look for tools when the back door suddenly opened.

"Tim! What are you doing here!!“ you freak out.

"Y/n! I couldn't sleep and I was worried because you haven't texted me so I thought I'd come over.." He shyly explains.

"I'm sorry I forgot to text you I was in a hurry as soon as I came here." You explain while gathering the tools.

"What do need polyvinyl acetate for?" Tim noticed the vial you were holding.

"Uh.. Nothing. Just in case.. You know.... Fossils. Sit right here I'll come back and get you okay? " you were shit at making up excuses. You pulled Nicky to sit down with Tim and keep him entertained.

"Tim this is Nicky, the night guard's son. Nick, this is Tim Murphy, my boyfriend." You introduced them to each other.

"He doesn't know about the whole museum at night thing so don't mention it to him. Also he can not meet Rexy or Trixie okay?! “ you whisper-yelled at Nicky who nodded at your instruction.

Whe you were instructing Nicky, Tim looks at the odd man dressed in ancient Egyptian clothing who was also in the room.

The Egyptian man looks at him too.

"I'm sorry, have we met? You seem very familiar." Ahkmenrah speaks to Tim.

You look up to them, distressed about the whole situation.

"Tim I'll be right back okay?" You say to him while pulling Ahk out of the room with you.

"I honestly think I have seen your boyfriend before, y/n." Ahkmenrah speaks in his eloquent accent.

"I don't know, Ahk. Maybe you were band mates in your past life, who knows? " you answer while jogging back to the lobby. You have to make this quick before Tim suspects anything.

You immediately got to work when you reached the two stuck dinosaur skeletons. You tried to calm Rexy who was making some sad dinosaur noises. You sat on Trixie's head and carefully inserted a thread and pulled a gap in between them. Soon enough they broke free from each other. You applied the adhesive on the cracked horn as a precaution. Mission accomplished, then.

You were picking up the tools when you hear running footsteps from the office. Tim emerges from the door.

"Nobody move!!" you yell loud enough for every single exhibit gathered on the lobby to freeze. Even Larry stood still.

"Y/n? What happened here?" Tim looks around at the exhibits scattered at the lobby.

"Oh, there was something on the triceratops Larry the night guard and my friend here was just worried for tomorrow's event." You nervously explained. It's true though, there was something on the triceratops. A tyrannosaurus.

"Where's Nick? " you ask.

"He's at the office. He fell asleep." Tim answers. So he was talking to him about dinosaurs then.

"Okay well, uh, Larry will take care of the mess here since we have an early start tomorrow we'll be heading out now so goodbye Larry see you later!" You quickly waved at Larry and pulled Tim out before he asks more questions.

"Y/n don't you think we should help him? He looks like he could use some help with all the exhibits scattered and a few hours until opening?" Tim protests. Ever the kind and gentle soul.

Before you could stop him, he turned back to enter the museum.

"Tim, No!"

You catch up with him at the revolving doors. He witnesses the magic of the museum.

You expected Tim to completely freak out upon seeing Rexy or Trixie move around but he didn't. He looks up to the tyrannosaurus skeleton in complete awe.

"Tim?" you carefully approach him.

His jaw was complety slack.

Rexy's head lowers. You reach out to rub his snout like a puppy.

"Who's a good boy?" you playfully ask. Rexy purrs in delight. You look back at Tim and carefully brought his hand to the T-Rex's head. Rexy's tail wags in delight.

"Well that went well." You say as you walk back to your hotel, the sky slowly brightening as sunrise approaches. You and Tim stayed at the museum for a while longer. Explaining to him the magic of the tablet and meeting historical people on exhibit. Tim was always excited to learn new things, one of the many qualities you adore about him.

When you arrive at your hotel room you tried to get as much sleep as you can. You made sure to set your alarm in time for the exhibit inauguration.

Despite having only three hours of sleep, Tim's inaugural speech went perfectly well.

Pupils, students, and history buffs came to see the new exhibits as well as to meet the famous Doctor Tim Murphy, pioneer in modern paleontology. You stand at the corner of the lobby with Larry. He notices the look on your face.

"Great fellow, that Tim." He comments.

"Yeah." You agree. You lovingly look at Tim, shaking hands with Director McPhee.

You didn't notice Tim approach you.

"Hey, y/n you're staring." He snaps his fingers in front of you.

"Sorry I thought you were one of the exhibits. You're just so perfect." You say with a completely serious tone and a face to match.

He blushes.

Maybe it was because you were sleep deprived or you were just insanely in love with your boyfriend that you were shamelessly flirting with him in front of other people but you didn't care.

"I hope you don't mind we stay over tonight at the museum?" Tim asks you with his signature grin.

"Of course!"

A/n: Funfact polyvinyl acetate is just elmer's glue lmaoo

Tagging those who might be interested: @prettylittlegoldfish @fanadango @sapphicsandsupernatural @vcat55 @give-roger-his-maracas-back @hollywooddumpsterfire @thekingofselfloathing @angharadannie @ad-lucem-et-amor @rosana-mercury @the-stardust-crusneker @rogertaylorssunglasses and @dr-tim-murphy

#joe mazzello x reader #tim murphy x reader #dr tim murphy #tim murphy #ahkmenrah #night at the museum

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florbexter · 5 years

Text

Thanks again to everyone who commented on the previous chapters. This was planned to be the final chapter but TinCan had other ideas lol, I don’t think you would mind.

Sadly there are some blog’s who are untagable so sorry if you can’t find yourself in the list.

As always: Have fun reading! ^.^

@queenhippolyta @andwebegin @decadentdeerpolice @compassedship69 @jessicaworld90 @misaky0 @fangschreckenkreb @audoldends @kimjungmalfoy

Part I | Part II | Part III

💃🏻 - Fake dating TinCan - Part IV

“What are you doing here?”

“Searching for my lost boyfriend. I thought we’re in love, I’m very disappointed.”

Can felt the heat rising from his neck over his cheeks to his hairline and if possible he was sure he would have been on fire.

Tin leaned over him, his mouth too close to his ear and he felt Tin’s legs against his back. It was strangely intimate.

Can felt a huge lump in his throat and his voice sounded scratchy when he asked: “Could you please move?” There was a short pause and Can feared that Tin would press the issue but the heat of his body moved away and he was able to breathe again.

Tin sat down across of him and damn, in the broad daylight, without the dim light of a party or the hazy illumination of a street lamp he looked twice as good. He also wore a damn tie and his button-down was whiter than Can’s had ever been and why were people out there looking like that?

“You’re hard to track down.” “Because I don’t want to be found.”

“I thought…”

“Yeah, we’re boyfriends haha. The joke’s getting old.”

Tin looked away from his face a half-smile lurking in the corner of his mouth and he seemed like he fought a real smile. Can had never understood people who made an effort to hide their feelings. Smiling made him happy, why would somebody suppress that?

He scratched his cheek and felt the warmth of his embarrassment. He wanted nothing more than to run away or hide.

“Why won’t you agree that I’ll tell everybody we broke up? See, we don’t have to do the ‘you’re an asshole’ scenario, we could tell that we realized we only work as a long-distance relationship.”

He just wanted to pretend this all never happened. He wanted to avoid Tin for a thousand years and then act as if he never met him before. Was that too much to ask for?

Tin looked at him again, his face blank but his eyes calculating. Rich people had it all! Why did they want something all the time?

“I want something.”

Can had the urge to cover his body with his hands.

“What do you mean?” His voice sounded squeaky. Tin shook his head in amusement.

“I just want information. I want us to pretend to be boyfriends for two more weeks.”

Can frowned. “Because of Ai Pete and Ae?” “I could hang around Ai Pete just because but I guess it would be easier with you as an excuse. Ai Pete never really liked sports but now he wants to be at the football field all the time.”

Can stayed silent. Everyone at the team agreed that they would not talk about what they all had eventually stumbled upon when they wanted to go into locker room seven. They all suspected that Ai training and Ai Pete watching was kind of foreplay for them.

“Are you against their relationship or what?”

“I want to make sure Ae is good enough for Ai Pete.”

“And stalking seems the right method to you?”

“I could hire someone for a complete background check on him and his family, dig out all their secrets but I thought to check him out myself would be less… invasive.”

Can just gaped at him for a solid minute.

“You really are an asshole!” Tin just shrugged.

“What do you have to lose? I don’t want to break them up… not yet though. You have a boyfriend for two more weeks to impress your friends with and I have a better excuse to hang around Ae.”

“What if I don’t agree?”

“Then everything will crash and burn. You can certainly tell everyone that you just made our relationship up and that will be weird enough because it’s one thing to just cook up a fake-boyfriend but it’s another story altogether when it’s about someone who exists, and you know… I could tell a totally different version. I haven’t decided yet if I’ll tell you are obsessed with me or a homophobic asshole who is ashamed of our relationship and so you told everyone it was fake.”

Can jumped up and pointed a trembling finger at Tin.

“You’re… that… fucking… are you… you are evil!”

“Who would they believe? It doesn’t really matter what I will tell just that they all will believe me.”

Can wasn’t sure if his heart would ever recover from Tin’s speech. Tin didn’t want to be the villain of their fake-relationship but he actually was a villain.

The sad truth was that apart from Can’s close circle everybody would believe Tin because his versions of the story sounded more scandalous than Can’s.

“You really want to be punched…” Tin laid his hand in one of his hands as if they had a pleasant conversation about the weather.

“It’s your decision.”

“It’s blackmail!”

“Call it what you want.”

“Isn’t there an alternative?”

Tin leaned forward and Can instinctively took a step back. There was this odd twinkle in Tin’s eyes again. Can was reminded of a documentary about a tiger he once saw. Which would make him the deer and it never ended well for the deer.

“You made up a boyfriend, so I think I’m right when I assume that you never had a relationship. A conclusion from that would be that you also never kissed.”

Can felt his heart leaving his body. It literally fell down to his feet. Breathing seemed like something only others were able to do.

“You… what?”

“Your first kiss and I will break up with you and we forget about the two weeks to shadow Ae.”

Can took his backpack he had put down next to the bench and left. Just run away with a white haze clouding his vision. His body moved on his own while his mind was a mixture of blank spaces and explosions of disbelief of what had happened a few moments ago.

He had no idea how but he found his way to his bus stop and sat down on one of the seats. The world moved in slow-motion around him and his head felt like it was wrapped in cotton. Had this really happened?

His cellphone vibrated and at first, he couldn’t process what the text message said.

“Tomorrow 8 am IC parking lot. For your decision on both proposals.”

He put the phone back in his pocket, took his bag and buried his face in it. Then… he screamed.

Two girls jumped off in shock and exchanged worried glances because his scream changed into a loud wailing. Then, and they decided to move a few more metres away, he shook his whole body while a string of muffled ‘No’s’ were heard. The girls decided that they should take the next bus.

Can shuffled into the house, waved half-heartedly at Gucci and let his backpack fall. He didn’t care where it landed.

He looked at the couch and longed to lay there and bath in his misery, but he needed to do something else first.

The stairs were mountains, almost too high and difficult to climb but he was able to conquer them. He opened the door to Ai Ley’s room and ignored her ‘Hey!’ He let himself fall face-down onto her bed.

“Are you crazy? What are you doing here?”

He lifted one finger.

“Can I ask for one thing?”

She sat on her desk chair in front of her computer and nudged him with her toe. It was a ‘just-because’ nudge.

“What is it?”

“Can you pretend like you aren’t my annoying little sister and give me helpful advice?”

“Can you get me pictures of P’Pete and P’Ae?”

He sighed in the pillow and rolled onto his back. Everyone disappointed him today: Ai Pete and his schemings, Tin with his blackmail and Ai Ley with her thirst for the relationship of his friends. He climbed from the bed and went into his own room. He buried himself under his blanket and breathed in the calming smell of home and detergent. Why was it always true was his elders said? That you shouldn’t lie because you wouldn’t be able to stop, and one lie led to another and then suddenly there is a guy who wants your first kiss.

His life was a drama show now. So he knew that it would get worse before it would get better.

He fumbled for his cellphone and his display showed him the message from Tin. Unopened. If he was honest with himself he admitted that he didn’t want to be more humiliated. He didn’t want his friends to know that he lied about his relationship status. For all their roasting Good and Ae would never expose him and Ai Pete was too nice to embarrass him like that. So his choices were two weeks of fake-dating or his first kiss.

Why did Tin want his first kiss?

In a weird way, it seemed fair. Can took his consent from him. Who wouldn’t feel exploited when someone took your pictures and would fabricate a relationship?

But why didn’t it count that he did it out of insecurity? That he didn’t want someone to get hurt. He didn’t have any bad intentions!

“Doesn’t matter anymore,” he mumbled. “What’s done is done.”

But it was so unfair!!!!

He trashed around and muted his shout with his pillow.

“Stop that you lunatic,” Ley yelled and kicked against the wall.

“I’m having a crisis!”, he yelled back.

“I’m ending your crisis with my fist!”

“I hate everything,” Can told his pillow and boxed it for good measure. It was going to be a long and sleepless night.

#tincan #tincan fic #au - fake dating #prompt extravaganza #florbexter writes #lbc #humor/romance #tumblr prompt

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keenerparkerstark · 5 years

Text

All I see is green (6/?)

Ship: Harley Keener/Peter Parker

Summary: Peter Parker feels on top of the world! Getting good grades in high school, spending time with Tony Stark (!!!) on his weekends, and at night, he roams the city as the hero known as Spider-Man! Everything changes when a new student shows up at Midtown who seems determined to take it all away from him.

AO3 | FF.net

Harley felt an odd sense of déjà vu as he stared up at the increasingly familiar building in front of him, filled to the brim with a strange mixture of dread, anticipation and exhaustion. Well, the latter was not quite strange, seeing as every single time he closed his eyes, he felt the metal of a gun pressed against his head.

Sleeping had been impossible that night, and he had spent it pressed against Tony’s side on the couch, staring unseeingly at the TV, which was playing some old episode of a comedy show. Tony had urged him multiple times that morning over breakfast to skip out on school that day, but Harley had insisted. It was his first week of school, and missing a day already would be less than ideal. Besides, it wasn’t as if sitting at home doing nothing would be bringing him any comfort in this situation. Tony had let him go, under the condition that he would wear his watch, and press the panic button at any time if he didn’t feel comfortable.

“Harley?” A soft voice spoke up from behind him, and for some reason, all Harley could see in that moment was a pair of white lenses on a red mask, owlishly blinking back at him. He shook his head to rid himself of the image, and turned around. In front of him was Peter, with hunched shoulders and brown eyes shyly glancing back at him. He looked nervous, with his hands shoved deeply in the pockets of his hoodie. His friend Ned was a few steps behind, enough distance to not be barging in, but close enough for silent support.

“Hey, Peter,” he replied, his voice equally soft. Honestly, the whole situation with Peter had taken a mental backburner in comparison to everything else that had happened, but now that he was faced with the boy again, and the guilt came back with an overwhelming force, he wanted nothing more than to make things right. Life was short, after all.

“I noticed you wanted to talk to me yesterday…” Peter’s words trailed off and he cocked his head in tentative expectation.

“Yeah, yeah, I honestly…” Harley took a deep breath, trying to remember the various speeches he had practised what felt like a million years ago, before shaking his head, and pushing aside everything he had prepared. “I’m sorry, Peter. I didn’t realise that you were actually Tony’s intern, and although that doesn’t excuse all the shit I pulled, I hope we can move past this. Maybe we can hang out at the compound sometime, tinker in Tony’s workshop…” At this point, Harley had lost most of the confidence he started speaking with, and lowered his gaze to the ground, not daring to see Peter’s reaction.

“I’m sorry too.” Wait, what? “I should’ve just come over to Mr. Stark’s car that afternoon, and talked to him. It was just a misunderstanding and I turned it into something much bigger than it needed to be. I’m sorry for dragging this out, and-”

“Okay, don’t apologise,” Harley rushed to say. “Let’s just… let’s hang out this afternoon, I’m pretty sure Tony’s coming to pick me up, and we can talk things over with the three of us, okay?” Peter nodded with a slight smile.

“Sounds good.” Harley grinned in response, just as the first warning bell rang.

The relief Peter felt after talking to Harley was immeasurable, and he couldn’t stop grinning as he walked towards his first class. The day went by surprisingly fast, finding that it was easier to focus on his teacher’s with significantly less worries in his head. He spent lunch, as always, in a corner of the cafeteria with Ned, glancing around the crowd and chatting, as they both tried to not be noticed. Peter saw Harley on the other end of the cafeteria with Flash, and they seemed to be having a serious discussion. At one point, Flash even put a hand on Harley’s shoulder, a concerned frown on his face. It was then that Peter started feeling the acidic ache in his stomach again.

“I bet he’s telling him about what happened last night.” Peter glanced over at Ned, who had followed his gaze to Flash and Harley.

“Hmm,” was Peter’s only response. Right in that instance, both Harley and Flash turned around and looked straight back at him, immediately making eye contact. Peter felt his cheeks heat up as he looked away quickly, but Ned raised his hand and waved awkwardly. Peter was too mortified to notice their response.

“What are you doing,” he hissed at his friend.

“I’m waving to your new friend.”

“And the biggest bully in the school!”

“And your new friend’s friend!”

When Peter looked back up at Harley and Flash, they had both turned back to their previous conversation, and did not look at him after that. Peter took out his phone to distract himself, and noticed that he had received a text from Tony:

TONY STARK Hey, kid. Harley told me you’re coming over today. I’ll be there to pick you both up. I’ve also called your aunt already and got her okay, so don’t worry about that. See you in a bit.

The car ride was awkward. Mr. Stark had insisted on both boys sitting in the back of the car (an ill-concealed attempt at avoiding picking who gets shotgun), and the teens ended up looking out of their respective windows while occasionally throwing glances in the other’s direction, unaware of them doing the same thing. Mr. Stark sighed a lot.

‘’So how was your day at school, boys?” The synchronised shrug that followed was almost impressive in how they both managed to convey the exact same level of extreme disinterest. “Eloquent, nice. Go figure that I’d be stuck with two boy geniuses that suffer from a staggering lack of social skills.”

“I have plenty of social skills,” Harley huffed, glaring at Mr. Stark through the rear-view mirror. “I just got robbed last night so I’m a little tired, and Peter here has a staggering lack of social skills.” Mr. Stark tried to hide his snicker in a cough as Peter shrugged again.

“I mean, you’re not wrong.” A beat, then… “Wait, you got robbed? What happened, are you okay?” Nice save, Peter.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Harley replied, turning back to look out his window. “Spider-Man saved me.”

“Ah,” Peter responded. “I’m glad you’re okay.” Silence filled the car again, only occasionally broken by Mr. Stark’s exasperated sighs.

“We’re here,” Mr. Stark eventually exclaimed as he pulled up to the gate of the compound, which automatically opened as he approached. “Are you boys joining me in the lab today? A little birdy told me that Spider-Man is running out of his web fluid sometime in the next week if he doesn’t get a resupply soon, and personally I don’t feel very much like scraping red and blue off the streets of New York this week. I’m a busy man, after all.” Peter rolled his eyes, as Harley shot forward in his seat.

“We get to work on Spidey’s tech? That’s awesome!”

“Peter’s actually Spider-Man personal tech guy.” Harley’s awe was now immediately aimed at Peter, who visibly shied away from it.

“Really? Have you met him? What was he like?”

“I- I, I mean,” Peter stammered helplessly, feeling tension rise in his chest. You’re a terrible liar, Parker, don’t fuck this up. He shot a panicked look at his mentor, who, despite not even glancing at him as he drove into the garage, still seemed to sense his tumult.

“Leave him be, Harles,” he interrupted smoothly. “Pete’s not allowed to say much about it for obvious reasons, and asking him questions is just going to make him feel bad.” Harley back away, looking mildly ashamed of himself, nodding meekly.

After having parked the car, the three quickly found themselves in the elevator up to the highest (private) R&D floor, Mr. Stark chatting senselessly as they went.

“… and Ross called me back a couple of hours later, and he was so angry-”

“There you are!” The moment the elevator doors opened, a voice interrupted Mr. Stark’s insistent chatter and he quite literally froze in his step, making Harley bump into him, and Peter stop equally abruptly as his spidey senses warned him. The sound of clicking heels echoed through the white hallway littered with class doors as a slender, smartly dressed woman rushed towards them, somehow managing to look stunningly graceful in her panicked rush.

“I’ve been calling you for hours! Where have you been?”

“I was picking up Harley from school. I told you about it.”

“You most certainly did not.”

“I’m sure I did. FRIDAY?”

“You did not, boss.”

“Well, you’re just a little traitor, aren’t you? Show your father some respect.”

“Tony, something happened in the stakeholders meeting and I needed you to come in and put out some fires-”

“I’ll have you know, I’m not very good at putting out fires-”

“But when I went up to your lab, you weren’t there!”

“Making fires and explosions is more my forte-”

“You need to tell me if you plan on leaving in the middle of your work day.”

“You should ask DUM-E, he loves putting out fires-”

“Tony, can you be serious for one second!” The woman raised her voice and effectively cut off Mr. Stark’s rambling. He had the decency to look regretful.

“I’m sorry, I was so sure I told you over breakfast this morning.”

“You weren’t even upstairs for breakfast.”

“Right, I mean, that’s probably where it went wrong. Look, Pepper, I’m terribly sorry, I’ll make it up to you. Just say what you want, and I’ll make it happen. In my defence, though? I’m not CEO of the company anymore, and so-” As Mr. Stark continued spouting nonsense, the woman rolled her eyes and finally noticed Harley and Peter standing slightly behind Mr. Stark as if hiding from her scrutiny.

“Hi, there, Harley, honey, how was your day at school?”

“It was pretty good, Ms. Potts, thanks you,” Harley grinned back.

“Oh, please, just call me Pepper! It’s okay! And your friend! You must be the famous Peter Parker, am I right?” Peter felt a rush of excitement run through his body as he realised he was speaking to the Pepper Potts, and could only nod shyly in response. Ms. Potts rewarded him with a patient smile.

“Tony has told me much about you, Peter,” she added. “Only good things, of course! You’re apparently quite the genius.” She let her eyes wander over the boys again, taking in Mr. Stark’s hunched shoulders, Harley’s confident grin and Peter’s wide eyes. “You’re in good company.” She made to leave, but not before turning back and shooting Mr. Stark a warning glare.

“Make sure you all eat, Tony.” He nodded solemnly and watched as his fiancée walked away. It took a couple of seconds to shake himself out of his apparent stupor, but when he did, he turned to Harley and Peter with a wide grin.

“Let’s go explode some stuff.”

“I heard that!”

#harley keener #peter parker #peter parker/harley keener #Peter Parker x Harley Keener #fanfic #pls share and review

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drabbles-and-shit · 6 years

Text

The Mailman is Really Attractive and Dean is Smitten

When Dean first saw the new mailman that Saturday afternoon, his body had such an immediate and visceral reaction, he had to excuse himself to his bedroom for a little quality time with his right hand.

Seriously, it was insane; nothing like that had ever happened to Dean. He only figured out that he was attracted to both guys and guys about a year ago, but he’d never even had that sort of response to a girl. And what’s worse? It was one of the best experiences he’s ever had jacking off.

Like, no shit, that mailman was the hottest human Dean ever laid eyes on, and he wasn’t even Dean’s type! Dean had always gone for the petite guys, because you know, he was a dom. Well, with guys he was. He had actually started experimenting letting girls top him, and much to his own embarrassment, he actually really liked it. There was something about someone else being in control that was hot as fuck. But, just girls. He wanted nothing in his asshole, ever, thank you very much. But anyway, even though he only ever had pursued twink-types, the mailman was buff as fuck. He had looked like he was about Dean’s height, and the summer heat-induced sweat made for a uniform that clung to his body just so Dean could see rippling muscle underneath. And the shorts, no matter how silly looking for being as short as they were, let Dean see the legs of either a runner who swims in his spare time or just the legs of an actual Adonis. And his forearms! God, so strong and tanned and--Dean noticed he was developing another situation down south and forced himself to concentrate on gross things like old people making out or his brother Sam’s face. Good, good; the situation went back down.

~***~

An uneventful week later, and Dean was back looking out his front window, shamelessly watching and waiting for the new mailman. He had no idea if he was actually going to come around again; hell, he might have just been filling in that one day for the old guy that Dean normally saw bringing the mail.

But Dean’s curiosity was rewarded, because after about ten minutes of casual spying, he noticed the mailman walking up the sidewalk with his messenger bag over one shoulder, radiating sexual appeal. God, he was just as hot as last week.

Oh my god, wait, he walked by the mailbox and towards the door. He was coming to the door. He probably had a package or something. But not the porno kind. Shit, what if he saw Dean last week? Dean jumped behind his couch as fast as humanly possible and tried to not breathe, because nobody was home. No one. Was. Home.

The doorbell rang, and Dean sucked his breath in and froze. Shit, the TV was on. He had completely forgotten it, and now the sexy mailman was going to know he was hiding like a kid afraid of Jehovah’s Witnesses, and he was going to judge him ughhhh. Suffice to say, Dean was fucking embarrassed.

He waited a solid five minutes before sneaking back to the window and checking the mailman was gone before opening his front door and grabbing the package off the step. His embarrassment was forgotten quickly, because it was his Star Trek phaser from ThinkGeek! Charlie was going to be sooooo jealous, and he couldn’t fucking wait to gloat. He snapped a picture of it and shot it off to her.

Dean: Looks like I win the gayness contest, because I can set phasers to STUN #2fab4u

Charlie: Oh my god, it came!!

Charlie: You had better bring that to work Monday so I can play with it

Dean: Only if you promise to not break it

Charlie: Btw did you see the hottie today??

Dean: Duh where did you think the package came from?

Charlie: DID YOU TALK TO HIM?!?!

Dean: You kidding? No way, Jose

Charlie: Ugh you’re no fun

Charlie: Wait. I have an idea! You should write him a letter and put it in your mailbox so he can read it when he brings your mail!!

Dean: Do you even know me? Charmando, I wouldn’t do something like that if my life depended on it

Charlie: You’re such a scaredy cat, Winchester

Dean: And proud

~***~

Drunk Dean sometimes did things that Sober Dean had to pay for, especially when his best friend/arch nemesis Charlie was involved. They always went for drinks together after work on Fridays, and somehow Dean always ended up being the only one of the two of them that did stupid, drunk person stuff. He was beginning to suspect that maybe she didn’t actually even drink, just pretended to so that she could talk his more malleable alter ego into doing what she wanted him to. Like, just a random example, writing a note to the sexy mailman.

He was going to kill her. Saturday morning met him with a skull splitting headache, and more importantly, oodles of regret. Because yes, he could vaguely remember sitting down with a pen and a piece of paper last night and writing… something. God, he couldn’t remember what the hell he had written. Maybe he had enough time to run out to the mailbox and take it out before it was too late!

Dean pulled on his sweatpants and charged out into the painfully bright midday sun. Despite his body’s many protests, he made it to the mailbox in record time, but it was for nothing, because when he opened it up, the note was gone and had been replaced by what looked like a bill and some coupons for pizza. He couldn’t really be sure, because his eyes felt like he was stabbing them full of needles. He defeatedly walked back into his house and pulled out his phone.

Dean: Dude. What happened last night. Tell me or I’m going to send your girlfriend your prom photos

He waited for a response while chewed discontentedly on a piece of cold bacon from the fridge and sipping a glass of water. He didn’t have to wait for long though, and he soon heard the telltale R2-D2 beep that was Charlie’s text alert noise.

Charlie: You were so plastered, my man. It was wild.

Charlie: I take it you only just woke up and didn’t have time to get the letter out of the box?

Dean: Shit, so that really happened? Dear god, tell me I didn’t write anything too embarrassing?

Charlie: You politely told him you wanted to suck his dick

Dean: I’ve got the picture ready to send!

Charlie: Ugh, fine. No, all you said was that you thought he looked nice and were wondering what happened to the old guy who used to bring your mail. Tbh it was pretty cute. I love drunk you

Dean sighed in relief. It was still as embarrassing as balls, but maybe the guy will think Dean has a kid or something and they wrote it. He can only hope at this point.

~***~

When Dean got home from work Monday evening and opened up the mailbox, his hopes that the mailman would just ignore the letter were proven useless.

Sitting there in the box, on top of a classic car magazine he subscribed to, was a small blue envelope with no stamp and just his first name in rather lovely script in the middle. He ripped it open before he even got inside, because holy fuck, there’s no one who would drive by his house just to put a letter in my mail other than Mr. Sexypants. It read:

Dear Dean,

I’m guessing by your handwriting and subject matter that you’re either a child or a drunk man. If it’s the former, please tell your parents that I am not a pedophile. Please. If you’re an adult and just have terrible handwriting, I’m sorry for touching on a sore subject.

Anyway, Cain, your previous mail carrier, was only working your route temporarily. He actually is one of the higher-ups for the USPS and was delivering mail as a sort of extended vacation from management. Odd, I know.

I appreciate that you think I look nice, and if you’re the adult male who lives at this address, I think you do too. If you’re a child, I’m sure you look nice, but in a non-pedophilic way.

Yours,

Castiel

Oh my god, Dean was in love. Haha, just kidding. He’s not in love; what are you talking about? Totally not in love. Nope, not at all. He lunged inside, pulled off his jacket and tie, and began furiously debating whether or not to tell Charlie about this. On the one hand, she’s his only real friend besides his younger brother, who is constantly busy with lawyer-things. But on the other hand, she would totally gloat about this for the rest of her life. But fuck it, he needs to talk to someone about this, because he never has romance in his life!

Dean: Omg you’ll never believe what happened\\

Charlie: Ooh! What??!

Dean: Mr. Double Stuffed Hotness is named Castiel, and I might want to marry him

Charlie: HE WROTE BACK?!?! It’s fate, my young grasshopper

Dean: I’m gonna send you a pic of the letter he wrote back so you can help me figure out what to write back

Charlie: You had better let me be your best man!! AND let me officiate!!! I’m already planning my speech

Dean: Don’t get ahead of yourself… but I’m actually kind of psyched rn

And so the planning began. Eventually, they decided on a note that read the following:

Dear Castiel,

As you deduced, I was drunk. Don’t worry, I’ll tell my parents you aren’t a pedophile anyway, just in case. Of course, they’re both in their 60s and will probably also assume I’m drunk, but better safe than sorry.

Thank you for saying I look nice, though I can’t imagine when you’ve seen me. I’m normally at work when you bring the mail (around 1:30pm, right?), so have you seen me on a Saturday? Okay, you don’t need to answer, just in case you’re actually a stalker or something. It’s never good to confront the bad guy in horror movies, and I’ve learned my lesson.

Hey, is your name really Castiel, or is that a pseudonym? I googled it, and it’s the name of the Angel of Thursday? What’s so special about Thursdays?

Live long and prosper,

Dean

~***~

Dear Dean,

I’m very glad I won’t be going to jail for calling a child attractive. You can probably hear my sigh of relief from there.

I can neither confirm nor deny when/where I have seen you. Also, are you calling me the antagonist of a horror film? If so, please enlighten me on which one, because I’m rather a fan of being scared shitless, and I’m sure seeing myself as the murderer will make an horror viewing experience even more terrifying.

And yes, my name is really Castiel. Let’s just say my parents were hippies. Many people call me Cas, though, and my siblings call me Cassie. I don’t like my siblings very much.

What about you? Why are you named Dean? Did your parents hope you would create a list of exceptional people? Or perhaps they wanted you to grown up to resemble Dean Martin?

I’m sorry, I don’t know where all that rude sass came from; it’s been a long day.

Khaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan,

Cas

~***~

Mr. Spock,

I had a girlfriend named Cassie once! Sort that information away for a future test, I suppose. How many siblings do you have? I one brother, and he can be such a bitch sometimes, so I definitely get where you’re coming from.

As it happens, I’m named after my grandmother, Deanna. And I swear to god, if you make fun of me for that, I will, um, do something… I don’t know exactly what yet, but I’ll figure it out, and it’ll be awful, I promise!

So, is it really that hard being a mailman? (You said it had been a rough day.) I’m a mechanic, by the way. If you ever need to know anything about cars, just hit me up, and I’ll be happy to help. For a price… Ha, just kidding. Maybe…

Dammit Cas, I’m a mechanic, not a doctor!

Dean

~***~

Bones,

I find it slightly perturbing that my nickname is also the name of your ex. But I always ace tests, so I guess I’m glad to know it anyway.

I have 5 siblings. I know. Hippies don’t believe in birth control, I guess. But yes, family of 8, from Michael the oldest, down to Sam the youngest. Since I’m on the subject, I suppose I might as well list off all my siblings. There’s Mike, Gabe, Luce, me, Anna, and Sam, ranging in ages from 37 to 21. Oh, I’m the ripe old age of 29, by the way. Not that that matters. Jesus, this entire letter is me talking about my family, sorry.

And no, it’s not hard being a mailman, but it is hard having to take your beloved cat to the veterinarian because they’re refusing to eat, not having bowel movements, and rolling around on the floor, meowing in pain. The poor guy had a blockage and almost died. It was a tough day.

I might just take you up on your offer to help explain things about cars, because I am completely clueless about them. I drive an old clunker that eats gas money like nobody’s business, and I really need to get a new car as soon as possible.

Have you been at the Romulan ale again??

Cas

~***~

Castiel,

I know I signed my last note with a Bones reference, but make no mistake, I am 100% Kirk, and I would appreciate it if you referred to me as such. Thank you for not forcing me to pursue legal action.

Dude, my younger brother is named Sam! Well, technically he’s named Samuel, after our grandfather, but still. Weird. And I’m 32, so that’s cool I guess.

I’m sorry to hear about your cat; that sounds pretty awful. I’ve never really had pets, and I’m actually allergic to cats, but I remember when Sammy’s dog was hit by a car and how distraught he was. I’m guessing your cat is all right now, though? If so, I’m glad. If not, sorry for rubbing salt in the wound.

Dude, do not drive that car. Like, stop it now. Please, for the sake of car lovers everywhere. Take it down to Singer’s Auto Salvage Yard; Bobby is a friend of mine, and if you tell him I sent you, he’ll give you a good price for it, and then you can use that money to buy something that’s not a piece of shit.

*funny Star Trek reference here*

Captain James Tiberius Kirk

~***~

Jim,

Can you sense me rolling my eyes? Because there’s some serious ocular oscillation going on right now in reference to your threats.

And I shortened my Sam’s name, too. His full name is Samandriel. Hippies, am I right?

Yes, my cat is fine, thank Talos. He is my best friend, and I don’t think I would be able to function properly if something happened to him. He’s a black shorthair named Toothless, by the way. Yes, I’m a basic bitch. Bite me.

I’ll try and take your advice about the car. I think my car is actually the automobile form of Sauron’s ring of power, because every time I’ve tried to get rid of it, it talks me into keeping it. I know in my heart that it needs to be torn apart for scraps, that it is taking advantage of me and should be destroyed before it does something terrible, but it’s mine. My own. My...precious…

Oh, my biggest problem is that if I sell her, I don’t know anything about buying cars, so I’m afraid someone will take advantage of my naivete and sell me an equally shitty car for a ridiculous price. Any suggestions?

*I can do this too*

Spock Spock Spock-ity Spock

~***~

Spockity,

God, I wish my parents had been hippies. Instead they were hippos. Yep, I was adopted by a pair of hippopotami at the age of four. Don’t believe me? Ask the Topeka Zoo, and they’ll corroborate my story. (Please don’t actually do that; they might remember me from when I was a teenager and broke in there to try and pet the giraffes.)

And I will never judge anyone for loving How To Train Your Dragon, because that movie was legendary. Toothless is the cutest dragon probably ever, and Hiccup is such a dreamboat.

Um, we definitely need to get rid of that car. Do not take me for some conjurer of cheap tricks! I’m trying to help you. And speaking of helping you, if you find a car and want to know just how swindled you’re going to be, just send me the information, and I can let you know if you should buy it or not!

So… what kind of music do you like? I’m a big classic rock fan, and if you aren’t I will become determined to change that about you.

Can we up switch references? Maybe Princess Bride or something?

Princess Buttercup

~***~

Buttercup,

I find your story inconceivable. But did you truly grow up in Kansas? Personally, I grew up in the wilds of Washington; Seattle, actually.

And good; I would be very upset with you if you didn’t love Toothless and Hiccup, though I must say Hiccup is not exactly my type. I like my men a little older than he (recall that I’m not a pedophile), and I think any man I may date should definitely be my size or larger, or else I might kill them accidentally in bed. Huh, I guess we haven’t really talked about sexuality ever, so sorry if that made you uncomfortable.

I would greatly appreciate it if you would actually send me your phone number or email or something, so I could send you the information on a car I’m seriously considering buying. If you’d rather not hand out such personal information, I completely understand though.

I confess I haven’t listened to much classic rock. I mostly listen to classical music, though I’ve been delving into the genre of lofi hiphop, and I actually really enjoy it.

As you wish,

Vizzini

~***~

Vizzini,

You keep using that word; I do not think it means what you think it means…

Yes, I grew up in Kansas, a little town called Lawrence to be precise. And the bit about breaking into the zoo was real too, so please don’t report me.

And honestly, I’m kind of in a weird experimental stage with my sexuality right now. I know, that’s supposed to happen during college, but maybe I’m just not a normal guy, all right? Anyway, I think I’ve officially decided I’m bisexual, but who knows? Romance is tiring, but sex is fun, and I don’t really mind who the hole belongs to. Jesus, that sounded awful and disgusting; sorry. I’m not even really like that any more. I haven’t had a hookup for like three months, which has got to be some kind of record. Sorry, this I should stop writing while I have the chance.

Totally send me the deets about the car, man. My number is 1-866-907-3235

Dude, I’m going to indoctrinate you. You fucking need to listen to classic rock; it’s the stuff of gods. Maybe I’ll make you a mixtape or something so you can listen to all the best songs. Weird question: do you have a tape player? I’m kind of old fashioned, so yeah, I’m going to make you a cassette tape with my favorite Zepp tracks on it.

Mahwage, dah bwessed awangment,

The Dread Pirate Roberts

~***~

For some reason, it was taking Cas a long time to get back to Dean. They had kind of worked out an unspoken schedule by this point; one of them put a letter in the box Monday, the other responded by Wednesday, and then the first sent back a response the Friday of the same week. Basically three letter a week for the past month or so. No, that’s not weird or creepy for two adult men to do at all.

Dean had dropped off that last letter on a Monday, but no reply came on Wednesday. He tried to not let it bother him, thinking Cas was probably busy or something. But then there wasn’t a reply Thursday or Friday either, and he started to get a little miffed. The least Cas could have done was to text him now that he had his number, but noooo. Unfortunately, Dean had to be out of town that Saturday, so no confrontation could happen over the 1:30 mail delivery.

The next Saturday rolled around with no word from Cas again, and Dean was starting to get legitimately worried. He would have understood if the guy took some time off maybe for being sick or something, but two weeks? Nobody takes two weeks off, especially without telling their… friend? Suddenly, Dean’s ridiculous number of insecurities started blaring at him. What if he and Cas weren’t friends? What if he didn’t actually mean anything to Cas at all? He probably was just another drain on Cas’ time, and Cas had finally decided he’d had enough and didn’t want to talk to Dean anymore. Hell, he might have requested a different route because Dean was harassing him. Shit, of course all this was too good to be true. Dean never made friends; Charlie was the only acception to that painful trend, and he had no idea why she still hung out with him.

Dean knew those thoughts too well; he knew his own self-loathing always came around and wouldn’t leave until he started thinking about other things. So, he thought about Cas. It was almost 1:30, two weeks since he’d heard from him last, and he decided to camp out at the mailbox and wait for whoever came. He had to know if Cas was all right, at least. The guy was his friend, even if maybe Cas didn’t see him as one.

He didn’t have long to wait before seeing his old mailman (Cain, was it?) peddling a sleek bicycle down the sidewalk with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

“Um, hey, sorry to bother you. Cain, is it?” Dean fidgeted, feeling awkward as fuck.

“Yes, that’s me. Can I help you with something?” Huh, okay, Cain seemed like a pretty chill guy. Maybe Dean could actually avoid a panic attack from doing something this wild.

“Uh, yeah. Do you know Castiel? He brought mail on this route for a while? I just haven’t seen him in a while, and I was worried that something happened.” Dean was talking too fast, but he couldn’t help it, okay?

“I know Castiel, and I know he took off a few weeks. Don’t know why though; maybe a vacation or something. I wouldn’t worry about it though, if I were you.”

Oh Dean was gonna worry about it, no doubt about that. Because wow, he was glad Cas was all right and not dead somewhere, but Jesus, what kind of douchebag friend goes on an extended vacation without so much as a goodbye?? So yeah, Dean was going to worry about what he did wrong and why he never could keep friends, and why he was such a fucked up excuse for a human being. Awesome.

~***~

Dean was depressed. Charlie tried cheering him up but to no avail. He was just depressed. He actually took the day off on Monday, because he was such a fucking sissy who couldn’t deal with anything. God, no wonder Cas didn’t care about him. No one should care about him; he was so pathetic.

The doorbell rang. Dean lifted his head from the pillow it had been buried in for the entire first half of the day and decided he probably ought to answer the door, seeing as there was a 98% chance it was Charlie with pie and beer and a chick flick to make him feel better. God, she was too good for him; he didn’t deserve such a good friend.

He pulled the door open and was greeted by the invisible man; wait no, there was a package and a pile of mail on the front step. He sighed and picked it all up, then promptly dropped it all on the floor, shut the door, and collapsed on the couch. He didn’t feel like looking at the mail. He didn’t feel like doing anything except for sleeping. Ugh.

But maybe that package would cheer him up. He rolled his eyes at the tiny optimistic voice in his head and then rolled right off the couch and crawled to the pile of mail. He grabbed package without so much as glancing over the letters, probably all bills, and violently tore it open. Ooh, it was those custom leather-bound journals he ordered off Etsy. One was embroidered with his Hogwarts House logo (Hufflepuff and proud!) and the other matched it but had Charlie’s House (Ravenclaw, more like Raven...dumb! Good one). One of the few things he was ashamed of about being a sissy was doing things like buying matching things for himself and his best friend, or having sleepovers with his best friend, or planning his future wedding with his best friend. ANYway.

Okay, cool, the opening the package plan had worked! Dean was feeling better already. But then he saw it. Underneath the topmost bill was a little blue envelope. Dean’s hand had never moved so fast (yes, never).

Sure enough, it was from Cas. But unlike all the other letters Dean had gotten from him, this one was stamped and had both mailing and return addresses on it. Without stopping to think about what the fuck that could possibly mean, Dean ripped open the letter and read:

Dear Dean,

I am so sorry I haven’t written you in so long. To put it succinctly, my father had a heart attack, and I had to go to to Washington to be with him. The past two weeks have been about family and rekindling our relationships with each other. My father passed away two nights ago, and the funeral was yesterday. I know we never really talk about serious things, but I hope you won’t mind if I tell you this.

Honestly, as heartbroken as I am to see my father pass, I’m grateful that it has brought my family back together. All of us were there with him at the end, all of us were gathered around his bedside as he breathed his last. And he went peacefully, so I’m also grateful for that. I’ll be staying up here for another few days before flying back, and then I’ll be back to work as normal. I put my address that I’m staying at while I’m in Seattle as the return address, but I’ll add my home address too at the bottom of the page; it only feels fair that since I know where you live, you should know where I do too.

Again, I’m sorry if I made you worry at all. I know you might not see me the same way, but you’ve actually become one of my closest friends over the past month. What that says about my personal life? That I’m very awkward and antisocial, that’s what it says.

I hope to talk to you soon,

Castiel

Thank the fucking lord. Dean let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and grabbed his phone.

Dean: Cas is okay!! His dad died but he’ll be back soon

Charlie: Wait, his dad died, but he’ll be back soon? Who is he, god? I mean, Jesus. Whatever, I’m not required to make good religious jokes

Dean: Haha, very funny

Charlie: But yay!! I’m so glad for you!! Maybe now you’ll stop sulking like a little lost puppy

Dean: I make no promises

~***~

As promised, Cas was back by the end of the week, and Dean couldn’t stop grinning when he looked out his window Saturday to see Cas walking up to his mailbox.

He pulled the door open and ran out, unprecedented behavior from the man afraid to make eye contact with girl scouts selling cookies outside the front of the grocery store.

“Cas! It’s good to see you, man!” He went in for a hug, but then it got a little too real, so it ended up being one of those awkward side-hugs that no one really likes but everyone has to deal with.

Cas smiled back widely, and Dean got a little lost in his eyes. Wow, he’d never actually seen Cas up close, and now that he did, he could tell that Cas was actually the most attractive man alive. His ocean blue eyes drew Dean in, and he found himself completely phasing out to the point that Cas had to repeat a question three times before he could respond.

“Sorry, um, what was that?” Was the response. Classic.

“I asked if you were all right; you look a little phased.” No shit, Sherlock.

“Uh yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

“I was a little worried I’d scared you off with my last letter, seeing as how you didn’t write back.” Shit, Dean had forgotten to.

“Fuck, I totally forgot that I had your address. I guess I’m not used to actually properly sending letters, not just putting them in the mailbox.” They shared a quiet laugh before Dean went on, somberly. “I’m really sorry about your dad. My mom passed a few years back, and I know how painful it is.”

Cas smiles sadly. “Yeah, it was rough, but like I said in the letter, it really brought my family together, and I’m sure dad would have been happy to see the impact he had on us.” He paused, and Dean could there was something more rolling around in his mind, so he decided to stay silent and let Cas finish his thought. “It’s funny, he was such an absent father when we were growing up. I know he was different when he and my mom were first married; I think he was a carpenter or something, and he was always at home with Mike and Luce when they were little. But then his business took off, and by the time I was in diapers, he was hardly ever around. Business trips, late nights working, early morning meetings, it never ended. It kind of tore our family apart, bit by bit. First, Gabe ran away when he was 16. He didn’t get in touch with any of us for almost a whole year. Later, he told me he just couldn’t stand to see all the arguing and pain in our family. Then it was Luce, angrily storming off to college and refusing to answer our calls or emails. He loved all of us, his siblings so much, and I think watching dad’s absence affect us younger kids really took a toll on him.”

Suddenly, Cas’ eyes flashed up, and his cheeks grew pink. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’ve just been standing here, telling you my life’s story. And fuck, I’m on the clock; I really need to run.”

Before Cas could move, Dean grabbed his wrist. “Wait, can you give me your phone number? I put mine in my last letter to you, but I’m guessing you didn’t get that.”

They exchanged numbers as quickly as possible, and Cas ran off towards the next house on his route. Dean grinned as he watched his run away and immediately send him a trial-run text.

Dean: If you gave me a fake number, I’m going to go to your house and shave your cat

Off in the distance (only about 200 feet, to be perfectly honest), Cas stopped and looked down at his phone, and Dean could not hold back a huge laugh.

Castiel: Toothless would kill your sorry ass

~***~

Regina George,

Oh my god, you’re so fetch.

Sorry Cas, I don’t know why, but I really felt like I had to change our theme to Mean Girls. Sue me. (Also, you better have fucking watched Mean Girls, or there will be hell to pay.)

So, my friend Charlie talked me into this, but I guess I kind of agreed with her that I ought to do it. And you can totally say no thanks, not interested, and it’ll be completely fine! But, I was wondering if maybe you’d be interesting in going on a date with me sometime…?

Wow, I am a child. Well, a teenage girl, to be precise. Oh shit, and you keep telling me you’re not a pedophile, so you’re definitely not going to want to go out with me now that you know my true identity. Well this is a fine mess I’ve gotten myself into.

Have you sold that car yet? You should really get on that.

Yours forever,

Amy Poehler

~***~

Mother,

Of course I’ve seen Mean Girls, I’m not that out of the proverbial loop.

And would you please thank your friend Charlie for me? I’ll admit, I’ve wanted to go on a date with you for a quite a while now, but ye ole’ social ineptitude wouldn’t let me ask. Maybe text me when you get this, and we can work out a time/place? Saturday nights are usually best for me, considering I’m always off Sundays.

Please Dean, if you’re a teenage girl, then I am too, and then it’s not pedophilia.

And no, I haven’t sold it yet, because I haven’t decided on a new one to buy yet, because in case you hadn’t noticed, my life has been a little hectic lately. I’ll try and text you the details on the car I’m looking at soon, though.

Fours yorever,

Reginers

~***~

Saturday night is there before Dean can get his shit together. He had frantically texted Charlie minutes after making the date with Cas asking her what he should wear and how he should act and whether he should just run away and never come back. You know, normal stuff.

In the end, he and Cas had decided on meeting an a small burger place near Cas’ place, so Dean knew he shouldn’t wear something too fancy. But he didn’t want to wear just his every minute of every day bluejeans, t-shirt, and flannel combo. So, with some sagely advice from Charlie, he’s decided on his most flattering pair of grey jeans and a button down maroon shirt, freshly ironed. Honestly, not half bad, even by his self-degrading standards. He toyed with the idea of a grey tie with the top two buttons of his collar undone, and decided it was too snazzy for him to refuse.

A 15-minute drive later, he was walking into the restaurant and looking around for Cas. And boy, did he find him. Cas was wearing a tight pair of black jeans, an Egyptian blue button down, and a black waistcoat, and holy fuck, Dean was having another southward situation just at the sight. He repeated the words ‘puss, flesh, old-people skin,’ in his head for half a minute until everything was hunky dory again, then made his way to the bar where Cas was standing.

“You look great, Cas.” Dean grinned when he saw Cas blatantly checking his ass. The good old grey jeans never fail.

“As do you, Dean,” Cas responded, his pupils mildly larger than probably normal.

They made their way over to a small corner booth and waived down a waitress. Adorably enough, they both ordered the same bacon cheeseburger, and in the time it took for their food to arrive, they discussed possible future heart health and how they were both going to die eventually, so it might as well be from eating delicious food.

“Dude, if bacon’s what gets me, I win,” Dean remarked right before taking a huge bite into his burger.

Cas harrumphed in agreement, then moaned around the first bite of his own burger.

Uh oh. Turned out, visual Cas is nothing compared to audible Cas in terms of making Dean’s nether regions all kinds of interested. To put it simply, Dean was sitting at a booth, on a first date, a burger in his mouth, almost completely hard. Awesome.

“Dean, are you okay?” Shit, Cas apparently noticed the panicked look on Dean’s face, and Dean’s face burned red.

“Um, yeah, I’m fine. I, um, just kinda have a little… situation. Downstairs. God this is so embarrassing; I’m soooooo, so sorry. Please don’t hate me.”

Cas was quiet for a second, then burst out with infectious laughter, and Dean couldn’t help but join in. “Oh my god, that’s hilarious. Was it become of the groan I just made or…?”

Dean ran a hand through his hair before responding, “Um, yeah. Fuck. Look, I haven’t gotten

laid in close to three months, so cut me a little slack. And honestly, I’m really sorry. I wanted this

to be a really special first date, but I feel like I kind of ruined it.” Like Dean ruined everything.

“Oh, no no no! Really, I understand much better than you’d think,” Cas assuaged his fear and sorrow with a comforting pat on the back on the hand. “It’s honestly fine. Now, do you need to go to take a trip to the bathroom, or are you all right now?”

Dean informed Cas that apparently humiliation was not one of his kinks, and the situation had resolved itself, and they were able to go on with their dinner like it had never happened.

But you know, it did happen, and Dean hadn’t had sex in months, and Cas was the hottest date Dean had ever had. SO yeah. Things happen.

~***~

After an amazing evening of burgers, pie, beer, and literal hours of conversation, they decided it was definitely time for them to part ways. Cas had walked to the restaurant, so Dean offered to drop him off on his way home, and Cas gratefully accepted.

The car ride was normal, if slightly tense. They were both slightly buzzed and totally attracted to each other, after all. But it was chill.

Dean pulled up to Cas’ home, a cozy-looking apartment complex, and parked his car in one of the visitor spots. They both climbed out and walked together up to Cas’ door.

“So, I had an awesome time tonight,” Dean half-mumbled, really trying his best to appear like he wasn’t desperate to go out with Cas again as soon as possible. “You think you might want to do this again sometime? I mean, really, I totally get it if like I’m not your type or you’re just not into me or you think I’m too--”

Cas slammed their faces (particularly their lips) together, effectively cutting off Dean’s self-abusive train of thought and filling his mind with only the pure bliss of Cas’ warm mouth on his, their tongues fighting for dominance. Cas’ mouth tasted amazing, like apple pie and happiness. Dean hungrily chased the flavour, and he couldn’t get enough. They broke for air for just a minute before Cas wheeled Dean around and up against his apartment door, weaving one hand into his hair and grabbing Dean’s own hand with the other, pinning it up against the door above his head.

Dean had never felt less in control, and it was amazing. He could feel the strength in Cas’ body shoved up against his own. He felt vulnerable, but for once in his life, he was okay with that vulnerability.

Cas moved his mouth down from Dean’s mouth to his neck, peppering the skin with hot, wet kisses. He settled on one spot, the meaty place between Dean’s neck and right shoulder and assaulted it with licks, kisses, nibbles, and sucks. He was driving Dean crazy, and Dean honestly couldn’t stop himself from moaning out, “Uhhhh, Cas…”

Maybe it was something about how he broke the silence, but Cas suddenly stilled and looked up at Dean, alarm filling his eyes. “Oh my god, Dean, I’m sorry. I’ve never done this before; I don’t know what came over me.” He stepped back from Dean and rubbed his hands over his face.

“What? Why’d you stop?” Dean replied, feeling suddenly abandoned.

Cas locked eyes with Dean and said very seriously, “I have no idea what I’m doing, Dean. I’ve never had sex; hell, I’ve never been in a relationship that lasted longer than a week. And you’re this amazing, attractive man who has had so much sex and knows all about it, and I’m just going to embarrass myself and it’ll be terrible and--”

This time, Dean satisfies the cliche, cutting off Cas’ river of doubts with a kiss into which he poured all the words he wanted to say but didn’t know how: that Cas made him feel safe and comfortable and like he could be himself and still feel appreciated and cared for and special and important.

Cas seemed to get the message, and he quickly took control once again, holding Dean tight in his arms and kissing him with more passion than is in an entire episode of Casa Erotica.

Dean had been hard for a while now, and as Cas clung to him, he could feel that Cas was in about the same spot as he was. But shit, if Cas was a virgin, that would put a lot of weight on Dean’s shoulders, right? He wanted to make it perfect for Cas, because that’s what Cas deserved.

But apparently, Cas had a completely different idea. He pulled away from Dean, and with his pupils completely blown wide and dark, moved his mouth to Dean’s ear and whispered, “I’m going to make you feel so good.”

Huh, well, Dean realized at that moment he was completely, 100%, no doubt about it, a bottom. And apparently, Cas’ self-confidence boosted itself threefold when he was horny, so yeah. That was pretty sweet.

Cas fumbled with his apartment keys and opened the front door before pushing Dean inside and slamming the door behind them. He kiss-walked (that thing where people are joined at the mouth but still manage to move around, that’s honestly kind of impressive if you think about it) Dean to what Dean assumed could only be his bedroom and shoved him onto the bed before climbing on top of waist and resuming kissing him like a man dying of dehydration and Dean’s mouth was a fucking water fountain.

Without breaking their lip lock, Cas scrambled to get Dean’s tie off, and Dean did his best to help with the clothing removal process, but his efforts were mostly futile.

Finally, after a pathetically long and unromantic struggle, they were both naked, and Dean was basically drooling at the sight of Cas’ dick. Like, holy hell, it’s not like Dean himself was small, but Jesus, he was embarrassed of his own length in the presence of Cas’ massiveness.

Cas grinned with a hungry look in his eye as he took Dean in, and Dean felt suddenly self conscious as Cas scanned him so carefully.

Cas noticed the change in Dean’s demeanor and guessed the source quickly. “Dean, you are so beautiful,” his husky voice reassured before leaning in and capturing Dean’s lips once again, this time with a contrastingly gentle and loving kiss, and for once in his life, Dean let himself actually believe that about himself.

The kiss soon got more heated, and Cas’ hands began exploring Dean’s body, starting in his hair, traveling down his chest, over his hips, and down his thighs. Dean moaned and realized that, much to his embarrassment, he was actually close.

Fortunately, Cas seemed to sense he should advance things, and he trailed his hands back up to Dean’s throbbing cock. Dean let out a punched groan at the first touch to his hot member, squeezed his eyes shut tight, and clenched his fists behind Cas’ back. “So good, Cas…”

Cas’ hand left his cock for a minute, and Dean heard the telltale sounds of someone spitting before the hand returned, slick and tight. Just a couple tugs and Dean was coming with a shout. “Oh, Cas, oh fuck, Cas!”

He had never come so quickly in his entire life, but Dean couldn’t even find it in himself to be ashamed, especially as he heard Cas grunting as he followed directly behind him.

“Cas, that was…”

A sudden worried look fell over Cas’ face. “Was it bad? I’m sorry, I know we both came really fast.”

Dean laughed and tried his best kiss the pouting look off of Cas. “No, it was amazing, Cas. Jesus, that was the most vanilla shit I’ve ever done, but it was perfect.” Dean sighed and steeled himself before continuing. “And actually, I think the reason it was perfect was because, well, it was with you, Cas.”

~***~

“Honeybee, I’m home!” Dean stripped off his big winter coat and hung it on the hook by the front door.

“I’m in the kitchen, Dean!” Dean stalked through the house and up behind his husband, snaking his arms around the other man’s broad chest and leaning over his shoulder to give him a peck on the cheek.

“How was work today?” Dean asked, glancing around the kitchen and noticing with a grin what looked suspiciously like the mess left after someone has baked an apple pie.

“Work was lovely, thank you. Of course, that was mostly because of the letter I got from my favorite stop on my favorite route.” Cas grinned and spun around to give Dean a proper kiss.

“I’m your favorite?!” Dean grinned and pulled back before Cas could kiss him

Cas rolled his eyes, “No, I’m talking about our neighbor, Mrs. Tran.”

“I love you too, babe.” Dean finally let himself be pulled into his husband’s eager arms and smiled into the kiss. Fate was kind of awesome.

#destiel #fanfiction #destiel fandom #destiel fluff #supernatural #ao3 #one shot #supernatural fic #destiel fic #fanfic

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ladygadfly · 6 years

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Reylo Week 2018 day 2: Dark

Born in the Dark

Being the hero of the Resistance is kind of nice, at first. She’s gone from being a nobody in a junkyard, to a girl with an amazing power, to the saviour of the rebellion. The attention is enough to make her giddy.

After so many years of being thought of as no better than the garbage she scavenged through she can hardly be blamed for revelling in the admiration of so many. People like her. People know who she is without her introducing herself. For the first time in Rey’s life she feels valued.

Then it starts to go sour.

It’s not a lot at first. Just the odd remark from a resistance fighter, pointed comments about her abilities and training.

A pilot serving under Poe makes a comment at a strategy meeting about not needing to be absolutely accurate with their weapons because “the Jedi can just direct them with the Force right?”

It’s an offhand remark, meant as a joke. A ripple of laughter goes through the room and Rey is shocked by how badly she wants to snap at the man.

She’s been training relentlessly. Pushing her body until even Finn, who seems to have near boundless faith in her, tells her to take it easy.

“You’re only human, Rey. Don’t hurt yourself.”

But it’s hard to accept you’re only human when everyone is acting like you’re more than that. The admiration and awe she once relished in becomes suffocating. People she’s never met talk like they know her, and the rumours she’s heard about herself range from funny to downright creepy.

And if one more person demands to see “the levitating trick” she’s going to strangle them with her bare hands.

There’s thousands of years of Jedi history that she barely knows anything about, and she feels like every single one of them is pressing down on her. Every time she reaches out to connect to the Force the once exhilarating rush of energy feels like an electric current zipping under her skin. As her powers grow it’s getting harder and harder to keep them under control.

Is this how Ben felt? She wonders, taking a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth, visualising the excess energy being expelled with her breath. It doesn’t work. Did he feel like a vessel full to the brim with power with no room for anything else? Did the hopes of others crush him too?

Rey bites her tongue again and again until it is raw. She gets good at giving vague answers and dodging questions. But she has to snap some time and as it turns out that time is in another strategy meeting. With all the commanding officers present. Of course.

Another pilot (not the same one that made the crack about aiming, thank the Force), comes forward with a brilliant propaganda proposal.

“We should make some holos of Rey doing the Jedi thing.”

“I’m sorry?!” Rey looks across the room at the pilot in question, certain she misheard her. “The Jedi thing?”

“You know, propaganda. Something to subtly disseminate on the holonet to give the people hope. A little speech, a little footage of you floating things or practicing with your lightsaber. Did you finish fixing it yet?”

Rey has in fact not finished “fixing” the lightsaber. Luke’s old saber was destroyed beyond repair, the best she could hope for was to take the salvageable components and make a new one. Which she has been attempting to do. With limited success.

“It’s a very complex piece of equipment with many delicate components-“

“Well tell us what you need so we can get it for you.” The pilot interrupts. “And then we can get on with making these holos.”

“Excuse me?” Rey can feel her ire growing, that unpleasant electrical tingling under her skin again. “I haven’t agreed to do this yet. I’m not some performing monkey-lizard you can wheel out to do tricks when you feel like it. I don’t want to be put on display!” She glances around the room, expecting to see at least some people nodding in agreement. To her dismay most are looking uncomfortable, a few actively annoyed. Even Finn is looking conflicted.

“No-one is expecting you to do ‘tricks’, Rey.” It’s Poe who finally breaks the tense silence, his smooth voice filling the room. “But I do have to agree that footage of the last Jedi proving her skill would be an incredible boon for us. A speech could be good too, it could really bolster morale and bring people to the cause.”

“I can’t write speeches.” She’s starting to sound petulant now, but she doesn’t care. It’s not even that big a deal, it’s just the way everyone keeps on assuming she’ll step to and serve rather than make decisions for herself. Like she’s not even a person, just a weapon.

“We can write it for you, it’s fine.” Poe smiles and waves dismissively. “At least think about it.” He sounds so kriffing reasonable she just wants to punch him in the mouth.

“I don’t need to think about it. I have thought about it. I don’t want to do it.” The tingling under her skin is intensifying. She clenches her fists until she can feel her racing pulse throbbing in her fingertips.

“Rey, you know we all have to do our part to help the Resistance, you signed up for that when you joined us.” Poe’s voice has a hard edge now. Ever since Vice Admiral Holdo sacrificed herself Poe has taken pains to behave more like a leader and less like a reckless flyboy, but he still has a streak of “anything for the cause” running through him that disturbs Rey immensely.

“I signed up to fight the enemy, not perform for your amusement!” The electric tingling is thrumming under her skin now, still painful but now also oddly invigorating. It feels like…

It feels like the throne room.

“Both of you, that’s enough.” General Organa silences the room without even leaving her chair. Rey’s righteous anger curdles and the electricity under her skin fizzles out under those solemn brown eyes. She feels very young, and very out of her depth.

“I…” There’s an air of uneasiness around the room, and Rey suddenly feels the need to escape. “I don’t think you need me for the rest of this meeting.” Finn makes a move to follow her as she briskly exits the room, but Leia puts a hand on his arm.

“Leave her be for a moment.”

It’s much later that Leia comes to Rey’s quarters. Having a room to herself is one of the few perks of people constantly treating her like some kind of superhuman. Apparently she needs the privacy so she can concentrate on her training, and Rey is more than happy to take the solitude. She discovered when they were fleeing on the Falcon that she couldn’t sleep well when surrounded by other people, her brain unable to stop listening for signs of danger even though logically she knew she was safe.

“Rey, I just wanted to check up on how you were doing.”

Rey is perched at the head of the bed, her arms wrapped around her legs. “Fine. I’ve been translating the texts and working on fixing the saber-“

“No, dear. I asked how you were doing, not your training.”

“…Fine”

“Mhmmm. Ben used to say that too.”

Rey’s eyes snap up. They haven’t spoken of Ben yet. They’ve carefully skirted the subject. Leia sits down heavily on the end of the bed. She walks with a cane now, and rests both hands on top of it as she gazes off into the middle distance and takes a deep breath, her next words taking effort.

“When he was younger, before he learned how to control his power, he used to have these terrible tantrums. He’d yell and lash out with his power. He’d break things. Once he accidentally shorted out a housekeeping droid with the Force, without even laying a finger on it.”

Leia’s eyes are bright as she remembers her poor disturbed son.

“I asked him once why he did it. He said to me ‘Mama, there’s too much. There’s too much inside me. I can’t stop it.’ I realised later – far too late, really – that it was Snoke's influence but at the time I just thought it was Vader's legacy come back to haunt us. Force help me I thought I was doing the right thing. I should have sent him off to Luke to receive training sooner so he could have learned how to shield himself, but I didn’t want to lose my boy. Then I lost him anyway…”

A tear runs down Leia’s cheek, and Rey feels the strongest urge to hug her.

“As he got older, he realised that it wasn’t normal. That none of his playmates had to worry about accidentally hurting someone if they let their tempers get out of control. He wanted so badly to get rid of his abilities. He begged me once to make Uncle Luke take the Force away from him, that he’d be good if his powers were gone. I had to explain that it wasn’t possible. He started closing himself off to me more and more after that. He got angrier, quieter. And whenever I asked him about his outbursts he’d just say ‘It’s nothing. I’m fine.’”

Leia turns bright eyes, filled with more years of pain than Rey has been alive, towards her. “So please understand me when I say, Rey, that I never, ever want you to say you’re fine when you’re not. Please. I am literally begging you. You can scream at me, curse me out, say anything you like. Just please don’t lie and say you’re fine.”

Feeling her face crumple, Rey drops her head. Hot tears leak from her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Come here sweetheart.” Leia gathers Rey up in her arms. “I’m not scolding you. I want to help you.” Leia is warm and smells of perfume and makeup, the soft fabric of her dress tickles Rey’s nose. She releases a deep breath, finally feeling calm for the first time since the meeting.

“I’m sorry I was so stupid at the meeting. I just…can’t stand the idea of being on display for people. I mean seriously kriffing propaganda holos? Some stupid, tacky, overblown holo?”

“Yes, I never much cared for doing them myself.” Leia’s voice is dry with just a hint of amusement.

Rey bites her lip to smother a groan. Of course General (former Princess) Leia Organa had done propaganda holos throughout her political career. Some had even made it to Jakku. Rey had seen them, liked them. Leia’s poise and determination had seized her attention with both hands, her confident words utterly enrapturing a young Rey.

“I’m sor-“

“If you apologise one more time I really will be angry.”

“Sor- uh. Ok.”

“You don’t have to apologise. You have a right to feel how you do. And to a certain extent I agree with you. I made holos because I was raised in politics, my weapons were my words. But that’s not for you Rey. You fight in a different way. And I’m afraid, “She sighs with mock resignation. “You will never be a diplomat. You’re far too blunt.”

Rey laughs in spite of herself. There’s a comfortable pause, the two women sitting side by side with their arms about each-others waists.

“But what Poe was saying, about me showing my abilities. That would help, wouldn’t it?”

Leia weighs her words carefully. “Yes. But that doesn’t mean you have to do it.”

“But the resistance needs all the help it can get.”

“True. And that still doesn’t mean you have to do it.” Leia looks at her steadily. “Listen, Rey, no matter what the stakes you always have a choice. Don’t let anyone push you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

“He was acting like I owe the resistance something.” Rey mutters, and Leia nods thoughtfully.

“Poe means well but…how do I put this…sometimes he gets too caught up in the cause and forgets the consequences. When you’ve been fighting for so long with so little and you’re presented with someone with a skill that can help you, you cling to it. You feel entitled to it, even. You focus so much on the skill that you – and I mean this is the nicest possible way – can sometimes forget about the person in possession of it. He pushes you because he thinks he’s in the right and people…” Leia’s hands clench the top of her cane, her mouth set in a thin line. “People sometimes do terrible things when they think they are in the right. More atrocities have been committed in the name of the ‘greater good’ than anything else the whole galaxy over.”

Rey shifts on the bed, her next words coming out as a whisper.

“Everybody acts like I’m some kind of saviour. Like I’m going to singlehandedly save the Resistance. I can’t possibly live up to that, it’s too much.” Rey can’t quite meet Leia’s eyes as she says it. It feels taboo to even be mentioning this. As though voicing the words out loud will doom her and by extension the resistance.

“I think you sell yourself short, but no-one expects you to do this alone. We’re all here to help you, however we can.” Leia’s voice is strong and warm and Rey feels more confident than she has in a long time.

She thinks for a moment and remembers the saber.

“I could do with a couple of harmonic energizer conductive plates.” Leia blinks.

“You may need to write that down for me.” They both laugh, and Rey looks at Leia’s worn but still beautiful face, committing this moment to memory.

“Just tell Rose, she’ll know what I mean.”

**** Admirers Rey has in abundance. Friends, less so, although she certainly seems to have a lot of people who think they're her friend. She considers Finn her closest confidante. She had adored Rose instantly when she woke in the Falcon with a concussion and introduced herself with the words;

“So you’re Rey. So glad to meet you. You can take care of this idiot” she gestured to Finn “while I’m out of action.”

BB8 is adorable, although Rey is still not entirely sure where she stands with his master. Poe Dameron is the most effortlessly charming man she has ever met and for some reason it grates on her immensely. One moment she’ll be confident that they can get along just fine, the next he’ll say something to annoy her. He doesn’t mean to, something about him just gets Rey’s back up for some reason. Perhaps the fact that he keeps on ‘subtly’ mentioning that he’s the best pilot in the resistance at every opportunity.

She feels close to Leia, although she’s not sure she’d class it as friendship. She thinks it might be what having a mother is like. It’s nice.

Chewbacca is sort of a friend but he’s gone back to Kashyyyk. Something about a life debt being fulfilled and missing his family.

Happiness, Rey thinks, should be grasped at whenever possible. She can feel the future looming like a dark storm cloud on the horizon and gathers up every little scrap of light she can to fight against it.

Which is why her, Rose and Finn are currently sitting in the mess hall chatting about anything and everything.

Finn is still finding out who he is without the First Order watching his every move, and the more confident he becomes the more Rey truly believes he will go on to do great things. He’s honourable and determined, and Leia herself has mentioned to Rey that she’s seriously considering putting him forward for a position in high command.

Rose is possibly the kindest person Rey has ever met, and she find the woman wonderfully easy to talk to. She also has never placed the Jedi on a pedestal, which Rey appreciates. Rey asks her about it once only to receive a vague reply about having learned her lesson.

They’re both wonderful people that she loves spending time with. Usually. But right now they’ve somehow gotten on to the subject of how they met (a story that Rey had heard at least half a dozen times now) and they’re getting this ooey-gooey look in their eyes as they look at each other that has Rey looking to the door longingly. They’re a cute couple but seeing them fawn over each other like this makes Rey feel awkward.

“I mean what would you have done, Rey?” Rose asks.

“Huh?” Rey’s attention is jerked back to the nauseating couple. She hadn’t been listening at all.

“We were talking about that time I kinda nearly flew into a cannon.” Finn says sheepishly.

Oh stars, they’re talking about Rose kissing Finn after saving his life. Rey had thought it was terribly romantic the first time she had been told about it, although she also told Finn in no uncertain terms that he had bolts for brains for even considering sacrificing himself.

“Yeah Rey, what would you have done if the person you liked was clueless that you liked them?” Rose is beaming guilelessly.

Rey thinks of a throne room with fire raining down around her, dark eyes looking at her pleadingly as everything she ever wanted offered her everything she never asked for. She’d considered it. Just for a moment, but she had considered it.

Apparently I would explode a lightsaber and steal an escape shuttle.

She looks across the table at the two. Finn’s arm is looped around Rose’s waist and Rose’s head is leaned comfortably on Finn’s shoulder. They look so comfortable together, so happy and loving and connected. Jealousy burns in Rey’s gut. She doesn’t want either Rose or Finn, doesn’t think of them that way, but she desperately wants what they have. Rey is shocked by the intensity of the feeling, she’d thought that the crushing loneliness she’d felt on Jakku had been assuaged by the belonging she’d found in the resistance.

The feeling is so visceral that Rey grips the hem of her tunic under the table tightly to stop her hands shaking. She wants to be held like Finn is holding Rose. She wants someone who understands what she means when she talks about her Jedi training. She wants someone who will kiss her and love her and tell her she’s beautiful.

Mercifully a group of people burst into the mess at that moment, talking and laughing loudly. They join the three at their table, talking about whatever banal gossip is currently doing the rounds about the base. Rey tries to join in for a while, but the effort of trying to pretend to care who was caught in a supply closet with who, of trying to keep track of too many raised voices and shrieking laughs grates on her. She gets quieter and quieter, withdrawing into herself, until finally she excuses herself to go to the training room. Only Finn notices her go.

Rey picks up her practice saber and starts moving through her forms. Taking her stance, she closes her eyes breathes deeply in through her nose and out through her mouth. She concentrates on her breath for a moment, letting everything else fall away. When her mind has gone quiet, she releases control of her breath, opening herself up to the Force. The current of power is so strong that Rey feels like she’ll be lost in it, that whoever this “Rey” is will be swept away and the Living Force will take up residence in her body.

She takes another deep breath and pulls herself back, moving within the flow of the Force around her rather than drowning in it. The effort is making sweat bead on her skin and she hasn’t even started moving yet.

Slowly, deliberately, Rey starts going through the moves of her chosen form. Her movements feel stilted, the weapon in her hand clunky as she attempts to move through the complex sequence of turns and spins.

She fumbles her footwork, starts again. And again.

She tries shaking out her limbs in an effort to dispel the growing tingling energy gathering in them.

The fifth time she messes up a particularly complex series of footwork, Rey cries out in frustration and feels a wave of energy pulse out around her. The rack of practice weapons falls over the exact same moment she feels the air around her tighten for a moment, then snap back, all sound going from the room.

This is the last thing she needs right now. She can vaguely see the massive dark shape of Ben out of the corner of her eye, can feel his now-familiar Force signature pressing up against hers. She shouldn’t like how it feels.

They’ve connected a few times since Crait. The bond had not dissolved upon Snoke’s death and their interactions have been cold and largely silent, which is awkward since the bond “sessions” appear to be getting longer and longer as more time goes by. The fire and anger of their first force bond connections has long since gone, the tenderness from that one time they touched a distant memory. There’s just sadness there now.

Ben isn’t talking so Rey isn’t either, moving back to her starting position and going through the form again. Attempting to, at least.

The third time she restarts, Ben finally speaks.

“You are attempting the Juyo form.”

“Yes.” Rey takes another deep breath through her nose and takes her stance.

“The seventh and most complex of the classic lightsaber forms.”

“Yes.” Her teeth are gritted. It’s bad enough that every molecule of her being feels like it’s being pulled towards Ben like he’s a black hole. Now that damn low, calm voice of his is making her treacherous heart flutter in her chest like a caged bird.

“You need complete mastery of the other forms before you should even think about attempting it.”

“You got something to say Ben?” Rey whirls around and instantly regrets it. He’s close enough that she has to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. His dark hair has gotten longer and she actually grips the handle of her practice staff so she doesn’t reach out and touch it.

His intense brown eyes are soft as they gaze into hers, and she’s struck all at once by how much they look like his mother’s.

“Shii-Cho.”

“What?”

“Run through the Shii-Cho.”

“The first form? But I’m trying to do the seventh.”

“Run through the Shii-Cho.” He repeats, patiently.

Rey throws up her hands in resignation and runs through the Shii-Cho.

“Widen your stance and keep your pelvis tucked.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re helping me? Why? You know we’re going to end up fighting again eventually, and I beat you just fine without any training before.” In truth she doesn’t think she could raise a weapon against him if she had to, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You did.” He concedes, looking down at her imperiously. “I was distracted. Next time we meet in battle I will defeat you.” He should have kept the helmet. His expressive face speaks to the lie and Rey knows she’s got about as much to fear from him as he does from her. But she can’t quite resist needling him a little.

“How do I know you’re giving me good information?”

Ben purses his lips and moves his jaw, something Rey recognises as a nervous tic of his.

“Close your eyes.”

“Excuse you?” Rey has to bite her lip to stop a smile spreading as Ben rolls his eyes and gives a gusty sigh.

“I’m not going to harm you. Just close your eyes and reach inwards with the Force.”

With a final doubtful look, Rey does as he says.

“Feel the energy of the Force moving through you. Feel how it flows through your body, your veins, your muscles. Take your stance, as you were before.” Rey does as he says. “Can you feel how the Force moves through you unevenly?” She can, actually. Eyebrows furrowed Rey feels the Force within herself stilted where it should be flowing, completely blocked in places. She’d spent all this time connecting with the Force around her, how had she missed this within herself? “Now, make the adjustments I told you.”

She does, and feels an instant improvement. The Force flows through her effortlessly. Her moves have more weight in them, her footwork is more stable.

“Now the Makashi.”

She moves through the second form.

“You’re overcommitting to your lunges. You throw your whole weight forward, it makes your recovery slower and more laboured, and leaves you open to attack. Look.” He easily takes his stance next to her. “When you lunge, your knee should stay over your foot, never beyond. When you recover, push off with your front foot. Don’t let your upper body collapse, or you’ll end up dropping your guard.”

She does, making sure to look within herself as she does so, and again can feel the improvement. Her attacks and recoveries are quicker, more fluid.

They run through all the forms this way, the Soresu, the Ataru, the Shien, the Niman. This is what she wanted with Luke, constructive advice on how to improve her abilities and Rey grudgingly admits to herself that Ben is actually a fantastic teacher. He is concise, encouraging, and the only time he loses his temper with her is when she doubts her own abilities.

By the time they reach the Juyo Rey is sweating and her muscles are aching but she’s desperate to keep going. For months now she’s felt like she’s been barely grasping at the edges of understanding this legacy she’s inherited and she’s finally making some headway.

“Did you know that there is a variation on the Juyo called the Vaapad?” Ben asks, as casually as if they were discussing the weather.

It’s a little surreal, to be standing there chatting with the Supreme Leader of the First Order as though their rival factions are not trying to annihilate each other. Even more surreal is how nice it feels. The lesson itself has been downright pleasant. They both feel it across the force bond, the undeniable sense of rightness when they work together.

“Kind of like how the Djem So is a variation on the Shien?”

“Precisely.” He smiles crookedly and Rey’s heart pounds. He’s a different man when he’s not overwhelmed by his dark nature, and Rey longingly thinks what kind of man he could have been if Snoke had never got his claws into him. “It’s a fascinating variation, because it’s honestly the least Jedi-like of all the forms.”

“How is it not Jedi-like?”

“The Vaapad requires the practitioner to embrace their rage and anger and channel it into the fight. They must enjoy combat, allowing their darker emotions to flow through them and give them power.” Ben’s eyes light up with enthusiasm. It’s endearing to see him talking about something he’s passionate about, but the subject matter unsettles Rey.

“It’s a Dark Side technique then.”

“No, it was actually developed by Mace Windu. A master of great renown who sat on the Jedi council for many years and was considered an outstanding example of the power of the Light Side.”

“Well if he was such a great Light Sider why did he develop such a Dark Side technique?”

“He recognised that there was power in the Dark Side that could be harnessed for the greater good. What he believed to be the greater good, anyway.” The words send a chill up Rey’s back as she recalls the discussion she had with Leia a few days earlier.

“Well, that’s all very interesting but if we’re done talking…” She moves into starting position for the seventh form but he holds up a hand to stop her.

“Why were you attempting the Juyo? You need to be a master to even begin to grasp it.” The bond has endured an extraordinary length of time and Rey wonders if the Force is trying to get a point across. It wouldn’t be the first time it has apparently interceded between her and Ben.

“What, you don’t think I can handle it?” It’s said with humour but there’s fire lurking underneath Rey’s words.

“You have an immense amount of power. Even without any formal training you’re an incredible fighter. But you can’t skip ahead to the advanced forms until you’ve mastered the basics. You need a teacher.”

The words bring both of them rudely back to reality. For a while Rey had honestly forgotten why they shouldn’t be doing this. They’re both thinking of the same snow-covered planet, the first offer he ever made her and the companionable atmosphere they had starts to dissipate.

“Have you mastered it?” Rey blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, desperate to change the subject.

“The Juyo? No. I am competent with it but I would not say I am a master. It’s an incredibly complex form.”

“Oh.” She feels better for struggling with it now. “How do you know about Mace Windu? I’ve not heard of him in any Jedi legends.”

“He was killed in the Jedi Purge.”

“The mass genocide your Grandfather headed.” Ben’s jaw tightens.

“Yes.”

The sensible thing to do would be to change the subject. But as Leia had said, she’ll never be a diplomat.

“Do you really think all those Jedis deserved to die? Just because your Grandfather wanted power?”

“That’s not why he did it.” Ben’s face darkens and the last vestiges of good feeling between them vanish.

“Oh really? Please explain to me then because I don’t understand.” Rey bites out.

“The Jedi order allowed itself to stagnate, become complacent. They embraced passivity to the point that they ceased to take any action unless absolutely forced to do so. They let corruption to thrive within the senate even when they were given every opportunity to eradicate it. They ceased to care about anything other than maintaining their traditions and in doing so allowed their own doom to creep up on them.” Ben’s voice is full of venom. “If they had merely done their duty so much pain and tragedy could have been avoided.”

“And that’s a good reason for all those thousands of people to die?”

“The true spirit of the Jedi had died long before the purge.”

“They could have fixed it! Vader didn’t have to go so far!”

“The order was rotten to the core, a cancer that needed to be cut out before it spread and killed the host. Do you honestly think that centuries of corruption could be undone just like that?” Ben’s voice has taken on a mocking tone now, and Rey sees red.

“I think there are better ways of resolving conflict than killing people!” She screams the last words, she can’t even remember the last time she was this angry. There’s another snap of power about Rey and in a blink Ben has disappeared. She gazes at the space where he had been, feeling angry and oddly bereft. She already wants him to come back, even though she’s furious with him.

We are the worst enemies.

She spends a long time in the training room trying to calm down, and when she eventually gets back to her quarters Finn is sitting on the floor outside waiting for her. He scrambles into a standing position as soon as he sees her.

“Rey! Hey, I wanted to talk to you but I wasn’t sure where you were.”

“Training.” Rey bites out.

“Sorry about earlier, we didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Finn rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Rose pointed out we were maybe being a bit too mushy.”

“You didn’t, I’m fine. It’s no big deal.” She smiles tightly. I just think I maybe have feelings for a dictator that is hellbent on ruling the galaxy and crushing the resistance we both fight for. No big deal.

“Rey,” Finn looks at her seriously. “You would tell me if there was something wrong right? You know I’ll help you however I can.”

“I promise Finn, if there’s anything you can help me with, I’ll let you know.” She smiles, a real smile this time. He’s a good man. Rose is lucky. “I’ve been training for ages I’m just tired.”

“Okay. Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

They hug and Rey goes into her quarters and gets ready for bed. She lies in her hard too-small bed that somehow still feels empty, and tries to think of nothing.

**** The sacred texts that Rey had “liberated” from Ach-To are many things. They’re beautifully written and bound. The creamy thick paper is stitched carefully within the covers, some of tooled leather, some of wood, one feels like it might even be some kind of ivory or bone. The languages vary, and Rey has to translate some with the help of a data pad filled with information on ancient dialects and the occasional assistance from C3PO. They’re certainly packed with information, perhaps too much in some places.

And here lies the biggest problem. The thing the Jedi text are best at is acting as sleep aids. They are terribly dry, overly wordy and often contradicting. Rey realises after a while that each of the texts has been written by a different Jedi, of different skill levels, at vastly different points in history, often with different interpretations of the Force and how best to wield it.

What perplexes Rey most, however, is the fact that the terms 'Jedi' and 'Sith' don't appear at all until about midway through the series of texts. They appear suddenly with no explanation, as though the reader should know what they are. Rey searches for the volume where the terms were introduced, but it is either lost or was never written.

Not one text lines up perfectly with another. The information contained within is valuable, but hidden beneath layers of personal bias and pompous philosophising.

“All things are knowable through the Force.” Declares one.

“The most important thing to know is that you know nothing.” Says another.

“A Jedi must be absolutely pure in heart.” One text declares.

“Only Sith deal in absolutes.” Another condemns.

“A Jedi must walk the path of the light, and never give in to the temptation of the dark side.” One text preaches.

“It is only through complete understanding of both the light and dark sides of the Force that true balance can be achieved.” Another states.

It’s been over a week since her fight with Ben, and she badly wants to discuss this with him. She knows that to others it would seem like a bad idea. Certainly the resistance would be horrified if they knew the last Jedi was thinking of sharing ancient Jedi secrets with the Supreme Leader of the First Order. But Rey knows down in her soul that she doesn’t have anything to fear from him. The First Order itself is a different matter.

The text she’s translating right now is the one espousing a knowledge of both light and dark, and with every passage she reads all she can think of is Ben. As far as she can tell the text, the Aionomica, is the oldest in the collection. C3PO had a conniption fit when he saw she was handling it with her bare hands, insisting she wear soft cotton gloves. The language it is written in is long dead, a complex array of blocky characters made up of straight lines, read top to bottom.

“It is only through complete understanding of both the light and dark sides of the Force that true balance can be achieved.”

She reads the passage over and over. Next to it is an illustration of a figure similar to the one Rey had seen in the old Jedi temple on Ach-To, a humanoid in basic meditation pose made of white and black, surrounded by interwoven circles likewise rendered in equal parts light and dark.

So how did they go from the earliest Jedis embracing both sides of the Force to Luke commanding her to fight the pull of the Dark Side?

Rey’s getting a headache, the strange symbols starting to blur before her eyes. She pushes the book away and rubs at her temples, sighing heavily.

She needs to talk to someone about this, and there’s only one person in the galaxy who could comprehend what she was thinking of.

Maybe I should try it.

The subject of Force Bonds was spoken of in some detail in another of the texts, the Rammahgon. Rey has obsessively read and re-read the passages, especially the parts that speak of how to control it. She closes her eyes and lets her mind go quiet, focusing on how Ben’s Force signature feels when he is near her. She reaches out with her mind, searching for that same feeling.

Her mind reaches forth, tentatively, and Rey feels cold prickles dance across her skin. Gravity shifts and she feels herself falling backwards, further and further until she should feel her back hit the floor. She keeps falling until there is no longer any up or down. In her mind she sees the planet the resistance is hiding on shrink and fall away, getting smaller and smaller until it becomes nothing more than a point of light amongst a thousand other points of light.

It feels like the mirror cave. She should by all rights be terrified but all she feels is a sense of calm. There is no sound, no feeling of her body in the hard chair of her quarters. She is a thought, a lone mind flying across space, branching out further and further until she begins to lose all sense of self, lose all conscious thought. She is searching for something that is missing from her. She cannot remember what it is exactly, but she will not stop until she finds it, and when she finds it she will rest.

She cannot remember the last time she drew breath. She doesn't need to. Doesn't remember why she needs to.

A hot fizzing energy dances along the edge of her mind. There, there! That's what she's looking for! She rushes towards it desperately, the other half of her.

Her head spins as sound and air and consciousness come rushing back to her. Across from her is a large dark figure perched in the air as though sitting at a desk. He's here!

“Ben!” She smiles and makes to stand up, arms reached out towards him, then falls heavily back down into her chair. Rey frowns, bringing her hands up before her and moving her fingers slightly. Her body feels oddly cold and weak.

She catches sight of the time on her translation datapad. It is three hours later than she remembers it being.

Someone is saying her name, and strong warm hands are gripping her upper arms.

“Rey? Rey! Say something! Are you alright?” Ben is kneeling before her, solid and warm and lovely. She feels a dopey smile spread across her face and leans forward so she can press her face into his chest. She wants to hear his heartbeat. She frowns as Ben's arms hold her away from him. For some reason she can't quite articulate it's very important that she be as close to Ben as possible.

“You're here.” She pushes forward again, hungry for the warmth of his body against hers.

“Rey, what's wrong? Are you hurt?” Ben gazes into her eyes, concern etched all over his face.

“No, m'not hurt. “ Rey shakes herself and pulls back from Ben slightly. She's starting to come back to herself now and honestly wishes she wasn't. The simple happiness she had felt on finding Ben is fading away and the usual complex mix of emotions she associates with the man are starting to leak back into her consciousness.

“You seems a little out of sorts. Did you hit your head?” Ben squints at her, getting uncomfortably close. “Are you drunk?”

“No!” Rey shakes his hands off her and misses them immediately. “I just...maybe overdid it a little.”

Ben steps back, his arms hanging awkwardly by his sides. He's wearing a simple black shirt with the sleeves rolled up and loose trousers. He's barefoot. It's bizarrely intimate.

“Overdid what, exactly?” His head inclines forward slightly, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Have you been attempting the Juyo again?”

“I called you through the force bond. On purpose this time.” Ben blinks in surprise.

“You discovered how to control it?”

“Sort of. The texts give some information about force bonds. And other things. I wanted to talk to you about them actually-”

“Texts?”

“The Sacred Jedi texts. I...borrowed them. From Ach-To.” Ben crosses his arms and Rey tries – and fails – not to notice how nice the muscles in his arms look straining against his shirt.

“You know, it really is a pity you're so invested in the light side, you would have made a wonderful dark side adept.” Ben smirks, head inclined to one side.

“It's a pity you're so invested in the dark side, you would make a wonderful warrior of the light.” Rey snipes back.

“I really wouldn't.”

“There's still so much light in you Ben. I feel it. You can still come back.” Ben's shoulders slump, and he suddenly looks so very tired. Rey forgets that Ben is the best part of a decade older than her sometimes, but he looks every day of it right now.

“I can't. The light side doesn't work like that.” She can feel Ben drawing away from her and Rey steps towards him, chin jutting forward stubbornly.

“Alright, so tell me. How does the light work?” Ben gets a faraway look on his face, gaze trained on the floor.

“Mercilessly. The Jedi expected their followers to be pure of heart and soul, devoid of even the slightest hint of darkness. They had to rid themselves of all emotion. Anger, sorrow, greed...passion.” His eyes flick briefly to hers before settling on the floor again. “It's an impossible standard to hold someone to, demanding they destroy themselves until they are merely empty vessels to be filled up with light. There is no room for mistakes on the light side. No room for weakness.” It's difficult to argue with that. The legends of Jedi knights divorcing themselves from all earthly ties had seemed very noble to Rey, until she had actually considered doing it herself. Then it had seemed horrifying.

“Leia told me once that Vader came back to the light just before he died.”

"And that light weakened him, killed him. One act of light does not undo a lifetime of darkness. Once you are sullied with the dark you can never truly be light again. Luke tried to kill me because he saw the potential for darkness within me, that should tell you all you need to know of the light side.” Even without the bond Rey would be able to see the conflicting emotions swirling within Ben. How he simultaneously craved and reviled the light within himself.

“Luke was wrong.” Rey insists.

“Luke was wrong about many things. He wasn't wrong about me.”

“He was. Snoke used you, you know that? He got inside your head and made you think you were something you're not.”

“Snoke brought my darkness to the surface but it was always there. I couldn't control it. There was too much.”

Rey imagines a little boy with a monster inside his head and wants to go back in time, back to the throne room and tear Snoke apart with her bare hands.

“And how long was Snoke in there? Can you even remember a time he wasn't there, manipulating you? Pushing you towards the dark?” Ben remains silent, and Rey knows she's struck a nerve. “You can't can you? That's not you. I know you Ben, I see the truth of your feelings. You can still fight this.”

“You still think you can save me. I've murdered. I've destroyed. I killed my own Father.” His voice is hoarse. “I had too much darkness to be a Jedi and I have too much light within me to ever be a true Sith. I'm a failure on both counts.” He looks so utterly broken and hopeless that Rey wants to shake him.

“You're right. You would never have been a Jedi. You wouldn't be a Sith either. You're something else.”

“There is nothing else.”

“There is. The earliest text I have speaks of force users finding a balance between the dark and light sides. True balance. Neither Jedi nor Sith, something more. Something better. You could be that. We could be that.” She looks him in the eye begging him internally to understand. “I'm not giving up on you Ben.”

“You should.” Ben looks at her with sad, dark eyes. But for just a moment, Rey swears she sees a flicker of hope.

**** Leia is dying.

No-one wants to say it, but then again no-one really has to. The once dynamic woman is moving slower and slower, leaning first on one then two canes as the days go by. Although her face becomes pale and drawn her bright brown eyes lose none of their sharpness. Attending meetings becomes a monumental effort for her, and more often than not she sends someone in her stead, or takes smaller private meetings with the commanding officers in her quarters.

It seems like the cruellest joke in the galaxy to Rey that the legendary Leia Organa meets her end like this. She seemed immortal, unconquerable, a woman with a soul forged of pure steel and the idea that she's just another mortal who's going to die in this war before peace is restored to the galaxy seems like some kind of terrible mistake.

After the pain of losing Ben in the throne room and Luke on Crait, Rey had an epiphany. She would have to let Ben come back to the light of his own accord. The choice to fall to the dark side had been taken away from Ben. The choice to come back to the light (or somewhere in the middle, as the case may be) would have to be his and his alone.

Rey is good at waiting. She had waited most of her life for her parents to come back, even though she knew deep down in her heart they never would. She knows for a fact that there is still light in Ben, had felt it, seen it.

It had seemed easy at the time. As she felt Luke become one with the Force a wave of calm overtook her. She would put her trust in the Force, she would let what was destined to happen happen, and she would have faith that the light within Ben was strong enough to bring him back to her.

But more and more these days she wonders if that had been a mistake. What if there was more she could have been doing and she has fallen prey to the same folly that was the downfall of the Jedi order, that of inaction. Night after night she wakes in a cold sweat from nightmares of darkness and destruction, of Leia lying dead on a battlefield full of resistance soldiers, of Luke cutting her in half with a lightsaber. She's no longer certain if the nightmares are hers or Ben's. They may very well be both.

She spends long agonising minutes staring in the 'fresher mirror, gazing at her own reflection until it becomes strange to her, pushing down the nameless creeping horror that threatens to overwhelm her. More than once during a strategy meeting she has to hurriedly make her excuses and leave as her heart races within her chest, fighting the urge to scream or run or do something to escape this awful feeling that she still doesn't understand.

The strategy meetings are becoming horribly real now. The First Order has not tried to pursue the resistance since Crait, instead concentrating on rebuilding the fleet that was decimated by Vice Admiral Holdo's sacrifice. The resistance is doing the same, and the process of comparing schematics of warships and x-wings would fascinate Rey if it didn't put a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She's feeling pretty sick now as she stands in her room, although for an entirely different reason. Rose had come to find her in her quarters the day before, and not finding her there had looked in the training, room the mess, the war room and finally the hangar, where she found Rey up to her elbows in grease and machinery.

“Rey! Finally, I thought I'd never find you.” The mechanic puffs slightly, out of breath. “I have a message from Leia. She wanted to talk to you herself but...she had to go rest in her quarters.” Often lately Leia will have sudden attacks of crippling weakness. She'll retreat to her quarters for a day or so, although no amount of fretting by the medical staff can keep her in bed for too long.

“Is she ok?” Rey starts clambering out of the engine, dropping tools haphazardly in her rush to get out.

“Yes, she's fine. As fine as she can be.”

“The message?”

“Ah! Yeah.” Rose grimaces slightly. “You're not going to like it.”

“Rose, what is it?”

“Okay, so you know how we were talking about getting a patron at the last strategy meeting?”

Rey had been listening at the last strategy meeting up until the point where Poe announced that they were planning on launching an offensive on the First Order within the next three months. After that she had been frantically wondering to herself how she and Ben could end the war before it came to that. Every plan she came up with fell apart and she left the meeting with a heavy heart and no idea what to do.

“Um, I vaguely recall? Maybe?”

“It's ok, those meetings put me to sleep too.” Rose grins. “Well, we found one. He's a Senator of the Galactic Republic and he's quite willing to support the resistance financially, provided we send some representatives to meet with him to hammer out the details. We're sending a few people to a planet in the core where he's holding a gala as a cover, and the resistance representatives are to attend under the guise of being guests.”

“I'm not sure I like where this is going.”

“Leia was due to attend of course, but due to her health she's had to take a step back. But we still need a representative, someone powerful that will sway the Senator and impress him. Someone that puts forward a strong image of the resistance and encourages him to support the cause.”

Rey groans. “Let me guess. Someone like the last Jedi?”

“Yes...” Rose shifts uncomfortably and Rey senses that she's not getting the entire story.

“Rose, what else is there? I'm already having to attend a formal event on a core world with a bunch of rich snobs, how much worse could it get?”

“It's not important.” Rose shakes her head. “All you need to know is, Leia requested you personally, and she told me to tell you specifically; 'I know you're not a diplomat, but just pretend you are for one evening. If in doubt smile and say some bantha poodoo about the Force working in mysterious ways'.” Both women laugh. “I assume that makes sense to you?”

“Yes, it does.” Rey sighs. “Alright, I'll go. On one condition.”

“What?”

“You're coming with me. I assume Poe is going on this mission and I need someone to act as a buffer between us in case we start getting on each other's nerves again.”

“Ugh fine. It'll give me an excuse to dress up at least I suppose. I just hope Finn doesn't get too jealous when he finds out the last Jedi is my date.” Rose says with a wink.

Which is how Rey finds herself standing in her quarters wearing a dress for the first time in her life, wondering if she's made a serious mistake. Rose had helped her with the hair and make-up, spraying a cloud of sweet-smelling perfume around a spluttering Rey before running out with a mischievous cackle to get ready herself.

The gown itself is simple enough, with a modest v-neck and a plunging back. The bottom hem of the dress skims the floor and it is entirely sleeveless, which somehow makes her feel even more exposed than the open back does. It's made of a shimmering silver silk that probably cost at least a year's worth of portions on Jakku.

It's the most beautiful thing Rey has ever worn and she feels grotesque, like she'll make the silk dirty just by touching it. Rey steps into the matching silver slippers (she had adamantly refused to wear heels), takes a deep breath and makes her way to the hangar.

As they get underway Poe takes a moment to give Rey an awkward but heartfelt thanks.

“I know we don't always see eye to eye and this isn't really your thing, but thank you for doing this, really. It means a lot.”

“It's fine. I've faced down scarier enemies than this, I can manage one gala surely.”

The gala is a nightmare. It's held in a building of such gaudy grandeur that it hurts Rey's eyes, and the tables are laden with more food than Rey has ever seen in her life. The distinguished guests look at her as though they know she's a nobody from a trash planet. Poe is looking ridiculously dashing in a well-tailored suit and is the very image of charm. For all they've had their moments of conflict Rey is now very grateful for the pilot's silver tongue. Between him fielding polite small talk with the guests and Rose (radiant in a pale blue gown) discreetly whispering explanations of who and what everyone is in her ear, Rey begins to feel slightly less adrift.

They eventually work their way over to their target for the evening. Senator Terrick Barr is a pale, wispy man that constantly rubs his hands together as though he is washing them. He makes a lifelong enemy of Rey almost instantly when he greets her by licking his lips and moving to press a kiss to her cheek, “accidentally” missing and kissing just under her ear instead. Rose grips the Jedi's arm tightly, the women each pressing their nails into each others arms as they grin through the slimy man's overtures. Even Poe's legendary charm buckles under the man's sheer creepiness when the Senator casually mentions his half-dozen teenage wives on his home planet. The man is at least old enough to be their grandfather.

“Of course, you may be wondering why a man such as myself would be willing to for an alliance with the resistance.” The Senator loves the sound of his own voice, getting entirely too close to the women who are still clinging to each other.

“Well, the Force works in mysterious ways, Senator.” Rey grits out.

“I must confess that I had thought the resistance a sad crippled shell of it's former self and had thought to prepare for the coming of another empire. But when I heard that they had the Last Jedi fighting for them well, I knew I had to get you on my side.” Rey forwns, affronted.

“And if the last Jedi had allied herself with the First Order, what then?” Rose grips Rey's arm and Poe's eyes flash a warning. The Senator carries on, unheeding.

“Then we would still be meeting my dear, under slightly different circumstances.”

“You would ally yourself with the First Order. Even after all they've done.”

“When you get to be my age you realise that from one regime to another, surprisingly little actually changes for the ones on top. And I am always on top. How old are you dear?”

“I just turned twenty.” Rey swallows down bitter bile in the back of her throat.

“Really? You could pass for younger.” The man's eyes wander up and down her frame in a way that makes Rey's flesh crawl.

“If you would excuse us.” Rose all but drags Rey away before Rey does something she regrets, and Poe engages the odious man in conversation once more.

Rey and Rose beat a hasty retreat, passing the ladies washrooms and stealing into an unused study.

“What the pfassk Rose why didn't you warn me what a slimeball this guy was?” Rey cries.

“I didn't want you to be biased against him.”

“But you knew he was like this.”

“Yes, he has a reputation for being a little...well...icky.”

“A little?! Rose he has six wives, not one of them over nineteen! He's got to be in his seventies at least!”

“Totally legal on his home planet. Women there are not permitted to hold property of their own, they only have what their husbands have.”

“And everyone just accepts that.”

“The galactic republic was built on the concept that every planet be allowed to govern itself and keep it's own laws.”

“Even if you find those laws repugnant.” Rey grits out.

“Yes.” Rose is gripping the Haysian smelt pendant she always wears so tightly her knuckles are going white.

“He doesn't even care about the resistance, he just thinks they're the slightly better option because they have me!”

“We don't need him to believe in the cause. We just need his money to pay for ships and weapons.”

“And you're ok with this?”

“Of course not! You think I like being here amongst all these sleemos? You think we have any choice? Senator Barr isn't even the worst of it! The Senate is filled with corruption.” Rose's eyes flash fire and Rey takes a step back. “Even back when it was newly-reformed with Leia working herself to death to rebuild the Republic it was full of crooks and liars, and since she quit politics to run with the resistance full time it's gotten even worse. It's an open secret that the Senate only serves itself. They keep up the facade of being for the people but in reality the galaxy works much the same way it always has, the rich live in the core and those in the colonies and beyond can go hang for all they care.”

Rey blinks in surprise, she's never seen the sweet-natured mechanic act like this.

“Rose, I didn't-”

“I grew up in Hays Minor, in the Otomok system.” Rose's eyes are bright with unshed tears. “It was a mining planet. Ever heard of it?”

“No.”

“Of course you haven't. Practically no-one has.” Rose's voice is bitter but she meets Reys eyes unflinchingly. “The First Order came to my home planet and stole all the strong children to be Stormtroopers. Then they forced the remaining citizens to strip the planet of resources so the First Order could take them to build their weapons. They worked about half of the population to death. Then, when their weapons were complete, they used Hays Minor as a test site.” Rose's hands are fisting in the tulle of her skirt. “And do you know what the Senate did about it?”

“What?”

“Nothing. Not a damned thing. They didn't even release a statement. A whole planet was destroyed, but because it wasn't in the core they just looked the other way.”

“Rose I...I'm sorry. I had no idea.” Rose deflates, her anger leaving her as suddenly as it had come on.

“It's alright. I'm sorry I blew up at you. I just...feel very strongly about this.” Rose gives a watery laugh. “I know how you feel Rey, really I do. I wish we didn't have to deal with creeps like this either, but we have no choice. We need what he can give us.”

“Seriously, I think his eyes have gotten higher than my collarbone maybe twice.” Rey mutters. The women glance at each other and giggle. The giggling grows into chuckles and before long the two are clinging on to each other to stay upright as laughter shakes both their frames.

“Oh stars, Rey, he is such a creep.” Rose giggles, wiping tears from her eyes.

“Yeah, but he's a creep we need money from. So let's go out and grin and bare it for a little longer?” Rey offers her arm, and Rose takes it.

“Fine. But if he tries to kiss either one of us again do me a favour and use the Force to make him slap himself.”

“Deal.”

It was much later that the party returned to the base, having been successful in their mission. The Senator offered to let them stay the night, which all three of them vehemently insisted was not necessary. When he went to kiss them goodbye he mysteriously tripped on thin air.

Rey slumps into her quarters utterly exhausted, wishing she had thought to take a change of clothes with her so she could have changed on the Falcon. All sound goes from the room and she feels Ben's presence behind her. Of course. Because the force just loves tormenting her. She waits for Ben to make some comment. And waits. And waits. Finally unable to take the silence any longer Rey hesitantly looks over her shoulder.

It looks like Rey caught Ben midway through training. He's wearing black trousers and tank top soaked with sweat, and his hair is tied in a low ponytail. He's staring at the skin of her back with some odd combination of hunger and mortification on his face, and the tips of his ears are turning red.

“You going to a party?”

“Just got back from one actually.”

“You-” His voice comes out hoarse and he clears his throat. “You look, uh...”

“I look ridiculous.” Rey sighs.

“You don't. You're stunning.”

“I look like what I am Ben, a sand rat in a dress.” Between the guests looking at her like she was a peasant and the Senator looking at her like she was a piece of meat Rey, usually unconcerned with her physical appearance, has never felt uglier.

“You look beautiful and whatever idiot made you feel less than that should be crushed like the insect they are.” Ben growls, throwing his practice saber out of sight as he advances towards her.

“Ben you can't just Force Choke everyone you disagree with.” The mental image of Senator Barr's face going purple as he chokes on nothing is far too appealing.

“I literally can.” In spite of herself Rey laughs a little. This whole situation is ridiculous. She's chatting with the most feared man in the galaxy and all she wants to do is reach out and touch the wisps of hair that are clinging to his sweat soaked skin. “I mean it Rey. You're better than all of them. You have a power they will never have.”

“Just because I'm more powerful than them doesn't make me better than them.” Rey turns to face him fully now, head held high and shoulders back. Ben is looking at her with such intense adoration Rey isn't sure if she wants to hide from in or bask in it for as long as possible.

“You would make a magnificent Empress.” The words seem to leave his mouth without conscious thought, and as soon as he realises the implications of what he's said his jaw snaps shut, the flush spreading over his face. Rey feels warmth spread across her own face, her eyes going wide.

Mother of Moons his proposals are getting worse. Or better? They're certainly getting bigger.

Rey is entirely too tired for any kind of banter, and something Rose said earlier has been stewing in her mind. “Why do you hate the Republic?”

Whatever response Ben had been expecting it certainly wasn't that.

“What?”

“You said the Senate was corrupt, I assume you hate the Republic too? That's why you want an Empire right?”

“I don't hate the Republic. I think, in theory, it is a wonderful idea.”

“Then why?”

“Because that's the only way it works, in theory. In reality the Republic is a lumbering collection of disparate factions. The wealthiest planets in the core receive all the benefits whilst most of the planets in the outer reaches are left to their own devices. The Senate has allowed them to self-govern without any supervision for so long that most have reverted to barbarism. The Republic claim to work for the good of all, but in reality they do nothing but offer mealy-mouthed platitudes to those who need them most whilst growing fat off another's toil.”

Strange. If circumstances were different Ben and Rose would get along famously. Rey thinks wryly. “And the First Order is the remedy to this?”

“The galaxy needs strong central leadership.”

“And conquering it is the only way to do that?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Your Mother believed in the Republic. She still does.” She still believes in you too.

“My Mother gave her life to the Republic. And all it gave her in return was heartache and betrayal. Ask her to tell you the story of how Darth Vader was revealed to be Anakin Skywalker sometime.”

“Your Mother...” Rey trails off, not sure how to broach the subject. Leia has very little time left.

“Is growing weaker. I know. I can feel it.” Ben's agony echoes through the bond.

“She wants to see you again. Before...”

“I can't.” Rey nods, pressing her lips together. It's not like he can pop round with a bunch of flowers, after all.

“She still loves you Ben.”

“I know.”

**** Rey fires up her new saberstaff in the training room, the blue blades crackling with raw energy.

“It's beautiful.” Ben says. Rey has ceased to be surprised by Ben's appearances. Even if they don't consciously reach out to each other the Force connects them on a daily basis now. She doesn't know what she'd do if she didn't see Ben at least once a day. “I look forward to seeing it on the battlefield.”

She idly twirls the saberstaff around, feeling numb. It's happening. She's going to have to face Ben in battle. Once she would have relished the thought of having another chance to beat him. Now it seems obscene. She can't possibly fight him. She can't kill him. She'd be killing part of herself.

“I've been training.” Force please don't make me do this I can kill him I can't please not him.

“Good. You'll need it.”

**** The scuttlebutt amongst the resistance is that Kylo Ren, scourge of the galaxy and Supreme Leader of the First Order, is going to be assassinated any day now.

Rey connects with Ben during a quiet moment in her room and asks the man himself.

“Yes that sounds about right.” His voice is casual but his manner is anything but. He's even paler than usual, with dark shadows under his eyes. His hands repeatedly clench and release, his jaw working ceaselessly.

“Why are you still there? You don't want to be a dictator Ben I know you don't. Why are you still doing this?” Rey pleads.

“Do you know who Admiral Hux is?”

“No idea.”

“He's my second in command. And he does want to be a dictator. Very much. He wants it so badly I believe he is willing to do just about anything to get it, including assassinate me. Or rather, have me assassinated, he's nowhere near powerful enough to do it himself.”

Incredible. Even facing death he's still an arrogant nerf-herder.

“So? Let him have it then! Leave the First Order, we can find a way to fight this, together!”

“If I leave it will create a power vacuum, and if Hux gains control of the First Order it's all over. You thought Hosnian Prime was bad? Hux won't hesitate to destroy and and all planets that stand in his way. He believes absolutely in the First Order and all it stands for. It's too late to stop it now. All I can do is make sure the monster I helped create doesn't kill too many people.”

Rey thinks of doing things for the greater good, of making deals with devils to get what you wanted and hoping the guilt didn't eat you from the inside out. She thinks of doing bad things for good reasons.

It is only through complete understanding of both the light and dark sides of the Force that true balance can be achieved.

She thinks of sitting in a stone hut, making a connection with a man she should hate.

There is no light and there is no dark. There never has been. There is just grey.

Rey finally realises what the uneasy feeling that's been brewing in her gut for the past month or so is. It's panic. She's running out of time. They all are. Her, Leia, Ben, the resistance. It's like trying to hold on to sand, the harder she tries to hold it the faster it gets away from her.

Rey can wait for Ben forever. The galaxy can't.

“The First Order will be mobilizing within the next couple of weeks.” Ben says mildly. “You should be ready.”

Rey nods, then does something stupid. “You're in the Tion Cluster.”

“And you're in Bothan space.” Ben replies, without missing a beat. “How long have you been able to tell where I am through the bond?”

“A while. And you?”

“Much the same.”

“I was researching Force bonds.” Rey struggles to speak around the lump in her throat. “You can sever them if you want to.”

“Do you want to?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

**** It's barely a surprise when Rey rolls over in her bunk and finds Ben lying next to her, the coarse blankets of her resistance bunk blending into soft black sheets. The Force has no sense of propriety.

Ben mumbles an apology and moves to leave his side of the bed, but Rey grabs his arm before he can go.

“Stay. Please.”

They lie like that for a long time, foreheads touching, soaking in the warmth of each other's skin and smell and the sounds of their breathing.

“I don't want to fight you Ben. I don't think I can. Whether you kill me on the battle field or I kill you I think either way I'm going to die.” Tears are leaking from her eyes, dripping over the bridge of her nose and onto the pillow.

“I couldn't kill you Rey. I'd rather run myself through than hurt you. But sooner or later we will meet in battle.”

Rey is lying on her right side and slowly, carefully she raises her left hand to trace over the scar she gave him on Starkiller. Ben's eyes drift shut as her fingers carefully skim over his brow, down his cheekbone and past his jaw, past his throat where his pulse is hammering against the skin and finally where it curves onto his chest. She presses her palm there firmly, nudges her forehead against his until he opens his eyes. She gazes into his eyes, losing herself in him until she's not sure if she's looking in at him or if she's looking out at herself.

Her lips press against his gently, so gently. Rey's very soul feels the rightness of it and she swears she can hear the Force humming around them. It's a chaste touch of lips, but even so when she pulls back she can see Ben is as affected as she is. His pupils are blown, breathing ragged. There's a look of utter wonder on his face, as though he's just been told the answers to every mystery the galaxy has ever had.

“I'm not losing you, Ben. I refuse. We're going to win this war. Together. We can't win it any other way.” Rey whispers, bringing her other hand up to trace along his jaw. “I've been thinking about this a lot, and I have a plan for how we can do this.”

Rey swears she can feel all of history teetering on a knife's edge. All the years of history and pain and suffering, leading up to this moment.

“Alright,” Ben says. “Tell me the plan.” **** Ok so this is very late. I won't bore you with the details but between illness and computer issues I basically missed Reylo week. But hey! Better late than never. I am filling all the prompts, and will try and get them up as soon as I can.

I tried writing something straight up dark but I just couldn't do it. I have a fascination with those tricky grey areas between good and evil and started pouring my thoughts out on the page, and this happened. It grew legs and got away from me a bit, and I'm not totally happy with it but I'm sick of looking at the damn thing so here it is.

Not so fun fact: Senator Barr is in fact based on a man I have the great misfortune to work with irl. I regret to inform you, gentle reader, that I have not invented or exaggerated any part of his personality. Including the neck kissing thing and the teenage wives. Really. I wish I was kidding.

As always this is unbeta'd, I apologise for any errors. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

#reyloweek2018 #reylo week 2018 #reylo #rey #kylo ren #ben solo #my writing #this turned into a monster seriously this was meant to be a quick one shot how did it get so out of control

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peterjonesparker · 7 years

Text

have a soulmate au in the form of headcanons because i am too lazy and unmotivated for fic right now. this is slightly inspired by the song whole wide world by cage the elephant, which is a jam and peter parker would totally listen to it, our little mainstream indie music lover. also there is a soulmate au fic with ~soulmate words~ that is phenomenal and everyone should read it. you can find it here. (seriously it’s so good please read it i’m in love) (also, i’ve taken spanish for a long time and yet am still so bad at it so if you speak spanish and i’ve managed to fuck up the one sentence i needed to craft, please let me know and i’ll fix it. rip me and my sad spanish education)

part two now here.

peter is like...the most excited to see what his words will be

he’s thirteen and his still haven’t shown up

some of his friends already have theirs. (hell he met one person who’d already met their soulmate.) other are waiting just like him

and like...of course there’s a part of peter that’s worries he’ll never develop words and never have a soulmate

may tells him that of all the people in the world, he’s going to find love no matter what

which is comforting for a bit but he’s still worried

no one really understands the timeline of soul mark development. some people are born with their words, some get their words when they develop speech, some get their words when they enter puberty, others get their words on a random wednesday while they’re slurping the last bits of applesauce from their cup in the dining hall

everyone is different, but it’s still a special moment. and usually soulmates will develop their words around the same time

and then one day may is doing the laundry and asks peter for the filthy shirt he’s wearing (he tried to play football with the other kids in his class and it went very, very poorly for him. read: he was pushed into the muddy puddle from this morning’s rain) and then she gasps and drops the laundry basket

“peter, your words!” and peter’s eyes widen and he gasps and runs to the mirror to see the words scribbled across his right pec

and: “they’re in spanish?”

may scrunches her eyes and read the words more closely. “oh yeah. that’s exciting! maybe your soulmate lives in a different country.” she hugs him tightly. “i knew you’d get your words. we’ll have a special dinner tonight. i’ll tell ben” she picks the laundry basket off the floor and grabs the shirt peter’d dropped in his rush to get to the mirror. “i’d ask mr. delmar what your words say.”

peter spends the next hour until dinner researching statistics. he finds out spanish is the second most popular language in the us and there are twenty two spanish speaking countries. so, in all honesty, his search for his soulmate isn’t any narrower

some people’s words give them hints. words like “wow, don’t you just love central park at sunset?” or “i always used to hate new year’s eve, but this party is actually a lot of fun.”

part of peter wishes his words would tell him something about where or when he’d find his soulmate. but all he knows is that his soulmate speaks spanish and has lost their dog

so naturally, peter starts taking spanish classes. because he wants to be able to communicate with his soulmate and he doesn’t know if his soulmate will be able to speak english. so spanish class it is

and he actually really likes the language and he practices with mr. delmar and ned’s taking it too

and peter starts researching everything about spanish speaking countries and dreams up plans to visit them. he’ll visit the major cities in each country and also visit cities in the us with a large spanish speaking population. he figures those will increase his odds of finding his soulmate

so peter’s soulmate becomes his main concern

but then he gets bitten by a radioactive spider and he develops superpowers and becomes spiderman

and then ben dies. and it fucking sucks

and his soulmate seems less important for a while

honestly, he almost forgets about his soulmate. he still takes spanish because he figures it’s important to learn, soulmate aside. but he stops doing research and he stops talking through his trip plans with may

he focuses on grieving with may and protecting the little guy

and it’s nice

it works for a while

he and may are incredibly close and he feels like he’s actually helping people

and then at the beginning of his sophomore year as he’s sitting in his intermediate spanish class and barely paying attention, he hears his words

“hola. ¿me puedes ayudar a buscar mi perro?”

and peter’s eyes widen and he turns toward the voice that just spoke to him and said his words

it’s michelle jones. she’s on the decathlon team. they’ve obviously never spoken. but they’ve exchanged head nods as they passed each other in the hall. and he spent so long planning all these wonderful trips to different countries and mapped out dog parks in each city and it was all so he could be sitting in a classroom in new york city in high school

“you’ve got to be kidding me.”

and he watches as michelle’s eyes widen and then narrow, her mouth falls into a scowl, she grabs her book bag, spits out a hasty “fuck you”, and storms out of the classroom

fuck

peter parker is an idiot

100% the dumbest person he knows

so he grabs his bag and runs after michelle, calling her name and ignoring the teacher’s protests and demands that they stay in the classroom

he runs to the library, which is the place he’s seen her most often, and finds her hidden away in the book stacks toward the back

she’s got her head stuffed in a book, like she usually does, but her eyes are slightly puffy and red

he walks slowly, as if he’s afraid she’ll run off again. but if she notices him, she doesn’t do anything to show it. she just continues to read her book, looking resolutely forward and not at all toward him as he puts his hand against the bookshelf to lower himself down beside her

he opens his mouth to say something but she speaks first

“you know, this whole soulmate business is a load of bullshit. i hope you know that.”

and. it stings. he realizes he’s just pissed her off immensely and she probably wants nothing to do with him. but his heart swelled a bit when he heard her say his words. and he was glad. and also just...surprised

but then she continues, voice slightly broken and her eyes watery: “what did i do? how were you already disappointed?” then, slightly more indignant: “i’m fucking awesome, just so you know. you’d be so lucky.” she whispers the last part, going back to her book. she sounds incredibly vulnerable and peter feels like an unmitigated ass

“i’m not disappointed it’s you.” he glances over at her, but she’s still got her eyes trained on the book. “it’s actually kind of funny.” he chuckles and michelle sends him a death glare and he pales a bit. “it’s just, you spoke to me in spanish! i thought my soulmate was going to be in another country or maybe only spoke spanish or something. i thought i was going to have to sit in dog parks waiting around for someone to ask me for help. i didn’t think it’d be in spanish class.”

and even to him the excuse sounds silly and doesn’t at all justify the fact that michelle had to look at her words, worrying that her soulmate was already disappointed and he feels so badly and wishes he had more social graces and would have said something nicer and more suave

but he’s peter parker and he’s awkward and he never says the right thing. and michelle might not want anything to do with him ever. which, would hurt. he wants to fall in love with his soulmate. he wants to be friends with her and study with her and get coffee with her and plan their lives

but some soulmates don’t stay together. for whatever reason, sometimes it doesn’t work out. and maybe peter’s just someone who won’t have this soulmate bond. maybe he’s just going to live his life and remember how he ruined everything with the first words he said to his soulmate

but then michelle is scoffing. she grabs a pen from her bag and then his hand and is writing down ten digits on his palm

“you’re lucky you have a cute butt.” and with that she stands and walks away

peter looks after her, confused and slightly in shock and also blushing because she said he had a cute butt

and michelle says quickly, right before she leaves their little alcove, “text me and try not to fuck it up this time, loser.”

and then she’s really gone and peter’s staring at his hand and this is her phone number

he’s a little thrilled. and then he thinks about all his plans to travel to mexico and panama and ecuador and argentina and spain and all the other spanish speaking countries

and he thinks that it’ll likely be more fun to travel with his soulmate anyway

#spiderman homecoming #spiderman: homecoming #spideychelle #peter parker #michelle jones #peter x michelle #michelle x peter #sh #otp: i'm just kidding i don't care #i write things

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spnroundrobin · 7 years

Text

Masterpost: Round Three

Prompt: Dean has been acting sketchy for the past couple days and Sam and Cas are curious as to why. After doing a bit of poking around, they discover that Dean has been preparing for a Renaissance fair that Charlie found near the bunker and invited him to attend. Sam and Cas want to come along much to Dean’s embarrassment; shenanigans ensue.

(Remember: This is the gen fic round so no ships, please. Also, we’d like to keep this Teen rated. Obviously Charlie can be included in this round due to the prompt but other side characters will have to be over the phone or on Skype.)

Schedule and Posting Instructions

(As submissions are made, they will be posted here by the mods.)

#1 @zolaliz - Submission: 1

“Woah, Cas! Careful where you’re pointing that thing!”

“Apologies,” he said, passing the large pole-like weapon to his other hand. “I didn’t see you there.”

Sam paused a second, thrown by the look of Cas with a jousting pole in one hand and a knight’s helmet tucked underneath his arm.

“What’s with the knight get up?”

“Dean requested it,” Cas replied simply.

Sam threw his hands up in confusion as Cas continued past him, walking down the hall without any further explanation.

“Wha- Cas! Hey, wait up!” Sam jogged a few paces to catch up, “do you know why?”

“No.”

“And you didn’t think to ask?”

At this, Cas finally stopped walking to deliver Sam a flat look. “I think you and I are both aware of Dean’s tendency for deflection.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I mean, yeah, but-”

“I must get going. Patience isn’t exactly Dean’s strong suit.”

Sam gave another exasperated sigh, “Cas, don’t you think he might be, I don’t know, up to something?”

Cas’s brow furrowed and his mouth pinched into a frown. “Of course not. What makes you say that?”

“All of this!” Sam exclaimed, motioning wildly towards everything Cas was carrying. “You don’t think that’s even the tiniest bit odd?”

Cas shrugged. “I’m sure he has good reason.”

“Good-? Good reason to want knight’s armor and a jousting stick?”

“Goodbye, Sam,” Cas responded instead, leaving Sam alone in the bunker hallway.

Maybe Cas’s faith in Dean was clouding his judgement, but Sam knew better. He could always tell when his brother was acting strange, and one way or another, he was going to get to the bottom of this.

#2 @deadlykittenkay - Submission: 1

Sam watched Cas’ retreating form go down the hallway and head towards Dean’s room. Chewing on his cheek he started to formulate a plan. He needed to know what his brother was up too. It wasn’t even October yet, so Sam immediately ruled out Halloween as a reason for the knight get up.

He decided to follow Cas only to see that Dean was not in his room. Sam stood silently watching as Cas carefully laid out the costume on Dean’s bed. The jousting stick against the wall. He chuckled hearing Charlie’s voice go along to that movie that she loved.

The sound of Sam’s chuckle made Cas turn to him. “Is there something humorous?” The angel asked.

“Sorry, I was thinking of a time when Charlie made Dean and I watch A Knight’s Tale.”

Cas’ face lit up with recognition. “The movie in which the hero wins a jousting match to win the affections of his lady, correct?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah and at one point his buddy says-”

“It’s called a Lance, hello,” Dean finished for him with a smirk.

Sam’s eyes narrow slightly, unsure if it’s because his brother is hiding something or because his brother cut him off.

#3 @jhoomwrites - Submission: 1

Determined not to be distracted, Sam pointed at the jousting equipment. “So what gives? Why you got Cas running around getting you this stuff?”

“Because it’s awesome?” Dean said as though it’s obvious.

“Uh huh.” That had to be one of his brother’s worst excuses… except it was a really common excuse for Dean, so it actually kinda checked out. “You relaly think that’s not a waste of Cas’ angel mojo? Getting random stuff for you just because it’s awesome?”

“… No?”

“I don’t mind,” Castiel said as he poked around the weapons on Dean’s shelf. He picked up the gun Dean had used to kill Hitler and looked at it closely, barely paying the brothers any attention. “We’re not working a case at the moment and there’s nothing Heaven wants of me at the moment. I’m at your disposal.”

“Dude’s bored,” Dean stage whispered to his brother. “Hey Cas, I ever tell you about the time I killed Hitler-?”

“ANYWAY,” Sam interrupted. He’d gotten tired of that story a while ago. Never mind that he knew Cas had heard it at least three times already, but still indulged Dean’s retellings. “You plan on like… just keeping that stuff in your room?”

“… Why not? It’s not like I’d wear it or anything. C’mon Sam, where you get these crazy ideas?” Dean’s nervous laughter had Sam narrowing his eyes suspiciously. Dean was definitely up to something.

#4 @blue-reveries - Submission: 1

It took another day for Sam to find a break in the case.

He was walking back to his room when he heard a phone ringing from the library. When no one seemed to answer it, Sam altered his course and wandered over to see whose phone it was. It was sitting in front of the chair that Dean favored and sure enough, the phone vibrating across the table was his brother’s.

The caller ID said “Queen of Moons.”

Smiling brightly, Sam picked up the phone and answered. “Hey, Charlie. What’s up?”

“I’ll tell you what’s up, Dean,” Charlie said rapidly, not giving Sam a chance to correct her. “The orcs are already starting to kick our ass and guess what? My newly appointed Knight of Strategy is still not here.”

“Charlie, I’m—”

“Oh no, mister,” Charlie said, sounding more frustrated than angry. “And to top everything off, the Warriors of Yesteryear are being a major pain in my ass because I promised a great plan and you aren’t here to help me deliver, Dean.” There was a pause but before Sam could talk, she spoke again. “Where in the frack are you anyway?”

“Um…this is Sam, Charlie,” he said carefully, not wanting to set her off again. Sam didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that. “Dean left his phone on the table and I answered since it was you.”

The line went silent. Sam could hear the somewhat familiar sounds of a Renaissance style camp echoing in the background. He was just about to ask Charlie if she was okay when she broke the silence.

“Holy Gandalf,” Charlie exclaimed before letting out a chorus of “no’s.” “How much would it cost me for you to completely forget everything you just heard?”

The worried guilt in Charlie’s voice struck a chord in Sam’s mind and his eyes narrowed as he mulled this information over. Dean asking Cas for medieval style clothes and weaponry…Dean acting sketchy…Charlie calling to rant to Dean about Moondor…

Everything clicked into place and Sam couldn’t help the excited grin from plastering itself over his face.

“Dean’s coming LARPing with you, isn’t he?”

The silence continued for a few more seconds before Charlie spoke again. “You did not hear any of this from me. Do you hear me, Sam Winchester?”

“Your secret is one hundred percent safe with me,” Sam swore solemnly. He even raised his right hand. “Dean will never know I found this out from you.”

Charlie sighed in relief. “Whew…okay, thanks. Can you just tell Dean that I texted you to have him call me?”

Sam agreed and wished her goodbye. He hung up Dean’s phone and placed it back where he found it. Practically vibrating with glee, Sam thought about what he was going to do. He’d promised Charlie that her name wouldn’t be tied to how Sam found out about Dean’s little hobby.

But he didn’t say he wasn’t going to tell Dean he knew.

#1 @zolaliz - Submission: 2

“So, Dean..” Dean warily turned towards Sam. He already recognized that tone; Sam used it whenever humoring Dean, which meant that Sam probably knew something Dean didn’t. “Since we’ve had a pretty light load of cases, I was thinking maybe I’d call up Charlie, go visit her this weekend.” Sam stood in Dean’s doorway, gaging his response. Dean worked his jaw for a moment, adam’s apple bobbing as he searched for a response. “You- why?” “I haven’t talked to her in ages! Besides, the finale of Game of Thrones aired and I promised I wouldn’t watch it without her.” Dean shifted nervously. “She’s probably busy.” “Yeah? I’ll give her a call anyway, ask about her plans for the weekend.” Dean jumped to his feet, flustered, eyes wide in panic as Sam ducked his head to hide his smile. “N-no, that’s not- dude, I just remembered! She was telling me about this LARPing thing.. a huge battle, she’s busy.” “She’s still doing that? She’s the queen of moods, right?” “Moons,” muttered Dean in correction. “Maybe I’ll tag along. Could be fun.” “What? No! That stuff’s stupid, Sammy, it’s for geeks and losers, which only half applies to you.” Sam paused to give him a quick, flat stare, before his smug grin fought its way back onto his lips. “If it’s so stupid, then why are you doing it?”

#2 @deadlykittenkay - Submission: 2

Sam watched as Dean’s face paled. His eyes widened and he swallowed thickly. “I-I do-don’t,” he stammered before coughing in to his fist. “I don’t know why you would think that, Sammy. I am neither a geek nor a loser.”

“Says the man who’s memorized Mel Gibson’s speech in Braveheart.”

“Of course I have. It’s an awesome speech.”

Sam shrugged his shoulders, feigning disinterest in the topic. “I think I still might go. Might be fun.”

“What about a case?”

“Dean?” Cas’ voice carried from behind them. “Is the chain supposed to go over the leather or under?” The Angel asked.

“Cas! What the hell man?” Dean quickly moved to Cas placing his hands on Cas’ shoulders and turning him around. “I don’t know crap about this junk.”

“But Dean-” Cas’s protests where cut off when Dean shoved him roughly out of the room.

Sam couldn’t help the smirk on his face. His brother being this flustered was just too fun to watch. This was far from over.

#3 @jhoomwrites - Submission: 2

Skip

(slight order switcheroo due to mod blue-reveries making a boo-boo)

#1 @zolaliz - Submission: 3

“What should I wear?” “You’re not coming.” “How about this?” Sam held up a feathered hat. “You’re not coming.” “Ooh, this looks fun. But is it nerdy enough..?” Dean ripped the plaid men’s tights from Sam’s hands, and looked Sam dead in the eye. “You. Are not. Coming.” “I can’t believe you have an entire room filled with this stuff!” Sam sidestepped his brother, snagging a Viking helmet off the dresser. “Cas! Whatta you think?” Dean flung an index finger out in Cas’ direction. “He’s not coming either-” his voice dropped as he commanded, “no one’s coming!” “Oh but we are,” Sam grinned, slapping the helmet down onto Cas’ head and sweeping up a bronze dagger. The helmet sat low in front of Cas’ eyes and for a moment he stood dazed, mouth tight in a confused frown. Dean tipped it back up as he passed him. Dean hit his knee against a old fashioned treasure chest, and cussed it out under his breath. The room was filled with all sorts of equipment and armor from different eras, tucked away in the back of the bunker. He finally lifted his eyes to Sam, bitter humiliation meeting fiendish amusement. “You…” he barked, but his voice quickly softened in defeat, “son of a bitch.” Sam pushed down his smile in vain, giving the dagger a swirl. “Aye aye, matey.” Dean cringed, and snatched the blade from Sam’s hands. “That’s an Egyptian dagger, Sam,” Cas piped up from behind him. “Not a European pirate’s.” Dean seemed to wave the comment off, before reluctantly turning to the angel. “Cas… grab my armor, will ya?” Cas raised his eyebrows. “Shut up,” was Dean’s gruff, automatic response, and Cas disappeared. He was only gone a moment, before he returned, hands full with Dean’s costume. Sam looked taken aback. “Well. That’s certainly…” he swallowed as he searched for the word, “authentic.”

#4 @blue-reveries - Submission: 2

Dean was not happy.

He slammed the trunk of the Impala shut, mentally apologizing to his girl for the undeserved treatment. She wasn’t the reason he was pissed.

That award went solely on a certain gangly moose’s shoulders.

Stupid Sam, sticking his nose into things that don’t concern him, he thought petulantly as he saw Cas and Sam walking towards him in the garage. Maybe he was being childish but Dean liked to think that he was allowed to be mad that his brother and best friend were going to be going with him to his super secret LARPing weekend with Charlie.

Ever since that awkward conversation in his room, Sam had been like a dog with a friggin’ bone.

“Oh, what should I wear,” Dean said, face screwed up as he mimicked Sam.

And the most annoying part was, Sam knew exactly what he was doing. Somehow Sam had found out about his plans this weekend and was taking every opportunity to tease him about it. No matter how many times Dean tried to play it off, Sam kept coming back at him. He wasn’t sure how his brother had found out; okay, maybe he could have been more discreet with his requests to Cas for supplies but that wasn’t the point. The point was that Sam was being a total ass and he’d managed to get Cas on his side.

Traitor.

“Are we ready to go, Dean,” Cas asked. “I’m looking forward to observing this ‘LARPing’ event though I highly suspect it will not be historically accurate.”

Sighing and realizing that there was no way he was going to get these two to stay behind now, Dean nodded and got into the car. “Yeah, now let’s get moving. I want to beat the traffic.”

Thankfully, Sam decided to keep his mouth shut on the way to the fairgrounds. There was a distinct air of brotherly smugness emanating from the passenger seat the whole drive there but he didn’t actually say anything besides suggesting that they stop for lunch around noon. The good thing was they made good time and soon they were pulling into the crowded parking lot. It didn’t take them long to unload the bags containing their gear and, at Sam’s knowing smirking, Dean begrudgingly took the lead in showing them through the camp even knowing that he was only giving Sam more fuel for the fire.

He should’ve brought some Nair with him.

It wasn’t until they were almost to the ornate tent decorated with the familiar crest of the Kingdom of Moons that he realized he’d totally forgotten one fact. Charlie was so going to be pissed that he was a day late to the battle. He was so freaking screwed. Taking a deep breath and bracing for the verbal chewing out he was due for, Dean led Sam and Cas to Charlie’s tent.

Dean guessed it was time to face the music.

#2 @deadlyangelkay - Submission: 3

Castiel followed the Winchester brothers in awe. He had seen this very park many times, in fact one of his and Dean’s more profound conversations in the very beginning of their friendship over to the right. But to see it now, now that the LARPing community had taken over, it was a thing of wonder.

A small smile finds it’s way to Castiel’s face as once again, the cleverness of humanity, of his father’s own creation, was able to transform the simple park to something that looked as if it had belonged in an episode of Game of Thrones.

“Will the Mother of Dragons be here as well?” Castiel finds himself asking. Dean doesn’t answer, his shoulders tense up as he walks faster towards one of the larger tents. Sam’s of no assistance either as he laughs and shakes his head, taunting his older brother.

Castiel doesn’t quiet understand why Dean is so upset. To be able to create the wonder such as this, Dean should be happy to enjoy it. The colors of the tents, rich maroons, golds and jades, give the feeling of majestic wonder. The men and women, dressed in period clothing, some with weapons, some without, chatter happily with each other. Even the smell of the food is getting to Castiel, making him wish more than ever that food and drink tasted more than molecules too him as he sees a pig – a full pig! - slowly roasting on a spit.

“Dean!” Cas calls out. “The have a full boar roasting!” he points to the spit where the Winchester brothers turn and smile fondly at the angel.

“Yeah, Cas.” Sam agrees.

“Come on, Cas. We don’t want to leave the Queen waiting.” Dean says, motioning for Cas to keep up.

# 3 dropped

#4 @blue-reveries - Submission 3

Ah, now Sam can see why Dean has been acting like there’s a stick up his ass ever since they made it to the campground.

“---seriously Dean. You were supposed to be here yesterday, I’ve got that dude from Yesteryear on my ass and you promised you’d be here to help me out---”

Yeah, Charlie did not seem pleased.

Sure Sam had known from her phone call that Charlie was going to probably be a bit peeved at Dean but at some point he must have forgotten how seriously she took her position as Queen of Moondor. Dean, despite the evidence to the contrary on their way to the event, seemed unaffected by Charlie’s tirade besides looking slightly uncomfortable but Sam still felt a slight tinge of guilt at having held Dean up with all his purposefully annoying questions back at the bunker.

“Well, I guess I should just be happy you showed up,” Charlie sighed, flopping down in her throne ungracefully. “I’m honestly surprised a hunt didn’t pop up again so that you’d have to miss the whole weekend to chase down a chupacabra or a werewolf or something.”

“Actually, the moon isn’t in the correct lunar stage for a werewolf to turn,” Cas piped up. They looked over to see him poking at Charlie’s crown, peering intensely at the decorations.

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head but let Cas’ comment go. “I told you I was sorry I missed the last one, Charlie. I definitely would have rather been here than shooting up ghosts with rock salt.”

Standing back up, Charlie walked over and gave Dean a hug. “Yeah, I know; it’s just been a super stressful weekend and it’s barely started. These assholes are really trying to rain on my parade and you know how much I love my parade, Dean.”

Chuckling, Dean gave her a squeeze before they parted. “Believe me, I get it. But now that we’re here those dicks are going to really get it.”

Nodding, Charlie turned to look over at Sam and Cas. She smirked and gave them a speculative look. Sam wondered just what she was thinking and hoped that whatever evil plan she was hatching had to do with the Yesteryear guy or whoever was trying to take her down as Queen.

“I guess we can call it even,” she said to Dean before nodding at Cas and him. “I mean, you did bring me two strapping additions to my Queen’s guard.”

Sam and Cas both looked at her with keen interest while Dean made a sound of protest.

“Now wait a minute, you made me be your handmaiden since I was ‘still new’ for ages before I got promoted to knight but Sam and Cas just get to be knights right off the bat,” Dean grumbled, looking more than put out at this suggestion. Sam tried to resist the brotherly urge to preen while Cas just seemed content to sit back and watch the proceedings.

“Oh, you know I only called you handmaiden to mess with you, you’ve always been a knight,” Charlie said, waving away his protest. Dean scowled and proceeded to pout without looking to obvious about it and Sam fought the instinct to tease. Charlie nodded at towards him and Cas again. “I think a trio of bulky men-types such as yourselves is exactly what we need right now. Can you imagine that weenie from the orcs’ side’s face when he come for negotiations and sees you guys backing me up. He’ll be shaking in his boots.”

The evil smirk on Charlie’s face made Sam make a mental note never to underestimate her again.

“Let’s get you boys geared up. We’ve got a meeting with the enemy to get to.”

#round three #masterpost #round three: masterpost #gen fic round

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writings-andstuff · 7 years

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Not a Damsel in Distress Part II (Bucky x Reader)

Okay guys, this is the second part of Not a Damsel in distress that I had saved in my google. Next I’ll post The Raid, which is a Dean x Reader I’m super proud of. I based it on 12.14 of Supernatural and it’s sort of my thoughts toward Mary during that episode channeled through the reader.

Without further ado, Happy Reading!

Words: 4332

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: None

Excerpt: After the usual morning rush, you stood bent over the materials on the counter, pen between teeth, and apron messy. Bucky wouldn’t realize it until later, but it was the exact same way he found you when he brought you that grilled cheese a little over a five months ago. When he’d decided you were the girl for him. Now, he only saw you tinted in red. There was no one in the shop, so now was his chance to confront you.

Tags: @langinator @beccaanne814-blog @bovaria

Five Years Ago:

Bucky sat in his dorm room waiting for Dot to come back from her last class of the night. This was it, he was going to do it now. He had to do it now or he knew he never would. Doing this, it was either going to rip him apart or be the best thing for him.

Dolores was the love of his life, but recently things had changed and Bucky knew it. He knew what this change was, Steve had told him what it was and Steve had also told him what to do about it. However, Bucky was still hesitant. Could you blame the guy? As soon as Dot walked into his room, she’d see him, and she’d ask him what was happening and he’d have to do it.

It was now or never.

The door opened and Dot set eyes on the scene.

James Buchanan Barnes, surrounded by candles and rose petals in the middle of his otherwise messy dorm room, down on one knee and holding a little velvet box. The box contained a small diamond ring in it, so precious and fragile and Dot wondered how Bucky had been able to afford it with his student loans killing him, not to mention the cost of boarding at their school.

Immediately her hands flew to her mouth as Bucky went through some lavish speech about how much he loved her and how much she meant to him. There was a joke or two, but she was too shocked to even give him a watery laugh. Tears welled up in her eyes the moment he popped the question and she flew into his arms, kissing him repeatedly all over his face and neck and chanting ‘yes’ until the cows came home.

The next day, when Dot sat in her first period psychology class, she thought of Bucky as she stared at her ring. She wrote “Dolores Barnes”, “Dot Barnes,” “Mr. and Mrs. Bucky Barnes” and other names on her notepad in fancy script.

She caught the eye of a man in the row behind her, watching her scribble on her notepad.

In the hall after class, he cornered her, asked her if she really wanted to be married at only twenty-one, or if she wanted something casual with a guy not looking for a relationship. Immediately she pushed him off of her and insisted she loved Bucky.

But the guy was insistent, and hot, and he told her that it was just sex and nothing more. She could still be with Bucky romantically, hell she could even marry him if she really wanted. He gave her a chance to push him away, to say no one last time before he forgot about it and went on to the next girl. Only, she didn’t push away.

Ten minutes later they were in the hall closet.

Twenty minutes later she walked out with her hair messy and her lipstick smudged. She would never tell Bucky. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Two weeks later:

Dot had been seeing John on a regular basis for the last two weeks. She wasn’t even sure at that point why she was still doing it—why she was still hiding in closets and wherever else they could find to do it. Why was she still doing that? What was wrong with her?

Nothing, she reasoned. She just had...needs. Bucky simply wasn’t enough. There were no feelings involved with her and John and that meant it was okay. She would always be in love with Bucky. She was going to marry him. After that, she’d stop this little escapade. But for now she was just having fun; she was enjoying life before her marriage.

At least, that’s what she told herself to make herself feel better as she lay next to Bucky in their bed at night.

And it’s what she told Bucky when he walked in on her and John in her dorm room.

Dot had been with Bucky since freshman year, so she never really used her dorm because she was pretty much always over at Bucky’s. Bucky’s roommate, Steve, also had a serious girlfriend, but Peggy had an apartment and, the beginning of Junior year, they moved in there together.

As soon as Steve left, Dot pretty much moved in, though the bulk of her things still remained in her old dorm. There was no need for hers anymore—sure, she still had some books there, but she barely spent any time in there unless she was picking something up from her room like a change of clothes or her laptop.

That was why Dot had thought it was a good idea to have her little “excursions” with John in her dorm room. Her roommate had a private room, as did she; they only shared a living room of sorts, so lovers were kept a secret if they could slip one past each other.

Bucky never really went to her dorm, so it was odd that he walked in to find Dot on the bed with John on top of her, in the middle of a heated make-out session. Of course, true to his nature, Bucky had screamed at John to get off of her, and John had scrambled out like the cockroach he was.

There started the biggest, longest, and worst fight of Bucky’s and Dot’s entire lives. At the end of it, Bucky had demanded the ring back and left Dot in her room, crying on the floor.

Bucky should have know. For the last few weeks every time he texted Dot it was only a few words as answers. He asked her what she was doing, she’d answer with ‘nothing’. When he’d call her after class to see if she wanted to get lunch, she wouldn’t answer. Or worse, it would go straight to voicemail. Her phone was off.

He should’ve known. He should’ve known. He should’ve known.

Bucky was so furious he couldn’t even go back to his dorm. He kicked a tree, then punched it, then called Steve and told him everything. That night, Steve and Bucky ended up in the local bar off campus. Newly twenty-one, they could both drink to their heart’s content.

In the end, they were in the back of Peggy’s truck, passed out, and okay for the moment.

And then the longest year of Bucky’s life started until he couldn’t take it anymore, and when a recruiter showed up at his local gym with flyers, he jumped at the opportunity. A month later, he was training for the military.

And he never looked back. Until, four years later, he met Y/N.

Now:

Things with Bucky were amazing. You really couldn’t complain. It had been a few months, and already you felt like you knew Bucky inside and out. Except for whatever happened with his ex-fiance. That was one thing that, no matter how much you pestered him, he wouldn’t tell you. The only thing you’d gotten out of him was her name: Dolores. He called her Dot.

That was, things were great, until you got the letter.

Dear Ms. Y/L/N,

We here at the Winter Academy of Criminal Law regret to inform you that your test scores on this year’s edition of the End of Year examinations were less than exemplary. As a Third Year law student, you may wish to retake the aforementioned exam, but as you know the test can only be retaken once. If your scores do not improve, we will be forced to end your academic career with us, effective immediately.

Wishing you the best.

Dr. Redmund Skullius

Attorney at Law

“Crap!” you yelled. “Crap, crap, crap, crap, shit!”

Bucky came running into the kitchen of your apartment, towel around his waist, and hair dripping wet. He’d been showering you noticed, but you couldn’t even properly appreciate his exquisite physique.

“What?” Bucky breathed, clutching at the towel hanging loosely at his hips. His feet were bare and he was dripping water onto your floor but you couldn’t care less. It was just water and you could clean it up later; it was the least of your concerns in that moment.

Now the difficult part—what do you tell your boyfriend? Obviously you should tell him the truth, but that’s off the table because you already knew he’d say that he’d leave you alone to study. No, you didn’t want that. The two of you were still in the honeymoon period, and all was good. You didn’t want to mess it all up.

“Oh, um, nothing,” you said, but Bucky gave you a look so you sighed. “My, um—” you thought furiously. My payment for school is due and I forgot. No. You didn’t need to bring money into this. You settled on a creative take on the truth. “—my professor lost my end of year exam. They want me to retake it.”

When all else fails, blame someone else.

“Oh,” Bucky visibly relaxed. “Then what was all that yelling about? I thought I’d come in here and you’d be one arm short.”

You scratched the back of your neck. “Just a surprise. That’s all. Now can you stop dripping on my floor please?” You corralled him back into the bathroom and then cleaned up the mess on the floor. Not a big deal, but it made a good excuse to get him out of your kitchen.

What were you going to do? You’d failed your exams. You’d never once failed an examination like that. The only F you ever got in school was in seventh grade science and it was the teacher’s fault. Everyone had failed her class for that marking period.

Quickly before Bucky came out of the bathroom, you went into your room and changed. Then you sat on the bed and pondered what you were going to do about this. You had two weeks before the make-up test would be administered, which gave you two weeks to study your ass off and try to hide it from your over-protective boyfriend.

As the anxiety built in your chest, you had the unmistakable feeling that you needed to tell someone. You just had to. If you didn’t, you were going to implode in a supernova of anxiety and that wouldn’t be fun for anyone. When you got stressed, you got whiny and sassy and mean. It wasn’t something you were proud of, but if people bothered you while you were busy or stressed, you wanted to bite their heads off. It was involuntary.

So that’s how you ended up outside a bar sitting next to Steve on a bench and pouring out your heart to him.

But let’s back up.

See, Bucky knew there was something wrong with you despite the fact that you said (multiple times) that you were fine and it was nothing. He didn’t believe you—call it his “boyfriend senses” (you’d scoffed at that) but he just knew something was up. The subject of drinking came up and within ten minutes, Bucky and you were sitting in his car in the parking garage of your apartment building calling Steve and Peggy to see if they wanted to go out.

Turned out that Peggy was having a dinner party with her friends from work. At the mere suggestion of hard alcohol, all of them piled into Steve’s car and headed to the specified bar of Bucky’s choice.

When all of you guys arrived at the bar, Peggy excitedly introduced you to her friends from work. It was a couple but you didn’t bother to remember their names—your brain was already on overdrive as it was. You didn’t need any more information to sort through before your retake. After tonight, you’d be studying like a crazy person, so you were going to have fun. Dinner guests or no.

Bucky bought the first round of beers. You downed yours pretty quickly considering you usually nursed your drinks.

And then it finally hit you: you’d failed. Failed. That was a word you never thought you’d see on a paper regarding your schooling. It also brought up a whole slough of questions: How badly had you actually done? What was the official score? Was it really an F or was it more of a low D? Part of you hoped it was some sort of mistake and that they’d mixed up your test with someone else’s. But it was a law school, for god’s sake, and they knew as well as you did that if they mixed up your test scores it would be bad for them.

They couldn’t afford that kind of mistake.

You pretended not to notice the look that Peggy exchanged with Steve.

Turning to Bucky, you leaned in close to him so as to be heard over the loud music in the bar. “Can you let me out? It’s kinda hot in here, I just want to get some air.”

Bucky gave you an odd look like he didn’t believe you, but stood so he could let you through. Before he let you leave, he kissed you deeply, conveying what he couldn’t tell you in words. He was obviously worried about you, but you tried to tell him you were alright. You gave him your ‘I’m fine’ look before you kissed him again quickly and stepped out.

Later, you’d find out that Bucky had words with Steve after that. Bucky wouldn’t divulge the exact words that were exchanged between them, but he did tell you that he’d wanted to send Peggy out instead of Steve but Steve had said that Peggy was too busy having fun. He didn’t want to bother her and so he’d went out to talk to you himself.

Bucky had also told you that he didn’t want to go out himself because he knew you wouldn’t talk to him. He’d had no reason to believe that you’d talk to Steve either, but it was worth a try.

A few minutes after you exited the little bar, you found yourself sitting on a bench outside with your head in your hands and your stomach in your throat. When you felt the tap on your shoulder, you were almost too relieved to fathom. It was Steve, standing there with a small, sympathetic smile on his lips. He sat down next to you.

“Talk to Bucky,” he told you, his blue eyes shimmering with and emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. “He’s really worried about you, and he’s afraid that you’re gonna break up with him.”

Your head snapped up. Eyes wide, you said, “What?” You were almost breathless with the thought. “I could never—how could he ever—No! I wouldn’t do that. I’m not doing that. Why would he—”

“Y/N,” Steve put a comforting hand on your shoulder, “I’m just the messenger. Talk to him about it.”

You shook your head and put it back in your hands. “I can’t.”

“Why not? Y/N, look at me.” At his request, you looked up at him. “What’s going on? And, more importantly, why can’t you tell Buck?”

“Because I know him,” you mumbled. “And I know what he’s gonna say and do when he finds out. I can’t have that. It’s just...this thing we’ve got here, it’s really good. I don’t wanna mess it up.”

Steve looked at you for a minute, his eyes boring into yours like he was trying to read your mind, and that was all it took. A few kind words and a strong hand to keep you grounded, and you were spilling your guts, telling him everything. In the end, you felt a little better telling someone and, after making him promise to not tell Bucky (after which he demanded an exact explanation for why and so you told him), the two of you headed back into the bar.

In all, that night was pretty good. Things got better after your talk with Steve and you were able to enjoy your last night before the study storm would start.

All in all, you were just glad you had Bucky.

The next two weeks went by in a blur for you but not so much for Bucky.

Steve had kept his word to you and not told him anything that was going on (he was secretly hoping you’d marry Bucky so he could be the best man at Bucky’s wedding like Bucky was at his). But for that to happen, he had to keep your secret. He knew Buck too well, and he knew you were right. Bucky would automatically leave you alone to study if it meant that you’d pass. But two people couldn’t be in a couple if they weren’t together.

So Bucky was none the wiser about what was actually happening with you. But he was having flashbacks. And this is why: you were acting exactly like Dot had before he’d found out about her extracurricular activities.

A few examples?

Text from The Buckmeister at 1:34 p.m.

do u wanna hang out 2nite? i got caramel corn and star wars u kno u cant resist

Read at 1:36 p.m.

Text from Damsel at 2:07 p.m.

can’t...busy...talk later

Bucky had thought that it was just because maybe the coffee shop was busy, but the more he tried to convince himself of that, the less he believed it. It wasn’t just the texts either, it was the phone calls too.

For example:

Bucky called you on Friday, a week before your big test, at somewhere around seven and you were busy studying. Too busy to even have your phone on the table where you had all of your study materials spread out. Your apartment looked like a madhouse: clothes thrown haphazardly over the back of the couch, a towel hanging on the hat tree for some reason, papers littering the coffee table and the dining room table and the kitchen counter, various writing utensils spread out throughout the house, and a few pen caps on the floor by the dining table. Your phone was somewhere in the mess, but you couldn’t waste the precious little room on the table with your cellphone.

You were pretty sure it was in your bedroom, but found out it wasn’t after it rang for the second time. It was under a few papers on the coffee table. You vaulted over a chair in your way, quickly grabbed for it and picked it up somewhat breathlessly.

“Hello?” you breathed. Bucky sucked in a sharp breath. Your voice mirrored the breathless tone of Dot’s before he’d found her with John. You checked the caller-ID. “Bucky? You there?”

But he had already hung up.

Worse, he’d caught you sneaking around. You were supposed to be with Peggy, shopping or something, but when he’d called you and you hadn’t picked up he’d called Peggy. Peggy said she didn’t know where you were but that you certainly weren’t with her. That infuriated Bucky. The same thing had happened with Dot. She’d tell him she was somewhere and she’d be somewhere else.

He’d didn’t find out just then, but you’d been at home, studying. You’d taken off of work to do some solo studying but you didn’t want Bucky to come over to your house, so you’d told him you were with Peggy figuring he’d trust you and that would be it.

It wasn’t.

It all ended the night before your big test. You couldn’t take off of work that Thursday, so instead you brought all of the remaining study materials with you to work. After the usual morning rush, you stood bent over the materials on the counter, pen between teeth, and apron messy.

Bucky wouldn’t realize it until later, but it was the exact same way he found you when he brought you that grilled cheese a little over a five months ago. When he’d decided you were the girl for him. Now, he only saw you tinted in red. There was no one in the shop, so now was his chance to confront you.

Were you studying for your retake test? He thought that you wouldn’t have to study for it because you’d already taken it. Whatever. The thought flew away as he crashed into the little shop. Immediately, you looked up, ready to tell off whoever had come in and ignored the “Closed” sign.

When you saw it was Bucky—or, more accurately, when you saw the state Bucky was in—you sucked in a breath and covered up your study materials. Bucky looked angry. No. He looked furious. And you hated being on the other end of that anger. The man was truly scary when he was really mad. The one bad fight you’d had had told you that, but still, it was shocking that one man could be so caring and yet so terrifying.

“Are you cheating on me?” Bucky burst out, his chest heaving and his shoulders taught. His beautiful blue eyes were clouded with anger and his brows were drawn so low that you feared they’d stay that way forever if he stayed like that much longer.

You were too stunned to say anything, or move, or breathe for that matter. And so you stood there, looking like a total idiot, while your boyfriend accused you of cheating. How could he even think that? Was he insane? Yes, he had to be.

The ability to form coherent words failed you. You stuttered out a meek, “W-what?” but you could see it did nothing to sate his anger. In his current state, you could tell Bucky was unreasonable.

“Are. You. Cheating. On. Me?” he grit out, his jaw tight and his teeth clenched.

“No!” You yelled, possibly a little too loudly. “Why—why would you even—where is that coming from?” Your own anger rose at the mere mention of the word cheating. You were appalled that he thought you were even capable of such a thing.

“The sneaking around,” he ground out. “The short calls. The one-word texts. I know the signs, Y/N. I’m not stupid.”

“Those—those weren’t signs of cheating!” you yelled. “I’ve been studying my ass off for this stupid make-up exam because apparently I failed the last one! And now my boyfriend’s standing in front of me yelling at me—accusing me of freaking cheating!”

Bucky’s jaw dropped a little and you watched as all of the tension left his body immediately. His eyebrows shot skyward so fast you were afraid they’d fly away. “What?”

“Yeah,” you breathed. Yelling had taken the breath right from you. “I failed, Bucky. I’m a failure. I can’t even pass an end of year exam. That letter? It wasn’t that they lost my exam. I failed. I failed the freaking exam and now they want me to retake it and pass or hit the road.” He opened his mouth to say something, but you stopped him. “Before you ask, I didn’t tell you because I know that you would have told me to take whatever time I needed to study. And that would mean not spending a lot of time together and we’re a new couple so I guess I was afraid that—that you’d dump me. I don’t know. It’s stupid now that I think about it, but still.” You breathed in—out, in, out again—and waited for Bucky to respond.

“You should have told me,” he told you. You nodded.

“I know.”

“And really, the turnout wasn’t too different,” Bucky said. “We were still not seeing much of each other.”

You nodded. But something wasn’t sitting right with you. “Why would you automatically jump to cheating, though?”

Bucky’s eyes went sad, and you got the feeling you knew why. But still, you wanted to hear him tell you, and he did. The two of you sat a table like you had that first “date”—if that’s what it was—and he told you about Dot and what had happened with her. He told you everything. As you listened, you became more and more disgusted with this woman. You found yourself wondering why—how—anyone could ever even consider cheating on the wonderful man that is James Buchanan Barnes. The mere thought was simply preposterous.

As you listened, one thing became clear, this woman was completely off her rocker. Why the hell would she cheat on Bucky? It just made no sense. The more he talked, the angrier you got and the angrier you got the more you wanted to kiss him. So that’s what you did. You kissed him. Hard.

When you pulled away, breathless, you said, “I would never do that. Ever. Never ever ever ever ever—”

“Okay! I get it!” Bucky grinned at you. “What was the kiss for, Doll?”

“I got angry,” you said simply, shrugging. “So I kissed you. Would you rather I did something else?”

“No,” Bucky smirked. “The kissing’s not half bad.”

“‘Not half bad’?” you scoffed. “Oh, I’ll show you not half bad.”

“Spare me, Doll, please. I didn’t mean it.”

“You’re gonna eat your words James Buchanan Barnes.”

The next day, you took your test. A week later, the results came back and you made Bucky open them for you. He frowned and your heart dropped.

“I failed again, didn’t I?”

Then he grinned from ear to ear and turned the paper around. “Turn that frown upside-down, Doll, ‘cause you passed!”

You jumped into his arms, paper forgotten and kissed him. “One. More. Year,” you breathed against him.

He chuckled. “One more year, Doll, then I can tell my friends that I’m datin’ a smokin’ hot lawyer.”

You smacked his arm playfully and then realized what he was saying: you’d be together in another year. Or at least he thought so. It was a lot to hope for especially with both of your track records with relationships, but you could do it. You were sure.

Needless to say, it was one of the happiest days of your life.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #reader x bucky #reader x bucky barnes #the winter solider x reader #the winter solider imagine #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel #marvel universe #marvel reader insert #steve rogers #stever rogers x reader #reader x steve rogers #reader x steve #steve x reader #sara writes

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awed-frog · 7 years

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The Season Finale/Bye, Boys

I know I'm late - I had to work all day yesterday and today, and when I first got those jobs I’d anticipated I'd be frustrated about missing the finale live, but, well - after last week's episode, I mostly wasn't interested at all. When I sat down tonight to watch it, I almost didn't want to. I was highkey convinced I wouldn't like it, and, yeah, I didn't. Not particularly. I've suspected for a while that Supernatural lost its grandeur and sense of tragedy years ago, and all that's left is a bunch of occasionally magnificent, but mostly unconnected, monster hunts - that they're grasping at straws to avoid going down paths that would actually make sense because they don't want to go there - and this finale confirmed all that with the subtlety of a badly driven tank.

(Really - I was hoping things would be different, but they're not. As much as this show held my hand and made me laugh and cry in difficult moments and distracted me when real life was plain unbearable, the magic is no longer there. I watched the finale with that same awful weight in your stomach you feel when faced with that one person you no longer love - when you look and look and you don't understand how you could ever love them in the first place, and then your eye catches something - they way their mouth curves into a smile, perhaps, or the once beloved lilt in their voice, and you realize that oh, that's how.

But still, it's over.)

So, what happens next?

The honest answer is, I don't know. I've been mostly off tumblr for a week, and while I missed chatting and talking with you guys, this self-imposed break really brought home just how my world has shrunk. I tend to be very intense in what I like, and over the last year, 90% of my free time has been Supernatural. Writing stories, writing metas, creating the odd graphic, reblogging other people's posts and ooohing and aaaawing at their creations and insight - that was great, but it also cut my mental landscape into a tiny little postcard. And this past week - I did things. I discovered new stuff, I read real books, I faffed around weird Wikipedia pages, I lost myself in other series, I planted beans and basil and edible flowers. And I liked it - a lot. So whatever I do next, I'll be on tumblr a lot less, because - I’m sorry - I’ve been fearing for a while that Supernatural simply wasn't worth this level of devotion, and this finale pretty much confirmed that. So - really - I’ll keep reblogging gifs and I’ll probably write the occasional headcanon and feel free to ask me things and come talk to me and everything else, but please know that I'm not that positive about this show anymore, so if you want rainbows and ponies, my blog's probably not the best place to get them. I'll definitely keep writing, and I hope I've got enough love left in me to finish my DCBB, but other than that - I think I'm done. It's likely I'll watch the show next year, but I'll certainly not anticipate new episodes and squeal at the screen and bleed my own blood all over it or anything. And maybe this will hurt at some point - God, I loved this show so goddamn much - but for now I'm just numb.

So, here goes - quite possibly, my last meta.

Cas: Yes, They Went There

This is what we’re all wondering, isn’t it? Is Cas really dead?

No, he isn't. If Misha was leaving the show, we'd know about it. Like, of course they'd keep it under wraps until the last episode, but it'd be out today - no reason it wouldn’t. Plus, from a narrative point of view, Cas' death doesn't make any sense. He just died after fucking up - again - and he never got to make his Big Choice between Heaven and *coughs* humanity, plus they're having so much fun jerking us around with that yeah so maybe he and Dean they're in love thing, why would they stop now? So, honestly, his 'death' was his only good moment during this season finale. Like, he obviously wasn't brainwashed brainwashed, so it didn't make any sense he wouldn't involve Sam and Dean in his overly simplistic scheme, plus he's been acting stupid and out of character the whole time he was on screen - and, I get Cas is hard to write, but come on. Renting a cabin under the name James Novak when he can hypnotize it out of some guy without leaving a paper trace? Reading books and taking online classes about childbirth? This from a guy who's not a guy at all and has instinctive knowledge of physics and whatever and knows perfectly well that thing inside Kelly isn't a human child, anyway, so he might as well take woodworking classes for all the good that would do him? Uh. Not to mention his random snooping into alternate dimensions he knew nothing about when he was supposed to be taking care of Kelly - if AU!Bobby had killed him, or if he'd fallen into a pit or whatever else, Kelly would have remained alone in that cabin basically waiting for Lucifer to find her. Honestly - why do they bother writing Cas at all if they can't get him right?

Destiel: Still Subtext

And more bad news: five seasons of queerbaiting - and counting. This season finale had to be the one with the least amount of UST or pining or any kind of fuckery between them since, I don’t know, ever? Sure, there were moments, and I could list them, but why should I? Look at Cas doing his own thing, and what does it matter if he was staring at the water (possibly thinking about that fish which started everything, and by everything I mean Cas’ love for humanity, and by humanity I mean Dean), and what does it matter if Dean, as usual, is the one fretting about Cas and worrying about Cas and being all undignified and unmanly? It's been years, and Dean was unusually chatty during the whole finale, so I'm sure some of us were like, ALERT ALERT THIS IS WHEN IT HAPPENS (not me, because I'm grumpy and disillusioned), and nope, not the time. Better luck next season, guys.

Honestly, at this point there are no good options.

Like, I’m sure there are already two hundred codas out there about the Nephilim resurrecting Cas and Dean kissing him out of sheer relief, but yeah - that’s not gonna happen. My bet is - if they’re being decent about things, Cas will be saved in some way and the eye fucking will start again, dragging on and on to some series finale which, no doubt about it, will indicate the two of them are actually sleeping together, because look at that painting in the background and the label on that beer - it’s obvious; and if they’re not being decent about things, our Cas is definitely dead and Sam and Dean will meet AU!Cas in their search for Mary and at that point things will get Weird, because Dean will be Grief-stricken and Unhappy, and Cas won’t know or love him at all, and then what? Again, at best the whole thing is definitely gone and buried and Supernatural will remain the main Wikipedia example for queerbaiting (but until that very last moment, we’ll speculate this is really about destiny and falling in love in every universe and whatever), and at worst we’ve got yet another cringeworthy dance between the two of them as Dean gets over AU!Cas just as AU!Cas falls for Dean, cue romance tropes, cue will they/won’t they, cue shoot me now.

Guys - I still believe there was something there. More: I believe it was subtextually indicated, for years, that Dean and Cas were in love, and this season kept giving us confirmation that subtext is a thing and that it matters (the latest hint to date is Dean’s I’m actually Sam’s parent speech), but the fact is, subtext is not enough. There are dozens of ways to bring a romance into text without resolving it so it stays ‘interesting’, and the fact they haven’t done it yet - we should stop excusing their behaviour. If Cas had been a woman, the possibility of a relationship would be confirmed by now. So, whatever.

Gold Star, Sammy!

For someone who's been pretty much a secondary character in his own story for the whole season, or, let's be mean, the whole show after S5, Sam suddenly got some unexpected attention, and was the only person to get a win out of this finale. His character development was mostly subtextual, but it was clearly leading somewhere, and this was exactly it. Sam's naturally ambitious and driven, and he's suppressed this aspect of his personality for years because freak and vessel of Lucifer and whatever else, but now, after years and years of penance and invisibility and praying to a God who didn't give a flying fuck about him, it looks like Sammy's all grown up. Yay. There he is, a leader of man, a consummate warrior, a witch. Not hiding, not underplaying his skills, not feeling guilty at all - and finally. Sam got to hug his mother and defeat all of his archenemies - the BMoL's gone, Toni's gone, Lucifer's gone, and Crowley's gone. And none of them need to weigh on his conscience, because, lookie here, Sam sort of forgave them all (except Lucifer, but, then again, he's not really dead, is he?). No, Sam got to reject the BMoL's pernicious influence on his pure, noble soul, he got to work with Toni, who'd cruelly taunted and tortured him, and he got to be nice to Crowley, which mostly didn't make any sense because Crowley and Sam always hated each other. And even the fact he lost Mary and Cas in the end - that doesn't affect his shiny character arc at all. Sam's been ready to lose Cas several times before now, and he's accepted it in a way Dean never has; and as for Mary - narratively, Sam got what he needed from her: a declaration of love and an admission of guilt - the confirmation that nothing was ever actually his fault. Now he can finally move on.

I have to say - despite the fact it was a fucking long time coming, this sudden bout of character development felt hurried to me. All that talk about leading others - when had Sam ever expressed an open interest in it? Until last season, he seemed warily determined to settle down with ‘someone who understands the life’ and be as normal as he could, and now out of the blue he’s King bloody Arthur? Like Crowley’s sudden meekness and suicidal schemes, Sam becoming the top pilot of the Rebellion was not out of character, exactly, but was rushed and badly written - this whole episode felt like someone had said, Okay, these characters need to get here, and there’s this chapter in the middle which explains how but lolz, who’s got time to write that? Let’s skip to the good parts. Rewrite, try again

Dean “I hate that I love you” Winchester

Dean is Sam’s parent - this has been my Dean tag for a while, and boy, they went to such lengths to finally confirm it textually it was very nearly out of character. Because, I mean, this is Dean, and as much as I appreciated that whole speech, that's so not who he is. I'm going to be generous and say he was under the effects of a lot of drugs, but still - this is the guy who never blurted out more than one tearful line in his entire life when under threat of imminent death, and speaking from the heart with such eloquence is not really his thing. Jensen pulled it off, but only just. But, whatever - nice to see some of the subtext they weave in this show is actually significant - and, full offense, now that it's textually confirmed Dean always felt like a parent to Sam, more than a brother, I hope that those who are convinced he actually wants to bend Sam over a couch and do “bad things” with him will finally take a cold shower (possibly with holy water) and step away from the whole thing.

Other than that moment, though, which, dreamworld or not, Dean really needed, this season was disastrous for him. His arc's been downwards as much as Sam's been upwards, and, as we predicted, Dean ended his year in a very low place. Both his parent figures are gone - Mary swallowed by an alternate dimension, Bobby who flat-out didn't recognize him - Cas spent weeks ignoring him and now he's dead, Crowley's also dead (and however much they tried to downplay their relationship in this finale, we know there was something there), and the world is ending - again - because Dean didn't need to wait for the birth to know in his heart Lucifer's kid's gonna be a threat to, like, everything.

So, uhm, I really don’t know how to feel about things. Dean tried to be more open this season, which mostly went badly for him, but he also fixed things with his family - look at him letting Sam step away into danger (and, I mean, we don’t need any more confirmation because text, but in that moment he was definitely coded as Sam’s parent) and focusing on helping his mom instead (anon - I know I still have to answer your question about why I think Dean’s perfectly happy fixing cars and baking pies for his family while Sam’s off to Congress, and that meta’s mostly written, but here you see it again - Dean, the feminine, blue-collar character, is content with staying at home while his masculine, Ivy League educated brother goes off to war). I guess this means the brodependency is definitely over? Too bad Dean will be too busy mourning Cas and saving the world to actually appreciate it.

(Then again, #NoHomo.)

Crowley: At Last, We Know

Crowley's arc has trasparently clear for a while, and it's mirrored Cas' so precisely the question of his death was becoming a when, and not an if. When we were speculating about his fate, I wrote somewhere that much would depend on the kind of story they were writing - if this is a coming of age thingy, then Crowley wouldn't have needed to die, because he's not a father figure (no matter how many times Dean’s called him Daddy); but if this is a tragedy, then the textbook solution was to have him die for the heroes. It's a The Last of the Mohicans ending: an überdramatic I know you'll never love me but I care so much about you I'll sacrifice myself all the same thing, and, look - what can I even say?

I'm upset because I really liked Crowley and there was so much we didn't know about him and Mark is outstanding and aaaaaargh. On the other hand, at least they did him the courtesy of a noble ending (Rowena, of course, being a silly woman, got a humiliating and prolonged off-screen death, because, yeah, who cares, and the same pattern was applied to Toni and Ketch) and he got to bow out on his own terms: for Dean, and with a self-inflicted wound.

Still, his death, like Eileen's, signals there's no believable happy ending in sight for our forlorn heroes. They'll probably stay alive long enough to kill the Nephilim and fall into the Apocalypse World of Doom™, and then they'll die*.

*Terms and conditions apply, because it would make sense if they died and it would make for a heartbreaking, tragic ending, but hey, the movie deal's still on the table so better leave everything unresolved and have them drive off into the sunset on their own.

Mary: No Means Yes

I know some people like Mary, and I do think she was a good character, but as a person, she was kind of awful. I won't go back to everything she did wrong all season, but I will point out that her only redemptive point is that she sucked as a mom because she was not a Traditional Woman, and that sort of made her interesting and we raved about their courage all season, right? How Mary could have been a 1950s housewife and instead look at her - much BAMF, such wow. And yet we now know that Mad Max woman I do what I want façade was just that - a façade. Because when Mary was brainwashed, where was the real part of herself? Her most cherished piece of soul? The writers left no doubt, no margin for error: back in the kitchen, preparing horribly unhealthy yet terribly American lunches for toddler Dean, cooing at baby Sammy, her flat spotless (where are Dean's toys?), her ironing almost done. This is, apparently, the person she wishes she could be - what every woman should aspire to be: a mom who's 100% dedicated to her kids - someone who hovers around the house in her nightgown, ethereal and effortlessly beautiful and probably shaved bald (legs and armpits and lady bits shaved and trimmed and waxed and moisturised and perfumed and pleasantly soft and babyish), humbly content with this family God has given her. And, by the way, when she gets back to reality, that's who she becomes - she shoots Ketch, who'd dared to sully her marital bed and hurt Dean, she sobs in Sam's shoulder, she anxiously looks after Kelly because women always bond over periods and pregnancy and mascara and stuff, she tearily reassures Kelly that yes, dying for your unborn son, even if that son is a demon and the scourge of the Earth, is the done thing and anyone would do the same; her final act - punching Lucifer in the face - is completely out of character for the smart, ruthless hunter we know she can be. Instead, it speaks of a mother’s love - a kind of adrenalinic - you hurt my baby boy, I’ll make you bleed sort of thing. This, of course, is supposed to speak in her favour, because give me an emotional woman over a rational one any day. Honestly, if I didn't find Mary so annoying I would welcome the moment when she'll meet the other Mary - the woman who let her boyfriend die rather than dooming the world. As it is, I’m finding it hard to be excited about anything S13 has to bring, though.

Kelly: Blessed Are You among Women

I know that Supernatural doesn’t have the best record with women, and this finale, even coming as it did on the legacy of Eileen’s death, did not disappoint: from Toni playing her mother card and then dying off-screen, to Rowena left a burned husk in a non-descript room, to Mrs Hess cowardly attempting to escape as her operatives kept fighting around her, both episodes were a testosterone festival of testicles and bad beer. Still, what they did to Kelly was very nearly unforgivable. To recap: they basically took a smart, modern, career-driven woman, had her raped by her actual lover (marital rape’s still not a crime in 49 countries, by the way, and it was completely legal in many Western countries until the 1990s), got her pregnant, and then turned her into a Stepford mother. Because, of course - what else could she do? Get an abortion? I know we’re all theoretically in favour of that, but who can really go through with it, the heartless monster? And as for killing yourself - it may be your life, your body and your decision, but it's also a sin, and a big no no. Just be grateful your demon baby still needs your internal organs to survive and shut up. So, well - they basically sucked away her every choice Kelly had until she was this bouncing pregnant ball who got no say over her own destiny and on top of that, her last few days were spent building Ikea furniture and painting a nursery for the literal Antichrist who'd claw his way through her stomach to be born. Honestly - I'd say I haven't seen such a demeaning and antifeminist storyline since the last encyclical letter - except I saw the exact same thing on The Magicians only three weeks ago, so apparently misogyny's back in fashion?

Then again, we already knew that. Just look at how people are voting.

(If you're interested, hedge witch Julia, raped by a god, manages to abort after a series of mishaps - like, the Planned Parenthood doctor who tries to help her is brutally murdered by a demon of some kind and Julia has to rob a bank and doom a friend to certain death in order to get another procedure because pregnant women are selfish bitches - only, what do you know, that part of her soul who could feel love and empathy is snipped right up along with her uborn child, so whooopsie. She'll only get her back if she forgives her rapist, and she does, because that's apparently our role as women in 2017 and fifty years of feminism taught us nothing.)

Bite-sized Rants

Toni being a mother - yeah, that didn't have anything to do with anything and that last scene of S11 was just proof of how little they plan ahead. I just read somewhere that this is the problem with modern television - that series will be automatically canceled or renewed no matter the storyline depending on how much money they make, and this means nothing makes sense anymore - stories that were supposed to last one season are artificially stretched to last forever because ratings, while things that were conceived as trilogies - we’ll never know how they end, because not enough people were watching. So, I mean - I am sort of pleased that I got there before they did and wrote a line one year ago about Dean eventually forgiving Toni because ‘a parent’s love - that something he understands’ - because, yeah, that's exactly the ploy Toni used on Dean and it worked, so, points, but at the same time - that whole BMoL thing was so wonky and stereotyped and Nazi-shaped and My God, really? The only character who barely made sense there was Ketch, but, unfortunately, that’s also the easiest character to write and the one who’s most commonly found on our screens: Trigger-happy Psychopath Charms Everyone with His Wit and Good Looks.

(Plus, Ketch was yet another piece of the Dean is Bi mosaic that went nowhere, so I’m not feeling very charitable right now.)

The other hunters - look, it's just not believable anymore. So apparently Sam and Dean know who everyone else is, people are okay following Sam anywhere even if he used to be the actual Antichrist or whatever and there are rumors about how he went to Hell and I don't know what else, and on top of that this Men of Letters thing is just something everybody knows about now? And yet Sam and Dean never contact these people, and more importantly, don't share their super secret Bunker full of weapons and lore with any of them? Not even Jody? Nice, guys. Real grand of you.

(Plus, what is this bullshit - why do Sam and Dean send everyone home after torching the BMoL’s HQ when they know perfectly well Lucifer and/or the Nephilim are about to destroy the actual world? Maybe ask for some back-up there?)

Cosmic consequences, shmosmic consequences. Dean killed Death, and so what? Cas killed Billie, and so what? There is no way to even argue the current mess has to do with the cosmic consequences Billie promised, because all of it is basically of their own doing: Mary walking away when she should have stayed, Sam trusting the BMoL even as they kept kidnapping him and threatening him and killing random people, Cas being his usual self-sacrificing self and Crowley thinking he knows better than anyone else (or, well, as this episode pointed out - they both “needing a win”) - there was no supernatural involved there. So...?

(Plus, this is yet another example of a big narrative thing of the Destiel variety going nowhere. Cas killing Billie for Dean, Cas nearly dying while confessing his love right, left and centre and then - out of nothing, here is the ‘divorced parents’ routine - Cas is decorating a nursery with a brainwashed Stockholm victim and Dean’s priority is to - who even knows?)

That reference to Romani people was almost worse than that bit about the Arab Spring. Please, for the love of God - your show is watched abroad. If you do use history or politics, maybe Google it first?

The BMoL have te power to create ‘mystical dampeners against magic’ and yet they absolutely needed to kidnap Mary to ensure the continuation of their evil schemes?

Sam and Dean can become virgins again but can’t mix themselves some old-fashioned explosive?

Mrs Hess had people studying the Winchesters for years and yet she doesn’t know which is which?

Dean finally got to fire his grenade launcher and we didn’t even see it clearly?

Handful of Disorganized but Well-meaning and Kind-Hearted American Mavericks Defeat Superpowerful European Organization Complete with Private Army Without Breaking a Sweat - Jesus, enough.

Claire was too busy to save the world? Where was she? Coachella?

Crowley looking at Dean when he called them beautiful, that fight between Ketch and Dean being heavily paralleled with Dean beating up Cas...when are they going to bring that stuff out of the subtext?

Cas being so easily seduced by Paradise - didn’t Dean reject those exact concepts back in S4, and didn’t Cas switch sides because of it? But I suppose he’s just, forgotten, because that’s what happens when you take online lamaze classes or something?

Honestly - I apologize for being so negative. There were some brilliant bits here and there, but as I said - on the whole, I’m just tired. Supernatural seems determined to tell a story by not actually telling it, and at this point I’m really tired of doing the job it for them. I’m fed up by how little Dean cared about Crowley (because, if nothing else, that was one complex and interesting relationship and a narrative dream they threw away out of fear it would awake old ‘Dean is Bi’ ghosts) and I’m fed up by how anticlimatic Dean’s reaction to Cas’ death was (we’ve seen more dramatic scenes over a nose bleed, but I guess these two episodes were so action packed they had no time to insert a random #NoHomo lady, so even a Merthur hug would have been way too much) and I’m fed up by the fact that Jesus Christ, they have such talented people working for them and why won’t they just let them?

Guys, I don’t even - I’m going to bed.

#spn meta #spn 12x22 #spn 12x23 #destiel #sam and dean #kelly kline #spn ending #i didn't like it #so read at your peril

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taeguboi · 7 years

Text

INTERN PART 06

http://taeguboi.tumblr.com/post/159388593690/intern-part-07PART 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05

Upon returning to the building, Namjoon figures there’s no time to be his usual active self and opts for the elevator, frantically pressing the button for it to come to the ground floor. Figuring it isn’t coming down anytime too soon, he pulls out his phone from his trouser pocket and dials for Seokjin.

Time drags out slowly for Namjoon as he waits for his roommate to pick up the bleeding phone and quit spending his time looking in the goddamn mirror -- okay, sure, he doesn’t know for certain why Seokjin takes so long to pick up but Namjoon fully well knows it’s date night tonight, so he’ll be spending at least 3 hours preening himself, so it’s more than likely a valid hypothesis.

“Namjoon-ah? Is everything okay? You don’t usually call at this time” Seokjin answers as the elevator doors open, revealing the inside to Namjoon who steps inside promptly and with relief.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m just gonna be a little late, that’s all…” Namjoon begins. His speech comes to an abrupt halt though when at the last second before the doors close, someone else steps inside, leaving Namjoon silent on the other end of the line to Seokjin.

“Uh, Namjoon-ah?”

‘Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?’

“Helloooo? Have you lost signal Joon-ah?!” Seokjin enquires, demanding a reply. “Joon-ah?!”

“Uh, yeah, I-I-I...left something behind…. Gotta… gotta go.”

“You know, you should really be more careful with your possessions, intern,” voices the company in the lift, the sound making Namjoon a bag of nerves.

‘How on earth have I ended up in an elevator with the editor?!’

“Hmm, how odd,” Seokjin hums, plonking his phone down onto the dresser unit, returning his attention to the mirror. “I hope he can get back before I leave; who else is there to compliment me on my efforts?” he questions with a sigh, leaning onto one elbow, jaw gently pressed onto his fist.

Not leaving his phone alone for too long, he reaches back over for the device and unlocks it to start typing a text

To: Blondie -- My friend seems a little distressed… Can we push back our plans by an hour? No longer :)

“What’s it to you?” Namjoon questions, surprised that he can still muster any of that ‘sass’ that writer Jeongguk seems to like so much…

“‘We’re losing contact with our audience’... You said that, right?” enquires Hoseok, leaning himself coolly against the elevator wall.

“I asked you a question first, editor.” Namjoon manages to speak up; what’s the worst that could happen, eh? He has to be bold.

“You know, you shouldn’t leave the things that are yours lying around so carelessly, intern… I found your wallet just out in the open, ready for anyone to take as their own any second… And then there’s the sweetcakes you forgot about on my desk…” Hoseok tells Namjoon, forcing the wallet and bag into his hands and returning to his position against the wall.

“You fully well know these were for you…” Namjoon counters, emphasizing his grasp on the bag of sweetcakes, “...and seriously? I’m still just ‘intern’? You fully well know who I...”

Namjoon’s words are stopped by a sudden muffled booming sound and dread fills his entire body as the elevator lights give out also. This is typical, once again; the minute Namjoon decides to speak up on anything, there is always something the keep a hold on him afterwards.

“Fine…” Hoseok sighs, unphased by the broken elevator situation, “... but you can still take your stupid food back.”

“Excuse me?” Namjoon panics, pacing back and forth, smacking the walls with his palms, knowing that he is now trapped, meaning he will have to face this out for longer than expected… not that this was an expected situation to arise in the first place.

“Hello?” Hoseok calls, having pressed the emergency button on the keypad. “We seem to have broken down. Can we get some assistance please?” he enquires.

“I’ll be down with you in a second. Good thing you called not a minute later, editor; I was just about to leave for the day. You’re late staying,” a voice responds, crackling through the speaker, going ignored by Hoseok, who returns to speaking with Namjoon.

“You really think we’re still living in some high school story? Or do you think this is one of those dramas right now, where a cheap gift buys a guy?” Hoseok questions, making Namjoon cease all movement. “I live quite a peaceful life now and people take me seriously;” the editor continues, “you honestly think some snack with a memory is going to convince me to involve myself with you?”

This day just continues to keep giving Namjoon this unpleasant, unfamiliar, nerve-wracking feeling. So many questions, such little courage to answer.

“I know blonde is considered a natural colour, but your hair is just as unnatural as mine is; I know you haven’t changed one bit. I just can’t believe you finally bowed down after all the talks you would give me about not giving in or giving up.” Namjoon states, followed by a single forced breath shrewdly.

“You know, I have the power to remove you from your internship, right?”

“And you know, you’d be doing so for unprofessional reasons, right?

“This isn’t something I’m saying because of bored, Namjoon. I can do it.”

“I think I’m beyond caring… editor. No need to bother using my actual name, since I’ve merely been ‘intern’ to you for the past month. I’m sick of feeling like a sock with a hole when you’re around; inadequate, idiotic, wary... It ends here. I’m sick of the past creeping up on me like this. You used to be the one and only good thing about my life at school, but now I don’t even have that to hold on to. So you may wish to go ahead and fire me, but I know I can do well somewhere else.”

In a strange turn of events, Hoseok is the one to be left speechless and feeling incapable, standing there helplessly with an opened mouth. He wonders if maybe that’s the reason Namjoon never replied to his last letter, to rid himself of any reminders of the past.

Knowing he is definitely going to get fired after this, Namjoon decides to push the boundaries and be downright rude to the editor “Close your mouth editor; don’t wanna catch flies.” His heart sinks at his own comment, hating the person he is having to make himself be around Hoseok, but he knows it has to be done; if Hoseok isn’t going to let down his guard or be true to himself, there is simply no point trying to gain back the friendship they once had.

To the intern’s relief, the dim lighting in the elevator returns and the cubicle is humming once again, indicating the elevator’s movement, and despite his need to escape the elevator just minutes ago, Namjoon has every intention on staying in there, now that he has the things he initially came for.

The doors slide open, and Hoseok makes his exit, turning on his heel when he reaches the other side of the door. He is about to speak, but is interrupted by a courageous Namjoon.

“I know it’s been bothering you too, or you wouldn’t have mentioned my little reference from the meeting, but you know, I can’t believe I missed you after all this time… especially since you’re the one who cut me off at the end of senior year.” Namjoon recalls, leaving Hoseok behind as the doors slide shut again.

‘I should probably apply for jobs tonight.’

It really is a pathetic pathetic-fallacy. The rain comes crashing down as Hoseok leaves the building for the night, a whole hour after Namjoon’s departure. The droplets mask the watering building up in Hoseok’s eyes. He’s not even sure he understands anything anymore, not least himself.

Feeling as dragged down as the rain is drawn to the ground, the rain is really not helping the little will Hoseok has left to lift his spirits. It is no comfort that he shouldn’t be lonely tonight, nor is it any comfort that the situation with Namjoon got confronted a little; it solved nothing.

The words repeat like a mantra in his mind “We’re losing contact… losing contact… losing contact…” It bothers him so much more greatly than he can ever let on. He could scream in frustration right now; he was the last one to send a letter, so what place did the intern have to say these specific words?

Not far ahead in front of him, Hoseok can hear a splashing sound, accompanied by a familiar tune. Looking up, he spots no other than Jeon Jeongguk, bright orange umbrella in hand, happily hop-scotching down the pavement, singing cheerily in great contrast to the weather and his surroundings.

“Look Mr. Simple, Simple! You’re great the way you are! Look Mr. Simple, Simple! You’re beautiful the way you are - SJ CALL!”

Hoseok notes that the young writer has quite a good singing voice, and manages to crack a smile at the high-spirited nature of the boy.

“Look Mr. Simple, Simple! You’re great the way you are! Look Mr. Simple, Simple…” Hoseok chirped on his lonely journey home, unphased by the occasional look of disapproval that came his way. Today was a good day, and he was determined that nothing would drag his mood down, despite his unfortunate circumstances that he could no longer be travelling down that road with Namjoon. He had a good feeling about today, having sent his letter to his best friend a week ago that day.

Cutting his internal song off early, Hoseok entered the gateway to his house, and bursting through the door, he called out across the hallway “Mom! Dad! Anyone home?”

“In the kitchen!” called a female voice, resulting in Hoseok to hurry over, eager to have the only question on his mind answered.

“Mom!... Has any particular mail come through today… Maybe addressed to a Mr Jung Hoseok?” the boy smiled, swaying from side to side with his hands tucked behind his back.

“I’m afraid not Hobi; nothing today” was the reply. “Maybe tomorrow, huh?” Hoseok’s mother questions, mirroring her son’s movement… only her fingers were crossed behind her back.

“Yah! Namjoon-ah! Why are you taking all my food like this?” Seokjin whines, attempting to stop his roommate from filling the pan with anymore food.

“I need to build my energy to apply for jobs!” Namjoon exclaims, fighting over the box with Seokjin, getting as much rice as possible with the scoop.

“You already have a job Namjoon-ah! What is going on?” Seokjin grunts, still trying to pull the box out of the younger’s hold.

Satisfied that he now has sufficient food to cook, Namjoon gives in and allows Seokjin to have the box, causing the latter to fly backwards a little, expecting to still be having to tug.

“Oh Seokjinnie! What have I done?! I was so rude to the editor back there!” Namjoon exclaims as Seokjin places the box of rice back under the counter. “I might as well have told him to go fuck himself sideways with a rusty spatula!” Namjoon whines, shoving his face into his hands.

“Ouch…” Seokjin replies, scrunching up his face at the grim thought. “So, what happened?”

“I got trapped in the lift with the editor and for some stupid reason, my brain thought it would be a good idea to back chat him… I sassed my higher whilst in a constricted space with no escape! I’m going mental, I swear ‘Jin! I must be on a death wish!”

“I don’t think that’s such a bad thing…” Seokjin hums, holding a finger to his lip in thought, arms folded.

“How on earth can this not be a bad thing?!” Namjoon demands in one of his tantrum gestures.

“Well, think about it; he’s been ignoring you this past month, being rude to you on the premise that you weren’t gonna fight back. Maybe now that you have asserted some authority, he’ll take you more seriously…”

“I had no right ‘Jin! I’m not the freaking editor - he is!” Namjoon panics, pacing the kitchen to prepare his food. “He’s going to fire me Seokjin and only a month’s internship is going to stick out like a sore thumb on my CV if I try and get in anywhere else!”

“I really don’t think this is something you should be worrying about rather than being proud of; you’ve kind of reached a milestone, Namjoon-ah. You overcame that fear barrier and spoke your mind. I’m proud of you!” Seokjin smiles reassuringly. “I reckon that writer is having a good effect on you ‘Joon!”

Becoming aware of the time, Seokjin does his best to round off the conversation before Namjoon can even protest. “Look, I have to be at the cafe in about 15 minutes time so I need to dash, but we need to have a little catch up sesh soon, yeah?”

“Sure…”

Pulling a jacket from the hook on the back of the front door, Seokjin wraps the clothing around him, letting it snugly fit around his broad shoulders and slim waist, and exits the house.

Maybe Seokjin had a point. Jeongguk is very well likely the only reason Namjoon has managed to stay sane lately. He was someone to talk to throughout the day, after all.

“Happy national dance day guys!” Jeongguk cheered, arms raised in the air in excitement, yet not spilling the drink out of the cup he held. Clicking his fingers in time to the music that played into his ears, Jeongguk was fully into the groove of the song playing out through his headphones

A set of sounds of disbelief and boredom hummed across the room as Jeongguk attempted moon-walking down the aisle of desks leading up to his own. It was quite rare that one would come across someone you could refer to as a ‘morning person’, so inevitably, no one returned the greeting Jeongguk had given upon his entrance into the office.

Namjoon was absent-mindedly watching the free-spirit’s every move, observing the sequence of events upon the entrance of the editor from the other side of the room from Jeongguk coming to check in on everyone to make sure they were settling at the beginning of the day.

“Ah! Slow song! I need a partner…” Jeongguk stated, swaying calmly from side to side, catching sight of the editor in the corner of his eye and dancing his way toward him. “Ah! Hoseok-ah! Dance with me!” he instructed, taking an unamused Hoseok into his arms for an intimate couple’s dance, forcing the editor to move about in his hold… Sometimes Jeongguk has next to no boundaries, and it showed here as he grabbed hold of the editor’s hand with one of his own and only just managing taking a grip around the editor’s waist with the hand that held his drink.

“Writer Jeongguk! Will you please get the heck off me?” Hoseok requested demandingly, already done with Jeongguk within not even a minute of seeing him for the day as he pushed the younger boy off him, the latter pouting at the editor’s response, then going for a sip of his drink, slurping through the straw loudly.

Determined to lay down some boundaries - again - Hoseok continued “I’m rather sure we don’t have that kind of relationship writer…”

“Pfft!” Jeongguk bursted out in shock, spitting drink all over the already displeased editor, who squinted in reaction, even more unamused at Jeongguk’s behaviour. “Really editor?” Jeongguk questioned innocently, without a reaction to his own messy action just then.

Wiping his soaked face, Hoseok grunts “Get to work Jeongguk, you’re on thin ice.”

“The ice is quite thick actually, look!” Jeongguk hollered after him, pulling the cap off his cup and swirling the contents around. Hoseok simply ignored him and continued walking away.

Figuring the fun was over no sooner it had begun as Hoseok made his swift exit, Namjoon returned his attention to the screen in front of him to continue work. It was going to be just a normal day for the rest of it now…

“Ahh!!!” Namjoon screamed as a big wriggly object landed in front of him, slamming itself down onto his keyboard.

Where the hell had a spider the size of a meatball come from…?...

“Oh.” Namjoon voiced more calmly upon the realization, stiffening the features of his lower face and swiping the plastic bug off the desk area and onto the floor.

Turning around on his chair, Namjoon was more than prepared to give writer Jeongguk a good scolding for his stupid prank… but he failed to come out with anything as he watched the look of childish joy on Jeongguk’s face that had been elicited from Namjoon’s over-reaction.

“So much fun, intern Leela!” Jeongguk chuckled, backing away whilst dancing back to his workstation

Chomping on his generous serving of food, Namjoon pauses to put the fork full in his mouth as he lets out a chuckle, looking back on the beginning of this week

“Wait, what am I doing sat here, man?” Namjoon questions himself. “You know what, I’ve eaten well today; time for some fun!” he whoops, pushing himself out of his chair and bouncing across the kitchen and living areas.

Entering his bedroom, he adventurously flings himself onto the bed and rolls across it, fastly reaching his bedside drawer and eagerly pulling out a square of dark, patterned material and rolling it into an even strip. He rubs a hand roughly through his hair to ruffle it up and wraps the bandana around his head. Fastening it at the back, he glances at himself in the mirror.

“It’s about time I did something with my pay check.”

Stepping out onto the cafe balcony, the cool air hits Seokjin’s bare neck as he takes a seat on one side of a two person table, followed by his date, who places himself in the chair opposite and the two wait for their dinner orders to come through.

Dating has never been something that Seokjin has entirely taken seriously, more of just a hobby to him, like men are something you acquire to build a wealthy collection of history, and Seokjin thinks he is on to a winner here; the man in front of him has sharp, handsome features.

A long face, with a chiseled jaw line… Pink full lips that are almost as kissable as Seokjin’s own… Nice eyes, too… The expression on the man’s face indicates that he is a straight-forward, hard-working guy at work, wherever that may be, and would very well be able to assert some dominance in the bedroom...

More than ready to initiate conversation and get to know the guy, Seokjin enquires

“So tell me something about yourself, Hoseok… What is it you do for a living?”

Part 07 [hahaha I’ve only just realised like a year later that I forgot the link whoops]

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