iamanepeolatrist - Tumblr blog

iamanepeolatrist · 2 years

Text

✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚ 𝕒 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 ✮*•̩̩͙✧•̩̩͙*˚✧*˚

━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━

The mood isn't as authentic anymore because I have more energy now but earlier I was in this strange and specific but really soft mood?

I've got "Not Allowed" by TV Girl playing in my head on loop and it sounds like how sticking your head out of the window of a moving car feels. It sounds like being in the backseat of a friends' car, your eyes closed and the outside breeze cooling your skin. Bringing your head back in with a drunk-on-life grin and laying your head with that soft giddy smile on the shoulder of your absolute favorite in this world, who sits next to you - intertwining their hand in yours.

That's the energy swelling every corner of my mind as the song plays on loop in my little mind radio.

The energy is internal but not external. I'm not sure if I'd rather it the other way around.

It's chilly out this morning, a brisk 46 degree forecast for an early school morning in New York's October.

Getting ready is always a hit or miss. It was a vibe at first - playing music to fit that predescribed energy from before and experimenting with an all black ensemble to be both stylish and warm on this frigid day. Brushing out my hair in the mirror, swaying to "Pain" by the PinkPantheress, I revel in the little mundane comfort that is the act of slowly stirring to life in my sleepy solitary routine.

Everything is slow and light and gentle, until mom pushes open my door and takes on that invasive, rushed tone that seems to be her default. The exact happenings are a confused blur as the two energetical settings clash into each other sudden, without notice. I swish my head away from the mirror, still caught lightheaded in that private little early morning cloud and I am faced with that impatient and on-the-verge expression my mother dons often. The look where her mouth is slightly ajar, at the ready for nagging, and her eyes a little wide, scanning every detail of the scene for something to dig into. She digs into the image of me, hairbrush in hand, and my hair a little wild now out of its former plaits. She berades about why I'm doing my hair, why I didn't come to her. Still dazed, I respond with a slow confused ditz, that "I don't really have much time, I'm just going to put it in a ponytail." She parrots my words in protest and then shifts focus to my middle part, starting her "stop putting your hair in a middle part" tirade. Slowly coming out of my morning haze, I vouch for my style, saying "I like the middle part. I don't like pulling my hair all the way back 'cause I don't like my hairline." She's moving her eyes and mouth rapid fire in contrast to my floating cloud and I can barely keep up as she talks about how I should've come - just come let her do it, come sit down, I have time, put that brush down, stop putting my hair in a middle part. It's a lot, but before my cloud can get blown away by her sudden gust of word wind, I trap some of the soft plush feelings from before within me. They may not be floating around my head, engulfing and nourishing my spirt anymore, but I still have them - the clouds of light fluff expanding within me as my music still plays through the shenanigans.

A bit of a light drizzle - barely filling little raindrops - escape on their own accord from the weight of her interupption. I brush past them and tap into the expansive clouds in my chest, letting my mind radio play on, its transforming tune that carries me to daydreams I take solace in.

In her room she moisterizes and brushes my hair into a high ponytail with just the faintest, too-tired-to-truly-care protest from me about my daunting hairline. She argues in its defense and I let myself relax in my inner clouds, floating away from the present, but still feeling her hands brush upwards in front and back. Gathering the hair into one unit atop the crown of my head, and fastening it tight and secure with a hair tie. I feel her hands add Let's Jam gel to the edges and the bristles of an old toothbrush swirl them into little loops that'll surely shrivel by the end of the school day. By the end of her takeover, I stand up to see that the ponytail is more of a bun-ponytail crossover where the hair is up in a bun-style, but not flat and round like a bun. Instead the hair hangs down like a ponytail but the ends of the hair are fastened in the hair tie the way a bun is. The edges are in small little swirls one after the other and the front of my hair is shiny with the Let's Jam gel. My forehead seems to potrude more than usual with my hair now up and the complexion of the skin is patchy and uneven with something of a pretty minor breakout. The style is pretty, but I feel overdone and shiny when today feels like a raw and relaxed kind of day - and it doesn't help that the ponytail-bun is high at the top but falls sort of flat against the back of my head, and I'm already flat in stature, so flat styles of clothes or hair aren't exactly flattering. The gloss of my crown makes me uncomfortable but I take it for what it is, forgetting to put on hoops before I leave which would've gave the updo some balance.

I leave for the bus and walking outside, the sky is completely clear with not a single cloud to decorate it, and wearing my glasses I can see every glittering star crystal clear. It's gorgeous and I walk slowly, admiring the heavens above until I hear the bus revving up the block and I run to catch up. But the bus driver is a sweet old man, and stops abrupt when he sees me - saying "you caught me by surprise! Good morning!" I say some rushed apologies to which he only responds "don't worry about it, I know you come from down that block so I'm always looking out for ya, in case I gotta stop!" He says it with a warm smile and I soften with gratitude.

I sit in the seat behind my friend Vinny and he turns around to greet me. We have a strange specific vibe together and I cherish it. I'm a big talker and he isn't - he listens and I appreciate it. And when I have nothing to say, then we're quiet together. With most people, silence makes me extremely uncomfortable and I feel the need to entertain by talking - to make my presense with them somewhat enjoyable - otherwise I feel awkward and something of a burden, wasting their time. But Vinny is one of those very very rare people who I have safe silence with. I'm not sure why, but it's okay to be quiet around him and I appreciate the safety. We saunter between silence and lazy, relaxed unimportant exchanges about the clear starry sky and how the right side of the bus is darker than the left side - wait but the sky's darker behind us and lighter in front? Oh it's because we're turning and changing direction - what direction are we even heading? We google a compass and determine we're headed South-East.

The bus is dark, but not a cold dark. It's warm. Inside the bus, the lights are off and everything's dark as the sun has a long time before it will rise. A red light on the wall shines, creating a dark black-and-red hue within the bus that's mellow and protective. The heaters are on, so the warmth and red-stained darkness in the bus create this atmosphere that hugs you close and safe as the stars twinkle in the dark blue sky outside.

I become self aware of a sense of tranquility. I'm not really fidgety today like I can be sometimes. I don't have anxious or bouncing energy where I feel the need to bounce my legs or play with the hands I never know what to do with. I find that I'm grounded and calm in this heated, warm bus that makes me feel cocooned, safe and snug beneath that starred blanket of a deep dark navy blue morning sky.

Externally I am uncomfortable, feeling shiny and overdone. But I retreat to the internal, where those fluffy clouds expand in my chest, "Not Allowed" still on loop just above them in my mind radio. I feel grounded yet far away at the same time. Indulging in the physicality of the present - the warmth, the dark, the sky - the atmospherical hug. But living in the faraway ideal senations created between TV Girl's open-aired, nostalgic sound and the spiritually tangible cloud of morning stillness and sleepy solitude.

And in spite of the little things, I'm okay.

It's a good morning.

━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━

Song: "Not Allowed" // TV Girl

#Abryannahjames #Journal

1 note · View note

iamanepeolatrist · 2 years

Text

to reminisce of a villain

There is a figure in your head. A miniature, fragile doll tucked between the folds in your brain, nestled in your sulci like one would in a blanket.

She speaks, and all you do is follow her every command. Autonomy doesn’t exist- not anymore.

You recall the days when she hadn’t arrived. Unaching bones and a spring in your step were of the days of yore, an era foregone; lost to the depths of your memory. Fighting back was useless, although you did at first. Such is the nature of naivety.

The memory of your battle churns vaguely within the chasm. The parasite was located, but yet any attempt of usurping her throne would always fail. Tactics constantly shifted, from active persecution of the doll to a war of attrition. Desperate for change, you even tried the ultimate weapon of denial, but to no avail. Hope was but a fleeting memory.

The tyrant destroyed the inner workings of your mind in a matter of days. You trembled at your queen’s gaze while she tugged on your heartstrings, pain racking through your chest as you silently pleaded for mercy. Dominance was inevitable.

And so you flung away the reins to your brain to your doll, as well the key to the control panel for your bodily functions, and cowered in your shack, where you stay in even now.

You adore your queen. You revel in her presence, her meticulous rule the reason why you survive. There are days where the temptation to sever the connection grows, but she persuades you to stop and return to her embrace. Hollow eyes blink, head nods, and you stay by her side.

The lines blur. She spins her thread of truth, convinces you that you and her are forever bound, your state better off in her capable hands, and you lap it all up like a hungry dog.

You dance in your thread of lies, and all is well.

(author's note: i haven't written in so long- life has been full of changes; since creative writing's more of a hobby i essentially stopped to focus on exams, and now i've started writing again since they're done and dusted. this is just vent writing i guess, to help with my mental health. joined a creative writing society at uni, the prompt was villain this week, decided to do my own twist!)

#Darknessbutbright #prose #short fiction

2 notes · View notes

iamanepeolatrist · 2 years

Text

It’s getting harder. I’ve always been obsessed with fiction. With stories. With the power of script and comic and novel. I’ve always been invested in characters who do not exist, in worlds of magic and wonder and fantasy. I’ve always been prone to eating through several books a week, ten trades in a row, endless movie marathons. Stories matter more than anything. Aside from my wife, stories are the only thing I’ve ever been good at believing in.

But lately, it’s been different. It’s been harder to pull back from the fiction long enough to take in reality. I don’t mean in terms of mental disassociation, exactly; it’s not hallucinatory in the least. I’m very aware of the line between real and imagination. It’s just…getting so much harder to force myself to put down the book. To turn off the Critical Role. To not press play on the next episode…and the next…and the next. Talking to people is getting harder, unless we can talk about the stories. Engaging with the world around me is getting harder, unless I get to take the fiction with me.

I’ve never quite reached this stage of depression before, and–in a way–it’s interesting. My primary coping mechanisms with the monsters in my head have always been twofold, and always stemmed from the same place: whether in fiction, or in hours of sleep, I can escape. I don’t have to think about the darkness if I’m focused on someone else’s story, on the dreamscape someone–even if it’s not me–can control. There’s a blueprint to stories. Even to the least sensical of them, there’s an outline you can follow.

Real life, though. Real life is getting harder to cope with. The world is on fire. Every time I turn around, more of it seems to be burning down. More evil. More corruption. Less hope.

We come to stories because we’re all too aware there are monsters in the world, and because we need to know there are maps leading to their doorstep. We need to know there are flaming swords, and magic spells, and superheroes. We need to know the dragons can be bested. We come to stories because we need to understand each other, because we need empathy, because we need to know there is light even in the darkest of shadows. We need stories, because stories are human.

But lately, the stories are all I can stomach. The fiction is all I can stand. I spend hours of my day listening to audiobooks or to D&D campaigns, and I write my own way out of the darkness. And, for those hours, I am comforted that things can get better. That maybe they always do. And I feel hope.

I don’t know what to do, when hope is only found in storybooks. When the tales we tell ourselves about the monsters are the only place I can find solace. When the demons in the dark prove to be realer and more cruel than anything my wild imagination could come up with. I don’t know what to do, when stories are the only salvation left.

Best I can tell, the only thing left is to keep telling them. To keep weaving. To keep reading, and dreaming, and desperately hoping that the sword in my hand is worth a damn. Best I can tell, that’s all we have right now. I’m so tired. I’m so sad. I wake up in desolation, and I go to bed hopeless, and the hours in the middle hold so much horror. But there are stories. And right now, I’m doing everything I can to tread that line between the safety of fiction and the desperate need to fight.

It’s getting harder. Every week seems a little worse. I can’t afford to vanish into the narrative. I can’t afford to let it swallow me. Best I can tell, stories are what we’ve got.

I have to keep coming back. I have to believe that the gods and heroes and kindness of the stories can be part of the world. I have to figure out how to believe the hope of the words can extend to the nightmare of the real world.

It’s getting harder. But I’m still here. We’re still here. The dreamers. The writers. Those who believe in monsters, and believe there must be a way past them. It’s getting harder, but we still tell the tales. They prove there’s still something worth striving for. Stories have been here to teach us from the very beginning. They’re not for hiding. Maybe they’re not even the sword we swing.

They’re the lantern.

#Novelconcepts #Journal

37 notes · View notes

iamanepeolatrist · 2 years

Text

Young Royals Fic

I’ve realised that I haven’t posted any of my Young Royals fic over here so here we go!

I said you looked pretty (all strung out on coke)

Basically, Wille tells Simon how beautiful he is, but sober this time.

(+ Linda being an excellent mother)

1.2k

Read on AO3

nothing else i could do

Simon shows up to school wearing eyeliner. Wille is very distracted until he isn’t. (Omar wearing eyeliner to Rockbjörnen wrecked me and this is the result.)

1.6k

Read on AO3

I couldn’t whisper when you needed it shouted

Jag älskar dig. I love you.

Simon didn’t say it back. He didn’t expect him to say it back, that wasn’t the reason Wilhelm said it. He said it as a promise. To Simon. To himself.

Wille loves Simon and he tells him so. Often. Repeatedly. (+Wille finds himself becoming part of a family)

2.9k

Read on AO3

I’d rather hold onto you forever

Careful eyes trailed over Simon’s face, cataloguing the tear tracks, the tensed jaw, the soft curls topped with a crown befitting a prince. He brought his hands up to cup Simon’s face, running a thumb under each eye to collect the tears.

–

What if the video wasn’t released at the end of Episode 5 and Wilhelm actually got to comfort Simon after the situation with Micke?

1.8k

Read on AO3

Kiss me (like you wanna be loved)

He stumbled but a hand shot out to steady him at the waist.

And then. A warm chuckle. A teasing but kind voice. “Falling for me already?”

— Simon is working as a waiter at a royal masquerade ball. Wilhelm is smitten with him from the get go. Masquerade Ball AU!

2.8k

Read on AO3

I was housed by your warmth (thus transformed)

Wilhelm had noticed something. It wasn’t a sudden realisation, a bolt of lightning, but rather a gradual dawning. He was getting taller. He was getting taller and Simon wasn’t.

In honour of their increasing height difference, here is: 3 times Wille kisses Simon on the forehead + one time Simon kisses Wille on the forehead.

(Loosely takes place after I couldn’t whisper when you needed it shouted but will make sense without having read it.)

2.5k

Read on AO3

And the fire bright (let it blaze alright)

A missing scene from the first chapter of Wyo’s fic i don’t feel like our love is brand new.

Wille’s memory of the night of Erik’s wedding is hazy. All he knows is that Simon got him safely to bed.

1.2k

Read on AO3

(Thank you to @prince-simon, @toffeelemon, Jen, and @omar-rudeberg for being my biggest cheerleaders. Love you all 💜)

#Aro-of-artemis #young royals #fanfic #fanfic masterlist

147 notes · View notes

iamanepeolatrist · 2 years

Text

Whumptober 2021 No. 17 — Hemorrhage

Masterlist Word count: ~970 Universe: Breath of the Wild; sequel to “No. 4 — Trust Fall” Pairings: Zelink Rating: T Themes: Blood, foreign body removal, open wounds Read on ao3

---

When they’d dragged her from the beach, thrashing and screaming, the last thing Zelda had expected was to be set down in front of a breakfast spread in the elder’s bungalow. She stared numbly at skewered porgy and palm fruit, her face still streaked with tears and her hair still full of sand and salt. He sat across from her, helped himself to the food.

“Eat,” he urged her, when she could only watch, too bewildered to move. “You must have been through quite an ordeal. Rest assured, it’s over now.”

They stared at each other for a beat, the silence eating through the floors and the walls and crackling in the dead space between them.

“You’re free to go,” he tried again, more quietly. Seaglass eyes set in dark brown skin searching hers, looking for something. Gratitude, maybe. “Where is your village? Do you have family we can contact for you?”

“If I’m free to go,” she said cautiously, “then I choose to go back to the cape.”

He scoffed. “Don’t concern yourself with the dragon.”

“He’s dying.”

“Well, yes. That was rather the point.”

She felt the panic rising in her throat again, the raw, sickening plunge of her stomach she’d first felt watching the water turn red. “You don’t know what you’re doing. You’re afraid of what you don’t understand—”

“I understand him well enough,” he sighed. “This village once offered up virgins too. But Lurelin has grown beyond such barbarism and superstitions.”

“You wrested him out of the sky with harpoons,” she hissed, incredulous. “What is that, if not barbaric?”

He shook his head at her, slowly, as though she were very young, and he were very wise, and there wasn’t a dragon bleeding to death out in the cove.

“Lurelin protected its own. Don’t you wish your family had protected you? That they’d treasured their daughter more than they feared the wrath of a dragon?”

“Maybe, back then,” she admitted. “But not now. I can’t imagine life without him anymore. I’m happy.”

“Then you’re very fortunate,” he frowned. “What do you suppose happens to the girls who aren’t happy? Do you think the dragons just send them home? Ask nicely for a replacement, someone more willing?”

She frowned, too. There was no point answering a question like that, no point dwelling on what hadn’t happened. No point admitting that anyone less gentle than Link would surely have been overcome by the song. But her silence was answer enough.

The elder went back to fixing his plate, picking bits of fruit and fish and flatbread. “That’s why these traditions have to end. Every dragon that has come to Lurelin has only brought suffering.”

“He’s not sure,” she whispered then, numbly, “but he thinks he might be the last one.”

“All the better,” he breathed. “The world has no more need of dragons.”

He took a bite of roasted porgy. The silence radiating out of them sent her stomach plunging again. She didn’t know how to reason with him, how to convince him. She didn’t know what could possibly—she just didn’t know what to do.

“Please,” she whispered, bitter tears falling again. “Don’t punish him because of me. This is my fault. I told him I wanted to live by the sea, that I wanted to come to Lurelin. We were fine on our own, but I wanted—gods, this is all my fault—”

She dropped her face in her hands.

“You love him,” he decided, frowning.

She barely found her voice to answer, looking up from her fingers, afraid to hope. “Yes.”

It made him frown deeper. He said, “You were never the one they meant to harm.”

It wasn’t a promise. It wasn’t much for hope. It wasn’t much of anything. But then he rose, leaving his breakfast behind, and her heart leapt into her throat as he ushered her out of the bungalow.

“Come,” he sighed, “and I will see if I can’t persuade the others to let him go.”

Zelda ran ahead of him to the cape, where the dragon was still staining the waters red, his barrel rising in great, painful swells with every breath. She waded out into the bay and cradled his jaw in her lap, whispering to him, stroking his muzzle, while the elder gathered some of the other councilmen. They argued on the shore, their voices buzzing behind them like a lot of bees; Link kept his eyes fixed on her, his gaze too affectionate, too soft, even as his eyelids sagged with exhaustion.

The elder waded out to them, finally, frown still twisting at his lips.

“He may go,” he said. “So long as he never returns to this place.”

Words bubbled up in her mouth—bits of thanks, of relief, all jumbled on each other and twisted up in nonsense. She said instead, her immediate concerns punching to the fore, “He can’t change shape with the harpoons piercing him.”

The elder nodded, and went for help.

She held Link as the villagers grabbed ahold of shafts and barbs, as they wriggled and tore and finally pulled them free, filling the air with that shrill sound. As soon as they were out of him he shifted, the smoke pouring around them, and his screams burst out of him anew as his body rearranged itself around raw wounds and saltwater washed into them.

She held him as the villagers lifted him gingerly out of the sea, and as they carried him to the sickroom and bound his gushing wounds. She held him as he finally slipped into a fitful sleep brought on by a nightshade elixir, and as the sun set and the moon rose. She held him until her arms went numb, nerves prickling and muscles weak, fingers tangled loosely in his hair.

She had no intention of letting him go.

#Legend of Zelda #fanfic

85 notes · View notes

iamanepeolatrist · 2 years

Text

The Devil From The Past (And The Angel In My Future)

Steve and Billy were visiting California and some of Billy’s old friends.

Things were going fine, his friends had accepted Steve with open arms as they all sat in a bar, but it wasn’t until one of Billy’s friends, Bryan, arrived late that the whole atmosphere changed.

The guy wouldn’t stop giving Steve dirty looks from the other side of the table and it made him feel uneasy.

Steve knew he wasn’t like Billy’s friends and that it was understandable if it was hard for them to get to know him, but something was clearly bothering the man about him that went beyond the way he dressed or styled his hair.

He looked like he wanted to eat Steve up and not in a good way.

Even after they left the bar they had been in and went to one of Billy’s friends' apartment where they were supposed to crash for the night, he still felt those eyes on him.

He excused himself at one point and went to the balcony to look at the city since he had never been to California before.

Steve was there for a while, just taking it all in before heard someone coming. Steve turned around to look with a soft smile on his face, thinking it was Billy, but his face dropped as soon as he saw who it was.

Bryan.

He came to stand next to Steve and lit up a cigarette with a grunt. He turned to look at Steve who just gave him a small awkward smile back before turning away to look at the city again.

”Mm… you’re different than I expected,” Bryan broke the silence as he took a drag of his cigarette.

Steve glanced at him and tried to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

”Well what did you expect?” Steve questioned, trying to sound amused.

Bryan grinned, showing off his teeth and looked Steve up and down.

”Someone that was Billy’s type.”

Steve’s face turned into confusion and he glanced at the other more carefully now.

Bryan laughed and purposely blew smoke to his face, making Steve caught a little. He smirked again before dropping the cigarette and stepping on it with his boot.

”You sure are pretty, but you look like the type he’d fuck and then dip quickly after. Nothing special.” Bryan murmured and loved the way Steve’s face showed a little hurt on it.

Gotcha, Bryan thought.

”You seem rich too… Daddy’s money bought that sweet polo of yours?”

Steve looked down at his shirt while Bryan let out a chuckle at his dumbfounded face.

”Yeah, I thought so… you see, you have nothing in common with Tiger,” He said as he came closer to Steve.

”You don’t know what it’s like being like us, like him. I bet when you realize he can’t buy you things like your Daddy does, you get bored and leave him like his Mommy.”

Steve flinched a little by the way the other’s voice turned more venomous.

He turned to look up at Bryan and even though the other looked mad, he still gave him that same disgusting smirk that screamed of some sick pleasure.

Bryan put his hand on Steve’s back and came right up to his ear so that Steve could feel the other’s breath on his neck.

It gave him chills. The bad kinds.

”You should just give up already. You’ll hurt him even more if you keep going with this petty act of yours. Be the good boy you are. You and I both know you’d be better off without him…”

And as if nothing happened, he simply patted Steve’s back in a way of trying to seem friendly and then pulled the balcony door open before stepping in and leaving Steve standing there, alone and confused.

****

”You know you could just sleep without them on, Baby. I wouldn’t mind…” Billy purred as he stared at Steve’s ass from the pulled out couch they were going to sleep the night on.

Steve smiled a little and turned to look at the other.

”And scare your friends off in the morning with my bare ass out in the open?” Steve gave him a look which made Billy chuckle while he returned to search his shorts from his bag.

Steve let out a soft ’ah’ when he found them and quickly put them on as he came to lay beside Billy who eagerly took him in his arms and threw the blanket on top of them both so Steve wouldn’t get cold.

”If they stared at your ass I’d beat their asses instead…” Billy murmured as he leaned in to give Steve a quick kiss that made the other bubble out a laugh.

”Mm… sure you would.” Steve said before catching the other’s lips and deepening the kiss.

They made out for a while with soft words spoken now and then, about how happy Billy felt right now that he was being surrounded by his friends and Steve and that he could openly show his affection towards him without anyone judging them.

When they started to get ready to sleep and took comfortable positions, that’s when the things that Bryan had told Steve came flooding back into his mind.

Steve bit his bottom lip nervously and listened to the calm breathing from Billy who was spooning him.

He didn’t know if he should bring the things the other had said up, they weren’t true after all, but it still bothered him how easily he had gotten into his head.

”What’s wrong?”

Steve closed his eyes and sighed.

Sometimes he hated how well Billy knew him. Especially when he was anxious.

He turned a little in Billy’s arms to face the other and it wasn’t completely dark in the living room because of the lights coming from outside, so he saw Billy’s face and the small frown on it.

”It’s… Bryan.” Steve said quietly.

He felt how Billy froze and saw the way the other turned to look away from him, not being able to meet his eyes.

”What did he do?” Billy said darkly after a minute.

Steve’s eyes widened a little by the way the other’s voice changed and he looked away

”Well, the guy clearly hates me. It pretty much confirmed it after the things he said to me-”

”What did he say?” Billy cut him off.

”I… well,” Steve started as he played with his fingers nervously. He didn’t know how close Billy was with Bryan and he didn’t wanna ruin anything between them because maybe he was just overthinking, right?

Or… maybe not, but he didn’t wanna come here to ruin the only friendships Billy had.

”Steve, if he hurt you in any way you need to tell me.”

Steve turned to look at Billy again and gulped a little by how angry the other looked as he had already sat up on the couch without Steve even noticing.

He took in a deep breath and sat up too, letting his bangs fall on his face.

”He didn’t hurt me, but he did say some things that won’t stop messing with my head…”

”He told me that you and I had nothing in common and that eventually, I would leave you. He said I’d never know what it was or is like when it came to how your life has been because I’m not like you or your… friends.” He looked down at his hands and frowned ”And maybe he was right. Maybe I’ll never get it, but I’d never leave you Billy and it’s just, fucking messing with my head how easily he got me to doubt things-”

Billy took him in his arms suddenly when Steve started to panic and made him look at him. His face still looked angry, like he was planning something and Steve didn’t know if he should ask or just let it be.

”I’m… I’m going to have to fucking talk to him. I should’ve known he’d pull some shit like this.” Billy growled.

Steve furrowed his brows in confusion.

Billy knew Bryan would act like this. But why?

There had to be something deeper going on for Billy to act this way.

Some history Steve hasn’t been told before.

”Is there… is there any reason he hates me so much that you could think of?” Steve asked after a while and Billy turned his head to look down at him from where he had been staring at the window before.

Billy looked like he was struggling to say something, but after some time, he just looked defeated and sighed.

”Fuck…” He cursed and pinched the prick of his nose.

”I dated him the summer before I moved to the shithole. It was mostly just fucking around, but still… something.” Billy started slowly.

”It ended after two months when we had a fight. He tried to beg for me to stay even after fucking cheating on me, but I… I beat him up instead.”

Steve looked at him carefully, but knowing the look the other had on his face, he knew Billy wasn’t finished yet.

”The guys tried to make us work it out, but shit hit the van again when the move came and we never really got to talk before it. Not that I was even up for it.”

”Just can’t believe the fucker is taking that out on you.” Billy fumed.

Steve took Billy’s hand in his and tried to turn the other’s face towards him.

”It’s okay, Billy-”

”No it’s not fucking okay!” Billy barked out.

”I thought he’d be over it since it has been over two years, grown up like the rest of us, but he’s still that whiny little bitch and now… now he tried to ruin the only thing that has made me happy.”

Billy turned and looked at Steve ”, you.”

Steve gave him a soft smile and leaned forwards to rest their foreheads against one another. Billy wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him tighter against him.

”You make me so happy too.” Steve whispered.

He couldn’t believe he let the words Bryan put into his head almost make him doubt himself and most importantly their relationship.

Steve always knew him and Billy were different, in many ways and that had been a big insecurity he had had at the start of their relationship.

He wasn’t like Billy’s friends. He wasn’t as smart and he has always been told he liked lame or childish things, but even with all of that, Billy still liked him.

Loved, even.

(At least that’s what Steve hoped.)

Billy’s shoulders relaxed a little when he heard Steve’s answer and he moved to kiss the other.

Steve answered the kiss and wrapped his arms around Billy’s shoulders as he sat on the other’s lap, legs on either side of Billy’s thighs.

Soon they fell down to the couch and Steve laughed softly when Billy gave him small kisses to his cheeks.

Once they calmed down and laid facing each other, Steve brushed Billy’s hair back as a sad smile formed into his face.

”I’m sorry it ended like that with you two…” Steve murmured.

Billy stared at him for a moment before kissing the others knuckles while turning to lay on his back.

”It’s fine. Shit happens. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from him.”

Steve gave him a puzzled look and moved closer to Billy’s side so the other would look at him.

”You have nothing to apologize for, Billy. He’s an asshole and was clearly trying to start something or worse, break us off,” Steve started and a small grin plastered to his face.

”Too bad he doesn’t know it won’t be that easy.”

Billy gave Steve a small smile back and played with the others brown locks as soon as he laid his head down to his chest.

Steve kept listening to Billy’s heartbeat and it calmed him down, making him feel safe to be held by the other as he finally fell asleep.

****

The next morning Steve woke up alone from the couch and looked around himself to try and find Billy.

When he didn’t see Billy anywhere, he glanced at the clock next to the TV and it was close to 10am.

He sighed and got up, putting on Billy’s old band shirt and walked straight to the hallway that went to the kitchen. And that’s where he found two of Billy’s other friends, but not Billy.

”Morning, sleepy head.” Eric said, giving Steve a soft smile and then turning back to making eggs.

”Morning…” Steve answered softly while pushing his hair back and nervously fumbling with the hem of Billy’s shirt.

”Billy’s out if you’re wondering. He left about an hour ago, but he said he’ll come back for breakfast and for you not to worry.” Billy’s other friend, Kyle, said as he worked on his guitar's frets.

Steve sat down on the chair closest to the door and gave a small nod as an answer.

Where did Billy go? He hadn’t talked about going out the night before.

Steve was woken from his thoughts as Eric planted a plate in front of him and gave his shoulder a soft pat.

”I see that you’re thinking about it, but don’t worry. He’ll come back soon enough.” Eric gave him a reassuring smile.

”Yeah, no way he’d leave you, man. Hargrove’s following you like a lost fucking puppy. Never seen him being so possessive either…” Kyle muttered, but he didn’t turn to look at either of them.

”Shut it, Kyle.” Eric glared at the other annoyingly, but Kyle just grinned which made Steve smile too.

They all started to eat their breakfast while some heavy metal music played from the radio. Kyle seemed to be familiar with the song because he wouldn’t stop singing it even with his mouth full of food and it made Eric kick his feet.

Soon enough the apartment's door busted open and Billy was walking to the kitchen, jean jacket on as he took the last few drags from his cigarette.

”Shit, man, I said no smoking inside my place. Shit stinks.” Eric whined, but Billy just chuckled and threw the cigarette out of the window.

He finally looked at Steve whose big brown eyes were slightly worried as he took him in because he could see Billy had been nervous and was still coming down from it.

He quickly walked next to Steve and gave him a kiss, which made Kyle whistle.

”Fuck off.” Billy grunted, but dove in to kiss Steve once more before leaning back and sitting on the chair next to him. He laid one hand on the other’s bare thigh and gave it a squeeze before turning around to face the other two.

Steve saw his knuckles were a little bruised.

”You two didn’t say anything fucking stupid, right?” Billy glared at them as a warning, but it was clearly playful.

Eric assured him they didn’t while Kyle chuckled, but he soon turned back to his guitar when Eric gave him a pointed look.

They all sat in the kitchen until everyone had eaten and then Steve and Billy moved to the living room to lay down for a while before they would start to pack up their stuff.

Steve was changing his shorts to his jeans when Billy came behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist, giving his neck kisses which made Steve squirm because they tickled.

”Billy, stop…” Steve giggled softly and turned around in Billy's arms.

”Can’t. Missed you too much.” He kissed the other on the lips this time.

Steve smiled, wrapping his arms around Billy’s shoulders and getting lost in the kiss until he remembered how nervous Billy had been before and leaned away suddenly.

Billy opened his eyes, giving him a confused look.

”Why were you so nervous before?” Steve asked.

Billy's face dropped a little, but he took in a deep breath as he moved his hair from his face.

”I went to see Bryan.”

Steve’s eyes widened and he looked at Billy who sat down on the couch, letting out a big sigh.

”I couldn’t sleep at all, so I figured the only way to handle this is finishing it. So, I went and told him what he did was out of line and shit got a bit rough at one point, but I made it clear to him I never want him around you ever again.”

Steve sat down next to him and took Billy’s hand in his.

”Is that how you got these?” He looked down at Billy’s bruised knuckles, which meant he had clearly hit something.

That something being Bryan.

”Like you said, he tends to get under your skin easily.”

Steve frowned as he pulled Billy into a hug.

Billy relaxed in his arms almost immediately and wrapped his strong arms around Steve waists while hiding his face in the crook of the other’s neck.

They were silent for a while until Steve opened his mouth.

”I love that you’re protective and that you wouldn’t let anyone hurt me, but I don’t want to see you getting hurt in the progress either, Billy.” Steve whispered.

He felt how Billy held him tighter and it made him smile a little.

They sat there for a few minutes, just holding each other close until Billy pulled away, playing with Steve’s jeans belt loop and tucking it a little which made the other’s jeans get tight around his waist.

”Hey!” Steve whined and it made Billy let out a chuckle.

He kept tugging again a few times, loving the sound of Steve’s complaining and the small pout on his face.

”Can you no-”

”I love you.” Billy said, shutting Steve up.

Steve turned to face him, eyes blown wide and mouth open in shock. He could feel his face burning up.

”W-what?” Steve gaped.

”I said, I love you.” Billy said again.

Oh, Steve heard him alright.

He was just shocked to hear it. To not be the one to say it first.

And that… Billy loved him. That it wasn’t just him.

”I..I love you too,” Steve said, a smile plastering into his face ”so much.”

Billy let out a relieved sigh and tackled Steve onto the couch before kissing him deeply.

Things were going to be just fine.

#Plistommy #stranger things #fanfic #harringrove fanfic

110 notes · View notes

iamanepeolatrist · 2 years

Text

Come with Me and We’ll Be

msr | s6 | words: 900 | fictober Day 20 | #20

“So, Scully,” he leans back against the seat and stretches his arms, hands gripping on the steering wheel. “Tell me a fantasy of yours.”

Scully gives him a side glance. How can he be in such a good mood? She wonders somewhat defeatedly. They have been sitting in this excruciating traffic for 45 minutes already; there must be a car accident or something ahead, but the radio in this rental is broken. “Is that a helicopter?” She squints her eyes, ignoring his silly question.

Keep reading

#Lotsoforangesoutside #fanfic #x-files fanfic

87 notes · View notes

iamanepeolatrist · 2 years

Text

Red Paint

Whumptober Day 16: Recovery / Scars / Aftermath

(Loving this trend where I say I'm giving up on Whumptober and then post yet another fic a few days later)

Summary:

Roy is talking to somebody on the phone now, his voice muffled through the door. Lian can hear enough to pick up pieces of the one-sided conversation. She hears the word ambulance, followed by their address. She hears what sounds like a sob at first, but it can’t be that. Lian’s dad would never cry like that.

She hears, My husband tried to kill himself, and then, brokenly, Hurry.

Trigger Warnings: Suicide Attempt

Lian wakes up to the sound of cursing. Usually Lian would dismiss the noise and go back to sleep. She’s used to being awoken in the middle of the night from her dad and Jason coming home after doing their hero jobs. But Lian almost never hears Roy curse—not this loudly, at least. Jason does, frequently, but Roy always makes a point of censoring his mouth when Lian is within earshot. This time he doesn’t seem to care. “Fuck, shit—Jason,” she hears. “No, no, no. Jaybird, talk to me, baby. Goddamn it. Fuck.” Lian sits up in bed, rubbing her sleepy eyes. There’s the sound of frantic stomping down the hall, accompanied by more muttered curses. Lian’s stomach twists as she realizes that this isn’t the frustrated kind of cursing or the mad kind or the kind her dad makes when Jason is patching him up after a rough night. He’s scared. And it takes something really bad to make Lian’s dad scared. Being as quiet as she can, Lian climbs out of bed. She steps tentatively out of her bedroom, trailing her blanket behind her. She stops to grab her Wonder Woman plushie to help her be brave. She ventures into the hallway and hears clattering coming from the kitchen. A second later, Roy comes rushing out holding the cordless phone. “Daddy?” Lian says, her eyes wide at his flustered state. “What’s wrong?”

Roy doesn’t seem to notice Lian at first—not until he nearly runs into her on his path to the bathroom. There’s red paint on his hands, but Lian doesn’t remember him painting anything. “Go back to bed, sweetheart,” he says, distracted and shaky. He barely looks at her. He’s already dashed back into the bathroom before Lian can ask anything else. He swings the door shut behind him, effectively blocking Lian’s view of whatever he’s painting in there. Lian obediently goes back to her bedroom, but she doesn’t get farther than the threshold before her curiosity betrays her. She sits behind her door, opened a crack, and listens. Roy is talking to somebody on the phone now, his voice muffled through the door. Lian can hear enough to pick up pieces of the one-sided conversation. She hears the word ambulance, followed by their address. She hears what sounds like a sob at first, but it can’t be that. Lian’s dad would never cry like that. She hears, My husband tried to kill himself, and then, brokenly, Hurry. There’s silence for a minute. Lian’s palms sweat where they grip Wonder Woman’s arm. Quieter than before, Lian hears Roy pleading with someone. Don’t do this to me, Jaybird. You idiot. You fucking idiot. Lian sits there for several more minutes, listening to her daddy cry and picturing the red paint on his hands. When she hears sirens down the street, she gets up and climbs back into her bed. She pulls her blanket over her head and covers her ears so she doesn’t have to hear anymore.

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

The hospital smells funny. It’s stuffy and too clean, like chemicals and cotton. Lian wishes she had brought some toys to the waiting room with her. Daddy pulled Lian out of bed as soon as the ambulance left, not giving her time to change out of her pajamas or grab her toys. She saw a pool of blood on the bathroom tile through the open doorway. Uncle Dick returns from his vending machine mission and tosses Lian a bag of animal crackers. “Here you go, kiddo.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. None of his smiles tonight have. He takes the plastic chair next to Lian’s and pulls her onto his lap, sitting her on his knee before opening his own snack. “Any updates while I was gone?” he asks Uncle Duke. Duke shakes his head. Lian’s other aunts and uncles are here too, all still in their pajamas. It’s like a sleepover, if sleepovers were sad. Grandpa Bruce keeps pacing back and forth across the waiting room, muttering to himself and making all sorts of calls. Damian is playing a game on his phone. Aunt Cass is sleeping with her head in Tim’s lap, curled up tight across two chairs. “Where’s Jay-Jay?” Lian asks. Everyone has been talking about him tonight, but always out of Lian’s hearing range. She’s heard them using big words like lacerations, depressed, and suicide. She wants to ask what they mean, but she’s too afraid of what the answer will be. Dick’s fingers tighten on the pretzel halfway to his mouth. He returns it to the bag warily. “He’s with the doctors, sweetie.” “Is he okay?” Jason’s always talking about how much he hates doctors. He must be really hurt if he let them take him to a hospital. “He’ll be fine,” Dick reassures her, but his smile is too sad to do any actual reassuring. “He’s just...a little hurt right now.” Lian chews her animal crackers thoughtfully. “Can I see him?” She has a Barbie doctor kit at home in her room. Daddy should have let her bring it; maybe she could use it to make Jason better. “In a little bit,” Dick says. He smooths her hair down like he’s trying to comfort her, but Lian doesn’t know what she’s supposed to be comforted from. “Your dad’s with him now. Just eat your snack, okay?”

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

Lian is sitting at the end of Jason’s hospital bed with a coloring book that Grandpa Bruce found for her at the gift shop. The book only came with five crayons, which doesn’t give her much to work with. How can Lian be expected to color in a giraffe if her only options are red, yellow, green, blue, and pink? She misses her crayons at home. That pack had the decency to come with eighty-four colors and a sharpener. But Daddy says it’s rude to complain about gifts, so Lian colors in her green giraffe and listens while the grownups talk. Not that there is much talking going on. It’s been quiet ever since Lian was finally let in to see Jason. Bruce and Roy keep asking how Jason’s feeling, but his answers have been disinterested and mumbled. Lian knows they’re being quiet because they don’t want her to hear whatever they really want to talk about, but she doesn’t want them to make her leave, so she doesn’t mention it. Bruce is the one to break the heavy silence. “Jason,” he says, sounding tired. No answer. Lian colors in a pink bunny. Bruce sighs. “We’re going to have to talk about it eventually.” “Just go away.” Jason doesn’t sound like himself. He sounds slow, like a gusher that’s been completely drained of juice. He’s paler than he was when he tucked Lian into bed earlier tonight. His arms are all wrapped up in bandages from wrist to elbow. Lian wishes they could all just go home, but Daddy said Jason has to stay here in the hospital for a little while longer. Roy is holding Jason’s hand now. He hasn’t left his spot on Jason’s bed since Lian got here. He hasn’t let go of Jason’s hand either. He looks the most tired out of everyone, his eyes red and his hair in a messy ponytail at the nape of his neck. There’s still some paint on his shirt. “Please, Jaybird,” he says quietly, rubbing his thumb across Jason’s wedding band over and over—a matching counterpart to the one on his own finger. “You have to give us something. We just want to help you.” Jason doesn’t look like himself, all washed out in the white hospital room. He doesn’t look at Roy or Bruce or Lian. “You really wanna help me?” he asks. He sounds grumpy, but the kind that’s just sadness pretending to be grumpiness. Lian doesn’t like hearing it. “Get out and leave me alone. I’m tired.”

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

Daddy called Aunt Mia to come pick Lian up and take her home. The sun has been up for hours, but the hospital doesn’t feel any less cold. Most of the others have gone by now. Uncle Duke and Damian had school, and Dick took Cass and Tim to get breakfast. This is the first time since they arrived that Roy has left his husband’s side. Lian focuses on buttoning her rain jacket all by herself while they wait for Mia to arrive. Roy and Bruce are talking quietly over her head. “Three days?” Roy echoes with disbelief. “That has to be a joke.” “It’s hospital protocol,” Bruce explains calmly. “He’s going to be under suicide watch for twenty-four hours, and then he has to do either three days in the psych ward or be admitted to another mental health facility.” “This is a load of—” Roy stops himself. He covers Lian’s ears. “This is a load of horse shit,” he says, muffled but not enough. He takes his hands away. “You break the law every night. You can’t ignore this one damn rule?” “It’s not a matter of rules. He’s not well, Roy.” “I can take care of him,” Roy insists. “He’s just going through a rough patch right now, but he’ll get better. I’ll watch him.” “Roy,” Bruce says patiently. He says it the same way that Roy tells Lian she can’t have twelve pancakes during breakfast. Consoling the tantrum before it starts. “I’ll watch him, Bruce. I can take a few days off work. I won’t let him out of my sight until this thing passes.” “He needs professional help.” “Do you honestly think he’ll agree to that?” Roy asks, his voice having risen to an almost-yell. He takes a deep breath and says, more quietly, “Even if you somehow talked him into it, there’s nowhere for him to go. The guy’s legally dead as Jason Todd, and the Red Hood has a record longer than my leg. Put him in a facility under a fake identity and he can’t do treatment without lying about his entire life, which defeats the purpose. The only place shady enough to take him is Arkham, and that’s not fucking happening.” Lian can’t remember the last time her dad cursed this much. She can’t remember the last time he’s been this openly scared about something either. “Leslie Thompkins is a licensed therapist and a close friend,” Bruce responds calmly. “Jason knows her. He’s comfortable with her.” “Fine,” Roy says. “He’ll come back home and I’ll drive him to his appointments.” “He’s coming back to the manor. Just until he’s better.” “No. No way.” “It won’t be forever, Roy. But you already have your daughter to take care of. You can’t watch him every second.” “Who the fuck do you think has been watching him every time he’s gotten low like this, huh?” Roy is trying to keep his voice down, but it still comes out as an angry hiss. Lian snaps another button. “When he can’t get out of bed, who do you think is the one making him shower and eat? Who’s the one that takes away his guns when he starts spiraling? I’ve gotten him through this before and I can do it again.” Sometimes Jason gets sad, Lian knows. She’s seen it. She’s watched her dad and Jay-Jay have hushed conversations on days when Jason can’t get off the couch. Sometimes he cries. Sometimes Roy does. But by the next day, things are always good again. Jason learns how to smile again. Bruce doesn’t budge. Lian doesn’t know why Roy thought he would; no one can win an argument against Batman. Not unless they’re Alfred or Lian. “This is what’s best for him.” Bruce plants a hand on Roy’s shoulder. “Go home, Roy. Take a shower. He’ll be here when you get back. We can break the news to him together.” Roy’s hands tighten into fists. His shoulders sag, defeated. Lian wonders if he knows there’s still blood crusted under his fingernails, or if he just doesn’t care. “He’s going to hate this plan,” Roy says finally. “I know. But it’s the right thing.”

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

Lian spends the next few days with Aunt Mia. She comes up with all sorts of fun games to play, but Lian can’t stop thinking about Jason. When she left the hospital after the Bad Night, Jason kissed her on the forehead and told her he’d be fine, but he didn’t sound like himself. He hasn’t sounded like himself in a long time. Lian has hardly seen her dad these past few days; he’s always at the hospital with Jason. Today Jason was finally released from the hospital, but Mia said that he can’t come home yet. Roy drove with Jason to Grandpa Bruce’s house to help him settle in. What exactly he’s settling in for, Lian doesn’t know, and no one will tell her. Lian bounds up from the kitchen table when Roy closes the front door behind him. “Daddy, Daddy! Mia and I made sculptures!” She points at her tribe of colorful Play-Doh creations on the table. Roy picks her up and kisses her cheek. “Sounds great, sweetheart.” He’s been distracted ever since Jason got hurt. His eyes keep going far away, but Lian can never figure out what it is he’s looking at. Roy collapses into a kitchen chair, keeping Lian on his lap and hugging her close. “Thanks for watching her, Mia.” “No problem,” Mia says, squishing her own Play-Doh sculptures back into the little plastic tubs. “How’d it go with…?” She trails off, her eyes darting between Roy and Lian. Instead of answering, Roy smiles down at Lian. “Did you two have fun today?” Lian holds up her Play-Doh snowman. “I named him Oliver.” She points to the yellow on its mouth. “This is his goatee, see?” “Oh, man, Grandpa Ollie’s gonna love that.” Roy and Mia make smalltalk for a while, talking about everything but Jason. Roy pays Mia for babysitting and sees her out. Then he sets about making chicken nuggets for Lian. “Daddy, where’s Jay-Jay?” Lian ventures to ask. She smooshes a glob of pink and green together, squishing the dough between her fingers. “He’s at Grandpa Bruce’s house, baby. I told you this earlier.” “But why?” Jason has been living with them for over three years now. Doesn’t he like their apartment? He’s the one who picked out the bookshelves in the living room, after all. Roy sighs and leans back against the counter. “Bruce thought it would be a good idea for Jason to be with family for a bit.” “But we’re his family.” “We are,” Roy agrees. He ruffles her hair. “But you know how when you got chickenpox, you stayed home from school that way you wouldn’t give it to your classmates?” Lian nods. “It’s a little like that. Jason’s just a little sick right now, and he didn’t want to expose you to that.” Lian can’t see the connection between the bandages on Jason’s wrists and a case of chickenpox, but she doesn’t voice it. Daddy always gets sad whenever she talks about the Bad Night. “When can he come home?” “Soon,” he promises. “He’ll be back with us in no time.” Soon can mean anything from two hours to two months, but Lian knows better than to ask again. They eat their nuggets in silence. After making Lian clean up her Play-Doh, Roy puts on some Disney movies. They watch them together on the couch long past bedtime, but it feels empty without Jason.

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

“How’d today’s session go?” Roy asks. Lian is sitting on his lap while he does his daily phone call to Jason. Lian kicks her feet and waits impatiently for her turn. Roy nods along to whatever Jason is saying. “That’s great, Jaybird. That’s really great. Are the meds helping?” Lian tugs on Roy’s sleeve. “Daddy, what are meds?” Roy gently shushes her. He twists one of her pigtails gently around his finger while he listens to Jason. “Yeah, she’s right here.” He moves the phone away from his mouth. “Jay-Jay says hi.” “Can I talk to him?” Lian reaches up to snatch the phone away, but Roy keeps it pressed to his ear, out of her reach. “Yeah, she wants the phone. Is that okay?” Jason must say yes, because next Roy is putting the phone on speaker and holding it up for Lian to talk. “Hi, Jay-Jay!” she yells into the receiver. “I miss you.” “I miss you too, princess.” He still sounds tired, but it’s an improvement to how he was at the hospital. At least now he doesn’t sound like a dead person pretending to be an alive person. “How was your day?” Lian catches Jason up on everything she can think of since he hasn’t been here to witness the important stuff, like the clown pancakes Daddy made this morning and the corgi she saw at the park. Jason hums along, ooh-ing and aah-ing at all the right places while Lian chatters on. “When are you coming home?” she asks when she’s finished. “You missed three whole Taco Tuesdays.” “Soon, sweetheart. I promise.” Lian is getting real tired of that word—soon. Soon means nothing. Soon is just a word that grownups use when they don’t want kids to know the truth. “Uncle Tim said you want to die and that’s why you had to go away.” Roy sucks in a sharp breath, but he doesn’t take the phone away. Jason is quiet for a while. Lian starts to wonder if he hung up, when finally he says, “Uncle Tim is a dummy, alright, princess? I’m just helping your grandpa with some things. I’ll be back home by next week.” “Next week?” Roy rips the phone back and turns the speaker off so Lian is once again cut off from the conversation. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” She can faintly hear Jason’s voice over the receiver. “I’m not staying here any longer than that.” Roy’s eyes flicker to Lian, who stays listening intently. He lowers his voice. “Babe, I think you should listen to what Leslie says. You know I want you back here more than anyone, but your mental health has to come first. Some time away will do you good. Get your head back on straight before you come back. There’s no rush.” “I’m coming home next week,” Jason says, more forceful this time and leaving little room for argument. “I’m fine.”

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

Things have been tense since Jason’s return. Not that Lian has been included in any of the many hushed conversations that have taken place out of her earshot since then. Jason’s kept his arms covered up, not letting Lian get in even a curious glimpse at where the bandages used to be. Daddy said that everything would go back to normal as soon as Jason was back, but Lian is pretty certain he miscounted somewhere. Jason has been off since...since the hospital, really. Or maybe before then. It’s like he left half of himself behind when he went away, and that half hasn’t come back yet. His smiles, rare as they are, are empty. He doesn’t talk—not if someone doesn’t talk to him first, and when he does say something, he doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes. He hardly looked twice at the macaroni bracelet Lian made for him. And Roy is so busy taking care of Jason that he starts to disappear too. Lian can’t remember the last time the apartment was this quiet. Tonight she goes into her dads’ room to remind them that she still hasn’t gotten her bedtime story for the night. She stops in the doorway, peeking into the dark space. Jason is lying in bed, curled up on his side with his face buried in the pillow. Roy is sitting next to him, one hand resting on Jason’s hip over the blanket. “I’m not asking for a lot here, Jaybird,” Roy says to him. Neither of them have noticed Lian. Jason grumbles something that Lian can’t hear. “You’d have energy if you ate more than a handful of grapes today.” Roy holds out something in front of Jason’s face. “One protein bar. That’s all I’m asking.” Jason doesn’t take it. He doesn’t even look at it. After a moment of waiting with no response, Roy slams the protein bar down on the mattress so suddenly it makes Lian jump. “Damn it, Jason! What do you want me to do, huh? You won’t eat anything, you won’t drink anything—it’s like I’m living with a damn zombie.” He runs a frazzled hand through his hair. “I want to help you, Jaybird, but I can’t do that if you won’t help yourself.” “I’m sorry, okay?” Jason whispers. His eyes are glossy, like when he’s chopping up jalapeños. “I’m trying. I wanna get better, but it’s…” He trails off, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.” Roy sighs. “Maybe I should call Bruce.” “You promised.” Even now the words lack any real feeling. “I know, but I’m way out of my depth here, babe. I don’t know how to help you, and I can’t risk losing you again.” He cups Jason’s cheek and turns his face to meet his own, his eyes desperate. “Please, Jaybird. Give me an inch. If you can’t do it for yourself, then do it for me. Do it for her.” It takes a long time, but eventually Jason’s hand snakes out from under the blanket. He takes the protein bar. Roy smiles like it’s the best present he’s ever gotten.

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

Jason is helping Lian get ready for school this morning. It’s the first time since Jason got home that Roy’s left him alone unsupervised, but they were running out of groceries and Lian is sick of boiled hot dogs. Jason doesn’t seem any less sad than he was a few days ago, but he’s out of bed today, which must be a good sign considering how happily Roy kissed him when he came into the kitchen. He even ate a bowl of cereal without Roy having to coax him the whole way. Now Jason’s head is bent to the task of scrubbing a chocolate syrup stain out of Lian’s sweater with a stain remover pen. Lian watches, twirling side to side and watching her skirt billow around. “Jay-Jay?” she asks. He doesn’t look up. “Yeah, sweetheart?” “Did you try to die because you don’t want me around anymore?” Jason goes completely still. He looks up at her like she said something crazy. “What?” “You’ve been sad. My friend Suzie said that when her mommy gets sad, she sends Suzie away to stay with her daddy in Metropolis. She said it’s a ‘break.’ Is that why you want to die? To take a break from me?” Jason looks heartbroken. He sets aside the sweater and pulls Lian into a hug. “God no, sweetheart. No.” He kisses the side of her head. “I love being with you. And your dad. You guys are the best part of my day.” “Then why are you sad?” People aren’t supposed to be sad when they’re surrounded by love. It’s why everyone gets so happy on Valentine’s Day and Christmas. When you’re loved, the sadness goes away. Doesn’t it? Jason mulls over his answer for a moment. “It’s...Sometimes grownups just…” He sighs. He ends the hug and moves Lian back a bit so she can see his face. “Fine, I was sad,” he admits. “But it’s...it has nothing to do with you, I promise. I’d never want a break from this face.” He pinches her cheek, which usually makes her giggle, but not this time. “Then why? I thought you were happy.” Ever since Jason and Daddy got married it’s like they’ve all been living in a fairytale. It’s been pancakes in the morning and cartoons after school and playing with the babysitter while Roy and Jason go out at night to shoot bad guys. Lian thought the three of them would be happy like that forever. “My life...hasn’t been the easiest,” Jason says. “There’s been a lot of badness in my life, and sometimes that badness catches up with me.” “Like the bad guys you and Daddy fight?” The corner of Jason’s mouth lifts. “Exactly like them. But these kinds of bad guys aren’t so easy to beat.” He hugs her again, tighter this time. “I’m sorry I scared you. I promised your dad it wouldn’t happen again, and I meant it. I won’t put you guys through that ever again.” Lian nods, considering his words. She almost doesn’t know if she should believe him, but Jason has never lied to her before. She trusts that he’s not lying now. “Are you still sad?” “Sometimes,” he admits. “But it’s been getting better.” “You should get some happy stickers.” At his questioning look, Lian says, “That’s what my teacher does when we get sad at school. You get a shiny happy sticker to make the sadness go away.” Jason smiles a little, his eyes going soft. “That’s a really good idea, princess.” He picks back up her sweater and caps the stain remover pen. “Alright, I think this is as good as it’s gonna get. Let’s get you dressed, and hopefully your teacher won’t yell at me for dropping you off late again.”

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

“—and the book talked about how lemurs are nocturnal, which means they sleep during the day and stay awake at night,” Lian says. “And they live in Madagascar, which is actually a real place! It’s not just a movie!” She’s got her crayons scattered around the kitchen table while her dads make breakfast. She’s on her fifth lemur drawing; the previous four hang proudly on the fridge for the world to see. “That’s fascinating, pumpkin,” Roy says, half-listening while he makes coffee. “You’re doing it wrong,” Jason mutters from the other side of the counter. He eyes the coffee maker with contempt. Roy pours another scoop of coffee grounds into the filter. “It’s coffee. It’s impossible to do it wrong.” “You can do anything wrong if you try hard enough. Your grounds-to-water ratio is all off. You might as well be making dirt.” Roy flicks water at him. “I don’t criticize your coffee-making skills.” “Yeah,” Jason says. “Because I do it right.” He bangs the Pillsbury dough tube on the edge of the counter to pop it open. His sleeves are rolled up to reveal a vertical red line on each forearm, but he doesn’t draw attention to them, so neither does Lian. He starts lining up cinnamon rolls on the greased tray. Roy bumps him with his hip. “Jerk.” He dumps out half of the coffee grounds from the filter. “Did you take your meds yet?” “I’ve got time,” Jason says, which means no. Without commenting, Roy takes down the orange bottle of pills from the shelf above the counter. It’s hard to see the orange through all the stickers Lian stuck around it, with permission from Jason of course. Next to the bottle’s spot is Roy’s seven-year sobriety chip in its frame. On its other side is a drawing Lian made of a tiger because she wanted to be represented on the Accomplishment Shelf as well. Jason rolls his eyes, but he takes the bottle. He takes a pill and washes it down with Roy’s glass of orange juice, which earns him a scornful look. Then Jason turns his attention to Lian. “If you want, princess, we can go to the zoo later and look at some real lemurs.” Lian bounds up from her chair, her eyes wide. “Really?” “Why not? It’s the weekend.” “You sure, Jaybird?” Roy eyes him warily, trying to be subtle about his concern. “We don’t have to if you’re not feeling up to it.” Jason smiles. It’s not all that big or bright, but it’s a smile all the same. “I could use some sunshine.”

#Sohotthateveryonedied #dc comics #tw suicide attempt #fanfic #fanfiction

193 notes · View notes

iamanepeolatrist · 2 years

Text

FOUR OF A KIND : SBIVERSE

hey! masterpost time!

It's everyone's favorite Force Family sbiverse fic. Philza, Tommy, Wilbur, and Technoblade are from entirely different worlds. This is a problem seeing as they're supposed to be, essentially, soulmates. They can't exactly do that when they're worlds apart, can they? Well, luckily for them, they've got friends in high places!

These idiots are going to care about each other whether they like it or not, the gods command it to be so. Surely nothing will go wrong!

FULL FIC (WIP)

chapter one - COLLIDE

chapter two - LONE STAR

chapter three - SAFEHOUSE

chapter four - MORNING

chapter five - HUMPTY DUMPTY

chapter six - TANGLE

chapter seven - TENTATIVE

chapter eight - INFLUENCE

chapter nine - BRIDGES

chapter ten - REVELATION

chapter eleven - PIGS FLY

chapter twelve - CLOUDY

chapter thirteen - BINARY STARS

chapter fourteen - GREETINGS

chapter fifteen - FLOOD

chapter sixteen - FLARE OUT

chapter seventeen - DIVE

chapter eighteen - SINK/SWIM

chapter nineteen - RESURFACE

chapter twenty - ORACLE

(started: july 12th 2021 - updated: october 15th 2021)

This masterpost will be updated every time I add a new chapter!!! Please leave comments or send asks if you read!! I appreciate it a lot.

Also, there's a lot of bonus/sneak peak info and fic art in the #sbiverse tag on my blog! I will answer questions as much as I can without spoilers if you send them my way.

Playlists:

general au music

general au music (angst version)

wilbur's world

tommy's world

more to come soon! :3

#sbiverse!masterpost #sbiverse #fanfic masterpost #fanfic #this is based on the characters and the video game not real people in real life.

935 notes · View notes

iamanepeolatrist · 2 years

Text

“Remember me.” Sang-woo x reader

Cho Sang-woo

“Remember me”

words: 2262

google docs pages: 4

warnings: Dying, blood

opening: You and Sang-woo both get invited to the game, but don’t tell each other. You meet when you both wake up, and play the games together. But in the end it’s just the two of you…

AN/ I’d like to say that I have no idea how the squid game at the end works. I read the rules but yet I don’t understand.

Not proof read!

After you and Sang-woo had eaten your last meals, two beds had been pushed out of the walls. They were on the opposite ends of the room. Both of you exhausted from everything, you had walked up to one of the beds. It was just a tiny bit more comfy than the beds you had slept on before this. The staff members had left one knife for the both of you, but you didn’t think Sang-woo of all people would try to hurt you. You had seen him push off that one man in the last game, but surely he wouldn’t have done that if it had been you, or that’s what you kept thinking to keep your mind calm.

The lights had gone out a little bit ago, but the small amount of light that was left made it possible to see the other bed. Sang-woo seemed like he was about to fall asleep while sitting, which was a good sign. It hopefully meant that he trusted you enough to feel comfortable to fall asleep. Even though you trust him, you kept the sharp knife near you, just in case. Sang-woo hadn’t felt the same after Gi-Hun had died.

Even before the game you two had been together. Neither of you had told the other that you had been invited to the game. You were afraid he’d tell you not to go, so you just called the number, but little did you know that sang-woo had gotten the same card. It was only when both of you had woken up with the others that you had realised that both of you were there. Sang-woo seemed to be internally angry that you had come here as well, but he didn’t want to be mean to you so he didn’t say anything. Instead he helped you with the games the best he could, and you did the same to him. And by doing this, it had lead the two of you being the only two left.

You couldn’t sleep with the thought of what the next game could be swirling in your head. Surely one of you had to die, so the other would get the money. You knew why Sang-woo needed the money, and because of that and the love for him you felt, you thought it was only fair if you just let him win. He had worked so hard to get to this point, it would only be fair.

While all this thinking your eyes had begun to close. Slowly but surely you fell asleep, with the knife next to your hand. What felt like hours passed, and you started to wake up to a noise coming from near your bed. This startled you, and you sat up with the knife in your hand. As your eyes started to focus in the dark, you saw Sang-woo standing near your bed. Your breath hitched. Was he really there to take you out like this?

Before you could say anything, the Korean man leaned over. “I am sorry if I startled you…” He sighed as he looked at you with tired eyes. “I was only thinking, If this is the last game…We could spend the last night together?” Sang-woo suggested quietly. Your body started to slowly relax, and you put down the knife. “I-it’s okay. But..” You thought for a second. You had nothing to lose. You wanted him to win anyway, so even if he killed you now, it wouldn’t matter. “Sure, come here…” You hummed as calmly as you could in this situation. Without another word he climbed under the blanket, next to you.

There was a moment of silence. Even though you liked the calmness, you had to ask him something. “Sang-woo?” You said quietly, as you looked at your hands. He turned his gaze to you, and hummed as ‘yes’. “I assume you know that one of us will have to lose the next game?” You tried to start without going straight to the point. He tilted his head a little. “Yes. I suppose that has to happen..” He replied, waiting for you to continue. “I want to let you win…We both can’t leave this game alive.” You admitted, and closed your eyes tightly. Sang-woo stayed silent for a little bit before he said anything. Soon you felt him turn you towards him by your shoulders. “Are you insane? I didn’t come all this way to let you die. I did this because I want you to get the price.” He huffed, with a tiny bit of anger in his voice. You opened your eyes, and looked straight at him. “I don’t want the money if I can’t be with you.” Was the only thing you said to him. “I won’t let you go through with this!” He furrowed his brows with anger and worry. You on the other hand didn’t want to continue this conversation. You had made your decision. “I’m sorry…” a sigh left your body as you leaned towards Sang-woo.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to live without him outside the game. Even if you had all the money in the world, it wouldn’t matter if you were alone. You would still miss the times you were outside with him, and as the sun had gone down he would smoke a cigarette as you waited for a bus for an example. No amount of money would fill the hole in your heart.

You both still had some time to sleep, and you would gladly do that now that Sang-woo was next to you. Your head was against his chest, so you could hear his heartbeat. This was most likely the last time you were both going to be like this, ever. The thought of that saddened you. Sang-woo was about to fall asleep with his head resting on top of yours, but he felt you shake a little. He pushed you up by your shoulders so he was able to see your face.

There were small crystal clear tears falling down your cheeks. “I don’t want to leave..” You cried out a desperate whisper to Sang-woo. His expression looked pained. He was aware that one of you had to go, but he didn’t want that either. “You won’t have to…” He closed his eyes with a sigh. Sang-woo started to stroke your hair gently. “I..you should sleep a little..” He tried to change the subject that seemed to bring down both of your moods. He wiped your tears away with his suit sleeve. He wanted to say something, but couldn’t find anything to add. Due to his cold persona, it was hard for him to comfort anyone, even if it was his lover or a family member.

You pressed your head back against his chest to hear his heartbeat. It was such a calming sound at this moment. But the thought that this would be the last time you heard it, made you not want to fall asleep. But even though your fighting against tiredness, sleep took over you and you fell asleep against Sang-woo. He was biting his lip to keep his emotions from showing up. Now that you were asleep, he didn’t dare to move at all. There was no time to cry now, he had to be there for you like he had promised at the start. Soon sleep took over him as well. Sang-woo fell asleep with his right arm gently around you, and his head resting on top of yours.

You both woke up to the guards and staff coming in. They took you to the last room that the 6th game would be held in. You noticed that it was the same room the first game had been held in, but this time there was a pattern on the ground. Before you could say it, the game was announced. The last game was the squid game. You were both given positions in the game,and you were the offense, Sang-woo was the defence.

You took a step closer to Sang-woo before the game started. “I love you.” You said to him as your eyes looked at his for the last time. His eyes never left you, as you started to walk to your spot.

“Remember me”

And so the game began. You both still had the knives with you. Every time you did something, it seemed like Sang-woo didn’t want to stop you, he wanted you to win. He was supposed to be the defence, but he wasn’t doing any of that. You knew that he had played this game as a kid, even more than you had. So he was aware of what he was doing.

“Though I have to say goodbye

Remember me”

This wasn’t going anywhere. The VIP’s were getting irritated at you two. They had put money on this game and nothing was happening. The host told the guards to do something about this, before the guests got more irritated.

“Don’t let it make you cry

For even if I’m far away”

The guard with the triangle on their mask pointed a pistol at you. You and Sang-woo stopped. You saw how slowly Sang-woo had realised that he actually had to try and get you killed. You started to move to the other spot.

“I hold you in my heart

I sing a secret song to you”

The game went on and you had gotten a few bruises. You both had the knives in your hands, but neither of you wanted to do any serious damage. You stopped completely, and stared at Sang-woo, who wasn’t too far away from you. He tilted his head a little, but not enough for anyone but you to notice it.

“Each night we are apart

Remember me”

You lifted the knife up to your neck, your eyes staying on Sang-woo. He soon realised what you were about to do and started to sprint towards you. As he reached to take the knife out of your hand, he startled you, and you quickly moved the knife.

“Though I have to travel far

Remember me”

The knife slits your throat severely. You started to cough a little, before you collapsed on the sand. Sang-woo dropped on his knees right after you, and tried to lift your head, as his clothes started to get stained with your blood. You knew you didn’t have much time before you would die. Your half closed eyes were scanning Sang-woo’s. His eyes were getting teary by the second.

“Each time you hear a sad guitar”

“I told you I would let you win, why..what!” He yelled the last part, with anger and sadness. Sang-woo knew that he was going to lose you, and these were the last words he was ever going to be able to say to you. The thought of that made him calm down a little. The guards didn’t seem like they were about to shoot you to death, they probably would let you suffer until you died.

“Know that I’m with you

The only way that I can be”

You were both looking at each other in silence, just like the night before this you had. Sang-woo swallowed his tears back before he started to talk. “I love you.” Was all that came out of his mouth. The thought of him not being able to seven bury you saddened him. If he wasn’t cold before coming here, now he would be even worse. You tried to pull a slight smile on your face even though the pain, that was going in waves all around your body.

“Until you’re in my arms again”

Never would have you thought this would end this way. Oh how you now wished that one of you hadn’t called the number, and would now be at home waiting for the other to come back from wherever they were. But now, only one of you would go back to your both’s apartment.

“Remember me…”

Sang-woo hugged you for the last time. He was being gentle, not to make you go through any more pain. As you were taking your last breaths, you felt it again. Sang-woo’s heartbeat. Last night you had thought that would have been the last time you felt it, but this was the best possible way to go. “Remember me….” You muttered as your body started to go limp. Sang-woo let go of you slowly as the staff started to approach you with the black coffin. His gaze was on the ground, as he started to walk out of the arena with his hands in fists.. Leaving behind the lifeless body, that once had made his otherwise horrid life a little bit more enjoyable.

/AN/ Hello! I’ve seen so many people hate this character for the things he did, but I could never bring myself to hate him no matter what he did. Maybe it’s because he did all the same things I would have done if I was in the same situation, we’ll never know! But i hope you enjoyed this

#fanfiction #squid game #squid game fanfic #squidgamefanfic #Maximwtf

243 notes · View notes

iamanepeolatrist · 2 years

Text

Day 19: Eighty-Sixed

House of the Rising Sun is playing in the bar as Tracy steps in, her ribs still smarting from getting thrown into a door by an unfairly buff shifter. Still better than Claire, who took a punch directly to the cheek to get in stabbing range.

Claire brightens as she spots Kaia sitting alone by the bar, chatting with the bartender. “Hey!” she calls, and the two of them look up.

Tracy squints. Is that Dean Winchester?

“Hey,” Dean says, waving them over. He does a double take, the bright blue pendant around his neck swinging wildly. “Tracy, right?”

As Claire slides onto the stool closest to Kaia, Tracy takes the next one over. “Yeah,” she tells Dean - close up, it’s definitely the guy she met almost eight years ago after she got kidnapped by that psychotic Knight of Hell. “Tracy Bell.”

“Nice to see you again,” Dean says with a grin as he fills a ziploc back with ice and dumps it on the bar in front of Claire.

Wordlessly, Claire holds it up to her bruised face.

“Thanks, Dean,” Kaia says with a pointed look at Claire.

Claire just rolls her eyes.

“What’ll it be?” Dean asks.

“Huh?” Tracy turns back to him.

“To drink,” Dean says, bracing both hands on the bar. “First drink after a hunt’s always on me.” He doesn’t lower his voice, nobody bats an eye.

Tracy scans the array of bottles behind him and the lineup of what’s on tap. “Can I just get a Jack and Coke?”

“Classic,” Dean says with a grin as he grabs a glass. “And for you, Hannah Montana?”

Claire flips him off with her free hand. “Just a beer, thanks.”

“You got it.”

While Dean busies himself with the drinks, Tracy glances around. Now she knows what she’s looking for, the hunters are unmistakable.

A group of four older guys are huddled in a booth, a map spread over the table, a wicked silver knife acting as a paperweight.

A 20-something man and a woman rib each other over the pool table in the back, identical protection sigils hanging around their necks.

All the way at the other end of the bar, a man nurses a beer, his long dirty-blond hair barely covering the scar from a clear vamp bite on his neck.

“Nice place,” Tracy says as Dean pushes her drink towards her. Next to her, Kaia is fussing over Claire, pulling back her long blonde hair to check that she really came back in one piece.

“Yeah,” Dean says with a happy grin, “it is, isn’t it?”

“Are you retired?”

Before Dean can answer, Claire interjects, “Yup, his brother’s shipping him out to the nursing home next weekend.”

Dean throws her a dirty look. “Careful, Sassy Spice. I don’t have to keep giving you free drinks, you know.”

Claire just blows him a kiss - and winces in pain.

“You deserved that,” Dean says severely.

Kaia snickers, and Claire punches her in the shoulder.

“I’m mostly retired,” Dean says to Tracy. “I get wind of a lot of hunts here, but usually there’s a free pair of hands to take it up.” He gives her a once over. “You wanna get on our phone list?”

Tracy glances over at Claire, who shrugs. “I’m on it.”

“Sure,” Tracy tells Dean. “How often do you-”

The door opens, and Dean raises a hand to stop Tracy. “Hey!” he calls to the newcomer, a tall man with dark hair wearing a sturdy olive green jacket dotted with raindrops. “Get out!”

“Dean-” he starts, his voice plaintive.

“No way, man.” Dean shakes his head. “You’re eighty-sixed. Out!”

The man’s gaze shifts to Claire, who ducks her head. Glowering, he turns back to Dean. “You’re being-”

“If the next word outta your mouth is unreasonable, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Claire muffles a laugh behind her hand.

“Fine,” the man says, his expression stormy. “But this isn’t over.” The door slams behind him.

“What’d he do this time?” Kaia asks as everyone goes back to their usual routine.

Dean just mutters darkly under his breath and pours out a shot. He knocks it back like it’s water. Scowling, he says, “He went behind my back and took on a ghoul hunt with Sammy.”

Tracy frowns. That doesn’t sound unreasonable. From the rumors circulating, Sam has taken on the Devil himself multiple times. He’s more than equipped to handle a ghoul.

“He’s okay, right?” Claire asks, craning around in her seat, but the man is long gone.

Dean crosses his arms over his chest. “They both got concussions and blew up a mausoleum because they lost their machetes in the boneyard. Both of them.”

Claire snorts. “Are you surprised? I’m not surprised.”

“They can be a bit chaotic when left on their own,” Kaia supplies.

“They’re both idiots,” Dean declares.

Confused, Tracy asks, “Who was that?”

Dean and Claire both share an unfathomable look.

In the silence, Kaia says, “That’s Castiel.”

Tracy frowns. The name rings zero bells.

“Seriously?” Dean says, staring at her. “You’d heard of me and my brother by not Cas?”

Tracy shakes her head slowly. “He’s a hunter?”

“He’s a dumbass.”

Claire grins. “He’s a hunter-in-training.”

Kaia sips at what looks like a glass of water and leans in, bypassing Claire. “He’s an actual hunter - has been for more than a few months.” She adds in an undertone, “They're just being overprotective.”

“Hey!”

“I am not.”

Kaia raises her eyebrows but doesn’t comment further.

Claire’s phone buzzes, and she rolls her eyes as she flips the screen towards Dean.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean swears as he takes the phone from her to read for himself. “Is he actually going to try to make dinner himself? We have food here!”

“You literally just kicked him out,” Claire says as she snags her phone back and types out a reply. “I’ll tell him to come back.”

“No, don’t do that-”

“Do you want him to starve?”

“He’s not gonna starve,” Dean rolls his eyes. “I was gonna take food back home when I wrap up my shift.”

“He says he’s hungry now.”

“What is he, five?” Dean snarks as he picks up a pad and scrawls something down.

“I think you’re off by about seven billion years, but sure. Let’s go with five,” Claire says, tongue between her teeth as she texts. “I’m telling him you said that.”

“Seven billion?” Tracy mouths at Kaia. Claire definitely doesn’t shy away from exaggeration, but something about her tone of voice seems off for her usual jibe.

Kaia blinks, her surprise. “Oh right, yeah, Cas is an angel - was an angel,” she corrects.

At Tracy’s stunned face, Claire waves her hand. “But he turned human once Dean decided to retire. ’Cause he’s a fucking sap. Soldier of Heaven my ass.”

“Stupidest decision ever,” Dean mutters as he disappears into the kitchen.

“Wait,” Tracy says, frowning after him, “Does Dean not want him to be human?”

Kaia lowers her voice. “Dean doesn’t like him being that vulnerable. This,” she gestures to the door where Cas was sent away to where Dean had stood a few seconds ago, “happens about once a month.”

“Seriously?”

“Claire comes here for the free drinks,” Kaia says as Claire raises her beer in agreement, “but I stay for the drama.” She smirks.

Dean reemerges from the kitchen as Tracy is just polishing off her Jack and Coke. Wordlessly, Dean refills it and sets down a giant bowl of fries in front of the three of them. “Any ETA on Cas?” he asks Claire.

Claire frowns. “I’m not your messenger pigeon.”

“ETA?” Dean repeats, his tone brooking no argument. “You know he always gives me the silent treatment when I eighty-six him.”

Claire checks her phone. “Fifteen minutes.”

They pass the time debriefing the shifter hunt, and Dean shares the news of a possible kitsune up in Colorado.

They all turn at the sound of the door opening.

Cas reenters the bar, considerably wetter than the last time, and Dean ducks out into the kitchen, presumably to grab Cas’s dinner.

“Hello,” Cas says as he takes the stool next to Tracy’s. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“I’m Tracy, Tracy Bell.” She holds out her hand - hopefully angels-turned-human shake hands.

Cas takes it without hesitation. “A pleasure. I’m sure Claire already told you a great deal about me,” he says as, behind them, Claire drains her beer, “but I’m Cas.”

“Yeah some things,” Tracy says with a sidelong look at Claire, who shrugs.

“None of the bad,” Dean says as he reemerges, two plates in hand. To Tracy’s surprise, he leaves the bar and takes a seat next to Cas.

“You should’ve told me,” he tells Cas seriously as he sets the cheeseburgers down.

“Probably,” Cas admits. “But then you would have insisted on coming, and who could have met with the Thighslapper Ale representative then? You got a great deal.”

Dean huffs, but he can’t entirely hide the smile lurking in the corners of his mouth. “C’mere,” he says, tugging Cas in for a kiss.

“Woah,” Tracy mutters, as several large pieces of the puzzle slide together.

“They’re so gross,” Claire complains as she hops off her stool and ducks behind the bar to pour herself another glass.

Kaia sighs wistfully. “I think they’re cute.”

Dean murmurs something too low for the rest of them to hear and cranes his neck around to glare at Kaia. “I am not cute. You take that back.”

“You’re a little cute,” Cas says without looking up as he picks up his burger.

Dean lets out an annoyed exhale. “Buddy, don’t make me eighty-six you again.”

Cas smiles wryly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Tracy makes a mental note to come back after her next hunt that brings her to Kansas. Kaia might just have a point.

#destiel #destiel fanfic #dreamhunter fanfic #dreamhunter #Goldenraeofsun

129 notes · View notes