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horansqueen · 2 years ago

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Headlines - Chapter 15

Story Masterlist ✨

❤ chapter 1 ❤ chapter 2 ❤ chapter 3 ❤ chapter 4 ❤ chapter 5 ❤ chapter 6 ❤ chapter 7 ❤ chapter 8 ❤ chapter 9 ❤ chapter 10 ❤ chapter 11 ❤ chapter 12 ❤ chapter 13 ❤ chapter 14 ❤

NOTES ❤

❤ written from both Niall and Ophélie’s POVs ❤ i don’t proofread, I never do, I hate it. ❤ OU comedy/fluff/smut/romance ❤ 3k ❤ i accept requests and ideas for this story, so message me in my inbox! ❤ i added a request to this chapter! thank youuuuu! ❤ if you want to be notified when this story is updated (or be taken off the update list) CLICK HERE

Ophélie

I was nervous like I was about to meet my new and real family in law. To some extent, I was. No, Niall and I were not really dating but everyone thought we were, including his family and mine. Not only that, but we were much closer now, and the fact that we spent so much time only us two together made me see a side of him that I liked more than I wanted to admit to myself.

I was pretty sure my heart stopped when his mom opened the door and brought him into a hug. She was tiny, short, and it was crazy how much Niall looked like her. The fact that they also shared the same smile was troubling but i liked her already, and something in my stomach twisted at the thought of lying to her. Maybe we could tell her this was fake? After all, I had messaged her from Niall's phone to get back at him and piss him off, she had nothing to do with that and she didn't deserve to be in the middle of that war we had going on... or used to have.

I blinked a few times but remained motionless as Niall hugged his mom tighter.

"Hey ma, missed ya."

It made me miss my own mom, and also my dad and brother, but I just swallowed hard and waited until they pulled away. When she turned to me and sent me a smile, I felt my heart jump in my throat and had to swallow it back. Her smile was genuine and soft, and when she whispered my name and pulled me in her arms, I allowed myself to just enjoy the affection I was getting from a woman I felt I already knew.

"I'm so happy to finally meet you!'

"Me too." I whispered, closing my eyes.

We pulled away after a few seconds and I held my breath when I felt Niall's hand on my back. It was not really his hand, mostly just the tip of his fingers brushing against my lower back, but it made my heart twist again. I tried not to show it but my heart was beating so hard against my chest I had to swallow hard before holding my breath. It reminded me how close Niall and I were to fuck again not so long again and I shook my head slightly, trying to get rid of the images flooding my mind.

I knew Niall had to act loving with me around his family but at this point, I felt like neither of us were faking it anymore. We were close, closer than I thought we'd ever be, and it felt good to be relaxed around him and not fear of what we could do to each other.

I didn't know much about Niall's family but I was not surprised at how much love the walls of that house had been a witnesses of. It reminded me of my own family and I took a mental note to text my brother as soon as I could.

Maura was interested in who I was and in the fake relationship I had with her son. Somehow, I wished I could tell her about the real one we have, the one who started roughly but was going well now, the one we had to work on despite how annoyed we used to be at each other, the relationship I felt that Niall and I could really have at some point, even if only as good friends. Instead, we shared the story we had been told to say, the fake one that sounded like a fairy tale. I felt bad for the lies we were telling but at some point, I knew Niall would tell her the truth, or at least I hoped he would, and I could only cross my fingers that when it happens, Maura won't be too mad at me.

Niall and Maura's husband ended up washing the dishes while she brought me to the living room with a coffee. We sat down and she showed me a photo album with a few pictures of Niall as a kid. I didn't know why but it made something twist in my stomach. I couldn't remember the last time I met the parents of someone I dated, and it hurt that this was fake. I tried to push that thought away and enjoy how cute Niall used to be. I ran one of my fingers on a picture, tapping the tip twice on Niall's adorable face and smiled.

"He was such a cute kid." I pointed out, my lips curling more as I stared at the picture.

"You know he really has feelings for you, Ophélie, right?"

I chuckled uncomfortably and glanced up at her before frowning a bit and shaking my head slightly. "Yea, of course." I lied, shrugging both shoulders.

"No, I mean it." she insisted, placing her hand gently on my arm. "He never brings any girl here unless he's in love, I thought you should know that."

Slowly, I dared to look up and out eyes met. A sudden rush of guilt invaded me and for some reason, words I didn't mean to say escaped my lips.

"He doesn't really... I mean, me and him, we're not really..."

She nodded a few times and I held my breath. "I know, that's why I'm telling you that he loves you."

My lips parted as I stared at her but I didn't have time to ask anything. Niall walked in the living room and let himself fall next to me on the couch.

"Were you two talking about me?" he asked with a smirk, putting his arm on the back of the couch, near my shoulders.

I breathed in and forced a smile, turning my acting mode on before looking at him. "You're not the center of the universe, you know."

He bent closer and my smile fell slightly before my lips parted. He was close and I liked it. It made my heart beat faster. "Are you sure?"

My eyes dropped to his lips and I felt completely ridiculous but I quickly looked up in his eyes again only to send him a bigger smile. "Yes."

"Stop acting around me, you can't fool me anymore."

Instead to annoy me, it made me feel good and my smile turned into a fond one. It was hard to believe anyone could see through me like that, despite the fact that I could act, but it felt amazing to think someone wanted to try. If Niall ended up knowing how I really felt even if I tried to hide it, it would mean more to me than I could ever explain. It would also definitely be a first for me.

"Why don't you show me around?" I just replied, raising my eyebrows. "I'd love to see a few places you like."

I could read surprise in his eyes but he nodded and the left corner of his lips raised up. He showed me a school, a park, and a few houses but at some point, he reached for his phone in his pocket and turned to me.

"What do you think about meeting a few old friends of mine? They're at a pub right now."

If I was honest with myself, I actually wanted to be alone with him, but admitting that was embarrassing. I could also pretend I was too tired but I could see on his face that he really wanted to go and I didn't have the guts to ruin it for him.

When we walked in, he waved at a few people in the back and my heart stopped when some of them got up to wave back and call out his name. I grabbed his hand and the contact of his skin with mine made me hold my breath.

"Wait." I whispered, making him turn his body my way. "What are you gonna tell them?"

"Same I tell everyone I mean, I lie to my own mother, I'll lie to them too."

I looked up in his eyes and licked my lips, feeling guilty again. "Niall, about your mom..."

"NIALL!"

We both jumped and NIall looked at his friends before looking back at me and squeezing my hand in his. "It'll be alright, they'll love you."

I didn't know why he felt the need to reassure me but it worked, and I breathed out before nibbling gently on my bottom lip. "You stay with me, yea?"

"I promise."

He bent down and his lips brushed against mine. I answered his kiss and I heard a few salacious comments from afar. Niall moved his arm up, flipping them off while keeping his lips against mine and It made me chuckle against his mouth.

I forgot about his mother, or the fact that I was nervous, and we sat with his friends to have a few drinks together. It's only after an hour or so that I realized his eyes were shining and somehow, they were not shining while looking at me. He was in deep conversation with a girl he said was named Ciara, and he kept laughing in a way that made my heart literally drop in my chest. I wanted to leave quickly and try to get rid of that ugly feeling eating my insides but I was stuck in place, like glued to the chair as my fingers gripped my pint as hard as I could.

As much as I hated admitting it, especially to myself... I was jealous.

Niall

Nothing was easy about this relationship, and lying to my mom was probably one of the worst things I had to do in my whole life. I was not completely lying, though. In fact, It was getting more obvious with every hour passing by that the feelings I had for Ophélie were much closer to love than hate, and even if she was clearly not ready to admit it, I was pretty sure she was feeling the same.

When I kissed her in front of my old friends, it was not only for the show, it was mostly because I wanted to. I wanted to feel her lips against mine because I missed it. I knew she was not over what had happened with Viktor and I didn't expect her to be, but somehow, I missed being close to her, and the way she kissed me back proved me she did too.

She got along well with my friends but it was not surprising. I knew that even if she didn't, she could easily pretend otherwise. I liked to think I could read her better now though and the way she laughed and chatted with them was telling me she was genuinely having fun. I kept looking at her hand on the table or on her thigh, wondering if i should dare taking it in mine like a twelve year old on a first date and every single time, my heart jumped so high in my throat I had I swallow a long sip of beer to push it back down in my chest. I felt like a loser, but I was scared to be rejected and at the same time, I was scared to make her uncomfortable. After an hour or so, I was a bit tipsy, which was quite unusual for me. It was still early but the amount of alcohol in my system was making me ridiculously happy. I looked at Ophélie's hand one last time, ready to take it in mine and squeeze it tight, maybe even bring it to my lips and leave a few sweet kisses on it, when someone sat next to me and put her hand on my shoulder. I didn't expect it and jumped slightly, turning my head to the cute brunette before sending her a smile.

"Hey, Ciara, how have you been, darlin'?"

We had dated for a few weeks back in high school, I was pretty sure, but nothing really serious. It was more of a fling that didn't last and didn't matter than anything that could have turned into something serious with feelings. Nothing like the relationship I could definitely have with Ophélie. She was hot, as hot as she used to be maybe even more, but when she smiled at me, I didn't have this little twist in my stomach. When she laughed, it didn't make me want to smile, and when she touched me, it didn't send any shiver through my back. Ophélie did all that.

"Good!" she let out with enthusiasm, letting her fingers slide down my arm. "I'm so happy to see you again!"

I glanced at her hand on my arm and chuckled, shaking my head at her boldness. She knew I was dating Ophélie, didn't she? And she was aware that she was sitting right next to me? Why would anyone even do that?

"Ya, came here so I could present my girlfriend to my ma, you know, make it official."

Ciara's smile fell down slightly and she took her hand back, making me chuckle again. I didn't know if I sounded mean or just happy but I didn't really care.

"And she's so talented and smart too, and gorgeous, my ma already loves her." I added, probably making it worse. I didn't really care though, all I wanted was to tell someone how I felt for real, without hiding it. I moved closer to my old friend and licked my lips, smiling even more. "I know it's crazy but, I think she's 'the one'."

Just saying it out loud, even if in a whisper, made something stir in my chest. I should have told Ophélie first, I knew it, but letting it out like that made me feel lighter and the truth behind my confession made something burst inside me.

I lost my smile immediately when I felt Ophélie move next to me. She quickly got up, placed her hair, licked her lips and told me she needed air without looking at me. I frowned but didn't have time to say anything before she just left. No one seemed to notice, everyone kept laughing and chatting together and it took me about a minute to react, perhaps because of how sudden it was and because I was a bit tipsy.

I got up, my chair making an annoying sound as it scratched on the floor, and left Ciara alone at the table to join Ophélie outside. She was leaning against the wall, her arms around herself, and when she noticed me, she quickly turned her back to me and sniffed, bringing one of her hands to her face.

"Love, are you crying?"

"No!"

"Petal, I told you, you can't fool me anymore." I repeated gently in a soft tone. "And also, you can trust me."

Swiftly, she turned around to face me and it took me by surprise, almost as much as the expression or anger on her face... or was it sadness?

"Why the fuck should I trust you, Niall?" she asked rudely. "Because you stopped some asshole from raping me? Because you brought me here to your mama?"

My lips parted, astonished by this excess of rage I was not sure I deserved but I remained silent, not really knowing how to answer her.

"Niall Horan is always so perfect isn't he? Giving a chance to a weak new actress who can't even take care of herself! After all, Hollywood is a jungle isn't it? I should have known better! And he's so incredible to date such an average girl when he could have anyone he wanted! Next thing I know they'll give you Viktor's part in that fucking movie just for saving my ass without even asking me for my opinion!"

I saw a tear slip on her cheek and I wanted to wipe it gently. I wanted to hold her close to me and tell her everything would be okay, and that I was sorry for whatever I did that made her sad, but I knew it wouldn't work. She was not just angry, she was hurt, and I didn't know why.

"Pet, do you want to tell me what happened?"

"Don't call me that!"

"Ophélie, please, can you tell me what I did that made you mad?"

Slowly, her face softened, her shoulders fell, and she pressed her lips together. She breathed in and then sighed before closing her eyes for a few seconds and opened them again. They fluttered for a while and it made me want to kiss her for some reason.

"Forget it, Niall. It's not you, it's me. You don't owe me anything. We're not even really dating."

"We're not?"

The words escaped my lips and instead to make her mad, it made her chuckle and roll her eyes.

"No, and you're drunk. Let's just go to bed, okay?"

I was not sure where her tantrum came from but when we were both laying in the darkness of the guest room in my mom's house, I couldn't seem to fall asleep. That question kept moving in my brain, hitting the sides like the letters of an old dvd player.

I didn'r remember doing or saying anything wrong or bad. I didn't remember invading privacy or going too far. All I could remember was admitting my real feelings about Ophélie to some random girl and I was pretty sure my fake girlfriend hadn't even heard anything I had said. Could one of my friends had told her something bad about me? I had not seen them in so long, it would be very surprising.

I turned around in bed to be closer to Ophélie and licked my lips before clearing my throat.

"Hey, are you asleep?"

"Mm, no." she whispered back.

"I just wanted to say... I'm sorry." Silence. "For whatever I said or did that hurt you. And when you want to tell me, I'll apologize again, I swear, pet, hurting you is the last thing I want."

It took about a minute but she just sighed. "Okay."

"Can I hold you?"

"Okay."

#niall horan #niall horan love story #niall horan story #niall horan enemies to lovers #niall horan smut #niall horan fluff #niall horan ou #niall horan fake dating #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan writing #my fanfics #headlines

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sevenstarsinning · 4 years ago

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Sweat

Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5 - Ch. 6 - Ch. 7 - Ch. 8 - Ch. 9 Ch. 10 Ch. 11

Chapter 12

The faint sound of birds chirping pulled you from a heavy sleep, forcing you to shy away from the brightness of the sun and turn directly into a broad chest. Your eyes flitted open, curious when Vegeta had returned home and how exactly you got home, but it wasn't Vegeta and you weren't at home.

"Goku?! Fuck." You sat up instantly, recognizing precisely where you were.

"What's wrong?" He sat up with you, immediately on alert.

"What's wrong?! I'm here, that's what's wrong. Why am I in your bed?!" You started to panic.

"You passed out and Kyla said to make sure you got to bed after I dropped her off." He explained.

"She probably meant my bed, Goku. Not yours." You scrambled out of the bed, in full panic at the fact that you'd spent the night with Goku.

"I didn't think Vegeta would like me showing up in your bedroom with you in my arms. Plus, I-I missed having you here." He admitted.

"Goku, I know this hasn't been easy on you, but you can't just-"

"I slept last night. I don't sleep when you're not here." Goku climbed off the bed and stopped you from putting your shoes on, "I don't want you to go."

"Goku, I'm with Vegeta."

"But he doesn't need you like I do. He doesn't want to spend every second with you."

You let out a soft sigh, feeling even more conflicted by the second.

"Goku, I-" Before you could finish your sentence he cupped your face and kissed you.

You pulled back instantly, staring up at him in disbelief, but you couldn't stop yourself. You threw your arms around him and pressed your lips to his again. He pushed you back against the wall, hands gripping your hips as his tongue slipped between your lips. Everything about him was so soft, so sweet and perfect, it was hard not to get wrapped up in him.

"Stay with me. Please?" He begged softly against your lips between kisses.

"I- I can't." You said, feeling like you were breaking his heart all over again.

He stopped kissing you and pressed his forehead to yours, "I know. I just wanted to ask again."

"This was a bad idea. All of it." You admitted.

"I can take you home now if you want?" He stepped back from you.

"That's also a bad idea. We need more time, Goku. I think at least for a while, we should stay apart." As you said the words they almost tore your heart out completely and you could only guess how it felt for him.

"Okay. If that's what you want." He said, barely audible with his head hung low.

The ride home in the cab was heavy, every ounce of your being telling you to go back, to leap into his arms and never leave, but it wasn't that simple. You took a deep breath before you pushed the front door open, almost running straight into the wall of muscle and anger known as Vegeta.

He squeezed past you with nothing but a glare on his face and headed outside.

"Wait, can we talk? I... I'm sorry about not coming home. I started drinking and I ended up passing out," you explained, hopeful he wouldn't ask where you stayed. At least, that's what you thought you wanted until you realized he didn't care enough to ask.

"I'll be home later, we can talk then if you're even here."

"Can't you skip training so we can figure out whatever is going on between us?" You tried to keep calm and not start crying, but the entire fucked up situation was too much to process.

"I'm not training, that ridiculous Bulma woman is making me clean up the mess I made of the gravity chamber last night," he grumbled.

"Wait, what? You're skipping training to help Bulma?" You asked, brow furrowed at how ridiculous the idea was.

"Only so it'll shut her up," he added. The surly prince crossed his arms and let out a heavy sigh.

You knew there was absolutely no reason you should be jealous, or that you even had a right to be, but you couldn't shake the feeling.

"Can I come with you? We can talk on the way."

"No. You'll only slow me down." He shot you down quickly.

"I really want you to stay so we can talk about this stuff." You pushed, needing him to stay.

"Talking got us nowhere last time. I see no point in continuing the process over and over again."

"What other choice do we have, Vegeta? If we don't figure this out... " you trailed off. Neither of you needed to say what you knew was true. Something had to change or the relationship was going to be over before you ever got to fully enjoy it.

"I'll be home later," he said again.

He left without another word. You stood there, feeling empty and alone. You wanted to force him to stay, to hash things out, but honestly, what else was there to say? Your relationship began with him cheating on Kyla and with you fucking his friend.

"How dire is my situation if I'm considering day drinking?" You asked when Kyla answered her phone. Somehow, you had already adjusted to having her in your life as a friend rather than an enemy. Kyla without Vegeta was a drastically different person. Or perhaps you just never saw her as anything more than Vegeta's bitchy girlfriend.

"Well, that depends. If you're drinking right now, I'd say it's pretty fucking dire. At 5pm? Not so much," she answered without missing a beat.

"Damn. That's what I thought." You sighed.

"Dickhead do something?" She asked.

"Kind of, but not really. I spent the night with Goku and-"

"Hold the fuck up. You spent the night where?" She interrupted.

"He didn't take me home last night. We just slept, but we kissed this morning." You wanted to go back to that moment.

"And now Vegeta doesn't want to talk and he's over at Bulma's helping her with something. All of this makes me want to drink." You sighed.

"Fuck, it makes me want to drink." She said.

"I really don't know what to do anymore. I thought I could ignore the feelings for Goku, but they just keep getting stronger."

"If you want to really figure out how you're feeling and what you want, alcohol isn't the best option." Kyla said.

"When did you become the voice of reason here?" You knew she was right.

"When I started letting Yamcha hit it and found out he really is just empty space." She said with full seriousness.

"Apparently we both need a break from the bullshit."

"We've tried that two nights in a row. Both nights we ended up getting trashed with Goku and I'm pretty sure the three of us would've fucked last night on the baseball field if you two weren't hopelessly in love with each other," she said in one breath.

"We're not hopelessly in love." You argued.

"Oh, do you have evidence that you're not?" She shot back.

"Yes, I'm with Vegeta." You said simply.

"You do know that's not really helping your case, right? You can be with someone but still love someone else."

"Okay, well, we aren't hopelessly in love because Goku doesn't understand the concept." You felt like you were grasping at any defense.

"He may not understand the concept, but he understands what he feels, which is complete devotion to you." Kyla said.

"Goddamn it." You sighed.

"We can do this all day but you haven't given me a vaild reason against it. You also haven't mentioned actually being in love with Vegeta either."

"You're relentless, Kyla, goddamn." Your chest heaved and you let out a long, slow breath.

"Yeah, at some point I actually started to care about this shitstorm. Seeing Goku like this really tugs at those annoying heartstrings."

"What if you're right about me and Vegeta? The whole sexual attraction mistaken for feelings thing." You cringed at the mere thought.

"Then you have a choice to make. Stay with him despite knowing there are no real feelings there, or end things as they are before it gets any more complicated."

Everything she was saying was spot on, but you couldn't sift through the feelings without worrying you were wrong or making a mistake.

After your conversation with Kyla you tried to find something else to focus on. You cleaned the house from top to bottom, showered, cooked lunch, and even organized your bookshelf. By the time you finished you'd actively spent your time avoiding the topic of your love life, but the second you sat down, it all came flooding back.

You frantically searched for something else to keep your mind busy, but you came up empty. After collapsing on the couch, you began flipping through the channels on the tv, settling on one of your favorite movies that you'd seen a million times before but still loved. You focused on the movie and the insane chemistry between the two actors, finding yourself getting drawn in to the sex scene as it unfolded. Your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties as you felt yourself getting more turned on by the second.

You closed your eyes and thought about the last time you had sex, how rough Vegeta was with you, how he bit you. Soft moans escaped your lips as your fingers circled your clit. Images of Vegeta crawling up your body, eyes hungrily gazing up at you. You rolled your hips against your hand, Vegeta faded and Goku replaced him. His sweet smile never failed to leave you weak. The way he could be rough with you and gentle right after was a balance no else could achieve, at least not in your experience. You were already getting close to coming just from the mental image of Goku on top of you, thrusting into you with the perfect amount of force. It wasn't any special saiyan form, just him. That was all you needed.

You bit your lip to hold back the moan, knowing which name you were close to screaming. It was all so confusing and complex. You focused more on how perfectly Goku fucked you, how quickly he'd learned how to work your body to give you the best orgasms. Your fingers moved faster as you neared your release, short breathy moans escaping your lips along with broken remnants of a name.

"Fuck... Goku..." you whimpered as you finally let go.

"Why did you even bother coming back?" Vegeta asked, ripping you away from the very private moment you were having.

Before your brain could process just how bad your next words were going to sound, you blurted them out. "I don't know."

"Foolish human. You don't know what you want- "

"Fuck off, Vegeta. This isn't one sided and you know it," you snapped.

"Don't assume you know what's going on in my head, woman. I was fine with whatever this is, you've been the one ruining it," he shouted back.

"Whatever this is? It's called a fucking relationship, Vegeta. Or maybe it was just sex for you and I was stupid enough to believe it was something more!"

It hurt to watch your relationship with him deteriorate so quickly, but you didn't cry like you expected. You did start to think it was mostly a physical attraction, but that wasn't something you were ready to admit.

"It is something more, you frustrating woman! I want you around more than anyone else on this pathetic planet," he roared, revealing more of his feelings than you expected.

"Then why weren't you here? Why have I spent the majority of our relationship either alone or with your ex?" You stared back at him, waiting for some explosion of anger.

"You chose to strike up that friendship with Kyla, not me. And you were well aware of how I spent my time but you couldn't be satisfied with that." He said.

You stood up and approached him, "I wasn't satisfied with seeing my boyfriend every now and then and having to beg him to stay home. I need more than that, Vegeta." You hated to admit how much you needed reassurance, affection, but it was the truth.

"I'm not going to be the weak, clingy boyfriend you want. You'd think your new friend would've caught you up on that little detail." He said.

"I don't want clingy, Vegeta, I just want you to be here, at least half the time." You felt like you were begging for basic attention.

"You're the one who pursued me, you wanted this."

"I didn't fucking want this. And I remember you being the one to kiss me first and then fuck me to prove whatever power, dominance thing to Goku."

He made two easy strides towards you, "don't act like you're innocent in any of this. You were jealous of Kyla from the second we started dating and I was no longer looking in your direction."

"Oh I'm far from fucking innocent, I know that." You had been carrying the guilt with you since day one.

"What do you want, woman? Just tell me what you want." He asked.

"I-I don't know anymore. I thought I wanted this, you, but now it just all seems so fucking... fucked. What about you? What do you want?"

"I'm not answering the question for you. You either want to be with me or you don't. It's that simple." He crossed his arms.

"It's not simple though." You shook your head, everything seeming more complex by the second.

"Then I'll make it simple."

In one swift movement, he had your body pressed against his and kissed you like he never did before. You could feel his need, and it threw you off. For a second, you thought it was an accident. But you knew the mighty prince of all Saiyans, if he let that little trace of emotion through, it was because he wanted you to know.

You kissed him back, feeling the ache in your chest growing. You wanted Vegeta, or at least you wanted to want him. Seeing him vulnerable like this was almost too much to take, especially when all it did was make you even more confused. But you continued to kiss him, hoping things would suddenly become clear, that you'd know the answer instantly.

You pulled yourself away abruptly, "I-I don't know. I- this isn't helping. I just need some time to think."

Vegeta's expression quickly turned from a rare softness back into stoic and brooding.

"When you figure out what the hell it is that you want, let me know." He stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

His words echoed through the night, circling your mind as you fixated on them. What did you want? Who did you want? It was a simple question, but there were no simple answers.

You tossed and turned, finally giving up on sleep. You resorted to standing in the living room having fake break up conversations with both of them. That only complicated the process of sorting through your feelings and you were left feeling more confused than you were before. Part of you wanted to work it out with Vegeta. He was willing to show a softer side, something you were desperate for.

Meanwhile, Goku was amazing, affectionate, and he wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable in front of you. There was a third option, your last resort if there was no clear decision. You could distance yourself from both of them. The question was, could you handle the pain of not having either of them?

#vegeta x reader #goku x reader #sweat fic #lynn #supremeleadershitlord

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

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Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

- Chapter 8 -

A small group of sects unexpectedly announced that they wanted Wen Ruohan to adjudicate a boundary line dispute – some were affiliated with the Jiang sect, others with the Jin, and they wanted a neutral party. Wen Ruohan was pleased, even smug, that they had chosen him rather than the Lan sect, which with its righteous reputation was more typically called upon to mediate for the other sects.

“Maybe none of them have a good argument,” Nie Huaisang mused. “They’re all awful, and they want someone more self-absorbed than either side to broker something out.”

“Not everyone is awful, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said, tucking the blankets around him. “Most people are good. Besides, there are some pretty renowned sects involved, so even if it’s true, you shouldn’t say it.”

Nie Huaisang heaved a sigh. “But da-ge –”

“Time for medicine,” Nie Mingjue said firmly, and lifted the bowl to his lips.

Nie Huaisang had a mild case of food poisoning, causing a stomachache, vomiting and a low-grade fever – Wen Qing had determined that it wasn’t infectious, but also, rather grimly, figured out that the source of the illness was most likely a particular treat that Nie Huaisang had generously shared with both her and Wen Chao, and sure enough they were both bedridden less than a day later. Luckily, Wen Qing had had enough time to boil the base for the medicine they needed, and while he wasn’t at her level, much less the now-absent Wen Ning’s, even Nie Mingjue could follow directions well enough to add the final ingredients right before serving.

(Even Wen Zhuliu, who remained Wen Chao’s bodyguard despite their best efforts, had fallen ill, except his version had been significantly worse – more or less non-stop emissions out both ends, and out of self-preservation Nie Mingjue had insisted that he remain in the servants’ quarters far away from all of them.)

Nie Huaisang finished drinking the medicine, making a face that only went away when Nie Mingjue stuffed something sweet into his mouth to help get rid of the taste. “Will you be all right helping out?”

“Of course I will,” Nie Mingjue said. “I haven’t forgotten how to help host a party.”

“No, I meant…”

Nie Mingjue shrugged. Normally, Wen Ruohan had enough concern for his face to prefer that Nie Mingjue avoid showing his own shortly after he’d been insolent enough to warrant punishment, but due to the food poisoning they were short on young masters to greet all the incoming people – and their guests were too important not to be greeted by someone with status.

“I’ll use some powder, it’ll be fine,” he said. “And anyway, even if someone notices, it’s not like they would be bold enough to comment; they’re here to ask Sect Leader Wen for a favor, after all. Who will even pay attention to me long enough to notice?”

The answer, Nie Mingjue swiftly learned, was Yu Ming, a crotchety old grandmother from Meishan Yu in Sichuan who didn’t like the food (not spicy enough), her chair (the first one was too rickety, the second too soft), her peers (idiots, all of them), her drink (they’d served tea and she wanted wine, and then later on it was the other way around), and, most problematically, was one of the more influential sect leaders on the Jiang sect’s side. Not exactly someone they wanted to offend by providing inferior hospitality.

Nie Mingjue ended up abandoning his now habitual corner in the back of the room to dash back and forth dancing attendance on her, run ragged and breathless by all of her demands.

It wasn’t exactly a surprise when she approached him in his corner during the banquet’s dessert course, and he straightened up at once, saluting politely. “Sect Leader Yu,” he said, suppressing a desire to moan and maybe beg for mercy; his legs were killing him. How this managed to be worse than serious saber training he had no idea, but it was. “Is the dessert not to your liking? I can get you something cool instead –”

“Sit down, boy,” she growled. “The crystal cakes are fine, and I’m tired of looking up at you. How tall are you? Six chi?”

“…five and a half, maybe five and three-quarters,” he confessed, sitting down obediently. At this point, she could tell him to jump out a window and he probably would – she had a very sharp walking stick and no hesitation about waving everywhere. No sympathy for her miserable victims, either.

“And you’re how old?”

“Seventeen.”

“Slowed down yet?”

“…not yet.”

She huffed. “That’s all we need, another Nie giant. I told your father that he was making a mistake, marrying a woman that needed to duck to get through doors…that how you got that black eye?”

“Huh?” Nie Mingjue said unintelligently, still caught by the mental image – he scarcely remembered his mother, having been very young when she left, but it was nice to think that it wasn’t just the perspective of having been a toddler that had made her appear quite so towering. “Oh, I – uh – training accident.”

Yu Ming squinted at him. “Same training accident that dislocated three of your fingers and a kneecap, did a number on your ribs, and cut your back up so bad that you need bandages and –” She inhaled. “– at least two doses of bai mao gen to replenish the blood lost?”

Nie Mingjue opened and closed his mouth wordlessly. Finally, yielding under her glare, he muttered, “I didn’t dislocate my kneecap.”

He might’ve preferred that, actually. Dislocations could be shoved back into place with relatively little issue; he’d sprained it, instead. A bad fall from when he’d shamefully broken and tried to run from the Fire Palace, futilely seeking safety, a place where he neither had to hurt people nor be hurt himself.

Not that such a place existed in the Nightless City, of course. He’d only been dragged back after, as he ought to have expected, and then things had gotten much worse, but he hadn’t really been thinking his actions through at the time.

“Dislocated, not dislocated, whatever. Has to be something, the way you’re dragging that left leg of yours behind you when you trot,” she said practically. “You’re a rotten liar, did anyone ever tell you that?”

“Many people,” Nie Mingjue said with a sigh. Most of them currently in bed with food poisoning, except for lucky Wen Ning away at the Lotus Pier and miserable Wen Xu now stuck standing by his father’s side, pretending to smile. “Does it matter?”

“Matter? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Other than going and applying more powder, there’s not much I can do about it even if it does offend your sight,” Nie Mingjue pointed out, reasonably enough in his view. “And no matter how many times or ways you ask it, the answer’s still going to be ‘training accident’, whether or not you believe me.”

Yu Ming poked his forehead with her finger, then his cheek. “And this is with powder,” she said, scowling and rubbing the remnants of it between her fingertips as if she hadn’t believed him that it was there until she’d verified it for herself. “If you won’t tell me anything other than ‘training accident’, will you at least tell me what you did to deserve this type of training?”

“I don’t remember,” Nie Mingjue said, and he really didn’t. All the thrashings more or less flowed together pretty well after a while, and in the end it didn’t really matter if he’d intervened on Nie Huaisang’s behalf or Wen Chao’s, whether he’d played whipping boy for Wen Xu or distracted attention away from Wen Qing – they were all close enough to be proper family now. What he did was nothing more than what you ought to do for those you loved, and he’d die before he forgot how to do that.

“Rotten liar,” Yu Ming said, maybe because she could tell he wasn’t lying, and spat on the ground. “It’s a filthy business.”

“I’m hardly going to disagree with you,” he said dryly.

“You might look a little less ragged if you did.”

He shrugged. “They say people can’t change their essential nature.”

“And what’s yours?”

“Blunt to the point of stupidity.”

“Say rather that you cut straight to the point,” she said.

“Well, you know, sabers have one blunt edge, one sharp,” he said, unable to resist a smile even if it pulled at the bruises around his eye. “I can be both.”

She was staring at him.

“…what?”

“You have dimples.”

“I’m…aware?”

He didn’t quite understand the calculating look Yu Ming had in her eyes – or, perhaps better said, he didn’t want to understand that look, and he was willing to put in a great deal of effort behind not understanding it if he had to.

“Do you want another crystal cake?” he asked her abruptly before she could say anything else. When she arched her eyebrows, he elaborated: “Sect Leader Wen will undoubtedly ask me whether I was taking good care of you, being as you are after all one of our honored guests.”

Don’t tell me anything, he meant. Even if you pity me – especially if you pity me. He has ways to make me talk. He likes making me talk.

“…fine, then,” Yu Ming said. “You said something about there being something cool?”

Nie Mingjue suppressed a groan as he dragged himself out of his seat and headed to the kitchen to see if they still had any sorbet left over.

“– going to be tricky,” Nie Huaisang was saying to a nodding Wen Xu as Nie Mingjue walked by. “Lanling Jin isn’t fond of making decisions.”

“But they are fond of profit,” Wen Xu pointed out.

“The question will be if there’s a way to strike the right balance without giving too much away –”

Nie Mingjue decided to believe that they were talking about pornography. People said Jin Guangshan was into that sort of thing, didn’t they?

Nie Mingjue trained with Baxia at least once every day, and usually more. He found the repetitive actions calming, like an active form of meditation, and he was happy to sink into the mindlessness of physical exertion and forget his worries.

Baxia was warm under his hand, as always – he thought sometimes that she’d never quite adjusted to the warmer temperatures of the Nightless City, preferring as he did the cooler weather of Qinghe.

Perhaps, in time, she would forget it.

Perhaps, in time, so would he.

Forget the cool air filling his lungs, the crisp snap of an autumn day just about to begin; forget the smell of the forests and the feeling of gravel under his shoes. Forget the strain on his muscles from climbing up a steep cliff, the taste of an early snowfall on his tongue – the metallic tang to the water, the lingering smell of smoke in the air even when there wasn’t anyone around for miles.

It felt unforgettable.

But he knew that it wasn’t. In the face of time, all things were ground down into the dust.

He would be eighteen years old this year. Still a little shy of proper adulthood, an unlucky year, if luck had anything to do with his life any longer. He’d been here for four years, just shy of a quarter of all the years he’d ever lived.

Perhaps that was what made him melancholy.

Or perhaps it was only that he had been unable to light incense on the anniversary of his father’s death yet again this year. Wen Ruohan took particular pleasure in ensuring that he couldn’t – he had spent the first year unconscious, the second year immobilized, the third…he tried not to remember.

It didn’t really matter, he supposed, since he’d always agreed in advance that Nie Huaisang would light the incense on behalf of them both, both on the anniversary and on Qingming – they hadn’t ever been given leave to return to Qinghe to sweep their ancestral graves, not once, not even when some of the other sects had complained about the impropriety of it. No one ever paid attention to Nie Huaisang, underestimating how sneaky he could be, and so he’d managed it just fine. Still, the failure to do it himself tugged at Nie Mingjue’s heart, disappointed him in himself - in his failure to be a good son, just as he so often failed to be a good brother.

He sank back into his training by force of willpower.

His cultivation was increasing at an acceptable rate, he thought – shockingly fast by all metrics, but all of his teachers said that his foundations were good, steady as mountains, and his progression through each stage was smooth and unhindered by bottlenecks. The consequences of genius, they said with a shrug.

It was about the only thing that was going in an acceptable manner.

Ma Liyuan had fallen out of favor, as Wen Xu had predicted – she’d failed to remain pregnant despite repeated efforts, and Wen Ruohan took such pleasure in criticizing her for it that Nie Mingjue suspected he’d dosed her tea with contraceptives specifically to set her up for the failure, since he didn’t actually need more sons – but her usefulness remained, so she was married in with all pomp to Wen Chao’s household as a secondary wife.

(She’d been promised the position of first wife, and threw a fit when she realized the change, but Wen Ruohan had reminded her, sneering, that that had been when she’d been a pure and untouched maiden; she really couldn’t expect them to pay such a high price for secondhand goods, now could she?)

Wen Chao obviously had no interest in her at all – she’d tried, once, to make herself up and smile at him and he’d recoiled as if he’d seen a snake, then stared at her and said, “You’re joking, right?” – so she’d taken the next best option and sent her maid to seduce him in her stead.

Wang Lingjiao was pretty enough, with curves enough to make just about any man stare, and pretty cunning to boot. In a different world, a world where Wen Chao had fallen for his father’s nasty little tricks and become a stupid oversexed princeling, a waste of space that would have been incited into fighting against Wen Xu for the sole purpose of being crushed to prove some imagined point of about the necessity of cruelty, she probably would have been able to crawl into his bed and keep her place there without much difficulty.

Wen Chao was a bit of a romantic, after all, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

As it was, when her first few efforts at flirtation failed – or, well, mostly failed, given that Wen Chao held her hands in his own during a garden stroll in the moonlight and told her, with great earnestness, that she was very beautiful and it was such a pity that he wasn’t allowed to think of women romantically until he was fifteen on pain of utmost humiliation and also was she aware of the dangers of venereal disease – Wang Lingjiao pulled back and recalibrated her approach.

This time, she went for Nie Mingjue.

“You’re joking, right?” he asked her.

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Is that a deliberate reference to what Wen Chao said?”

“No, just the same idea. I’m not interested.”

“That much is obvious enough,” she said, tossing her hair. “I want you to tell me what I need to do to get someone to be interested. I don’t want to be a servant any longer.”

Nie Mingjue was at something of a loss for words.

“There must be something I can provide,” Wang Lingjiao demanded. “Some service, some use…I’m a weak cultivator, but that clearly doesn’t bother you lot – your younger brother is weak, too, though I’m still a bit worse. I’m not as dumb as Ma Liyuan; I know there’s more you can sell in life than sex, even if that’s easier. What do you want? What do any of you want?”

Wang Lingjiao was from the Yingchuan Wang cultivation clan, Nie Mingjue abruptly remembered. A smaller sect, with too many children, but a standalone sect nonetheless; their children were born as gentry, not servants. No, they must have sold Wang Lingjiao into servitude, though whether it was to get an in with Qishan Wen or simply to get rid of a budding problem – and extremely beautiful young women with poor cultivation were often a problem, especially when their beauty suggested how their mothers had gotten themselves selected to be wives, or, more likely, concubines – he did not know.

“Do you mix your own makeup?” he asked, and she stared at him. “It’s very well done.”

“…yes,” she said, giving him a strange look. “I do. None that’ll fit you, though.”

He blinked, then laughed. “No, I don’t want any; the only use I have for powder is to cover up bruises when I need to be presentable. I just meant that it seems you have a steady hand at mixing things and judging proportions – A-Qing appreciates those qualities.”

“Wen Qing?” Wang Lingjiao asked, bewildered. “You want to send me to a woman?”

“She’s expressed before that she would like to have more female company,” Nie Mingjue explained, and Wang Lingjiao’s expression only got more fish-like as she gaped at him. “A fair while back, in fairness, but the numbers really are skewed fairly strongly against her. I thought you might get along. Be friends.”

“I’ve never had a female friend in my life,” Wang Lingjiao told him.

“I thought – you’re always chatting with the other serving girls…?”

Wang Lingjiao rolled her eyes as if he were being stupid. He probably was. Forget Qishan ways, the ways of the teenaged girl were utterly beyond his grasp.

“I don’t see what you have to lose by trying,” Nie Mingjue pointed out. “I’m not interested, Xu-ge’s too paranoid to get within touching distance of anyone he thinks has an ulterior motive, A-Chao isn’t allowed to touch women for a few more years –”

“Why is that?”

“He’s gullible, and has both questionable taste and sibling-inflicted trauma relating to brothels,” Nie Mingjue explained, and Wang Lingjiao wrinkled her nose, looking a little amused despite herself. “A-Ning isn’t the type to womanize, and Huaisang is too young. Also a vicious cutthroat when it comes to interpersonal relations, so who even knows what type of person he’d like, if any.”

“I’d noticed that about him.”

“In sum, A-Qing is your best bet,” he concluded. “And all the more so if you approach her in a business-like fashion: make clear to her what benefits you bring and how you’ll compensate for the drawbacks, be practical and reasonable, and you’ll do fine. Do well, and you won’t ever need to fear being sent back to Ma Liyuan – or to Yingchuan.”

Wang Lingjiao stared at him for a moment – she hadn’t expected him to be able to figure that out, he thought, since she was just clever enough to manage to puzzle out that he was the heart and core of their little group but not quite smart enough to realize why – but in the end she seemed to take his advice to heart, nodding and walking away.

He hoped Wen Qing didn’t kill him for sending her a terrible lab assistant.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #wen xu #wen chao #wang lingjiao #wen qing #wen ning #my fic #my fics #fire and light

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incorrectbandofbrothersquotes · 4 years ago

Text

Dear Heart - Chapter 8

Dick Winters x Melanie Davis

Summary: Melanie Davis is a nurse from North Carolina who has lived a sheltered life since her father died. Her father’s best friend, Colonel Sink, invites her to experience more as a regimental nurse for the 506th PIR of the 101st Airborne. She embarks on the adventure of a lifetime.

Tag list: @thoughpoppiesblow If you’d like to be added, let me know!

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: I hope y’all enjoy this update! Sorry I left on the cliffhanger for so long!

Warning(s): stuff that resembles domestic violence at the end

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8 here we go!!!

Mentally, Dick was kicking himself. He closed his eyes and tried to forget, but the image of Melanie being pulled from beneath the rubble was all he could see. Her watery eyes as she blinked them open, the soft way she said his name, and how he became absolutely helpless. Somehow, both relief and worry swirled around inside him. He was grateful she was alive but the blood oozing from her hairline couldn’t be good. He was filled with remorse as he recalled how it was Dr. Clarke - he’d learned the man’s name later - who leapt into action and began looking over Melanie. And Dick watched, frozen with the shock of it all.

He opened his eyes again. The sight of the Bois Jacques replaced his shameful memory. Melanie was safe now, which was what he tried to remind himself. They had gotten her to battalion HQ, where Colonel Sink had given up his own billet so Melanie could have a bed. Another man who could do more for her than Dick could.

Dr. Clarke determined that Melanie had gotten miraculously lucky. While the blow to her head looked bad considering how much she bled, she only had a concussion. And it was fairly mild. The rest of her body had come through with only scrapes and bruises. Dick was thankful, but still felt an inadequacy about the whole thing. With nothing to do for her, he returned to the line. It had been two days since he’d left her there. Two days of feeling like he failed her somehow.

“Dick.”

Dick turned his head at the sound of his name. He knew already that it was Lewis’s voice, so he did his best to appear somewhat content. Difficult in this kind of cold, but Lewis was unlikely to pry regardless.

“Hey, Lew,” he said.

“You alright?” Lewis asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Dick returned. “How’s everything back at battalion?”

Lewis almost smirked. Dick didn’t want to seem like he was asking about Melanie, but Lewis knew he was asking about Melanie.

“About the same, as far as the war’s going,” Lewis told him. “At some point, we gotta take Foy, but who knows when we’ll get it together?” When Dick only nodded, Lew continued. “Melanie’s awake now. Properly awake. She was sitting up and eating when I left there.”

That piqued Dick’s interest. He faced his friend and tried not to sound too eager. “She was?”

Lew nodded. “She asked about you.”

Dick might have laughed if he weren’t feeling so torn. Of course Melanie didn’t care a thing for herself. But he hardly felt he deserved her concern.

“Did she?” he asked.

Lew nodded again. “I think you should go see her.”

Dick wanted to see her. Desperately. He just couldn’t bear the thought of facing her when he felt like such a let-down. Then again, she had forgiven him for worse.

“I probably shouldn’t leave the men,” Dick said, and it was partly true. He also harbored guilt for abandoning them for the sake of Melanie, something he recalled swearing back in Toccoa would never happen. But Melanie meant more to him now than she did back then.

He realized just how much she meant when a future he had barely hoped to dream of seemed lost. When he thought she was dead, all those visions he had of a pretty white house with his beautiful wife and their children had been obliterated. He knew he loved Melanie back in Paris. Now he realized just how deep that love went. And all his inaction once again haunted him.

“Go see her, Dick,” Lewis said. “The men will survive without you for a couple hours. Even if they are relying on Dike.”

Dick grimaced at that. He agreed with the sentiment, but he didn’t like to think about Easy in the hands of yet another incompetent CO. While Dike was a step up from Sobel, the improvement was meager.

“There’s a jeep back in the woods,” Lewis said. “It’s waiting for you.”

“Thanks, Nix,” Dick replied, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

With that, Dick climbed out of his foxhole and made his way to the jeep. It was manned by Sink’s personal driver, which told Dick that Lewis was not the only one eager for Melanie to see the man she asked for. With a sigh, Dick took the passenger’s seat and prepared himself.

When they arrived at HQ, Dick took a deep breath. The last time he’d been this nervous was when he asked Melanie to walk with him after what took place in Eindhoven. He wondered if she was upset with him. How much had Dr. Clarke told her about what happened, if anything? Her father’s pocket watch suddenly felt like it was lead in his breast pocket.

HQ was relatively quiet. Dick nodded to the officers he recognized, but didn’t stop to say hello. Now that he was here, he only had Melanie on his mind. He needed to see her. His feet felt heavy as he climbed the stairs to her room. As he approached her door, through the wood, he heard her voice. It was sweeter than any music he’d ever heard in his life. It meant she was really there, alive and well, and his hopes for the future were not dashed. He knocked.

“Come in!” she called.

He opened the door to reveal her sitting up in bed, a tray of food on her lap, and - to Dick’s disgust - Dr. Clarke sitting beside her on the bed. Thankfully, her smile was enough to melt any bitterness. And she beamed at him.

“Dick, hello!” she said. “I’m so glad to see you! Have you met Terry?”

She nodded at the doctor. Dick smiled at her.

“Yeah, we’ve met,” he said. “How are you, Mel?”

He registered now the bandage on her head, and the other, smaller ones on her arms. She reached out a hand toward him, and his heart ached at the scabs he saw forming on her knuckles. He took her hand and let her pull him closer so that he stood beside the bed.

“I’m alright,” she said. “You really are a darling to come and see me.”

It warmed him to hear her say it. She was happy to see him. Not disappointed at all. Hopefully, her forgiveness would help him forgive himself.

“Melanie,” Terry interjected. “The check up.”

“Oh, yes, sorry,” she returned. “Is it alright if Dick stays?”

“Sure,” Terry allowed, looking at Dick. “Have a seat.”

There was a chair behind him, and Dick took it without releasing Melanie’s hand. Terry scooted closer to her, cradled her face in his hands, and looked her in the eyes.

“Eyes are still lovely,” he said, and before she could offer any sort of rebuff, he continued. “And seem fairly focused. No glassiness, pupils are the same size, all good signs.”

He started to move his hand away, and Dick watched uncomfortably as the doctor slid his hand down her neck, briefly stroking her skin with his thumb before letting go. He glanced over at Dick for a fleeting second, meeting his eye. Dick swallowed every possessive impulse that was churning inside him.

“Really, I’ve just got a terrible headache,” she said.

“That’s to be expected,” he said. “Do you remember the accident or the events before?”

“Not really,” she said. “The last thing I remember clearly is…” She trailed off. This was her first significant stint of time awake since the collapse of the hospital. The last thing she could recall was her rejection of Terry on the steps. “Well, when you and I spotted the planes coming. Everything after is a blur.”

“Alright, so there is some amnesia, but it seems like it’s pretty minor,” he told her. “You really are lucky. Best to stay off your feet, relax, and come back to work in a couple weeks.”

“Weeks?!” she protested, and Dick gave her hand a supportive squeeze, which she returned.

“That’s being generous,” Terry said firmly. “I’d like to have you resting for a month just to be safe, but I know how much you’re needed.”

He placed a hand on her leg, just above her knee, casting another superior look at Dick. To Dick’s immense pleasure she drew her knees in toward her chest, forcing Terry’s hand off. Terry frowned and cleared his throat.

“Sure you can’t eat anymore, Melanie?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”

“Here, I’ll take the tray for you,” he offered.

Dick watched her hand over the tray, the food on it barely touched. He looked over Melanie again, and once more something new struck him. She was thinner than he remembered. Her cheekbones were more prominent in her usually round face. Her collar bones stuck out too from beneath the neckline of her shirt.

Terry excused himself and left. Melanie turned her full attention on Dick, meeting his eyes. It felt like coming home. It had been far too long since they had seen each other and they were both eager to catch up.

“How are you, Dick?” she asked kindly. “And the boys?”

“We’re hanging in there,” he said. “The line is still spread too thin and we don’t have enough…” he trailed off. “Never mind. I don’t wanna burden you with all this right now.”

He wanted to apologize as well, but he knew she’d never understand what for. Nor would she blame him if he tried to explain himself. He held her hand a little tighter. Her brow furrowed with concern.

“Are you alright?” she wondered.

For some reason he was disappointed to not hear an endearment at the end of that question. He liked “darling” from the way she said it a moment ago. And now that she was in front of him, talking and holding his hand, those pictures of a post-war life returned to him.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just glad you’re safe.”

“Me too,” she half-joked. “When those bombs started coming down I was so afraid I might not -”

Her pale cheeks flushed and she looked away. He swore to himself he’d never take that sight for granted again.

“You might not what?” he pressed gently.

“I might not ever see you again,” she blurted out.

For a fleeting moment, he considered telling her everything - that he loved her, that he saw a life with her, and that he wanted to protect her until the last breath left his body. But he didn’t. He couldn’t overwhelm her just now, and besides, the war was not over. The argument he always had came up again - he could get killed, and where would that leave Melanie?

“I was afraid of the same thing,” he admitted. That much, he would allow himself to say. And the way she smiled at him told him she got his message. Loud and clear.

“You’ve got no business worrying about me,” she said. “You’re running a battalion.”

None of them are what you are to me. More words he couldn’t speak.

“Well, they mostly look after themselves,” he replied, forcing his tone to be light. “Y’know, with NCOs like ours.”

She smiled. “Very true.”

A beat passed and he decided to ask one more question on his mind. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“Well, I’m afraid this bump on my head is making me pretty nauseated,” she said.

“This kind of change didn’t happen in a few days, Mel,” he insisted.

“Is it bad?” she asked. “I haven’t properly looked at myself in a while.”

“You’re just awfully thin, that’s all,” he said. “Didn’t they feed you at the hospital?”

“Oh, that,” she said dismissively. “Well, I gave away a lot of my meals. I didn’t need it as bad as the wounded did. And we were so limited.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Mel, you gotta eat.”

“I will when I’m feeling better, I promise,” she assured him. “But please don’t fuss over me. I’ll be just fine.”

“Alright, I won’t fuss,” he returned. “Just look after yourself. For me, if not for you.”

“How the tables have turned,” she remarked with a smile. “It wasn’t too long ago I was telling you the same thing.”

He smiled back at her, remembering fondly how she tended to him. How could it be that Carentan felt like it was both years ago and only yesterday?

“I’m just asking you to return the favor,” he said.

“I will,” she said.

He could see that her eyelids were getting heavy, but she fought to keep them open. He wanted her to rest if that was what the doctor ordered.

“Want me to let you sleep?” he asked.

She met his gaze again. “Are you going to leave if I do?”

He nodded sadly. “I’ve gotta get back to the line.”

Her mouth turned down in almost a pout. She moved her free hand then to cover his, sandwiching it between her palms.

“Just one more moment, please,” she said, and he was surprised to see tears welling up in her eyes. “Being away from you has been more difficult than I imagined and I can’t bear the thought of it happening again.”

He wondered what was drawing all this brutal honesty from her - the concussion or almost losing her life. Whichever it was, he was moved with sympathy.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll stay right here.”

She blinked when she smiled, and a single tear fell down her cheek. She brushed it away as she settled back into her pillows. And Dick remained there with her until she could fight it no longer and she fell asleep. Her eyes closed, her breathing evened out, and she was peaceful. Dick almost wished he could join her. He was exhausted as well. With everything happening on the front and his worry about Melanie, he felt he’d aged about ten years.

He stood up, slipping his hands carefully from hers, before pulling the blanket over her shoulders. She snuggled down further and let out a deep sigh. He allowed himself to stroke her hair, moving it off her forehead, before leaving. After one last look at her serene face, he closed the door. He was back out in the hall and dreading his next steps. Back outside into the cold, back to the line, back to his worry.

Before he could make it out, he was stopped. Dr. Clarke stood in the hall, blocking Dick’s path. The doctor looked even less friendly than he did in the room with Melanie, so Dick braced himself for whatever this could mean. Clarke approached.

“Look, I don’t really know you, but I have to say something,” he began. “I think what you’re doing to Melanie is horrible.”

Dick’s brow furrowed. “What am I doing to her?”

“Leading her on,” Clarke explained. “You’ve known her two years now and you haven’t committed to her. Which tells me you’re not interested, but you don’t want her to lose interest.”

Dick was shocked by what he was hearing. It was the first time since knowing Melanie that someone was telling him he didn’t have feelings for her.

“Doctor, I don’t know what Melanie’s told you, but -”

“It’s not hard to put it together,” Clarke interrupted. “You’ve somehow convinced her you’re worth waiting for. At the expense of people who really care about her. So what is it? Have you...made love to her or something?”

Dick blinked. Several emotions happened to him at once. Further shock at the forwardness of the question. Anger at the suggestion that Dick was that sort of man. And annoyance. He was so tired. Why did he have to deal with this sort of juvenile jealousy when there was a war on? He took a breath to collect himself. Squaring his shoulders, he looked Clarke in the eye, fed up before he even started speaking.

“First of all, anything that’s happened between Melanie and myself is our business,” he began. “Second of all, Melanie doesn’t belong to me. She’s free to pursue any sort of relationship she likes. If she’s chosen not to be with you, that’s not my doing. If I had to guess, it’s because she sees through your bravado. And so do I.”

Clarke huffed. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You march up here and accost me about a situation you’re only guessing at, putting on airs about protecting her,” Dick shot back. “When you were the one who put your hands all over her under the pretense of doing your job. This isn’t about Melanie, it’s about you.”

“I love that girl,” Clarke insisted, and he took a step toward Dick, who did not step away.

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” Dick said. “But if that’s how you feel, take it up with her.”

“You really are a coward,” Clarke scoffed. “You won’t even fight for her.”

“Is that what you’re after?” Dick challenged. “Do you honestly think the two of us duking it out is going to make her love you?”

“She needs to know she has options!” Clarke insisted.

“She knows,” Dick said levelly. “You’re just upset because she’s made a choice you’re unhappy with.” He was getting impatient now. This sort of thing was for little boys on a playground, not two officers in the US Army. Then, he said something that even surprised him. “I’m not going to fight you for something I already have.”

Clarke flared up at that, but he said nothing. Somehow, Dick defending himself made him realize the truth - that he did have Melanie’s affection, and he felt more deserving of it than before. He was annoyed by Clarke not out of jealousy, but because the man saw himself as more of a threat than he really was. And Dick truly, honestly did not have time or energy to entertain something of so little consequence.

“And by the way, Lieutenant,” Dick said. “I’m a senior officer. The next time you address me, you will say ‘sir.’”

“Well, fuck you,” Clarke seethed. “Sir.”

Dick chuckled, clapped him on the shoulder, and pushed past him without another word.

***

Melanie healed up nicely in the two weeks she was out of work. She slept and ate as if she were making up for all the sleep and meals she’d missed out on the last month or so. Unfortunately, she didn’t get another visit from Dick. The death toll in the Bois Jacques was rising, and he couldn’t leave the men now.

On January 9th, Melanie was finally free from her bedrest sentence. She had been issued new uniforms since the belongings she’d had with her at the hospital in Bastogne were lost to the destruction. Luckily, she’d thought to leave her valuables - including the dress from Dick - in Colonel Sink’s care, and they were safely in his billet. The fresh fatigues were surprisingly comforting to her. She preferred the dresses and heels, but they were no good in the cold and snow. She was getting ready to put up her hair when there was a knock on her door.

“Who is it?” she called.

“It’s Terry!”

“Come in!”

The door squeaked open and Terry stepped through, closing it behind him. She abandoned her hair and turned on her stool to face him.

“I’m glad you stopped by,” she said. “I wanted to thank you again for taking such wonderful care of me. With all the wounded, I know it couldn’t have been easy.”

“Nonsense, I was glad to do it,” he replied.

He paused a long moment and looked at his feet, which caused him to sway a little, but he didn’t fall. Her brow furrowed as she stood up and went to steady him.

“Are you alright, Terry?” she asked.

He looked at her again and she realized right away what the problem was from the smell of bourbon on his breath.

“I’m fine,” he replied, waving a dismissive hand in her face. “Look, Melanie, before Bastogne got bombed to hell, you and I were talking about something.”

She held back a sigh. She had hoped that he’d gotten the message back then that there was someone she loved. But clearly he wasn’t letting it go.

“Terry, I’m sorry,” she said. “But there’s no use in discussing that any further.”

“No, listen to me,” he said sternly. “I’m telling you, love is wasted on a man like Dick Winters. Especially your love. You deserve someone who is ready for you - right here and now. Someone who wouldn’t let something like a war stand in the way of loving you.”

She frowned, stung and affronted. “That’s a cruel thing to say. You don’t even know him.”

“I know you,” he returned. “And I know that he’s breaking your heart. That’s enough not to like him.”

“You’re sadly misinformed if you think -”

“I love you!” he cried. “And I could give you the life of your dreams after the war if you’d only give me a chance!”

She blinked. Such a confession should have been flattering, but the feeling she got from him made her hair stand on end. He was not saying it out of genuine feeling, he was saying it to win an argument. And that didn’t feel very much like love.

“Terry, what you want from me are words I can’t say,” she replied gently. “Would you really have me accept you and live a lie?”

“You’d learn to love me, I know it,” he said. “I just want you for myself.”

There was a dangerous gleam in his eye at those words that made her take a step back from him. He stepped closer. Her stomach turned.

“I think you should go now,” she said timidly. “You’re upset, you’ve been drinking -”

“Give the diplomacy a rest, Melanie,” he spat. “I’m going to say what I feel and you are going to listen!”

She sighed. “It won’t do any good, Terry. I can’t change how I feel.”

“God-DAMMIT!” he bellowed, shoving the dresser beside him so hard several of the knick knacks toppled off of it. Melanie gasped and jumped back, breathing heavily. “Do you see what you do to me, Melanie?”

“I - I haven’t done -” she stammered, but he cut her off.

“Just the thought of you with him!” he growled. “With ANY MAN!”

To emphasize that point, he snatched a framed photograph off the same dresser and hurled it across the room, right over her head. The glass shattered against the opposite wall, drowning out Melanie’s yelp of surprise. She covered her face with her hands to protect herself from the shards. Before she could say anything in return, he picked up a small globe and threw that at her as well. She ducked to avoid it, and the base snapped against the wall. The globe rolled under the bed.

“Terry, stop it!” she cried.

He moved even closer to her. She tried to recoil, but he snatched her by the wrist and yanked her towards him. With his free hand, he took hold of her face, his fingers digging painfully into her cheeks as he pulled her within inches of him. She could feel his breath on her skin. A whimper escaped her at the pain of his grip, but she couldn’t look away. She was frozen, trembling at the thought of what he might do next.

“I could crush your skull, you know,” he warned. “Right against that vanity. Would that get Dick Winters out of your mind?”

Her eyes went wide, but because of his hand, she couldn’t answer him. His palm covered her mouth. She couldn’t even call for help. She could only shake her head and plead with her eyes. He moved his hand and she drew breath to scream, but he was too quick. He grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the wall. She winced and prayed for someone to hear the commotion and put a stop to this.

For a brief moment, she remembered when Corporal Biding tackled her that night in Toccoa. She recalled how frightened she’d been before she realized he was no real threat, he had just made a drunken mistake. Nothing like now. While Terry had been drinking, he was far from drunk. And she was so much more afraid. This was an intentionally vicious attack. She saw in his eyes something sinister and heartless. And of course now, Dick and Easy Company were not going to come to her rescue.

Her vision got blurry as he cut off her air. She thought of Dick and how much she’d relied on him after the Corporal Biding incident. She wished he was here to help her again. But he wasn’t. And she was not that scared little girl she was in Toccoa. She had survived D-Day, Market Garden, the bombing of Bastogne, and she’d be damned if she let this pathetic excuse for a man get the best of her.

With all her might, Melanie shoved her knee between Terry’s legs. He groaned at the impact and released her as he doubled over. She took a moment to gulp in fresh air before she reared back and slapped him hard across the face. The sound cracked like a whip. His head lurched back, throwing him off balance enough to stumble. Melanie, adrenaline coursing through her, wasn’t satisfied, so she shoved him, which made him fall to the floor, landing on his rear with a grunt.

“Don’t you ever put your hands on me again!” she yelled.

While he licked his wounds - and his pride - Melanie gathered the last of her things in silence. Rage compelled her every move as she shoved her belongings into her bag. He was still on the floor when she marched for the door. She opened it to reveal Colonel Sink behind it, fist raised, about to knock. He shot her a confused glance as he took in the scene - Melanie, stormy and furious, and Terry in the fetal position on the floor of her room. He noticed as well, the broken trinkets from the unfortunate family who lived here previously. Sink’s eyes flicked between Melanie and Terry.

“Everything alright up here?” Sink asked.

“It’s fine,” Melanie said shortly. “Get me out of here, please.”

“Certainly,” he assured her.

He put a protective arm around her shoulder and led her away. When they made it down the stairs, she stopped him, turned into his chest, and burst into tears. He held her close, patted her on the head, and let her cry. He didn’t ask her what happened, and she was grateful. She never wanted to relive that scene if she could help it. She looked up at Sink with desperate eyes.

“Please don’t make me go back to the hospital, Colonel,” she pleaded. “I’ll do anything else, but I can’t work with him again.”

“Actually, I was about to offer you a change of scenery,” he said.

“Like what?” she sniffled.

He sighed and looked away, which told her she wouldn’t like it. “The Bois Jacques.”

#band of brothers #dick winters #dick winters x ofc #band of brothers fic #hbo war #melanie jo davis #dear heart series

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oliviermiraarmstrongs · 3 years ago

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mid-year book freak out tag

thank you @bloody-wonder for giving me an excuse to share my book thoughts!

1. Best Book You’ve Read So Far in 2021?

It’s gotta be The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood; I hear “feminist period novel about mentally ill woman unable to cope in upper-class society” and I am THERE! It’s like [Stefon voice] This book has EVERYTHING: repressed women, a decaying old house, a complex relationship of two sisters, a pulpy sci-fi story-within-a-story-within-a-story, criticism of capitalism and reactionary attitudes and politics, commentary on how conservative society shuns those it perceives to be “other” and a threat to the social order (poor people, socialists, “unconventional” women). It is EXTREMELY my shit.

2. Best Sequel You’ve Read So Far in 2021?

The only one I've read is Siege and Storm, so Siege and Storm! Shadow and Bone was captivating, if a little simplistic, but the sequel really fleshes out the characters, setting, and themes. It’s great to see Alina take a more active role, and I love the exploration of sainthood.

3. New Release You Haven’t Read Yet, But Want To?

I’m really curious about Michelle Zauner’s memoir Crying in H Mart. Same with Axiom’s End, which I haven’t really been seeking out, but it’s been resting on my list since I like a lot of Lindsay Ellis’ stuff.

4. Most Anticipated Release For Second Half of 2021?

5. Biggest Disappointment?

The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood. I’ve been getting into Atwood, and I have a soft spot for female-centric retellings of myths, so this was on my list for a long time. It’s not bad; it’s decent as a character study and offers some good perspective on the hanged slave women from The Odyssey, but overall it came off as...bitter? And not in a good way. It’s reasonable to include commentary on how bad things were for women in ancient times, but after a while I’m just like “But there had to be a time when Penelope was happy, right?” But the biggest failing has to be the treatment of Helen. Why a story focused on bringing literary justice to silenced women also characterizes Helen of Troy as a manipulative, arrogant bitch who single-handedly ignited the Trojan War because she enjoys fucking people over, I’ll never know. Ironic that in the opening chapter, Penelope bemoans being used as a yardstick with which to judge other women, and then the book proceeds to do exactly that with her and Helen. Can’t let Penelope have a positive relationship with another woman! There could be some form of unreliable narrator at play, but there’s not much indication that that’s the case here. Even Homer had a more nuanced portrayal of Helen than this!

6. Biggest Surprise?

I suppose The Red Tent. I picked it up at a Goodwill because of my aforementioned interest in female-centric retellings. It’s not amazing, but I wasn’t really expecting it to emotionally affect me like it did. You spend so much time setting up Dinah’s family and this supportive community of woman within a patriarchal society, only to have Dinah abandon it all after getting betrayed by her father and (most of) her brothers. Hearing about how her family fell apart after she left and she never got to see her mothers again really gets to me. The book has flaws for sure - neither of Dinah’s romances are developed very well, and some of its themes can come off as gender essentialist - but I think it’s a nice exploration of female labor and traditions that too often get ignored.

7. Favorite New Author?

The only relatively new author I’ve been reading is Leigh Bardugo, soooooo... honestly I don’t know what I can say that hasn’t already been said, I got into the series pretty late. Great world-building, witty dialogue, a familiar type of story with enough interesting ideas to make it feel fresh. Check out Shadow and Bone if you get the chance. Sound of the summer.

8. Newest Fictional Crush?

You would think it would be Nikolai Lantsov since I just finished reading Siege and Storm and he seems to be the fan favorite... but nah, not yet. He’s fun, but he doesn’t hit me in that way (Though very sexy of him to just casually proposition Alina and Mal for a royal polycule, a la Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot; would love an AU where they accept his offer). However, I would let Zoya murder me. Every time Zoya is not in a scene I am asking “Where’s Zoya?” Also shout out to Alina, just because I would treat her better than all the men in her life!

9. Newest Favorite Character?

Gonna try to do this without spoiling too much, but Laura Chase in The Blind Assassin really resonated with me. Her personality reminds me a lot of myself, especially as an an autistic person, like the way she has her own way of thinking that makes perfect sense to her, but makes other people see her as odd and naive. I love how she’s set up in-universe as this Sylvia Plath-esque tragic heroine, with Iris spending the rest of the book interrogating and deconstructing, and in a way, reconstructing this image of her. Atwood you’re insane for this. I forgive you for the Helen thing now.

10. Book That Made You Cry?

I never got as far as crying, but the part in The Goldfinch where [spoilers incoming] the art heist goes wrong and Theo is alone in the hotel room and he’s spiraling and considering suicide and finally dreams of his mom… all that was too much for me and I had to put the book down for the night. This guy just can’t catch a fucking break.

11. Book That Made You Happy?

fucidjdjdj I didn’t read any happy books this year. Shadow and Bone and Siege and Storm because I read them really fast unlike my usual months-long reading schedule.

12. Favorite Book Adaptation You Saw?

Predictably, Shadow and Bone. I basically bought and read the book less than a week before the show came out because I thought it looked interesting and wanted in on the hype (mostly because Jessie is cute 🥰). Honestly, the show improves a lot on the first book; the multiple storylines make it more dynamic and complex, the actors really help to make the characters feel more fleshed out, and Alina and Inej interacted for like three scenes, introducing an unexpected but thematically rich ship.

13. Favorite Review You’ve Written This Year?

14. Most Beautiful Book You’ve Bought So Far This Year?

I impulse-bought this book of Romantic poetry at Barnes and Noble just because it was pretty and I had a gift card

15. What Books Do You Need To Read By The End Of The Year?

Besides finishing The Grisha Trilogy/Six of Crows duology/Zoya’s duology that I forgot the name of….I don’t know. I’m not a reader that plans in advance. I acquire books, finish whatever I’m currently reading, look through my stacks deciding what to read next, spend an hour doing so because I can’t decide if I’m in the mood for any of them, and either force myself to read one or buy/borrow a new one.

I’m tagging @betweenironyandsilver, @illuminaticns, @borispavlikovskys, @chdarling, @sctine, @mightyaubs, @excuseforadrink, and @trckstergods, if you wanna! Or anyone who wants to yell about books.

#sophia says shit #tagged as me #sorry for taking so long I write slow and am on vacation #but thank you! I don’t get many excuses to talk about books!

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five-rivers · 4 years ago

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Long Night in the Valley chapter 8

A young man walked in. His hair was dark, the style conservative. The only thing that stood out about him was his high-collared jacket.

Aizawa knows who this man is, for much the same reasons that Uraraka knew Skyrunner.

Fidelity had literally written the book on underground heroism. It hadn’t been published until his death.

The lights flickered. The murmuring of the shadows rose, then cut off abruptly, the shadows disappearing along with Nana. The projector screen changed. It now read:

Greetings 9’s Friends! (And teacher.)

“This was my last mission briefing before I died,” said the young man. “At least, that’s what I’d say if I was really Fidelity.”

“You’re saying you aren’t,” said Aizawa, keeping his voice level.

The screen behind him changed to read Vestiges: what you need to know.

“I am based on Fidelity. I’m also based on Railgun.”

“The hero who took down Destro?” asked Uraraka, clenching her fists and briefly floating in excitement.

Why was she not getting a better grade in history?

“Not exactly. He wasn’t actually captured until years later.”

“But you broke his charge, his army! And all by yourself!”

“Railgun did, yes. I’ve put together a little presentation for you guys. Hope you don’t mind. We all figured you wouldn’t want to go any further without an explanation of sorts.” He said this all with an enviably flat voice, despite his friendly words. His body language was controlled and to the point.

Darn Midoriya for managing to build a fantasy that was so close to what Aizawa had always imagined the man to be like.

(He was not a fan of Fidelity. Underground heroes did not have fans. It defeated the point.)

(He pointedly ignored his memories of the bootleg Eraserhead merchandise Midoriya and Yamada had snuck to Eri.)

“You’d be right,” said Aizawa.

“Cool,” said Six. “Before we begin, I want you to understand that much of what I’m going to tell you will be a lie.”

“What?” said Iida, confused. “Then what’s the point?”

“The point is, there will be enough truth in it to get you through this safely, and enough falsehood to prevent the commission from taking advantage of Nine later, should they be watching what’s happening here with a quirk we can’t detect.”

“Nine?”

“Izuku,” clarified Six.

“Who you called Nine because…?”

“If we count in order of when we were supposedly born, he’s the ninth. Although, really, he’s the first. I’ll explain in a moment.” He pointed to the screen. “We call ourselves vestiges, and, like I said, we are all based on real people. We’re part of Nine’s quirk.” The screen switched to show Midoriya with eight shadowy figures behind him. “I want to stress that Nine wasn’t aware of us until the sports festival. Specifically…”

The screen now showed Midoriya’s fight with Hitoshi, right before he broke his fingers. Aizawa recognized the image as a still from one of the cameras. Except those eight shadows were there as well, right in front of Midoriya.

“You had something to do with him breaking his fingers and getting out of Shinsou’s quirk.”

“We don’t mix well with mental quirks, apparently. Nine minds all together at once are too many, even if eight of them are fictional. It’s an interesting side effect. Speaking of which.”

The new slide was a picture. An edited picture. Of a person giving a presentation.

“Is that a meme?” asked Todoroki.

“Yes,” said Six.

The slide read, You were never in All Might’s mind. Nine was just confused.

That meme was so old Aizawa could feel himself taking psychic damage just by looking at it.

“You’ve been passing through our, the vestiges’, mindscapes. Eight is simply based on All Might.”

That would be a relief, if not for the fact that that Six had admitted he was going to lie. Also, there was something off about the whole explanation.

Iida raised his hand. “Excuse me! You claim that you are part of Midoriya’s quirk, but you haven’t explained how!”

“I’m getting to that,” said Six. “Todoroki-san, you’re the one who is always saying how similar Nine and All Might’s quirks are. Do you have any theories?”

Todoroki’s eyes lit up, even though he kept his habitual deadpan expression. “Midoriya is All Might’s secret—”

“We wish, but sadly no. Pick a different one.”

Todoroki looked devastated. He collected himself quickly, however. “Midoriya’s strength,” he said, “he got it from All Might, didn’t he?”

“Yes. Eight is a bit of a complicated case, since he’s based on someone who is alive and Nine knows personally, but in the end, he’s the same as the rest of us.”

“He said something about receiving Skyrunner’s quirk, earlier,” said Uraraka.

“And Blackwhip…” said Iida.

“You’re getting it,” said Six. “Blackwhip originally belonged to Five, incidentally.”

“He has a copy quirk,” concluded Aizawa.

Six nodded. The screen changed. “Right now, Nine has four quirks, three of which he can use freely. Superpower, Blackwhip, and Float,” he read the quirk names off the screen.

“And he’s going to get more?” asked Aizawa.

“Eventually,” said Six. “We don’t want to overload his body—This whole process only kicked off when he met All Might.”

“And why you?” asked Aizawa. “Why All Might, Skyrunner and these… Five others?”

“I would like to tell you,” said Six. He raised a finger and waved it in a circle to indicate outside listeners.

“What are the drawbacks?” asked Aizawa.

“Hm?”

“The drawbacks. I get dry eyes when I use my quirk. Present Mic is deaf. Vlad is anemic. A quirk like this one has to have a drawback.”

“What, the broken bones aren’t enough for you? Or the fact he didn’t hit on the activation conditions until he was fourteen?”

Aizawa stared, unimpressed.

A tiny corner of Six’s mouth made itself visible over the collar of his coat. “Well. I think you can make some conclusions but, again…” He trailed off. “There are a few more things you should be aware of. First, Nine had no choice in who we are, although we all fulfil certain criteria.”

“Are you all relatives?” asked Todoroki.

“Man, you never do give up, do you?” said Six. “That’s a great quality in a hero.”

“Are you all heroes, then?” continued Todoroki.

The slide on the screen changed again.

Vestiges According to History:

8. Yagi Toshinori aka All Might – Hero

7. Shimura Nana aka Skyrunner – Hero

6. Tenma Rokuya aka Fidelity/Railgun – Hero

5. Banjo Daigoro aka Lariat – Hero

4. Vigilante

3. Terrorist

2. Terrorist

1. Unknown

“Unfortunately,” said Six, “no.”

Toshinori caught sight of the feathers first. He had more experience as a hero, and, as he was no longer the primary user of One for All, the mental strain he was experiencing was much lower, comparatively. His awareness of his surroundings was better.

Stay calm. Don’t speak. Don’t run.

Hawks could receive sensory input from his feathers, though neither Toshinori nor Izuku knew how much. Better to be safe than sorry.

We need to get out of the city.

Out of the country, too, for that matter, as much as it would hurt Izuku—

They couldn’t leave all their friends behind to face Shigaraki.

A compromise could be reached. They knew a few places—An island, near—

But first, the city. The first priority was to evade pursuit.

A bus pulled into the stop ahead of them, and they got on. If they could get outside city limits, where there were fewer people, fewer witnesses, Izuku could float them away. Also, Hawks was less likely to trap his feathers on a bus.

We might be dealing with the Hawks problem earlier than thought.

Izuku slouched back on the bus seat, covering his eyes. Toshinori looked up at the ceiling. The Hawks problem. AKA, the others’ theory that Hawks had been raised as a child soldier, and Toshinori had missed the signs.

Izuku put his hand on Toshinori’s knee.

“I can’t believe it,” said one of the other passengers, a few rows ahead of them. “I really just can’t believe it. It’s like something from a horror story.”

“What?” asked someone else.

“Look!”

“Someone kidnapped All Might?”

The bus filled with chatter.

Toshinori still couldn’t believe people thought Izuku kidnapped him. The reality was closer to the opposite, honestly. He’d have to apologize to Izuku’s mother…

There was a tiny incensed gasp from Izuku, and Toshinori saw Izuku glaring up at him. Izuku made a series of gestures that could probably have been interpreted as ‘You can’t kidnap anyone, you’re All Might!’ even without the psychic link they were currently enjoying, then went into an enthusiastic tangent about how the commission was probably playing up the ‘crazy stalker fan’ angle.

Toshinori sighed, ruffled Izuku’s hair, and studiously avoided any and all thoughts about what he’d done to Aldera Middle School after Izuku had shown up to training with a black eye and bloody nose that one time.

“What?” squeaked Izuku, his eyes gone very wide.

Drat.

Out of the corner of his eye, Toshinori saw three passengers near the front of the bus stand up and felt his heart drop. One of them had an obvious eagle mutation, the second had a bulging, almost spherical, neck, and the third had broad, flat-ended fingers.

Decades of hero experience told Toshinori exactly what was going to happen next. Even before the guns came out.

“Well,” said the eagle-headed man, “with all the heroes looking for the ‘Symbol of Peace,’ I guess this is our lucky day!”

“Nobody move!” demanded the man with the round neck. “This is a hijacking!”

Izuku let out an incredulous grunt next to him, but Toshinori could literally feel his mind whirring at a thousand miles a minute, analyzing the quirks of the hijackers and possible motives.

Really. There was no way they weren’t going to help.

“By the way, not all of Nine is awake, so, out in the real world his body is operating according to consensus.”

“Consensus of…” said Aizawa, not wanting to finish the thought as he stared at the two entries labeled ‘terrorist.’

“All nine of us together, yes.”

“That’s a pretty big drawback,” said Aizawa, his voice rasping against his throat.

“Eh. It has its benefits. Besides, Three and Two lived over a hundred years ago. We didn’t even have the hero system back then. Things change.”

“Excuse me!” said Iida, raising his hand. “Why don’t the last four—the first four? —have names?”

“They asked me not to share them with you quite yet,” said Six. “Don’t call Three a terrorist though. That’s a bit of a sore spot with her.” He looked off to the side.

“And the quirks?” said Aizawa, hanging on to the very last bit of his will to live by the tips of his fingers. “The ones I’m presumably going to have to teach Midoriya how to use?”

“Right.”

Our Splendiferous Quirks

8. Yagi Toshinori aka All Might – Hero. Quirk: Superpower.

7. Shimura Nana aka Skyrunner – Hero. Quirk: Float.

6. Tenma Rokuya aka Fidelity/Railgun – Hero. Quirk: Internet Perception.

5. Banjo Daigoro aka Lariat – Hero. Quirk: Blackwhip.

4. Vigilante. Quirk: Danger Sense.

3. Terrorist

2. Terrorist

1. Unknown

Aizawa was not surprised to see the last four entries, once again, had little information attached.

“You know,” said Uraraka, “if you ignore the terrorists, this actually makes sense.”

“If you ignore the terrorists?” asked Iida, incredulous.

“I mean, think about who we’ve seen so far.”

“It is like Midoriya to have a split personality based on All Might,” agreed Todoroki. Because split personalities were going to be his go-to theory, now that figments of Midoriya’s quirk’s imagination had shot down his ‘Dadmight’ conspiracy.

“If you want to think of us as split personalities, sure,” said Six. “We really don’t interact that much with the outside, though.”

“And Skyrunner is basically supermom,” said Uraraka. “Like, if she was All Might’s mentor, it makes sense that that’s what he’d envision her as.”

“Ah,” said Iida, “so she reminds you of Midoriya-san as well?”

Aizawa noticed Six shift uncomfortably and look away but decided he honestly did not want to know.

“Oh, and you,” said Uraraka, spreading her hands to indicate Six, “are kind of like Aizawa-sensei!

“Except with more memes,” said Todoroki.

“Yeah, except with more memes,” agreed Uraraka.

Six faked a cough into his fist. “Anyway, I think that’s everything… No, wait. Hawks.”

“Hawks,” repeated Aizawa.

“Yeah. We’re pretty sure he was raised and conditioned to be a slave for the commission from a very young age.” Another pause. Six turned to face Todoroki. “Also, Dabi is probably your dead older brother, Todoroki Touya.”

“Oh,” said Todoroki.

“What,” said Aizawa.

“We’d just like someone in a position to do things with this information to have it. Even if we were sure Nine would retain all this, he, ah. The commission is doing a very good job of trashing his reputation.”

“Is this revenge?” whispered Todoroki. “Did I push Midoriya too far?”

“Kid, you could beat Nine up on a weekly basis for ten years, and he’d still barely think of revenge. Come on, I need to take you guys to Five.”

Barely, he said. Meaning, he did think about revenge. They had to get out of here fast; Bakugo’s life was in danger.

There were lives in danger. A simple robbery wouldn’t require this kind of setup. These three needed hostages for some reason.

Or… Izuku traced the direction the three villains kept looking to the college student in the corner. The young woman’s clothing was high quality, and she looked vaguely familiar.

He couldn’t help but be exasperated. Shigaraki Tomura was running around out there somewhere, and these guys were doing… whatever this was. Causing problems. He and Toshinori would have to try and evade Hawks after this.

But exasperation wasn’t going to keep these people safe.

Eagle-head looked like the leader at first glance, but on closer inspection, he was taking cues from the man with the squared-off fingers. The man with the round neck seemed to have a body expansion quirk of some type, possibly similar to Kendo’s, considering how his joints pulsed and how his clothing was designed with extra folds.

… He’d shown Toshinori a catalogue with similar clothing, once. But Toshinori had said that the ill-fitting look added to his disguise.

In the tight confines of the bus, that would be dangerous. The best thing to do to him would be to throw him out when the bus came to a stop.

The quirk of the man with the square finger was a problem. It was probably an emitter type, rather than a transformation type. Something to do with his hands, perhaps?

Honestly, the best thing to do for all of them, at least with regards to the people on the bus, would be to toss them off and then get the driver to gun it. But then, what about people on the street? These guys didn’t have any scruple against taking hostages, obviously.

“Hey, you, hand over the briefcase,” said the man with the round neck.

Izuku glanced at Toshinori, who nodded. Coils of Blackwhip ran up and down his arms under the sleeves of his suit, much more controlled and complex than Izuku had managed to date.

Thanks for the help, Five.

He slammed the briefcase into the eagle-headed man’s beak. Toshinori hadn’t skimped on anything when stocking the hideout, and the metal made immensely satisfying contact with bone. Blackwhip shot out from near his elbow—like Sero—and wrapped around the hands of the gunmen, forcing their aim down.

The man with square fingers reacted first, raising his hand. Each fingertip emitted a flat, square pane that traveled in a straight line and got progressive larger. Izuku pulled, slamming the man into the back of his own shield, because really, that was too slow, and how similar was this quirk to Crust’s? Could the villain change the trajectory of his panels, or no?

Not the time.

The shield cracked as Izuku hit it from the other side, and Toshinori was throwing open the back door. The man with the expanding quirk—and it was an expanding quirk—seemed to finally realize what was happening, and lashed out, but Izuku was faster than he was. The spherical throat was evidently a weak point.

“Can you stop?” Izuku asked the bus driver, who, tense as he was, slammed down on the brakes, making Izuku stumble. He hauled the villains off the bus, Toshinori hopping off the back with the eagle-headed man a moment later.

Well, that had happened.

Izuku caught a flash of very distinctive red out of the corner of his eye.

Six stopped. “That isn’t good,” he said, looking slightly up. There was nothing there that Aizawa could see, except for a collection of pipes. They were travelling through a series of underground concrete passages in an effort to find ‘Five.’

“What is it?” asked Uraraka.

Six’s form abruptly flickered and vanished. Oh, that couldn’t be good.

“Sensei.”

Aizawa turned to see Midoriya standing behind them, wearing a truly godawful pinstriped suit. He held his right wrist in his left hand, an odd bracer wrapped around it.

“Is that the Full Gauntlet?” asked Uraraka. “Why-?”

Midoriya flashed a quick smile in her direction. “I’m sorry, sensei, this is really last minute, but I need you to tell me how to use your quirk.”

We absolutely can’t strike first.

They wanted to. They knew this would turn into a battle. The first strike was an advantage they couldn’t discount.

Win the battle and lose the war.

He could see the cell phones already out, held bystanders not quite broken from the habits gained in All Might’s era. Even with the Hero Commission already slandering him, this would affect the narrative. If he ever hoped to be welcomed back to hero society, or even the public’s good graces, in any way shape or form, he could not be seen starting a fight with a hero. Much less the current number two hero.

“I don’t suppose you’ll make my job easier and release All Might from your mind-control quirk,” said Hawks, tone conversational despite the fact he was standing at least two stories above them in the air.

“I don’t have a mind-control quirk,” said Izuku, reaching up to the knot of his tie.

“And I’m not being mind-controlled,” said Toshinori, loosening his mask.

Hawks actually paused. “Oh my gosh,” he said, raising one hand to his mouth like a scandalized housewife, “I didn’t realize that was you! What happened to your hair?”

“I… cut it off.”

“That’s, uh.” Hawks quickly regained control of his expression. “Terrible that this villain made you do that.”

Hawks’ heart wasn’t entirely in this apparently.

Just as apparently, that had no bearing on what Hawks was actually going to do.

“You’ve seen me use my quirk,” said Aizawa.

“I know, and that’ll be helpful, too, but how do you use it? What’s the feeling you get when you use it? How do you activate it? What’s the internal mechanism? This is important.”

“Why?” asked Iida. “What’s going on Midoriya?”

“It’s—” Midoriya’s form flickered. He took a deep breath. He was now wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. “I’m in a fight right now, and it would be useful,” he reported, calmly.

“Please tell me it isn’t with my mind-controlled unconscious body,” begged Aizawa, “or the League of Villains.”

“It isn’t.”

Thank goodness.

“I’m fighting Hawks.”

Why.

No, ask questions later. The Problem Child needed help now. To fight the number two hero.

He didn’t know how knowledge about his quirk could be useful in a fight against Hawks, but the claim was far, far too stupid to be a lie.

“When I turn on my quirk, I—”

Blackwhip unfurled from his arms like a dark version of Shouji’s quirk, tearing his sleeves to shreds and dislodging the feathers that had been imbedded there. The ends wrapped around feather after feather, splitting into dozens and dozens of pseudo-arms. Izuku was amazed.

Someday, he would be able to do this on his own.

For now—

For now, he was fighting Hawks, who had trained since childhood to fight on behalf of the commission.

For now, he was a hero student, with only a few months of practical experience.

For now, he was a fugitive, on the run and desperate.

For now, he was host and member of One for All, and collectively they had been heroes for over a hundred years.

And Toshinori had his back.

They wrapped the silk tie around his knuckles. Any protection for the bones in his hands was valuable. In the other, they adjusted the briefcase. They had only rarely used weapons in the last hundred or so years. Usually, their quirks made weapons overkill.

But before that—Before that, things were different. For a while, One and Two had used swords, of all things.

This battle was much more even than it looked.

Their victory condition: Escape with Toshinori.

Their failure conditions: Civilian injury, serious injury to Izuku or Toshinori, or capture of either Izuku or Toshinori.

To avoid the first point of failure, it was best for them to get away from the vulnerable civilians. They didn’t want to give away float so soon in the game, so…

They grabbed the edge of a building with Blackwhip and launched Izuku upwards, flinging feathers away from him. Toshinori would follow and provide the group with a second perspective.

Hawks did not expect to be joined in the air. An incredulous smile graced his lips. Izuku smiled back and catapulted himself directly into Hawks.

“You know,” he said, “I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile for real!”

“What?” asked Hawks, startled. He wasn’t one to have meaningful conversations with people he was supposed to bring in, but a statement like that had to be responded to.

Even if most of his attention was on the quirk that Midoriya controlled with much more proficiency than indicated by his school records. The kid was good, had good instincts when it came to battle, but he wasn’t quite fast enough to get past Hawks’s guard, or to really close the distance between them.

“Your smile!” said Midoriya. “When I was younger, I didn’t realize it, but once I knew the truth behind All Might’s smile, I understood!”

“Did you, now?” asked Hawks.

“Underneath,” said Midoriya, “your face is a lot like Todoroki’s! It’s—”

Conversation during a battle was usually a distraction, to the person employing it as a tactic as well as the target. Somehow, though, Midoriya was subverting that rule.

“It’s actually really sad!” exclaimed Midoriya, breathless, but apparently genuine, not mocking. “Who hurt you?”

“Heh,” said Hawks. This kid knew. How? “Shouldn’t I be the one asking questions here?”

“Gotta hand it to the commission, they really did a number on you,” said Midoriya, briefly touching down on a rooftop. “Why do you keep doing their dirty work for them?”

He was using that second quirk, but not his strength. Was it a matter of ‘won’t’ or ‘can’t?’ Either way, it was something to keep an eye on.

“Why don’t you—” Hawks briefly managed to pin Midoriya by the edge of his jacket, but the boy tore free easily. “—fly free?”

“You’re one to talk,” said Hawks. “What did you trade to All for One for those quirks?” He didn’t actually believe Midoriya was in league with All for One. Even tangentially, through proxies, they’d been at odds too many times, not to mention the videos he’d been shown by the commission of Midoriya and All Might interacting. The connection there couldn’t be faked.

He’d know. He’d tried so many times.

(Was trying now, with the League of Villains.)

(Midoriya wasn’t one of them.)

But he had a job to do.

Besides. Even he had to admit the commission had a point. The quirks had to come from somewhere.

(Just because Midoriya didn’t willingly associate with All for One didn’t mean he hadn’t been forced. Didn’t mean he hadn’t gotten out.)

(All Might was protecting him. How did they know each other?)

“Wouldn’t you take any hand offered to you if the person behind it offered to make you what you always wanted to be?”

Midoriya tilted his head to one side. “Nope!” he responded, cheerfully.

On the street below, Toshinori coughed, blood splattering his sleeve. What had Izuku been doing when he was younger, to get involved with so many dangerous and disturbing people?

It wasn’t my fault!

Kid really is a trouble magnet.

Oh, heck, I think I recognized that one—

Really, with that sharp mind, and Izuku’s propensity for both curiosity, helpfulness, and, well, finding trouble, it was a miracle he’d stayed alive for so long.

Wouldn’t call it a miracle, sonny—

HAHA I can’t believe he thought that was a dream.

In his defense, a dream makes more sense than—

Guys. Focus, please?

Yes. This was not the time to discuss… that. Now… Well. Toshinori had a role he could play in this battle, even as he was, and—

Hawks and Izuku’s path over the rooftops mapped itself out in his mind.

Oh, no.

Izuku wasn’t evading Hawks.

He was being herded by him.

They tucked and rolled across the pavement, Blackwhip cocooning them and breaking their fall. This was significantly more than what Five, what Daigoro, could use back when he was alive. It took everyone’s efforts to keep everything going.

Wait for it, they reminded themselves, bouncing back to Izuku’s feet.

Izuku looked up. This… was not a good position. Hawks had forced them into the entertainment district. They couldn’t trust that the fancy facades and art instalations of the buildings would hold up to Blackwhip. Not to mention, in places like this… He glanced around.

Fourth Kind.

Kesagiriman.

Slugger.

Death Arms.

There would be more, soon. This was… less than good. Maybe they should just grab Toshinori’s body and launch themselves with Blackwhip and Float, as far as they could. They’d lose a lot of their advantage on Hawks, but at least then they wouldn’t be fighting five different heroes.

Izuku gritted his teeth in something like a smile. Five different heroes. Well. Nine on five wasn’t bad odds.

Suzuku pulled himself along the ground, trembling. He had been falling for—for ages by the time that witch woman had disappeared. Why she had disappeared, he couldn’t guess, but…

Falling.

So much falling.

And hitting the ground again, and again, and again.

You invaded our minds, said the woman, don’t complain when we counter with something psychological as well.

Something like a laugh bubbled up from his throat.

You can leave whenever you want, can’t you?

He’d show her. He’d show her and find all her secrets. Just see if he didn’t.

Fourth Kind, Kesagiriman, Slugger, and Death Arms all had very physical, straightforward quirks. Out of all of them, though, Death Arms was probably the most problematic, followed by Slugger and his long-range attacks.

None of them held a candle to Hawks, of course. Which was the reason why Death Arms in particular was so problematic.

In order to deal with Hawks’s feathers, they needed Blackwhip. But using Blackwhip and One for All’s signature superstrength at the same time wasn’t something Izuku’s body was used to. They were limiting it to small bursts. Death Arms’ own physical enhancement quirk, while miniscule compared to One for All’s current stature, was nothing to sneer at.

If Death Arms—or any of the other heroes—landed a solid blow, that could be it for Izuku.

They refused to be locked away again.

That’s when it happened.

A scene played across Izuku’s inner eye:

A frosty morning. A little boy with dark hair. A farewell. Tears.

He flubbed the landing and a sharp pain lanced through his ankle. Blackwhip wrapped it, giving it much needed support.

He started to rise, only to drop to avoid one of Slugger’s patented Home Run Pitches (tm).

The ball spun, ricocheting off the stainless steel of an art installation before drilling right through a wooden beam on a bit of scaffolding holding up part of a building that was being refurbished. Izuku let out a breath of relief (there were still people around who hadn’t learned how to run away from a dangerous fight) before they returned to the dance with Hawks’s impressively huge number of feathers.

Blackwhip could keep up with them, barely, but Izuku was tiring. He couldn’t take much more of this.

He needed an opening to get to Toshi—

Another scene:

She couldn’t be pregnant. Not now. Not right after giving away another. The next time Sorahiko suggested drowning her troubles in sake, she was going to shove it straight up his blowholes, no matter that he was probably just as drunk as she was.

This slip almost resulted in Izuku getting his face punched in by Death Arms. Considering what he’d just learned, he’d almost welcome that fate, if it made him forget. Plus, it might have been funny for the ultimate battle of ultimate destiny, the show down between One for All and All for One, to take place between not one, but two potato-headed individuals—

There was a sharp crack from above as the damage Death Arms had done to the scaffolding made itself known.

Izuku didn’t have to think before moving.

“Alright,” said Midoriya. “I think I’ve got it. Thank you, sensei.” He looked young, now. Barely primary school age.

“I’d feel a lot better,” said Aizawa, “if I knew what you needed this information for.”

“Oh! That’s simple. You see, it’s my theory that the overlap in mechanisms between my quirk and Saito-san’s might allow for interesting emergent behaviors. Specifically, her quirk bridges a gap I’d normally have no way of crossing, although there’s certainly drawbacks. It’s like what we tried earlier, when I asked you to use your quirk. Although, I am hoping for different results than what I was looking for back then. I think, with what you’ve given me, and this processing time… Yes, this should work.” He clenched a fist. “These remnants—I can use them!”

Remnants. Vestiges.

Aizawa frowned. Something… something wasn’t right, here. The explanation Six had given them…

“Just keep going this way, for now. Six will try to get back to you as soon as possible. I have to go now! I love you guys!”

He then faded out. While waving.

“Wow,” said Uraraka. “Izuku-kun sure was a cute kid.”

Aizawa couldn’t argue with that.

“Aizawa-sensei,” said Todoroki. “You’re blushing.”

He wouldn’t lower himself to argue with that. “This conversation is illogical. Let’s go.”

“Sensei is weak to little kids,” observed Todoroki.

And if they ever discovered they could remove the ‘little’ in that sentence and have it still be accurate, he’d never live it down.

Hawks saw the eyes first, shining through the dust like two perfect green coins. Then every one of his feathers went dead, and he started to fall.

Sensation returned just in time for him to avoid hitting the ground at speed and, just as quickly, vanished again.

A breeze blew cleared the dust away.

Midoriya Izuku stood under the collapsed scaffolding, holding it up with black tendrils and sparking green arms. If this scene had been all that there was, an observer might be forgiven for wondering why he was holding up the scaffolding like that.

But Hawks knew. If Midoriya hadn’t caught the scaffolding, even he wouldn’t have been able to get those civilians out from underneath it in time. He glanced to the side, where the almost victims were standing up. Normally, he’d just trust his feathers, but…

“Is that Eraserhead’s quirk?”

“Don’t worry, I asked Eraserhead-sensei for permission, first.”

“What kind of monster—” started Death Arms.

“Don’t you dare, Mister ‘my quirk isn’t suitable.’” Midoriya shifted the scaffolding to one side and shrugged himself out from underneath it. “As heroes, aren’t you supposed to consider the civilians around you?” He laughed. “I guess we’re still a little bitter about that.”

Izuku was putting on a good show, but he was reaching the end of his endurance. Plus, he could already hear the sirens of police cars and the exclamations that followed large groups of heroes on the move.

Good thing, then, that Toshinori was about to round the corner in three… two… one… There!

To an outsider, Blackwhip wrapping around Toshinori probably looked violent. In reality, everyone operating the quirk was intimately aware of everything wrong with Toshinori’s body and did not want to add to his problems. They could have probably grabbed an egg like this.

Grabbing the newly-exposed concrete and rebar of the building behind Izuku, they launched themselves up. At the top of their arc, they activated Float. Blackwhip reeled Toshinori in, and they held onto each other as Izuku prepared to use air pressure to launch themselves forward.

He hadn’t blinked yet.

His eyes really hurt.

(And so did everything else.)

He aimed and kicked against the air, sending them soaring away.

They had escaped.

Tomura ducked behind the wall at the top of the building, glad that his party had put so many points into stealth, because he was not touching what had just happened with a ten-foot pole. He’d rather be shot again. He’d rather fight Machia for a week straight with no rest breaks. He’d rather listen to Sensei try to give him the birds and the bees talk.

What was that? Huh? What kind of a broken character build allowed for that kind of combat ability? The mods had to be asleep. If he were in charge, he’d nerf it, pronto.

That was a lie. He’d take it for himself.

Still.

“Uh, Shigaraki? Boss man? You okay there?” asked Spinner.

“No,” decided Shigaraki.

Suddenly, making all of them jump, Toga squealed. “Did you see him? Did you see Izuku-kun? He was so cute with his nose bleeding like that!”

“Hey,” said Dabi, “are we going after the green kid or what?”

“No,” decided Shigaraki, for the second time in as many minutes. And then, “Gimme the phone. We need to call the doctor to get us out of here.”

They did, but that was pretty much secondary to his primary objective, which was to cuss out the doctor concerning the cursed knowledge that was currently trying to escape his skull with a pickaxe.

“Um,” said Inko. “Aren’t you going to get that?” She pointed at the phone that had been buzzing on the table for the past several minutes.

“No,” said Garaki, pretending to sip at his tea. “You were saying?”

#bnha #boku no hero academia #fic #fanfic #long night in the valley

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downwiththeficness · 4 years ago

Text

A Need So Great-Chapter 21 (Final Chapter)

Summary: Eva Moore is assigned to work the last year of her contract with the DEA in Colombia. She just wants to get to the end of her tenure, but she keeps getting drawn further into a string of murders in the city. It isn’t long before she’s forced to face the ghosts of her past.

Word Count: ~5,700

Warnings: Smut--y’all this is the chapter containing Eva’s next heat. So, yeah, keep that in mind.

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Carrillo isn’t married--or, if you like, divorced. A/B/O dynamics are prevalent, and they come with their own warning. The overall rating for this story is Explicit, although not every chapter will contain adult themes.

Taglist: @dirtynerdy98 @1zashreena1 @heresathreebee @deliciouslyclassytrash @maybege @kid-from-new-zealand @clydesducktape @revolution-starter @autumnleaves1991-blog @jedi-mando @buckysalefty @anaeve @maouzon

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8.5, 9, 10, 10.5, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20

Eva picked up the basket from the floor, dumping it on the bed to begin the sorting process. She made little piles in a line—shirts, shorts, underwear, socks. The slacks, she set aside to be hung, along with the occasional polo and her washable sundresses. Task complete, she pushed the stacks into their respective drawers and hung up the rest.

Setting the basket by the door, she moved to the windows and opened them to the cool morning air. It had taken a few days of frantically looking at every available home on the coast of Spain, hours upon hours spent walking through and trying to make a decision, before they found this one. Though not right on the water, it was close enough that she could hear the waves crashing on the shore. She inhaled the salt laden air, a warm contentment in her belly. Perfect.

Stepping away from the window, Eva plucked the basket from the floor and headed downstairs. On the landing, her stomach cramped hard enough that she dropped the basket. Hissing in pain, Eva bent over a bit, pressing her fingers into the source until it eased.

“The fuck was that?”

The feeling left as quickly as it came, leaving a soft ache in its place. Shaking her head to dismiss it, she set the basket on top of the washer and made her way lazily to the couch. Plopping down, she picked up the remote and channel surfed for about an hour, until the washer buzzed. She switched the load into the dryer and turned the knob, standing for a minute as the barrel turned.

A glance at the clock on the wall told her it was lunchtime, but she found that she wasn’t truly hungry. She should be. She hadn’t eaten breakfast, choosing instead to lounge in bed with Horacio until the very last second before he had to go to work. He’d found a job as a consultant for a security firm and seemed pretty happy with it. His permanent frown had eased, though he was still as serious as he’d ever been. She supposed that old habits would never truly die.

Though they’d only been in the house for about a week, he was settling into their routine with more ease than Eva. She was still looking over her shoulder a little bit, though Horacio had been monitoring her in laws with Javier’s contacts in the states. To compensate for starting over again in a new country, Eva had made a long distance phone call to Connie, giving her the run down and inviting her to stay when the summer was over. It helped—marginally.

Eva busied herself with staring at the open refrigerator, all the while giving a mental reminder that she had been the new girl in town over and over again throughout the years. This would, hopefully, be the last time. And, she had practiced her friend making skills in Colombia. She could do this. Again.

Finding nothing in the fridge worth making, Eva shut the door and leaned against the kitchen island, looking out over the open space floor plan. The dining room set was picked up from a local thrift shop, already scraped a little across the wooden tabletop. She’d seen it and loved it immediately. A little worn, but still good.

The couch was new—a luxurious leather that reminded her of the couch she’d curled up on with Horacio before they’d started selling furniture in prep for the move. A coffee table and entertainment center sat on a plush shag rug thrown over the hardwood. All in all, it was a good start to their new life together. Just a few essentials that she’d add to the longer they stayed right here.

Upstairs, they didn’t have much, other than a king size bed—Horacio had insisted on the larger mattress when Eva had balked. He needed a space to spread out, she needed enough room to nest properly. She had no argument against him, especially when he leaned down and whispered how easy it would be to go down on her properly. He could lay her out across the mattress and still have room for his own body, rather than kneeling on the floor or hanging off the edge. More comfort, meant more orgasms. Later, he’d proven his point several times over.

He’d also proved the point again the night previous. Eva felt her cheeks warm as she thought about it. He’d been...insatiable—no, they both were. He’d come home a little early. Eva was just starting dinner. He’d hung up his jacket and walked around the island, arms wrapping around her middle. The solid length of his body pressed up against her as she tried to chop celery was certainly distracting. As was his way, he tugged her hair over her shoulder and nosed along her neck, inhaling.

His hands covered hers and he gently pulled the knife from her fingers, setting it aside even as he walked her back and away from the counter. Dinner ended out being peanut butter and crackers, eaten furtively over the sink, hours after the sun had set.

Heading back to the couch, Eva flung herself back on it, smiling as she thought about how he’d trembled beneath her that last time, sweating and begging for her to come just one more time. It was an image that, even now, made her fan herself.

Taking a deliberate breath, Eva pointedly picked up the remote and put on some daytime television. For a while, it was enough of a distraction. She dozed a bit as the afternoon wore on, ignored the buzz of the dryer that signaled her clothes were dry, and generally did not much of anything. It wasn’t until her stomach gave another clench that Eva sat up and paid attention.

Hand to her belly, she stared into the middle distance as she tried to place just where the...pain wasn’t the word for it...ache, maybe. It throbbed gently now, spiked sporadically with a tightness that had her blowing out a breath. Pressing her free hand to her head, Eva noted the slight fever, though she felt herself give an involuntary shiver.

Was she sick?

When she tried to stand, Eva went to her knees, a low, anguished moan sounding. On the floor, she breathed deep, her nose pressed into the rug. After a few seconds, the feeling eased and she was able to rock back onto her heels. Using the couch for leverage, she pushed to standing. Another steadying breath, and Eva was moving slowly around the couch to the kitchen cabinet where they kept most of their over the counter medications.

With care, she turned each bottle around and read their label, not sure which she should rely on. Eventually, she settled on Tylenol and popped a few in her mouth with a glass of water. While she waited for it to kick in, Eva leaned a hip against the counter, her eyes feeling a little heavy. Perhaps she should eat...but the thought of food turned her stomach. Not even the very expensive chocolate bar in her hidden stash seemed appealing, and that was saying something.

Squinting into the afternoon sunlight, Eva waited for the ache to ease. The dull throbbing in her belly absolutely did not pass. It remained stubbornly in place, growing by tiny increments. Eva wiped at her brow, which had begun to sweat. Setting the glass down, Eva dropped her head into her hands and squeezed her eyes shut. Her body felt tired and wired and achy and lazy and utterly ridiculous all at the same time. There was so much going on that she didn’t know how to feel about it. Even her feelings were a mishmash of anxious and lethargic.

Breathe.

As she took long, deep breaths, the smell of Horacio filled her lungs. Normally, she would be comforted by it, soothed. She was not, in this moment, soothed. The scent of him burned through her, settling low in her belly. Flicking her eyes to the clock on the wall, she noted the time. He wouldn’t be home for a few hours, even if he clocked out as normal. She wanted him, wanted him with her, wanted him to hold her. Drowning in him was the only way she’d make it through whatever this was.

Mouth curling, Eva tried to think of something that she could do to distract herself. Looking around the house, she tried to find an activity—any activity—that could be done with little to no thought. Eva settled on some light cleaning. Leaning down to grab the cleaners from beneath the sink made her wince, her muscles straining as she tried to keep her body upright.

Determined, Eva got through the table tops, the windows at the front of the house, and was wiping down the coffee table when she finally gave up. Throwing down the lemon scented towel, Eva slumped against the couch, head thrown back in resignation. Rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes sockets, she groaned as another wave hit her. Only sheer force of will kept her from curling in on herself and dissolving into a tantrum.

Hands falling to her lap, Eva stared at the ceiling for a long time, the dips and bends of it going in and out of focus. Breaths uneven, Eva felt her eyes tear up in frustration. Her jaw locked as she made every attempt to fight them off.

What the fuck? She thought, flinching when fire began sizzling over her skin. Every second it grew more apparent that whatever this was, it was not going away. The hair at her temples was wet with sweat, her limbs were faintly trembling. She was dizzy and disoriented in a way that startled her. Eva closed her eyes, trying to relax...

She awoke with a cry that was muffled by the rug. Shaking, Eva’s thighs clenched together, her cunt pulsing. She blinked at the individual strands of the shag, realization coming over her like a kick to the head. Heat. It was a heat. Though the ache was still making itself viscerally known, all she could feel was relief. She wasn’t sick, she wasn’t dying. She was just undergoing her normal cycle—well, normal for her.

Pushing ever so carefully to sitting, Eva weighed her options. An hour and a half, and he would be home. She could do that. Maybe. Eva stood and grabbed the basket off the top of the dryer. In it, she put every snack she could find—anything that could be eaten quickly and without much effort. She also packed every soda, every sports drinks, every juice. They would need to replenish.

It took some time, and many breaks for her to catch her breath, but she got the basket upstairs and into the bedroom. Unable to help it, she checked the time again. Forty five minutes. She could do this. Moving as easily as she could, Eva made her way back downstairs, pulling an ice pack out of the freezer and sitting gingerly on the couch.

Half an hour. Fifteen minutes. Five. Zero. Nothing. His truck didn’t pull up in the drive. He didn’t come through the door. He just...wasn’t there. Not yet. Every minute that followed was excruciating in a way that Eva hadn’t ever felt. Not in all the years since she’d manifested her designation had Eva truly felt as helpless as most omegas were perceived to be. The grim reaper, himself, could walk through the front door, and Eva wouldn’t be able to move a muscle in her own defense.

Too soon, it became overwhelming and Eva was crawling pitifully over the cushions and grabbing the phone, dialing the number to his office. The ringing took too long, but she was relieved at the sound of the handset picking up from the cradle.

“Hello?”

“Horacio?” Her voice was small and far more timid than she felt.

“...Eva? Is everything alright?”

She bit her lip, the urge to deflect too strong for her to come right out and say it, “Its just...you’re usually home by now.”

He sighed deeply, and she could see him leaning back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, “We had a meeting go long. I’m supposed to run out and do a site visit. I should be home in a few hours.”

A few hours. Eva wasn’t going to make it a few hours. She wasn’t even sure she’d make it through the rest of this phone call. Her body, hearing Horacio’s voice, had kicked it up a notch, her thighs trembling with the want of wrapping around his body.

The sound that she made was pathetic and she hated it immediately. He, of course, heard it.

“Eva, what’s wrong?” His voice was firm, suspicious.

She inhaled, begging her body for calm. “I’m fine.”

He made a soft tsk of censure, “You’re not. Tell me what’s wrong.” When she hesitated, he rumbled, “Evangeline, you tell me what’s wrong.”

A directive. No argument. She felt her spine straighten.

“Horacio,” she started, her voice cracking, “Its...here. Its here.”

“What’s here?”

She could hear the concern that was in his voice rise up further into near panic. In the background, she could hear his keys jingling.

“The heat,” she clarified through her teeth, her brows coming together as she tried very hard to concentrate on the situation at hand and not how eagerly her body was telling her that she was talking to her alpha and that he was everything to her. “Its here.”

The line went silent for several long heartbeats and Eva feared that he’d hung up. Desperately, she listened for any sign that he was still there.

And then, “I’m on my way.”

The line went dead, the dial tone buzzing loudly in her ear. Eva dropped the handset onto the couch cushion and breathed deeply. He was maybe twenty minutes away. She could do that—told herself that she could do that. Twenty minutes was easy. Two sets of ten. Four sets of five.

When she tried to stand, her knees buckled and she hit the ground. Defeated, she laid down right where she was, sandwiched between the coffee table and the couch. Eva decided that she was just going to lay here and wait. She’d done what he would want her to do—she told him, just like he’d asked. Now, she would just have to try to relax until he got home.

The door opened and closed firmly. Eva blinked her eyes open, her vision blurry. She heard his footsteps move further into the house, his jacket hit the floor, and his keys hit the dining room table. Two further thumps sounded, his boots kicked off—she had just about enough energy to be annoyed that he couldn’t be bothered to put them on the shoe rack that was right there.

“Eva?”

She couldn’t answer. Her throat was dry, the muscles around her vocal cords refusing to cooperate. Fingers flexing, Eva tried to gather her limbs underneath her. They moved like molasses and had about as much strength as a bowl of jello.

“Eva?” his voice was louder, more urgent.

She made a sound, a pathetic little thing, choked out and exhausted. Fuck, how was she supposed to last through the heat when she couldn’t even get the thing started?

He heard her, his steps swinging around the couch until she could see his socked feet standing just outside the perimeter of the rug she was laying on. Her eyes traced upwards, following the line of his legs to his torso, shoulders, and face. He towered over her when she was standing. From the floor, he looked like a fucking giant.

His expression was concerned, but his hands were clenched into fists, sweat on his collar. She wondered how much of the drive home had been spent trying to control the rush of hormones that he’d no doubt been feeling. Thinking about what was waiting for him when he got home. She swallowed and reached for him.

Horacio caught her by both hands, dragging her out from between the coffee table and couch to lay near the landing of the stairs. She let the leverage of the moment pull her to sitting, her legs splayed useless in front of her.

Eva stared at him for a few seconds, “Hi…”

His mouth opened to respond, but no words came out. He just...looked at her, his entire posture stiff. Eva felt her stomach drop a little. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Why wasn’t he moving?

Eyes dropping, Eva ran her hand over the floor, trying to parse out the thoughts that were still foggy and stilted in her brain. Her hormones were raging hard enough that she couldn’t steady her breathing, everything inside her filling up with him in every way, except the way she most wanted.

He knelt, hand touching her chin. The contact made her shiver, tingles billowing out from her jaw and down her neck. Eva reluctantly looked at him, feeling her breaths stutter.

“Are you alright?”

Was she alright? Was she alright? Her latent anxiety morphed into righteous anger, her body bristling. He must have read her anger clearly across her face, because he leaned further into her space.

“I just need to know you’re alright—before...Once this starts, I won’t be able to stop—mmph,”

Eva cut him off with a hard kiss, rising up to her knees and knocking him onto his back. She followed him down, kissing him again before lifting her head and glaring at him.

“Horacio,” she grit out between clenched teeth, “Shut up.”

Not waiting for an answer, Eva dropped down and licked up his neck, ending it with a firm kiss. Her thumbs pressed into the hollow above his jaw, urging him to open for her. Tongue dipping in for a taste, she groaned, settling her weight further on his body. He was hard beneath her, and her already frazzled hormones spun up into a chaotic mess. Skin prickling, she ground against him, swallowing down his moan.

Grasping her hips, he pulled her closer, using what little leverage he had to help her rock against him. Not needing any more encouragement, Eva let her hips go fluid in their movements, setting up a hard, quick rhythm. Fuck, but it felt good. All that time spent waiting for him, burning up inside, melted away with the delicious friction.

He breathed her name between kisses, hands grabbing at whatever they could reach. He said it again when she released his mouth to kiss down his neck to the collar of his polo. And again, when she pulled the fabric out of his khakis.

“Evangeline,” he nearly yelled, “We need to get upstairs. Now.”

She stared down at him, her mouth curling into a smile. Then, with no preamble, she sat up, tore off her shirt, and threw it at him. Her body had just enough adrenaline to get her up and off him, scrambling up the stairs, hands shoved onto each step for balance. They slapped at the polished wood, pushing her forward and up to the second floor.

Eva felt herself giggle as she made it to the top stair, sliding a little as she rounded the corner. She could hear Horacio’s answering growl as his heavy steps boomed behind her. As quick as her feet would go, Eva hurdled towards the bedroom, clearing the door and making it almost to the bed when he slammed into her from behind. The momentum pushed her into the mattress, bent at the waist, the air punched out of her with the impact.

A flat palm between her shoulder blades held her in place as he pushed his fingers between her body and the mattress to get at the button of her shorts. Flicking it open, he pulled down the zipper and shoved both her shorts and underwear down and off her legs. After kicking the bundle away, he unsnapped her bra pulled it from her, throwing it off the side of the bed.

Eva tried to get her arms underneath her so that she could turn over. She even got a quarter turn of her torso before he leaned more weight on his hand, pushing her into the mattress again. Groaning, her face buried in the comforter, Eva kicked out in frustration. She wanted to touch him, wanted to rub every inch of her skin on him, anything to ease the fever that was growing steadily hotter.

He dropped down on her, his bare chest searing against her back. Eva realized that he must have removed his shirt somewhere between the stairs and their bedroom. His body was like a furnace, scalding her already sensitized skin. He ran the flat of his tongue over her shoulder, teeth scraping. His arms encircled her waist, holding her to him as much as he was holding her down. She wiggled against him in a vain attempt to gain any kind of sensation to urge her along towards the orgasm she knew would be a-fucking-mazing. It didn’t matter that he was doing exactly what she wanted, he wasn’t doing it fast enough. She needed hard and fast and now.

Nose in the crook of her neck, Horacio breathed deep, his body rigid all around her. Eva bit her lip, a cry building in the back of her throat. She needed something to happen, and quickly. Her nails dug into her palms, muscles tense all over. An attempt to get her feet firmly planted on the ground was met with a quick slap to her outer thigh, his teeth setting against her skin in warning.

A clink sounded, followed by the rasp of leather as is slid through belt loops. She heard fabric tear as he worked to get his pants off.

“Eva, tell me you’re ready,” he gasped, head bowed over the curve of her spine. One hand gripped her hip, the other reaching down to line himself up, “Tell me.”

The cry she’d been working to hold back broke free, a low keening thing that had her clenching her eyes shut, “Yes, please, alpha.”

With a rough, almost angry sound, he pushed home, sinking deep. Though she was more than wet, sopping, the burn was still there as he bottomed out. It pulsed through her deliciously, putting pressure everywhere that she so desperately needed it. With his hands on her hips, she had the leverage to finally push back onto her feet a little so that she was balanced on her toes. It was a precarious balance, and put way too much strain on her thighs, but Eva couldn’t find it in herself to care.

Though the position gave her little in the way of controlling a movement in counterpoint to him, it didn’t really seem to matter. His every push inwards was hard and deep enough that her body clenched down on him out of reflex, cresting over the orgasm so easily that it caught her off guard. She groaned, her cunt squeezing him in a vice.

“I feel you,” he bit out, his pace never faltering, “Fuck, I feel you.”

Then, with deliberate slowness, he pulled his hips back, arms looping around her waist and hoisting her up and further onto the bed. Eva whined, a pathetic, needy thing that would have been embarrassing if she didn’t need him back inside her right fucking now.

Rough hands pushed her higher on the mattress, spreading her knees a little to make room. And then he was sliding home again, fucking into her brutally. Chin tilting back, Eva felt her arms give out. Her hands slid upwards and underneath the pillows, nails digging into the sheets. The change in angle let him farther inside, and she barely heard his pleased growl over the near constant sounds stuttering out of her.

She could feel it, hitting at her opening with every thrust, a hot, swollen ridge of flesh that had her gasping. As with the first time they spent the night together, Eva had a brief thought that maybe she should reevaluate. It was...big. Horacio was already so thick that it took a little patience to get started any other time they had sex. His knot made her want to scramble away just as much as she wanted to see if she could take it. Every thrust put a little more pressure on her, opening her just a little bit further, prodding at her enticingly.

A harsh sound escaped his mouth and he leaned down to grab her shoulders, hauling her up and off the mattress to sit back on him. Eva cried out, struggling a little in his hold as she tried to accommodate the deeper angle. He snarled, arms locking around her, holding her still.

Eva felt the omega in her rise up a bit, a visceral need to make him earn the right to knot her. She might have claimed him as her own all those months ago, but this was their first heat. It wouldn’t be right if she just laid down and gave it to him. She needed him to take it just as much as he needed to be the one doing the taking.

Planting her knees, she grabbed at his forearms, arching her hips up to shallow out the depth of his penetration, keeping him from grinding his knot against her. His hands tightened, biceps bulging as he adjusted his grip. Although Eva could see his face, she knew his eyes were narrowing in confusion. She heard him snarl at her, felt the way he rocked back onto his heels a bit, hips tilting to get underneath her a bit more.

When he moved to push upwards, Eva countered him as best she could, given that she had little to no leverage. The snarl dropped into his chest, coming out as a warning growl. Eva laughed a little bit, unable to keep her amusement to herself. She wasn’t intimidated by a little growling.

That was, apparently, not the best thing to do. One of his hands released her torso, threading through her hair and yanking her head to the side. She felt his teeth lay against her skin even as he used his free arm to cross her chest and grip her shoulder. His thrusts, already hard, picked up in pace and intensity. Short, stunted, as if he couldn’t bare to be outside of her more than absolutely necessary. He barreled into her in a way that made all her muscles give out with the sheer pleasure shooting through her.

His cock speared inside her, hitting her g spot and gliding smoothly through the slick dripping down between their bodies. Sweat pooled on her stomach, in the crease of her burning thighs, on her temple. His breaths punched out of him and onto her skin, each one like a physical blow against her neck, collarbone, and shoulder.

He pulled her down by her shoulder as his movements became more determined. Horacio cursed desperately, and she could feel his eyes squeeze shut as he pressed his face into her cheek.

“Omega,” he grunted, “Eva, I can’t...I need…”

She knew exactly what he needed, could feel it spreading her open from below, knew that it wouldn’t be much longer before he was pushing it inside her, locking them together. Eva didn’t have to wait long. His fingers dug into her skin as he gave one final thrust upwards, hips flexed so far that her body bowed forward in one elegant arch, her head flung back over his shoulder.

He stretched her open. She could feel that he had stopped breathing. His heart pounded against her back. There, there, there. Eva’s body relaxed, allowing his knot to breach her, filling her to capacity. That was it. She couldn’t get any fuller. Not even his come would leak out of her until he softened a little, their bodies sealed together perfectly.

Horacio groaned against her neck, lips pulling back from his teeth as he sank them into the skin covering her scent gland. The pain of the bite pushed her over the edge again, her voice sounding against the walls, coming back to her as a harsh shriek.

Locked together as they were, Eva could only circled her hips, grinding down on him as she came. She could feel his answering pulses, knew that she would trickle out all over the sheets when they were finally able to separate. He held her there, breathing hard, until they’d calmed just a bit. Then, with careful movements that sent aftershocks through them both, he eased them down on to the bed.

Laying on her side, Horacio behind her, Eva felt herself drift a little. He was stroking her body, nose pressed against her spine, the motion calming. After a while, his knot contracted a little, allowing him to pull out. She was right. A mixture of their come dripped out of her, coating her thighs. Eva didn’t have the ability to feel embarrassed about it. They’d wash the sheets later.

Rolling her to her back, Horacio leaned over and kissed her deeply. She felt every ounce of the love that he felt for her in that kiss, knew that their bond would deepen as the days went on, sealing them together as a pair.

Reluctantly, he pulled away. She watched him assess her, could see the effort it was taking for him to bank back his building arousal. His cock was already beginning to harden against her hip. Her body rose up in answer. With shaking limbs, she pushed up and over, clumsily sitting astride his hips. He tried to sit up, but she shoved him back down with a strength that she shouldn’t have had.

Leaning down, she kissed him lightly, “My turn.”

Her body moved without real conscious thought, slotting him inside her, reveling in how hard he was, how well he filled her. She hissed on the first downward thrust, her eyes squinting as he dragged against every exposed nerve. Biting her lip, Eva breathed deeply through her nose, the scent of him filling her lungs. It spurred her on, pleasure flushing every system until she had no choice but to move.

Bracing her hands on his chest, she gave him no warning before she began to ride him hard. The motion had no finesse—she wasn’t trying to tease, she didn’t have the capability. Eva could feel the need to come squirm inside her, pushing her to fuck him harder, faster, deeper. Adrenaline and oxytocin flooded her already brimming body, shaking down her spine.

He reached out and grabbed her ass, giving her an assist. Already, his knot was swelling up, Eva could see it protruding from where they were joined, the skin flushed and pulsing. She bounced on it, earning a helpless little moan from the man beneath her. His hands slid up and curled around her hips, his arms straining to pull her down on him harder. Eva felt him shift his feet on the sheets, knew he was working to gain enough traction to work more of himself inside.

Hands splayed on his chest, Eva forced herself to stop, just for a moment. Though her body screamed out in resistance, she wanted to draw out the feeling just a little. His brows drew together, and she could tell that she only had a second or two before he was going to flip her over and take control. Eva looked him in the eye, smiled, and let all of her body weight fall on him. The effect was exactly what she wanted. She sank down onto his knot while he watched, powerless.

The feeling of it, knowing that she was the one who’d done it, that she had brought on the pleasure that skyrocketed through her, was infinitely gratifying. Still further, from her vantage point above him, Eva got the watch him utterly fall apart. It was...beautiful.

His head was thrown back, exposing the long line of his throat. His jaw was clenched, face screwed up as he rode out the orgasm. Every muscle in his torso was drawn tight, cutting vivid lines that emphasized the strength she knew was there. From his lips came a cry of ecstasy that mirrored her own.

Beautiful.

When he was able, he helped her to roll to her side, hooking her leg over his hip, their chests pressed together. She was sweating, shaking, barely able to form coherent thoughts. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, massaged at the muscles he could reach. Eva snuggled into him, the swivel of her hips sparking another, smaller pulse to go through her. He groaned when she clenched on him, his cock undulating in response.

An indeterminate time later, he sat up and padded over to the basket she had put together. He made her drink as much as she was able and eat a few crackers, leaving a snacks and an extra bottle of water on the nightstand for later. Even a heat couldn’t keep him from being practical.

She slept for a bit, waking groggily to Horacio sucking on her clit hard enough that she came all over his fingers, her legs spasming over his shoulders. When he pushed inside again, he grabbed both of her thighs and eased them up and into her chest, giving him the most room to move. Punishing thrusts, an unrelenting pace. He shoved his knot into her hard, forcing a scream from her throat. Eva shook through the orgasm, her hands holding onto his forearms for purchase.

Nearly unconscious by the time he pulled out again, Eva let him arrange her limp body against him. She was draped over his chest, staring aimlessly through the still open window, listening to the waves. For the moment, everything was still. The air in the room was filled with their combined scents, the bond twisting them together. As she drifted once more into sleep, Eva pressed her nose into his skin, inhaling happily. Tobacco. Vetiver. Home.

#narcos #horacio carrillo #carrillo #A Need So Great

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redworld96 · 4 years ago

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Nakaba Suzuki's interview from “Pair Sin: King & Diane Guidebook” talking about King, Diane and Howzer. (November 2018).

1. How did King and Diane come to be a couple?

Nakaba: Unlike Meliodas and Ban, I came up with King and Diane without planning to make them a couple from the beginning. The same Diane, for example, was at first unrequitedly in love with Meliodas. Then King appeared, and I decided that let him be unrequitedly in love with Diane, because it is interesting to look at the development of the relationship between the couple "fairy and giant". Well, that's what we came up with in the end. As you can see, these two are slightly different from the couples of previous guidebooks.

2. King is the king of the fairies, but compared to Meliodas and Ban, he acts cowardly and looks rather childish.

Nakaba: In a good way, he "didn't come out of childhood." Something like the lead of the seventh-eighth class: he seems to be responsible, and strives for leadership, but still a child inside.

3.He often suffers from doubts, I must say.

Nakaba: Of all the Seven Deadly Sins, he has perhaps the finest mental organization. Take, for example, the same Meliodas: his attitude towards his beloved and the strength of his feelings for her far exceed all reasonable limits. Well, maybe the point is that the rest of the "Sins" are just too arrogant, ha-ha!

4.Why is King showed as a fat man on the wanted list?

Nakaba: Apparently he was very nervous at first when he was in the Seven Deadly Sins. (King turns into a fat man when he's nervous)

5.These transitions from the appearance of an old man to a sweet boy are also not devoid of their charm.

Nakaba: Actually, my original idea was to make the "Sins" posters completely different from their real faces. During a discussion with the editor, there was a proposal to make his second look younger, but still settled on a fat man, because the contrast was stronger.

6.What about Diane? When I first saw her, I wondered if she was too big?

Nakaba: I decided to make her so big that she looked absolutely fantastic and unreal.

7.Her size is very noticeable when there are other characters nearby. What difficulties do you have to face while drawing her?

Nakaba: Usually, the camera angles are when Diane is looking at someone from above or when someone is looking at her from below, but there is no particular difficulty. Although it happens that another character is in the frame as a whole, and only a face from Diane, ha ha! But the same angles quickly become boring, so I introduced the shrinking pills into history. Well, a serious calm giantess would look intimidating, so I purposely gave her girly features and details in the costumes.

8.She hides her mouth with her hair very cute when she is embarrassed.

Nakaba: I remember that at school girls did the same when they were embarrassed. Perhaps, somehow unconsciously, I drew Diane with such habit.

9.Initially, Diane was unrequitedly in love with Meliodas, but were you going to make her a rival for Elizabeth?

Nakaba: The rivalry would have been if Meliodas reacted (or didn't) the same to both Elizabeth and Diane. Therefore, from the very beginning, I was not going to force Diane to get in between them - this is not a love comedy. But the unrequited love Diane turned out to be so touching and really liked the readers.

10.But Meliodas is still dear to Diane, right?

Nakaba: Yes, because he was the first person to treat her like a girl, and unfeminine girls like Diane are especially happy about that. Plus, he saved her.

11.Now tell us how Howzer came to be.

Nakaba: His best friend Gilthunder is exemplary handsome, so I wanted to do his complete opposite and gave Howzer a pompadour hairstyle and a bully personality.

12. Howzer is quite closely related to Diane, but he does not seem to show such obvious romantic sympathies ...

Nakaba: Right. Some people misinterpret his attitude. Howzer finds Diane very sweet, but even in his thoughts he has no intention of meeting her. Sometimes, looking at the merciful King and Diane, he will think something in the spirit of “Oh, lovebirds, eh!”. But his case is not at all the same as, for example, Jericho's towards Ban.

13. Recently, Howzer's pompadour has become more pronounced, it seems to me.

Nakaba: At first I drew him a pompadour-like hairstyle, but then there was a moment when Howzer appeared after a long break, and it was clearly in my memory that he had a full-fledged pompadour, and that's how it happened. But now it has become easier to draw it.

14. Howzer is surprisingly judicious in emergencies.

Nakaba: This is also in contrast to Gilthunder, who is usually reserved, but is noticeably aroused in battle. As you can see, this trait was appreciated by Howzer, since he was promoted right up to the Great Holy Knight.

15.Which of the three is easiest for you to draw, and who is more difficult?

Nakaba: Not that difficult, but I'm especially careful when painting King because he chooses who to talk to. Even in the group of The Seven Deadly Sins, he hardly interacts with anyone other than Diane. He's quite secretive and introverted, so I make sure these traits persist.

16.And in terms of drawing?

Nakaba: King is the most difficult. It all falls on the shoulders of my wife, ha ha!

17.What do you think is the beauty of King and Diane as a couple?

Nakaba: I think it’s their inexperience in this regard. There is no feeling of "family" among fairies and giants, which makes their relationship special; and many people like it, as far as I can tell.

18.And the proof is the number of scenes with an embarrassed and blushing King!

Nakaba: Well, yes, Meliodas harasses like some kind of pervert old man, and Ban cannot be embarrassed at all. But King has a pure and innocent heart, like the hero of a love comedy. His kiss’ scenes in general would be more suitable for any schoolboy, ha ha!

19. Diane sometimes puts King in her cleavage, without even thinking, and this makes him embarrassed even more often ...

Nakaba: Diane just doesn't think about men's opinions. I drew her keeping in mind the image of a sort of athletic elementary school girl. And for King I chose an eighth-grader boy, because it is in high school that they begin to have an active interest in the opposite sex. I think this difference creates the desired effect.

20.And Diane, meanwhile, had to endure twice the loss of memory.

Nakaba: After the battle in the capital, Diane began to slowly regain her memories of the past. At this rate, she would remember her feelings for King, and they would become a happy couple. But with their school-level love story, they would have stood out unfavorably against the background of Meliodas and Ban, and I didn't want that. Fortunately, I was just thinking of using Gowther in the plot, so I made him erase Diane's memory.

21.Gowther's act surprised many then!

Nakaba: Gowther's moves on Diane are the most effective. If he tried to use them on Meliodas, not only would he break off, but he would also get change in addition, haha! Well, then, when original Gowther returned her memory, it was Diane who best suited the role of the character who said the right words to him. In spite of everything, I think after the events of Volume 27, Diane, King and Gowther have developed a strong bond.

22.So, then everything will be smooth for them?

Nakaba: Somehow it’s not very satisfying to mock them even more, so I don’t think you should worry.

23.Which chapters with King and Diane do you like the most?

Nakaba: Probably the scene from Volume 27 when their feelings became mutual. I was finally able to breathe easy and stop worrying about this couple, which I have been drawing for so long.

24.The scenes where King rescues Diane are also pretty good.

Nakaba: In such scenes, he is always late, and someone already becomes a victim ... I myself, while drawing him, I think "Yes, hurry up, nice!"

25.Fukuyama Jun-san and Yuki Aoi-san (voice of King and Diane) noted in their interviews that they liked how Diane made one of her golems look like King during the Grand Tournament.

Nakaba: I think it was a manifestation of her love for King, which still remained in her despite her lost memory. Diane is honest, therefore she expresses her sympathy directly and openly. And King, on the contrary, monitors the reaction of the interlocutor and behaves accordingly. There is a little humanly ugly side on him, hehe. But that's what I like about him. Meliodas and Ban don't have that, so it's pretty interesting to draw.

26.If King and Diane get married, what kind of family life will they have?

Nakaba: I think they will always be that way and will be the same innocent and homely warm. Nobody will try to take a leading position. King is the king of the fairies, so he won't become henpecked either and at the right time he will be able to take matters into his own hands. But both will respect and take into account each other's opinions. Well, King will sometimes show off in front of Diane.

27.I can't wait to find out what kind of children they will have!

Nakaba: Well, you'll have to wait a little longer here ...

28.Any future wishes for King, Diane and Howzer?

Nakaba: My advice to King is not to be late anymore and protect Diane properly. To Diane, she can safely rely on King in everything. Well, good luck to Howzer as Great Holy Knight, ha ha! He is popular among readers, but in the story itself he does not have much success with girls. Hopefully he can find his lover. Personally, I think Guila would be good for him ... but I don't even know. Let him take his time in this search.

29.And finally, a few words to the readers!

Nakaba: The ending is approaching, the relationship is finally stabilizing. Well, you don't have to worry about King and Diane, they will be fine!

Sources: thesevendeadlysins-boarhat .com & Nanatsu no Taizai | Семь Смертных Грехов

#nnt #nanatsu no taizai #the seven deadly sins #kiane #seven deadly sins #king harlequin #diane #king nnt #howzer #pair sin guidebook #kiane guidebook

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yeah-klave · 4 years ago

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The Sexual Awakening of David Joseph Katz - Chapter 8

Link to Chapter 1 || Link to Chapter 2 || Link to Chapter 3 || Link to Chapter 4 || Link to Chapter 5 || Link to Chapter 6 || Link to Chapter 7

Series summary: A multi-chapter journey of self-discovery and sexual awakening.

Chapter summary: Dave tries something new.

Genre: Developing relationship, smut. (18+ only, please)

A/N: This is set in a nothing-too-bad-happens modern AU. The characters are all in their early twenties (I’m picturing adult!actor versions of them and Dave as a (younger) Cody Ray Thompson). The siblings are all still living at home, relatively happily, and Dave, Lila, Sissy and Carl are friends who hang out with them at the Academy.

Word length: 5.2k

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of The Umbrella Academy characters or settings.

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It was the weekend. Klaus and Dave had spent the day hanging out with Diego, Ben and Luther.

They’d driven out of the city to a hiking trail and explored for a bit, then set themselves up on a rickety jetty to do some fishing in a nearby lake.

Ben had rolled his eyes at Diego and Luther’s competitive sniping, but all three had ended up blaming Klaus for scaring away all the fish after he got board of sitting quietly and decided to dip his toes in the water and attempt to splash the serious look of concentration off Dave’s face. He succeeded.

Nobody ended up catching any fish.

In the afternoon, they returned to the Academy to chill and – at Dave’s insistence – have a Star Wars movie marathon.

At one point, Five wandered through the living room. He paused to roll his eyes fondly at the slouching heap of limbs they had become, before heading off in the direction of the bar. They heard clinking, them a few moments later he wandered back out, distractedly muttering something about quantum mechanics and clutching a Margarita topped with a little blue cocktail umbrella.

At some point during the second movie, Ben extracted himself and wandered off to a quiet nook to do a little reading and, shortly afterwards, Luther left to go pick up Allison from the mall, where she’d been shopping with some girlfriends.

Bored again from too much sitting, Klaus had come up with a game that involved passing random objects between them without letting them touch the floor, using only their feet.

With the movie still playing in the background, they’d been passing Dave’s balled-up hoodie between them for a solid twenty minutes when Diego’s phone pinged and he missed the pass from Klaus, letting the hoodie fall to the floor.

“Dude!” Klaus exclaimed, hands raised.

Diego shrugged and checked his phone.

“It’s Lila inviting me over,” he said. “Her roommate’s out of town.”

“Booty call,” Klaus grinned, winking at Diego and conspiratorially nudging Dave with his elbow. “Sounds like you’re in there, bro.”

Diego grimaced back. “More like, she’s bored of being on her own without anyone to tease, so she’s calling sparring partners to her.”

“If that really was the case,” Dave said, “and all she wanted was an argument, she’d just text Carl.”

“Ha! True!” Klaus barked a laugh. “He’d definitely take the bait. He’s been in such a pissy mood recently.” Klaus made a lewd gesture, “I don’t think he’s getting any from Sissy.”

“I don’t think you can blame Sissy for Carl’s foul mood,” Dave added sagely.

“Definitely not!” Klaus said, “it’s not her fault her boyfriend’s a prick.”

“To be fair,” Diego cut in, “she’s been pretty busy recently with that volunteering group she and Vanya signed up for. You know, the one with the music therapy for autistic kids.”

Klaus and Dave shared a glance and Dave had to duck his head quickly to hide his smile.

“Yeah,” Klaus said slowly, “Sissy and Vanya have been busy with the… volunteering. Recently, in particular, they’ve both got very… busy. Together.”

Engrossed in his phone, Diego didn’t notice the knowing grin that passed between Klaus and Dave.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Diego mused, “maybe it gives her too much power. Coming when she calls, I mean. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea.”

“Don’t you mean get the right idea?” Klaus smirked.

“Shut up,” Diego scowled, “I’m not her lap dog.”

Klaus caught Dave’s gaze and rolled his eyes. “Honestly, these Straights,” he said with a mock exasperated sigh, “they have such complicated relationships.” He turned to Diego and levelled him a challenging look. “Seriously, brother mine, you need to let that girl peg the toxic masculinity right out of you. You might have a clearer perspective on the whole thing after you’ve let her fuck you ‘till your true bratty bottom personality starts showing. I bet you’d find it quite liberating to let her watch you shake apart while your ankles are in the air and your knees are up by your ears.”

Diego let out a strangled choking sound.

“But if you’re too much of a sissy to let a woman top you,” Klaus added, “I’d highly recommend levelling up and finding a nice guy to fuck you instead. Tits are nice and all that – but you just can’t beat a big, hard dick. So go find yourself one of them. Just not the one attached to him,” Klaus winked at Dave, “because that one’s spoken for.”

Dave grinned fondly, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t even know where to start with that,” Diego said with a grimace.

“Well,” Dave said evenly, “personally, I’d recommend starting with a bit of dry humping. Then, when you finally get your hands around it, you can start working it properly. Maybe fondle the balls a bit.”

“Dave!” Diego said shocked. “That’s… you… don’t say things like that.” He looked between Klaus and Dave, scandalised. “He’s having a bad effect on you, Dave.”

“He’s had an effect alright,” Dave said, catching Klaus’ eye, “a big, prominent, pointed effect.”

“Seriously, dude,” Diego grimaced, “I don’t want to hear this.”

“Oh, quit whining,” Klaus chuckled. “We all know you ship us hard.”

“So hard,” Dave added.

“So, very, very hard.” Klaus giggled. “As hard as we make each other.”

“Oh, dear god!” Diego cringed, covering his ears with his hands. “Mental images! Forcing their way into my brain. Cannot un-think!”

Klaus and Dave both laughed.

“Well, on that note, I’m off.” Diego patted himself down checking for his keys and started towards the door. “I’d rather be at Lila’s beck and call than listen to anymore of this. You reprobates stay safe now. And for God’s sake, don’t cum on anything, please!”

“Don’t worry,” Klaus called after him. “We swallow.”

“La-la-la! NOT LISTENING!” Diego called back, hands over his ears again as he left, the front door to the Academy clicking shut behind him.

Klaus caught Dave’s eye and Dave raised an eyebrow and asked simply, “So, shall we?”

And Klaus barked a laugh. “Hell, yes!” he said, pulling Dave to his feet.

They ran upstairs and stumbled down the corridor to Klaus’ room, laughing and kissing and fumbling, hands pulling off clothes and blindly knocking into furniture in their haste.

“Diego’s really going to appreciate the trail of discarded clothing leading to your room,” Dave smiled, glancing over Klaus’ shoulder.

“Don’t care,” Klaus breathed, his lips pressing kisses along Dave’s jaw. “To be honest, Grace will probably pick it all up before he sees anyway.” Dave’s eyes widened in panic, but Klaus took the lobe of Dave’s ear into his mouth and sucked, and Dave’s mind blanked. He shivered and Klaus grinned, grazing his teeth along the flesh.

The door to Klaus’ room was barely shut behind them before Klaus was sinking to his knees in front of Dave, hands scrambling to unbuckle his pants.

Dave rested his head back against the door and allowed Klaus to pull his pants and boxers down, but before Dave had chance to step out of them, Klaus was leaning forwards eagerly and taking Dave into his mouth.

Dave groaned, long and low, both his hands going to Klaus’ head, fingers carding through the unruly curls, fingernails raking slowly and seductively along the scalp. He then tugged gently, in just the way he knew Klaus loved and Klaus hummed in delight. The vibrations sent a wave of pleasure through Dave and he sighed out Klaus’ name. Klaus hummed again, then started sucking and bobbing his head in earnest, his hands steadying Dave’s hips.

Dave closed his eyes and let the feelings overtake him. Klaus was setting a delicious rhythm, with just the right level of suction. His mouth was hot and wet and perfect. Dave could feel Klaus breathe out as he relaxed his throat and took Dave down deeper.

“Oh, Klaus…” Dave moaned, gently tugging on his hair again. “That’s so good.”

Klaus hummed again and, fighting the impulse to gag, took him down ever further.

“Oh, yes!” Dave sighed. “Oh Klaus, your mouth feels so good.” His brain fuzzy, the praises spilled off his lips, “Yes, oh you’re so good at that. It feels amazing. You feel amazing. You’re amazing.” Dave could feel the pressure building, the knot tightening. Klaus kept bobbing and sucking. “Oh yes, there, like that. Klaus! Oh yes, yes.”

Dave twitched his hips slightly and Klaus gave an almost imperceptible nod and squeezed his fingers, signalling that Dave could thrust forwards. Dave let out a strangled little sound and – ever so gently – started fucking Klaus’ mouth. Klaus moaned, his pupil’s blown and his chin wet.

Dave let out a low grunt and concentrated on the feeling of the tiny thrusts of his hips – the raw, decadent pleasure of pushing his cock into his partner’s willing mouth. The slightly strangled moans coming from Klaus were needy and wanton and desperate. The act felt so… base. So… primal. To Dave, it felt… unimaginably good.

Dave savoured the feeling, storing it away to be examined and replayed at another time, another place.

Klaus squeezed Dave’s hips again and then took him all the way down into his throat, swallowed, then hummed. And Dave felt the vibrations rumble through him in a heady wave. His fingers twitched and his hips bucked involuntarily.

Klaus chocked. Just a little. “Sorry, sorry,” Dave said, contrite. He only felt slightly guilty for the sudden rush that had surged through him at the sight and sound of Klaus choking on his cock.

Klaus hummed in response, picking up the pace of his bobbing, cheeks hollowed and his tongue working the underside. His thumb ran soothingly over Dave’s hipbone and even in his state of fuggy pleasure, Dave knew it was a sign of reassurance.

Half out of his mind with pleasure, Dave looked down and took in the sight of Klaus; cheeks hollowed, his lips stretched wide around Dave’s cock, the gentle sway of his wild curls as he bobbed his head. His eyelashes were dark fans over eyelids heavy from desire. Dave felt a proprietary surge of pleasure as he noticed the beginnings of dark streaks on the pale, delicate skin under Klaus’ bottom lashes, where the slight wetness around his eyes had caused his eyeliner to run.

Dave gave another low groan. He could feel himself tensing, his pleasure cresting. “Klaus!” he managed to grunt.

Klaus pulled back and off with a wet pop, a line of saliva still connecting them. He began fisting Dave’s length. He opened his mouth wide, stuck out his tongue and rested Dave’s tip on the wet, pink muscle. He looked up: open and willing and eager. Ready to be claimed, though Dave.

Eyelids heavy and eyes dark with lust, Klaus gazed up at Dave through his lashes. And, staring down into Klaus’ eyes, Dave’s pleasure crested and his orgasm crashed over him like a tidal surge. He came undone, pulsing and releasing, thick creamy ropes of cum landing over Klaus’ tongue and his lips and his chin and his cheek. Klaus closed his eyes and took it, hand still working Dave’s shaft, helping him ride out his high. And Dave just kept cumming, all over his boyfriend’s face and tongue and a bit in his hair. And it felt so dirty, but also so brilliant. And his brain thrummed: mine, mine, mine…

Dave’s cock gave a final weak pulse and Klaus licked the small trickle of cum off the tip.

Dave looked down and blushed at the sight of Klaus on his knees before him, his cheeks flushed, chin wet, face splattered with cum and his hair sticking up wildly from where Dave had been gripping the dark curls.

“Oh, Klaus” he whispered reverently. And Klaus smiled and gently kissed the tip of Dave’s cock one last time before getting to his feet.

Dave’s thumb came up to Klaus’ bottom lip and smeared a spot of cum across the skin. Klaus’ tongue came out to taste it, but Dave leaned forwards quickly and caught Klaus’ lips in a kiss, tasting himself on Klaus’ skin and in the slow slide of their lips and tongues.

“So, I guess we didn’t do what Diego asked after all,” Dave smiled.

“Pretty sure he meant the sofas, or in the kitchen or something,” Klaus grinned. “I don’t think it counts if the thing you’re cumming on is me.” Dave groaned again. Then reached blindly, grabbed his discarded tee and lightly wiped the mess off Klaus’ face. Then he brought their faces close until the tips of their noses were touching and brushed them together in an Eskimo kiss.

Dave stepped forwards, trying to walk Klaus back to the bed but, forgetting about his pants still pooled around his ankles, he almost overbalanced. Klaus laughed and held his arms steady while Dave toed off his boots and socks and stepped out of his jeans. Klaus’ pants had been abandoned somewhere on the trip from the living room to Klaus’ bedroom.

Dave gently placed his hands on Klaus’ immaculate chest and walked him back to the bed, softly pushing him down onto his back. Klaus shuffled backwards, laying his head on the pillow. He was toned and sun-golden and glorious, his erection a prominent bulge tenting his underwear. He’s gorgeous, Dave thought. Completely gorgeous and all mine. And a thrill ran through him.

Dave got onto the bed and pulled Klaus’ underwear off. And then Klaus was spread out before him: standing big and stiff and proud. A meal Dave wanted to both devour all at once… and also savour for the rest of his life.

Dave crawled over Klaus, propping himself up on his forearms so he could bring their lips together again. Klaus sighed and ran one hand down Dave’s spine, resting the other on his backside and squeezing.

“Ass man,” Dave breathed into Klaus’ mouth.

“Bite me,” Klaus smiled back, and Dave caught his bottom lip between his teeth and nipped lightly. Klaus groaned and pushed his hips up against Dave.

Dave grinned and rolled them over. He slotted his leg between Klaus’, presenting his thigh for Klaus to ride. Klaus propped himself up on his arms and pushed his hips down, grinding his erection into Dave’s deliciously solid thigh. He breathed out a sigh and leaned down to continue their kiss, his hips pressing forwards rhythmically. Dave pushed his tongue into Klaus’ mouth and let the kiss get dirty, his hands kneading Klaus’ ass cheeks as Klaus humped his leg. The room was filled with the sound of Klaus panting and grunting and the dull thunk of the headboard against the wall as Klaus increased the pace and vigour of his rutting.

“Look at you,” Dave breathed, eyeing Klaus’ slack mouth and flushed cheeks, “just look at you. So beautiful.”

“Dave,” Klaus gritted out.

“Oh, is there something you need, sweetheart?” Dave teased.

“Yes,” Klaus panted, a little frustrated and desperate to get off.

Dave raised an eyebrow but made no other attempt to move.

“Oh,” Klaus whined, “Dav-uh!”

Dave grinned wickedly, “Maybe you should ask nicely?”

Klaus’ eyes went wide. For a heart stopping moment, Dave thought he might have gone too far, might have misread the vibe, might have killed the moment.

But then Klaus flushed, blinking rapidly, and whispered, “Dave, please.” Dave squeezed his ass cheeks again and Klaus whined and clamped his thighs around Dave’s leg, grinding his erection down harder. “Please,” he repeated in a small, broken voice, “please do something to get me off.” He brought his lips to Dave’s ear, so close Dave could feel his lips moving, and murmured, “please, Mr Katz…”

Dave swallowed hard. A rush of adrenaline, and also something else – something deeper and more primal – ran through him. He could feel the soft, warm weight of his partner, writhing and rutting against him. Needy and desperate. Needy, for him. Dave was suddenly overwhelmed by an instinctive, primal urge to give and please and protect and provide. Mine, Dave thought again. He’s mine.

Dave hooked his leg around Klaus’ and flipped them over. He pressed one final searing kiss to Klaus’ lips and then worked his way down Klaus’ body, trailing kisses down his neck and chest, his tongue flicking over the hardened nub of a nipple. He teasingly kissed his way down the faint trail of dark hairs that started just below his navel and ended at the base of Klaus’ cock.

Dave could feel Klaus breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling in anticipation. But rather than turning his attention to Klaus’ erection. Dave dipped his head lower, and pressed kisses and teasing licks into the delicate skin surrounding Klaus’ cock. He pressed his nose against Klaus’ balls, nuzzling them slightly, then opened his mouth and sucked as much as he could into his mouth, applying delicious pressure and working the skin with his tongue. Klaus whined above him. Dave repeated the action, then moved onto the other.

“Dave,” Klaus panted. “Dave, please.”

A thought started buzzing in Dave’s brain. It felt electric – live and shocking.

Without quite realising he’d done it, Dave made a decision. He felt wired and alive and empowered.

Dave smiled and rose onto his knees. His hands went to Klaus’ hips. “Roll over,” he said gently.

“What?” Klaus’ head came up, eyes slightly unfocussed.

“Come on,” Dave repeated quietly, “roll over.”

“Dave? What’re you…” Klaus looked confused.

“I want to try something,” Dave smiled. He felt a shy, nervous flutter in his stomach, but he swallowed, caught Klaus’ eye and gave a confident little nod.

Klaus held his gaze a moment, eyes wide, but then he obliged, rolling onto his front. Dave encouraged him to spread his legs and lift onto his knees and elbows. Dave sat back for a second and just took in the sight before him: his boyfriend bent over on his bed, flushed and hard and slightly bewildered, but presenting himself so beautifully for Dave. Dave licked his lips and smiled. He was going to enjoy this.

Klaus’ head hung between his arms and he craned around to look at Dave admiring him and – despite all his previous experience – he still felt a small spike of self-conscious embarrassment. He shifted and started to get up, “Dave, what’s… what’re you doing…?”

“Shhh,” Dave reassured, his hand rubbing soothing circles into Klaus’ lower back and encouraging him back down. “It’s okay. Just relax. I’ve got this. I’ve got you.”

Klaus narrowed his eyes slightly but relaxed back down.

Dave positioned himself between Klaus’ legs and ran his hands over Klaus’ ass cheeks, endearingly pale against the tan of the rest of his skin. He gave the right one a quick pat and squeeze. Lowering his head slowly, he pressed a gentle kiss into the soft, fleshy centre of each cheek. Then, using his thumbs, he spread the cheeks apart, finally revealing Klaus’ pink, furled hole.

“Dave…?” He heard Klaus choke out.

Dave blew a soft stream of warm air onto Klaus’ little rosebud and watched as it clenched slightly.

Then, leaning forwards, he brought his face in close and slowly licked across Klaus’ tight hole.

“Fuck!” He heard Klaus exclaim.

Dave smiled and, tongue soft and wet and wide, he repeated the action.

“Oh, Dave! Oh, fuck!” Klaus panted again.

Dave pointed his tongue and flicked it up and down, and left to right, brushing it quickly over the delicate skin. Dave could feel Klaus’ hole fluttering under his tongue.

“Dave! Oh god, yes, oh yes!” Klaus panted. He shifted his hips and repositioned his arm to take his weight. He brought the other hand down to his cock, which was hanging thick and heavy and neglected between his legs. But before he could take hold of it, however, Dave caught his wrist and stopped him.

“Not yet,” he said. And his face was still so close to Klaus’ most private area that Klaus could feel the huff of air against his wet skin when Dave spoke.

Klaus shivered and groaned, but brought his elbow back down to the bed, resigning himself to the sweet torture.

Dave reapplied his tongue to Klaus’ hole and soon Klaus was panting and sighing and pushing back against him, needy whines and breathy little gasps escaping his throat.

Dave switched up the movement of his tongue from strong licks and fast little flicks, and instead covered Klaus’ hole with his lips and then sucked lightly.

Klaus groaned under him, pushing back, his legs trembling. “Oh, fuuuuuck!” he whimpered.

Dave gave the furled hole another slow lick, then pointed his tongue and – ever so slowly – pushed it against Klaus’ entrance. Klaus’ breath hitched. At first Klaus’ muscles resisted. But then, as Dave wiggled his tongue slightly, he felt the tight ring of muscles begin to relax, allowing him to push his tongue in slightly. Dave pressed his tongue forwards in tight circular motions, then slowly pulled back and pressed in again, fucking Klaus’ hole with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh, fuuuuucck me!” Klaus wailed. “Fuck, Dave! Yes! Oh, fuck I need to cum!”

Dave could feel Klaus trembling under his hands, the erratic twitch of his hips, the desperate, broken edge to his voice.

“Please, Dave,” Klaus pleaded. “Please, please…”

And Dave, his face still buried in Klaus’ ass, finally reached around and gripped Klaus’ leaking erection and started pumping.

And Klaus keened. He was caught between thrusting his painfully hard cock forward into Dave’s fist and pressing back into the delicious wet flicks of Dave’s tongue against his quivering hole. He was so desperately, painfully hard; the desire to cum so strong. And the feeling of Dave finally touching his rock-hard cock was toe-curlingly amazing. And Dave’s tongue, pressing and licking and sucking him – there – was beyond amazing. And for Klaus, time seemed to be caught in one delicious, shining moment of wet, hot, hard, fast, urgent, pleasure, clenching, tensing… and then he was cumming. Hard.

Thick creamy ropes spurted onto the bed and over Dave’s fist and Dave could feel Klaus’ hole twitching and clenching under his tongue as his muscles spasmed in waves. And Klaus was moaning Dave’s name wildly… then breathlessly… then a little brokenly as his trembling legs gave way and he finally collapsed forwards onto the bed.

Dave moved up the bed and lay down on his side next to him. Carefully, he ran his fingers through Klaus’ hair, studying his face, his closed eyes, his blissed-out expression.

Klaus opened his eyes blearily and looked at Dave.

“Dave,” he whispered hoarsely. Dave smiled.

“Dave,” Klaus tried again, “That was just so… thank you. Just, wow! Like really. Wow. It was just… so…” he screwed up his face, trying to find the right words and failing, ending instead on just a low grunt of consonants. “Nngggh,” he finished.

Dave smiled, eyes fond and affectionate. “Well, if I’ve rendered you speechless, I guess it must have been okay,” he teased lightly. Klaus blinked. Dave brought his lips down and tenderly kissed Klaus’ forehead and whispered, “I’m glad you thought so. It felt pretty incredible to do it for you too.” Klaus hummed and his eyes drifted closed.

“Hey,” Dave squeezed his shoulder. “You should have a quick shower before you sleep.”

“Don’t wanna,” Klaus mumbled. “Tired and comfy and no energy.”

“Come on, up you get.” Dave encouraged. “You’re sticky and sweaty and smell like sex. You’re laying in the wet spot and you’ve got cum in your hair. Shower, now.”

Klaus groaned and with great effort pulled himself up and moved towards the bathroom.

“Aren’t you coming?” Klaus asked in a small voice.

“You get in, I’ll be there in a sec,” Dave said. Klaus nodded and padded off.

Dave quickly stripped the bed and put on clean sheets from the cupboard where Grace kept the fresh linen. He bundled the dirty ones up and stuffed then in the laundry basket. He then went into the bathroom to join Klaus.

When they were showered and dry, Klaus in a pair of fluorescent briefs and Dave wearing clean boxers and a soft old tee from the stash of clothes he’d started leaving at the Academy, they crawled into bed. Klaus cuddled up to him and rested his head on Dave’s chest.

“Good call,” Klaus admitted, running his hands over the crisp sheets.

Dave hummed in response. Klaus closed his eyes, listening to the rumble of it against his ear.

“So, power kink, huh?” Klaus smiled into Dave’s chest.

“I guess so,” Dave replied. “Believe me, it took me by surprise a bit too.”

“It was good,” Klaus said. “Different. It looked good on you.” Klaus paused, then added, “I like the idea that we can switch stuff up like that sometimes.”

“Me too,” Dave found himself agreeing.

“You know,” Klaus said tentatively, “we could go further too.”

Dave traced the rim of Klaus’ ear with a fingertip.

“Yeah,” Dave said, feeling bold in the gathering darkness of the room. “Give and take, assertive and submissive, top and bottom… there’s so much we can try together. And that’s just power stuff. Then there’s… well, everything else as well.” He felt Klaus hum his agreement into the skin over his heart.

“You know,” Klaus said after a pause, “when we talked about this the other day, I thought we were going to start with some light fingering. But I guess I shouldn’t have underestimated you, Mr Katz. You just dived straight in tongue first.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Dave asked a little worriedly.

“Fuck no!” Klaus exclaimed. “I just didn’t think we’d start with rimming. I mean it’s not really the natural place to start.”

“Isn’t it?” Dave frowned. “To me, it kind of just felt right in the moment.”

“I’m glad you did,” Klaus insisted, “it was mind-blowing.”

Dave grimaced. “Promise you’re not teasing my technique?” He asked. “It’s the first thing I’ve done to you before you’ve done it to me first. I didn’t have any previous experience to work from.”

There was silence and Dave frowned and shifted to look down at Klaus’ face. He was surprised to find Klaus’ cheeks pink and his ears a little red.

“Klaus?” he asked, worried.

“You weren’t bad.” Klaus said quickly. “It’s not that. It’s just that, for once, I don’t really have anything to compare to either.” His eyes widened. “Not that I usually compare you with other people,” he said quickly. “I don’t do that. Just, with this, I don’t have a point of reference. So, all I can say is you blew my mind.”

Dave took a moment to process and then asked the obvious question. “Are you saying none of the people you’ve been with before have done that for you?”

“Um… yeah,” Klaus blushed – actually blushed – “yeah, I guess I am.”

Dave swallowed. “Because they didn’t want to? Or because you didn’t want them to?” He swallowed again. “Did I… I hope I didn’t… Klaus, did you want me to do that just now?”

Klaus shifted to press his face into the hollow of Dave’s neck, his nose nuzzling the base of his throat. “Dave,” he said seriously, “I wanted it. I wanted you to.” He paused. “Before now… nobody ever offered. It wasn’t particularly something that was on my radar. I was just happy for them to fuck me. Just that was okay. I didn’t feel like I was missing out or anything. But then you just… did that for me. Because you wanted to. I’ve never been with anyone who put me first like that before.”

Dave’s heart clenched and his chest felt tight. He wrapped his arms around Klaus’ small frame and buried his nose into the curls on the top of his head.

“Klaus” he murmured, “Klaus…”

“It’s okay,” he heard Klaus sigh into his neck, “you don’t need to say anything.”

Dave swallowed the lump in his throat and tightened his arms around Klaus. The warm weight of words that didn’t need to be said just yet, lying like a blanket over them as they held each other in the gathering darkness.

Finally, Dave broke the silence, “I don’t know whether I should be a little bit offended, you know? About not being complicated, I mean.” He grinned.

“What?” Klaus frowned, opening his eyes.

“That thing you said to Diego earlier, about his dynamic with Lila being complicated.”

“Oh,” Klaus settled back down. “That.” He paused then added. “You might play the deep, strong, silent type sometimes, Dave, but you’re not complicated. I mean, not complicated complicated.” Dave ran his fingers soothingly up and down Klaus’ arm. “It’s not like do you confusing things that I can’t work out. You’re easy.”

Dave laughed.

“I don’t mean easy.” Klaus corrected himself. “I mean…”

“I know what you mean,” Dave cut in. He pressed a kiss to the top of Klaus’ head. “You might be a chaotic, eccentric oddball at times, but to me, you’re easy, too.” Klaus huffed a small laugh against Dave’s chest.

“I love that we always seem to be on the same page about stuff,” Klaus said into the quiet stillness of the room.

“Yeah,” Dave agreed. “We click. Always have. And I suppose we trust each other too, so that helps.”

Klaus blinked and swallowed hard.

“We do click, don’t we?” His voice was small.

“Yes,” Dave said earnestly.

“This really is something special, isn’t it?” Klaus said, just as quietly. He wants confirmation, Dave thought. Despite all the bravado, he’s actually a little vulnerable and insecure and wants confirmation.

“Yes,” Dave said, giving him exactly what he needed. “For me, right from the very first moment, this just felt right.”

“For me too,” Klaus admitted softly.

Klaus rolled over and settled on his side, pulling Dave flush behind him; the big spoon to Klaus’ little spoon. Dave’s knees tucked into the crook of Klaus’ legs, his arm coming over, fingers interlacing and hands curled close to Klaus’ chest. Dave’s groin pressed against Klaus’ backside, but in this moment, Dave felt nothing more than tenderness and affection. He pressed a kiss to the back of Klaus’ neck, the spot right between his shoulders, and shifted slightly, snuggling them even closer.

“After everything,” Klaus mumbled into the pillow, voice drowsy and muffled slightly. “After all this time, and everything we’ve been through to get here.” He paused, let out a breath and then carried on. “It’s hard to believe that this is how it could be from now on.”

Dave thought back to how he used to feel about his relationship with Klaus – like his life had turned into a series of moments as precious… and delicate… and fragile as champagne flutes on a tray in the wind. He wondered when he had stopped feeling like the tiniest wrong move or misstep could bring his happiness crashing down in a shower of irreparable shards of shattered crystal.

“Believe it,” Dave replied, and Klaus sighed and relaxed further into his arms. Dave shut his eyes and held him close, his heart beating a rhythm against Klaus’ back: this, just this, just this, just this, just this…

#klave #klaus hargreeves #dave katz #the umbrella academy #klaus x dave #klaus/dave

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kiribaku-queen · 4 years ago

Text

Secret Hero [4/10]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Angst, Drama, AU

Word Count: 3.1K

TRIGGER WARNING: body shaming, negative body image

A/N: Thank you guys so much for your support! And thank you to everyone who sent in a request! I’ll be sure to work on those ASAP and should be coming out next week. I’ll open requests up until the end of this week, so if you still want to send in a request, go on ahead! I’ll be reminding everyone again soon. These requests look sooo fun and I literally can’t wait to get started on them! I hope you enjoy this week’s chapter and let me know if you want to be tagged!

Summary: After becoming the number 2 hero, Bakugou accomplished everything he ever wanted. He beat Deku in a few matches, even if he wasn’t the number 1 hero. He got all the fame, beat countless villains, was acknowledged by all his friends and family. But he wasn’t satisfied. He wasn’t happy. Bakugou realized that this wasn’t the life he wanted. So he left the life of a hero and decided to hide to live the rest of his life as a normal person.

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

You watched as Bakugou opened the car door to let Momo in. As soon as they both entered the car, the driver sped off. You turned your back so that just in case, they couldn’t see you. Was it a little out of the blue? Yes. But did were you really surprised? No. You clicked your tongue. It was bound to happen anyway. After that time at lunch, you knew it was bound to happen. Maybe that’s why he rejected you. Because now he has eyes on Momo. Maybe if you got him first, then he wouldn’t be attracted to her. But it would have hurt a lot more if Bakugou left you for Momo.

You shook your head, getting all those negative thoughts out. No, it wasn’t confirmed yet. You shouldn’t make all these assumptions. You were going to ask her yourself. Maybe he was just accompanying her shopping? But that literally doesn’t make any sense to you.

“Don’t assume,” you whisper to yourself. But something was weighing heavy in your heart and you knew it was going to be hard to get rid of.

You made your way back to your apartment, shoulders and head drooping. So much for spoiling yourself and having a great day. Your eyes were on the ground below you. You weren’t pay much attention to where you were walking or who was in front of you. People can move out of the way for you. Or so that’s what you thought. Your heads was so in the clouds that it took you a moment to realize that someone had nudged you, almost knocking you down but you caught yourself. Anger and annoyance waved over you.

“Hey!” you called out to the stranger that bumped into you. He turned around, giving you the most expressionless look. Like he couldn’t care less that he just ran into someone without saying sorry. You gave him a quick up and down. You’ve never seen him around before. Another newcomer? That doesn’t matter. You frowned at his very stoic face. He looked like he was on a run. You could only assume from the white and purple track suit he was wearing. His olive brown hair was sticking to his forehead due to the amount of sweat he was producing. Now that you were observing his face, he was actually pretty handsome. Tall. Very tall. Taller than you were expecting that it was kind of intimidating. But you weren’t one to back down just because they scared you a bit. “You just ran into someone and you’re not going to say sorry?” you stood your ground, putting your hands on your hips. He doesn’t respond. That made you puff out your cheek. “Hello? Aren’t you going to say something? At least acknowledge that what you did was wrong. I mean, I also wasn’t looking where I was going, but you could have at least seen me and moved out of the way. Like this sidewalk is so wide! How could you have possibly run into me?!” you started to rant. The olive brown haired man took out his earbud that was hiding behind his hair.

“Sorry, did you say something?” his deep, husky voice asked. Your jaw dropped. You mean… you were ranting and yelling at him only for him to not even hear you?! Your face flushed red with anger. That audacity! You were so upset that you couldn’t say another word to him. With a puff, you turned around and stormed in the other direction.

“God, the nerve of some people!” you said to yourself, but definitely loud enough for him to hear. Because that was 100% directed towards him. The man smirked and put his earbud back in to continue his exercise. Little did you know, nothing was playing through his earbuds. He heard you the entire time.

The weekend rolled by, which means another visit to your parents. And that also means lunch with the entire family. Which also means that Momo was going to be there. You were mentally preparing yourself outside the house. You were going to finally ask her about it. The idea of her and Bakugou together was eating you out alive. You wanted clarity but you knew that if it was true that they were seeing each other or even talking to each other, that was absolutely crush you. Taking a deep breath, you entered your parents’ house.

“(y/n), my darling!” you immediately heard your mother scream. In due time, she was embracing you in a hug before you could even close the door.

“Mother! How many times do I have to tell you? I saw you last weekend,” you told her.

“But I still miss my only child! It’s so lonely without you here. Why don’t you move back in?” she urged you.

“Mother, I like being away from the city! And I love my job. I just can’t abandon the kids,” you tell her. But your mother pouted. “Is lunch ready?” you ask, trying to change the subject before she could go on and on about you not being at home.

“We are still prepping! Why don’t you help us?” your mother suggested. You obliged, since there was nothing to do at the moment. Both of you made your way to the large kitchen. Sitting around the island were some of your aunts already making food.

“Ah, (y/n)! You made it! Come help!” one of your aunts exclaimed, handing you some wrappers so you can help wrap eggrolls. You sat down in one of the chairs and started helping. It was tradition for the younger adults to help with the cooking. You never wanted to but you and your other cousins were always forced to help. According to the elders, once they were gone, the younger ones have to continue the tradition. As time passed, you actually enjoyed helping them cook. This gave you the opportunity to learn the family recipes and perfecting the techniques so you can do it at home.

Although there were some downsides to helping. Since you were the only younger adult there, you didn’t have anyone to talk to. Of course, your aunts would ask you questions about your life but then the conversation would steer towards their lives. So you would just listen in on the drama or whatever they want to talk about. But then there are times when they would criticize you and your life. And that’s what was happening now.

“(y/n), have you thought about dieting? You seem to have put on some weight,” your aunt directs the conversation at you and hits you right where it hurts. You momentarily freeze your actions.

“Actually, I’ve lost a few pounds since you last saw me, Auntie,” you say, not tearing your gaze away from the food in your hands.

“Really? Your cheeks are so chubby still. You know, Momo has been on this new diet and she’s never looked better! She looks thin while still having her curves. And her skin is amazing!” your aunt bragged about your cousin. Ah, there is it. Again, comparing you to Momo. It wouldn’t be a family reunion without this comparison talk.

“I’ll have to give you Momo’s skin care routine. You look like you’re breaking out a bit,” she continues, observing your face. You thought your face was fine. It was clear and smooth. That’s a blessing in itself. Maybe your lips were a little dry, but that was it.

“Oh, honey. Don’t put too much filling in! Fold it like this. Momo can do this so beautifully. When she gets her, I’ll have her teach you.” Momo this, Momo that. When was it ever going to stop?

“Speaking of Momo,” you said a little loud, getting tired of this conversation. “Where is she?” you asked, trying not to show the annoyance in your face.

“She should be here soon. She’s bringing a boy over!” your aunt said with pure excitement. That made your stomach drop. As soon as you heard that statement, your heart raced and your palms started to sweat. You hope to god that it was not the person you were thinking. But with your luck, it was going to prove to be false.

“He better be a catch,” you heard your other aunt say.

“He better. I was already planning on having her meet this over handsome gentleman,” your aunt said, now gossiping.

“I’m here!” you heard that familiar, preppy voice coming from the front door. Speak of the devil. You heard your relatives greeting her and her company. You didn’t want to turn around. You couldn’t. Facing reality means that you lost to her.

“Momo!” your aunt left the island to go greet her daughter. “I heard you brought a boy, where is he?” she questioned, looking around.

“My boyfriend is still being bombarded by father,” Momo explained, emphasizing the word boyfriend. You didn’t know if that was a stab at you or what, but at that point you knew. You could never compete against her. She won. She could have had anything she wanted from you. You just didn’t want it to be him.

“Bring him over! I want to meet him!” yeah, you don’t though.

“Father! Stop harassing him!” you heard Momo shout at her father in a joking matter.

“I’m just welcoming him to the family!” Momo’s father defended himself. Momo shook her head and grabbed the guy she brought by the arm.

“Mother,” Momo started. Shit, don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. “This is Bakugou.” At hearing his name, you looked up. And sure enough, Bakugou was standing there, handsome as ever. He was shaking hands with Momo’s mom while she is basking over him. He’s smiling at her shyly and when he looks up, he locks eyes with you. But not for long because you cut it short and continue folding the filling into the wrappers.

“(y/n) darling, do you have a man in your life?” your mother asks you, turning her attention away from Momo and Bakugou.

“No, mother,” you said dejectedly. No matter how many times she asks, the answer is always going to be the same. Well, it probably would have changed if Momo didn’t get in the way. Who knows, Bakugou could have been yours by now but life never goes your way.

“Do you remember that boy I talked about last time? Well I came into contact with him and he says he wants to meet you,” your mom leaned in closer, almost in a whisper. It’s like she didn’t want anyone else to hear. But knowing that you didn’t want to marry yet and she still talked to him?

“Mom,” you complained, frowning at her. “I told you that I didn’t to.”

“I was setting it up just in case!” she tried to defend herself, but that was getting her nowhere because you were even more annoyed than when you got there.

“An arranged marriage? Really? That’s a little bit too cliché for this time period, don’t you think?”

“Cliché as it seems but see it as climbing up in life. You’ll never get a better offer,” your mother looks sternly at you. You roll your eyes. You didn’t like the idea but it got you thinking.

“Momo, come help (y/n) fold these. You do a must nicer job,” your aunt brings Momo over to the island to help with prepping the food.

“(y/n),” Momo greeted you, already sensing the tension in the air.

“Hi Momo,” you greeted back. Silence.

It’s never usually like this. Usually, family lunch is where laughter and talk is happening all over. Especially between you two since you grew up together and were so close. And arguments never happened to you, only when you guys were children. But right now, it was quiet besides the gossiping from the adults. Bakugou played with the little cousins behind you guys while his girlfriend was occupied with a job.

“So (y/n), what do you think of Momo’s new boyfriend?” one of your aunts suddenly asked. You almost choked on your spit because you were not expecting that question at all.

“He’s nice,” you quickly say. What could you say? Oh, you have a fat crush on him and thought you were going to date because you had a make out session the night before he rejected you? Not likely. In your head, you were begging for someone to change the subject. Better yet, you wished lunch would be served soon so you can get the heck out of there.

“Honey, I keep telling ya. If you lost a few pounds, I’m sure you will be just as desirable,” there she goes again.

“Mother!” Momo scolded her, clearly upset that she was commenting on your body. Your relationship with Momo was definitely a weird one. Many times, it feels as though you were both competing against each other. But on many occasions, she would be sticking up for you and boost your confidence. It’s just unfortunate that you both like the same person.

“What? I was just trying to give her advice!” again, your aunt was trying to defend herself.

“Anyway,” Momo changed the subject so your surprise. She turns to you, giving you her full attention. “How’s the new job? You never caught me up on that.”

“Oh I love it. I mean, it’s kind of exhausting because I’m with kids all day but so rewarding,” you tell her. For a moment, you forgot why you were so upset with her. Talking with her just felt like normal, like you could tell her anything.

“Momo, darling. Go on and tell us about your new position,” your aunt butted in to brag about her daughter. Momo became shy and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well, my company just got a new boss so I got promoted to his secretary,” she beamed and all the ladies in the kitchen were cheering and congratulating her. You didn’t get that kind of response.

“You should have studied in business, (y/n). Look how successful Momo is now. I mean, teaching is fine and everything but it’s kind of boring and useless. Looks bad on the family,” your aunt whispered that last part to your other aunt. But you heard it.

“Okay, lunch! Is served!” the men of the family walked in with trays full of food that you women prepared. You sighed in relief. That got every single person distracted. Now you didn’t have to hear the negative comments being thrown at you. You, too, walk towards the food and as soon as you were about to pick up a freshly fried eggroll, you paused. You thought back to what they said about you earlier. You gained weight. You’d look better if you lost weight. You’d find a man if you lost weight.

You backed away from the food and headed towards the bathroom. After locking the door behind you, you got a good look at yourself in the mirror. They were right. The way you saw yourself in the mirror shifted into a person who was full of flaws. Your cheeks were chubby which resulted in a double chin showing even if you were looking straight ahead. You wore a sleeveless shirt that day so you lifted your arms to the side. The fat on your arm was dangling and it made your arms look bigger than they actually were. You don’t even want to start on your stomach. You sucked in your tummy but that didn’t do anything. You could still see the little pooch sticking out. No matter how hard you sucked in, it wasn’t going away. Then you pushed your stomach in and looked at yourself from the side.

I should lose weight, you thought to yourself. You would look much better. And your hips. They were so wide. You didn’t look good from the front view. You never noticed how much flaws you had on your body. It was so frustrating that you want to cry. But you would do that as soon as you left. Their comments never hit you so hard before, but now this was too much. The realization hit you that you can’t get a boyfriend looking like this. Maybe taking up on your mom’s offer wasn’t such a bad idea after all. You sigh and open the door to leave the bathroom. When you step out, you happen to almost run into somebody. You looked up to see Bakugou looking down at you, with what? Concerned eyes? No, you were probably just seeing things. You gave him a weak smile, moved to the side and walked passed him without saying another word.

While the older women in the house were ridiculing you and putting you down over Momo, Bakugou was behind you guys, overhearing the whole thing. It may look like he was playing with your younger cousins but his whole attention was on the conversation going on behind him. Every insult they threw at you made him more upset.

Fat? Where? You looked fit and healthy. Perfectly normal from his eyes and honestly, you looked better than good.

Undesirable? When he came into town, you were the only person that caught his attention and the only girl that occupied his mind for weeks. If you wanted you, you could have any guy you wanted.

Unsuccessful? Just because you weren’t making as much money doesn’t mean that you are not successful. You looked happy at your job. Every time you talked about your job or the kids, you were beaming with pride and joy.

Everything they were saying was false. And he was itching to say something and retort back but he had to bite his tongue. He couldn’t make a scene, especially not with Momo present. When he saw you leave the bathroom with the most hurt expression on your face, he wanted to say something so bad. But you ignored him and walked passed him like he was some stranger. Only then did something tug on his heartstrings.

Your mother was talking to your relatives but you needed to talk to her privately. So you waited until she went up to get more food to approach her.

“Oh, (y/n) love. Grab some more food, it’s absolutely delicious!” your mother was ogling the food, her mouth watering.

“Yeah, I’ll grab some later. Uhm, mom? Can we talk?”

“About what sweetie?” your mother answered while still looking at the food in front of her. You bit your lip, now second guessing your decision. But what did you have to lose?

“About what you said earlier… I’ll do it. I’ll take you up on your offer.”

A/N: Can you guess who the surprise Haikyuu character is? I gave you plenty of hints :D And to anyone reading, you are beautiful the way you are! If anyone wants to talk, slide in the DMs or send me an anon and I will hype you up like no other <3

Tagged: @superblyspeedydragon @simpforeveryone @bakasbitch18 @sam-i-am-1025

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou imagine #bnha imagines #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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ksbwnotes · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 9, Part 1

Ahhhh...poor son of a bitch.

1. Heyyyyy, green tape

Hmmmn, Koogi seems to use green a lot...is that just more common a color for duct tape in Korea? But thing is, her main outfit for Bum is green tones. And he likes froggies, which are green.

Also, we never do see Sangwoo use this tape with CEO daughter girl (just ropes, a cloth for her mouth, and this weird metal thing to cover her eyes). Or with Bum, for that matter (I only saw it so far used with Koogi’s illustrations, which are a different matter altogether...I might be mistaken, I won’t skip to that part, but Sangwoo might have used it on Bum in the last chapters, which could signify how far his mentality has deteriorated).

But this guy is different. Sangwoo has no emotional attachment to him. The duct tape could be, in a way, signifying how worthless this person is to Sangwoo. That he’s nothing more than a box full of unsavory memories he would rather tape shut forever and throw away to rot.

2. Ooohp. Bastard’s bringing out his iconic apron

Sangwoo the butcher.

But this is something new that we haven’t seen before. Again, Sangwoo has never once wore this with Bum. So that means Sangwoo truly has no intentions of going easy on this guy. Blood is going to be pretty much spurting every-the-fuck-where.

So even though Sangwoo doesn’t consciously plan to kill someone, he has his habits and ideas down to a pat so that once he does get into that territory, he can more or less get right down to it. Sangwoo seems to do what he can to ‘separate’ himself from his atrocious acts, but also fulfilling an ‘aesthetic’ that fits with the atrocity he has become.

Like, that apron. Too risky to wear regular clothes, so apron is the next best thing and can act as a barrier of some sort once the blood goes flying. It’ll reduce how much splatters onto his skin and how much of his body he has to actually clean. It’s also just keep things less gross and more sanitary that way lol.

3. I am the type to find this funny and really be amused by Sangwoo’s smartass-ness

I suck at being a smartass and I can’t do it, so I really appreciate it whenever someone else can, even if it’s mean lol. But if it’s mean, it’s a guilty pleasure for me, like right now. x’D

4. Honestly, Sangwoo, how did you get yourself into this situation...

Oh! So he was able to get out of the blow job. Nice. The guy was actually respectful. If Sangwoo were sane, he’d understand this and just run away instead of luring this guy in to kill him.

But, really, why did Sangwoo put himself into this position? I don’t have anything foolproof as evidence, but I really don’t think Sangwoo is the type who actually needs to kill at specific intervals as an outlet.

If anything, Sangwoo has a more...instinctual response to sexual situations, like Bum. For Bum, he becomes hyper-aroused and zeroes in on the pleasure to a point that it overrides his more logical line of thinking. The “he’s a killer I should be scared” becomes “it feels so good and nothing else can exist but this pleasure”.

For Sangwoo, he has two modes. The first one is passive, where he’s just following his partner’s whims and saying that he’s enjoying things but he’s actually just powerless to resist. It’s his instinctual reaction after being forced to just...take his mom’s advances. He feels empty, like a doll that is just meant to be used and taken for pleasure. It’s no better than being a corpse that is fulfilling another’s necrophilic tendencies.

The second mode, I believe, came to be as a self-defense mechanism to the first mode. In order to avoid ever feeling like that, he is in control of everything. He has complete dominance over his partner. In a way, the extreme violence is the only way he can genuinely feel pleasure because he’s ‘safe’. He can literally go one way or the other, his trauma has made it impossible for him to have any other mode than ‘docile’ or ‘predator’.

5. Well, even without the possibility of murdering someone, Sangwoo choosing an alias is no surprise

He did go into a gay bar, lol.

I also find it interesting that this is where we get a look into Bum’s thoughts. And it’s regarding Sangwoo’s alias.

Also, now I am wondering if Sangwoo ever resorted to using aliases with his other prey. Because if he had, then this does add a whole other layer of premeditation to his serial killing. Even if he’s not purposefully scouting for prey, it would at least mean he’s always prepared in the event that he comes across prey.

That is what makes Jieun such an outlier and also Sangwoo’s downfall in terms of getting caught. Jieun knows Sangwoo personally. There is a connection between them. And her disappearance could easily be traced back to him. Sangwoo isn’t an idiot. He knows how to pick and choose his prey and he probably makes sure to never make it so that the prey can call him by name.

That is also what makes Bum such an interesting outlier. Because Sangwoo is risking A LOT just to keep him--someone who knows Sangwoo’s real name and actually has witnessed his personal life, both in the outside world and behind closed doors. Sangwoo chose him over the girl. Sangwoo broke his legs, not only to keep Bum from escaping, but to keep Bum with him.

This does suggest that Sangwoo is not serial killing for the thrill of it (at least, not just for that), but because he’s in search for something that could replace the kills. Sangwoo doesn’t want a pile of dead bodies under his feet--he wants one alive body to stay by his side and love him, in spite of those dead bodies.

6. ....cute motherfucker

Koogi, I resent you so much for making him this cute...

Honestly though, it just strikes me how Sangwoo keeps trying to keep on a carefree and happy facade even during times like these. We do later see him doing that as a habit as a child, so it fits that he does that on steroids during his adult years, especially considering the things he does. I’ll refer back to this when we get to Jieun’s death scene.

7. Shows of weakness

Ah damn I’m going to have to revisit this part. I have a lot of thoughts on it, but I’m too sleep deprived to actually make sense of it. But this part is important in understanding Sangwoo’s mentality and the ways he tries to train Bum to fit a certain image.

Aaaaaand today is a new day!! So going forth:

During the times Bum showed fear and was trembling, I do think a major part of why Sangwoo hates it so much is because it reminds him of how much of a monster he is. But I also think it’s because it reminds him of his mom, which he does say about Bum’s trembling. Because no matter what happened to his mom, she never learned her lesson. If she were able to change, then Sangwoo’s childhood would be less painful.

But Bum being quiet and looking scared, but still able to meet Sangwoo’s eyes...that reminds Sangwoo of what he was while with his parents. And even though Sangwoo does hate himself--to a point where he doesn’t want to change because he has no belief he can be better--I do think he’s grieving for that child who had no clue that things will just get worse and worse from there.

Especially since, from what I’m assuming, he knew how to manipulate his image so that he could avoid being beaten and locked up like his mother. So he would hold more respect towards his conditioned response versus his mother’s conditioned response. He probably refused to admit to himself how he felt back then, because obviously that’s a cruel thought to have and Sangwoo’s level of empathy was still average to high at the time. But it still doesn’t erase his resentment towards her inability to be better (I think this also contributed to why Sangwoo presumably felt ‘free’ after his first kill).

I think I’ll have a better grasp over my thoughts once we get to Jieun’s death >_<

8. *opens mouth, then silently closes it*

That first sentence probably is not meant to sound the way Sangwoo makes it sound. xD Which is a bit too gay for someone who firmly claims he is wholly hetero.

Oh actually this is funny. Since the only other person in the basement is a guy, the card dude probably thinks Sangwoo really is gay or internalized-antigay or something. But the truth is a lot more complex and sinister than what it appears to be on the surface.

9. Ooooooh, high stakes indeed

Lol, this does drive home the idea to me that Sangwoo is really pissed at Bum. Because, again, he would’ve never went to that gay bar had it not been for Bum. So, in a way, even though Sangwoo internally knows Bum isn’t the one going out in a body bag, this instillation of fear is a punishment for making him question his sexuality in a way that triggered Sangwoo’s trauma. Because there is literally no safe way for Sangwoo to explore his sexuality considering his past and his current lifestyle.

On the other end of the spectrum, I wonder how Bum is feeling about this. He probably genuinely believes that Sangwoo is genuinely putting Bum’s life on the line, in a way that if he fails the card game, he’ll die. Like. I definitely would. No matter what past form of affection Sangwoo showed, if he says he’ll kill me, I would full-heartedly be like “Yeah. Yeah, I don’t doubt you, hun.”

And, still, Bum knows better now than to complain or beg. Because unlike his mother, despite his own mental issues, Bum can be trained and that is why Sangwoo keeps him around.

10. Where do you come up with these things, you bastard

I mean, seriously, he has so many ideas on how to break a person. These are more psychopathic than sociopathic tendencies, I think, so that’s why Sangwoo right now, is a high-functioning sociopath.

11. Oh my fkkn god tho, this smart boi XD

Or maybe I’m just dumb and have no clue how to play cards.

Or maybe Sangwoo has been spending time with Bum playing cards.

Or maybe Bum is just good at cards and has spent his time practicing them.

Either way, the fact that Bum is able to fkkn pay attention during these times shows that his own trauma and mental issues have no bearing on how smart he actually is. He doesn’t have strong observation skills and is slow to understand people, but that’s more of a natural character trait, even if it is more emphasized by his mental disorders...mmmn, I do kinda wonder if Bum could have some traits shared with autism but I’m too neruotypical and untrained to say whether or not he does.

12. No seriously, we have creative Sangwoo here with this card game from hell...

...Then we have Bum here able to pull out logical conclusions like his mind is clear despite the immense anxiety and pressure of the situation. There’s a reason why Bum is still alive. For some reason, the longer Bum is stuck in his situation, the more

13. Seriously, I could stab him in the eye for being so cute despite being revolting, it’s not RIGHT KOOGI

Stab stab stab stab

14. It probably doesn’t mean much, but I still can’t help but point out how Sangwoo is making sure to be close to Card!dude and facing Bum

This would be the most logical choice since it will ensure his victim doesn’t try to escape. And even if he does, he can quickly do shit like pulling back his hair if he tries to be ‘bratty’. Also, being behind someone like this is meant to represent a menacing appearance and being the ‘controller’ behind the scenes. Sangwoo has the upperhand since card!dude can’t see him and Sangwoo can do whatever he wants to the guy.

But this also puts Sangwoo and Bum on more equal ground. Sort of like “partners in crime” because they can face each other and communicate via body language. In a way, Sangwoo can help Bum or make Bum do things, influencing his next move. While, at the same time, keeping a literal eye on Bum but without the upperhand he has on card!dude--because Bum can also keep an eye out on him.

15. I’d probably laugh if I were Sangwoo too lol

I bet you Sangwoo didn’t expect Bum to actually get the goddamn ace. The fact that Bum is this fkkn lucky is indicative of how Bum is lucky enough to even be alive at this point. Bum has been able to avoid his ‘fate of death’ over and over again that, honestly, the sheer disbelief of it is ridiculous. But it’s also like Sangwoo is saying ‘Of course you’d get the goddamn ace. Of course you would, you little shit, why am I even still surprised by you at this point’.

In a way, Sangwoo might also be thinking that ‘Huh, it’s like I meant to mess with the cards so that’d they be in your favor.’ But of course, he can’t have that because Bum being ‘too’ happy about things means he won’t be able to control Bum. So, for Bum’s case, he’s doing a second round to train Bum further, rather than to fuck with him before he kills him (like what he’s doing with card!dude).

Other than that, this is also indicative of just how well Bum is dealing with the anxiety of this moment. Card!dude might have done better (though he can’t have that much control over the cards) under normal circumstances, but between the both of them, Bum is actually calm enough to think things through. It says a lot about his capabilities lol. It makes me wonder what kind of person he could’ve been had he been raised well.

ALSO, AGAIN WITH YOU BEING CUTE SANGWOO. NO. ESPECIALLY NOT UNDER THESE CIRCUMSTANCES YOU ASSHOLE. STOP IT.

16. Lol, even though this is a throwaway line, I think this is indicative of who Sangwoo has already chosen

This is really like a “come on, partner in crime, get up to my level here and let’s fuck with this fucker together”. But the thing is, Bum is just as much a victim as this guy. There is literally no way for Bum to think any other way but Sangwoo fucking with both of them, not just card!dude.

Because the thing is, if Bum forgot himself and reacted the same way as card!dude, Sangwoo would kill him, along with card!dude.

But yeah, it does make me think of how Sangwoo would’ve reacted if card!dude actually won. How would his script go? Would he still do a practice round? Or would that have been enough for Sangwoo, and he would’ve skipped to the next part of his plan?

I don’t think this second round was something Sangwoo expected. And that really drove home to him how Bum keeps surpassing his expectations again and again.

17. *wince* Oohp.

The trembling and slight protest. Definitely not what Sangwoo wants to see. I can’t blame Bum for responding like this, BECAUSE A FKKN SERIAL KILLER IS PRETTY MUCH TRYING TO SCREW HIM OVER, but at the same time, he should know better than to respond this way.

I also do think, other than the threat to his life, Bum is perceiving this as Sangwoo ‘choosing’ card!dude over Bum. It’s like a rejection and that probably hits Bum’s rejection sensitivity. If it was just a threat to his life, Bum would probably be able to still stay silent at this point (uh, most likely not because again, life is on the line, but still maybe). However, there’s also this sense that Sangwoo doesn’t actually want him to live--that the card game is just an excuse to kill Bum.

18. think it says a lot that Sangwoo still responds to Bum’s protest via ‘patting’ him on the head rather than pulling on his hair.

If card!dude was more intuitive, then he probably would’ve noticed that something was off in the way Sangwoo was treating Bum. More leniently. Because any small variation in treatment is not a promising outlook for card!dude.

But the thing is--now that I know how the ending is--Sangwoo is just doing this as a way to fuck with the other dude. Actually he was probably proud of Bum winning so that he could further fuck with card!dude and make him taste the bitterness of false hope. Sort of like a “heh, you did better than I thought you would”.

Sangwoo does want him to live because this card game is not about ‘who’ to choose. Sangwoo has already chosen Bum. This is just a matter of how much satisfaction Sangwoo can get against his revenge on the other guy.

Though, Bum is genuinely worried because why would he think that lol. There is also this thing where Sangwoo chose to kill a pretty girl and keep him, a skinny male loser, alive. So from his stand point, Sangwoo’s choices are difficult to pinpoint. Bum also won’t see himself as more ‘attractive’ than card!dude, so he most likely was scared that Sangwoo’s choices has changed once again and he would be thrown away like CEO daughter.

19. Hmmmn...

Now that card!dude has been given a second chance and can see Sangwoo’s willingness as a show of ‘favorability’, he has more control over his anxiety (which I do think is different from Bum, who has this sort of ‘on-off’ button for his anxiety, versus card!dude who seems to have more of a ‘reduction-enlargement’ slider). He probably feels more confident.

And this is probably exactly what Sangwoo wanted, because then that will make the fall so much sweeter, the look of horror that much more gratifying.

20. Really, and there were people who wanted Sangwoo and Bum to have a happily ever after

The psychological warfare Sangwoo is putting onto Bum is so brutal that it’s really difficult to keep reading. Again, Koogi making it so that Sangwoo got better, then got worse when he realized he couldn’t handle what it means to ‘improve’, and then die...it made me respect this work so much, because nothing about this is romanticized. And furthermore, Bum didn’t die, but at the same time, he was scars that will never be able to heal. His mentality was worse in the end than it was in the beginning, which is a goddamn feat because there wasn’t much left for him to fall.

Another alternative that I saw float around was Bum and Sangwoo dying together and...no. No no no. That’s too romanticized as well. And Bum being left alive while Sangwoo dies has this very...god I don’t even know how to explain. It’s not a happy ending. For me, there’s no vindication for it because I got to see just how deeply Sangwoo was suffering, which made it impossible for me to enjoy his death despite every incredibly shitty thing he has done. It was literally just...a masterpiece. One that showed just how, really, there are places on earth that truly have no hope and the suffering only ends with death.

I usually never like nihilistic stories like these. Like seriously, there’s a reason why I avoided Killing Stalking like the plague. But after so many stories where things have a happy ending just because they MUST, it doesn’t only get tiring, but destructive for me.

And Killing Stalking is special to me because instead of showing that everything was hopeless in the beginning just BECAUSE life is hopeless, period...it shows that things could’ve gone differently because Sangwoo and Bum were never truly without hope in the beginning. Sangwoo wasn’t a classic serial killer. Bum just needed better guidance. They just needed to be given a goddamn chance, like so many people in the world in general.

Instead of outright nihilism, it’s more in line with existentialism and that things reach the point of no return if nothing is changed. Or that if there are changes, it’s the type of change that makes things worse and doesn’t allow for healing.

Anyways, I don’t quite have all my thoughts on this together, so this is something I have to revisit once I’m done reading KS.

#chapter 9 #volume 1 #again this became too long #these two need to be less...just less gdi

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chrysalizzm · 4 years ago

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i uh. realized people follow me now because of uh. you’re human tonight on ao3 asdjgfs

i have content!! behind the scenes content as promised. i do outlines for my fics as a general rule of thumb just because i personally can’t write things to a satisfying finish if i don’t Do That, and so - here are my chapter/plot outlines for you’re human tonight ^^ (i have no idea if this is interesting content or not i thought i’d put it out there because i think outlines are kinda fun hhhh)

chap 1 fundy

subtitle: an inkling

fundy makes an iron golem gone wrong, dream makes it go boom

chap 2 purpled

subtitle: uh oh social interaction

purpled shelters a fugitive, gets his house explosion-proofed as thanks

this is probably gonna be the only chapter with a funny title hh oh well

update: it’s not and i’m pleased with myself for branching out with my dry humor

chap 3 sapnap

subtitle: dust to dust

sapnap’s dying via wither effect, and he knows respawn’s around the corner but goddamn if it doesn’t hurt til then. dream skids in around the nether fortress corner, drops all his weapons cradles sapnap’s head in his hands, has always taken death much harder than anyone sapnap’s ever met. at the last few seconds, when death creeps up like a shroud, dream starts to hum to him hoarsely, pressing his forehead to sapnap’s, and in the final moments sapnap doesn’t hurt at all. the last thing he hears is dream whimpering. he visits dream’s bunker the next day, knocks on the door over and over, but there’s no sign of life there. sapnap shrugs, bites his lip out of guilt for forcing dream to sit there watching him die (if temporarily), and moves on.

the chapter that introduces dream’s primary ability of soothing hurts. put a lot of emphasis on the fact that sapnap ached up until the moment dream started humming, because for dream to do that is pretty frivolous considering once sapnap died he’d respawn and the hurt would just disappear but dream wanted sapnap to have a peaceful last few seconds. emphasize how abnormal it is that withering stops hurting.

chap 4 ponk

subtitle: beaches dry of sugarcane

dream visits ponk after george burns down the first tree. when ponk arrives to the second tree to move in, he realized dream made the tree flourish, grow healthier and bigger.

chap 5 sam

subtitle: fuck this shit i’m out (edit: the official subtitle is “oh god oh fuck”, i changed it last-minute)

dream picks sam’s brain for manhunt strategies while the latter is mining for redstone. sam stumbles upon a spawner and reels back, trips, nearly misses the moment dream sweeps him behind him and his eyes flash beneath the mask and when sam gets back up, dazed, there’s nothing but the splay of cobwebs all over the walls.

chap 6 punz

subtitle: lines drawn

in an unrelated skirmish, punz drives his sword up to the hilt in dream’s chest, relying on respawn for dream to not feel any pain and for punz to get paid. dream doesn’t die. this is understandably alarming.

can we get some funnies in chap? just a few laughs?? a lil funny for mr luke punz man?

can we get some panicky dry humor for real tho because punz strikes me as someone who copes with morbid humor and dream spluttering up blood is def a situation that punz would not know how to deal with

chap 7 wilbur

subtitle: so about that date

wilbur makes platonic moves on dream while dream fake texts his fiance under the table. wilbur also accidentally vents to dream about his little brother tommy and how afraid he is that tommy will get himself hurt for how reckless he is. dream siphons some of his anxiety from him, smiles as they depart from one another. wilbur notes that dream is shaking when they leave.

chap 8 skeppy

subtitle: get wrecked noob

dream walks skeppy through some pvp. when skeppy demands a rematch w tommy and gets a lil stage fright kinda sorta thing, dream siphons his anxiety and his nerves and goes full soccer mom with bad and skeppy loses 5-2 but like!! he won!! against tommyinnit!! HH

is there any mental image nearly as powerful as dream wastaken, the soccer mom

chap 9 jack

subtitle: mandatory volunteering

after tommy goes on another one of his destructive rampages lmao, dream enlists jack, newest-comer, to help him rebuild stuff bc underclassmen have to do whatever upperclassmen tell them to do thems just the rules. after rebuilding a statue near the community house, dream pats it fondly, and when tommy sneaks back to set in on fire for shits and giggles, he finds that it’s fuckin fireproofed AGAIN

rebuild efforts, i promised monuments rebuilt so thats what theyre gonna fuckin Get

chap 10 antfrost

subtitle: twist the knife

ant on what ends up being an unpublicized manhunt: dream stops the manhunt because he’s triggered a raid and by the time the hunters get there, alarmed by the screaming and the fire and dream’s unresponsiveness, the villagers are all dead and there are raider corpses everywhere and dream is lying near the bell on his side, whimpering. (what the hunters don’t know - dream tried to fight off the raid but was overwhelmed and witnessed the village get slaughtered, he took the pain of the villagers that weren’t dead but were dying.)

segment: There’s a reason they do the manhunts, and it’s not just for them to horse around and try to kill one another for a few days. Antfrost is the newcomer but he’s always been good at reading people and from the outset he knew that Dream was someone filled to the brim with the restlessness that characterizes humans, that never-settling wanderlust, and his brain works too fast for the rest of his body sometimes, and he just needs an outlet. It’s part of why he eggs Tommy on in their little war games, why he holds onto those discs even though he doesn’t need them, why he gets that delighted look on his face when someone tells him that Tommy’s griefed them or stolen from them or otherwise ruined their morning. Antfrost thinks the only times he’s ever really seen Dream silent, Dream waiting, Dream unmoving, are when Dream is

chap 11 karl

subtitle: head in the shallows

karl, sapnap, george, and dream have a sleepover after mcc 11. karl, nearest to dream, wakes up when dream starts tossing and turning from a nightmare. when he tries to shake dream awake, dream’s eyes fly open and he slams his fist into the wall behind him and the earth, the literal earth, the entire slab of it, shudders like an earthquake. sapnap and george sleep like the dead, so it’s just karl and dream staring at one another. finally karl asks, concerned, “do you want some tea or water or anything?”

chap 12 hbomb

subtitle: a maid’s burden

“i want to dress up as a maid for fundy,” says hbomb with false bravado. fundy’s fiance levels a very impassive look at him for an awkward minute or two and just when hbomb thinks he’s misread dream and fundy’s relationship dream says “i’ll get you a wig” and the entire chapter is just dream idly twisting the fabric of reality to get hbomb the items he needs to put the outfit together

pranks, i promised pranks, theyre gonna get pranks

chap 13 alyssa

subtitle: message in a bottle (edit: official subtitle is “ship in a bottle”)

alyssa’s leaving, at least temporarily.

alyssa tells dream it’s getting dangerous on his server, doesn’t relish the expression that brings to his face, but he holds her hands and nods and bids her safe journey. when alyssa returns, running for something (later we’ll learn she had heard that dream was bad, that he might be dying), she finds that her house is completely inaccessible by everyone save her, placed in complete stasis by someone.

start of the chapters leading up to festival arc. build unresolved tension in this one.

chap 14 niki

subtitle: life doesn’t discriminate

wilbur and tommy are relentless, they waste no time; niki is willing to wait for it.

the night before the duel, she goes to dream and holds a sword to his throat and demands he call it off, even though she knows it’ll mean little because of respawn, tells him she won’t stop hunting him down until he gives up l’manberg. dream smiles a little sadly and pats her hand and her fright, her rage, it simmers back down, and the anger that had swarmed her and made dream out to be the devil dies down until it’s just her friend, who was playing along with tommy til it got serious and he got cocky, who’s just as in over his head as she is, and maybe niki’s soft but she likes that about herself, that she’s always the first to forgive. niki is looking at the healing cut on dream’s neck, uncovered by any bandages, when dream shoots tommy, a clean shot that causes no suffering.

a long chapter, probably. i think at some point in this i want to mention niki’s respect for dream for apologizing during the first pet war, for not letting things get any bigger until fundy came back. some parallels can be drawn here - that dream let the fire die down in the initial stages of the pet war, that dream won’t let go of the l’manberg war now, and it occurs to niki that she doesn’t know dream nearly as well as she thinks she does if she expected him to act exactly the way he did during the pet war. she’s got what she’s wanted - dream’s remorse, proof of dream’s humanity - even though it’s not in the form niki wanted it.

chap 15 eret

subtitle: crown of thorns

the king in name only consults with the true leader.

they’re both upset about pogtopia’s exile, eret arguably more so because they think their early betrayal of l’manberg somehow butterfly-effected into the current dumpster fire, and as they talk eret works themself into a full panic attack reflecting on things that were, things that could’ve been - and the tide washes out all of a sudden, and eret’s left with the same looming hollowness they’d been feeling before, no dregs of the panic, they’ve never had a panic attack that left them feeling normal after - but dream is now wheezing like he’s about to die and eret immediately walks him through the panic attack, levelheaded even as they’re confused out of their mind.

chap 16 quackity

subtitle: water to blood

quackity is a snake in the grass.

quackity at schlatt’s side during the few weeks of his presidency. he knows schlatt from before, has been his friend, so he knows when his friend is acting off. the cynical, straight-faced humor is still there, his completely bland delivery and brazen showmanship, but it’s twisted to the left somehow, to make it so that those qualities that make up his friend have rotted, hurt people. quackity eventually goes to dream after schlatt first overdoses with a lot of questions, maybe even to confess that his allegiance has begun to shift because he can’t go to pogtopia and he can’t go to schlatt - and dream just gives him a long, sad look before lightly patting quackity’s shoulder and says “i can’t guarantee anything - just that you’ll be safe” and shooing him off and as quackity heads back to manberg he realises all the hostile mobs are avoiding him like the fucking plague.

it’s big q!!!! fattest ass in the cabinet!!!!! pog!!!

fun fact this chapter’s subtitle was almost “chekhov’s gun” until november fucking 16th of 2020

chap 17 tommy

subtitle: most disputes die and no one shoots

tommy learns how a legacy dies.

a compendium of tommy watching the madness consume wilbur. it needs to be emphasized in this chapter that wilbur becomes an entirely different person when they’re ejected from manberg, that he becomes obsessed with the legacy he’s created and watching it crumble is what twists him; when dream gives tommy his crossbow, tommy, out of desperation and a need to have an older sibling again, asks what’s wrong with wilbur; dream’s face hardens and he asks tommy to take dream to wilbur. it’s a terse meeting, the only one they have before techno and before wilbur completely loses it and demands the tnt; wilbur says a lot of things tommy doesn’t understand (it’s complex mythological jargon hinting at dream’s status as a god but could be misconstrued to refer to dream’s status as simply the world owner) and at one point wilbur sneers, “are you trying to play god, dream?” and dream lurches forward and grabs wilbur by the wrist, and there’s a completely silent moment where tommy feels the air suck out of his lungs and there’s an off buzzing in his ears and he fancies he hears something that sounds, just a bit, like dream, whispering desperately wilbur wilbur wilbur it’s me it’s me listen listen listen then a shrieking, acrid wave of no and tommy reels back and when he looks up dream has staggered back, his hand to his mouth, blood dripping from somewhere beneath his mask, sounding like he’s gagging or maybe he’s sobbing, as wilbur shrieks in a voice that is entirely not his “get out get out if i can’t have l’manberg...” and tommy understands, finally, as dream sprints out. that’s not wilbur.

a distinction needs to be made perfectly clear in this chapter, as with schlatt’s chapter: it’s not them. they’ve been twisted out of control by something bigger than them, something that wants to toy with the young god running an oasis of peace for his people. it doesn’t need to be outright said in this fic; in another we can delve into the madness and who did it and why. for now, just make it clear it’s not explicitly anyone’s fault.

chap 18 techno

subtitle: colosseum

dream had to let techno in first, you know.

techno and dream have interacted often - the duel, the championships, they’re friends more than acquaintances now. but techno was called in by someone wearing his brother’s face that he honestly doesn’t recognize from his voice and when he arrives at spawn, before tommy fetches him, he sees dream sitting cross legged waiting for him and they talk about the situation, dream giving techno a quick brief. when tommy comes, crying “techno, this way, this way to pogtopia”, and crossbow bolts are being fired at techno, dream gives him a lil wave goodbye (or what techno thinks is a lil wave goodbye but what actually turns out to be putting a swiftness effect on him).

“that’s not my brother, dream,” says techno, and dream’s mouth wobbles and he says, hoarse, “i know.”

techno Suspects, but only knows that dream has world-manipulating powers and thus standard minor god powers. he doesn’t let dream know he suspects.

chap 19 bad

subtitle: run devil run

bad trusts dream, perhaps against his better judgement.

dream comes to visit bad and skeppy on neutral grounds in the interim leading up to the festival that everyone on the server is side-eyeing and side-stepping. bad considers his friend and the owner of the world as he gives dream an impromptu tour through the escape route he and skeppy have dug out, wonders with a little reproach how dream could let things get to this point, then, soft, gentle as always, acknowledges that dream is only human kindly. when he says that, though, dream’s face crumples, as though those words hurt him more than any criticism bad’s given him in the time he’s known him, as though bad had driven a blade into his heart, and bad doesn’t understand but he lets dream run away from that. when a small flock of creepers explode over the tunnel the night before the festival and bad grumbles that he has to fix it, he learns dream left him with a fortified escape tunnel.

a/n: i’m sure the irony isn’t lost on you.

chap 20 tubbo

subtitle: cadmean victory

what say the sacrificial lamb?

tubbo is coming to terms with the fact that he might not make it out of office in one piece and it’s not his first time respawning but the older members of the server always, always did their best to shield the younger ones from death. he runs into dream by complete coincidence while he’s avoiding pogtopia (mostly wilbur) and manberg (mostly schlatt), caught between two strangers wearing his friends’ faces. he looks at dream, who looks back at him impassively, and tubbo starts to cry, because it finally hits him that even with his death and respawn nothing will be fixed, nothing can change, the poison’s run too deep into the veins of dream’s beautiful little world and now nothing can be right anymore and it feels like he’s shattering into tiny, aching shards - and then dream kneels before him, takes his hands, presses his forehead to them, sighs like his heart’s breaking, and tubbo feels a small calm thread back into him as dream stands abruptly, jittery. dream, with hands that shake, grips tubbo’s shoulder, hovers for a second, then his head jerks up and he bolts into the forest, clambering up a tree with admirable ease and disappearing away into the leaves as schlatt suddenly emerges from the bushes nearby with a joyous, plastic “hey! tubbo!”

chap 21 george

subtitle: lantern burns low

a moment in the night; george is visited by a specter.

dream comes, pale, and asks george if there is anything wrong, is everything okay with you? takes george’s caught-off-guard face in his hands and says george george george, are you - and george catches a glimpse of dream’s powers (is he safe safe does he hurt no but fear but anxiety there are dregs hush now quiet now he is safe all quiet quiet quiet he’s safe) and he says, stricken even as the constant thrum of nervous energy he’d kept with him fades out, “dream what was that,” and dream presses his hands to his mask where his eyes are and says, despairingly, “they don’t get to have you too,” and staggers back out.

george is the first person dream overtly “comes out” to. this is also why george doesn’t see dream til the festival.

chap 22 schlatt

subtitle: the empty throne

dream visits schlatt in his office.

schlatt, possessed by madness, has no idea what he’s saying but it feels right, it’s exactly right, everything is in his hands, and when dream approaches, his hands facing up, is he there is he there yes yes yes tainted polluted this is twisted this is madness madness madness dream reels back, shaking, and schlatt leans in and leers, not even knowing what he’s saying, “you can’t even fix it, young god,” and relishes the way all the color drains from dream’s face.

chap 23 dream (edit: this monster ended up being split into three for pacing purposes and also if i left it together it was gonna be. h. 14K WORDS. also the drama of a cliffhanger at what most people thought was going to be the last chapter was too good to pass up don’t @ me

subtitle: do you feel like a young god?

running, running, running again

finale!! dream takes everyone’s old hurts into himself, takes the madness from schlatt and wilbur, promptly passes the hell out because no one should be doing that, wakes up, gets the shit hugged out of him, and explains a little, and gets told that he’s loved over and over.

i uh! take questions! i like talking about this story, there’s a lot i still want to show, and even apart from that i just really love mcyt haha

#mcyt #young god #chrys writes #you're human tonight #yg meta #long post

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cookieek · 4 years ago

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Chapter 14: In which Arthur daydreams and thinks

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 Epilogue ao3 Wattpad

Edda was pretty much bouncing in place as they waved goodbye to Snurra and Nini, a big grin on her face as she put the hair ball inside her bag. It was her hand taking a hold of Arthurs, as they started making their way into Bergeleva, that finally snapped him out off just tantalisingly looking at her, he couldn’t help it, she looked so lovely when she was excited.

They stepped inside Bergeleva, the town looked to be fairly bigger than Hävelösa had been, as well as way more busy than Hävelösa. The sides of the street that they had walked into was covered with vendors selling their wares and people happily buying them.

Edda seemed to take a pause, her gaze traveling over the surroundings, moving off the street as she did, getting out of the way of a few other people making their way into the town. Arthur naturally followed with her.

“What sort of town like this doesn’t have a map by it’s entrance...” she muttered to herself.

“Maybe we could ask someone about it?” Arthur offered helpfully.

“Hm? Yeah, we should probably do that...” she said, throwing one more look around them through squinted eyes before turning to look at him properly. Her eyes widened a bit. “Oh, you haven’t put that on yet?”

Put what on? He followed her gaze to his other hand in which he was grasping the leather strip with the glass pearl on it. Oh, that.

“Don’t tell me that’s bad for your image too?” She snickered, putting her hands on her hips.

“What? No?” He looked at the glass pearl necklace in his hand again, the blue glass of the pearl glittered in the sun. Okay, maybe he was a little bit apprehensive about wearing it, it didn’t exactly fit the, well, image, he was trying to put out.

He looked up at Edda who was only raising her eyebrow at him.

Turning back to the pearl, he rolled it between his fingers in thought. Then again, he’d had his hair full of flowers just a day earlier, so what was a little pearl to that? He shook his head with a small chuckle, glancing up at Edda again.

“Nah, my image can probably handle this too.” He lifted up the leather strip by it’s ends, moved it around his neck and attempted to tie the strip behind his head.

“Do you want me to help?” Edda said after he struggled for a few seconds. “I know a pretty good way to tie necklaces like that one.”

“Just let me-” Arthur muttered, his fingers fumbling with the strip. “I just gotta-“ one of the edges of the strip slipped out of his grasp and he was only just able to catch it before the pearl slipped off. “...Okay I might need some help.” he said sheepishly.

Edda, who he had heard let out a small gasp as the strip had slid out of his grip, gave him a soft and crooked smile.

“If you say so Arty.”

Arty, Arthur thought to himself, turning his back to her and pushing down his collar so she could get access to his neck. Her fingers touching his as she took the strip out of his hands.

“...I’m sorry, was that too weird? I should probably not just call you something like that out of the blue.” She said, her gentle hands working around the back of his neck, he had to physically contain himself to not visibly shiver. What was that she said?

“No!” He exclaimed as he finally registered her words. “...I liked it.” He glanced over his shoulders to see her cheeks stained a pretty pink colour, instinctively he found himself turning back forward as her eyes almost met his.

“Oh...” there was a small, barely audible, nervous laugh. “I guess I’ll keep using it then...” the back of her fingers grazed his neck just below the hairline.

He closed his eyes a bit to enjoy the feeling of her hands behind his neck and the nickname. Arty... it echoed in his head. Arty...

“Arty! Put me down!” Edda giggled as he swept her off her feet and held her against his chest. Her face beaming at him through her giggles, and slight cackles, and her arms, despite her playful protests, clung around his neck.

He sighed happily.

“Hey, are you falling asleep on me?” Eddas hands moved away from his neck and his collar flipped back up. There was humour in her voice as her hand waved in front of him. “Your necklace is done Mr daydreamer.”

He turned to look at her, trying not to look too disappointed over that she didn’t call him Arty again. Apparently he didn’t do it that well as her face twisted into a look of concern.

“Is something wrong Arthur?” She moved her hands to touch the leather strip again. “Did i make it too tight? I can adjust it if you want?”

His skin tingled as she reached around his neck to adjust the necklace, her hands once again brushing against his neck. Not to mention how close she now was with her crouching in-front of him now, her grey shining eyes narrowed in concentration and her, oh so sweet looking lips so close to him, much like they had been back by the river. If she moved in, just a bit closer then they could-

“Is that better?” Her voice snapped him back to reality, her hands slowly sliding away from the back of his neck.

“Oh. Yeah.” He said, still shaking himself from his daze.

“That’s good,” she smiled, “You can adjust it yourself anytime you feel like it. Tug at the string to make it looser, and just pull at the knots back here,” her fingers pressed at what felt like two different knots on the strip against his neck “If you feel the need to tighten it.”

“I would prefer if you where the one to adjust it.” He muttered out, only half conscious of what he was saying.

“It would be much less of a fuss if you just did it yourself though?” She said in a confused tone of voice, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Ha, right.” He mentally beat himself up for pulling out such a bad line, he could do better than that! ‘I doubt it would be as wonderful to adjust it myself than to you doing it’? No, too wordy. ‘Your touch is simply to sweet for me to miss out on’? Maybe?

“Either way,” Edda shrugged, her hands retracting from his neck, one of them trailing to his collarbone where the glass pearl rested just below. “This looks really good on you.”

“Really?” Arthur suddenly felt way more attached to the necklace.

“Yeah,” she shot him a small grin and gave the pearl a small flick. “It matches your eyes.”

Arthur felt his heart pound in his chest, watching a sweet pink colour spread across her face as her eyes widened. He was about to grasp her hand to kiss it, but she hurriedly moved away from him and cleared her throat.

“Aaaanyway, let’s see if we can find a map... Or anyone that knows about a map.” She tapped her fingertips against each other, her face a deep red colour.

Arthur, although a bit disappointed to miss a chance to kiss her hand, but not wanting to be pushy, rolled with the change of topic.

“Alright,” he walked to stand beside her as she turned to face the town again. He held his hand out to her, “Let’s go then, Miss Edda?”

Her face was still red as she looked from his face and his hand. For one second he was worried that he might have been to forward, but then a soft smile crossed her face as she put her hand in his.

“Yeah, let’s go, Arty.”

His entire body filled with a fizzy feeling as they stepped back onto the street. He felt so fizzy that he almost forgot that his dwarf height wasn’t the most optimal when leading someone trough the streets filled with people. Edda eventually took the lead instead, not that he really complained about that. Just feeling her hand in his made him happy enough.

They walked around a bit, asking some of the vendors if they had any idea of the placement of the library or any map. One older lady selling mittens and hats made of sheep hide and/or wool pointed them to the town’s centre where a map apparently should be on a billboard.

“Everyone keeps telling the mayor that we need more maps for the people that visit around this time, but nothing ever happens,” she muttered to them. “He says that it’s not important since it will only be useful around this time of year, but I’ve sure have seen an influx of visitors in the last few years even outside of the festival season.”

Both Edda and Arthur stood there quietly listening as the woman complained at them, Arthur nodding politely as he shared a look with Edda, who’s smile was starting to look just a bit strained.

“-but does he ever listen? Noooooo. He said he did the maths and the money was better spent on getting that new winery set up, for ‘tourist reasons’. But how are they supposed to find the new winery without a gosh darn map!” She leaned back in her chair with a huff. “I swear, I’ve never seen a man with such skewered priorities.”

“Oh! Well, thanks for the help!” Edda said, pouncing on the lull in the conversation. “But we should go, we have important things to do.” She gestured towards where the old woman had pointed them before.

“Yes, Thank you ma’am.” Arthur added, bowing almost instinctually.

“Ohh, aren’t you two such dearies,” the old woman cooed, Arthur looked up, just in time to see that Edda had followed his lead and curtsied towards the old woman. “It’s always a pleasure to meet such polite young people. Don’t let me keep you, go have fun you two, the couple dances should be in a few hours, so you still have time to run around a bit before then, do not worry.”

Couple dances? Oh right, she had mentioned there being a festival here, so couple dances happening in the festival did make sense. Though to dance with Edda? He felt his lips involuntary tug into a smile. It would be nice to dance with her...

“Couple- We’re not-“ Edda stuttered, her cheeks once again flushed pretty pink. “T-thank you for your help!” She repeated, before turning and hurriedly walking towards the direction off the town centre, Arthur in tow.

“You’re welcome deary! If he steps on your toes just pretend you don't notice!” The old woman shouted after them.

Arthur chuckled at the old woman’s words, as if he would step on Eddas feet, he liked to think he was a pretty good dance partner. He looked around the street as they walked. They where right in the middle of a crowd of people, but as he looked up above them he could see large rings made of flowers and leaves adorn the sides of the buildings, along with a few arches hanging in between buildings, also decorated generously with flowers and leaves. It really did look like it was decorated for some festival of sorts. He wondered what sort of festival it could be, considering he didn’t know of any that happened around this time of year, around the middle of the summer.

“Hey, Miss Edda? You know what this festival is about?” He looked up at her expectantly, but she didn’t say anything, almost like she hadn’t heard him.

He noticed that she had started grabbing the side of her head, and flinching as she accidentally bumped into people as she walked. He immediately forgot his question as worry and protectiveness started welling up inside him, making him hurry up his steps so he was walking beside her again.

“Are you okay Edda?” He asked, but she didn’t look like she even had heard him, her eyes scouring the surroundings.

He clenched her hand a bit, this time silently asking her if she was alright. She just nodded, not looking down at him, her head still in her hand.

If he had been his old princely self he would have taken her under his arm and held her against his chest as they made their way trough the crowd, but unfortunately, he wasn’t that at the moment.

Could he even dance with her in his cursed form?

He felt frustration swell up in his chest, but he tried to focus on the issue at hand, figuring out what he could do to help her. The best he could think of doing was holding her arm closer to him and trying to pet it soothingly, which he did. Though while she seemed to visibly relax a little bit more, her shoulders would still jerk up at the loud noises of people shouting in the crowd and her face still looked tense.

Looking ahead Arthur spotted, between the crowds of people, what looked like the billboard that the old woman had been talking about. He gently tugged Eddas arm and took the lead, doing his best to clear the way in front of them so no one would bump into her.

It thankfully seemed like the crowd cleared up as they reached the town centre, Arthur assumed that it was because the lack of any stalls that had littered the crowded streets, as there was only the billboard the old woman had been talking about, a few people currently working with setting up what looked to be a large tent, and a large statue that stood in the very middle of the town’s centre.

Arthur continued making his way to the billboard, Edda beside him, looking now noticeably more relaxed, her hand no longer in her head, but her face still somewhat tensed up. As they walked he couldn’t help to throw another look at the statue. It looked to be an older woman with a sword strapped to her side, in one hand she held what looked to be a wine bottle, in the other she held a large spear.

He tore his eyes away from the strange statue and turned to look at the billboard, searching for the map. He didn’t have to look for too long as Edda found it soon enough, and started mumbling to herself as she hovered her index finger in front of it.

“Have you found it?” He asked, prompting her to look down at him, this time hearing what he was saying.

“Not yet,” she turned back to the map, “it should be here though, it’s not like the library at home would give me the name of a library that didn’t exist right?” She let out a small laugh, but then furrowed her brows as she squinted at the map. “Right?”

“You two need any help?” A voice piped up behind them.

Arthur spun around, accidentally letting go of Eddas hand in the process, to see one of the workers that had been setting up the tent, they cocked their head at the two of them with a friendly smile.

“Oh, well,” Edda begun. “I heard there was a library here? In this town? And I can’t find it on the map?”

“Oh that! Yeah, it’s not marked on the map, but it’s in the community house.” The worker let out a small laugh. “We really need to do something about that map.” They muttered to themselves.

“In the community house...” Edda said, and as Arthur looked over at her she had already turned around to the map again.

“Yeah, it’s right there.” The worker pointed at a specific point on the map which said ‘Community house’ with fancy lettering.

“Looks to be close by.” Arthur commented.

“Yup,” the worker retracted their hand and gestured to their right. “It’s the third house down Gyllene street, can’t miss it.”

Arthur followed their gesture to yet another street with a fair share of people. Third house, he repeated in his head, memorising the small direction, already planning on leading her through this crowd as well. He could probably tell when they had reached the third house even with his height disadvantage and the crowd of human sized humans. No what was he saying, of course he could!

“Ah, Great,” Edda said, Arthur looked up just in time to catch a shining grin from her, taking him out of his thoughts for a second. “Thanks for the help.”

Wh- Oh right, he had almost forgot about the worker standing right in front of them.

“No problem, I know this town is pretty confusing to navigate for new people.” The worker grinned back, before returning to the tent where the other’s looked to be waiting impatiently for them.

“Alright!” Edda said, turning to Arthur, smiling brightly and taking a hold of his hand. “Let’s finally get to that library huh?”

“Yes,” Arthur said, before taking a small bow to her and shooting her a smile. “Allow me to escort you there, M’lady.”

Edda snorted.

“What? Think I forgot the directions so quickly?” She said tilting her head to her side with a small grin.

“What- of course not! I-“ Arthur sputtered, “I just thought- A lot of people where bumping into you before, and I can’t let that happen to a lovely you lady such as yourself.” Yes, he saved it!

“Okay then, Mr protector, go ahead.” Edda shot him an amused grin, but he could also just make out the tint of pink on her cheeks returning.

“As you wish, M’lady.” He turned in time to hear a small cackling laugh from her, her hand squeezing his warmly.

And so he led her through the crowd again, his eyes both searching above and through the crowd to find the community centre, though with the directions from the worker it wasn’t especially hard to miss. Even more so hard to miss with the door to it standing wide open with people pouring into it.

The inside of the community centre was, almost as full of life as it was outside, and even with a few vendors selling stuff inside the building as well. Arthur didn’t get to much time to take in the interior as Edda quickly made a beeline towards the, surprisingly well signposted all things considered, door to the library.

As the library’s thick doors closed behind them he could hear Edda let out a sigh of relief.

“Silence. Sweet sweet silence.”

Arthur watched as she took a deep breath and exhale, a brief look of serenity crossing her face. He realised how tense she had been out there, her shoulders stiff and her movement becoming more and more stressed.

“Miss Edda? Does crowds bother you?” The question slipped out of his mouth before he could even really think or stop himself.

She turned to him and blinked a few times.

“Well, yeah, I thought I made that painfully obvious.” She said, looking away from him. “Most of the time it’s the noise that’s the problem, which is only amplified by how small those streets out there are, the noise just bounces against the walls.” He could see her grimace a bit, turning her head slightly to look at him. “Makes It impossible to think clearly, or really hear anything.”

“It was the noise that bothered you?” He asked, feeling just a bit stupid over not realising it before, the way she had held her head in her hand should have made it clear.

“I mean, I also really don’t like getting my personal space invaded, so that also made it, notably worse.” She let out a stiff laugh.

“Personal space?” The times that Arthur had gotten close to Edda flashed in his head and he panically looked down at her hand which he was still holding. Oh no, had he completely flubbed it from the start?

Edda seemed to notice his growing panic, and let out a small cackle.

“Don’t worry Arty, you’re fine! If you were making me uncomfortable I would have said so.” She grinned at him and squeezed his hand. “Anyway, that’s enough of me and my stupid complaining, we have work to do.”

Arthur wanted to interject that what she said wasn’t stupid, but he didn’t get the chance as Edda started walking into the library more and approached the help desk, immediately starting to ask about the placements of the books she was looking for.

As she did so Arthur begun looking around the room more, it looked like your typical library (or at least what he thought a typical library looked like, it wasn’t exactly the sort of place he tended to spend his time in before this whole thing), albeit a little smaller, a side effect of it not having it’s own building he assumed. It sort of reminded him of the castle library back home in Camelot, the one he’d had to drag Merlin out off on multiple occasions. Though this library looked way more worn down than the one in Camelot.

It was also pretty empty, only a few people walking around the old bookshelves. But speaking of Merlin, he wondered what his friends were up to. Was Snow and Merlins honeymoon going well? Were they still on their honeymoon? Had the other guys managed to break their curses yet? He hadn’t been gone for too long, but part of him was concerned with the well-being of his friends. Then again, it wasn’t like they couldn’t protect themselves, they were part of the Fearless seven after all. Also, he had learned the hard way that Snow could pack one hell of a punch.

“Thank you for the help.” Edda said to the librarian as they departed from the help desk, seemingly having gotten to know what she needed to know about the book placements. She wore a look of excitement as she let go of his hand to rush up to one of the bookcases, where she started happily pulling out a few books.

A small chuckle exited Arthur as he looked at her, leaning himself against the bookshelf, once more human, it was something admirable in someone being so passionate about their work, or at least he thought so. Not to mention that her excitement was sort of, cute? Arthur wasn’t sure if that was the word he wanted to use. No, cute didn’t exactly do her justice.

Edda raised her gaze to the top shelf, her eyes widening along with the grin on her face and she started reaching out to the books on the shelf. Arthur, seeing a chance to impress, removed himself from the shelf and started moving towards her. Edda was standing on her toes but still not reaching whatever book she was trying to grab. Her face had morphed into a look of frustration, and she started raising her foot as if she was planning to climb the bookshelf. Arthur rushed up to her before she could do that.

“Whoa whoa! Hold on. I can get it for you Miss Edda.” He said, putting his hand on her arm gingerly, though it slipped out of his grip the moment she looked over at him and he shrunk back to being a dwarf.

“What? Oh, well I guess I could lift you up and you could then grab it. That would probably work.” She said, throwing a glance back at the bookshelf.

“Wait, no,” He said stepping behind her in hopes of evading her line of sight when she turned to look back at him. While he undoubtedly enjoyed being picked up and held by her, oh how he enjoyed being held, this was a thing he wanted to do without that being involved. “Which book do you want? I’ll pull it out for you.”

“Oh! Uh, it’s that one.” She said, seemingly catching on to what he was talking about, and pointed to a large book on the top shelf. “I can just go and see if they have a step stool or anything, you don’t have to do this if you don’t feel like it.” She pulled her arm back.

“But I want to aid you M’lady.” He said softy to her as he leaned forward to reach for the book she had pointed at. “Please don’t look.” He whispered to her as he grabbed the book out of the bookshelf.

“I’m not.” She replied, her voice sounding odd. Arthur glanced down at her face, red on her cheeks and her eyes closed tightly. Oh, he realised how close he was standing to her, his chest practically pressed up against her back and neck.

He hurriedly took a step back.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t making you uncomfortable now was I Miss Edda?” He said, what she had told him earlier about personal space still ringing clear in his head.

“No!” She spun around, “that wasn’t-“ the pile of books she was holding started sliding out of her grasp from her sudden movement, making her stumble forward. “Shit!” She hissed through her teeth as two books escaped her arms.

Arthur jumped forward to catch the two books. One falling on top of the book he was already holding with a loud smack and the other one slamming against his face, making him yelp, before plopping down in the other book. Oh, that did not feel good.

“Crap! Sorry! Are you- that’s blood, you’re bleeding.” Edda whispered to him, as he held his nose and groaned. He looked up at her, meeting her worried eyes and tried to give her one of his most charming grins.

“Don’t worry M’lady, Arthur here has dealt with much worse things than a book.” He started, but stopped as Edda put the book pile on the floor and leaned in to touch his face.

“It has already started to swell,” she muttered in a worried tone. She reached into her bag and pulled out a piece of cloth to swab at the blood that was running out of his nose. For one second Arthur forgot about the pain in his nose entirely, to busy getting lost in her sweet touch and caring eyes. That was until the cloth came in contact with his noise, prompting him to yelp again.

“Sorry!” Edda grimaced, taking one of her hands away from his face to rummage in her bag. “Let me just get some-“

“Is everything alright over here?”

It had been a librarian that had gone over to check what the ruckus they where making was about. After noticing Arthur’s injury she had offered to bring some cotton from the first aid box they apparently had in the back, which Edda had accepted.

Before the librarian had left for the cotton however, she had helped them move to a table, carrying some of Eddas books for her, or at least some of the ones that Arthur wasn’t already carrying. A little bleeding nose wasn’t enough to stop him from helping out, if anything he wanted to be the one carrying all the books, but that didn’t happen so he had to be happy with carrying the three books under one of his arms as he held the rag Edda had given him under his nose with the other. Next time he got the chance though, he was going to carry all of the books and make Edda really impressed, that he swore to himself.

It had been sitting by one of the libraries tables, with the pieces of cotton in his nose, as Edda pulled out the potion she had worked on on Snurra’s cart. She asked him to drink a little of it for the pain and then she starting to do something similar to what she had done by the river yesterday. Except with more of her touching his nose to make sure it didn’t heal weird.

“That’s the thing with bones,” she muttered, swabbing his nose carefully with the potion. “Gotta hold them in place if you want this healing method to work correctly.”

Arthur didn’t say anything in return, having gone back to simply enjoying being fussed over, eagerly awaiting the part of the healing that would involve her blowing on his nose. He had been healed by plenty other people before, many of them being quite lovely, handsome and receptive to his advances, but there was something different about being healed by Edda. He couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was, but whatever it was it made him feel happy and tingly all over, like she was someone he wanted to turn to after a hard fight in order to get pampered, and gently scolded over pushing himself to hard.

“...Thank you for helping me get that book down, by the way,” Edda said, softly exhaling with a small nervous smile, pulling away the rag she was swabbing his nose with. “I probably should have thanked you for that before, but well-“ she gestured vaguely with her hands “but, it was, really sweet of you, to do that.”

She adverted her eyes away from his as she spoke. Arthur couldn’t help but smile at her mildly flustered appearance, reaching up one of his hands to gently touch her face.

“It was a pleasure to help you Edda.” Even if getting a book slammed into his face hurt like hell, her gently healing him and shyly thanking him had made it all worth it.

Edda snorted at him.

“That book to your face did not look like a pleasure.” She took a small swing of the potion. “Again, sorry about that.”

He just waved her concerns away with a laugh and so the healing process continued over to what was quickly becoming his favorite part.

After the healing was over they quickly moved over to the reason they had gone to the library in the first place, finding the thing that would break his curse, that wasn’t a kiss.

Arthur flipped trough the book he had been handed, jotting down which pages seemed to have anything useful on a slip of paper. He wasn’t super used to do this sort of thing yet, sure he had been made to take a fare share of lessons back home that included flipping through books and writing, but the ones that had always stuck into his memory the most had been the ones about fighting and protecting people.

It wasn’t like anything learnt in those lesson was useful for the task at hand though, so there he was, flipping pages, occasionally glancing up at Edda. Her eyes were laser focused on the pages in front of her as she looked from the book to her notebook, flipped a few pages in her notebook, and then turning to look back at the book. She furrowed her brows and tapped her pen against her lips.

Arthur tore his eyes away from Edda and turned the page of the book in front of him, at first noting looked to be of interest to him, until his eyes saw the words ‘tracking sigil’. He felt his stomach turn as he read the spells description.

“A sigil that once placed upon a person or object will, with the help of an enchanted map (se page 57), let one keep track of wherever a person is at all times. In order to do this you will have...” Arthur stopped reading, the thought of someone using such magic to track a person made him feel such instant repulsion that he almost threw the book to the floor.

“What would lead someone to using such a nasty spell?” He grumbles to himself out loud.

“Huh?” Edda looked up from her book. “Did you find anything useful?”

“Nah,” He gestured towards the book, “just another spell to question the use of.”

Edda raised her eyebrows and leaned over to look at the page herself.

“I mean, it could be useful for objects that you would want to keep track on,” she scratched her neck, “but yeah, it mentioning people is definitely a bit sketchy.”

“Yeah,” Arthur said through a grimace as Edda moved back to her work. “Have you found anything useful yet?”

“Sorta!” Eddas head snapped up again, a big grin on her face. “I thought I should look up the usage of troll hair and look what I just found!”

She turned the book to him and pointed at a paragraph in it.

“...one possible antidote that might be used for such transformation spells is a salve made out of, among other things, wood cranesbill and hair from a troll.�� She read out loud, her voice barely filtering her excitement. “It doesn’t seem like the writer is super sure about it’s usefulness, and it doesn’t explain the full recipe, or how to make it... but it’s a lead!”

She leaned back a bit in her chair.

“Or at least another possible cure to put on the list.” She shrugged. “We should probably prep stuff for this thing anyway, wood cranesbill only bloom around this time of the year, so it would be a shame if this was one that worked and we have to wait a year or so to get the chance to make it again.”

“Wait, there’s a list?” He asked, not sure if she had ever mentioned one to him before.

“Yeah, but it’s pretty short, and is meant to be used if I can’t find a weak point to exploit in the spell, which, so far, I have not. Or at least not something immediately useful or conclusive.” She flipped the pages in her notebook to show him a page with ‘John’s wort???’, ‘Rune spell amulet’, and ‘Loophole in conditions?’ written on it. The last point having a few small scribbles under it saying ‘fake kiss? Trick it?’.

“Well, whatever’s the case,” Arthur said, eyeing her endless notes as she wrote down ‘troll hair salve’ on the page and flipped back to her current page of the note book. She was really working hard on this. “I know you’ll figure something out, especially if you now have four plans ready to go.”

She gave him a gentle smile which made his heart warm at the sight.

“Thank you Arthur.” She turned back to her work. “Well, I better see if I can find the recipe for this salve now, and then I’ll return to look for weaknesses.”

“Alright!” Arthur threw one final look at Edda as she resumed her note taking and reading before returning to his own book and turning to the next page. The warm feeling he had gotten from her smile still warming his chest pleasantly.

#red shoes and the 7 dwarfs #red shoes and the seven dwarfs #red shoes #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #Edda #wayward

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sushiandstarlight · 4 years ago

Text

Cookies: Chapter 16

This chapter includes yesterday’s prompt “evergreen” and today’s prompt “lights.”

Previous Story: Of All The Beds In All The Hotels In All The World

Chapter 1-3 / Chapter 4 / Chapters 5 & 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15

Read this chapter on AO3

Rated: G, light teen for suggestion, nothing explicit

It took some amount of time to get downstairs, what with the way Crowley pinned his angel to the bed. And then Aziraphale's wandering hands in the shower. And the way they wound up snogging each other senseless at the top of the stairs, almost winding up at the bottom by way of running afoul of gravity. By the time they made their entrance into the kitchen, hands linked, they were pink in the face and couldn't stop smiling at one another.

That was, until Aziraphale saw the pies lined up on the kitchen island: apple crumble, cherry lattice with sparkling sugar on top, and mince were all present but also accompanied by blackberry and peach. Aziraphale drew close and hovered over the pies, cooing about how beautiful they were. He reached out to touch one, but Edie smacked his hand with a spatula.

“Ow!” he yelped, yanking back his hand.

“They are for dinner tomorrow night,” Edie sounded deathly serious.

“Oh, alright, but they are beautiful,” Aziraphale sat on one of the barstools, continuing to admire them. Crowley recognized the rapt attention, remembering how Aziraphale had looked at him in the shower. He took a quick mental turn from that image before he was overwhelmed with the urge to grab the angel's wrist and drag him back to their bedroom.

“What have we got here, then?” Crowley sauntered to the counter, also admiring the pies. They were a thing of beauty. Gladys and Edie clearly had talent. Edie pointed out each type with the spatula and Crowley crowed, “you missed a couple, Angel. Off your game.”

“I was a bit distracted,” Aziraphale hmphed. Crowley approached his stool and spun it around to face him.

“You can only smell some pies over my mouth-watering aroma, then?”

“Or maybe you still smell like butter and sugar. It's distracting.”

“I've bathed!”

“I know, I helped!”

Crowley felt his face go crimson. He looked over at the ladies only to find them looking suddenly very busy facing the opposite counter.

“Maybe I'll be rubbing down with butter and sugar every day for you when we get home,” Crowley pressed his forehead to Aziraphale's and smirked at him.

“Oh, that would be a terrible mess on my sheets.”

“Tell me, in this vision are they tartan?”

“...yes.”

“No loss there.”

“Hey!”

“That's okay, Angel,” Crowley wagged his eyebrows at him, “they're tartan in my vision, too.”

Aziraphale smiled and wiggled happily on the stool.

“Alright, that's enough mushiness near the pies, you're going to melt the pastry,” Edie swatted Crowley with a tea towel.

“Fine, fine. We'll move it along,” Crowley made a motion towards the sun room and set off for it. Aziraphale lingered, smiling bashfully at Edie and Gladys.

“You don't really mind, do you?” Aziraphale stood to leave.

“Nah,” Gladys winked at him and handed him a tiny mince pie, “Run along, now.”

Aziraphale smiled broadly and left, catching up with Crowley.

“Pssh, really?” Crowley had spotted the pie.

“Told you she likes me,” Aziraphale's smile was smug now.

“I think you're the favorite.”

“Do you want a piece.”

“Nah, I would rather watch you eat it.”

“I still don't understand what you get out of watching me eat,” Aziraphale sat on the loveseat, peering up at him. Crowley hadn't actually meant to say that out loud.

“Well,” he shrugged, going for casual, “I like to watch you take pleasure in things. I like knowing you're enjoying yourself.” He sprawled on the other side of the loveseat, managing to take up most of the room while Aziraphale sat up properly. He rested his head on the back of the sofa and waited, watching Aziraphale with a lazy smile on his face.

“Could you...” Aziraphale trailed off, looking away.

“Naw, now don't do that,” Crowley nudged the angel's knee with his own, “Whatever you want.”

“Oh, that's a list,” he looked back at Crowley, “I wondered if you might tip your glasses down while you watch me. I like watching you, too. Your eyes... they're so expressive.”

“Didn't know you liked 'em,” Crowley pulled his shades down his nose part way and peered at Aziraphale.

“I do. I like that you take them off when we're alone.”

“I've got nothing to hide from you,” Crowley watched as he took a small bit of the pie and hummed happily, “Except for Christmas.”

“Yes, I suppose that makes two of us.”

“Tomorrow, no secrets then.”

“Yes, I will feel better not keeping it from you.”

Crowley grunted, watching him take another bite and let out another hum, wiggling on the part of the cushion that Crowley wasn't currently sprawled over. Crowley kept watching him even as he finished, patting the sides of his lips with a napkin and brushing invisible crumbs off his trousers.

“It was one thing,” Crowley cleared his throat, but it did nothing to get rid of the gravelly sound his voice had dipped into, “before I knew what you sounded like when you... you know. Those little sounds you make, Angel, they would keep me up at night after our dinner dates. But, now I know...” He shifted in his seat, glancing at the door and pushing up his glasses.

“Maybe a little dessert is in order.”

“Dessert,” Crowley blinked, confused, “But you just had pie.”

“It really does devil with your brains, doesn't it?”

“What?”

Aziraphale stood and made for the door, leaving the confused demon still on the sofa as he turned and went up the stairs.

“You dummy,” Edie poked her head around the door frame, from out of nowhere, “he wants you for dessert! You best get up there.”

He should have been mortified, but instead he just smiled at her and hoped he'd willed down the color that wanted to rush to his cheeks.

She high-fived him as he ran past her.

After supper it was decided that they would all go out and have a look at the lights that Aziraphale had been diligently hanging outside the inn. Crowley was happy enough to look at them, but still reluctant on account of the weather. The snow had continued to fall and it was ankle-deep now. He shivered as he peered out the the front door.

“You're not going out like that!” Gladys was behind him, shoving a long black coat into his hands, “You'll catch your death. I insist.” She watched him as he put it on and buttoned it and then wrapped a red and green scarf around his neck enough times that his chin was nearly lost inside it. And then she handed him mittens.

“Really? Where on this planet did you find men's sized mittens?”

“I made them.”

“What? Why?”

“For you! You always look cold. You make me cold just looking at you sometimes.”

He put on the green mittens, even though they made him feel silly. Pretty much instantly his hands felt warmer, but he wasn't about to tell her that. One look from her, told him she already knew, though.

“See, I thought you might take better care of yourself if doing so meant using a meaningful gift.”

Crowley clutched his hands to his chest and leaned in to her, whispering, “I'll treasure them, really.”

“Don't much care for treasuring, I'll be happy knowing you're using them.”

Aziraphale bustled by them in a cream-colored overcoat. He also had knitted mittens, but they were white with faux fur around the wrists. He pulled on a matching hat and stood by the door.

“Are we ready to go have a look?” Aziraphale craned to look past Gladys, “Where's Edie.”

“I'm coming, I'm coming!” Edie appeared from the kitchen with a tray of hot chocolates and passed them out. “No need to stand around out there freezing our buns off without something to keep us properly warm.”

“Finally, someone's speaking sense.”

“Oh, you poor dear,” she handed him his cocoa and patted his cheek- her hand was still warm from holding the cup- “if I'm the one speaking sense, we're in loads of trouble.”

Aziraphale opened the door and led them out into the parking lot. There wasn't a strong wind, but enough that it nipped sharply at Crowley's ears as he followed behind the others. He burrowed his face down into the scarf.

“Alright, turn back... now,” Aziraphale walked around and stood behind them as they turned back to the inn. They gasped and smiled and turned one at a time to congratulate him: The whole front of the inn was outlined in white lights, gently fading off and on at random. The walls were outlined in red and draped with net lights the same color. All the bushes were strewn with red and green lights.

Crowley was staring hard at the white lights, trying to discern a pattern to their tranquil flashing when he felt something warm and fuzzy slide over his ears. He jumped, reaching up to find earmuffs.

“Wha-”

“Consider it an early Christmas present,” Aziraphale hugged him from behind. There were too many layers to feel the angel's warmth and Crowley felt the pity of it. Still, his ears had stopped stinging.

“Thanks,” he leaned back and kissed the angel's chilly cheek and shivered dramatically, “The lights are beautiful.”

Gladys appeared in front of them and clutched both of their chins.

“You boys have made this Christmas so special, you know that right? We couldn't have done all of this without you.” She was looking at them very earnestly from beneath the low brim of her knit cap. It had a giant pompom on top that was wiggling with the light breeze.

“I think we're thoroughly enjoying our stay,” Aziraphale's voice sounded a little pinched.

“I think we'll all enjoy our stay more inside,” Crowley burrowed up to his sunglasses into the scarf around his neck, “Not that the lights aren't pretty.”

They went back inside, still sipping their cocoa.

“By the way,” Gladys said as she unbuttoned her coat and hung it on one of the hooks by the door, “I got a call from the group holding the bake sale. All the baskets sold.”

“Oh, what marvelous news!” Aziraphale clapped his hands together happily.

“Someone, one person, bought all of them.”

“Wow, that's a lot of cookies for one person...” Crowley grumbled.

“And then donated the cookies to the orphans...” Gladys was eyeing them suspiciously.

“Don't look at me! I've been here the whole time,” Crowley squawked.

“I do wish I had thought of it, but I confess that I didn't,” Aziraphale looked honestly contrite.

“Whoever did it, it was an unexpected kindness,” Edie was still eyeing Crowley who shrugged at her.

“Anyway,” Gladys threw up her hands, giving up on having an answer tonight, “We all better get to bed. Santa's coming tonight! But he won't visit until we're all in our beds. Goodnight, boys.”

“Goodnight, Gladys. Edie.” Aziraphale nodded to them and they watched the two wander off down the hall.

“You,” Aziraphale turned to Crowley, “You bought all the cookies, didn't you?”

“Yeah.”

“That was a wonderful thing to do.”

“Nah, it was alright.”

“The children will love them.”

“Come on now.”

“I think,” Crowley found himself being pressed against the nearest flat surface- the wall, thankfully next to the coat hooks,- and kissed sweetly, “You should be rewarded for your good deed.”

“Is it a good deed if there's a reward?”

“Sure, if the reward was unexpected,” Aziraphale practically dragged him up the stairs. As if he was going to protest.

Chapter 17 is now up!

#aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #good omens #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #star light-reads #30 days of prompts #nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2020 #of all the beds in all the hotels in all the world #sequel #christmas fluff #fluff #oi at this point even i'm like 'get a room guys'#but wait they do have a room #it's the honeymoon suite #might as well make good use of that!

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rosethornewrites · 5 years ago

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Fic: The Rebellion of Adrien Agreste, ch. 10

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Lila Rossi, Jagged Stone, Plagg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine, Penny Rolling, Anarka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, Alya Césaire, Chloé Bourgeois, Wayhem, Nadja Chamack, Nathalie Sancoeur, Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain, Tikki, Fang, Principal Damocles, Caline Bustier, Ms. Mendeleiev, original minor character, Alec Cataldi, Lila Rossi’s Mother, Sabrina Raincomprix, Roger Raincomprix, Mylène Haprèle, Le Gorille | Adrien Agreste’s Bodyguard, Nino Lahiffe, Nooroo

Tags: Lila Rossi salt, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Teenage Rebellion, Swearing, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Crack Treated Seriously, Lila Rossi’s Lies Are Exposed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Luka Couffaine Needs a Hug, Paparazzi, Parentification, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Gabriel Agreste Needs an Aneurism, Uncle Jagged Stone, we’re all queer here, the spirit of punk is sometimes just being allowed to be yourself, Kagami Finds Her Groove, punk rock fashion, Savage Kagami, Marinette protection squad, Good Parent Sabine Cheng, Good Parent Tom Dupain, Protective Kagami Tsurugi, Protective Luka Couffaine, Bisexual Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Pansexual Luka Couffaine, Sharing a Bed, Pet Names, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Instagram, Bullying, Social Media, Anxiety, Makeover, Hugs, will cure your acne, Face Punching, Bad Ass Juleka Couffaine, Rumors, Protective Juleka Couffaine, Protective Adrien Agreste, Lawyers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holding Hands, accountability, mental health, Jagged Stone’s well-paid pet shark, How to Make the Evening News, Sexy eyeliner for days, one fish two fish Lila is a screwed fish, How to have fun and piss Gabriel off, Fuckery, sweet litigious karma, Alya sugar, lawyer shark doo doo doo doo doo doo, Schadenfreude, Bad Ass Alya Césaire, Gaslighting, abuse denormalization, Jagged likes his lawyers like he likes his pets: toothy af, Blood in the Water, Everything you didn’t know you wanted and some things you did, Gabriel Agreste is shark bait, Denial, Consequences, Principal Damocles salt, caline bustier salt, the impotence of Gabriel Agreste, snarky Nooroo, lies and the lying liars who tell them, Lila’s brain is a narcissistic hellscape, Lila’s mind is built like an Escher piece, Alec Cataldi salt, Adrien Sugar, wholesome salt, Fu Salt, Kwami Shenanigans, Nooroo is a little shit

Summary: How to Piss Off Gabriel Agreste

AO3 link

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Gabriel Agreste was displeased.

Honestly, that was an understatement.

Gabriel Agreste was infuriated.

He had allowed Adrien his little temper tantrum, the slamming of the door and stomping to his bedroom, expecting to let the boy stew for a bit until he had calmed enough to be reasonable. In the meantime, he had assured Mlle. Rossi things would progress as planned.

That had been a miscalculation. Adrien’s behavior had only escalated, as he somehow managed to escape the mansion—something Gabriel had only discovered later, when Nathalie had brought the tablet to him, with that picture on the Instagram social media account that was meant largely for Adrien to promote the brand. He had been permitted to use it for additional reasons, but clearly that had been a mistake.

Gabriel had been struck by the smile on Adrien’s face, though, carefree and happy… and alongside that of a boy he’d never seen as they cuddled in an intimate way that was wholly inappropriate for the brand. He never would have allowed such a picture with Mlle. Rossi.

But his hands were also tied by Adrien’s move—if he were seen to disapprove, many of his employees would be livid, not to mention critics. The LGBTQ+ community was well represented in the fashion industry. At this point, Gabriel would be seen as homophobic.

Furthermore, a third party had taken those pictures, meaning Adrien had found allies.

Nathalie had attempted to regain control of the account, to no avail. Hopefully the furor would die down quickly; Gabriel had the Gorilla out searching for his wayward son so they could nip this in the bud. But he’d come up empty thus far.

Mlle. Rossi had called, raging, and had required a lecture about tone and entitlement. She had been seething by the time he hung up on her, but Gabriel didn’t particularly care. She was outliving her use with her childish assumption he’d give in to her demands.

He had used the roiling emotions of a jealous fan to create an Akuma, but it had been defeated far too quickly for his liking,

Nathalie had returned with the tablet shortly thereafter, with a new photo and that hair. His hair had been pristine, never adulterated with anything so aggressive as dye. And now—! He matched his ‘boyfriend’—Gabriel was certain this was a fake relationship, but if he said such a thing publicly it would receive backlash—and they were feeding each other ice cream and laughing. Another picture taken by a third party.

Gabriel hadn’t even noticed the caption, or the following post essentially accusing the company of forcing him to work, until Nathalie pointed them out. Worse, there were comments from fans angry that Adrien was not permitted to play with that ridiculous band.

theofficialchloebourgeois: I didn’t know it was that bad, Adrikins. I’ll talk to Daddy.

alya.ladyblogger: @theofficialchloebourgeois Pretty sure this violates child labor laws, too. #LetAdrienGoToSchool

theofficialchloebourgeois: @alya.ladyblogger Will bring that up.

The Instagram tag the Ladyblogger had created had started going viral, even spreading to Twitter.

The TVi news was even using it. Curious, Gabriel clicked on the article they’d linked to.

Model Adrien Agreste Comes Out, Alleges Being Forced to Date New Gabriel Muse, Lila Rossi

Leaked Rossi text messages include threats

When he saw the image of the text messages, he hurled the tablet against the wall.

Nathalie gave him a reproachful look and he glowered at her. “You were due for an upgrade anyway,” he hissed, still trying to contain his rage.

Clearly Mlle. Rossi had become more than an inconvenience.

“Inform Mlle. Rossi that her association with Gabriel has ended, as she has provided an unsavory image for the brand. Announce that on the official social media. Make sure the announcement planned for tomorrow is stopped.”

A stress headache, perhaps even a migraine, was coming on.

Marinette returned home with freshly painted pink fingernails, and Jagged loudly praising her nonexistent design ideas.

“Marinette Dupain-Chang, would you care to comment on your relationship with former Gabriel model Lila Rossi?”

Oh, that had been tempting. ‘Former’? They hadn’t seen that bit of information before she’d left—she’d have to text that to Kagami and Luka, who would share it with Adrien. They’d agreed that he’d need to keep his cell phone off to avoid the GPS locater, until they’d gotten enough done.

Jagged posed for the camera, hugging her one-armed. “That horrid girl has been bullying my niece here. Kept her too afraid to say anything. But Uncle Jagged’s here to take care of his Marinette.”

Then he pushed past Nadja Chamack to enter the bakery—let in by her parents despite it being after hours. They presented him with a large box of macrons to thank him, and asked if he would be free to join the family for dinner the next night—specifying that ‘the team’ was welcome, too.

Adrien, Luka, and Kagami had been insistent that she should bring them in on the plan, that they have some adults they could lean on aside from Jagged, whose stay in Paris would only be so long.

Marinette hadn’t been certain about letting them in on the fake relationship details, but they had been appropriately horrified at Adrien’s treatment and had immediately been on board. Everything had fallen into place, and maman had insisted after tomorrow she would take her break from the bakery to coincide with Marinette’s walk to school, so she could escort her for her protection.

They had a plan, a script, for Luka and Adrien’s relationship. She just had to be ready early tomorrow to be escorted to school, and be ready for any media attention.

And they had decided that Luka should be seen with Adrien, saying goodbye before the school day with appropriate closeness. They hadn’t specified what it should be, but that part could be ad-libbed. Regardless, the media would eat it up.

She updated her parents over dessert fruit tarts, then pleaded exhaustion and headed up to her room to get ready for bed. On her way up, she texted Luka and Kagami the news about Lila.

Tikki looked a bit exasperated when she was finally able to leave Marinette’s purse, and for a moment she was worried the kwami disagreed with what they were doing, that she’d be disappointed.

“I didn’t realize Adrien had it so bad,” Tikki said instead. “That poor boy. I’m glad you came to his side; I know it might be hard to watch him in a pretend relationship with Luka.”

Marinette relaxed. Tikki was on her side.

“I knew his father was awful, but I didn’t know it was this bad, either. If we do this right, M. Agreste will be under enough scrutiny to give Adrien some freedom.”

“He deserves better,” the kwami commented, taking the cookie Marinette offered her.

Marinette nodded. “Do you think I’m doing enough?”

“You’re doing everything you can.” Tikki set down the cookie and put one tiny hand on Marinette’s. “And… I think Luka was right. You expect too much of yourself. I know you’re Ladybug, but you’re also Marinette. You don’t need to bottle things up. You don’t need to be perfect.”

Marinette was silent for a bit, thinking about that. She’d always tried to stay strong on her own—even during the worst of Chloé’s bullying, she hadn’t reached out. Part of it was learning that Chloé could get away with a lot because of her status; teachers were rarely willing to punish the daughter of the mayor, so instead Marinette had been told she was being too sensitive, or that she needed to be the bigger person and be an example. All she’d wound up being is an example of a doormat.

In the past year, she’d learned that what her teachers had done was considered gaslighting. She’d managed to let them convince her that her feelings weren’t important. Marinette had been afraid to tell her parents everything, because if they told her the same thing…

Ever since Alya had come, she’d been able to start growing out of that—all it had taken was someone standing up for her.

“Thanks, Tikki.”

The kwami sighed. “Honestly, I should have helped you take care of this Lila situation earlier. It’s gone on too long. I let you flounder, even after you were almost Akumatized. I didn’t even think about how this was effecting you. I’m sorry, Marinette.”

Marinette brought Tikki up to her face and kissed her cheek. “I was doing what Luka said—putting on a front. I need to trust you and my parents and my friends more.”

“We’ll learn together,” Tikki told her with a smile. “I’m so proud of you, Marinette!”

They snuggled cheek to cheek for a moment, and then Marinette went to the bathroom to prepare for bed, leaving Tikki to her cookie.

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