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scarlettriot · 4 years ago

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Stood Up

Pairing: Sero/F!Reader

Summary: When you find your dating making out with someone else at a Halloween party, Hanta swoops in and reclaims your evening, rekindling an old flame.

Contains: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Reader, Astronomy/Greek Lore Nerd Sero, Old flame

Warnings: 18+ Below the cut, Minors DNI! Swearing, Demi Problems, Praise/Smidge of Degradation, Name-calling (slut & whore), Pet names (Love, good girl, pretty girl), Car Sex, F Masturbation, Oral M Receiving (Road Head) I think that's everything

A/N: This took me much longer than I expected. It's also my first time writing Sero. Given the season, I decided to add a touch of Halloween and costumes to this one.

If you'd like to read other's in the Stood Up series, here are the links:

Stood Up - Bakugo - WC 3,502

Stood Up - Kirishima - WC 3,612

Stood Up - Kaminari - WC 2,461

Word Count Starting Below: 3,494

Denki Kaminari's annual Halloween bash was in full swing by the time Hanta had arrived. He'd come straight from patrol, wrapping himself up in his own tape making a half assed mummy costume for himself. Not like anyone would notice with the flashing colored lights, loud music, and abundance of liquor.

However, Hanta didn't even make it up to the double glass front doors of Denki's home. Not before doing a double take at the very familiar pirate that ran by him.

"Y/N?" You stopped allowing him the chance to catch up to you, "Holy shit, it is you, when the hell did you get back?"

Three years you'd been gone, working in America. Time differences and busy schedules made it so the two of you barely kept in touch. It was a shame, Hanta thought, considering how close the two of you used to be.

"I- uh- just a few weeks now. I heard you were helping out with the disaster relief after that storm."

It had to be his eyes playing tricks on him, the funny colors of the dancing lights were what made your cheeks look wet, right? Those couldn't have been tears.

"I was, yeah, but I got back yesterday. I didn't know-"

"Get the hell outta here!" His head snapped back towards the front of the house, just in time to see Eijiro, dressed in an impressive werewolf costume, literally throw someone out of the party. The guy drunkenly stumbled off, Eijiro walking over towards where Hanta was standing with you. "Y/N, you good?"

You nodded while Hanta tried to piece together what'd happened. "Sorry, it took me a second to find the bastard. Do ya wanna come back in? I'll make sure he leaves."

"No, Eijiro, thanks though. I'm just gonna head home."

The wolfman frowned but understood. "We'll have a smaller party for ya! Just the gang as a welcome home! You know Denki will look for any excuse to throw a party." He turned his gaze on Hanta. "A mummy, really?"

"You've been a damn werewolf for the last two years! You don't get to give me crap."

Eijiro poked the fuzzy pointed red ears carefully set into his spiky hair. "Mina and I worked real hard on this costume... seemed like a waste to only wear it once."

"We both know you haven't just worn those once, big man."

That got a chuckle out of you while all Eijiro could do was shrug and try to hide a shit-eating grin.

He asked you again if you'd like to stay and once more you said you were going to just head home. It was when you specifically said you were going to be walking home that Hanta spoke up offering to drive you back to your home since it was Halloween and people were creeps.

You were a damn pro hero but he still didn't feel right about just letting you walk home alone.

When you agreed he told Eijiro he'd be back soon and walked over with you to his car.

>>><<<

A part of you missed the old station wagon Hanta used to drive, not that this BMW he now drove wasn't absolutely amazing, you just sort of missed the comfort of the old car.

He waited until he'd reached the end of Denki's long, winding driveway to finally speak. "So, you wanna tell me what happened back there, or am I just supposed to pretend like Kiri didn't kick someone out on your behalf?"

"You could probably just ask Kiri and he'd tell you."

"I could, but, I'd like to hear it from you."

You knew you could tell him, there was nothing you couldn't tell Hanta. There was once a time when the man knew every single detail about your life. Sure, time and distance had put a strain on that relationship but you were back now. There was no reason why you couldn't at least start rebuilding what you and Hanta once had.

"Y/N, if you don't wanna say anything-"

"I was just casually seeing this guy. You know me and dating, how we don't always work out." You said abruptly and he quit talking, "And so, we weren't like official but we said we'd go to this party together. Well, I got here and went looking for him and found him making out with one of Hawks' sidekicks. I got a little upset when he noticed me and, well, he just said he found someone better."

Hanta actually stopped the car, pulled off to the side of the road, threw it in park, and looked right at you because he knew what found someone better meant exactly. You'd used those words in high school when that guy from Shiketsu that you'd been seeing got pissed off that you wouldn't put out and ended it with you. You went to his dorm crying because he 'found someone better', is what you told him. It took him a few hours to get the truth out of you.

You'd always been the kind of person to love with your entire heart but sexually, you'd confessed that you felt different from all the other kids your age back then. Not having the same urges and desires that everyone else seemed stricken with.

"Hanta, it's fine, really. Kiri heard the whole thing and, well, you saw what happened."

"Doesn't make it right! So, you went on a couple dates with a guy, that doesn't mean he just gets to expect you to put out for him! Even if you weren't demi, no one gets to just assume they deserve sex."

His lips were pressed in a narrow line, nostrils flared once in annoyance. He was usually so calm and laid back that you thought it rather cute when he got overprotective. "It's alright, Hants, really."

He still gave you a look that said he disagreed but then shook his head, dropping the subject for now at least.

"Still like those late-night drives?"

"I love them."

"Good."

Hanta waited for a car to pass and whipped the car in the other direction.

It wasn't long before he had the windows rolled down, conversations filling in the blanks of lost time, in between belting out choruses of your favorite songs. Minutes slipped by the further he drove, you lost track of both time and kilometers, letting him tell you all about the ridiculous antics the group had been up to.

Eventually, you caught the scent of salty air and even in the dark, you had a pretty good idea where Hanta was going. He followed a winding road, making two left turns and then a right leaving you on a stretch of road that paralleled the ocean.

You let your head fall against the seat, eyes falling shut and inhaling that wonderful smell you missed so much. Hanta had just one hand lazily on the wheel, his elbow resting out the open window, a relaxed smile was illuminated in soft orange lights off his dash.

You let your head roll onto his shoulder, not as easily done without the bench seat in his station wagon but it worked nonetheless. "Thanks."

His free hand came to rest on your knee, "Anytime."

He turned the wheel, pulling over and parking in front of a small beach access that you guys had found at 3 in the morning five years prior. Hanta kicked off his shoes, leaving them in the car to avoid them being sand-filled and you did the same with the knee-high boots purely because you longed to feel the sand between your toes.

The wooden planks were worn, parts buried beneath the sand until eventually, none remained. Breaking waves flooded your ears and you made a run for them! Before you could reach the lapping water though, tape had wound around your middle and yanked you backward.

"Not happening!" Hanta said firmly. "Last time I let you talk me into late-night swimming we didn't have a change of clothes either and we both got so sick! I think I might have actually died without Bakugo's soup!"

You chuckled, remembering being nineteen and curled up with Hanta on the sofa in the living room of the apartment you all shared for nearly a week. The sniffles didn't cease for almost three weeks.

"Okay, okay, no swimming." You flopped back down into the sand, his tape still attached meaning the cellophane hero was pulled down with you. "Tell me about the stars then, Hants. Who's out tonight?"

Astronomy was a hobby of Hanta's you learned about after moving into the dorms your first year. It wasn't uncommon to find him out on the roof most nights, laying on his back and looking up into the clear night sky littered with twinkling stars, usually with a joint pressed between his lips. It became almost a habit for him to grab you on his way up, pulling you along because you were more than happy listening to him tell you about each constellation and the stories behind them.

It was around this time of year, in your final year of high school; somewhere between him recalling the greek mythos of Aries and Sagittarius that you noticed your heart beating a little faster. You realized something had shifted between the two of you, and, holy shit, was this what it felt like to have a crush! When the hell did that happen?

You'd entrusted everything to Hanta back then, and now, laying in the sand shoulder to shoulder while he talked about Draco, that familiar feeling stirred again. You remembered what it was supposed to be like when you weren't forcing it for some random guy. How simple it was supposed to be.

You inclined on an elbow and he stopped mid-sentence. "Eh, everything alright?" You nodded but he looked anything but convinced, mirroring your position and asking you again.

It was easy for you to lean forward, to brush your lips against his for the first time in three years. And, when you pulled away, he looked about as shocked as he had the night you'd done it when you were eighteen.

"You- you still like me?"

When you left for America, you'd both agreed to put a pause on your sort of relationship. Free to date and screw whomever you pleased because three years was a long time and it just seemed like a fair decision to make. The realization that he might now have someone else special in his life dawned on you...

"Yeah but I totally understand if things are different now and I shoulda asked- oof!"

He kissed you so hard you toppled back into the sand, quick pecks, one right after another, ending them with a long one that nearly left you breathless.

"I didn't know how to bring it up. I didn't want to make you feel awkward about things or make you think I expected something. I thought that maybe since we didn't talk for a while your feelings might have changed."

"I can say with confidence they haven't."

"Thank fuck." He groaned and captured your lips in another searing kiss.

It was easy to lift his shirt off, the shreds of tape that remained were now covered with gritty sand that clung to your fingers as you traced the chest and torso you knew so well. Gliding over defined muscles, lingering on old scars and mapping out new ones he'd collected in your time apart.

His own hands were busy flicking open the brass fastenings of your corset, huffing about it being so much more difficult to get to your chest and something about it being very unfair.

By the time he'd undone the last one, bright headlights shown across the beach. "Shit."

Giggling ensued from the walkway and you both sighed, at least it wasn't the police or a hero patrol. Hanta gathered his shirt and ran back to his car with his hand in yours.

"I thought our days of being caught were over."

"At least it wasn't Mr. Aizawa this time."

A chill ran down your spine remembering the night and the lecture you'd received when your teacher had caught Hanta sneaking out of your room early one morning.

"So, uh, do you still plan on going to Denki's party?" You asked innocently enough but Hanta knew you far too well.

"I think I'm gonna miss it this year." His hand found a home on your upper thigh. "Apparently, you and I have a lot of catching up to do. Lost time to make up for and all that."

"Too bad you don't have that old station wagon anymore. If you did, we wouldn't have to wait to get back."

Dark eyes glanced over at you not so subtly parting your legs.

"I dunno. It's not too often I travel in the backseat of my own car but I've been told it's pretty roomy. Lots of legroom."

Your hand ran over your legs, dipping down to lightly brush your more sensitive parts, thankful you opted for the thin pair of black leggings rather than the dark skinny jeans. Your fingers danced again and this time you let a soft moan pass your lips. "Eyes on the road, Hants."

"That's a little hard to do when I've got you spread out in the passenger's seat." He grabbed your free hand and pressed it against the bulge in his pants. "You've got me distracted, filthy little woman."

You appreciated him testing the waters, a subtle way of checking if you liked those nicknames he used only in private with you, giving you a chance to protest if your likes had changed. They were one's that only felt right coming from him and you were eager to hear more.

Forgoing your own high, you leaned over the center console as best you could, undoing his belt first, followed quickly by his zipper letting his strained cock be free.

His grip tightened on your leg when you kissed the tip of him. "Just like old times, huh?"

A chuckle turned quickly into a moan, taking him in your mouth, pushing yourself further on his cock, fighting your gag reflex to get him down your throat. Hanta reclined his seat further, giving you more room to work with.

Your legs clenched tighter with every groan you pulled from him, wiggling your hips in the seat, letting a hand fall back between your own legs. There was an attempt of a moan around his cock when his fingers coiled in your hair. "Such a good slut. Keep fuckin' goin'." He let you continue at your own speed, needing to focus as best he could on the road rather than what you were doing but, damn, you were making that increasingly difficult.

He wasn't stopping you though. He rarely did. You'd sucked him off on countless drives before and only stopped when- "That's it." He lifted you off him by your hair at the same time he pulled off the road. There was a convenient turn-off, hidden by overgrown brush you noticed before he shut off the headlights.

Hanta took you by the chin, smearing drool. "Backseat, pretty girl." He reached into the glove box and pulled out a foil wrapper, "What do you say we test out that legroom?"

He wait to watch your smile grow wide before crawling into the back because he had to be the first to go if this had any chance of working. Once situated, pants under his thighs, he patted his lap for you to climb over.

You slid easily onto his lap, hands traveling up and over his shoulders, kissing hard while you rocked your hips against impossibly hard length.

There was so much comfort in the familiarity of him. It wasn't awkward to fall back into rhythm with Hanta, to remember that he loved the feeling of your nails dragging down his chest. And he was just as eager to get your shirt off, reach your breasts he'd missed so much, and get his tongue on your nipples.

Your head tipped backward, loving the pace he set, hips bouncing creating the perfect tug on your nipples between his teeth.

"Love, if I promise to buy you a new pair, can I rip these damn leggings? They're just so thin and-"

"Please." Your breathy moan had him smirking and with a single grunt the leggings were ruined, cool air from the vents had only a moment to touch your bare ass before Hanta's hands reclaimed it.

There was no way he hadn't felt your arousal before ripping your clothes off, you soaked through your panties and leggings, you knew that, but that didn't stop him from commenting on how soaked you were now on his fingers. "Want me inside you, whore? I think you do."

You nodded with a whimper and he slipped a finger in. "Hants, noo- I- I want your cock, please."

"You're gonna take my fingers like a good little slut first." You clenched at the words falling from his mouth. "So fuckin' tight you can barely take a finger. How'm I supposed to fit in here if you can even take a single finger? Need you to loosen up, alright." He pushed another finger in, scissoring the two inside you.

"This gonna make you cum? You need this bad, don't you? Tell me. Tell me how bad you need to cum."

"I want it. Please, please, I need it. I'm so close," You babbled and ripped the foil open with his teeth, rolling it with one hand on his cock. In an instant, his fingers had been replaced with this dick. Sticky fingers on your ass helping you ease down on him with a hiss.

"Fuck," Hanta let out a throaty chuckle, "You still fuckin' feel the absolute best." He dropped a kiss between your breasts, letting you adjust to his girth. "Perfect. Good girl. Such a fuckin' good little slut."

He wasn't about to last long. Not once you started bouncing up and down on him, your tits right in front of his face.

"Couldn't even wait for me to get you home, had to fucking tease me in the damn car." He held onto the fat of your ass, pulling you along him and slamming you down hard.

"Kinda pathetic how desperate you are. Fuck. Kinda hot too."

When the top of your head bumped the roof of the car, he scooted lower, trying to give you as much room to ride him however you pleased.

"What do you need? You wanna cum, don't you, pretty girl, what do you need?"

"Faster, faster please."

Hanta shifted even lower, making you grab onto the two headrests while he thrust his hips up into you at a rapid speed. His thumb on your clit was the additional stimulation you needed to fall over the edge. Nails clawing at the black leather as he continued to moan below you now chasing his own release.

You stayed poised above him, using every last bit of strength to stay upright until his mouth was rambling and his cock pulsed inside of you. Fingers bruising your skin before holding your pelvis snuggly against his.

He was bent in a way that looked entirely uncomfortable and yet he still smiled so widely. Reaching up to brush hair out of your eyes, "You okay?"

"Perfects, Hants. A little sore but I'm sure you are too." He moved off his lap, letting him slip out of you with a groan, "Is your neck gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Having you back, love, is more than worth a little bit of a neck cramp."

As he tied a knot in the condom, depositing it into a plastic bag he had tucked away under his seat, Hanta raised a brow, "Love, really, are you alright? Please, tell me if I hurt you at all."

"No! I'm good, why?"

"You're sitting silly."

You were sitting a little odd, perched on your knees rather than sitting on your ass because the leather was chilly and you told Hanta as much making him laugh. "Wait, I think I can help." He leaned back to the front of the car, flicking a button making it glow. Once he tucked himself back in his pants he hopped out of the car and you could see him rummaging in his trunk through the rear window.

"I keep forgetting to take this out from our camping trip a couple months ago. Guess it turned out to be a good thing." He laid the blanket down over the passenger's seat, declaring that should help a bit.

You wrapped the now toasty warm blanket around your bottom half while Hanta drove back towards the city, your head on his shoulder, his hand on your thigh.

"So, shopping tomorrow? I believe I owe you a pair of leggings..."

"It's a date."

#mha #mha smut #bnha #bnha smut #hanta sero #sero #sero smut #hanta sero smut #sero x reader #sero x y/n #hanta x y/n #hanta x reader #mha x y/n #mha x reader #smutober #kinktober 2021

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mermaidxatxheart · 4 years ago

Text

Better Together Chapter 5

Here's the next chapter. I hope you like it. Comments are always welcome. If you'd like to be added to my tag list, send me an ask. My works are not to be posted anywhere.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: violence, panic, swearing probably.

Chapter 4

Chapter Five

Leaves whip across your face, scratching the bruised skin of your cheek.

Dirt shifts under your feet.

Your fingers slip on Poe’s shirt and you struggle to regain your grasp.

Panting echoes in your ear, mirroring your erratic, pounding heartbeat.

Roots seem to stretch out of the ground, determined to trip you.

You can’t see more than a foot in front of you.

You stumble, crashing to your knees.

Poe’s grunt is muted, soft, as he lands next to you. Your entire torso feels like it’s on fire.

You want to stay down, to just give up.

But you can’t.

Not yet.

The river is ahead of you. You can hear it.

You start again, ignoring the burning in your muscles.

The trip back is impossible. Too long. Too far. Your urgency makes you clumsy. Your injuries make you weak.

Blaster fire snaps and crackles over your head and you yelp, ducking out of reflex. Poe shoots over your shoulder and you hear the grunt as one of your pursuers goes down.

You have to outsmart them, lose them before they can follow you to your ship. Everything will have been for nothing if that happens.

It takes more time than you can afford, but finally you can board. You guide Poe to the built in sofa and run to the cockpit, getting ready for take off.

Your hands are shaking.

You can’t breathe.

Your vision is doubling.

It’s blurry.

You smash the buttons, definitely not being careful. The engine rumbles after too long of being dormant. You push the throttle to full blast, not caring if you burned down the entire forest.

Fuck this planet.

You plot a random course, jumping to hyperspace the second you can. You run back to Poe, grabbing the cart of medical supplies. You don’t care about your own wounds, only focused on him.

“They probably,” he starts and you nod, jabbing him with a bacta shot.

“I know. I’m taking precautions.” You mutter, avoiding his face. You can’t look at him. Not now. Not after everything.

“Hey, do you think,” he starts and you clench your jaw together as you wrap his bleeding leg as best you can. “Do you think Leia is sobbing uncontrollably right now because she misses me so much?” He asks, hissing quietly.

“Yes.” You reply, tying it tight.

“It’s worse than I feared.” He continues and you push yourself up, heading back for the cockpit, not waiting to hear what’s worse.

You take your natural seat, the co-pilot’s chair and take the wheel. Your hands are scraped and bloody from falling, among who knows what else. The secret stitches all over your body pull uncomfortably, you’ve probably ripped them open. They were crude to begin with.

You can’t just sit here. You have to look for tracking beacons. You force yourself to stand and head back through the cabin, avoiding Poe, even though you can feel his dark eyes on you.

You don’t blame him for hating you. He’s in this mess because of you.

You search the entire ship, maintaining your isolation until you drop out of hyperspace. There’s no tracker inside. There’s a decent chance that the ship was never found in the first place. But you have to be sure.

You head back to the cabin and guide the ship to an asteroid, landing on the dark side. You don’t notice the bloody hand prints you’ve left everywhere, mind too wild and overwhelmed with panic.

“Y/N.” Poe starts and you ignore him, grabbing the oxygen mask and lowering the ramp. It’s cold outside the ship, cold enough to turn your fingers blue.

Good. Maybe they’ll freeze and fall off, and then you can’t hurt anyone else.

You climb all over the outside of the ship, checking in absolutely every little space that could hide something like that, but there’s nothing.

Still…

Hesitation eats at you.

You take a minute outside, hiding like a fucking coward, before going back in and starting the engines once more.

“Find anything?” Poe asks from behind you. You jump, smacking your hand on the hyper speed lever as you try to turn.

“Damn it.” You curse quietly, holding your throbbing hand to your midsection. “Go lay down. I’ve got this.” You tell him, turning back around, trying to get your heart to calm the hell down.

“Y/N,” he starts, but you can’t take the look in his eyes, the ones filled with regret.

“Go. I didn’t find anything.” You say shortly and he eases himself into the pilot’s chair-his seat.

He looks over the console, reading all the flashing lights as easily as a second language. “But you’re still light speed skipping?” He frowns, turning to look at you.

You don’t try to make him understand. How can you? Your last gut instinct turned out so bad, he can’t possibly trust you again.

“Safety precaution.” You mumble, flipping some more switches.

He studies you for a minute, the silence dragging on and you want to scream at him to stop, to go away. But you don’t. And the silence drags on.

“Alright.” He says finally. “But you’ll need my help.” He finishes and you squeeze your eyes shut before nodding. You start the flight sequence, your broken heart doing little twists in your chest. You don’t know if this is going to work, or if there’s even a need for it. But you’ve committed now, you have to follow through.

The ship lifts and you hover before punching it to hyperspace. Radar is still clear as you course correct around crazy land masses. Spires of solid rock shoot straight into the sky as you maneuver. Poe’s grip is tight on the wheel, he’s nervous. He doesn’t trust you.

And just as well.

But the realization still hurts. Your best friend has lost all faith in you.

You flip the next switch, lining up the next location and Poe initiates, sending you back into the seat with a painful grunt. He glances at you, but you won’t show weakness, not when he was nothing but strong for you. You can hide this.

Water reflects a brilliantly lit sky, two suns reflect off a glittering lake, almost blinding you as you rocket towards the tree line in the distance. Radar is still clear.

Again, another planet where you’re steering for your life, praying to the Maker that you don’t crash.

Another, and then just one more.

Poe is silent through the whole thing. Realizing you were wrong, you were never being followed, you cheeks heat with shame as you plot the course for home.

“Go clean your hands, I’ve got it from here.” He says finally.

Carefully, painfully, you peel your hands off. The skin, sticky with blood and cuts adheres to the wheel, pinching and pulling as you lift them. Fresh blood rushes to the surface and you hurry from the cockpit to the refresher.

You turn on the water and scrub your hands, removing more skin than you’re cleaning, doing just as much harm as good. Your reflection taunts you in the mirror, staring at you, blaming you. Wildly, you fling it open, exposing the cabinet behind with all of Poe’s things; medicine, shaving supplies. The tightness grows in your throat and you drop your gaze, scrubbing harder, as if that could make everything go away.

Your nose burns and your eyes blur and you sniffle. Maker, you’re fucking crying while Poe is in there, flying the entire ship by himself while he’s injured and you’re in here, crying like a little fucking girl because you feel guilty.

The ship drops out of hyperspace and you crash back into the wall, head smacking the corner of the shower stall. Pain flares down your neck as you struggle to regain your balance.

Poe’s voice comes on the speaker. “Sorry about that. Had to drop out early. Making our descent now.” He tells you.

“Do…” you cut off, your voice rough, and so fucking weak. “D-do you need help?” You manage and the silence drags on.

“No.” Comes the short reply.

You want to wail, to cry. To tell him how fucking sorry you are! You’re sorry for the kiss, and for getting him caught— but he won’t wanna hear your pathetic excuses and bumbling.

You slide to the floor, knees pressed tight against your chest as you try to breathe, try to steady yourself. The tight space helps, and acts as a compression unit. But it’s not enough. Not after everything you’ve done.

You can feel when the ship makes landfall and panic rises in your chest, sheer, blinding panic. The engines cut off and you hope Poe walks right off the ship to get looked at. Your ribs ache with the effort of holding everything in, of being silent.

And then a short knock on the door jolts you. “We’re here, Y/N. We’re home. Open the door.” He says, there’s something strange in his voice and for a moment your heart stutters in your chest. How sure are you that what you brought with you is actually your Poe? Does the First Order have capabilities on this level?

“You go ahead. I’ll b-be out in a minute.” You call and he sighs.

“Open the door.” He repeats.

“Poe, I-... I just need a minute. Please? Go get yourself taken care of.” You plead.

“You have to get looked at, too.” He reminds you.

“I know. I will.” You promise. Just not anywhere he can see you. There’s an uncomfortable moment of silence before you hear him turn and limp away.

You can hear him speaking at the bottom of the ramp, but then there’s a commotion and he’s shouting. Your name is mixed in and you scramble back from the door, already trapped, nowhere to go. Poe’s shouting gets louder, more frantic and tears finally escape as you shove yourself into the shower, twisting to hide. Clearly, this isn’t the resistance you left, the First Order got here before you, tricked Poe into landing. Now they’re going to finish what they started.

The door to the stall is pushed back, revealing a face you thought you recognized, but maybe your mind is playing tricks on you again. Blood loss is making you disoriented.

“Hey, Y/N, glad you’re back.” They say with a smile that seems to warp into something wicked. “Got something for ya, gonna make you feel real good.” He says, already reaching for you.

“No! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch m—“ you thrust your arm out to fend him off, but he jabs a huge needle into the crook of your elbow and you cry out as it pinches. “No,” you croak, already feeling weaker. Your knees no longer support you and you slump, falling right into their open arms.

“Get a table.” He barks over your head and you try to struggle. “Sh, sh, sh. It’s okay. You’re home now.” He promises, scooping you up and setting you gently on a flat surface. Foggy memories try to claw through the sedative, trying to warn you.

You try to roll off the table, you need to escape, you need to make sure Poe is safe. This is all your fault.

“Whoa, whoa. Easy, Y/N.” He says, catching your wrists and securing them to the table. You try to scream, looking around frantically. Faces are blurry, dissolving as the sedative claims you. You can hear Poe shouting your name as he tries to reach you. People are holding him back, stopping him from taking your hand.

“Give her another dose, she’s fighting it.” The man above you says. The last thing you see before everything goes dark is Poe, fighting to get to you.

***

The hike to their base is long. It takes about half a day for them to march you back there. Made worse by the fact that your arms are bound so tightly behind your back that you’re losing feeling.

Poe keeps looking at you to make sure you’re okay, but other than that, he won’t talk to you. You want to tell him you’re sorry for getting him caught, for kissing him and distracting him. And the way he won’t talk to you, the way he keeps cutting off your sentences tells you that he blames you, too.

The troopers are content to watch you trip and fall, laughing as they drag you to your feet again. Sometimes they’ll even purposely trip you just to watch you struggle.

One time in particular, if you had just fallen where their boot caught your ankle, you would have been fine. But you try to right yourself, stumbling forward awkwardly for a few steps before falling and bouncing your head off a rock. Your name manages to hiss through Poe’s clenched jaw, but other than that, nothing. You’re hauled unceremoniously to your feet and shoved forward, but you can feel blood trickling down your face.

They finally lead you into their base, sore and bruised, dragging you through the sterile halls until shoving you both into a room.

It’s a dark room, red lights dotting the walls sporadically. In the middle, two upright restraining tables facing each other.

Just like in your dream.

Chapter 6

Everything Tag List

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#poe fanfiction #poe x reader #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron fic #poe dameron angst #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe x you #reader insert #reader fanfiction #y/n #star wars fluff #starwars #star wars angst #star wars fic #star wars fanfiction #star wars #mermaidxatxheart writes

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planetsano · 5 years ago

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push and pull.

prompt: bakugou has been neglecting the reader because of work. she can't handle that because all she wants is love and attention.

warning(s): ceo!au, major sugar daddy vibes, aged up, hurt/comfort, f!reader, softie baku at the end.

pairing(s): bakugou katsuki x reader

You definitely felt like a spoiled brat. Walking around the Gucci store with a pout displayed on your glossed lips and nose held high like nothing in the vicinity was even close to being decent enough for you. Heels clicking lightly against the marbled flooring as you wandered around. This was such a drag. Your manicured finger lazily traced a handbag on a display table, it was probably worth someone's salary but you weren't interested. Your eyes were locked on the handsome blonde man pacing back and forth outside the big glass windows of the store. He was angrily speaking into the phone stopping ever so often to insult whoever was on the receiving end.

That— that stupid jerk is Bakugou Katsuki, your boyfriend, and he pinky promised to spend the day with you uninterrupted. Meaning no work calls, no emails, no boring paperwork— just you and him spending time together. He even promised to buy you that new handbag and the matching shoes you’ve been absolutely dying for but here you were in your current situation.

Recently, Bakugou has been incredibly busy with work but you couldn't exactly blame him. He was the CEO of a very successful multi-billion dollar company. But these past few weeks felt like you could never catch him not answering a business call or typing some boring email. Attempting to get one kiss from him always led you to be met with a dismissive wave of the hand as he answered the call. You knew it wasn't wise to bother him any further because he did have a temper. You’ve seen countless people on the receiving end of his rage and you didn't want to be met with it. Though it was sexy at times, you never liked upsetting him so you just left him alone. Always feeling deflated and discouraged as you opened up a tub of your favorite ice cream. Stress eating. This happened on multiple instances over the course of nearly a month. Quite frankly, you felt unwanted and it was driving you mad.

Walking around this store, there were so many beautiful and luxurious things, but your heart wasn't in it. Shopping wasn't much fun without his hand in yours giving you his opinions about how a dress or shoes would look on you, helping you zip up your dresses and sneaking naughty makeout sessions in the dressing room. Don't worry, you knew you looked pathetic. All pouty and woe as me. My rich boyfriend isn't giving me attention, life is so tough… you could laugh at yourself right now.

You missed him a lot but you were understanding… as understanding as you could be. You wondered if it was selfish to feel this nasty feeling pooling in your chest and stomach. Was it selfish to feel.. neglected? Was it selfish to want to have him all to yourself for just a day?

Was he.. losing interest in you? Was there someone else? Surely work couldn't take up that much of his time.. Did you upset him recently and didn't realize? Feelings of anxiety and nausea started to bubble up within you.. You didn't feel well at all and started to get sick to your stomach the more you got caught up in your thoughts. You wanted to leave. Now.

You hastily exited the store to find Bakugou. It looked like he was just about to come back in to find you, but you stopped him in his tracks. Almost immediately he noticed how drained you looked. Like there was something bothering you. He thought maybe some had said something rude to you but before he could react you spoke.

“Baby, can we go home? I don't feel good..” You looked up at him with a frown, your dainty hand resting on his chest.

The car ride back was quiet. Bakugou noticed your sudden change in demeanor causing him to take more than a couple glances at you in the passenger seat. Usually you'd be so bright and talkative, ushering him to sing along to whatever shitty song you had playing but you were radio silent. Maybe you actually didn't feel good? He would make ure to have his assistant buy you some medicine.

Men are so clueless..

“You ready?”

Your eyes averted their attention from your reflection to the handsome blonde casually adjusting his cufflinks behind you. He looked absolutely stunning standing there in an all black suit accompanied with a red tie. It not only complimented his eyes beautifully, but it matched your sparkly red gown as well. It almost pissed you off how he could be doing the bare minimum and still manage to look that good. But now wasn't the time to oogle. You came up with the conclusion that if he wanted to neglect you then you’d give him a dose of his own medicine. You ignored his presence and picked up your favorite highlighter and a brush, dusting your collarbones lightly to make them pop.

Bakugou walked a few steps closer and you continued to focus on your reflection in the mirror. He leaned over to plant a single kiss on the end of your shoulder, then made a trail of light and soft kisses along your shoulder blade, to the base of your neck and finally to that sensitive part of skin just below your earlobe. It took everything in you, plus more not to give in to his affections, but you desperately wanted to melt under him. You were so incredibly touch starved, especially these days. You missed him, but at the same time you were so upset with him. You couldn't just give in the moment he realizes you exist again. Fuck him. You were supposed to be angry. Not needy.

“You look fuckin’ amazing..” His voice was deep as he whispered into your ear. You closed your eyes tightly and sighed deeply, quickly getting up from your vanity stool and brushed past him, not even looking in his direction. You didn't get far before Bakugou grabbed your wrist and pulled back towards him fully closing the gap between you two and secured an arm around your waist making sure you weren't going anywhere.

God, you could feel him staring a hole into your head as you looked off to the side avoiding eye contact at all costs. You just couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eyes. You’d break.

Bakugou grabbed your face with his free hand forcing you to look at him, temporarily squishing your cheeks and making your lips go into a kissable pout. His harsh crimson gaze was locked onto your doe like eyes making you feel incredibly vulnerable and shy. You hated the power he had over you. Something as simple as eye contact making your ears and cheeks flare up in the color red. The thoughts and emotions from earlier coming back all at once threatening to make you sick all over again.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He asked bluntly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and irritation from your behavior. He could see something was bothering you and it was pissing him off that you weren't talking to him.

“Nothing.. I promise..” You replied. “I'm happy! See?” You forced a smile on your face as Bakugou watched your bottom lip quiver and eyes water as you tried to pathetically convince him you were fine all while looking like a kicked puppy.

“You’re a shit liar. You're about to fucking cry.” Bakugou’s hand shifted to cup the side of your face. You leaned into the warmth of his hand

“Tell me what's wrong.” His voice was still blunt and expression still stern. He never wants to see you like this. Sure, you got upset or even bratty from time to time but he's never seen you in this state and it worried the fuck out of him.

“I-I.. I just-!” You struggled to find proper words to convey how you felt. His thumb rubbed your cheek gently somewhat calming you down and keeping you from hyperventilating.

“Breathe.” His voice and expression softened upon seeing you teary and vulnerable.

“I just miss you!” You blurted out. Bakugou looked down at you with his brows furrowed in confusion.

“You're so busy with work you seem to forget I exist, I don't say anything because I-I’m proud of you and I want you to be successful! I understand you're very busy but.. but is it too much to ask for thirty minutes of your time? Katsuki, I miss spending time with you-” Bakugou watched you pour out all your emotions and thoughts like word vomit.

Guilt hit him all at once like a fucking train seeing you crying because of him. He was the reason you felt like this and he wanted to punch himself in the face for not noticing how unhappy you were sooner. He did admit that work seemed to be the only thing he’s been about lately. Neglecting his love life, his friends, his family, maybe even his own health. Even holding you this close made him realize that he hasn't been.. this close in proximity to you in a while. He fucked up.

“I-Is there someone else? Is that it? My hair.. I can change it if you'd like. Do you still love me? I-” That was the final straw for him. He cut you off with a swift kiss to the lips. It surprised you but you almost immediately moved your lips into sync with his. The kiss was sloppy and too many emotions fueled it, but the most prevalent one was want.

Bakugou’s heart ached hearing your words. Of course he still loved you. Everything about you was perfect in every way, there was no way on Earth he would lose you over some random extra that probably only wanted him for his money and last name. The fact that you were so.. willing to change for him to make him happy because you were so in love seemed so... wrong. He thought that if anything he should be the one trying to make you happy. He couldn't give a fuck whether your hair was long or short, curly or straight, he loved you regardless. Your appearance was never a factor in his feelings for you. Only a bonus.

He pulled away from your lips suddenly and looked at you. Your eyes were puffy, mascara was running and your lipstick was smeared but you still looked beautiful. It was a look he particularly liked but, it was not under these circumstances. You were usually on your knees.

“Don't say stupid things like that.” Bakugou started.

“..I'm so shit at relationships..” He struggled with his words and you could see it in his face. He wasn't ever one to express how he felt.

“‘m sorry for treating you like a fucking stranger.. you know I love you. No one else could even hold a fucking candle to you, that shouldn't even be a thought in this pretty fucking head of yours.” He sighed.

“I don't fucking care about how your hair looks.. I only care about you.” He finished.

Your crying stopped at some point when he was speaking and you were only met with soft hiccups. Bakugou wiped the final few tears from your cheeks and left a kiss on your forehead.

“Stop crying over me. I'm not worth it.” He whispered against your skin. For some reason his words shocked you. Not worth it? You thought was worth all your tears plus more, what was he on about? Did he really think he wasn't good enough for you?

“You don't say stupid things like that either. You're worth all the good things in the world.” You said softly. Bakugou’s heart fluttered at your words and he almost felt himself blush. There was a comfortable silence before you spoke up again.

“Oh no,” You looked at the time. “We're going to be late to the event and I look atrocious” You looked up at him with a pout.

“Fuck it. They'll be fine without us. Those bastards are annoying as hell anyway.. Let's get dinner, yeah? You can pick where we go.” Bakugou proposed and you smiled.

“Let's go.” You stood on your tippy toes and planted a kiss on his lips.

a/n: I hope you guys enjoyed this! For only 2k+ words I feel like I took forever to write this. I just wanted it to be up to standard.. feedback would be amazing. Also, my requests are open! Thank you for 100 followers! ❤️

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou imagines #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki imagine #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia imagines #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha bakugou

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creativeashproductions · 4 years ago

Text

Elysium // Luke Patterson

Summary: The boys of Julie and the Phantoms need a hail Mary to dethrone Downslide from opening for Panic! At the Disco. While Willie is done to help his blue eyed crush and his friends there’s one issue: Willie can’t drive the bus. Moving a bench is one thing but driving an entire tour bus? There’s only one person who can and Willie’s not sure where she is after year of no communication

Warnings: Swearing, angst, talk of death (it’s a ghost show, why is this a warning??), mention of assault, violence, and fluff.

Words: 11.5k

A/N: This is why I haven’t posted much in the last week. I’ve been writing this massive fic that I refused to turn into a series. My god, 11k words. I don’t think I’ll be doing this again. Enjoy and comment if you figured out who Rudy is!

Masterlist

There wasn’t much in the afterlife that you enjoyed after time spent in the limbo between the living and dead. Listening to songs before they were released lost its appeal just as much as dancing on stage with the ballet companies around the world, of being an unseen extra in shows and films being filmed.

Then you found a purpose a couple, well it could be more than a couple, years ago when you found a lost soul. William Young, Willie to his friends, had been sitting on the curb staring at the pavement entirely still as he had for two days.

The time from the last breath you took to walking the streets of Los Angeles was a blur in all honesty. The years bled together as you stayed stationary in a world that kept on spinning and changing, growing up. You had watched your friends hit new milestones you could only daydream about. Friends that graduated college and built new lives on the ashes of memories that included you.

Today’s walk was an attempt to escape your friends’ greying versions standing in front of a once vibrant sculpture. It happened every single year, but this one hurt the most. Listening to your friends recall stories of all the adventures you did together.

From being drunken idiots jumping off cliffs into that one lake the summer of freshman year. Or making a bonfire on the school’s roof with all the entryways blocked, rather stupid with the exits being blocked as well. Sneaking into concerts and stealing that one car that came close to sending you to boarding school.

The rebellion that still lived in you had mellowed in the five individuals with the adult responsibilities of family and work. Martha had removed all piercings but her lobes while Chase quit dying his hair colour. Jordan now had three children and a bought house.

Seeing the group no longer young had made your feet swiftly move from the memorial for a walk. The only thing that stopped you in your tracks was tripping over something in front of you.

“Ouch.” You hissed rolling onto your back with a moan of pain that faded with the sniffles.

Curled into his knees, sitting on the curb was a teenage boy about your age. Long hair curtaining his profile you found your eyes grasping the cracked helmet that spoke for itself abandoned by his side.

“Your kinda a hazard there.” You simply spoke sitting down next to the distraught teenager, “Heads up, I suck at comforting people.”

At his silence, you spoke once more, “I’m digging the tie-dye. Did you do it yourself?”

“This is some kind of stupid coma dream right?” The boy’s voice was husky from crying and disuse, “I’m probably in some kind of hospital with a tube down my throat.”

“I’d say yes, but it would be a blatant lie.” You spoke twirling a loose thread on your jeans while the stranger gazed at a spot on the street.

His dark brown eyes bloodshot as he remembered the car honking mere seconds before he heard the sound of a thud. He recalled struggling to breathe with his broken ribs and his screams being illustrated with bloodstains.

He remembered thinking how he had just bought that board a week ago with his allowance.

“Am I really dead?”

“Yes. We’re are a couple ghosts in a lively city.” You informed him with one handheld in the space between your ethereal forms. The teen hesitantly placed his hand in yours with a firm shake.

“William but call me Willie.” He softly told you, catching sight of the patch on your jean jacket—one of many from both when your grandma owned it and then when you did.

“I’m Y/N. Let’s blow this disappointment. I’m gonna teach you everything you need to know.” Brushing off the invisible dust on your jeans, you held your hand out to him, “We’re about to make the afterlife our bitch.”

A stark contrast to his former hesitance he immediately grasped your hand to tug himself off the curb. The forlorn skater didn’t question the board in your hand or how he could possibly even touch his own board. He didn’t wonder how it wasn’t in pieces like it had been when he first got hit.

That rebellion that ended your life flared again in the presence of your best friend with crashing Justin Bieber’s house. Of rearranging items in classrooms to freak teachers out and sitting in the cars turning the radio on and off. Haunting the living until the friendship fractured under the influence of a powerful ghost.

Caleb Covington had bewitched the skater with promises and extravagant gifts until Willie had taken the offer.

“He’s not like you said he was! I think you should give him a chance!” Willie cried following you around the place you had taken to be home.

“Willie he’s a bad guy! He butters you up until you give him what you want! That’s when you see his true colours. All he wants is your soul to power his magic and spread his reach!”

“I got to talk to my sister!”

“Your sister is five years old! It’s not Covington that gave you the opportunity. She won’t remember the experience as anything other than an invisible friend!”

“There are so many people at the Club that we can talk to. Aren’t you tired of the same routine and people we see?”

Willie’s pleading brought your full attention to the skater avoiding your gaze, “William Young…you took his offer.”

Willie tore his gaze from the art on the wall to find yours blatantly glaring at him with a bucket of random colour in your hand.

“The Club is going to France to tour around the country for a while. I’m dead, so I might as well make the best of it. Besides who gets to skate through the Louvre!” Willie beamed, watching as a small smile, found its way on your face at his excitement, “I’m sure Caleb would let you come to the Club tonight!”

“Willie, you are my best friend, but I’ve already seen the Club. It’s not my style, and I want nothing to do with it.”

That interaction was one of the very few speckled through the years when Caleb discovered who you were. No matter his offers, you never took the deal and when he saw how close you and Willie where he kept the skater busy. The Club didn’t appear in Los Angeles for a long time until Willie’s distance seemed too great to bridge.

“So, you need a way for the slot to be empty?” Willie asked the trio of ghosts all spread around the area.

Unfortunately for Luke, the only person they could get help from was from the very guy that placed them in a predicament. While Alex was the one spearheading the conversation with the long-haired skater Luke was glowering in his direction.

“The Orpheum was the thing we never got to do. We spent hours practising and performing with one goal-“

“Play the Orpheum and get distance from our parents. Well, at the time that streetdog and becoming legendary was my main focus.” Reggie recounted the feeling of suffocating in a house filled with fighting. A home he wished still stood, now dead all he wanted was to see his parents.

“We almost did it too.” Luke pouted relaxing his glare at the skater who openly sent apologetic gazes at Alex’s bandmates.

“So, we need to get rid of the opening band.” Willie nodded to himself, thinking about ways before he caught sight of the abject horror on the band. The skater’s eyebrows raised, “I know I deeply fractured the trust, but I’m not suggesting murder.”

“Okay. Good.” Reggie whistled relaxing his tense posture while Luke grumbled under his breath an insult that in turn got Alex’s arm into the guitarist’s ribs.

“Your best bet would be getting the bus out of LA. The band will probably celebrate the upcoming gig.”

“Could you make the bus disappear?” Alex hesitantly questioned shifting in his now vintage sneakers. The blonde-haired drummer flushed slightly under the endearing smile from the skater. The feelings create a confliction within Alex under Willie’s issue, leading them straight into a madman’s hands.

“I can move a bench, turn sirens on, but a bus is outside my paygrade.” Willie openly admitted showing his hands deep in his pockets, “The only person other than Caleb that has enough power-“

“-is he just as evil?” Luke demanded crossing his arms to glare at the male that had unfortunately caught the interest of Alex.

However, Luke couldn’t blame Alex for falling for this guy because well, Luke saw the teenage ghost’s appeal. Willie was attractive, but he wasn’t the type of person Luke would fall for. Plus he had initially made Alex incredibly happy, and Luke would never blame Alex for that.

“She is as different from Caleb as one can be. She uh…she taught me everything about being a ghost. Actually, found me where I died.” Willie cleared his throat as the guilt and sadness reared its head from deep within him. The guilt of leaving his little sister to grow up without him and the sorrow of not growing up with the girl.

It wasn’t often Willie allowed himself to remember the little girl, barely five when he died, who was always dancing. His little sister adored the colour purple and anything shiny and more than once Willie had let her dress him up. Willie’s greatest regret is that he’d never have that interaction with her. God, she’d be around his age now and in high school.

“Okay, so where is she?” Reggie clapped his hands, bringing the skater out of his thoughts and back into the present.

Luke saw the hesitation in Willie, “There’s a catch, isn’t there?”

“Kinda?” Willie trailed off bouncing on the balls of his feet, “I haven’t seen her in years now. Last time I saw her we fought about the whole joining Caleb thing? I’m not even sure if she’s still in LA.”

“Of fucking course,” Luke grunted shoving both hands in his hair taking a few steps away from the other ghosts.

First, he dies, then he gets caught up in some bullshit revenge plot, then makes a deal with the devil without realizing it, and now their one chance is going up in flames. Luke Patterson was livid with the universe and the shitty hand he had been dealt, but at least he had his friends with him.

“It can’t hurt to look for her?” Reggie innocently offered with a shake of his shoulders, “It’s not like we have any other option.”

“Did we ever even have options?” Luke hissed, causing Willie and Alex each to flinch with the different guilt they carried.

Alex was guilty of going to Willie for help when getting back at Bobby was the biggest thing. Willie was guilty of ignoring his instincts on keeping Alex as far from Caleb as he could be he just wanted to impress the drummer. It’s not like Willie had many options for dating, and well, Alex was the first to get his entire focus.

“Dude. Stop. No one saw it coming.” Reggie bumped his hip against the annoyed guitarist, “Let’s find this ghost and get our shot at playing.”

The quartet of dead guys didn’t have high hopes of finding the girl in question, but it seemed the universe took pity on Luke Patterson. Just two hours into their search on the edges of the city limits an individual was walking.

The person’s stature leaned against a smashed concrete wall of the skeleton of where a building once was. The only thing the group could make out was a faded jean jacket with splotches of colour. Her ankles crossed as her back leaned against the cement, oozed laid back confidence. Coming closer, Luke noticed the sunglasses perched on top of her head and the lips painted dark.

“What do you need Willie? I heard you were looking for me.” The husky voice drew Luke in the most. The lead guitarist of Julie and the Phantoms enamoured with the girl.

“How’d-“Willie’s question was cut off as you simply tapped your right index finger against your temple.

“How do you think you managed to get here?” You inquired pushing off the cement to stride over to the group. To Willie’s surprise, he was tugged into your embrace before swiftly pushed away, “Come on. We should head in before someone catches us.”

In the dark as much as the other three ghosts, Willie dutifully followed you past the pieces of cement littered around the area. Gasps of surprise sounded as the once empty space became filled with buildings. It was not as extravagant as the hotel the Club worked out of, but it was hidden from the living and dead eyes.

“Where did this come from?” Reggie gasped astounded by the people once hidden from his view, moving around the area.

“This is Elysium. Don’t judge the name I lost the right in a poker game with Susie and Rudy. I’m Y/N.” You informed the group leading them to the gate where two people stood stoically guarding it, “Rudy was hellbent on calling it Valhalla.”

“This is Luke, Reggie and Alex.” Willie gestured to the awed trio of musicians only lingering on the blonde. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see the attraction between the skater and the blonde; finding a date in the afterlife was a lot harder than the living.

Nodding a greeting to the two ghosts, you lead the group to a building painted a pretty turquoise blue colour. The sign above the double doors a stark white with calligraphy writing simply stating Elysium Management. It was a building set up like an administrative office of three stories, and you led the group right up to the top floor.

“Just a heads up…Rudy is a little suspicious of people.” You admitted standing outside a door with a nameplate the only descriptor, “He’ll come off a little gruff and rude, but when you get passed that he doesn’t shut up.”

“I can hear you through the door dumbass.” The words were called out from the office door opening.

The man standing in the entry wore a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His honey-brown eyes lit up with a teasing look before it shuttered at the sight of four strangers behind you. Rudy had valid reasons to not fully trust people after the shitshow in his hometown when he was alive.

“And you’ve brought strangers.” Rudy deadpanned with a sigh concluding his sentence as he stepped back into the office. It appeared like the world repositioned itself on the young man’s shoulders once more.

“I should be done within the hour. We can go over everything.” You informed your business partner and friend. Receiving only a nod from Rudy, you closed the door to his office, cutting off the view from your guests.

“He’s..uh.”

“Standoffish? Rudy keeps his past to himself, all he’s ever revealed is that he’s from a town a few hours away.” You spoke, opening the door to your own office decorated differently from Rudy’s more sterile black and white aesthetic.

Your office had splashes of colour with vintage posters of both music and film framed on the walls—a plush couch in the corner with a basket of blankets next to it. Instead of sitting behind the dark desk, you chose the couch instead. As you settled in the corner, you flicked one finger bringing an extra seat over.

The motion shocking the three boys accompanying Willie who had seen the abilities himself.

“Okay so why did you want to search for me?” You questioned the skater leaning back in the seat.

“When did this all happen?” Willie countered gesturing to the office in a building settled in the middle of a ghost town. A literal ghost town.

“There’s an empty lot in LA that used to house an abandoned apartment building that Rudy and I both called home. Of course, it was torn down, and we kinda knew that there’s wasn’t a place that didn’t have the threat of being annihilated at some point.” The memories of those unknown days trickled into your mind among the more positive ones, “We wanted a home. A place to call our own.”

“A week or so later a skittish pixie of a brunette crashed into us full speed. Susie had a certain ability that Caleb desired to have under his thumb. There are so many ghosts he had manipulated into selling him their soul. Rudy and I both wanted to stop Caleb from having that chance for everyone.” You continued, “Can I show you?”

The moon shone through the light clouds as a duo wandered LA’s streets in different mental states. The only home you had known had been unceremoniously ripped down with no future plans in place. Your entire life had been in that apartment in a building you had once thought only you inhabited. You had been unaware that on a separate floor, Rudy had been dwelling.

The two teens in starkly different clothing grew close with each other through the whole being the dead thing they shared. The mission was to find another place too, use but the feeling of home being ripped away tore at their hearts. The apartment was a place Caleb Covington hadn’t been aware of.

Your thoughts threatened to turn darker as a force knocked you onto your bac—aA short brunette groaning in pain to the left of you. The girl was Gwen, who would become very important to both Rudy and you.

I’ve always been a little different than most people. I can move things short distances, but I developed a specific talent. I can get inside people’s minds to plant, remove or alter memories or simply talk and read their thoughts.

The sound of your voice in their heads freaked them out more than they would like to admit. The intrusive tickle of something in their brains unsettling as you made a more present entry so they could feel it.

“What?”

“This is why I can’t be anywhere near Caleb. The whole reason he gives people stamps and takes their souls is because of me.” You fully admitted clasping your fingers in your lap, “He couldn’t cope with the fear of another ghost leaving so added a stipulation to joining his Club.”

“How did you come to create Elysium?” Alex inquired leaning forward in his seat to rest his elbows on his knees. Luke and Reggie followed his posture as the anticipation built.

“Everyone deserves a safe place. A place as far away from Caleb as possible and we do so for free. No fee is required, and ghosts are free to come and go as they please. They are welcome as long as their unfinished business keeps them in this plane.”

It sounded like a sweet deal to the group of teens, but they had other commitments, “You can tell us more, but we need your help.”

The pleading in the messy-haired brunette tore at your heartstrings like the one time Willie brought you to his house. It had been shortly before your friendship fractured, a few years ago. He had brought you to a suburb for low-income families and straight to the backyard where a twelve-year-old year danced.

The dead skater boy and the rebel sat in the patio chair on the tiny porch nestled in the postmark sized backyard. A quintet of pre-pubescent girls danced on the lawn to some bubblegum pop song. The Young girl was submissive to a more confident girl even when the venue was the Young girl’s home.

“The girl to the left is my little sister Kayla. She’s twelve now, it’s been seven years since I died.” Willie’s brown eyes saddened at the dancer who had a spark of maturity in her eyes, “I check in every once in a while. These are Kayla’s friends. The bossy girl is Carrie, and while the band is a group, she is the unofficial leader of the band Carrie’s Constellations.”

“She looks happy.”

“Kayla’s always been bubbly in personality, but she had questionable friends.” Willie outright admitted keeping his eyes pinned to the girl that had grown up in a blink of an eye. Her dark hair concealed by the gaudy purple wig; the colour assigned to the teenager.

“It’s nice that she still enjoys dance.” Willie finished reaching out to grab your hand in his and just like that Willie transitioned back into carefree, “I found this really cool skatepark I think you’d like.”

“We don’t have a lot of time.” Alex winced as the three musicians flinched as a sudden purple spark of colour lit up their midsections.

Like a tentacle, your mind reached into the quiet raven-haired boy with the leather jacket. Beyond the imagery of docile golden retrievers and steaming plates of food, you found the regret and fear in the boy. Stepping into a recent memory, you watched their experience at the Hollywood Ghost Club.

“You’ve met Caleb.” You sighed roughly pushing your index finger between your brows feeling the familiar ache.

“It was a stupid decision,” Luke spoke up, tearing his focus from the mysterious girl that ultimately had the power in her hands. The entire plan was weighing on the decision you would give, “Either we join his house band, or we don’t exist.”

“Hm.” You spoke as the kaleidoscope of colours in Luke’s eyes glittered under the sterile lights of the room. It was difficult to look away from the enthralling teenage ghost, but the emotion wafting off Willie was concerning.

“They died before they could perform at the Orpheum. We’re banking that getting the opening slot with giving them the push into crossing over.” The long-haired skater leaned closer, “I know we haven’t talked in a while, but I can’t do much.”

“So, you want to pull ’09 incident again?” You completely ignored the trio on the couch staring directly at the sheepish skater with raised eyebrows, “Only this time without the train?”

“Train?” Alex whispered, looking between the two long-time friends with interest and then next thing he knew Alex was in the backseat of a van crushed between Reggie and Luke equally confused.

Chicago, Illinois 2009

William Young and Y/N Y/L/N were complete hellions in the ghost world, creating havoc that fascinated the living population. The recent event being the highjacking of a van filled with drunk teenage boys. These boys had been the sole reason a young girl was recovering in a hospital with life-threatening injuries. The scene changed to a hospital room with Willie and Y/N watching a girl with massive bruising laid.

It had hit both Willie and Y/N hard catching the tail end of the new report, Willie thinking of how that could have been his sister. Even if Kayla was only five years old, having a sister set things more in perspective. For you it was a flashback to when you were alive and thus led you to the ICU room for the girl.

Slipping into her unconscious mind was easy but while the injured teen appeared peaceful to the hospital staff, she was anything but. The poor girl’s mind replayed the traumatic incident over and over like a movie; keeping in the shadows, you gently repainted the portrait with lighter and brighter images.

For Willie, he watched as you wavered on your ghostly feet and smoothed out the features of the girl. The heart monitor subtly changing as the injured girl relaxed, and suddenly your interference heightened her chances of survival.

“I got it.” You spoke to Willie with a heated glare on your features and when the ghostly musician trio blinked they were back in the van.

Your hands gripped the van’s steering wheel with Willie turned in the passenger seat to watch a group of living boys scream. To the living eyes in the van, no one was in the front seats but whispered words spoke into their minds.

You’re going to go straight to the police and tell them what you did. You’ll hand over the photographic evidence and demand the worst punishment. You’ll leave the girl alone, or we’ll come back to finish our job. You will pay for the hospital bills if the family agrees.

The boys trembled with the putrid scent of urine permeating the enclosed vehicle. The distant sound of a train echoed in the distance as the van stopped on the tracks. No matter how much the living boys moved the doors refused to open, and the windows remained unbreakable.

“WE promise!” The ringleader cried, slamming his shoulder against the door with the train’s bright lights illuminating the van.

“Let us go!” The other screamed, slamming his bruising hands on the window.

Alex was flinching at each slam of fists on the glass, leaving smears of blood. Knuckles broke from the window. At the very last second, your foot slammed the gas pedal taking the van millimetres from the train screeching on the tracks.

You and Willie stared at the stationary train lit up from the van’s headlights with the rhythmic flashes of the red and blue police lights. The van’s seat arrangement was different with the ringleader in the driver’s seat.

The three ghost musicians standing unseen behind the duo but in the real world out of the dreamlike memory you knew.

Elysium, Present Day

“Holy fucking shit.” Alex cussed out of breath, leaning back on the couch with shaking limbs and fear in his bloodless veins.

Luke’s eyes blinked owlishly at the boy that he had once thought could never do something as terrifying and torturous. He was afraid to even ask the outcome of the life-threatening incident you did on the assailants.

“That is the reason for the train.” You barely glanced at the shaken trio to stare at who had once been your partner in crime, “Willie, I have responsibilities here. We just opened a new division for the children we house here.”

“It would take a few hours.” Willie pleaded, positioning his hands into a pleading position turning on his charm. The puppy eyes you had always struggled to say no to as if you weren’t the type of person easily capable of staying strong.

“We’ll do anything.” Luke pleaded just as much recalling the countless times he had charmed himself out of situations, “Please help us.”

“I’ll have to make arrangements with Rudy and Susie, but I might be able to pull some strings. I’m really sorry Willie, but I’m gonna need to erase your knowledge of this place. There are too many people depending on this setup.”

Outside the Orpheum

Outside the legendary venue, three out of four band members for Julie and the Phantoms walked up to the marquee. Hopefully, the letters for Downslide would be changed into their band name just under the main act. Everything was riding on Willie and Y/N’s capabilities. Trusting the skater was challenging to do and more so someone they didn’t fully know.

“Look, don’t worry, guys. Willie said he’d get us on that marquee.” Alex soothed his friends on each side of him. All three wearing concerned expressions at the place that hopefully was their last stop before crossing over.

“This is gonna work, right?” Reggie questioned with his hand confidently sliding into the pockets of his black jeans. The relaxed posture a juxtaposition to the anxiety and nerves on his flushed face.

“It has to.” Luke’s lips pursed into a pout with his words tinged with a dialect different from his best friends. The faint souvenir from the place he spent a few years growing up before moving to LA.

Luke’s words were highlighted by the groans of pain as that flash of purple courtesy of Caleb’s death stamp appeared. All three hunched over clutched their chests breathing through the pain; Luke was the first to unfurl his form.

“Whoa!” You gasped flashing underneath the marquee beside Willie. Rushing to give Luke support without even a second thought.

When the aftershock faded, the guitarist stood straight up with a thankful smile that boarded on adoration.

“Are you guys, okay?” Willie asked, keeping back with the swell of guilt that happened, seeing the familiar symptoms of post-shock. He had felt them a time or two in the time he had sold his soul to his unfortunate boss.

“Yeah, it’s nothing we haven’t felt before,” Alex replied, rubbing his hand over the baby blue shirt he had chosen today. His blue eyes doing their best to avoid looking into the puppy-like ones of the skater, “How’d it go?”

“Well, when that opening band wakes up, they’re gonna find their bus 200 miles outside of Vegas.” Willie proudly announcing turning on his heel to show off the Downslide jacket he took from the lead singer. His fist extending to bump yours instinctively before he did so with Luke.

“With no chance of getting back in time.” You snickered in response living on the adrenaline and nostalgia of the rebellion. With Elysium, you had turned around your life, “Meaning-“

“-there’s probably a promoter upstairs right about now freakin’ out.”

“Nah. This is Hollywood, man.” Willie scoffed with a wave of his hand matching the one you supplied, “I’m sure he’s being very professional.”

As Willie finished his sentence up in the promotor’s office out of earshot of the ghosts stood a very pissed adult. His finger-wagging his finger with teeth clenched, his flushed skin a juxtaposition to the cheery blue Hawaiian style shirt. Frank Wolfe couldn’t believe how stupid his once opening band was.

“What do you mean the bus drove itself into the middle of the desert?” Frank questioned progressively growing more and more frustrated. His assistant Tasha casting concerned looks to her typically collected boss, “BUSES DON’T DRIVE THEMSELVES!”

Tasha flinched at the sudden loud growl of the sentence but more so as Wolfe starting slamming the phone into the cradle. Her fingers halting on her keyboard, going over the list of frequent acts. Unfortunately, the five acts had other commitments causing Tasha to fear tonight. The blonde lady was worried Wolfe could have a breakdown once more.

While Willie snickered to his own words, your eyes, not your mind, could read that Alex wanted to talk to the skater. With only a teasing jab of your elbow in Willie’s ribs you shuffled around the drummer to join Reggie and Luke away from the ‘will they won’t they’ couple.

“So, can you do me a favour?” Luke hesitantly questioned you with his inquisitive eyes a greener colour in the sunlight. His attractive eyes took your full attention with a simple tilt of your head, “Julie’s family means a lot to us, and could you keep an eye on them?”

“And Carlos,” Reggie interjected rocking on his polished pleather boots he had spent ages on finding for his rocker aesthetic back in the ’90s.

“-Julie’s little brother.” Luke supplied at the confusion painted clearly on your pretty features. His green eyes scoured your face as he always did that flushed both his and your faces red.

“Yeah, of course, I can.” You firmly told the two dead boys each standing tense in front of you.

You could easily see the love they held for the living family that had come to mean so much in such a short amount of time. Since first meeting them you had always gotten the feeling that their living years weren’t the best. For Alex, it was living in the ’90s as a young gay teenager during a terrifying time for the LGBTQ+ community. Reggie flinched at the raised voices, and Luke had longingly stared after the happy families milling around the Elysium.

“Did you ever find out what your unfinished business was?” Reggie inquired fixing a strand of his dark hair that had fallen onto his blemish-free skin. Your smile faltered at his question; nonetheless, you answered.

“I did.” The two words carried a sense of pain with them. Your eyes unfocused recalling the euphoric feeling of seeing the breathtaking white light of the peace exuding from the beyond and the agony of denying crossing over.

“How-“

“Hey! Y/N!” Willie called out to the young denim wearing ghost with his beaming grin, “Don’t go stealing buses without me!”

Luke swore he could see your laughter in the air, just as endearing as the smoky quality your voice carried.

“Don’t go glitter bombing criminals.” You returned as your best friend dropped his board to skate off to wherever he was needed. It was bittersweet to reconnect with him knowing that it could be the last time.

When Caleb found out, not an if but a when Willie had a hand in helping his desired band it was high chance Willie would be gone. Caleb was all too powerful, and when he was betrayed, it never ended well.

“I need to get back to Elysium. Susie’s arrival is tonight. Good luck with tonight.” Your words were accompanied by a hug for each of the boys. The one with Luke lingering the most, “I wish you could play for the kids.”

“Yeah. Me too.” The brunette, messy-haired boy’s words carried a hidden desire simply to be in your space more. The teenage ghost helps those in limbo while wearing a jean jacket with patches from many decades. The jacket creating an unknown time you had lived.

“Goodbye, boys.” You told the trio before you poofed away from the busy streets of Hollywood where the band had come full circle in death.

“Are you guys, okay?” Reggie inquired his best friends, forgoing his casual personality for the layers underneath. His blue-green eyes filled with only concern.

Alex and Luke shared a lingering look, “Yeah. We’re okay.”

The dining hall was filled with long tables and chairs populated by the ghostly forms of everyone currently living at Elysium. It was reminiscent of a British book turned film series of youth with magic abilities. The series had been a favourite of a former resident.

“Incredible.” Susie breathed staring at the joyful people having a place to call home. Making the limbo between life and death more bearable.

“We’ve done well. You smiled, wrapping an arm around her waist, “It’s so nice to have you back.”

Elysium was so much more than you could ever hope for. It kept growing and growing with more ghosts. Since the founding of the haven, new developments continuously happened with one resident’s unique ability.

Harvey had joined the haven a year into the founding bringing the ability to gift the residents with the capacity to eat. During his life, Harvey had been a renowned chef and the dream to make food it carried into his death. As long as Harvey cooked the food with his volunteer staff ghosts were able to eat it.

“Harvey has outdone himself again,” Rudy announced his arrival at your side with his arms crossed, displaying his corded muscles. The constellation of moles on his face standing on his pale creamy skin.

“Rudy!” Susie squealed, throwing herself into his arms with the same glee that came each time. Susie and Rudy since their first meeting had a special bond as chosen siblings who bonded over heartache.

Rudy had died, leaving his best friend and his strawberry blonde girlfriend in the living world back in their dark hometown. It was just one tidbit he had revealed throughout your friendship. The only physical connection to his living friends was the three picture on his desk of a group of people.

The first picture had a lean version of Rudy with his arms thrown over a Hispanic boy with a crooked jaw and glimmering brown eyes. The Hispanic boy had his arm around a pretty brunette girl with deep dimples and wavy brown hair. The two boys wore a sports uniform of some kind holding lacrosse sticks.

The second picture had Rudy and the Hispanic teen again but with a beautiful petite strawberry blonde. Along with them was a brunette with blunt chin-length hair and hardened features besides a shorter blonde male with blue eyes.

The last picture was of Rudy with the same Hispanic boy wearing graduation caps and gowns with two beaming adults. The male adult wore a tan shirt adorned with a star on his left pec and dark brown pants. He had to be Rudy’s father with similar features. The woman was of Hispanic descent with laugh lines, and thick dark curly hair pulled into a half do; obviously the Hispanic teen’s mother.

The pain in Rudy’s face each time he saw the pictures closed off a desire to ask him about the people.

“Hello, Susie.” Rudy chuckled, wrapping his arms around her small stature, “How was Europe?”

“Why don’t you ask the five newcomers I found before Caleb?” Susie teased gesturing to the ragtag of new ghosts immersed in conversations.

“Family?”

“A boarding school had a fire. Those five were in the fire when it happened and the only victims out of seven that didn’t cross over.” Susie’s tone faded into a melancholy tone with her small arms wrapping around her middle. Faded brown eyes staring at the younger of the five seeing herself in them.

“That’s terrible.” You whispered, staring at the table with one finger picking the patch of a band from the ’70s, “I can’t imagine how scary that could have been.”

“Yeah.” Susie softly spoke, pushing a strand of her hair off her temple just as equally sad for the way that death had no qualms of how it took.

The youngest ghost in Elysium had been a three-year-old toddler who passed over quickly when he was found by the deceased mother. The two had been separated at death and luckily shared the same unfinished business of finding each other.

“Miss Reynold’s has twelve spirits that finished their business.” Rudy softly informed his two partners. Soft smiles formed on their faces at the happy news of Elysium’s goal being accomplished again.

“May they find everlasting peace and serenity.” Your words intertwined with Susie in perfect sync of the motto coined after the first crossover, “I suppose the Serenity will begin planning?”

“Have the Serenity ever not performed their duty?” Rudy raised one dark eyebrow with a rhetorical question. E/c and faded brown met recalling the countless times Elysium had hosted a celebration for those who found their unfinished business.

“That is-whoa.” You gasped stumbling at the scream echoing in your mind accessorized with the vintage sound of a band.

Calloused hands grasped your shaking form from collapsing onto the ground from a proverbial psionic shove. Agony slammed your brain flickering into an old fashioned club filled with people in both colour or black and white attire. You caught sight of baby pink, deep royal blue and bright red suits. The pained screams of a skater in a dark room overtaking the music in the Club.

“No.” You whispered clenching your hands on your head, feeling the dread building in the pit of your stomach.

The joyful voices in the hall muted while your body flickered with the deep instinct to leave the haven for the one place that utterly terrified you. It was the familiar touch of Susie and Rudy that kept you from finding the one person that meant the world. Willie’s soul was on the cutting board, and Caleb obsession with performing was the only reason Willie still existed.

“Willie.” You whimpered tears rolling down your flushed cheeks, feeling the panic in the skater’s mind.

“Susie help me.” Rudy stonily spoke ushering the distraught girl from the busy hall into an empty room.

Your shaking body finding purchase on the plush sofa with Susie holding one hand in hers and Rudy brushing the sweaty hair from your forehead. It wasn’t often your psionic abilities left you in such a state, but the distance proved difficult.

“Shit.” Rudy grumbled frowning, “This is bad. Y/N, we need to get you to Willie. You’re flickering, and the distance isn’t helping.”

“You want to take one of Elysium’s strongest ghosts straight into Caleb’s domain? You know how much he wants her in his Club.” Susie hissed to the co-founder of the haven they had to take extraordinary measures to protect, “It won’t work! You’re throwing her to the dogs!”

“Susanne I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t necessary. Besides, we always have a plan.” Rudy retorted narrowing his whiskey eyes at the younger girl, “I’ll take her to get Willie, but you need to stay here to make sure everything runs smooth.”

“Are you sure you can-“Susie cut herself off with a nod as Rudy displayed the reason he could do it, “Okay, yep, you can do it.”

Rudy came back into her vision in his signature position with one eyebrow raised, and his arms crossed. The reason why Elysium worked so well was Rudy’s ability to erase an object from the view of anyone. He could make himself invisible to anyone and in practice, developed it to hide items and location. With his ability, Elysium was permanently hidden to anyone outside of his power. Illusions were his unique ability.

“You aren’t the first person to doubt my capability.” Rudy informed the other ghost reaching one hand out. With his fingers caressing your temple, he snapped his fingers, transporting you and him away from Elysium.

The empty room of Elysium’s dining hall was exchanged for the business streets of Los Angeles, bringing an improvement in your body. Pushing away from Rudy, your eyes frantically scoured the unfamiliar area for any hint of Willie.

“He’s close.” You exclaimed closing your e/c eyes to focus solely on your sixth sense kicking in. Rudy’s gasp snapped your eyes open to see his eyes pinned on your feet where a glowing neon purple smoke wisped.

“What is that?” Rudy demanded crouching to touch it, but it was like nothing was there. His whiskey brown eyes meeting your confused gaze.

“I have no clue, but I feel like I have to follow it.” Robotically your feet started walking following the smoke through the streets.

Rudy was silent as you came upon a park swallowed by the darkness of the night with the moon barely showing through the clouds. The odd purple smoke the only offering of light so far from the path with street lights.

“Of course we have to go through a park.” Rudy grumbled, “Nothing good ever happens in wooded areas at night.”

Lifting your eyes from the smoke, you looked at a deeply unsettled Rudy lost in the past only he knew. His mind recalling traipsing through the forest with his asthmatic best friend in the middle of the night. The last night before the unknown took over his life. Oddly enough dying and returning as a ghost was the most normal with everything that happened with his friends alive.

“You can go ba-“

“We’re not splitting up,” Rudy growled plainly scowling at your hesitant features. Rudy’s slammed the door closed on his past life.

Sensing unease Rudy’s calloused hand reached over to slide into yours in platonic support. You continued your mission, unaware that three certain ghosts in breathtaking suits were searching for you.

Alex, Reggie, and Luke, affected by the purple jolts, failed to find the one place where their plan B could work. What Julie hadn’t known was that the guys had a plan just in case the Orpheum wasn’t their unfinished business. The three would go to Elysium to accept their fate and ensure Julie believed they crossed over.

With no Elysium in sight, the boys returned to the Molina garage hoping that one thing would go their way: Julie would go straight to bed.

The glow purple smoke trailed through the city park into an older part of Los Angeles before it stopped. Where the smoke stopped was a vast empty space surrounded by trees.

“Well, that’s a little anticlimactic.” You grumbled crossing your arms, “Willie’s somewhere here. Do you think Caleb has an underground lair?”

Rudy cast an unamused expression at you, “From past experience. No, that’s not likely. He probably has an apartment downtown. An underground network of caves in the woods is more shapeshifter style but still not true.”

“One: You’re rambling. Two: What the hell kind of life did you have?” You questioned furrowing your eyebrows at his rather odd piece of information.

“An old one.” Rudy spoke, staring ahead, “Besides, I think we should check out whatever building is hidden from our sight.”

“Hid-“Your mouth halted when Rudy roughly gripped your shoulders to twist you to face the empty space.

“Close your eyes. Trust your senses.” Rudy spoke softly, “Or pay attention to the slab of concrete in the middle of an empty space with well-kempt grass.”

Your palm slammed your forehead with a resounding thump in the night with distance lights from surrounding buildings. Rudy squeezed your shoulders as he stepped to the side once more in turn, closing his eyes.

“Walk in my mind.” Rudy stated for the first time in your friendship, allowing you to look in his mind. Your hesitance was met with another squeeze of comfort in his calloused grip.

Your tired eyes closed as your mind timidly stepped into the rather breathtaking mind of Rudy, who felt guilt the most. While Susie’s mind was like a summer day spent at a lake with brightness and gorgeous field of flowers, Rudy’s mind was different.

It was dark in Rudy’s mind but not as if evil, but as if he had been touched by the darkness and painted permanently. There’s was the odd whisper of childlike laughter intermingled with the full adult laugh of a woman; the laughter overshadowed with the sound of funeral music. You felt the lose near that memory. Rudy’s mind was painful to be in and drowning in the feelings he had.

Your breath caught seeing a door you assumed was of his childhood room with a name you couldn’t pronounce for the life of you.

“My parents named me after my mom’s dad.” Rudy spoke through his mind with a soft smile on his face, “I couldn’t say it, so I called myself Mischief. I stopped using it when my mom died, and I went by a shortened version of my last name.”

Your eyes watched as the door disappeared, and the reason you were in his mind came back to the forefront. Your eyes watched the image forming of a vintage hotel rippling in the air before it solidified. The size reminded you of a castle, and it felt like you were storming it.

Without any more mental interaction, you stepped out of Rudy’s mind back into the real world. The very same hotel in plain sight to both Rudy and your surprised elation.

“Honestly didn’t think that would work.” Rudy breathlessly laughed, staring at the hotel once hidden to them. A dark comparison to Elysium.

“How do we play this, Rudy?” You inquired looking over at him, “This is very different from stealing cars and scaring teens.”

“Easy. We blend in.” Rudy responded, holding one hand out to grasp yours in which you noticed your attire had changed, “Perks of illusion? I can alter our own perception of ourselves.”

“Oh, wow. That looks expensive.” You replied, staring at the diamond bracelet on your wrist matching the necklace you wore.

Rudy’s attire had changed from his normal button-up with the sleeves rolled to be layered under a charcoal grey vest and jacket. Sleek matching pants to his coat and the dark black-tie matching the elegant black dress you wore. He had taken pity on your footwear to fit your ability to walk and for the fancy place.

He even had diamond cufflinks that matched you, but the wedding rings on your fingers took you aback. Your widened eyes staring at him.

“Tonight we’re Mr and Mrs Martin,” Rudy spoke choking on the last name he gave as it was the upscale name toppled from his lips.

“Okay. This is a test of our abilities.”

“This is if our plan A of being invisible doesn’t work. The one thing we know for sure is that Caleb has never seen either one of us.” Rudy soothed your nerves with a half-smile,” Let’s get Willie out.”

Your arm slipped into the crook of his to walk to the front door, “I feel like a spy. I feel like that Naomi Roma-“

“It’s Natasha Romanoff. Have you ever seen one of the marvel movies?” Rudy demanded walking up the entrance with a pained smile, “You’re like my best friend and when he wouldn’t watch Star Wars! Never caught one of my references!”

“Okay! Sorry, we can watch the movies when this over.” You grumbled as your heels clicked in the foyer of the hotel. The inside made you feel like you were sent back in time to the roaring ’20s.

“Oh damn, this is nice,” Rudy whispered, staring at the chandelier in the extravagant lobby of the last place you wanted to be.

While on the outside the two ghosts appeared cool, calm and collected they were anything but. Both a wreck inside from the perilous errand they had done that could very well be the ending of Elysium. Rudy nudged you to begin finding Willie with your mind, but you didn’t need to.

That same glowing mist was on the ground pulling you in the direction of a dark hall away from the route to the Club. Rudy kept his eye out, a characteristic carried into the afterlife from his time with the FBI, as you followed the mist. The hall continued to get more and more dark as the walk continued.

Finally at the end was a blood-red door.

“I swear to god if he kills his Club members, I’ll lose it.” You hissed to your arm candy, “What if he’s really H. H. Holmes disguised as a former magician? His door is blood red!”

“Have you been using your serial killer colouring book again?” Rudy demanded stuttering his steps to place his whiskey brown eyes on you. The sheepish expression on your face was enough of a response to gain the look of disbelief could have sent you into hysterics had the time not been too serious.

With a grin belying the situation, you twisted your wrist to open the door to hopefully where Willie was being held.

“What a cliché. He’s keeping Willie in the basement?”

“Will you shut up!” Rudy hissed right back with a clenched jaw entering the somewhat unfinished basement. It was cold even to your dead standards where the cold didn’t bother that much.

At the bottom in front of a desk with only a small lamp as illumination sat a vacant-eyed Willie painstakingly detailing a fabric. The lush purple velvet fabric was bougie, to say the least, and rather outlandish for the skater.

“Willie.” You softly coaxed the teen to glance up from the fabric you found to be something Caleb would wear. Willie’s brown eyes barely met yours before they returned to the sewing needle in his hand and the tiny beads in the bowl.

“Caleb is actually forcing him to be his personal seamstress?” Rudy scoffed,d stepping right up by your side to look at the work.

Both trying unsuccessfully to coaxed Willie out of the stupor he was engaged in the sudden poofing wasn’t heard.

“Mrs. Young taught both Willie and Kayla how to sew. She’s quite the seamstress, reminds me of my old one.” Caleb wistfully responded with a smarmy smile on his face, “Well if it isn’t little Y/N and whoever she brought. Nice threads.”

“Let him go.”

Caleb’s index finger caressed the corner of his mouth so gently to ensure the stage makeup didn’t budge. His clear ocean blue eyes turning thunderstorm navy as his lips parted in such a bone-chilling sinister grin.

“Let him go? He tried to take my new house band from me. He thinks that those boys not crossing over is his punishment. I think that adorable but so very wrong.” Caleb shrugged, dragging his finger down the bicep of his puppet.

“What can we do to- “

“You see after he’s done fixing the tuxedo jacket I’m going to tie him up on the table and slowly strip away his soul piece by piece. No, Willie won’t get the quick and easy zap erasing him. I’ll personally see it’s the most painful thing he experiences and I’ll do so happily.”

“Willie! Wake up!” Rudy shouted, shaking the skater’s shoulder frantically with his focus never entirely leaving the mad man. The whiskey brown eyes panicking at the odd displaced feeling of reliving his living life.

“That won’t work.” Caleb chuckled crossing his arms, “It’s rather amusing you think you can beat me. I’m Caleb Covington! I’m persuasive enough for hundred of memberships to financially benefit the Club.”

“And I’m Y/N Y/L/N bitch.” You snarled viciously throwing your mind into the nefarious narcissistic mind of the washed-up magician.

Caleb Convington had started to bore his audience with the same tricks at every previous show. The lack of interest depleting the attendance numbers and severely hurting the financials. So Caleb decided to broaden his talent by copying the likes of Harry Houdini.

He had a knack for both the dramatics and swindling his audience to be tricked by the illusions he created. The heightened popularity increased Caleb’s thirst for status and fame, so he overestimated himself.

Surrounded by adoring fans and journalists, Caleb had his assistant lock him in a safe with no key, to the audience’s knowledge, and push the safe into the river. Unfortunately from the infamous magician and escape artist the safe warped due to the material it as made out of. Caleb Covington died drowning in a safe at the bottom of the river.

You flinched feeling the emotion at the time Caleb had died and the feeling of disappointment at not leaving a legacy. Your continued your trek in the struggling mind of a man who viewed himself as invincible. You caught glimpses of a young Caleb with his family and the moments of tragedy that shaped him.

You saw his first taste of power in death and the content since the first time he erased a ghost from existence. It sickened you more as you reached the point where Willie came into Caleb’s path.

I’m unique, Caleb. Unlike you with the illusions and empty promises, I have real power that you could only dream of. Hearing your thoughts and planting my own words is just the tip of the iceberg.

Caleb screamed in response holding his aching head as you cruelly ripped every memory of Willie from his mind. The screams echoed not only in the basement but through the hotel the Club worked out of.

“Stop!” Caleb pleaded, shaking his head back and forth. The anguish was un-fazing to both the lucid people in the room. Rudy too busy trying to wake your best friend from the trance he had been placed in.

“I can alter memories. Remove them and even plant memories of my own design. You may take from people, but I give to people. I refused to give you anything.” You circled the man seeing double from outside and inside his mind.

I’m everything you wish you could be.

Your last action in his mind was searing a burn that flashed across his entire body from a nerve stroked. With the heat equivalent to magma in his veins, you burrowed to where Caleb controlled the souls. With a smear of your fingers, Willie’s soul was released from Caleb clutches.

“C’mon. Get Willie.” You told Rudy sending Caleb into an empty trance as if he was no more than a wax figure. Rudy eased the skater up from the desk while you exchanged Caleb to sit on the chair holding the needle, “We need to leave. I’ll get rid of any speck of Willie in memories.”

“I didn’t even get to punch the guy.” Rudy pouted, dragging his feet up the stairs away from the magician.

“That’s a good thing. I’m sure Caleb would be more pissed about his nose being damaged than losing Willie.” You scoffed helping the man urge Willie to walk up the stairs and then down the hallway to the entrance.

As you walked you brushed the minds of every individual in the building, all members in attendance, you gently removed all traces of Willie. By the time you reached the edge of the park, you had relaxed.

“We should get him to Alex, they didn’t crossover. I can still feel their imprint.”

“He’d be safer at Elysium to lay low.” Rudy replied, keeping on eye on the skater and on anyone he could see.

With only a nod, you ushered the ghost to teleport both the skater and himself back to the safe walls of Elysium. As he did so, you reached out with your mind to the blonde-haired sweet male in adoration with your best friend.

Clicking his place was easy enough for your draining power after the taxing bond with Willie’s absent presence. Instead of walking as you would generally choose you poofed on the cement pad in the backyard of a home. The surrounding skirt of the backyard encased with plants and flowers.

“Hello?” You called out in the darkness. The soft, mumbled words had your feet moving in the direction.

Standing in a circle mesmerized at the purple tattoos lifting off their skin was the boys of Julie and the Phantoms. The teenage beautiful Puerto Rican girl stood across from Luke with Reggie and Alex on each side.

“Alex?” You called out to the boy wearing a baby pink vintage tuxedo that complimented his skin and hair exquisitely. The outfit definitely screamed that Caleb had something to do with it, especially with the missing fanny pack.

“Y/N?” Luke gasped turning to see you in incredibly fancy attire matching his gorgeous blue suit modified to having no sleeves. The anticipation of eating at you to find Reggie rocking a red suit with butterflies on the fabric.

“I’m sorry you didn’t crossover.” Your words soothed the sad teenagers that had accepted their fate only to have no control again. An introduction was brought between you and Julie when the living girl elbowed Alex.

“Not that we mind but what are you doing here? How did you get here, and why are you dressed up?” Luke inquired, pushing his hands into his suit pockets, engrossed with your gorgeous appearance.

“Well when you crash a fancy Club with a narcissistic founder…any means to blend in is necessary.” You responded, “As for your second question.”

Your finger tapped your temple before continuing to speak, “I’m here because Alex deserves to know. You all do.”

The boy in baby pink frantically stepped forward, “What happened?”

“Maybe it’s best, I just show you?” Your brows furrowed to your own question accompanied by your lower lip being bitten by your teeth. The red lipstick not budging as it was an illusion as well.

“Hu-“Reggie grunted as he spiralled with his two dead bandmates into the scene that had sent you on your determined mission.

The rough action of being drawn into your memories as jarring as the first time and just as scary. The maniacal magician pacing the dark basement simply to heighten his dramatic speech. Alex’s heart clenched at the vacant look in the skater’s eyes with the faintest tinge of purple in the gorgeous brown.

“I feel like I got carsick.” Reggie moaned leaning over to clutch his midsection once you released the ghostly trio. Reggie would often gain a look of disbelief and horror from the blonde drummer, but his entire brain was centred on Willie.

“Rudy took Willie back to Elysium where he’ll be safe. If you want, you can join us.” The words were offered to both the dead and living currently in the room.

Opting out, Julie retired to her bedroom to calm down from the rush of performing at the Orpheum of all places. Besides she felt like going to Elysium was best for the three boys, and maybe they would move there. Julie would miss them, but she knew they’d always come back.

Susie was quick to hug you tightly as you stepped through the gates with the dead members of Julie’s band. The boys changed out of the tuxedos they had dropped off at a donation centre, Reggie had wanted to burn them. After living on the streets for a short while, Luke understood the need for clothing, so the clothing was taken to shelters.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. Rudy told me you overexerted yourself again.” Susie spoke with a deeply furrowed brow oblivious to the puppy dog look from the bassist in red flannel.

“If I didn’t, Willie would be gone.”

“You’re pale yet flushed cheeks. I can see you have a fever. You need to rest.”

“I need to soothe Willie out of the trance that psychotic prick put him in.” You scoffed shaking Susie’s hand off your shoulder to sidestep her, “I’ll rest when he’s fine.”

“I-“

“At least gab something from the cafeteria for energy.” Susie’s brown eyes dimmed at your typical brush off. The same routine of overusing your powers and not recharging correctly, “He’s in Cottage A!”

The boys were on your heels as you power-walked through the streets of the ghost city with one location in mind. The living streets with homes of all style and colours appeared passed the bakery, the school and the clothing stores.

“You can eat?” Reggie whispered as a little ghost girl licked an ice cream cone walked by.

“Harvey adored cooking for people when he living, so he continued in death. Harvey can make food for ghosts, and so can his staff if they work in his kitchen. His pastry chef provides baked goods to Flora’s Bakery and makes the best ice cream.”

“Oh my god.” Reggie practically squealed wholly flabbergasted by the almost perfect place you created, “How do you pay for things?”

“We don’t. What Harvey doesn’t grow in his garden, he can make ingredients out of thin air. We all have some kind of job we do. Everyone has a role in fulfilling to keep Elysium running.” You simply spoke keeping your eyes on the cottage with the robin’s egg blue door.

As if he knew Rudy flung the door open elated to see you standing there. Both of you still wearing the illusioned attire. IN milliseconds he wiped the illusion away, returning you back into your street clothes.

“How is he?”

“No change.” Rudy replied, following your steps in the living room. The skater was staring blankly at the wall.

“Willie!” Alex cried, rushing over to kneel beside the boy that had so swiftly stolen his heart without him realizing. The emotion in his word didn’t get a microscopic flinch from the formerly so-called enemy.

“Everyone be quiet.” You demanded forcibly staring each person in the room down for a mere second. With the desired silence continued, you ignored the headache forming in your head to step into the skater’s mind.

William Young was screaming to be released by the prison of his own mind Caleb had forced him into. He had felt the restriction on his soul lifted and the mist of purple leaving his brain, but he was still stuck.

He could barely breathe with the weight on his chest. Willie didn’t like feeling stuck in one place as he was a wanderer at heart. It was a reason why he had joined the Hollywood Ghost Club with the promise of travel.

Willie come back

In his mind, the sound of your voice firstly grounded the young man as a mirage of your form flickered. Your eyes screamed worry while the smile was one of relief.

Caleb can’t hurt you anymore. Come home.

The spectators watching see your flinching wavering expression and the tensing of Willie’s facial muscles. Everyone sat on the edge of their seat as the two pairs eyes opened in synch of the yells of hurt.

What they didn’t expect was your eyes to roll into the back of your skull and you to collapse onto the floor.

“Y/N!” Willie cried, stumbling off the couch onto the cold floor where your body lay prone, “Wake up!”

It seemed everyone forgot the little detail of being dead.

“She’s fine.” Rudy remarked, shaking your arm with such gentle care matching the four guys’ care in the room.

Your eyelids fluttered open under the bright lights of the unused cottage still waiting for an owner.

“Susie was right.” You grumbled allowing Willie to help you sit up against the blue velvet couch. Your mussed hair adorable in the eyes of the guitarist utterly enamoured with everything about you.

“She usually is.” Rudy mused, thinking of the many times she had proven everyone wrong, “She punched me for not bringing you home.”

“Gotta love her.” You snorted turning to face the four ghosts awkwardly gazing around the room. It was barren of personality with the lack of inhabitants. The yearning quickly found in the boys’ eyes, “You know this isn’t the only cottage in need of people.”

“What do-“

“You’re welcome to live here. I know you three live in that studio, but here you can have a real bed. You can eat and having your own place. You can come and go as you please.” You offered without looking, Rudy.

“I don’-“

“If you don’t want to live here, it’s okay, but the option is always there. Willie, we make plans for a skatepark-“

“Oh, you had me from the start.” Willie beamed tugging you into his arms, “I missed this. I missed you.”

“Me too.” You murmured into his warm embrace equally relaxed at knowing he was safe again. Your eyes clashing with the soft blue had Ideas songwriting already filled with lyrics of a pretty girl wearing a jean jacket with patches.

The lyrics turned into songs both in the studio and the cottage that Luke, Reggie and Alex accepted in Elysium. It had been a spirited discussion with Julie on moving to Elysium, but the boys were always there when she wasn’t in school. Often Elysium hosted a concert for the residents with the visitation of Julie.

Your reciprocated attraction with the messy-haired hazel-eyed guitarist flourished into a serious relationship. Luke took on the role of teaching how to play the guitar and songwriting. Alex took of mediation while Reggie worked with Harvey.

Willie quickly took on designing the skatepark he taught at while also taking a position at the ghost school.

“Morning.” The soft whisper roused your sleep into the golden glow of the morning light and chirping birds.

The growling aspect of his voice coming from only just waking up. The sight of Luke’s bleary eyes was heartwarming.

A year into moving into Elysium, Luke had asked if you’d like to move in as he was the only one in the original house. Alex had moved into the little cottage with Willie three months into the relationship while Reggie was going back and forth between Susie’s room and his own place.

“Morning.” You hummed leaning forward to kiss his cheek.

“You know I thought my life ended when I died. That I could never find someone and have a family. That I couldn’t share my music with the world. I was wrong.” Luke murmured as he cupped your cheek in his hand, “The band is growing more and more each day. I found the love of my life, and we have a family with everyone. I haven’t felt like I had had home for so long, but I get it now. You’re my home. I love you.”

Your cheeks warmed up at the adoration Luke displayed in his expressive hazel green gaze just as it had since day one. The awe fell from his lips before you pressed a kiss to his lips, only one of the many in the eons to come.

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#luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #julie and the phantoms imagines #luke patterson x y/n #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #alex mercer x willie #jatp fanfic #jatp luke #charlie gillespie imagines #sunset curve #jatp au #caitsy and ash productions

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entitynumber5 · 4 years ago

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omg Hannah!! if you feel so inclined, maybe "things you said when you were crying" for jonmartin? no pressure tho ily

aaaahhh thank you so much for this prompt, friend!!!!! i’m sorry it’s been a while!!! i really hope you like this!!!! ily <3

Content warnings: illness (they both have the flu), depressive episode (mentioned), Martin’s mother (mentioned), the Lonely, disassociation, swearing, compulsive behaviour, self-depreciation.

things you said when you were crying

Perhaps it’s testament to how wonderfully mundane their lives have become, that Jon’s first thought when he wakes is: Martin’s doing the god damn laundry.

It’s not an unreasonable assumption. Martin had spent the annual leave he’d taken to align with Jon’s reading week nursing Jon through a nasty bout of flu. During the three worst days, when Jon was barely conscious, he hadn’t seen Martin sleep or eat or leave their bedroom except to linger by the landline—a sign perhaps that Martin had caught what Jon had earlier than he’d let on, since they rarely used the relic—and debate calling the out of hours service. Jon had just about weathered the worst of it when Martin was properly struck down, requiring another week and a half and counting off work. Of course, that didn’t stop Martin’s restlessness even as the flu drained everything from him. He would lie on their bed, pale and panting, barely awake, bordering delirious—and still mumble to Jon that he’d do the laundry in a minute, don’t worry, I’ll get it done soon, I’m sorry it’s such a mess, I’m sorry.

So Jon doesn’t mean to be angry, when he wakes up to an empty bed after an evening of Martin’s temperature finally staying below 38. It’s not even Martin he’s angry at, not truly.

Perhaps their lives aren’t mundane after all. Is it mundane not to be able to leave an overflowing laundry basket eleven days into the flu? Jon doesn’t know, or Know, but he has two theories: 1) Martin’s mother, the spectre to his half-formed anger. And 2) the state he recalls finding Martin’s flat in after leaving the Lonely, but before they’d set off for Scotland, and how neither of them had said it but Jon recognised well enough what a depressive episode looked like.

Jon reaches for his cane, folded and ready against the bedside table, and gently leverages himself up so he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. The change in elevation makes him dizzy, and he lets the cane ground him, digging into the carpet between his feet, as he breathes. It’s been nearly a week since he’s had a fever, but the flu has caused a flare-up of his pain and fatigue. His department are letting him teach remotely through the rest of November. Martin’s boss had been sympathetic too, when Jon phoned in for him, although there’s not much a paramedic can do from afar and Martin is insistent he’ll be back by the end of the week. In four days. Jon rolls his eyes pre-emptively at the conversations he knows he will have with Martin about who had it “worse”, as if it matters.

After the static has cleared from his vision—always an uncomfortable comparison, and he shoves down the panic that bubbles inside of him at the thought, because Martin needs him—Jon stands. He goes through the same process, leaning on his cane, breathing, waiting, until he feels steady enough to make his way into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” Jon asks from the kitchen doorway, unable to keep the disapproval from his voice, when he finds Martin crouched in front of the washing machine.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Martin shoots back. The sarcasm of his reply is lessened significantly by how out of breath he sounds, and the way he’s clinging to the countertop above the washing machine with one hand while the other is splayed against the tiled floor like a shaky tripod—a pose that hints at an attempt to stand, aborted halfway through.

Jon sighs, biting back an unkind retort: exactly the opposite of what you should be doing. He allows himself to think it without trying to push it away in sudden, desperate shame, like he’s been practicing with his therapist, until it no longer sits so bitterly on his tongue.

“Come back to bed, Martin,” Jon murmurs, “Please.”

Martin sighs too. It sounds stuffy, almost crackling with the way the flu still clings to his lungs and throat. “I—I’m not sure that I... can.”

Jon opens his mouth to speak, but Martin interrupts: “I know, I know, I shouldn’t be—and my fever’s probably up again and—and I—”

“Martin,” Jon cuts in, as gently as he can.

“Fine. Fine. This can wait to go out on the—” Still breathless, still barrelling through his justifications, Martin uses the hand on the countertop to pull himself upwards.

It goes terribly. Jon isn’t sure what forces are at work—gravity, exhaustion, pure bad luck, all of the above—but Martin is barely up for a moment before his legs fold, and he’s down again. Jon can’t move fast enough to stop Martin corkscrewing in an odd, 180-degree motion so that he all but ducks beneath his own arm, twisting it in his socket in an attempt to continue clinging to the counter, and knocks his spine against the harsh, circular face of the washing machine with a resounding thud.

“Fuck. Ow,” Martin groans, his voice slurring slightly, “Tha’s embarrassing.”

Jon tries to follow Martin, to kneel beside him on the tiles, but Martin snaps: “No! No, Jon, p-please don’t. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Jon hovers, one hand fluttering uselessly near Martin’s hair while he clings to his cane with the other. Martin breathes, and breathes, and breathes—the sound heavy and laboured in a way that breaks Jon’s heart. It takes some time for him to steady himself, and then lean almost imperceptibly towards Jon. Jon lets his fingers brush through Martin’s hair, not caring, in the moment, that neither of them had showered for what feels like weeks. When the knuckle of his forefinger brushes across Martin’s temple, down his cheek, Jon feels the heat sitting on his skin again, the climbing fever.

“Oh, Martin,” Jon murmurs.

“I hate this,” Martin says, his voice quiet and sharp and bitter.

“I know,” Jon soothes, brushing his knuckle once again over Martin’s flushed cheek. “I know.”

Martin closes his eyes and leans his head again Jon’s knee. It’s the sort of exhausted display of love and trust that Martin rarely allows himself, unless he’s feeling truly unwell. Jon places his hand on the crown of Martin’s head and leans on his cane and waits for Martin to be ready once again to talk or rest.

Until very quietly, Martin begins to cry.

“Oh,” Jon murmurs, almost to himself.

Martin’s breath trembles, in what Jon knows is an attempt to hold back the tears, to pretend it’s nothing. He hides his face from Jon when he cries, even now, after all this time. A long-learned shame that always finds its way back into their house, no matter how many times they’ve turned it out and barricaded the doors.

“Martin,” Jon says, quiet but firm, “Please come back to bed.”

There is a long, breath-held moment when Jon thinks Martin is going to refuse, to insist. So painfully stubborn, his husband. Jon braces himself for it. But Martin just nods ever so slightly against the soft plaid fabric of Jon’s pyjama bottoms.

It takes some time, and a great deal of false starts, to get Martin back on his feet. He’s wearing fluffy socks—Jon remembers putting them on for him, when he’d been shivering even in his sleep—that slide on the kitchen tiles, and Jon’s fighting against his own dizziness, which comes and goes in waves when he changes position, to lend Martin purchase. At last, they’re both standing. And although it likely doesn’t help much, Martin lets Jon slide his arm around Martin’s back as he guides them towards the bedroom.

The bedside lamp is on its dullest setting on account of Martin’s persistent illness, and there are blankets and tissues and medicines thrown at random intervals around the room. Jon leads Martin towards the bed, not letting him stop to correct the mess, to try and restore some order to it. If this is how their lives have to be for the next few days—or weeks—so be it. Jon won’t sacrifice Martin’s recovery for this.

“Sit down,” Jon tells Martin, right before Martin gracelessly throws himself onto the edge of the mattress, listing towards the—thankfully padded—headrest.

Martin is still crying, but in that slow, distant way that makes something deep in Jon ache. It’s almost like the tears don’t belong to Martin. Like he is crying them on behalf of someone else. He stares across the room, half sprawled on the bed with his socked feet languid against the carpet, as the tears fall uninhibited down his face.

Carefully, Jon leans down just enough to pick up Martin’s legs, one at a time, and lift them onto the bed. He’s out of breath by the time he’s managed to get Martin lying down fully, still leaning against the headboard and staring vaguely at the wall opposite the bed. There is a picture hanging there, of them both outside the courthouse where they’d gotten married, but Martin seems to be staring through it.

“I’ll be right back,” Jon promises. He doesn’t know if he’s reassured or terrified that Martin simply lets him leave, barely reacting beyond the briefest twitch of an expression.

In the bathroom, Jon fills up a pint glass of water and wets a soft green flannel beneath the tap. He takes a moment to breathe, to drink some water as well, to swallow some ibuprofen for his aching joints, before he carries his small gifts back into the bedroom.

Martin is exactly where Jon left him. Jon sits next to him on the bed, and when Jon hands him the large glass of water, Matin takes it instinctively. But he doesn’t drink from it, holding it in his hands as if it is yet another thing that doesn’t belong to him, that he will carry unflinchingly for the time being—like the tears. Like the pain.

“Please drink the water, love,” Jon says. He touches one of his hands to Martin’s, where he’s holding the glass, and Martin’s eyes flicker briefly to his. Jon nods in encouragement.

With trembling hands, both closed around the large glass, Martin lifts the water to his lips and drinks. He doesn’t manage much—a few sips before his mouth tightens with nausea, and he has to lower the glass and breathe. But it’s a start.

“That’s good, Martin,” Jon soothes, as he takes the glass from Martin’s hands and places it on their bedside table. “Do you want to lie down?”

“Jon,” Martin tries to say.

“Shh. It’s alright. Lie down, just like that, that’s it.”

Martin reclines against the pillow, restlessness warring against exhaustion, until he looks almost settled. Jon tugs the blanket from the end of the bed and covers Martin with it, smoothing down the edges with extra care. Martin watches him, turned slightly on his side so he can look up at where Jon is still half-sitting against the headboard.

“I hate this,” Martin chokes, and blinks fresh tears down his cheeks. “I feel like—like everything is wrong.”

“In what way?” Jon asks gently, keeping his eyes on Martin as he reaches for the wet flannel sitting on the bedside table next to the three-quarters full glass of water.

Martin closes his eyes. “I’m so—I’m so tired, Jon.”

Jon lowers the flannel to Martin’s face, wiping first beneath his eyes, where some of the tears have collected and soaked into the begging of his laughter lines. “I know.”

Martin’s face crumples with something like grief. “That’s just it, though. This is—it’s nothing. Nothing compared to—to what you... And I’m just—making more of it than it needs.”

“Martin.”

“This isn’t—before, with Mum, I’d just—I’d keep going because—”

Martin frowns, sentence finishing abruptly. Jon pushes down the urge to correct, to intervene, and instead, with every ounce of patience and love he feels for Martin in this moment, continues to draw the flannel over the planes of his warm, weary face.

“I can’t stop,” Martin whispers at last, opening his eyes. “If I stop, then I’ll—I won’t ever start again. Like with the—the Lonely. Every time you reached out, I knew if I just stopped even for a moment, I wouldn’t be able to go back, and it would all fall apart. I’m not meant to stop. I can’t. I’m not resilient or, or the kind of person who can get knocked down and get back up again. It’s just—it’s keep going or...”

Jon drags the flannel along Martin’s jaw, down his throat, wiping away the remaining tears where they mingle with fever sweat. He focuses entirely on his task, a perfect excuse to carefully consider his next words. A separate part of his mind is processing that his theories had been right, in some way, and how he aches for Martin—the predictability of it doesn’t ease the pain. But Martin needs something other than that right now.

“Martin.” Jon starts, of course, at the beginning of all things. With love. With a reason. “There are moments in life when sometimes we need to stop. Think about it like... like an orchestra. In an orchestra, there are times where an instrument, or even an entire segment, will be given a break within the music or by the conductor—because it’s needed and it’s necessary. The performance is better for it. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Martin blinks up at Jon, slow and exhausted but comprehending. Jon continues his task, wiping the cloth across Martin’s forehead now.

“You are the most resilient person I know, Martin. I would be lying to you—and I think you know that—if I said I’d never seen you get knocked down. But I have watched you get back up again and again and again,” Jon continues. “If this time, it takes a little longer—if this time, you’re not sure when you can begin again—that’s alright. You deserve rest. You have nothing to prove, except perhaps that you can stop—or pause, if it’s easier to think of it that way—and the world won’t collapse around you.” Jon removes the flannel from Martin’s forehead and replaces it with a gentle kiss. “I won’t let it.”

Jon lets his lips linger before he lowers his head onto the pillows to face Martin. Martin is still crying, eyes bright with tears and fever both, but there’s something less dejected in his expression. Something less lost.

“I’m sorry,” Martin whispers, “For the crying, and—”

“There’s nothing to apologise for.”

“Not even the laundry?” Martin’s voice is so small, still trembling with tears. But there’s the briefest glimpse of a smile at the corner of his chapped lips.

“Not even the laundry,” Jon agrees, although he puts on a begrudging front.

Martin closes his eyes and leans forward, so that his and Jon’s foreheads are touching in the small gap between their two pillows. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“And I—I want to believe you.”

Jon feels himself smile, and he hopes Martin knows it is all for him. “Thank you.”

Jon knows they will talk about this again. He knows this will be something understood and folded into the fabric of their lives slowly, piece by painful piece. But for now, as he watches Martin’s tears slowly ease, replaced eventually by sleep, and as Jon himself begins to follow, he thinks at the threshold of his dreams that next time might be just a little bit easier. A little bit kinder. And that is always enough.

#cw illness #cw depressive episode #cw disassociation #cw swearing #cw self-depreciation #cw compulsive behaviour #i hope this is okay <3

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obae-me · 5 years ago

Text

The Demons Inside- Part 3

Part 1 (Lucifer) Part 2 (Mammon)

Word Count: 2185

Description: Levi’s Part of the request “The brothers reacting to an MC crying suddenly in front of them and then trying to act as if nothing happened”

Levi had been waiting for tonight. He’d been antsy about it for days, anticipating it so immensely, he was jittery. Although, it’s entirely possible his twitches and little shakes were thanks to the many energy drinks he had downed today. No matter. He needed to be fully awake and aware in the present. Today he would be spending every hour with the resident human. His Henry, MC.

Envy had nearly driven him mad these past few weeks. MC had done nothing but spend seemingly every precious moment with one of his brothers. Everyone but him. And he knew why, it wasn’t hard to guess. Lucifer was perfect in every way. Mammon--despite his general scumminess--was fun to be around. Satan was vastly intelligent. Asmo was gorgeous and friendly. Beel was strong and supportive. Belphie was relatively calm and clever. And him? Well, he was an eccentric shut in. But despite all that, MC had made sure to hang out with him today, on a day where they both knew no one would be around to bother them.

He jolted out of his frantic thoughts as soon as a knock could be heard from the door. Usually, he’d have his visitor answer, but he was aware of who it was, and he was so excited to get on with their activities he had no patience for his many passwords. Swinging the door open with quite a wild look in his eyes, MC appeared a bit startled. Levi, feeling embarrassment seep into his bones over his eagerness, had his face flush a bright red. Adjusting to his normal sheepish behavior let MC smile, holding up some grocery bags he could see were filled with a plethora of snacks and drinks.

“Sorry I’m a bit late,” MC apologized as Levi held the door open for them to enter his room. “Not only did I buy some snacks, but I had to shoo away my chauffeur.”

Levi shook his head, his long bangs threatening to cover his vision. His core sin threatened to burn at the thought of, again, any sibling other than himself hanging out with MC. Maybe he had wanted to go to the store to buy snacks, so why did MC not ask him? You hate the grocery store, you know that, he reprimanded himself. “No worries, it gave me time to clean my room a bit!” Levi pushed his intrusive thoughts to the back of his mind as he gestured proudly at his now immaculate room. Trash was devoid from the floor, old clothes were put in the laundry bin-- “And I even dusted off all my figures!” To prove his claim, he snatched a frilly figure off one of his many shelves, holding it out to MC as they observed it.

They beamed at him, forcing a persistent flutter in Levi’s chest. “It looks great!” Levi noticed something lacking from their expression, like they seemed a bit drained. This urged him to take the items from them and shut his door before the human could think of leaving. Was that faded smile due to him? Had they not been looking forward to this as much as he had? Did they not want to be here? Panic made it hard for him to breathe, but he handled it as best as he could as he pulled up a second chair to his desk for the human to sit in. MC’s eyes flickered over his fancy monitors and equipment, slightly transfixed by all the pretty lights.

“I’ve got lots of things planned, if that’s okay,” Levi told them, the confidence in his voice wavering. The last thing Levi wanted was for himself to blow this fun day with something stupid.

They nodded to assure him, and while their smile might’ve still shown hints of something more, Levi’s panic melted away. “Of course! What’re we doing first?”

Too giddy for words, he opened a game on his desktop, doing his best to explain the rules to MC as he handed them a controller. It was some kind of online fighting fantasy game, and while there were many like it, Levi promised that this was the best of the bunch. They both settled in, picking their characters. Without a second thought, Levi picked his; a bright colored female character with a glowing staff and too many bows on their clothes to be considered natural.

“This is Luma, she’s my main! Who’re you choosing?” Levi squirmed in his seat, ready to get started.

“I don’t know...there’s so many to select from...I’ll just pick someone random for now,” MC shrugged, clicking on the first character that caught their eye. Not wanting to waste any more time, Levi set up a lobby for their matches.

Everything had gone fine...at first. Of course, MC kept dying, but Levi assured them it was their first time playing the game, and the character they had picked was set at a larger difficulty than others. The human nodded and pushed forward. The first match ended with MC getting no kills, stacking up the most deaths, and looking at Levi’s score in shame as the demon had racked up more K.O.s than any other player combined.

MC laughed sheepishly, letting the controller settle languidly in their hands. “Guess I’m no good at this game.”

A pang of something familiar flashed through their eyes, and Levi felt the pain. “Not true! Here, try this character, they’re ranged and a little op, so you’ll be just fine!” They started again, Levi bursting forward from the starting point, already landing a triple kill. Meanwhile, all MC got ten seconds away from base was a magical explosion to the face, killing them rather instantaneously. The further they went forward, the more MC’s shoulders slumped. The more they died, the more the fun light they had started with drained in their eyes. At one point, after MC had gotten nuked right after they respawned, their character stopped moving. Levi glanced to the side, watching as MC placed the controller away from them on his desk as they used their hands to cover tears starting to drift down their face.

Panic flared in his chest again, his skin prickling. He practically threw his own controller away from him, turning in his fancy gaming chair as he placed his hands on their knees. “What?! What happened? What did I do? Oh no, you hate me now, right?” As they sniffled and sobbed, his lungs felt themselves shrink smaller and smaller, air struggling to get in. The match ended, and before it could automatically have them play again, he turned to the screen to leave the lobby. Fumbling with the cursor, he ended up closing the game altogether instead of trying to remember where the Leave Match button was. Swiveling back to look at the human, he blinked in confusion when their eyes were dry and their grin was fully repainted on their lips.

“MC? But you were--”

“--Oh, it was nothing, I had an eyelash in my eye. Want more snacks?” They interrupted him as well as quickly changing the subject. They lied to him, right to his face. Something was up, and yet they would rather do anything else than tell him. Despair overtook his thoughts as MC refused to look at him, opting instead to reach for a bag of puffy chips.

Speaking low, the demon of envy clutched the fabric over his heart as he felt it breaking. “You can’t stand me now, is that it?” Levi brought his arm up to cover his eyes as his mind swirled in dark reasoning, coming to the wrong conclusions out of self-depreciation. “You didn’t even want to hang out with me in the first place?! You came to my room out of pity?! You’re so ashamed to be with me you had to cry?!” His demon form slid into view, his tail slinking against the cold tiles of his floor. Hot salty drops of tears streamed down his own cheeks, his fingers moving up to wrap themselves in his hair as his Envy began to spiral out of control. “Of course you’d rather be with my brothers, of course. Why would you want to hang out with someone like me when...when…”

“When you’re a demon? When you’re a powerful ruler of hell? When you have extraordinary powers?!” Levi lowered his hands and opened his eyes at MC’s escalating volume. Their lip quivered, the bag of snacks fell from their grasp, now abandoned on the floor. “These past few weeks since I’ve been hanging out with your brothers really just drove home how...useless I am. I’ll never be as put-together as Lucifer. I’ll never be as cool as Mammon. I’ll never be as smart as Satan, as pretty as Asmo, as strong as Beel, as witty as Belphie. And I--and I thought maybe hanging out with you would make me feel better but--” Their voice cracked, resulting in the demon nearly flinching as the pain in their voice almost physically hurt him. He expected them to list the many reasons they couldn’t stand to be around him, how he had done everything wrong. Expecting the worst, he curled up in his seat. “But I can’t even play a game correctly...I can’t do anything...I just wanted to be fun like you…”

He had seen so many shows and anime, read so many perfect fantasy romance novels, played so many dating games, he knew exactly what to do. He’d wrap them into his arms and say some gushy poetic speech that would make sparks fly and every bit of doubt in each of them flow away. And yet...all he could bring himself to say was, “H--huh??” A few lingering tear droplets let themselves drift down his face as he attempted to process the words he had just heard. They both sat in a painful silence for a moment, both blubbering messes, both ashamed to be looked at by the other. But as Levi finally comprehended what MC had told him, he began to laugh. “You were envious of me?!” Falling into a giggle fit, MC stared at him, jaw agape. “I was worried that--that you thought I wasn’t good enough for you!”

MC briefly wondered if they had broken him. “But you’re a powerful demon!”

“You’re an amazing human! You watched me dance in cosplay for four hours the other day!” The mental image of the situation bubbled in MC’s brain, causing their tears to transform into laughter alongside Levi. The two of them chuckled uncontrollably, drying their cheeks, thankful they were alone in the room, far from judging eyes.

“You made a cute magical girl,” MC grinned, no malice or intent to harm behind the teasing words. “But...I still don’t see how you can possibly think I’m amazing. I have little talent, no grand prospects for my future, no powers to speak off, a plain personality, and I have the obvious penchant for crying over silly things.”

Biting his lip, Levi slid his own chair closer to theirs, the armrests brushing side by side. “Umm...well...the--the way I see it, you have things that are almost impossible for demons to have. Compassion, empathy, an open mind, it takes a lot of effort for demons to feel those things. It’s something that is rare to find in any living being nowadays, except for maybe angels, but even then you’ve heard Luke’s opinions on demons. Angels do like to condemn. I don’t know what’s typical in the human world but you seem rather extraordinary to me.” Taking a deep breath, he gently used his thumb to wipe away the last stray tear on the human’s face. With a single finger, he rubbed absentminded circles into MC’s knee. “Anyone different would’ve taken one look at my brothers and I and ran away as fast as they could...and yet you stayed. We’ve done everything we can to push you away, and yet you never gave up on us...on me...You’re wonderful, more than I could ask for, I--” He cut himself off, cheeks burning red as he bit his tongue to stop himself from speaking. He’d almost let something embarrassing slip. Racking his brain for something else to say, he felt the tips of his ears start to burn as MC grabbed his hand and let it settle in their palm. “I don’t think,” Levi blurted, recalling and nearly quoting a line from a Ruri-Chan anime, “that worth is defined by power and popularity. I like you just the way you are, isn’t that enough?”

MC initiated it first, almost fully sliding into his lap as they moved from their chair into his to hug him. To prevent them from falling since his seat was only made for one person, he wrapped his arms tightly around their waist. Both of them felt the heat and warmth from one another. It made Levi want to melt and yet explode at the same time. MC pulled him close, his face pressed against their shoulder. “Thank you, Levi.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me levi #obey me levi x mc #obey me levi x reader

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loversdelusion · 4 years ago

Text

remember

uldren sov/the crow x reader

a/n: someone had to do it, so this is my first short story/one shot idk lol, I'll get the hang of it, pls be nice but also feel free to give me criticism but not too harsh, ya know? I want to get better but I also don't want to get made cry, sorry for any grammar mistakes

angst to cheesy fluff

"They call me the Crow"

You burst into your small room, which seemed even smaller at the moment, you slammed the door shut and hastily locked it. You turned, your back against the door as you slid down to your knees, your world just got yeeted upside down and back again, your emotions were scrambled.

Uldren, was alive, well- Crow as he said, when you specifically remember ending him yourself "How..?" You breathed, the memories you tried so hard to repress forcing themselves to the surface.

Ace was in your hand, Uldren was already doubled over on the ground from Petra shooting him, his gaze on you as he gave you the ultimatum of your life- kill him or let it go, each both had their own consequences, killing him and you did, would fulfill the vengeance for Cayde-6 and your love would be with you, but letting him go would've resulted in Petra hating you forever and a massive void of guilt in your conscious.

You killed him, your once romantic partner, and yet he stood right in front of you and Osiris, you both saw him with your own eyes, Uldren-..Crow, in new light flesh. Your heart raced, it raced so hard that your chest ached "Hey" Ghost appeared in a flash of blue "(Y/n), look at me" you could barely hear your little light's voice, your eyes felt and sounded like they were stuffed with cotton.

"I know it's a lot to take in..but maybe Spider will shed some light on this, he was bearing his symbol after all" Ghost said, the little robot hovering eye level with you "I can't do that..I can't face him, I can't.." You shook your head, Ghost's shell seemed to droop sadly as he gently rubbed the tip of his shell against your shoulder in a comforting way.

"I'm with you until the end, remember? I was with you when you wielded the darkness and I'll be with you when you face Uldren".

Your feet gently hit the ground as you arrived in Thieves' Landing, you dreaded facing the Spider and the black haired Awoken "Take your time, there's no rush and if you want, we can leave" Ghost reassured you, but you shook your head "I..I can do this" you stated, trying to convince yourself at the same time.

You stood at the entrance, eyeing the hallway that once seemed so long but now it was the opposite "You got this, (Y/n)" Ghost said in a gentle tone, you took your first steps inside, your feet felt like they weighed a ton but you kept going. You reached the final hall towards where Spider sat, you could see his large figure at the end, he didn't seem to notice you yet as he conversed with his associates "-Tell them I want that loot" his voice came into hearing range.

You mentally cursed as one of his associates noticed you standing halfways away from them, the Eliksni turned its head to Spider, Spider in turn finally found your form "Ah! Just who I expected to see!" he chuckled loudly "Do come in, (Y/n)!" He beckoned you over, his large figure leaned forward in his seat "I was wondering when you were going to show, little girl" he said in a teasing tone, you felt your eyebrows furrow together "I see you've met my little bird" he referred to Crow as his little bird, you frowned slightly.

"I found him, drifting aimlessly through the reef, looking all sad and alone so I took him in" Spider dramatically waved his hand in front of him "You have to admit even this is better than the fate that awaits him in the Last City, your poor little boyfriend" he sneered, you could hear the smirk in his loud voice. "You have him running around as your goony?" Ghost appeared beside you in brief flash of blue "Hello there, little morsel" you could see Spider basically foaming at the mouth over Ghost's appearance.

"So, you keep him around here, doing your dirty work because of what you say awaits him at the Tower?" Ghost ignored the way Spider seemed to hunger over him "He doesn't really have a choice" you rose a brow "What do you mean?" You spoke, Spider's attention averted back to you. "If he ever strays too far from the nest..boom" he said ominously, you felt every muscle in your body tense "I rigged his Ghost with an explosive that could very easily take them both out" your eyes widened, anger and shock flaring within you "You keep him here like a caged animal..?!" Spider scoffed "More like a caged bird".

"I assume you didn't come to converse with me, did you now, girlie?" Spider said in a low voice, you dreaded what came next "Crow!" Spider said in a firm tone, you eyed the open door to your right, you could hear very faint footsteps coming out "You wanted this, now you can have it" Spider chuckled lowly. You wanted to look away but your mind and body said no, Crow stood in the doorway, your chest constricted, your throat felt like something was lodged inside it, your heart seemed to skip two whole beats "Yes?" Your hands formed tight fists at the sound of his voice, his voice sounded a lot softer and quieter, a huge difference compared to the brash and arrogant tone it used to have "I'd like you to meet someone" Spider gestured to you.

"Oh, hello, we met on the Moon" Crow stared straight into your soul "Well, not officially..you ran away before I could ask your name, which isn't really new to me" you wanted to slap yourself, Spider laughed "My apologies if she seems quiet, little bird, she's very shy" Nope, you wanted to slap Spider instead, but that seemed to shove a whole sentence out of your mouth. "My name is (Y/n) (L/n)..I'm a Guardian of the Last City" You could see Crow's brows knit together for a few seconds in confusion, but his expression changed immediately "I'm glad to be in the presence of another lightbearer" he said in a warm tone. You were trying so hard not to throw your helmet off, jump into his arms and kiss him all over "How about you two, go on a little receive and deliver task for me, hm?" You looked to Spider with a glare in your eye "Alright, if..that's okay with you?" This man, still as thoughtful as ever, you hesitantly nodded.

You and Crow walked beside each other in an almost awkward silence, for you anyway "I'm sorry if you noticed my reaction to your name..I just- I just felt like I've heard that before, but I guess that wouldn't make sense because there could be so many other people with the same name but I don't know..yours felt strange to hear" your heart clenched in pain, wanting nothing more than to tell him who you were to him "Guess I just have one of those names" you said in a low voice, almost a whisper "Yeah, I suppose so".

"Do you remember anything about your past life?" Crow asked after a little while of more walking, you glanced at him "A little bit, I think..just my name at least" Crow huffed "You're lucky then, because I can't remember a thing..which is probably good, I guess, what with the way people look at me and treat me, I'm not so sure I want to know who I was at all" Crow seemed to laugh almost sadly.

"It's strange..being rebirthed as a Guardian not knowing who you are when everyone else seems to" you clutched your gun to your chest tighter as you sighed "I can't imagine what you had to go through but..I'm here for you" the words slipped passed your lips before you could process them, Crow smiled warmly at you, your heart leaped. "Thank you, (Y/n)..as am I, it's weird..I feel like I could tell you anything" your mouth opened slightly as if you were about to say something, Crow kept his gaze forward "I think this is it" you and the amnesiac Guardian approached a pile of random cargo, a device Crow was carrying was blinking rapidly "All of this?".

Your hand reached for a box, Crow happened to be reaching for the same one, his large hand covered yours instantly, you tensed as your eyes widened, it was quiet and Crow didn't pull away, neither did you, you glanced at him, but his hair was hiding his face from you, you looked down at your hands as you felt a slight pressure, he seemed to be slowly lacing his fingers with your own "Crow..?" You said, voice barely above a whisper, his hand then firmly held your own.

"Crow" you said again, slightly louder, Crow gasped, his hand and body moving away from yours, Crow held his head between his hands, his eyes tightly shut "Crow..?" Your voice came out in a worried tone, you approached him, you laid your hand on his shoulder and said his name, his eyes burst open and he looked up at you with tear welled amber eyes, he looked so frightened and your heart broke for him.

"Are you alright?" You gently covered his hands with your smaller ones, keeping his gaze on you, his mouth hung open slightly "Cro-" you barely had time to say his name as he lunged forward at you, wrapping his arms around your smaller frame, almost knocking you over- he was hugging you, a surprise but a welcome one, he pulled away after a few moments and stared down at you, your own gaze met his.

"I know why your name sounds so familiar.." He said with a smile on his face "Because it's you, my love.." You froze "You remember..?" You asked in a bewildered tone, Crow pressed his forehead against your helmet "Don't know how I could ever forget you, my forever love" you could feel the biggest smile you ever felt erupt on your lips as you threw yourself at him, Crow laughed and it was music to your ears, tears fell from your eyes as you held him there for what felt like forever but forever was welcome.

"I love you, Uldren.."

"I love you most, (Y/n)".

#uldren sov x reader #destiny #destiny 2 #destiny 2 crow #destiny uldren #destiny the game #guardian uldren #uldren sov

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frenchpuppycormier · 4 years ago

Text

I'd Follow You Wherever

(ao3)

word count: 4k

rating: T

Once again a shoutout to @femmeluthor for being my number one fan and listening to me complain ;)

Lena stares unblinking at the object in her hands and thinks about where her actions have led her, and daydreaming about what her life has become. Never in a million years did she picture this is what she’d be doing in her thirties; preparing herself to travel across the galaxy to another dimension to rescue the woman she cares most about in the world. The universe.

“You sure this is going to work?”

“It has to,” Lena quivers. Alex nods in understanding. “I don’t know what else to do, Alex. Nothing feels right without her. I-I can’t sleep at all, I’m constantly thinking about her and how she is, I think my hair is falling out, I can’t walk by our favorite restaurant anymore without crying…I can barely eat, and when I do it just comes back up. All I feel is this constant, aching pain and it’s sucking me dry. I don’t know what to do,” she chokes out a sob and her hands start to tremble. “Alex, I have to do this!”

Sensing a panic attack of larger proportions on the horizon, Alex steps forward and pulls her into a gentle, yet firm hug. “Hey,” she squeezes her back with one hand while the other runs soothingly along Lena’s shoulder blade and arm. Resting her head against hers, Alex murmurs, “It’s okay. I understand. You gotta do what you gotta do. I just wish we had another way.”

Lena leans back and looks at her incredulously with pinched brows, “What, you don’t think I can do this?”

Alex huffs and lets out a soft chuckle. “Lena, no. That’s not what I’m saying.” Noticing Lena isn’t standing down from her natural defensiveness, she rolls her eyes. “You really don’t see it?”

“Please, enlighten me,” she gestures as if telling her to continue.

“Lena,” Alex shakes her head and rests her palms on Lena’s shoulders. “I already lost Kara; I can’t lose you too. I mean, I know you and I never really got a chance to make things right, but I’d like to think we’re friends, don’t you?”

A stray tear drops from Lena’s eye and she wipes it with her thumb before sniffling. She cracks a smile and deflects, “Since when did you become so sentimental?”

Alex releases her hold and laughs, “Well, having Kara as a sister does that to me. Lately it’s occurred to me that life’s too short to be a hard ass all the time, as cheesy as it sounds. And you know, Kelly is a therapist.” That gets a chuckle out of Lena. “I don’t know, I guess I just realized you’re the closest thing I have to Kara right now, and to be honest…I think you’re pretty special, Lena.”

The former CEO’s eyes widen with the admission. “Thank you,” her voice cracks. She clears her throat, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Alex jokingly salutes her but quickly grows serious again. She huffs loudly and her eyes dart around the room before settling on Lena’s face. The woman looks back with a worried gaze.

“What?” Lena asks. “Alex, what is it?”

“Nothing, I just,” she shakes her head and gathers her wits. She stands straighter and crosses her arms in front of her chest, and with her head held high she says, “I’m going with you.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Alex, no,” she states firmly. “We agreed—”

The auburn-haired woman shakes her head. “We,” Alex gestures her finger between the two of them, “Didn’t agree on anything. You strutted in here with your proclivities and decided what was happening without allowing the rest of the group any say in it.”

“Alex…”

“I’m going with. It’s final,” Alex states and saunters over to the control panel in the center of the tower.

Lena scoffs and follows her, yelling at her turned back, “The hell you are! The deal was I go and you stay here in case anything happens to me. That way, you still have a fighting chance to save Kara and I, I will have tried my best, but I did what I could and you’ll get to move on.” Lena pauses for a second and emphasizes, “With Kara.”

Alex whips her head around and shoots daggers at her, causing Lena to startle and shrink back. “That’s bullshit and you know it.” Lena’s nostrils flare in retaliation, but Alex keeps going. “I’m sick of you putting yourself on the line all the time. You’re just like Kara and it’s annoying as fuck!” She laughs tiredly as an epiphany enters through her brain. “You guys are perfect for each other.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, Lena. You can’t be that dense,” Alex says, with mild exasperation. “Kara loves you, she’s in love with you, but she’s been too afraid to tell you because of the whole secret identity mishap. She already made a huge mistake which pissed you off, she didn’t want to risk losing you again, or your friendship, by speaking it into existence…And you!” she points accusingly at Lena. “You are too stubborn to admit your feelings out loud, so you bury them deep down inside because you think Kara will deny you or laugh at you, but if you actually think that then you really don’t know my sister at all.”

Lena’s mouth is hanging open by the time she’s done. She quickly closes it and swallows thickly before replying. “She loves me?”

Alex deflates and smiles softly. “Honey, she almost risked the entire timeline to tell you her secret earlier than when she actually did. I’d say she loves you.”

“Wait, what—”

“We’ll get to that part later, but for right now we’re running out of time,” Alex grabs the device from Lena. “So, ready to go rescue my sister?”

Lena eyes her suspiciously, “We’re not done with this conversation.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a girl scout,” Lena snatches back the device. “I’ll take that. Took me all night to make this. I’m not risking it in your hands.”

Alex smirks, “’Kay, so remind me how this works again? Just so everything’s clear?”

“Well…basically we open up a portal to the Phantom Zone, then once we step through, this,” Lena holds up the device, “Will allow us to track Kara and her location. I took the nanobots to map the brains of the progeny we have in containment. Then, I used q-waves to replicate Malefic’s powers, and M’gann’s sensing abilities, and with the help of Kara’s DNA I was able to calibrate the device to the right frequency, which is how we’ll find her. All of this to make one simple tracking device. Again. Y’know, since you stole the first one I made.”

Alex winces under Lena’s intense glare. “I said I was sorry.”

“No worries, all is forgiven,” the former CEO smirks.

Alex releases a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Okay, so then how will we know exactly where Kara is?”

“The device will chirp when we’re in her radius.”

“Is there any way we can narrow it down? Like to her exact coordinates or something? The Phantom Zone is a large place.”

“I wish I could say there was another way, but I’m afraid this is all we have,” Lena deflates. “You’re not about to back out already, are you?”

Alex purses her lips. “No way, Luthor. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Lena lifts her arm and presses the button to the portal watch. She glances at Alex and smiles, “Let’s go get our girl.”

Lena doesn’t know how long it takes them. Her watch tells her it’s been a week, but time in the Phantom Zone is different, so for all she knows it’s been a month since they’ve been roaming around searching for Kara.

Her feet are dragging with every step and she can tell Alex is just as exhausted and sluggish as she is. She knows they need to take a break and rest. She knows this. But she also knows the longer they wait, the longer they are away from Kara. The longer Kara has been here suffering by herself, and Lena can’t have that. No, she needs to get to Kara as fast as possible. Before it’s too late.

They pass a large boulder and after a minute of no random ramblings from Alex’s mouth, or fun facts to distract them, Lena frowns and stops. She turns around and sees no sign of the other woman. She squints and just barely notices a figure toppled over on their side, not moving. “Alex!”

Lena runs as fast as her legs can move her. She stumbles next to Alex and lands on her knees, the pain excruciating. Her synapses are firing throughout her body, but that’s the least of her worries right now. She shakes the older woman’s shoulders and cries out her name once more.

No response.

“Goddammit, Alex. Don’t do this to me. We’re so close!” Lena whips her backpack off and fumbles around the contents for her water bottle. Leave it to Lena to come extra prepared. She twists the cap off and pours a conservative amount on Alex’s face. It does the trick.

“Jesus, Lena!” she sputters and breathes heavily, wiping the liquid from her eyes.

“You fucking scared me half to death! What was I supposed to do?” Lena shrieks. If only her brother could see her now. He’d get a kick out of the way she’s freakishly reminiscent to a final girl and their antics.

Alex sits up with help from Lena. She swipes the bottle from her and takes a long swig, water dribbling down her bottom lip. “Thanks.”

Lena nods. “No problem.” She glances around them and shivers. “Now, I don’t know about you, but this place is giving me major Alien the movie vibes and we’re out in the open. So, how’s about we get a move on, hmm?”

“You don’t need to say ‘the movie’. You can just say Alien.”

“Alex…”

“Alright, alright,” Alex teases.

Rolling her eyes, Lena helps Alex to her feet with ease, and they continue the trek. It lasts about ten miles, until Alex needs another break. This time a chosen break. They settle along a bank of tall, pointy rocks. Lena reaches into her bag and downs a healthy amount of water.

“Hey! You gonna leave any for me?” Alex complains.

“Well maybe you should’ve brought your own!” Lena argues, but hands over the bottle anyway.

Alex thanks her and lowers herself to the ground. She grabs her ankle and winces. “Did you happen to bring a first aid kit in that bag of yours?”

Lena raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and huffs, “It’s like you don’t know me at all.” She crouches next to Alex, takes off her bag, and rifles through it. While she’s distracted, she barely notices her surroundings and doesn’t have time to react to the feeling of a slight pinch on her arm.

She slowly turns her head and looks over to see Alex retract her hand, which holds a syringe. A wave of nausea hits Lena hard and her vision blurs. The last thing she sees is a snarling Alex before she succumbs to darkness.

When she wakes up it’s to pitch black surroundings, save for a small fire burning by her feet. Sosmall, in fact, it shouldn’t even be considered a fire. It’s merely smoldering embers, wisps of smoke on the verge of dying. Lena goes to move her arms but they’re being constrained be something. She mentally catalogues the environment around her, and realizes her wrists are tied together behind her back with rope, and her arms are wrapped around a tree. The only tree for miles.

Why would Alex do this? she thinks. I thought we were friends. Or was she just playing me the whole time to get close to me? And when she finally gained my trust, she twisted the proverbial knife into my gut. But for what? There’s nothing her for her to gain.

Lena groans and struggles against her confines.

“Ah, you’re awake,” a voice startles her from her reverie. “Good.”

“Alex,” Lena croaks, her throat parched. “Why are you doing this?”

Alex laughs like a hyena catching its prey. “Can’t you see? You’re just a dumb, pathetic weakling who never learns. You trust too easily, even though you know everyone will eventually betray you. You’re worthless,” Alex spits. “Twisted and evil; you’re a Luthor, just like your brother. Who would ever love you?”

Lena trembles, tears prickling her eyes. “No…”

“Everything you touch turns to ash. Kara’s probably dead because of you. The world hates aliens, because of you. You’re going to pay for what you’ve done,” Alex’s face slowly morphs into Lex’s sneering face, and suddenly everything feels wrong. “We could’ve had it all, Lena. We could’ve built something together, but you had to go and play hero, didn’t you?”

“No!” Lena chokes.

Lex steps closer so he’s towering of her, the light from the fire burning shadows across his sunken face. “You never learn, Lena. You don’t deserve the Luthor name. Supergirl is mine and you can’t stop me.” He puts his hands in his pant pockets like he just landed a deal, the confidence radiating off him as he walks away.

“W-Where are you going?” Lena yells. “What are you going to do?”

He turns around to look at her one last time and says, “To do what you couldn’t; I’m going to kill Supergirl.” He struts off into the distance with the only sound being Lena’s screams echoing throughout the wide berth of the canyon.

Lena screams until her throat grows hoarse and all that comes out is thick, dry sobs. She shakes and trembles and pulls at her wrists to break free, but it’s no use. Exhaustion settles in her bones and takes over until her eyelids grow heavy, and the darkness encompasses her once again.

The next time she wakes it’s to blinding light. She squints and tries to rub her face, but remembers they’re tied behind her back. Her heart starts thumping rapidly in her chest as the panic swallows her whole. She’s all alone. Left for dead. With no way to escape. She supposes she deserves this. Alex said so herself, who would ever love her?

As the day goes on her limbs grow heavy and her body gets weaker and weaker. She sighs and lets the elements do their work and take over. The last thought running through her mind before she goes is that she never got to tell Kara how she felt. Closing her eyes, Lena hears a voice in the back of her mind repeating her name. It’s getting louder and louder, but she doesn’t care. All she wants to do is sleep.

She hears the same voice yell her name again, sounding so close, yet far away. The voice is muffled as if she’s underwater.

“LENA!”

With no warning, she feels a jolt of pain in her ribs, and like her body is shocked with adrenaline, her eyes blast wide open and she wheezes. The first thing she notices is Alex hovering over her with worried eyes.

Alex sags in relief, “Oh, thank God.”

“Get away from me!” Lena shudders and backs away on her hands, palms scraping against the rough terrain.

“Woah! Hey, what’s going on?” Alex pleads holding her hands out in a placating gesture.

“You left me for dead,” Lena whimpers, tears threatening to fall. “You just left me there, all alone.”

Alex frowns, “What? No, Lena. Hey, look at me,” Alex tentatively reaches her hand toward the brunette like one would when dealing with a spooked animal. She grabs her chin as those glassy eyes morph into something akin to tentativeness. “You’re okay. None of that was real. It was all in your head.”

After quiet contemplation and realizing what she’s saying holds true, Lena sighs deeply and nods. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. We were just resting and I heard you whimpering in your sleep. I thought something was seriously wrong.”

Lena stares blankly at her. “But I don’t remember falling asleep….”

Alex’s eyebrows pinch together. “What do you—”

That’s when Lena notices the phantom looming in the dark. Its eyes are glowing red and its hands are buzzing with an energy as if taking control of someone’s mind.

“It’s him. He was playing tricks on us!” Lena whisper shouts and shuffles to her feet in one swift motion. She grabs Alex’s hand and pulls her away before the phantom wakes up. “We need to go. Right now!”

They make it to the edge of a ravine and Lena stops short, her mind spiraling with confusion. It must show on her face, because Alex notices something’s off almost immediately.

“What is it?” Alex asks.

“I’ve been here before,” Lena mutters, mostly to herself. If it weren’t for their close proximity, Alex probably wouldn’t have heard her.

“What? That’s impossible…”

Lena shakes her head. “No, not literally. I was here in my dream,” she rolls her eyes at herself. “Or rather, what the phantom put inside my head. This has to mean something!” At that exact moment, the tracking device in Lena’s hands lights up and shrills harshly. “She’s close! Kara’s close!” she grins widely, excitement swelling her cheeks.

As Lena walks away, the device growing louder with each step, Alex grabs her by the elbow and pulls her back effectively stopping her in her tracks. “What if it’s a trap?”

“We’ve come this far. We can’t stop now,” Lena rips her arm away and trudges on, leaving Alex in the dust. Alex quickly catches up with her and wordlessly makes it known that she’s got her back.

The duo makes it to a point where the device is droning out a constant beep. “She’s here!” Lena exclaims. Here is a maze of jagged rocks and what can only be described as molten lava.

“Fuck! How are we supposed to find her in here?!” Alex rubs her temples.

“Shh,” Lena grabs her wrist. “Do you hear that?” Alex lowers her hands and listens for any noise in the vicinity. A quiet whimper emerges from somewhere to their left. Lena blames it on the lack of sun in the decrepit place, blames the lack of light for why they were unable to see a small figure leaning on the rocky wall, hidden in the shadows.

“Kara?” Lena gasps. She creeps forward careful not to startle her. “Kara,” she says, louder this time.

“Who’s there?” Kara asks, trembling slightly and shuffling away so she’s pressed up against the wall. Her normal demeanor is completely forgotten and it’s morphed into rigidity and stiffness.

Alex’s body betrays her and she collapses to the ground in a heap, her hands covering her mouth in shock. Tears trickle down her cheeks. Lena glances back over her shoulder and softens in understanding.

Lena crouches down closer to Kara and as soon as her eyes adjust to the dark, she chokes on her own breath. Kara’s once bright, sapphire eyes are now pale and grey. They’re slowly losing the light inside of her, and becoming something dark and lost. “Kara,” she whispers.

“Who are you? How do you know my name?” Kara’s eyes dart around like she’s frantically searching for something.

“Hey, it’s me,” she sits on her knees facing her, itching to reach out and touch her. “It’s Lena. Listen to my voice.”

Kara shakes her head furiously, tendrils of hair bouncing off her shoulder. “No. No, Lena can’t be here. It’s not safe.”

“Darling, it’s me. Okay?”

“No. No, no, no, no,” Kara cries, her body shaking with every utterance.

Lena doesn’t fight it anymore and she clasps onto Kara’s flailing hands. “It’s me, Kara. I’m here. Your Lena,” she lifts Kara’s hands and places them on her own face. “I had to find you myself, I couldn’t trust anyone else to do it without fail. I supposed that’s selfish of me, but when it comes to you I’d do anything.”

Kara begins tracing over Lena’s features with deft fingers, every worry line and wrinkle. She starts with the eyebrows she’s become quite accustomed to, then continues with the swell of her cheekbones and sharp jawline, moving over to the slope of her nose, and finally settling her thumbs on plump, parted lips. Her favorite pair of lips. Lena’s breath hitches from Kara’s tender searching.

Once she’s done, Kara rests her forehead on Lena’s and faintly sobs, hands gripping underneath her jaw and along her neck. “It really is you,” Kara closes the distance and slowly, but with steady determination, kisses her. Lena’s lips are soft and warm compared to the acrid burning that’s constantly surrounded her since she’s been in this place. She sighs, causing a breathy moan to emerge from Lena, and she pulls back to breathe in the woman before her. “I never thought I’d get the chance to do that.”

Lena laughs and Kara melts at the sound, forgetting such a simple thing could cause her so much joy. Kara opens her eyes and she almost chokes on her breath from the shiny, emerald eyes gazing back at her with nothing but love. “Lena,” she breathes.

“Kara?”

“I see you. Rao, you’re so beautiful,” she gushes.

Lena’s cheeks become a light dusting of pink with that admission, and she dips her head bashfully. “You’re not so bad yourself, Supergirl.”

Kara grins and gently tilts Lena’s head up. She leans her forehead on Lena’s again, playfully bumping their noses against each other, while softly rubbing her thumbs over Lena’s cheeks, just below her eyes. “I really want to kiss you again,” she whispers.

“I look forward to doing a whole lot more of that, but let’s get you home first, yeah? I’m still concerned about getting you somewhere safe.” Kara nods mutely and smiles morosely. “Can you stand?”

“I think so.”

Lena stands and reaches for her hands. She’s not expecting Kara to be that light, so when she pulls her up Kara stumbles forward and nearly topples over her. Lena catches her fall and before she can say anything, the Kryptonian is encircling her arms around Lena and murmuring into her neck, “I missed you so much.” Lena tightens her hold and squeezes her back. “Me too.”

Kara pulls back and tilts her head to the side. “Are you here alone?”

Lena shakes her head, “No, Alex is here too. She’s right there,” she nods to her right and frowns at Kara. “Could you not hear her?”

“I was a little distracted…” she shrugs smugly.

Lena responds by unconsciously licking her lips. She catches herself and pushes the thoughts of strong arms and legs out of her head, and rolls her eyes. The raven-haired woman pulls Kara over to Alex and whispers, “Alex?”

The older woman wipes her eyes and stands up. When she takes in the sight of her sister, she completely breaks. “Kara!” Alex engulfs her in a hug, causing an oof to emerge from the hero. Kara responds by wrapping an arm around her sister’s neck, with one of Lena’s hands still connected with her free hand.

“Alex,” Kara weeps. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Are you kidding me?” Alex pulls back. “I couldn’t let this one over here take the reins,” she jabs a thumb toward Lena, who scoffs.

“Who was it that saved your ass? And got us here in the first place?” Lena claps back.

“Semantics,” Alex waves a hand nonchalantly.

Kara grins at the interaction between her sister and her best friend. She sure missed a lot while she was incapacitated in the Phantom Zone, but if this is one of the outcomes, she thinks maybe it was worth it. She’s only ever wanted for Lena to become a part of her family, and she’s giddy at the sight of seeing her get along so well with Alex. Even if things are bound to change, at least she has her two favorite women with her. It doesn’t matter what happens next if it means they’re by her side.

“Ready to go home, goofball?” the girl of steel questions.

Alex sticks out her tongue but smiles anyway. “Yes, please.”

Kara grabs a hold of Alex’s hand while her other wrapped around Lena’s waist. She squeezes her hip and kisses her temple. “Ready when you are.” Lena leans into her touch and lifts her wrist one last time. As she glances at the two sisters beside her, she smiles and thinks about how lucky she is. She presses the button and together they walk through the portal.

Back to National City.

Back to their family.

Back home.

#supercorp #supercorp fic rec #supercorp fic #my work #kara danvers #lena luthor #sg spoilers

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highladyofprythian · 4 years ago

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Rhys picking Feyre up from univesity drabble

Thus Prythian was split into the seven courts…

When my eyes flutter open, the words in front of me are distorted, on the verge of blurry with my face pressed against the pages. There’s a sharp pain in the back of my neck and my thighs ache from sitting for so long.

Sitting up, I groan as I stretch out my legs, pulling my head to one side to relieve the pain there. Even still, the left side of my face is numb from being pressed against the table’s surface for so long. I scan the library quickly, my Fae ears not picking up the sounds of other students. Odd, considering I only started reading just as the sun went down, the library full of other students. But now, only the soft creek of settling floorboards and my breathing can be heard.

The room is dark, my faelight burnt down to embers, barely enough light to see three feet in front of me, let alone navigate the expansive library. Sighing, I stand up, willing my exhausted magic to fill the faelight again, just enough to guide me and pack my things away.

I pack my book away into the leather rucksack Rhys gifted me last Solstice, along with the charcoal pencils and paper scattered around. Studying, I’ve found, has left me prone to doodling while I concentrate. Little images of flowers, Nyx’s eyes, utterly random shapes. It’s difficult to sit idle, while some ancient wizened Fae drones on in the front of a grand lecture hall about the trade routes between Courts.

The clock chimes in the silence, frightening me so much I jump, pencils clattering to the floor. Grumbling, I bend to retrieve them, but snap back up when I only hear three chimes. Three? But-

Wildly, I whip my head around, determined that other students only left to eat dinner… I couldn’t have been asleep that long. But again, I hear nothing.

I’ve been asleep for hours… oh gods, Nyx.

I tug hard on the bond between Rhys and I, not caring if I wake him from sleep. I need to know if my son is ok.

Good morning, Feyre darling, his voice thick with sleep drawls in my head.

Before I can ask him, he calms my racing thoughts, my shield falling from my panic and lack of proper sleep. The baby is fine, he fell asleep hours ago. As did you, clearly. His dark laughter fills my head, only irritating me further.

You didn’t think to wake me up? I snap at him.

Couldn’t disturb you being so studious, now could I? His tone is amused as he goes on, And besides, I am capable of parenting our child without you.

I soften, melting at the image Rhys sends me of Nyx cradled in his arms, his head resting against Rhys’ bare chest as he bottle feeds him.

I hope you ate too, High Lord. I gripe back, still irritated with him. The stress of the baby’s birth and potential fallout with Autumn has put Rhys on edge, falling back into bad habits of forgetting to eat his meals.

Of course, High Lady. Couldn’t risk falling asleep in my study with the baby home. Infinitely amused, he continues to make fun of me.

If I remember correctly, you were the one to encourage me to attend university. Such is the life of a poor student… I lament, matching his dramatics.

If only because the thought of you sitting in a lecture halls and writing essays does wicked things to me.

What doesn’t? I retort, sending him a rude gesture down the bond. He just laughs, thinking of more creative uses for my hand.

Pig, I say as I finally find my pencil and tie my rucksack together. The faelight follows me as I walk out the grand double doors to the library, illuminating the path ahead.

You love it, his voice and my feet padding along the marble flooring the only sounds to be heard. Truly I somehow managed to sleep through students leaving for dinner, chatting amongst themselves. Even the Fae who do nightly patrolling of the library.

I doubt even the toughest of security guards would want to wake the High Lady, says Rhys. This late at night, I don’t bother putting up my shields, enjoying the simply intimacy of Rhys hearing my thoughts, sharing each moment with me. Even I don’t dare to do that, he continues.

I snort aloud, startling myself. Only when you wake me up creatively… I send him an image of us, him beneath the sheets, my hands gripping the pillow beneath my head.

I don’t think the guards would wake you up quite like that, his mental voice is a little strained. I can see through his eyes that he’s sat up in bed, the sheets pooled around his hips, revealing only a tantalizing shadow but no more.

I follow the path down the winding stairs, the sconces along the stone walls are blown out for the night, the gentle gold of the faelight flickering. The history in these walls is deep, thousand of years of Fae scholars shared this space, writing laws that still preside of Prythian today. Rhysand’s own family, High Lord’s of Night Court past sheltered together, the wards of Velaris being set up as they studied through the night.

And a painting comes to mind, of ancient Fae, gathered in a library of old, heads bent together, scroll after scroll of lore and history being recorded. One day, Rhys himself will stand beside them.

I like to think I’m not stuffy and old yet, darling. His voices brings me back, and I’m greeted by the sight of the university’s large, ornate double doors shut to the elements, no light peeking through the wood.

Yet? Says the five-hundred-year-old with bad knees, I tease as I pull on the large, iron door handle. Amongst the alumni it’s said that the iron handles and sconces were built into the building to ward away evil Fae spirits. However I, and other students have far fonder memories attached. And I’m reminded of my first week here, students rushing past me, completely bare as they ran through the ancient hallways, attempting to touch each piece of iron before their competitors, to then be greeted by a slew of cheers and applause when they completed the course. Even I partook in the spirit of unvieristy, and I’m blushing just thinking about it again.

Shame I wasn’t there, Rhys says, showing me a picture of his own days in the university. A buck-naked Illyiran warrior flouncing down the hallways, outrunning everyone, of course.

I could say the same. Though I don’t think we would’ve studied well together. The heavy doors open to an inky black night, the snow on the ground stark white in contrast.

“Considering your success at reading, I think we would have made exceptionally good study partners.” Rhys’ midnight voice floats through the air, making me jump again.

I huff at him, “You scared me! What are you doing up?” And another more pressing thought, “Who’s minding the baby?” I begin to run towards the river house, though the jog across from the university to the house would take thirty-minutes by foot.

Rhys behind me laughs, and I hear his wings flare wide before he takes me in his arms, pushing off the ground and up, up into the night sky. The air rushes past my face and I revel in the sensation, loving the icy cold against my faelight warmed skin.

Once we find a cruising altitude, Rhys answers me. “Mor is at the house, he’s fast asleep.” His voice caresses my neck and I shiver, though not from the cold. “And I’m here to pick up my star-pupil, lest she fall asleep on herself mid-flight. Again.”

“I had just had a baby! Your baby! And I didn’t fall asleep I simply closed my eyes.”

“And careened straight into a tree.”

I whack my palms against his chest in retaliation, but he’s not wrong. I was only two months post birth and pelvic-reconstruction. I needed to simply pick up something from the market and Rhys was out on business. So, I shifted into my wings and took flight; but that evening Nyx had been up crying and I only managed to sleep for an hour before he was up, happily chatting his baby nonsense about the sun being in the sky once again. I had closed my eyes briefly… and both Rhysand and Azriel still make fun of me. Azriel more so, between fits of chuckling telling me ‘I thought I trained you better than that,’.

I nestle into his arms, sleep clouding my eyes once again, but even after two years, the sight of candle-lit Velaris twinkling against the night sky, cradled betwixt the mountain rages, makes me sigh in wonder, never wanting to close my eyes.

“Sleep, Feyre. You have an early lecture in the morning, wouldn’t want the Professor to catch you drooling on the table.”

I snort weakly, partially asleep once again. “Reminiscing about your own days at university, old man?” His laugh rumbles in his chest, lulling me fully into sleep.

When we land, I wake just enough to kiss Nyx’s little forehead while he sleeps soundly before Rhys picks me up again, places me on our bed and I dream of Rhys after his first war, young by Fae standards, studying the night away in the very same library I slept.

#Feysand #feyre archeron #Rhysand #Nyx #Feysand baby #feysand drabble #acowar #acofas #post acofs au #sjm #sjm books #acotar fanfiction #feysand fanfiction #feysand fluff

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fireinmoonshot · 5 years ago

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THE LAST HUNDRED YEARS | ANDY x READER

Pairing: Andy / Andromache of Scythia x Reader Fandom: The Old Guard Word Count: 1197 Warnings: Death (like, a good lot of it), mentions of blood, guns. A/N: I love writing for The Old Guard because it’s basically just angst, and Andy is potentially one of the most angst filled characters I’ve ever written for. I had a blast writing this. This does also contain slight spoilers for The Old Guard, of course. But it does take place after the events of the film in a random space of time that you can determine yourself!

For the first hundred years, Andy was determined not to let herself feel anything but friendship for you. She’d felt the pain of losing someone she loved so deeply before. The way it had torn her apart from the inside until she was nothing but cold and unfeeling on the outside, at least to most people. Booker, Nicky and Joe had brought some warmth back to her, and when Nile came along she did the same. But towards you, there had always been slight animosity. She was civil, she had to be – you couldn’t live with someone for a hundred years without at least pretending to like them. But it was different with you.

She’d forced herself to push her feelings down for a hundred years.

She was ready to push them down for another hundred.

Until, that is, the day of October 14th, a hundred and one years after you first died.

It was a normal day, a normal job for the lot of you. Nothing too difficult, nothing you couldn’t have fun with. Nicky, Joe and Nile were working together to barricade the room and keep the mansion’s guards out while you and Andy worked on going through the filing cabinets trying to find the files you were here to retrieve.

“This would be a really useful time to have Booker’s help,” you muttered.

Andy glanced over at you. “Focus on the task, would you?”

She ignored the jealousy that ran through her. You’d been friends with Booker, good friends. She’d thought that the two of you might have become more at one point, yet she had no idea that you had never looked at Booker as anything other than a brother.

“Have you got anything yet?” You knelt down and pulled open another drawer and began to flick through the files in it which had been, usefully, separated into labelled sections.

“No.”

From the door, Nicky yelled. “Any time soon would be great, guys!”

“We’re trying!” The two of you yelled back in unison.

You looked over at Andy, a grin making its way onto your face, expecting her to look at you the same way, amused. Instead, she made a point of not meeting your eyes and turned away from you, opening up another drawer and focusing on the files inside of it so that she wouldn’t think about how lovely you looked when you smiled.

That was when she heard the crash.

The barricade that the others had been building had started to strain from the pressure of the guards on the other side. A vase from the top of a cupboard one of the team had pushed in front of the door toppled and fell, crashing onto the floorboards beneath it. Andy held her breath as the cupboard swiftly followed the vase.

Everything happened quickly, then. She didn’t have time to move or act or to do anything other than watch as a guard weaselled his gun through the gap in the door and fired a single bullet. Whether it had an intended target, she didn’t know. All she knew was that she wanted whoever fired it dead.

You fell backwards against the filing cabinet, several files you’d pulled out sent scattered to the floor, flecked with blood.

Nicky, Joe and Nile acted quickly, killing the other guards that tried to get through and beginning to barricade the door again. But Andy only had eyes for you. She fell to your side, knowing that you’d revive again any second, and cupped your face in her hands.

“Come on, come back,” she muttered, words inaudible against the gunfire.

Her eyes went to the wound. It should be closing up… it should be healing.

“No, no, no.” Panic flared through her and she shook you fiercely. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare do that.” It’s not their time. It’s not their time! It can’t be. “Come on, come back to me. Now!”

Andy never cried, not really. She never allowed herself that. This was an exception. She squeezed her eyes shut, her vision having blurred anyway from the tears that had assaulted her. Her hands stayed on your face.

Her eyes were still closed when yours blinked open.

You groaned a little in pain as the bullet clattered to the floor.

“Andy?” You muttered.

The gunfire had ended and Andy hadn’t even realised. It was quiet again. Her eyes opened and she took in the sight before her. You, alive, breathing… alive.

“Why the hell did that take so long?!” She cried, one of her hands moving to the wound to check if it had healed properly. It looked as if there was never even a wound there, the only tell being the blood around it. “I thought that you were dead!”

“I was dead.”

“Not funny.”

“How is that not funny?”

Andy fumbled. How was she going to explain this? How could she explain this? You, reviving with Andy kneeling over you, crying and willing you to come back. There was no explanation for that.

“Hey, why are you crying?” Hesitantly, you reached up a hand to wipe them away.

“Why do you think I’m crying?”

You thought for a moment. “Is it because you thought that this was it? You said something about it taking so long. You realised how much you never want me to actually die?” Your words were partly a joke and partly truth. You wanted to hear her say yes, to admit things you and the others had suspected for a long, long while. But you couldn’t help but tease at the same time.

Andy stared at you, words rushing through her mind.

“Well, is that it?” You pushed.

More silence followed. You wondered if she was ever going to say anything. Just when you were about to give up hope, to push her hands away from your face, and to stand and start searching for the files again, Andy surprised you by leaning in and pressing her lips to yours. The kiss was quick, rushed, but it held the passion of a hundred years of hidden love and the promise of a hundred years more.

Andy pulled away and looked at you. “You don’t do that again, you hear me?”

“Don’t do what?” You replied, a little shell shocked from the kiss.

“Die.”

A small laugh erupted out of you. “I can’t really promise that. I mean, dying… that’s kinda what I do… like a never ending circle of dying…”

Her lips quirked up into a small smile. “Oh, shut up.”

Another yell came from across the room. This time, it was Joe. “When you two are finished confessing your love, would you please find that file?”

Andy laughed and looked over at them. “Yeah, yeah, we’re on it.”

She stood up and offered you a hand, which you took, and stood alongside her. With a smile directed at you, she walked over to the drawer she was looking in before and started searching again.

“By the way,” you started, searching your own drawer again. “When we do get out of here, I’m expecting a full explanation of the last hundred years. You know that, right?”

#andy x reader #andy x you #the old guard #the old guard x reader #the old guard x you #andromache of scythia #andromache of scythia x you #andromache of scythia x reader

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patchofsunlight · 4 years ago

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Stand You | Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Bakugou insists he can’t stand stupid Y/N, even while he changes his entire routine to fit her in it.

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

WARNINGS: if this doesn’t show up on tags for the fifth time i will simply give up on it, cursing, bakugou is a lil bitch but he’s also a softie, there’s a nosebleed at one point but nothing concerning tbh, aizawa and recovery girl find young love amusing, shouto is baby

Y/N wasn’t sure of exactly when she started thinking of Bakugou Katsuki as a friend. Maybe it had been during their first year, after the first time he allowed her to join his study group alongside Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Mina; or maybe it had been a bit later, when she hugged him tight in the middle of a crowd, almost as if she could squeeze the pain being kidnapped by the League of Villains had brought him, and he let her — while All Might fought his last battle and all of Japan feared for its future, Bakugou let her hold him.

She was deeply aware of the fact he tolerated her at best, as he made that abundantly clear every chance he got. He didn’t exactly hate her presence, but she was on thin fucking ice, and, even though Y/N knew this, she still managed to somehow develop a crush on the angry ash blond, like the stupid idiot she was.

It was ridiculous, to be honest, especially considering how there was no way he would ever feel the same. She would go as far as saying he didn’t even know her name — “Stupid,” he called her (how enchanting!) —, so, yeah, there was absolutely no possibility of her feelings being reciprocated in any way, and the dumb hug they shared was nothing but a coincidence. He was a bit shaken, a bit shocked, and those few warm minutes didn’t really mean anything.

Y/N didn’t mind. She was okay being Bakugou’s friend, satisfied with study group meetings and the occasional sparring. That way, at least, she could be sort of close to him, and that was pretty much enough.

Katsuki wasn’t sure of exactly when he had stopped thinking of Y/N L/N as another stupid extra. Maybe it had been when he found himself walking a little slower while she accompanied him towards class, or maybe it had been a bit earlier, when she hugged him tight in the middle of a crowd, almost as if she could squeeze the pain being kidnapped by the League of Villains had brought him, and he let her — while All Might fought his last battle and all of Japan feared for its future, Bakugou let her hold him.

He didn’t particularly like her. She talked too much, too fast, too loud; she insisted on walking him to and from the dorms everyday; and she was weak, stupid, useless. To be completely fair, Bakugou would say he despised her.

And yet, he found himself around her way more often than necessary.

“Hey, Bakugou, wait up! Let’s walk together!”

He groaned loudly at the sound of her voice, having been hopelessly hoping she wouldn’t be able to catch up.

“Fuck, no. Get out of my way, Stupid!”

He slowed down nonetheless, soon walking by her side. Her smile was bright and excited as she kept on blabbering about something Kirishima had done when they were paired up on training that day.

He couldn’t fucking stand her.

“— and then he threw me off the training mat so easily! Who taught him how to do that? I wanna do that!”

“I don’t give a fuck, Stupid.”

“— but I won the second time we sparred, so I guess we’re even. It was fun.”

Y/N never seemed bothered by his harsh words. In fact, she usually either ignored them altogether, unfaltering and patient, or laughed and added some opinion of her own to his rage. It was maddening — she couldn’t take a hint.

Moments like this were common, almost routine. If Bakugou didn’t know better, he would’ve thought the girl had taken quite a liking to him. It was an obvious conclusion, considering she was always around him in some way or another, trying to spark up friendly conversation and letting him know how her day went.

(It was so, so calming to have her here like this. He would never admit it, but hearing Y/N’s endless rants brought him a sense of security he had never really felt before. She talked too much, that was for sure, yet he didn’t really care. It was okay if it was her.)

He couldn’t fucking stand her.

“Come on, try again. We’ve gone through this already.”

“I can’t, Bakugou. I—I’m sorry.”

The ash blond sighed, running a hand through his hair. The bite to his tone had disappeared after a couple of hours, red gaze intensely attentive to the frustrated tears gathering in the girl’s eyes. Every other student had gone back to their dorms, and the librarian seemed very intent on shooting the duo angry looks as if to tell them to hurry up and leave already, finally allowing their long afternoon shift to end.

“Yes, you can. I know you can. Try again, you’re almost fucking there.”

Katsuki had never been good at positive reinforcement. He was better at screaming and cursing and insulting, and, yes, he had tried that with Y/N a thousand times before, but he could see how hard she was trying. He noticed how disappointed and tired she was, and he couldn’t find it in himself to be anything less than what he recognized as incredibly soft. He was glad they were the only ones in the library — he wouldn’t know how to explain himself if anyone saw him like this, watching this random girl who he refused to call a friend mess up her homework in various different ways, talking quietly to stop her from crying.

“We don’t have all fucking day, Stupid. You can do this, go on.”

Yeah, definitely not good at positive reinforcement.

“Okay,” she inhaled deeply, pencil moving slowly through the paper, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

There was a slight crease between her brows as she worked, and Bakugou felt the sudden urge to rub it away, which he rejected immediately. That was ridiculous! There was no reason for things like this to plague his mind — L/N Y/N was an idiot, and he didn’t deliberately think about her in any way, form, or universe. She wasn’t worthy of his thoughts.

“Is this it?”

His attention immediately returned to the equations and messy notes on her notebook while he looked it over, a surprised glint taking his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s basically it. It could be better, but you got it right.”

“I did?”

“You did. I told you you could do it, Stupid.”

Katsuki choked on his own air when the girl jumped towards his place on the table, hugging him tightly by the neck while spouting a great variety of thank you’s and praise, disrupting the angry librarian. Bakugou could feel his cheeks heat up under the worker’s glare, both with irritation born from their silent attitude and from the weird warmth growing in his chest at Y/N’s attention.

It was the first time she hugged him since the kidnapping accident, and it felt different. It wasn’t a comfort hug like last time, no — it was almost like she had been so happy she couldn’t stop herself from touching him, and that thought alone was enough to send sirens flaring inside his head. Every single inch where her skin touched his seemed to tingle, a calming sensation flowing through his body.

He instantly decided he hated the feeling, pushing her off harshly but still a tad more carefully than he would’ve if it was anyone else.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, no need to freak out. Let’s just get done with this already and go back to the dorms.”

She smiled widely as she picked her things up, shoving them inside her backpack and patiently waiting for him to do the same. Strangely, the explosion boy couldn’t find it in himself to meet her eyes, avoiding the light blush he feared would coat his features when he saw her staring at him like that, with that pretty — no, not pretty, no, he didn’t think she was pretty in anyway — with that stupid smile on her face.

“I’m glad we can walk back together,” the girl declared cheerfully the moment they left the big and lonely library, strolling through the empty path side by side, the sun nowhere to be seen. “It’s late already.”

“Whatever,” he groaned back, refusing to look at her yet still maintaining a pace he was sure she could keep up with.

He couldn’t fucking stand her.

Bakugou felt hyper-aware of every movement beside him. For a few days now, his heart would pump a bit faster whenever she smiled, and his skin would crawl with what he could only describe as the craving to have her hold him again.

It made him weak, and he wouldn’t have it. Bakugou Katsuki was a lot of things, but he refused to be weak.

Specially because of someone like Stupid.

“What grade did you guys get on last week’s math test?”

They always sat next to each other during lunch. It wouldn’t be that bad if it wasn’t for how her knee touched his ever so softly, her body too close for comfort because of Kaminari’s presence on her other side, pressing onto her enthusiastically each time he spoke. Kirishima had asked her once if she wanted him to exchange places with the electric boy, but she simply laughed it off — Kaminari’s manners were endearing, in a way. For some reason, those words gave Katsuki the urge to break Kaminari’s nose.

“I got an 87,” Y/N declared, delight dripping from her words while she played with the food on her plate.

“Y/N!” Mina’s smile was so big it almost didn’t fit on her face. “That’s almost 30 marks higher than you got on our last test!”

“I know!” Bakugou scowled at her excitement before she turned her head to look at him, a sunny grin directed entirely to him, stealing all the air from his lungs. “Bakugou is an amazing tutor!”

“Damn right I am,” he managed to rasp out, clearing his throat loudly before shoving a bunch of spicy noodles in his mouth. Kirishima and Sero exchanged a look.

He would never admit it, the raw pride that consumed his chest at her happiness. He knew how hard she had worked for that test, and was glad to see it went even better than she expected.

“Maybe now you could tutor me, Y/N,” Kaminari wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing a laugh to escape the girl’s lips while she turned away from Katsuki to stare at him.

“I would love to, but I’m pretty sure I would make your grades even worse.”

“Hey,” Bakugou barked angrily, fighting off the blush creeping up his ears, “don’t sell yourself short, Stupid. You’re not that much of a dumbass.”

A heavy silence fell down on the group, surprised stares pointed to the ash blond. He could feel his stomach twist in anger at the unwanted attention, yet something about the way her smile widened at his words caused his irritation to decrease exponentially.

“What are you idiots staring at?” he lashed out despite the calm settling inside his heart at the sight of her, rolling his eyes at the bunch of morons he called his friends.

“No, nothing,” Kaminari’s voice was high-pitched in obvious lying that brought out snickers from everyone else on the table but Bakugou himself. “Nothing.”

“It better be nothing, Dunce Face, or I’ll kill you.”

“Of course,” Kirishima bit down on his lip to contain his laughter, “don’t worry about it, Bakubro.”

The day went by slowly and way more often than not Bakugou found himself stealing glances towards where he knew Y/N’s seat was. There was a weird whispering in the back of his head, reminding him of how her arms felt around him when they hugged in the library the week before, reminding him of the warmth that invaded his skin and implanted itself in his brain, reminding him of how bright her smiles were and how nice her laughter sounded.

Oh, there was something wrong. Did she have some sort of secondary quirk guilty of making him feel like this? Never before had he ever given her much thought, even though he had to admit his mind wandered to her sometimes and he did try to somehow be nicer to her, but it wasn’t because he cared for her or anything, right? Of course not! He just thought she wouldn’t be able to take his usual self and he didn’t want to deal with her crying or whatever. It wasn’t because he cared about what she thought of him, hell no! Bakugou didn’t waste his time worrying about others, that wasn’t like him at all.

Bakugou Katsuki didn’t think about L/N Y/N, he didn’t, he wouldn’t.

The ash blond forced his gaze away from her once more, trying to make sense of what should’ve been neat notes instead of the mess of scribbles staring right back at him. He snarled to himself, immediately considering his disorganization as entirely her fault. How dare she play with him like this? How dare she think herself worthy of his time like this?

He couldn’t stand her.

And yet, less than two hours later, there he was, listening to her rant about this one movie she desperately wanted to watch while they walked beside each other after class. It would be so easy for Bakugou to pick up his pace and leave her alone, but his body refused to obey his mind’s wishes, and so he kept himself slow enough for her to stay with him.

He couldn’t fucking stand her.

His whole body was sore, barely able to move his arms after overusing his quirk all evening. Bakugou knew he shouldn’t push himself this hard, but he refused to falter, refused to stay behind and risk being weak again. He needed to get stronger, smarter, and, for better or for worse, that involved long training hours.

The path back to the dorms was strangely lonely without a certain girl keeping him company — not that Katsuki minded, he obviously didn’t. Some loneliness was very much appreciated after the last couple of weeks, which were filled with study group sessions and stupid walks.

He sighed heavily when the 2-A dorm finally came into his range of vision, causing his tired figure to relax. He was almost there — he would soon be able to eat something, take a nice shower, and then fall straight into bed. He would soon be able to rest, and that was the only thing in his mind.

The ash blond kicked his shoes away the moment he reached the door, tossing them aside without a second thought.

He would’ve liked to say he bee-lined to the kitchen.

He didn’t.

“Stupid, what the fuck are you doing?”

Y/N looked up from the common room coffee table, startled by the sudden interruption. She studied him for a second before answering, “I’m just looking over some homework. Why? Did something happen?”

He grunted in distaste, unable to stop himself from sitting down next to her on the couch. Every single one of his muscles felt like it was on fire from overexertion.

“It’s fucking late. Didn’t we study yesterday? Did you even have dinner yet?”

She tensed slightly at his angry questions, returning her stare towards the papers in front of them. “Yeah, but I just thought it’d be good to go over everything once more. I’ll just eat some crackers for dinner, it’s fine,” she shrugged nonchalantly, missing the way his eyebrows furrowed at her words, “where were you anyway?”

Katsuki simply rolled his eyes, arms crossed. “It’s none of your fucking business, Stupid. And you can’t have crackers for dinner, that’s not a proper meal.”

“What are you gonna do about it, Bakugou? Will you cook me dinner?” Her tone was teasing, joking, but he stood up immediately, snatching all the papers and notes from her and walking to the kitchen without a second of hesitation. “Hey, what the fuck!”

“Come with me already, you dumbass,” he snarled angrily, a tint of red covering his cheeks, “what do you want to eat?”

Her voice suddenly went soft, “Bakugou, I was kidding. You don’t need to get me dinner, I can just heat up some ramen or—”

“Shut the fuck up, Stupid. I was already going to cook dinner for myself anyway.”

He wasn’t, actually. He planned on eating leftovers from lunch, but he knew there wouldn’t be enough leftovers for both of them, and it was good to prepare some lunch for the next day, anyway. It wasn’t like he was doing it for her, of course not! It was just… Mutually beneficial. Yeah, it was mutually beneficial, not—not special treatment. He didn’t care about Stupid, he didn’t.

“Can I help with anything?” she asked nervously, face flushed from bashfulness and hands fidgety. Katsuki shook his head, ignoring the twitching pain on his forearms as he stirred the pot.

“Just sit down and wait.”

“Are you sure?” Y/N bit her lower lip with furrowed brows. “You seem tired, I don’t want you to do everything by yourself.”

An angry remark sat on the top of his tongue, but the ash blond hesitated. Well, if she helped with the simpler things this would be done faster, and he could go back to his room and rest earlier. Besides, the idea of cooking and spending time with Y/N in the kitchen caused some type of warmth to take over his chest — a warmth that wasn’t exactly insufferable.

It felt strangely soothing, hearing her hum while slicing vegetables and waiting for the noodles to cook through. It felt even more strangely soothing to sit before her on the kitchen table, staring anxiously while she took the first bite of his food. The worst, however, was the way her smile brightened up the room when she started rambling about how good it tasted and how much of a good cook he was and how he now had to cook for her more often. He disagreed loudly, the tip of his ears burning with embarrassment, saying he didn’t cook for her — he cooked for him, and she just happened to be there too. She cackled, and his heart seemed to burn.

He couldn’t fucking stand her.

Seventeen minutes. Y/N was seventeen minutes late.

Had she forgotten about it? God, she was the one who brought it up in the first place, and now she was the one making him wait. Katsuki felt incredibly stupid sitting in his dorm floor, a bunch of her favorite snacks neatly organized next to the nightstand and pillows on the ground for them to sit on. It was supposed to be a study date or whatever, even though he repeatedly refused to call it that (“it’s not a date, Stupid, it’s just one of our homework sessions like always!”).

They had been spending a lot of time together between studying at the library, walking to the dorms, and cooking and eating dinner, and Bakugou had to admit he didn’t absolutely hate it. Don’t get him wrong, Y/N was still annoying and stupid and insufferable but—but something about her made him come back every single time, ignoring the knowing looks from his friends and the snickers from his classmates.

Despite his anger, a bit of worry started to blossom inside the boy’s chest. Stupid Y/N (and he hated how affectionate the mean nickname sounded to himself at this point) was rarely late — he had been seeing her after school hours enough to know. The girl was always on time and, when she wasn’t, she made sure to let others know why.

There was no text from her, though, and it made his fingers twitch uncomfortably with the urge to make a phone call and check if everything was alright.

Not that he cared if she was alright or not, because he didn’t. She was just—just some girl who decided to invade his life with no permission whatsoever and then stayed. He didn’t care about her.

And yet—

“Hello?”

“IcyHot? What are you doing with Y/N’s phone? Where the fuck is she?”

Bakugou couldn’t muster any reason for why Todoroki would’ve been the one to pick up the call instead of her. They weren’t even friends! Yes, they knew each other and he was vaguely aware of the fact the two had sparring sessions every once in a while, but not enough so for Todoroki to feel comfortable using her phone or for Y/N to bail on their study date.

“Oh, Bakugou,” Shouto’s tone was as casual as always, almost as if this was a common occurrence (which it wasn’t), “hey. Y/N is with Recovery Girl right now. She got into a fight, but she is okay, just a few cuts and bruises. I was the one to stop the fight, so Aizawa asked me to wait around while she gets checked up on. Do you want me to tell her anything?”

Bakugou had been out the door when he heard the words “Recovery Girl”, speed walking to the nurse’s office while Todoroki rambled. He could feel his heart picking up its pace. Why would Y/N get into a fight? God, this wasn’t like her, and the prospect of someone purposely picking a fight with her filled him with the most raw type of anger possible.

“What the fuck did she get into a fight for?” he voiced his concerns, and he was pretty sure Todoroki just shrugged.

“These two boys were saying things about—”

“Todoroki? Who are you talking to?”

“Miss L/N, I’m still not done with you—”

Katsuki furrowed his brows at the commotion heard from the other end. He could easily recognize her voice, even though it sounded raspy and tired, but the next bit of conversation was too muffled for him to understand. The future hero could already see Recovery Girl’s office a few meters away, and it made him walk a bit faster.

“Give me the phone, Todoroki.”

“Miss L/N, you are still bleeding—”

The door opened violently. Y/N met Bakugou’s glare and felt a bad shiver go down her spine.

Shit, they were supposed to have that study date today. God, did he come all the way over there just to scold her?

Heavy silence fell over the small group of people. Aizawa and Recovery Girl exchanged a quick look, the small lady’s arm still extended towards the girl in a failed attempt to grab her and drag her back to the hospital bed, even though she was definitely not as hurt as they made her out to be. Yes, she had a bunch of nasty bruises after throwing hands with two random guys from the year above her, and, yes, her nose hadn’t stopped bleeding yet, but she was mainly okay. Todoroki had gotten there pretty quickly and stopped her from making things worse, so she was fine.

“What the fuck did you do, Stupid?”

Yeah, he definitely went all the way there to scold her.

“Uh. Now, that’s a good question!” She consciously chose to ignore the smirk on Aizawa’s face, pulling her phone from Todoroki’s grip a bit more violently than necessary. “You see, I’m sorry for my tardiness, I know we had plans, we still can—”

“I asked you what the fuck you did, Stupid. I’m waiting for my answer.”

“Miss L/N picked a fight with two third years after hearing them talk about one of her colleagues in public. Thankfully, Mr. Todoroki intervened,” their teacher cut in, crossing his arms and staring as the girl cleaned up a stray drop of blood on her lips with the back of her hand. “She’ll be getting a written warning and will hopefully stay out of trouble.”

“Yes, sir,” she muttered, frowning when Recovery Girl started fussing over her again, sticking band-aids all over the small cuts on her face. Y/N had refused to accept Recovery Girl’s quirk treatment, aware that she was very busy and that it wasn’t necessary for the school nurse to tire herself out for just a few bruises. She was so intent on glaring at her elders that she didn’t notice the worry swimming in Bakugou’s red gaze.

“Good. Can you two get her back to the dorms?”

“Yes, I—”

“Fuck off, IcyHot, I’m taking her back by myself. Find something to freeze or whatever.”

Katsuki grabbed her by the arm, dragging her out of Recovery Girl’s office without a second’s worth of hesitation. He wouldn’t even look at her, fuming the whole way to the dorms. Still, he walked slow enough for her to not struggle to keep up.

“Are you mad?”

He snickered humorlessly, “of course I am, Stupid. How the fuck did you get yourself into this? And you fucking left me waiting, too, you idiot.”

Usually, Y/N didn’t care about his harsh words. Y/N didn’t mind his angry remarks. This time, however, she felt tired, and she had just gotten into a fight because of him, so she refused to take it. She had tried so hard to get close to him, to make him like her. The girl could feel tears gathering in her eyes from fury and sadness — how stupid was she to actually believe he would ever like her, be it as a friend or more? She should’ve known better. Dinner and studying and walking together meant nothing to him. She was just a bother, and she should’ve noticed earlier.

Y/N halted, pulling her arm away from his hand with rage and deception coating her every feature, “shut the fuck up, Bakugou. I don’t have to give you any explanations, you piece of shit. If you’re so pissed about it, why don’t you just leave me alone, huh? I’m done keeping up with your bullshit. I always try to be a good friend to you and you just keep doing this! You keep pushing me away and treating me like an idiot, and I deserve more than that!”

The explosion boy had a crease on his forehead, a cold feeling going through his body. The angry look in her eyes was something he didn’t recognize, and suddenly she felt so unreachable, so far away. He quickly decided he hated it.

Why did he hate it, though? They had nothing to do with each other. They were barely friends. Wasn’t this what he wanted? He couldn’t fucking stand her, he didn’t care about her. This was what he had wanted for months now — for her to tell him to leave, for her to not stand him too. Why did it feel so wrong, then? Why did he feel the urge to collect her in his arms like she loved to do with him? Why did he just want to hold her and tell her he was worried and that he couldn’t wait to spend more time with her, that he couldn’t wait for their stupid study date? And, yeah, it could be a date if she wanted it to. God, he’d accept any name or title she gave their meetings if only they could go on forever.

How long had this been going on? When did she make him so attached to her? Why hadn’t he noticed it before?

“Fuck you, Bakugou,” she muttered, slightly out of breath after her short outburst, face dark with frustration, “those idiots were talking about you and about how you should be a villain or whatever, and I got mad. That’s how I fucking got myself into this, because I care about you. Thanks for caring, asshole.”

The girl turned to walk away, and panic bloomed in the boy’s chest. He didn’t know why exactly, but he knew he couldn’t let her leave. He couldn’t let her leave him, couldn’t let her think he didn’t care, because he was just now seeing he did — so, so much. Of course he cared about her and all her silly manners that made their way into his heart and stayed there, on the edge of conditioning him to feel better whenever she was around. Of course he cared about her and the study dates and the sparring sessions and all the stories she loved to tell, of course he fucking did. Of course.

Katsuki was quick to grab her arm again, pulling her so close to him their chests bumped. Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Bakugou, what the fuck are you—”

“I like you. I really—I really do,” he shook his head, trying to gather his own feelings. “A lot. I was worried. I’m sorry.”

Y/N blinked.

“You were worried? About me?”

“Yes,” he scratched the back of his neck, looking away to hide his blushed cheeks, which didn’t go unnoticed by her attentive eyes. A smile played on the corners of her mouth, and Y/N let herself enjoy the rapid bumping of her heart, the flustered sight of the one boy she had fallen for. Flustered because of her. She could feel a rush of confidence building inside her chest. “I guess… I guess I care about you, too. Even if you’re absolutely insufferable,” he added clumsily, causing her smile to widen considerably, “I can’t fucking stand you, to be honest. You annoy me to no end.”

“Now do I?” she took a step closer, so close that he could feel her breath on his face and it made his head spin. “You don’t seem very annoyed to me, Bakugou.”

“Katsuki,” he corrected thoughtlessly, feeling his face warm up even more when he took notice of his own words.

“Right,” Y/N nodded, smirk on her face, “Katsuki, then.”

He opened his mouth to make a mean remark that would push her away enough to give him space to breathe, but he was suddenly interrupted by her lips on his. Before he could register it, she was gone, speed walking back to the dorms. After a few shocked seconds, he started running after her, calling her name angrily and trying to conceal the dark red on his face, neck, and ears.

“Hey, come back here, Stupid! What the fuck was that?”

Bakugou couldn’t have ignored the way his heart fluttered at the sound of her laugh even if he tried, a lazy smile taking over his lips immediately.

“I can’t stand you either, Katsuki.”

“Oh, shut up.”

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #bakugou katsuki #mha x reader #mha

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