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fortheloveofwonderland · 4 years ago

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A Memory Locked In The Heart - Spencer Reid x fem! Reader

A/N - Requested by the lovely @overduelibrarybooks I hope this was the kind of thing you were looking for!

Find my masterlist here.

My taglists are open and requests are open.

Requested: Yes l No

Request: "could u ever write a spencer reid x reader where reader def works for the cia but more as a translator who’s kinda forced into doing agenty things in order to gather intel and on a mandated break she finds out the UNSUB before the team does so she uses herself as bait, and shoots the guy all very badass fashion n then gets interrogated bc ms girl just shot him coldblood and halfway thru she recognizes spencer bc her mother and his mom lived in the same care facility??? idk sorry my mom has paranoid too so it just hits different but u don’t have to write this if u don’t want to i love ur writing <3"

CW: disclaimer: I know next to nothing about the CIA and what they investigate so please go easy on me here. This is all made up so hopefully it makes some kind of sense. Mentions of violence and sex work, schizophrenia, Alzheimer’s, some swears. Mentions of drug use and overdose. Spanish used towards the end is from Google Translate so I apologise if it isn’t completely accurate. Italics indicate flashbacks.

Plot: Eighteen years ago you met a boy named Spencer Reid whilst visiting your mother at Bennington Sanitorium. This time you are meeting under entirely different circumstances; across the table of an interrogation room.

WC: 5.3K

—————————————————————

How did I end up here?

That was a question you kept asking yourself as you rolled into your third hour of sitting in that cold, dimly lit interrogation room at the FBI headquarters in Quantico, Virginia.

Well you supposed you’d have to go back to the beginning to truly work that out.

The CIA and FBI joint task force for a country wide sex trafficking ring they believed to be operating out of DC.

When your team at the CIA had started investigating it was estimated that the ring had close to a hundred women who had been abducted and forced into the sex industry.

A lot of women were believed to have been taken trying to cross the border. Your job as a translator had involved spending a lot of time in Mexico, helping interview witnesses and family members who didn’t speak English.

The FBI involvement had come when women believed to have been part of the trafficking ring started turning up dead.

At last count they were up to twenty bodies. The Behavioural Analyst Unit had given their profile of the man they believed to be running the show.

White male in his mid to late forties. Bilingual. Possibly born in Mexico or an area surrounding the border but grew up in DC, they assumed based on his knowledge of the area. He’s attractive, charming and has a good level of education, he’d need to be able to charm the women into trusting him. He doesn’t have a full time job because he wouldn’t have time for one. All his time and focus goes on his girls. He was tech savvy, incredibly so, he’d have to be, to be able to set up the network on the dark web which enabled his customers to pay for his services.

It hadn’t been going well. Bodies kept dropping and the task force was no closer to catching the person responsible.

This went on for six months. Everyone was exhausted. You kept hitting brick wall after brick wall. It was demoralising.

Your boss had called for mandated time off. You’d all argued but she had been absolutely adamant. You’d all been working yourselves to the bone and she didn’t want you burnt out entirely.

You’d argued but your words had fallen on deaf ears.

“Can I get you a glass of water or something?”

The voice startled you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see the lanky, messy haired agent who called himself Doctor Reid, sticking his head through the door.

“Is coffee an option?”

He smiled brightly at you, a smile you swear you’ve seen before.

“Coffee is always an option.” He told you. “How do you take it?”

“Strong and black. Please.”

“I’ll be right back.”

With that the door closed leaving you to your thoughts once more.

There was something so familiar about the Doctor. His dark yet sparkling eyes, his awkward smile and the way he dressed. You couldn’t place it. But there was definitely something about him that stirred some memory buried deep in your brain. You just weren’t sure what it was.

He returned a few minutes later, bringing your coffee into the room and placing it on the table in front of you.

“Hopefully you won’t be stuck here too much longer. It’s just standard procedure.” he spoke sweetly, his voice stirring the hidden memory.

“Yeah I know. I get it.” you sighed as you spoke, wrapping your hands around the coffee. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome.” he smiled before he started backing out of the room. You wished you could ask him to stay because you felt so much more at ease with him around. But you knew you couldn’t.

He turned to you in the doorway.

“You look cold in that.” He smiled a little sadly at you.

You’d forgotten about your outfit choice. No self respecting CIA agent dressed like you were right now.

“I guess I am a little.” You shrugged.

Spencer instantly shrugged his blazer off of his shoulders and laid it in front of you on the table.

“Thank you Doctor Reid.” you spoke again before he disappeared out the door.

“Goodbye Agent Y/L/N.”

The door closed, his voice reverberating in your ears, dragging you into a long forgotten memory.

As you slipped his jacket on, your eyes fluttered closed, his scent wafting up your nose.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid.”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

Your eyes shot back open, a frown on your face.

“Spencer?” you muttered under your breath. “Spencer Reid.”

Where had you pulled that name from? And why did it feel oddly connected to Vegas?

You tried to push the thought away, you already had enough on your mind. There were much more pressing things to deal with than a vague memory from your hometown an undetermined amount of time ago.

***

You’d been instructed to switch off. Your time off should be used to recoup, relax and not to think about the case.

Easier said than done you thought.

Before you’d left the office on your mandated leave you’d taken photocopies of some files and slipped them into your bag. You knew you’d be in trouble if you were caught but you couldn’t help yourself. You wouldn’t be able to relax with this case still open.

As far as you were aware the BAU was still working on it but it provided you little comfort. In your time with the CIA you’d never gotten to be involved so heavily in a case. Your skills were mostly utilised in interview capacities and then you were sidelined.

You’d never had the privilege to work on a joint task force or investigate a crime so brutal.

You felt personally invested in this case. You thought if you could just find that one missing puzzle piece you could crack this case wide open.

And then you’d found it. The golden ticket. The smoking gun. The missing piece.

It had taken five days of your leave and copious amounts of coffee but you’d connected the dots no one else had.

You knew how to draw the unsub out. And you were going to do it tonight.

***

“Let’s start again from the beginning shall we?” Agent Rossi linked his fingers together on top of the table as he looked across at you, still slowly sipping your coffee.

“Oh goody.” You sighed. “Could Agent Jareau not fill you in what I’ve already told her?”

“Humour me.” The old man shrugged.

You didn’t have any ill will against him. Far from it. You were actually a big fan of David Rossi. But you were sick and tired of being treated like a criminal.

“Tell me how you managed to work out how to find him.”

You took another long sip of the coffee.

“All the pieces were there, they just hadn’t been put into place.”

“And how did you piece them together?”

“There was a pattern to where the women had been last seen. It was a guess more than anything. A lucky guess.”

“And the pattern was?”

You sighed in frustration.

“As I told agent Jareau,” you sipped your coffee. “The bars they were last seen in all had ties to Mexico. I’m not a native to DC but I know the area like the back of my hand. They were all either Mexican owned, had a Mexican name or were previously establishments such as Mexican restaurants. I made an educated guess that he frequented places such as these looking for his targets. I just got lucky I picked the right one.”

***

You felt incredibly exposed, but you supposed that was the point.

If you were going to get this guy's attention, you had to do this right.

It was a long shot. Just because Western’s bar was known for its famous tacos did not mean it would be the place he chose to pick up girls.

You just had to hope.

You wore a skimpy skirt that barely covered your ass, knee high boots and a crop top that accentuated your assets.

Your firearm was hidden in your left boot.

Your outfit garnered a lot of looks as you headed through Westerns towards the bar.

You felt men’s eyes on you from every angle, making you feel extremely self conscious. But you needed to keep your cool, exude confidence.

If your guy was here he needed to see you shine.

You ordered a soda to keep your head clear and sat at a table over the far side of the bar. From there you had a good view of the entrance and most of the room. And more importantly, the room had a view of you.

Three hours you sat there nursing your soda. It was a huge stab in the dark, you weren’t really surprised.

You finished your drink and headed out onto the cool DC street.

You made it five steps before you felt a presence behind you.

Just as you were about to turn, something covered your mouth.

You struggled against a pair of strong arms.

A smell wafted up your nose seconds before you lost consciousness.

Chloroform.

***

“Why didn’t you tell your unit chief before you went in?”

“Because I thought it was a long shot.” And because she would have been furious I was working the case.

“So you chose to use yourself as bait?”

“Yes.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

“Do you know how dangerous that could have been?” Rossi raised an eyebrow at you.

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“Yes agent Rossi, I’m well aware. But I had a lead and I wasn’t going to ignore it.” You pulled Doctor Reid’s jacket tighter around your scantily clad body.

You caught his scent again. Coffee. Old books. A hint of peppermint.

Another long shut off memory wormed it’s way to the surface.

“So are you here visiting someone?”

“Yeah.” You smiled sadly. “My mom.”

“Oh.” He returned your sad smile. “Me too.”

“Agent Y/L/N?”

You were brought back by Rossi’s concerned voice.

“Hmm?”

“I said, what happened next? You were chloroformed and then what?”

You shook your head, your mind clouded.

“Can we take a break? I could really use some air.”

Rossi sighed with a small nod.

He stood from his chair and motioned you to follow him.

You got some odd looks from his fellow agents as he led you to the elevators. They all recognised what you were wearing as Spencer’s jacket.

You followed Rossi into the elevator and he pressed the button for the ground floor.

“Agent Rossi, can I ask you a strange question?” You asked as the doors closed.

He gave you a curious look.

“I suppose.”

“Doctor Reid. As in Spencer Reid?”

“The one and only.” Rossi frowned unsure what you were getting at.

“Where is he from?”

Rossi’s frown deepened, not sure he should tell you such things about his team. But you were an agent and you didn’t pose a threat to the team.

“Vegas I believe.”

Vegas. Of course.

“Ok.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t know.” You chewed your lip. “I think I might have known him.”

“Oh?”

You wished you hadn’t opened your mouth. This was not the time or place.

“I’m probably wrong. Just forget I said anything.”

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. As you stepped out you pulled Spencer’s collar to your nose and sniffed it.

No you weren’t wrong.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Hi again.” You smiled at the lanky man, Spencer you’d met a few days ago. “How’s your mom?”

“Still angry at me.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stubbed the toe of his shoe on the floor.

“She came in recently?”

“Yeah a few months ago. I turned eighteen and I was able to have her put into care.” He blanched, clearly feeling guilty for his decision.

“Do you want to grab a coffee?”

“Uhm sure.” He shrugged.

He followed you through to the day room. It was late and there were only a few patients inside and a few nurses milling around.

You got two cups of coffee from the machine and the two of you sat at a table together.

“Do you mind me asking what’s wrong with your mom?” You dared as you slid him the drink.

He sighed heavily, gnawing on his bottom lip as though his life depended on it.

“She’s a paranoid schizophrenic.” He spoke clinically, words he’d had to say too many times in his life. It was as though he’d distanced himself from it. Like he was giving a patient a diagnosis rather than talking about his own mother.

“Mine too.” You gave him a wry smile. You had something in common, just not something you would like to have in common.

“How long has your mom been here?”

“Three years. She got really bad and my dad couldn’t take care of her anymore. She’s been doing much better since she moved in here.”

“That’s good.” Spencer nodded. “I hope my mom realises I did this for her. For her well being. At the moment she’s just so...angry.”

You reached across the table and placed your hand on top of his. He seemed a little startled by the physical touch but you didn’t move your hand.

“This is the best place for her. I assume from what you said earlier your dad isn’t in the picture?”

He used his free hand to sip his coffee with a sad shake of his head.

“He left when I was ten. He couldn’t handle mom's illness.”

You gave his hand a small squeeze.

“I can’t imagine what it was like for you to have to look after her by yourself. It was hard enough with my dad there. Really makes you grow up fast.”

“It really does.” He agreed. “I’m not sure I ever got to be a kid.”

“I know that feeling.”

After that you spent hours chatting about anything and everything until way into the night. It wasn’t until a nurse came and asked you politely to leave that you realised how late it was.

“I’ll probably see you around?” You spoke as you stepped outside together.

“Maybe. In a few weeks I’m heading out of state. I’m working on a PhD.” He didn’t want to tell you it was actually his second PhD.

“Oh. Ok.” You tried to hide the disappointment from your voice.

Despite the circumstances you’d enjoyed talking to someone like minded, someone who understood. You didn’t have anyone else your own age you could talk to about this kind of thing.

“Maybe we could exchange numbers?” You blushed a little.

“I don’t have a cellphone.” He shrugged.

“Oh.”

“It’s not an excuse.” He sensed you didn’t believe him. “I’m not so into technology. I don’t even have email.”

Normally you would have thought it was just a bad excuse to get out of seeing you again but the look on Spencer’s face told you he was being genuine.

“Ok.” You gave him a shy smile. “Well maybe I’ll see you again before you leave.”

“I hope so.” His eyes sparkled as he looked at you on the dark street.

There was an air between you, some kind of thick tension but you didn’t know what it meant.

“If I don’t see you again,” you spoke trying to ignore whatever it was. “It was really good to meet you and I hope your mom gets used to the facility.”

“You too.” He smiled so genuinely at you, it made your heart skip a beat.

And then you went your separate ways.

***

“Ok, so what happened next?” Rossi wasted no time once you were back in the interrogation room.

“Well I blacked out after I was chloroformed so excuse me if I don’t remember.” You gave him a sarcastic smile.

“What’s the next thing you do remember?” He reworded his question.

“I woke up in a large basement. It was gritty and dingy. And there were other women there too.”

“How many?”

“At least twenty.” You sighed letting your mind travel back to the basement you never wanted to go back to. Not even in your mind.

***

You woke with a start, your head pounding. You gasped for air as though you’d been drowning.

You blinked your eyes trying to adjust to the dark room you found yourself in.

It was cold and damp and you could hear a pipe dripping in the distance.

You tried to roll over but your arm wouldn’t budge. You were met by a loud clanking sound when you tried.

You tugged your arm, hearing the same sound and being met with a sharp pain in your wrist.

“Good luck.” A woman’s voice scoffed. “They don’t come loose.”

You blinked a few more times, looking over to your left arm. There was a heavy metal cuff right around your wrist that was attached to a metal bed frame.

That’s when you realised you were laying on a small cot on top of a ratty, itchy blanket. You were still dressed, thank god.

You suddenly remembered your firearm concealed in your boot. You patted your left calf and sure enough you felt the hard weapon still inside.

That was something at least.

Oversight on their part.

You remembered the voice you’d heard before and turned as much as you could with your arm cuffed to take in the rest of the room.

There were at least forty other cots close together lining the walls, with at least half of them containing the body of other women.

The voice you’d heard belonged to a woman in the cot next to you. She gave you a smile but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Her eyes were broken.

“Hi,” you croaked. “I’m Y/N.”

“Delilah.” Her accent was Spanish. You were sure Delilah wasn’t her real name either.

“How long have you been here?”

She sighed, playing with a strand of curly black hair.

“What month is it?”

“September.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Not that long then. I’ve been here since July.” She looked confused as though that couldn’t be long enough.

“Delilah?” You narrowed your eyes on her. “What year do you think it is?”

“2018…” she saw your face drop and knew instantly it was no longer 2018.

“Oh gosh.” You felt for her, tears welling in your eyes. “It’s 2020.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. “Wow.”

“It’s ok.” You lowered your voice. “I’m CIA. I’m going to get us out of here. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

***

“Delilah.” Rossi opened the file in front of him. “Was that Roberta Suez?”

He pulled out a photograph and slid it across the table. You averted your gaze.

“Yes and please I don’t need to see it, I was there.”

“How did she end up in hospital fighting for her life?”

“You know how.” You huffed. “Look I’m starting to get fed up with this now.” You folded your arms. “Carlos Ramirez was a sick son of a bitch. If I hadn’t done what I did he would have killed all those women. I don’t regret what I did.”

“How did she end up in hospital?” He repeated.

“Good lord.” You grumbled. “I’ll talk but I don’t want to talk to you.”

Rossi narrowed his eyes on you.

“No? But I’m so compassionate.” He spoke sarcastically.

“I won’t say another word unless it’s to Reid.” You looked up to the two way mirror. You didn’t know why but you had a feeling he was there.

Sure enough it was barely twenty seconds before the door opened and Doctor Reid himself stepped in the room.

“I got this Rossi.” Spencer told the older man who stood up with a shrug.

Rossi left the room while Spencer took the seat he’d been occupying.

Did he remember you? It had been close to twenty years since you’d last seen each other. Had it not been for the olfactory memory that struck you when you put on his jacket you might never have remembered him.

But you knew the rest of his team was behind the two way glass, or at least some of them were so it didn’t seem an appropriate time to ask such things.

“So agent Y/L/N,” he smiled softly at you. “Can you please tell me how Delilah ended up in hospital?”

“You already know the answer to that Doctor but since you asked so nicely,” you leant your elbows on the table, entwined your fingers and rested your chin the little bridge you’d created. “She had a drug overdose. But you and I both know it wasn’t her who administered the drugs.”

“And who did?”

“I did.”

Your words hung in the air between you and Spencer. He knew the answer, the whole team did. You’d already told Agent Jareau everything.

This was a huge waste of time.

“I administered the drugs because he told me if I didn’t he would kill me. I needed to stay alive so I could save those women.”

“Who said he would kill you?”

“I don’t know his name.”

“It wasn’t Ramirez?”

“No.” You shook your head. “If it was Ramirez I would have shot him. But it must have been one of his right hand men.”

“How would you know that? You’d never met Ramirez correct?” Spencer had a soft tone to his voice which made his line of questioning easier than Agent Jareau’s.

“I’m not a profiler but I’ve been to enough seminars over the years. He didn’t fit the bill. He was young, scatty, he didn’t strike as much fear into the other women as I thought the boss would. I made an educated guess and I was right. If I’d shot at him I would have blown my chance at getting Ramirez.”

***

“Shit shit shit!” You pulled yourself as close to Delilah’s cot as possible with your restraint. “Delilah, keep breathing, try to breath. Fuck I am sorry.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks, the empty needle you’d been made to inject in her vein between your cots on the floor.

He’d held a gun to your head and said he would shoot you if you didn’t do it. You didn’t think he was bluffing.

“It happens a lot.” A woman opposite spoke up. “You’ll soon find out. If she wakes up she’ll have the pleasure of returning the favour.” She gave you an almost manic grin.

If she wakes up. It was the if you were having the issue with.

“Who’s in charge around here?”

She shrugged.

“Don’t know his name. Big guy. Tattoos. Mustache. You can’t miss him.”

“Does he come down here often?”

Again she shrugged.

“Being down here you have a way of losing track of time.” She clicked her tongue. “But he’ll be here for you later. He has to test his new girls.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Test?” You swallowed, pretty sure you knew what she meant.

“He can’t very well expect you to make him money if he doesn’t know how good you are.”

Oh god.

Your heartbeat raced. No, it was not going to come to that. You were a CIA agent and you were armed.

It was not going to come to that.

***

Spencer’s face paled a little at your words. You hadn’t told Agent Jareau that part.

“He was going to...he didn’t…”

“No.” You cut him off, pushing the memory back down. “I had a gun, remember.”

You offered him a wry smile.

“So you know what comes next.”

“I’d like you to tell me.”

The way he said it was more like he was a therapist than an FBI agent. As though he wanted you to tell him so you could get it off your chest, unburden yourself, rather than for interrogation purposes.

“Ok.” You nodded. “He came for me later that night. And that’s when it happened.”

***

“Ahh look at you.”

A deep, Spanish voice woke you.

Your eyes fluttered open and landed on a strong, tattooed man with a mustache standing over your cot.

This must be him.

“Tan hermosa.”

So beautiful.

You tried not to shudder.

You sat up wiggling your legs in your boots to make sure you could still feel your firearm. You could.

“Su nombre es Rosa.”

Your name is Rosa.

Guess again.

“Su nombre es Y/N.”

“Tú hablas español?”

You speak Spanish?

“Si.”

“Eres perfecta.” He grinned menacingly. “My clients will love you.”

He reached in his pocket and fished out a key chain. He reached over you and unlocked your cuff.

You rolled your wrist to try and get your blood circulating again.

“On your feet.”

You complied and stood up. Your legs were shaky.

He grasped your wrist, hard enough so you couldn’t wriggle free but not hard enough to leave a mark. He started dragging you across the room.

With his free hand he undid the four locks on the large steel door and pulled your through it. Once on the other side he took care to lock them all again, keeping a firm grasp on you the whole time.

You were dragged down a long, narrow corridor towards another steel door, this one with just one lock on.

He slid the key in and opened it, pulled you inside and locked it behind him.

The room was much smaller than the one you’d been held in and only housed a single cot.

He licked his lip as he looked at you. His large, thick fingers stroked your cheek and you had to try and hide your disgust.

“En la cama. Ahora.”

On the bed. Now.

You had to pick the opportune moment. You had to plan this just right. You had no doubt he had a gun on him so if you faltered even slightly, he would kill you.

“Qué tal esto.”

How about this.

You made a show of licking your lips and then dropping to your knees in front of him.

“Whoa, feisty. I like it.” He grinned, his meaty hands going to his belt buckle.

Yes. Right where you wanted him.

While he was fumbling with his belt, you reached your hand back into your left boot, drawing your gun in one swift move.

You head butted him in the crotch, sending him stumbling backwards, crying out in pain.

“Mierda!” Shit. “Usted puta!”

You whore!

You were on your feet in a second, your gun trained on him.

“You will never hurt another woman again.” You spat, furious tears suddenly streaming from your eyes.

He looked up at you, his mouth opened to speak.

But the words didn’t come out as your bullet hit him between the eyes.

“Who’s the puta now?”

***

“I would say,” Spencer chewed his lip. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

You breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank god.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly. “And I did. If I hadn’t shot him, who knows how many other women would have died.”

Spencer pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Just so you know, we got word from the hospital a little while ago. Roberta Suez, Delilah, is going to be just fine.”

“Oh thank god.” You felt tears brimming your eyes.

He opened the door and turned back to you.

“Are you coming?”

“I can leave?”

“You were never under arrest.” He smirked at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

You got up from the chair and Spencer motioned you out of the room.

“I’ll walk you out.” He showed you across the bullpen towards the elevators. There was an awkward air between the two of you.

Did you say anything? It didn’t seem as though he remembered you, was it worth reminding him?

He motioned you into the elevator first and he followed, pressing the button.

The elevator started its descent.

Time was running out.

“So uhm…” Spencer turned to you and turned too. “How’s your mom?”

A smile broke out on your features.

“I didn’t think you remembered me.”

“Are you kidding?” He laughed. “I recognised you the second you walked in.”

“It’s been twenty years.” You laughed.

“Eighteen years, seven months.” He corrected you. “But I could never forget your face.”

You blushed a little, averting your gaze.

“My moms doing ok. Thanks for asking. How’s your mom?” You looked back at him.

“Recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.” He told you sadly.

“Oh gosh I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok. These things happen.” He shrugged. “Made it to thirty without having a schizophrenic break but now I have to wait until I’m older to find out if I’ll develop Alzheimer’s.”

The doors to the elevator opened and you stepped out, Spencer close behind.

“I really am sorry Spencer.”

“It’s ok.” He shrugged. “Is your mom still at Bennington? I used to see her when I went to visit my mom but I moved her out a little while ago.”

“Yeah she’s still there. She likes being close to my dad.”

You both hovered by the exit, not ready to say goodbye.

“Can I take you for coffee? If you don’t have anywhere else to be.” Spencer blushed as he spoke.

“I’d like that. A lot actually. But I’d really like to shower and change out of this getup.” You laughed. “How about dinner?”

“Dinner sounds perfect.” He grinned at you.

You gave him a smile and turned to leave but before you made it to the door Spencer spoke again.

“Y/N,” he called your name, his voice cracking a little. “You uh...you forgot something.”

You turned to face him curiously.

He walked closer to you and without a second thought, placed his hands on your face and kissed you.

For a second you stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

But after a few moments you wrapped your arms around his neck and opened your mouth to deepen the kiss.

When the kiss ended you were both smiling at one another.

“What was that for?” You asked softly.

“Oh you know…” he shrugged with a coy smile. “Just something that needed to be done.”

“I’ll meet you back here in a few hours.” You told him, touching his chest briefly.

“Ok.”

“Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.” He croaked.

And with that you sauntered out the doors but not out of his life.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Spencer?” You’d only made it a few paces away from Bennington before you stopped in your tracks, calling his name. “You uh...you forgot something.”

He turned to face you curiously.

You walked closer to him and without a second thought, placed your hands on his face and kissed him.

He stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

It was just a brief kiss, Spencer was too confused to do anything but stand there dumbly.

“Wh-what was that for?” He swallowed.

“Just something that needed to be done.” You smiled. “Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.”

And with that you sauntered back down the street, hoping that one day, the universe would lead you back into each other’s lives.

—————————————————————

Taglist (let me know if you would like to be added) -

@muffin-cup

@andiebeaword

@mggsprettygirl @measure-in-pain

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #david rossi #jennifer jareau #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader

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lokis-army-77 · 3 years ago

Text

If You Please

Chapter twelve

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2588

This is technically a reader insert but without the (y/n) and all that. She also has no name mentioned so feel free to imagine as you please.

Follow the reader through the events of the Captain America movies and experience her love for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: none

Note: Normally I am the type of person to be date accurate when writing things and if you are too, I'm sorry. I messed up on the dates, so the battle of New York happens like a month after it should. This is also a short chapter because it's a filler and I'm trying to just get to the Winter Soldier but have everything make sense.

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Masterlist

A few days later I had received a small archivist job in the WWII department of the Smithsonian. Thankfully the made-up resume and a few fake SHIELD recommendations came in handy. I would officially start the following week after a few background checks were cleared. In my free time until then, I unpacked all the boxes in my apartment. It started to feel more homely and warm when all of my things filled up the space. When I didn’t feel like unpacking anything, I started taking long walks to the VFW building. I hadn’t joined in on any of the meetings yet, I just stood by the doorway and watched, listening to the stories people told.

One day that week as I stood back in the hallway after the meeting had ended, a man came up to me. He was a little taller than I was and had the brightest smile I had ever seen. I had watched him in the meetings before, he was usually the one hosting them, giving advice to all who needed it.

“I’ve seen you standing out here for the past three days, why don’t you come have a seat next time? It would be more comfortable than standing out here for an hour.” He said as he leaned his back against the wall right next to me.

“I have thought about it, but I tend to get here after you have started. I don’t want to interrupt anything by just barging in.” I said over my shoulder at him.

“You won't interrupt anything, just come on in next time, we’d be happy to have a new face around,” He pushed himself off the wall and walked down the hall.

After that, I ended up joining the meetings and even spoke a few times. I learned that the man who came up to me that day was Sam Wilson, pararescue, who had served two tours in Afghanistan. From the first day he came up and talked to me to now, we quickly became friends.

The days had turned into weeks and I was finally able to live relatively by my own means. The Smithsonian was great, in the archives, no one was really around and I could spend a whole day without any interruptions, which allowed me to just concentrate on what I was doing. After closing, I normally walked to meet Sam, who was usually way too excited to see me, even though we saw each other almost every day without fail.

“You’re late today.” I jumped, startled out of my thoughts at the sound of someone talking to me. I looked up, spying Sam standing next to one of the small trees outside the VFW building.

“What do you mean late?”

“I mean you usually get here at three-thirty. It's four right now.” He said looking down at his watch.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t realize. I've just been lost in my thoughts lately.” I sighed.

“I know we’ve only been friends for what? A month? But I already know when something is bothering you, What is it?”

“Nothing really, just my brother. Since moving here he's called at least twice a week to check up but it’s been radio silence for the past two weeks, he doesn't even answer when I try calling him. I'm just a little worried that something bad is going on, considering his job.”

“Well, maybe he’s just really busy at the moment, or he's somewhere he can't call you. You know how it is being out on those military missions.”

“I know, it’s just the last time we were apart on a mission,” I trailed off and looked up at Sam, he raised his eyebrows, quietly waiting for the end of the sentence. “Someone close to us passed. It’s still fresh in my mind like it happened yesterday. I was there that day and I was too far away to even know what had happened, now my brother and I aren’t even in the same vicinity as each other, there is no telling what could happen and it makes me nervous.”

He gave me a small apologetic smile and patted my shoulder before leading me from the tree where we stood to where his car was parked. “What do you say we hang out at mine and just watch some tv? Get your mind off things? Or we can talk about it, either way, it’s better than dealing with it alone.” I nodded my head and grabbed onto the car door handle as he unlocked it.

Walking through the front door after him I took a quick look around. It was cozy, way more decorated than I thought it would be for a man in his early thirties living alone.

“Make yourself at home. Do you want anything to drink?” He asked neck-deep in the fridge.

“Okay, I’ll just have some water,” I called out as I made my way further into the living room. The couch was backed up to the wall a few feet away from the dining room table. I sat down on it and scooted as close as I could to its right arm. A few moments later Sam came over with two glasses of water and a bag of chips. He handed me my drink before crashing down into his own seat. “Thank you,” I said before taking a long sip.

He nodded as he said “No problem.” Before he got himself really comfortable he searched around for the TV remote. As he pressed the ‘on’ button the TV came to life. “What in the world is that?” He sounded concerned so I quickly looked at the screen.

“Breaking: Attack on New York City. This afternoon at 2:15 several unidentified aircraft descended onto Earth's surface. Strange beings, some are calling aliens, Accompanied these ships and are causing havoc in Manhattan. Eyewitnesses have stated that they have seen Iron Man, and what seemed to be Captain America, leading a team of three others fighting back against the invaders. The battle seems to be over but updates are still coming in, let's take a look at some footage of the downtown destruction.” My eyes went wide and my heart stopped as I listened to what the reporter was saying. I kept my eyes glued to the screen as it changed to show a destroyed street. As the camera panned around I spotted Steve fighting against two of the creatures, before the clip quickly changed to show one of the large ships crashing into the New York skyline.

“Oh God Steve, what did you get into?” I murmured to myself.

“You say that like you know him personally.”

“Uhh.” I just gave him a wide-eyed look of surprise. “I do, he’s my brother.”

“Now really isn’t the time to be joking about things,” He gave me a pointed look.

“I swear I’m not joking, he really is my brother. I can explain later, I need to try and get a hold of him.” I pulled out the small flip phone from my pocket and dialed the number for Steve's cell phone, it rang and rang but no answer. I hung up quickly and dialed the number Fury gave me at the beginning of the month. After two rings he answered.

“I assume you are looking for Captain Rogers.”

“Where is he? Is he okay?” I tried to keep the worried tone from coming through in my voice.

“He’s fine. He is in the middle of a debriefing. I’ll tell him you called.”

“Okay, thank you.” As soon as the words left my mouth he gave a quick hum and then hung up. I looked over at Sam whose eyes hadn't left me at all. “Everything is fine, he's in a debrief so that means that whatever happened in New York is definitely over.”

“That’s good to hear, hopefully, those things don’t try to come back again.” He shook like a shiver ran down his spine. “Now please explain how Captain America, a man from the 1940s, is your brother.”

“I can hear the skepticism in your voice.”

He held his hands up in defense, “Hey, I'm not the one saying I'm the sister to a 90 something-year-old man.”

“Look, it’s a long story that I would rather not get into now but the short version is that I was born in 1921, Steve is my older brother, we both ended up taking the super-soldier serum and fought against HYDRA in the second world war. We ended up crashing a plane into some Ice in the Atlantic ocean and were found and unfrozen last October.” “If you are really Captain America’s sister, then why are you never mentioned in anything?” I looked at him and shook my head.

“Well for starters it was the forties and I was a woman fighting on the front lines. Credit is never given where it is due. But there is also the fact that I was a part of the SSR, which was very secretive, after I died.” I put my fingers up in air quotes, “They should have erased most, if not all the files on me, per protocol. The only reason Steve is well known is because of his time going cross country selling war bonds.” I paused for a second before quickly adding, “I’m sure if you look hard enough, you’ll find me in the history books somewhere.”

Sam just sat there not really saying anything. This was the first time I think he had ever been quiet for more than five seconds. I let out a deep sigh and stood, grabbing my bag from the floor. “Thanks for having me over, but I think I need to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stood and walked me to the door.

“Don’t be late. I’ll see you.” Sam waved me off and I headed down the street.

About half a year later while sorting through some archive files, I came across Peggy Carter. I felt a pang in my heart as I stared at the photo of her standing next to Howard Stark. Other than Steve and Bucky, those two were my closest friends. I fell down a rabbit hole after that, finding any information on the two that I could find. They had both helped found SHIELD in 1965, they had both gotten married and had children of their own. Peggy's children had stayed out of the public eye, but in true Stark fashion, Howard’s son evidently took over the family business and was living the high life. I pulled out a newspaper from the stack I had on the table in front of me and was shocked at what I saw. The title read ‘Howard and Maria Stark Die in Car Accident’, I knew Howard most likely wasn’t alive anymore but seeing the photographs of the wrecked car in the newspaper cast a somber mood through the room.

I laid the paper down on the table and ruffled through more of the papers before determining that we had no information on if Peggy was alive or not. That sent me into a frenzy of looking through phone books to try and find her and calling every retirement home in DC that I could. The only lead I had to go off of was a small interview from a newspaper, talking to Peggy about the seventieth anniversary of V-E Day, stated that she was living in Washington, DC.

After eight failed calls, finally, on the ninth, I had finally found a home which had a Peggy Carter as a residence in room 204. I rushed to pack up my things and left my office early. I ran down the back hallways as fast as I could without drawing too much attention. When I made it out of the building I ran full speed to the road to hail a cab.

Amazingly the traffic was almost nonexistent and I made it to the retirement home in only ten minutes. I fumbled out of the cab and I raced through the front doors of the building. I must have startled the women at the front desk because as soon as I rounded the corner to the staircase, they were yelling after me. I took the steps three at a time in my haste to get to the second floor. I stopped running when I was outside of room 204. I couldn’t see anything clearly through the frosted window so I knocked hesitantly and slowly opened the door and stepped in.

There in the middle of the room, against the wall was a single bed. A woman laid there quietly with her eyes closed. The closer I came to her the more familiar she looked. I let out a relieved gush of breath. There she was, older now, but still the Peggy I once knew. I nervously grabbed one of the chairs in the corner of the room and brought it over to her bedside so I could sit. Gently I gave her a small tap on the hand before just holding it in mine. She stirred but her eyes never opened.

All of a sudden one of the nurses from downstairs came into the room, with an angry and shocked expression.

“Ma’am, You can't be in here. If you want to see a patient, you have to sign in.” I ignored her, my eyes trained on Peggy's face. The commotion of the woman barging into the room had made her open her eyes and look around. I just watched as she scanned the room, first to the door on the left, to the wall in front of her, past me sitting on her right, then to the window behind me.” Her brows raised and she lifted her hands to her eyes to rub. The shock on her face was evident as she turned her head to stare directly at me.

“Hey Carter, long time no see huh?” I gave her the biggest smile that I could.

“Is it really you?” She reached her hand out to mine and grabbed hold.

“It is, it’s really me.”

“Ma’am, I mean it, you can't be here.” The nurse tried again, this time Peggy shot her a glare.

“Ms. I’ll have you know this is one of my best friends and she can be in here if she wants to. Now leave us alone.” The young nurse nodded her head and rushed out, even in old age she could still put on that commanding tone that struck fear in every man. She slowly turned back to me, almost like if she looked back for me, I would be gone. “How? How are you here?”

“It’s a long story Peg, are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Look where I am, I have nothing but time.” She laughed out and I let out my own small laugh as I shook my head.

In addition to what I had been doing, like hanging out with Sam, after that first visit, I made it a priority to see Peggy once or twice every two weeks, depending on how she was doing. Dementia had put a lot of stress on her, and seeing me after almost seventy-five years and looking relatively the same as I had when frozen took out a giant toll on her.

And that's how the next 10 months went until Steve eventually moved into an apartment directly under me.

Tag List: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @underc0vercryptid-reads @geek-and-proud @intothesoul @leyannrae @starkleila

#james buchanan barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #winter solider x reader #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction

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kissinginkitchens · 4 years ago

Text

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Two: Where the Heart Is

a/n: Thank you so much for all of the love you have shown to part one! I’m so glad to see that you’re enjoying YBMH so far, the story is just getting started. I hope you’ll stick around for the full thing, so without further ado, here’s chapter two! As always, my inbox is open so feel free to come chat with me when you have finished this part :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drug use

Word Count: 5.1k

read part one here

The phone screen flickers to life at the touch of Harry’s finger, flashing the exact same time that it had the last time he checked, though it feels like hours have passed since then. He sighs at the disappointing revelation and turns his phone over so that the screen meets the aged wood of the piano where it rests. In all honesty, Harry has no idea why he agreed to the interview in the first place. He had skillfully dodged the hundreds of requests for an exclusive tell-all following the untimely split of One Direction and successfully avoided the prying eyes of the general public for several months. So why had he indulged the first request from a girl he hardly knew without so much as a blink? The answer seemed a frustrating mystery to him, but to anyone else, the fluttering in his stomach when he caught a glimpse of her yellow Ford Bronco pulling up to the studio and the way he instinctively raked a hand through his hair gave the answer away.

“I know I’m late, I’m sorry!” Alani apologizes, emerging from the car with a notebook nestled under her arm and a smoothie in each hand. She closes the door with her hip before making a beeline to the studio entrance where Harry stands, his right shoulder leaning against the doorframe with the same stoic expression Alani recognizes as his signature look.

“I had to get my sister to cover for me at the café and then I got lost because Google sent me to a Napua restaurant instead of the recording studio,” she rambles in an attempted continuation of her apology. “But anyway, this is for you. A peace offering and a thank you for doing this.”

Harry gingerly takes the green smoothie from her outstretched hand and offers a curt nod in response before ushering her inside.Alani pushes her sunglasses up and settles them into her windswept waves, trailing behind Harry and taking in the space. In one corner across the room, she notices a couple of brightly colored tapestries thumbtacked to the wall with a microphone stand perched in the center, all encased behind a screen of plexiglass. The adjacent wall is lined with guitars all standing at attention and glimmering, despite the dim lighting. Harry stops at the doorway of another room with a couch and a coffee table, the floor littered with wires and pieces of crumpled paper. He motions Alani to step inside and then clears his throat, which catches the attention of two other long-haired men chatting with amused expressions on their faces.

“Sorry lads,” Harry crosses his arms with eyes glued to the floor to avoid their questioning stares. “‘Fraid I have to intrude. Can we have this room?”

One of the men grins behind a full beard, popping a peanut M&M into his mouth before standing. “Sure thing, boss man. Let’s bounce, Rowland.”

The other man, also bearded but smaller in stature with a thin, pointed nose nods silently. He continues twirling two drumsticks between his fingers and points one of them at Harry in passing. Alani offers polite smiles at the both of them, and a quiet “thank you” falls from her lips as they exit without another word. Harry closes the door behind them and gestures to the couch, which she takes as her cue to sit.

“I like the uniform,” Alani smiles, gesturing to her hair as a comment on the fact that the three men all share similar lengths and styles.

“Thanks,” is all Harry says, taking a seat across from hers and clearly dismissing her attempt at humor.

To pacify the urge to fill the uncomfortable silence, Alani sips her strawberry smoothie and steals a glance through her eyelashes at Harry who is doing the same. She clears her throat after a minute and sets the drink on the table in front of her; a notebook takes its place on her lap.

“Thank you again for doing this, I really appreciate it,” Alani offers while digging through her bag for her phone. “I’m gonna record this on voice notes, just for the sake of quoting you accurately.”

“Sure,” Harry replies, occupying his gaze with the condensation trickling from the cup onto his fading black jeans.

Dry retorts from everyone else, especially customers, have little effect on the way Alani conducts herself. But every short comment from Harry, or lack thereof, makes her feel like a bug under a microscope. She settles her phone onto the coffee table and takes a deep breath to calm the trembling that spreads from her chest into her fingers and toes.

“So first, I wanted to ask about your time in Hawai’i. Are you enjoying it so far?” Alani poses the question lightly, hoping to open him up just enough to extract the story that she’s really looking for.

“It’s nice,” Harry nods, finally meeting her expectant stare. When she doesn’t respond for a beat, he clears his throat and adds on to the statement. “Weather’s good,”

Alani musters a half-hearted smile and glances down at the questions on her page. This is going to take for-fucking-ever, she sighs.

“Is that what drew you here—vacation? Getting away?”

“Yeah, pretty much,”

The row of guitars behind the singer catches her attention suddenly and guides the next question.

“And to write or.. record?”

Harry shifts in his seat, calculating his response carefully. “Both,”

“Solo stuff?”

Alani watches as he takes a slow sip of his smoothie and crosses his legs, an action which tells her that she’s struck a dead end. Or, at the very least, a door that she hasn’t gained his trust to open yet.

“You were with One Direction for half a decade,” She recovers. “Constantly releasing new music and touring. But now you’re here, doing neither, and haven’t done so for almost a year. What is that transition like?” Alani isn’t sure if Harry will answer when she poses the question, but to her surprise he meets her gaze and nods, as if to say that he accepts the inquiry.

“It’s different than anything I’ve ever done, for sure,” he starts slowly. It’d be a lie to say that he hasn’t given the breakup and, subsequently, his future outside of the band much thought. He thinks about it every day, especially his bandmates and their supportive fans. That much he has been able to unpack privately, but the rest of it—the sudden need to escape and write new music— is still something he can’t quite put into words, so he leans into the nostalgia and hopes it’ll suffice.

“Like you said, it’s been non-stop for the past five years, so I guess it is a bit jarring to come to a sudden halt after so much momentum. Obviously, it’s nice to have the time off, but I love putting out music and touring it. I wouldn’t trade that for anything,”

Alani is grateful to have more than a couple of words of material, despite the fact that it doesn’t really answer the question or tell her anything new about the man sitting crossed legged and closed off in front of her. Looking through her notes, Alani selects another question and embarks on a new angle.

“You were really young when all of that began,” she starts, thinking about how she could never have left her family and home at just 16. Hell, she was 22 and still figuring it out. Hopefully, if all things went well with this interview and Rolling Stone, she would finally find the opportunity to do it. “Do you ever think about where you would be if you hadn’t auditioned for X-Factor?”

Harry knows that she’s playing it safe, trying to feel him out and test the buttons she can push. He also knows that he’s being difficult, much more so than usual due to his nerves. So with an unfamiliar pang in his chest, he decides to relent the tiniest bit.

“Well, I’m starting to think maybe I could’ve been a professional surfer,” he offers matter-of-factly which makes Alani flash an amused grin. Harry’s sudden humor makes the room a bit less suffocating for the both of them and she’s grateful for it.

“Surfing, huh? This I have to see.” she quips back, suddenly trying to picture him ditching the black skinny jeans for a wetsuit.

He nods with a faint smirk. “Maybe you will.”

Alani meets his gaze with a shy smile of her own and her eyes fall to his lips for a brief second. The almost imperceptible action sends another foreign jolt through Harry’s chest. She opens her mouth to resume questioning when a loud bang startles them both and causes Harry to spin in his seat, looking through the glass window of the sound booth.

“Sorry!” A man with short, blonde hair and a fading tie dye shirt laughs while lifting the tipped over drum cymbals. “Don’t mind us!”

The two men from earlier straggle in behind and poorly conceal their own fits of laughter. Harry flashes his middle finger briefly, mouthing something that Alani can’t see but knows is undoubtedly rude. She suppresses a giggle and sneaks a glance at her phone, which indicates only a few minutes worth of dialogue. When she lifts her head, the door opens and the blonde man peeks his head in.

“Hello,” he greets with an extended hand before entering and taking a seat next to Alani on the couch. “Tom Hull, or Kid Harpoon...or just Tom, whatever you like best,”

She accepts his hand eagerly, not missing the way Harry pinches the bridge of his nose in her peripheral vision. “Mahealani Hale, or just Alani. Nice to meet you,”

“Wow, beautiful name,” Tom compliments. “Sorry to interrupt, I didn’t realize you had company, H,”

“She was just—”

“I’m writing about-” The two speak at the same time, making brief eye contact before Harry turns his attention back to Tom.

“Did you need something?” He asks. Tom’s eyes dart between Harry and Alani before he clears his throat and reclines in his seat.

“Just dropping by to see if you wanted to go for lunch...” he trails off, which Alani takes as a cue to start gathering her belongings.

“Kind of busy here,” Harry offers with a glance back at the girl seated awkwardly across from him. “Another time,”

At this, Tom turns to Alani and ignores his friend’s protests. “Alani, do you eat lunch?”

Before responding, she casts an apprehensive glimpse at Harry who has suddenly become very intrigued by the drink in his lap, purposefully avoiding her eyes.

“Uh.. well yeah, but I don’t-”

“Great! Have lunch with us,”

“Mate—” Harry speaks up.

Tom grins, shrugging. “What? You plan on starving the poor girl?”

“I really can’t, but thank you for the offer,” Alani explains with a sheepish smile, standing and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “It was really nice to meet you Tom. And thank you again, Harry, I’ll see you around.”

The musician watches her shuffle out of the sound booth quietly and turns his attention back at Tom, who sits with an incredulous look on his face.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” He asks, standing. “Go after her, dickhead!”

“It’s not like that she’s-”

“I really don’t give a fuck about your excuses, go!”

Harry scoffs and rolls his eyes, looking out the window as Alani slips through the front door.

She fishes her keys out of her bag and sighs when a familiar voice says her name.

“Alani!” Harry calls from the doorway, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun. He makes his way down the steps and over to the driver’s side where she ghosts the key over the ignition.

“Come have lunch...please?”

“It’s okay,” she purses her lips together politely. “I don’t wanna get in the way,”

Harry catches his lower lip between his teeth and runs a hand through his hair, choosing his next words thoughtfully.

“No, you’re not—you won’t,” he starts. “I would really like it if you joined us for lunch, especially since our time got interrupted. Please, let me make it up to you.”

Alani can’t help the way her stomach flips at the words “our time” that fall from his lips and she finds herself nodding in agreement before her mind has had a chance to intervene.

She makes her way to the passenger seat of the Range Rover parked behind the studio, which she learns is where all of Harry’s entourage keeps their vehicles. A variety of brightly colored vintage cars are neatly parked, and it amuses her that Harry skips all of them, instead going straight for the black SUV with darkly tinted windows. At least he’s consistent, she smirks. As Alani climbs into the car, she is met by the warmth of Harry’s scent—something woodsy and vanilla— and the fact that she recognizes it makes her heart pound.

“You can connect your phone,” Harry nods to the stereo as he buckles his seatbelt. “To the Bluetooth, I mean, if you’d like.”

“Really?” she asks, brow raised in mild disbelief.

“Only if you play something good,” he teases with a stony expression, adjusting the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. Alani takes that as a challenge, scrolling through various playlists as Harry peels away onto the main road. Over the speakers, the beginning of “Don’t Worry Baby” by The Beach Boys surrounds the two of them.

“Is this to your liking, my liege?” Alani poses in an exaggerated British accent that makes Harry cringe, though the small grin on his face gives away his endearment.

“Yes, but please don’t do that accent ever again,”

“So you admit it, you’re the one with the accent,” she wiggles her brows, eyes peeling away from the view out her window to Harry in the driver’s seat.

“If it’ll get you to never do that one again, sure,” “Dunno, love,” she continues, watching the coast shimmer under the afternoon sun. “Think it kinda suits me,”

Harry shakes his head and checks the rearview mirror to make sure that he hasn’t lost Tom, Mitch, and Jeff in the car trailing behind.

“What’s it like?” Alani questions, studying the perfect slope of his pointed nose and strawberry pout.

“What’s what like?”

“England,”

Harry thinks for a second, recalling his London flat, lunches with his mum and sister, the streets of Trafalgar Square, and Abbey Road.

“Rainy,” is all he says.

Alani scoffs, which draws his attention over to where she lounges in his passenger seat, sitting comfortably as if it was exactly where she belonged. “That’s all?”

“What?” He questions, though he knows exactly what she means and is perfectly aware of his own stubbornness.

“Just seems like... I don’t know, such a generic description for a place you consider home,”

Harry mulls her response over, the word “home” especially catching his interest. It’s a strange concept in his mind because while, yes, England is where he has spent the majority of his life and where the people he loves most reside, he has never truly felt connected to just one place. And after spending his formative years traveling the world, who could blame him?

“It’s... safe,” he tries again, attempting to verbalize what he’s feeling. “When I’m there, I mean, I feel safe. Like I don’t have to be anyone or do anything specific, I can just... be. No expectations,”

Alani lets Harry’s words sit between them for a moment, sensing that there is still more he wants to say. When she doesn’t respond after a minute, he continues in an effort to clarify and fill the lull in the conversation.

“I used to think that London was just a starting point and that if I could make it to LA, it would mean that I had really made it, and I would feel more at home there,” he continues, slow and calculated. “But I dunno... when I’m there it still feels like an extended holiday, like I’m just buying time until I leave for the next place. London doesn’t feel like that, feels much more constant... so yeah, I guess it is home,”

As if she had read his mind earlier, Alani adds on. “Not to mention that’s where your family is, I’m assuming,”

Harry nods, once again thinking of his mum and sister. The image of their beaming faces brings the shadow of a dimple to his cheek. “Yeah,”

“What’s your family like?” She continues, truly interested and forgetting for a moment about the article she still has to write.

“Kind of small, I guess. S’really just my sister and my mum, but they’re,” Harry pauses, searching for the right words, “They’re the best. My mum’s probably the kindest woman I’ve ever met. Feel pretty lucky with that one, considering what a pest I was as a child,” he chuckles lightly and it’s a sound that Alani hadn’t heard up to this point, but one she knows she’ll replay in her mind over and over again.

“Gem’s pretty patient too—and brilliant, always the studious one,” he adds finally, a dreamy look on his face that Alani much prefers to the stoic one he always dons. .

“Ah yes, there’s always one,” she nods, catching the quirked brow he offers in response.

“Oh yeah? Are you the one in your family?”

“I guess so. School just seemed to come easily to me,”

“And what made you want to study journalism?” He questions, stopping to let a woman and her toddler cross.

Alani thinks about it for a moment while twirling a strand of fabric from the hem of her ripped shorts around her finger.

“I’ve always loved to write, ever since I was really little— like short stories and stuff. And I don’t know, I guess I like the idea of traveling and seeking out a story, too.”

Harry nods understandingly, pulling up to a curb across the street from a restaurant that Alani has frequented. It’s relatively empty at Pineapples for a summer afternoon, though most tourists don’t stray too far from the beaches, so Hilo maintains a healthy local population at all times. The pair climb out of the car and Alani makes her way to the rear where the rest of the group has parked. One of the men from earlier greets her with an outstretched hand while Harry chats with the other two that emerge.

“Hi I’m Jeff, it’s nice to meet you.” He smiles warmly, pushing his sunglasses into his hair.

“Alani. It’s nice to meet you, Jeff,”

“Sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be rude by not saying hi it’s just-”

Alani dismisses his concern with a wave of her hand. “Oh don’t worry about it! I was kind of nervous then, too. I don’t know if he told you, but I’m interviewing Harry,”

“Oh, right! Yeah, he did mention that I think,” Jeff recalls, “Which magazine are you with?”

“None.” Yet, Alani thinks, her mind wandering to the Rolling Stone rejection letter. “It’s for a class, I’m a journalism major. Harry was just being nice and agreed to let me write about his music,”

Jeff nods. “Got it. You know, he’s not normally this serious. Just got a lot on his mind but he’ll loosen up,” he explains quietly just as Alani and Harry’s eyes meet. She quickly averts her gaze back to the kind, bearded man standing before her.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” she smiles appreciatively.

“Where’s Jeffrey?” Harry speaks up, catching her attention. She looks back to Jeff, confused, before he shakes his head.

“Other Jeff, his manager.” He explains.

“Probably already inside, he said he’d meet us here.” Mitch pipes up.

With that, the rest of the crew head into the restaurant while Alani stays a few steps behind to follow their lead.

“Y’okay?” Harry asks, shuffling along beside her.

Alani startles slightly at his unexpected presence, but relaxes as their strides fall into sync.

“Yeah, thanks. And thank you for the invite, too.” She offers, the corners of her mouth upturned softly. Harry responds with a tight-lipped smile of his own and clears his throat before holding the door open for her.

In the far corner of the restaurant near the open balcony, Harry’s manager Jeff waves the group over to the table he saved. Everyone exchanges greetings and settles into their seats, the two at the end facing each other remain open for Alani and Harry.

“Jeff, this is..Mahealani, did I get that right?” Tom gestures to Alani for approval.

She nods and waves. “Yes, but you can just call me Alani,”

“Nice to meet you,” Jeff calls from the other end of the table, glancing over to Harry in search of an explanation for her presence.

“I’m writing a piece about Harry and his music,” Alani offers. “But I’d love to talk to all of you, if you have a chance.”

Jeff nods, still shooting Harry a knowing look. “Yeah, sure thing.”

The two Jeffs, Tom, and Mitch engage in their own conversations, mostly inside jokes that go over Alani’s head. Harry watches, silent for most of the interaction and barely engaging the girl seated across from him, though he is overwhelmingly aware of her presence. When the server comes to take their order, warmth floods to Alani’s cheeks.

“Alani, hey!” the tall server greets, flashing a handsome, pearly-white smile. “Long time, no see. You’re looking good as always,”

“Mahalo, David. You look good, as well,” She smiles politely, catching onto the way that Harry sits a little straighter in her peripheral vision. David still pays no regard to the rest of the table, but his gaze momentarily flickers over Harry and sizes him up before returning to Alani.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were on a date,” he apologizes, which makes Alani’s eyes bulge and Mitch snicker beside her.

“Oh no, we’re not—“

“He’s just—” Alani and Harry speak at the same time, eyes darting to one another before she explains.

“I’m... working on something—an article,” she says, and David nods understandingly.

“Oh...right. Big-shot reporter, I almost forgot,” David teases in a snide way that makes Harry’s blood boil with annoyance. “Anyways, what can I get you all? The usual for you, right Alani?”

She nods curtly while the rest of the group take turns ordering. After the server has gone, Harry notices a shift in her easy-going demeanor and decides that it’s his turn to break the ice.

“Come here often then?” He poses gently, taking a sip of his lemonade.

Her lips press into a tight line as her eyes wander to the other patrons. “Yeah, kinda,”

“Asshole ex-boyfriend ruined that, I’m guessing?”

Alani lets out an amused breath and shakes her head.

“He’s not my ex. I mean we went out, like, once in high school... and maybe a handful of times in college but that’s it, really,”

Harry studies the uneasiness in her expression trying, and failing, to understand what she’s holding back.

“Seems like you dodged a bullet,” he confides, leaning in. Alani’s eyes meet his and her pursed lips ease into a small grin, which Harry mirrors with a simper of his own. As he rests his smooth chin in his palm, she notices a large, healing scab along the underside of his forearm, and her brows furrow.

“How’d that happen?” Alani asks.

“He jumped out a window,” Mitch intervenes. “Though to be fair, he was high,”

Harry shoots a deathly glare at Mitch and turns back to Alani. “It was a one-time thing.”

“It was shrooms,” Mitch replies with an amused smirk.

“Hardcore,” Alani giggles lightly.

Mitch swirls the straw in his mimosa with his index finger while extending a pinky at Alani. “You do drugs?”

She shrugs, taking a sip of her Mai Tai. “Smoked weed a few times, though not enough to consider myself a pothead, I guess,”

Mitch snorts and steals a glance at Harry. “Pot makes our boy sleepy, and hungry. Alcohol makes him giggly. Shrooms get him buzzed just right,”

Harry’s cheeks flush and he averts his gaze past Alani where families and visitors roam the streets outside.

“Jumping out a window’s ‘just right’? I’d hate to see what going overboard looks like.” she teases, watching the blush of embarrassment creep across the bridge of Harry’s nose and cheeks.

“Keeps things interesting.” Mitch shrugs, turning back to Jeff to join his previous conversation.

Alani feels a strange sense of endearment wash over her at the thought of a giggly Harry, dimples replacing a deeply furrowed brow. In the short time she’d known and served him at the café, she’d only ever seen him reserved—polite, at best. Alani had hoped that interviewing Harry would provide some insight into his mysterious background, but she didn’t imagine that she would want to know more than what could be penned in her article. In the few minutes spent mingling with him and his friends, she began to think that maybe there was something worth getting to know, not just professionally, but before she can give it a second thought, David returns with their food.

“Thanks, Derek.” Harry says, flashing a facetious grin at David who stands confused for a second before sauntering back to the kitchen. Alani laughs, quickly clasping a hand over her mouth, and Harry’s stomach flips at the sound. He immediately wishes he knew what else he could do to hear it again.

Alani scrapes the last bits of potato off her plate and leans back in her seat, patting her growing food baby.

“I’m thinking of naming mine Oliver, you?” She sighs contentedly.

“Anne, after my mum,” he quips back, pulling out his wallet.

Alani reaches into her bag for her own, but Harry shakes his head and speaks up. “Don’t worry about it, ‘s on me,”

“Oh, no Harry you really don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugs, slipping his card onto the small clipboard attached to their receipts.

“Thank you,” Alani smiles, feeling warmth spread through her limbs, but she assumes that it’s mostly due to the rum in her system.

Harry pushes a lock of hair behind his ear and returns the wallet to his back pocket without another word. While there is no alcohol coursing through his blood, he refuses to believe that the burning in his cheeks has anything to do with the girl seated before him.

Alani climbs back into the passenger’s seat of the SUV while Harry settles behind the wheel. He braces his right hand behind the headrest of her seat and skillfully reverses, only becoming aware of their proximity when he turns back to switch gears. Alani peels her eyes from his and focuses on finding a playlist for their journey back to the studio, her mind racing as she clicks shuffle. Harry’s arm retreats, much to Alani’s disappointment, and his ears perk up when he hears the familiar chimes at the beginning of Fleetwood Mac’s “Everywhere”.

“��S a good one,” Harry breaks the silence, tapping on the steering wheel. “Christine always says it’s her favorite,”

“Christine...McVie?” Alani questions with an eyebrow quirked. “You know Christine McVie?”

“Kind of,” he shrugs, the corners of his lips twitching into a smirk.

“Do you know Stevie Nicks?”

“Yeah. She lives in London,”

“Holy shit!” Alani marvels, covering her mouth in excitement.

Harry chuckles lightly, stealing a glance over at Alani still processing the news. “Big fan?”

She whips her head away from the window and scoffs. “Massive. Named my car Stevie, actually,”

“Hardcore,” Harry teases, echoing her own comment about his psychedelic escapades.

“Yes, Mr. Spider-Man. In my own right, I suppose it is hardcore,” Alani retorts.

“I thought Spider-Man climbed buildings. Don’t think he jumped out of them.”

“I’m sure he’s done his fair share of both.”

The two drive down the coast for a while without a word, Harry drumming against the steering wheel as the song dies out while Alani soaks in the view outside her window. Suddenly, she reaches over and taps him on the arm, drawing him out of his reverie.

“Turn right up there!”

“Why?” Harry asks, already putting his blinker on.

Alani doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to. Harry saw it just seconds after turning into the lookout and it left him breathless. The car comes to a stop and Alani wastes no time unbuckling her seatbelt and stepping into the humid air, Harry close behind. Before them, the biggest rainbow either of them had ever seen shimmers in the high afternoon sun like a wall of unbelievable vibrant hues. Harry had never seen one this close, he felt as though he could reach out and feel each color slip through his fingers.

“Are you making a wish?” Alani asks reverently, as if raising her voice too loud will spook it away.

“I thought that was for shooting stars,”

“We’re literally staring face to face with a rainbow and you’re gonna argue with me about the logistics of a wish?”

“Okay, okay,” he relents, grinning to himself as his eyes flutter close.

Harry takes a deep breath and searches his brain for something, anything, but there is only one word pounding in his mind. He doesn’t know why it stood out to him when Alani first said it, but it struck a chord within him that hasn’t stopped reverberating, so it must mean something. Harry swallows the lump forming at the back of his throat and releases the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. When his eyes flutter open again, he steals a peek through the corner of his eye at the girl beside him and then fixes his gaze back on the rainbow.

“S’quite big, innit?” He remarks, breaking the reverent silence.

Alani snorts and shakes her head, turning on her heel back to the car.

“You’re so eloquent. Can’t wait to hear what lyrical gems are hiding in your new album,”

“Heyyy,” Harry pouts, climbing behind the wheel. “Who said anything about an album?”

As they peel away from the lookout, Harry can sense something has shifted in the atmosphere, though he can’t quite put his finger on it. He opts to ignore it and poses a lighthearted question instead.

“What’d you wish for?”

Alani narrows her eyes playfully. “You’re not supposed to tell. It won’t come true.”

Harry hums, trying to imagine what she could possibly wish for that would require such secrecy, but his thoughts wander back to the singular word that has haunted his mind since it left her lips.

Home.

Next Chapter

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x oc #harry styles writing #harry fic #ybmh

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lycanthrop-ee · 4 years ago

Text

Ghosting - Empty House

A/N: !!!!! It’s here! I’m so, so pumped for this- welcome to the Empty House AU! This is the first piece of content I’m publishing and it’s a one-shot from a bigger universe, but it’s also absolutely a stand-alone fic. It’s a self-indulgent, analogical-centric human AU that’s has been floating around my hollow skull for months now, so there’s a lot of doodles backed up if any of yall would like to see that ;) There will be an AU taglist, but I also have an individual writing taglist!

Synopsis: Logan has finally moved out of his childhood home into a family-sized house where he plans to finish college online. His simple plans are complicated when a strange, sad-looking boy starts showing up outside...

Word count: 4,306

Ships: Endgame romantic Analogical

CW: (spoilers) Pre-plot major character death, swearing, anxiety attack, very mildly implied previous parental abuse, be safe kiddos and ask to tag!

The first time Logan saw the boy was the day he moved in.

The empty house had stood hollowly beside its driveway, Logan feeling small without his siblings or parents or any of his rarely acquired friends by his side. He wasn’t a sociable person, but he’d always been surrounded by noise at home, and lots of it… he’d never been in a house as still as the one he stepped into that day. The dark wooden floors were cleanly swept, except for the corners and trimmings which had little fields of grey dust dotting the deep brown. The refrigerator made a hungry humming noise, protesting its suddenly empty shelves- Logan knew a family of four had lived there before, and that they’d given him a pretty hefty discount on the house. That’s all he knew.

The floor in the entrance hall creaked underfoot, and the walls seemed to turn away as they saw him- not who they’d been expecting, not worth their attention. That was fair.

The house had three bedrooms and two floors- altogether a strange layout. Two of the bedrooms were downstairs, situated in a small hallway off the kitchen, and one was tucked into a little corner upstairs, where the only other rooms consisted of a bathroom and a large, carpeted playroom that was mostly empty now. Logan figured it would have been a favorite of the kids when they were smaller, but now the only furniture was a faux leather couch and a television, as well as a couple of out-of-place armchairs that had never gotten much human use from the look of their fur-covered seats.

With just him taking up the whole house, he hardly saw the point in using the upstairs bedroom. The house felt big already- rationally, it would be better to localize downstairs. All he really needed was his room, the kitchen, and the little living room next to the entrance. That was enough for him- in fact, even that was too silent. He missed the screams of his brothers as affectionately as anyone could- which honestly varied day to day.

Today, he was disproportionately affectionate.

It paired well with the fear.

Logan was just about ready to start tearing himself apart over the family members he’d left behind- the only ones that mattered- when the boy caught his eye.

The day had been gray and dreary, the trees heavy with the prospect of rain and the air cool enough to promise it, but it had only started drizzling in the few minutes since Logan had been inside. The sky had seemed to darken remarkably quickly, especially strange without the presence of thunder or even heavy rain, and in the middle of it all was a lanky figure who looked for all the world like a member of the fae.

He stood at the side of the road, looking in the house’s general direction- in Logan’s general direction, although he was sure the other wouldn’t be able to see through his windows. His face would’ve been hidden by the dark hair poking out from under his hood were he not so painfully pale, and his brown irises were visible to Logan only because of the piercing contrast of his skin.

His jacket was oversized, but his beanpole frame managed to show through regardless. The rainwater gradually weighed it down until the boy looked almost a skeleton, Logan frozen watching him for what could have been minutes- and then the frame heaved in a breath and ambled stiffly away.

Obviously Logan’s first worries had to do with an unhinged white male teenager breaking into his new house- the one he had full responsibility for and few precious savings to repair. It was irrational, he knew, but his second thought was that the boy hadn’t looked capable of any harm- or really of much at all. He looked weighed down, depressed, and Logan was sure that it wasn’t just the water soaking his sweatshirt. The boy had looked sad.

And he continued to. Frighteningly often, the teenager appeared outside Logan’s house. Each time he looked quite the same: above average height but considerably shorter than Logan himself, skinny, and almost other-worldly in his strange mish-mash of dark eyes and pearly flesh. While Logan knew that his first sight of the boy had been strange in the sudden change of weather, he could- and completely intended to- count it as a coincidence of Florida’s strange climate.

He settled into a sort of pattern, although the boy didn’t seem to follow one. Each time he saw the figure outside his house, he would take a break from his endless work. He’d make himself some tea, sit in the window, and wait for the boy to leave. This way, he told himself, if he tried anything, Logan would be there to intercept him. He chose not to think about the possibility of it happening at night or while he was away, and he kept far away from the crime shows he’d occasionally enjoyed in the past. This way, too, he could get a good look at his visitor each time. It was almost as though he was keeping tabs on him, and at the tail end of his fear came a strange protectiveness.

It was after about a month of this- Logan looking for job applications and living off of his savings, edgewise- that Logan pulled into his driveway at one of the key moments of his life. The boy stood unsteadily at the side of the road, sweatshirt ever-present even in the heat. Logan got out of his car carefully, his heart in his throat- though, really, did any part of him think the boy capable of much at this point?

He’d have expected the kid to run as soon as he’d pulled in, but when Logan looked him over he saw the boy studying him, bouncing on the balls of his feet. It struck Logan anew in their close proximity how thin he was.

Almost thoughtlessly, he started across the lawn towards the boy. He had to remind himself to uphold formalities- no matter how many times they’d stared at each other across the way, they’d never once spoken. He didn’t know this kid, not really- and now it occurred to him that the boy was more than a kid. He couldn’t be much younger than himself. Logan halted a few respectful steps from the boy, who eyed him strangely.

Close up… he looked, somehow, the same as he did from across the lawn. His features were simple, small mouth and nose easy to overlook for his huge, shadowed eyes. He really did remind one of a fairytale, or even- perhaps more accurately- a Tim Burton.

Logan opened his mouth to speak, but paused for a moment. They watched each other.

“Would you like to come in for tea?” He finally inquired, the words escaping him overly familiar. The boy raised his eyebrows almost undetectably, seeming confused, and Logan caught himself almost leaning forward in anticipation of the other’s first words to him.

“You’re not Patton,” the boy said, voice just above a murmur and hoarse. Logan hesitated, confused, and studied the expression that would’ve been bored were it not for the slight tremble in his lips and a hint of surprise- Logan supposed neither of them had planned what had escaped their mouths. He reached up with a thin arm and brushed the back of his hand gently across his eyes. A spark of something strange flickered in Logan’s chest- this man was possibly not all there. He wracked his brain for labels- depression? Mild psychosis? Dissociation?

Either way, this was not someone he should invite into his house without more information- but as that regretfully occurred to him, the first drops of afternoon rain hit the tip of his noise. He wondered if the boy would stand out here after Logan went outside, and if so, for how long.

“No, I’m not,” he found himself saying. “My name is Logan. It is raining- would you like to come in?”

He was exceedingly aware of the boy’s breathing as they stepped out of the rain, something that would normally drive him insane- somehow he didn’t mind this time. His presence was almost calming after weeks of bringing a break from Logan’s ceaseless work. It assured him that the ghostly pale man was real, which was never a problem he thought he’d be debating... but here was this skeleton-thin, strange-mannered man entering his house as though he’d been there a million times before.

He carefully slid his shoes off, paying close attention to the floor- and no attention to Logan.

“I’ll make tea,” the latter found himself mumbling. “Do you want to come into the kitchen?”

“I’m gonna go upstairs,” the boy said. Logan blinked.

“I- you… this is my house?” He stuttered, trying to be assertive- surely that crossed a line? He’d never seen this kid before a month ago- but there he went, lugging himself up the stairs like he belonged there. O-kay.

Logan backed into the drafty kitchen to put the kettle on.

Time to listen to his voice of reason, he decided. Clearly this boy had been in the house before- hopefully before Logan had moved in- and knew his way around. And clearly his mental state had some connection to the house- whether positive or negative, Logan couldn’t yet tell. So, he concluded, it’s possible that he had lived here before. The married couple that had sold him the house had mentioned a son, but they’d been moving out of town- how would the boy have made his way back almost daily? There was a bus line in the area... but who was Patton, and why had his absence been unexpected?

There was clearly missing information here, and thus the situation was theoretically dangerous. The logical thing to do would be to contact the authorities for more information- maybe the boy was a local that they were familiar with. If that were the case, they would know how to handle him.

On the other hand… it was, put simply, a puzzle. Wasn’t it? Logan was smart; he was in online college and he was passing quite well. He had an A in psych so far. He just needed a few more minutes with the boy and he’d figure it out. He could help him... why else would he show up outside his house?

He needed Logan.

There goes rational thought, Logan sighed as the kettle started to whistle, turning off the stovetop and moving the pot to the side. Something made him turn around- the boy was watching him from the doorway, looking almost more upset than usual. His wide eyes were watery, and as Logan hesitated he wiped an arm across his face again, expression turning to frustration. He avoided Logan’s gaze. “You said you were making tea?” He said, carefully controlled voice just above a whisper. Logan was startled out of his stupor by the boy’s coherence.

“I, um- yes! Yes, would you- what kind?”

“Earl grey? No sugar, just a bit of milk...” he carefully pulled a chair from the small table, slumping into it and reaching to fidget with the salt shaker. “Please.”

The boy’s words stirred Logan into movement and he grabbed two mugs out of the mostly barren cabinet before pulling a pre-packaged tea bag from the tea box on the counter. He unwrapped the tea and dropped one bag in each mug, pouring steaming water from the kettle into them with a satisfying noise. The warm humidity and pleasant smell caressed Logan’s face, and he took a moment to bask in it before returning to the present moment- if begrudgingly. As he set the empty kettle aside, the room quieted, the only sound the rain drizzling over the side of the roof. Logan crossed the space self-consciously to close the window. The boy’s eyes were pointedly focused on the table in front of him- Logan thought he felt more awkward this way than if the boy had been staring at him flat-out. Either way, he could feel his awareness of Logan like a thick fog. He snuck another look at the boy as he hovered beside a chair, unsure whether to sit opposite him.

“My name is Logan,” he prompted, thoughts stumbling over each other to curse him for the repetition.

“Thank you for the tea, Logan.”

...Well, at least that was something. His name sounded strange in the other boy’s hoarse, delicate voice- less mundane, somehow. He stood at the head of a table for one more moment that seemed to stretch out an eternity- the boy carefully spun the salt shaker around in his nimble fingers, swearing softly as some of the seasoning fell onto the table. Logan’s startled eyes studied the other’s flushed face.

And then his head caught up to him, and he shuttered into motion, rushing to the mostly empty fridge for milk and fetching the small bag of sugar he’d mercifully bought a few days before.

“I... I’ve seen you around,” Logan’s mouth betrayed him again. That was creepy- although, looking at it objectively, it was much less creepy than being ‘around’ the way the boy had. The table behind was quiet for too long as he poured the milk.

“...When’d you move in?” The voice was quiet and held a fragility that Logan hadn’t yet heard from the other. He was relieved to finally have an easy answer to one of the many questions he faced. And, indeed, his mouth finally obeyed him, even and direct.

“About a month ago.” He turned to face the table, the boy’s tea held stiffly between his hands.

“Sorry,” he whispered as Logan set down the tea. “I knew someone’d moved in, but I guess… it was you.” The boy let out a hollow laugh, and Logan was swept with protectiveness once more.

“Don’t worry, I won’t alert the authorities.” Because that was the most comforting thing he could think of- he’d never been very tactful with delicate emotional situations. Predictably, the boy tensed. Logan decided it’d be advisable for him to move on. “What is your name, pray tell?”

Pray tell. Pray fucking tell? What was wrong with him? The boy cut him off before he could overthink the foot he’d just shoved in his mouth with the eloquence of an 1800s era schoolboy.

“Patton.” A moment passed before a look of horror came over his face. “Or- no, I- it’s- Virgil! Virgil.”

Now- once again, logically- forgetting one's name was not a good sign. Of general coherence nor moral innocence. Logan knew this.

Still, the boy looked uniquely upset by the mistake.

Logan fetched his tea and sat down opposite him.

The other boy fidgeted incessantly, and Logan felt it fell on him to make Virgil more comfortable. He threw tact to the wind- it was tiresome anyway- in favor of distracting the other and himself from the strange fumble.

“Are you a local?”

He got a nod in response, Virgil holding the tea tightly between his hands. Logan couldn’t help but feel he’d made yet another mistake- obviously the boy wasn’t comfortable talking about himself, but was it worth Logan filling the silence with unprompted facts about himself? Would that bore Virgil? Was that rude? He let the gap in conversation rest for a moment before deciding he didn’t much care what was rude.

“This is my second year enrolled in online college- I skipped my senior year.”

The stupid non-sequitor sat in the middle of the table, sinking like a rock. Virgil managed to give him an incredulous look, even in the depths of... whatever it was that was affecting him. Logan panicked.

Here are a few things about Logan Croft that were usually a given:

1. He often said things without regard to the effect they would have on others.

2. He did not say things he didn’t believe to be true.

3. He did not readily employ personal information.

All of these rules had apparently been thrown out the window the second Virgil walked in his door. As soon as he realized this, he worked to reclaim them. “Virgil.”

The wind immediately blew out of his sails, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Speaking abrasively had never been difficult for him, and this was not the time to adopt a new weakness. “I need to know who you are. You have shown up outside of my house for the past month, and while the reasoning behind this is presumably personal and not necessarily critical for me to know, I will at least need you to tell me your full name. Against my better judgement, I will not contact the authorities about your incessant invasion of my privacy, because I don’t altogether mind it- but if you are to have regular access to my house, we can’t continue this one-sided conversation.” Regular access to his house? When had Logan considered that option? As soon as he asked himself the question, he knew the answer- the feeling of someone appearing in the doorway, seeking Logan’s company… it was something that he’d missed sorely. It was something he needed.

The boy looked startled and altogether terrified by the long stream of words. Logan, still working hard to recover his sense and new to the inclination of softening his words on the behalf of strangers, disregarded this as best he could as he waited for an answer.

It didn’t look like he was going to get one.

Virgil opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, putting the salt shaker down on it’s side like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. Logan felt a tug in his stomach to right it, afraid he’d get more salt on his table, but now didn’t seem like the time.

As the moment stretched forward, his attention was grabbed away anyways, trying to decipher Virgil’s expression. It didn’t look good.

In fact, it made his heart drop.

The boy looked withdrawn, fearful- like a bird with an injured wing or a snared fox. Damn it, damn it, damn it- Logan’s split-second adopted mantra was less than helpful, but it showed no signs of tapering off to make room for useful thoughts. Virgil’s eyes squeezed shut, and the instincts left over from Logan’s career as an older brother took over.

He rushed to Virgil’s side on blind autopilot, laying a warm hand over his bony back. The boy jumped at the unexpected touch- and then leaned into it, a choked sob tearing itself from his throat. Oh no. Oh god. Damn it.

Logan didn’t consider himself good with emotions. He did his best to comfort his younger brothers- god knows they needed it- but strangers were a whole new situation and honestly he didn’t feel much better about this than he expected the boy did.

Nevertheless.

“Hey, I-” he took a knee to lower himself to Virgil’s level, steadying himself against the table awkwardly. “Um-”

He choked on what to say, but his mind latched to the one thing he knew. Virgil had responded positively to touch- and with little further thought, Logan bundled the shivering boy into his arms.

Logan would’ve immediately taken back the show of affection by any means necessary if Virgil hadn’t melted into the touch so readily- Logan was reminded of an oversized cat.

That being said, Logan was holding a sobbing stranger in his arms in his new house, alone. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

Logan had always been the kid at family gatherings who did everything in his power to ward off physical contact from his overbearing relatives. Although this situation was completely different and altogether impossible to plan for and avoid, he found himself reacting in somewhat of the same way- each place that Virgil’s thin, trembling body touched his screamed at him to recoil.

He did not.

He brought to mind his brothers- not that they’d ever been particularly physically affectionate with him. They’d always turned to each other, and he’d been left to himself. Understandably. But he imagined if they had seeked his reassurance, if they’d ever been as upset as this stranger was now. If they’d let him in.

But now someone was leaning on him for comfort, and he was determined to provide for them. Imagine if Remus had come to him for help, he kept thinking. Imagine if it were Roman.

And all of a sudden he had to hold back tears himself. He tensed, carefully leaning Virgill back onto his chair- Logan’s chair. Sensing the other’s discomfort, the boy came back to himself like a fire blazing across dry wood.

“Fuck- fuck, I-I’m-” the boy was off at a rushed stutter, scrambling to right himself and wiping his eyes angrily. Logan shook his head, patting Virgil’s shoulder awkwardly.

“Drink your tea,” Logan said stiffly. “It’s okay. I don’t- do you need something?” Good job, he thought sarcastically. Just pretend it never happened. Show him that, apologies, you seem to have made him think you’re an emotional resource. He was wrong, you’re actually a sociopath. Once again, sorry for any inconvenience.

Logan’s thoughts stuttered and shouted as he tried to fix whatever he’d done. Virgil was quite obviously shaking, almost unable to hold his tea to his lips although he did make an effort, and Logan resorted back to psych class- maybe not a panic attack, but certainly an emotional breakdown and possibly an anxiety attack. “Do you have a history of generalized anxiety disorder?” Logan asked automatically, the place where he should have held a capacity for compassion currently void for whatever stupid reason. “Or even a suspected case?” The thunderstorm in his mind froze entirely as Virgil’s watery brown eyes focused on him.

“...I guess,” he rasped quietly, eyes flickering back to his hands as they picked at each other violently. “I dunno.”

Logan let out a long breath, sliding furtively into the chair opposite Virgil.

“If you’re having an anxiety attack, it could be caused by a persistent disorder or a recent traumatic event- although recent is a problematically inspecific measurement-”

“Uh, then I- I dunno. Still. I guess…” He shrugged, looking away. “How recent is recently?”

Logan tried to hold back a sigh of relief at the comparatively simple question.

“Generally, anxiety attacks are caused by a buildup of unfinished tasks or other irritants, although there’s often an overarching problem or incident. A traumatic event can cause emotional turmoil for years after it occurs- or for the remainder of one’s life, depending on it’s nature- but in most to all cases, the effects lessen as time goes on.” Virgil nodded slowly.

“And- and what are the symptoms? Of an anxiety attack?” He pulled his legs up to his chest, presumably placating the urge to make himself smaller. Logan rattled off the characteristics quickly.

“Shaking, a feeling of unease, impulsive thoughts, nausea, panic, the sensation of being trapped or cornered, restlessness, hyperventilation, trouble concentrating, dyspnea- shortness of breath, that is- am I making sense?” He wrapped his hands around the cooling cup of tea in front of him, feeling the need to steady himself. Virgil nodded again- it was apparent he was a man of few words. That worked out wonderfully, Logan thought, as he himself seemed so bent on talking as much as humanly possible.

“Yeah,” Virgil muttered- then stood up abruptly. “Um- I should probably go. Sorry for… yeah.” Logan, decidedly more alarmed at the idea than he should’ve been, got to his feet as well.

“No- I mean, you don’t… have to. If you’d rather- but if you feel the need to go- I mean, I don’t want you to…” Logan paused, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to get his damn mouth under the control of his brain. Had he said something wrong? Well, obviously he’d said many things wrong in the past minutes, but… he thought over the conversation. He’d only been saying the facts- just what he knew. Was there something he should have kept to himself? Was any of it too personal? It was just facts, statistics, symptoms- he cursed himself mentally, although he couldn’t tell precisely what for.

While he’d been deliberating- not panicking, never panicking- Virgil had frozen in place. Right. The whole blazing trainwreck of words he’d let out for no apparent reason. Where the hell had that even come from? He’d known this kid for a month- five minutes face-to-face- and he was already being weird and nonsensical. It took considerable effort to bring the circumstances of their meeting to mind and even the playing field in his subconscious. If they were both creepy, did it even out? “I-I meant... you’re welcome here.”

Logan could see the gears turning in Virgil’s head as he fell back into his chair. A weight slid off of his shoulders as the air between them settled- they were even. Or something.

As much as he expected to regret his words, he was surprised at the lack of protest from his thoughts. It was, for once, blessedly quiet both inside his head and out. Logan sat back down warily. “You obviously have some- some connection to this house.” Like some sort of undead apparition, he thought- but he had the sense to keep that, at least, inside. “I can’t tell if it has a positive or negative effect on your mental state as I seem to be an uncalled for variable in your visit. I’m no psychological authority... I know you’ll come back either way, and I don’t like imagining you back out in the rain.” A shiver went through the boy like a roll of thunder, and he nodded.

“When can I come here again?”

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #empty house au #ehau #analogical #romantic analogical #analogical oneshot #logan sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides human au #sanders sides human!au #human!au #college!au #kinda

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thatotherfooltheycallweaver · 3 years ago

Text

Another test

A completely different fic that im working on

Tuesday afternoons are always oddly slow, regardless of the location Cordelia found herself in. Earlier that morning, her brother had asked her to take on the role of his receptionist for a few days, as the woman who usually worked at the front desk of his office was unable. She sat at the desk, reorganizing papers out of complete boredom. Men had been coming in and out all day, but she felt like there was nobody she could talk to. She was more than happy to help whenever she was needed, but it was, in her mind, ridiculous that there was nothing to do. With a sigh, she tapped her fountain pen against the loose papers--schedules, notes, and other things--it almost took on a pointillistic look on the page. She leaned on the desk before noticing that her hair was a bit of a mess and started trying to pin stray strands back into place--she knew she should have been more careful when she was doing her hair that morning. She hated having her it pinned up, but attempted to be more professional, for her brother’s sake. She had heard rumors of a baronet all the way from England--she couldn’t remember if they had specified from where in that country--would be visiting Buffalo for the time being. A baronet, no less. That title was uncommon enough to warrant questions, as nobody she spoke to understood exactly what it meant. She made it a point to ask her friend, Edith, later--she would likely know. Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the door open and shut. A tall man dressed in all black walked in, carrying a wooden case. The only other visible color on him was the silver chain of a pocket watch. He removed his top hat as he approached the desk, revealing short, dark, slicked-back hair under it. His eyes met hers for a moment and he smiled.

“Good afternoon, miss. I’m looking for a Mr. Baker. I have an appointment, though I suspect I’m a bit early.” Cordelia looked through the papers to find if there was something written down. “It’s for Thomas--ah, I’ve a card, my apologies.” He took a piece of paper out of his pocket. Printed across it, in neat black ink, was the name ‘Sir Thomas Sharpe’ and the title of Baronet under it. She had no idea how accurate the rumors would have been, but each of them mentioned he was attractive. They were inaccurate, as none of them could accurately capture how handsome the gentleman before her truly looked. Though tempted to keep him in the lobby until it was time for him to go back to speak to her brother for answers--she was curious, wanting to know more about him--she decided against it.

“My brother wouldn’t mind if you went back early, actually. If you’re ready to, of course.”

“Really?” He asked, a bit surprised. “Yes, miss, I am ready. Where do I go?”

“I can show you.” She stood, deciding against prying for information and resigning to interrogating her brother later--she didn’t want to risk seeming nosy or inconsiderate. “My name is Cordelia Baker. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Baker.” He nodded with a smile. They reached the end of the hall and she knocked on the doorway.

“I’ll be right there.” A voice from within called.

“I wish you the best of luck.” She looked at Thomas, smiling.

“Thank you.” His eyes met hers for a moment. “I might just need it.”

“I have full confidence that everything will go well for you.” There was a look in his eyes; as if he was unused to warm smiles and genuine words with no hope of recompense--no cynicism or idle words. He was unsure, for the moment, if it was how America simply operated...or if she was one of those rare, kind souls. The type that would set him free from all the horrors, all the burdens--he pushed the thoughts away from his mind, reassuring himself that he needed to take things one step at a time. Thomas brushed off his coat in an attempt to make himself at least feel more presentable. The door opened, and a man a little shorter than the Baronet was standing there. He had strawberry blonde hair and was wearing a blue shirt with a tawny vest over it.

“Sir Sharpe.” He held out his hand to the dark-haired man. “I’m Anthony Baker. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.” Thomas shook his hand. “Thank you for agreeing to see me, I truly appreciate it.” He let go, the shorter of the two opening holding the door to his office open, motioning for him to follow. Cordelia left, wanting to give them privacy if they wanted.

“Please, just call me Anthony.” He said with a smile, gesturing to the chair. “I don’t know what you plan, but do make yourself comfortable.” Thomas found it odd. Other investors had not been anywhere near as considerate, or kind. He did not understand it, but he wasn’t going to waste such an opportunity.

“I have a model. May I?” He asked, gesturing to the box.

“Of course.” Again, much to his surprise, Anthony actually picked up some of the papers and things to make a bit more room for him to work. He was ready to take notes and already seemed interested. As if he was half-expecting the redhead to change his mind, the baronet quickly set the small model up, taking the jar and box that was inside. The man across from him watched, allowing him to concentrate. Taking a breath, he did his best to steady his sudden nerves.

“The Sharpe clay mines have been royal purveyors of the purest scarlet clay since 1796. In its liquid form, it is so rich in ore and so malleable that it can produce the strongest bricks and tiles.” He gestured to the jar, left of the machine model.

“May I?” Anthony asked, gesturing to the smaller wooden box with a clay tile in it. Thomas nodded. “I've never seen anything that vibrant a shade of red in my life.” He mused, letting him continue explaining.

“Excessive mining in the last 20 years has caused most of our old deposits to collapse. This is a clay harvester of my own design. It transports the clay upwards as it digs deep.” He turned the machine on. “I have absolutely no doubt this machine will revolutionize clay mining as we know it.” Anthony looked at the machine, amazed.

“This is very impressive.” Thomas looked up, a bit caught off-guard, unused to compliments. Now he had to wonder if it was those two siblings, or it was the country.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Have you had a chance to test it, full-scale?”

“Not yet, but we’re very close. We’re hoping that with funding, it will work. I've built the harvester on my estate, but more parts would be needed to keep it running smoothly.” He explained.

“Of course, of course, my apologies. Do you happen to have schematics? Sketches?” He asked. “I would like to look into this more before I make a decision. I believe it will take a bit of time. Research and all that, I hope you understand.” Thomas nodded, a little surprised he got this far.

“Of course.” He nodded, grabbing a folder from the case. “I have everything right here.” He handed it over--inside were schematics, other information that would hopefully be useful.

“This is genuinely impressive--I apologize for repeating. It's just so well designed.” Anthony smiled for a moment. “I will have to look into it, though I can't make any promises.”

“I understand. It is a bit risky but I wholeheartedly believe it's worth it.”

“I will do what I can to respond quickly. How long are you still staying in Buffalo?"

“I believe we are--my sister and I--staying until autumn. I’m unsure of the exact dates. My sister hasn’t told me anything, yet.” Anthony nodded.

“Well, I can at least guarantee it won't take that long to get an answer.” He chuckled softly. “I'm sorry to cut this short, but I do thank you for being here.” He stood. “It was nice to meet you. I'll have my sister…” He said that as if trying to show a bit of solidarity, or they at least had something in common. “...show you out." As if on cue, there was a rhythmic knock, a code of sorts. He got up and opened it. Cordelia was there. Thomas felt a little less uncomfortable...something about her, something about the way she carried herself.

“I swear I wasn't eavesdropping,” It was honest, but she was a bit nervous about how it came across. She pulled on her sleeve, letting out a soft snicker. “I just came by to drop off some letters for you. Including one from a certain Miss Cushing." She teased Anthony, who blushed a bit in embarrassment.

“Had it not been for witnesses…” He hissed. “I’ll trade you. Would you please show Sir Sharpe out?”

“Do I have to give you the letters?” He gave her a look and she handed them over, begrudgingly. Not that she didn’t want to spend the time with Thomas, she just wanted to see Anthony’s reaction.

“Shall I leave anything here for you to examine further?”

“No, thank you; if you want to take it, please do.” Thomas nodded, packing up the machine and carefully stowing the jar and box.

“Thank you for your time, sir.”

“And thank you for yours.” Anthony smiled, looking over his notes. The baronet looked at Cordelia with a soft smile. Her presence was almost comforting, in a way, he couldn’t quite explain it. She shut the door behind them both.

“Hello.” She greeted as she began to lead him back to the lobby. “How did it go?” She asked gently.

“I believe it went well--at least it seemed to.” He looked at her, tilting his head slightly. “Your brother is much kinder than others I’ve gone to.” He mused, finding the situation rather refreshing, in a way.

“Anthony loves listening to people talk, and their ideas. And from the look at the machine I got when you were putting it back in the case, it was rather interesting.” The comment caught Thomas off-guard. He wouldn’t have guessed a lady like her would have found his clay harvester fascinating. There was a level of intrigue they both felt, curiosity between strangers. The tall Englishman who dressed in dark clothing and spoke with a gentle elegance she was unfamiliar with; the American woman in rich lavender who took an interest in his work, unprovoked, not to just be polite--each unusual to the other, and yet it felt captivating. “So...you've got an accent. English, right?” She asked. “Sorry, I don’t know many people from Europe…”

“No, no, Miss Baker, you don’t need to apologize. I don’t mind answering...though I suppose others will have the same questions, no doubt.” He looked at her with a small smile. “I am from England.”

“Is it nice there?” She asked, looking up at him with a curious smile.

“Where I’m from, it’s rainy and dark in some of the most beautiful ways.” He smiled at her, finding the curiosity endearing. “Not like Buffalo.”

“It sounds beautiful, really.” She smiled, listening intently. Cordelia definitely loved his accent, though she knew there was more to him than what everyone else might care to ask about. High society had a tendency to gloss over personality, beyond the obvious and surface level. “I’ve always wanted to go to England. Everyone I know who’s been there speaks highly of it.” He looked over, a little intrigued. Her smile felt...reassuring, in a way. Her curiosity was almost comforting.

“I think everyone should go to London at least once in their life. It’s quite amazing--the art, architecture…” He looked over. “Perhaps I could be the one to show you, someday.” She looked over, unable to tell if he was subtly flirting, or if he was just being kind. She didn’t know if she was misinterpreting things.

“How could I possibly refuse an offer like that?” She looked over. “If you want, I could show you around Buffalo...make things even?” The idea of spending time with her was inexplicably something he wanted--no, needed. He was drawn to her, he needed to find out more about her. The fact that she would even suggest that she’d give him a tour was astonishing--nobody else he met up until then had brought it up.

“That sounds like a fair deal. I would love that, actually.” He admitted with a smile--it made her blush faintly. It was unexplainable...she had no idea how this man had an effect on her already. They reached the lobby, the door in sight. The soft evening light started filtering in through the glass.

“You know...I’m hosting a party on Friday night--this Friday…” She got irritated with herself, internally, wondering if she was embarrassing herself by talking too much. “...if you would be interested, you are more than welcome there.”

“Really?” He sounded a bit stunned. “I would very much enjoy that. Would it be alright if my sister came along with me? I’d hate to leave her out.”

“If she wants to, of course she can.” She looked at him with a soft smile.

“Well, that’s great.” He smiled back, brightly. “Until then, Miss Baker?”

“I’m already looking forward to it, Sir Sharpe.” He took his hat, putting it on and chuckling softly as he left. With him gone, she sighed. There was something about him that she couldn’t describe. Cordelia immediately set off to bother Anthony for information. She knocked on the door and opened it. Her brother had a completely smitten look as he was reading over the letter. “So...how’s Edith?” She teased, amused.

“She’s fine.” He muttered, closing the letter and putting it on top of the papers.

“Have either of you told the other, yet?”

“No. Stop asking.” He looked at her, half-glaring. “And don’t ask about the baronet. I’m not giving you anything, yet.”

“Fine, fine.” She shook her head. “Then I’ll get back to planning the party.”

“Alright. Have fun.”

#crimson peak #thomas sharpe #sir thomas sharpe #my writing #oc #oc ship #fic writing #wip #please critique #fanfic writer #need feedback

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 4 years ago

Note

Pinned under wreckage. Hmm, how about Intruality with Remus a construction worker where something went wrong? Preferably happy ending but any will do. (keep up the good work! You're amazing!!)

(Prompts with boxes have been taken, highlighted have been written)

Requests for this card are closed, thank you to anyone who sent in requests! If you don’t want to see these you can block the tag #false bthb. As always shoot me an ask if you wanna be tagged in future stories, whether it be for bad things happen bingo or any of the other series, one shots or in general!

Thanks for the request, I hope you like it!

General Taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @im-an-anxious-wreck @logans-library

Hold Onto Me

Summary: Patton had just wanted to deliver lunch to his husband when he saw the emergency vehicles at the construction site. All he can hope for is that keeping ahold of his hand will be enough. (Happy Ending)

Warnings: anxiety, major injury, blood, hospitals, emergency situation (if there are more please let me know)

Prompt: Pinned Down By Wreckage

Ships: Romantic Intruality (Patton x Remus)

WC: 4038

Disclaimer: I don't think this is how construction practices work but for the sake of the beginning that’s how it's gonna work because angst. The procedure to get him out is however fairly accurate, I did a bit of research as to how someone is rescued from that kind of situation but other than that please take the accuracy of this situation with a grain of salt.

Remus’ heavy boots thudded loudly on the thin catwalk leading over top of where the scaffolding was set in place for the floor of the third story of the new building, not that he could hear it over the general din of construction work. Everything looked good, he was only here to do a general sweep over before anyone else came up to lay the insulation and then actual flooring to make sure nothing would collapse. Being so high up he had a wonderful view of the fair bit of land whoever was moving into this house would own when it was done: a field with woods surrounding it with a long, winding road leading up to the front entrance.

It was stupidly extravagant, some dream house Roman would have loved to live in if he was rich enough to afford but Remus had been so excited to work on it, and still was. He got to help with the design work and use his hands for hours and hours and even though he came home tired and sweaty he still loved it with every fiber of his being. Not to mention he got to go home to Patton who would smile and cup his cheek to kiss him before pushing him down the hall to shower while he started on dinner. He’d come out to help and they’d settle down at the table or couch to talk or watch a movie and then either work on their own things or cuddle up in bed depending on how tired they were. It was mundane and domestic most of the time but Remus loved that with Patton. He had him and his job and his stupid brother and he couldn’t be happier; everything in his life made him feel safe and happy and comfortable and he couldn’t imagine asking for anything better.

Of course it could all be ruined in an instant. One wrong step and he could certainly plummet to his death. The scaffolding could crack and he’d be impaled on a jagged piece of wood. He could break every bone in his body or be paralyzed for life and be a burden on everyone who knew him and- Remus shook his head impatiently, willing the thoughts away as he turned carefully and began making the rest of the way across the catwalk. Thoughts like that kept him on his toes at least but it was best not to dwell on them too much. He was always careful and he wasn’t about to jinx himself by thinking of everything that could go wrong on the job.

He almost laughed when he felt it: a shift under his feet that meant something could be loose. Of course he would manage to have the most ironic timing in the world. Carefully stepping back he looked closely to see if he could tell what the problem was but he saw nothing. Biting his lip he looked back up at the last couple of feet he had to walk. He should definitely turn around and tell someone to look and fix whatever might be wrong, but he could also save the time and try to figure out himself what it could be if he could just get a better vantage point. It was only a couple of feet, if he stepped wide enough he might be able to avoid whatever problem there was.

Mind made up he stepped forward again more gingerly than he had ever done anything in his life, faintly hearing the lunch bell ringing and the gradual silence that was left from the various machines being turned off and tools being put down. Good, he thought, that way if anything happens no one’s around to get hurt. He screwed his mouth to the side as he quickly dismissed that thought as well, mentally kicking himself for the possible jinx. It was only a couple of feet, just one step and he could hug the wall and lean over to see what the problem was. Honestly with the way the skeleton of the wall was he could probably squeeze himself between the gaps of the unfinished floor and climb down to safety to avoid even having to hop back to the catwalk and go all the way back around. Leaning forward a bit for stability he brought his arms out and quickly lunged for the one, grabbing a hold of two support beams and digging into them so hard his fingernails began to ache. Despite that his new position seemed to be fine, no more shifting under his feet as the tips of his boots found a bit of purchase on the floor's framework by the wall. Grinning through the adrenaline rush he maneuvered himself around until he was facing back towards the room and carefully surveyed the floor. They had laid the framework out in a hurry- ill advised but for the time crunch they were under it had seemed necessary. The consequence for them rushing it though thankfully just seemed to be a missing support plank, making a couple of the beams bow under the catwalk when they were walked on. An easy enough fix and thankfully one that would be relatively quick.

Remus looked down with a grimace. He could climb down...but he had already gotten in trouble once for using scaffolding as a jungle gym even if he was trying to be careful not to be caught. He’d rather not be labeled as a liability not even halfway through the project and since in reality there wasn’t that much wrong with the floor he really didn’t have an excuse not to walk back the way he’d come. Sighing in disappointment he stepped forward and began to make his way back across, the shifting under his feet only making him slightly nervous as he took a bigger step to avoid the worst of it- only to immediately regret it as the entire catwalk shifted to the right as the board he was using slid away from the framework. The catwalk was mostly just a series of shorter boards placed in a sort of grid pattern so you could walk around without there actually having to be a floor. The board he was standing on and currently trying his hardest to rebalance on had shifted under his weight making the edge fall off the board underneath it, meaning it was now hanging onto a beam less than three inches thick by a couple of inches at its end. So not only was then the floor not laid well but the catwalk hadn’t been properly secured either, and if he squinted even closer there wasn’t much of the floor that was laid completely securely.

Swearing profusely a selfish part of him wished someone else was in this position besides him, maybe they could have figured out a way out of this mess. As it was it was just Remus alone up here, everyone else gone on lunch break and if they noticed he was missing they probably assumed he was either in the bathroom or fucking around somewhere he probably shouldn’t be...such as on the second story unsecured catwalk watching the floor settle and resettle under his weight with sweat dripping down his face. This was supposed to have been a quick job- ten minutes at most of him poking around to find something and now that he had he was risking practically the entire floor collapsing underneath him. He didn’t want to call out for help in case it actually did fall through and trap someone beneath it so it seemed as if it was simply going to be a waiting game in which either he or the floor would come out on top.

And with another shift underneath him it didn’t seem like it was his lucky day.

-----

Patton sang softly along to the song playing through the radio, tapping his fingers along with the beat on the wheel. He didn’t do this often but he really wanted to surprise Remus at work with a lunch. He had packed a little extra for dinner as well hoping he wasn’t too late to give it to him. Remus had said yesterday he’d have to stay a little later than usual to look over some things and do...whatever it was he had said he had to do to play catch up in the huge project the company had undertaken, an apology heavy on his tongue that Patton had preemptively forgiven him for with a peck on the lips and a smile. Though he wasn’t happy how over worked his husband often was, he more blamed the company and commissioners than Remus himself. He worked hard and it showed, and Patton was always proud of him. So, packed lunch and dinner it was with hopefully a quick visit before he had to leave since he was in no way authorized personnel but the people in charge often simply rolled their eyes and waved him through, vaguely threatening him with promised of forced exit if he stayed too long, which Remus never let him do anyway since an active construction zone wasn’t exactly safe.

The sound of sirens in the distance cut off his thoughts as his blood ran cold. Sirens didn’t have to mean anything of course, there were many reasons you’d hear them- but this was practically out in the middle of nowhere, near a construction zone which was again out in the middle of nowhere. Cursing he sped up just a little bit, desperate to get to the site and hopefully disprove what he already knew he’d see. He nearly started crying right then when he turned into the long drive only to see the house surrounded by emergency vehicles and people in uniform bustling from point to point to do whatever it was they had to do. He could see the part of the collapsed house beyond that, what looked like a cave in from the second story that had taken the supporting wall with it, though how something like that had happened Patton couldn’t fathom.

He hadn’t even clicked the engine all the way off when he was out of the car and running to who he knew was in charge, dodging out of the way and trying not to make a nuisance of himself so they didn’t have a reason to kick him off the property. There was no sign of Remus as far as he was looking, not even the sound of his rather loud voice cutting through the worried din of everyone else’s voices which only served to drop his stomach further as he swallowed hard around the nausea. Please God no, he thought. Please please please-

“Where’s Remus?” Patton didn’t think there was a need to bother with formalities in this kind of situation. He just needed to figure out where his husband was, go to him and make sure he was safe. It was a simple plan, the simplest set of goals he’d ever set in his life, but his heart sank as the supervisor turned to him with a grave look on his face that told Patton everything he needed to know before the other even began shaking his head.

“There was an accident. The floor- the floor must have been loose and nobody thought- I didn’t think to check on him after he went up there. We all know how he is.” He gestured helplessly to where several people were gathered around a section of rubble, the weight of a whole building bearing down on whatever they were puttering around. “We know where he is; it’s just getting him out.”

Patton didn’t need to hear anymore, noticing some of the people leaving the group and leaving a bit of space he could see the mess through. Most of it was just wood beams sticking out in every direction like a crudely placed beaver damn, some insulation from the ground floor poking up at the bottom. If he squinted though he could just barely make out a small space that had been cleared, a small hole that he could only assume was what they could safely clear away to see if Remus was still-

Pushing forward before he could finish the thought he hurried over to where the space had been made and knelt down next to it, laying a shaking hand next t o the rubble and iting his lip tp keep from crying.

“Sir you can’t be here-”

“That’s my husband in there.” Patton cut the woman off sharply, only feeling slightly guilty for his tone.

The woman softened. “I understand but-”

“I’ll leave when I’m in the way but right now no one’s doing anything so I’m staying right here so I can be with him. I’m not going to touch or disrupt anything but I’m not moving.” Patton looked up, defiantly daring her to continue, but after a moment she just nodded and backed away. He turned back to the space as a slight moan alerted him, gasping as long fingers emerged from the cramped darkness and reached out. A high pitched whine left Patton’s mouth at the sight of how bloody it was but he nevertheless reached forward desperately and grasped the fingers in a gentle hold. Faintly he heard a warning not to pull him as assistance was yelled for but he only shook his head as tears streamed down his face. Everything in him was screaming to lift the beams himself and drag Remus to safety but he knew it couldn’t work like that. This was a delicate situation that needed to be handled with care but the frustration only built as the seconds ticked by and nothing seemed to be getting done.

“Remus honey, I’m here okay? I’m right here and so are people that are going to get you out of there. You just hold onto me baby everything will be okay.” He nearly choked on his own uncertainty but he couldn’t afford to let emus think he was anything other than certain he’d make it out of this. His fingers squeezed weakly and Patton’s breath hitched in relief, continuing to rattle out reassurances that he’d be out soon and they were doing what they could he just had to hold on a little bit longer. His head snapped up as a hand landed on his shoulder, one of the paramedics motioning people forward with equipment.

“Keep holding his hand and talking to him, you’re probably helping keep him awake.” Patton decided he didn’t want to think too hard on what that might mean, instead simply scooching over slightly to make room for whatever it was they were doing and running his thumb gently over Remus’ knuckles as he took a steadying breath.

“They’re going to get you out Remus. They have equipment they’re setting up to get you out and then everything will be fine.” His fingers were squeezed again gently and the medic must have noticed since they paused and leaned down.

“We’re going to put two sturdy boards on either side of you to help stabilize what’s laying on top of you and then put airbags on the other side of them to lift everything up. That should give us enough room to remove you safely. If at any point your space gets too cramped or you feel things settle down on you more, squeeze your husband’s hand and he’ll let us know okay? We’re working as quickly as we can to get you out.” Remus squeezed his hand again and the medic nodded, signaling for things to begin. “This is called cribbing. It’s just putting a basic framework underneath everything to hopefully stop it from settling down more. And then those long tubes will be put in and inflated to lift it up, at which point you'll have to move out of the way so we can get him out.”

Remus squeezed his hand again and both the action and explanation Patton felt his anxiety ebb the tiniest amount. He nodded to the kind woman and moved to hold Remus with both hands as if doing so would make the process go any faster. As the emergency crew bustled around him and got everything into place he simply sat with cramping legs and blurring vision, reassuring the trapped man through soft touches and softer words as they moved thick, wedged shaped beams in front of the pile of debris. Holding his breath Patton tightened his grip slightly as they began inching the beams underneath, focusing his attention solely on the bloodied hand in his grip, poised to react at even the slightest twitch of discomfort. The boards were halfway in when his hand was squeezed weakly, jolting him out of his tense state to yell out a loud “Stop” to the team. They froze and looked to the woman still holding Patton’s shoulder, who leaned forward to be heard.

“Squeeze once if the pile is shifting, twice if we’re hitting you with the boards.” Two quick squeezes were felt and she nodded slightly. “Is there any way you can move without endangering yourself so we can get them in a bit more?”

He felt a slight squeeze on his hand before shuffling was heard accompanied by a quiet whimper that tore straight through Patton’s heart as he fought to simply hold the hand in support and not yank him out himself. He nodded as his hand was squeezed again and kept up his quiet reassurances, speaking just loud enough for Remus to hear him over the directions the medics were constantly throwing back and forth. After what seemed like an eternity the wedges were in place and Remus gave the go ahead to squeeze in the air bags. No one dared breathe as they were squeezed into place, no response from Remus unless they asked for confirmation that everything was still okay.

Everything was going fine- the bags were filling up and Patton could see the rubble being lifted slowly but surely up and off his husband. They were so close to having him out and okay that it almost didn’t register when Remus’ hand went limp in his own. Patton felt the muscles slacken and the hand become sudden deadweight in between his own. Eyes widening he squeezed his hand gently, then perhaps a bit too hard as panic gripped him.

“Remus honey? Are you okay?” The slick hand remained still, fingers not even twitching to indicate he had been heard. “Remus? Remus!”

He thrashed as he was pulled away, screaming louder than he ever had in his life as Remus’ hand slipped away from him and he was hauled to his feet and backward. The medics crowded to fill the space and he lost sight of his hand completely, screaming louder and scratching madly at the arms around his middle.

“Let me go! Let me go, he needs me!” The logic that Patton more needed him than Remus needed Patton over the medics at the moment was flung out of the window as he bucked backwards attempting to throw off whoever it was but the person just held him tighter as they walked him away, heedless of his ear splitting screams. Vaguely he was aware they were talking to him but Patton couldn’t care less as the phantom sensation of Remus’ hand going slack in his own tore his mind apart.

“P…….Pat…...Patton please!” Virgil’s yell finally cut through the panicked fog and provided the window he needed to haul Patton the rest of the way over bside the parked ambulance and sit him down on the ground. “They’re going to get him, Patton, it's okay. I promise you He’ll be okay. And we’ll ride in the ambulance and go into the hospital with him and they’ll make sure he’ll be back to making idiotic decisions in no time.”

The words meant to reassure him didn’t make Patton feel any better but all the fight left him, adrenaline running its course as he buried his face in his friend’s chest and wept.

-----

Remus had Patton and Virgil as his first two people to call in an emergency and since Patton had already gotten there and hadn’t checked his phone someone must have then called Virgil when he hadn’t picked up. As bad as he felt he was grateful the other was there as he all but collapsed while they finally got Remus’ still, limp body out from under the wreckage and onto a stretcher, stabilizing him as much as they could before ushering him into the ambulance and driving away after denying them riding along since they needed the extra room. Patton all but dragged Virgil to his car, the other swiping away his keys and insisting he drive as Patton was in no state to and Patton really just agreed if only to get them going faster.

They didn’t get to go in Remus’ room for hours after that, apparently suffering a broken legs and ribs, a sprained risk and a minor concussion that had taken the rest of the day to fix, nearly sending Patton into hysterics when they were informed with the final comment being that he had gotten off lucky. Thankfully Roman and Logan had arrived at that point and they were able to sit with Patton through the night and morning before Logan suggested he take Virgil to get a change of clothes and other necessities so they’d be able to stay longer, Roman volunteering to come along to get Patton and Remus’ things as well.

The hospital room was quiet save for the soft beeping of the machines lining the bed and the gentle huffing breaths of Remus as he slept, thankfully peacefully, in the hospital bed that Patton had his chair pulled all the way up to to hold his now bandaged hand between his. He yawned loudly and laid his head on his arm, eyes fighting to stay open as he promised himself he was merely resting his eyes but drifting off rather quickly considering the stress of the past couple of days. Confident he would wake if anything happened and trusting the others to come back soon he allowed himself to drift off.

-----

Patton awoke slowly to the feeling up fingers running through his messy hair, taking the time to gently brush out all the tangles of the previous day. He hummed happily and snuggled further into the tough, only to grunt in pain as his neck protested the action with a rather loud crack. Reality hit him all at once and he picked his head up to see Remus smiling tiredly down at him, Head wrapped neatly and already crooked nose set after what must have been the third or fourth break he had already suffered. Patton’s eyes filled with tears as he sat up and slowly reached for his husband, hands coming to rest on each cheek to make sure he was really there and alright. Smile tugging wider Remus brought his own hands up to rest on Patton’s, thumbs slowly running over the knuckles like he had done when Remus had been trapped.

“If I wouldn’t hurt you more and get hauled out by security I would slap you so hard for what you did.” In his tired state Patton honestly couldn’t think of anything better to say, but Remus only chuckled weakly and nodded.

“I love you too.”

Laughing softly with him Patton leaned forward to rest his forehead against Remus’ before pressing a featherlight kiss to the tip of his nose and softly whispered “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“I always am with you.”

Later a nurse would come in and smile at the two: Patton tucked under Remus’ chin and clutching onto his hands like a lifeline as they both slept. Quietly, he would turn out the light and shut the door, reassuring the people camping on the chairs outside that they were alright and they would sigh and shake their heads with amusement. The scolding could wait, they decided. For they would leave them to hold onto each other for as long as they needed.

This work is also available on AO3!

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k7l4d4 · 4 years ago

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A Steven Universe AU

Hello all! Today, I am going to document an AU I had for Steven Universe! I would like to personally thank my friend Flamestar50 for the help I received to build this AU. I am going to mark down the information for the AU I had discussed with Flame when discussing this AU, so here I go! To note, the information will be about the questions Flame asked me, and my responses.

Okay, I talked to Flame and they are okay with this. Enjoy fully.

ALRIGHT!! Basically, assuming you know who Doctor Priyanka is hopefully, before Canon starts, Greg accidentally says something to Rose while they are talking after she got back from a particularly stressful mission, and it causes all the repressed pain and guilt, along with a not so healthy dollop of self-loathing, to come surging to the forefront.

To better process her feelings, Rose heads to the Beach and, well, ends up lamenting to herself, attracting the attention of a visiting Priyanka Maheswaran (Hope I spelled that right), who decided to approach the giant gem and get her to talk about her feelings.

Flame: huh, how does that go

Me: Well, because Rose has a LONG history of not thinking things all the way through and often not being able to see the full picture accurately, she ultimately decides to just spill it all. To vent every little thing about herself, all her actions, all her choices, all her mistakes, to a total stranger, because she genuinely cannot TAKE IT anymore!

Surprisingly, or probably not, Priyanka is moved, and understandably worried, by Rose's pain, and makes a point of comforting her, with Rose herself having shapeshifted back into her Diamond Form for the first time in CENTURIES.

Priyanka is genuinely in awe of all that Rose has done, and all that she has been through, and decides it is her duty as a medical professional, albeit not one licensed in psychology, to take on Rose as her patient, as the Gem is clearly not in a healthy or safe emotional state. Oh, and the other Gems and Greg all ended basically overhearing the whole thing while the two are none the wiser.

Flame: oh no, how did they react

Me: Well, shock for the most part. Amethyst and Garnet are, understandably, angry at being lied to, yet they can't bring themselves to be angry because, unless you've got a serious callousness to you, it is hard to be angry at someone who so clearly loathes themselves so completely and utterly.

Pearl is mostly shocked, and a touch despondent, that Rose had withheld all this hurt and inner turmoil from her. Greg? He doesn't know how to process what is going on, but what he does understand is that Rose, the person he loves more than anything else in the world, the one who finally made him see his own value and worth and could never even try to judge him, is hurting, and in need of comfort. They basically decide to shift the discussion back to the Temple for the rest of the initial event.

Flame: How will this effect Steven in the future?

Me: Well, I haven't finished describing the set up just yet, but it will have its effects on his future (HA! Snuck in the reference!). After moving back to the Temple, Priyanka in tow, the Gems (and Greg) basically hash out everything they can. Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl are all understandably distressed and hurt by the secrets Rose has been carrying, but the sheer pain and hurt she clearly feels about herself convince them to work through it together.

For Amethyst, it partially convinces her to stop bottling up her insecurities, not after seeing what a wreck it made of Rose. Garnet knows she will have to fully confront her feelings on the subject later, but decides to be there for the others now. Pearl just wants to finally help Rose the way she feels Rose helped her. And Rose? She just feels such intense, unconditional joy and love at the fact that they don't see her as a monster, that they still love her, flaws and all, that she doesn't have to run away anymore.

The revelation of her feelings acts as a catalyst that causes her to involuntarily shapeshift into a new default state that merges her Diamond and Quartz forms, a symbol of her finally accepting herself completely, taking the name Rose Diamond; she isn't going to pretend she is something she's not anymore, she's going to show the whole world the entirety of who she is, flaws and all, so she can finally start to grow.

And then they realize that they never got Priyanka's name, and everyone starts cracking up at the sheer absurdity of it all, Rose included! I got more, but that is the initial intro to the AU.

Flame: what else ya got

Me: Well, because of her sense of obligation, and the fact that she honestly enjoys Rose's company, Priyanka more or less becomes the Gems' therapist, and often silently screams in her own head that she isn't trained for this. One of the things Rose does once she comes clean is to try and make amends for the things that came about due to her lies; for starters, she releases Bismuth, after she tracks down Lion that is (that crazy feline does whatever it wants, I swear).

Much like in canon, Bismuth is snapped out of her hyper-blood-rage once she is exposed to the Corrupted Gems and figures out that the Corruption partially came about due to her giving the idea of faking her shattering to Rose. Bismuth is MASSIVELY uncomfortable around Rose, and often adopts a loose, battle-ready stance whenever around her, but, partially due to working with Priyanka to help treat her PTSD, is gradually coming around.

Bismuth more or less does her own thing, but makes an effort to be there when needed, like when the Gems find an experimental Warp Pad. The Warp Pad, according to the notes Pearl finds, is supposed to be the ultimate escape system, allowing any being to enter the warp stream and proceed to a pre-determined Warp Pad across the Galaxy, and the next time that corresponding pad is used it will automatically bring them back.

Upon discovering that information, and seeing that the Warp Pad hasn't been set yet and still can be, Rose, without actually explaining to the others, uses the warp to rescue Spinel. I'm gonna leave it here for you to process and ask questions before I proceed.

Flame: Oh god, how is spinel gonna react to this version

Me: Well, considering she is still near-totally innocent, she basically asks if she won the game. Yeah. Rose basically cries her eyes out, and tearfully says that, yes, Spinel, you're the winner, and gets an ecstatic hug that feels just a little too tight.

Upon noticing that Spinel is subtly shying away from the plants, and that the roots of some have actually started growing over her, Rose carefully picks a weary Spinel up, and carries her over to the warp pad back to earth. When Spinel asks where they are going, Rose simply says they are going home, getting a content smile in return. Upon returning through the experimental warp, Rose is bombarded by a storm of panicked shouting from the other gems, only for them to calm down at the ragged Spinel in Rose's arms.

Rose attempts to brush off the danger of using an untested piece of potentially lethal tech, only for the warp to blow up behind them; none of them were hurt, it was more like a collapse, but the implication that that could've happened while she and Spinel were in the warp stream causes all the gems to shoot Rose looks that scream "We told you so." I'll let you process this while I gather my thoughts.

Flame: oh dear

Me: Yeah, Rose doesn't like to think things through when there are people who need help she can give. After carefully explaining who Spinel was and the situation surrounding her, which involves Pearl face-palming, Garnet pinching the bridge of her nose, Amethyst a little shell-shocked, and Bismuth pummeling a concrete pillar into gravel in anger, they take the sweet gem back home.

After making sure Spinel is situated comfortably, Rose breaks the news; she never planned on coming back. As Spinel freezes up, whether from shock or hurt is up to debate, Rose explains that she had never understood Spinel, always seeing her as a silly doll that the other Diamonds gave her to be a toy who couldn't take things seriously, with each word causing Spinel to slowly shake her head, shuddering more and more, before Rose apologizes for being a bad friend.

Before Spinel can completely LOSE IT, Rose, tears of shame, regret, and heartbreak, pulls Spinel into an impromptu hug, begging, pleading, for the chance to let Spinel be happy. After calming down enough not to lash out in out of control pain, Spinel, shaken but not broken, asks as calmly as she can to be alone for a little while. They give her her space. And another pause point!

Flame: I thought she was gonna lose it, I sure would have.

Me: She came VERY CLOSE, but Rose's presence, which she still associates with good things and happier times, manages to keep her just stable enough to go off the deep end. Spinel quickly becomes a regular patient for Priyanka, who makes a point to try and help the child-like gem to grow and develop as an individual like it's her personal missions.

Over time, Spinel gradually manages to come to terms with her situation. Spinel developed a phobia of plants due to her time in the garden, but also enjoys gardening, seeing it as a representation of her happiest memories, as well as a way to conquer her fear by leveraging control over the plants.

With prompting from Priyanka for the both of them, Rose and Spinel make an effort to rebuild their old relationship into something healthy for the both of them; for Rose, it is a chance to finally befriend and learn about Spinel as a Gem, and not the toy she treated her as, and for Spinel, it is a way to come to terms with her past and start making new friends in the present and future.

The two manage to reach a mostly amicable bond, but things occasionally get tense between them; Rose's past actions left deep scars on Spinel's heart, as while she still acts like her happy-go-nuts self, albeit tempered with proper emotional reading, she now holds a deep disdain for other gems and gemkind as a whole, making an exception only for those who've also been burned by Gem Culture and her friends, often acting similar to her initial debut self when communicating with gems who don't meet this small criteria.

Spinel genuinely loathes the fact that she is a Gem now, and finds human company effortlessly more enjoyable than any time she spends with other gems, no matter how much she views said gems as friends and family (Spinel very much enjoys the concept of family, and sees it as one of the many ways organic beings are superior to Gems in her eyes).

Flame: awww,poor spinel

Me:Yeah, she's a sad bean, but she wouldn't change herself for anything in the universe! Did I ever give the name for this AU? If not, the name is Here For You. One of the biggest divergences from canon in this AU? Rose lives after giving birth!!

How you may ask? When you are good friends with a doctor, and you suddenly spring on them that you, a non-human, non-organic alien plans to have a half-human child and you most likely won't survive the experience, you can expect them to put their foot down and help with the situation.

Priyanka essentially grills Rose on everything she knows about her race's biology, such as it is, her understanding of human biology, and makes her research methods to create gemstones and such; Priyanka isn't willing to have Rose relapse into her suicidal impulses again, even if it is to bring a child into this world, and is dead set on finding a way for them both to survive.

With Priyanka's help, and some scavenged Gem Tech from the Kindergartens, Rose manages to conceive (HA!) A method to have a fully half-gem-half-human child without killing herself. It largely involves artificially mixing her own gem essence with that harvested from old injectors and eating. SO much eating. Rose essentially is ingesting and absorbing the needed materials to build a human fetus and Diamond Proto-Gem together as one, without sacrificing her own gem in the process. And it works!! Mostly.

Flame: what do you mean mostly

Me: Well, the process was completely experimental, and they had no actual clue what they were doing, just making their best guess. The process worked, but it left Rose horrifically weakened. Her Gem's internal structure was dangerously demineralized, as in it lost a lot of minerals that compose its structure, and became insanely fragile and delicate as a result.

Giving birth essentially permanently crippled Rose; she can no longer shapeshift at all, her bubbles have a high chance of popping after forming and she can no longer teleport them, and a lot, if not all, of her powers besides her healing tears have been hamstrung to near uselessness.

She is now both weaker, and slower than any human, and constantly falls unconscious at random to conserve her compromised energy reserves. But it was worth it to bring her twins into the world!! ...Maybe that had something to do with it...

Flame: wait, twins!?!

Me: YES!! ULTIMATE SURPRISE REVEAL!! Yeah, in canon, before they settled on whether they were having a son or a daughter, Rose left two tapes behind for whichever gender her child ended up being, Steven Or Nora. So, in this one, she ended up giving birth to Twins!! Nora and Steven Diamond Universe!!

To clarify, Rose would've been weakened no matter what happened, but giving birth to twins nearly shattered her and permanently affected her abilities, not that she'll ever regret it, though she grows frustrated with how frailly she is treated by the others. You wanna hear about the twins next?

Oh, and in case I forgot to mention it, the twins were only partially an accident, as Rose didn't intend to have two kids, but is fine with it, she just overdid it on the eating and stuff needed to create the children and had just enough left over to jumpstart the development of a second child. Yeah.

Flame: go on and tell me about the twins!

Me: YES!! Due to Priyanka's influence, both twins end up actually, you know, GOING TO SCHOOL. Steven is, well, basically exactly the same, and still heavily takes after both his dad and Rose's Quartz form, but being around other kids his age has improved his social skills and given him a larger group of peers and pals.

Nora is a bit of the opposite, polite, a little standoffish, neurotic, snarky when stressed, with a vicious temper towards anyone that hurts or messes with Steven, she basically looks like a miniature, human Pink Diamond in terms of appearance. Nora has a natural knack for her gem powers, and more easily manifests those powers more closely associated with Pink Diamond as opposed to Rose, with her Gem Weapon being a MASSIVE Two-Handed (Zweihander) sword whose foremost section resembles the shield everyone thought it would originally be, whilst still possessing her family's flower motif.

Nora is the younger of the two by about five minutes, but is much more mature as compared to Steven, not helped by him still having his aging problem while she ages more normally, and people are often shocked at both her age, as her height and attitude give her an older feel, but that she is also both Steven's TWIN and the technical younger of the two!!

It kinda mindblows people. (I was considering shifting some of Steven's personality, but I couldn't bring myself to do it)

Flame: any last points

Me: Well, Spinel basically becomes Beach City's premiere part-time employee, as she works on and off at literally every place in town at some time or another, and she bluntly refers to Greg as "The Deadbeat."

Spinel adores the twins, often serving as their babysitter, as well as a babysitter to most of the other kids in town, and basically acts as their bodyguard whenever she goes on missions. Oh! I also have special plans for Lapis, as well as some other Homeworld Gems, but I'll save those for tomorrow.

Due to their parents being friends, Connie basically grew up with Steven and Nora, and is currently entering the phase of life when people start to develop more mature crushes, and has shown signs of crushing on both of them. Yikes.

#steven universe #connie maheswaran #priyanka maheswaran #greg universe #rose quartz #pearl steven universe #garnet steven universe #amethyst steven universe #bismuth steven universe #spinel steven universe #crystal gem spinel #crystal gems #the crystal gems #Here For You AU #steven universe au

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pototters · 4 years ago

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Without You

A/N: HEY, OMG, I’M BACK!!

Okay, so, I may have plunged myself into the pit of KiriBaku/BakuKiri and now I’m stuck there. Literally, nearly every idea I have lately is for this ship. I love them. Might be a little obsessed, but hey, I’m happy here.

I fell into quite the writing rut and found it difficult for me to write literally anything. The focus wasn’t there, the inspiration was lacking, and so I wrote the first thing that came to mind and forced myself to follow it.

Thus, this fic was born. THE LONGEST THING I’VE EVER WRITTEN HERE. Except my old collab fic, Strawberry and Cream, but I don’t really count that one. I wrote this piece like an effing madman, tell you what. I think now I’ve kinda gotten through my block, writing will happen a bit easier going forward. I hope.

Anywho, without further ado, here’s the fic~

Summary: Bakugo goes on a mountain hike and realizes that something rather important is missing.

Warnings: it’s Bakugo, there’s swearing.

Bakugo x Kirishima

Words: 4,477

Something was wrong.

Bakugo zipped up his backpack angrily, the last of what he’d need all packed up. Tugging on his hiking boots, he threw the pack over his shoulders and headed out. It was the weekend, and pretty early in the morning, so the dorms were pretty quiet.

He paused in the hallway, but forced himself not to turn down the hall. His back practically burned with the thought of the neighboring rooms, but he gave an annoyed grunt before heading down the stairs. Luckily, no one was in the commons to bother him as he made his way out. He was already in a foul mood and didn’t need anyone to further aggravate him.

Something was wrong.

The walk to the bus stop was short and the wait was even shorter. Just before he could board, there was a shout from down the sidewalk to hold the bus. Bakugo glanced in the direction of the voice, saw a flash of red, and his heart picked up to race furiously within his chest. A second look, however, revealed a stranger wearing a red bandanna and he grunted to himself as he finished boarding the bus.

The ride to the base of the mountain was barely half an hour, then it was a ten minute walk to the start of the trail. Hitching his pack into place on his shoulders, Bakugo began the ascent. He’d been planning this hike for well over a month. It was overdue and the fresh air helped to clear his head. Already, he could feel his stress levels decline the higher he climbed.

He’d been hiking without pause for nearly two hours when he heard a grumbling complaint and dragging footsteps behind him. His ire raised, he turned around to tell the complainer off, but his voice caught in his throat. There was no one there.

Something was wrong.

By midday, the temperature had risen significantly, but the thinning mountain air helped to keep Bakugo from overheating. As he walked, tiny explosions crackled in his palms as he burnt off the excess sweat to prevent any accidents. He understood too well the dangers of his quirk and wasn’t interested in taking any unnecessary risks.

His stomach growled at some point, so he looked for a good spot to stop and sit down for his lunch. A fallen tree served as a place for him to sit as he took off his backpack and dug inside. Pulling out a sandwich, he held it out, but no one took it. He lifted his gaze to glare at his arm as though the muscle memory had offended him, which it most definitely had. He had become much too used to having company.

As he peered within his pack, Bakugo quickly realized that he had packed way too much food. Enough for two people, plus a bit extra. He heaved a sigh, resigning that he’d be taking some home and unwrapped the sandwich for himself. After finishing the sandwich, he gave himself some time to let his food settle before hitting the trail, again.

Something was wrong.

It wasn’t until Bakugo had nearly reached the peak when he thought he heard the sound of a joyous laugh and thought he felt the brush of a shoulder against his own, that he realized what it was. Growing up, he’d always considered himself as independent and introverted. He didn’t need anyone except himself. Over the past couple of years at U.A., however, something had changed. He was barely aware of it happening, but as he stood on top of the mountain all by himself, it was more than the view that was put into clear perspective.

Kirishima was supposed to be with him on this trip. They had planned it out together, albeit somewhat reluctantly on Bakugo’s part. He wasn’t reluctant because he didn’t want to go with his best friend. It was rather out of sheer stubbornness that he would rather go alone. Bakugo had pretended to cave even though he knew from the start that he would agree to the trip. He loved hiking and it wouldn’t be so bad to share that with his best friend.

Best friend; it was a term that had held an odd weight since the end of their first year. Bakugo felt as though it wasn’t an accurate description of what Kirishima was to him. He had never been able to work it out, though, a part of him a bit too nervous to look too closely at it. So, he ignored the part of his heart that flipped at Kirishima’s shark-toothed grin and the easy way in which they touched so casually.

A week ago, however, Bakugo had happened to walk in on Kirishima talking to Sero in the locker room after class. The redhead had said something about finally confessing his feelings at the top of the mountain they were hiking. Rage had filled him as he rounded the corner, seeing the color drain from Kirishima’s face as panic rose to the redhead’s features.

Bakugo had screamed a multitude of obscenities at him. He couldn’t remember all of them, but none of them had been nice. Most of them hadn’t even been true. He definitely remembered telling Kirishima that romance was for idiots with nothing better to do and that he couldn’t be the number one hero if he wasn’t giving it his all. He also remembered saying something along the lines of barely being able to tolerate the idiot’s presence.

A flash of hurt had crossed Kirishima’s face by that point, only to turn into anger as Bakugo kept going, yelling something about how he’d be better off without some fucking extra following at his heels all the time. Angry tears had sprung to Kirishima’s eyes as he’d shoved against Bakugo’s chest and pushed him away.

More angry words were exchanged between the two of them before Kirishima finally stormed out, red-faced and barely holding back tears. Sero said nothing before following the redhead out, leaving Bakugo to seethe in his own anger. He wasn’t even sure why he was really all that pissed off about it.

Breathing in the mountain air, Bakugo reflected on his anger and slowly came to an understanding. Hearing Kirishima’s accidental confession forced Bakugo to look closer at his own feelings. Feelings that he wasn’t ready to analyze that thoroughly, yet. His chest tightened as he looked up to the clear, afternoon sky. The answer was so glaringly obvious that he couldn’t ignore it or cover it with his anger, anymore.

Fuck. He really owed Kirishima an apology. Several apologies. That idiot. His idiot. A frustrated grin spread across his face as he realized he had no idea how to even go about it. He knew, though, that it couldn’t wait, not even another day for his trip to end.

After making sure his pack was secured tightly, sparks flew from his palms as he turned them downwards and propelled himself into the sky. He’d probably get his ass chewed out if his teachers got wind of him using his quirk like this, but fuck it. Bakugo blasted himself to the bottom of the mountain in a matter of minutes to catch the last bus back to U.A..

It was already dark by the time he burst into the commons, panting from running so hard. Everyone was gathered for a game night and several eyes turned to stare at him as he stomped forward. All of them except the only ones that matter. “Hey, Bakugo, weren’t you supposed to be camping this weekend?” He ignored the question as Kirishima finally, slowly, turned to face him.

There was no familiar smile to greet him, no emotion at all as Kirishima leveled Bakugo with a flat look. Bakugo grit his teeth, refusing to back down from the redhead’s expression. His brows drew low over his eyes as he bit out, “I need to talk to you. Now.” Kirishima’s mouth pressed into a hard line and he turned back around.

“No.”

Bakugo saw the telltale blur of rage around the edges of his sight, but he deflated almost immediately. What did he expect, honestly? He’d said horrible things and then ignored Kirishima for the past week. He wouldn’t want to talk to him, either.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he forced his gaze away from the back of Kirishima’s head and huffed with frustration. “Fine.” He shuffled from the commons and punched the button on the elevator, feeling the shocked expressions of their classmates on his back.

Unfamiliar emotions had welled within his chest at Kirishima’s rejection as he rode the elevator. He wondered if this was anything like what the redhead had felt when Bakugo had yelled at him. Fuck, he really was awful if this was even a fraction of what Kirishima had felt. The tightness in his chest was nearly unbearable.

Once in his room, he discarded his backpack and stripped down. He was sweaty and dirty from his hike and he needed a shower. Hopefully, while he got clean, he’d be able to think of some way to get Kirishima to talk to him. His shower was quick, though, and he hadn’t come up with a single idea. It was clear that he really wasn’t made for all this emotional shit, which only served to piss him off.

Wearing clean clothes, he scrubbed his hair dry with a towel as he made his way back to his room. Distracted as he was, Bakugo couldn’t react quickly enough as a pair of hands grabbed him suddenly and pushed him into his room, snapping the door shut behind them. His breath left him in a rush as he was shoved back against the door and angry red eyes met his own.

“Kirishima, what the fu-” Bakugo was cut off as Kirishima’s fist slammed against the door next to his head. Silence stretched between them for a moment as they both breathed heavily.

“You know, for someone who’s constantly calling me an idiot, you can be pretty stupid.” Kirishima finally spoke. Bakugo should have been pissed at that, but he couldn’t bring himself to get even a little mad. All he could do was give Kirishima a hard stare, no heat in his gaze.

“Yeah, I know. I said some pretty shitty things to you. I shouldn’t have. I… didn’t really mean what I said.” Kirishima’s eyes widened at the half apology, then a small smile turned up the corners of his mouth, much to Bakugo’s surprise.

“If I really thought you meant any of that, then I never knew you at all.” Bakugo felt like the air had been punched from his lungs as relief washed over him. Of course, Kirishima knew. Kirishima always knew him better than anyone else. With a shaky hand, Bakugo reached out to grab a fistful of Kirishima’s shirt and nodded, lowering his gaze as he suddenly felt weak in the knees. “That doesn’t mean you don’t have to apologize, though, you jerk.”

Bakugo’s head snapped up to face the redhead, again, his fist in the fabric tightening. “Kirishima-”

“Eijirou. Call me by my first name.”

Bakugo blinked, caught somewhat off guard, and he felt his heart speed up rapidly in his chest. A small frown etched onto his face, heat rising in his cheeks. “I- Eijiro, I’m sorry. For all the things I said and didn’t mean. I wasn’t angry at you, not really.” His other hand rose to join the one clutching Kirishima’s shirt, grabbing another fistful of fabric and tugging the redhead closer.

“I know. I forgive you.” Kirishima let himself be pulled closer, leaning into Bakugo until their mouths met in a hesitant kiss. It lasted barely a second before Kirishima was pulling back, looking unsure. “Does this mean… that you accept my feelings? I- I don’t want to burden you, Bakugo.”

Bakugo rolled his eyes. “Idiot. If I’m calling you by your first name, then you’re calling me by mine, too.” His features softened as he pulled Kirishima back to him. “Don’t make me fucking spell it out for you.” Bakugo tugged him back in the rest of the way, kissing him with more confidence. Kirishima let out a soft whimper as their tongues mingled together and Bakugo released his shirt in favor of wrapping his arms around his best friend.

Except Kirishima wasn’t his best friend, he was so much more than that. Bakugo felt as though an empty slot had suddenly filled within himself as Kirishima returned the embrace. The wrong had been righted and a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Finally, breathless from their kisses, they broke apart and grins spread across their faces. Kirishima looked a bit sheepish while Bakugo wore a shit-eating grin. They sat down together on the floor and decided to talk about how they’d handle their new relationship. Many of their friends were already aware of how Kirishima felt, but it was anyone’s guess whether Bakugo actually returned those feelings.

Bakugo didn’t care what anyone thought, but Kirishima was still somewhat hesitant to make their relationship known. After some discussion, they decided the dorms were safe enough to be open, but they wouldn’t engage in any affection at school. They mutually agreed that it was best to appear professional or they could risk expulsion. Their discussion turned to lighter topics after that, and more making out, as they talked late into the night until they both fell asleep on the floor.

Bakugo woke up first the next morning, grumbling over his sore back as he sat up. All complaints were forgotten, however, as his gaze fell on his best- no, his boyfriend’s sleeping face. A soft smile graced his features as he thought that the new term fit Kirishima better than ‘best friend’ ever had. Reaching out, he brushed a bit of flat red hair from his face before catching himself and blushing hard. Thank goodness Kirishima slept like a fucking rock.

Getting up, he grabbed his pillow and propped it under Kirishima’s head and threw a blanket over him before heading downstairs to the kitchen to cook breakfast. While he cooked, Kaminari and Sero walked into the kitchen stretching and yawning. At the sight of Bakugo, Kaminari got a devious grin on his face.

“Isn’t that so sweet, Sero? Bakugo is making breakfast for his new boyfriend. Damn, one night and Kirishima’s already got him domesticated.” Bakugo’s hand froze over the stove at Kaminari’s words before slowly turning to him with a hard glare.

“Hah? The fuck did you just say, dunce face? Pretty early to be wishing to get your ass blasted to smithereens.” Bakugo growled, his hand popping with sparks as he aimed it towards Kaminari. Sero stepped between them, hands raised as he tried to placate their explosive friend.

“C’mon, Bakugo, he’s just teasing. Like you said, it’s too early for this.” Kaminari didn’t back down, though.

“Yeah, Bakugo, come on. Just spill the deets! I know Kirishima didn’t go back to his room last night~” Kaminari barely had time to gloat before Bakugo was in his face with an explosion.

“You fucking pervert! I’ll kill you!” Bakugo knew he was red in the face, which didn’t help his case, but he didn’t have long to chase the idiot around the kitchen as Kirishima showed up. Yawning and scratching the back of his neck, Kirishima took in the scene before him with a frown.

“Seriously, you guys? Can you not rile him up this early in the morning? I’m not awake enough to keep him from actually hurting you.” Bakugo seethed, ready to bark back at the redhead for thinking he could stop him, anyway, but a heavy weight pressed against his back as Kirishima draped his arms over his shoulders from behind. Bakugo nearly staggered under the unexpected weight as Kirishima tiredly leaned onto him.

“Stand on your own, idiot! How am I supposed to cook with you hanging on me like this?!” Bakugo growled as Kirishima pouted. Even so, Kirishima’s weight lessened, but he kept his arms draped over Bakugo’s shoulders. Bakugo felt a slight shiver pass down his spine as Kirishima’s face pressed against the side of his neck to watch him cook. “Seriously? I’m not going to cook for you if you keep this up.”

“But I’m tired, Katsuki, and the food smells good.” The pout in Kirishima’s voice was heavy as more of his weight settled onto Bakugo’s back, again.

“Then lean on the fucking counter!” Bakugo growled, shrugging his shoulders lightly in a lame attempt to get Kirishima off of him. He felt a flush crawling up his neck to his face as he realized he could actually feel Kirishima’s pout against his skin. It also didn’t help that he knew that Kaminari and Sero were staring at them. He ducked his head and lowered his voice. “The eggs are gonna burn.”

With a heavy sigh, Kirishima straightened himself and practically rolled his body away from Bakugo to lean on the counter right next to the stove. Bakugo frowned as Kirishima folded his arms on top of the counter and rested his head on top of them to watch him cook with a wide yawn. His ungelled hair fell softly to frame his face and Bakugo couldn’t help but think that it was cute.

Reaching over, he gently pushed some of the red hair back from Kirishima’s face, stroking his cheek a little as he did. “You shouldn’t lean next to the hot stove like that, idiot.” Kirishima only grinned back at him, not budging an inch.

“That’s okay. I can handle the heat.” He snickered as Bakugo’s jaw dropped and his face nearly went atomic.

“You guys sure nothing happened last night? I mean, no one would blame you…” Kaminari’s voice came from behind them where he and Sero had taken a seat at the kitchen island. Kirishima lifted his head to shoot him a disapproving frown.

“Kaminari, that’s-”

Kirishima was quickly cut off as sparks flew from Bakugo’s palm in Kaminari’s direction. “None of your fucking business, dunce face! So shut the hell up about it!” Kaminari lifted his hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay! I’ll drop it, sheesh!” Kaminari rolled his eyes, slumping to rest his chin in his hand on the counter. “Damn, to think Bakugo would lose it, first. Didn’t see that one coming.” Sero glanced over at Bakugo nervously, who was now shaking with anger.

Kirishima placed a hand on Bakugo’s shoulder and squeezed gently before turning a deep frown on Kaminari. “Dude, not cool. Seriously, though, nothing happened. We just had a really long talk, okay?” Bakugo lightly shrugged off Kirishima’s hand so that he could plate their breakfast.

Kaminari huffed. “Okay. I’ll take your word for it, then.” His eyes immediately lit up, however, as Bakugo nearly slammed an omelette in front of him. “Oh, nice, a rice omelette! What’s the occasion?” Another one was set in front of Sero, who gave his thanks to the chef.

Kirishima was given two omelettes and Bakugo took one for himself before heading to the commons to eat, yelling something about how Kaminari didn’t even deserve one. Kirishima beamed as he began to follow Bakugo. “They’re my favorite breakfast,” he told Kaminari as he slipped from the kitchen.

As the two of them ate together, they found themselves falling back into their normal, easy companionship. Kirishima chatted between bites at times while Bakugo would answer occasionally in his short, gruff way. The only difference was their thighs pressed together and the soft smiles that passed between them in the silence while they chewed.

Just as they had finished eating, standing up to clean their dishes, Aizawa came into the dorms. “Bakugo. I need you to come with me to my office. I got a complaint about the misuse of quirks outside of the school.” Bakugo let out an annoyed ‘tsk’, but didn’t argue. Kirishima took his plate from him with a worried expression. Without a word of reassurance, Bakugo turned to follow their teacher, hands shoved into his pockets, and left the cleaning up to the redhead.

It was nearly lunch by the time Bakugo returned to the dorms and most of their class was gathered in the commons, including Kirishima. His entrance had gone unnoticed and Bakugo paused behind the couch, staring at the back of Kirishima’s head with a small frown. His gaze traced the soft strands of red hair and the way that it rested against the curve of Kirishima’s neck, admiring how it moved subtly with every movement of his head.

With sudden realization, Bakugo found that it was all familiar to him, but he’d never really taken the time to appreciate the view. His boyfriend was manly, sure, but he was also damn gorgeous. As though driven by some unknown force, Bakugo approached Kirishima from behind and wrapped his arms around him.

Kirishima went completely still, rigid with surprise as Bakugo pressed an open mouthed kiss against his jaw, just below the ear. “Go get dressed.” He whispered huskily into Kirishima’s ear. “I’m gonna shower and then we’re going on a date.” Bakugo grinned, ignoring the stares of their classmates as Kirishima’s skin darkened to match his hair color. Without waiting for an answer, Bakugo straightened and headed for the showers.

Twenty minutes later, they met in the foyer. When Bakugo came down in his jeans and a black button down with the top two buttons undone, he came up short as his breath left him at the sight of Kirishima. The redhead had finally spiked up his hair and was speaking casually with Pink Cheeks. With jeans that hugged him in all the right places and his favorite Crimson Riot t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest, Kirishima was drool-worthy in his leather jacket.

He didn’t have enough time to catch his breath as he approached Kirishima. A curt look was all it took to shut up Uraraka and send her on her way as she turned even pinker. Kirishima turned towards Bakugo and blushed brightly, reaching up to rub the back of his own neck nervously.

“You, um, you look nice, Katsuki.” Kirishima shot him a nervous smile that Bakugo returned in confidence.

“Of course, I do. You look fucking hot, though.” Bakugo snickered as Kirishima’s blush deepened while his jaw nearly dropped to the floor. The redhead immediately became too flustered at the unexpected compliment to do anything but stand there in a mild panic, so Bakugo shoved him out the door. “C’mon. I’m fucking starving. You can gay panic later, idiot.”

This seemed to snap Kirishima out of it as his steps turned from barely a shuffle to full strides. “I wasn’t- I- You never say stuff like that! How am I supposed to react?!” Bakugo barked out a laugh at that.

“You say ‘thank you’ and move the fuck on.” Kirishima pouted a little, but still muttered his thanks as the two of them left school grounds for the nearby shopping district. Bakugo led them to one of his favorite places to eat where Kirishima could get a meat dish and he could still get himself something that was plenty spicy to suit his own tastes.

While they waited for their food, Kirishima asked about what happened with Aizawa and Bakugo explained how he’d used his quirk to blast himself down the mountainside. Kirishima laughed, delighted that he was important enough to risk getting in trouble for. Bakugo shrugged it off, though.

He’d barely gotten a slap on the wrist since there was minimal damage to the environment. Just some minor scorch marks on the ground where he’d launched himself and a few near where he landed. Bakugo explained the reason he’d taken so long was because, as punishment, Aizawa had made him run laps and do fifty push ups between each one. This made Kirishima cringe slightly as he expressed his sympathy, but Bakugo shrugged that off as well.

After they’d eaten, they decided to take a walk around the district and look at the different shops as they strolled by. Kirishima spoke excitedly about a few of the shops, Bakugo quietly giving special attention to the things the redhead expressed interest in. After a while, though, Kirishima fell silent.

A block and a half later, when Kirishima still hadn’t spoken, Bakugo glanced over to see him plucking nervously at his jacket. Letting out a huff, he bumped his shoulder against the redhead’s to get his attention. “Spit it out, Ei. What’s on your mind?” Kirishima spluttered a bit at the nickname, his steps slowing until he finally stopped. Bakugo stopped a couple steps ahead, turning around to wait patiently for Kirishima to say what was on his mind.

“Eijirou.” Kirishima’s gaze snapped up at Bakugo calling his name, his arms pressing against his sides as he stopped fidgeting with his jacket.

“Sorry, um, it’s just…,” Kirishima hesitated, “I know we’re on a date, right now. It’s just that… you haven’t actually said how you feel. We didn’t bring it up, really, when we talked about our relationship last night. I feel like I’ve just been assuming and that maybe you’re humoring me so that we can just be friends, again.” Bakugo blinked at him as a long silence stretched between them.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Kirishima flinched at Bakugo’s harsh words, then ducked his head as his face flushed. Bakugo crossed the distance between them and grabbed a fistful of Kirishima’s shirt, nearly snarling. “What did you say yesterday about knowing me? Tell me, would I go to the trouble if we were just going to be friends? What part of our friendship made you think that I was a liar?” Kirishima’s gaze snapped up to Bakugo’s in a panic.

Firm hands met the fist on Kirishima’s shirt. “No! No, that’s not what I meant! I’m sorry, I’m not always good with my words. I just… It’s just that you’re acting so differently than you usually do and, and I’m so surprised. I really thought you were going to turn me down.” Bakugo eased his hold on Kirishima’s shirt, finally letting go as he stepped back and glanced away.

“Oh. That.” Bakugo chewed his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to figure out what to say. “I’m not good at this whole… feeling thing, but…,” His gaze lifted to meet Kirishima’s, “Up on that mountain, I realized a lot of things. You were supposed to be there with me, and you weren’t. It felt wrong, and it just- it wasn’t the same without you.” He barely got the words out before strong arms were embracing him and Bakugo closed his eyes, finally feeling as though everything was right as he hugged Kirishima back.

#my work #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugo katsuki #kirishima ejirou #bakukiri #kiribaku #bakugo x kirishima #kirishima x bakugo

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phantomphangphucker · 4 years ago

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Ectober Day 26: Aim - Would You Like Some Bullets With That, Sir?

Vlad would absolutely have a few people who want him extra dead and maybe one or two actually willing to try. Too bad that doesn’t really work when the guy’s already half-dead. In fact, it does pretty well nothing other than provide mild amusement. Danny gets more of a kick out of it than the billionaire does though.

Danny and Vlad were having a decent walk and talk, a decent bonding experience. Surprising, he knows. But one of the key words there was ‘were’, because of course him and Vlad can’t be getting along without pissing off the universe.

Danny had been pointing the straw of his green tea matcha Frappuccino, with more than a couple espresso shots mixed in, at Vlad; trying to explain the nuances of food-related puns, because if he’s going to influence one thing it’s going to be Vlad’s tendency to use foods as swears. Vlad wasn’t exactly being receptive but hey, neither was Danny on the whole ‘etiquette’ lessons the man was trying to give him. But all that got interrupted when a big ass stereotypical white van pulled up with a screech and the doors slide open to a dude with a fucking machine gun. Well fine, handheld Gatling gun is more accurate but sounds a little less cool; besides it’s still technically a machine gun. Which is, in Danny’s opinion, massive fucking overkill. Vlad would be inclined to agree.

Needless to say, they get shot. A lot. Repeatedly. It’s very loud.

All the bystanders around physically pause, stunned a bit stupid that this was happening in Amity of all places not to mention rather desensitised to violence; regardless everyone starts booking it because, y’ know, big ass gun. Vlad actually crouches and moves to cover his head while flashing angry red eyes, he’s dealt with a fair few assassination attempts but in broad daylight? Really? He’ll give them a few points for having the guts. Danny meanwhile, is way too used to getting shot at to even react beyond just standing there at first, before glancing at his cup -which is draining all its contents through the holes onto the road- and grumbling a bit. The gun man stops when Danny bends over and starts laughing though. Even Vlad gives Danny some concerned looks as Danny waves the gun guy off with one hand on his knees, “sorry! It’s- it’s just! Just that! No ones ever-ever shot me! Shot me with a real- real gun!”. Danny sits on the ground and continues laughing while effectively bleeding out of multiple holes as flesh starts moving to slowly repair itself; which clearly the men have noticed and are scared shitless by, as both he and Vlad can feel, see, and smell the fear coming off the truck.

Vlad huffs, stands himself upright and goes about brushing off and inspecting his suit. Huffing again and turning to the van, crossing his arms, “I do believe you owe me a new suit, young man”. Someone inside the vehicle chokes. Danny thinks that’s a pretty reasonable reaction here. But there’s literally zero fucking point of them acting human here, because fuck they were both riddled with bullet holes and their blood was very literally splattered around the ground. Might as well scare these assholes a little.

Hence why Danny sticks a finger in one of the larger holes due to multiple bullets going through the same general area and giggles, “huh, that tickles”, and grins meanly at the driver who looks absolutely disturbed and too far into shock to try driving away yet. Though thinking of it, Vlad might actually try to kill them; tit for tat was absolutely Vlad’s primary go-to in any situation. Hence their arguably insanely prank wars. So Danny stands up and promptly launches himself inside the vehicle, knocking over the man with the bloody machine gun -seriously, how is that not overkill- and landing with his feet on the guys chest. Danny’s pretty sure the guy wet himself. Which, ew, but understandable.

“Okay I’m feeling nice because this is absurdly hilarious and would qualify as some ridiculous ass overkill for normal folks. Kinda pointless against immortals though, dontcha think?”, turning his head to look at Vlad -who’s quirking a single well-groomed eyebrow while his eye goes about repairing itself- through the door, “what do ya think?”.

Vlad walks over calmly and humming, “well I’ll give them points for accuracy, they hardly damaged the surroundings at all. Which I find I can appreciated since that avoids me having to make yet another dip into the damages funds. And I’ll be generous and give another point for dramatics; board daylight, middle of the city, biggest high-powered rapid-fire weapon anyone’s ever aimed at me, the sudden loud noise. Why I’m almost impressed. But I do find the overall end result to be rather lacking”. Vlad kicks one of the front tires hard enough to puncture it while the driver starts scrambling and fumbling to attempt at driving off. The psssssh sound the tire makes actively increases the smell of fear filling the van. Understandable, these guys had effectively just lost their getaway vehicle.

Danny chuckles, “aww, looks like someone’s not going anywhere anytime fast”, Danny grins meanly and flashes his green eyes. The guy passes out. “Ah damn, he passed out”, shrugging, “eh, hopefully he’ll think this was just some bad dream”.

Vlad hums as he climbs in, ecto-beaming another guy in the head to knock him out. Huh, guess Vlad’s really truly genuinely chilled out some in the evil villain department. “Yes that would be preferred, Daniel. I take it Phantom will be delivering these men to the jailhouse after having shielded the mayor and a young boy at the last second”.

Danny snorts as he gets off the gunman and kicks the driver in the head; the guys head bouncing off the steering wheel and obviously knocking him the Hell out. “Obviously. And hey, why not say Phantom healed any injuries to boot. Not like anyone’s sure about the power set of that spooky bastard”, and smirks. Talking about himself like a different person was arguably not necessary right now, no one was around after all, but hey it was kinda funny.

Vlad nods, riffles through the mens’ pockets and pockets all their cash. Which Danny rolls his eyes at, “old bank robber habits die hard?”. Vlad rolls his eyes, “hardly. This is simply to repay me for the damages. This was a nice suit I’ll have you know”. Which Danny rolls his eyes right back at him over while Vlad hops out of the vehicle, looks around, readjusts the remaining scraps of his suit, and saunters off; grabbing a surprisingly intact handkerchief from a definitely not intact pocket and starts dabbing blood off his face, hair, and hands. Danny’s not going to question why the man doesn’t just phase it off or reabsorb it into his body again.

Danny closes the vehicle doors purely to attempt at not transforming directly in open view in the middle of the street. Grabbing up the three guys before pausing and deciding eh why not and telekinetically floating the freaking machine gun onto his back and making that invisible. Flying off through the vehicle's roof.

Danny unceremoniously drops the men on the jailhouse floor, “gotcha a present. They tried to unload, like, a bazillion bullets into the dear ol’ mayor”.

Officer Jay sighs, “we were getting some calls about a shooting? But with regular guns”, motioning a few other cops to drag the guys away.

Danny chuckles and nods, “try machine gun”, the cop almost chokes while Danny continues, “not that that is particularly effective on intangibility”.

The cop looks him over, obviously noticing the healing bullet wounds here and there. Healing however many bullet holes takes time you know! “Obviously you weren’t quite fast enough”.

Danny shrugs, “eh, blowing a bunch of holes in a ghost doesn’t really do much other than make a mess. Mayors cool though”.

“That’s... good”, Jay shakes his head, “well, we’ll take care of these guys and I doubt they legally had a machine gun. You didn’t just leave that out in the street did you?”. Danny waves the guy off nonchalantly, “Fenton was there too, took it as his plundered booty”, he makes a point to make that last bit sound pirate-like. The cop sighs and rubs his temples, “so there’s a seventeen-year-old running around with a machine gun”.

“Yup”, absolutely popping the ‘p’.

Danny easily hears the guy mutter, “somedays I would really like to quit”, before looking back to him, “well that family has every weapon license known to man, so I’m not even going to bother. Have a good day and a fulfilling afterlife”. Danny salutes with a cheeky grin before phasing up through the roof.

Sam and Tucker don’t so much as blink from Danny suddenly appearing from around a corner and barging in-between the two of them, “hey guys, some guys left me a little present”

Both give a mildly interested and slightly worried, “oh?”. Which is fair, Danny has described getting a taser stuck in his leg as ‘a present’ before.

He grins a bit psychotically, makes the gun visible, and whips it around to be holding it in his hands, “a machine gun!”.

Sam slows her pace slightly, just enough to no longer have a freaking mini-gun pointed at her stomach, “that’s nice Danny”. While Tucker looks much more excited, “Holy frick that’s awesome. Where’d that come from though?”.

Sam sighs, “or more specifically how and why. Ghosts don’t exactly use human weapons and ‘some guys’ is vague as shit”.

Danny chuckles, because that who ordeal was still stupid funny. “Curtsy of one poorly informed assignation attempt in dear ol’ uncie Vlad”.

Tucker blinks, “wait, someone actually tried to assassinate him”, then pauses, “wait no, of course someone tried to assassinate Vlad. He’s Vlad”. Making all three chuckle while Danny fiddles with the massive ass barrel.

All three grin viciously when they spot Dash and co. across the street. Danny deciding to yell, “hey Dash!”, and easily tilting the machine gun up due to, y’ know, super strength, and fires off a bunch of bullets into the air; extending his intangibility to the bullets of course so that they don’t actually hit anything and forming some ectoplasm ‘round his friends' ears so he doesn’t, like, blow out their eardrums or some shit.

Dash stares at him a little bug-eyed before scowling, sticking his arms out to the side, and shouting back, “I haven’t bullied you in a year! Why you still giving me vague ass death threats!”.

Danny cackles, aims the gun to shoot the sign over the assholes head, and riddles it with bullets, “it’s payback bitch!”. Sure Danny would never have done that if he wasn’t absolutely certain his aim was so fucking flawless that there was zero chance of him hitting anything other than what exactly he wanted to. And sure, maybe he swirled some invisible ectoplasm around the bullet trajectory too but no one needs to know that. Dash predictably staggers back, flips him off, and books it down the road.

Danny lowers the gun with a chuckle, “that was fun. So worth getting shot a few times”. Sam blinks at him and looks more than a little not impressed, “you actually got shot, Danny”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “what, in any world, would make you think I didn’t get shot”. Sam just huffs, obviously having no argument for that. Because yeah, Danny always got shot or stabbed or electrocuted or set on fire or a lot of other things.

Tucker shakes his head, “and yet you look totally fine”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “Tuck, what can a regular ol’ bullet do to me”. That gets both his friends to blink and give him disbelieving, “wait, they weren’t even ecto-bullets”. Tucker shaking his head with a laugh at Danny’s nod, “wow, whoever really did, like, zero research”.

“I know right. We scared them real good though”.

Tucker laughs a bit more, “never before have I actually wished to be at a shooting”, shrugging, “first for everything”.

“Amen to that”, Danny emphasises that statement by smacking the gun.

End.

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destiel-love-forever · 5 years ago

Text

15x06 CODA

Read below or HERE on AO3

It’s the middle of the night when Castiel gets home.

Home .

He sits in his car for a very long time at the thought of that, unsure if it’s accurate. The bunker has been his home for a while now. Dean was his home before that. Now, he’s not sure if either belong to him anymore.

It’s heartbreaking, but it’s his reality, and there are more pressing matters at hand. He rubs at his eyes just in case there’s some grief lingering there. They’ve been burning with it all day. Ever since that phone call. Thankfully, it hasn’t created tears. Not yet.

With a deep sigh to steady himself, Castiel climbs out of his vehicle and heads toward the door. He straightens his trench coat. Adjusts his tie. Runs a trembling hand through his hair. Adjusts his tie again. Realizes it’s backwards. Thinks of Dean fixing it all those years ago. Smiles to himself. Rubs at his burning eyes. Gives up on the tie and pulls his keys out instead.

His key still works, something that brings him an overwhelming amount of relief. He gently opens the door, not wanting to wake Sam and Dean, and slips inside. After the door is locked back up behind him, he makes his way down the stairs and into the main area of the bunker. Nothing has changed. It’s as if he was away for a few days looking into a spell for Rowena or finding a certain angel with key information, now coming back home where he belongs. He would wake up early and cook the boys breakfast. Make them coffee. Let Dean sleep in, because the man deserves it. Do the crossword with Sam in the meantime.

Instead, Castiel thinks it’ll be best if he just hides out in the morning. Wakes up after they’ve all gotten on with their day. Hopefully come across Sam first, because Sam will know how to soften the blow of Dean’s reaction.

Sam’s always been good at that.

“Hello.”

Castiel stumbles to a stop, his hand going to his chest as he turns toward the sound of a distinct voice he could place anywhere. His eyes bulge when he takes in the woman sitting at the map table. “Eileen?”

She smiles. “Yes. Castiel, right?”

“Right. You - it’s,” Castiel walks closer, narrowing his eyes as he waits for a flicker or a mist of cold air. “You’re dead.”

“Not anymore.” She shrugs as if that’s normal. Well, in this life, Castiel supposes that it sort of is. “Sam found a spell Rowena was working on. I didn’t think it would work, but here I am.”

“Here you are. Wow. That’s great.” Castiel matches Eileen’s grin, trying to force his darker thoughts aside. It’s great. It really is. It’s just… Eileen may not have been the person Castiel would have wanted to bring back. Not if this was the spell Rowena explained to him a few weeks ago. Not if this was a one time chance.

Maybe Jack and Rowena wouldn’t have worked, their supernatural powers getting in the way, but Castiel can think of one human he’d do anything to bring back. Someone who could maybe fix everything. Well, almost everything. Mary Winchester wouldn’t be able to bring Jack back, but maybe if Castiel were to get his mother back for him, Dean would forgive him. Maybe even love him again.

It was a long shot, but it was a hope.

Castiel feels like a monster for such thoughts.

“Castiel?”

Castiel startles, having forgotten Eileen was there. “Sorry. Yes?”

“I was just saying I’m glad you’re back home. Dean has missed you.”

“He - I -” Castiel swallows thickly, eyes burning. Gosh… he wishes they would stop burning. “Dean what?”

“He’s missed you. Sam’s been worried sick. All Dean does is sleep, eat, and watch reruns of TV. Won’t get out of his pajamas. Won’t talk about anything. He wouldn’t even go with Sam to find the spell at Rowena’s place.”

“I’m sure he’s having a hard time knowing Chuck is back.”

“No.” Eileen gives him a knowing smile. “Sam was very specific when he explained things. He said, ‘Dean hasn’t been okay since Cas left,’ which, if I understand correctly, was before he found out Chuck was back.”

Castiel shifts awkwardly. “He’s been grieving his mother. And Jack. Trust me, the problem is not with me being gone.”

“Whatever you say.” She stands up, bringing her empty glass with her. Just before leaving for the kitchen, she pauses, looking over at Castiel with a shake of her head. “The two of you… I swear. The world is ending, and you still can’t figure it out.”

“Figure what out?”

“Goodnight, Castiel.”

Castiel furrows his eyebrows, looking down at the floor. “Yes. Goodnight, Eileen.”

Once Castiel hears Eileen put the glass by the sink and walk down the hall - to Sam’s bedroom, interestingly enough - Castiel begins his own journey to bed. He’s exhausted physically and mentally. The idea of his bed makes him nearly groan in pleasure. It took forever for him to find the right mattress - memory foam, because as Dean pointed out, ‘who the hell doesn’t want their bed to remember them?’, but the kind that has cooling gel in it, because sometimes Castiel gets too warm at night. To find the right pillows - not too hard, but not too soft either, the perfect balance so when he lays on his stomach and sprawls out, his neck doesn’t hurt in the morning. To find the right sheets - the satiny kind that feel so amazing against his bare skin, especially after a round of making love with Dean, when his senses are heightened. To find the right blankets - a goose down duvet with a light gray linen cover, an olive green chunky knitted throw folded on the end that reminds Castiel of Dean’s eyes on a summer day, when the sun is shining in them.

Jody’s spare bed was comfortable, and the bed at the cabin he had been renting was adequate, but Castiel’s bed in the bunker is better than heaven - something he can attest to for certain.

That’s why it takes Castiel a second too long to realize something is off when he steps into his bedroom. He was so focused on his excitement to finally be back in his bed that he wasn’t aware someone was in it already. Someone who has been in it many nights before. Someone Castiel truly believed would never be in it again.

Castiel strips slowly, his hands trembling. His trench coat. Then his suit jacket. His tie. His dress shirt. He steps forward as his fingers work his belt. It lands on the floor beside Dean’s cell phone. When he sheds his pants, they pool atop Dean’s hotdog pajamas. Castiel pauses to smile at the sight of them. He had gotten them for Dean last Christmas. The man had grumbled about how they were childish and ridiculous. Apparently someone missed him enough not to care.

That does things to Castiel that he can’t explain.

Just as he slides into the bed, about to reach over for the remote to turn the TV off that Dean must have fallen asleep watching, Dean stirs.

“Cas-?” Dean asks in a groggy but hopeful voice.

“Yes, Dean.”

Dean’s cheeks burn red and he closes his eyes. “Sorry. Couldn’t sleep, ‘n it smells like you here.”

Feeling his heart both break and repair at the same time, Castiel brushes a strand of hair off of Dean’s forehead and nods in understanding. “It’s okay, Dean.”

Then he lays himself down, getting comfortable beside the man he loves. It isn’t until he pulls Dean to his chest, cradling him gently, that Dean manages to speak again. “Should go. ‘M mad at you.”

“I’m mad at you, too,” Castiel says, the words sounding like an apology and an accusation rolled in one. “Go to sleep, Dean. We’ll be mad at each other tomorrow.”

As if the weight of the world lifts off of him, Dean releases a deep sigh and goes lax in Castiel’s arms. The only thing still tensed is his hands, which are digging viciously into Castiel’s back, making it clear he’s not allowed to go anywhere.

Castiel doesn’t plan on it. There’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. This is home. This is where he belongs.

- if you enjoyed this, or any of my other work, please consider buying me a quick ko-fi HERE to show your awesome support <3 (:

#supernatural #season 15 #season 15 coda #15.6 coda #15x06 coda #supernatural 15x06 #supernatural spoilers #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #eileen #coming home #fluff #angst #idiots in love #I'm not crying YOU'RE crying #sort of fixed it... for now #cuddling

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snarkwriteswrasslin · 4 years ago

Note

Fake Fic Title: August Rush

Okay, so.. I hope you don’t mind that I did this. This is the second part to [ thoughts of yesterday ] which I posted last night and things get... A little twisty. A little intense, dare I say. Small disclaimer. I do not know how law enforcement / organized crime or any of that truly works, but... I tried. So.. this might not be totally accurate. But hopefully, it’s done in a way that’s not godawful.

Second disclaimer : we’re going to assume that a little bit of time has passed between the first part and this one, m’kay? so yes.

Obligatory Warnings: mentions of organized crime, a bit of a plot twist, intense fluff, slight angst hurt/comfort, ashley dabbling in things that ashley’s not fully aware of but trying, swearing aaand that’s it. Tomorrow’s piece miiight be a little...spicier. Maybe.

The Squad:

[ wrestling tag doc - if you’re not on here, I will not be tagging you, just to be safe. Don’t want to annoy anyone or anything. ]

a u g u s t rush - drew gulak x ofc.

“You cannot tell her what’s happening. I need you to understand this, Agent Gulak.” Daniel Bryan stated the obvious for what had to have been the millionth time since Drew took the case and went in deep cover. On the other end of the line, Drew swore under his breath and managed to calmly reply, “Understood. Did you receive my email?” as a way to change the subject quickly. Otherwise, Drew thought to himself, Daniel is going to pick right up on just how hell bent I am on not obeying my orders to the letter.

“I did. The footage the bugs you planted picked up will go a long way in helping the DEA. If I had to guess, you won’t have to be in much longer. Now I’m gonna ask you again, agent… Can you continue without telling her what you’re involved in?” Daniel repeated himself, pausing to wait for an answer. Oh, he knew perfectly well that Drew had ulterior motivation in taking on this case. If the guy would just confess that to him, he might be surprised what Daniel was prepared to do to help him out.

They’d all been there at some point. You didn’t do this job as long as they had without forming some kind of protective attachment to some of the trapped victims in these things. Hell, he’d definitely done that himself.

But he knew the agent he was handling was… not the kind of guy to ask for help. He’d rather rely on himself than turn to a more seasoned team member and rely on them. The thought had Daniel fuming and preparing himself to do what he might have to do, going to their lead agent and telling them that he believed Agent Gulak may be well on the way to compromising himself.

Drew swallowed hard and tugged at his tie, two things that would’ve been a dead giveaway for Daniel Bryan if he were around to witness, luckily, he wasn’t. He propped his legs on the desk in front of him and took a deep breath, already going into exit strategy mode.

Because there had to be a way to do this and get her out of danger. There had to be. And he wasn’t going to rest until he found that way.

He’d just hung up when he heard her speak up from behind and he realized that somehow, she’d just heard his entire conversation…

Well fuck, he thought to himself, this is going to be fun. I can’t very well not tell her what’s going on now, can I? She’s obviously just heard the conversation.

“Catalina? What the hell are you doing up? And standing outside of doors? Don’t you know it’s rude to eavesdrop?” he turned accusatory, hoping that it’d make her angry enough not to push him. Not to make him crack and tell her everything.

But one look in those big green eyes of hers as she stepped close… dangerously close… that clearly spelled out that if he thought he was keeping this secret?

He was in for a surprise.

I froze in the doorway, focused on processing what I’d just overheard Drew saying to whoever he’d been talking to. When it started to piece itself together, all I could do was stand there, shocked.

He wasn’t what I’d written him off to be. He was trying to do the right thing here and somehow, I never should have had a doubt about that. The fact that I had made me feel like utter shit. I shook my head and my mouth opened, only to close again when nothing would come out. I didn’t even realize he was aware I was in the room until he started angrily barking questions at me and I met his gaze, biting my lip as I stepped into the room and shut the door behind me.

Drew walked over and locked it quickly, pacing back and forth in front of me for a little bit.

I stepped in front of him at one point, stopping him and reaching up to thread my fingers along his tie and tug at it. “For your information… I wasn’t eavesdropping, first of all. I came here to apologize about earlier… The argument in the limo? The one where you basically called me a privileged brat?”

He eyed me, taking a deep breath as our bodies brushed against each other. I paused and toyed with the untied tie, not daring to meet his gaze. Because now that I knew the truth, I felt horrible for the way I’d been handling things since he just waltzed back into my life. He was right. I had been behaving like a brat.

Because I never got closure. I never got to tell him how much him leaving me would hurt. I never got the chance to tell him that I wanted to leave with him and that I loved him, probably more than I’d ever loved anyone.

But he was right here, right now.

It didn’t have to continue like this.

Maybe we could even have a second chance. A better one, especially if I got out and away like I’m trying to.

,, you know how dangerous that is, don’t even go there.” but it was too late. Even as that rebuttal entered my mind, I was indeed already going there. In leaps and bounds and another realization dawned.

This ship hadn’t sailed. I wasn’t ‘over him’ like I claimed. I’d never really stopped loving him.

And what he was doing?

Was dangerous as hell. What if I lost him somehow? Without at least attempting to act on all this?

“Yeah?” his voice was thicker, and his finger curled beneath my chin, guiding my face so that I had to look him in the eyes. I took a second, staring at him; distracted and he repeated himself again, more firmly this time when he asked exactly what I’d heard.

“Enough to know I was completely wrong. And more than enough to know that maybe you were right earlier. Maybe” I stepped closer, my body pressed against his. He swallowed hard and stared down at me expectantly and I took a deep breath, continuing, “Maybe I was being a brat earlier.”

“There’s absolutely no maybe to it. You were being a complete brat.” Drew countered calmly, reaching around me to lock the door to the room. “But I understand. I left. After I promised I wouldn’t.”

“Did you leaving then have any reason to do with why you’re back now?” I asked the question quietly, hopefully and I found myself holding my breath while I looked up at him and waited on my answer.

“To an extent. My cover was about to be blown back then. I had to disappear. I’m surprised they let me take this one. My cover could still be blown..” he trailed off, going quiet and raised his hand to my face, taking it in his hand. His thumb rolled over my skin and he took a second or two before continuing, “I had no choice but to disappear. And lie to you about who I was back then. If you knew…”

I nodded because I understood. “I get it.”

His hand moved from my cheek, splayed across the back of my head with his fingers tangled in my hair as he looked down at me and muttered quietly, “I had other reasons for taking this. If your dad is in prison, you’re free. You don’t have to worry about all the measures he goes through to keep you prisoner. I came back for you too.”

I felt my stomach flutter a little and my hand rested palm down against the button front shirt before finally clutching at it as I rose to tiptoe and cautiously planted what I thought would be a clumsy kiss against the corner of his mouth. Drew groaned quietly, his free hand going to my lower back, the hand in my hair tugging, pulling my mouth completely against his as he breathed against my lips, “I’m not leaving without you. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“Am I in as much danger as my father says I’m in all the time?” the question came out quietly after the kiss broke, the two of us pulling away with flushed faces and breathing heavily. I leaned against him and worked on composure.

This was not what I’d come in here for, but it was everything I wanted -and apparently, needed.

“Worse than. I don’t think that asshole really knows just how many people are after him. So when he cast the net for a new bodyguard for you and I put two and two together...I knew I had to come back.”

I nodded, staring up at him as I took a few deep breaths. I knew his secret now. I mulled it over and quietly, I sat down on the edge of the heavy mahogany desk nearby and started to tell him mine. How I planned to leave and in a few months, send a flash drive of every single illegal and shady thing my father had ever done to the FBI. How I knew I’d have to permanently disappear after doing so because daughter or not, betrayal was not something my father took lightly. As I finished up, Drew was pacing the room again, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Give me the flash drive.”

“But he’ll.. If he even thinks you’re not on the up and up…”

“I can call for backup, Cat. You can’t.”

“Damn it, Drew..”

“Don’t fucking argue with me, Cat. Give me the flash drive. I can get it to my handler. Once my handler has it, we can figure out everything else.” Drew insisted and I nodded, biting my lip.

“I’ll meet you tomorrow night. At 8. I’ll be back at my own apartment then. Pretty sure he’s told you that, he plans to make you camp outside my door to keep me safe. It’s what he did with the others.” I told him as my fingertip trailed over his lips.

“8, it is.” he muttered quietly, leaning in to pull me into another deep and steady kiss before I hurried out, back down to my own wing of the mansion.

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beifongbabey · 5 years ago

Text

fill my heart, fill my head with these words

Words: 5258

Explicit language

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first dinner at the Ritz - 1979

“... maybe dine at the Ritz.”

Suggested about a decade ago, the thought had stuck with Crowley through his most recent years-long nap. After getting up and getting with the times, (i.e. haircut, clothing, music; he has to look good, especially tonight), he thought he would surprise Aziraphale. He felt a pull toward him, the urge to just spend some time together. Maybe it was Aziraphale projecting (he hoped), but it was likely Crowley just missing the angel. He would never admit to it though.

He left his flat around 8:30 and drove his way through London. He was going slightly slower than usual, only hitting about 75. Nerves? No, fuck off. Does the angel want to see him? Shut up. Worried Aziraphale is busy? Yep, let’s go with that.

He arrived at the bookshop and, as briskly as he could with his saunter, walked to the front door and opened it.

“Angel?”

“Crowley?” He heard Aziraphale’s voice from a distant, quiet and unsure. As Crowley walked further into the room he heard a book close, a glass being placed down, and footsteps become clearer as the floor creaked slightly. “Crowley,” he said with a gentle smile.

“Hi, Aziraphale, long time.”

“It’s lovely to see you.” Aziraphale kept that smile that made Crowley’s heart beat a little faster. They sat in silence like this for a minute.

Smile fading, the angel finally broke the silence, “what are you doing here?”

“Oh, right, yeah. Want to do dinner?” Breaking that stare and moving on with a real conversation was just slightly difficult.

“Oh! That would be lovely, I actually just heard of this new place down…”

“Actually, I already have a place picked out.” Really he’s had it picked out for the last decade, but Aziraphale doesn’t need to know that.

Aziraphale shot him a look of surprise. He rarely didn’t pick the restaurant, but he was not going to complain. One, so long as it was food he didn’t care. Two, he had missed the demon dearly and was just content to spend a little time with him. So he grabbed his keys, turned off the lights, and made sure the bookshop was locked and safe.

Crowley waited for him outside of the Bentley and made sure to get in at the same time as the angel. Crowley turned on the ignition and music began to play.

The song begins softly, but Crowley recognized it instantly.

I can dim the lights

To the car, hoping he was quiet enough for Aziraphale to not hear, “you’re already on thin fucking ice.”

The Bentley happily continued to play. Crowley, though slowly tightening the steering wheel, stared straight ahead. He wanted to look and see if Aziraphale had noticed or was listening at all, but also feared what he was about to see. So he chanced the smallest side glance, desperate and fearful.

From what he could tell, Aziraphale was sitting as normal. Crowley’s shoulders relaxed slightly, figuring this would continue through the song. He still kept his death grip, promising punishment, and he counted the seconds until the song would end.

The thing was, the song was accurate. He knew that, but Aziraphale shouldn’t bloody know. His Bentley, the car that had been with him for years, was going to pay for this in whatever way an inanimate object could. It didn’t fear Crowley in the way his plants did (which he had just begun “taking care” of). But he’ll find a way.

Be a valentino just for you

What Crowley had missed after his side glance was a twitch of a smirk on Aziraphale’s face. Though he maybe didn’t always understand certain types of music, he loved the poetic lyrics. As he listened, he found the lover boy to be quite endearing. In his mind, hidden behind a mask of serenity, he thought of Crowley.

As the song requested to feel that heartbeat grow faster, faster, Crowley complied. Not on purpose, mind you. His Bentley was maybe a little forceful with its love for the pair. His teeth ground together until…

Dining at the Ritz, we’ll meet at nine

Fuck. Crowley’s eyes went wide under his glasses and he could feel his face becoming just a little hotter than Hell. His gears were churning over how to punish this damn car.

But, both were unconsciously planning on following some of the lyrics; Aziraphale will choose the wine, Crowley will drive them back to the bookshop, and maybe they’ll spend just a little extra time there.

OH, LOVE

On the other side, Aizraphale sat politely on the outside. But thank god it was dark because his face was redder than a tomato. His blush was powerful, but so was Crowley’s. They both remained staring forward, even as their emotions bubbled, twisted, and screamed internally.

As the last note hit and seemed to echo within the pair’s heads, Crowley hissed, “I swear if you play...” But the Bentley simply switched to classical music. It knew the point was made.

Luckily the ride was almost over anyway, but those last few minutes helped relax the blushes and return their hearts to a (hopefully) normal pace. Both beings were deep in their feelings, but neither knew what the other thought. So, they figured if it’s not broke, don’t fix it, and continued on with what their relationship has been like the last few thousand years.

Yes, they were both idiots, but idiots in love. And the Bentley knew that and did what it could to try and change that.

return from Ireland - 1986

They were both sent to Ireland on tasks. One was to encourage a bombing, one was to save a child who would otherwise die from a bombing.

At one of their usual lunches, Aziraphale mentioned needing to travel in a few days for a new miracle.

“Oh, where? ‘M supposed to do a temptation over in Ireland.”

“What a coincidence! That’s where I have to head. What are you doing?”

Crowley hesitated for a second. He didn’t want to do this one. Was planning on making it not happen. He didn’t like the ones where people had to die, especially innocent ones. He enjoyed inconvenience, making people just slightly irritated.

Aziraphale could feel a bit of pain coming off of Crowley.

“What is it?” Aziraphale asked in a low voice.

“Er, I’m supposed to make a bombing occur in the North.” He paused, looked down at his lap. “I wasn’t planning on letting it happen though.”

Aziraphale gave him an empathetic look. He always knew Crowley was a little bit of a good being, but he only showed that side on occasion.

“Well, I’m supposed to go and save a child from a bombing. If we’re going at the same time, likely supposed to be yours...”

Crowley looked up. Heaven was going to let it happen but only save one life? “Well, maybe we can go together. Maybe change a little thing here and a little thing there and make it seem like the humans made the choice.” His voice began to fill with hope. “Maybe we can drive to the coast and take a ferry over. Don’t want to use too many miracles and get in trouble.” The slightest smirk began to grow.

Aziraphale was hesitant at first. He still didn’t like disobeying Heaven, but if he were to save more lives than intended, that cannot go against orders! At this point, he was more used to adjusting his plans. It was for Crowley mainly, but always found a reason that Heaven would approve. Slowly he returned a smile.

“Alright! But we also have to stop by Dublin and meet up with a book collector. She has one of the original book copies of The Picture of Dorian Gray that I have been searching for. When I found out I had to go to Ireland, I figured it was the perfect opportunity. It shouldn’t take too long.”

Crowley was fine with spending a little extra time. Might as well do something that makes Aziraphale happy as well. While not much of a reader himself, he finds himself relaxing and enjoying hearing the angel discuss novels and prophecies.

“Alright, Angel. We can head out tomorrow.”

----

The switch for the bombing was surprisingly easier than they had expected. While they did have to send a few people to sleep for the day, Crowley easily tempted the man in charge to go watch a local boxing match, because it’ll be so much easier. Why not? You can drink, yell, and support your country. No need to be drastic tonight. It’s too rainy anyway, who wants to be out in this?

While Crowley tempted the man into something much calmer, Aziraphale removed the explosives in the Irishman’s flat. Simply made them disappear. Who knows what happened to them? Well, no need to worry now.

The pair made their way to Dublin, quickly coming upon the bookseller’s shop.

“This it?”

“Yes. Though she doesn’t appear to be here.” Aziraphale wrung his hands together, searching through the window to see if there was any movement or light.

Crowley rolled his eyes and leaned against the door frame. Honestly, he was fine with waiting with Aziraphale. But had to keep up appearances, ya know?

About two hours and a thousand little quips later, the bookseller came around the corner.

“Ah, you must be Mr. Fell! Sorry to keep you waiting.” She stated as she walked up the few steps to unlock the door and let them inside.

“It’s no problem at all.” They followed, Crowley looking to Aziraphale and giving him a mocking look.

“No problem at all,” he mimicked Aziraphale’s tone, quietly. In response, Aziraphale shot him a look of do you have to do that right now?

Crowley smiled wide. Aziraphale sighed and walked faster to follow the woman. Crowley liked irritating him.

----

What Crowley thought would be a quick drop-by to pick up the book grew into an afternoon of tea. Crowley sat, not talking, as the two discussed the book and others she had to offer. Aziraphale couldn’t resist the other rare books, ending up with a pile of six to bring back.

Crowley finally got the look across to the angel that they should leave. Aziraphale thanked her for the hospitality and the multiple books. He gave her a little extra money in appreciation and she welcomed him back anytime.

When they were outside and the door was closed, Crowley looked to Aziraphale.

“What?” The angel asked, a little oblivious.

Crowley didn’t say anything. Just shook his head and walked down the steps and into the street.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and slowly followed. He did appreciate him staying as long as he did.

“You know, I have always appreciated your acts and mindset, I think that you really…” Aziraphale said joyously as he caught up to Crowley.

“Don’t say it,” Crowley said, flatly.

Aziraphale’s smile remained. “Really, Crowley. What you did yesterday and…”

Crowley moved and grabbed the front of Aziraphale’s shirt with one hand. The books remained in his hands, Crowley subconsciously making sure they remained intact.

“Will you stop. I can’t be that.” he gritted his teeth as he threw the words at the angel. He let go, Aziraphale falling slightly. Crowley had not realized he lifted him up.

He walked ahead. He had to keep a front on for the sake of Hell, but inside his emotions screamed and sprinted across his mind.

Aziraphale watched him walk away for a second. Part of him wishes he didn’t let go. Part of him loves this little game, but part of him wants all or nothing.

“Come on, Angel. We got a boat to catch.” Crowley yelled from over his shoulder. Aziraphale caught up to him again. They talked and acted like nothing happened.

----

They returned to England’s coast, finding the Bentley within the car park. It was late, but they didn’t have anywhere else to go, so they simply took off.

Once settled in the car, Aziraphale began to read through some of the books he acquired. He became so engrossed in them, lost in a new world. He didn’t notice the stars or the sprawling landscape, and he definitely didn’t notice Crowley looking at him.

Crowley admired. Admired the angel who loved his books so much, who was always willing to help, and who didn’t fear him. He decides not to resist what he feels right now. He’ll simply drive and let his emotions open up a little within him. Maybe it would bring clarity. Maybe he’ll understand why they continue to dance around each other. Maybe he can find peace with that.

Open up your mind and let me step inside

Damn this car. He knows he just opened up but is accompanying music necessary?

Rest your weary head and let your heart decide

Well, it’s unlikely Aziraphale will notice right now, so he accepts the song. And damn if it doesn’t fit his thoughts.

He loves this game, the little chase, and the pining. But he is also desperate for what the angel thinks, feels. He can only hope it’s the same. One thought says yes, he loves you. Another says how could he? He tries to come to a compromise. He may love him, but can’t because of outside forces. Heaven, and all that. Still, he questions his own thoughts. He’ll never know until the angel tells him.

It’s a free world, all you have to do is fall in love

Ugh, Somebody, he wishes it were that easy. Humans were lucky to have complete free will.

Driving me insane

That exactly what his head is doing. All these thoughts, he can barely have one coherent thought because of the entire marathon occurring within his brain.

He just let them all race. No use sorting them out now, nothing was going to happen anyway. Maybe he’ll find a distraction and he’ll forget about it for a while. But damn, his mind always finds a way back to Aziraphale.

Everybody play the game of love

Crowley takes a deep breath and looks to Aziraphale again. Still blissfully unaware of the war within his head. He remains stuck in the fictional world of whatever other books that bookseller convinced him to spend his money on.

He may judge, but it is nice to see him like this. Not so worried, not so cautious. He sits in peace with a book between his hands. Calm, yet passionate about whatever words sit in front of him. Crowley finds his own peace at the sight. His shoulders sit a little lower and his cloud of thoughts clears a little.

They make the rest of the way home in peaceful quiet. The Bentley offers some quiet background noise and Aziraphale pipes up every once in a while to share a line or little fact about the novels in his lap.

Maybe he can stick with this game. It is calm and comfortable. He can always be home with the angel.

after the bandstand - 2019

Aziraphale left first. Crowley was alone, standing in the middle of the bandstand. He watched as Aziraphale walked away, not able to move. Of course, this sort of thing had happened before. Hereditary enemies and we can’t be friends was a typical conversation topic between the two. But this time, with Armageddon about to happen, he felt the dismissal a little more. There was a bit of hope at the beginning, of going off together. But it was lost soon after, as it usually was.

Crowley finally dragged his feet back to the Bentley, fell into the driver’s seat, and laid his head on the wheel as he turned the engine on.

The Bentley was silent at first, as though it was making sure the song fit.

Then those familiar notes hit Crowley’s ears.

He thinks back to a concert, the raw emotion coming from Freddie and Brian as the audience becomes a duet partner. There, he could only think of Aziraphale. Think of the love he had but could never really give the angel. Whether that was because he was a demon or because he feared rejection is still debated. He wants to share himself fully with the angel, but there is always something holding it back.

Love of my life, you’ve hurt me

With his head still down, his eyes slide to the radio. He tries to scowl, but he can’t.

He so wishes he could take off, leave the doomed world behind him. But alone?

He remembers those little smiles, tempting him into helping. He is always aware but can never resist. He thinks of dinners, listening to the passionate monologues about books, food, and the most recent miracle. He tries to ignore the thoughts of magic tricks, but he can’t make the little smile muscles to relax. Every drunken night, every meal he waits, every moment of catching up. He doesn’t want any of these to be just a distant memory.

Don’t take it away from me

He continues to sit in his car, thinking of seemingly every little thing from their life together. While he is in pain now, he never thinks of a painful memory. He remembers every so-called “chance” meeting and souvenir, every weird outfit, and that same hair throughout the six thousand years.

Don’t take it away from me

He forces himself back up and whips out of the parking spot. No need to wallow in the memories, might as well just move on. At least, the exterior can do that. Internally, he’ll continue to overanalyze and think of the past and possible future; so long as the whole ‘end of the world’ doesn’t happen.

I will be there at your side

Well, if this is all going to burn, might as well burn together. And maybe it won’t happen, you can never know with God, and with humans. She may be Almighty, but humans have come up with so many other solutions (and problems); a few of them could figure out how to stop The End. So he takes a sharp turn to make his way to Soho.

Love of my life…

Yeah, he fucking knows. He’s been pining for this long, surely he can make it a few more days (or years, depending). Either way, he knows he can’t leave and won’t ever leave. So, he makes his way to apologize and hopefully figure it out. Whether the “it” is the end of the world or his emotions, well, maybe flip one of Aziraphale’s “magic” coins to find out.

the first night - 2019

Didn’t go down like a lead balloon this time. It was false alarmageddon, and they had survived. Maybe the would die within the next few days for, you know, treason and such. But at least the world hadn’t died for the sake of some stupid war.

Now Crowley was exhausted, the combination of his imagination holding the car together, stopping time, and dealing with Satan’s wrath really did a number on him. Aziraphale also felt that fatigue, but he also contemplated the last prophecy from Agnes Nutter. So the pair simply sat in silence on the way back to London.

Aziraphale had agreed to stay at Crowley’s. Crowley heaved a sigh of relief when he agreed. Aziraphale offered him a small smile, giving Crowley just a bit more energy. They would need to figure out what that prophecy meant and what to do about their sides, but also they needed sleep. They needed a break. The week had been damn long enough.

Crowley may also want to admit to his love, but maybe that can wait.

Arriving in London, they made their way over and up to Crowley’s flat. He opened the door and simply walked in, not thinking about another’s reaction to the place.

“Oh, Crowley. Is this really your place?” Aziraphale asked, concerning consuming his voice.

“Uuh, er, yeah.” He said mindlessly.

“Well, uh, it’s very clean.”

Crowley gave the wall a look at that comment. He didn’t want to direct it at Aziraphale, but he still judged the judgment coming from the angel.

“It just reminds me of somewhere, that’s all.” Aziraphale knew Crowley had a look on his face, it’s the same one he makes when Aziraphale does magic.

Crowley turned, curiosity blooming on his face. “Where, exactly, might I ask?”

“Oh! Ah… Heaven.”

Oh.

Aziraphale made that face he does when he’s hiding his feelings. A little smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. The look that tries to protect someone else’s feelings. But it doesn’t work on Crowley.

“Angel…”

“No, it’s fine. Maybe some tea?”

Crowley points toward the kitchen. There isn’t a lot there, but he has tea; every good British home does. He watches as Aziraphale walks away, trying to figure out a way to make him more comfortable. Maybe at least a couch? That should be simple enough.

He thinks to any couch, maybe one he saw on tv. Ah, yes, that should work. He snaps, a simple black couch appearing on the wall behind the desk. It’s comfortable enough. Should help make this place a little more acceptable.

Aziraphale reappears with two cups of tea. Crowley accepts his and takes a seat on the couch. The angel sits on the other side and they sit in silence for a moment, appreciating the tea and quiet.

Well, Crowley’s thoughts are taking over. Maybe now is the time to say something. What better time? They almost died, they still might die later. The first was a gift, the second is the possibility of losing him. He can’t let go without saying something. What’s the harm? He’s pretty sure he loves him back, but that may be that piece of hope taking the wheel. He knows he can wait longer, he’s gone this long, so why not? Well, no controlling his mouth now. He takes off his glasses, no controlling his body either. If he’s gonna bare himself, might as well go all out.

“Angel, there’s something…”

“Wait.”

Crowley gives him a stunned look, waiting for those next words.

Aziraphale takes a breath and puts his mug down. “After today, I feel that there is something I should tell you.” He pauses, stabilizing himself. “I love you. And not in that all-encompassing way. But in an in-love way. The human way of I’m in love with you and I can’t let go of you. I thought I was going to lose you and I don’t know what I would have done. I know you’re still a demon and I don’t know how it works but I just needed you to know. I love you, and I have for a long time.”

Aziraphale turns his head to look at Crowley. Fear what reaction may come. Anticipate a reciprocation. That may have sounded better in his head, but he can’t really control himself right now. But he also didn’t care, he simply needed him to know.

Crowley maintained a stunned look. All function has stopped within his head and body.

“Crowley?” The angel asked quietly.

Crowley’s face softened for a moment, enough to tell Aziraphale the world.

In a flash, Crowley leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. It was too quick for Aziraphale to react physically, but his mind clawed and screamed for more. Crowley pulled a few inches away, staring into his eyes. A few seconds pass before Aziraphale leans back in. Crowley places a hand on his cheek, guiding him through the constellations of his mind. Every loving thought, every emotion poured into Aziraphale as the kiss deepened. Aziraphale grabs his arms, losing his grip on the real world and slipping into the endless sky. Crowley feels every emotion directed at him.

It is unbelievable. He may have hoped, dreamed for this moment, but even his imagination could not match the real thing. He was given the world and tried to give the rest of the universe back. He loved and was loved. Nothing else mattered. Absolutely nothing else.

After the angel’s words, he could not form his own. He always showed love through acts anyway, and hopefully, this one works just as well.

About to lose their breaths, they pulled only centimeters away. Breath mingled and foreheads connected. Crowley’s hands remained on his face and neck while Aziraphale gently squeezed both of Crowley’s forearms.

They looked to each other, smiles growing.

Crowley took a moment to think of the right words, knowing the angel would want to hear them. He wanted something poetic, something Shakespeare would steal (again). But that would take too long. He just went with his heart.

Just barely above a whisper, “I love you too. More than every star, every year, and every thought I’ve had. I’ve loved you for 6000 years, and I will love you for the rest of time. Even after, I’ll still love.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, a small tear squeezing out. Crowley gently moved a finger to catch it. He then leaned in to kiss his cheek with the same, painful carefulness.

After a while, intermingled with gentle kisses all over each other’s faces and necks, they moved to Crowley’s bed. Both exhausted, but so grateful to be here, with each other. Crowley cuddled into Aziraphale’s side, wanting to wrap himself around and never letting go. Aziraphale happily complied, mindlessly dragging his fingers across Crowley’s skin like this is where they are always meant to be. But soon, Aziraphale’s mind returned to the future. And he needed a promise.

“They will come for us.”

“I know.”

“Can you promise we’ll find a way?”

Crowley paused, but not because the next line will be a lie. But because he was ready to dedicate himself.

“Yes, angel. I promise.”

He placed a kiss just under Aziraphale’s jaw, calming the bit of tension that had built up.

“But let’s think about that tomorrow.”

----

48 hours later, the promise was kept. They sat side-by-side in each other’s skin.

Crowley couldn’t get the image of Aziraphale dying by hellfire out of his head. Aziraphale thanked and thanked Agnes Nutter for the words. Both couldn’t face the idea of what would have happened.

But here they were, safe. Maybe that safety wouldn’t last long, but it didn’t matter right now.

So they switched back and continued their usual banter, usual routine. It may be a little different now with the love and the promise kept, but Crowley didn’t want to move too fast this time. Simply wanted to enjoy it.

“Can I tempt you to a spot of lunch?”

“Temptation accomplished.” Aziraphale wiggled and the two gladly walked toward the Bentley. Luckily they met at a park near Crowley’s place so they could drive over to the Ritz.

Crowley walked Aziraphale over to his side of the car and opened the door for him. Aziraphale smiled and grazed the hand that was holding the top of the door. Crowley slightly blushed, not sure when he would be used to this life. He walked to the driver’s side, got in, and started up the engine.

I was born to love you

This is the first time Crowley had heard the Bentley play this song. The blush remained, but a smile grew. He could finally begin to accept this love. While the Bentley was still cocky, he finally appreciated a love song in its entirety. After Crowley switched into gear he offered his hand. Aziraphale had a smile on his face and gladly took it. He squeezed, sending Crowley’s heart ablaze.

I’m caught in a dream and my dream’s come true

Crowley lifted their joined hands to his mouth and placed a kiss on the angel’s hand. He didn’t look over, afraid even his imagination couldn’t control the car when his emotions were this strong. But he felt the look of love on Aziraphale’s face.

Every single day of my life

Every single day. Crowley will love and give and give and give. Never take it for granted, never let it go.

With every single beat of my heart

Aziraphale can feel the love radiating. He had felt something before but had felt it through his whole life on Earth he never thought about it. Assumed it was just, there. But now he realized it was directed at him, becoming more clear after sharing. This feeling was his home; he was always more comfortable around Crowley, even when he couldn’t admit it to himself or anyone else. He never wanted it to fade.

They soon arrived at the Ritz and lost contact only to get out of the car. They quickly reconnected, walking happily into the Ritz to the miraculously open table for two.

an anniversary - 2029

They laid side-by-side in the field close to their cottage. Ten years. Ten years since the world almost ended, ten years since their trials, and ten years since they admitted their love. They figured this was the easiest time to celebrate an anniversary, even with the 6000 years behind them and countless more ahead.

They had had a picnic for dinner, something that had become a regular occurrence. But this time they stayed through the sunset and into the night, stargazing.

The pair laid as close as possible, hands holding tightly and legs beginning to mingle and wrap. They had been there for hours but couldn’t fathom the thought of leaving yet.

Crowley would randomly point out a certain constellation or tell a little story about creating the stars. Aziraphale would turn his head to watch him talk so passionately about the sky. Maybe he’d heard that story 20 times by now, but he really didn’t care. He could listen over and over and still love it.

When he’d finish, Aziraphale would lean over and kiss his cheek. Crowley would respond by wrapping himself a little tighter around his angel. He would smile to himself and Aziraphale would feel a little pulse of love.

Crowley had finally gotten to a point of accepting this and fully embracing it (and embracing the angel, almost all the time). While still a little shocked this was his life, this dream he could only hope for, he had realized it was reality. He could love him openly and be loved back. That little piece that said you’re not worthy finally faded and nearly disappeared.

He couldn’t and wouldn’t let go. And he knew his angel would do the same.

Soon, they began to hear a piece of music float through the air towards them. Crowley turned to look at Aziraphale, but he was just as confused. Not wanting to move from their position, they both moved their heads around to try and find the source.

Crowley looked behind him, realizing it was coming from the Bentley.

When Aziraphale realized Crowley stopped moving, he looked and followed his line of sight.

They both stared curiously for a moment, trying to figure out how it was happening. Soon enough, they looked at each other and simply accepted it.

The Bentley had taken to Crowley’s emotions. Tonight, they were just so powerful, both on his own and mixed with the angel’s, that it needed to play something.

It chose the piano version of Forever. Its melody fit within the moment, filling the air with a light but powerful tone.

But the words that accompanied the original fit just perfectly.

Touch my world with your fingertips

And we can have forever

Forever is our today.

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

Guess who tried to put every headcanon and idea about these two I love into one story!! It’s me !!!

Partly inspired by the car art by @ymmish

Inspired by some of my favorite Queen songs, as well as ones that were Too Powerful to put in the show but you Know the Bentley loved to play them.

Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy

Play The Game

Love of my Life

I was Born to Love You - Piano and Vocal version

Forever - Piano version

I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to send any comments my way, I would love to hear anything! I haven’t done fanfiction in a while, but Good Omens has taken over my life too much for me to not write something.

I hope these people don’t mind, but I want to get this out there, especially to the few writers or creators I admire: @in3ffable-husbands @thegoodomensdumpster @goodomensblog

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale

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cloudfiveclub · 6 years ago

Text

enemies by name ➵ r.c.

Summary ; Y/N hates Richard Yashel Camacho with all her heart but definitely not with her pussy.

Warning(s) ; swearing, masturbation, unprotected sexual intercourse (wrap it before you tap it, kids), creampie

Word Count ; 3.0k+

Author’s Note ; okay so part one was literally posted more than a month ago and i didn’t realize so SORRY but hopefully this makes up for it. not sure if you guys want a part three? but if i do that the hate levels between both characters would definitely significantly decrease just an fyi. enjoy tho x

read part one here!

masterlist

disclaimer | these are only based on my own opinions and imagination and are purely fictitious, as such they in no way accurate or true

"Mhmm, Rich, I'm gonna cum..."

You sped up the movements on your clit, rubbing circles as fast as you could while driving your hairbrush handle into your pussy as deep as you could. Your toes curled, and your mouth dropped open as your high washed over you. Your legs trembled and they closed shut in oversensitivity as you desperately worked yourself through your third orgasm.

You exhaled in frustration as your body started to calm down and you pulled your hairbrush from out of you, letting your hand dangle over the edge of the bed.

You hated this.

You couldn't stand yourself.

You almost disliked yourself as much as you hated him at the moment. Almost.

It had been five days since Richard had given you the best dicking down session you had ever had in your entire life. And you couldn't get him out of your mind.

Granted, it had been awfully rushed and too fast - only a mere twenty minutes - but you were convinced it was probably the best twenty minutes in your life. He had made you cum unbelievably fast, and the feeling of his cock stretching you out had been lingering in your mind.

The whole hook up had left you missing how good he felt inside you and you had spent every free chance you had over the last few days desperately trying to mimic the sensation. Just trying to get a reminder on how absolutely mind blowing it was. And you came up empty each time.

It didn't matter how many times in a row you came. It just wasn't the same. You felt absolutely disgusted with yourself; touching yourself to the thought of the person you hated the most. Who the hell even does that?

You, apparently.

You huffed, sitting up and pulling up your pants. Your eyes shifted over to where your phone sat on the hotel bedside table, and you ticked yourself off as the thought of texting Richard flooded your mind. You rubbed your thighs together as one thought led to another; texting him would lead to talking about the other day, which would lead to him coming here to...

God, are you even listening to yourself?

You bit your lip as you continued eyeing your phone, before your legs moved on their own accord and you found yourself crawling across the bed towards your phone. You grabbed it, opening up WhatsApp and pressing the 'New Chat' button since you had never privately messaged Richard before. For obvious reasons.

You found his contact, clearly listed as 'worst cnco member' and you hesitated when you saw he was online. You stared at it for a while, but nothing happened. Deciding that he was really just busy texting someone else, you let your nervous fingers dance across the keyboard, and you typed in a message. Short and simple but enough to convey you needed another round of sex.

I want you.

Hold up. What the fuck were you even doing? Stop being so desperate.

You stared at your phone angrily when you realize that you had even attempted texting the big oaf, and you rapidly pressed the backspace button as you erased every letter you'd punched in.

And just as you hit the backspace button the last time, your phone vibrated as a little text bubble appeared right in the chat.

Your heart almost flew out of your chest as a message from him came in and your eyes frantically flew to your side of the screen, checking to see if you hadn't sent him something on accident.

You hadn't. And his text simply read two simple words.

You're late.

You frowned, before you glanced up to the clock at the top of you phone screen and realized you were indeed late. Late for their dance practice which you were supposed to be monitoring.

Your hand flew to your forehead automatically as you face palmed yourself. You had been too preoccupied with your needy hormones. But now you didn't have time. You could worry about Richard later.

Dumbass.

You managed to rush to the studio and get there about twenty minutes before they were released for their lunch break. You were pretty much worried about Clara was going to react the whole time, but at the mercy of the boys, they had thankfully assured you they wouldn't tattle if she asked them about it. One problem you did encounter was when they asked why you were late.

Your face had turned beet red, and it took everything in you not to look at him to give anything away. You had stuttered out a stereotypical excuse, saying that the rushing around had made you exhausted and you had overslept a little.

They had believed you. But you knew he didn't.

You'd looked up as they began to disperse, and your gaze landed on the Dominican. He was giving you that look, and it fucking pissed you off.

Looking at you like he knew what you were doing. With that stupid dumb cocky smirk, obvious enough for you but subtle enough not to draw any attention from the other four. He couldn’t have known, but it didn’t stop the paranoia from invading your mind. It made you fume.

And it made your panties soaked.

Your glared back at him angrily when he smirked at you and turned away, making your way over to a corner of the studio to hide for the rest of their practice session until lunch, trying your best to look at anything or anyone other than Richard.

You thought your heart could take a break a little when they told you they were heading out to Nando's. They had invited you along but you fibbed tiredness, and said you'd stay back in the studio.

They had filed out after that, and you'd relax visibly, thinking you could finally get some time away from him again. You hated how nervous you always got around Richard after the hook up in the dressing room. It was like your whole perspective of him had shifted to the positive side.

And you really really didn't want your perspective of him to shift. You were supposed to hate his ass.

But of course, fate wasn't planning on making it easy for you. Less than ten minutes after they had left the room, the door swung open and in strolled the person you dreaded the most.

"Oh my fucking god."

You couldn't help the complaint that came tumbling out your mouth. It was like you were programmed to just protest whenever you saw him, no matter how needy you were for his dick again.

His eyebrows shot up when he caught sight of your disgusted expression, but his lips quickly curled up into a playful grin as he ignored your revulsion towards his presence, closing the door behind it and turning the lock.

You swallowed when you saw him do that, and you folded your arms across your chest defiantly, remaining where you were seated against the wall.

"Nothing's happening," you cut him off before he could say anything.

He pulled his bottom lip between your teeth when you said that, a hint of playfulness in his eyes as he made his way over to you.

"Wasn't planning on making anything happen."

You frowned when he said that, and his smug look ticked you off when you realized he just made you sound like the desperate one. He plops himself down next to you, only prompting you to shift your bag further away and scoot away from him. He rolls his eyes when you did so, deciding to remain where he was instead of chasing after you.

"Are you not eating out with the guys?" you asked, glancing at him for a brief second before turning away to stare at the wall opposite the room.

"Told em' I wasn't hungry and I was gonna practice more," he replied shortly.

You turned to him when he said that, raising your eyebrow.

"You knew I'd be here."

He smirks at you when you say that, resting his head back against the wall mirror.

"Your point?"

You squint at him when he says that. He really couldn't stop being annoying for a second. He just loved getting on your nerves.

Fucking irritating twat.

"Look- just to make it clear, the dressing room thing was... a one time kind of thing. I was thinking about telling you earlier, but... um," you stuttered out lamely, trying your best to sound as serious as possible. Still, your voice wavered at 'one time thing' and while you prayed he wouldn't notice, the look he gave you only told you he'd notice the tinge of disappointment in your tone.

He pursed his lips when you said that, lifting his head off the wall to look at you. His lips were pulled into an almost mocking pout, and his eyes shone with mischief.

"So you've been thinking about me?"

Oh my fucking GOD.

His question threw you off, and you glared at him in offense.

"I did not say that," you defended harshly.

His lips curled up into a smirk and he scooted closer to you this time.

"You said you were thinking about telling me earlier."

"That's a different thing," you hissed. "I was thinking about you, not telling you."

He grinned at you when you said that and you realized your mistake, mouth dropping open as you shook your head frantically.

"NO, I meant that I was thinking about telling you, not y-"

He cuts you off with his lips again and you're caught off guard a second, your first initial reaction to think "what the fuck is he fucking doing", but his hands that have travelled to your back to bring you closer to him has you relaxing just a tad bit.

You hate the comforting feeling that creeps up on you as you kiss him, and you're almost repulsed by how much you seem to be enjoying his lips.

He pulls you closer, pulling away to yank your legs apart to wrap around his waist before he attaches his lips to your neck.

As annoyed as you are, you can't help the shaky moan that slips through your lips when he sucks on your sweet spot. It sends tingles to your core, and you're already excited at the fact that his covered crotch is so close to yours.

Fucking desperate.

You fist his shirt tightly when he nibbles gently, leaving a mark that you just know you're going to be incredibly pissed about later, but in the moment, you can't help but think how bloody hot it is that he's marking you.

He pulls away, reaching down to pop the button of your jeans open quickly. Your hands are working at a similarly frantic pace, untying the knot on his sweatpants and pushing the hem down to try and get it off.

Fuckfuckfuck, what are you doing?

You can't help but get mad at yourself. Again. You really were the biggest dumbass you knew. You hated that you wanted his dick so badly again, especially since he was such a bloody annoying bastard.

The both of you untangle from each other for a moment to stand up and shove your pants and undergarments down, as well as your shirt. You leave your bra on, and he pushes you down back onto the floor, stomach down, prompting you to get into doggy style position.

"Do you just not like looking at my face when you fuck me or...?" you questioned snarkily, remembering the last time when he had similarly taken you from he back against the wall.

You feel the head of his member sliding through your already slick folds, and you whimper. He leans down, and a gasp slips through when his fingers wrap round your throat.

Holy fuck, he's into that.

He pulls your head up, and the fact that you're both in front of the mirror is brought to your attention.

"Who said I don't like looking at your face when I fuck you?" he responds back.

The deepness in his voice has you shaking, and you worry your unsteady hands will give out before he even enters you.

The grip on his neck loosens a little and you're moaning loudly all too quickly as he pushes into you again. You let out an almost relieved sob as your walls stretch out deliciously to fit him into you, the pleasureful burn a welcoming feeling that you had been so desperately trying to replicate the past few days.

You glance up into the mirror, and you whimper when you notice he's looking straight at you. He doesn't break your gaze as he pulls out slowly, before shoving himself deep into you again.

You choke out a moan when he does that, and he leans down to bring his lips to your ear.

"That feel good, don't it baby?" he murmurs, and you swallow, doing your best to stare at him defiantly in your reflection when he asks you that. The part of you that hated him still wasn't very eager to boost his stupid ego. He knew it was good. He didn't need to hear you say it.

Unfortunately, that seemed like the wrong response, because you're gasping for air when his hand tightens its grip round your neck. His gaze is dangerous, and a pit of nervousness forms in your stomach when you see how dark his eyes has become.

"Y-Yes," you stutter out as best as you can. You can't lie to yourself either, the whole thing was just making you more aroused.

His features soften a little in content when you say that, and while his grip relaxes a little, his fingers still remain round your throat. He pulls out again, before thrusting back in, and forms a steady rhythm as he begins to fuck into you.

You're reduced to a moaning mess too fast for your own liking, but you do your best to ignore any negative feelings towards Richard as you immerse yourself in the feeling of his thick cock pistoning in and out of your needy hole.

"God, you're so tight," he groans into your ear, and you can't argue with that. You're able to feel every ridge of his cock, every angry vein through your pussy walls.

"You're so big," you whine out, pretty much surprising yourself at the fact you're even bothering to feed his ego. But it's not like that wasn't true. He felt amazing.

You see him grin in pride in the mirror, and this only spurs him on to move faster.

Right into your G-Spot.

You cry out at the slight change in angle, and your toes curl as an unexpected orgasm washes over you. Your arms give out from under you, and his hand that was on your waist shifts quickly to your tummy to hold you up as best he can. He goes a step further, bringing you up to his chest and letting go of your neck.

You gasp at that, and your gaze drops to where you two are connected in the mirror. You can see everything pretty goddamn clearly now; how his thick cock slides in and out of your wet cunt each time, glistening nicely with your juices.

"Look at you, princess," he mumbles in your ear. "Taking daddy's big cock so well. Such a good girl."

You're surprised at how many kinks are surfacing, but you can't complain, because his words only make you drip even more.

"Fuck me harder, daddy," you beg, and it takes almost everything in you not to hate yourself for being so needy for him.

He smirks when you say that, and he rams up into your pussy, hitting your sweet spot each time.

"Oh GOD, yes!" you moan out, reaching behind to grip on his biceps for some sort of support.

He brings his fingers down, and you're cumming again quickly as he starts rubbing quick circles into your swollen pearl. You whimper loudly as your orgasm wrecks you, your whole body tingling as you cream nicely round his big dick.

Richard supports you the whole time, but you're terrified when he doesn't slow his thrusts even as you start wriggling out his grasp when the oversensitivity starts crawling up on you.

"One more, baby," he tells you, and you're whining and begging for him to stop, but he doesn't listen.

He keeps up his hard thrusts, and you know he's close when his movements get sloppy. He sheathes himself in you for the last time, and the full feeling of him being buried deep in your cunt, as well as his fingers on your clit triggers your third orgasm.

The clenching of your pussy has him cumming, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as he fills you up with his warm load.

He pulls out, and you instinctively reach your fingers down. You shiver when your digits come into contact with the sticky feeling of his cum at the entrance of your cunt, and you bite your lip, easing your fingers into yourself as you push his cum back in, ignoring the shiver of oversensitivity that shocks through your body when you do so.

Richard groans when he catches sight of what you're doing, and you can't help but giggle like a stupid schoolgirl with a crush when he leans down to affectionately press a kiss to your cheek.

"That was amazing." He says. "Looks like you don't hate me that much, huh?"

You roll over, closing your legs as you stared at him. And immediately you remember how much you hate him now that his dick was no longer balls deep in you. His face is so... bloody attractive, but you frown when you remember how irritating of a guy he is.

And you really let him cum in you. For the second time. Great Going, Y/N.

You lift your head up a notch, and you can't help the competitive smile that makes it's way to your face.

"Bet."

#cnco #cnco smut #richard camacho #richard camacho smut #richard camacho imagines #richard camacho imagine #christopher velez #joel pimentel #zabdiel de jesus #erick brian colon #erick colon #cnco imagines #cnco imagine #cnco preferences

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izzy-b-hands · 6 years ago

Text

Happy At Home-Part Two

Part Two, road trip stuff!

Forgive that this probably isn’t one hundred percent historically accurate in terms of driving time-I’m literally plugging it into Google maps and just kinda going with it because I’m so bad at time estimates, and what I have been able to research about cars in the 40s and early 50s didn’t give me an exact way to estimate how long each leg would take. I’m tryin’ here, lol. This is what I get for being determined to finish a multipart fic at one in the morning.

“Please get in the carrier?” Eugene asked hopefully.

Queen stared at him, and he could swear it was really a glare. Gunner and Little Sid had gone into their carriers with some prompting, but she was being a damn diva about it.

“Young lady, you listen to your father and get in there,” Snafu scolded as he passed them on his way to the front door, on his seemingly hundredth trip to put another box in the car. They were leaving a lot behind-the furniture, even the stuff they’d bought themselves, plus some little knick-knacks that it was just easier to leave behind. Yet they still had far too many boxes to cram into the car. As it was, there would be just enough room for the cat’s carriers and the litter box-the cats would be getting a bathroom break every two hours of driving, they’d decided.

Queen licked a paw, and Eugene sighed. “Please, do it for me.”

She looked back up at him.

“I’d feel a lot less nervous about this move if you were my best girl and just went right into your carrier. I promise it’ll be worth it, if you’re good,” Eugene said, trying not to think about how he was essentially begging a maybe ten pound creature to listen to him.

But it worked. She let out a dainty sigh, then trotted into the carrier and settled as he shut the door of it.

“There’s my girl,” Eugene praised as he poked a finger through the wire door for her to sniff and lick.

“I think that’s it,” Snafu said as he came back in, dragging snow in after him. “You and the kids ready?”

Eugene nodded and grabbed his coat. “Ready as we’ll ever be.”

“We’re gonna be okay,” Snafu said, moving to help him pull the wool coat on. “No matter what.”

Eugene turned to him and kissed him as he took hold of his hands. His fingers were cold, but his lips were still warm. “I know. Just gonna take getting there and a while for me to shake this.”

“You take all the time you need. I got you,” Snafu replied. “C’mon. Let’s get the babies in the car.”

“They’re gonna hate this,” Eugene said as he picked up Queen’s carrier. “You ready to listen to that much yellin’ and hollerin’?”

“They might surprise us,” Snafu said, grabbing Gunner and Little Sid’s carriers as he walked out the front door. “Give ‘em a chance.”

Eugene turned off the lights, then stopped to look at the not quite empty, yet not as full as it had been apartment. It was strange, seeing it like that. Knowing they wouldn’t have another night on the couch together, falling asleep with books in their hands or staying up too late talking. Not having the same open window in their bedroom for Gunner to go in and out of as he prowled the neighborhood, only to return before the end of the night to curl up by their feet. No more finding little Sid and Queen asleep in the linen closet, always left open for them.

“You can get the door, right? I already gave that asshole my key,” Snafu said, breaking the spell.

“Yeah, I got it,” Eugene replied, and stepped out of the doorway to close and lock it while Queen meowed at the cold air. “You okay running the key down, or should I?”

“Naw, I told him I’d be back down with yours,” Snafu said as he set Gunner’s carrier down to grab the key and shove it in his trouser pocket. He picked Gunner back up and started down to the landlord and the car, leaving Eugene with Queen and his thoughts.

“Just another sort of adventure, right Queenie?” Eugene sighed.

She meowed angrily as the wind picked up.

“Fair enough. Rude of me to be askin’ you questions while you freeze. Let’s get you in the car,” he replied and went down to the car.

Snafu was settling the other two in the car, fussing with the placement of the carriers while they yowled at him. “Your daddy just had to be right about you hating this, didn’t he? Just hush, we’ll be there before you know it, you’ll nap…fuck’s sake, I hope you’ll nap.”

“The kids aren’t happy?” Eugene said as he passed Queen’s carrier to him.

“Oh no, they’re thrilled. Singing a song about how much they love the car, can’t you hear it?”

Eugene winced at a particularly piercing shriek from Little Sid. “I can. Lovely.”

“Isn’t it just?” Snafu laughed as he got Queen settled in and shut the car door. “We’re gonna be serenaded until they fall asleep. If they fall asleep.”

Eugene got in the passenger side-Snafu had agreed to drive for the first leg of the drive, ideally all the way from Annapolis to Richmond in Virginia. “They’ll sleep. That’s one of their favorite things. Just give them time to get used to the sound of the car, the bouncing. I mean, they’ll still hate this, but they’ll sleep at least.”

Snafu shook his head as he got in, and started the car. “How about you? Gonna try and sleep?”

“We’ve barely been awake,” Eugene replied. Granted, it had been a very busy morning of quick packing and buying what they didn’t have but needed, namely the cat carriers. “Besides, who’s gonna keep you awake?”

Queen let out what could only be described as an angry scream, and Snafu pointed to the back seat. “That might do it.”

They laughed as Snafu got them onto the road, but the pit from before was back in Eugene’s stomach. It was one thing to say they were doing this, but actually being in the car, driving away from what had been their home? That was a whole other game, and he wasn’t sure he knew the rules of it well enough to play it right.

They stayed quiet as they drove-the cats were making enough noise for two cars, let alone just theirs. It was comforting, just watching Snafu as he drove. The little twitch of his jaw every now and again, and how he’d instantly toss his arm across Eugene if they had to make a sudden stop. The way he’d occasionally crack and roll his neck, yet never complaining that it was stiff.

There was the rest of the state, plus entirely new ones to watch as they drove too. Different flora and fauna, neighborhoods and main streets with little shops unique to them, all passing them by.

The two hours passed faster than he’d expected. They’d left a little after noon, then suddenly it was about 2:30, and they were pulling up to a gas station in Richmond.

“Ugh,” Snafu grimaced as he got out of the car. “Gotta walk about for a bit before we keep goin’, or my legs are gonna waste away.”

“Same,” Eugene admitted. It hadn’t been that horribly far, but his legs and back didn’t care about that. “Least the kids are finally quiet.”

The cats had finally calmed. They didn’t look pleased, but they were quiet.

“Yeah. I’ll let them out, probably one by one to see if they need their box. Don’t want them trying to run off,” Snafu said, opening the back door to lean in and take the cover off of the litter box.

Eugene wandered while Snafu fussed with the cats, looking around at the surrounding buildings. He always wondered how things might have been different, if the train had stopped anywhere else. If they’d gotten off of it sooner, or tried to go back to Mobile or New Orleans together. He wouldn’t change any of what had happened for anything, but at the same time he couldn’t help but be curious.

“We’re all cleaned up and fueled up. Ready to go when you are,” Snafu called from the car.

“Really? No extra walking, or a bathroom break?” Eugene asked as he jogged back over.

Snafu shrugged. “I’m okay. But if you need a minute-”

Eugene shook his head. “Nah. Just-I don’t know.”

“All up in that smart head of yours, overthinkin’ things?”

He smiled. “Yeah. I guess so. Just thinkin’ how weird it is, driving through all these places. All these people living and going about their day. Wondering what it’d be like if we’d ended up here, or anywhere else.”

Snafu nodded. “I think about that too, sometimes. Would we have found a decent place to live? Decent jobs? As it is, I still can’t get over them bein’ okay with us just up and going, never to return.”

“Told them both it was a family thing. They understood,” Eugene replied. He’d taken over calling their jobs that morning, as soon as he knew their supervisors would be in. The library he’d been working at raised no issue and asked no extra questions about it once he’d mentioned family, and the mechanic that Snafu had worked for only asked kindly if everyone was going to be okay before wishing them the best and saying he’d miss Snafu around the shop.

“Good idea. I mean, it technically is. Any idea what you might do once we get down there?” Snafu asked. “I’m thinkin’ I’ll just see if there isn’t another mechanic in need of help. Like workin’ with my hands like that, think I’d miss it if I did anything else.”

“Not exactly. But since we don’t have to pay for the house or anything, kinda thought about school,” Eugene replied as he went to the driver’s side and got in.

Snafu nodded and went to the passenger side. “Well, whatever you wanna do, I’ll help you get it however I can. I’m not much for studying, but I promise I’ll do my best to help, if that’s what you end up doin’.”

“You could go back too, if you wanted,” Eugene said as he started the car and pulled them back onto the road. This next leg was a bit longer, three hours rather than two, taking them to Fayetteville, North Carolina. He just hoped the cats would be okay with the extra hour of driving.

“Aw jeez,” Snafu sighed. “I mean…someone has to be bringing in some cash for food. I’ll let you go back and get your degree first, then we can worry about me.”

“If you say so,” Eugene smiled. He suddenly had an image of Snafu in a pair of thick glasses, poring over a textbook. It was both incredibly goofy and wonderfully adorable, and if anything horribly inaccurate. The actual image of Snafu studying, he figured, was similar to watching him read. Usually with a look of slight concentration that just wrinkled his brow, with his shirt off if it was summer or a blanket over him in the winter, slouching on the couch or laying with his legs across Eugene’s lap. The sight always made Eugene lose his spot in whatever book he was reading.

They settled into their comfortable silence as Eugene drove, and eventually he heard the sound of Snafu snoring. He’d been waiting for it-he knew he was more tired than he’d let on. They’d both taken their coats off midway on the way to Richmond, as it got warmer the further South they went, and now Snafu was using them both as a blanket.

The trip felt longer when he was driving, and he couldn’t help but yawn as he pulled up to a gas station in Fayetteville a little after six o’clock.

Snafu woke with a start as he turned the car off. “Sorry, sorry. I passed out on ya. Didn’t mean to.”

Eugene shrugged. “Not a big deal. Not much to do if you aren’t driving, might as well sleep. I know I will. Speaking of-you really wanna keep going? We can probably find a motel room easy enough.”

Snafu chewed at his bottom lip, then shook his head. “Bet they won’t want us to bring the cats in. And if they ask questions-”

“Friends can go on road trips together,” Eugene said, but he couldn’t convince himself that Snafu was wrong. It was an added factor, wondering if they’d be questioned in any way or unable to find a spot to rest based on what people might figure out about them. They were being careful-no kisses, no hand-holding, even though it killed him not to do any of it. But you could never be too careful.

“I’ll be okay,” Snafu said. “Tell you what, how about we go hour by hour for the night? Just pull over on the shoulder or wherever we can for a few minutes, then switch. We can both get a bit of sleep, but neither one of us has to drive too exhausted.”

“I like that,” Eugene said as he got out of the car. “What say we hit the bathroom, then she’s all yours?”

They made their break quick, then switched sides as they got back to the car. For a second at the front of the car, Eugene paused to grab Snafu’s hand and give a squeeze. He couldn’t bear not touching him in all the little ways they usually did.

Back in the car, Snafu grabbed his hand and pressed a quick kiss to it before starting the car. “Ready for Augusta?”

“Sure!” Eugene laughed. “Just another three and some hours away, right? Oh god-we aren’t driving anywhere for a week after this.”

“Agreed,” Snafu smiled as he started the car and they headed out yet again. “Now get some sleep-you only got an hour, after all.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, leaning back in the seat and using Snafu’s coat as a blanket. He had a feeling it would be a quick hour.

#text post #leeh writes #sledgefu

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the-lupine-sojourner · 6 years ago

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Takara’s Hero Academia Season 2 Episode 4 [Eijiro Kirishima/OC] [Female!Aizawa/Hizashi]

Okay, guys! Here we go! The rest of the obstacle course! I’m sorry about not being able to finish episode 2 last time, but hopefully, this will make up for it.

Now, before we get to the story, I want to give a huge shoutout to @elite-guard-hardygal for this chapter because they’re letting me use their OCs, Hiyoko and Ryuji Teichida! They are AMAZING characters and I am so thrilled that Hardygal trusts me with them! ^.^ Hope you like this, my friend!

I’m also tagging @souskena , @dailyojiromashirao , and @fandoms-fandoms-everywhere99 . I hope you all like this chapter, too!

The last thing is the Masterlist for This Story.

Anyway, let's get going!

God Bless and Good Day!

~The Lupine Sojourner

(I couldn’t find a better gif. Sorry!)

I didn’t even know what had happened till I looked where Eijiro and the other guy were standing, only to see a pile of frozen robot parts.

“Eijiro!” I scream. Was he under there?! Had he been crushed!? “Eijiro, hang on!” I am running forward before I can think, not knowing what to do, but desperately hoping Eijiro was okay.

I ran to the collapsed robot, uncaring and unhearing of anything around me. Part of me knew that, with Eijiro’s Quirk, it was more than likely that he’d be okay, but...but what if he hadn’t activated it in time?! What if he was stabbed by a chunk of the robot?!

Thousands of possibilities ran through my head, but as I ran forward, I could feel the vibrations of two people bulldozing their way through the robot, climbing higher. I blink. Oh...shit. I completely forgot that other guy! Was he the one who pushed me out of the way? I felt both boys climbing, but one was faster, and soon enough rumbling and crunching metal was heard, as well as breaking ice.

Suddenly, in a last-ditch effort, Eijiro’s voice was heard screaming above the murmuring crowd. “I’m aalliivvee!” He screams, thrusting up through the last layer of metal with his arms up and a pissed expression on his face. The neck of his PE uniform was tattered from using his Quirk to protect his head, and I clambered up the robot, relieved that he was okay.

“Kirishima from Class 1-A! What a hardcore debut for this rookie!” Dad announces happily just as I come to the top of the robot. Uncaring of the cameras and people watching, I hug him. “Hey, you okay?” He mumbles, embarrassed. I pull back, smiling at him.

“Yup. I was just shocked when the robot fell on you. I wanted to help you out, but couldn’t move the robot with my Earth Quirk, and there’s no water I can control, sorry.” He smirks, moving to more solid footing.

“No sweat. I saw it falling and activated my Quirk just in time. Thanks for wanting to help, though.” I nod. Dad gives a quick explanation of Eijiro’s Quirk, calling it an ‘ultimate shield or a devastating weapon’. I like that line a lot and smile at Eijiro.

“No problem. Anytime.” It had become a kind of promise to each other, ‘anytime’. We were assuring each other that we would always do our best to help each other, no matter what.

Eijiro then growls and glares down the path where Todoroki had vanished. “I can’t believe Todoroki pulled something like that. Geez, anyone but me would have been killed.” He then turns to me and I swear his cheeks are a little pink. “I thought you’d gotten crushed, too, actually, so I was trying to get out to find you as quick as I could.” I shake my head, focusing on making as much of the ice as I can melt as I had water to work with. He...he was that concerned about me? No! Focus!

“I was pushed out of the way by- -” I then start to feel the rumbling of the other person about to emerge and turn just as the silver-haired guy comes to the surface.

“Class 1-A really is full of jerks!” He growls as he smashes through the top of the robot. “I’ll smash that ice guy when I get my hands on him!” I sigh, noting that now his entire body was silver, glinting like he was a living statue or something.

“--him.” I finish, pointing him out. I walk over. “Hey!” I call. “Glad you’re okay...and thanks for pushing me out of the way.” He scoffs.

“That’s what a hero does, right? Heroes save people, no matter what they think of them.” I nod, not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not, then listen as Dad announces this guy’s name.

“Tetsutetsu from Class 1-B was also stuck underneath! What’re the odds?!” I look back at Tetsutetsu.

“Takara.” He nods, then Dad begins the brief explanation of Tetsutetsu’s Quirk; it makes him able to turn his skin into steel. It was pretty close to Eijiro’s Quirk, actually. In fact, Dad used the ‘ultimate shield or devastating weapon’ line again, which to Eijiro’s chagrin.

“Our Quirks are basically the same!” He groans. “How’m I supposed to stand out now?!” I almost stop moving. Huh...I wonder where that came from. Does he seriously think he’ll have trouble standing out? No way! He’ll do just fine, I’m sure!

“You damn copycat!” Tetsutetsu growls. I roll my eyes.

“Calm down, you two. Just be yourself, Eijiro! You’ll be great!” I reply, smiling at him and giving him a thumbs up. He doesn’t reply, still looking upset. Tetsutetsu then nudges me.

“You’re the girl that had the boot on, right? Glad you toughened up for this competition.” Tetsutetsu replies. I nod, continuing to jog over the top of the robot, picking up as much water as I could without using too much blood sugar.

“Yeah, me, too! Recovery Girl helped a lot, and training practically day and night got me back on track for the Festival.” I explain as I slide down the side.

“Good! So it’ll at least be a fair fight before I beat you!” I laugh.

“We’ll see how this goes, Tetsutetsu.” Landing on the ground, I continue running, searching ahead with vibrations to see what the next obstacle is, but then have to stop as several loud booms were heard and Dad announces that Katsuki is using explosions to rocket over the robots. “Clev-ah!” He praises, and something about the way Dad says it makes me laugh. We continue running, and I can’t really tell anything from the vibrations, but I keep trying periodically. The vibration trick took hardly any blood sugar, so as long as I don’t do it continuously, and use my other abilities well, I should be fine. Plus, I now had water, so I had a better chance.

“Class 1-A has learned not to hesitate.” Mom notes, “They’ve seen what the real world is like. They’ve felt the fear, and pain in some cases, of fighting villains. And yet, they fight on, trying to overcome that fear.” I smile at Mom’s praise. It was accurate, and I couldn’t help feeling a sense of pride and happiness as I ran, despite almost being singled out in an announcement again. It still wasn’t something I was used to, though I suppose after today, I’ll be a lot more recognizable, so I have to get used to the spotlight. “They’ve grown, all of them, and they know they have to act quickly if they want to stay alive.” In the distance, I hear more explosions and feel the powerful vibrations of robots falling. I feel a large gathering of students around the curve, and begin to slow down, wondering what they were stopping for.

“For those of you who thought the first obstacle was easy,” Dad snarks, “let’s see how you feel about the second one!” I come up around the bend with Tetsutetsu and Eijiro to see (and feel) a huge canyon with several platforms with thick wire ‘bridges’ left for us to get across.

“Geez, dad!” I groan. “You weren’t joking about this being harder than robots!” How was I supposed to get across?! There’s still no water to add to the amount I have on me, and I doubt just holding on to the wire and scooting across is a good idea. But I can’t see better options right now...so I look around and notice that the wire I’m standing in front of is at a small decline toward the platform at the end of the wire. I grin. Perfect. I grab Eijiro’s arm. “I’ve got an idea!” I whisper. If people heard, they might try to take advantage of my plan. It wouldn’t take a whole lot to power, and it was the only thing I could think of at the moment. I make the platform, being sure to have the pole running through it, and take a breath, hoping this wouldn’t end badly. I motion Eijiro on it. “C’mon, before anyone else sees and tries to hop on,” I whisper. He blinks.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, just hang on,” I reply, stepping on and Eijiro gets on. It’s harder than I thought to keep it up, but I grit my teeth and push off, getting a bit of speed and having to hang on to Eijiro’s waist. I blush but don’t say anything, focusing on the approaching platform. I had to disengage the platform at the right time or the landing would hurt. I leap off and release the platform, returning the water to floating by my side and panting.

“You okay?” Eijiro asks and there is definitely a blush to his cheeks. I nod, moving to the other side of the platform.

“Yeah, c’mon. The quicker we get across, the better.” He nods.

“Right.” I move to the next wire and bite my lip. I was extremely lucky; it was also had just enough decline to do the same trick, but I couldn’t do it too many more times. I still had a decent amount of stamina and blood sugar left, but I couldn’t keep pushing myself like this.

As I stand there catching my breath, I see a girl with short blonde hair practically crawling along the wire, her fingertips glowing as she moved, these solar-panel type things on her back. Intrigued, I watch as she leaps out, the light from her fingertips now also on her feet, seeming to provide her enough grip to climb the last little bit onto the platform.

“You know, watching these kiddoes reminds me of our Festival, honey.” Dad notes, an almost wistful tone to his voice. I shake myself. This wasn’t the time to stop and look at different Quirks. Shortly after the girl, a boy with hair similar to Hitoshi’s appears, with tired eyes and bough physique, climbs from the wire onto the platform. I can’t tell what his Quirk is, but he seems to know the girl, who doesn’t look like she wants to hang around and wait for him.

“In some ways, yes, but we did a points-based Scavenger Hunt as our first game in the Festival.” Mom replies, bringing me back to the task at hand as I move to the next wire.

“It also reminds me that, in the world of heroes, it can hard to get noticed without a flashy Quirk, eh Shota?” I can almost see Mom grit her teeth in irritation at the tease. Dad had nearly won against Mom, he’d told me. Then Mom was able to win by forcing herself to use her Quirk on him to suddenly shut him up and gain an advantage over him, tying him up quickly and winning their match. Dad described the moment as the moment he knew he wanted to hang around Mom a lot more. He said there was something so intriguing about her to him from then on.

All that to say, the difference in the flashiness of their Quirks was a tease Dad used against her sometimes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mom growls.

“Wasn’t talking about anything.” Dad is quick to backtrack. “Love you, Shota.”

“Uh-huh.” I smile and get the platform ready again.

“We’re doing that again?” Eijiro asks. I nod.

“Yeah. This wire’s also on a decline, so let’s go.” I urge. He hesitates, biting his lip before he nods and motions me on. Something’s off...but I can’t tell what...

“I’ll push off this time.” He mumbles. I nod and get on. Eijiro shoves off and I can’t help blushing as his arms slip around my waist for balance. I have to focus on keeping the platform stable, but his arms are so strong, it’s a little distracting. If I’d focused more on the way he held me, though, I’d have noticed that he seemed sad and upset, barely clinging to me, but I was too caught up in the fact that his arms were around my waist to actually process anything else, and we reach the next platform too quickly for me to get over the sensation and think straight. People were catching up, so we had to keep moving. This next wire had an incline, so we had to climb, not ride. I grit my teeth. I’d use the water to make footholds.

“Guess we can’t ride on this wire.” Eijiro groans, looking anywhere but me. I shake my head.

“Nope. I’ll make footholds, so stay close.” I reply and start moving. Eijiro frowns.

“No. You go ahead. I’ll climb up on my own.” I frown back at him.

“Eijiro, what- -”

“Just go!” He snaps. I bite my lip. I wanted to find out what was bugging him, but I guess there’s no time right now. “You gotta focus on yourself, okay?” I reluctantly turn around and begin climbing. I don’t make much progress. I have a lot whirling through my head right now. What was that about?! Did I piss him off somehow? Eijiro stays quiet, making sure he doesn’t use my footholds and I don’t keep them long enough for him to try. He took my help the wrong way and I now had to repair this rift in our friendship. I already missed our camaraderie. We’ve gotten so close since the entrance exam, and yet...I still didn’t actually know a lot about his life before UA, what’s driving him. I guess we’ve never gotten too personal in our talks.

I find myself wanting to know more, wanting to understand him better. I wanna know how to tell him I didn’t mean to make him feel bad. Soon enough, we’re on the track again and still Eijiro doesn’t talk to me. I must have really offended him somehow. “Eijiro, wait!” I call as he pulls ahead. “Please, talk to me!” He slows a little, but neither of us stops completely.

“Takara, we have to focus.” He says, voice solemn and serious. I flinch.

“Look, I’m sorry. Since I was little, I’ve always been trying to help out any and everyone I can. I’m sorry if I offended you or something. It’s just an instinct I have. I really wasn’t trying to degrade you or anything.” He sighs.

“I shouldn’t have reacted like that. It’s just--” The blonde-haired girl with glowing fingertips races by.

“Argue later! Focus on this race, idiots!” Eijiro and I exchange glances and blink in surprise. However, she was right. We take off sprinting again, and in a few minutes, I can see the next obstacle ahead.

“Whoa! A minefield!? Are you kidding me!?” I exclaim. Eijiro bites his lip. I turn to him, trying to repair whatever happened back in the canyon. Whatever happened, it was apparent that he didn’t want me to help him, so... “Eijiro, how about we just do our best with this on our own. I do have my vibration trick if I need it and you have your Hardening. Meet you on the other side, okay?” He blinks, then nods.

“Okay, sounds good, Takara.” I take off and Eijiro’s not far behind me. Together, we race across the field, dodging people and mines alike. I try the vibration trick and happen to do it right when someone steps on a mine. I reel backward at the intensity of the vibrations. “Whoa, you okay?!” Eijiro asks, steadying me.

“Yeah. Didn’t think that through. The vibrations when someone steps on a mine are unreal.” I grumble.

“If you’re good, let’s keep going.” I nod and begin running. I didn’t wanna push it, and I had to focus on getting through this course.

“Right!” All of a sudden, when we were about halfway through the field, there’s a huge explosion and out of it comes Izuku, flying on a piece of a robot, zooming across the field like a comet, face hardened in determination. “Whoa, Izuku!” I breathe in shock, slowing but not stopping. That kid is something else… “Damn…” I hardly hear Dad talking, honestly, but that’s mainly due to the ringing in my ears from that explosion, and partly because I was so thunderstruck that Izuku would do something like that.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, though. He’s a wicked talented strategist, able to concoct strategies with little to no apparent effort. Obviously, he’d stockpiled mines carefully, using the increased explosion to send him flying toward the finish line. I smirk proudly. He was amazing! Now if he can just get ahead and stay ahead of Todoroki, he’ll win the first round!

I then shake myself and move faster. I had to get going or I’d lose!

Reaching the other side, I notice Tetsutetsu coming in right behind Eijiro and all three of us sprint for the finish line, when all of a sudden Hanta came in front of me. I tried pushing harder, but he passed the line just ahead of me. I look beside me as I pass, and see Eijiro stepping over the line just before I did. I slow down to a walk, panting heavily. Oh, geez! It was a good thing I did those jogs, but holy shit that was hard!

“Takara Yamada of Class 1-A finishes followed closely by her classmate Eijiro Kirishima! Go, Takara, go!” I blush a little at Dad and try to catch my breath. I need food...I double over, still panting. “Takara?” Eijiro asks between his own pants. “Can we talk?” I blink, for some reason getting flustered.

“Y-yeah…” We walk to a more private corner. He shyly looks away, shuffling his feet. “Eijiro, I’m sorry.” I begin. I didn’t honestly know what I was apologizing for, but I knew I’d done something wrong, and I wanted to initiate this conversation with an apology. He finally looks at me. “No, don’t apologize. You didn’t know, but...it’s just...it’s hard enough for me to stand out as is, and...and you’re so selfless and awesome and you have such a flashy, amazing Quirk- -two of them, actually- -and...well, I don’t stand a chance in this competition if people keep holding my hand. I need to somehow make whatever tiny mark I can.” I blink, then go in for a tight hug. I feel myself tearing up. This poor boy!

“Eijiro, you’re amazing! Don’t you dare throw yourself down like that! I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s an instinct I have, trying to help everyone I can. I promise that’s all it was. I just…” I bite my lip. I’d been about to say ‘love you so much’. What the hell?! I...I...he...he and I are just friends...right? “I just wanted to help.” I finish instead, praying my voice wasn’t as frazzled as my thoughts were.

The memories flash through my head of all the times I have been so thankful to have him by my side, especially in the USJ attack. He selflessly stayed with me, carrying me to safety and staying with me for a while at the hospital, and then during my recovery. It was...it was something no one else had done for me except Mom and Dad, and I guess at some point during all that time...I started developing a crush on him without even realizing...but he wouldn’t feel the same way, I don’t think, so I have to keep it to myself until I get to know him more and can either get over my crush or be assured he feels the same way.

Eijiro pulls me closer and tightens his arms around me almost protectively. “Takara, I...you’re amazing and I am so glad to have you as a friend. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just being stupid. Are...are we good?” I chuckle and nod, cheeks warm in a blush.

“Don’t call yourself stupid again and yeah, we’re good.” I tighten my arms automatically, blushing madly at his words and care. I then reluctantly let him go and motion toward the crowd. “Shall we?” He nods and I swear there’s a blush on his cheeks, too. Oba Nemuri cracks her whip and I force myself to keep my eyes off Eijiro, standing beside me. Despite my revelation, we were still only friends. I couldn’t lose my cool so easily.

To further distract myself, I look up and see Izuku’s name in the rankings as number 1! That’s awesome!

“The first game for the first years is finally over.” Oba announces, “And what a game it was! Now, let’s take a quick look at the standings, shall we?” As the hologram appears, I gulp and look at our rankings. I scan for my name, and sure enough, there it is, right on top of Eijiro! Turns out, we ranked ninth! We tied! Hanta was right above us, and Tetsutetsu was right below us. I smile. Okay, this was great! I did better than I thought! Awesome! “Only the top 42 will advance to the next round, but don’t be too let down if you didn’t make the cut. We’ve prepared other opportunities for you to shine.” Oba licks her lips. I frown. Was that really necessary? “Now, the real fun is about to begin; the chance to fully move into the limelight!” I gulp. Crud! What was next?! “Give it your best!” Another crack of the whip and the screen was again that spinning lottery-esque thing. I feel my stomach squirm into knots the longer this goes on. “Let’s see what we have in store for you next!” She cheers. I feel Eijiro brush my hand and see him smiling encouragingly at me. I smile back, trying to swallow my anxiety. The first game was so tough! How was I supposed to keep advancing when they throw- -no! I can only do my best! It doesn’t matter what the games are as long as I have fun and give it my all, right?! “Will your wildest fantasies come to life?” Oba presses as the spinning title continues. I flush. What?! “What could it be? The waiting is torture!” She’s practically whining now, and I am more uncomfortable. “Prepare yourselves...” Thank God! We’d finally find out what’s next! “for this!” The title stops spinning, and I cringe. Shit! A cavalry battle?! I’ve hardly ever played that game!

“I’m terrible at those…” Denki grumbles beside me.

“And I’ve only played in, like, two, maybe...and I was a lot younger. Shit!” Tsu tilts her head a little.

“Plus, it’s not an individual event. I wonder how they’ll split us up?”

“Allow me to explain.” Midnight continues, and the screen shows a picture of Dad, Toshin-Oji, 13, and Snipe (though he was hidden in the background mostly), all forming a cavalry battle team with Toshin-Oji as the rider up top. “The participants will form teams of two to four people each as they see fit. In theory, it’s basically the same as a regular playground game, but there is one difference.” I raise a brow. Oh, man… “Each player has been assigned a point value based on their results from the obstacle course.”

“So that means each team will have a different point value, based on which students are on it.” Ochaco muses. I nod.

“Uh-huh!” Mina concurs, then Oba gets irritated, cracking her whip.

“Maybe you should shut up and let me explain things to you!” She growls. Then calms pretty quickly. “Now then, the point values go up by increments of five, starting from the bottom. For example, 42nd place is worth five points, and 41st is worth ten. And, the point value assigned to the first place contestant is...ten million!” I blink. Holy shit! Izuku’s gonna have a hard time, even just picking a team! Everyone will be after him! Guess that’s what it means to be first in the world of pro heroes; everyone’s after you, jealous of your standing and hungry for fame and recognition. “That’s right…” Midnight continues, “it’s survival of the fittest with a chance for those at the bottom to overthrow the top! First years, these are the rules you’ll abide by! The game itself will last fifteen minutes, individual point values will be added together to reach your team total. Everyone will know how much you’re worth thanks to your headbands. Swipe as many headbands as you can to raise your team’s score.” The screen showed that the headbands were secured with velcro so they’d be easily taken. “Stolen headbands must be worn from the neck up, so the more you steal, the harder it will be to manage them. And another thing; even if your headband is stolen or your team falls down, you can keep playing till time’s up!”

“It’s anyone’s game, then.” Momo murmurs, holding her chin in thought.

“Yeah, and since there are forty-two contestants, there’ll be ten or twelve teams fighting on the field the entire time,” Rikido adds. I nod.

“Yeah, and you have to consider Quirks and how you work well with. It’s really a simulation of agency team-ups and the competition of being pros at the same time.” Denki groans.

“Why does this have to be so hard!?” He groans.

“So if you lose your headband at the beginning, you have more time to make up a plan.” Mina muses. Tsu, next to her, frowns.

“I don’t know, Mina. Maybe we should wait and see how the teams turn out before we start strategizing.” She replies.

“This is going to be rough.” Midnight warns, “You may use your Quirks as much as you like! But. There are still rules: make a team fall on purpose, I’ll slap you with a red card; you’ll be disqualified!” A timer shows up for fifteen minutes. “Now, you’ve got fifteen minutes to build your team! I recommend you get started!” I bite my lip. Eijiro and I each had 165 points since we tied. Unfortunately, hardly anyone beyond our class really knew us and how our Quirks work, so unless I can somehow convince people to team up with me, I’ll have to see who wants me on their team. I should be a horse because my Earth Quirk would make sure that my team wouldn’t be surprised. That and my Water Quirk could defend and attack, so maybe I won’t have trouble getting on or forming my own team.

Eijiro grabs my arm. “C’mon! Let’s go find a team!” I grin.

“Yeah!” He starts leading me to Todoroki, but Shoto’s already talking to Momo, Denki, and Tenya. “Aw, man. Trust Shoto have been already thought up who he wanted and recruited them before anyone else could.” I groan. Eijiro sighs.

“I know, right?! Man, that sucks. Do you wanna form our own team or try for someone else’s team?” I frown.

“Not sure...I’d like to be on the same team as you, but...on the other hand, you yourself said I gotta ‘focus on yourself’, right? Maybe we should just see how things turn out?” I was unsure around him now, what with his strange reaction during the obstacle race, and my revelation. I wasn’t sure how to handle that train of thought, so I set it aside for now. Eijiro’s hand stays on my arm, and he goes over toward Bakugo.

“Screw that! Let’s keep trying together, but if we can’t get on the same team, fine!” I blush. He was suddenly wanting to stay with me? He’d said we needed to focus more on ourselves, but now he was switching tactics? What was going through his head?! Regardless, it was sweet he was trying to make sure we could get on the same team. I suddenly realize where he’s leading us and almost scoff. Katsuki wouldn’t want me on his team. I’m ‘the teachers’ brat’ to him. But I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try...maybe?

Unfortunately, a lot of our class have the same idea. Now that Shoto’s picked his team, they wanted to team up with the next best option. I wonder if he’ll pick anyone…

“Wait, remind me your Quirks are again?! And your names!” Katsuki snaps, looking hella confused. I feel my eye twitch in irritation as we approach. Good God Katsuki is self-centered! He can’t remember anyone’s names or Quirks! Eijiro waves to get Katsuki’s attention.

“Bakugo! Takara and I were gonna try Todoroki, but he already picked a group! You should team up with us!” Katsuki just scoffs.

“Oh, great. Shitty Hair and the Teachers’ Brat.” He grumbles. My eye twitch returns.

“Loose Cannon.” I retort, sticking my tongue at him. Eijiro seems irritated, too, as Katsuki glares at me.

“My name is Kirishima! You know Takara...and my hair’s not that different from yours!” Eijiro barks, gesturing between their hair to prove his point. He then remembers that we were trying to team up with Katsuki. “C’mon, man. You wanna be the rider, right? Takara’s earth Quirk can make sure no one gets the drop on us, and you need a front rider who won’t be hurt by your blasts.” He Hardens his forearm and fist. “That’d be me.” He says, a tad unnecessarily. Katuski scoffs.

“I won’t team up with that damn brat; she’d not what I’m looking for, but I do need someone with guts.” I try not to take that personally and roll my eyes. I saw this coming. I subtly move back a little. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that blonde girl and that dark purple haired boy. They seem alone, wandering from group to group looking for stragglers. Perfect! I wanted to talk to them! They seem like a solid pair!

“Hey, Eijiro?” He turns.

“Yeah?” I hold out my hand.

“No hard feeling, no matter what, right?” He nods.

“Yeah. Sorry he’s being stubborn.” I shrug as we shake hands.

“No sweat. I see a few people I’m gonna try to recruit. See you in the final game!” I wave as I walk off. I may like him as more than a friend, but I can’t just let him consume my thoughts and distract me.

“You know, you’re really missing out with Takara, but...my Quirk was made for this!” I blush a little at the way Eijiro talked about me and force myself to keep walking. The duo I wanted to talk to were just ahead. I notice they’re talking to a girl that reminds me a lot of Asami if she were younger. Perfect! Four’s the limit!

“Pardon me, but can I join?” I ask, smiling at the three of them. “I don’t have a team yet and there’s only, like, ten minutes left.” The blonde girl turns to me.

“Oh, wait. You’re the girl that stopped to talk to that boy, right? If you’re gonna do that crap again, we don’t need you.” I feel a sting of hurt at that, but brush it off.

“That was...complicated, but he’s on a different team, so I won’t be distracted this time.”

“Hiyoko-nee, c’mon. She wants to join and we’d have four people.” The purple-haired boy adds, turning to me and extending a hand.

“I’m Ryuji Teichida, and this is my older sister, Hiyoko.” The wolf girl extends a hand.

“And I’m Chiharu Hamato.” Instantly, I grin. Hell yeah! Asami’s little sister!

“Asami’s sister?” I ask. Chiharu nods.

“Yup! She says hi, by the way.” I laugh.

“Thanks. So, how ‘bout it? We good to form a team?” Chiharu nods.

“Yeah! But...whose the rider?” Ryuji scratches the back of his neck.

“Well, Hiyoko is the lightest...and she can stun the people that get close with her Quirk. Maybe she should be the rider?” Hiyoko twitches in irritation.

“Seriously?!” She growls. “You don’t know their weights! They could be lighter than me, you ass!” Ryuji laughs, holding his hands up.

“Sorry, but I do know your weight, and it makes sense if you’re the rider. C’mon, sis. Don’t be mad.”

“Half sister and I’m just irritated. Whatever you all want to do is fine, though, I guess.” Ryuji nods.

“Okay. Thanks, sis. We’ll be a team with you as the rider.” He smiles at her and puts a hand on her shoulder. She grits her teeth and scowls at him, but somehow I doubt she’s as upset as she looks.

“Let’s get this over with,” Hiyoko grumbles.

I nod. “Let’s all do our best!” Chiharu nods.

“Yeah!

#Fanfiction #MHA #BNHA #OC #Original Character #Original Female character #OC Insertion Series #Eijiro Kirishima #Eijiro Kirishima/OC #Takara Yamada (OC)#Eijiro Kirishima X Takara Yamada

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